[illustration: his last letter.] from aldershot to pretoria a story of christian work among our troops in south africa by w.e. sellers with an introduction by r.w. allen with fifteen illustrations second impression london the religious tract society paternoster row and st. paul's churchyard contents page chapter i introduction: the empire and its defenders chapter ii aldershot chapter iii old england on the sea chapter iv to the front chapter v with lord methuen chapter vi magersfontein chapter vii thomas atkins on the veldt chapter viii with lord roberts chapter ix kimberley chapter x with gatacre's column chapter xi bloemfontein chapter xii on to pretoria chapter xiii here and there in cape colony chapter xiv with sir redvers buller chapter xv ladysmith chapter xvi 'in jesu's keeping' list of illustrations his last letter _frontispiece_ soldiers' homes at aldershot _to face p. _ off to south africa _to face p. _ parade service on the tugela _to face p. _ rev. e.p. lowry _to face p. _ rev. james robertson _to face p. _ bringing back the wounded _to face p. _ morning service on the veldt _to face p. _ soldiers' home on the field _to face p. _ arundel _to face p. _ ambulance work on the field _to face p. _ rev. a.v.c. hordern _to face p. _ one of the ladysmith hospitals _to face p. _ rev. thomas murray _to face p. _ ambulance waggons on their way to the field _to face p. _ preface it would have been a grave omission had no attempt been made at the earliest possible time to place on record some account of the christian steadfastness and heroism of the many godly men belonging to every arm of the service engaged in the war in south africa, and of the strenuous work which they did for their comrades, resulting in many being won for god, comforted when stricken on the battle-field or in hospital, and even in death enabled to find the life that is eternal. it would have been equally an omission had not some account been given of the heroic devotion of the chaplains and the lay agents who have accompanied the troops in the campaign, sharing their hardships and ministering to them under all the trying conditions of their service. when, therefore, i was approached by the secretaries of the religious tract society, through rev. r.w. allen, with a view to preparing some such record, we both, mr. allen and myself, felt that the request must, if possible, be complied with. and we felt this the more, seeing that the whole british force in south africa has been placed under deep obligation to them, and to the great society they represent, for the large and varied gifts of literature they have sent to our troops during the progress of the campaign. it was originally intended that the book should have been written conjointly by mr. allen and myself; but pressure of other work has made this impossible. i am, however, indebted to mr. allen for the introductory chapter, and for the large stores of information in the way of correspondence from the front which he has placed at my disposal. i am also indebted to the rev. dr. theodore marshall for information as to the work of the presbyterian chaplains. the rev. e. weaver, the wesleyan chaplain at aldershot, has also rendered important help. the book has necessarily been written somewhat hurriedly, and by no means exhausts the history with which it deals. if, however, it has the result of deepening the sympathy of all true lovers of their country for our soldiers and sailors, and in increasing the interest they take in the good work done on their behalf, and if at the same time it brings cheer and encouragement to the men in the army and royal navy who are trying to live manly, christian lives, the author of the book and the great society on whose behalf it has been written will be amply rewarded. w.e. sellers. _august_, . from aldershot to pretoria chapter i introduction: the empire and its defenders the war in south africa has been fruitful of a many results which will leave their mark upon the national life and character, and in which we may wholly rejoice. amongst them none are more admirable than the awakening to the duty we owe to our soldiers and sailors, and the large-hearted generosity with which the whole empire is endeavouring to discharge it. it is necessary to go back to the days of the crimean war and the indian mutiny to find any similar awakening. it was then that the british people began to learn the lesson of gratitude to the men they had so long neglected, whom they had herded in dark and miserable barracks, and regarded as more or less the outcasts of society. the glorious courage, the patient, unmurmuring heroism, the tenacity not allowing defeat, which were displayed during the long and dreary months of the siege of sebastopol, and the ultimate triumph of our arms, aroused the nation from its indifference, and kindled for its defenders a warm and tender sympathy. following swiftly on the crimean war came the splendid deeds of the indian mutiny, when handfuls of brave men saved the empire by standing at bay like 'the last eleven at maiwand,' or, hurrying hither and thither, scattered the forces which were arrayed against them. the sympathy which the crimean war had produced was intensified by these events, and the duty of caring for those who thus dared to endure and to die was still more borne in upon the heart of the nation. =changed estimate of our soldiers and sailors.= it came to be discovered that though the british soldier and man-of-war's man were rough, and in some instances godless to the extent of being obscene, vicious, and debauched, they were, to use the phrase which sir alfred milner has made historic, possessed of a 'great reserve of goodness'; that they were capable not only of good, but of god. as it were by fire the latent nobility of our nature was discovered, and the fine gold, and the image and superscription of god were revealed, in many instances to the men themselves, and in great measure to the nation at large. there were many circumstances which aided in this awakening, both in the war and in the mutiny. among them may be reckoned the terrible hurricane which wrecked the transports in the harbour at balaclava, when so many of the stores intended for the troops were destroyed; and the awful winter which followed, with its numberless deaths in action, and by hunger, cold, and disease. the horrors of cawnpore, and the glorious tragedy of lucknow, also compelled attention to the men who were involved in them, and to their comrades who survived. =their deplorable condition in the past.= previous to these times nothing could well have been more deplorable than the condition of the soldier or the sailor. it was on all hands taken for granted that he was bad, and, wonderful to say, he was provided for accordingly. his treatment was a disgrace. the barrack-room, with its corners curtained off as married quarters, the lash, the hideous and degrading medical inspection--samples of the general treatment--all tended to destroy what remained of manly self-respect and virtue. whilst the neighbourhood of the barracks and the naval ports, teeming with public-houses and brothels, still further aided the degradation. the creed of the nation, or rather, the opinion that was tacitly accepted, would be best expressed in the familiar saying that 'the bigger the blackguard, the better the soldier.' =their devotion to duty.= nevertheless, amidst all these evil conditions, not only did courage and loyalty to duty survive, but even, in many instances, a chivalrous tenderness and devotion. there were to be found many earnest christian men, and the work of god went on, comrade winning comrade to christ, so that it was rare indeed to find a regiment or a man-of-war which had not in it a living church. what, for instance, can well be more interesting or significant than the record which tells of the men on the victory, lord nelson's flag-ship at trafalgar, who had no need to be sworn at to be made to do their duty, who amidst much persecution sang their hymns and prayed, and lived their cleanly, holy lives; who attracted lord nelson's attention, and so won his respect that he gave them a mess to themselves, and ordered that they should not be interfered with in their devotions? or than the record of the godly sergeants of the rd grenadiers at waterloo, who went into action praying that it might be given to them to aid in the final overthrow of the tyrant who threatened the liberties of the world? but returning to the crimean war and the mutiny, there were not wanting even then men and women in foremost places to voice the awakening which these created, and to give it right and wise direction. =the queen's care of her men.= the care of the queen for her soldiers and sailors in those early days, which she has continued with wonderful tact and tenderness throughout her long and glorious reign, was of untold advantage. her sympathy showed the nation where its heart should go and where its hand should help. the send-off from the courtyard of buckingham palace; the review of the battle-worn heroes in the palace itself, when she decorated them with their well-earned honours; her constant visits to the hospitals, were incidents which the nation could not forget. in them, as in so many other ways, she awakened her people from their apathy, and by her example led them to a higher and more christian patriotism. =the netley and herbert hospitals.= there was also the noble man whose monument adorns the quadrangle of the war office, who was war minister at the time. but perhaps foremost of all, save the queen herself, was the 'lady of the lamp,' who, surrendering the comfort of a refined and beautiful home, went out to the hospitals at scutari to minister to the wounded and the fever-stricken, and found in doing so a higher comfort, a comfort which is of the soul itself. these two--florence nightingale and sydney herbert--the one in guiding the administration, the other inspiring the nation, did imperishable good. the herbert and the netley hospitals were the first embodiment of the nation's sympathy expressed in terms of official administration--palaces of healing, which have been rest-houses for multitudes of sick and wounded men pending their return to duty, their discharge on pension, or their passing to an early grave. the royal patriotic fund was the expression of the nation's desire to succour the widows and orphans of the breadwinners who had fallen in the war. =the awakened national conscience.= but these efforts, noble though they were, by no means met the full necessity. for solicitude on behalf of our soldiers and our sailors being once aroused, their daily life on board ship and in barracks soon compelled attention. its homelessness and monotony, its utter lack of quiet and rest, its necessary isolation from all the comforts and amenities of social life, the consequent eagerness with which the men--wearied well-nigh to death, yet full of lusty vigorous life--went anywhere for change, society, and excitement--all these things broke like a revelation on the awakened conscience of the nation. the terrible fact, to which reference has already been made, that hitherto almost the only sections of the civil community which had catered for them was the publican, the harlot, and the crimp, that they had indeed been left to the tender mercies of the wicked, still further deepened the impression. at the same time it came to be gradually realized that the splendid manhood of the army and the navy was a vast mission force, which, if it could only be enlisted on the side of purity, temperance, and religion, might be of untold value to the empire and the home population. it was plainly seen that if left, as it had hitherto been, to the homelessness of the barracks and the main-deck, and to the canteen and the public-house, it would certainly take the side of sin; and whilst defending the empire by its valour, would imperil it by its ill-living. all these convictions were confirmed by the record of the noble lives of heroes, who were christians as well as heroes, with which the history of the crimean war and the mutiny is enriched. if a few could thus be saved, it was asked, why not many? if some, why not all? for men of all ranks, of varied temperaments and gifts, were among the saved, some whose natural goodness made them easily susceptible of good, others 'lost' in very deed, sunk in the depths of a crude and brutal selfishness. =woman's work in this field.= as might be expected, the first to take to heart these special aspects of the case, and to embody the great awakening in the deeds of a practical beneficence, were women. miss robinson and miss weston, mrs. and miss daniel, miss wesley, and miss sandes will ever live among those who set themselves to fight the public-house and the brothel by opening at least one door, which, entering as to his own home, the soldier and the sailor would meet with purity instead of sin, and where the hand stretched out to welcome him would be not the harlot's but the christ's. =the influence of methodism.= it was given to the wesleyan methodist church to take the foremost place in this new departure. nor could it well be otherwise when the history of that church is borne in mind. the soldiers and man-of-war's men of john wesley's time came in large numbers under the spell of his wonderful ministry. converted or not, they recognised in him a man; and his dauntless courage, his invincible good humour, and his practical sympathy, won for him from many of them a singular devotion, and from not a few a brave and noble comradeship. some came to be among his most successful preachers, and in the army, and out of it, nobly aided him in his victorious but arduous conflict with the evils of the time. from flanders to the peninsula and waterloo, and from waterloo to the crimea and the mutiny, the bright succession continued. hence, when the nation awoke to its duty to its defenders, methodism abundantly partook of the impulse, and threw itself heartily into every enterprise which it inspired. it was the first church, as a church, to commit itself to the policy of soldiers' and sailors' homes. it passed a resolution at its annual conference to the effect that these institutions were essential to any successful work for the good of the army and royal navy; and it has continued, as the years have gone on, to increase the number of its homes, until at the present time it has thirty under its direction, established in various parts of the empire, which it has provided at the cost of many thousands of pounds, and which are its gift for the common good. they are all held on such trusts as secure them for the free and unreserved use of all the soldiers and sailors of the queen, without respect of religious denomination. =the work of the anglican and other churches.= but methodism is not alone, as a church, in this patriotic and christian enterprise. the established church has entered upon it with an ever-increasing earnestness, having come, mainly through the advocacy of the chaplain-general, rev. dr. edgehill, to grasp the situation, and to realize that for the men themselves and for the empire it is of paramount importance that this provision should be made. the reflex result of the efforts to establish soldiers' and sailors' homes has also been most beneficent. speaking at the anniversary of one of these homes, not many years ago, lord methuen said that they had led the way to the improvement which is now being effected in barracks, where the old squalor has given place to comfort, and the temperance refreshment room, the recreation room, and the library more than hold their own against the canteen, and the cheerful and sufficient married quarters have replaced the scandal of the curtained corner or the miserable one-roomed hut. nor must the prayer-room now attached to every barracks in india be forgotten, nor the army temperance association, of which the rev. gelson gregson was the pioneer, and the illustrious field-marshal, lord roberts, the founder. this association has now, thanks to the sympathy of h.r.h. the duke of cambridge when commander-in-chief, and to the hearty and constant support of lord wolseley, his illustrious successor, been established throughout the whole british army. it will thus be seen that the great awakening of now nearly fifty years ago has borne good fruit, and that in proportion as the nation has risen to a higher moral level, and consequently to a juster appreciation of its duties, the soldier and the sailor have continued to share in its results. =christian work at aldershot.= the camp at aldershot embodies in itself all these changes; and is, indeed, an epitome of the results of this awakening. anything more desolate than its aspect when it was first established it would be impossible to imagine. long 'lines' of huts, planted in a wilderness of gorse, heather, and sand, dimly lit, and miserably appointed; 'women that were sinners' prowling about the outskirts, and gradually taking possession of much of the hastily-constructed town, with the usual accompaniment of low public-houses and music-halls--such, to a great extent, was aldershot at the beginning. [illustration: . church of england soldiers' home, aldershot.] [illustration: . grosvenor road soldiers' home, aldershot.] here then was a sphere for the work of the new awakening. and one by one all the agencies mentioned above took up their duty, and entered upon the enterprise. mrs. and miss daniel founded the soldiers' institute. the wesleyans, guided by the revs. dr. rule, charles prest, i. webster, and c.h. kelly, built their first home at the west end, where, like another 'west end,' so much of vice had congregated. subsequently it was transferred to the site in grosvenor road, and another home put up at the north camp, on a site secured by sir hope grant. then came the church of england, with its splendid premises in aldershot and its church rooms in the north and south camps. meanwhile the camp itself has been reconstructed, so that at last the empire can look without shame upon it; and the brave spirits who first caught the awakening, or saw that it should not die,--many of whom have joined the majority, but some of whom are still enriching their country by their lives,--can rejoice in the work they have been permitted to accomplish. and the result? 'ah, sir,' exclaimed a sergeant, as he entered one of the aldershot homes, 'you are at last giving us a chance. hitherto you have provided for us as though we were all bad, and all wanted and meant to be; and bad we became. but now, sir, you are giving us a chance, and you will see what will be the result.' and truly we do; for the life of the nation is enriched, not enfeebled, by the men who return to it from the army and the royal navy. and all ranks of society are becoming convinced that religion is the prime factor in the service efficiency and in the national well-being. thus god is, after all, seen to be the greatest need, and the one true enrichment of human life and character--the vital force by which alone the commonwealth can live. the wonderful records which will be found in the succeeding chapters of this book, telling as they do of christian life and service in the south african war, will still further show the fruits of this great awakening. chapter ii aldershot a raw, cold morning in the late autumn! a weird-looking train, slowly drawing into the station out of the mist, with carriages altogether different in appearance from those we were accustomed to see! a battalion of brawny scotchmen, travel-stained and sleepy. and then a somewhat lazy descent to the platform. 'twenty-four hours in this train, sir, and never a bite or a sup. what do you think of that?' but as the speaker could not quite keep the perpendicular, and found it absolutely impossible to stand to attention, it was evident that he had had more than one 'sup,' whether he had had a 'bite' or not. all along the line, sad to say, 'treating' had been plentiful, and this was the result. =mobilising at aldershot.= multiply this scene a hundred times. imagine the apparent confusion on every hand. listen to the tramp, tramp of the men as they march from station to camp and from camp to station, and you will have some idea of the hurry and bustle in this camp on veldt during the period when the word 'mobilisation' was on everybody's lips. barrack rooms everywhere overcrowded, men sleeping by the side of the bed-cots as well as upon them; every available space utilised; even the h block soldiers' home turned outside into a tent, that the rooms it occupied might be used as temporary barrack rooms again. discipline was necessarily somewhat relaxed! drunkenness all too rife! the air was full of fare-wells, and the parting word in too many cases could only be spoken over the intoxicating cup. it was a rough-and-tumble time. aldershot was full of men who in recent years had been unaccustomed to the discipline and exactitude of her majesty's army, and the wonder is that things were not worse than they were. let us look into one of the barrack rooms. the men are just getting dinner, and are hardly prepared to receive company, and especially the company of ladies. they are sitting about anyhow, their tunics for the most part thrown aside, or at any rate flying open; but when they see ladies at the door, most of them rise at once. 'yes, it is hard work, miss, parting with them,' says one k.o.s.b. reservist. 'i've left the missus at home and three babies, one of them only a week old. i thought she'd have cried her eyes out when i came away. i can't bear to think of it now.' and the big fellow brushed the tears away. 'it's not that i mind being called up, or going to the war. i don't mind that; but, you know, miss, it's different with us than with them young lads, and i can't help thinking of her.' 'rough? yes, it is a bit rough,' says another as we pass along. 'i wish you could see the little cottage where i live when i'm at home, all kept as bright as a new pin. it's well _she_ can't see me now, i'm thinking. she'd hardly know her husband. but there, it's rougher where we're going, i reckon, so it's no use worrying about this.' and, forgetting the presence of ladies, he started whistling a merry tune. it _was_ just 'a bit rough' in those days. but how could it be helped? aldershot camp had nearly doubled its normal population, and some thirty thousand troops were crowded in. and this population was continually changing. as soon as one batch of troops was despatched, another took its place, with consequences that, perhaps, were not always all that could be desired, but which were nevertheless unavoidable. and so day by day we watched the camp gradually becoming khaki colour. at first it was khaki to-day and scarlet to-morrow, as one batch of khaki warriors left for the front and others, still clad in their ordinary uniform, took its place. but before very long pimlico proved equal to the occasion, and khaki prevailed, and in south and north camp one saw nothing but the sand-coloured soldiers. then a strange, unwonted silence fell upon us; for they had gone, and we woke up to an empty camp and desolate streets, and realized that the greatest feat of the kind in the history of the world had been accomplished, and , troops had been despatched seven thousand miles across the sea. =christian work at aldershot.= but we are anticipating. let us first introduce you to a bit of christian aldershot during these mobilisation times. the mobilisation did not find us dozing; and the churches and soldiers' homes, with their multiplicity of organizations, did their best to give to mr. thomas atkins a home from home, and never with greater success. there is no doubt that the _morale_ of the british soldier is steadily advancing. 'they forget,' said a lad from ladysmith the other day, 'that we are not what we used to be. it used to be that the army was composed of the scum of the nation; some folks forget that it isn't so now.' they do, or, rather, perhaps they _did_ until the war commenced and made the soldier popular. but the fact is that, especially during the last twenty years, there has been a steady improvement, and we venture to assert that to-day, so far as his moral conduct is concerned, the average soldier is quite equal, if not superior, to the average civilian. this is due in large measure to the officers, who take a greater interest in the everyday life of their men than ever before; but it is due in even larger measure to the great interest the churches have taken in the men, and especially in the multiplication of soldiers' homes. at aldershot there are, in addition to the military and civilian churches, which are all of them centres of vigorous christian work, six soldiers' homes, viz., three wesleyan, two church of england, and one salvation army, in addition to the primitive methodist soldiers' home, now used chiefly as a temperance hotel. at these soldiers' homes there are refreshment bars, reading rooms, games rooms, smoking rooms, bath rooms, and all other conveniences. they are for the soldier--a home from home. here he is safe, and he knows it. they will take care of his money, and he can have it when he likes. they will supply him with stationery free of charge. they will write his letters for him, if he so desires, and receive them also. in fact, while he considers himself monarch of all he surveys as soon as he enters, he is conscious all the time that he must be on his good behaviour, and it is rarely, if ever, that he forgets himself. a counter-attraction to the public-house, an entertainment provider of a delightful order, a club, a home, and a bethel all rolled into one is the soldiers' home,--the greatest boon that the christian church has ever given to the soldier, and one which he estimates at its full value. during the mobilisation days these homes were crowded to the utmost of their capacity, and chaplains and scripture readers vied with each other in their earnest efforts to benefit the men. in those solemn times of waiting, with war before them, and possibly wounds or death, hundreds of soldiers decided for christ, or, as they loved to put it, 'enlisted into the army of the king.' =barrack room life.= somehow or other the average englishman never thinks of the soldier as a christian, and soldier poets bring out almost every other phase of the soldier character except this. as a matter of fact the recruit when he comes to us is little more than a lad. he has been brought up in the village sunday school, and been accustomed to attend the village church or chapel. he has all his early religious impressions full upon him. he is excitable, emotional, easily led. if he gets into a barrack room where the men are coarse, sensual, ungodly, he often runs into riot in a short time, though even then his early impressions do not altogether fade. but if we lay hold of him, bring him to our homes, surround him with christian influences, by god's help we make a man of him, and the raw recruit, the 'rook' as they call him, not only develops into a veteran ready to go anywhere and do anything for queen and country, but into a soldier of the cross, ready to do and dare for his king. =an aldershot sunday.= let me introduce you to an aldershot sunday. the camp is all astir at an early hour. musters of men here and there on the regimental parade grounds, the stately march to church, the regimental band at the head. the short, bright, cheery service. the rattle and clatter of side-arms as the men stand or sit. the rapid exit after the benediction has been pronounced and the national anthem sung. the 'fall in' outside. the ringing word of command, and the march back to barracks, amid the admiring gaze of the civilians. all this can be sketched in a few sentences; but we want to give our readers more than a mere introduction--a speaking acquaintance. we want them to get to know our friend thomas atkins before they see him out on the veldt, or amid the heat of battle. and to know him as _we_ know him they must get a little closer than a mere church parade; they must watch us at our work for him, they must realize some of our difficulties, and be sharers in some of our joys. let us then get nearer to him, and in order to this, attempt to get into the heart of an aldershot sunday. and as the most conspicuous and handsome pile of buildings in aldershot is the grosvenor road wesleyan church and soldiers' home, and it happens to be the one with which we are best acquainted, we will follow the workers in their sunday's work. =the prison service.= and first of all let us visit the military prison. there are not so many prisoners as usual just now, and those who are there are terribly anxious to have their terms of imprisonment shortened, in order that they may get to the front--not that prisoners are ever wishful to drag out the full term of their imprisonment, but now that all is excitement and their regiments are on the eve of departure, they are feverishly anxious to go with them. and yet it is easy to preach, for in prison most hearts are softened, and just now there are memories of bygone days that make one love the old hymns and listen with more than old interest to old truths. of course there are not a few exceptions. for instance, you see that tall guardsman! guardsman, do you call him? anything but that in his uncouth prison dress! but he _is_ a guardsman, and by-and-by will give a good account of himself in south africa. see how his eyes are fixed on the preacher. how eagerly he listens to every word the preacher says! surely there is a work of grace going on in his heart! and so next morning when the preacher and junior chaplain meet, one says to the other, 'i am quite sure robinson was greatly affected yesterday. he could not take his eyes off me all the time. he seemed in great trouble. speak to him about it, and try to lead him to christ.' hence, when next the rev. e. weaver, our indefatigable junior chaplain, visited the prison, he said, 'robinson, what sort of a service did you have on sunday morning?' 'pretty much as usual, thank you, sir.' 'how did you like the sermon?' 'oh! all right. you know i've heard him before.' 'yes, but wasn't there something that specially touched you. the preacher said you could not take your eyes off him all the time. he felt sure you were in trouble.' 'well, sir, i was, that is the fact. i couldn't help looking at him, and i have been thinking about it ever since.' 'well, now, you know me, robinson. cannot i help you? you have no need to be afraid to speak to me. what is your trouble?' and robinson looked gravely at the chaplain, and the chaplain at him. and then with an effort robinson said, 'i've been wondering about it all the week. i cannot get it out of my head. don't be offended, sir, however did that 'ere gent get inside that waistcoat?' how are the mighty fallen! and the poor preacher who, with cassock vest, had stood before that congregation of prisoners, had after all only excited curiosity about his dress. but it is not always so, and many a lad has been won to better ways through the ministry of the prison. =parade and other services.= then follows the parade service, already described, and no more need be said except that the preacher must be dull and heartless indeed who is not inspired by those hundreds of upturned faces, and the knowledge that the word he speaks may, through them, ere long reach the ends of the earth. we will not linger either at the hospital service or the sacred song service in the afternoon, or at the soldiers' tea, or even at the voluntary service at night, which, with its hundreds of soldier attendants, is a testimony to the spiritual value of the work. =the 'glory-room' of the soldiers' home.= let us rather pass into the 'glory-room' of the soldiers' home at the close of the evening service. there is never a sunday night without conversions. and they call it the glory-room because 'heaven comes down their souls to greet, and glory crowns the mercy-seat.' ex-sergeant-major moss is in charge, and as frequent references will be made to him in the following narratives, we may as well sketch him now. a man of medium height, thick set, strength in every line of his face and figure, eyes that look kindly upon you and yet pierce you through and through. a strong man in every respect, and a kindly man withal. a man among men, and yet a man of almost womanly tenderness where sympathy is required. again and again in the course of our story we shall come across traces of his strenuous work and far-reaching influence. and in every part of the british empire there are soldier lads who look upon this ex-sergeant-major of the army service corps as their spiritual father, and there is no name oftener on their lips in south africa than his. he is in charge to-night, and is telling his experience. he knows all about it, has done plenty of rough campaigning in his time, but he knows also that the religion of jesus christ is best for war or peace. christ has been with him in all parts of the world, and christ will be with _them_. they are going out. no one knows what is before them, but with christ at their side all will be well. and now a reservist speaks. he cannot pass the doctors, and has to return home; but he tells the lads how he went through the chitral campaign, and how hard he found it to be a christian all alone. 'it is all right here in the glory-room,' says he; 'it is all right when the glory-room is not far away, and we can get to it. but when you are thousands of miles away, and there are no christian brothers anywhere near, and you hear nothing but cursing, and are all the time amid the excitement of war, it is hard work then. stick to it, my brothers. be out and out for christ.' and then another--an engineer. 'i was going through the camp the other day, and i noticed that where they were building the new bridge they had put a lantern to warn people not to approach. it had only a candle inside, and gave but a poor light. on either side of me were the lamps of the queen's avenue, and only this tiny flicker in front. and i said to myself, "my lad, you are not one of those big lamps there in the avenue; it's but a little light you can give, but little lights are useful as well as big ones, and may be you can warn, if you cannot illuminate."' and then with enthusiasm they sang together,-- 'jesus bids me shine with a clear, pure light, like a little candle burning in the night; in this world of darkness we must shine-- you in your small corner, i in mine.' then follow other testimonies and prayer, and by-and-by first one and then another cries to god for mercy, and as the word of pardon is spoken from above, and one after another enters into the light, heaven indeed comes down their 'souls to meet and glory crowns the mercy-seat.' this is no fanciful picture. it is an every night occurrence. the old times of the evangelical revival are lived over again in that 'glory-room,' and hundreds are started upon a new and higher life. but it is time to separate, and with a verse of the soldiers' parting hymn the comrades go their various ways, and the blessed sabbath's services are over--over, all except one service more, the service in the barrack room, where each christian man kneels down by his bed-cot and commends his comrades and himself to god. in the case of new converts this is the testing-time. they _must_ kneel and pray. it is the outward and visible sign of their consecration to god. a hard task it is for most; not so hard to-day as it was a few years ago, but difficult still, and the grit of the man is shown by the way he faces this great ordeal. persecution generally follows, but he who bears it bravely wins respect, while he who fails is treated henceforth as a coward. this testimony for christ in the barrack room rarely fails to impress the most ungodly, though at the time the jeering comrades would be the last to acknowledge it. at the risk of appearing to anticipate, let me tell a story. =jemmie's prayer.= in a nullah in far-away south africa lay about a dozen wounded men. they had been lying there for hours, their lives slowly ebbing away. one of them was a roman catholic, who had been a ringleader of persecution in the barrack room at home. not far from him lay 'little jemmie,' wounded severely, whom many a time the roman catholic had persecuted in the days gone by. hour after hour the roman catholic soldier lay bleeding there, until at last a strange dizzy sensation came over him which he fancied was death. he looked across to where, in the darkness, he thought he could distinguish 'little jemmie.' with difficulty he crawled across to him, and bending over the wounded lad, he roused him. 'jemmie, lad,' he said, 'i have watched you in the barrack room and seen you pray. jemmie, lad, do you think you could say a prayer for me?' and jemmie roused himself with an effort, and, trying hard to get upon his knees, he began to pray. by-and-by the other wounded soldiers heard him, and all who could crawl gathered round, and there, in that far-away nullah, little jemmie 'said a prayer' for them all. surely a strange and almost ghastly prayer-meeting that! as they prayed, some one noticed the flicker of a light in the distance. they knew not who it was--briton or boer--who moved in the distant darkness. jemmie, however, heeded it not, but prayed earnestly for deliverance. the light came nearer, and the wounded lads began to call with all their remaining strength for help. and at last it came to them--the light of a british stretcher party--and they were carried to help and deliverance. 'and now,' said the roman catholic soldier, who, on his return from the war, told this story to the rev. t.j. mcclelland, 'i know that god will hear the prayer of a good man as well as the prayer of a priest, for he heard little jemmie's prayer that night.' and so the aldershot barrack room prepares the way for the south african veldt, and the example apparently unnoticed bears fruit where least expected. =the hymns the soldier likes.= of all hymn-books mr. thomas atkins likes his 'sankey' best. he is but a big boy after all, and the hymns of boyhood are his favourites still. you should hear him sing,-- 'i'm the child of a king,' while the dear lad has hardly a copper to call his own! and how he never tires of singing! but the scotchmen are exceptions, of course, and when, following mobilisation times, the cameronian militia came to aldershot, they could not put up with mr. sankey's collection. rough, bearded crofters as many of them were,--men who had never been south before,--all these hymns sounded very foreign. 'we canna do wi' them ava,' they cried; 'gie us the psalms o' dauvit.' but they set an example to many of their fellows, and the remarkable spectacle was witnessed in more than one barrack room of these stalwart crofters engaged in family prayer. but it is time we saw our soldiers depart. and first there is the inspection in the barrack square, and it is difficult to recognise in these khaki-clad warriors the men we had known in the barrack room or 'home.' and then there is the farewell in the evening, and the 'glory-room' or other devotional room is full of those ordered south, and there is the hearty hand-shake and the whispered 'god bless you,' and then all join in the soldiers' good-night song--his watchword all the world over, hymn in sankey's collection,-- 'god be with you till we meet again.' his life is such a coming and going that he would be unhappy unless you closed every evening meeting with at least one verse, and on these occasions, when no one knows whether it will be in earth or heaven that he will meet his comrade next, it is, of course, impossible to close without it. and so night by night before each regiment takes its departure some one starts . by-and-by, as the train steams out of the station, it will be 'auld lang syne,' but these are christian men, and they are parting from christian men, and so often with hands clasped and not without tears they sing,-- 'god be with you till we meet again, keep love's banner floating o'er you, smite death's threatening wave before you, god be with you till we meet again.' they will not forget it, these soldier lads, and as they pass one another on their long marches across the veldt, unable to do more than shout a greeting to some old friend, it will be ; and as with rapid tread they advance to charge some almost impregnable defence, they will shout to one another--these christian soldiers-- , 'god be with you till we meet again!' =off to the front.= what stirring times those were! what singing in the barrack rooms at night! what excitement in the streets of the town, yes, and what drunkenness too, making it necessary now and then to confine a regiment to barracks the night before departure. and then the march to the station, often in the small hours of the morning, the rush at the last with some would-be deserter just caught in time, the enthusiasm of the men, the cheering of the crowd, the singing of 'auld lang syne' and 'god save the queen.' and then away goes the train, heads out of every carriage, handkerchiefs waving, lusty voices cheering, shouting, singing. god bless you, our soldier lads! but what mean these little knots of women and children gazing wistfully after the train? what mean these sobs, these tears, this heart-break? ah! this is another side to the picture. they have said good-bye, and they know that _all_ of these lads will not return, and that some of those left behind are left desolate for life. god help them, our british soldiers--aye, and god help those they have left behind them! [illustration: off to south africa.] =mr. lowry ordered south.= let us glance at just one scene more before we say good-bye to old aldershot and follow our soldier lads on their journey south. it is the farewell of one of the best-loved of aldershot chaplains--the rev. e.p. lowry, senior wesleyan chaplain. for seven years he has ministered with rare success to our troops; his name is a household word among them, they love him as they love few, and he loves them one and all. and now he too is ordered south. he is fifty-six years old, and has done no campaigning heretofore. it is, therefore, no light task he has before him, and though he has many advantages and is known to so many, yet he is quite aware he must rough it with the rest, and is prepared to undergo all hardships with his men. it is a raw, biting morning, and the piercing wind makes the khaki uniforms that flit here and there look altogether unseasonable. on the other side of the station is rev. father ryan, the roman catholic chaplain, in khaki uniform and helmet, looking a soldier every inch of him,--a good man, too, and a gentleman, as we aldershot folks know well. but on this platform what a crowd there is! men and women, old and young, soldiers and civilians, have all come to say good-bye to one man, and he moves in and out among the people saying a kindly word here and giving a handshake there. there are not many for south africa by this train. the men left hours ago, and only a few officers who had no need to travel with their men are going down. a young lad here, the son of a christian man, is going out hoping to get an appointment in some south african volunteer regiment, and his comrades of the fire brigade are here to say 'good-bye.' but the rest of us are all crowding round our best-loved padre to say god-speed. it is a scene that will live with us for many years. see, they are running along the platform as the train steams out. they shout, and bravely and with smiling face he calls out in return , and off they go, he to the work of his life, and we to the more humdrum but perhaps not less necessary work of the hour. chapter iii old england on the sea a cheer from the distant crowds, an increased involuntary bustle on board ship, and then train load after train load of troops detrained alongside the ship that was to be their home for the next three weeks. up and up the gangways they went in long continuous lines, hour after hour, a procession that seemed as though it would never stop. at last all are on board, and the bell rings for visitors to go ashore. the troops crowd the bulwarks of the ship, they climb the rigging, many of them like sailors. they seize every vantage point from which they can wave a long farewell to those they are leaving behind them, and then some one with a cornet strikes up 'soldiers of the queen' and 'rule britannia,' and fifteen hundred voices echoed by those on shore join in the patriotic songs. at last all is ready and the moorings are cast off. 'one song more, my lads'; it is 'shall auld acquaintance be forgot?' and there with the good ship already moving from the dock they sing it, while handkerchiefs are vigorously waved and hearty cheers rend the air, and not a few tears are shed. and so amidst excitement and sorrow, laughter and tears, the good ship drops down the southampton water, past netley hospital--soon to receive many of them back--and calshott castle, past the needles and out into the open channel, and fifteen hundred fighting men are on their way to south africa. =a new feat in britain's history.= week after week this was the programme. it only varied in that the ship was different, and the men were of different regiments and different names. until at last the title of this chapter had become an actual fact, and old england, in a sense truer than ever before, was upon the sea. for it was not _young_ england simply that was there. the fathers of our land--our greatest and our wisest generals, the most seasoned of our veterans, were there also. and there was hardly a family at home but had some representative, or at any rate some near or dear friend upon the sea. never had such a thing as this been _attempted_ before in the history of the world. other great expeditions had been fitted out and despatched, for instance, the great armada which was beaten and dispersed by our hearts of oak and broken to pieces upon our scottish rocks. but for nearly , men to be dispatched , miles by sea, and not a man be lost by shipwreck, is something over which old england may well be proud, and for which it should bow in hearty thanksgiving to god. the men these ships were carrying were _new_ men. some of them certainly were of the old type--drinking, swearing, impure--though for three weeks, at any rate, every man of them was perforce a teetotaler, and did not suffer in consequence! but our army has been recruited in days past from our sunday schools with blessed consequences, and on board every ship there were men whose first concern was to find a spot where, with congenial souls, they could meet and pray. all sorts of places were found. the rev. e.p. lowry, for instance, managed to get the use of the lunatic ward, and there the men met and prayed, caring nothing for the nickname of 'lunatic' freely bestowed throughout the voyage. =religious work on a troopship.= the following letter from colour-sergeant j.h. pearce, culled from the _methodist times_, gives us a specimen of the work done by the soldiers themselves upon these troopships, work that commenced as soon as the ship left dock, and continued to the end of the voyage. it is dated-- '_at sea, but in the hollow of his hand._ 'the first evening we got together all we could find, and decided to start at once, although still in harbour; so we looked out a little place under the poop, and decided after a chapter and prayer to come along again the next evening. but when i went along to see who would turn up, to my sorrow i found the devil had taken up position outside our trenches, and we were debarred from entering by a crowd playing "house." the next day i was rather sick but went up and found the devil still in possession. brother evans was too sick to go that evening; but thursday, being better, he and i went from stem to stern, downstairs and up, searching for a place to meet for prayer and reading the word. we were just giving up our search to go to our quarters and pray about it, when we alighted upon about eight of our dear brothers on one of the hatchways waiting. they had sent two of the number to look for evans and me, so we got around a port-hole light, and read romans v., had a few words, and a word of prayer. evans read , "soldiers' home above," and we went home to pray that the lord would open a way. 'we were to meet to-night at the same place to report progress. i was in the meantime to ask for the use of the orderly-room. the lord had answered by opening the windows of heaven and the heart of the officer commanding the troops, and gave us exceedingly abundantly above what we asked or thought, for this morning the colonel met mr. cochrane, asked him if he were the scripture reader, and told him he would give any place on board the vessel we liked to ask for. the orderly-room was granted us, and when we got there a number of r.a. clerks were at work. i spoke to the sergeant-major and told him we did not want to be objectionable, so would come when they had finished. he said, "take no notice of us, go on." but there was too much commotion, so i went to see our orderly-room sergeant, who let us into the clerks' room, and there we had a real glory time. we know the lord is with you at aldershot, for we have realized his presence there. but he is here in wonderful power. we had a conversion last night on the hatchway. a man came along and listened, and in the dark we did not detect him till he spoke; so we have to report progress. we are to meet every night for prayer, reading and praise. it would melt a heart of cast steel to have been in our little meeting to-night, as one after another of the dear fellows simply poured out his heart to the lord in prayer and praise. you thought i liked a good innings, but why should not every blood-bought and blood-washed one be the same? do i realize what jesus has done for me? then "i must tell to sinners round what a dear saviour i have found," and point to the redeeming blood, and say, "behold the way to god." glorious times yesterday, about seventy or eighty at parade service. i took john i. , "behold the lamb." afternoon bible reading. evening out-door meeting, about or men listening; then indoor meeting. a dear fellow of our regiment gloriously converted saturday night. took his place with us in the open-air ring last night.' such stories as these tell of intense devotion, of a consecration that is indeed 'out and out.' they show that every christian soldier is a christian missionary, and that a christian army would be the most powerful missionary society in the world. in many cases christian officers were instrumental in bringing numbers of the men to christ: among these may be mentioned captain thompson, of the th field battery r.a., who held services three times a week throughout the voyage, and whose loving and earnest addresses had a powerful influence upon his hearers. tons of literature of all descriptions were put upon the troopships at the port of embarkation. mr. punter, the wesleyan scripture reader, himself distributed six tons at southampton. one society seemed to vie with another in thus ministering to the wants of the men. the soldier's testament proved a boon to many, and as our lads return from the front, many of them show with pride their testaments, safely brought back through many a fierce fight. in the evenings, on many of the ships, large numbers met and sang hymns. a soldier never tires of singing, and his 'sankey' is an unfailing friend. many a lad had thus brought back to memory days of long ago, and gave himself to his mother's god. but, after all, the great christian events of the voyage were the parade services. if there were chaplains on board, they naturally conducted the services. if not, the officers in some cases performed that duty, and we read in one soldier's letter that on the braemar castle prince christian victor conducted a service, perhaps a somewhat unusual occupation for a prince! =parade services on a troopship.= but men in the ranks conducted parade services also. the commanding officer would send for some godly non-commissioned officer or private, and make him for the time being the 'padre' for the ship. nor were these devoted christians unduly exalted by the position in which they found themselves. it was no slight acknowledgment of worth that, all untrained, they found themselves for the time being acting-chaplains to her majesty's forces. godly methodists like sergt.-major foote or sergeant oates, for instance, were not the men to be spoilt by such a position. sergeant oates tells how the men pointed him out as the 'wesleyan parson,' but he tells also that being provost-sergeant he had an empty cell under his charge and that there he used to go to be alone with god. from such communings he came out a strong man--strong to resist temptation and to win men for christ. and as for sergt.-major foote, he was simply bubbling over with christian enthusiasm--enthusiasm that did not lead him astray because it was united with a well-balanced judgment. the best pictures we get of such parade services at sea are however from the pens of our chaplains. the rev. e.p. lowry gives us a vivid picture of a sunday at sea, which we venture to transcribe from the _methodist times_:-- 'this day has really in large measure been given up to the feelings and exercises of devotion. there has been no physical drill and regimental "doubling" round the deck to the accompaniment, first of the bagpipes, and then of the fifes and drums; no medical inspection of the men's feet; no lectures to officers on first-aid to the wounded; no rifle practice at the boers in the shape of bottles and boxes thrown overboard to be fired at by scores of eager marksmen, and speedily sent to the bottom. 'early came an inspection of the ship's crew, stewards, and stokers, numbering about in all, and including africans and lascars, of almost every imaginable hue, all dressed in their sunday best. then came the muster, at ten o'clock, of all our soldier lads, in red tunic and forage cap, for church parade. nearly the whole , answered to their names, were divided into groups according to their various denominations, and marched to their various rendezvous for worship. the presbyterians and wesleyans numbered nearly , which would make a very full parade at grosvenor road church. the place assigned to us was down below on what is called the first and second decks, where the men usually have their meals, and sleep in hammocks, or on the tables, forms and floor, as the case may be. all the tinware and other impedimenta had been carefully cleared away, and so the men at once filed in between the tables. a special form was provided for the two officers who attended, and another for mr. pearce, who acted as my precentor, and myself. the ha'penny hymn-books sent in by the thoughtful kindness of the rev. r.w. allen rendered invaluable aid in the brightening of the service, for they made it possible for every man to join in the singing, which was touchingly hearty and tender. only favourite hymns would be in place in an assembly so strangely mixed, so we began with "jesu, lover of my soul," followed by "what can wash away my sin?" "just as i am," and "oh, what a saviour! that he died for me." nearly half the men on board are reservists, fresh from home and home-ties, though now , miles at sea, and to them the singing of such hymns would inevitably be wakeful of all hallowed memories, and more helpful than any sermon. 'nevertheless, i ventured to speak to them solemnly, yet cheerily, of the mobilisation order that joshua issued to the hebrew host on the eve of battle, when he commanded them as the one supremely essential thing to sanctify themselves. the men were reminded that character tells, above all, on the field of battle, as cromwell's troopers proved, and that since, of all work, war is the most appallingly responsible and perilous, every soldier is doubly called to be a saint. such was "stonewall" jackson, america's most victorious general, and as in his case, so in theirs, grace would not rob them of grit, but increase their store. that grace they all might find in christ. 'we also all seemed to feel it a consoling thing to bow in prayer on that rolling lower deck for queen and country, for comrades already at the seat of war, and for "the old folk at home," so, in our humble measure making ourselves one with that innumerable host who thus seek "to bind the whole round earth by golden chains about the feet of god." not a man seemed unmoved, and the memory of that first full and official parade will be helpful to me for many days to come. 'the roman catholics were also mustered; but as there was no priest on board, associated worship was for them quite impossible, and they were accordingly at once dismissed. 'in the absence of an anglican chaplain, surgeon-colonel mcgill, the principal medical officer, read prayers with the men of the royal army medical corps. the captains of the various regimental companies did the same for their church of england men; while in the main saloon the ship's captain conducted worship with as many of the naval and military officers as found it convenient to attend. at the harmonium presided bandsman harrison, of the northamptons, who for the last two years has helped ever so well at the sunday afternoon services of sacred song in aldershot. 'after church there was an excellent gathering in the guardroom for prayer and bible reading, when we refreshed our hearts with the thought of the glories of the ascended saviour who is indeed "the almighty"; and although in this singular meeting-place we have never before ventured to indulge in song, to-day we could not refrain from an exultant voicing of the doxology. 'at . , just when loved ones at aldershot were assembling for worship, our praying men met once more; this time on the upper deck, where there soon assembled a large and interested congregation, sitting on the bulwarks or lying about in every imaginable attitude on the deck. close by there were half a dozen strong horses that had not felt their feet for over a fortnight; every now and then piercing bugle calls broke in upon us, and the restless feet of many a man hurrying to and fro; but none of these things moved us, and the service was vigorously maintained for nearly an hour and a half. mr. pearce, the army scripture reader, gave out the hymns; i read a chapter and gave an address as brightly tender and practical as i could make it; sundry soldiers also spoke and prayed; and a manifestly gracious impression was produced on all present. the men are eager to listen when sanctified common-sense is talked, and are just as ready good-naturedly to note anything that in the slightest degree is odd. one of our godliest helpers has a powerful voice, but sometimes inserts a sort of sentimental tremolo into his singing, which makes it distinctly suggestive of the bleating of a sheep. i was sitting in my cabin close by when this preliminary singing was started, and was not left many moments in doubt as to its unmistakable sheepishness, or lamb-likeness, for almost immediately i heard some of the young rascals sitting round put in a subdued accompaniment of "baa-a-a." yet none the less the song moved on to its triumphant close. and thus, amid tears and harmless mirth, we are sowing on board this ship the seeds of eternal life, humbly trusting that the lord of the harvest will not suffer our labour to be wholly in vain.' or take this as a later picture from a private letter sent home by the rev. frank edwards, acting-chaplain to the welsh wesleyan troops. mr. edwards went out at his own charge to render spiritual help to his countrymen. 'this morning we had a splendid parade service. it was held on the upper deck. the captain had a large awning put up specially for the service. a stand was then erected by the chief officer, and a few of the men draped it with flags, and i had a large box covered with the union jack to serve me as a pulpit. then the men were marched up and formed into three sides of a square, of which the preacher and my choir formed the fourth side. the centre of the square was occupied by the officers. 'it was the most memorable service of my life. we opened with the hymn,-- "stand up, stand up for jesus," and the strains of that hymn from hundreds of manly voices was carried far out upon the waters. then we had the liturgy, and the responses came clear and strong in true military style. the singing of the grand old te deum was most impressive. we sang an easter hymn with great feeling and earnestness, and before the sermon, "jesu, lover of my soul." oh! how those men joined in the singing. it seemed to become a prayer on every lip, and the fitting expression of the thought of every heart. its meaning was clearer than it had ever been before. "while the nearer waters roll, while the tempest still is high." then came the sermon, which was no sermon at all. true, i took a text, isa. lxiii. , and i had a sermon in my mind. but when i looked round at those men, and thought how we were all standing on the very brink of eternity, and how few, perhaps, would ever see the dawn of another easter morn, i knew it was not the place for an elaborate sermon. the time was precious and my words must be few and straight. i had a good time. it was impossible to miss it. looking round upon those men as they came pressing closer and closer, with their hungry souls shining forth through their eyes, as they listened to the old, old story of the saviour's everlasting love, and of his mighty conquest over sin and death, why, it seemed to me that if i did not preach to them the very _masts_ would cry out and proclaim the glad tidings. i forgot self, and time, and place, and remembered nothing but my hearers and my message. and although i had been warned not to keep them long, as they would never listen, such was the sympathy between us, and so great the fascination of the old story of christ's love and power to save, that they listened spellbound to the end. 'then came the last hymn "rock of ages," and, oh! how it rolled out, clear and strong and triumphant, vibrating through the ship and echoing over the waters, a fitting close to a helpful and impressive service.' in such manner ended a typical sunday upon a troopship. and _only_ a _typical_ sunday, for on scores of troopships sundays of a similar character were spent. such sacred hours must have proved splendid preparation for the approaching campaign. and many a lad who had never thought upon the great things of eternity before came face to face with them then. and so with marvellous celerity the english army was transferred to south africa, and all eyes and hearts followed it. the pride of the castle and of the cottage was there; the heir to vast estates, and the support of his widowed mother's old age; the scape-grace of the family, and the one on whom all its hopes centred. =the chaplains of the british army.= and with them went the best that the church could send. a noble band of chaplains has our british army. men like the venerable dr. edgehill, the chaplain-general--the soldier's preacher, _par excellence_. men like the rev. a.w.b. watson, who nearly killed himself by his acts of self-sacrifice on behalf of the men in the soudan campaign. distinguished clergymen, presbyterian and wesleyan ministers, army scripture readers, agents of the soldiers' christian association--all wanted to go; and the difficulty was not to find the men, but to choose among so many. and so men of war and men of peace, soldiers of the queen and soldiers of the king of kings, found themselves together on the shores of south africa, sharing each other's dangers, privations and fatigues, all of them loyal to their queen, and each of them doing his work to the best of his ability. and the prayers of christian england were with them night and day. what wonder that through the army went a wave of christian influence such as had never been felt before. and then from the colonies they came. australia and canada sent their choicest and their best. from the dusky sons of the british empire in india came representatives also. south africa itself had its own goodly tribute to offer. and with them all came christian workers--chaplains from australia and canada; missionaries by the score in south africa, ready to do everything in their power for the soldiers of the queen. and so it came to pass that the whole british empire was represented on the south african veldt. and the prayers, not only of christian britain, but of the whole empire, ascended to heaven as the prayer of one man for our soldier lads across the sea. never has the sentiment of tennyson's beautiful poem been so translated into fact before, for in very deed the whole round world was every way 'bound by gold chains about the feet of god.' the months that witnessed the welding of the british empire into one great family witnessed also one great effort for her soldiers, and one glorious chain of prayer for their conversion. what wonder that hundreds, if not thousands, turned to god! [illustration: parade service on the tugela.] chapter iv to the front the two most important ports of disembarkation a were capetown and durban. east london and port elizabeth necessarily came in for their share of the troops, but that share was only small. it was therefore at capetown and durban that christian workers specially prepared to receive our soldiers and do all that was possible for their comfort ere they departed for the front. these towns had already thousands of refugees from the transvaal upon their hands. many of them were absolutely destitute. they had left the transvaal at almost a moment's notice, and large numbers had only the clothes they were wearing. but the generosity of the colonists knew no bounds, and gladly they gave of their abundance and often of their poverty to help their poor distressed brethren. daily relief was granted where needed, and all things possible were done for their comfort. =south african generosity.= and now the coming of the army gave fresh opportunity for the display of generosity. not only were the soldiers received with hearty cheers, but lavish gifts were showered upon them. flowers, fruits, tobacco, dainties of all kinds were handed to them as they departed to the front, and in many cases sent up after them. a gentleman from 'up country' wrote to capetown to ask when any troops would be going through a certain railway station, and he would undertake to supply with fruit all troops passing for the next two months. at christmas a number of ladies at one of the stations up the line had all sorts of good things for the men who had to travel on christmas day. another gentleman accidentally heard that a certain train was going to stop at the railway station nearest his house, and hastily collected twenty-four dozen new-laid eggs for the men to have for breakfast! such christian kindness as this appeals powerfully to mr. thomas atkins, as it does to most men, and he deserved all that south africa could give him. =the soldiers' christian association in south africa.= at capetown the soldiers' christian association was specially active. this enterprising and successful association was inaugurated seven years ago as the direct result of a series of recommendations submitted to the national council of young men's christian associations. it has its branches in most military centres and is exceedingly popular with the men. in connection with this war the s.c.a., as it is familiarly called, has taken an entirely new departure. it has taken a leaf, and a very valuable leaf, out of the book of the american young men's christian association. that enterprising association did a great deal of tent work during the late war with spain, and such work proving of the greatest value, the s.c.a. has followed the same course during the war in south africa. at first there was considerable difficulty in getting permission from headquarters; but at last it came, and on saturday, nov. , , messrs. hinde and fleming sailed. a further band of seven workers accompanied mr. a.h. wheeler, the general secretary of the association a fortnight later, and on their arrival they found that a general order had been issued to the following effect--'permission has been given to the soldiers' christian association to send out tents and writing-material for the troops. facilities are to be accorded to the association to put up tents at fixed stations, as far as military requirements will permit.' how well the work of the association has been done has been told in the organ of the s.c.a.--_news from the front_. 'eight tents, fully equipped and capable of seating two hundred and fifty men, made of green rot-proof canvas, and ten smaller ones made of the same material for sleeping purposes, besides four iron buildings to take the place of tents in the colder districts, have been sent out from the mother country the tents have been stationed at wynberg (no. general hospital), orange river, enslin camp, sterkstroom, dordrecht, kimberley (after the siege), bloemfontein, ladysmith (after the siege), dewdrop camp, arcadia, frere camp, and other places. it was lord roberts' special wish that two of the iron buildings should be erected at bloemfontein and one each at kimberley and ladysmith.'[ ] lord roberts himself opened the first s.c.a. tent pitched in bloemfontein, and the late earl of airlie, whose death none more than his gallant lads of the th lancers mourn, opened the tent at enslin. these tents became the soldiers' homes, and are free to men of all denominations. in them stationery, ink, and pens are all free; and there are books to read and games to play. occasionally they have been put to other uses, such as hospital depôts, shelters for refugees, and temporary hospitals. generals and their staffs have been quartered in them for the night, and, in fact, they have accompanied the british soldier to the front as his 'home from home' wherever he has gone. but to return to the work of the s.c.a. at capetown. when this work began it was found that there was no post-office at the south arm or jetty where the troops disembarked, and thousands of the troops were proceeding to the front without the opportunity of posting the letters they had written, or sending home the money they had received during the voyage. with his usual carelessness, 'tommy' was leaving his letters with any one he saw on the jetty, and even confiding his money to be sent home by any chance passer-by. the s.c.a. got permission to undertake this work and soon had an amateur post-office in full working order. in this way thousands of letters reached anxious friends at home which might otherwise have been delayed for weeks. and more than this, thousands of pounds in money were received by the workers and safely transmitted home, one regiment alone, the king's own scottish borderers, committing to the care of the s.c.a. workers no less than £ . large quantities of writing-material and religious literature were also distributed amongst the troops before they proceeded on their long and tedious journey up country. [footnote : _our soldiers_.] =work among the refugees.= it will be remembered that when the war broke out the missionaries were, with very few exceptions, compelled to leave the transvaal. the general superintendent of wesleyan missions in the transvaal district, the rev. geo. weavind, had been so long resident in the country as to be able to take up his rights as a burgher. he therefore stayed to look after his few remaining people, and four other wesleyan missionaries remained by special permission with him. for the rest, the missionaries were scattered: some to capetown, some to durban, some to obtain appointments as acting-chaplains, or officiating clergymen; but all of them to work in some way or other for the master, to whose service they had given their lives. at durban, similar work was done. the transvaal relief committee (a sub-committee of the durban town council relief committee), with the rev. geo. lowe as chairman, did splendid work among the refugees, of whom at one time there were , in durban alone. this relief work was splendidly organized and most effective. the sisters evelyn and miriam, who organized much of this work, were wesley deaconesses employed in south africa. sister evelyn oats was resting in england after five years' most exhausting and successful work, but hurried back to south africa on the first news of the outbreak of war, and was soon hard at work among the refugees. sister miriam had been employed at johannesburg, and remained there until nearly every one had gone, and she was left alone in the house. and then she also left and found her way to durban, where her nursing skill was of the utmost value among the poor women, homeless and destitute, in the hour of their deepest need. the rate of relief was one shilling per day for adults, and sixpence for each child under fourteen; and the utmost care was taken in the distribution of the money. funds were most generously provided, but it was a great relief when an application for , stretcher-bearers came from the front, and thus the congestion among the men was rendered less severe how eagerly the poor fellows accepted the offered employment, and the drill hall was in a few minutes crowded with those eager to go! =welcoming the troops at durban.= at durban also the heartiest of hearty welcomes was given to the incoming troops. in connection with the transvaal relief committee there was a commissariat department for the purchase of bread and fruit, etc., and a welcome committee to receive the soldiers as they came. at first the idea was only to provide bread and fruit for the men on landing, but it was soon found, as at capetown, that the men had letters to post and money to send home. it was also found that the men wanted some one to write letters for them, and this work also was undertaken, young ladies gladly giving of their time to this work; and thousands of friends by their assistance heard of the arrival of their dear ones at durban. christmas cards were also freely given to the men, who wanted in this way to send christmas greetings home; and, in fact, tommy atkins had hardly been so spoilt before--not even by some good ladies in england--as he was during these eventful weeks at durban. the letters and messages sent home were in many cases of a most touching and tender character, and once more tommy atkins proved himself to be anything but an 'absent-minded beggar.' as at capetown, money in large sums was entrusted to the workers to send home, and quite a large number of watches were handed over for the same purpose. in this work ministers and members of all churches took part. the military authorities cleared as many difficulties as possible out of their way, and all who took part in it found it a labour of love. there was no time to do much direct spiritual work at either capetown or durban. the troops were hurried to the front as fast as possible. but whenever it was possible to speak a word for christ that word was spoken, and the kindly act was a sermon in itself. thus were our soldier lads welcomed by our children across the sea. and by their kindness to our men they have forged another link in the chain of love which binds the colonies to the homeland. 'britannia's piccanini,' as natal loves to call herself, has proved worthy of the old mother; and the old mother who is making such sacrifices for her children in south africa will not forget that they are striving hard to show themselves worthy of her care. chapter v with lord methuen to lord methuen was given command of the kimberley relief column. he had with him the guards, the highland brigade, and several of the finest infantry regiments in her majesty's army. a great task was allotted to him, but he was considered equal to any responsibility. he has been freely criticised for his conduct of this part of the campaign. it has been stated that he was prodigal of the lives of his men by direct assaults when he might have accomplished his purpose by sweeping flank movements, as lord roberts did afterwards. but then lord roberts had cavalry, and methuen was sadly deficient in that arm of the service; and how to make such turning movements without sufficient cavalry, no one yet has been able to tell. however, it is not for us to enter into any criticism or defence of a british general. what concerns us most for the purpose of this book, and what we rejoice to know, is that lord methuen was a humble and sincere christian, who did all that lay in his power to further the spiritual work among his men. what this means to a chaplain or scripture reader at the front can hardly be told. this we do know, that the direct assistance of the commanding officer often makes all the difference between rich success and comparative failure. =christian work at de aar and orange river.= the rallying-point for the kimberley relief column was, in the first place, de aar, the junction where the line to kimberley connects with the line to bloemfontein. in course of time, de aar became the great distributing centre of stores for the forces on the way to kimberley and colesberg. here the army service corps held sway, and enormous were the stores committed to their care. but at first, as we have said, de aar was the rallying place for our troops, as they moved up from capetown, and here it was that they got their first sight of the boers. as they placed their pickets and sentries round the camp for the night, a boer woman was heard to say, 'the rooineks are so afraid that their men will run away, that they have had to put armed men round the camp to keep the others in.' that was her way of interpreting the duties of british sentries! here it was that christian work among the troops began in real earnest, and sergeant oates obtained permission from the leaders of the railway mission to use the carnarvon hall for soldiers' services. the colonel heard of it and put the service in orders, so that without any pre-arrangement on the part of the promoters, sergeant oates obtained the attendance of all the wesleyan soldiers in de aar at the time. by-and-by they moved up to the orange river, miles beyond capetown. here they found that the station-master was a nominal wesleyan, and he most kindly gave them the use of his house for religious services. still, they were without chaplains, and what, perhaps, was, in their opinion, quite as bad, without hymn-books! sergeant oates found the name of the rev. e. nuttall, of capetown, on a piece of dirty old paper in the camp. he did not know anything about him, or even whether he was still in capetown, but he felt moved to write to him for those precious hymn-books. so he read his letter to the lads, and they 'put a prayer under the seal' and sent it off. the station-master at belmont, who was going '_down_,' promised to do what he could for these singing soldiers, who were without their books, and so even in worse state than preachers without their sermons; and, strange to say, letter, station-master, and rev. e.p. lowry appeared at the rev. e. nuttall's house almost at the same time! with mr. lowry came mr. a. pearce, army scripture reader, from north camp, aldershot. he remained at orange river while mr. lowry moved on with the guards, to which brigade he was attached. by this time the troops were ready for the advance, and the chaplains were with their men. rev. mr. faulkner was the senior church of england chaplain. the rev. james robertson and the rev. w.s. jaffrey represented the presbyterians, and the rev. e.p. lowry was the senior wesleyan chaplain. =the battle of belmont.= and then came the battle of belmont! from orange river the troops had been compelled to march, and had their first taste of the african sun in the greatness of his strength. the legs of the kilted men were blistered as though boiling water had been poured over them, and all but the old campaigners in every regiment suffered acutely. belmont was reached after dark; the troops were without over-coats or blankets, and the night was bitingly cold. but they lay down anywhere, glad enough to stretch themselves upon the ground or seek the friendly shelter of a ditch. here they lay unmurmuringly--members of the proudest aristocracy in the world, noblemen of ancient lineage, quite ready to sleep in a ditch or die, for that matter, for their country. before two o'clock in the morning, they were aroused, and marched out to attack the stronghold of the boers. and nobly they performed their task. but let a christian soldier--our old friend sergeant oates--describe the battle. =a sergeant's account of the battle.= 'on the rd november (martinmas day), we marched out early in the morning, and at daybreak found ourselves facing the boers in a formidable position. all was so still during our march to this place. while marching along, a young goat had got parted from its mother and commenced bleating mournfully in front of us, and although i am not superstitious, it made me feel quite uncomfortable, as it did many more. what became of it eventually i cannot say, but i think the poor little thing got roughly handled, if not killed. 'we were not long before we came within rifle range, and then the bullets began to fly about our ears as we advanced towards the boer position. we pressed on; first one and then another kept dropping out, and shouts of "stretcher bearer" were heard very frequently. nothing except death would have stopped our men that morning, so determined they seemed. on we went, and faster and thicker the bullets came, spending themselves in the sand at our feet. at last we reached the kopje, and rested at the foot a short while, and then up we went. lieutenant brine and myself reached the top in advance of the others. as soon as we popped our heads over the top, five of the northamptons popped their heads over the other side, facing us with their rifles, at the present, and it was hard to convince them we were friends, so excited were they. we were not allowed to remain at peace long, for evidently some one had spied us. ping, ping, came the mauser bullets; swish, swish, the martinis. we soon got to rather close quarters and were able to do some good shooting. i was still close to mr. brine, and we had been talking some few minutes, when some one spied him and he had two or three narrow escapes. he moved to what he thought was a safer place, and had about four shots, which all told. he gave me the range, and was just taking aim a fifth time when a martini bullet pierced his throat, and he fell to rise no more. that was the first death i saw, and i felt somewhat sick. soon, however, we charged, and up went the _white flag_; but it was the most difficult piece of work i ever saw, trying to stop our men in the middle of a charge. however, they were stopped in time, and instead of being killed, the remaining boers were taken prisoners. the battle over, we returned to camp, and then came the sad duty of burying our fourteen dead comrades. there were not many dry eyes, but i venture to say there were many thankful hearts.' =mr. lowry's adventure on the veldt.= the rev. e.p. lowry had a very trying experience in connection with this battle. he had marched out with the colonel of the grenadiers, intending to return to camp as soon as the railway line was reached; but it was impossible to find his way back in the darkness, and he therefore went on with the men. presently the bullets were whistling all around him, and as soon as the heaviest fighting on the left was over, he busied himself among the wounded. feeling however, that he could do nothing more, and that he had better be in camp to receive the wounded, he determined to make the best of his way back. but he was wrongly directed, and got lost on the veldt. hour after hour he wandered about, but could find no trace of the camp, into which he had marched in the dark the previous night, and out of which he had marched in the dark that same morning. his thirst consumed him, he could walk no further, he was utterly exhausted. how many miles he had wandered he could not tell. the din of battle had died away, and all was one unbroken stillness. he sat down under the scanty shade of a thorn bush, and with a feeling of intense desolation upon him made the following entry in his pocket-book:-- 'am now without water, without bread, and almost without hope, save in jesus christ, my saviour, in whom now, as ever, i trust for everlasting life.' he knelt down and offered up what might well have been his last prayer, and then had a vivid impression made upon his mind that he should go in an entirely different direction from that in which he had been travelling. after wandering in utter weariness for some time in this direction, he saw in the dim distance a cart moving across the veldt. with all the strength he had left, he shouted. presently the cart stopped, and he saw a man dismount. slowly he came near, covering the poor, weary wanderer with his rifle. who it was--briton or boer--mr. lowry did not know and hardly did he care. it was his one chance of life, and 'all that a man hath will he give for his life.' in his exhausted state, the heat and fury of the battle seemed as nothing to the intense loneliness and desolation of the veldt. but a 'friend' drew near, for the man who so slowly came towards him was a rimington scout, and he and his comrade in the cart soon carried their chaplain to help and deliverance. they were in charge of some battle-field loot which they were taking temporarily to a dutchman's house of which they had possession. here there was a feather bed, and, what was better still, food and drink. that same night the scouts were ordered to belmont, and back with them went the wandering chaplain, still weary and faint, to carry with him as long as he lived the memory of his awful experience upon the veldt. they were burying the dead when mr. lowry returned to belmont. the first to fall on that fearful day had been corporal honey. he had given his heart to god on the passage out, and great was the rejoicing of the comrades who had led him to christ that he had been able to bear a good testimony until that fateful morning. =at the battle of modder river.= then followed graspan or enslin, where the naval brigade suffered so seriously; and then the fight that lord methuen considered the most terrible in british history--the battle of the modder river. for twelve hours the battle continued. they had had a long and wearying march and were looking forward to a good breakfast, but instead they had to go straight into the fight, and it was twelve hours before that breakfast came. men who fought at dargai and omdurman tell us that these were mere child's play compared with the fight of the modder river. hour after hour the firing was maintained, until in many cases the ammunition was all expended. and yet there was no relief. the pitiless rain of bullets from the boer fortifications continued, and it was impossible to carry ammunition to our lads through such a fire. our men could in many cases neither advance nor retire, and men who had expended all their ammunition had just to lie still--some of them for six hours--while the bullets flew like hail just above them. to raise the head the merest trifle from the dust meant death. many a godless lad prayed then, who had never prayed before, and many a forgotten vow was registered afresh in the hour of danger. let sergeant oates again give us his experience:-- 'it was a terrible battle. i had two very narrow escapes there. a tiny splinter took a small piece of skin off the end of my chin, and another larger one just caught my boot and glided off. it almost went through. again i got away unharmed. that day was a long prayer-meeting to me. wherever i went and whatever i did, these words were on my lips:-- '"what a wonderful saviour is jesus, my jesus. what a wonderful saviour is jesus, my lord." 'once and only once i grew weak, and almost wished myself wounded and out of it all, when this text came in my mind: "the eternal god is thy refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms." oh! how ashamed i felt that i should be so weak and faithless! 'the third day was the fiercest, and to me it was a day of prayer. ten long hours did the conflict last; the din was awful! the spiteful bizz of the remington bullet, the swish of the martini, and the shriek of the mauser, coupled with the unearthly booming of the hotchkiss quick-firer, and the boom, roar, and bursting of the shrapnel on both sides, all this intermingled with voices calling out orders, and shouting for stretchers, went on until the shades of evening fell over a day which, lord methuen says, has never had an equal. yet above all this din, i was able to hear that voice which calms our fears saying: "when thou passest through the waters, i will be with thee, and through the rivers they shall not overflow thee; when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned, neither shall the flame kindle upon thee." with such promises as these, what would one not go through. 'that night, after the enemy had retired, i had to lead my company across a ford in the modder river. it was very dark, and i was not sure of the way; i had crossed the river by the same ford early in the afternoon, but it was in the thick of the battle, so i was too busy with something else to take any notice of the road. i was cut off from my company, and got rather anxious about it. looking with the aid of a match, at my text-book i found these words: "commit thy way unto the lord, trust also in him, and he will bring it to pass." i was not slow to follow this blessed advice, and within half an hour i was with my company again, wet through and tired out. yet, with these uncomfortable things about me, i was able to thank god for his loving care, and now i can write "tried and proved" against that text.' and yet, though the fight was so terrible, the number of casualties was singularly few, considering the character of the encounter. lord methuen, however, was slightly wounded, and colonel stopford, of the coldstream guards, was shot dead. one of the boer batteries was planted close to the native wesleyan church, which was riddled with shot and shell from british guns intent upon dominating the boer position. that night, so far as possible, the chaplains gathered their men round them on the field, and many a homely evensong was held. then followed a period of quiet. there, frowning in front of them, was the boers' natural fortress of magersfontein, rendered impregnable by a wonderful series of trenches, at the extent and perfection of which they could only guess. they knew that there must be at least one desperate attempt to take them, if not more. but three great battles in one week had exhausted officers and men, and it was absolutely necessary to rest. =fellowship and work at the modder.= this was the opportunity for the christian workers. on the march or in the battle all that they could do was to speak a word of cheer as often as possible. christian soldiers could not meet for fellowship; all that they could do was occasionally to have a hearty hand-grip or shout ' ,' as a comrade passed by. with the shout of ' ' they went into the battle, and when they came out their little christian company was sorely depleted. but now they had time to look round, to count up their losses, to greet their comrades of other regiments again, to receive fresh accessions to their ranks. =the soldiers' home.= mr. percy huskisson, of the south african general mission, quickly secured the use of the native day school, which was also the worship room for the wesleyan natives, and fitted it up as a soldiers' home. he and his colleague, mr. darroll, were indefatigable in their efforts on behalf of the men, and night by night the newly transformed home was crowded. lord methuen himself opened it, and personally thanked the workers for their splendid services on the field of battle. in the course of his address, he said: 'i have heard of newspaper correspondents risking their lives when they are well paid for it, but you fellows seem to have no idea of danger; the shadow of the almighty seems over you, or you would have been, ere this, in your graves, with many more of our brave men.' but under the shadow of the almighty, the workers were secure, and are secure to-day! =local helpers in good work.= one of the best helpers the chaplains had was mr. westerman, who held an important position on the railway line, and who was steward of the wesleyan church at modder river. he had been a prisoner among the boers for six weeks, and on many occasions they had threatened to shoot him as a spy. they had not, however, injured him or his property in any way. it was, therefore, a most unfortunate occurrence that this good man's house and furniture should have been wantonly damaged by british soldiers on their arrival at the place. evidently they thought the house belonged to a boer. an order was, of course, promptly issued stopping such wanton destruction for the future. another good christian man at modder river was mr. fraser, a scotch presbyterian, whose house had been most unfortunately wrecked by the bombardment. he and mr. westerman met week by week, during the period of the boer invasion, for christian worship. these two gentlemen rendered splendid service to our christian soldiers, and to them both we are greatly indebted. every chaplain, every scripture reader, every agent of every society, every christian soldier was now busily at work. the battles had made a great impression on the men. the war had only just begun, and they knew there were other terrible fights in store. the sight of the dead and dying was something to which they had not yet become accustomed. the stern reality of war was upon them, and, as mr. lowry wrote, 'there are no scoffers left in lord methuen's camp.' take one instance out of many. ='after many days.'= years ago, in gibraltar, a sergeant came to a christian soldier, and with words of scorn and blasphemy asserted his own independence of any power above him. said he: 'my heart is my own. i am independent of everything and everybody, your god included.' the reply was a soldier's reply, straight and to the point: 'jack, some day you will face death, and, who knows, i may see you, and if the stiffness does not leave your knees before then, my name is not what it is.' three years passed since then--three years of prayer on his account--and on the night of november , , after the river had been passed, a hand was laid on that christian's shoulder, and a voice said: 'joe, i have done to-day what i have not done for thirteen years: i have offered up a prayer, and it has been answered. i have these last few hours seen all my life--seen it, as, i fancy, god sees it--and i have vowed, if he will forgive me, to change my ways.' with christian thoughtfulness his friend did not remind him of the incident at gibraltar, but it was doubtless present to both minds just then. so does war melt the hardest hearts! =open-air work.= the letters from christian soldiers at the front are full of stories of conversion. again, we hear of private soldiers and non-commissioned officers at outposts conducting parades. after magersfontein, the christian influence deepened and the number of conversions increased. by-and-by, enteric began to claim its victims, and the home had to be used as a fever hospital. open-air work then became the order of the day. some of the christian soldiers met between six and seven in the evening, and marched to the camp of a regiment or battery, where they held what they call an 'out and out' open-air meeting. sometimes they would get as many as a thousand listeners, and often the word was so powerful that there and then men decided for christ. the saturday testimony meetings were gatherings of great power, as our soldier-lads told to the others, who crowded round, what a great saviour they had found. =prayer under fire.= now and then the monotony of ordinary duty was broken by an engagement. such an interlude is pictured for us in vivid language in the following extract from the pen of one of our christian soldiers:-- 'on january , my battery advanced to a position directly in front of the hill occupied by the boers, and almost within rifle range of their trenches. we had no cover whatever, and they dropped shell after shell into us for nearly two hours; and after dark we retired without a man or horse wounded. one of our gunners was hit with a splinter on the belt, which bruised him slightly, but did not wound him or stop the performance of his duty. one of their shells hit one of our ammunition wagons, and smashed part of it to matchwood. if god's mercy was not plainly shown in this, i say men are as blind as bats, and less civilized. during the whole of the two hours after i had taken the range, i had to sit, kneel, or stand with my face to the foe, and watch the boer guns fire, then await the terrible hissing noise, next see the dust fly mountains high just in front of me, finally press my helmet down to prevent the segments hitting me too hard should any fall on me, but not one touched me, though they pattered like large hailstones on a corrugated iron roof. we amused ourselves by picking them up between bursts. i prayed earnestly all through that battle.... 'i sit and muse over the chatter of my little children many a time, and almost reach out for them, as though they were here. they are near to my heart, and in the precious keeping of my saviour.' with those last pathetic sentences we may well close this chapter. the picture they call before us is one we are not likely to forget. the soldier grimed with the heat and dirt of battle; shells flying round him on every hand; death stalking unchecked but a few yards away; and then the vision of little children, their chatter striking upon the father's ear in that far-off land, hands even stretched out to receive them. absent-minded! nay, thou soldier-poet, thou hast not got the measure of thomas atkins yet. 'they are near to my heart, and in the precious keeping of my saviour.' thank god for that! 'peace, perfect peace, with loved ones far away; in jesus' keeping we are safe and they.' chapter vi magersfontein at a dinner party in , in the duke of ormond's residence at richmond, the conversation happened to turn upon 'short prayers.' among the distinguished guests was dr. atterbury, bishop of rochester, who listened with special interest. 'i, too,' said the bishop, 'can tell you a short prayer i heard recently, which had been offered up by a common soldier just before the battle of blenheim, a better one than any of you have yet quoted: "o god, if in this day of battle i forget thee, do _thou_ not forget me."'[ ] years have gone by. on december , , when so many of our brave men had to face death in south africa, immediately before going into action at modder river, the gallant officer commanding the th howitzer battery gathered his gunners around him, and offered up the very prayer of the poor blenheim soldier: 'almighty god, if this day we forget thee, do thou not forget us.' [footnote : this, as the reader will probably note, is but a variant of a still older story.] =prayer before battle.= so begins a tiny booklet issued by the south african general mission. the picture it presents to us is one beautiful in the extreme. it reminds us of the covenanters of long ago. we have heard a great deal of boer prayer-meetings. who is there to record for us the prayer-meetings held in the british camp? but this artillery officer and his short prayer will not be forgotten, and will remain as the most touching expression of a soldier's need and a soldier's hope. and, surely, if such a prayer as this were needed at any time, it was before the battle of magersfontein. all was so sudden, so unexpected! in a moment death was upon them! all unlooked-for that deadly hail of bullets! no time for confession of sin! no time even for a whispered prayer! a few brief moments, and the flower of the british army lay prone to rise no more! it was the highland brigade that suffered most severely--the brigade of which every true britisher is so justly proud. who that has not seen these highlanders march can have any idea of their perfect bearing and splendid condition? the faultless line, the measured rising and falling of the white gaiters, until you almost forget they are men who are marching there, and fancy it must be the rising and falling of the crank in some gigantic piece of machinery. and the individual men. what splendid fellows they are! of what fine physique, of what firm character! it is an honour, surely, to command such men as these. and as general wauchope marches at their head to his death, with stern, sad face and purpose fixed, what wonder that his heart is racked with pain, as he fears, not for himself, but for his men. a fine christian was andrew wauchope. quiet and reserved with regard to his religion, as most scotchmen are, but, if we are to believe the reports that come to us on all hands, a man who lived near to god. =a scotch chaplain.= there was another notable man with the highland brigade that day; and, as there are few to tell the story of our chaplains, while there are many to tell the story of our soldiers, we make no apology for introducing to our readers in more than a few words one of the finest of our chaplains--the rev. james robertson, of the church of scotland. by the courtesy of dr. theodore marshall, we cull from _st. andrew_ the following particulars: 'mr. robertson is a native of grantown, and, after finishing his university course at edinburgh, was licensed by the presbytery of abernethy. he is a soldier's son, and very early in his ministry determined to devote his life to soldiers. his first military appointment was the acting-chaplaincy at dover. in he was transferred to cairo, and accompanied the cameron highlanders on the march to abri, thence on the return journey to wady halfa. all the way through, the men were loud in his praises. he spared himself no toil, cheerfully shared the men's privations and dangers, and became to them almost more than a friend. the may _record_ tells how robertson was specially reported by his church for bringing in lieutenant cameron, who had been mortally wounded in the previous december; how, in the absence of a second doctor, he had volunteered to go out with a stretcher party under heavy fire, and look after the wounded; and, as lieutenant cameron had got hit while apart from the others, he had to be brought in at all risks. for his services he was mentioned in despatches, and received the medal and khedival star.'[ ] shortly after the close of the egyptian war, mr. robertson received his commission. he served for some time as junior chaplain in london, and then was removed to dublin. from dublin he went to edinburgh, and remained there until he was ordered to south africa, as a member of general wauchope's staff and chaplain to the highland brigade. in south africa he has greatly distinguished himself, and it goes for saying that 'padre' robertson, as he is affectionately called, is one of the most honoured and best-loved men in her majesty's army. we will, however, allow the head of the military work in the presbyterian church (the rev. dr. marshall) to tell himself of mr. robertson's work in south africa. we quote from an article published by him in the _home and foreign mission record_:-- 'of the work of the rev. j. robertson in the field, it is unnecessary to write, as the newspaper correspondents have referred so often to his bravery and splendid services. one correspondent writes to me: "it is no exaggeration to say that the whole of methuen's army, and especially the highland brigade, deem his bravery worthy of the v.c. everywhere, in train or camp, officers' mess or soldiers' tent, padre robertson is proclaimed a hero." i was pleased to notice in the _record_ (the church of england weekly), the other day, a letter from the church of england chaplain who is with lord methuen. after describing the battle of magersfontein, he refers to the highland brigade: "being chiefly highlanders, they were in robertson's charge. he, good-hearted fellow, was risking his life in the trenches and under fire to find general wauchope's body. why he was not killed in his fearless efforts i cannot say." in one of the latest telegrams i see reference to him at the battle of koodoosberg, whither he had accompanied general macdonald and the highland brigade. "one interesting feature of the fighting was the activity of chaplain robertson. he acted in turns as a galloper, as a water-carrier, and as a stretcher-bearer. wherever a ready hand was wanted, the chaplain was always to the fore, and won golden opinions from officers and men alike." 'you must not, however, suppose mr. robertson's exertions are altogether in the field or connected with matters which lie outside his duty as a minister of christ. while employed by his general as a despatch rider and intermediary with the boers, and in many other ways in which as "non-combatant" he could be useful to the army, and especially to his own highlanders, he has given his chief thought and work to their spiritual concerns. we have all noticed his name in connection with the pathetic funeral of his much-loved chief, general wauchope; but for days after each of the battles of modder river and magersfontein he was busy identifying and burying the dead. being, as a presbyterian minister, a _persona grata_ to the boers, he was allowed nearer to their lines than any one else, in the discharge of those sad duties, and conducted many funerals both of boer and briton. speaking of his feelings in the field hospital and alongside the burying trench he says: "war seems devil's work. but all the same, war has its better side, and out of evil has come good. hearts have been softened. we have frequent meetings of an evening. hundreds attend. i've never been at heart so touched myself, nor so evangelical. i seem to hear repeated, 'woe is me if i preach not the gospel.' i thank god the gospel at modder is proving in not a few cases the power of god unto salvation."' in another letter to a mutual friend, mr. robertson speaks of his services on the last sunday of the year, and as showing how deep is the spiritual impression produced, he wished me to be informed that at the close of the short service he asked all who desired to partake of the holy communion to remain. to his joy some officers and men came and took their places at the lord's table. to any one who knows how difficult it is to get soldiers to come to the communion, that fact speaks volumes for the extent and depth of the religious movement among our men. they have had much to make them serious. the death of their beloved general wauchope and of so many of their comrades must have greatly affected them. mr. robertson says, 'there is only one heart in the highland brigade, and it is _sad and sore_. but good is being brought out of evil.' at the meeting of the general assembly of the church of scotland, held this year, the moderator said he wished to read the following letter from scottish soldiers at the front, which had just been put into his hands:-- 'winburg, _may th_, . 'from the warrant officers, non-commissioned officers, and men of the highland brigade, to the moderator of the general assembly, church of scotland. 'sir,--we, the undersigned, as representatives of the regiments now forming the highland brigade at present serving in south africa under general hector macdonald, do hereby desire to express our appreciation of the untiring energy and praise-worthy zeal of major j. robertson, our chaplain, not only in camp, but also on the field. he is invariably among the first to succour our wounded, and many a scottish mother's heart will be gladdened by the knowledge that her lad's last moments were brightened by our chaplain's kind administrations. at magersfontein, paardeberg, and other engagements, he was always to be found in the firing line, with a cheerful word or a kindly nod of encouragement, and on many occasions has acted as a.d.c. to our generals. sir, soldiers are proverbially bad speakers, but we venture to request that this short note may be read aloud on the occasion of the meeting of the general assembly at edinburgh during may, .' the letter bore twenty-five signatures, including that of the sergeant-major and sergeants and corporals in the black watch, the highland light infantry, the seaforths, and the argyll and sutherland highlanders. [footnote : _st. andrew_.] =mr. lowry at magersfontein.= such was the man whom general wauchope chose for his companion on that fateful day. rumour says that the general had a presentiment that he would be killed, and certainly he asked mr. robertson to keep near him, perhaps longing for christian society at the last. what really happened, perhaps we shall never know with any degree of certainty. all seems to have been confusion. perhaps the best and most connected account that has come to us is from the pen of the rev. e.p. lowry, who was present during the battle. we quote from the _methodist times_:-- [illustration: rev. e.p. lowry. (from a photograph by neale, of bloemfontein.)] 'our second sunday on the modder river commenced so peacefully that we were actually able to carry out in detail the various arrangements for voluntary parade services in different parts of this wide camp. just a little this side of the great railway bridge, that lies shattered by dynamite, is an excellent day-school building, which messrs. huskisson and darroll, of the south african general mission, succeeded in requisitioning for the purposes of a soldiers' home, and excellent work is being done in it, though necessarily on a small scale. here, at seven o'clock in the morning, my first service was held and was gracious in its influence as well as cheering, by reason of the numbers present, including not a few whose faces had grown familiar to me in the homeland long, long ago. amid the stir and strain of actual war we sang of a "day of rest and gladness"; and turned our thoughts to the saviour who knows each man "by name." i then hurried back to the camp of the guards' brigade for a similar service in the open air at eight o'clock; but here a common type of confusion occurred. i had arranged to hold it in front of the scots guards' camp, but in one battalion it was announced that it would take place precisely where the church of england service had just been held, and in another precisely where the roman catholic service had just been held. so before my service could begin, the shepherd had to seek his sheep and the sheep their shepherd. finally, by several instalments, we got together, forming a circle, seated on the sand; and then we gave ourselves to prayer and praise, followed by a brief sacramental service of glad remembrance and renewed consecration. a camp mug and a camp plate placed on the bare sand for table betokened a ritual of more than primitive simplicity; but thus on the eve of battle did a band of godly soldiers give themselves afresh to god in christ. 'a similar open-air service was fixed for the evening, but never came off. it may have been one of the sad necessities of war time, but was a fact, nevertheless, deeply to be deplored, that at four o'clock on sunday afternoon our guns, which had been silent for a fortnight, again opened fire and shelled the boers with lyddite. as i listened to the thunder and the thud of them i could not quite repress a wonder whether that was quite the best possible way of propitiating the god of battle. at eight o'clock, under cover of the darkness, we marched silently out of camp, confident and strong, and bivouacked till midnight just beyond the river. nearly every other night since we came upon this ground had been brightened by starlight, but on this occasion rain had fallen during the day, and dense darkness covered us at night. so, with my mackintosh wrapped around me, i lay for hours among the troops on the damp ground awaiting the order to resume our midnight march. soon after one o'clock we were again on the move; but our only light was the tell-tale searchlight from kimberley, and many a vivid flash of lightning, which only served to make the darkness visible. it was not long, therefore, before the whole brigade hopelessly lost its way, and had to halt by the hour, while the persistent rain drenched almost every man, standing grimly silent, to the skin. 'precisely at earliest dawn the splendid highland brigade appears to have stumbled into a horrible snare, and in such close formation as to render them absolutely helpless against their foes. instantly their general fell, mortally wounded; for a moment the whole brigade seemed in a double sense to have lost its head, and, in spite of the fierce and terribly effective fire of our artillery, there followed, not indeed an actual defeat, but none the less a grave disaster, involving further delay in the relief of kimberley and the loss of over brave men killed and wounded. =war's terrible harvest.= 'the incoming of the wounded to the hospital camp was the most pitiful sight my life has thus far brought me; but i scarce know which to admire most--the patient endurance of the sufferers or the skilled devotion of the army doctors, whose outspoken hatred of war was still more intensified by the gruesome tasks assigned them. 'that night i slept on the floor of a captured boer ambulance van, fitted up as a physic shop with shelves fitted with bottles mostly labelled poison. it was for me, even thus sheltered, a bitterly cold night, much more for the scores of wounded who lay all night upon the field of battle. early next morning i buried two, the first-fruits of a large harvest, and later on learned that among the killed was the marquis of winchester, who a fortnight ago invited me to conduct the funeral of his friend, colonel stopford. to-day i visited the two graves side by side in the same war-wasted garden, and thought of the tearful christmas awaiting thousands in the mountains.' =mr. robertson at magersfontein.= add to this pathetic statement the following letter from the rev. james robertson, read by principal story to the general assembly of the church of scotland on may , . the letter was dated bloemfontein, april :-- 'i have already buried over men, killed in action or who died of wounds or disease; and our hospitals are full of enteric cases, day by day swelling the total. it goes without saying that--at magersfontein especially, all alone, no one being allowed with me--it was terribly trying work collecting, identifying, and burying our dead, so many of whom were my own personal friends; but i experienced more than i ever did before how the hour of one's conscious weakness may become the hour of one's greatest strength. of general wauchope i won't write further than to say that i was beside him when he fell. i think he wished me to keep near him, but i got knocked down, and in the dark and wild confusion i was borne away, and did not see him again in life, though i spared no effort to find him, in the hope that he might be only wounded. as one of the correspondents wrote of him, he was a man of god, and a man among men--a fitting epithet. not to mention other warm friends, in my own mess (general wauchope's) there were seven of us on december ; when next we sat down there were only two. we were a sad, a very sad, brigade, for though we tried to hide it, we took our losses to heart sorely; for "men of steel are men who feel." but out of evil came good. the depth of latent religious feeling that was evoked in officers and men was a revelation to me; and were it not that confessions, and acknowledgments, and vows were too sacred for repetition, i could tell a tale that would gladden your hearts--not that i put too much stress on what's said or done at such an impressionable solemnising time, but after-proof of sincerity has not been wanting.'[ ] [footnote : _scotsman_, may , .] ='prepare to meet your god!'= a few more words may serve to complete the picture. when all at once the highland brigade stumbled upon the boer trenches, and speedily all the officers of his company was struck down, colour-sergeant mcmillan (we believe a member of the salvation army) found himself in charge, and, waving his arm, shouted to his men, 'men of a company, prepare to meet your god! forward! charge!' the next moment a bullet went through his brain, and he fell dead. but surely that was not the time to prepare for such a dread meeting. thank god that _he_ was ready. we have heard him singing for jesus in the old camp at home, and now he is singing in heaven. =a christian hero.= many hours passed ere the wounded could be relieved. they lay under the fierce rays of the african sun, suffering agonies from thirst, and no succour could reach them. at last there were those who ventured to their help. but the wounded were many, and the helpers were few. the water-bottles were soon exhausted, but there was one soldier who had a few drops left. he saw two lads lying side by side in the agonies of death. he went to the first and offered him the water still remaining in his bottle. the dying man was parched with thirst, and he looked at the water with a strange, sad longing, and then feebly shook his head. 'nay,' he said, 'give it to the other lad. _i_ have the water of life,' and he turned round to die. _that_ was christian heroism! but we will not linger longer over this tragic and pathetic tale. suffice it, all was done for the wounded that could possibly be done; and that christian ministers committed reverently to the earth 'until the morning' those who fell so bravely and so suddenly at magersfontein. mr. robertson shall close the chapter for us, in words as eloquent and as pathetic as any we have read for many years, and with his sad _requiem_ we will let the curtain drop on the tragedy of magersfontein. [illustration: rev. james robertson. (by permission of the publishers of _st. andrew_.)] =the scottish dead at magersfontein.=[ ] 'our dead, our dear scottish dead! how the corpse-strewn fields of the modder, magersfontein, koodoosberg, and paardeberg sorrowfully pass before me! let me picture the scene, sad, yet not without its solace to those whose near and dear ones lie buried there, otherwise i would not paint it or reproduce my comments thereon, even by request. 'tis only a miniature, with a few details, that i attempt to draw. one field--nay, one corner of the field--is descriptive of the rest, so i lift but a little of the dark-fringed curtain. 'reverently, tenderly, lovingly handle them, and carefully identify them, for their own brave sakes, and that of the bereaved ones far away. there, you will find the identity card in the side-pocket. no, it's missing. well, then, what's this? a letter; but the envelope's gone. let me see the signature at the end. ah, just as i thought, "your loving mother!" god help her, poor body! ah, boys, don't forget the dear mother in the old home. she never forgets you, but morning, noon, and night thinks and prays for her soldier-son. mindfulness of her brings god's blessing; forgetfulness bitter remorse, when too late--after she's gone. there's something more in the breast-pocket. his parchment probably. no; something better still--a small copy of st. john's gospel, with his name thereon. let us hope that its presence there, when every extra ounce carried was a weighty consideration, is more than suggestive of thoughts of higher things. pass on. no identity card on this body either, but another letter--a sweetheart's one. oh, the poetry and pathos, the comedy and tragedy of love's young dream! please see this burnt, sergeant; i don't wish others to read what was meant for his eye alone. poor lassie! she'll feel it for a while; but time is the great healer, and the young heart has wonderfully recuperative powers. there are only two kinds of love, men, that last till death and after--your mother's love and your god's--and both are yours, yearning for a return. 'oh, here's a sad group--seven, eight, nine, close together. who's that in front? an officer. i thought as much. _noblesse oblige_. yes, i know him. are we to bring him with the others? did you ask. certainly. what more appropriate resting-place than with the men he so nobly led, and who so gallantly followed him--all alike faithful to the death, giving their life for queen and country! pass on. here are three, one close after the other, as they moved from the cover of this small donga. i saw them fall, vieing with one another for a foremost place, for here "honour travelled in a strait so narrow that only one could go abreast." all three mere boys, but with the hearts of heroes. a book, did you say, in every one of their pockets? _prayers for soldiers_--well marked, too. my friend was right, dear mothers. there _is_ some comfort in the sadness--a gleam of sunshine showing through the gloom. 'ah, how thick they lie! what a deadly hail of mausers must have come from that rock-ribbed clump on the kopje. three--and--twenty officers and men, promiscuously blent; and fully more on that little rise over there, as they showed in sight. god help their wives and mothers, and strengthen me for this sacred duty! nay, men, don't turn away to hide the rising sob and tear. i'm past that. i've got a new ordination in blood and tears. it's nothing to be ashamed of--so far the opposite, it does you honour, for "men of finest steel are men who keenest feel." look at this man with the field-dressing in his hand, shot while necessarily exposing himself, trying to do what he could for a wounded comrade. noble, self-sacrificing fellow! such deeds illumine the dark page of war. of a truth, some noble qualities grow under war's red rain. methinks i hear the master's voice, "well done, good and faithful servant, inasmuch as ye did it to the least of these, ye did it unto me." yes! get these two groups together; we'll make a trench midway. more gospels and prayer-books, and friendly words for soldiers, and christian mottoes! i thank god for that. the sight of them cheers me. perhaps it should not, but it does. they knew, at least, of the father's forgiving love, and in their better moments must have thought thereof, otherwise these books would not be there at such a time; and though it does not do to presume too much thereon, who can set a limit to god's mercy? who can say what passed in those closing moments, while the life-blood was ebbing away? often in the field i think of scott's dying soldier-- "between the saddle and the ground, he mercy sought and mercy found." oh, here's an officer i've been expecting to find. i knew he was missing, for i especially asked. he had a presentiment amounting to a preintimation of his coming end. in vain i argued with him. he calmly gave me his last messages. i've known several such. "there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy." thank god, when he said "the hour of my departure's come," he was able to add, "i hear the voice that calls me _home_" and "is the traveller sad," he asked, "when his face is turned _homeward_?" 'who's that you've got next? oh, i know him well. we rejoiced together. come here, all of you, and look on his face. i'm not to preach, boys--we have other work to do--but i wish you to lay his case to heart. some of you know him. you know the stand he took at one of our meetings at the modder river station, and what proof he afterwards gave of the sincerity of his profession. look at his face. what a sweet, peaceful expression--what a contrast to his surroundings! death swift and sudden, in the horrid din of battle stript of all its terrors. as earth's light faded he must have got a glimpse of the glory beyond, for it's reflected in his face. that's what christ can do, and came to do, for a man. 'sergeant, get some of the handiest of the men to break up these empty ammunition-boxes and construct a rude cross for the trench. it's the most appropriate "memorial." it signifies self-sacrifice, and did they not, "obedient unto death," give their lives for others; it indicates the cheering hope in which we lay them to rest. by-and-by, we will erect something more permanent, and place a fence around, for 'tis holy ground, consecrated by tearful prayer and by the very fact that the remains of brave men mingle there. scotland to-day is poorer in men, but richer in heroes? "saviour, in thy gracious keeping, leave we now our loved ones sleeping."' [footnote : _st. andrew_, june , .] chapter vii thomas atkins on the veldt it will be a relief to turn from this sad record and give a sketch of thomas atkins upon the veldt as he appears to christian workers. nowhere else have we been able to see him apart from the fierce temptations which particularly assail him. untrained, except in so far as military discipline is concerned, he is a child of nature, and nature not always of the best. but the south african veldt has witnessed the remarkable spectacle of a sober army. no intoxicating drink was to be got, and the cup that cheers but not inebriates has been tommy's only stimulant. a further fact must be borne in mind. war has a sobering effect even among the most reckless. a man is face to face with eternal things, and though after a little while the influence of this to some extent passes off, and either an unhealthy excitement or an equally unhealthy callousness takes its place, it never wholly goes, and any serious battle suffices to bring the man to his senses again. =the soldier's temptations.= the consequence of these things has been that we have seen the soldier at his best in south africa--and that best has often been of a very high order. it is no kindness to him to make light of his vices, and they have been sufficiently pronounced even there. we are afraid, to begin with, that we must confess to an army of swearers. it seems natural to the soldier to swear. he intersperses his conversation with words and phrases altogether unmeaning and anything but elegant. it is his habit so to do, and even the christian soldier who has belonged to this swearing set often finds it a great difficulty to break away from his old habits. ='old praise the lord.'= an amusing and pathetic instance of this comes to our mind. a soldier who worked at the forge was soundly converted to god, and as usual had to go through the ordinary course of persecution. it was astonishing how many pieces of iron fell upon his feet, and how often a rod was thrust into his back! at such occurrences prior to his conversion he would have sworn dreadfully, and he had to guard himself with the greatest care lest some ungodly word should escape his lips. and so when any extra cruelty in the shape of a red-hot piece of iron came too near, or a heavy weight was dropped upon his toes, he used to cry, 'praise the lord.' 'old praise the lord' they called him, and truly he often had sufficient reason for some such exclamation. he came to the soldiers' fellowship meeting one night, and told how he had been tested to the limit. he had taken his money out of the savings bank, and locked it in his box; but the box had been broken open, and the money taken away. he stood and looked at it, hands clenched, teeth set. for a moment the fire of anger flashed in his eyes, and words that belonged only to the long ago sprang to his lips. a year's savings had gone. the promised trip to the old home could not be taken. and a vision of the old mother waiting for her boy, and waiting in vain, brought a big lump in his throat which it was difficult to choke down. the lads stood and looked at him. what would he do? and then that strange fire died out of his eyes, and his hands relaxed their grasp, and with the light of love shining out from his face he said, 'praise the lord,' and came into the meeting to tell how god was flooding his soul with his love. but the number of such as he in comparison with those who still pollute the air with their oaths is small indeed, and we have sorrowfully to admit that ours has been a swearing army upon the veldt. gambling, too, has been very rife, and if there was a penny to spin tommy would spin it. this, of course, is not by any means true of all regiments, and as one of french's cavalry naïvely put it, 'you see, sir, we had not even time to gamble!' there are some brutes even among our british soldiers, and sad stories reach us of men who have robbed the sick in hospital, and stripped the dead upon the battlefield. but swearing and gambling apart, and these horrible exceptions left out of the reckoning, what noble fellows our soldiers have proved themselves! =the patience of our soldiers.= their patience has been wonderful. we have all heard of the _patient_ ox, and away there on the veldt he has patiently toiled at his yoke until he has laid down and died. but the patience of the private soldier has exceeded the patience of the ox. he has undergone some of the severest marches in history. he has endured privations such as we can hardly imagine. he has lain wounded upon the veldt sometimes for three or, at any rate in one case, for four days. he has in his wounded state borne the terrible jolting of the ox-waggon day after day. if you talk to him about it, he will not complain of any one, but will make light of all his dreadful sufferings and merely remark that you cannot expect to be comfortable in time of war! and how much he has endured! the difficulties of transport have made it impossible for him to receive more than half rations, and sometimes not more than a quarter rations for days together. on the march to kimberley, for instance, general french's troops for four days had nothing to eat but what they could pick upon the hungry veldt. stealing has been abolished in south africa--it is all commandeering now! 'where did you get that chicken, my lad?' asks the officer in angry tones. 'commandeered it, sir,' says tommy, and the officer is appeased. and there was plenty of commandeering done during that dreadful march, or the men would have died of starvation. a strange spectacle he must have presented as he rode along. his kettle slung across his saddle, a bundle of sticks somewhere else, a packet of quaker oats fastened to his belt, and a tin of golden syrup dangling from it. these he had provided for himself from the last dry canteen he had visited, and often even these could not be obtained. what stories are told us of sticks and quaker oats! they say that when the troops started with sir redvers buller from colenso each man had his bundle of sticks and a packet of quaker oats fastened somewhere upon him. his canteen was as black as coal, but that did not matter. and if he had his sticks and his quaker oats, and could manage to get a little 'water' that was not more than usually khaki-coloured, he was a happy man. so as he marched along he was always on the look-out for sticks and water. the two together furnished him with all things necessary: the sticks soon made the water boil, and the quaker oats made--tea! =the men in khaki.= as regards dress he was a picture! he started khaki-clad, and no one could tell one regiment from another, but he was only allowed to take the suit he wore to the front, and before long, what with marching and sandstorms and fighting, that suit became unrecognisable as a suit. bit by bit it went. tailors of the most amateur description plied their needles and thread upon it in vain. it went! and tommy's distress occasionally knew no bounds. we hear of one man who at last marched into ladysmith with two coat sleeves but no coat; of another with not a bit of khaki about him, but garments of one sort and another 'commandeered' as he went along. one of the facts that impressed them most as they marched into ladysmith was that the garrison were clean and neatly dressed in khaki, but that _they_--bearded, dirty, ragged--looked rather the rescued than the rescuers! mr. lowry tells how when at last he determined to have his khaki suit washed, and retired to his tent to wait the arrival of his clothes from the amateur laundry on the banks of the modder, it seemed as though they would never come, and he was fearful lest the order to advance should arrive before his one suit returned from the wash! but through it all our men kept cheerful. one christian man who had earned among his comrades the nickname of 'smiler,' and who was wounded, signs himself, 'still smiling, with a hole in my back.' and this was typical of all. during that dreadful march to overtake cronje, the officers of the guards had as their mess-table on one occasion a rectangular ditch about eighteen inches wide and as many deep. it was dug so as to enclose an oblong piece of ground about sixteen feet by eight, which, flattened as much as possible, served as table. at this earth table, with their feet in the muddy ditch, sat several representatives of england's nobility, but as our soldier lad said, 'still smiling.' when the rain came down and deluged both officers and men, and sleep was impossible, tentless on the veldt and seated in the mud, the men hour after hour sang defiance to the storm. how kind they were to one another! how brave to save a fallen comrade or officer! one of our chaplains relates that in the advance to ladysmith an officer was struck down and could not be moved. when the regiment retired, and his men knew their officer would have to stay there during the night, four of them elected to remain, and one of them lay at his head, another at his feet, and one on each side to shield him from the boer bullets which were flying around. but we must not be tempted into stories such as these. they abound, and if the victoria cross could be given wherever it was deserved, the sight of it upon the breast would be common indeed! =their dread of the 'pom-pom.'= of one thing, however, our men were afraid--the dreaded 'pom-pom' of the boers. some two hundred one-pound shells a minute these vickers-maxim guns are supposed to fire. but as a matter of fact we are told the number rarely reached a score. still the dull pom-pom-pom of the gun, with the knowledge that shell after shell was coming, always made tommy shake; and when he got to the camp fire at night, one man would say to another, 'i cannot get used to it. it frightens me nearly out of my life.' =the christian under fire.= we have asked many of our christian soldiers how they felt when they went into fire. all sorts of answers have been given. most have confessed to a nervous tremor at first. said a lance-corporal of the th lancers: 'the worst time i ever had was when we were relieving kimberley. there were boers in front of us and boers on our flank. we rode through a perfect hail of bullets. at first i wondered if i should get through it, and then i became utterly oblivious of shells and bullets. i rode steadily on, and the only thing that concerned me as we rode right for the boer position was to keep my horse out of the ruts.' perhaps this is the general experience. no thought of turning back, no particular fear, no great exultation, simply a keeping straight on. no wonder from before such a wall of determination the boers fled for their lives. the soldier's great complaint is that he has been kept ill-informed of the progress of events. he has simply been a pawn on the chess-board, or a cog in the great wheel. and he laments that often at the end of a long day's march or fighting he lies down to rest in his wet ragged clothes, not knowing where he is or whether he has accomplished little or much. this is inevitable, of course, and the officers themselves were, in many cases, but little better informed. but one and all have implicit faith in their generals, and those who added to that faith implicit trust in god could after the most trying days lie down and rest in perfect peace. even at his worst the british soldier is capable of better things, and out there upon the veldt he has many a time thought of god, and wondered what possibilities for good there were within him. going to the front has made a _new_ man of tommy. it remains to be seen whether in the easier times of peace the _old_ man will come back. chapter viii with lord roberts to bloemfontein the advent of that splendid christian soldier, field-marshal lord roberts of kandahar, put an entirely different face upon the war. he came with a heavy sorrow resting upon him. his son had been struck down at the front, earning, however, the victoria cross by a conspicuous act of bravery before he died. he himself had by long service earned the right to rest upon his laurels. he was an old man, but at the call of duty he cheerfully left home and friends, and, with heart sore at his great loss, went out to win for england the victory in south africa. his first thought was to send for lord kitchener, and when these two men landed in south africa england knew that all things possible would be accomplished. and surely their task was great. england's prestige had suffered severely. lord methuen had fought at belmont, graspan, modder river and magersfontein, but the enemy's entrenchments were apparently as strong as ever and kimberley as far off. on the other side of the field of operations sir redvers buller was confronted with insurmountable obstacles, and his forces seemed altogether inadequate for the task before him. gallant little mafeking was holding out, but with no hope of speedy relief. how lord roberts' advent changed all this in a few brief weeks the country knows right well. =lord roberts issues a prayer for use in the army.= perhaps the most remarkable fact in the history of this or any war is that a few days after landing in south africa lord roberts issued a prayer for the use of the troops. many army orders have been issued which have stirred the blood and fired the heroism of the british soldier as he has gone forth to fight for his country or has returned triumphant from the field. 'when on the eve of trafalgar the signal floated out from the mast-head of the _victory_, "england expects every man to do his duty," it told of the exalted courage of the hero who was about to fight his last fight and win his last victory. it kindled a like courage in every man who read it, and it ever after became a living word, a voice that is heard everywhere, an inspiration to our race. 'but an army encouraged to pray, an army order in which the commander-in-chief hopes that "a prayer may be helpful to all her majesty's soldiers now serving in south africa"! and doubtless many of our comrades have so used the prayer that now they know all the blessings of pardon, purity, power and comfort which it teaches them to ask of god.'[ ] the commander-in-chief's letter. 'army headquarters, cape town, _january rd_. 'dear sir,--i am desired by lord roberts to ask you to be so kind as to distribute to all ranks under your command the "short prayer for the use of soldiers in the field," by the primate of ireland, copies of which i now forward. 'his lordship earnestly hopes that it may be helpful to all of her majesty's soldiers who are now serving in south africa. 'yours faithfully, 'neville chamberlain, colonel, private secretary. 'to the commanding officer.' the prayer. 'almighty father, i have often sinned against thee. o wash me in the precious blood of the lamb of god. fill me with thy holy spirit, that i may lead a new life. spare me to see again those whom i love at home, or fit me for thy presence in peace. 'strengthen us to quit ourselves like men in our right and just cause. keep us faithful unto death, calm in danger, patient in suffering, merciful as well as brave, true to our queen, our country, and our colours. 'if it be thy will, enable us to win victory for england, and above all grant us the better victory over temptation and sin, over life and death, that we may be more than conquerors through him who loved us, and laid down his life for us, jesus our saviour, the captain of the army of god. amen.' we venture to speak of the issue of this beautiful prayer as the most notable fact in the history of the war. we do not remember that anything of the kind has ever been done before. it testifies to the personal trust of the british general in god, it takes for granted that ours was a righteous cause, and it recognises the fact that above the throne which we all reverence and respect there is another throne--the throne of god. [footnote : _army and navy messenger_, april, .] =the christian influence of lord roberts.= lord roberts had been for years the idol of the troops. it was touching to hear our christian soldiers at aldershot pray for 'dear lord roberts,' or familiarly speak of him as 'our bobs.' all their fears went when they knew he was going to the front, and they were ready to follow him anywhere. moreover, the christian soldiers always remember that he was the founder of the 'army temperance association,' which has become such a power for good all over the world. he is a gentle, lovable man. the story is told that soon after the entry of the troops into pretoria lord roberts was missing, and when at last he was discovered he was sitting in a humble room with two little children upon his knees. the officer who found him apologised for intruding, but said that important business required attention. lord roberts merely looked up smiling and said, 'don't you see i am engaged?' but lord roberts is not only a christian man, he is a great soldier. this is what concerns the country most; only in his kindliness and christianity we have the assurance that he will never unnecessarily sacrifice life, and that he will enter upon no enterprise upon which he cannot ask the blessing of god. to our chaplains and other christian workers his sympathy and help have been invaluable. it is outside the purpose of this book to follow the general in his movements, or to discuss the scheme which turned the victorious cronje into a vanquished and captured foe. suffice it to say that that great flanking movement--perhaps the greatest on record--has won the admiration of all military critics, and, brilliantly conceived, was as brilliantly carried out. there was a stir at the modder river for some little time before the actual advance took place. lord roberts had come and gone. various little attacks on some part of the enemy's position--some real, some only feints--had taken place. every one wondered, none knew what would be the next order of the day. for two months they had been waiting at the modder river, and they were heartily tired of their inaction. even the shells from magersfontein, which had fallen every day but christmas day, had become a part of the daily monotony. it had been a glorious time for christian workers, and that was all that could be said. but even the christians were longing for an advance. by-and-by came the summons to the cavalry, and off they went, not knowing whether it was for an ordinary reconnaissance or for something more serious, and little dreaming what they would be called upon to do. for them until bloemfontein was reached all definite christian work was at an end. all that the christians could do was to get together for a short time among the rocks, when the long day's work was done, to talk and pray. and yet these cavalry men look back upon those few moments snatched from sleep as among the most precious in the whole war. they had been in the saddle for many hours at a stretch; on one occasion at any rate the saddles had not been taken off the horses for thirty-six hours. =religious meetings while on the march.= it seemed as though general french would never tire. he rode on far ahead of his men--stern, taciturn, resolved--as they rushed across the veldt to kimberley, or hastened to the doom of cronje. our soldiers did their best to follow, and did so till their horses dropped dying or dead upon the veldt. it says much for their christian enthusiasm that after such days as these, and knowing that only two or three hours' sleep was before them, they should step out of the lines and meet behind some rock to pray. they talked of the old home, of aldershot, of sergeant-major moss and his class. they pictured to themselves what we should all be doing at home, and then they knelt in prayer. very touching were those prayers, very sweet that christian intercourse. its precious memory is cherished still. and then they would sing a verse--one of the soldiers' favourites--perhaps:-- 'some one will enter the pearly gate, by-and-by, by-and-by; taste of the glories that there await-- shall you, shall i?' or may be that soldiers' favourite _par excellence_ would be rung out--the 'six further on,' of which they all speak:-- 'blessed assurance, jesus is mine; oh, what a foretaste of glory divine! heir of salvation, purchase of god, born of his spirit, washed in his blood.' and then a verse of :-- 'god be with you till we meet again.' and then back to the lines for rest and sleep. 'good-night, jim.' 'good-night, my boy.' ' .' 'aye! and "six further on."' and so they part. a delightful picture! a sad one too! who knows whether they will ever meet on earth again? =the march to paardeberg.= meanwhile, on sunday, feb. , , the guards had been suddenly ordered to follow the cavalry from modder river. at the mess that evening the chaplains had been positively assured by the officers present that there would be no move until wednesday at the earliest. little they knew what was in the mind of the great general! but late at night the summons came, and within two hours the whole brigade of guards, suddenly roused out of sleep and called in from outpost duty, were marching out into the darkness. whither they did not know. they took with them neither blanket nor overcoat, but, as their chaplain says, 'only an ample store of pluck and smokeless powder.' they did not stop till they had covered about twenty miles, and before their destination was reached hardly a man of them fell out. they too were part of the great movement--a movement that would continue until they marched into bloemfontein with lord roberts. =the chaplains on the march.= the chaplains were not allowed to accompany them. they followed with the doctors and the baggage. whether they were considered impedimenta or not they hardly knew. certainly their work was over for a short time, to be renewed all too soon when the first batch of wounded came down from the ever-advancing front. so the senior church of england chaplain and the senior wesleyan chaplain trudged off side by side, and marched steadily through the night until, about sunrise, they set foot for the first time since they had landed in south africa on hostile soil. a few miles further on they passed a deserted boer camp, and among the _débris_ strewing the floor of a farm-house found two english bibles. about nine o'clock in the morning jacobsdal was reached. in england it would be called a village, for it had only seven hundred inhabitants; but it was quite an important town in those parts. here a halt was called and a few hours' rest permitted. mr. lowry climbed into a captured boer ambulance, and found lying on the floor of it a dutch reformed minister, the rev. t.n. fick, who had been general cronje's chaplain, and who only the night before had joined in the general flight from magersfontein. these two, both ministers of the gospel, had been for two months on different sides of the famous kopje. one had been praying for the success of the boer arms and the other for the success of the english! and yet here they lay side by side in amicable christian converse. strange are the ways of war! but though the chaplains were denied the privilege of proceeding to the front with the soldiers, two christian workers at any rate--we have not heard of more--managed to secure that privilege. by the kindness of lord methuen, and as a token of his appreciation of their efforts for the men, mr. percy huskisson and mr. darroll, of the south african general mission, were attached to the bearer company of the highland brigade. 'on monday, february th, they went out, not knowing whither they were going. their luggage was limited to changes of socks and shirts and rugs, but at the last moment they managed to get permission to take a little box of food also. at about five o'clock on monday afternoon they entrained in open trucks, which were shared alike by officers and men; at about eleven o'clock at night they got out at enslin, and slept on the veldt surrounded by horses, oxen, and mules. at four in the morning the whole camp was astir, and by half-past seven the entire force was on the march.'[ ] then followed the capture of the british convoy, consisting of some two hundred waggons, and meaning to our army the loss of about a million pounds of food. every one was put on quarter rations, consisting of a biscuit and a half a day and half a tin of 'bully' beef. on such a food supply as this were our troops expected to perform their terrible march. until they passed jacobsdal they thought they were going to the relief of kimberley, but all unknown to them general french's cavalry had already performed that feat, and the direction of their march was changed. it was theirs to follow in pursuit of cronje instead. in one terrible twenty-four hours they marched thirty-eight miles, and on sunday morning, february th, they reached paardeberg. thoroughly exhausted, the men flung themselves upon the ground to sleep, but after two or three hours the artillery fire roused them from their slumbers and the order came to advance. there was no time for breakfast, and from five o'clock in the morning until late at night they had to go without food. the battle of paardeberg is not likely to be forgotten by any of those who were engaged in it. the boers commanded the left of the highland brigade, and as it advanced on level ground, and destitute of cover, it was exposed to a terrible fire. messrs. huskisson and darroll went into the firing line with the highlanders. men fell on all sides of them, and they had numberless chances of helping the wounded. of course they had many hairbreadth escapes during this awful day, but they were abundantly rewarded by the privilege of straight talk and prayer with the wounded men, who were thankful indeed for such ministrations as they could offer. [footnote : _the surrounding of cronje_.] =relief of the wounded at paardeberg.= we venture to quote a few paragraphs from a little booklet published by the south african general mission, entitled _the surrounding of cronje_. it sets forth in vivid language the heroic work done by these two in the midst of the heat and fury of the battle, and christian men in all churches will honour the brave men who fought so nobly for god in the interests of those who were fighting so nobly for their country. 'during the day, as mr. huskisson was helping a wounded man back to the hospital, he had a very narrow shave of being shot. the wounded man had his arm round mr. huskisson's neck for support, and as they were walking back to the rear a mauser bullet shot off the tip of the man's finger, as it was resting on mr. huskisson's shoulder. had there not been the weight of the man's arm to depress the body this would have resulted in a nasty wound in the shoulder. at another time the case of field glasses hanging by his side was hit by a bullet. 'our workers could often see that they were specially aimed at by the boers, as the moment they raised their heads a small volley of bullets would fly all around them. sometimes they had to lie down for long periods, on account of this. at one stage of the battle, one of our men was lying down behind a tree, and a sharpshooter was perched in another tree. if even the foot was moved an inch or two beyond the tree a bullet would come with a "ping," and a little puff of dust would show how keenly every movement was watched. =singing though wounded.= 'while helping one wounded man, mr. huskisson heard his name called out, and looking round, saw the face of one of the men who had been converted in our soldiers' home at wynberg, some years ago. going up to the lad he said:-- '"are you wounded?" '"yes," said the man, "but praise god it is not in my head." 'a bullet had gone right through the back of his neck, and though he was bleeding profusely he was humming a chorus to himself. 'later on a major came up and said to mr. huskisson--"do you know that lad?" 'on hearing that he did, the major said, "he is the most chirpy man that has been in the dressing-room to-day; he was brought in singing a hymn." 'when mr. huskisson turned away from him, he left him still humming one of our favourite choruses; and an unconverted man was heard to say later on, "a chap coming in like that to the dressing-room does more good than anything else, as he keeps the fellows' spirits up so." 'there were, of course, many terribly sad sights--enough to make our men feel as if war could hardly ever be justifiable. one poor highlander was lying dying, and on our men asking him if he knew god, received no answer; but on repeating the question the dying man said that he did once, but he had evidently grown cold in his love to christ. it was _such_ a cheer to be able to point out, that though his feelings towards god had changed, _yet god's feelings and love toward him had not changed!_' events like these differentiate this war from many other wars. they are an eloquent testimony to the force of christianity. they disclose the power of a supreme affection towards christ. they declare that the most toilsome duty can be transformed by love into the most blessed privilege. they show that there is no compulsion but the compulsion of love in the christian workers' orders, so often sung,-- 'where duty calls, or danger, be never wanting there.' =the chaplains at work.= and now came the chaplains' work! it is not in the firing line that war seems the most dreadful. it is when the wounded are gathered from the field, and the results of the battle are seen in all their ghastliness. and in this case the wounded could not be tended where they were. it was onward, ever onward, with our men. only two hospitals, instead of at least ten--the number the doctors thought necessary--had been sent to the front, and the wounded must be got back to base hospitals as quickly as possible. back they came, a ghastly procession, in heavy, lumbersome ox-waggons, with no cover from the sun or rain. oh! the terrible jolting; oh! the screams of agony. 'better kill us right out,' cried the men, 'than make us endure any more!' it is not for us to say that all this was unnecessary. it is for others to judge. you cannot conduct war in picnic fashion. the country ought to know its horrors and get its fill of them. but we will not attempt the description. already others have done that. suffice it to say that the baggage camp, in which were the chaplains and some of the doctors, seemed an oasis in the desert to these agonized travellers. the day for parade services had gone by, and all days were now the same; but there was other work the chaplains could do, and this they attempted to the best of their ability. [illustration: bringing back the wounded.] the rev. e.p. lowry wrote:-- 'yesterday a long convoy arrived bearing over sick and wounded men. they were brought, for the most part, over the rough roads in open waggons (captured from the boers) from the fatal front, where days before they had been stricken more or less severely. they still had a long journey before them, and it so happened that they set out from here in the midst of a thunderstorm; but as i passed from one waggon to another i found them bearing their miseries as only brave men could. about of them belonged to the unfortunate highland brigade. one of these had been shot through the wrist of his left hand at magersfontein, and he was now returning shot through the wrist of his right hand. the next, said he, with gruesome playfulness, will be through the head. corporal evans, of the gloucesters--one of two brothers whose name is much honoured at aldershot--i found in the midst of this huge convoy stricken with dysentery. the cornwalls seemed to have suffered almost as heavily in proportion as the highlanders, and it was to me no small privilege to be permitted to speak a word of christian solace and good cheer to men from my own county. =the wounded canadians.= 'but i was struck most of all by the number of noble-looking canadians among this big batch of wounded soldiers, all of them proudly glorying in being permitted to serve and suffer in the name of so great a queen and in defence of so glorious an empire. among them i found colour-sergeant thompson, the son of one of our american methodist ministers, rev. james thompson. resting against the inner side of a waggon-wheel was a most gentlemanly canadian, shot through the throat, and quite unable to swallow any solids. to him, as to several others, i was privileged to carry a large cup of life-renewing milk. lying on another waggon was a middle-aged canadian, shot through the mouth, and apparently unable at present to swallow anything without pain; but he begged me, if possible, to buy for him some cigarettes, that he might have the solace of a smoke. but there is nothing of any kind on sale within miles of this camp. yet the cigarette, however, was not long sought in vain; and a word of christian greeting was made none the less welcome by the gift. lying by this man's side was a wounded french-canadian, who could scarcely speak in english, but had come from far to defend the empire which claimed him also as its loyal son; and yet another sufferer told me that he had come from vancouver, a distance of , miles, to risk, or, if needs be, to lay down his life for her who is his queen as well as ours. as in the name of the motherland i thanked these men for thus rallying around our common flag in the hour of peril, and tenderly urged them to be as loyal to the christ as to their queen, the meaning look and hearty hand-grip spoke more eloquently to me than any words. in almost every case the responsive heart was there. of these canadians--the first contingent--our generals speak in terms of highest praise; but already some twenty have been killed and nearly seventy severely wounded. the dominion mourns to-day her heroic dead as we mourn ours. they sleep side by side beneath these burning sands; but thus are forged the more than golden chains which bind the hearts of a widely-sundered race to the common throne around which we all are rallying.'[ ] the scene here depicted is one which must be imagined not once but many times during that terrible march from the modder to bloemfontein. it tells in simple but eloquent language how christian kindliness tried to assuage human woe. [footnote : _methodist times_.] chapter ix kimberley during the siege and after the siege of kimberley began on sunday, october , , and continued until thursday, february , . it was somewhat unexpected, for although so near the border it was hardly expected that the boers would invade british territory. in fact, so little did the military authorities at cape town anticipate a siege that it was with great difficulty the kimberley inhabitants secured any military assistance. on september , however, a detachment of men of the loyal lancashires, royal artillery, and royal engineers, under the command of lieutenant-colonel kekewich, put in an appearance. these were the only regular troops in the town, and but a handful in face of the boers gathering on the frontier. there were, of course, local volunteer regiments--the kimberley rifles, the diamond fields artillery, and the diamond fields horse--and there were also about men of the cape mounted police. but what were these to guard the treasures of the diamond city and its population of , souls? =the defence of kimberley.= it was evident that kimberley must set to work to defend itself, and that it did right nobly. a town guard was formed consisting of about , men, but they were men of all sorts and conditions. never was there a happier or a more ill-assorted family! a director of de beers side by side with a needy adventurer; a millionaire shoulder to shoulder with a beggar! there they were! all sorts and conditions of men, but all animated by one great purpose--to keep the flag flying. by-and-by the lack of cavalry was severely felt, and mr. cecil rhodes, resourceful as ever, brought up some horses, and the kimberley light horse--now a famous regiment--came into being. the command of it was given to colonel scott-turner, and it was composed of the best riders and keenest shots that could be found. plenty of these were fortunately available and they greatly distinguished themselves. no one thought of surrender, and when the length of the siege drew into weeks and from weeks into months, and food ran short and water was cut off, they still kept cheerful. they knew they were practically safe from assault. surrounding the town is a belt of level country some six miles wide, and they felt certain the boers dare not cross this belt and face the fire that would be poured into them from the huge cinder heaps which had been transformed into forts. by-and-by the number of shells dropped into the town increased rapidly. new and more powerful guns were brought to bear upon it, and no man's life was safe. they did their best to reply, and actually, under the direction of mr. george abrams (chief engineer of de beers), they manufactured a -pounder gun called 'long cecil,' which proved effective at a range of , yards. unfortunately, mr. abrams was himself killed by a shell not long after he had completed this great work. from time to time sorties were carried out, and in the boldest of them all, when the kimberley men got so near that they could look down their enemy's guns, colonel scott-turner was killed. =perils of the siege.= but notwithstanding all they could do the enemy's attack grew fiercer. it is estimated that between three and four thousand shells fell in kimberley during the siege, and the destruction wrought by these was very great. most of the churches suffered seriously. many women and children lost their lives. if there was any special function of any kind in progress the boers were almost sure to know about it and give it their marked attention. bugle calls, taken up and repeated through the town, warned the people of coming shells, and then they knew they had only fifteen seconds to reach some place of shelter. bomb-proof shelters were improvised, caves were dug by the side of houses, and into these the inhabitants ran, with more speed than ceremony, when those bugle notes were heard. it was, however, felt unsafe to allow the women and children to remain longer in the town, and by the kindness of the de beers company they were lowered into the mines, and there for a full week they lived. among the rest the families of the baptist and wesleyan ministers were lowered there. it happened that these two reverend gentlemen met in the street shortly after the descent of their families, and on parting the baptist said to the methodist--all unconscious of the suggestiveness of his statement--'good-bye, my friend; we shall soon meet again either above or below!' it was no laughing matter, however, to the thousands of women and children living day and night in the mine tunnels some eight or twelve thousand feet below the surface. theirs was a pitiable condition, and how much longer they could have held out had not help come it is difficult to say. all this time the kimberley searchlight was night by night searching the neighbourhood lest any boers under cover of the darkness should approach the town; and for most of the time, by heliograph or searchlight, the authorities were in communication with lord methuen on the other side of those forbidding kopjes. and yet help came not, and the situation was becoming desperate. =various forms of christian work during the siege.= in the first place refugee relief work was attempted and successfully carried out. large numbers had fled for refuge to kimberley when war was declared, and many of these were penniless. a fund of some £ , was raised, and a committee composed of all the ministers of the town carried out the work of relief. throughout the siege all the ordinary services with one or two exceptions were maintained, and though the men for the most part were on duty, yet the congregations were remarkably good and the men were present whenever they could get away. the wesleyan church has eight churches in kimberley. as soon as the military camps were formed, the rev. james scott organized services for the troops. the rev. w.h. richards, the presbyterian minister, gladly joined in the work, and united presbyterian and wesleyan services were held. the hospital work was effectively done, and miss gordon (the matron) with her staff of nurses cheered and soothed the last moments of many a poor dying lad. =the relief of kimberley.= but the time of relief was drawing near. lord roberts had appeared upon the scene, and his great flank movement was being carried out. general french, at the head of his cavalry division, was making one of the most famous marches in history. the days of inaction were over. cronje and his forces were saying a hasty good-bye to the hills at magersfontein, which had so long defied lord methuen and his troops, and were flying for their lives. on thursday, february , huge clouds of dust appeared upon the horizon, and the tidings spread throughout the town that the relief column was in sight. every available eminence was speedily crowded with people eager to catch a glimpse of the coming troops. bugle warnings and shells were things of the past. here they come! they have travelled far and fast! look at them! worn and weary, they can hardly sit their horses. but they are here, and at their head is the most famous cavalry officer of the war--our aldershot cavalry leader, general french. ahead of his troops, fresh and vigorous, as though he had only just started, he proudly rides into the town. the people gather round and cheer; they almost worship the soldiers who have brought them relief, and then, secure for the first time for four long months, they turn to greet friends and relatives, and the glad intelligence spreads far and wide--kimberley is relieved! =christian work after the relief.= very speedily a branch of the south african general mission was established in kimberley, and was soon in good working order. the tent of the s.c.a. was opened in newton camp, kimberley, on march . the mayor of kimberley was present, and mr. a.h. wheeler, the organizing secretary of the association, took charge of the proceedings. the soldiers' roll-call hymn was sung. in this tent large numbers afterwards gave themselves to christ. the rev. mr. mcclelland, presbyterian chaplain, also moved into kimberley from modder river, and for some time assisted in the work. he tells of the sad death of the rev. cathel kerr, of the free church highland committee. he had been acting chaplain to the scots guards, and died in kimberley hospital. during the siege an eminent south african missionary passed away--the rev. jas. thompson, m.a., ex-president of the south african wesleyan conference. he died with the sound of bursting shells in his ears, wondering what was in store for his church and people. he died as christians die, and passed 'where beyond these voices there is peace.' the work of god spread from kimberley on every hand. the s.c.a. workers spread out as far afield as boshof, worshipping in the dopper church, and making it ring with sankey's hymns, where all had been the quiet of the psalms. we read of conversions here and there and everywhere. thus in kimberley also the word of god 'had free course and was glorified,' and the workers 'thanked god and took courage.' chapter x with gatacre's column we turn now to another part of the field of operations, and the place that demands our attention is sterkstroom. here, following the disaster to the northumberland fusiliers, there was a long halt. general gatacre could not advance without reinforcements. those reinforcements were not for a long time forthcoming, and all that he could do was to keep that part of cape colony clear of the enemy, and ultimately join hands with general french. =christian workers at sterkstroom.= but these long pauses between actual engagements gave the opportunity for christian work, and general gatacre's camp at sterkstroom was besieged by a large number of christian workers. in addition to the recognised chaplains the soldiers' christian association, represented by messrs. stewart and denman, had their large green tent, and pursued their usual work with much success. the salvation army was also in evidence, and their captain and lieutenant rendered capital service, especially in the open air. mr. and mrs. osborne howe, well known in south africa for their devoted work, had another tent, splendidly fitted up, and known as the 'soldiers' home.' mr. anderson, an army scripture reader from glasgow, was also very useful. the anglican and wesleyan chaplains both had tents, in which they carried on their work incessantly. captain england started a branch of the a.t.a., and worked it till he died. and so, what with the workers living in camp and others paying flying visits to it, the call to repentance was loud and long, and no soldier at sterkstroom was left without spiritual ministration. =comforts for the troops.= and not only did the spiritual interests of the soldier receive attention--the workers bore in mind that he had a body as well as a soul. all christian south africa bore that in mind. from far and near came presents for the soldiers. churches gave collections for that purpose; ladies' sewing circles sewed to buy them comforts; business firms sent donations of goods; comforts, aye, and even luxuries, poured into the camp, and while in other parts of the field our men were on half or quarter rations, in the camp at sterkstroom there were fruit distributions night by night. fresh butter and eggs came from the ladies of lady frere and other places. stationery, almost _ad libitum_, was supplied. so that, notwithstanding rain and wind and many other _dis_comforts, on the whole the troops at sterkstroom managed to pass a cheerful time. hardships were before them, death was both behind and before. enteric fever was already dogging their steps, but still, compared with many of their comrades, they might indeed 'rest and be thankful.' =the soldiers' home at sterkstroom.= let us first of all glance at mr. and mrs. osborne howe in the midst of their work. it is the opening of their soldiers' home. the date is thursday, february . about two thousand men are present at the opening ceremony, and the general and his staff are also there. the assemblage is thoroughly representative. there are the war correspondents of the different papers; the chaplains of the division; the rev. thomas perry, baptist minister from king williamstown; 'captain' anderson and 'lieutenant' warwicker of the salvation army; the workers of the soldiers' christian association, as well as of the soldiers' home; and last, but not least, the ladies of the nursing staff from the hospital and soldiers' home. the band of the northumberland fusiliers is also present to delight the company with its music. all sorts of good things are provided by the generous host and hostess to delight the most fastidious appetite--if there is such an appetite upon the veldt. the general is in his happiest mood. he thanks the friends of king williamstown and mr. and mrs. osborne howe for their noble gift to his men. =the s.c.a. tent services.= the soldiers' christian association had their tent splendidly fitted up, as all their tents are. but it was most unfortunate. twice was it blown down by fierce sandstorms, and on the second occasion the tent-pole was broken beyond repair. a tree was, however--not commandeered, but--bought. handy men of the royal engineers speedily reduced its size and placed it in position, and there it stood braving its native winds. in this tent splendid work was done. night by night men were seeking christ. the demand for bibles was great. on one occasion the workers were employed for two hours giving out bibles and testaments to soldiers who came crowding round and begging for them. from the first night of its erection the tent was crowded. the workers had never in their long experience seen such a blessed work of grace. men by the score were delighted to be spoken to about the salvation of their souls. the pens, ink, and paper, provided free, were a great boon to the soldiers. from three to four hundred sheets of paper per day were given to the men, who, of course, had to make special application for it. [illustration: morning service on the veldt.] mr. denman reports: 'many whole days we have done nothing but receive in our private tents men who were anxious and troubled about their souls' salvation; others came to us who had got cold and indifferent, because of the absence of the means of grace. these in very many instances, under god's blessing, were helped and restored to the enjoyment of the means of grace and the christian privileges. one dear christian man came in, threw his arms around my shoulders, and burst into tears, and said, "god bless you dear men for coming out here to care for us, and to help us on in the christian life. he will reward you both for leaving home and dear ones. i am sure you have been such help to so many of us."'[ ] thus was the work of the s.c.a. appreciated, and eternity alone will reveal the good accomplished by its means. [footnote : _news from the front_, april, .] =christian work under mr. burgess.= the work of the wesleyan church at sterkstroom was also actively carried forward. the chaplain at sterkstroom was the rev. w.c. burgess. at one time he was assisted by no fewer than five wesleyan soldier local preachers. these were sergeant-major c.b. foote, of the telegraph battalion royal engineers, a much respected local preacher from the aldershot and farnham circuit; sergeant-major t. jones, of the th field hospital r.a.m.c.; corporal knight, of the th company derbyshire regiment; trooper w.w. booth, of brabant's horse; and mr. blevin, of king williamstown, and late of johannesburg, one of mr. howe's workers. parade services, of course, received careful attention, and were largely attended. but such services, however picturesque and interesting, are but a small part of the chaplain's duty. he makes them the centre of his work, for at no other time can he get so many of his men around him; and standing there at the drumhead, he gives god's message with all the power he can command. but, after all, it is in quieter, homelier work that he succeeds the best. mr. burgess, for instance, tells us how he began his open-air work. he went over to the royal scots camp, and, as soon as the band had finished playing, stepped into the ring. it might have been a shell that had dropped into that ring by the speed with which all the soldiers cleared away from it! and the preacher, who had hoped he could hold the crowd which the band had gathered, was woefully disappointed. however, he commenced to sing,-- 'hold the fort,' and he had not long to hold it by himself. before he had finished the hymn other soldiers had gathered courage, and he had a crowd of two or three hundred round him, and at the close of the service there were many earnest requests to come again. thus night by night, in the tent and in the open air, christ was preached. perhaps, however, the most blessed of all the services were the meetings of christian soldiers upon the veldt. here and there among mr. burgess's letters one chances on such passages as this:-- 'at . p.m. eight of us went a little distance from the tents into the veldt, and read the fifteenth chapter of st. john's gospel together, and knelt down on the grass, and had a happy time in prayer. the lads got back to their tents in time for the first post, when the roll is called.' such records as these give us a glimpse of the christian soldier's life at once beautiful and pathetic. such intercourse must have been of the sweetest character; and, far away from home and friends, they drew very near to god. for weeks from this time mr. burgess's letters are full of stories of conversion. now a corporal that he chats with at the close of a hard day's work, now the trumpeter of the regiment, now several together at the close of an open-air service. thus all workers rejoiced together in ever continued success, and the greatest joy of all--the joy of harvest--was theirs. but the time of inactivity was over. for weeks reinforcements had been gathering, and the chaplains' work had covered a larger area. it was now time to strike their tents and march. but this unfortunate column was unfortunate still. with the memory of the disaster to the northumberland fusiliers at stormberg still in their minds they marched forward, only to meet with fresh disaster at reddersburg. =the disaster at reddersburg.= perhaps the best account of that disaster is given by the rev. w.c. burgess in a letter to the rev. e.p. lowry; and as it gives a vivid picture of a chaplain's work under exceedingly difficult circumstances, we venture to quote at some length from the _methodist times_:-- 'on thursday, march , four companies of the royal irish rifles were under orders to go by march route to de wet's dorp, and to leave one company behind at helvetia, which is midway between the two townships. we reached this place on the friday, leaving captain murphy in charge, and the remaining three companies, under command of captain mcwhinnie, reached de wet's dorp on the sunday morning at nine o'clock. we marched through the town and took up a position on the surrounding hills, when all at once we heard firing in the distance, and our mounted infantry were soon engaging the enemy's scouts. about sunset we were reinforced by about of the northumberland fusiliers and royal irish rifles mounted infantry. our men bivouacked for the night along the ridges, and i slept with them. about three o'clock on monday morning our officer commanding received the order to retire upon reddersburg. at dawn we marched out in the pouring rain. we bivouacked that night on or near a mr. kelly's farm, about fifteen miles from de wet's dorp. at two o'clock the next morning--tuesday, april , --a man, of the name of murray, of the cape mounted rifles, brought despatches, informing us that the enemy were in considerable numbers in the direction of thaba 'nchu, on the modder river, and were likely to threaten our advance. 'murray rode with despatches from smithfield to de wet's dorp, and finding that our column had left, he decided to overtake us, after having rested his horse; but in the meantime some of the enemy's scouts had entered the town, had taken his horse, saddle and bridle, and were making a vigorous search for him, but in vain; and under cover of the darkness he walked out and reached us in the early morning. he came and woke me up, and i took him to the commanding officer. we marched out again in the grey of the morning, and at about ten o'clock a.m. we saw dense clouds of dust rising away in the distance to our extreme right, and shortly afterwards saw horsemen galloping towards us, whom we vainly hoped might be our own cavalry, sent to our relief by lord roberts at bloemfontein; but in a few minutes all our hopes were shattered, when we heard firing and saw our men engaging the enemy and retiring upon the adjacent kopjes, which we at once took possession of, and arranged our hospital, planting the red cross flag immediately in front of our ambulance wagons and hospital tents. 'the battle, now known as the battle of muishond-fontein, commenced at . a.m. on tuesday, april , , and continued all day. at . p.m. the enemy's guns arrived on the scene of action, and began shelling us from three different positions. we were completely surrounded by a force of , , under commandant de wet, who, according to his own testimony to us afterwards, had five guns, four of which were in action, as well as a vickers-maxim. shortly after the fighting began bullets and shells were dropping, and exploding in close proximity to our hospital. the red cross flag had four bullet-holes. two of the mules, standing in harness and attached to one of our ambulance wagons, were killed. the operating tent, in which dr. smyth was attending to a wounded man, had two bullet-holes through it. one tent had four bullet-holes. part of the seat of one of our ambulance baggage wagons had the red cross on its right side cut clean away by a shell. pieces of shell struck the wheels of our ambulance wagon, and one of our cape medical staff corps was slightly wounded in the foot by a segment of a shell while close to the ambulance wagon. we had one mule whilst in harness cut in two by a shell and three mules wounded, so that they had to be shot. one mule was shot while tied to an ambulance wagon bearing the red cross; shrapnel and common shell were fired. it was considered absolutely necessary to cast up a parapet as a protection from the shot and shell fire, and we all threw off our coats, and with pick and shovel worked away until about midnight casting up earthworks. [illustration: soldiers' home on the field.] 'the firing ceased at dusk. the men slept in their positions in the ridges, and without either food or water. at eight p.m., hearing that captain kelly was slightly wounded in the head, we scaled the heights, and took him and some of his men a little water; but it was very little. still he seemed grateful. he would not leave his men, but slept with them on the ridges. in stumbling over boulders amongst the bushes on the ridges, whom should i meet but the earl of rosslyn, who had escaped from the boer lines, and had come into our camp in the afternoon. he had rather a rough time of it, for our men, not knowing who he was, and mistaking him for an enemy, fired upon him, but fortunately without effect. he very kindly told me that i might sleep in his buggy, which was near the ambulance party. however, i did not avail myself of his kind offer, but slept near the trenches. captain tennant, r.a., our intelligence officer, came down from the fighting lines at night, and said to the five dutch prisoners whom our mounted infantry had captured the day before, "you now see how your own men are firing upon our hospital, and if you are killed or hurt it will be by the shells of your own people, and not by ours." they saw at once the perilous position they were in, and asked for permission to dig a trench for themselves, which was granted. the natives also followed suit, and digged one for themselves. 'we were not molested during the night, but the battle was resumed the next morning (wednesday, the th), and was fiercer than ever, until at last it was evident that the position was taken, and we surrendered at nine o'clock a.m. the enemy immediately galloped in, tore down the union jack, which they burnt, disarmed our men, and marched them off as quickly as they could in a column five or six deep. they sang a verse of a hymn and the volkslied (their national anthem), and after listening to a short address from their commandant, they dispersed. 'commandant de wet was annoyed at our having dug trenches within the lines of our hospital, and said it was a breach of the geneva convention, and that we were taking an undue advantage of our privileges; but when we pointed out to him that it had been done to protect the wounded, some native women, and an old native man and child who came in for protection, and not as a protection to our troops who were in the firing lines, he was satisfied. 'the trenches were dug under a tolerably heavy fire. the enemy captured all our horses and saddlery, some of our kits and water-bottles, and one of our buck wagons marked with the red cross. both the medical officers and i had our horses and kits taken from us, but the commandant assured each of us that they would be returned, but we have not seen them yet. in the evening these two officers with an orderly walked a distance of three or four miles to the boer laager in the hope of recovering their kits, only to find that the laager had been removed and the enemy were nowhere to be seen. they took my servant, and would not hear of his remaining behind. we were released by commandant de wet, who told us to bury our dead and take the wounded where we liked. =consolation to the dying.= 'our casualties were ten killed and thirty-five wounded. i went over the battle-field with the ambulance party seeking for the dead and wounded, and came across a man who was dying, and said to him, "do you know jesus?" he replied, "yes, i'm trusting jesus as my saviour." i said, "that's right, brother. 'this is a faithful saying and worthy of all acceptation, that christ jesus came into the world to save sinners.' 'christ died the just for the unjust that he might bring us to god.' 'the blood of jesus christ his son cleanseth from all sin.' do you know me?" i asked. "yes," he replied, "you are our chaplain," and turning his dying face to me, he said, "pray for me." i knelt down by his side, surrounded by our stretcher-bearers, as well as by the boers on horseback, who were witnesses of this pathetic scene, and commended him to god. he then said he was thirsty, and asked for a drink of water, which it was my privilege to give him from the water-bottle slung by my right side. we then laid him on the stretcher and carried him as gently as we possibly could to the field hospital, but in a few minutes his disembodied spirit had left its tenement of clay and gone to answer the roll call up yonder. 'one cannot speak too highly of the unremitting care and attention bestowed upon our dear wounded fellows by the army surgeons. our officers in the field behaved most gallantly, and were as cool as possible under the most galling fire. the "o.c.," captain mcwhinnie, could be seen against the sky line again and again, walking about amongst his men, directing the defence, and giving orders as coolly as if he had been on parade. while telling his men to avail themselves of every bit of cover he seemed utterly regardless of his own personal safety. the other officers were directing their men in more distant parts of the field, and could not be so easily seen by us. our ammunition was getting low, and we had no artillery, not even a machine gun, and had a long series of ridges to occupy, extending over an area of three miles, so that it was no wonder our position was untenable. on thursday, at two p.m., we left the battlefield with our wounded for reddersburg, where the people received us most kindly and placed the government school-room at our disposal.'[ ] after burying the dead, and assisting the wounded to bethany railway station, mr. burgess returned to headquarters at springfontein and gave general gatacre an account of the disaster. he was then attached to the royal berks, as his own regiment was in captivity, and advanced with them through the orange river colony. [footnote : _methodist times_, may , .] ='i must go to the muster roll.'= 'he notes as he passes along a pathetic little incident. bugler longhurst, who was mortally wounded in the fight on april , died soon after, and shortly before he passed away he sat up in bed and said to his orderly, "hush! hush!! give me my uniform. i hear them mustering. there are the drums! i must go to the muster roll. hush!"--and sinking back he died. 'the advance for a long time was a continuous battle. even the transport had a warm time of it. on one occasion a forty-pounder shell struck a transport wagon and exploded, cutting off the native driver's leg as he sat upon the box. the poor fellow showed conspicuous courage. "don't mind me, lads," he shouted, "drive on." they carried him to the operating tent, and he was singing all the way. shortly after his operation he died.' ='i'm not afraid, only my hand shakes.'= the sterkstroom column were fighting at last, and bravely they bore themselves. it was not their fault if disaster dogged their steps. no braver men could be found than those under gatacre's command. and yet they, like the rest, had a great objection to the pom-poms. 'i'm not afraid,' said one lad, when that strange sound began and the shells came rattling around. 'i'm not afraid, only my hand shakes.' it reminds us of a story told of a certain officer who was going into action for the first time. his legs were shaking so that he could hardly sit his horse. he looked down at them, and with melancholy but decided voice said, 'ah! you are shaking, are you? you would shake a great deal more if you knew where i was going to take you to-day; so pull yourselves together. advance!' we are not told whether the legs so addressed at once stopped shaking, or whether they were taken still shaking into the battle. but this we do know, that the highest type of courage is not incompatible with nervousness, and that the courage that can conquer shaking nerves, and take them all unwilling where they do not want to go, is the courage that can conquer anything. the '_i_' that is not afraid even when the '_hand_' shakes, is the real man after all, and the man of exquisite nervous temperament may be an even greater hero than the man who does not know fear. sir herbert chermside had succeeded general gatacre, who was returning home, and the column was now joining hands with general french, and coming under the superior command of sir leslie rundle. it was stern work every day, and the chaplains, like the rest, were continually under fire. services could not be held, but night by night the chaplains went the round of the picquets and spoke cheering words to them in their loneliness, and, day by day, in the fight and out of it, they preached christ from man to man, ministering to the wounded, closing the eyes of the dying and burying the dead, until at last they too reached bloemfontein and cheered the grand old british flag. chapter xi bloemfontein 'look, father, the sky is english,' said a little girl as they drove home to bloemfontein in the glowing sunset. 'english, my dear,' said her father, 'what do you mean?' 'why,' replied the little one, 'it is all red, white, and blue.' and in truth, red, white, and blue was everywhere. the inhabitants of bloemfontein must have exhausted the stock of every shop. they must have ransacked old stores, and patched together material never intended for bunting. wherever you looked, there were the english colours. no wonder to the imagination of the little one even the sun was greeting the victorious english, and painting the western sky red, white, and blue. we cannot, of course, suppose that all these people who greeted the victorious british army enthusiastically were really so enthusiastic as they appeared. but 'nothing succeeds like success,' and those who had cursed us yesterday, blessed us to-day. =the advantages of bloemfontein.= it is a matter for thankfulness that the town was spared the horrors of a bombardment. it was far too beautiful to destroy. of late years, as money had poured into the treasury, much had been expended upon public buildings. the parliament hall, for instance, had been erected at a cost of £ , . the grey college was a building of which any city might be proud. the post office was quite up to the average of some large provincial town in this country, and several other imposing buildings proved that the capital of the orange free state, though small, was 'no mean city.' it was literally a town on the veldt. the veldt was around it everywhere. it showed up now and then in the town where it was least expected, as though to assert its independence and remind the dwellers in the city that their fathers were its children. wonderfully healthy is this little city. situated high above sea level, with a climate so bracing and life-giving that the phthisis bacillus can hardly live in it, it seemed to our soldiers, after their long march across the veldt, a veritable city of refuge. alas! how soon it was to be turned into a charnel house! =the march to bloemfontein.= it was to this oasis in the south african desert that lord roberts marched his troops after the surrender of cronje. it had been a terrible march from the modder river, and its severity was maintained to the end. the difficulty of transport was great, and sickness was beginning to tell upon the troops. the river water, rendered poisonous by the bodies of men and cattle from cronje's camp, and the horrible filth of his laager, were responsible for what followed. the men for the most part kept up until the march was over. they had determined to reach bloemfontein at all costs, and many of them in all probability lost their lives through that determination. they ought to have given up long before they did, but struggled on until, rendered weak by their prolonged exertions, they had no strength to fight the disease which had fastened upon them. the last march of the guards was one which the brigade may well remember with pride, as one of the most famous in its annals. they actually marched over forty miles in twenty-two consecutive hours, over ground full of holes of all sorts and sizes, and with barbed wire cut and lying on the ground in all directions. they marched hour after hour in steady silence, broken only by the 'glory! hallelujah!' chorus of the canadians, marched with soleless boots, or with no boots at all, but with putties wrapped round the bare feet. an hour and a half's rest, and then on again! on, ever on! they are so tired, they feel they can march no further, and yet on they go, steadily marching straight forward, a silent, dogged, determined army out there upon the veldt. lord roberts had promised the guards that they should follow him into bloemfontein, and they intended to be there to do it. =the work at bloemfontein.= bloemfontein reached, christian work began in real earnest. every one became 'hard at it' at once. the rev. e.p. lowry opened a soldiers' home in the schoolroom of the wesleyan church, and day by day provided the cheapest tea in the town at three-pence per head, of which many hundreds of the men availed themselves. here, too, he had meetings night by night. the rev. james robertson was also incessantly at work. the large tent of the soldiers' christian association was erected in the camp of the highland brigade, and became as usual a centre of splendid christian effort. mr. black tells us that lord roberts gave permission for him to accompany him to bloemfontein, and gave every possible encouragement to the work. =lord roberts visits the tent.= mr. glover writes:-- 'the tent of which i now have charge--surrounded by thousands of men of the highland brigade, and pitched yesterday on a high plateau about one and a half miles from town--is, i believe, in answer to prayer, on the spot where god would have it be, especially if the numbers attending the first gospel meeting may be any criterion. 'in the early morning i had plenty of willing helpers. by about nine the tent was completed, by ten i had literature, games, etc., unpacked and arranged, and before eleven--after inspection of naval brigade--lord roberts honoured me with a visit. this was more than we might have expected, and having shown a keen interest in inspection--sankey's hymn-books included--he gave me a hearty handshake, saying he was pleased to see it, and it would be a great boon to the men. this visit was a very prompt one. mr. black just handed up a request after naval inspection. lord roberts replied, "certainly," and galloped over with his other officers before our workers could get across.' 'there has been a very heavy demand on writing material by the many men, who have had scarcely any opportunity to write for two or three weeks. i hardly know what i shall do for paper, as i have only one packet left, and could not get a line through by wire yesterday; i hope, however, you received my wire to-day. there is room here for a dozen--or even twenty--tents now. we had over , men before yesterday, when the whole of the seventh division arrived. 'our first three meetings have been marked by a very hallowed influence. to-night the tent was packed to overflowing, and our joy at the close was beyond expression, when twenty dear fellows took a stand for christ. the weather is very wet to-night, the men have no tents, and i gave them the opportunity to remain under the shelter of our tent. as i write ( . p.m.), i suppose there are to here.'[ ] later on our old friend, mr. stewart, took charge of the tent, and mr. hinde assisted him. mr. percy huskisson also spoke at some of the meetings, and they had glorious times. the rev. r. deane oliver, a devoted church of england chaplain from aldershot, took the meeting on one occasion, and no fewer than eighteen stood up for prayer. [footnote : _news from the front_, may, .] =sunday services in bloemfontein.= the sabbath services held in the camps and town were full of blessing. in the wesleyan church khaki was everywhere, crowding not only every available seat, but the communion and the pulpit stairs, and even the pulpit itself. mr. lowry writes:-- 'there must have been not less than soldiers actually with us that morning. in the afternoon a delightful bible-class and testimony meeting was held, at which about forty were present, and at its close, thanks to the kindness of mr. and mrs. franklin, a capital tea, though not a fruit tea of the aldershot type, was provided for all. the evening service, conducted by mr. franklin, was well attended by the military, and as the clock struck nine, those that remained to the after-meeting bethought us of sergt.-major moss and his men, and made ourselves one with them by singing at the self-same moment their unfailing song, "god be with you till we meet again."'[ ] the rev. stuart and mrs. franklin, to whom mr. lowry refers, were the resident wesleyan minister and his wife. they rendered conspicuous service to our soldiers, and in fact thought no sacrifice too great to make on their behalf. but not long was there a pause in the battle. the troops had to be moved further and further out. the chaplains went with them. the onward march to pretoria commenced, and only an army of occupation was left behind in bloemfontein. [footnote : _methodist times_, may , .] =glimpses of good work from soldiers' letters.= we, however, stay with them in bloemfontein for a short time, that we may read a few of the christian soldiers' letters received from that town, and get some further glimpses of the good work carried on there. corporal lundy writes:-- 'through all the trying marches and battles in which i have been engaged i have found time to read a portion of god's word. i have found my heavenly father a personal friend in this campaign. we have been on short rations for about a month: just enough to keep one together. 'the prisoners we have in the fort are always singing psalms and hymns, but they do not seem to be quite right; there is something lacking.' corporal simpson says:-- 'i am still enjoying the best of health bodily, and so happy in soul that i could not express myself. storm clouds gather and trials come, but still it's jesus. when bullets are flying around my head and hunger is pricking me sorely, i can lift up my head with praise. 'when i saw the little english children at bloemfontein running about so gay, many of them so like my own lambs, my heart seemed as if it would break.' another soldier writes:-- 'i want to tell you of the great christian work that is going on in this great camp. there are four or five very large tents, which are full every night, and hundreds are turned away. there are men there who would laugh at the soldiers' home in england and scorn to be seen in the company of christians. many such men have been brought to know christ through this great and awful war. mr. lowry often speaks to us. he is a grand worker, and we love him. we have been under the saviour's care and keeping all the time. we are very anxious to get back home, and shall welcome peace with one great shout of joy.' another gives us a further glimpse of christian work:-- 'going along i saw three marquees, on one of which there was written "soldiers' home." i peeped in and saw pearce, of the gloucesters. i marched up to him and told him who i was. four of them knew me, and we had a good old talk of the home land. they had just finished a good old bible reading, and tea came in. i sat down for tea with them. at about p.m. we were in the large marquee putting things ready, and about . it was full of soldiers, perhaps about . then we had the dear old sankey hymns.' another grows quite eloquent as he writes:-- 'at home i hear there has been much rejoicing, and the reverses have given place to victories. but the victories have been bought by the sacrifice of human souls. the altar has been saturated with the blood of fathers and sons. the bitterness of sorrow has wrung human hearts in the dear old homeland. in the mansion, in the cottage, in city and in village, tidings of death have found a place. but christ, the prince of peace, has given peace to many lads on the battlefield. words which were apparently sown in the darkness have bloomed in the light. life eternal has been accepted, and the life of sin has become the life of joy. behind the veil the master stands and sees the awful strife. the divine plan is hidden from view, but our faith can see in the distant years the continent of africa revealed as a continent of god's people. 'men have been, and still are, seeking for fame and glory. the things of heaven, the christ who died, have been forgotten in the struggle for things of the world. thank god for the many souls who have found jesus out here. we feel a mighty power within, and we know it is in answer to the prayers of loved ones in the dear old land. a wall of prayer surrounds us and we are safe. i feel that i have let many golden opportunities slip. the harvest is passing and labourers are few. 'the hearts of our christian lads have been kept true, and god has been glorified.' so testify these christian men to the power of our holy religion to save and keep. we thank god that they in their own way have 'kept the flag flying.' =the enteric epidemic.= but now began another battle--a battle fiercer and more disastrous to our men than any other in this boer campaign. enteric fever had been dogging the steps of our army all the way from cronje's camp, and it overtook it in full force in bloemfontein. very soon the hospitals were full--crowded--overcrowded. a state of things obtained which, whether it be a scandal or not, will be a lasting source of regret to every englishman, and a dark stain upon the war. so rapidly did the men fall that accommodation could not possibly be found for them. they lay about anywhere. the space between the bed-cots was full of groaning, struggling, dying humanity. in inches of mud and slush they lay, breathing their lives out all unattended. the supply of doctors, nurses, and orderlies was altogether inadequate. tents and medicines could not be got to the front, for the railway was required for food supplies, and the army must be fed. it is too early to pass judgment on the arrangements. we record a few facts, vouched for not only by the papers from which we quote, but by scores of men who have come from bloemfontein, and with whom we have talked. it is in the remembrance of all that mr. burdett-coutts wrote an article in the _times_, and afterwards delivered a speech in the house of commons, in both of which he told of the terrible sufferings of our men, and severely criticised the hospital arrangements. the men returning from the front, while they one and all declare that everything was done by the hospital authorities which it was possible for those on the spot to do, yet mournfully admit that the terrible accounts are not exaggerated. =dr. conan doyle's testimony.= the _daily telegraph_ published the number of deaths from disease at bloemfontein during the months of april, may, and the first part of june. they reach the awful total of . dr. conan doyle, in a recent letter published in the _british medical journal_, says:-- 'i know of no instance of such an epidemic in modern warfare. i have not had access to any official figures, but i believe that in one month there were from , to , men down with this, the most debilitating of all diseases. i know that in one month men were laid in the bloemfontein cemetery. a single day in this one town saw deaths.' he speaks in the highest terms of the conduct of the sick soldiers. 'they are uniformly patient, docile, and cheerful, with an inextinguishable hope of "getting to pretoria." there is a gallantry even about their delirium, for their delusion continually is that they have won the victoria cross. one patient whom i found the other day rummaging under his pillow informed me that he was looking for "his two victoria crosses." very touching also is their care of each other. the bond which unites two soldier pals is one of the most sacred kind. one man shot in three places was being carried into mr. gibbs' ward. i lent an arm to his friend, shot through the leg, who limped behind him. "i want to be next jim, 'cos i'm looking after him," said he. that he needed looking after himself never seemed to have occurred to him.' =the hospital orderlies.= dr. conan doyle, however, reserves his highest praise for the hospital orderly. we venture to quote at length, because of all workers during this campaign none deserve higher praise, and none will receive less reward than the men who have so nobly, so uncomplainingly done the horrible work of nursing--'the sordid and obscene work,' as dr. doyle calls it--through this frightful epidemic. 'in some of the general hospitals, orderlies were on duty for thirty-six hours in forty-eight, and what their duties were--how sordid and obscene--let those who have been through such an epidemic tell. 'he is not a picturesque figure, the orderly, as we know him. we have not the trim, well-nourished army man, but we have recruited from the st. john ambulance men, who are drawn, in this particular instance, from the mill hands of a northern town. they were not very strong to start with, and the poor fellows are ghastly now. there is none of the dash and glory of war about the sallow, tired men in the dingy khaki suits--which, for the sake of the public health, we will hope may never see england again. and yet they are patriots, these men; for many of them have accepted a smaller wage in order to take on these arduous duties, and they are facing danger for twelve hours of the twenty-four, just as real and much more repulsive than the scout who rides up to the strange kopje, or the gunner, who stands to his gun with a pom-pom quacking at him from the hill. 'let our statistics speak for themselves; and we make no claim to be more long-suffering than our neighbours. we have three on the staff (mr. gibbs, mr. scharlieb, and myself). four started, but one left us early in the proceedings. we have had six nurses, five dressers, one wardmaster, one washerman, and eighteen orderlies, or thirty-two in all, who actually came in contact with the sick. out of the six nurses, one has died and three others have had enteric. of the five dressers, two have had severe enteric. the wardmaster has spent a fortnight in bed with veldt sores. the washerman has enteric. of the eighteen orderlies, one is dead, and eight others are down with enteric. so that out of a total of thirty-four we have had seventeen severe casualties--fifty per cent.--in nine weeks. two are dead, and the rest incapacitated for the campaign, since a man whose heart has been cooked by a temperature over degrees is not likely to do hard work for another three months. if the war lasts nine more weeks, it will be interesting to see how many are left of the original personnel. when the scouts and the lancers and the other picturesque people ride in procession through london, have a thought for the sallow orderly, who has also given of his best for his country. he is not a fancy man--you do not find them in enteric wards--but for solid work and quiet courage you will not beat him in all that gallant army.' dr. conan doyle has told the story of the hospital orderly, but who shall tell the story of the doctor and the hospital nurse. in many cases they have laid down their lives for the men, and all have worked with a devotion that has seemed well-nigh super-human. but a medical staff sufficient for two army corps was altogether insufficient to supply the needs of an army of , and fight an epidemic of terrible severity. they did their best. some person the country will blame, but to these who so nobly worked and endured the country will say, 'well done!' =terrible incidents during the epidemic.= tales of horror crowd upon one; stories of men in delirium, wandering about the camp at night; stories of living men in the agonies of disease, with dead men lying on either side; stories of men themselves hardly able to crawl about, turning out of bed to nurse their comrades because there was no one else to do it. 'why do you let 'em die?' asked a young soldier by way of a grim joke, pointing to two dead soldiers close to him, while he himself was suffering from enteric. 'why don't you look after 'em better?' 'what can i do? i know nothing about nursing!' was the sad reply. just so! that was the difficulty--there was no one to prevent them dying. how many might have been saved if such had been the case! it is too early to tell yet in detail the story of christian work in connection with this epidemic. many of the chaplains had left for the front before it broke out in its intensity, and we have as yet only fragmentary evidence as to the work done by those left upon the spot. we have not the slightest doubt that one and all did their work with the devotion we should expect from such men. we hear of christian soldiers who bore splendid witness for christ in the hospitals, and who were the means of leading their comrades to the saviour in the midst of their sickness, and for such stories we thank god. =christian work in the fever hospitals.= we close this chapter with an extract from a letter from the rev. robert mcclelland, presbyterian chaplain st battalion cameron highlanders, published in _st. andrew_, and sent us by the courtesy of the rev. dr. theodore marshall. it is an eloquent testimony to the value of hospital work, and gives us a glimpse of what was done at bloemfontein:-- 'when we reached bloemfontein we found a dozen large hospitals all as full as they could hold, and at the cemetery gate it was solemn and painful to see many funerals outside the gate waiting entrance to the house of the dead. i was told that an episcopal clergyman was told off at the cemetery for the sad but necessary work of christian interment. you will ask, why this great sickness and mortality? the water, on the whole, is bad (sometimes absolutely vile), and our masses of soldiers are not so careful about what they eat and drink as they should be in a trying climate, scorching sun by day and white frost by night. dysentery and enteric fever are the worst. here is the minister's noblest vocation, and we could take a dozen father damiens for this grand work. when the fever runs high, or the strength gets wasted and the heart goes down, a pleasant smile, a kind word, a verse of scripture, a brief prayer, goes a long way to revive the drooping spirits. i record my solemn conviction that hospital work, rightly done, is by far and away the most needful and the most acceptable of the chaplain's work. but, of course, like the doctors at the base, we are all wanting to the front to see the "pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war," while the brave fellows battling with fever, sickness, and wounds in the hospital are fighting the stiffest fight of all. and yet there is work for us on the march and at the front, too. to make yourself a friend and brother, to seek out and comfort the exhausted and ailing, to speak a word in season to the weary, to preach "the glorious gospel of the blessed god" as opportunity offers--this is a task worthy of the highest powers and greatest gifts. after being nearly four months on the field, i do not regret the great sacrifices made in going there.' chapter xii on to pretoria the march from bloemfontein to pretoria was one never to be forgotten. it taxed the strength of the strongest. there was fighting most of the way, and many a soldier who started full of hope never reached the end. the first stage was from bloemfontein to kroonstadt. mr. w.k. glover, of the s.c.a., arrived at kroonstadt in company with mr. d.a. black, but there was taken ill and compelled to rest. the rev. t.f. falkner and the rev. e.p. lowry marched nearly the whole way to kroonstadt with the troops, and the latter speaks of it as the most trying march of the whole campaign. opportunities for christian work, with the exception of the hearty handshake or the whispered prayer, were but few, though during the pauses at brandfort and at kroonstadt several successful services were held. a new name now appears on the line of march--that of the rev. w.g. lane, chaplain to the second canadian contingent. he accompanied the canadian forces as chaplain-captain, and had the spiritual charge of all protestants except those of the episcopal church. =the march to pretoria.= we have, however, our fullest account of christian work on the line of march from the pen of the rev. frank edwards, the acting wesleyan chaplain attached to the south wales borderers. he came out late in the war at his own charges to preach to the welsh soldiers in their own language, and only overtook lord roberts at brandfort. he shows us in vivid outline the sort of work our chaplains did between bloemfontein and pretoria. 'and now for the regular routine of "life on the march." we rise at a.m. in the dark and cold, breakfast hastily on biscuit and tea made of very doubtful water, stand shivering in the piercing cold of dawn while troops are paraded, then start on our way long before the sun rises to warm our frozen frames. we march an hour and rest ten minutes--the hour is very long, the ten minutes very short. =south african dust.= 'the marching would be tolerable were it not for the heat and dust, the latter lying in some places quite nine inches deep, rising in clouds. it fills your eyes, nostrils, mouth and throat, causing one's lips to crack and bringing on an intolerable thirst, which makes it impossible for the men to be very fastidious, or even prudent with regard to the quality or source of the water which they greedily drink. at night when we reach our camping-ground our first thought is of our great-coats, for we are bathed in perspiration, and as the sun goes down about . , night immediately following without any twilight, the intense heat of the almost tropical day is changed in a few minutes into the bitter cold of what might almost be called, from its length and severity, an arctic night. 'at the zand river i saw my first fight. that morning, as the troops were drawn up in marching order, the ominous command was given, "charge magazines," and every man knew that something was about to happen, and a murmur ran along the ranks. after an hour's march we came in sight of the zand river, with its kopjes on the farther side. as our battalion came in view of the river we saw the enemy's guns flashing on the distant kopjes, and showers of shells fell on this side the river into the trees in our front. on our right some mounted infantry were lying behind a kopje, and nothing could be more magnificent than to see the volleying shells burst in a successive line along the ridge of their sheltering kopje. at the edge of the wood we were halted and ordered to lie down; as the artillery dashed by us to the front, where they were soon busily pounding the boer position, "advance!" our colonel cried. up we arose, marched through the trees down into the river-bed, and there we lay while the shells screamed over us. 'the first shell that came screaming--i can use no better term--towards us seemed to cause a cold feeling inside, and i felt as though my last hour had come; but that soon passed, and i became so accustomed to them that i found myself speculating as to where they would burst. while we lay in the river-bed, one monster burst with a roar like thunder upon the bank behind, shaking the ground like an earthquake. 'our rest here was the calm before the storm, and as we awaited the word to advance into the fight that was raging overhead, i had an opportunity of studying the faces of the soldiers who were going, perhaps, to death. some were pale with excitement, and their eyes flashed as they clutched their rifles and compressed their lips. others laughed wildly, another was hungrily gnawing a hard biscuit, while many were smoking furiously. a few appeared quite indifferent, and might have been awaiting the order for a march. the officers were splendidly cool, and gave their orders as clearly and calmly as on parade. =on the firing line.= '"advance!" was again the cry, and up the banks we went and into the trees on the further side. here we saw the effect of the shell fire and war upon the battle plain. our batteries were busily engaged about two hundred yards away, and the death-dealing missiles of friend and foe flew mercilessly about. as we were likely to remain in the tree shelter for a while, i strolled out as far as the batteries, for i wished to have a better view of the boer position; but here the shells were falling fast between the guns, and one poor gunner was cruelly mutilated by a bursting shell, his dead body presenting a ghastly sight. 'i went back, and met the general and some of his staff inspecting the boer position with a huge telescope. i had a good look, and clearly saw our shells burst in the embrasure of a gun, which was hurriedly taken away. 'just then the general wanted to send a message, but had no available messenger. saluting, i asked that i might be sent. he gave me the message, and springing on a horse which a servant held near, i galloped away. it was a strange experience that entry into the fire-zone, but i forgot all fear in the fight, and delivered my message. i returned to the general, who thanked me for my promptness. 'our line had meanwhile advanced, and it was grand to see the steadiness of our men. though bullets spat viciously in the sand before, between, and behind them, not a man flinched, but went steadily on to the heights beyond. i asked the general to send me with another order, which he wished taken to a half battalion some distance ahead, but as he was about to do so, he saw the cross upon my collar, and asked me if i was not a chaplain. i replied in the affirmative, and he inquired where my red cross armlet was. i told him i did not possess one, and was told that i must get one at once. the general then told me he was very sorry, but he could not use me again, as i was a non-combatant, and if he availed himself of my services, he would be infringing the geneva convention; while, on the other hand, if the boers captured me, i should be shot. ='i was thinking of the last verses of the twenty-third psalm.'= 'one incident which occurred during the day made a deep impression upon me. while in the river drift, on the point of moving into the thick of the fight and fire, i observed a soldier thoughtfully leaning upon his elbow, and was moved to ask him what his thoughts were at that moment. lifting his eyes steadfastly to mine, he replied, "i was thinking, sir, of the last verses of the twenty-third psalm"; and as he spoke i knew i was face to face with a man for whom death had no terrors, one who was looking for the crown of life. it was a word in season, and was very helpful. 'we encamped that night upon the heights lately occupied by the enemy. friday was taken up with another tedious march upon kroonstadt, and on saturday we advanced in fighting formation upon that place, momentarily expecting to meet the boers, whom our scouts reported entrenched in position some miles this side the town. however, we found they had gone, and kroonstadt was entered about mid-day, and we encamped outside. 'the next day being sunday, my first thought was to make arrangement for services. i interviewed the general, and he allowed me to fix my own time--an hour later than the church of england parade--in order that the men of the th brigade might be able to come down. on sunday morning i held my first parade service with my regiment. there was a splendid attendance--men of the borderers, cheshires, lancs, engineers, and many from the other brigade. =a service on the veldt.= 'at the close of the morning service, after a conversation among themselves, several stepped out and asked for an evening service. i had not intended holding one, as i thought they had been marching for weeks and were tired and weary, and had clothes to wash and mend, and this might be their only opportunity for weeks, perhaps; so i asked that all who wished for an evening service would put up their hands. every man did so, and the colonel was only too glad to arrange it for me. that evening, half an hour after the time for tea, we met again on the open veldt, in front of our lines, and we had a splendid muster--more than the morning. the hymns went splendidly. two soldiers led in prayer--short and very earnest--then we sang and prayed. two addresses by two more soldiers--straight and good and to the point--addresses which had a deep effect upon all. another hymn, then i spoke to them about the "standard of jesus," and we felt the power of the presence of god. kneeling on the veldt, man after man broke down. many openly confessed their sin, others rejoiced in true methodist style. even then they were not satisfied; a prayer-meeting was asked for and all stayed. it was truly a grand prayer-meeting. prayers and hymns followed free and fast, and many at the close, as they pressed forward to shake hands with me and thank me for coming, said it was one of the happiest sundays of their life. "more like a sunday at home sir, than any we have had out here; we did not know what sunday was before." many found peace with god that night and determined to lead a new life. 'that night i got permission to have hymns sung in the lines, and you should have heard the welsh hymns as they rose and fell in the night air. men crowded from all parts. officers and men jostled in the crowding ring while the sweet melodies and beautiful harmonies thrilled every soul. it was a happy ending to a happy day. the colonel has asked me to arrange for this hymn-singing every sunday night, for he says it is very beautiful, and not only is it highly appreciated by the men, but it has a beneficial influence on them. 'on tuesday i had permission to arrange a camp concert. we had a huge wood fire. a wagon drawn up served for a platform. the colonel took the chair. the officers were in the ring and the men grouped around. it was a weird and romantic sight--all those laughing and appreciative faces in the flickering fire-light--and we had a very pleasant evening. 'on monday, as we were still encamped here, i organized a football match and acted as referee, which in a tropical sun is no sinecure, i can tell you. on wednesday i rode into kroonstadt and had the pleasure of meeting mr. lowry, mr. lane, the canadian chaplain, and mr. carey, the resident wesleyan minister, and we had a pleasant time.' thus progressed the work; thus one christian worker after another distinguished himself, while all the time lord roberts was rapidly drawing nearer his goal. now brandfort was reached, now kroonstadt, and at last the diamond city, johannesburg--no, not last, pretoria lies beyond, and by-and-by the victorious forces entered the capital of the transvaal, and the british flag--symbol of world-wide empire--floated over the government buildings. and here we pause. the day is now not distant when the british flag will be respected throughout both those one-time republics, and peace shall once more hold sway. when that time comes we predict a magnificent extension of the kingdom of christ in south africa; for we trust that, with old feuds forgotten and the spirit of christ taking possession of both british and boer, all forms of christianity will join hands to make christ king throughout the dark continent. chapter xiii here and there in cape colony 'bother war!' writes a guardsman to the rev. j.h. hocken. 'let me get out of this lot, and never no more.' it is not a very heroic sentiment certainly, but he wrote from the hospital at orange river, and doubtless expressed not only his own sentiments, but the sentiments of a good many of his comrades. and certainly there seems to have been reason as well as sentiment in his statement. listen to this, for instance:-- 'at the engagement of graspans we had some food about p.m. all that night my battalion was on outpost duty. next morning we marched about a.m., caught up the division, and took part in the engagement at graspans, followed up the enemy, captured a building with forty boers in it and a large tent filled with medical comforts, and when we thought of having some rest and some grub, we were ordered on top of some hills for outpost duty that night, and we did not have our dinner until the next day, sunday morning, at a.m. that is quite true. forty-one hours without anything but dirty water, and yet miss morphew says guards are only for show. but i don't think she meant it. no wonder i am bad.' =work at the orange river hospital.= aye, no wonder, indeed! and week by week, month by month, the orange river hospital has been full ever since the beginning of the war. here army scripture reader pearce, from north camp, aldershot, has been in charge. for a long time he was single-handed in this great hospital camp. he performed the duty of acting chaplain to all denominations. general wauchope before he died spoke of mr. pearce's eagerness for work, and verily there was enough for him to do. at one time he was assisted by the canadian chaplain, and latterly by the chaplain of the australian contingent. but month by month he went his weary round of hospital visitation alone. he buried the dead, wrote letters home to the friends of the dying and the dead, and performed faithfully and well all the many tasks in a chaplain's routine. at one time there were at least a hundred canadians down with enteric at orange river. the australian hospital was also crowded. the monotony of work must have been terribly trying. it was not for him to know anything of the excitement of the battle. it was only his to witness the horrors of the carnage. his pulses did not thrill at sights of deeds of daring on the field. he only saw the train-loads of wounded all smeared with dust and blood, and heard the groans that told of agony. but when the day of reward shall come, the quiet, earnest work of such as he will not be forgotten, and the great head of the church will say, 'well done.' no wonder after eight months of such work as this his nerves gave way, and he was obliged to return home. at orange river, too, the soldiers' christian association did good work. messrs. glover, fotheringham, and ingram were the means of leading scores of men to christ. dr. barrie, of the canadian contingent, who was temporarily attached to the hospital, gave several addresses, which were much appreciated, and conducted a weekly bible class. later messrs. charteris and bird were in charge of the tent, and tell the same blessed story of nightly effort and nightly success. =experiences at arundel and colesberg.= from de aar, naauwport, and arundel we have before us several graphic letters from the rev. m.f. crewdson, late of johannesburg. mr. crewdson is a wesleyan minister, and for conspicuous service on the field was appointed acting chaplain. his hospital stories are full of point and pathos. he tells of one man with twenty-two shell wounds, and yet living and cheerful; of another with a hole as big as a hand in his leg, and another big hole in his arm, and yet refusing to grumble, and professing himself quite comfortable. of this man an australian said, 'he exasperates me; he never has any pain.' he pictures to us a corporal seeing to the comfort of his men and horses, and then, by way of a change, teaching his men the ditty-- 'life is too short to quarrel.' [illustration: arundel.] from colesberg we have a graphic letter from the rev. e. bottrill. he refers to the imprisonment by the boers of the resident wesleyan minister, the rev. a.w. cragg, whose health suffered severely from his three months' confinement. he tells of earnest work in that town so difficult to capture, of splendid parade services, and of an extemporised soldiers' home in the wesleyan church. at arundel there was a tent of the s.c.a. and another at enslin, and at each of these good work was done. everywhere god was with his workers, and gave great success. the spirit of inquiry was present in all the meetings. everywhere in this region, as indeed throughout the whole theatre of war, in camp and hospital, on the march and on the battlefield, our soldier lads were inquiring, 'what must i do to be saved?' and not far off was some one ready to reply, 'believe on the lord jesus christ, and thou shalt be saved.' =an ostrich story.= as a variation from our long record of work in camp and hospital, we close this chapter with an ostrich story, and venture to take it intact from _news from the front_ for april, . 'in conjunction with the rev. m.f. crewdson, mr. ingram, of the s.c.a., went to arundel to take charge of a tent which was to be erected there. the tent not having arrived he says:-- '"we went across the country some seven or eight miles, a terrible tramp, to visit some graves. it was a lonely, hot, and trying walk, and as we were half way back, about p.m., having been walking since . a.m., and having had no meal, we saw an ostrich making for us about a mile away. it was up to us in three minutes (a male bird), and had evidently seen us from its nest, where it was sitting, and thought we were going to interfere with it. it was an enormous bird, and was in a rage. it stopped some dozen paces from us, and whirled round, flapping its wings and looking truly awful. i gave crewdson my pocket-knife, the only weapon we had, and as the wretched thing went circling round us, getting nearer and nearer, i suggested to crewdson that if we came to close quarters, its neck would be our only chance (its body was higher than my head). he did not think it would come to close quarters, but seemed in a great state about our safety, and said, 'keep together, old man.' 'all right,' i said; but the next moment crewdson had turned to try and walk on. i felt to separate, or take our eyes off it, meant an attack, so walked backwards; but it no sooner saw that i was a pace or two nearer it than crewdson than it came on me like a very whirlwind. i had been reading psalm xci. in the rain that morning, and how grandly it was fulfilled! by a god-given instinct i dropped my haversack and your fieldglasses, and did not wait for it to reach me, in which case it would have pecked out my eyes and struck me with its claws, probably tearing my chest open, but sprang to meet it. death seemed absolutely certain, and though my nerve was set, and, as it were, i mentally gave up my life, i met the bird with a thud. with both hands i caught its neck before it could lift a foot to strike; we both rolled over, and, with strength given me at the moment, i clung to its neck until i came up, 'top dog.' but then with full fury it began to kick, and had i received a full blow i should have probably died, but i hugged too closely to it, and then wriggled on to its back, so that it kicked into the air away from me, and i only got a 'short arm' blow, and received bruises instead of wounds. '"crewdson did not know whether i was alive or dead at first, but at my shouts brought my knife; and while i was gripping its throat with both hands so that it could not breathe at all, and rolling about to avoid kicks, crewdson tried to cut its gullet. this he could not do at first, so i took the knife with my left hand, holding the neck with my right, and dug the blade under the uplifted wing. it took effect, and the wing seemed to lose force, but the blade of my knife was broken, leaving half in the bird. i threw crewdson the knife, and he opened another blade, and managed to cut the gullet. the thing was nearly stifled, and, feeling the knife, it gave a last and awful struggle, and i really feared i should be beaten; however, i also put forth a last effort, and gradually the kicks and the struggles subsided. i loosened my grip and let the blood flow; and when i thought it was pretty far gone, i jumped off and joined crewdson. even then it made a wild attempt to rise, but could not. covered with dirt and blood, we plucked a few feathers, thanked the lord for life, and tramped to arundel, and arrived truly tired out. '"the stationmaster told us that in cases out of the ostrich would have killed me. he says there is not a man in the country who would attempt to do what i did."' so there are in south africa not only perils of boors, of bullets, of shells, of snakes, and of scorpions, but perils of ostriches too! and from them one and all his workers may well pray, 'good lord, deliver us!' chapter xiv with sir redvers buller christian work among the troops in natal went on apace for months prior to the advance upon ladysmith. the pietermaritzburg y.m.c.a., for instance, provided two correspondence tents, which were of great service to the troops. we have the report of no. tent before us. from december to april this tent was pitched successively at chievely, frere, springfield, spearman's, zwart kopjes, beyond colenso, outside ladysmith, modder spruit, and finally at orange river junction. its work can be divided under four heads--correspondence, evangelistic, literary, and social. every day saw the tent full of letter writers, and they were lying on the ground in front of it also. as a rule not more than two sheets of paper and two envelopes were given to each applicant. but in this way no less than twelve thousand sheets and an equal number of envelopes were distributed during the period named. these workers also performed amateur post office duties. they sold £ worth of stamps, and received over nine thousand letters and three hundred papers and packages. efforts were made to supply newspapers for the men, but the difficulties of transport proved in the end too great to be satisfactorily overcome, though whenever possible they were obtained. nearly every night evangelistic services were held, conducted by some member of the tent staff of workers, or by an army scripture reader, or an s.c.a. man. various social functions were successfully carried out, and our soldiers rejoiced over the good things provided for them. they do not, as a rule, care for free teas at home. you may coax them to go to them, as some benevolent ladies do; but they can afford to pay for what they get, and they prefer that plan. the other only spoils them. but abroad things are different, and tommy of the capacious appetite took all he could get. and so would you, my reader, had you been in his place. the south african general mission was also in evidence. mr. spencer walton kept sending good things into the camp of all kinds, and kept up his ministry of 'comforts' even after ladysmith was reached. our old friends of the soldiers' christian association were, of course, to the fore. they knew just how to do the rough-and-tumble work required. tommy could understand them, because they understood him. throughout the campaign there was evidence of mr. wheeler's careful organizing. his agents seem to have been most capable and successful men, ready for every good word and work, and the work itself such as will stand the test of time. =bivouac in a s.c.a. tent.= take this as a specimen of the readiness to take advantage of any and every opportunity. mr. fleming writes from frere camp:-- 'we were preparing for a meeting last night, when we discovered something like boers in the distance coming towards our camp, but they turned out to be s.a.l.h. they pitched before our tent to bivouac for the night. when they had dismounted the rain began to fall in torrents. a major came over to me, and asked me where the canteen was; of course, it was shut. i asked him what he wanted to buy, as perhaps i could help him. he wanted socks. i took him into my tent, and gave him a bath and a pair of socks--made him a drop of "sergt.-majors'." his gratitude was unbounded. he said, "ah, this is true christianity; you're a brick, old boy. here's a sovereign subscription for your kindness." i refused it. "well, i'll never forget you!" "all right," i said, "my name is on the socks"; then off i went to see about the others. met the colonel. offered him the freedom of our large marquee for his men to sleep in or shelter as they pleased. he was most grateful, so in the midst of a dreadful rainfall about two hundred of these fellows found shelter. all were hungry. we had five boxes of biscuits for our own use, and fifteen gallons of gingerbeer. mr. young, of the s.a.g.m., who was a great help to me, took a bucket of the gingerbeer and some biscuits to the men on duty on the lines. 'it was impossible to have our meeting, but we had individual dealing with several. i never shall forget the sight of those men sleeping in the marquee. two of them were huddled up in a box like monkeys. one man was wringing out his socks; he had fallen into a gun pit up to the waist in water. i wanted to lend him a pair, but he evidently thought that the feeling of dry socks would be too great a contrast to his wet body, for he positively refused my nice warm ones. about p.m. i found three men sleeping outside in the rain. i asked one of them to come and share my tent. "no, thank you, sir, we have only one blanket between us." "come on, then, the three of you." then the invitation was accepted, and didn't they smile as i served them with hot coffee! mr. hide's tent (he is at durban) i lent to a major and a captain. 'the water ran like a river through our camp, so heavy was the rainfall. i kept lights in our marquee all night, and toddled out and in to see all was right. i was not out of my clothes all night, but my lot was a happy one compared with those dear lads--they have not been out of their clothes for months, and have never had a tent to cover them. this morning, as they left, the gratitude of both officers and men was so intense that i had to clear off the scene--could not stand it. it has rained in torrents to-day. got wet through. had splendid meeting to-night. sure there was definite working of the holy spirit. the rev. james gray, who gave the address, has been a great help to us.'[ ] among the men of the lancashire fusiliers, who subsequently lost so heavily at spion kop, there were many conversions. and among the naval men there were many grand christians, who were delighted to avail themselves of the privileges and opportunities which the tent supplied. the chaplains were, of course, at the front with the men, or as near the front as they could get, sharing their fatigues and many of their dangers. [footnote : _news from the front_, may, .] =a bit of christian comradeship.= differences of denomination were for the most part forgotten, and the rev. mr. gedge, the church of england chaplain, and the rev. t.h. wainman, the wesleyan, were the best of friends and comrades. mr. gedge soon became a power for good. his tent meetings were crowded, and his preaching told with great effect, many being brought to christ. his open-air work was splendidly done. here is a delightful bit of christian comradeship, which we wish we could see oftener repeated in this country. the rev. t.h. wainman writes:-- 'after watching the men who were formed for guard duties, etc., for some time, i noticed major gedge, the church of england army chaplain, and several army and navy league workers come along, evidently intent on holding a voluntary service. i joined them, and helped in the singing of half a dozen hymns, which by this time had brought together a large number of the soldiers. mr. gedge asked me to give the address. i did so, and had a most happy time, the men listening for twenty minutes or more with evident interest. i interspersed my address with illustrations from my travels and experience in this country, which seemed to hold them in attention to the finish. the general confession was then recited and a few other prayers from the liturgy, and one of the most hearty and successful voluntary services was concluded by the singing of the hymn "glory to thee, my god, this night." i went to my tent thankful for the good work being done by the various christian organizations, and convinced that many went home with new aspirations after a better and nobler life.'[ ] [footnote : _methodist times_, feb. , .] =the chaplains of the church of england.= here, perhaps, we may refer for a moment to the services of the church of england chaplains in general. the church is singularly fortunate in the men it has sent to the front. the senior chaplain with the guards, colonel faulkner, has set an example to all the others by his intense devotion. he has advanced all the way with lord roberts to pretoria and beyond. he has returned invalided, but not until he has nobly done the work he was commissioned to do. the chaplains sent out from aldershot were men whom every one esteems and loves. the praise of the rev. r. deane oliver is on every one's lips. of the rev. a.f.c. hordern we shall have occasion to speak when we come to the siege of ladysmith. the rev. t. p. moreton is an eloquent preacher and a christian gentleman, interested in all good work. and what shall we say of the rev. a.w.b. watson? he is a hero, though, like all other heroes, he would be the last to believe it. =mr. watson in the soudan and in south africa.= sitting at the tea table of a corporal of the medical staff corps a short time ago, we began to talk of mr. watson. 'ah!' said he, 'mr. watson is my hero. you know he went through the soudan campaign. i had charge of the cholera tent. at one time i was left alone to manage it. not another chaplain but mr. watson came near. twice a day he came without fail. one day he came in, and found me lying on the floor in a state of complete prostration. he lifted me up and carried me to his tent. he then came back to the tent of which i had charge, and all day he attended to my poor cholera patients, washed them, and performed all my most loathsome duties. love him! of course i love him. i would lay down my life for him.' mr. watson has gone to south africa at the risk of his life, but he would go. he had been through a severe operation, and was in a most critical condition. he begged permission to go, but of course the doctors could not pass him. he could not, however, bear to think of his men being there without him. and after trying one expedient after another, he, who had been refused permission on the ground of ill-health, at last got out under the plea that the climate of south africa might be beneficial! may god spare him for many years! =the rev. t.h. wainman.= but this is a long digression! the wesleyan chaplain was the rev. t.h. wainman, a sturdy yorkshireman, who had spent many years in south africa as a wesleyan missionary. he was not new to the duties of a chaplain, for years ago he was with sir charles warren in bechuanaland. he took to his new work as though he had only just laid it down, and bullets and shells seemed to have no terror for him. at the parade service at chievely on the day of the advance to spearman's hill, mr. wainman took for his text, 'speak unto the children of israel that they go forward.' he might have known what was coming, for the last line of 'onward, christian soldiers' had hardly been sung, and the benediction pronounced, before rumours of the advance spread through the camp, and by two p.m. the advance had really commenced. at daylight next morning the battle began, and mr. wainman describes what he calls a 'cool piece of daring.' ='a cool piece of daring.'= 'at the same time the firing of cannon to our right was fast and furious, the shells dropping and bursting right among our field artillery. i watched with breathless anxiety, expecting all our guns to be abandoned, and half the men killed, when to my astonishment the men rode their horses right among the bursting shells, and hooking them to their guns rode quietly away, taking gun after gun into safety. in some instances a horse fell, and this necessitated the men waiting in their terrible position until another horse could be brought, harnessed, and attached to the gun. eventually all were brought out of range, but a more plucky piece of daring and heroism i have never witnessed, and never expect to witness in my life. the officers rode up and down directing their men as though heedless of danger, and the only casualty i heard of, excepting the horses, was a captain having his foot shattered.'[ ] he himself showed many a cool piece of daring before he got to ladysmith, and when, after the fight at spion kop, some one had to go and bury the dead, he bravely volunteered, and performed this last ministry for his dead comrades under heavy fire. for his bravery on that occasion he was promoted to the rank of major. those associated with him in this awful task were major gedge, the church of england chaplain, and fathers collins and matthews (roman catholics). this was the father matthews who was captured with his men at nicholson's nek, and afterwards released. there was now but little opportunity for ordinary christian work. the last struggle for the relief of ladysmith had commenced, and was to be carried on in grim earnest to the end. the men were ready to follow their leaders anywhere, but could not understand the frequent retreats. this much every man knew, however, that when he marched out with his regiment in the morning it was very doubtful whether he would be alive at night. this thought sobered every one, and many a man prayed who had never prayed before. [footnote : _methodist times_.] =general lyttleton's brigade formed up for prayer before going into action.= one of the most remarkable facts of the campaign is this. before general lyttleton's brigade marched out from its camping ground for its desperate task it was formed up in close column--formed up not for an inspection, but for prayer. we have never heard of anything else like it in the history of war. the bishop of natal was with the troops, and he suggested to general lyttleton that the best preparation for the battle was prayer. he himself led in prayer for the other regiments, while at the request of the colonel the army scripture reader attached to the scottish rifles offered prayer. with prayer rising for them and following them, they marched to the conflict. it was to many a sacrament. it was their _sacramentum_--their oath of allegiance to the king of kings. strange things happen in war. perhaps this is one of the strangest. and yet if there were more prayer there would be less war. may be the voice of prayer rising from our british army to the throne of god--rising also from friends in the homeland far away, is another sacrament--a sign and a seal of the blessings foretold when the prince of peace shall reign. =the struggle for spion kop.= potgieter's drift, spion kop, pieter's hill--these are names that will live in the memory of every british soldier with sir redvers buller. of all fights spion kop was perhaps the most terrible, as it was the most disastrous. it was called spion kop, or spying mountain, because it was from this eminence the old boer trekkers spied out the land in the days gone by. it was more than a hill--it was a mountain, and a mountain with a most precipitous ascent. to climb it meant hauling oneself up from one rock to another. it was a task that required all a strong man's strength. yet up it went our men without a moment's hesitation. it was almost like climbing a house side. but one man helped another, the stronger pulling up the weaker, until they halted for a moment breathless at the top. 'charge!' and away they went. the bayonets were covered with blood after that awful charge, and then, their work for the moment accomplished, they lay down, for the bullets were whistling around them. in the dense darkness they began to build sangars as best they could. all night long they worked, and never for a moment were they allowed to work in peace. when morning broke they saw that their entrenchments were far too small, and though they held out all day, their position was commanded by the boers on higher ground, and so became untenable. shells burst behind every rock. bullets like hail rained upon them, and although they fought as all true britishers can, they were at last withdrawn--withdrawn, perhaps, when victory was almost within their grasp. it is not our purpose to describe the fight; that we leave to others. what we have said serves but as a reminder. the question that concerns us is, how did our men hold themselves through that awful day? =touching incidents at spion kop.= we read of one, a wesleyan local preacher,--mr. w.f. low,--wounded by a bullet through his collar bone and shoulder blade; wounded again by a fragment of shell striking his leg, worn out by excitement and fatigue--so worn out that he actually slept, notwithstanding the pain of his wound, until awoke by sharp pain of his second wound. we read of this man crawling over to the wounded lying near him, passing water from his water-bottle to one and another, gathering the water-bottles of the dead men round about, and giving them to those yet living. and yet the cry of 'water,' 'water!' was heard on every side, and there were many to which he could not respond. he tells how many of the men were praying, how their cries of repentance seemed to him too often cries of cowardice; though who would not fear to enter the presence of god all unprepared and unforgiven? well might many of them cry for mercy. one man spent his last moments in writing a letter to his chum, who had led him to christ but the day before. 'dear brother in christ jesus,' he wrote, 'i owe my very soul to you. if it had not been for you, i should not have been ready to die now. it seems hard only to give the last few hours of my life to his service, but i must say "good-bye." the angels are calling me home. i can see them and the glorious city. good-bye, and may god bless you!' says the one who in rough-and-ready fashion had so recently led his chum to christ, 'it cheered me to know he was all right with the master. now i must look out for more work for him.' =the tortures of the wounded.= then started that sad procession to the rear--the procession of ox-waggons containing the poor mangled bodies of our wounded. oh! the horrors of it! 'how much longer will it be?' 'will the road soon be smoother?' cried the longsuffering lads. who shall tell the tale of agony? aye! who shall tell the heroism then displayed? who shall describe how rough men became as gentle women, and how those racked with pain themselves yet tried to minister to the wants of others? oh! war is devil's work; but surely at no time do human love and human sympathy show themselves so often, or prove themselves so helpful, as amidst its horrors. of all hospitals that at mooi river was the best. this is the testimony of one and all. 'you went in there,' said one lad, 'a skeleton. you came out a giant.' and at mooi at last, many of these poor wounded soldier lads found themselves, and amidst comfort that seemed to them luxury and rest that was heaven itself they were many of them wooed back to life. but what of the men still at the front? effort after effort! retreat followed by advance! misunderstanding and mistake here and there. and then pieter's hill! ask the soldier who has come back wounded from pieter's hill--and how many of them are there?--what he thought of it. he can give you but a confused picture of the fight. he has no idea of the plan in the general's mind. but ask him of his experiences. his wound was nothing; he will not dwell upon that. but the time spent upon the ground after the wound was received--twenty-four hours, forty-eight, three days, and in one case, at any rate, so the poor fellow told us, four days--before the stretcher party carried them to the rear. it could not be helped. there was no reaching the wounded. they were scattered far and near. they lay where they fell, starving for want of food, dying of thirst under a south african sun. oh! the horror of it! but your soldier cannot describe it. it will be a nightmare to him for life. you speak to him on the subject 'how long did you lie there?' you want to inquire a little further; but he shakes his head,' don't ask me, 'twas too awful,' and he turns his head away. ='men, christ can save me even now.'= seated in the buckingham palace soldiers' home the other day, some men from pieter's hill were chatting together. 'and what was your experience?' said the chaplain. 'oh! i just realized how god could save, and god could keep. it was terribly hard, but all through those fearful battles i had always peace--always joy.' and then he continued, 'i never think of pieter's hill but i think of armstrong. you did not know armstrong. he used to be in the orderly room every week--a bad lad was poor old armstrong. but when we were in india he gave himself to christ. he was never in the orderly room after that. one day his major met him. "armstrong," said he, "what's the matter? we never see you in the orderly room now." "no, sir," he said, "old armstrong's gone. a new armstrong's come." "what do you mean?" queried his officer. "just this, sir; i've given my heart to god, and chucked the sin." 'so he lived until he went to the war, and so he died. he passed through spion kop unscathed, but on pieter's hill a bullet went through his head. as he fell he cried, "men, christ can save me even now! it's all right, i'm going home," and he died.' the guardsmen came thronging round while this man of the royal irish rifles told about his chum they listened with tears in their eyes; they listened to tell the story again to others. and so the good news that christ can save upon the battle-field is sent flying through the british army. 'were you in that night attack at ladysmith?' asked one turning to another. 'yes, i was there.' 'did you see lieutenant fergusson when he fell?' 'yes, i was close to him. i went up to him and said, "are you much hurt, sir? can i take you in?" "no thank you, my lad; i'm done for," replied the dying officer. "take some fellow you can save.'" and so he, too, died like a hero. the officer inside the besieged town and the private soldier outside attempting to save him--are one in this, that they know how to die; and england calls each 'hero'! and so through blood and fire, over heaps of slain, general sir redvers duller passed into ladysmith--passed in just in time; passed in to see men with wan cheeks and sunken eyes--an army of skeletons; but passed in to find the old flag still flying. [illustration: ambulance work on the field.] chapter xv ladysmith the defence of ladysmith by sir george white and his heroic band of soldiers will rank as one of the finest feats in british history. it is not for us to tell the story of the siege. historians of the war will do that. we need only remind our readers that from october , , when the bombardment began, to february , , when general buller's advance guard marched into the town, our troops were closely besieged--besieged so closely that the boers thought there was no possible chance of relief. 'ladysmith will never be relieved,' said a boer to one of our chaplains. 'no troops in the world will ever be able to get through colenso to ladysmith. it is absolutely impregnable.' but they did, and one hardly knows which to admire most the dogged persistence of general buller and his men or the heroic defence, the patient, confident waiting of the beleaguered troops. ='thank god, we have kept the flag flying.'= it is, however, with the ladysmith garrison we are concerned at the present time. these men had but little of the excitement of battle to stir their nerves and inspire them for fresh efforts. they had to fight the sterner fight,--the fight with disease and famine. they watched their comrades sicken and die--not one at a time, but by scores and hundreds--but they held on and held out for queen and country. 'while ever upon the topmost roof our banner of england blew.' 'thank god, we have kept the flag flying!' said sir george white, when at last deliverance came. the words will become historic, and fathers will tell their sons for long centuries to come how in ladysmith, as at lucknow, english soldiers preferred rather to die than to surrender; and how, surrounded as they were, they, for old england's sake, kept the flag flying. it remains for us to tell the story of christian work in connection with the siege, and through all the darkness of those terrible four months such work runs as a golden thread of light. =christian workers in ladysmith.= there were in ladysmith when the siege began three church of england chaplains and one acting chaplain, viz.: rev. e.g.f. macpherson (senior chaplain), at first attached to the divisional troops; rev. a.v.c. hordern, attached to the cavalry brigade; rev. j.g.w. tuckey, attached to the th brigade; and the rev. d. mcvarish (acting chaplain), attached to the th brigade. in addition to these there were archdeacon barker, of the local civilian church, and the rev. g. pennington, a local clergyman attached as acting chaplain to the colonial volunteers. [illustration: rev. a.v.c. hordern. (from a photograph by knight, newport, i.w.)] the presbyterians had one chaplain, viz., the rev. thomas murray, of the free church of scotland, and one acting chaplain, the rev. mr. thompson. the wesleyan methodists had one acting chaplain, the rev. owen spencer watkins, who had but a short time before returned from the soudan, where he had accompanied the troops to omdurman. there were also in the town the rev. s. barrett cawood, the local wesleyan missionary, and the rev. s.h. hardy, of johannesburg, who happened to be on a visit to the town, and who, though without official position, rendered yeoman service throughout the siege. in addition to these chaplains there were two or three army scripture readers. =every man hit except the chaplain.= most of these chaplains had already received their baptism of fire. at reitfontein messrs. macpherson and hordern had found themselves in a particularly warm corner. some fifteen men of the gloucesters, with an officer, were in a donga which provided hardly any cover, and the two chaplains going out to the field hospital had perforce to share with their comrades the dangers of the terrible position. the boers were firing at them with awful precision, and when the liverpools--all unconscious that a handful of english were seeking cover in the donga--commenced to fire at the boers, it made retreat for the dauntless fifteen impossible. they had unwillingly to remain where they were until the boers were put out of action by the liverpools. when at last the firing ceased, it was found that nearly every man of that unlucky fifteen was hit, with the exception of the chaplains, who came out unscathed. this was an experience that perhaps would have been enough for most men, but chaplains, like private soldiers, have to get used to bullets flying around them. it is no use preaching religion to the men, if the chaplain is not able to show by his own coolness in the hour of danger that he is fit for something else than preaching, that he is ready to share the men's dangers and privations, and that he too can set an example of courage. mr. watkins had received his baptism of fire in the soudan, and, like the rest, did not fear the sharp ping, followed by the dull thud, of the mauser, or the deeper swish of the martini. no one got used to shells. they ever continued a terror, and when the whistle sounded, giving warning that the wisp of smoke had been seen coming from one of the boer long toms, and intimating that in some twenty-eight seconds the dreaded shell would burst above them, it was astonishing how fast and how far even the oldest and the stoutest could travel in search of cover. =personal dangers met by chaplains on duty in the field.= one or two short stories may put into clearer perspective the personal danger of our chaplains on the field. messrs. hordern and tuckey were both with their men in the lombard's kop fight. mr. hordern was attached to the field hospital, which was sheltering from the shot and shell under the shadow of a huge hill. by-and-by came the order for the hospital to retire. it was about a mile and a quarter from ladysmith, and there were no sheltering hills. the red cross was distinctly marked on the ambulance wagons, and the indian dhooli-bearers must have been clearly seen; but as soon as the hospital emerged from the cover of the hill a boer gun opened fire upon it, and very soon shell was falling upon all sides. with mr. hordern was the rev. s.h. hardy, and both of them were exposed to the full fire of the enemy. mr. hordern, thinking there might possibly be a safer place than the very centre of the cavalcade, spurred his horse forward, and the moment after a shell burst on the very spot where he had been. on another occasion mr. owen watkins was out with the field hospital, and he and the doctor dismounted in order, if possible, to bring in some wounded from under fire. they had just accomplished this self-imposed mission when a shot, coming a little too near, disturbed mr. watkins' horse, which bolted. in trying to find it he lost sight of the hospital, which had moved away, and found himself in desperate plight. neither horse nor hospital to be seen, and a mile and a half of open country between him and safety. the boers' bullets were falling around him, and there was nothing for it but to run, and amid a perfect hail of bullets he fled in the direction of ladysmith. that run seemed the longest in his life, but unscathed he came through it, and found another hospital wagon full of wounded, returning to the town. into it he got, and other horrors of war were at once before him. he had no time to think of his own near escape from death, for there was a dying lad upon his knee. another was leaning his head on his shoulder, and his hands were busy passing water or brandy to the wounded or dying. through such experiences our chaplains go, and go gladly, for him who is at once their saviour and their king. not much is heard of their work, not often are they mentioned in despatches; only one of them has ever received the victoria cross, but most of them are heroes, and deserve well of the country that gave them birth. it is sufficient for them that they receive the praise of god, and there can be no higher reward for them than the master's 'well done.' =services in ladysmith.= parade services in ladysmith were difficult to hold. they were, however, held as regularly as possible. the chaplain would mount his horse about . a.m., and ride off to some distant post. for a quarter of an hour he would pray with and talk to the men, and then ride to another service at some further post. and so in the early morning he would conduct three or four different parades. 'often,' says mr. hordern, 'they used to hold them in the trenches, so as to be out of reach of the boer guns. all the men had their rifles, ready to rush to their posts at a moment's notice. every sunday there was a celebration of the holy sacrament in the open air, and i shall never forget the sight--the officers and men kneeling together, just leaving their rifles as they came up to communicate, and going back to their posts immediately afterwards. the boers pretended never to fight on sundays, but they could never trust them. one day they dropped eight shells into one of his cavalry parade services which was assembling. although the boers pretended to keep sunday and not fire, yet some monday mornings a new gun would open on them that was not in its position on the saturday. that was one way of keeping sunday.[ ] [illustration: one of the ladysmith hospitals.] the english church was open for worship all through the siege. it was the only church not used as a hospital; but its windows being small and its roof low, it would not have made an ideal hospital, and it did splendid duty as a church. the other churches--the wesleyan, presbyterian, and dutch reformed--were gladly surrendered for hospital purposes, for there was all too little hospital accommodation, and all too great a need. for the most part the chaplains spent their sunday mornings in visiting their men, going from regiment to regiment, and speaking a word for christ wherever possible. as the months passed, and the boer attentions became more personal and incessant, the troops at the front had to leave their huts or tents and sleep in the open, and everywhere tents, if used at night, were folded up by day, and the troops were left absolutely without cover through the terrible heat, except such as they could find behind rock, or bush, or tree. [footnote : burnley _express_, may , .] =disease in ladysmith.= and then came disease! ladysmith had been singularly free from enteric before the war. the scourge of south africa had passed it by. but it follows an army like an angel of destruction. for weeks its broad wings hovered above our troops, and then with fell swoop it descended. intombi hospital camp was formed right under the shadow of mount bulwane, and by an arrangement with the boers one train per day to ladysmith and back was allowed to run. it began with patients, and at one time had as many as , . the formation of the camp meant to some extent a division of christian work. messrs. macpherson, thompson, owen s. watkins, cawood, and hardy, together with father ford, remained in the town and camp. messrs. hordern, tuckey, pennington, and murray, together with father o'donnell, the roman catholic chaplain, went to intombi. later on, when the hospital became so crowded that it was impossible for the enfeebled staff of chaplains to cope with the work, mr. macpherson joined them. it is impossible to speak too highly of the heroism of these intombi chaplains. at first it is hard for most men to face shot and shell, but there is always a thrill of excitement with it, and there is a strange fascination in danger of this kind, which has a weird charm all its own. but to face death in a great hospital camp such as this! to be all day and half the night visiting the sick and dying where there are no comforts, very little food, and the medicine has run short; to see that hospital steadily grow,--men on the bed-cots, men lying between them; to watch men struggling in the agonies of the disease, with dying men close beside them; to have to step over one prostrate figure to get to the side of some dying man and whisper words of comfort and prayer, while shrieks of agony come from either side; to feel weary, becoming gradually weaker through want of food, to know that ere long one's own turn would come, and the inexorable disease would claim its victim; to go through the same daily round of loathsome duty, and find in it one's highest privilege; to endure, to suffer, to dare, to sympathise, to soothe, to help; evening by evening to listen to the last requests of dying men, and morning by morning to lay them in their hastily dug graves--all this requires heroism compared with which the heroism of battle pales into insignificance. we do not wonder that the intombi chaplains were mentioned in despatches, and that the love of the soldier goes out to these devoted men. as mr. watkins felt it his duty to remain in ladysmith town with his men, mr. murray had charge of the wesleyans in intombi, as well as of the presbyterians. but, as a matter of fact, in face of such stern realities as disease and death, all names and sects were forgotten. the chaplains were all brethren, the men were all human beings for whom christ died, and each did his best for all. open-air parade services were tried for the convalescents, but it soon became impossible to hold them. the chaplains went round the marquees and prayed with and talked to the men. the church of england chaplains had holy communion every sunday morning, and for one month, until sickness prevented, there was daily communion. by-and-by the list of dangerous cases became so large that it was impossible to go round in one visit. enfeebled by work and want, the chaplains struggled from bed to bed, until often they were too weak to finish their task. their only relief was to get an occasional run into ladysmith, and to that they looked forward as a haven of rest. what mattered if shells did fly about!--they had an occasional stray bullet at intombi too--and shells, much as they were dreaded, were better than enteric. it was during one of these occasional breaks that the four church of england chaplains were having lunch at the ladysmith hotel, when a shell burst right in the hotel itself. they were covered with dust, but that was all. not so easily, however, did they escape disease. one after the other at intombi failed. mr. hordern was down with dysentery for between five and six weeks, mr. macpherson eight weeks, mr. tuckey had natal fever for three weeks, and all of them were left very enfeebled. [illustration: rev. thomas murray. (by permission of mr. m. jacolette, of dover.)] =mr. murray's description of the fight with enteric fever.= mr. murray, of the scotch free church, bravely struggled on. at one time he was left single-handed. the admiration of the other chaplains for this man was great indeed. he seemed to lead a charmed life, and though he rapidly aged during the siege, he never gave up. he was overworked and half-starved, but he always had a cheery word for every one. he tells the story himself with characteristic modesty in _the church of scotland home and foreign mission record_. let us listen to him:-- 'very soon enteric fever and dysentery appeared among the troops, and the daily morning train from ladysmith brought ever fresh batches of patients. the hospital camp grew rapidly. the maximum number was nearly , , but for many weeks the daily average was , . unhappily, of the four church of england chaplains, two were at an early stage laid aside by sickness, and for more than _five weeks_ the whole of the work fell to one church of england chaplain and myself. we worked hand in hand. it was not a question of "religion," but wherever spiritual help was needed, there one of us was found. our first work each day was the burial of the dead. daily, for three long months, _all of us_ might be seen heading the dismal procession of six, or ten, or fifteen, and on one occasion of nineteen dead, whom we were conducting to their last resting-place. that duty over, the remainder of the day was busily employed in ministering to the sick and dying in the numerous hospital marquees. on sunday we did what we could to hold services in these marquees, but it was impossible on any one day to overtake all. there was, however, each sunday afternoon an open-air service at which convalescent patients could be present. =work among the refugees.= 'besides the work i have just described, i had another piece of work unexpectedly cut out for me, which was full of interest and rich in good fruits. 'close by our hospital camps was a civilian camp, where dwelt in tents or in rude shanties several hundreds of refugees. there were well-to-do farmers and their families, driven from their homes in upper natal; railway people, station-masters, guards, clerks, etc.; miners from glencoe and dundee; and not a few people from ladysmith itself. the greater number of these were scotch, and it was natural that i should take spiritual charge of them, for they were out in the wilderness, sheep without a shepherd. every sunday morning at ten o'clock, and sunday evening at seven o'clock, i held an open-air service for them, the convalescent from the military camps attending likewise. it was a sight i shall never forget, to see these homeless ones sitting round me on the veldt, listening to the preaching of the gospel, making welcome, as perhaps some of them had never done before, the precious promises of divine consolation of which their souls stood so much in need. many were devout and earnest christian men and women, and the weekly fellowship, in song and supplication, with god and with one another, did much, i do not doubt, to enable them to endure the tribulations which were their appointed lot. 'so, amid these many labours, the months flee past. you know the story of the several attempts to relieve us. away over the hills, on december , we heard the fierce roll of the artillery, and our hopes beat high. but the ominous silence of the next few days prepared us for the mournful tidings that that attempt had failed. then came january , and the determined assault by the boers on ladysmith. it began before dawn close by our camp, and all day long we watched the struggle, as it swayed this way and that, like the waves of the sea, till at last british valour gained the day. but much precious life was lost. 'after that, on january , the hills once more re-echoed the roar of distant artillery. this was the attempt at spion kop and potgieter's drift. after days of uncertainty, we learned that our relief was not yet. 'at last in the early weeks of february began the final and heroic effort of general sir redvers buller's forces. day and night the firing ceased not, and we rejoiced to mark that it came nearer and nearer. suddenly the enemy's forces melted away, all in a night, as once before, long since, around samaria. 'on wednesday evening, february , we descried a small body of horsemen coming through a gap in the hills, as it were a little stream trickling down the mountain side. we looked in amazement. the british guns were silent. it could be no foe. suddenly a loud british cheer burst from the advancing troop, and we knew our relief was accomplished. it was lord dundonald's advanced patrol. next day, march , general buller and his staff rode in. 'i have only to add that, by the good hand of god upon me, i have been preserved all through from sickness and disease.' of all things the men dreaded enteric. 'my lad,' said mr. hordern to one of the men who had just come into hospital, 'have you got enteric fever?' 'no, sir,' was the reply; 'i am _only_ wounded.' they have come back now, hundreds of them, and as we interview them, one and all declare in their own terse language, 'we would rather have three or four hits than one enteric.' =testimonies to the reality of christian work.= but all this time christian work in the town and camp had been going steadily forward. on sunday as many services as possible were held, and night by night christian soldiers gathered together for prayer. there was a spirit of inquiry about spiritual things. death was very near, and in its immediate presence the men felt the importance of decision for christ. letter after letter tells of conversions at the soldiers' simple services. staff-quarter-master-sergeant luchford, for instance, writes a letter which is a sample of scores of others:--'on tuesday last i managed to get the brethren together for a fellowship meeting, and a very blessed and helpful time we had, as each told out of the fulness of his heart how great things the lord had done for his soul. last sunday we also got together for an hour and pleaded with god for an outpouring of his spirit upon the congregation assembled for the service. one young fellow of the r.a. was very deeply impressed, and i trust that the next news i hear is that he has surrendered to the conquering power of the holy spirit.' =stirring events related by mr. watkins.= in the camp with his men mr. watkins was having stirring times. his was the excitement and dash, and when there was any fighting, he was sure to be near. he narrates some strange experiences in the methodist papers. we venture to quote one or two paragraphs from the _methodist recorder_. 'on december , there was a brilliant attack by the british on gun hill, where three of the boer guns were captured. this brilliant attack was made by colonial volunteers, led by sir archibald hunter, and was entirely successful. the next morning there was a further attempt by the cavalry to cut the telegraph wires and tear up the railway which brought the boers' supplies. this, however, was not so successful. the boers were ready for our men, and they suffered severely. then came the chaplain's opportunity. 'hearing that there were wounded still lying on the field, i hastened off to see if i could be of any use, and had not gone far before i met a young medical officer, who had galloped in under a heavy fire. he told me that out in the open captain hardy (medical officer of the th hussars) was lying in a hole with a severely wounded man, whom he could not get in because the firing was so hot. so, having with me a red cross flag, we turned our horses' heads and rode out to their assistance. for the first few seconds the bullets flew fast around us, but as soon as our flag was seen the firing ceased, we released our friends from their uncomfortable predicament, and sent back the wounded man in a dhooli. 'we were then met by two armed burghers carrying a white flag, who told us of yet other wounded lying in their lines, and offered to guide us to them. under their care we penetrated right behind the firing line of the enemy, who were holding the ridge now between us and the town, and firing heavily. here we found two of our gallant fellows dead--shot through the head--and several wounded men, and it was not long before the dhoolis we had brought with us were full. the burghers had shown every kindness to the wounded; each man had been provided with food and drink, and nothing could exceed the courtesy shown towards ourselves by these men, who were in the very act of firing on our comrades. a queer thing, war! 'having started the dhooli-bearers with their heavy loads on their way to town, captain hardy and myself continued our search along the ridge for wounded and dead, but were thankful to find there were no more. once again we turned our faces to beleaguered ladysmith, having collected, in all, two killed and fifteen wounded men, many of them badly hurt, poor fellows. 'the two following days were unusually quiet, and on the sunday i was enabled to hold four services, which were very well attended, and to us all seasons of rich blessing. but on sunday night the rifle brigade made an attack upon surprise hill, capturing a gun that for weeks past had been worrying us considerably, and blowing it into fragments in the air. the attack was well planned, and would have resulted in very small loss to us, only in blowing up the gun the first fuse used proved defective, and another train had to be laid, thus causing a delay of over ten valuable minutes. the result was that the boers had time to turn out in force from a neighbouring laager, and were waiting to receive our men as they came down the hill. then ensued a scene of indescribable confusion; in the darkness it was impossible to distinguish friend from foe, and the shouts of our men were answered in english by the enemy, thus making the confusion a hundred times worse. one who was present told me that it was the most terrible experience of his life. they came down the hill between a lane of blazing rifles, sometimes the flash not being more than five yards from them. few ever expected to get out alive, but the men behaved splendidly, charging with the bayonet again and again, and when at last the foot of the hill was reached asking their colonel (lieut.-colonel metcalfe) for permission to charge again. =within the boer lines.= 'of course, as soon as it was light the doctors of the bearer company, with dhoolies, were out to seek amongst the rocks for the wounded and the slain, and it was not long before i was on my way to join them. but on reaching our outpost on observation hill i was told that the boers were so infuriated at the loss of another gun that they had taken the doctors prisoners and were going to send them to pretoria. but just at that moment a native came in with a note from the senior medical officer, asking that surgical necessaries be sent at once, for many of the wounded were seriously hurt. after much parley through the telephone with head-quarters, it was at last decided that the things be sent at once, and if i were willing that i should be the bearer, for the boers were more likely to respect "the cloth" than anything else; also by previous visits i had become known to many of the burghers. so forthwith i started upon what many said was my way to pretoria, and on reaching the enemy, truth to say, it looked very much like it. they were furiously angry, and i was made to join the little group of doctors, bearers and wounded, who, under a strong guard, were sitting and lying under the shade of a tree. [illustration: ambulance wagons on their way to the field.] 'but before very long we were at liberty again. a flag of truce had been sent out by general white, expostulating with the boer general, and resulted in the general in question--general erasmus--galloping up to tell us we were at liberty to continue our work, only we must be as quick about it as possible. fifty-one wounded men we found, three of them officers, and nine killed, of whom one was an officer. at the foot of the hill that they had won we buried them, marking the place where they lay with stones heaped over the grave in the form of a cross. then we wearily returned to camp, for by then the day was far spent, and we had had nothing to eat since dawn. that night i was again called to perform the sad ceremony of burial. four men had died of their wounds during the day, and in darkness it had to be done, for the cemetery is within reach of the enemy's guns, and we feared to show a light, lest it should "draw fire." so i recited as much of the burial service as i could remember, and offered an extemporary prayer. it was a strange experience thus to bury our comrades by stealth; but, alas! during these latter days it has ceased to seem strange, because of its frequency.' =work in ladysmith town.= meanwhile in the town, and sometimes with the soldiers in the fight, mr. cawood and mr. hardy were rendering splendid service. mr. cawood kept in good health throughout, but when, on the relief of ladysmith, the president of the south african conference (rev. w. wynne) visited the town, he reported that mr. cawood looked ten years older. no wonder that such was the case, for he was in labours more abundant, and nothing was too mean or trivial for him to perform. such was also the case with mr. hardy. he did not seem to know fear. brave when the bullets fell thick, he was just as brave in the midst of the strain of hospital work. he was but a visitor in the town, and had no official connection with either troops or civilian church. but he turned his hand to anything, and when the hospitals were crowded and workers were few, he actually had himself appointed a hospital orderly, and performed the meanest and most loathsome duties of the hospital nurse. he kept in good health to the last, and then almost every disease seemed to come upon him at once. for long he lay in the agonies of enteric fever, and almost lost his life. but he counted that not too great a gift for his master and his country. we honour them both--the old veteran and the young missionary. in fact, where all were brave and devoted, it is invidious to pick out one or two of these devoted men for special mention. each in his own special sphere tried bravely to do his duty. meanwhile the town was becoming full of enteric cases, for intombi camp had no further accommodation, and only the most serious cases could be sent there. the churches were then, as already intimated, utilised as hospitals, and it was in them that the chaplains left in ladysmith and with the soldiers performed their ministry of love. most of these buildings at some time or other felt the force of the boer shells, and the native minister's house by the side of the wesleyan church was shattered. he, poor fellow, lost both wife and child during the siege, and himself was laid low by enteric fever. =terrible scenes at intombi hospital.= but let us return to intombi. slowly the average number of cases was increasing. daily at . the mournful procession passed to the cemetery. that cemetery contained at last about seven hundred bodies. every grave was marked and numbered. mr. hordern began this work, but when his health failed, mr. murray continued and completed it. so that there is a strict record left of every one lying there, and any one wishing to erect a tombstone can do so. such service as this was thoughtful indeed, and friends at home will greatly appreciate it. for three weeks at intombi they were on quarter rations. then, as buller's guns were heard in the distance, they were allowed half rations; but on ash wednesday morning, the morning of relief, they were reduced to quarter rations again. what this meant who can tell? how could they resist disease? there are horrors over which we throw a veil. sufficient that they were necessary horrors--that they could not be prevented. but only the doctors and the chaplains know what our men passed through in intombi camp. but no one complained--that was the wonder of it. 'oh! sir, when do you think buller will get through?' was the nearest to complaint ever heard. they suffered and they died, but they murmured not. ='the way he was absent-minded was that he forgot himself!'= listen to what mr. hordern has to say about it:-- 'every morning they had the awful procession of dead carried down to the cemetery, each man sewn up in his own blanket, and reverently buried, each man having done his duty and laid down his life for his queen and country. and the brave old tommy atkins was called "an absent-minded beggar," a fine title itself, though it referred to him in the wrong way. he was not absent-minded, for he had a warm corner in his heart for those at home. the way he was absent-minded, was that _he forgot himself_. i knew one man who had two or three letters from home, which he carried about in his pocket, and although he longed to read them again, he dare not do so because, he said, he should break down if he did. the boys never forgot their homes. there was one dead soldier, a poor lad of the irish fusiliers, who was shot through the body, and afterwards in searching his clothes they found a letter ready written and addressed to his mother. he hadn't a chance of posting it. _he_ was not an absent-minded beggar. _he_ didn't forget to write to his mother. when they pulled his letter from his pocket, it was impossible to post it, as it was covered with his blood. i re-addressed it and sent it off to the dead soldier's mother.' there was another story which showed the forgetfulness of the soldier for himself. that happened in the relieving column. an officer was badly wounded. it was dusk, and our troops had to retire down the kopje under cover, though next day they took it. when they retired that night, the wounded officer could not be moved, and so four men refused to leave him. they remained with him all night without food or water, in order to protect him from the bullets which were flying about--one lying at his head, one at his feet, and one on either side. those were absent-minded beggars--_absent-minded for themselves_! mr. hordern was talking to a starved wreck of a man one day, and he asked him what was the first thing he wanted when the relief came through. he expected to hear him say food of some sort. but no; this absent-minded beggar said, 'the first thing, sir, medical comforts for the sick.' he then asked him what was the next thing he should like. he thought he would say food _this_ time; but no, his reply was, 'the english mail.' he then asked what would he like after that, and the soldier replied that he would then have his food.[ ] of such stuff were british soldiers made in ladysmith, and of such stuff are they, with all their faults, the wide world over! [footnote : burnley _express_, may , .] =lads, we are going to be relieved to-day.'= but the time of deliverance was drawing near. hope deferred had made the heart sick. time after time had buller's guns seemed to be drawing nearer, and time after time had the sound grown faint in the distance. they were on quarter rations again, and that meant that colonel ward, careful man as he was, had feared a longer delay. one of the chaplains--he has told the writer the story himself, but prefers that his name be not mentioned--was lying on his back in his tent at intombi, reading the morning service to those gathered round. he was weak from disease and starvation, and it was no easy task to stand or walk. as he read the psalm for the day (ash wednesday, psalm vi.), it seemed to him a very message from god. his eye caught the tenth verse, 'all mine enemies shall be confounded and sore vexed: they shall be turned back, and put to shame suddenly.' he read it again and again. surely god was speaking to him through his word. 'turned back,' he said to himself; 'ashamed _suddenly_.' it seemed as though it was a personal illumination from god. he rose to his feet, and going into the tent which contained the worst cases, he said, 'lads, i've come to tell you we are going to be relieved to-day or if not to-day, at any rate very soon--_suddenly_. listen, lads; this is my message from god.' and he read them the passage. every face brightened as he read, and his own was doubtless lit up with a light from another world. that night, as he was lying down worn out with fatigue and excitement, he heard a british cheer, and everybody rushed out to inquire what it meant. there in the far distance a column of mounted troops, were slowly marching along. who were they--british? 'no,' said one of the soldiers; 'they are marching too regularly for that.' 'boers?' 'no,' said another; 'they are marching too regularly for boers.' 'who can they be?' 'i know,' said a third; they are colonials.' he was right. 'but wait a minute,' said another; 'let us see if cæsar's camp fires upon them.' but no, cæsar's camp kept on pounding away at mount bulwane as it had done for months, only with more energy than usual. and then cheer upon cheer broke from these poor emaciated wrecks in intombi. hand clasped hand, and tears rained down all faces. back into the marquee into which he had been the morning rushed the chaplain. 'lads, i told you this morning! "_suddenly_," lads, "_suddenly_," they were to be turned back "_suddenly_." it is true; my message was from god. buller is here!' and then the dying roused themselves and lived, and voices were uplifted in loud thanksgiving. and so lord dundonald's colonial troops marched into the town, to be greeted as surely men were never greeted before; to be hailed as saviours, as life-givers, as heroes. watch them. they have only twenty-four hours' rations with them, and they have had a hard, rough time themselves, but they give it all away. how can they deny anything to these living skeletons standing around! and what did it mean in ladysmith? it meant this--at intombi, at any rate. when buller's guns sounded nearer, the poor fever-stricken patients brightened up, and roused themselves with a fresh effort for life. when the sound of his firing receded into the distance, they just lay back and died. his entry into ladysmith was life from the dead. '=it was time he came=.' it was time that he came. food was at famine prices. eggs sold at s. per dozen, and one egg for s.; a / -lb. tin of tobacco sold for s.; chicken went for s. d. each; dripping, / -lb. at s. d., and so on. chevril soup (horseflesh) became the greatest luxury, and was not at all bad; while trek-oxen steak might be looked at and smelled, but to eat it was almost impossible. one of the most pathetic, and at the same time most comical, sights to be witnessed during the siege, was surely that of one enthusiastic lover of the weed, who, unable to procure any of the genuine article for himself, followed closely in the wake of an officer in more fortunate circumstances, in order that at any rate he might get the smell and have the precious smoke circle round his head. it was time, we say, for buller to come. relief came not a day too soon. but a short time longer could the beleaguered men hold out. but he came at last, and when next day he entered the town, bending low over his saddle, worn out with his great exertions, the sight that met his gaze was one never to be forgotten. these men whom he had known in the greatness of their strength at aldershot were little more than skeletons, hardly able to show their appreciation of his splendid efforts, so weak were they. 'you should have seen the general _cry_,' said a group of men from ladysmith at the cambridge hospital the other day. it was their way of putting the case. the apparently stolid, dogged, undemonstrative englishman broke down completely, as he gazed upon the sights around him. and no wonder! he had come not a moment too soon. but he had come in time. 'thank god,' said sir george white, 'we have kept the flag flying!' =a story of devotion.= one story of devotion more, and our tale of ladysmith is at an end. there was a certain much-loved chaplain shut up in ladysmith, who greatly enjoyed a smoke. in buller's relief column there were men who loved him well, and who knew his love for a pipe. when they left colenso, eleven of them each carried under his khaki tunic a quarter-pound tin of tobacco for the chaplain. and then came all the horrors of that terrible struggle to reach the beleaguered town, culminating in the awful fight at pieter's hill. one after another, vainly trying to keep their cherished possession, parted with it bit by bit during those dreadful weeks; but one of them carried it all the time, and never so much as touched it. when at last he reached ladysmith, he had to march right through to encamp several miles beyond the town. but next day he got a permit and tramped back to ladysmith, found out his friend the chaplain, and handed over his treasure to him. all black and grimy was that sacred tin of tobacco, black with the smoke of battle, and dented by many a hard fight; but it was there--intact--an offering of devotion, a holy thing, a pledge of love. that chaplain has it still; he could not smoke it, it was far too precious for that. it has become one of his household gods, to be kept for ever as a token of a soldier's love. and now we say good-bye to our gallant ladysmith garrison. we shall meet many of them again on other fields. the siege proved that there was not a man of them without a religious corner somewhere. hundreds of them turned to god with full purpose of heart; and to every one of them old england owes a debt of gratitude. as we say good-bye, we are reminded of tennyson's lines about the soldiers of lucknow--lines just as true of the men of ladysmith as of them:-- 'handful of men as we were, we were english in heart and in limb, strong with the strength of the race, to command, to obey, to endure; each of us fought as if hope for the garrison hung but on him; * * * * * and ever upon the topmost roof our banner of england blew.' chapter xvi 'in jesu's keeping' at the annual 'roll call meeting,' held in wesley hall, aldershot, in january, , we took as our 'motto' for the next twelve months the words of bishop bickersteth's beautiful hymn-- 'in jesu's keeping we are safe, and they.' all of us had friends in south africa. most of us had relatives there; and as we bowed in prayer together we thought of the famous prayer of long ago: 'the lord watch between me and thee when we are absent one from another.' all the way through we have realized that there was a god of love watching between us. all the way through we have been quite certain that 'in jesu's keeping' they were safe. some of them we shall never see again on earth, but they are still 'in jesu's keeping.' some of them are still far away from us fighting for their country. but they, too, are 'in jesu's keeping,' and for them we are not afraid. we said 'good-bye' many months ago, but it meant 'god be with you,' and our farewell prayer has been answered. _here_ or _there_ we expect to clasp hands with them again. and the comfort that has been ours in old england has been theirs in south africa. they, too, have thought of loved ones far away. they, too, have realized-- 'in jesu's keeping we are safe, and they.' 'the soldier's psalm' has been read and rejoiced in all through south africa. 'he that dwelleth in the secret place of the most high shall abide under the shadow of the almighty. i will say of the lord, he is my refuge and my fortress: my god; in him will i trust. thou shall not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day; nor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness; nor for the destruction that wasteth at noonday. a thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee.... he shall call upon me, and i will answer him. i will be with him in trouble; i will deliver him, and honour him. with long life will i satisfy him, and show him my salvation.' chanted in many a service, repeated in the darkness on outpost duty, remembered even amid the fury of the battle, this soldiers' psalm has been to thousands a source of comfort and strength. * * * * * with its blessed words ringing in our ears we close this book. the war is not yet over. disease has not yet claimed all its victims. the fateful bullet has not delivered its final message of death. but our loved ones are 'in jesu's keeping,' and we are content to leave them there. with them and with us it may be 'peace, perfect peace.' butler & tanner. the selwood printing works, frome, and london. [transcriber's notes: original spelling retained, original copyright information retained, italics are indicated by underscores.] volume ii england's effort letters to an american friend [illustration: spring-time in the north sea--snow on a british battleship.] _the war on all fronts_ england's effort letters to an american friend by mrs. humphry ward with a preface by joseph h. choate illustrated new york charles scribner's sons copyright, , by charles scribner's sons preface has england done all she could? that is the question which mrs. ward, replying to some doubts and queries of an american friend, has undertaken to answer in this series of letters, and every one who reads them will admit that her answer is as complete and triumphant as it is thrilling. nobody but a woman, an englishwoman of warm heart, strong brain, and vivid power of observation, could possibly have written these letters which reflect the very soul of england since this wicked and cruel war began. she has unfolded and interpreted to us, as no one else, i think, has even attempted to do, the development and absolute transformation of english men and women, which, has enabled them, living and dying, to secure for their proud nation under god that "new birth of freedom" which lincoln at gettysburg prophesied for his own countrymen. really the cause is the same, to secure the selfsame thing, "that government of the people, by the people, and for the people may not perish from the earth";--and if any american wishes to know how this has been accomplished, he must read these letters, which were written expressly for our enlightenment. mrs. ward had marvellous qualifications for this patriotic task. the granddaughter of doctor arnold and the niece of matthew arnold, from childhood up she has been as deeply interested in politics and in public affairs as she has been in literature, by which she has attained such world-wide fame, and next to english politics, in american politics and american opinion. she has been a staunch believer in the greatness of america's future, and has maintained close friendship with leaders of public thought on both sides of the water. her only son is a member of parliament, and is fighting in the war, just as all the able-bodied men she knows are doing. she has received from the english government special opportunities of seeing what england has been doing in the war, and has been allowed to go with her daughter where few english men and no other women have been allowed to go, to see the very heart of england's preparedness. she has visited, since the war began, the british fleet, the very key of the whole situation, without whose unmatched power and ever-increasing strength the allies at the outset must have succumbed. she has watched, always under the protection and guidance of that wonderful new minister of munitions, lloyd george, the vast activity of that ministry throughout the country, and finally in a motor tour of five hundred miles, through the zone of the english armies in france, she has seen with her own eyes, that marvellous organization of everything that goes to make and support a great army, which england has built up in the course of eighteen months behind her fighting line. she has witnessed within three-quarters of a mile of the fighting line, with a gas helmet at hand, ready to put on, a german counter attack after a successful english advance something which no other woman, except herself and her daughter, who accompanied her, has ever had the opportunity to see. mrs. ward admits that at the beginning england was unprepared, which itself demonstrated that as a nation she never wished for war with germany, and never expected it. her countrymen had no faith in lord roberts's ten-year-long agitation for universal national service, based on the portentous growth of the german army and navy. she never knew of any hatred of germany in the country. on the contrary, she realized what england and all the rest of the world owed to germany in so many ways. england was not absolutely unprepared in the sense that the united states is unprepared, even for self-defence from external attack, but except for the fleet and her little expeditionary force, england had neither men nor equipment equal to the fighting of a great continental war. the wholly unexpected news of the invasion of belgium aroused the whole country to realize that war on a scale never known before had come, and, as the firing upon fort sumter awakened america, convinced england that she must fight to the death for her liberties, unready as she was;--but mr. balfour, the first lord of the admiralty, says that, since the war began, she has added one million to the tonnage of her navy, and has doubled its personnel, and is adding more every day. in the matter of munitions the story that mrs. ward tells is wonderful, almost beyond belief. much had been done in the first eight months of the war, in the building of munition shops, and the ordering of vast quantities from abroad, before the second battle of ypres, in april, , which led to the formation of the new coalition ministry, including a wholly new department, the ministry of munitions, with mr. lloyd george at its head. from that time to this the work has been colossal, and almost incredible, and without serious collision with the working classes. vast new buildings have been erected all over england, and a huge staff, running into thousands, set in action. the new minister has set out with determination to get the thing done at whatever cost, and to remove all obstacles that he found in his way. the government has absolutely taken control of the whole work of the creation of munitions and the regulation of workmen, employed in it by whatever employers, and everything and everybody has had to submit to his imperious will, and the greatest change of all has been the employment of women on a vast scale to do the work that only men had ever done before. france had set about it immediately after the battle of the marne, and allowed no frenchman to remain idle who could do such work. mrs. ward does not fail to do full justice to the working men of great britain, and shows that besides the hundreds of thousands that they have sent to the fighting line, a million and a half remained at work in the shops, creating munitions with the aid of skilled experts and the astonishing help of the women, who never before had expected to have anything to do with guns and shells, with bombs, rifles, and machine-guns. the old ways were laid aside, old distinctions of class and sex forgotten, and all worked with a common and indomitable will for the saving of the country. to give a single instance, what was a few months ago a smiling pasture is now found covered with vast buildings, in which these manufactures are carried on by thirty-five hundred working people, of whom a large proportion are women. i love to quote a single sentence from the utterance of her companion on a visit to this establishment: "as to the women, they are saving the country. they don't mind what they do. hours? they work ten and a half, or, with overtime, twelve hours a day, seven days a week. the government are insisting on one sunday, or two sundays a month off. i don't say they aren't right, but the women resent it. 'we're not tired,' they say. and look at them! they are not tired." this unheard-of spectacle of great engineering establishments filled with women, all hard at work, is a sure proof of the undying purpose of the whole english race. they are mostly young and comely, and their beauty of form and feature is only enhanced by their enthusiasm for their labors, and at the same time it has increased the ardor and intensity of their fellow workmen. mrs. ward found four thousand women to five thousand men engaged in this nation-saving labor, in a single establishment. they know that they are setting the skilled laborers free for work which women cannot do, and the unskilled in large numbers free for the army. every building, as well as every man and woman, that could be put to the work, has been availed of, and the results have been incredible. another instance she gives of special interest: "an old warehouse, bought, so to speak, overnight, and equipped next morning, has been turned into a small workshop for shell production, employing between three and four hundred girls with the number of skilled men necessary to keep the new unskilled labor going. these girls are working on the eight-hours' shift system; working so well that a not uncommon wage among them, on piece-work, of course, runs to somewhere between two and three pounds a week," and all the time they are at work they remember that they are doing common service with their husbands, and sweethearts, and sons, and brothers, who are perilling their lives in the trenches. none of this distinguished writer's romances compare in vivid description and heart-inspiring eloquence with these accounts that she gives of what she has seen with her own eyes of the resurrection of england. it is not for me to anticipate her startling and thrilling narratives on this subject. she takes for her text what mr. lloyd george said in his speech in the house of commons on reviewing his new department: "unless we quicken our movements, damnation will fall on the sacred cause for which so much gallant blood has flowed," and mr. asquith's serious words in december: "we cannot go on," said he, "depending upon foreign countries for our munitions. we haven't the ships to spare to bring them home, and the cost is too great. we must make them ourselves." mrs. ward dwells with keen insight upon the difficulties met with among the trade-unions and labor people, and successfully overcome, and explains in full what they call over there the work of the dilution commissioners, which is a wholly new phrase for us, and she gives this clear definition: "dilution means, of course, that under the sharp analysis of necessity, much engineering work, generally reckoned as 'skilled' work, and reserved to 'skilled' workmen by a number of union regulations, is seen to be capable of solution into various processes, some of which can be sorted out from the others, as within the capacity of the unskilled, or semiskilled worker. by so dividing them up and using superior labor with economy, only where it is really necessary, it can be made to go infinitely further, and the inferior, or untrained, labor can then be brought into work where nobody supposed it could be used; where, in fact, it never has been used." this novel experiment, together with the equally novel employment of women in such work, soon proved a triumphant success, and the women proved themselves able to do the work of men, some of it even better. there were, of course, difficulties at first, but the mischief, whatever it was, was quickly cured, and in one factory that mrs. ward names, "men and women soon began to do their best. the output of the factory, which had been planned for four thousand shells a week, ran up to twenty thousand, and everything has gone smoothly since." the adaptation of firms and factories, already existing, the control of which was taken by the government, was wonderful, but the national shell-factories, founded, financed, and run by the ministry of munitions, are more wonderful still, and give us many new ideas about government ownership in an emergency, which we may sometimes have to think of more seriously. the speed, the efficiency, the success of the new system have been marvellous, so that in the short space of a year the demands of mr. lloyd george and mr. asquith have been satisfied, and england will depend no more upon foreign contracts and foreign supplies for her ammunition, but will be able not only to manufacture all she can use herself, but to help to supply her allies. in one department of labor, it is a very startling thing to learn that "in a single fuse factory, what they call the danger buildings, mostly women are employed. about five hundred women are found at work in one of these factories on different processes connected with the delicate mechanism and filling of the fuse and gaine, some of which is really dangerous, like detonator work." it is the insertion in the shell of the little pellet which gives it its death-dealing power, that is so risky, but the women do not shrink from even this. in the largest fuse shop known, quite new, fourteen hundred girls, in one shift, are at work. "an endless spectacle of gun-carriages, naval turrets, torpedo-tubes, army railway-carriages, small hotchkiss guns for merchant ships, tool-making shops, gauge shops, seems to be going on forever, and in the tool-making shops the output has risen from forty-four thousand to three million a year." the vastness of the work, and the incessant and enormous multiplication of all the products for war must be as overwhelming as it is monotonous. and then there were the huge shipyards, which before the war were capable of the berth of twenty ships at once, from the largest battleship downward, and which, as we have already had mr. balfour's word for it, have since the beginning of the war added a million tons to the navy, but mrs. ward in her rapid journeys had not time to stop and inspect these, to our very great regret, for her description of them would have been most instructive. she declares from actual observation that in the clyde district, in whose populous centre some threats of disquiet have existed, the work done by thousands and tens of thousands of workmen since the beginning of the war, especially in the great shipyards, and done with the heartiest and most self-sacrificing good-will, has been simply invaluable to the nation, and will never be forgotten, and the invasion of women there has, perhaps, been more startling to the workmen than anywhere else. where not a single woman was employed in the works and factories before the war, except in textiles, "there will soon be fifteen thousand of them in the munition workshops alone, and that will not be the end." wherever she goes, mrs. ward's eyes are wide open. from her own home, which is in the midst of one of the most patriotic regions of the realm, she can witness the perpetual activity which has come about in preparation for the war in all its varied phases and branches; everything and everybody is in vigorous motion, both there and in all the counties of england which she has visited. great camps in every direction for the shelter and training of recruits, all coming and going, all marching and countermarching, training and drilling everywhere, and as fast as the citizen is converted into a soldier, he is bound for the seat of war with all the equipments that war requires, tramping everywhere, tramp, tramp, along the land; tramp, tramp, along the sea, until the new supports, all ready for vital service, reach their destination on french soil. mrs. ward has made a careful study of the effect of the novel introduction of women into all these works of men, especially in the munition factories, and dwells with great significance upon the rapidity of the women's piece-work and the mingling of classes, where educated and refined girls work side by side and very happily with those of an humbler type. what mrs. ward well calls "the common spirit" inspires them all, and holds them all in just and equal relations. at every step she is startled by the vastness of the work and the immense hand that women have in it, finding one shop turning out about four thousand shrapnel and four thousand high-explosive shells per week, heavy shell work all, which they thought at first they must furnish men to lift in and out of the machines, but "the women thrust the men aside in five minutes." surely this new education of women, of these girls and women who are to become the mothers of the next generation, must have a most inspiring and exalting effect upon the days to come. war may be postponed for whole generations, but england will never fail to be ready for it as a necessary part of the education of the race. it is quite evident that this war is breaking down the barriers that have heretofore been impassable, not only between men and women, but between the various classes of society, and that it cannot possibly end without bringing these more closely together, all working to the same end in a more perfect harmony, and that the result of it must be that england will hereafter be an even more perfect democracy than it has been up to this time. france! glorious france! the conduct of whose government and people in the war seems to have been absolutely perfect, has at last reached a wonderful result after her hundred years of agonies and revolutions. we hear from france no complaints, no internal dissensions, but all the people, mankind and womankind, working together, each in its proper sphere, to the one common end, the salvation of the state. i trust that we shall never forget all that the world and we, especially, owe to france. she is adding to our obligations now by fighting our battles for us. and now with her daughter under the special protection and guidance of the war office, this distinguished woman followed the khaki-clad soldiers of england, now numbered by millions, across the channel, and everything was thrown freely open to her. she soon found out what the great supply bases, on which the british army in france rests, really mean, made up of the army ordnance, army service, army medical, railroad, motor, and transport, and she found it a deeply interesting study, "whose work has involved the labor of some of the best brains in the army," and she learned the organizing power that has gone to make the career of the english army in france possible. there was the immense dock, and its vast storehouse, the largest in the world, "built three years before the war, partly, it is said, by german money, to house the growing cotton trade of the port, but now it houses a large proportion of the food of the british army," a building half a mile long, bounded on one side by the docks, where the ships discharge the stores and the men, and on the other by the railway lines where the trains are perpetually loading for the front. on the quays ships of all nations, except germany, are pouring out their stores, and on the other side the trucks that are going to the front are loading with the supplies that are wanted for every regiment in the service. her eyes light upon one wired in space, labelled "medical comforts," and generally known as "the cage," where, while medical necessaries are housed elsewhere, are "the dainties, the special foods, the easing appliances of all kinds," which are to make life bearable to the wounded men, and she stops to think how the shade of florence nightingale would have paused at this spot. the huge sheds of army ordnance are filled with everything that a soldier does not eat, all metal stores, whatever, and the men who work in them are housed in one of the longest sheds in tiers of bunks from floor to ceiling, and then there are the repairing sheds and workshops, established near by, and that is the most wonderful thing of the whole to my mind--never done before in connection with an army in the field. trainsful of articles to be repaired come down from the front every day, and almost every imaginable article that the men at the front can use, from guns to boots, comes here to be repaired, or if found beyond repair, to be sent to yorkshire for shoddy. the marvellous thing is that, as soon as they are received, they are repaired and made nearly as good as new and returned to their owners at the front, a vast work in itself. the boot and uniform sheds alone, where again she finds five hundred french women and girls, and the harness-making room are doing an enormous work. the colonel in charge began work with one hundred and forty men, and is now employing more than a thousand, and his repairing sheds are saving thousands of pounds a week to the british government. recreation and amusement are supplied in near locality for the waiting soldiers and, although the snow is more than ankle-deep, they visit such places as recreation rooms and cinema theaters, and on a neighboring hill great troops of men are going through some of the last refinements of drill before they start for the front. here are trenches of all kinds and patterns, in which the men may practise, planned according to the latest experience brought from the front. "the instructors are all men returned from the front, and the new recruits, trained up to this last point, would not be patient of any other teachers." having thus seen all that one day could afford them at the very base of the great army, our visitors make their way in closed motors through the snow, passing scores of motor lorries, and other wagons, stuck in the snow-drifts. they stop for the night at a pleasant hotel full of officers, mostly english, belonging to the lines of communication, and a few of the mothers and sisters of the poor wounded in the neighboring hospitals, who have come over to nurse them. every gun, every particle of munition, clothing, and equipment, and whatever else is necessary, including the food of the armies, every horse, every vehicle, has to be brought across the british channel, to maintain and reinforce the ever-growing british army, and the ever-daily increasing congestion at all the ports makes it more and more difficult every day to receive, disembark, accommodate, and forward the multitude of men and the masses of material, and all the time there are thousands of troops passing through, thousands in the hospitals, and thousands at work on the docks and storehouses. everything tending to tommy atkins's comfort is supplied, including again palatial cinemas and concerts, all of which results in excellent behavior and the best of relations between the british soldier and the french inhabitants. at the docks armies of laborers and lines of ships discharging men, horses, timber, rations, fodder, coal, coke, petrol, and the same at the storehouses and depots. the visitors spend a long sunday morning in the motor transport depot, and it gave a good illustration of the complete system of discipline and organization that prevailed everywhere. this depot began, said the colonel in charge, on the th of august, , "with a few balls of string and a bag of nails." its present staff is about five hundred. all the drivers of twenty thousand motor vehicles are tested here, and the depot exhibits three hundred and fifty different types of vehicles, and in round figures, one hundred thousand separate parts are now dealt with, stored, and arranged in this same depot. the sunday morning began with a simple service in the young men's christian association hut, at which five hundred motor-drivers attended, about half of the whole number in the station. the same day they explored endless camps and the wards of a red cross hospital. it was impossible to take in everything at once, and our ladies retired at night, bewildered by mingled impressions of "human energy, human intelligence, human suffering," but full of pride and exultation at the efficiency of their country and of the good relations of their soldiers with the french. they carried with them as a last impression of the day the picture of a canteen worked day and night in three shifts by a heroic band of women close by the railway station, full of soldiers just departing for the front, young, gay and full of spirits; then came the train to take the soldiers off for the fighting line, and the women, left behind, set up the song, already familiar in the midlands, "keep the home fires burning till the boys come home." in the village where they stopped, some forty miles from the actual front, a special messenger from the general headquarters brings the amazing news that general headquarters invites mrs. ward and her daughter for two days, and will send a motor for them, if they accept, which, of course, they did upon the instant, looking forward with eagerness to the great mysteries of the front, its camps, its men, and its hospitals, that they were to see with their own eyes to-morrow. the remainder of the day before they are to start for the front suffices for the visit to a camp set down in one of the pleasantest spots in france, a favorite haunt of french artists before the war, now occupied by a british reinforcement camp, the trees having all been cut away, by long lines of hospitals, by a convalescent depot, and by the training grounds, to which we have already referred. i must copy the bare catalogue of what this vast camp contained: "sleeping and mess quarters for those belonging to the new armies; sixteen hospitals with twenty-one thousand beds" (and this shows now what it was to be near the front); "rifle ranges; training camps; a vast laundry, worked by french women under british organization, which washes for all the hospitals thirty thousand pieces a day; recreation huts of every possible kind; a cinema theatre seating eight hundred men, with performances twice a day; nurses clubs; officers clubs; a supply depot for food; an ordnance depot for everything that is not food; railroad sidings on which every kind of man and thing can go out and come in without interruption; a convalescents' depot of two thousand patients; and a convalescent horse depot of two thousand horses; all this in one camp, established since last april." ah! but the deepest impression left on the minds of our ladies is of the terrible sufferings in the hospitals, of the smiling endurance with which they were borne, of the timely skill, pity, and devotion of the doctors and nurses, taking care of the twenty thousand wounded. realizing the sympathy of america with all these scenes and sufferings, they do not fail to note the hospitals organized by the universities of chicago and of harvard, staffed by american sisters and doctors, each providing thirty-four doctors and eighty nurses, and dealing with a thousand patients, and a convalescent depot of two thousand beds. every day the ambulance train comes in, and splendid hospital ships are taking the brave wounded back to england for home and rest. and now came the day in which they were to motor forty miles to be the guests of the g.h.q. soon they seemed to be in the midst of the battle, "our own guns were thundering away behind us, and the road was more and more broken up by shell holes." the british lines are just beyond, cottages close by, and the german lines just in front of a wood near them, three-quarters of a mile away. already they had been nearer than any woman, even a nurse, had been in this war, to the actual fighting on the english line, and the cup of impressions was full. they actually saw the brave boys whom they had passed an hour before, sitting in the fields waiting for orders, now marching into the trenches to take their turn there--they knew that they were marching into the jaws of death, but they walked as quietly and as cheerfully as if they were going to a parade, the guns crashing close by them all the time. the firing being too hot for the women, the captain in charge of them was relieved when they elected to turn back. the next day, their second as guests of g.h.q., as they came down from breakfast, our ladies were surprised to find the motor at the door, a simple lunch being packed up, and gas-helmets got ready for them to use, for the captain greeted them in the best of spirits with the news that a very successful action had been fought that morning, "we had taken back some trenches on the ypres-comines canal that we lost, a little while ago, and captured about two hundred prisoners; and if we go off at once we shall be in time to see the german counter attack." the one impossible thing for any woman ever to have hoped to see! somehow or other they very quickly got to the very post of danger. soon they got close to the tower of ypres, which mrs. ward well describes as "mute witness of a crime that beyond the reparation of our own day, history will revenge through years to come." then the english guns spoke, and they watched and saw the columns of white smoke rising from the german lines as the shells burst. the german lines are right in sight, and soon their shells begin to burst on the english trenches. the german counter attack is on. all the famous sites of the early part of the war are then in sight, but all they can fully see is the bursting german shells, as from moment to moment they explode. in her final letter mrs. ward shows other great efforts which great britain has made since the war began; that the taxes imposed for the support of the war and cheerfully borne demand a fourth part of his income from every well-to-do citizen; that five hundred million sterling, or twenty-five hundred million dollars have been already lent by britain to her allies, a colossal portion of her income; that she has spent at the yearly rate of three thousand million dollars on the army, a thousand million dollars on the navy, while the munition department is costing about four hundred million sterling, and is employing close upon two million workers, one-tenth, i think, women; that the export trade of the country, in spite of submarines and lack of tonnage, is at this moment greater than it was in the corresponding months of ; she has raised an army of four millions of men, and will get all she wants. what is more precious than all the rest, besides the vast amount of treasure that she has lavished upon the war, besides the rich mansions in all parts of the land that she has devoted to the uses of the sick and the wounded, she has given thousands, tens and hundreds of thousands of her choicest youth, who have willingly surrendered their lives for the great cause; young men of the noblest pedigree, without number, by their lives and deaths have attested their right to be regarded as the flower of the british youth; the professional classes and the universities have emptied their halls so that the men of oxford and cambridge might take their places with the rest, and offer up their lives as willing sacrifices, and all the men of england of every degree have joined with them and been welcomed as brothers in the ranks for the great sacrifice. the rank and file, who are fighting and dying for england, are fighting in the same spirit as their leaders and falling by the hundred thousand for the nation's salvation. how exactly emerson's noble verse fits them: "so nigh is grandeur to our dust, so near is god to man, when duty whispers low, 'thou must,' the youth replies, 'i can!'" no one who reads this book can doubt for a moment, i think, that england has done all she could, has put forth efforts worthy of her history and of her great traditions, that her national spirit is invincible, her national resources inexhaustible, and that her irresistible will to conquer and to rescue freedom and civilization for all the world from this terrible contest, is absolutely sure to win. all america is vastly indebted to mrs. ward for her triumphant success in proving that england has done her best and for making this great story so clear. in this introduction, too hastily prepared for want of time, which is really little better than a synopsis of the book itself, i have not hesitated to use her own language from beginning to end, as the clearest by which to express and condense her narrative, and with occasional indications by quotation marks. i still believe absolutely that nine-tenths of my countrymen are in earnest sympathy with the allies and are confident of their final and complete success. joseph h. choate. new york, may th, . author's foreword this little book was the outcome of an urgent call from america sent by various friends whose whole sympathy is with the allies. i have done my best to meet it, in four strenuous months, during which the british government has given me every possible facility. but such work has to be done rapidly, and despatched rapidly. i beg my friends, and england's friends, beyond the atlantic, to excuse its defects. i can honestly say, however, that i have done my best to get at the facts, and that everything which is here put forward rests upon independent enquiry, so far as the limit of time allowed. the title has caused me much trouble! will any son of gallant scotland, or loyalist ireland, or of those great dominions, whose share in the war has knit them closer than ever to the mother country--should he come across this little book--forgive me that i have finally chosen "england" to stand for us all? "gott strafe england!" has been the german cry of hate. i have given what i conceive to be "england's" reply. "britain"--"great britain" are words that for all their profound political significance have still to be steeped a good deal longer in life and literature before they stir the same fibres in us as the old national names. and "england" as the seat of british government has, it is admitted, a representative and inclusive force. perhaps my real reason is still simpler. let any one try the alternatives which suggest themselves, and see how they roll--or do not roll--from the tongue. he or she will, i think, soon be reconciled to "england's effort"! mary a. ward. * * * * * note to the fourth edition there has been added to this edition an epilogue in the shape of a seventh letter, bringing the story up to august , including munitions, finance, the battle of jutland, and the somme offensive. illustrations spring-time in the north sea--snow on a british battleship _frontispiece_ facing page marines drilling on the quarterdeck of a british battleship fifteen-inch guns on a british battleship a forest of shells in a corner of one of england's great shell filling factories a light railway bringing up ammunition one of the wards of a base hospital, visited by the king a howitzer in the act of firing england's effort i dear h. your letter has found me in the midst of work quite unconnected with this hideous war in which for the last eighteen months we in england have lived and moved and had our being. my literary profession, indeed, has been to me, as to others, since august th, , something to be interposed for a short time, day by day, between a mind tormented and obsessed by the spectacle of war and the terrible reality it could not otherwise forget. to take up one's pen and lose oneself for a while in memories of life as it was long, long before the war--there was refreshment and renewal in that! once--last spring--i tried to base a novel on a striking war incident which had come my way. impossible! the zest and pleasure which for any story-teller goes with the first shaping of a story died away at the very beginning. for the day's respite had gone. the little "wind-warm" space had disappeared. life and thought were all given up, without mercy or relief, to the fever and nightmare of the war. i fell back upon my early recollections of oxford thirty, forty years ago--and it was like rain in the desert. so that, in the course of months it had become a habit with me never to _write_ about the war; and outside the hours of writing to think and talk of nothing else. but your letter suddenly roused in me a desire to write about the war. it was partly i think because what you wrote summed up and drove home other criticisms and appeals of the same kind. i had been putting them mechanically aside as not having any special reference to me; but in reality they had haunted me. and now you make a personal appeal. you say that england at the present moment is misunderstood, and even hardly judged in america, and that even those great newspapers of yours that are most friendly to the allies are often melancholy reading for those with english sympathies. our mistakes--real and supposed--loom so large. we are thought to be not taking the war seriously--even now. drunkenness, strikes, difficulties in recruiting the new armies, the losses of the dardanelles expedition, the failure to save serbia and montenegro, tales of luxurious expenditure in the private life of rich and poor, and of waste or incompetence in military administration--these are made much of, even by our friends, who grieve, while our enemies mock. you say the french case has been on the whole much better presented in america than the english case; and you compare the international situation with those months in when it was necessary for the lincoln government to make strenuous efforts to influence and affect english opinion, which in the case of our upper classes and too many of our leading men was unfavourable or sceptical towards the north. you who know something of the vastness of the english effort--you urge upon me that english writers whose work and names are familiar to the american public are bound to speak for their country, bound to try and make americans feel what we here feel through every nerve--that cumulative force of a great nation, which has been slow to rouse, and is now immovably--irrevocably--set upon its purpose. "tell me," you say in effect, "what in your belief is the real spirit of your people--of your men in the field and at sea, of your workmen and employers at home, your women, your factory workers, your soldiers' wives, your women of the richer and educated classes, your landowners and politicians. are you yet fully awake--yet fully in earnest, in this crisis of england's fate? 'weary titan' that she is, with her age-long history behind her, and her vast responsibilities by sea and land, is she shouldering her load in this incredible war, as she must shoulder it; as her friends--the friends of liberty throughout the world--pray that she may shoulder it?" yes!--i must answer your questions--to the best of my power. i am no practised journalist--the days of my last articles for _the pall mall_ under the "john morley" of those days are thirty odd years behind me! but i have some qualifications. ever since--more than half a century ago--i paid my first childish visit to the house of commons, and heard mr. roebuck, the "tear 'em" of _punch's_ cartoon, make his violent appeal to the english government to recognise the belligerency of the south, it would be almost true to say that politics and affairs have been no less interesting to me than literature; and next to english politics, american politics and american opinion; partly because of my early association with men like w.e. forster, stanch believers, even when gladstone and john russell wavered, in the greatness of the american future and the justice of the northern cause--and partly because of the warm and deep impression left upon me and mine by your successive ambassadors in london, by mr. lowell above all, by mr. and mrs. phelps, by the john hays, the choates and the bayards--no less than by the many intimate friendships with americans from different worlds which my books have brought me since . during the last thirty years, also, i have had many friends--and some kinsmen--among the leaders of english politics, and in both political parties. at the present moment my only son is a member of the english house of commons, and a soldier fighting in the war. all my younger kinsfolk are fighting; the sons of all my friends are fighting; and their daughters are nursing as members of voluntary aid detachments--(marvellous what the girl v.a.d.'s, as england affectionately calls them, have done since the beginning of the war!)--or working week-end shifts to relieve munition workers, or replacing men of military age in the public offices and banks. i live in one of the home counties, within five miles of one of the military camps. the small towns near us are crowded with soldiers; the roads are full of marching infantry, of artillery-trains and supply-wagons. our village has sent practically all its able-bodied men of military age to the front; the few that remain are "attested" and only waiting to be called up. a great movement, in which this household is engaged, is now beginning to put women on the land, and so replace the agricultural labourers who have gone either into the armies or the munition factories. and meanwhile all the elderly men and women of the countryside are sitting on war committees, or working for the red cross. our lives are penetrated by the war; our thoughts are never free from it. but in trying to answer your questions i have gone far beyond my own normal experience. i asked the english government to give me some special opportunities of seeing what great britain is doing in the war, and in matters connected with the war, and they have given them ungrudgingly. i have been allowed to go, through the snow-storms of this bitter winter, to the far north and visit the fleet, in those distant waters where it keeps guard night and day over england. i have spent some weeks in the midlands and the north watching the vast new activity of the ministry of munitions throughout the country; and finally in a motor tour of some five hundred miles through the zone of the english armies in france, i have been a spectator not only of that marvellous organisation in northwestern france, of supplies, reinforcements, training camps and hospitals, which england has built up in the course of eighteen months behind her fighting line, but i have been--on the first of two days--within less than a mile of the fighting line itself, and on a second day, from a flemish hill--with a gas helmet close at hand! i have been able to watch a german counter attack, after a successful english advance, and have seen the guns flashing from the english lines, and the shell-bursts on the german trenches along the messines ridge; while in the far distance, a black and jagged ghost, the tower of the cloth hall of ypres broke fitfully through the mists--bearing mute witness before god and man. for a woman--a marvellous experience! i hope later on in these letters to describe some of its details, and some of the thoughts awakened by them in a woman's mind. but let me here keep to the main point raised by your question--_the effort of england_. during these two months of strenuous looking and thinking, of conversation with soldiers and sailors and munition workers, of long days spent in the great supply bases across the channel, or of motoring through the snowy roads of normandy and picardy, i have naturally realised that effort far more vividly than ever before. it seems to me--it must seem to any one who has seriously attempted to gauge it--amazing, colossal. "what country has ever raised over sixty per cent of its total recruitable strength, for service beyond the seas in a few months?" asks one of our younger historians; and that a country not invaded, protected by the sea, and by a supreme fleet; a country, moreover, without any form of compulsory military service, in which soldiering and the soldier have been rather unpopular than popular, a country in love with peace, and with no intention or expectation of going to war with any one? ii for there we come to the root of everything--the _unpreparedness of england_--and what it meant. it meant simply that as a nation we never wished for war with germany, and, as a nation, we never expected it. our governments, of course, contained men who saw more or less plainly the dangers ahead, and had spent years of effort in trying to avoid them. on several occasions, during the last twenty years, as we all remember, a wave of sudden anxiety as to german aims and intentions had spread through the thinking portion of the nation--in connection with south africa, with morocco, with the balkans. but it had always died away again. we know now that germany was not yet ready! meanwhile fruitless efforts were made by successive english governments to limit armaments, to promote arbitration, and extend the scope of the hague tribunal. in vain. germany would have none of them. year by year, in a world of peace her battle-navy grew. "for what can it be intended but to attack england?" said the alarmist. but how few of us believed them! our tariff reformers protested against the encroachments of german trade; but, outside a handful of persons who seemed to most of us fanatics, the emphasis lay always on care for our own people, and not on hostility to germany. those who warned us passionately that germany meant to provoke a struggle, that the struggle must come, were very little heeded. nobody slept the worse at night for their harangues. lord roberts's agitation for national service, based on the portentous growth of the german army and navy, made comparatively little way. i speak from personal experience of a large parliamentary division. "did you foresee it?" i said to one of the ablest and most rising men in the navy a fortnight ago. he thought a little. "i always felt there might be a clash over some colonial question--a quarrel about black men. but a war between the white nations over a european question--that germany would force such a war--no, that i never believed!" nor did any of us--except those few--those very few persons, who cassandra-like, saw the coming horror plainly, and spoke to a deaf country. "there was _no_ hatred of germany in this country"--i quote a cabinet minister. "even in those parts of the country which had most reason to feel the trade rivalry of germany, there was no thought of war, no wish for war!" it came upon england like one of those sudden spates through mountain clefts in spring, that fall with havoc on the plains beneath. after such days of wrestling for european peace as have left their indelible mark upon every member of the english cabinet which declared war on august th, , we fought because we must, because, in luther's words, we "could no other." what is the proof of this--the proof which history will accept as final--against the vain and lying pleas of germany? nothing less than the whole history of the past eighteen months!--beginning with that initial lack of realisation, and those harassing difficulties of organisation with which we are now so often and so ignorantly reproached. at the word "belgium" on august th, practically the whole english nation fell into line. we felt no doubts--we knew what we had to do. but the problem was how to do it. outside the navy and the expeditionary force, both of them ready to the last gun and button, we had neither men nor equipment equal to the fighting of a continental war, and we knew it. the fact is more than our justification--it is our glory. if we had meant war, as germany still hoarsely but more faintly says, week after week, to a world that listens no longer, could any nation of sane men have behaved as we did in the years before the war?-- , men on active service--and , territorials, against germany's millions!--with arsenals and equipment to match. is it any wonder that the country--our untouched, uninvaded country--safe as it believed itself to be under the protection of its invincible navy, was, in some sections of our population at any rate, slow to realise the enormous task to which--for the faith of treaties' sake, for self-defence's sake--it was committed? and yet--was it after all so slow? the day after war was declared the prime minister asked parliament to authorise the addition of half a million of men to the army, and a first war credit of a hundred millions of money (five hundred million dollars). the first hundred thousand men came rolling up into the great military centres within a few days. by september th nearly three hundred thousand fresh men had enlisted--by christmas half a million. by may, a million men had been added to the new armies; by september, , sir john french alone had under his command close on a million men on the lines in france and flanders, and in december, , the addition of another million men to the army was voted by parliament, bringing up the british military strength to approximately four millions, excluding colonials. and what of the dominions? by november, , canada and australia alone had sent us forces more than equal to the whole of that original expeditionary force, that "contemptible little army" which, broken and strained as it was by the sheer weight and fierceness of the german advance, yet held the gates of the channel till england could fling her fresh troops into the field, and france--admirable france!--had recovered from the first onslaught of her terrible and ruthless enemy. in one of my later letters i hope to give some particulars of this first rush of men, gathered from those who witnessed it and took part in it. one remarkable point in connection with it is that those districts most heavily employed in munition-making and coal-mining, the two industries absolutely indispensable to our army and navy, have also sent the largest supply of men to the fighting line--take, for instance, newcastle and the clyde. there have been anxious episodes, of course, in the great development. was your own vast levy in the civil war without them? and for the last half million men, we have had to resort, as lincoln resorted, to a modified form of compulsion. there was, no doubt, a good deal of unnecessary waste and overlapping in the first camp and billeting organization of the enormous forces raised. but when all is said, did we not, in the language of a french observer "improvise the impossible"?--and have we not good reason to be proud?--not with any foolish vainglory, but with the sober and resolute pride of a great nation, conscious of its past, determined to correct its mistakes, and looking open-eyed and fearless towards the future? then as to munitions: in many ways, as you will perhaps say, and as i agree, a tragic story. if we had possessed last spring the ammunition--both for ourselves and our allies we now possess, the war would have gone differently. drunkenness, trade-union difficulties, a small--very small--revolutionary element among our work people--all these have made trouble. but the real cause of our shortage lay in the fact that no one, outside germany, realised till far into the war, what the ammunition needs--the absolutely unprecedented needs--of this struggle were going to be. it was the second battle of ypres at the end of april last year which burnt them into the english mind. we paid for the grim knowledge in thousands of our noblest lives. but since then? in a later letter i propose to draw some picture in detail of the really marvellous movement which since last july, under the impulse given by mr. lloyd george, has covered england with new munition factories and added enormously to the producing power of the old and famous firms, has drawn in an army of women--now reckoned at something over a quarter of a million--and is at this moment not only providing amply for our own armies, but is helping those of the allies against those final days of settlement with germany which we believe to be now steadily approaching. american industry and enterprise have helped us substantially in this field of munitions. we are gratefully conscious of it. but england is now fast overtaking her own needs. more of this presently. meanwhile to the military and equipment effort of the country, you have to add the financial effort--something like $ , , , , already expended on the war; the organising effort, exemplified in the wonderful "back of the army" in france, which i hope to describe to you; and the vast hospital system, with all its scientific adjuncts, and its constantly advancing efficiency. and at the foundation of it all--the human and personal effort!--the lives given for england, the blood so generously shed for her, the homes that have sacrificed their all, our "golden lads" from all quarters and classes, whose young bodies lie mingled with an alien dust that "is for ever england," since they sleep there and hallow it; our mothers who mourn the death or the wreck of the splendid sons they reared; our widowed wives and fatherless children. and this, in a quarrel which only very slowly our people have come to feel as in very deed their own. at first we thought most often and most vividly of belgium, of the broken treaty, and of france, so wantonly attacked, whose people no english man or woman could ever have looked in the face again, had we forsaken her. then came the hammer blows that forged our will--louvain, aerschot, rheims, the air-raids on our defenceless towns, the senseless murder of our women and children, the bryce report, the _lusitania_, the execution of edith cavell--the whole stupefying revelation of the german hatred and greed towards this country, and of the qualities latent in the german character. now we _know_--that it is they, or we--since they willed it so. and this old, illogical, unready country is only just arriving at its full strength, only just fully conscious of the sternness of its own resolve, only just putting out its full powers, as the german power is weakening, and the omens are changing--both in east and west. iii no!--the effort of england during the past eighteen months in spite of all temporary ebbs and difficulties, in spite of that chorus of self-blame in which the english nation delights, has been one of the great things in the history of our country. we have "improvised the impossible" in every direction--_but one_. in one point, indeed, there has been no improvisation. nothing was trusted to chance. what is it that alone has secured us the time to make the effort we have made? it is now about a month ago that, by permission of the admiralty, i found myself driving towards a certain pier in a harbour opening on the north sea. the commodore of a cruiser squadron was to send his boat for me, and i was to lunch with him on board his flag-ship. i duly passed the distrustful sentry on the road leading to the pier, arrived at the pier-head and descended from the motor which had brought me. the morning was mistily sunny, and the pier strangely deserted. where was the boat? where was my friend who had hoped to come for me himself? no signs of either. the few old sailors employed about the pier looked at me in astonishment, and shook their heads when i inquired. commodore ----'s boat was not there; no boat had been in that morning from the ships. i took the commodore's letter from my hand-bag, to assure myself i had not been dreaming, and reread it in perplexity. no dates could be clearer--no directions more precise. suddenly i perceive one tall naval officer on the pier. "can you help me, sir?" and i hand him the commodore's letter. he looks at me--and at the letter. his face twinkles with repressed laughter; and i laugh, too, beginning to understand. "very sorry," says the charming young man, "but i think i can assure you there will be no boat, and it is no use your waiting. commodore ---- went to sea last night." i thanked him, and we laughed together. then i walked up the pier a little way, seeing a movement in the mist. a sailor came up to me. "they all went to sea last night," he said in my ear--"and there are the slow ones coming back!" and out of the mist came the black shapes of war-ships, moving majestically up the harbour--one might have fancied, with a kind of injured dignity, because their unreasonable fellows had been faster and had gone farther afield than they. i walked back to my motor, disappointed indeed, and yet exulting. it was good to realise personally through this small incident, the mobility and ever-readiness of the fleet--the absolute insignificance--non-existence even--of any civilian or shore interest, for the navy at its work. it was not till a week later that i received an amusing and mysterious line from commodore ----, the most courteous of men. [illustration: marines drilling on the quarterdeck of a british battleship.] [illustration: fifteen-inch guns on a british battleship.] iv by the time it reached me, however, i was on the shores of a harbour in the far north "visiting the fleet," indeed, and on the invitation of england's most famous sailor. let me be quite modest about it. not for me the rough waters, or the thunderous gun-practice-- "breaking the silence of the seas among the farthest hebrides"-- which i see described in the letters of the russian or american journalists who have been allowed to visit the grand fleet. there had been some talk, i understand, of sending me out in a destroyer; it was mercifully abandoned. all the same, i must firmly put on record that mine was "a visit to the fleet," by admiralty permission, for the purpose of these letters to you, and through you to the american public, and that i seem to have been so far the only woman who, for newspaper ends, has been allowed to penetrate those mysterious northern limits where i spent two wonderful days. it was, indeed, a wintry visit. the whole land was covered with snow. the train could hardly drag itself through the choked highland defiles; and it was hours behind its time when we arrived at a long-expected station, and a vice-admiral looking at me with friendly, keen eyes came to the carriage to greet me. "my boat shall meet you at the pier with my flag-lieutenant to-morrow morning. you will pick me up at the flag-ship, and i will take you round the fleet. you will lunch with me, i hope, afterwards." i tried to show my grateful sense both of the interest and the humour of the situation. my kind visitor disappeared, and the train carried me on a few miles farther to my destination for the night. and here i take a few words from a journal written at the time: it is nearly dawn. a red light in the northeast is coming up over the snowy hills. the water, steely grey--the tide rising. what strange moving bodies are those, scudding along over the dim surface, like the ghosts of sea planes? dense flocks of duck apparently, rising and falling along the shallows of the shore. now they are gone. nothing moves. the morning is calm, and the water still. and on it lie, first a cruiser squadron, and then a line of dreadnoughts stretching out of sight. no lights anywhere, except the green lights on a hospital ship far away. the great ships lie dark and silent, and i sit and watch them, in the cold dawn, thinking that but for them, and the multitude of their comrades that guard these seas and shores, england would be as belgium or as northern france, ravaged and destroyed by a barbarian enemy. my heart goes out to you, great ships, and you, gallant unwearied men, who keep your watch upon them! that watch has been kept for generations. never has there been such need for it as now.... but the day has risen, and the sun with it. as i leave the shore in the vice-admiral's boat, the sunlight comes dancing over a low line of hill, lighting up the harbour, the mighty ships, with their guns, and, scattered out to sea along the distance, the destroyers, the trawlers, the mine-sweepers, the small auxiliary craft of all kinds--those "fringes of the fleet"--which kipling has caught and photographed as none but he can. the barge stops beside the flag-ship, and the admiral descends into it. what is the stamp, the peculiar stamp that these naval men bear?--as of a force trained and disciplined to its utmost capacity, and then held lightly in check--till wanted. you see it in so many of their faces, even in eyes hollow for want of sleep. it is always there--the same strength, the same self-control, the same humanity. is it produced by the testing weight of responsibility, the silent sense of ever-present danger, both from the forces of nature and the enmity of man, the high, scientific training, and last but not least, that marvellous comradeship of the navy, whether between officer and officer, or between officers and men, which is constantly present indeed in the army, but is necessarily closer and more intimate here, in the confined world of the ship, where all live together day after day, and week after week, and where--if disaster comes--all may perish together? but on this bright winter morning, as we pass under and round the ships, and the admiral points out what a landswoman can understand, in the equipment and the power of these famous monsters with their pointing guns, there was for the moment no thought of the perils of the navy, but only of the glory of it. and afterwards in the admiral's pleasant drawing-room on board the flag-ship, with its gathering of naval officers, admirals, captains, commanders, how good the talk was! not a shade of boasting--no mere abuse of germany--rather a quiet regret for the days when german and english naval men were friends throughout the harbours of the world. "von spee was a very good fellow--i knew him well--and his two sons who went down with him," says an admiral gently. "i was at kiel the month before the war. i _know_ that many of their men must loathe the work they are set to do." "the point is," says a younger man, broad--shouldered, with the strong face of a leader, "that they are always fouling the seas, and we are always cleaning them up. let the neutrals understand that! it is not we who strew the open waters with mines for the slaughter of any passing ship, and then call it 'maintaining the freedom of the seas.' and as to their general strategy, their higher command--" he throws back his head with a quiet laugh--and i listen to a rapid sketch of what the germans _might_ have done, have never done, and what it is now much too late to do, which i will not repeat. type after type comes back to me:--the courteous flag-lieutenant, who is always looking after his admiral, whether in these brief harbour rests, or in the clash and darkness of the high seas--the lieutenant-commanders whose destroyers are the watch-dogs, the ceaseless protectors, no less than the eyes and ears of the fleet--the flag-captain, who takes me through the great ship, with his vigilant, spare face, and his understanding, kindly talk about his men; many of whom on this thursday afternoon--the quasi half-holiday of the fleet when in harbour--are snatching an hour's sleep when and where they can. that sleep-abstinence of the navy--sleep, controlled, measured out, reduced to a bare minimum, among thousands of men, that we on shore may sleep our fill--look at the signs of it, in the eyes both of these officers, and of the sailors crowding the "liberty" boats, which are just bringing them back from their short two hours' leave on shore! another gathering, in the captain's room, for tea. the talk turns on a certain popular play dealing with naval life, and a commander describes how the manuscript of it had been brought to him, and how he had revelled in the cutting out of all the sentimentalisms. two men in the play--friends--going into action--shake hands with each other "with tears in their eyes." a shout of derisive laughter goes up from the tea-table. but they admit "talking shop" off duty. "that's the difference between us and the army." and what shop it is! i listen to two young officers, both commanding destroyers, describing--one, his adventures in dirty weather the night before, on patrol duty. "my hat, i thought one moment the ship was on the rocks! you couldn't see a yard for the snow--and the sea--_beastly_!" the other had been on one of admiral hood's monitors, when they suddenly loomed out of the mist on the belgian coast, and the german army marching along the coast road to dunkirk and calais marched no more, but lay in broken fragments behind the dunes, or any shelter available, till the flooding of the dikes farther south completed the hopeless defeat which admiral hood's guns had begun. then the talk ranges round the blockade, the difficulties and dangers of patrol work, the complaints of neutrals. "america should understand us. their blockade hit us hard enough in the civil war. and we are fighting for their ideals no less than our own. when has our naval supremacy ever hurt them? mayn't they be glad of it some day? what about a fellow called monroe!"--so it runs. then its tone changes insensibly. from a few words dropped i realise with a start where these pleasantly chatting men had probably been only two or three days before, where they would probably be again on the morrow. some one opens a map, and i listen to talk which, in spite of its official reticence, throws many a light on the vast range of england's naval power, and the number of her ships. "will _they_ come out? when will they come out?" the question runs round the group. some one tells a story of a german naval prisoner taken not long ago in the north sea, and of his remark to his captors: "yes, we're beaten--we know that--but we'll make it _hell_ for you before we give in!" for that final clash--that armageddon that all think must come, our sailors wait, not despising their enemy, knowing very well that they--the fleet--are the pivot of the situation, that without the british navy, not all the valour of the allies in france or russia could win the war, and that with it, germany's hope of victory is vain. while the navy lives, england lives, and germany's vision of a world governed by the ruthless will of the scientific soldier is doomed. meanwhile, what has germany been doing in her shipyards all this time? no one knows, but my hosts are well aware that we shall know some day. as to england--here is mr. balfour moving the naval estimates in the house of commons--the "token votes" which tell nothing that should not be told. but since the war began, says the first lord, we have added "one million" to the tonnage of the navy, and we have _doubled its personnel_. we are adding more every day; for the admiralty are always "wanting more." we are quite conscious of our defects--in the air service first and foremost. but they will be supplied. there is a mighty movement afoot in the workshops of england--an effort which, when all drawbacks are allowed for, has behind it a free people's will. in my next letter i propose to take you through some of these workshops. "we get the most extraordinary letters from america," writes one of my correspondents, a steel manufacturer in the midlands. "what do they think we are about?" an american letter is quoted. "so you are still, in england, taking the war lying down?" are we? let us see. ii dear h. in this second letter i am to try and prove to you that england is _not_ taking the war "lying down." let me then give you some account--an eye-witness's account--of what there is now to be seen by the ordinary intelligent observer in the "munition areas," as the public has learned to call them, of england and scotland. that great spectacle, as it exists to-day--so inspiring in what it immediately suggests of human energy and human ingenuity, so appalling in its wider implications--testifies, in the first instance, to the fierce stiffening of england's resolve to win the war, and to win it at a lessened cost in life and suffering to our men in the field, which ran through the nation, after the second battle of ypres, towards the close of april, . that battle, together with the disagreement between mr. winston churchill and lord fisher at the admiralty, had, as we all know, momentous consequences. the two events brought the national dissatisfaction and disappointment with the general course of the spring fighting to a head. by may th the ministry which had declared the war and so far conducted it, had disappeared; a national or coalition ministry, drawn from the leading men of both parties, reigned in its stead. the statement made by mr. asquith, as late, alack, as april , , that there was "no truth in the statement" that our efforts at the front "were being crippled or at any rate hampered" by want of ammunition, was seen almost immediately, in the bitter light of events, to be due to some fatal misconceptions, or misjudgments, on the part of those informing the prime minister, which the nation in its own interests and those of its allies, could only peremptorily sweep away. a new ministry was created--the ministry of munitions, and mr. lloyd george was placed at its head. the work that mr. lloyd george and his ministry--now employing vast new buildings, and a staff running into thousands--have done since june, , is nothing less than colossal. much no doubt had been done earlier for which the new ministry has perhaps unjustly got the credit, and not all has been smooth sailing since. one hears, of course, criticism and complaints. what vast and effective stir, for a great end, was ever made in the world without them? mr. lloyd george has incurred a certain amount of unpopularity among the working classes, who formerly adored him. in my belief he has incurred it for the country's sake, and those sections of the working class who have smarted under his criticisms most bitterly will forgive him when the time comes. in his passionate determination to _get the thing done_, he has sometimes let his theme--of the national need, and the insignificance of all things else in comparison with it--carry him into a vehemence which the workmen have resented, and which foreign or neutral countries have misunderstood. he found in his path, which was also the nation's path, three great foes--drunkenness, the old envenomed quarrel between employer and employed, and that deep-rooted industrial conservatism of england, which shows itself on the one hand in the trade-union customs and restrictions of the working class, built up, as they hold, through long years, for the protection of their own standards of life, and, on the other, in the slowness of many of the smaller english employers (i am astonished, however, at the notable exceptions everywhere!) to realise new needs and processes, and to adapt themselves to them. could any one have made such an omelet without breaking a great many eggs? is it wonderful that the employers have sometimes felt themselves unbearably hustled, sometimes misunderstood, and at other times annoyed, or worried by what seems to them the red tape of the new ministry, and its apparent multiplicity of forms and inquiries? men accustomed to conduct their own businesses with the usual independence of regulation have been obliged to submit to regulation. workmen accustomed to defend certain methods of work and certain customs of their trade as matters of life and death have had to see them jeopardised or swept away. the restoration of these methods and customs is solemnly promised them after the war; but meanwhile they become the servants of a public department almost as much under orders as the soldier himself. they are asked to admit unskilled men to the skilled processes over which they have long kept so jealous a guard; above all, they are asked to assent wholesale to the employment of women in trades where women have never been employed before, where it is obvious that their introduction taps an immense reservoir of new labour, and equally obvious that, once let in, they are not going to be easily or wholly dislodged. of course, there has been friction and difficulty; nor is it all yet at an end. in the few danger-spots of the country, where heads are hottest, where thousands of the men of most natural weight and influence are away fighting, and where among a small minority hatred of the capitalist deadens national feeling and obscures the national danger, there have been anxious moments during the winter; there may possibly be some anxious moments again. but, after all, how little it amounts to in comparison with the enormous achievement! it took us nine months to realise what france--which, remember, is a continental nation under conscription--had realised after the battle of the marne, when she set every hand in the country to work at munitions that could be set to work. with us, whose villages were unravaged, whose normal life was untouched, realisation was inevitably slower. again we were unprepared, and again, as in the case of the army itself, we may plead that we have "improvised the impossible." "no nation," says mr. buchan, "can be adequately prepared, unless, like germany, it intends war; and britain, like france paid the penalty of her honest desire for peace!" moreover, we had our navy to work for, without which the cause of the allies would have gone under, must have gone under, at the first shock of germany. what the workmen of england did in the first year of the war in her docks and shipyards, history will tell some day. "what's wrong with the men!" cried a glasgow employer indignantly to me, one evening as, quite unknown the one to the other, we were nearing one of the towns on the clyde. "what was done on the clyde, in the first months of the war, should never be forgotten by this country. working from six to nine every day till they dropped with fatigue--and sundays, too--drinking just to keep themselves going--too tired to eat or sleep--that's what it was--i saw it!" i, too, have seen that utter fatigue stamped on a certain percentage of faces through the midlands, or the districts of the tyne and the clyde--fatigue which is yet indomitable, which never gives way. how fresh, beside that look, are the faces of the women, for whom workshop life is new! in its presence one forgets all hostile criticism, all talk of strikes and drink, of trade-union difficulties, and the endless worries of the employers. the english workman is not tractable material--far from it--and he is not imaginative; except in the persons of some of his chosen leaders, he has never seen a ruined french or flemish village, and he was slow to realise the bitterness of that silence of the guns on the front, when ammunition runs short, and lives must pay. but he has sent his hundreds of thousands to the fighting line; there are a million and a half of him now working at munitions, and it is he, in a comradeship with the brain workers, the scientific intelligence of the nation, closer than any he has yet known, and lately, with the new and astonishing help of women--it is he, after all, who is "delivering the goods," he who is now piling the great arsenals and private works with guns and shells, with bombs, rifles, and machine-guns, he who is working night and day in the shipyards, he who is teaching the rising army of women their work, and making new and firm friends, through the national emergency, whether in the trenches or the workshops, with other classes and types in the nation, hitherto little known to him, to whom he, too, is perhaps a revelation. there will be a new wind blowing through england when this war is done. not only will the scientific intelligence, the general education, and the industrial plant of the nation have gained enormously from this huge impetus of war; but men and women, employers and employed, shaken perforce out of their old grooves, will look at each other surely with new eyes, in a world which has not been steeped for nothing in effort and sacrifice, in common griefs and a common passion of will. ii all over england, then, the same quadruple process has now been going on for months: the steady enlargement of existing armament and munition works, national or private. the transformation of a host of other engineering businesses into munition works. the co-ordination of a vast number of small workshops dealing with the innumerable metal industries of ordinary commerce, so as to make them feed the larger engineering works, with all those minor parts of the gun or shell, which such shops had the power to make. the putting up of entirely new workshops--national workshops--directly controlled by the new ministry, under the munitions acts. let me take you through a few typical scenes. it was on february st, the day after the zeppelin raid of january st, that i left a house in the north where i had been seeing one of the country-house convalescent hospitals, to which englishwomen and english wealth are giving themselves everywhere without stint, and made my way by train, through a dark and murky afternoon, towards a midland town. the news of the raid was so far vague. the newspapers of the morning gave no names or details. i was not aware that i was passing through towns where women and children in back streets had been cruelly and wantonly killed the night before, where a brewery had been bombed, and the windows of a train broken, in order that the german public might be fed on ridiculous lies about the destruction of liverpool docks and the wrecking of "english industry." "english industry lies in ruins," said the _hamburger nachrichten_ complacently. marvellous paper! just after reading its remarks, i was driving down the streets of the great industrial centre i had come to see--a town which the murderers of the night before would have been glad indeed to hit. as it was, "english industry" seemed tolerably active amid its "ruins." the clumsy falsehoods of the german official reports and the german newspapers affect me strangely! it is not so much their lack of truth as their lack of the ironic, the satiric sense, which is a certain protection, after all, even amid the tragedy of war. we have a tolerable british conceit of ourselves, no doubt, and in war we make foolish or boasting statements about the future, because, in spite of all our grumbling, we are at bottom a nation of optimists, and apt to see things as we wish. but this sturdy or fatuous lying about the past--the "sinking" of the _lion_, the "capture" of fort vaux, or the "bombardment" of liverpool docks--is really beyond us. our sense of ridicule, if nothing else, forbids--the instinct of an old people with an old and humourous literature. these leading articles of the _hamburger nachrichten_, the sermons of german pastors, and those amazing manifestoes of german professors, flying straight in the face of historic documents--"scraps of paper"--which are there, none the less, to all time--for us, these things are only not comic because, to the spiritual eye, they are written in blood. but to return to the "ruins," and this "english industry" which during the last six months has taken on so grim an aspect for germany. my guide, an official of the ministry, stops the motor, and we turn down a newly made road, leading towards a mass of spreading building on the left. "a year ago," says my companion--"this was all green fields. now the company is employing, instead of , work-people, about three times the number, of whom a large proportion are women. its output has been quadrupled, and the experiment of introducing women has been a complete success." we pass up a fine oak staircase to the new offices, and i am soon listening to the report of the works superintendent. a spare, powerful man with the eyes of one in whom life burns fast, he leans, his hands in his pockets, against the wall of his office, talking easily and well. he himself has not had a day's holiday for ten months, never sleeping more than five and a half hours, with the telephone at his bedhead, and waking to instant work when the moment for waking comes. his view of his workmen is critical. it is the view of one consumed with "realisation," face to face with those who don't "realise." "but the raid will do a deal of good," he says cheerfully. "as to the women!"--he throws up his hands--"they're saving the country. they don't mind what they do. hours? they work ten and a half or, with overtime, twelve hours a day, seven days a week. at least, that's what they'd like to do. the government are insisting on one sunday--or two sundays--a month off. i don't say they're not right. but the women resent it. '_we're_ not tired!' they say. and you look at them!--they're not tired. "if i go down to the shed and say: 'girls!--there's a bit of work the government are pushing for--they say they must have--can you get it done?' why, they'll stay and get it done, and then pour out of the works, laughing and singing. i can tell you of a surgical-dressing factory near here, where for nearly a year the women never had a holiday. they simply wouldn't take one. 'and what'll our men at the front do, if we go holiday-making?' "last night" (the night of the zeppelin raid) "the warning came to put out lights. we daren't send them home. they sat in the dark among the machines, singing, 'keep the home fires burning,' 'tipperary,' and the like. i tell you, it made one a bit choky to hear them. they were thinking of their sweethearts and husbands i'll be bound!--not of themselves." in another minute or two we were walking through the new workshops. often as i have now seen this sight, so new to england, of a great engineering workshop filled with women, it stirs me at the twentieth time little less than it did at first. these girls and women of the midlands and the north, are a young and comely race. their slight or rounded figures among the forest of machines, the fair or golden hair of so many of them, their grace of movement, bring a strange touch of beauty into a scene which has already its own spell. muirhead bone and joseph pennell have shown us what can be done in art with these high workshops, with their intricate distances and the endless crisscross of their belting, and their ranged machines. but the coming in of the girls, in their close khaki caps and overalls, showing the many pretty heads and slender necks, and the rows of light bending forms, spaced in order beside their furnaces or lathes as far as the eye can reach, has added a new element--something flower-like, to all this flash of fire and steel, and to the grimness of war underlying it. for the final meaning of it all is neither soft nor feminine! these girls--at hot haste--are making fuses and cartridge-cases by the hundred thousand, casting, pressing, drawing, and, in the special danger-buildings, filling certain parts of the fuse with explosive. there were about , of them to , men, when i saw the shop, and their number has no doubt increased since; for the latest figures show that about , fresh women workers are going into the munition works every week. the men are steadily training them, and without the teaching and co-operation of the men--without, that is, the surrender by the men of some of their most cherished trade customs--the whole movement would have been impossible. as it is, by the sheer body of work the women have brought in, by the deftness, energy, and enthusiasm they throw into the simpler but quite indispensable processes, thereby setting the unskilled man free for the army, and the skilled man for work which women cannot do, great britain has become possessed of new and vast resources of which she scarcely dreamed a year ago; and so far as this war is a war of machinery--and we all know what germany's arsenals have done to make it so--its whole aspect is now changing for us. the "eternal feminine" has made one more startling incursion upon the normal web of things! but on the "dilution" of labour, the burning question of the hour, i shall have something to say in my next letter. let me record another visit of the same day to a small-arms factory of importance. not many women here so far, though the number is increasing, but look at the expansion figures since last summer! a large, new factory added, on a bare field; , tons of excavation removed, two miles of new shops, sixty feet wide and four floors high, the output in rifles quadrupled, and so on. we climbed to the top floor of the new buildings and looked far and wide over the town. dotted over the tall roofs rose the national flags, marking "controlled" factories, i.e., factories still given over a year ago to one or other of the miscellaneous metal trades of the midlands, and now making fuse or shell for england's armies, and under the control of the british government. one had a sudden sharp sense of the town's corporate life, and of the spirit working in it everywhere for england's victory. before we descended, we watched the testing of a particular gun. i was to hear its note on the actual battle-field a month later. an afternoon train takes me on to another great town, with some very ancient institutions, which have done very modern service in the war. i spent my evening in talking with my host, a steel manufacturer identified with the life of the city, but serving also on one of the central committees of the ministry in london. labour and politics, the chances of the war, america and american feeling towards us, the task of the new minister of munitions, the temper of english and scotch workmen, the flux into which all manufacturing conditions have been thrown by the war, and how far old landmarks can be restored after it--we talked hard on these and many other topics, till i must break it off--unwillingly!--to get some sleep and write some notes. next day took me deep into the very central current of "england's effort"--so far as this great phase of it at any rate is concerned. in this town, even more than in the city i had just left, one felt the throb of the nation's rising power, concentrated, orderly, determined. every single engineering business in a town of engineers was working for the war. every manufacturer of any importance was doing his best for the government, some in connection with the new ministry, some with the admiralty, some with the war office. as for the leading firms of the city, the record of growth, of a mounting energy by day and night, was nothing short of bewildering. take these few impressions of a long day, as they come back to me. first, a great steel warehouse, full of raw steel of many sorts and kinds, bayonet steel, rifle steel, shell steel, stacked in every available corner and against every possible wall--all sold, every bit of it, and ready to be shipped--some to the colonies, some to our allies, with peremptory orders coming in as to which the harassed head of the firm could only shake his head with a despairing "impossible!" then some hours in a famous works, under the guidance of the managing director, one of those men, shrewd, indefatigable, humane, in whose company one learns what it is, in spite of all our supposed deficiencies, that makes the secret of england's industrial tenacity. an elderly scotchman, very plainly marked by the labour and strain of the preceding eighteen months, but still steadily keeping his head and his temper, showing the signs of an evangelical tradition in his strong dislike for sunday work, his evident care for his work-people--men and women--and his just and sympathetic tone towards the labour with which he has to deal--such is my companion. he has a wonderful story to tell: "in september, , we were called upon to manufacture a large extra number of field-guns. we had neither buildings nor machinery for the order. however, we set to work. we took down seven dwelling-houses; in three weeks we were whitewashing the walls of our new workshop and laying in the machinery. my idea was to make so many guns. the government asked for four times as many. so we took down more houses, and built another much larger shop. the work was finished in ten weeks. five other large workshops were put up last year, all built with lightning speed, and everywhere additions have been made to the machinery in every department wherever it was possible to put machines." as to their thousands of workmen, mr. c. has no complaints to make. "they have been steadily working anything from to hours per week; the average is . hours per week, and the average time lost only . per cent. a little while ago, a certain union put forward a claim for an advance in wages. we had to decline it, but as the meeting came to an end, the trade-union secretary said: "'of course, we are disappointed, and we shall no doubt return to the matter again. but whether you concede the advance of wages or not, our members will continue to do their level best, believing that they are not only working for themselves, but helping the government and helping our soldiers to wage this war to a successful conclusion.'" and the manager adds his belief that this is the spirit which prevails "among the work-people generally." before we plunge into the main works, however, my guide takes me to see a recent venture, organised since the war, in which he clearly takes a special interest. an old warehouse bought, so to speak, overnight, and equipped next morning, has been turned into a small workshop for shell production--employing between three and four hundred girls, with the number of skilled men necessary to keep the new unskilled labour going. these girls are working on the eight hours' shift system; and working so well that a not uncommon wage among them--on piece-work, of course--runs to somewhere between two and three pounds a week. "but there is much more than money in it," says the kind-faced woman superintendent, as we step into her little office out of the noise, to talk a little. "the girls are perfectly aware that they are 'doing their bit,' that they are standing by their men in the trenches." this testimony indeed is universal. there is patriotism in this grim work, and affection, and a new and honourable self-consciousness. girls and women look up and smile as a visitor passes. they presume that he or she is there for some useful purpose connected with the war, and their expression seems to say: "yes, we are all in it!--we know very well what _we_ are doing, and what a difference we are making. go and tell our boys ..." the interest of this workshop lay, of course, in the fact that it was a sample of innumerable others, as quickly organised and as efficiently worked, now spreading over the midlands and the north. as to the main works belonging to the same great firm, such things have been often described; but one sees them to-day with new eyes, as part of a struggle which is one with the very life of england. acres and acres of ground covered by huge workshops new and old, by interlacing railway lines and moving trolleys. gone is all the vast miscellaneous engineering work of peace. the war has swallowed everything. i have a vision of a great building, where huge naval guns are being lowered from the annealing furnace above into the hardening oil-tank below, or where in the depths of a great pit, with lights and men moving at the bottom, i see as i stoop over the edge, a jacket being shrunk upon another similar monster, hanging perpendicularly below me. close by are the forging-shops whence come the howitzers and the huge naval shells. watch the giant pincers that lift the red-hot ingots and drop them into the stamping presses. man directs; but one might think the tools themselves intelligent, like those golden automata of old that hephæstus made, to run and wait upon the gods of olympus. down drops the punch. there is a burst of flame, as though the molten steel rebelled, and out comes the shell or the howitzer in the rough, nosed and hollowed, and ready for the turning. the men here are great, powerful fellows, blanched with heat and labour; amid the flame and smoke of the forges one sees them as typical figures in the national struggle, linked to those dreadnoughts in the north sea, and to those lines in flanders and picardy where britain holds her enemy at bay. everywhere the same intensity of effort, whether in the men or in those directing them. and what delicate and responsible processes! in the next shop, with its rows of shining guns, i stop to look at a great gun apparently turning itself. no workman is visible for the moment. the process goes on automatically, the bright steel emerging under the tool that here, too, seems alive. close to it is a man winding steel wire, or rather braid, on a -inch gun; beyond again there are workmen and inspectors testing and gauging another similar giant. look down this shining tube and watch the gauging, now with callipers, now with a rubber device which takes the impression of the rifling and reveals any defect. the gauging turns upon the ten-thousandth part of an inch, and any mistake or flaw may mean the lives of men.... we turn out into a pale sunshine. the morning work is over, and the men are trooping into the canteens for dinner--and we look in a moment to see for ourselves how good a meal it is. at luncheon, afterwards, in the directors' offices, i am able to talk with the leading citizens of the great town. one of them writes some careful notes for me. their report of labour conditions is excellent. "no organised strikes and few cessations of work to report. overtime is being freely worked. little or no drunkenness, and that at a time when the average earnings of many classes of workmen are two or three times above the normal level. the methods introduced in the twenty years before the war--conference and discussion--have practically settled all difficulties between employers and employed, in these parts at any rate, during this time of england's trial." after luncheon we diverge to pay another all too brief visit to a well-known firm. the managing director gives me some wonderful figures of a new shell factory they are just putting up. it was begun in september, . since then , tons of steelwork has been erected, and out of , machines required have been received and fixed. four thousand to , hands will be ultimately employed. all the actual production off the machines _will be done by women_--and this, although the works are intended for a heavy class of shell, -pounder high explosive. women are already showing their capacity--helped by mechanical devices--to deal with this large type of shell; and the workshop when in full working order is intended for an output of a million shell per annum. i drive on, overshadowed by these figures. _"per annum!"_ the little common words haunt the ear intolerably. surely before one more year is over, this horror under which we live will be lifted from europe! britain, a victorious britain, will be at peace, and women's hands will have something else to do than making high-explosive shell. but, meanwhile, there is no other way. the country's call has gone out, clear and stern, and her daughters are coming in their thousands to meet it, from loom and house and shop. a little later, in a great board-room, i find the munitions committee gathered. its function, of course, is to help the new ministry in organising the war work of the town. in the case of the larger firms, the committee has been chiefly busy in trying to replace labour withdrawn by the war. it has been getting skilled men back from the trenches, and advising the ministry as to the "badging" of munition workers. it has itself, through its command of certain scientific workshops, been manufacturing gauges and testing materials. it has turned the electroplate workshops of the town on to making steel helmets, and in general has been "working in" the smaller engineering concerns so as to make them feed the larger ones. this process here, as everywhere, is a very educating one. the shops employed on bicycle and ordinary motor work have, as a rule, little idea of the extreme accuracy required in munition work. the idea of working to the thousandth of an inch seems to them absurd; but they have to learn to work to the ten-thousandth, and beyond! the war will leave behind it greatly raised standards of work in england!--that every one agrees. and i carry away with me as a last remembrance of this great town and its activities two recollections--one of a university man doing some highly skilled work on a particularly fine gauge: "if you ask me what i have been doing for the last few weeks, i can only tell you that i have been working like a nigger and have done nothing! patience!--that's all there is to say." and another of a "transformed" shop of moderate size, where an active and able man, after giving up the whole of his ordinary business, has thrown himself into the provision, within his powers, of the most pressing war needs, as he came across them. in july last year, for instance, munitions work in many quarters was actually held up for want of gauges. mr. d. made something like , , to the great assistance of certain new government shops. then the government asked for a particular kind of gun. mr. d. undertook , , and has already delivered . tools for shell-making are _everywhere_ wanted in the rush of the huge demand. mr. d. has been making them diligently. this is just one example among hundreds of how a great industry is adapting itself to the fiery needs of war. but the dark has come, and i must catch my train. as i speed through a vast industrial district i find in the evening papers hideous details of the zeppelin raid, which give a peculiar passion and poignancy to my recollections of a crowded day--and peculiar interest, also, to the talk of an able representative of the ministry of munitions, who is travelling with me, and endeavouring to give me a connected view of the whole new organisation. as he speaks, my thoughts travel to the english battle-line, to the trenches and casualty clearing-stations behind it, to distant russia; and i think of the prime minister's statement in parliament--that the supply of munitions, for all its marvellous increase, is not yet equal to the demand. new shops, new workers, new efforts--england is producing them now unceasingly, she must go on producing them. there must be no pause or slackening. there will be none. i am going now to see--after the midlands--what the english and scotch north is doing to swell the stream. and in my next letter there will be plenty to say about "dilution" of labour, about wages, and drink, and some other burning topics of the moment. iii dear h. it is now three months since mr. lloyd george made his startling speech, as munitions minister, in the house of commons in which, as he wound up his review of his new department, he declared: "unless we quicken our movements, damnation will fall on the sacred cause for which so much gallant blood has flowed!" the passion of this peroration was like the fret of a river in flood chafing at some obstacle in its course. generally speaking, the obstacle gives way. in this case mr. george's obstacle had begun to give way long before december st--the date of the speech. the flood had been pushing at it with increasing force since the foundation of the ministry of munitions in the preceding summer. but the crumbling process was not quick enough for great britain's needs, or for the energy of her minister. hence the outspoken speech of december st, supported by mr. asquith's grave words of a few weeks later. "we cannot go on," said the prime minister in effect, "depending upon foreign countries for our munitions. we haven't the ships to spare to bring them home, and the cost is too great. we _must_ make them ourselves." "yes--and _quicker_!" mr. lloyd george had already said, with a sharp emphasis, meant to "hustle" that portion of the nation which still required hustling; overpainting his picture, no doubt, but with quite legitimate rhetoric, in order to produce his effect. the result of that fresh "hustling" was the appointment of the dilution commissioners, a second munitions act amending the first, and a vast expansion all over the country of the organisation which had seemed so vast before. it was not till midwinter, in the very midst of the new and immense effort i have been describing, that the minister of munitions and those working with him convinced themselves that, without another resolute push, the barrier across the stream of the nation's will might still fatally hold it back. more and more men were wanted every week--in the army and the workshops--and there were not men to go round. the second push had to be given--it was given--and it still firmly persists. in the spring of , the executives of the leading trade-unions had promised the government the relaxation of their trade rules for the period of the war. many of the trade-union leaders--mr. barnes, mr. henderson, mr. hodge, and many others--have worked magnificently in this sense, and many unions have been thoroughly loyal throughout their ranks to the pledge given in their name. the iron-moulders, the shipwrights, the brassworkers may be specially mentioned. but in the trades mostly concerned with ammunition, there were certain places and areas where the men themselves, as distinct from their responsible leaders, offered a dogged, though often disguised resistance. personally, i think that any one at all accustomed to try and look at labour questions from the point of view of labour will understand the men while heartily sympathising with the minister, who was determined to get "the goods" and has succeeded in getting them. here, in talking of "the men" i except that small revolutionary element among them which has no country, and exists in all countries. and i except, too, instances which certainly are to be found, though rarely, of what one might call a purely mean and overreaching temper on the part of workmen--taking advantage of the nation's need, as some of the less responsible employers have no doubt, also, taken advantage of it. but, in general, it seems to me, there has been an honest struggle in the minds of thousands of workmen between what appears to them the necessary protection of their standards of life--laboriously attained through long effort--and the call of the war. and that the overwhelming majority of the workmen concerned with munitions should have patriotically and triumphantly decided this struggle as they have--under pressure, no doubt, but under no such pressure as exists in a conscripted, still more in an invaded, nation--may rank, i think, when all is said, with the raising of our voluntary armies as another striking chapter in the book of _england's effort_. in this chapter, then, dilution will always take a leading place. what is dilution? it means, of course, that under the sharp analysis of necessity much engineering work, generally reckoned as "skilled" work, and reserved to "skilled" workmen, by a number of union regulations, is seen to be capable of solution into various processes, some of which can be sorted out from the others as within the capacity of the unskilled or semiskilled worker. by so dividing them up, and using the superior labour with economy, only where it is really necessary, it can be made to go infinitely further; and the inferior or untrained labour can then be brought into work where nobody supposed it could be used, where, in fact, it never has been used. obvious enough, perhaps. but the idea had to be applied in haste to living people--employers, many of whom shrank from reorganising their workshops and changing all their methods at a moment's notice; and workmen looking forward with consternation to being outnumbered, by ten to one, in their own workshops, by women. when i was in the midlands and the north, at the end of january and in early february, dilution was still an unsettled question in some of the most important districts. one of the greatest employers in the country writes to me to-day (march ): "since january, we have passed through several critical moments, but, eventually, the principle was accepted, and dilution is being introduced as fast as convenient. for this we have largely to thank an admirable commission (sir croydon marks, mr. barnes, and mr. shackleton) which was sent down to interview employers and employed. their tact and acumen were remarkable. speaking personally, i cannot help believing that there is a better understanding between masters and men now than has existed in my memory." a great achievement that!--for both employers and employed--for the minister also who appointed the commission and thus set the huge stone rolling yet another leap upon its way. it will be readily seen how much depends also on the tact of the individual employer. that employer has constantly done best who has called his men into council with him, and thrown himself on their patriotism and good sense. i take the following passage from an interesting report by a very shrewd observer,[a] printed in one of the northern newspapers. it describes an employer as saying: i was told by the ministry that i should have to double my output. labour was scarce and i consulted a deputation of the men about it. i told them the problem and said i should be glad of suggestions. i told them that we should either have to get men or women, and i asked them for their co-operation, as there would be a great deal of teaching to be done. "probably," i said, "you would like to find the men?" they agreed to try. i gave them a week, and at the end of a week they came to me and said they would rather have women. i said to them: "then you must all pull together." they gave me their word. right from the beginning they have done their level best to help, and things have gone on perfectly. on one occasion, a woman complained that the man directing her was "working against her." i called the men's committee together, said the employer. i told them the facts, and they have dealt with the offender themselves. [a] _yorkshire observer_, february , . the general system now followed in the shell factories is to put so many skilled men in charge of so many lathes worked by women workers. each skilled man, who teaches the women, sets the tools, and keeps the machines in running order, oversees eight, ten, or more machines. but sometimes the comradeship is much closer. for instance (i quote again the witness mentioned above), in a machine tool shop, i.e., a shop for the making of tools used in shell production, one of the most highly skilled parts of the business, you may now see a man, with a woman to help him, operating two lathes. if the woman falls into any difficulty the man comes to help her. both can earn more money than each could earn separately, and the skilled man who formerly worked the second lathe is released. in the same shop a woman watched a skilled man doing slot-drilling--a process in which thousandths of an inch matter--for a fortnight. now she runs the machine herself by day, while the man works it on the night shift. one woman in this shop is "able to do her own tool-setting." the observer thinks she must be the only woman tool-setter in the country, and he drops the remark that her capacity and will may have something to do with the fact that she has a husband at the front! near by, as part of the same works, which are not specialised, but engaged in _general_ engineering, is a bomb shop staffed by women, which is now sending , bombs a week to the trenches. women are also doing gun-breech work of the most delicate and responsible kind under the guidance of a skilled overseer. one of the women at this work was formerly a charwoman. she has never yet broken a tool. all over the works, indeed, the labour of women and unskilled men is being utilised in the same scientific way. thus the area of the works has been doubled in a few months, without the engagement of a single additional skilled man from outside. "we have made the men take an interest in the women," say the employers. "that is the secret of our success. we care nothing at all about the money, we are all for the output. if the men think you are going to exploit women and cheapen the work, the scheme is crabbed right away." i myself came across the effect of this suspicion in the minds of the workmen in the case of a large yorkshire shell factory, where the employers at once detected and slew it. this great workshop, formerly used for railway work, now employs some , women, with a small staff of skilled men. the women work forty-five hours a week in eight-hour shifts--the men fifty-three hours on twelve-hour shifts. there is no difficulty whatever in obtaining a full supply of women's labour--indeed, the factory has now a waiting-list of . nor has there been any difficulty with the men in regard to the women's work. with the exception of two operations, which are thought too heavy for them, all the machines are run by women. but when the factory began, the employers very soon detected that it was running below its possible output. there was a curious lack of briskness in the work--a curious constraint among the new workers. yet the employers were certain that the women were keen, and their labour potentially efficient. they put their heads together, and posted up a notice in the factory to the effect that whatever might be the increase in the output of piece-work, the piece-work rate would not be altered. instantly the atmosphere began to clear, the pace of the machines began to mount. it was a factory in which the work was new, the introduction of women was new, and the workers strange to each other, and for the most part strange to their employers. a small leaven of distrust on the part of the men workers was enough, and the women were soon influenced. luckily, the mischief was as quickly scotched. men and women began to do their best, the output of the factory--which had been planned for , shells a week--ran up to , , and everything has gone smoothly since. let me now, however, describe another effect of dilution--the employment of unskilled _men_ on operations hitherto included in skilled engineering. on the day after the factory i have just described, my journey took me to another town close by, where my guide--a director of one of the largest and best-known steel and engineering works in the kingdom--showed me a new shell factory filled with to men, all "medically unfit" for the army, and almost all drawn from the small trades and professions of the town, especially from those which had been hard hit by the war. among those i talked to i found a keeper of bathing-machines, a publican's assistant, clerks, shop assistants, three clergy--these latter going home for their sunday duty, and giving their wages to the red cross--unemployed architects, and the like. i cannot recall any shop which made a greater impression of energy, of a spirit behind the work, than this shop. in its inspecting-room i found a graduate from yale. "i had to join in the fight," he said quietly--"this was the best way i could think of." and it was noticeable besides for some remarkable machines, which your country had also sent us. in other shell factories a single lathe carries through one process, interminably repeated, sometimes two, possibly three. but here, with the exception of the fixing and drilling of the copper band, and a few minor operations, one lathe _made the shell_--cut, bored, roughed, turned, nosed, and threaded it, so that it dropped out, all but the finished thing--minus, of course, the fuse. the steel pole introduced at the beginning of the process made nine shells, and the average time per shell was twenty-three minutes. no wonder that in the great warehouse adjoining the workshop one saw the shell heaps piling up in their tens of thousands--only to be rushed off week by week, incessantly, to the front. the introduction of these machines had been largely the work of an able irish manager, who described to me the intense anxiety with which he had watched their first putting up and testing, lest the vast expenditure incurred should have been in any degree thrown away. his cheerful looks and the shell warehouse told the sequel. when i next met him it was at a northern station in company with his director. they were then apparently in search of new machinery! the workshop i had seen was being given over to women, and the men were moving on to heavier work. and this is the kind of process which is going on over the length and breadth of industrial england. so far, however, i have described the expansion or adaptation of firms already existing. but the country is now being covered with another and new type of workshop--the national shell factories--which are founded, financed, and run by the ministry of munitions. the english government is now by far the greatest engineering employer in the world. let me take an illustration from a yorkshire town--a town where this government engineering is rapidly absorbing everything but the textile factories. a young and most competent engineer officer is the government head of the factory. the work was begun last july, by the help of borrowed lathes, in a building which had been used for painting railway-carriages; its first shell was completed last august. the staff last june was . it is now about , and the employees nearly , . a month after the first factory was opened, the government asked for another--for larger shell. it was begun in august, and was in work in a few weeks. in september a still larger factory--for still larger shells--(how these demands illustrate the course of the war!--how they are themselves illustrated by the history of verdun!) was seen to be necessary. it was begun in september, and is now running. almost all the machines used in the factory have been made in the town itself, and about small firms, making shell parts--fuses primers, gaines, etc.--have been grouped round the main firm, and are every day sending in their work to the factory to be tested, put together, and delivered. no factory made a better impression upon me than this one. the large, airy building with its cheerful lighting; the girls in their dark-blue caps and overalls, their long and comely lines reminding one of some processional effect in a florentine picture; the high proportion of good looks, even of delicate beauty, among them; the upper galleries with their tables piled with glittering brasswork, amid which move the quick, trained hands of the women--if one could have forgotten for a moment the meaning of it all, one might have applied to it carlyle's description of a great school, as "a temple of industrious peace." some day, perhaps, this "new industry"--as our ancestors talked of a "new learning"--this swift, astonishing development of industrial faculty among our people, especially among our women, will bear other and rich fruit for england under a cleared sky. it is impossible that it should pass by without effect, profound effect upon our national life. but at present it has one meaning and one only--_war_! talk to these girls and women. this woman has lost her son--that one her husband. this one has a brother home on leave, and is rejoicing in the return of her husband from the trenches, as a skilled man, indispensable in the shop; another has friends in the places and among the people which suffered in the last zeppelin raid. she speaks of it with tight lips. was it she who chalked the inscription found by the lady superintendent on a lathe some nights ago--"_done fourteen to-day. beat that if you can, you devils_!" no!--under this fast-spreading industry, with its suggestion of good management and high wages, there is the beat of no ordinary impulse. some feel it much more than others; but, says the clever and kindly superintendent i have already quoted: "the majority are very decidedly working from the point of view of doing something for their country.... a great many of the fuse women are earning for the first time.... the more i see of them all, the better i like them." and then follow some interesting comments on the relation of the more educated and refined women among them to the skilled mechanics--two national types that have perhaps never met in such close working contact before. one's thoughts begin to follow out some of the possible social results of this national movement. [illustration: a forest of shells in a corner of one of england's great shell filling factories.] [illustration: a light railway bringing up ammunition.] ii but now the midlands and the yorkshire towns are behind me. the train hurries on through a sunny afternoon, and i look through some notes sent me by an expert in the great campaign. some of them represent its humours. here is a perfectly true story, which shows an englishman with "a move on," not unworthy of your side of the water. a father and son, both men of tremendous energy, were the chiefs of a very large factory, which had been already extensively added to. the father lived in a house alongside the works. one day business took him into the neighbouring county, whilst the son came up to london on munition work. on the father's return he was astonished to see a furniture van removing the contents of his house. the son emerged. he had already signed a contract for a new factory on the site of his father's house; the materials of the house were sold and the furniture half gone. after a first start, the father took it in true yorkshire fashion--wasting no words, and apparently proud of his son! here we are at last, in the true north--crossing a river, with a climbing town beyond, its tiled roofs wreathed in smoke, through which the afternoon lights are playing. i am carried off to a friend's house. some directors of the great works i am come to see look in to make a kindly plan for the morrow, and in the evening, i find myself sitting next one of the most illustrious of modern inventors, with that touch of _dream_ in manner and look which so often goes with scientific discovery. the invention of this gentle and courteous man has affected every vessel of any size afloat, whether for war or trade, and the whole electrical development of the world. the fact was to be driven home even to my feminine ignorance of mechanics when, a fortnight later, the captain of a flag-ship and i were hanging over the huge shaft leading down to the engine-rooms of the super-dreadnought, and my companion was explaining to me something of the driving power of the ship. but on this first meeting, how much i might have asked of the kind, great man beside me, and was too preoccupied to ask! may the opportunity be retrieved some day! my head was really full of the overwhelming facts, whether of labour or of output, relating to this world-famous place, which were being discussed around me. i do not name the place, because the banishment of names, whether of persons or places, has been part of the plan of these articles. but one can no more disguise it by writing round it than one could disguise windsor castle by any description that was not ridiculous. many a german officer has walked through these works, i imagine, before the war, smoking the cigarette of peace with their directors, and inwardly ruminating strange thoughts. if any such comes across these few lines, what i have written will, i think, do england no harm. but here are some of the figures that can be given. the shop area of the ammunition shops alone has been increased _eightfold_ since the outbreak of war. the total weight of shell delivered during was--in tons--fourteen times as much as that of . the weight of shell delivered per week, as between december, , and december, , has risen nearly ten times. the number of work-people, in these shops, men and women, had risen (a) as compared with the month in which war broke out, to a figure eight times as great; (b) as compared with december, , to one between three and four times as great. and over the whole vast enterprise, shipyards, gun shops, ammunition shops, with all kinds of naval and other machinery used in war, the numbers of work-people employed had increased since more than per cent. they, with their families, equal the population of a great city--you may see a new town rising to meet their needs on the farther side of the river. as to dilution, it is now accepted by the men, who said when it was proposed to them: "why didn't you come to us six months ago?" and it is working wonders here as elsewhere. for instance, a particular portion of the breech mechanism of a gun used to take one hour and twenty minutes to make. on the dilution plan it is done on a capstan, and takes six minutes. where women were employed before the war, there are now close on , , and there will be thousands more, requiring one skilled man as tool-setter to about nine or ten women. in a great gun-carriage shop, "what used to be done in two years is now done in one month." in another, two tons of brass were used before the war; a common figure now is twenty-one. a large milling shop, now entirely worked by men, is to be given up immediately to women. and so on. dilution, it seems to me, is breaking down a number of labour conventions which no longer answer to the real conditions of the engineering trades. the pressure of the war is doing a real service to both employers and employed by the simplification and overhauling it is everywhere bringing about. as to the problem of what is to be done with the women after the war, one may safely leave it to the future. it is probably bound up with that other problem of the great new workshops springing up everywhere, and the huge new plants laid down. one thinks of the rapid recovery of french trade after the war of , and of the far more rapid rate--after forty years of machine and transport development, at which the industry of the allied countries may possibly recover the ravages of the present war, when once peace is signed. in that recovery, how great a part may yet be played by these war workshops!--transformed to the uses of peace; by their crowds of work-people, and by the hitherto unused intelligence they are everywhere evoking and training among both men and women. as for the following day, my impressions, looking back, seem to be all a variant on a well-known greek chorus, which hymns the amazing--the "terrible"--cleverness of man! seafaring, tillage, house-building, horse-taming, so muses sophocles, two thousand three hundred years ago; how did man ever find them out? "wonders are many, but the most wonderful thing is man! _only against death has he no resource_." _intelligence_--and _death_! they are written everywhere in these endless workshops, devoted to the fiercest purposes of war. first of all, we visit the "danger buildings" in the fuse factory, where mostly women are employed. about women are at work here, on different processes connected with the delicate mechanism and filling of the fuse and gaine, some of which are dangerous. detonator work, for instance. the lady superintendent selects for it specially steady and careful women or girls, who are paid at time-and-a-quarter rate. only about eight girls are allowed in each room. the girls here all wear--for protection--green muslin veils and gloves. it gives them a curious, ghastly look, that fits the occupation. for they are making small pellets for the charging of shells, out of a high-explosive powder. each girl uses a small copper ladle to take the powder out of a box before her, and puts it into a press which stamps it into a tiny block, looking like ivory. she holds her hand over a little tray of water lest any of the powder should escape. what the explosive and death-dealing power of it is, it does not do to think about. in another room a fresh group of girls are handling a black powder for another part of the detonator, and because of the irritant nature of the powder, are wearing white bandages round the nose and mouth. there is great competition for these rooms, the superintendent says! the girls in them work on two shifts of ten and one-half hours each, and would resent a change to a shorter shift. they have one hour for dinner, half an hour for tea, a cup of tea in the middle of the morning--and the whole of saturdays free. to the eye of the ordinary visitor they show few signs of fatigue. after the fuse factory we pass through the high-explosive factory, where girls are at work in a number of isolated wooden sheds filling -pounder shell with high explosive. the brass cartridge-case is being filled with cordite, bundles of what look like thin brown sticks, and the shell itself, including its central gaine or tube, with the various deadly explosives we have seen prepared in the "danger buildings." the shell is fitted into the cartridge-case, the primer and the fuse screwed on. it is now ready to be fired. i stand and look at boxes of shells, packed, and about to go straight to the front. a train is waiting close by to take them the first stage on their journey. i little thought then that i should see these boxes, or their fellows, next, on the endless ranks of ammunition lorries behind the fighting lines in france, and that within a fortnight i should myself stand by and see one of those shells fired from a british gun, little more than a mile from neuve chapelle. but here are the women and girls trooping out to dinner. a sweet-faced superintendent comes to talk to me. "they are not as strong as the men," she says, pointing to the long lines of girls, "but what they lack in strength they make up in patriotic spirit." i speak to two educated women, who turn out to be high school mistresses from a town that has been several times visited by zeppelins. "we just felt we must come and help to kill germans," they say quietly. "all we mind is getting up at five-thirty every morning. oh, no! it is not too tiring." afterwards?--i remember one long procession of stately shops, with their high windows, their floors crowded with machines, their roofs lined with cranes, the flame of the forges, and the smoke of the fizzling steel lighting up the dark groups of men, the huge howitzer shells, red-hot, swinging in mid-air, and the same shells, tamed and gleaming, on the great lathes that rough and bore and finish them. here are shell for the _queen elizabeth_ guns!--the biggest shell made. this shop had been put up by good luck just as the war began. its output of steel has increased from tons a week to , . then another huge fuse shop, quite new, where , girls in one shift are at work--said to be the largest fuse shop known. and on the following morning, an endless spectacle of war work--gun-carriages, naval turrets, torpedo tubes, armed railway carriages, small hotchkiss guns for merchant ships, tool-making shops, gauge shops--and so on for ever. in the tool-making shops the output has risen from , to , , a year! and meanwhile i have not seen anything, and shall not have time to see anything of the famous shipyards of the firm. but with regard to them, all that it is necessary to remember is that before the war they were capable of berthing twenty ships at once, from the largest battleship downward; and we have mr. balfour's word for it as to what has happened, since the war, in the naval shipyards of this country. "we have added _a million tons to the navy--and we have doubled its personnel_." and now let me record two final sayings. one from a manager of a department: we have a good many socialists here, and they constantly give trouble. but the great majority of the men have done wonderfully! some men have put in one hundred hours a week since the war began. some have not lost a minute since it began. the old hands have worked _splendidly_. and another from one of the directors: i know of no drunkenness among our women. i don't remember ever having seen a drunken woman round here. iii i have almost said my say on munitions, though i could continue the story much longer. but the wonder of it consists really in its vastness, in the steady development of a movement which will not end or slacken till the allies are victorious. except for the endless picturesqueness of the women's share in it, and the mechanical invention and adaptation going on everywhere, with which only a technical expert could deal, it is of course monotonous, and i might weary you. i will only--before asking you to cross the channel with me to france--put down a few notes and impressions on the clyde district, where, as our newspapers will have told you, there is at the present moment (march th) some serious labour trouble, with which the government is dealing. until further light is thrown upon its causes, comment is better postponed. but i have spoken quite frankly in these letters of "danger spots," where a type of international socialism is to be found--affecting a small number of men, over whom the ideas of "country" and "national honour" seem to have no hold. every country possesses such men and must guard itself against them. a nucleus of them exists in this populous and important district. how far their influence is helped among those who care nothing for their ideas, by any real or supposed grievances against the employers, by misunderstandings and misconceptions, by the sheer nervous fatigue and irritation of the men's long effort, or by those natural fears for the future of their unions, to which i have once or twice referred, only one long familiar with the district could say, i can only point out here one or two interesting facts. in the first place, in this crowded countryside, where a small minority of dangerous extremists appear to have no care for their comrades in the trenches, the recruiting for the new armies--so i learn from one of the leading authorities--has been--"taken on any basis whatever--substantially higher than in any other district. the men came up magnificently." that means that among those left behind, whatever disturbing and disintegrating forces exist in a great labour centre have freer play than would normally be the case. a certain amount of patriotic cream has been skimmed, and in some places the milk that remains must be thin. in the second place--(you will remember the employer i quoted to you in a former letter)--the work done here by thousands and thousands of workmen since the beginning of the war, especially in the great shipyards, and done with the heartiest and most self-sacrificing good-will, has been simply invaluable to the nation, and england remembers it well. and finally, the invasion of women has perhaps been more startling to the workmen here than anywhere else. not a single woman was employed in the works or factories of the district before the war, except in textiles. there will soon be , in the munition workshops, and that will not be the end. but great britain cannot afford--even in a single factory--to allow any trifling at this moment with the provision of guns, and the government must--and will--act decisively. as to the drinking in this district of which so much has been said, and which is still far in excess of what it ought to be, i found many people hard put to it to explain why the restriction of hours which has worked so conspicuously well in other districts has had comparatively little effect here. is it defects of administration, or a certain "cussedness" in the scotch character, which resents any tightening of law? one large employer with whom i discuss it, believes it would suit the scotch better to abolish all restrictions, and simply punish drunkenness much more severely. and above all--"open all possible means of amusement on sundays, especially the cinemas!"--a new and strange doctrine, even now, in the ears of a country that holds the bones of john knox. there seems indeed to be a terribly close connection between the dulness of the scotch sunday and the obstinacy of scotch drinking; and when one thinks of the heavy toil of the week, of the confinement of the workshops, and the strain of the work, one feels at any rate that here is a problem which is to be _solved_, not preached at; and will be solved, some day, by nimbler and humaner wits than ours. in any case, the figures, gathered a month ago from those directly concerned, as to the general extension of the national effort here, could hardly be more striking. in normal times, the district, which is given up to admiralty work, makes ships and guns, but has never made shells. the huge shell factories springing up all over it are a wholly new creation. as usual, they are filled with women, working under skilled male direction, and everywhere one found among managers and superintendents the same enthusiasm for the women's work. "it's their honour they work on," said one forewoman. "that's why they stand it so well." the average working week is fifty-four hours, but overtime may seriously lengthen the tale. wages are high; canteens and rest-rooms are being everywhere provided; and the housing question is being tackled. the rapidity of the women's piece-work is astonishing, and the mingling of classes--girls of education and refinement working quite happily with those of a much humbler type--runs without friction under the influence of a common spirit. this common spirit was well expressed by a girl who before she came to the factory was working a knitting-machine. "i like this better--_because there's a purpose in it_." a sweet-faced woman who was turning copper bands for shell, said to me: "i never worked a machine before the war. i have done in ten hours, but that tired me very much. i can do or quite easily." on the same premises, after leaving the shell shops, we passed rapidly through gun shops, where i saw again processes which had become almost familiar. "the production of howitzers," said my guide, "is the question of the day. we are making them with great rapidity--but the trouble is to get enough machines." the next shop, devoted to -pounder field-guns, was "green fields fifteen months ago," and the one adjoining it, a fine shed about feet square, for howitzer work, was started in august last, on a site "which was a bog with a burn running through it." soon "every foot of space will be filled with machines, and there will be , people at work here, including women. in the next shop we are turning out about , shrapnel and , high-explosive shells per week. when we started women on what we thought this heavy shell, we provided men to help lift the shell in and out of the machines. the women thrust the men aside in five minutes." later on, as i was passing through a series of new workshops occupied with all kinds of army work and employing large numbers of women, i stopped to speak to a belgian woman. "have you ever done any machine work before?" "no, madame, never--_mais, c'est la guerre. il faut tuer les allemands_!" it was a quiet, passionless voice. but one thought, with a shiver, of those names of eternal infamy--of termonde, aerschot, dinant, louvain. it was with this woman's words in my ears that i set out on my last visit--to which they were the fitting prelude. the afternoon was darkening fast. the motor sped down a river valley, sodden with rain and melting snow, and after some miles we turn into a half-made road, leading to some new buildings, and a desolate space beyond. a sentry challenges us, and we produce our permit. then we dismount, and i look out upon a wide stretch of what three months ago was swamp, or wet plough land. now its acres are enclosed with barbed wire, and patrolled by sentries night and day. a number of small buildings, workshops, stores, etc., are rising all over it. i am looking at what is to be the great "filling" factory of the district, where , women, in addition to male workmen, will soon be employed in charging the shell coming from the new shell factories we have left behind in the darkness. strange and tragic scene! strange uprising of women! we regain the motor and speed onwards, my secretary and i, through unknown roads far away from the city and its factories towards the country house where we are to spend the night. in my memory there surge a thousand recollections of all that i have seen in the preceding fortnight. an england roused at last--rushing to factory, and lathe, to shipyard and forge, determined to meet and dominate her terrible enemy in the workshop, as she has long since met and dominated him at sea, and will in time dominate him on land--that is how my country looks to me to-night. ... the stars are coming out. far away, over what seems like water with lights upon it, there are dim snowy mountains--majestic--rising into the sky. the noise and clamour of the factories are all quiet in the night. two thoughts remain with me--britain's ships in the north sea--britain's soldiers in the trenches. and encircling and sustaining both the justice of a great cause--as these white highland hills look down upon and encircle this valley. iv dear h. a million and a half of men--over a quarter of a million of women--working in some , state-controlled workshops for the supply of munitions of war, not only to our own troops, but to those of our allies--the whole, in the main, a creation of six months' effort--this is the astonishing spectacle of some of the details of which i have tried, as an eye-witness, to give you in my previous letters a rapid and imperfect sketch. but what of the men, the armies, for which these munitions are being made and hurried to the fighting-lines? it was at aldershot, a few days ago, that i listened to some details of the first rush of the new armies, given me by a member of the headquarters staff who had been through it all. aldershot in peace time held about , troops. since the outbreak of war some million and a quarter of men have passed through the great camp, coming in ceaselessly for training and equipment, and going out again to the theatres of war. in the first days and weeks of the war--during and after the marvellous precision and rapidity with which the expeditionary force was despatched to france--men poured in from all parts, from all businesses and occupations; rich and poor, north and south country men, english, scotch, irish, and welsh; men from the dominions, who had flung themselves into the first home-coming steamer; men from india, and men from the uttermost parts of africa and asia who had begged or worked their way home. they were magnificent material. they came with set faces, asking only for training, training, training!--and "what the peace soldier learns in six months," said my companion, "they learnt in six weeks. we had neither uniforms nor rifles, neither guns nor horses for them. we did not know how to feed them or to house them. in front of the headquarters at aldershot, that mecca of the soldier, where no one would dare to pass in ordinary times whose turnout is not immaculate, the most extraordinary figures, in bowler hats and bits of uniform, passed unrebuked. we had to raid the neighbouring towns for food, to send frantic embassies to london for bread and meat; to turn out any sort of shed to house them. luckily it was summer weather; otherwise i don't know what we should have done for blankets. but nobody 'groused.' everybody worked, and there were many who felt it 'the time of their lives.'" and yet england "engineered the war!" england's hypocrisy and greed demanded the crushing of germany--hence the lying "excuse" of belgium--that apparently is what all good germans--except those who know better--believe; what every german child is being taught. as i listen to my companion's story, i am reminded, however, of a puzzled remark which reached me lately, written just before christmas last, by a german nurse in a berlin hospital, who has english relations, friends of my own. "we begin to wonder whether it really was england who caused the war--since you seem to be so dreadfully unprepared!" so writes this sensible girl to one of her mother's kindred in england; in a letter which escaped the german censor. she might indeed wonder! to have deliberately planned a continental war with germany, and germany's , , of soldiers, without men, guns, or ammunition beyond the requirements of an expeditionary force of , men, might have well become the state of cloud-cuckoo-land. but the england of raleigh, chatham, pitt, and wellington has not generally been reckoned a nation of pure fools. the military camps of great britain tell the tale of our incredible venture. "great areas of land had to be cleared, levelled, and drained; barracks had to be built; one camp alone used , railway truck-loads of building material." there was no time to build new railways, and the existing roads were rapidly worn out. they were as steadily repaired; and on every side new camps sprang up around the parent camps of the country. the surrey commons and woods, the wiltshire downs, the midland and yorkshire heaths, the buckinghamshire hills have been everywhere invaded--their old rural sanctities are gone. i walked in bewilderment the other day up and down the slopes of a surrey hill which when i knew it last was one kingdom of purple heather, beloved of the honey-bees, and scarcely ever trodden by man or woman. barracks now form long streets upon its crest and sides; practise-trenches, bombing-schools, the stuffed and dangling sacks for bayonet training, musketry ranges, and the rest, are everywhere. tennyson, whose wandering ground it once was, would know it no more. and this camp is only one of a series which spread far and wide round the aldershot headquarters. near my own home, a park and a wooded hillside, that two years ago were carefully guarded even from a neighbour's foot, are now occupied by a large town of military huts, which can be seen for miles round. and fifteen miles away, in a historic "chase" where catharine of aragon lived while her trial was proceeding in a neighbouring town, a duke, bearing one of the great names of england, has himself built a camp, housing , men, for the recruits of his county regiments alone, and has equipped it with every necessary, whether for the soldier's life or training. but everywhere--east, north, south, and west--the english and scotch roads are thronged with soldiers and horses, with trains of artillery wagons and army service lorries, with men marching back from night attacks or going out to scout and skirmish on the neighbouring commons and through the most sacred game--preserves. there are no more trespass laws in england--for the soldier. you point to our recruiting difficulties in parliament. true enough. we have our recruiting difficulties still. lord derby has not apparently solved the riddle; for riddle it is, in a country of voluntary service, where none of the preparations necessary to fit conscription into ordinary life, with its obligations, have ever been made. the government and the house of commons are just now wrestling with it afresh, and public opinion seems to be hardening towards certain final measures that would have been impossible earlier in the war.[b] the call is still for men--more--and more--men! and given the conditions of this war, it is small wonder that england is restless till they are found. but amid the cross currents of criticism, i catch the voice of mr. walter long, the most practical, the least boastful of men, in the house of commons, a few nights ago: say what you like, blame, criticise, as you like, but "what this country has done since august, , is an almost incredible story." and so it is. and now let us follow some of these khaki-clad millions across the seas, through the reinforcement camps, and the great supply bases, towards that fierce reality of war to which everything tends. [b] since these lines were written the crisis in the government, the irish rising, and the withdrawal of the military service bill have happened in quick succession. the country is still waiting (april th) for the last inevitable step. ii it was about the middle of february, after my return from the munition factories, that i received a programme from the war office of a journey in france, which i was to be allowed to make. i remember being at first much dissatisfied with it. it included the names of three or four places well known to be the centres of english supply organisation in france. but it did not include any place in or near the actual fighting zone. to me, in my ignorance, the places named mainly represented the great array of finely equipped hospitals to be found everywhere in france in the rear of our armies; and i was inclined to say that i had no special knowledge of hospital work, and that one could see hospitals in england, with more leisure to feel and talk with the sufferers in them than a ten days' tour could give. a friendly cabinet minister smiled when i presented this view. "you had better accept. you will find it very different from what you suppose. the 'back' of the army includes everything." he was more than right! the conditions of travelling at the present moment, within the region covered by the english military organisation in france, for a woman possessing a special war office pass, in addition to her ordinary passport, and understood to be on business which has the good-will of the government, though in no sense commissioned by it, are made easy by the courtesy and kindness of everybody concerned. from the moment of landing on the french side, my daughter and i passed into the charge of the military authorities. an officer accompanied us; a war office motor took us from place to place; and everything that could be shown us in the short ten days of our tour was freely open to us. the trouble, indeed, that was taken to enable me to give some of the vividness of personal seeing to these letters is but one of many proofs, i venture to think, of that warm natural wish in british minds that america should understand why we are fighting this war, and how we are fighting it. as to myself, i have written in complete freedom, affected only by the absolutely necessary restrictions of the military censorship; and i only hope i may be able to show something, however inadequately, of the work of men who have done a magnificent piece of organisation, far too little realised even in their own country. for in truth we in england know very little about our bases abroad; about what it means to supply the ever-growing needs of the english armies in france. the military world takes what has been done for granted; the general english public supposes that the tommies, when their days in the home camps are done, get "somehow" conveyed to the front, being "somehow" equipped, fed, clothed, nursed, and mended, and sent on their way across france in interminable lines of trains. as to the details of the process, it rarely troubles its head. the fact is, however, that the work of the great supply bases abroad, of the various corps and services connected with them--army ordnance, army service, army medical, railway and motor transport--is a desperately interesting study; and during the past eighteen months, under the "i.g.c."--inspector-general of communications--has developed some of the best brains in the army. two days spent under the guidance of the base commandant or an officer of his staff among the docks and warehouses of a great french port, among the huts of its reinforcement camp, which contains more men than aldershot before august, , or in its workshops of the army ordnance corps, gave me my first experience of the organising power that has gone to these departments of the war. the general in command of the base was there in the first weeks of the struggle and during the great retreat. he retired with his staff to nantes--leaving only a broken motor-car behind him!--just about the time that the french government betook itself to bordeaux. but in september he was back again, and the building-up process began, which has since known neither stop nor stay. that the commercial needs of a great french port should have been able to accommodate themselves as they have to the military needs of the british army speaks loudly for the tact and good feeling on both sides. the task has not been at all times an easy one; and i could not help thinking as we walked together through the crowded scene, that the tone and temper of the able man beside me--his admiration, simply expressed, yet evidently profound, for the french spirit in the war, and for the heroic unity of the country through all ranks and classes, accounted for a great deal. in the presence of a good-will so strong, difficulties disappear. look now at this immense hangar or storehouse--the largest in the world--through which we are walking. it was completed three years before the war, partly, it is said, by german money, to house the growing cotton-trade of the port. it now houses a large proportion of the food of the british army. the hangar is half a mile long, and is bounded on one side by the docks where the ships are discharging, and on the other by the railway lines where the trains are loading up for the front. you walk through avenues of bacon, through streets of biscuits and jam. on the quays just outside, ships from england, canada, norway, argentina, australia are pouring out their stores. stand and watch the endless cranes at work, and think what english sea power means! and on the other side watch the packing of the trucks that are going to the front, the order and perfection with which the requisitions, large and small, of every regiment are supplied. one thinks of the crimean scandals. the ghost of florence nightingale seems to move beside us, watching contentedly what has come of all that long-reforming labour, dealing with the health, the sanitation, the food and equipment of the soldier, in which she played her part; and one might fancy the great shade pausing specially beside the wired-in space labelled "medical comforts," and generally known as "the cage." medical _necessaries_ are housed elsewhere; but here are the dainties, the special foods, the easing appliances of all kinds which are to make life bearable to many a sorely-wounded man. as to the huge sheds of the army ordnance, which supply everything that the soldier doesn't eat, all metal stores--nails, horseshoes, oil-cans, barbed wire--by the ton; trenching-tools, wheelbarrows, pickaxes, razors, sand-bags, knives, screws, shovels, picketing-pegs, and the like--they are of course endless; and the men who work in them are housed in one of the largest sheds, in tiers of bunks from floor to ceiling. perhaps the most interesting part of the depot to the outsider are the repairing sheds and workshops established in a suburb of the town to which we drive on. for this is work that has never been done before in connection with an army in the field. day by day trains full of articles for repair come down from the front. i happened to see a train of the kind, later on, leaving a station close to the fighting line. guns, rifles, range-finders, gun-carriages, harness, all torn and useless uniforms, tents, boots by the thousand, come to this base to be repaired, or to be sent home for transformation into "shoddy" to the yorkshire towns. nothing seems too large or too small for colonel d.'s department. field-glasses, periscopes, water-bottles, they arrive from the trenches with the same certainty as a wounded howitzer or machine-gun, and are returned as promptly. in one shed, my guide called my attention to shelves on which were a number of small objects in china and metal. "they were found in kits left on the field," he says gently. "wherever we can identify the owner, such things are carefully returned to his people. these could not be identified." i took up a little china dog, a bit of coarse french pottery, which some dead father had bought, at poperinghe, perhaps, or bailleul, for the children at home. near by were "souvenirs"--bits of shell, of german equipment; then some leaves of a prayer-book, a neck-medallion of a saint--and so on--every fragment steeped in the poignancy of sudden death--death in youth, at the height of life. the boot and uniform sheds, where french women and girls, under soldier-foremen, are busy, the harness-mending room, and the engineering workshops might reassure those pessimists among us--especially of my own sex--who think that the male is naturally and incorrigibly a wasteful animal. colonel d. shows me the chart which is the record of his work, and its steadily mounting efficiency. he began work with men, he is now employing more than a thousand, and his repairing sheds are saving thousands of pounds a week to the british government. he makes all his own power, and has four or five powerful dynamos at work. we come out into a swirl of snow, and henceforward sightseeing is difficult. yet we do our best to defy the weather. we tramp through the deepening snow of the great camp, which lines the slopes of the hills above the river and the town, visiting its huts and recreation-rooms, its cinema theatre, and its stores, and taking tea with the colonel of an infantry base depot, who is to be our escort on the morrow. but on the last morning before we start we mount to the plateau above the reinforcement camp, where the snow lies deep and the wind blows one of the sharpest blasts of the winter. here are bodies of men going through some of the last refinements of drill before they start for the front; here are trenches of all kinds and patterns, revetted in ways new and old, and planned according to the latest experience brought from the fighting line. the instructors here, as at other training-camps in france, are all men returned from the front. the men to whom they have to give the final touch of training--men so near themselves to the real thing--are impatient of any other sort. as we stand beside the trenches under the bright sun and piercing wind, looking at the dark lines of british soldiers on the snow, and listening to the explanations of a most keen and courteous officer, one's eyes wander, on the one side, over the great town and port, over the french coast and the distant sea, and on the other side, inland, over the beautiful french landscape with its farms and country houses. everything one sees is steeped in history, a mingled history, in which england and france up to five centuries ago bore an almost equal share. now again they are mingled here; all the old enmities buried in a comradeship that goes deeper far than they, a comradeship of the spirit that will surely mould the life of both nations for years to come. how we grudged the snow and the low-sweeping clouds and the closed motor, on our drive of the next day! i remember little more of it than occasional glimpses of the tall cliffs that stand sentinel along the river, a hasty look at a fine church above a steeply built town, an army lorry stuck deep in the snow-drifts, and finally the quays and ships of another base port. our escort, colonel s., pilots us to a pleasant hotel full of officers, mostly english, belonging to the lines of communications, with a few poor wives and mothers among them who have come over to nurse their wounded in one or other of the innumerable hospitals of the base. before dinner the general commanding the base had found me out and i had told my story. "oh, we'll put some notes together for you. we were up most of last night. i dare say we shall be up most of this. but a little more or less doesn't matter." i protested most sincerely. but it is always the busiest men who shoulder the extra burdens; and the notes duly reached me. from them, from the talk of others spending their last ounce of brain and energy in the service of the base, and from the evidence of my own eyes, let me try and draw some general picture of what that service is: suppose a british officer speaking: remember first that every man, every horse, every round of ammunition, every article of clothing and equipment, all the guns and vehicles, and nearly all the food have to be brought across the english channel to maintain and reinforce the ever-growing british army, which holds now so important a share of the fighting line in france. the ports of entry are already overtaxed by the civil and military needs of france herself. imagine how difficult it is--and how the difficulty grows daily with the steady increase of the british army--to receive, disembark, accommodate, and forward the multitude of men and the masses of material! you see the khaki in the french streets, the mingling everywhere of french and english; but the ordinary visitor can form no idea of the magnitude of this friendly invasion. there is no formal delimitation of areas or spaces, in docks, or town, or railways. but gradually the observer will realise that the town is honeycombed with the temporary locations of the british army, which everywhere speckle the map hanging in the office of the garrison quartermaster. and let him further visit the place where the long lines of reinforcement, training and hospital camps are installed on open ground, and old england's mighty effort will scarcely hide itself from the least intelligent. _work, efficiency, economy_ must be the watchwords of a base. its functions may not be magnificent--_but they are war_--and war is impossible unless they are rightly carried out. when we came back from the loire in september, after our temporary retreat, the british _personnel_ at this place grew from , to , in a week. now there are thousands of troops always passing through, thousands of men in hospital, thousands at work in the docks and storehouses. and let any one who cares for horses go and look at the remount depot and the veterinary hospitals. the whole treatment of horses in this war has been revolutionised. look at the cheap, ingenious stables, the comfort produced by the simplest means, the kind quiet handling; look at the convalescent horse depots, the operating theatres, and the pharmacy stores in the veterinary hospitals. as to the troops themselves, every regiment has its own lines, for its own reinforcements. good food, clean cooking, civilised dining-rooms, excellent sanitation--the base provides them all. it provides, too, whatever else tommy atkins wants, and _close at hand_; wet and dry canteens, libraries, recreation huts, tea and coffee huts, palatial cinemas, concerts. and what are the results? excellent behaviour; excellent relations between the british soldier and the french inhabitants; absence of all serious crime. then look at the docks. you will see there armies of labourers, and long lines of ships discharging horses, timber, rations, fodder, coal, coke, petrol. or at the stores and depots. it would take you days to get any idea of the huge quantities of stores, or of the new and ingenious means of space economy and quick distribution. as to the works department--camps and depots are put up "while you wait" by the r.e. officers and unskilled military labour. add to all this the armies of clerks, despatch riders, and motor-cyclists--and the immense hospital _personnel_--then, if you make any intelligible picture of it in your mind, you will have some idea of what bases like these mean. pondering these notes, it seemed to me that the only way to get some kind of "intelligible picture" in two short days was to examine something in detail, and the rest in general! accordingly, we spent a long sunday morning in the motor transport depot, which is the creation of colonel b., and perhaps as good an example as one could find anywhere in france of the organising talent of the able british officer. the depot opened in a theatre on the th of august, . "it began," says colonel b., "with a few balls of string and a bag of nails!" its staff then consisted of officers and n.c.o.'s and men--its permanent staff at present is about . all the drivers of some , motor vehicles--nearly , men--are tested here and, if necessary, instructed before going up to the fighting lines; and the depot deals with different types of vehicles. in round figures , separate parts are now dealt with, stored, and arranged in the depot. the system of records and accounts is extraordinarily perfect, and so ingenious that it seems to work itself. meanwhile colonel b.'s relations with his army of chauffeurs, of whom about , are always housed on the premises, are exceedingly human and friendly in spite of the strictness of the army discipline. most of his men who are not married, the colonel tells me, have found a "friend," in the town, one or other of its trimly dressed girls, with whom the english mechanic "walks out," on sundays and holidays. there are many engagements, and, as i gather, no misconduct. marriage is generally postponed till after the war, owing to the legal and other difficulties involved. but marriage there will be when peace comes. as to how the englishman and the french girl communicate, there are amusing speculations, but little exact knowledge. there can be small doubt, however, that a number of hybrid words perfectly understood by both sides are gradually coming into use, and if the war lasts much longer, a rough esperanto will have grown up which may leave its mark on both languages. the word "narpoo" is a case in point. it is said to be originally a corruption of "_il n'y a plus_"--the phrase which so often meets the tommy foraging for eggs or milk or fruit. at present it means anything from "done up" to "dead." here is an instance of it, told me by a chaplain at the front. he was billeted in a farm with a number of men, and a sergeant. all the men, from the chaplain to the youngest private, felt a keen sympathy and admiration for the women of the farm, who were both working the land and looking after their billetees, with wonderful pluck and energy. one evening the chaplain arriving at the open door of the farm, saw in the kitchen beyond it the daughter of the house, who had just come in from farm work. she was looking at a pile of dirty plates and dishes which had to be washed before supper, and she gave a sigh of fatigue. suddenly in the back door on the other side of the kitchen appeared the sergeant. he looked at the girl, then at the dishes, then again at the girl. "fattigay?" he said cheerfully, going up to her. "narpoo? give 'em me. compree?" and before she could say a word he had driven her away, and plunged into the work. the general relations, indeed, between our soldiers and the french population could not be better. general after general, both in the bases, and at the front dwelt on this point. a distinguished general commanding one of our armies on the line, spoke to me of it with emphasis. "the testimony is universal, and it is equally creditable to both sides." the french civilian in town and country is, no doubt, profiting by the large demand and prompt payments of the british forces. but just as in the case of the women munition workers, there is infinitely more in it than money. on the british part there is, in both officers and men, a burning sympathy for what france has suffered, whether from the outrages of a brutal enemy, or from the inevitable hardships of war. the headquarters of the general i have mentioned were not more than fifteen or twenty miles from towns where unspeakable things were done by german soldiers--officers no less than men--in the first weeks of the struggle. with such deeds the french peasantry and small townsfolk, as they still remain in picardy and artois, can and do contrast, day by day, the temper, the courtesy, the humanity of the british soldier. great britain, of course, is a friend and ally; and germany is the enemy. but these french folk, these defenceless women and children, know instinctively that the british army, like their own, whether in its officers, or in its rank and file, is incapable, toward any non-combatant, of what the german army has done repeatedly, officially, and still excuses and defends. [illustration: one of the wards of a base hospital visited by the king.] [illustration: a howitzer in the act of firing.] the signs of this feeling for and sympathy with the french _civils_, among our soldiers, are many. here is one story, slight but illuminating, told me by an eye-witness. she is one of a band of women under a noble chief, who, since very early in the war, have been running a canteen for soldiers, night and day, at the large railway-station of the very base i have been describing, where trains are perpetually arriving from and departing to the front. in the early days of the war, a refugee train arrived one afternoon full of helpless french folk, mainly of course women and children, and old people, turned out of their homes by the german advance. in general, the refugees were looked after by the french red cross, "who did it admirably, going along the trains with hot drinks and food and clothing." but on this occasion there were a number of small children, and some of them got overlooked in the hubbub. "i found a raw young scotchman, little more than a boy, from one of the highland regiments," with six youngsters clinging to him, for whom he peremptorily demanded tea. "he had tears in his eyes, and his voice was all husky as he explained in homely scotch how the bairns had been turned out of their homes--how he _couldn't_ bear it--and he would give them tea." a table was found. "i provided the milk, and he paid for bread and butter and chocolate, and waited on and talked to the six little french people himself. strange to say, they seemed to understand each other quite well." iii it was with this railway-station canteen that my latest memories of the great base are concerned. all the afternoon of our second day at ---- was spent in seeing a fine red cross hospital, and then in walking or driving round the endless reinforcement and hospital camps in the open country. everywhere the same vigourous expanding organisation, the same ceaselessly growing numbers, the same humanity and care in detail. "how many years have we been at war?" one tends to ask oneself in bewilderment, as the spectacle unrolls itself. "is it possible that all this is the work of eighteen months?" and i am reminded of the scotch sergeant's reply to his german captive, who asked his opinion about the duration of the war. "i'll tell you what--it's the furrst five years that'll be the worst!" we seem--in the bases--to have slipped through them already, measuring by any of the ordinary ratios of work to time. on my return home, a diplomat representing one of the neutral nations, told me that the military secretary of his staff had been round the english bases in france, and had come back with his "eyes starting out of his head." having seen them myself, the phrase seemed to me quite natural. then, last of all, as the winter evening fell, we turned toward the canteen at the railway-station. we found it going on in an old goods' shed, simply fitted up with a long tea and coffee bar, tables and chairs; and in some small adjacent rooms. it was filled from end to end with a crowd of soldiers, who after many hours of waiting, were just departing for the front. the old shabby room, with its points of bright light, and its shadowy sides and corners, made a rembrandtesque setting for the moving throng of figures. some men were crowding round the bar; some were writing letters in haste to post before the train went off; the piano was going, and a few, gathered round it, were singing the songs of the day, of which the choruses were sometimes taken up in the room. the men--drafts going up to different regiments on the line--appeared to me to come from many parts. the broad yorkshire and cumbrian speech, scotch, the cockney of the home counties, the northumberland burr, the tongues of devon and somerset--one seemed to hear them all in turn. the demands at the counter had slackened a little, and i was presently listening to some of the talk of the indefatigable helpers who work this thing night and day. one of them drew a picture of the canadians, the indomitable fighters of ypres and loos, of their breathless energy, and impatience of anything but the quickest pace of life, their appetites!--half a dozen hard-boiled eggs, at _ d_ each, swallowed down in a moment of time; then of the french-canadians, their old world french, their old-world catholicism, simple and passionate. one of these last asked if there was any chance of his being sent to egypt. "why are you so anxious to go to egypt?" "because it was there the holy family rested," said the lad shyly. the lady to whom he spoke described to him the tree and the holy well in st. georgius, and he listened entranced. sometimes a rough lot fill the canteen, drawn from the poorest class, perhaps, of an english seaport. they hustle for their food, shout at the helpers, and seem to have no notion that such words as "please" and "thank you" exist. after three or four hours of battling with such an apparently mannerless crew one of the helpers saw them depart to the platform where their train was waiting for them, with very natural relief. but they were no sooner gone, when a guardsman, with the manners, the stature, and the smartness of his kind, came back to the counter, and asked to speak to the lady in charge of it. "those chaps, miss, what have just gone out," he said apologetically, "have never been used to ladies, and they don't know what to say to them. so they asked me just to come in and say for them they were very much obliged for all the ladies' kindness, but they couldn't say it themselves." the tired helper was suddenly too choky to answer. the message, the choice of the messenger, as one sure to do "the right thing," were both so touching. but there was a sudden movement in the crowd. the train was up. we all surged out upon the platform, and i watched the embarkation--the endless train engulfing its hundreds of men. just as i had seen the food and equipment trains going up from the first base laden with everything necessary to replace the daily waste of the army, so here was the train of human material, going up to replace the daily waste of _men_. after many hours of travelling, and perhaps some of rest, these young soldiers--how young most of them were!--would find themselves face to face with the sharpest realities of war. i thought of what i had seen in the red cross hospital that afternoon--"what man has made of man"--the wreck of youth and strength, the hideous pain, the helpless disablement. but the station rang with laughter and talk. some one in the canteen began to play "keep the home fires burning"--and the men in the train joined in, though not very heartily, for as one or two took care to tell me, laughingly--"that and 'tipperary' are awfully stale now!" a bright-faced lad discussed with d---- how long the war would last. "and _shan't_ we miss it when it's done!" he said, with a jesting farewell to us, as he jumped into the train which had begun to move. slowly, slowly it passed out of sight, amid waves of singing and the shouting of good-byes.... it was late that evening, when after much talk with various officers, i went up to my room to try and write, bewildered by a multitude of impressions--impressions of human energy, human intelligence, human suffering. what england is doing in this country will leave, it seems to me, indelible marks upon the national character. i feel a natural pride, as i sit thinking over the day, in all this british efficiency and power, and a quick joy in the consciousness of our fellowship with france, and hers with us. but the struggle at verdun is still in its first intensity, and when i have read all that the evening newspapers contain about it, there stirs in me a fresh realisation of the meaning of what i have been seeing. in these great bases, in the marvellous railway organisation, in the handling of the vast motor transport in all its forms, in the feeding and equipment of the british army, we have the scaffolding and preparation of war, which, both in the french and english armies, have now reached a perfection undreamt of when the contest began. but the war itself--the deadly struggle of that distant line to which it all tends? it is in the flash and roar of the guns, in the courage and endurance of the fighting man, that all this travail of brain and muscle speaks at last. at that courage and endurance, women, after all, can only guess--through whatever rending of their own hearts. but i was to come somewhat nearer to it than i thought then. the morrow brought surprise. v dear h. our journey farther north through the deep february snow was scarcely less striking as an illustration of great britain's constantly growing share in the war than the sight of the great supply bases themselves. the first part of it, indeed, led over solitary uplands, where the chained wheels of the motor rocked in the snow, and our military chauffeur dared make no stop, for fear he should never be able to start again. all that seemed alive in the white landscape were the partridges--sometimes in great flocks--which scudded at our approach, or occasional groups of hares in the middle distance holding winter parley. the road seemed interminably long and straight, and ours were almost the first tracks in it. the snow came down incessantly, and once or twice it looked as though we should be left stranded in the white wilderness. but after a third of the journey was over, the snow began to lessen and the roads to clear. we dropped first into a seaport town which offered much the same mingled scene of french and english, of english nurses, and french _poilus_, of unloading ships, and british soldiers, as the bases we had left, only on a smaller scale. and beyond the town we climbed again on to the high land, through a beautiful country of interwoven downs, and more plentiful habitation. soon, indeed, the roads began to show the signs of war--a village or small town, its picturesque market-place filled with a park of artillery wagons; roads lined with motor lorries with the painted shell upon them that tells ammunition; british artillerymen in khaki, bringing a band of horses out of a snow-bound farm; closed motor-cars filled with officers hurrying past; then an open car with king's messengers, tall, soldierly figures, looking in some astonishment at the two ladies, as they hurry by. and who or what is this horseman looming out of the sleet--like a figure from a piece of indian or persian embroidery, turbaned and swarthy, his cloak swelling out round his handsome head and shoulders, the buildings of a norman farm behind him? "there are a few indian cavalry about here," says our guide--"they are billeted in the farms." and presently the road is full of them. their eastern forms, their dark, intent faces pass strangely through the norman landscape. now we are only some forty miles from the line, and we presently reach another town containing an important british headquarters, where we are to stop for luncheon. the inn at which we put up is like the song in "twelfth night," "old and plain"--and when lunch is done, our colonel goes to pay an official call at headquarters, and my daughter and i make our way to the historic church of the town. the colonel joins us here with another officer, who brings the amazing news that "g.h.q."--general headquarters--that mysterious centre and brain of all things--invites us for two days! if we accept, an officer will come for us on the morning of march st to our hotel in boulogne and take us by motor, some forty miles, to the guest-house where g.h.q. puts up its visitors. "_accept!"_ ah, if one could only forget for a moment the human facts behind the absorbing interest and excitement of this journey, one might be content to feel only the stir of quickened pulses, of gratitude for a further opportunity so tremendous. as it was, i saw all the journey henceforward with new eyes, because of that to which it was bringing us. on we sped, through the french countryside, past a great forest lying black on the edge of the white horizon--i open my map and find it marked bois de crecy!--past another old town, with agincourt a few miles to the east, and so into a region of pine and sand that borders the sea. darkness comes down, and we miss our way. what are these lines of light among the pine woods? another military and hospital camp, which we are to see on the morrow--so we discover at last. but we have overshot our goal, and must grope our way back through the pine woods to the sea-shore, where a little primitive hotel, built for the summer, with walls that seem to be made of brown paper, receives us. but we have motored far that day, and greet it joyfully. the following morning we woke to a silvery sunlight, with, at last, some promise of spring over a land cleared of snow. the day was spent in going through a camp which has been set down in one of the pleasantest and healthiest spots of france, a favourite haunt of french artists before the war. now the sandy slopes, whence the pines, alack, have been cut away, are occupied by a british reinforcement camp, by long lines of hospitals, by a convalescent depot, and by the training-grounds, where, as at other bases, the newly arrived troops are put through their last instruction before going to the front. as usual, the magnitude of what has been done in one short year filled one with amazement. here is the bare catalogue: infantry base depots, i.e. sleeping and mess quarters, for thousands of men belonging to the new armies; hospitals with , beds, rifle ranges; training-camps; a machine-gun training-school; a vast laundry worked by frenchwomen under british organisation, which washes for _all_ the hospitals, , pieces a day; recreation huts of all types and kinds, official and voluntary; a cinema theatre, seating men, with performances twice a day; nurses' clubs; officers' clubs; a supply depot for food; an ordnance depot for everything that is not food; new sidings to the railway, where , men can be entrained on the one side, while , men are detraining on the other; or two full ambulance trains can come in and go out; a convalescent depot of , patients, and a convalescent horse depot of , horses, etcetera. and this is the work accomplished since last april in one camp. yet, as i look back upon it, my chief impression of that long day is an impression, first, of endless hospital huts and marquees, with their rows of beds, in which the pale or flushed faces are generally ready--unless pain or weariness forbid--as a visitor ventures timidly near, to turn and smile in response to the few halting words of sympathy or inquiry which are all one can find to say; and, next, of such a wealth of skill, and pity, and devotion poured out upon this terrible human need, as makes one thank god for doctors, and nurses, and bright-faced v.a.d.'s. after all, one tremblingly asks oneself, in spite of the appalling facts of wounds, and death, and violence in which the human world is now steeped, is it yet possible, is it yet true, that the ultimate thing, the final power behind the veil--to which at least this vast linked spectacle of suffering and tenderness, here in this great camp, testifies--is _not_ force, but love? is this the mysterious message which seems to breathe from these crowded wards--to make them _just_ bearable. let me recollect the open door of an operating theatre, and a young officer, quite a boy, lying there with a bullet in his chest, which the surgeons were just about to try and extract. the fine, pale features of the wounded man, the faces of the surgeon and the nurses, so intent and cheerfully absorbed, the shining surfaces and appliances of the white room--stamp themselves on memory. i recollect, too, one john s----, a very bad case, a private. "oh, you must come and see john s----," says one of the sisters. "we get all the little distractions we can for john. will he recover? well, we thought so--but"--her face changes gravely--"john himself seems to have made up his mind lately. he knows--but he never complains." knows what? we go to see him, and he turns round philosophically from his tea. "oh, i'm all right--a bit tired--that's all." and then a smile passes between him and his nurse. he has lost a leg, he has a deep wound in his back which won't heal, which is draining his life away--poor, poor john s----! close by is a short, plain man, with a look of fevered and patient endurance that haunts one now to think of. "it's my eyes. i'm afraid they're getting worse. i was hit in the head, you see. yes, the pain's bad--sometimes." the nurse looks at him anxiously as we pass, and explains what is being tried to give relief. this devotion of the nurses--how can one ever say enough of it! i recall the wrath of a medical officer in charge of a large hospital at rouen. "why don't they give more red crosses to the _working nurses_? they don't get half enough recognition. i have a nurse here who has been twelve months in the operating theatre. she ought to have a v.c.!--it's worth it." and here is a dark-eyed young officer who had come from a distant colony to fight for england. i find him in an officer's hospital, established not long after the war broke out, in a former casino, where the huge baccarat-room has been turned into two large and splendid wards. he is courteously ready to talk about his wound, but much more ready to talk about his sister. "it's simply _wonderful_ what they do for us!" he says, all his face lighting up. "when i was worst there wasn't an hour in the day or night my sister wasn't ready to try anything in the world to help me. but they're all like that." let me here gratefully recall, also, the hospitals organised by the universities of chicago and harvard, entirely staffed by american sisters and doctors, each of them providing doctors and nurses, and dealing with , patients. harvard has maintained a general hospital with the british force in france since july, . the first passages and uniforms were paid for by the british government, but the university has itself paid all passages, and provided all uniforms since the start; and it is proposed, i am told, to carry on this generous help indefinitely. twenty thousand wounded!--while every day the ambulance trains come and go from the front, or to other bases--there to fill up one or other of the splendid hospital ships that take our brave fellows back to england, and home, and rest. and this city of hospitals, under its hard-pressed medical chief, with all its wealth of scientific invention, and painsaving device, and unremitting care, with its wonderful health and recovery statistics, has been the growth of just twelve months. the mind wavers between the two opposing images it suggests: war and its havoc on the one hand--the power of the human brain and the goodness of the human heart on the other. ii it was late on the th of february that we reached our next resting-place, to find a kind greeting from another base commandant and final directions for our journey of the morrow. we put up at one of the old commercial inns of the town (it is not easy to find hotel quarters of any kind just now, when every building at all suitable has been pressed into the hospital service) and i found delight in watching the various types of french officers, naval and military, who came in to the _table d'hôte_, plunging as soon as they had thrown off their caps and cloaks, and while they waited for their consommé, into the papers with the latest news of verdun. but we were too tired to try and talk! the morning came quickly, and with it our escort from g.h.q. we said good-bye to colonel s., who had guided our journey so smoothly through all the fierce drawbacks of the weather, and made friends at once with our new guide, the staff-officer who deals with the guests of g.h.q. never shall i forget that morning's journey! i find in my notes: "a beautiful drive--far more beautiful than i had expected--over undulating country, with distant views of interlocking downs, and along typical french roads, tree or forest bordered, running straight as a line up-hill and down-hill, over upland and plain. one exquisite point of view especially comes back to me, where a road to the coast--that coast which the germans so nearly reached!--diverged upon our left, and all the lowlands westward came into sight. it was pure turner, the soft sunlight of the day, with its blue shadows, and pale-blue sky; the yellow chalk hills, still marked with streaks of snow; the woods, purple and madder brown, the distances ethereally blue; and the villages, bare and unlovely compared with the villages of kent and sussex, but expressing a strong old historic life, sprung from the soil, and one with it. the first distant glimpse, as we turned a hill-corner, of the old town which was our destination--extraordinarily fine!--its ancient church a towered mass of luminous grey under the sunshine, gathering the tiled roofs into one harmonious whole." but we avoided the town itself and found ourselves presently descending an avenue of trees to the eighteenth-century château, which is used by g.h.q. as a hostel for its guests--allied and neutral correspondents, military attachés, special missions, and the like. in a few minutes i found myself standing bewildered by the strangeness and the interest of it all, in a charming louis-quinze room, plain and simple in the true manner of the genuine french country house, but with graceful panelled walls, an old _armoire_ of the date, windows wide open to the spring sun, and a half-wild garden outside. a _femme de ménage_, much surprised to be waiting on two ladies, comes to look after us. and this is france!--and we are only thirty miles from that fighting line, which has drawn our english hearts to it all these days. a map is waiting for each of us down-stairs, and we are told, roughly, where it is proposed to take us. a hurried lunch, and we are in the motor again, with captain ---- sitting in front. "you have your passes?" he asks us, and we anxiously verify the new and precious papers that brought us from our last stage, and will have to be shown on our way. we drive first to arques, and hazebrouck, then southeast. at a certain village we call at the divisional headquarters. the general comes out himself, and proposes to guide us on. "i will take you as near to the fighting line as i can." on we went, in two motors; the general with me, captain ---- and d. following. we passed through three villages, and after the first we were within shell range of the german batteries ahead. but i cannot remember giving a thought to the fact, so absorbing to the unaccustomed eye were all the accumulating signs of the actual battle-line; the endless rows of motor-lorries, either coming back from, or going up to the front, now with food, now with ammunition, reserve trenches to right and left of the road; a "dump" or food-station, whence carts filled from the heavy lorries go actually up to the trenches, lines of artillery wagons, parks of ammunition, or motor-ambulances, long lines of picketed horses, motor-cyclists dashing past. in one village we saw a merry crowd in the little _place_ gathered round a field-kitchen whence came an excellent fragrance of good stew. a number of the men were wearing leeks in their ears for st. david's day. "you're welsh, then?" i said to one of the cooks (by this time we had left the motor and were walking). "i'm not!" said the little fellow, with a laughing look. "it's st. patrick's day i'm waitin' for! but i've no objection to givin' st. david a turn!" he opened his kitchen to show me the good things going on, and as we moved away there came up a marching platoon of men from the trenches, who had done their allotted time there and were coming back to billets. the general went to greet them. "well, my boys, you could stick it all right?" it was good to see the lightening on the tired faces, and to watch the group disappear into the cheerful hubbub of the village. we walked on, and outside the village i heard the guns for the first time. we were now "actually in the battle," according to my companion, and a shell was quite possible, though not probable. again, i can't remember that the fact made any impression upon us. we were watching now parties of men at regular intervals sitting waiting in the fields beside the road, with their rifles and kits on the grass near them. they were waiting for the signal to move up toward the firing line as soon as the dusk was further advanced. "we shall meet them later," said the general, "as we come back." at the same moment he turned to address a young artillery-officer in the road: "is your gun near here?" "yes, sir, i was just going back to it." he was asked to show us the way. as we followed i noticed the white puff of a shell, far ahead, over the flat, ditch-lined fields; a captive balloon was making observations about half a mile in front, and an aeroplane passed over our heads. "ah, not a boche," said captain ---- regretfully, "but we brought a boche down here yesterday, just over this village--a splendid fight." meanwhile, the artillery fire was quickening. we reached a ruined village from which all normal inhabitants had been long since cleared away. the shattered church was there, and i noticed a large crucifix quite intact still hanging on its chancel wall. a little farther and the boyish artillery-officer, our leader, who had been by this time joined by a comrade, turned and beckoned to the general. presently we were creeping through seas of mud down into the gun emplacement, so carefully concealed that no aeroplane overhead could guess it. there it was--how many of its fellows i had seen in the midland and northern workshops!--its muzzle just showing in the dark, and nine or ten high-explosive shells lying on the bench in front of the breech. one is put in. we stand back a little, and a sergeant tells me to put my fingers in my ears and look straight at the gun. then comes the shock--not so violent as i had expected--and the cartridge-case drops out. the shell has sped on its way to the german trenches--with what result to human flesh and blood? but i remember thinking very little of that--till afterwards. at the time, the excitement of the shot and of watching that little group of men in the darkness held all one's nerves gripped. in a few more minutes we were scrambling out again through the deep, muddy trench leading to the dugout, promising to come back to tea with the officers, in their billet, when our walk was done. now indeed we were "in the battle"! our own guns were thundering away behind us, and the road was more and more broken up by shell holes. "look at that group of trees to your left--beyond it is neuve chapelle," said our guide. "and you see those ruined cottages, straight ahead, and the wood behind." he named a wood thrice famous in the history of the war. "our lines are just beyond the cottages, and the german lines just in front of the wood. how far are we from them? three-quarters of a mile." it was discussed whether we should be taken zigzag through the fields to the entrance of the communication-trench. but the firing was getting hotter, and captain ---- was evidently relieved when we elected to turn back. shall i always regret that lost opportunity? you did ask me to write something about "the life of the soldiers in the trenches"--and that was the nearest that any woman could personally have come to it! but i doubt whether anything more--anything, at least, that was possible--could have deepened the whole effect. we had been already nearer than any woman--even a nurse--has been, in this war, to the actual fighting on the english line, and the cup of impressions was full. as we turned back, i noticed a little ruined cottage, with a red cross flag floating. our guide explained that it was a field dressing-station. it was not for us--who could not help--to ask to go in. but the thought of it--there were some badly wounded in it--pursued me as we walked on through the beautiful evening. a little farther we came across what i think moved me more than anything else in that crowded hour--those same companies of men we had seen sitting waiting in the fields, now marching quietly, spaced one behind the other, up to the trenches, to take their turn there. every day i am accustomed to see bodies, small and large, of khaki-clad men, marching through these hertfordshire lanes. but this was different. the bearing was erect and manly, the faces perfectly cheerful; but there was the seriousness in them of men who knew well the work to which they were going. i caught a little quiet whistling, sometimes, but no singing. we greeted them as they passed, with a shy "good luck!" and they smiled shyly back, surprised, of course, to see a couple of women on that road. but there was no shyness towards the general. it was very evident that the relations between him and them were as good as affection and confidence on both sides could make them. i still see the bright tea-table in that corner of a ruined farm, where our young officers presently greeted us--the general marking our maps to make clear where he had actually been--the captain of the battery springing up to show off his gramophone--while the guns crashed at intervals close beside us, range-finding, probably, searching out a portion of the german line, under the direction of some hidden observer with his telephone. it was over all too quickly. time was up, and soon the motor was speeding back towards the divisional headquarters. the general and i talked of war, and what could be done to stop it. a more practical religion "lifting mankind again"?--a new st. francis, preaching the old things in new ways? "but in this war we had and we have no choice. we are fighting for civilisation and freedom, and we must go on till we win." iii it was long before i closed my eyes in the pretty room of the old château, after an evening spent in talk with some officers of the headquarters staff. when i woke in the dawn i little guessed what the day (march nd) was to bring forth, or what was already happening thirty miles away on the firing line. zélie, the _femme de ménage_, brought us our breakfast to our room, coffee and bread and eggs, and by half-past nine we were down-stairs, booted and spurred, to find the motor at the door, a simple lunch being packed up, and gas-helmets got ready! "we have had a very successful action this morning," said captain ----, evidently in the best of spirits. "we have taken back some trenches on the ypres-comines canal that we lost a little while ago, and captured about prisoners. if we go off at once, we shall be in time to see the german counter-attack." it was again fine, though not bright, and the distances far less clear. this time we struck northeast, passing first the sacred region of g.h.q. itself, where we showed our passes. then after making our way through roads lined interminably, as on the previous day, with the splendid motor-lorries laden with food and ammunition, which have made such a new thing of the transport of this war, interspersed with rows of ambulances and limbered wagons, with flying-stations and horse lines, we climbed a hill to one of the finest positions in this northern land; an old town, where gaul and roman, frank and fleming, english and french have clashed, which looks out northward towards the yser and dunkirk, and east towards ypres. now, if the mists will only clear, we shall see ypres! but, alas, they lie heavy over the plain, and we descend the hill again without that vision. now we are bound for poperinghe, and must go warily, because there is a lively artillery action going on beyond poperinghe, and it is necessary to find out what roads are being shelled. on the way we stop at an air-station, to watch the aeroplanes rising and coming down, and at a point near poperinghe we go over a casualty-clearing station--a collection of hospital huts, with storehouses and staff quarters--with the medical officer in charge. here were women nurses who are not allowed in the field dressing-stations nearer the line. there were not many wounded, though they were coming in, and the doctor was not for the moment very busy. we stood on the threshold of a large ward, where we could not, i think, be seen. at the farther end a serious case was being attended by nurses and surgeons. everything was passing in silence; and to me it was as if there came from the distant group a tragic message of suffering, possibly death. then, as we passed lingeringly away, we saw three young officers, all wounded, _running_ up from the ambulance at the gate, which had just brought them, and disappearing into one of the wards. the first--a splendid kilted figure--had his head bound up; the others were apparently wounded in the arm. but they seemed to walk on air, and to be quite unconscious that anything was wrong with them. it had been a success, a great success, and they had been in it! the ambulances were now arriving fast from the field dressing-stations close to the line, and we hurried away, and were soon driving through poperinghe. here and there there was a house wrecked with shell-fire. the little town indeed with its picturesque _place_ is constantly shelled. but, all the same, life seems to go on as usual. the poperinghe boy, like his london brother, hangs on the back of carts; his father and mother come to their door to watch what is going on, or to ask eagerly for news of the counter-attack; and his little brothers and sisters go tripping to school, in short cloaks with the hoods drawn over their heads, as though no war existed. here and in the country round, poor robbed belgium is still at home on her own soil, and on the best of terms with the english army, by which, indeed, this remnant of her prospers greatly. as i have already insisted, the relations everywhere between the british soldier and the french and belgian populations are among the british--or shall i say the allied?--triumphs of the war. farther on the road a company from a famous regiment, picked men all of them, comes swinging along, fresh from their baths!--life and force in every movement--young harrys with their beavers on. then, a house where men have their gas-helmets tested--a very strict and necessary business; and another, where an ex-balliol tutor and army chaplain keeps open doors for the soldier in his hours of rest or amusement. but we go in search of a safe road to a neighbouring village, where some fresh passes have to be got. each foot now of the way is crowded with the incidents and appurtenances of war, and war close at hand. an australian transport base is pointed out, with a wholly australian staff. "some of the men," says our guide, "are millionaires." close by is an aeroplane descending unexpectedly in a field, and a crowd of men rushing to help; and we turn away relieved to see the two aviators walking off unhurt. meanwhile, i notice a regular game of football going on at a distance, and some carefully written names of bypaths--"hyde park corner," "piccadilly," "queen mary's road," and the like. the animation, the life of the scene are indescribable. at the next village the road was crowded both with natives and soldiers to see the german prisoners brought in. alack! we did not see them. ambulances were passing and re-passing, the slightly wounded men in cars open at the back, the more serious cases in closed cars, and everywhere the same _va et vient_ of lorries and wagons, of staff-cars and motor-cyclists. it was not right for us to add to the congestion in the road. moreover, the hours were drawing on, and the great sight was still to come. but to have watched those prisoners come in would have somehow rounded off the day! iv our new passes took us to the top of a hill well known to the few onlookers of which this war admits. the motor stopped at a point on the road where a picket was stationed, who examined our papers. then came a stiff and muddy climb, past a dugout for protection in case of shelling, captain ---- carrying the three gas-helmets. at the top was a flat green space--three or four soldiers playing football on it!--and an old windmill, and farm-buildings. we sheltered behind the great beams supporting the windmill, and looked out through them, north and east, over a wide landscape; a plain bordered eastward by low hills, every mile of it, almost, watered by british blood, and consecrate to british dead. as we reached the windmill, as though in sombre greeting, the floating mists on the near horizon seemed to part, and there rose from them a dark, jagged tower, one side of it torn away. it was the tower of ypres--mute victim!--mute witness to a crime, that, beyond the reparations of our own day, history will avenge through years to come. a flash!--another!--from what appear to be the ruins at its base. it is the english guns speaking from the lines between us and ypres; and as we watch we see the columns of white smoke rising from the german lines as the shells burst. there they are, the german lines--along the messines ridge. we make them out quite clearly, thanks to a glass and captain ----'s guidance. their guns, too, are at work, and a couple of their shells are bursting on our trenches somewhere between vlamertinghe and dickebusche. then the rattle of our machine-guns--as it seems from somewhere close below us, and again the boom of the artillery. the counter-action is in progress, and we watch what can be seen or guessed of it, in fascination. we are too far off to see what is actually happening between the opposing trenches, but one of the chief fields of past and present battle, scenes which our children and our children's children will go to visit, lie spread out before us. half the famous sites of the earlier war can be dimly made out between us and ypres. in front of us is the gleam of the zillebeke lake, beyond it hooge. hill is in that band of shadow; a little farther east the point where the prussian guard was mown down at the close of the first battle of ypres; farther south the fields and woods made for ever famous by the charge of the household cavalry, by the deeds of the worcesters, and the london scottish, by all the splendid valour of that "thin red line," french and english, cavalry and infantry, which in the first battle of ypres withstood an enemy four times as strong, saved france, and thereby england, and thereby europe. in that tract of ground over which we are looking lie more than , graves, english and french; and to it the hearts of two great nations will turn for all time. then if you try to pierce the northern haze, beyond that ruined tower, you may follow in imagination the course of the yser westward to that belgian coast where admiral hood's guns broke down and scattered the german march upon dunkirk and calais; or if you turn south you are looking over the belfry of bailleul, towards neuve chapelle, and festubert, and all the fierce fighting-ground round souchez and the labyrinth. once english and french stood linked here in a common heroic defence. now the english hold all this line firmly from the sea to the somme; while the french, with the eyes of the world upon them, are making history, hour by hour, at verdun. so to this point we have followed one branch--the greatest--of england's effort; and the mind, when eyes fail, pursues it afresh from its beginnings when we first stood to arms in august, , through what mr. buchan has finely called the "rally of the empire," through the early rush and the rapid growth of the new armies, through the strengthening of egypt, the disaster of gallipoli, the seizure of the german colonies; through all that vast upheaval at home which we have seen in the munition areas; through that steady, and ever-growing organisation on the friendly french soil we have watched in the supply bases. yet here, for us, it culminates; and here and in the north sea, we can hardly doubt--whatever may be the diversions in other fields--will be fought, for great britain, the decisive battles of the war. as i turn to those dim lines on the messines ridge, i have come at last to sight of whither it all moves. there, in those trenches is _the aggressor_--the enemy who has wantonly broken the peace of europe, who has befouled civilisation with deeds of lust and blood, between whom and the allies there can be no peace till the allies' right arm dictates it. every week, every day, the british armies grow, the british troops pour steadily across the channel, and to the effort of england and her allies there will be no truce till the righteous end is won. but the shadows are coming down on the great scene, and with the sound of the guns still in our ears we speed back through the crowded roads to g.h.q., and these wonderful days are over. now, all that remains for me is to take you, far away from the armies, into the english homes whence the men fighting here are drawn, and to show you, if i can, very shortly, by a few instances, what rich and poor are doing as individuals to feed the effort of england in this war. what of the _young_, of all classes and opportunities, who have laid down their lives in this war? what of the mothers who reared them, the schools and universities which sent them forth?--the comrades who are making ready to carry on their work? you ask me as to the _spirit_ of the nation--the foundation of all else. let us look into a few lives, a few typical lives and families, and see. vi _april nd_. dear h. as i begin upon this final letter to you comes the news that the threatened split in the british cabinet owing to the proposed introduction of general military service has been averted, and that at a secret session to be held next tuesday, april th, ministers will, for the first time, lay before both houses of parliament full and complete information--much more full and complete at any rate, than has yet been given--of the "effort" of great britain in this world war, what this country is doing in sea-power, in the provision of armies, in the lending of money to our allies, in our own shipping service to them, and in our supply to them of munitions, coal, and other war material--including boots and clothing. if, then, our own british parliament will be for the first time fully apprised next tuesday of what the nation has been doing, it is, perhaps, small wonder that you on your side of the atlantic have not rightly understood the performance of a nation which has, collectively, the same love of "grousing" as the individual british soldier shows in the trenches. let me, however, go back and recapitulate a little. in the first of these letters, i tried, by a rapid "vision" of the fleet, as i personally saw an important section of it amid the snows of february, to point to the indispensable condition of this "effort," without which it could never have been made, without which it could not be maintained for a day, at the present moment. since that visit of mine, the power of the fleet and the effect of the fleet have strengthened week by week. the blockade of germany is far more effective than it was three months ago; the evidence of its growing stringency accumulates steadily, and at the same time the british foreign office has been anxiously trying, and evidently with much success, to minimise for neutrals its inevitable difficulties and inconveniences. meanwhile, as mr. asquith will explain next tuesday, the expenditure on the war, not only on our own needs but on those of our allies is colossal--terrifying. the most astonishing budget of english history, demanding a fourth of his income from every well-to-do citizen, has been brought in since i began to write these letters, and quietly accepted. five hundred millions sterling ($ , , , ) have been already lent to our allies. we are spending at the yearly rate of , , sterling ($ , , , ) on the army; , , on the navy as compared with , , in ; while the munitions department is costing about two-thirds as much ( , , sterling) as the rest of the army, and is employing close upon , , workers, one-tenth of them women. the export trade of the country, in spite of submarines and lack of tonnage, is at the moment greater than it was in the corresponding months of . as to what we have got for our money, parliament has authorised an army of , , men, and it is on the question of the last half million that england's effort now turns. mr. asquith will explain everything that has been done, and everything that still remains to do, _in camera_ to parliament next tuesday. but do not, my dear friend, make any mistake _england will get the men she wants_; and labour will be in the end just as determined to get them as any other section of the community. meanwhile, abroad, while we seem, for the moment, in france to be inactive, we are in reality giving the french at verdun just that support which they and general joffre desire, and--it can scarcely be doubted--preparing great things on our own account. in spite of our failure in gallipoli, and the anxious position of general townshend's force, egypt is no longer in danger of attack, if it ever has been; our sea-power has brought a russian force safely to marseilles; and the possibilities of british and russian collaboration in the east are rapidly opening out. as to the great and complex war-machine we have been steadily building up on french soil, as i tried to show in my fourth letter, whether in the supply bases, or in the war organisation along the ninety miles of front now held by the british armies, it would indeed astonish those dead heroes of the retreat from mons--could they comes back to see it! we are not satisfied with it yet--hence the unrest in parliament and the press--we shall never be satisfied--till germany has accepted the terms of the allies. but those who know england best have no doubt whatever as to the temper of the nation which has so far "improvised the impossible," in the setting up of this machine, and means, in the end, _to get out of it what it wants_. the temper of the nation? in this last letter let me take some samples of it. first--what have the rich been doing? as to money, the figures of the income-tax, the death-duties, and the various war loans are there to show what they have contributed to the state. the joint war committee of the red cross and the st. john's ambulance association have collected--though not, of course, from the rich only--close on , , sterling (between $ , , and $ , , ), and the prince of wales fund nearly , , ($ , , ). the lavishness of english giving, indeed, in all directions during the last two years, could hardly i think have been outdone. a few weeks ago i walked with the duke of bedford through the training and reinforcement camp, about fifteen miles from my own home in the country, which he himself commands and which, at the outbreak of war, he himself built without waiting for public money or war office contractors, to house and train recruits for the various bedfordshire regiments. the camp holds , men, and is ranged in a park where the oaks--still standing--were considered too old by oliver cromwell's commissioners to furnish timber for the english navy. besides ample barrack accommodation in comfortable huts, planned so as to satisfy every demand whether of health or convenience, all the opportunities that aldershot offers, on a large scale, are here provided in miniature. the model trenches with the latest improvements in plan, revetting, gun-emplacements, sally-ports, and the rest, spread through the sandy soil; the musketry ranges, bombing and bayonet schools are of the most recent and efficient type. and the duke takes a keen personal interest in every man in training, follows his progress in camp, sees him off to the front, and very often receives him, when wounded, in the perfectly equipped hospital which the duchess has established in woburn abbey itself. here the old riding-school, tennis-court, and museum, which form a large building fronting the abbey, have been turned into wards as attractive as bright and simple colour, space, flowers, and exquisite cleanliness can make them. the duchess is herself the matron in charge, under the war office, keeps all the records, is up at half past five in the morning, and spends her day in the endless doing, thinking, and contriving that such a hospital needs. not very far away stands another beautiful country house, rented by mr. and mrs. whitelaw reid when they were in england. it also is a hospital, but its owner, lord lucas, not a rich man, has now given it irrevocably to the nation for the use of disabled soldiers, together with as much land as may suffice a farm colony chosen from among them. the beautiful hospital of beds at paignton, in north devon, run entirely by women of american birth now resident in great britain, without any financial aid from the british government, was another large country house given to the service of the wounded by mr. singer. lady sheffield's hospital for beds at alderley park is an example of how part of a country house with all its green and restful surroundings may be used for those who have suffered in the war, and it has many fellows in all parts of england. altogether about country houses, large and small, have been offered to the war office. but money and houses are the very least part of what the old families, the rich manufacturers, or the educated class generally have offered to their country in this war. democracy has gone far with us, but it may still be said that the young heir to a great name, to estates with which his family has been connected for generations, and to the accumulated "consideration" to use a french word in a french sense, which such a position almost always carries with it--has a golden time in english life. difficulties that check others fall away from him; he is smiled upon for his kindred's sake before he makes friends for his own; the world is overkind to his virtues and blind to his faults; he enters manhood indeed as "one of our conquerors"; and it will cost him some trouble to throw away his advantages. before the war such a youth was the common butt of the socialist orator. he was the typical "shirker" and "loafer," while other men worked; the parasite bred from the sweat of the poor; the soft, effeminate creature who had never faced the facts of life and never would. as to his soldiering--the common profession of so many of his kind--that was only another offence in the eyes of politicians like mr. keir hardie. when the class war came, he would naturally he found shooting down the workmen; but for any other war, an ignorant popinjay!--incompetent even at his own trade, and no match whatever for the scientific soldier of the continent. those who knew anything of the army were well aware long before that this type of officer--if he still existed, as no doubt he had once existed--had become extraordinarily rare; that since the boer war, the level of education in the army, the standard of work demanded, the quality of the relations between officers and men had all steadily advanced. and with regard to the young men of the "classes" in general, those who had to do with them, at school and college, while fully alive to their weaknesses, yet cherished convictions which were more instinct than anything else, as to what stuff these easy-going, sport-loving fellows might prove to be made of in case of emergency. well, the emergency came. these youths of the classes, heirs to titles and estates, or just younger sons of the old squirearchy of england, so far as it still survives, went out in their hundreds, with the old and famous regiments of the british line in the expeditionary force, and perished in their hundreds. forty-seven eldest sons, heirs to english peerages had fallen within a year of the outbreak of war--among them the heirs to such famous houses as longleat, petworth, and castle ashby--and the names of grenfell, hood, stuart, bruce, lister, douglas pennant, worsley, hay, st. aubyn, carington, annesley, hicks beach--together with men whose fathers have played prominent parts in the politics or finance of the last half century. and the first ranks have been followed by what one might almost call a _levée en masse_ of those that remained. their blood has been spilt like water at ypres and la bassée, at suvla and helles. whatever may be said henceforward of these "golden lads" of ours, "shirker" and "loafer" they can never he called again. they have died too lavishly, their men have loved and trusted them too well for that--and some of the working-class leaders, with the natural generosity of english hearts, have confessed it abundantly. and the professional classes--the intellectuals--everywhere the leading force of the nation--have done just as finely, and of course in far greater numbers. never shall i forget my visit to oxford last may--in the height of the summer term, just at that moment when oxford normally is at its loveliest and fullest, brimming over with young life, the streets crowded with caps and gowns, the river and towing-path alive with the "flannelled fools," who have indeed flung back rudyard kipling's gibe--if it ever applied to them--with interest. for they had all disappeared. they were in the trenches, landing at suvla, garrisoning egypt, pushing up to baghdad. the colleges contained a few forlorn remnants--under age, or medically unfit. the river, on a glorious may day, showed boats indeed, but girls were rowing them. oriel, the college of arnold, of newman, of cecil rhodes, was filled with women students, whose own college, somerville, had become a hospital. the examination schools in the high street were a hospital, and the smell of disinfectants displaced the fragrance of lilac and hawthorn for ever associated in the minds of oxford's lovers with the summer term. in new college gardens, there were white tents full of wounded. i walked up and down that wide, deserted lawn of st. john's, where charles i once gathered his cavaliers, with an old friend, an oxford tutor of forty years' standing, who said with a despairing gesture, speaking of his pupils: "so many are gone--so _many_!--and the terrible thing is that i can't feel it as i once did--as blow follows blow one seems to have lost the power." let me evoke the memory of some of them. from balliol have gone the two grenfell brothers, vehement, powerful souls, by the testimony of those who knew them best, not delightful to those who did not love them, not just, often, to those they did not love, but full of that rich stuff which life matures to all fine uses. the younger fell in the attack on hooge, july st, last year; the elder, julian, had fallen some months earlier. julian's verses, composed the night before he was wounded, will be remembered with rupert brooke's sonnets, as expressing the inmost passion of the war in great hearts. they were written in the spring weather of april, , and a month later the writer had died of his wounds. with an exquisite felicity and strength the lines run, expressing the strange and tragic joy of the "fighting man" in the spring, which may be his last--in the night heavens--in the woodland trees: "the woodland trees that stand together they stand to him each one a friend; they gently speak in the windy weather; they guide to valley and ridge's end. "the kestrel hovering by day and the little owls that call by night, bid him be swift and keen as they as keen of ear, as swift of sight. "the blackbird sings to him, 'brother, brother, if this be the last song you shall sing, sing well, for you may not sing another brother, sing.' "in dreary, doubtful waiting hours, before the brazen frenzy starts, the horses show him nobler powers;-- o patient eyes, courageous hearts! "and when the burning moment breaks, and all things else are out of mind and only joy of battle takes him by the throat and makes him blind "through joy and blindness he shall know not caring much to know, that still nor lead nor steel shall reach him, so that it be not the destined will. "the thundering line of battle stands, and in the air death moans and sings; but day shall clasp him with strong hands, and night shall fold him in soft wings." a young man of another type, inheriting from the cecils on the one side, and from his grandfather, the first lord selborne, on the other, the best traditions of english conservatism and english churchmanship--open-eyed, patriotic, devout--has been lost to the nation in robert a.s. palmer, the second son of lord and lady selborne, affectionately known to an ardent circle of friends whose hopes were set on him, as "bobbie palmer." he has fallen in the mesopotamian campaign; and of him, as of william henry gladstone, the grandson and heir of england's great liberal minister, who fell in flanders a year ago, it may be said, as his oxford contemporaries said of sir philip sidney, honour and fame are got about their graves, and there sit mourning of each other's loss. in one of his latest letters, quoted by a friend in a short biography, robert palmer wrote:--"who isn't weary to death of the war? i certainly have been, for over a year; yes, and sorrowful almost unto death over it, at times, as you doubtless have too. but of one thing i am and always have been sure, that it is worth the cost and any cost there is to come, to prevent prussianism--which is anti-christ--controlling europe." the following eloquent passage written by an oxford fellow and tutor, in a series of short papers on the losses sustained by oxford in the war, is understood to refer to mr. palmer:-- "to-night the bell tolls in the brain (_haud rediturus_) over one of the noblest--if it be not a treason to discriminate--of all the dead one has known who have died for england. graciousness was in all his doings and in all the workings of his mind. the music and gymnastic whereof plato wrote, that should attune the body to harmony with the mind, and harmonise all the elements of the mind in a perfect unison, had done their work upon him. he seemed--at any rate, to the eyes of those who loved him, and they were many--to have the perfection of nature's endowment: beauty of mind knit to beauty of body, and all informed by a living spirit of affection, so that his presence was a benediction, and a matter for thanksgiving that god had made men after this manner. so to speak of him is perhaps to idealise him; but one can only idealise that which suggests the ideal, and at the least he had a more perfect participation in the ideal than falls to the general lot of humanity." such he was: and now he too is dead. from the work to which he had gone, thousands of miles away (a work of service, and of his master's service), he had hastened back to england, and for england he has died. his tutor had once written in his copy of the vulgate: "_esto vir fortis, et pugnemus pro populo nostro et pro civitate dei nostri_." he was strong; and he fought for both. another oxford man, gilbert talbot, a youngest son of the much-loved bishop of winchester, will perhaps stand for many, in coming years, as the pre-eminent type of first youth, youth with all its treasure of life and promise unspent, poured out like spikenard in this war at the feet of england. already assured at oxford of a brilliant career in politics, a fine speaker, a hard worker, possessing by inheritance the charm of two families, always in the public eye and ear, and no less popular than famous, he had just landed in the united states when the war broke out. he was going round the world with a friend, youth and ambition high within him. he turned back without a moment's hesitation, though soldiering had never been at all attractive to him, and after his training went out to france. he was killed in flanders in july last. let me give the story of his identification after death on the battle-field, by his elder brother, neville, army chaplain, and ex-balliol tutor, as canon scott holland gave it in the _commonwealth_:-- "the attack had failed. there was never any hope of its succeeding, for the machine-guns of the germans were still in full play, with their fire unimpaired. the body had to lie there where it had fallen. only, his brother could not endure to let it lie unhonoured or unblessed. after a day and a half of anxious searching for exact details, he got to the nearest trench by the 'murdered' wood, which the shells had now smashed to pieces. there he found some shattered somersets, who begged him to go no farther. but he heard a voice within him bidding him risk it, and the call of the blood drove him on. creeping out of the far end of the trench, as dusk fell, he crawled through the grass on hands and knees, in spite of shells and snipers, dropping flat on the ground as the flares shot up from the german trenches. and, at last, thirty yards away in the open ... he knew that he was close on what he sought. two yards farther, he found it. he could stroke with his hand the fair young head that he knew so well; he could feel for pocket-book and prayer-book, and the badge and the whistle. he could breathe a prayer of benediction ... and then crawl back on his perilous way in the night, having done all that man could do for the brother whom he had loved so fondly; and enabled, now, to tell those at home that gilbert was dead indeed, but that he had died the death that a soldier would love to die, leaving his body the nearest of all who fell, to the trench that he had been told to take." again, of charles alfred lister, lord ribblesdale's eldest son, an oxford friend says: "there were almost infinite possibilities in his future." he was twice wounded at the dardanelles, was then offered a post of importance in the foreign office, refused it, and went back to the front--to die. but among the hundreds of memorial notices issued by the oxford colleges, the same note recurs and recurs, of unhesitating, uncalculated sacrifice. older men, and younger men, don, and under-graduate, lads of nineteen and twenty, and those who were already school-mastering, or practising at the bar, or in business, they felt no doubts, they made no delays. their country called, and none failed in that great _adsum_. cambridge of course has the same story to tell. one takes the short, pathetic biographies almost at random from the ever-lengthening record, contributed by the colleges. captain j. lusk, th cameronians, was already director of an important steel works, engaged in government business when war broke out, and might have honourably claimed exemption. instead he offered himself at once on mobilisation, and went out with his battalion to france last spring. on the th of june, at festubert, he was killed in volunteering to bring what was left of a frightfully battered battalion out of action. "what seems to me my duty as an officer," he once wrote to a friend, "is to carry my sword across the barriers of death clean and bright." "this," says the friend who writes the notice, "he has done." lieutenant le blanc smith, of trinity, machine-gun officer, was struck in the forehead by a sniper's bullet while reconnoitring. his general and brother officers write: _he was a very fine young officer.... every one loved him.... his men would do anything for him...._ and the sergeant of his machine-gun brigade says: _although only a non-commissioned officer myself, i feel i have lost my brother, because he was so awfully good and kind to me and us all_. lieutenant hamilton, aged twenty-five, says in a last letter to his father: _just a line while the beginning of the great battle is going on. it is wonderful how peaceful one feels amid it all. any moment one may be put out of action, but one does not worry. that quiet time alone with god at the holy communion was most comforting_. immediately after writing these words, the writer fell in action. captain clarke, a famous cambridge athlete, president of the c.u.a.c., bled to death--according to one account--from a frightful wound received in the advance near hooge on september th. his last recorded act--the traditional act of the dying soldier!--was to give a drink from his flask to a wounded private. of the general action of cambridge men, the master of christ's writes: "nothing has been more splendid than the way the young fellows have come forward; not only the athletes and the healthy, but in all cases the most unlikely men have rushed to the front, and have done brilliantly. the mortality, however, has been appalling. in an ordinary way one loses one killed to eight or nine wounded; but in this war the number of cambridge men killed and missing practically equals the number of wounded." of the effect upon the university an eye-witness says: "eighty per cent of the college rooms are vacant. rows and rows of houses in cambridge are to let. all the junior fellows are on service in one capacity or another, and a great many of the seniors are working in government offices or taking school posts"--so that the school education of the country may be carried on. altogether, nearly , cambridge men are serving; have been wounded; have been killed; are missing. as to one's friends and kinsfolk, let me recall the two gallant grandsons of my dear old friend and publisher, george murray smith, the original publisher of _jane eyre_, friend of charlotte brontë, and creator of the _dictionary of national biography_. the elder one, who had just married before going out, fought all through the retreat from mons, and fell in one of the early actions on the flanders front. "he led us all the way," said one of his men afterwards. all the way!--all through the immortal rear-guard actions of august--only to fall, when the tide had turned, and the german onslaught on paris had been finally broken! "in all my soldiering," writes a brother officer, "i have never seen a warmer feeling between men and their officer." "was he not," asks a well-known eton master, "that tall, smiling, strong, gentle-mannered boy at white-thomson's?"--possessing an "affectionate regard and feeling for others which boys as boys, especially if strong and popular, don't always, or indeed often possess." the poor parents were uncertain as to his fate for many weeks, but he finally died of his wounds in a hospital behind the german lines. then, little more than six months later came the second blow. geoffrey, the younger brother, aged nineteen, fell on september th, near vermelles. nothing could be more touching than the letters from officers and men about this brave, sweet-tempered boy. "poor old regiment!" writes the colonel to the lad's father--"we were badly knocked about, and i brought out only officers and men, but they did magnificently, and it was thanks to officers like your son, who put the honour of the regiment before all thought of fatigue or personal danger. such a gallant lad! we all loved him." a private, the boy's soldier-servant, who fought with him, writes: "i wish you could have seen him in that trench.... all the men say that he deserved the v.c.... i don't know if we are going back to those trenches any more, but if we do, i am going to try and lay mr. geoffrey to rest in some quiet place.... i cannot bear to think that i shall not be able to be with him any more." but how they crowd upon the mind--the "unreturning brave"! take our friends and neighbours in this quiet hertfordshire country. all round us the blows have fallen--again and again the only son--sometimes two brothers out of three--the most brilliant--the best beloved. and i see still the retreating figure of a dear nephew of my own, as he vanished under the trees waving his hand to us in march last. a boy made of england's best--who after two years in canada, and at the beginning of what must have been a remarkable career, heard the call of the mother country, and rushed home at once. he was transferred to an english regiment, and came to say good-bye to us in march. it was impossible to think of christopher's coming to harm--such life and force, such wisdom and character also, in his strong, handsome face and thoughtful eyes! we talked of the future of canada--not much of the war. then he vanished, and i could not feel afraid. but one night in may, near bailleul, he went out with a listening party between the trenches, was shot through both legs by a sniper, and otherwise injured--carried back to hospital, and after a few hours' vain hope, sank peacefully into eternity, knowing only that he had done his duty and fearing nothing. "romance and melodrama," says professor gilbert murray, in one of the noblest and most moving utterances of the war, "were once a memory--broken fragments living on of heroic ages in the past. we live no longer upon fragments and memories, we have entered ourselves upon an heroic age.... as for me personally, there is one thought that is always with me--the thought that other men are dying for me, better men, younger, with more hope in their lives, many of them men whom i have taught and loved." the orthodox christian "will be familiar with that thought of one who loved you dying for you. i would like to say that now i seem to be familiar with the thought that something innocent, something great, something that loved me, is dying, and is dying daily for me. that is the sort of community we now are--a community in which one man dies for his brother; and underneath all our hatreds, our little anger and quarrels, we _are_ brothers, who are ready to seal our brotherhood with blood. it is for us these men are dying--for the women, the old men, and the rejected men--and to preserve civilisation and the common life which we are keeping alive, or building." so much for the richer and the educated class. as to the rank and file, the tommies who are fighting and dying for england in precisely the same spirit as those who have had ten times their opportunities in this unequal world, i have seen them myself within a mile of the trenches, marching quietly up through the fall of the march evening to take their places in that line, where, every night, however slack the fighting, a minimum of so many casualties per mile, so many hideous or fatal injuries by bomb or shell fire, is practically invariable. not the conscript soldiers of a military nation, to whom the thought of fighting has been perforce familiar from childhood! men, rather, who had never envisaged fighting, to whom it is all new, who at bottom, however firm their will, or wonderful their courage, hate war, and think it a loathsome business. "i do not find it easy," writes a chaplain at the front who knows his men and has shared all the dangers of their life--"to give incidents and sayings. i could speak of the courage of the wounded brought in after battle. how many times has one heard them telling the doctor to attend to others before themselves! i could tell you of a very shy and nervous boy who, after an attack, dug, himself alone, with his intrenching tool, a little trench, under continuous fire, up which trench he afterwards crept backwards and forwards carrying ammunition to an advanced post; or of another who sat beside a wounded comrade for several hours under snipers' fire, and somehow built him a slight protection until night fell and rescue came. such incidents are merely specimens of thousands which are never known. indeed it is the heroism of _all_ the men _all_ the time which has left the most lasting impression on my mind after thirteen months at the war. no one can conceive the strain which the daily routine of trench life entails, unless one has been among the men. they never show the slightest sign of unwillingness, and they do what they are told when and where they are told without questioning; no matter what the conditions or dangers, they come up smiling and cheery through it all--full of 'grouse,' perhaps, but that is the soldier's privilege!... it is, i think, what we all are feeling and are so proud of--this unbreakable spirit of self-sacrifice in the daily routine of trench warfare. we are proud of it because it is the highest of all forms of self-sacrifice, for it is not the act of a moment when the blood is up or the excitement of battle is at fever heat; but it is demanded of the soldier, day in and day out, and shown by him coolly and deliberately, day in and day out, with death always at hand. we are proud of it, too, because it is so surely a sign of the magnificent _'moral'_ of our troops--and _moral_ is going to play a very leading part as the war proceeds.... what is inspiring this splendid disregard of self is partly the certainty that the cause is right; partly, it is a hidden joy of conscience which makes them know that they would be unhappy if they were not doing their bit--and partly (i am convinced of this, too,) it is a deepening faith in the founder of their faith whom so many appreciate and value as never before, because they realise that even he has not shirked that very mill of suffering through which they are now passing themselves." a few days ago, i accompanied a woman official distributing some leaflets on behalf of a government department, in some visits to families living in a block of model dwellings somewhere in south london. we called on nine families. in every single case the man of the family had gone, or was expecting to go, to the war; except in one case, where a man who, out of pure patriotism and at great personal difficulty had joined the volunteer reserve at the outbreak of war, had strained his heart in trench-digging and was now medically unfit, to his own bitter disappointment. there was some grumbling in the case of one young wife that her husband should be forced to go before the single men whom she knew; but in the main the temper that showed itself bore witness both to the feeling and the intelligence that our people are bringing to bear on the war. one woman said her husband was a sergeant in a well-known regiment. he thought the world of his men, and whenever one was killed, he must be at the burying. "he can't bear, you know"--she added shyly--"they should feel alone." she had three brothers-in-law "out"--one recently killed. one was an ambulance driver under the r.a.m.c. he had five small children, but had volunteered. "he doesn't say much about the war, except that 'tommies are wonderful. they never complain.'" she notices a change in his character. he was always good to his wife and children--"but now he's splendid!" the brother of another woman had been a jockey in belgium, had liked the country and the people. when war broke out he "felt he must fight for them." he came home at once and enlisted. another brother had been a stoker on a war-ship at the dardanelles, and was in the famous landing of april . bullets "thick and fast like hailstorm. terrible times collecting the dead! her brother had worked hard forming burial parties. was now probably going to the tigris. wrote jolly letters!" then there was the little woman born and bred in the army, with all the pride of the army--a familiar type. husband a sergeant in the guards--was gymnastic instructor at a northern town--and need not have gone to the war, but felt "as a professional soldier" he ought to go. three brothers in the army--one a little drummer-boy of sixteen, badly wounded in the retreat from mons. her sailor brother had died--probably from exposure, in the north sea. the most cheerful, plucky little creature! "we are army people, and must expect to fight." well--you say you "would like america to visualise the effort, the self-sacrifice of the english men and women who are determined to see this war through." there was, i thought, a surprising amount of cheerful effort, of _understanding_ self-sacrifice in those nine homes, where my companion's friendly talk drew out the family facts without difficulty. and i am convinced that if i had spent days instead of hours in following her through the remaining tenements in these huge and populous blocks the result would have been practically the same. _the nation is behind the war, and behind the government_--solidly determined to win this war, and build a new world after it. as to the work of our women, i have described something of it in the munitions area, and if this letter were not already too long, i should like to dwell on much else--the army of maidens, who, as v.a.d.'s (members of voluntary aid detachments), trained by the red cross, have come trooping from england's most luxurious or comfortable homes, and are doing invaluable work in hundreds of hospitals; to begin with, the most menial scrubbing and dish-washing, and by now the more ambitious and honourable--but not more indispensable--tasks of nursing itself. in this second year of the war, the first army of v.a.d.'s, now promoted, has everywhere been succeeded by a fresh levy, aglow with the same eagerness and the same devotion as the first. or i could dwell on the women's hospitals--especially the remarkable hospital in endell street, entirely officered by women; where some hundreds of male patients accept the surgical and medical care of women doctors, and adapt themselves to the light and easy discipline maintained by the women of the staff, with entire confidence and grateful good-will. to see a woman dentist at work on a soldier's mouth, and a woman quartermaster presiding over her stores, and managing, besides, everything pertaining to the lighting, heating, and draining of the hospital, is one more sign of these changed and changing times. the work done by the scottish women's hospital in serbia will rank as one of the noblest among the minor episodes of the war. the magnificent work of british nurses, everywhere, i have already spoken of. and everywhere, too, among the camps in england and abroad, behind the fighting lines, or at the great railway-stations here or in france, through which the troops pass backwards and forwards, hundreds of women have been doing ardent yet disciplined service--giving long hours in crowded canteens or y.m.c.a. huts to just those small kindly offices, which bring home to the british soldier, more effectively than many things more ambitious, what the british nation feels towards him. the war has put an end, so far as the richer class is concerned, to the busy idleness and all the costly make-believes of peace. no one gives "dinner-parties" in the old sense any more; the very word "reception" is dying out. the high wages that munition-work has brought to the women of the working class, show themselves, no doubt, in some foolish dressing. "you should see the hats round here on a saturday!" said the manager of a midland factory. but i am bound to say he spoke of it proudly. the hats were for him a testimony to the wages paid by his firm; and he would probably have argued, on the girls' part, that after the long hours and hard work of the week, the hats were a perfectly legitimate "fling," and human nature must out. certainly the children of the workers are better fed and better clothed, which speaks so far well for the mothers; and recent government inquiries seem to show that in spite of universal employment, and high wages, the drunkenness of the united kingdom as a whole is markedly less, while at the same time--uncomfortable paradox!--the amount of alcohol consumed is greater. one hears stories of extravagance among those who have been making "war-profits," but they are less common this year than last; and as to my own experience, all my friends are wearing their old clothes, and the west end dressmakers, poor things, in view of a large section of the public which regards it as a crime "to buy anything new" are either shutting down till better days, or doing a greatly restricted business. taxation has grown much heavier, and will be more and more severely felt. yet very few grumble, and there is a general and determined cutting down of the trappings and appendages of life, which is to the good of us all. undoubtedly, there is a very warm and wide-spread feeling among us that in this war the women of the nation have done uncommonly well! you will remember a similar stir of grateful recognition in america after your war of secession, connected with the part played in the nursing and sanitation of the war by the women of the northern states. the feeling here may well have an important social and political influence when the war is over; especially among the middle and upper classes. it may be counter-balanced to some extent in the industrial class, by the disturbance and anxiety caused in many trades, but especially in the engineering trades, by that great invasion of women i have tried to describe. but that the war will leave _some_ deep mark on that long evolution of the share of women in our public life, which began in the teeming middle years of the last century, is, i think, certain. _may nd._--so i come to the end of the task you set me!--with what gaps and omissions to look back upon, no one knows so well as myself. this letter starts on its way to you at a critical moment for your great country, when the issue between the united states and germany is still unsettled. what will happen? will germany give way? if not, what sort of relations will shape themselves, and how quickly, between the central empires and america? to express myself on this great matter is no part of my task; although no english man or woman but will watch its development with a deep and passionate interest. what may be best for you, we cannot tell; the military and political bearings of a breach between the united states and germany on our own fortunes are by no means clear to us. but what we _do_ want, in any case, is the sympathy, the moral support and co-operation of your people. we have to thank you for a thousand generosities to our wounded; we bless you--as comrades with you in that old christendom which even this war shall not destroy--for what you have done in belgium--but we want you to understand the heart of england in this war, and not to be led away by the superficial difficulties and disputes that no great and free nation escapes in time of crisis. sympathy with france--france, the invaded, the heroic--is easy for america--for us all. she is the great tragic figure of the war--the whole world does her homage. we are not invaded--and so less tragic, less appealing. but we are fighting the fight which is the fight of all freemen everywhere--against the wantonness of military power, against the spirit that tears up treaties and makes peaceful agreement between nations impossible--against a cruelty and barbarism in war which brings our civilisation to shame. we have a right to your sympathy--you who are the heirs of washington and lincoln, the trustees of liberty in the new world as we, with france, are in the old. you are concerned--you must be concerned--in the triumph of the ideals of ordered freedom and humane justice over the ideals of unbridled force and ruthless cruelty, as they have been revealed in this war, to the horror of mankind. the nation that can never, to all time, wash from its hands the guilt of the belgium crime, the blood of the _lusitania_ victims, of the massacres of louvain and dinant, of aerschot and termonde, may some day deserve our pity. to-day it has to be met and conquered by a will stronger than its own, in the interests of civilisation itself. this last week, at the close of which i am despatching this final letter, has been a sombre week for england. it has seen the squalid irish rising, with its seven days' orgy of fire and bloodshed in dublin; it has seen the surrender at kut of general townshend and his starving men; it has seen also a strong demonstration in parliament of discontent with certain phases of the conduct of the war. and yet, how shall i convey to you the paradox that we in england--our soldiers at the front, and instructed opinion at home--have never been so certain of ultimate victory as we now are? it is the big facts that matter: the steady growth of british resources, in men and munitions, toward a maximum which we--and russia--are only approaching, while that of the central empires is past; the deepening unity of an empire which is being forged anew by danger and trial, and by the spirit of its sons all over the world--a unity against which the irish outrage, paid for by german money, disavowed by all that is truly ireland, unionist or nationalist, and instantly effaced, as a mere demonstration, by the gallantry at the same moment of irish soldiers in the battle-line--lifts its treacherous hand in vain; the increasing and terrible pressure of the british blockade of germany, equivalent, as some one has lately said, every twenty-four hours that it is maintained, to a successful action in the field; the magnificent resistance of an indomitable france; the mounting strength of a reorganised russia. this island-state--let me repeat it with emphasis--was not prepared for, and had no expectation of a continental war, such as we are now fighting. the fact cries aloud from the records of the struggle; it will command the ear of history; and it acquits us for ever from the guilt of the vast catastrophe. but great britain has no choice now but to fight to the end--and win. she knows it, and those who disparage her are living in a blind world. as to the difficulty of the task--as to our own failures and mistakes in learning how to achieve it--we have probably fewer illusions than those who criticise us. _but we shall do it--or perish_. * * * * * _may th._--since the preceding lines were written, the "military service bill" bringing to the colours "every british male subject" between the ages of and , except when legally exempted, has passed the house of commons by an overwhelming majority, and will be law immediately. and the prime minister informed parliament three days ago, that "the total naval and military effort of the empire since the beginning of the war exceeds five million men." with these two facts, these letters may fitly close. those who know england best, her history, and the temperament of her people, will best appreciate what they mean. vii an epilogue _august , ._ i it is now three months since i finished the six preceding letters, written in response to an urgent call from america; nor did i then anticipate any renewal of my work. but while a french translation of the six letters has been passing through the press, an appeal has been made to me from france to add an epilogue, or supplementary letter, briefly recapitulating the outstanding facts or events which in those three months have marked the british share in the war, and played their part in the immense transformation of the general outlook which has taken place during those months. not an easy task! one thinks first of one's own inadequacy; and then remembers, as before, that one is a unit in a nation under orders. i must therefore do what i can. and perhaps other readers, also, of this little book, in america and england, as they look back over the ever-changing scene of the war, will not find this renewed attempt to summarise britain's part in it as it has developed up to the present date (august , ) unwelcome. the outstanding facts of the last three months, as i see them, are, for great britain:-- . the immense increase in the output of british munitions of war; . the naval battle of jutland; . the allied offensive on the somme. the first and third of these events are, of course, so far as the latter concerns great britain, the natural and logical outcome of that "england's effort" of which i tried--how imperfectly!--to give a connected account three months ago. at that time the ever-mounting british effort, though it had reached colossal dimensions, though everybody aware of it was full of a steadily growing confidence as to its final result, had still to be tested by those greater actions to which it was meant to lead. after the local failures at the dardanelles, and in mesopotamia, great britain was again, for a time, everywhere on the defensive, though it was a very vigorous and active defensive; and the magnificent stand made by the french at verdun was not only covering france herself with glory, and kindling the hearts of all who love her throughout the world, but under its shield the new armies of great britain were still being steadily perfected, and wonderfully armed; time was being given to russia for reorganisation and re-equipment, and time was all she wanted; while germany, vainly dashing her strength in men and guns against the heights of verdun, in the hope of provoking her enemies on the western front to a premature offensive, doomed to exhaustion before it had achieved its end, was met by the iron resolve of both the french and british governments, advised by the french and british commanders in the field, to begin that offensive only at their own time and place, when the initiative was theirs, and everything was ready. but the scene has greatly altered. let me take munitions first. in february, it will be remembered by those who have read the preceding letters, i was a visitor, by the kindness of the ministry of munitions, then in mr. lloyd george's hands, to a portion of the munitions field--in the midlands, on the tyne, and on the clyde. at that moment, great britain, as far as armament was concerned, was in the mid-stream of a gigantic movement which had begun in the summer of , set going by the kindling energy of mr. lloyd george, and seconded by the roused strength of a nation which was not the industrial pioneer of the whole modern world for nothing, however keenly others, during the last half-century, have pressed upon--or in some regions passed--her. everywhere i found new workshops already filled with workers, a large proportion of them women, already turning out a mass of shell which would have seemed incredible to soldiers and civilians alike during the first months of the war; while the tale of howitzers, trench-mortars, machine-guns, and the rest, was running up week by week, in the vast extensions already added to the other works. but everywhere, too, i saw huge, empty workshops, waiting for their machines, or just setting them up; and everywhere the air was full of rumours of the new industrial forces--above all, of the armies of women--that were to be brought to bear. new towns were being built for them; their workplaces and their tools were being got ready for them, as in that vast filling factory--or rather town--on the clyde which i described in my third letter. but in many quarters they were not yet there; only one heard, as it were, the tramp of their advancing feet. but to-day! those great empty workshops that i saw in february, in the making, or the furnishing, are now full of workers and machines; and thousands like them all over the country. last night (aug. ), the new minister of munitions, mr. montagu, who, a few weeks ago, succeeded mr. lloyd george, now minister for war, rendered an account of his department up to date, which amazed even the house of commons, and will surely stir the minds of men throughout the british empire with a just and reasonable pride. the "effete" and "degenerate" nation has roused herself indeed! here is the bare résumé of the minister's statement:-- _ammunition._--the british output of ammunition at the beginning of the war was intended for an army of , men. naturally, the output rose steadily throughout the first year of war. _but_--the same output which in - took months to produce could now be produced-- as to -pounder ammunition, in weeks " field howitzer " in weeks " medium gun and howitzer ammunition, in days " heavy shell, in days we are sending over to france _every week as_ much as the whole pre-war stock of land service ammunition in the country. as to _guns_, i would ask my readers to turn back to the second and third chapters in this little book, which show something of the human side and the daily detail of this great business, and then to look at this summary:-- _every month, now_, we are turning out nearly twice as many big guns as were in existence for land service--i.e., not naval guns--when the ministry of munitions came into being (june, ). between june, , and june, , the monthly output of _heavy guns_ has increased _ -fold_--and the present output will soon be doubled. for every _eighteen-pounders_ turned out in the first months of the war, we are now turning out . we are producing times as many _machine-guns_. of _rifles_--the most difficult of all war material to produce quickly in large quantities--our weekly home production is now times as great as it was a year ago. we are supplying our army overseas with rifles and machine-guns entirely from home sources. of _small-arms ammunition_ our output is times as great as a year ago. we are producing times as much _high explosive_ as at the beginning of ; and our output of _bombs_ is times as great as it was last year. at the same time, what is great britain doing _for her allies_? the loss of her northern provinces, absorbed by the german invasion, has deprived france of three-quarters of her steel. we are now sending to france _one-third of the whole british production of shell-steel_. we are also supplying the allies with the _constituents of high explosive_ in very large quantities, prepared by our national factories. we are sending to the allies _millions of tons of coal and coke every month_, large quantities of machinery, and per cent. of our whole production of machine tools (indispensable to shell manufacture). we are supplying russia with millions of pairs of army boots. and in the matter of ammunition, we have not only enormously increased the quantity produced--we have greatly improved its quality. the testimony of the french experts--themselves masters in these arts of death--as conveyed through m. thomas, is emphatic. the new british heavy guns are "admirably made"--"most accurate"--"most efficient." meanwhile a whole series of chemical problems with regard to high explosives have been undertaken and solved by lord moulton's department. if it was ever true that science was neglected by the war office, it is certainly true no longer; and the soldiers at the front, who have to make practical use of what our scientific chemists and our explosive factories at home are producing, are entirely satisfied. for that, as mr. montagu points out, is the sole and supreme test. how has the vast activity of the new ministry of munitions--an activity which the nation owes--let me repeat it--to the initiative, the compelling energy, of mr. lloyd george--affected our armies in the field? the final answer to that question is not yet. the somme offensive is still hammering at the german gates; i shall presently give an outline of its course from its opening on july st down to the present. but meanwhile what can be said is this. the expenditure of ammunition which enabled us to sweep through the german first lines, in the opening days of this july, almost with ease, was colossal beyond all precedent. the total amount of heavy guns and ammunition manufactured by great britain in the first ten months of the war, from august, , to june , , would not have kept the british bombardment on the somme going _for a single day_. that gives some idea of it. can we keep it up? the german papers have been consoling themselves with the reflection that so huge an effort must have exhausted our supplies. on the contrary, says mr. montagu. _the output of the factories, week by week, now covers the expenditure in the field_. no fear now, that as at loos, as at neuve chapelle, and as on a thousand other smaller occasions, british success in the field should be crippled and stopped by shortage of gun and shell! by whom has this result been brought about? by that army of british workmen--and workwomen--which mr. lloyd george in little more than one short year has mobilised throughout the country. the ministry of munitions is now employing _three millions and a half of workers_--(a year ago it was not much more than a million and a half)--of whom , _are women_; and the staff of the ministry has grown from , --the figure given in my earlier letters--to , , just as that army of women, which has sprung as it were out of the earth at the call of the nation, has almost doubled since i wrote in april last. well may the new minister say that our toilers in factory and forge have had some share in the glorious recent victories of russia, italy, and france! our men and our women have contributed to the re-equipment of those gallant armies of russia, which, a month or six weeks earlier than they were expected to move, have broken up the austrian front, and will soon be once more in western poland, perhaps in east prussia! the italian army has drawn from our workshops and learnt from our experiments. the serbian army has been re-formed and re-fitted. let us sum up. the germans, with years of preparation behind them, made this war a war of machines. england, in that as in other matters, was taken by surprise. but our old and proud nation, which for generations led the machine industry of the world, as soon as it realised the challenge--and we were slow to realise it!--met it with an impatient and a fierce energy which is every month attaining a greater momentum and a more wonderful result. the apparently endless supply of munitions which now feeds the british front, and the _comparative_ lightness of the human cost at which the incredibly strong network of the german trenches on their whole first line system was battered into ruin, during the last days of june and the first days of july, :--it is to effects like these that all that vast industrial effort throughout great britain, of which i saw and described a fragment three months ago, has now steadily and irresistibly brought us. ii this then is perhaps the first point to notice in the landscape of the war, as we look back on the last three months. for on it everything else, naval and military, depends:--on the incredibly heightened output of british workshops, in all branches of war material, which has been attained since the summer of last year. in it, as i have just said, we see an _effect_ of a great cause--i.e., of the "effort" made by great britain, since the war broke out, to bring her military strength in men and munitions to a point, sufficient, in combination with the strength of her allies, for victory over the central powers, who after long and deliberate preparation had wantonly broken the european peace. the "effort" was for us a new one, provoked by germany, and it will have far-reaching civil consequences when the war is over. in the great naval victory now known as the battle of jutland, on the other hand, we have a fresh demonstration on a greater scale than ever before, of that old, that root fact, without which indeed the success of the allied effort in other directions would be impossible--i.e., _the overwhelming strength of the british navy_, and its mastery of the sea. in a few earlier pages of this book, i have described a visit which the british admiralty allowed me to make in february last to a portion of the fleet, then resting in a northern harbour. on that occasion, at the vice-admiral's luncheon-table, there sat beside me on my right, a tall spare man with the intent face of one to whom life has been a great arid strenuous adventure, accepted in no boyish mood, but rather in the spirit of the scientific explorer, pushing endlessly from one problem to the next, and passionate for all experience that either unveils the world, or tests himself. we talked of the war, and my projected journey. "i envy you!" he said, his face lighting up. "i would give anything to see our army in the field." my neighbour was rear-admiral sir robert arbuthnot, commanding the first cruiser squadron, who went down with his flagship _h.m.s. defence_, in the battle of jutland, on the st of may last, while passing between the british and german fleets, under a very heavy fire. "it is probable," said admiral jellicoe's despatch, "that sir robert arbuthnot, during his engagement with the enemy's light cruisers, and in his desire to complete their destruction, was not aware of the approach of the enemy's heavy ships, owing to the mist, until he found himself in close proximity to the main fleet, and before he could withdraw his ships, they were caught under a heavy fire and disabled." so, between the fleets of germany and england, amid the mists of the may evening, and the storm and smoke of battle, my courteous neighbour of three months before found, with all his shipmates, that grave in the "unharvested sea" which england never forgets to honour, and from which no sailor shrinks. at the same luncheon-table were two other admirals and many junior officers, who took part in the same great action; and looking back upon it, and upon the notes which i embodied in my first letter, i see more vividly than ever how every act and thought of those brave and practised men, among whom i passed those few--to me--memorable hours, were conditioned by an intense _expectation_, that trained prevision of what must come, which, in a special degree, both stirs and steadies the mind of the modern sailor. but one thing perhaps they had not foreseen--that by a combination of mishaps in the first reporting of the battle, the great action, which has really demonstrated, once and for all, the invincible supremacy of great britain at sea, which has reduced the german fleet to months of impotence, put the invasion of these islands finally out of the question, and enabled the british blockade to be drawn round germany with a yet closer and sterner hand, was made to appear, in the first announcements of it, almost a defeat. the news of our losses--our heavy losses--came first--came almost alone. the admiralty, with the stern conscience of the british official mind, announced them as they came in--bluntly--with little or no qualification. a shock of alarm went through england! for what had we paid so sore a price? was the return adequate, and not only to our safety, but to our prestige? there were a few hours when both great britain--outside the handful of men who knew--and her friends throughout the world, hung on the answer. meanwhile the german lie, which converted a defeat for germany into a "victory," got at least twenty-four hours' start, and the imperial chancellor made quick and sturdy use of it when he extracted a war loan of £ , , from a deluded and jubilant reichstag. then the news came in from one quarter after another of the six-mile battle-line, from one unit after another of the greatest sea-battle britain had ever fought, and by the rd or th of june, england, drawing half-ironic breath over her own momentary misgiving, had realised the truth--first--that the german fleet on the st had only escaped total destruction by the narrowest margin, and by the help of mist and darkness; secondly--that its losses were, relatively far greater, and in all probability, absolutely, greater than our own; thirdly--that after the british battle-fleet had severed the german navy from its base, the latter had been just able, under cover of darkness, to break round the british ships, and fly hard to shelter, pursued by our submarines and destroyers through the night, till it arrived at wilhelmshaven a battered and broken host, incapable at least for months to come of any offensive action against great britain or her allies. impossible henceforth--for months to come--to send a german squadron sufficiently strong to harass russia in the baltic! impossible to interfere successfully with the passage of britain's new armies across the seas! impossible to dream any longer of invading english coasts! the british fleet holds the north sea more strongly than it has ever held it; and behind the barbed wire defences of wilhelmshaven or heligoland the german fleet has been nursing its wounds. some ten weeks have passed, and as these results have become plain to all the world, the german lie, or what remained of it, has begun to droop, even in the country of its birth. "do not let us suppose," says captain persius--the most honest of german naval critics, in a recent article--"that we have shaken the sea-power of england. that would be foolishness." while mr. balfour, the most measured, the most veracious of men, speaking only a few days ago to the representatives of the dominion parliaments, who have been visiting england, says quietly--"the growth of our navy, since the outbreak of war, which has gone on, and which at this moment is still going on, is something of which i do not believe the general public has the slightest conception." for the general public has, indeed, but vague ideas of what is happening day by day and week by week in the great shipyards of the clyde, the tyne, and the mersey. but there, all the same, the workmen--and workwomen--of great britain--(for women are taking an ever-increasing share in the lighter tasks of naval engineering)--are adding incessantly to the sea-power of this country, acquiescing in a government control, a loosening of trade custom, a dilution and simplification of skilled labour, which could not have been dreamt of before the war. at the same time they are meeting the appeal of ministers to give up or postpone the holidays they have so richly earned, for the sake of their sons and brothers in the trenches, with a dogged "aye, aye!" in which there is a note of profound understanding, of invincible and personal determination, but rarely heard in the early days of the war. iii so much for the workshops and the navy. now before i turn to the new armies and the somme offensive, let us look for a moment at the present facts of british war finance. by april last, the date of my sixth letter, we had raised , millions sterling, for the purposes of the war; we had lent millions to our allies, and we were spending about millions a day on the war. according to a statement recently made by the chancellor of the exchequer (august ), by march next our debt will have risen to , millions sterling, , millions more than it stood at in march last; our advances to our allies will have increased to millions, while our daily war expenditure remains about the same. mr. mckenna's tone in announcing these figures was extraordinarily cheerful. "we have every reason," he said, amid the applause of the house of commons--"to be proud of the manner in which british credit has stood the strain." the truth is that by march next, at the present rate of expenditure, our total indebtedness (deducting the advances to our allies) will almost exactly equal "one year's national income," i.e., the aggregate of the income of every person in the country. but if a man having an income of £ , a year, were to owe a total of £ , , we should not consider his position very serious. "we shall collect a revenue in one year equal to per cent. of the whole debt (i.e., millions sterling), and we shall be able to pay, _out of existing taxation_, the interest on the debt, and a considerable sinking-fund, and shall still have left a large margin _for the reduction of taxation_"--words which left a comfortable echo in the ears of the nation. meanwhile british trade--based on british sea-power--has shown extraordinary buoyancy, the exports steadily increasing; so that the nation, in the final words of the chancellor, feels "no doubt whatever that we shall be able to maintain our credit to the end of the war, _no matter how long it may last_." but do not let it be supposed that this huge revenue is being raised without sacrifice, _without effort_. it means--for the present--as i have already pointed out, the absorption by the state of five shillings in the pound from the income of every citizen, above a moderate minimum, and of a lesser but still heavy tax from those below that minimum; it means new and increased taxation in many directions; and, as a consequence, heavy increases in the cost of living; it means sharply diminished spending for large sections of our population, and serious pinching for our professional and middle classes. but the nation, as a whole, makes no lament. we look our taxes in the face, and we are beginning to learn how to save. we have our hearts fixed on the future; and we have counted the cost. the money then is no difficulty. our resisting power, our prosperity even, under the blows of war, have been unexpectedly great. but what are we getting for our money? in the case of the navy, the whole later course of the war, no less than the battle of jutland, has shown what the british navy means to the cause of the allies. it is as i have said, the root fact in the war; and in the end, it will be the determining fact; although, of itself, it cannot defeat germany _as we must defeat her_; at any rate in any reasonable time. then as to the army. take first of all the administrative side. to what--in the last four months--has come that wonderful system of organisation and supply i tried to sketch in my fourth letter, largely in the words of some of the chief actors in it? within the last fortnight, a skilled observer has been reporting to the british public his impressions of the "army behind the lines" in france, as i saw a portion of it last february, in the great british supply bases and hospital camps, on the lines of communication, and throughout the immense and varied activities covered by the british motor transport. "the germans," says this recent eye-witness, "have persisted that, even if we could find the men, we could not make the machine, which they have been perfecting for forty years and more. but _it is here!_--operating with perfect smoothness; a machine, which in its mere mass and intricacy, almost staggers the imagination. one cannot speak of the details of the system for fear of saying something which should not be told; but it is stupendous in its proportion, dealing as it does with the methodical handling of the men in their hundreds of thousands, of all their equipment and supplies, food, miscellaneous baggage and ammunition, and with the endless trains of guns--guns--guns, and shells, by millions upon millions, all brought from england, and all here in their place, or moved from place to place with the rhythm of clock-work. one cannot convey any idea of it, nor grasp it in its entirety; but day by day the immensity of it grows on one, and one realises how trivial beside it has been anything that british military organisation has had to do in the past. that is the real miracle; not the mere millions of men, nor even their bravery, but this huge frictionless machine of which they are a part--this thing which great britain has put together here in the last twenty months." iv but just as in march my thoughts pressed eagerly forward, from the sight allowed me of the machine, to its uses on the battle-front, to that line of living and fighting men for which it exists--so now. only, since i stood upon the hill near poperinghe on march nd, that line of men has been indefinitely strengthened; and the main scene of battle is no longer the ypres salient. looking southward from the old windmill, whose supports sheltered us on that cold spring afternoon, i knew that, past bailleul, and past neuve chapelle, i was looking straight toward albert and the somme, and i knew too that it was there that the british were taking over a new portion of the line,--so that we might be of _some_ increased support--all that was then allowed us by the allied command!--to that incredible defence of verdun, which was in all our minds and hearts. but what i could not know was that in that misty distance was hidden--four months away--a future movement, at which no one then guessed, outside the higher brains of the army. the days went on. the tide of battle ebbed and flowed round verdun. the crown prince hewed and hacked his way, with enormous loss to germany, to points within three and four miles of the coveted town--fortress no longer. but there france stopped him--like the beast of prey that has caught its claws in the iron network it is trying to batter down, and cannot release them; and there he is still. meanwhile, in june, seven to eight weeks before the expected moment, brusiloff's attack broke loose, and the austrian front began to crumble; just in time to bring the italians welcome aid in the trentino. and still from the somme to the yser, the anglo-french forces waited; and still across the channel poured british soldiers and british guns. in industrial england, the whitsuntide holidays had been given up; and there were at any rate some people who knew that there would be no august holidays either. leave and letters had been stopped. but there had been apparent signs, wrongly interpreted, before. the great allied attack on the west--was it ready, _at last_? then--with the th of june, along the whole british battle-front of miles, there sprang up a violent and continuous bombardment varied by incessant raids on the enemy lines. those who witnessed that bombardment can hardly find words in which to describe it. "it was an extraordinary and a terrible spectacle," says a correspondent. "within the dreadful zone the woods are leafless, château and farm and village, alike, mere heaps of ruins." ah! _ce beau pays de france_--with all its rich and ancient civilisation--it is not french hearts alone that bleed for you! but it was the voice of deliverance, of vengeance, that was speaking in the guns which crashed incessantly day and night, while shells of all calibres rained--so many to the second--from every yard of the british front, on the german lines. the correspondents with the british headquarters could only speculate with held breath, as to what was happening under that ghastly veil of smoke and fire on the horizon, and what our infantry would find when the artillery work was done, and the attack was launched. the st of july dawned, a beautiful summer morning, with light mists dispersing under the sun. precisely to the moment, at . a.m., the allied artillery lifted their guns, creating a dense _barrage_ of fire between the german front and its support trenches, while the british and french infantry sprang over their parapets and rushed to the attack of the german first line; the british on a front of some twenty-five miles, the french, on about ten miles, on both sides of the somme. the english journalists, who, watch in hand, saw our men go, "knowing what it was they were going to, marvelled for the fiftieth time at the way in which british manhood has proved itself, in this most terrible of all wars." but though it was a grand, it was an anxious moment for those who had trained and shaped the new armies of britain. how would they bear themselves, these hundreds of thousands of british and imperial volunteers, men, some of them, with the shortest possible training compatible with efficiency--against the famous troops of germany--beside the veteran, the illustrious army of france? four hours after the fighting began, sir douglas haig telegraphed: "attack launched north of river somme this morning at . a.m. in conjunction with french, british troops have broken into german forward system of defences, on front of sixteen miles. fighting is continuing. french attack on our immediate right proceeding equally satisfactorily." twelve hours later, on the same day, when the summer night had fallen on the terrible battle-field, the british commander-in-chief added:--"heavy fighting has continued all day between the rivers somme and ancre. on the right of our attack we have captured the german labyrinth of trenches on a front of seven miles to a depth of , yards, and have stormed and occupied the strongly fortified villages of montauban and mametz. in the centre on a front of four miles we have gained many strong points. north of the ancre valley the battle has been equally violent, and in this area we have been unable to retain portions of the ground gained in our first attacks, while other portions remain in our possession.... up to date, , german prisoners have passed through our collecting stations. the large number of the enemy dead on the battle-field indicate that the german losses have been very severe." so much for the first day's news. on the following day fricourt was captured; and the prisoners went up to , , together with a quantity of war material. meanwhile the french on the right had done brilliantly, capturing five villages, and , prisoners. the attack was well begun. and the new armies?--"kitchener's men"? "whatever we have imagined of our new armies," says an eye-witness of the first day's battle, "they are better than we can have ever dared to hope. nothing has in any case stopped them, except being killed." and a neutral who saw the attack on mametz told the same eye-witness that he had seen most of the fighting in the world in recent years, and that he "did not believe a more gallant feat was ever performed in war." the story of the british advance was written "in the dead upon the ground, and in the positions as they stand." "nothing which the japanese did in the russian war" was more entirely heroic. but let me carry on the story. on tuesday, july th, sir douglas haig reported: "after ten days and nights of continuous fighting our troops have completed the methodical capture of the whole of the enemy's first system of defence on a front of , yards. "this system of defence consisted of numerous and continuous lines of foretrenches, support trenches and reserve trenches, extending to various depths of from , to , yards, and included five strongly fortified villages, numerous heavily wired and intrenched woods, and a large number of immensely strong redoubts." the villages captured were fricourt, mametz, montauban, la boiselle, and contalmaison--the latter captured on july th, after particularly fierce fighting. every observer dwells on "the immense strength of the german defences." "all the little villages and woods, each eminence and hollow, have been converted into a fortress as formidable as the character of the ground makes possible." the german has omitted nothing "that could protect him against such a day as this." yet steadily, methodically, with many a pause for consolidation of the ground gained, and for the bringing up of the heavy guns, the british advance goes forward--toward bapaume and lille; while the french press brilliantly on toward péronne--both movements aimed at the vital german communications through france and belgium. every step of ground, as the allies gain it, "is wrecked with mines, torn with shell, and watered with the blood of brave men." the wood-fighting, amid the stripped and gaunt trunks rising from labyrinths of wire, is specially terrible; and below the ground everywhere are the deep pits and dugouts, which have not only sheltered the enemy from our fire, but concealed the machine-guns, which often when our men have passed over, emerge and take them in the rear. the german machine-guns seem to be endless; they are skilfully concealed, and worked with the utmost ability and courage. but nothing daunts the troops attacking day and night, in the name of patriotism, of liberty, of civilisation. men from yorkshire and lancashire, from northumberland, westmoreland and cumberland, the heart of england's sturdy north; men from sussex and kent, from somerset and devon; the scotch regiments; the ulster division, once the ulster volunteers; the men of munster and connaught; the town-lads of manchester; the youths of cockney london:--all their names are in the great story. "there were no stragglers--none!" says an officer, describing in a kind of wonder one of the fierce wood-attacks. and these are not the seasoned troops of a continental army. they belong to regiments and corps which did not exist, except in name, eighteen months ago; they are units from the four-million army that great britain raised for this struggle, before she passed her military service law. the "old army," the expeditionary force, which the nation owed to the organising genius of lord haldane and his general staff, has passed away, passed into history, with the retreat from mons, the first victory of ypres, the saving of the channel ports; but its spirit remains, and its traditions are firmly planted in the new attackers. i think of the men i saw in march, during that long and weary wait; of the desire--and the patience--in their eyes. and of patience they and the nations behind them will still have ample need. since surprise on the somme front was no longer possible, the great advance has gone surely indeed, but more slowly. on _july _, after delay caused by extraordinarily heavy rains, _the german second line was breached_, and their trenches carried, on a front of four miles and held against counter attacks. longueval, the wood of bazentin-le-grand, and the village, bazentin-le-petit, were attacked and captured with an _élan_ that nothing could resist. "the enemy losses in guns," said the british headquarters, "are now over . we have not lost one." on _july _, ovillers was cleared, waterlot farm taken, and , more yards of the german line. the british had by now taken , prisoners, to a somewhat larger number taken by the french, heavy guns, field-guns, trench howitzers, and machine-guns. on saturday night, _july - _, the greater part of pozières, on the high ground toward bapaume, was taken. "shortly after midnight," wrote the official correspondent at headquarters with the australian imperial forces in france, "on the rd, by a splendid night attack, the australians took the greater portion of pozières." the previous bombardment had been magnificent. "i had never before seen such a spectacle. a large sector of the horizon was lit up not by single flashes, but by a continuous band of quivering light." and under the protection of the guns, the anzacs swept forward, passing over trenches, so entirely obliterated by shell-fire that they were often not recognised as trenches at all, till they were in the heart of the village. then for two days they fought from house to house, and trench to trench; till on july th came the news--"the whole of the village of pozières is now in our hands." and the _times_ correspondent writes "our establishment at pozières will probably be regarded historically as closing the second phase of the battle of the somme." since then (i write on august ) three weeks have passed. the german third line has been entered at the bois de foureaux, the whole of delville wood has been carried; and in the combined advance of july th, the french swept on to maurepas on the north of the somme, and are closely threatening both combles and péronne, while we are attacking thiepval on the left of our line and guillemont on the right, and pushing forward, north of pozières, toward bapaume. the whole of the great advance has been _a thrust up-hill_ from the valley floors of the ancre and the somme toward a low ridge running roughly east and west and commanding an important stretch of country and vital communications beyond. "it has in just four weeks of effort," writes mr. belloc--"accounted for some thirty thousand unwounded or slightly wounded prisoners; for much more than guns; for a belt of territory over five miles in its extreme breadth, and--what is much more important than any of these numerical and local calculations--it has proved itself capable of _continuous effort against all the concentration which the enemy has been able to bring against it._" but it has done yet more than this. it has welded the french and english alliance--the wills and minds of the two nations--more closely than ever before; and it has tested the british war-machine--the new armies and the new arms--as they have never yet been tested in this war. the result has set the heart of england aflame; even while we ponder those long, long casualty lists which represent the bitter price that british fathers and mothers, british wives and daughters have paid, and must still pay, for the only victory which will set up once again the reign of law and humanity in europe. what the future has in store we cannot see yet in detail; but the inevitable end is clear at last. the man-power of germany is failing, and with it the insolent confidence of her military caste; the man-power of the allies, and the gun-power of the allies, are rising steadily. russia is well launched on her return way to warsaw, to cracow, to east prussia. italy, after the fall of gorizia, is on the march for trieste. the turks are fleeing across the desert of sinai; and the allies at salonika are taking the first steps toward sofia. but it is in the "holy spirit of man" itself that the secret of the future lies. on the somme battle-fields, thousands and thousands of young lives have been again laid down, that england--that france--may live. here is a letter, written the day before his death in action, on july st, the opening day of the offensive, by a young english officer.[c] one must read it, if one can, dry-eyed. not tears, but a steeled will, a purer heart, are what it asks of those for whom the writer died:-- "i am writing this letter to you just before going into action to-morrow morning about dawn. "i am about to take part in the biggest battle that has yet been fought in france, and one which ought to help to end the war very quickly. "i never felt more confident or cheerful in my life before, and would not miss the attack for anything on earth. the men are in splendid form, and every officer and man is more happy and cheerful than i have ever seen them. "i have just been playing a rag game of football in which the umpire had a revolver and a whistle. "my idea in writing this letter is in case i am one of the 'costs,' and get killed. i do not expect to be; but such things have happened, and are always possible. "it is impossible to fear death out here, when one is no longer an individual, but a member of a regiment and of an army. to be killed means nothing to me, and it is only you who suffer for it; you really pay the cost. "i have been looking at the stars, and thinking what an immense distance they are away. what an insignificant thing the loss of, say, forty years of life is compared with them! it seems scarcely worth talking about. well, good-bye, you darlings. try not to worry about it, and remember that we shall meet again really quite soon. "this letter is going to be posted _if_...." the letter was posted. but its message of death is also a message of victory. mary a. ward. [c] published in the _times_. the record of a regiment of the line being a regimental history of the st battalion devonshire regiment during the boer war - by colonel m. jacson london: hutchinson & co. paternoster row contents chapter page i. events leading up to the siege of ladysmith ii. siege of ladysmith iii. events following the siege of ladysmith, and the advance north under. sir redvers buller iv. lydenburg v. trekking in the north-east transvaal list of illustrations monument erected to officers and men of the devonshire regiment who fell on january th on wagon hill, siege of ladysmith. _frontispiece_ face page en route to ladysmith in the trenches, ladysmith town hall, ladysmith, clock-tower damaged by shell fire after a wet night in the traverses, ladysmith the railway bridge, with cÆsar's camp in distance, ladysmith lieut.-colonel c.w. park naval battery hill, ladysmith } } monument erected to devons on wagon hill, } on spot where the charge took place, ladysmith } a peaceful sunday devon officers remaining fit for duty at the end of the siege brigadier-general walter kitchener railway bridge destroyed by boers, ingagane making barbed-wire entanglement, ingagane the baggage of general buller's army crossing beginderlyn bridge trekking with general buller devons crossing the sabi river colonel c.w. park, mission camp, lydenburg wire bridge, lydenburg mission camp fort, lydenburg (interior) remains of boer big gun, waterval crossing the steelport river dawn--after a night march, trichardtsfontein devons en route to durban monument erected in ladysmith cemetery maps siege of ladysmith natal and s.e. transvaal preface by lieut.-general w. kitchener experience we all know to be a valuable asset, and experience in war is the most costly of its kind. to enable those coming after us to reconstruct the picture of war, regimental histories have proved of infinite value. that such a record fills a sentimental want hardly requires assertion. my first feelings on being honoured with a request from the devonshire regiment to write a preface to the account of their "work in south africa, - ," were, i confess, how could i refuse so difficult a task gracefully? however, on further consideration it seemed to me that undoubtedly such a preface should be written by some one outside the corps itself. onlookers, as the saying goes, often see most of the game, and, being free from personal bias, can often add something to what those engrossed in the meshes of life's details can only appreciate from a narrower point of view. from this standpoint, and as i was the general under whom the st devons served longest in south africa, it seemed obviously my duty to attempt the task. the "work of the st battalion of the devonshire regiment" is portrayed in these pages. it therefore only remains for me to add, for the benefit of coming generations, what manner of men these were, who by their dogged devotion to duty helped to overcome the boer. associated as one was with many corps in the close intimacy of veldt life, it was a study of the deepest interest to note the individuality that characterized each, and which was often as clearly and as well defined as that of the men with whom one daily came in contact. during the many months of our intimate association, and in the varied situations that presented themselves, i cannot call to mind any single occasion on which the devons were ever flurried or even hurried. their imperturbability of temper, even under the most trying conditions, could not be surpassed. another characteristic of the corps was its inherent thrift. they were, in fact, essentially a "self-help" corps. when a flood came and washed away the bridge leading to the picket line, no sapper was required to show them how to throw a suspension bridge above the flood from tree to cliff. it was characteristic of the regiment that they carried out in war their peace training, never allowing the atmosphere of excitement to distort their actions. if we take elandslaagte, wagon hill, or any of the hundred and one ticklish night operations in which they took part, this trait will be ever noteworthy, that they acted as was to be expected of them, and made no fuss of having done so. we have all read realistic descriptions of troops on the march in south africa, the writer using all his cunning to depict the war-worn dirty condition of his heroes, seeming to glean satisfaction from their grease-stained khaki. it must be admitted that the south african war is responsible for a somewhat changed condition of thought as regards cleanliness and its relation to smartness. no such abstraction disturbed the devons; a devon man was always clean. individuals of some corps could be readily identified by their battered helmets or split boots; not so the devons. no helmet badge was necessary for their identification, and the veriest tyro could not fail to recognize at any time the crisply washed indian helmet cover. it may be open to question whether it is for good or for evil that we should broaden our views of what goes to make a smart and useful fighting man, but the regimental system of the devons was for no innovation of a careless go-as-you-please style. i thus lay stress on the individuality of the devons in south africa, because it was this individuality of theirs, born of their regimental system, which enabled them to claim so full a share in the success of that long-drawn-out campaign. no one can quite appreciatively follow the story of the work of the devons, unless he realizes the intense feeling of comradeship that animates these west-country men. to work with devonshire men is to realize in the flesh the intensity of the local county loyalty so graphically depicted by charles kingsley in his _westward ho!_ and other novels. in conclusion, let me add, a more determined crew i never wish to see, and a better regiment to back his orders a general can never hope to have. [illustration: [signature - walter kitchener]] dalhousie, _may_, . preface by the author the story as told is an everyday account and a record of the work of the men of the st battalion devonshire regiment during the south african war. it exemplifies the devotion to duty, the stubbornness in adversity, and the great fighting qualities of the west-country man, which qualities existed in the time of drake, and which still exist. a repeating of their history of the past, a record of the present, and an example for the generation to come. chapter i events leading up to the siege of ladysmith on returning from the north-west frontier of india at the close of the tirah expedition, - , the st battalion devonshire regiment, which had served with distinction under the command of colonel j.h. yule in the campaign against the afridi clans, was ordered to proceed from peshawar to jullunder, at which place it was quartered in and in the summer months of , during which time certain companies and detachments were furnished for duty at dalhousie, kasauli, and ghora dakka (murree hills), and located during the hot weather at these places. towards the latter end of august, , news from south africa appeared ominous, and war seemed likely to break out between england and the transvaal. on the th september, , confidential instructions were received from army head-quarters at simla ordering the regiment to get ready to move at short notice to south africa, and a few days later further orders were received to entrain on the th september for bombay _en route_ to the transvaal, which country the regiment was destined not to reach for some months, and then only after severe fighting. the companies quartered at dalhousie and ghora dakka with difficulty joined the head-quarters at jullunder before the th, and the following marches are worthy of record:-- the dalhousie detachment marched to pathankote, a distance of - / miles, in two days. major curry, who was in command, gave each man a coolie for his baggage, and ordered the men to get to duneera the first day the best way they could. at duneera they halted for the night, and the next day pushed on in the same manner to pathankote, where they immediately entrained and proceeded to jullunder. the ghora dakka detachment under lieutenant emerson marched to rawal pindi, a distance of fifty-four miles, in two days, and then entrained for jullunder. no men fell out in either party, and considering the time of year and the intense heat, they were fine performances. some officers were on leave in cashmere, and only arrived at jullunder as the regiment was entraining. on september th, , the st battalion devonshire regiment, under the command of major c.w. park, left jullunder by rail for bombay with a strength as under:-- officers, warrant officer, and sergeants, rank and file. the following officers accompanied the battalion:-- major c.w. park, commanding. major m.c. curry, second in command. captain m.g. jacson. captain j.o. travers. captain e.c. wren. captain e.m. morris. lieutenant p.h. price-dent. lieutenant j.e.i. masterson. lieutenant a.f. dalzel. lieutenant n.z. emerson. lieutenant g.h.i. graham. lieutenant t.b. harris. nd lieutenant g.i. watts. nd lieutenant d.h. blunt. nd lieutenant h.r. gunning. nd lieutenant s.t. hayley. nd lieutenant h.w.f. twiss. captain and adjutant h.s.l. ravenshaw. captain and quartermaster h. honner. warrant officer sergeant-major g.e. mitchell. the following officers were attached for duty to the battalion:-- major burnside, r.a.m.c., in medical charge. lieutenant e.g. caffin, yorkshire regiment. lieutenant h.w.r. cowie, dorset regiment. lieutenant a.m. tringham, the queen's west surrey regiment. lieutenant j.a. byrne, royal inniskilling fusiliers. lieutenant e.e.m. walker, somersetshire light infantry. [illustration: en route to ladysmith] the following officers were absent from the battalion on leave in england:-- captain w.b. lafone. captain g.m. gloster. lieutenant h.n. field. colonel j.h. yule, commanding the battalion, was appointed to the command of the indian infantry brigade, south africa, with the temporary rank of brigadier-general. major a.g. spratt was placed in charge of the depot and details left at jullunder. the regiment arrived without incident on september st at bombay, having halted, for a few hours only, at the following places:-- on september th at aligarh. " " th at jhansi. " " th at hoshangabad. " " th at deolali. embarkation took place immediately on arrival, the transport _sutlej_ taking five companies, head-quarters, band and drums, under major c.w. park; and the transport _city of london_ taking three companies under major m.c. curry. on the latter vessel sailed also sir george white's staff and the staff of the indian infantry brigade. the _sutlej_ sailed at noon on september st, and it was reported that the ship was under sealed orders, and that her destination was delagoa bay. the days on board were occupied in keeping the men fit with physical drill, free gymnastics, etc., and with instruction in first-aid to the wounded and the use of the field-dressing and the method of adjusting it. on september th agalega island was sighted, and on the th the ship was off the east coast of madagascar. on the nd october the s.s. _purnea_ with the th rifles on board was spoken, and communication by flag signal established, both vessels inquiring for news. the _sutlej_ was the last to leave port, but had nothing new to communicate. at a.m. on october th, in rough and foggy weather, the _sutlej_ arrived off the coast of africa, and the fog lifting about midday, she ran down the coastline for two hours, and arrived outside the bar at durban. the ships conveying the th rifles and the rd battery arrived an hour later. the _sutlej_ waited till p.m. to enter the harbour, and arrived alongside the quay at p.m., when disembarkation commenced at once in torrents of rain and heavy wind squalls. a deputation of the durban "west of england" association met the regiment on arrival and presented an address. the first news received on landing was that war had not yet been declared, but that it was inevitable, that president kruger had seized half a million of money on its way from johannesburg to the cape, and that orders had been given by him to shoot any one crossing the frontier. this may or may not have been true; a good deal of _perfectly reliable_ information was being circulated about this time. on the night of october th- th the regiment left in three trains for ladysmith. the rain and cold caused some inconvenience to the men, as they were packed into open trucks, and obtained neither shelter nor sleep. they were new to the game then, but they saw the inside of many a coal truck later. the journey to pietermaritzburg was in the nature of a triumphal procession, for at various points along the line small knots of old men women and children, waving union jacks, cheered the troops most lustily as the trains passed. a remark frequently heard was "how glad they are to see us," and it was evident that these people at least, who were interested and possessed homes in natal, had not underrated the power and intentions of the transvaal. the regiment had an enthusiastic reception, as indeed did all troops passing to the front, flags and handkerchiefs being waved from every house farm and village. at some stations where a short stop was made to allow of other trains getting on ahead, tea and refreshments were given out free, by willing hands, to the soldiers in the trucks. trains were running with about to yards distance between them. on october th between and a.m. the trains conveying the regiment reached pietermaritzburg, and here the men had breakfast. pushing on again with as little delay as possible and passing estcourt at about p.m., and colenso about p.m., ladysmith was reached at p.m. detraining took place at once, and the regiment marched off to tin town, about two miles distant, where camp was pitched in the dark. the infantry at this time in ladysmith consisted of:-- the gordon highlanders. the devonshire regiment. the gloucester regiment. the liverpool regiment. rumours of war and warlike preparation on the part of the boers were continually being circulated, and at daybreak on october th the transvaal boers crossed the frontier of natal , strong with fourteen guns. on october th, at p.m., orders were received for the regiment to prepare at once to go out as part of a flying column towards acton holmes to check the advance of the free state boers, who were reported to be crossing the biggarsberg by vanreenen's pass; and at a.m. a force consisting of four regiments of cavalry, four batteries r.a., and three regiments of infantry (liverpools, gordons, and devons) left ladysmith, and after great delay reached dewdrop at a.m. the cavalry having been sent on to gain touch, failed however to do so, and the column returned at once to ladysmith. the information turned out to be incorrect. on the return march the regiment was joined by captain w.b. lafone and lieutenants field and green, who had arrived from england. on sunday, october th, the royal irish fusiliers, who had arrived about two days previously, marched out of the tin camp ladysmith to entrain for dundee, which place it was reported the transvaal boers were threatening; and on the same day the news was confirmed that the armoured train at mafeking had been twice attacked. it was said that our khaki uniform had completely nonplussed the boers, and that they had expected to meet us coming on in red, as in the days gone by, and that they were consequently rather surprised and annoyed. the liverpool regiment, th hussars, and one battery left ladysmith by road for colenso on october th, the manchester regiment, the devons, and natal mounted troops covering their march from the direction of vanreenen's pass. refugees continually coming through into ladysmith from acton holmes during the day, reported fighting going on between boers and natal carbineers. on its return to ladysmith the same day, the regiment moved from the tin town camp and encamped on the football ground under the convent hill, and towards sunset the whole army marched out of ladysmith into strategical positions outside the town. the regiment at this time was reserve battalion. on october th the boers cut the telegraph wire between dundee and ladysmith, and captured near elandslaagte station a train containing forty tons of flour consigned to the force at dundee, and the following morning the devons, gordons, one battery, th lancers, and some colonial mounted infantry, moved out towards modder station on the ladysmith-newcastle road. at about a.m. news was received that a fierce battle was being fought at dundee, and that a large force of free state boers was advancing towards ladysmith from bester's station, having crossed the vanreenen's pass. the column was halted about four miles out of ladysmith, and three companies of the devons under captain travers were sent to hold pepworth hill on the flank threatened by the free state boers. but at p.m. sir george white came out and joined the force, and he ordered the column back into ladysmith. he gave an account of the fighting at dundee, which he had just received. dundee camp was aroused in the morning by shells being pitched into its midst. the artillery came into action, and the th rifles and dublin fusiliers were then sent to capture the position, which was occupied by boers. this was gallantly carried. another column of boers was then turned on to, and at . p.m. the enemy broke. major-general penn-symons was mortally wounded, and major-general yule had taken over command at dundee. by next day a detachment of boers had reached the neighbourhood of modder station and had taken up a position near elandslaagte. this detachment consisted of some boers, with two guns, under the leadership of general koch, who was charged with the task of cutting off the retreat of the forces at glencoe and dundee, and who had been sent forward for that purpose. general koch had at the same time practically joined hands with the free state boers, who were in the neighbourhood of bester's station on the ladysmith-harrismith line. in order to reoccupy elandslaagte and to secure general yule's line of retreat, sir george white ordered out a force consisting of infantry, cavalry, and artillery, of which four companies of the regiment formed a part, under the command of general french. these companies went out in the morning by train under major curry, and detrained near modder station. one company and a maxim gun under captain jacson and a squadron th lancers were sent at a.m. by road to pepworth hill to guard the left flank of general french's force against the free state army, which might seriously threaten general french's communications with ladysmith. at p.m. further reinforcements were sent out to general french, and the three remaining companies of the regiment were ordered to proceed by train to modder station to join the wing under major curry. the seven companies were then under the command of major park. the boers occupied two cones of some low hills overlooking elandslaagte railway station. general french's artillery came into action on some high ground yards distant from the boer position, and between the two forces was an open undulating plain affording little or no cover, and across which the attack had to be delivered. the gordon highlanders and manchesters were to attack round the boers' left flank, whilst the devons were to make a frontal attack. from the nature of the position which they had taken up, no commanding positions affording flanking fire and protection to their flanks were obtainable by the boers. these were open and could be easily threatened by the cavalry and the mounted infantry. the boers had two guns in position on one of the two cones, and with these guns they did good execution, knocking over a limber of one of french's batteries at the second shot, and practically before his guns came into action. general french's force, now considerably augmented, marched off at . p.m. the st devon regiment was formed in company column at fifty paces as a reserve to the manchester regiment. after proceeding about a mile heavy firing was heard on the right front, direction was changed half-right, and the regiment was then ordered to form for attack on the left of the manchesters, and to take up a front of yards. three companies were placed in the firing-line and supports under major park, and four companies in reserve under major curry. at about . p.m. the firing-line reached the top of a low hill, and came in sight of the enemy's position distant about yards. here a halt of a quarter of an hour was made, and at . p.m. orders were received by the regiment to make a frontal attack on the position, to advance to within effective rifle range, and to then hold on till a flank attack by the manchesters and gordons came in on the right. the ground between the regiment and the position sloped slightly up to the foot of the low rocky hills, on which the enemy was posted. there was no cover of any kind, except a few ant-heaps, in the first half of the distance. the firing-line advanced keeping intervals and covering a front of about yards, the centre being directed on to a conical hill at the back of the enemy's camp. the reserve followed in column of companies, in single rank, at fifty paces distance between companies. the enemy's guns opened on the regiment at once with shrapnel, but most of the shells went high, only one striking the reserve companies. a steady advance to about to yards from the position was made, when, the rifle fire becoming rather heavy, fire was opened by section volleys. the light was bad, and it was very difficult to see the enemy or estimate the distances. in a few minutes the supports reinforced, and the firing-line then pushed on to the foot of the slope, and established itself in a shallow ditch to yards from the position. here it held on, firing sectional volleys, till the flank attack appeared on the hill, apparently about yards from the position. an advance by companies from the right was then ordered, and, the reserve reinforcing, a further yards was gained. some bugling and shouting was then heard on the hill. a rush to yards was now made, and, after a short pause to allow the men to get breath, bayonets were fixed and the position charged, four companies assaulting the detached hill on the left, the remaining three companies assaulting the hill on which the enemy's guns were. f and g companies were the first to reach and take possession of the guns, the gordon highlanders coming up on the right shortly afterwards. the companies then moved on down the reverse slope and opened fire on the retiring enemy. on the detached hill only five of the enemy were found alive, and they showed a white flag as the hill was charged. the regiment was then re-formed, and held the detached hill during the night. during the three hours it was under fire, the battalion kept line and intervals carefully throughout, and adjusted sights and fired as steadily as if on parade. it is to the perfect steadiness of the men and the absence of all crowding that the very small losses from the enemy's fire, which at all times was heavy, can be attributed. the battalion's losses were:-- captain w.b. lafone, slightly wounded. nd lieutenants gunning, hailey, and green, severely wounded. twenty-nine non-commissioned officers and men wounded. parties of men were busy during the night collecting the boer wounded and taking them down to the laager. among them was general koch, who was badly hit in several places. he died of his wounds a few days afterwards in ladysmith. the losses of the boers were estimated at killed, wounded, and prisoners. the force was moved back into ladysmith early on the nd morning, the infantry by rail, and cavalry by road. the company of the regiment and maxim gun, which had been on pepworth hill during the day and the following night, got back to camp the same afternoon. the rd was given up to rejoicings and congratulations over the victory, and the two boer flags which were captured were displayed outside the officers' mess tent. the free state army had by now come across to the east, and were in the neighbourhood of modder station, and on october th a column was again ordered out with the object of assisting general yule's force in from dundee. this column consisted of the th lancers, th hussars, natal carbineers, border mounted rifles, imperial light horse, devons, liverpools, gloucesters, th rifles, and twenty guns, in all about men. the enemy was found posted on tinta inyoni mountain, on the summit of which they brought a gun into action and fired on to the head of sir g. white's force, which was in column of route on the road, but without doing any damage. the action began at . a.m. at the commencement of the action the battalion was in reserve, and was ordered to extend and lie down at the foot of the first slope facing the enemy's position, and some yards north-west of the railway line, sending scouts to the crest of the ridge to watch the front. four companies were shortly afterwards ordered to advance in attack formation, forming their own supports, and to place themselves on the left of the gloucester regiment, which was in front of the regiment at the time. the regiment was then on the extreme left of the firing-line. the four companies of the reserve worked round under cover to a small nullah about yards on the left and then advanced up it. the firing-line advanced, under slight rifle fire, across a rocky plateau till they gained a small ridge overlooking the front, and opened fire by section volleys on to a ridge about yards in front, from which a rather heavy fire was coming. the maxim gun under lieutenant price-dent came into action in rear of the left of the line and fired at the enemy to the left front. the enemy's fire from this ridge was soon silenced, and from that time the only objective the line had was a few scattered boers and their horses on the rear slope of the high hill to the left front, some yards distant. the reserve was deployed into two lines of double companies on and below a small ridge of rocks some yards in rear of the firing-line. at about p.m. the retirement commenced, and the battalion gradually followed the liverpool regiment and became rearguard. ladysmith was reached about . p.m., after a sixteen-mile march in torrents of rain. the casualties of the battalion during the day were:-- private killed.[ ] privates wounded, none dangerously. [footnote : this private, the first man of the regiment killed in the war, was private winsor. he was shot dead through the heart by a stray bullet.] this action was known as the action of reitfontein. on october th general yule's force marched into ladysmith. they had had a bad time, having marched in drenching rain, day and night, from sunday till wednesday. the garrison of ladysmith gave them food on arrival, the regiment supplying the dublin fusiliers (officers and men) with refreshments. on october th it was reported that the boers were nearing ladysmith and attempting to surround the place, and a large force was ordered out by sir george white to reconnoitre. this reconnaissance was under the command of colonel ian hamilton, and his column consisted of three cavalry regiments, three batteries, and four infantry battalions, to which was added later one infantry battalion and one battery. having advanced beyond the nek between lombards kop and bulwana, and having crossed the modder spruit on the helpmakaar road, the regiment was sent on outpost duty to the left front, whilst the main body of the force halted on the bank of the stream. from the outpost line large bodies of the enemy were observed advancing over long hill. boers were also seen very busy on the kopjes south of long hill, entrenching. at p.m. orders were received from the officer commanding the column, in which it was explained that the force was to make a night march and attack, the infantry to advance at a.m. the boer position as seen by the regiment on the outpost line was some three miles in length, and the point of attack was to be the extreme left of their position, viz. farquhar's farm. in the opinion of some the attack would have succeeded and the evil days of the siege put back; in the opinion of others the attack could not possibly have succeeded on account of the length of the boer position, which they had had time to strengthen and entrench, and which had not been definitely reconnoitred. at midnight fresh orders were received from sir george white in ladysmith. the whole force was ordered to retire and to proceed back at once into their positions in and about the town. it was reported that the boers were in great numbers, some , under joubert, and that they had their big guns with them. the regiment commenced their retirement as rearguard to the force at a.m., and reached camp at . a.m. on october th. october th was a sunday, and except for rumours, which were prolific, a quiet day was spent. the boers were reported to be entrenching themselves a mile and a half out on the dundee road, and at the same time the ladysmith defences were being prepared, and blasting operations were being carried out for the construction of military roads. the battle of farquhar's farm was fought on october th, . the whole army was ordered out at a.m. the battalion formed part of the reserve brigade under colonel ian hamilton. this reserve brigade took up a position under limit hill, and facing pepworth hill from the south. the plan of the day was to have been as follows, had everything gone as it was proposed:-- five regiments of infantry, all the mounted troops, and four batteries of artillery were to move round the enemy's left up the helpmakaar road towards farquhar's farm (the direction of the proposed night attack on the night th- th) to attack and drive in his left. two regiments of infantry with one mountain battery were to move off to the left of the british position to hold the enemy's right (which comprised the whole of the free state army), and prevent him from getting into ladysmith. the main attack was to be made in the centre by colonel ian hamilton's brigade by an assault on pepworth hill, where the boer big guns were located, and which was the key of the position. the above was the plan; the result and the way in which it was carried out is told in a few words. the two infantry battalions and mountain battery, detailed to guard the left flank, knocked up against the free state army under cronje (which was seen in the forenoon by the main body of general white's force, coming over walker's hoek) on what is known now as surprise hill, and which place is situated a little above and nearer ladysmith than nicholson's nek. cronje attacked them in the dark, scattered the gun mules which stampeded, and after some hours of hard fighting captured the lot. the force on the right, under sir george white's personal command, ran prematurely into joubert's transvaal army, which had advanced from its previous and partly reconnoitred position, and which had formed up ready to receive them in a position somewhat nearer ladysmith. it received a very heavy cross fire from big guns, field guns, machine guns, and musketry, and was put to confusion, the artillery and the cavalry having some difficulty in extricating themselves. general white took the manchester regiment and the gordon highlanders from hamilton's brigade to cover the retirement, and his force came back into ladysmith fired into with wonderful accuracy, at a range of about yards, by the big gun on pepworth. of the remainder of hamilton's brigade, the rifle brigade (which had only arrived in ladysmith that day) and a half battalion devon regiment were told off to bring up the rear, whilst the other half battalion of the devons was left on limit hill, two miles outside ladysmith, to act as a covering force. * * * * * the naval brigade under lambton arrived at limit hill with three naval -pounders just as the retirement was taking place, and they were at once ordered back into the town. they returned without coming into action. as they were retiring down the road past the piggery by the orange free state junction station, a well-aimed shell from pepworth hill upset one of their guns, killing some of the ox-team and a gunner who was being carried back wounded in an ambulance. the half battalion of the regiment under major curry was ordered to take up a defensive position on limit hill and to stay there for the night. the boer force was within yards, and it was thought probable that they would follow up their defeated foe. their patrols were continually coming to within - yards of the devons' outpost line. as the half battalion was well covered from view, it was deemed expedient and prudent not to expose their position and weakness by firing, but rather by lying quiet to trust to the boer imagination, allowing them to think there was a larger force in position at limit hill than there really was. this plan was eminently successful, for except for boer patrols the position was not threatened. orders were received by this half battalion at a.m. on november nd to retire on to ladysmith. the defenders of ladysmith being unaware of the fact that any of their own troops were in front of them, and mistaking friend for foe, got down on their knees to fire as the companies of the devons appeared in sight. the half battalion which had retired with the rest of the force into ladysmith on october th received orders at a.m. on the st to strike camp, move off and form part of the garrison of section "a" of the defences of ladysmith, under the command of colonel w.g. knox, c.b. the second half battalion followed them. chapter ii siege of ladysmith - the siege of ladysmith had now commenced; communication to the south was interrupted on november nd, and on the same day the boers had their guns in action on bulwana mountain and were shelling the works and town freely. the perimeter of ladysmith was divided into four sections, a, b, c, d, under colonel w.g. knox, general howard, colonel hamilton, and colonel royston respectively. section a extended from devon post to cove redoubt; on the west of this was section b, extending as far as range post on the klip river. section c included maiden castle, wagon hill, and cæsar's camp, whilst the plain between cæsar's camp and devon post was held by the natal volunteers under colonel royston. the battalion was ordered to take up the two posts of cemetery hill and helpmakaar hill. these were the most eastern kopjes of the defences. they skirted the helpmakaar road and were immediately under bulwana and gun hill. these were distant only some five thousand yards, and dominated devon post. the battalion was distributed: three companies on helpmakaar hill, two companies on cemetery hill, with three companies in reserve near the road and river-bed immediately beneath cemetery hill. devon post received its first shells on the morning of the rd. these were aimed at the tents of the reserve companies, which were rather ostentatiously pitched on the plain by the river-bed under cemetery hill. the shells were fired from a high-velocity -inch gun on bulwana. the tents were immediately moved closer under the hill, where they were out of sight from bulwana. the boer guns were then trained on to the working parties, and some fifty shells were burst in the works (just commenced and affording little cover) on helpmakaar and cemetery hill posts, but without doing much damage. after this, owing to shell fire, it was impossible to work except at night, or when bulwana was obscured by fog. the fortifications and defences were, however, hastily pushed forward, and the platforms for the two large and ancient howitzers known as "castor" and "pollux" were soon completed. shortly after the commencement of the siege one of the few shells fired into ladysmith which did any damage, burst amongst a party of natal carbineers on the road under cemetery hill, killing five men and seven horses. on november th the intombi camp was formed, and all the wounded and most of the women and children, with a few of the able-bodied male civilian inhabitants of ladysmith, were moved into the neutral camp. on november th and th, with the exception of a shell or two, things were quiet on devon post, but on the evening of the th a furious bombardment began at four o'clock, the boer guns all round firing into the town and at anything they could see moving. no damage was done. in addition to the works on devon post, which were manned by the regiment, a half-company picquet was told off nightly. this picquet extended and lay down across the main road at the foot of the forward work. it mounted after dark and was relieved before daylight in the morning. many will remember the spot where this picquet was posted as the most ill-chosen, inconvenient, and hard platform for a bed on a rainy night. the nights of the th, th, and th were occupied in making the works stronger and building additional works. on november th the boers made their first attempt against ladysmith. the attack commenced at a.m. with heavy musketry fire directed on to the northern defences; and three hours later the attack developed on helpmakaar post and cæsar's camp. shells came very thickly from two howitzers and three high-velocity creusot guns into devon post. this lasted till about p.m., when the action was concluded with a royal salute from the naval batteries and three hearty cheers, which, started by the naval brigade, were taken up all round the defences in honour of the birthday of h.r.h. the prince of wales. a curious ending to a battle. during the action a well-directed shell from one of christie's ancient howitzers, which were now located on helpmakaar hill, pitched with good effect into the middle of a large group of boers who were entrenching themselves on a small rise of ground underneath gun hill. helpmakaar, which had always been a single-day post, was now turned into a three days' post, companies remaining in the fort for three days before being relieved. on the th three companies of the regiment were sent out under captain lafone to blow up a farm building under bulwana, about one and half miles distant from devon post. after a long delay, owing to the blasting materials having been forgotten, the operation was successfully carried out, and the party returned with only some slight annoyance from the enemy's pompom and a few shots from a high-velocity gun stationed on bulwana. the boer artillery on bulwana and gun hill was well served, and their shooting was excellent. one morning they opened with a -pounder howitzer, known under the name of "weary willy," on to the main work at devon post, at a portion of the work occupied by "walker's hotchkiss gun detachment." about twelve consecutive shots pitched within a five yards' radius, and one crashed into and nearly breached the parapet, which was here about six feet thick and built of large stones. the men worked on the th from dark till a.m., when the works were practically completed and sufficiently strengthened to answer all purposes, although building was being carried on till the last day of the siege, and the men were still building at the actual moment when the relief cavalry were marching across the plain into ladysmith. the willingness and the cheery manner in which the men of the battalion worked at these defences are worthy of record. on pitch-dark nights in pouring rain the men, wet to the skin, covered with mud and filth, without a smoke, groping about in the dark to find a likely stone, carried on the work in silence; and when the word was passed along to knock off work, they "turned in" without a grumble into a wet bivouac. there was no complaining, and the men were never required by their officers to bring along the stones faster. the only noise that broke the stillness of the night was the incessant "click, click, click" of the picks at work loosening the stones, and the men, in spite of the conditions under which the work was being carried on, joked among themselves in an undertone. work was nightly carried on from dark till midnight and sometimes till a.m., and the men turned out again to stand to arms at . a.m. by the middle of november the works at devon post were from - / to feet high, from to feet thick at the top (the whole built roughly of stone), with the superior slope nearly flat, exterior slope about / , interior slope nearly upright. the front work had a thickness at the bottom of about feet, owing to the work being constructed on the slope of the hill. [illustration: in the trenches, ladysmith] things passed quietly with intermittent shell fire till the afternoon of the th, when general brocklehurst took out the cavalry brigade and two batteries of artillery, with the intention of turning the boers off rifleman's ridge. this they failed to do, and returned to their lines about p.m. well peppered by the boer big guns, one shell from the big gun on pepworth pitching into the centre of the road just short of a battery of artillery which was coming back into ladysmith, near the defences on the north-west front held by a detachment of the dublin fusiliers--an accurate shot, and the distance measured on the map , yards. shortly afterwards the naval brigade in their turn did some good shooting, pitching a shell on to the muzzle of the big gun on pepworth, and a few moments after this shot, another on to his parapet. boers were afterwards seen carrying litters away from the work. this big gun never fired again during the siege, but the boers patched him up and he lived to do good work for them against general buller in his advance north to lydenburg, and the boers finally blew him up in front of the battalion near waterval, in the lydenburg district, when engaged with a column under general walter kitchener. for the next few days nothing of consequence occurred beyond the usual shell fire, varied at intervals from day to night time. it rained in torrents most of the time, and the men were continually wet through. they however kept very fit, and there were very few in hospital. an amusing incident occurred on the th. good targets being scarce the boers continually fired shell at any moving or stationary object they could catch sight of--sometimes at a single scout. they often fired their pompom at a range of about yards at the vultures feeding on the dead horses under devon post. on this day they sent three -lb. shells at an old man named brown who contracted for the dead horses. brown used to take these out into the open in full view of the boers, to some flat ground under the post, and there skin them at his leisure. the old man would take his load out once a day in a four-horsed cart. if he was seen by the boers he would come back at a gallop pursued by boer shells. this time he came back on three wheels, much to the amusement of section a of the defences; the fourth wheel had come off and he was in too great a hurry to readjust it, and it was in consequence left behind. the old man was never hit. on november th the boers mounted some more guns on bulwana and also on umbrella tree hill, which lay in the nek between bulwana and gun hill. colonel knox ordered a dummy battery to be made at night on the further side of the klip river and out in the open. wooden imitation guns and imitation gunners were erected, and these were worked with a string by a gunner concealed in the bank of the river. captain kincaid-smith, with the two maxim-nordenfeldt guns captured at elandslaagte, of which he was now in charge, was to open fire from devon post on to the boer guns newly placed on umbrella tree hill, and as he was perfectly concealed and fired smokeless powder, it was supposed that the boers would imagine that the firing came from the new dummy battery just erected. kincaid-smith began firing at about six o'clock on the following morning. he fired some five shells in perfect silence unanswered by the boers. he was then suddenly located by them, and shells were hurled on to him from all sides and from all descriptions of guns. this continued for a quarter of an hour and then slackened off. the boers burst their shrapnel better than usual, and in the evening just before dark one shrapnel got into a working party on devon post, killing one man and severely wounding another. there was some heavy musketry fire during the night at a reconnaissance party sent out from ladysmith towards umbrella tree hill. the party had orders to disturb the boers and draw their fire. this they very successfully accomplished. on the nd night another "disturbing party" was sent out under captain jacson, consisting of one company of the regiment and a party of cavalry, to "stir up" the boers on flag hill. it was pitch-dark, pouring with rain, and the ground was covered with boulders of rocks. the cavalry were obliged to leave their horses behind and proceed on foot in front of the infantry; so little was gained by the enterprise and no "stirring up" was effected. up to this date there had been very little news from the outside world, but now the regiment was informed that general french had fought a successful engagement at estcourt and had got in with the cavalry. they were also told that the garrison might expect to be relieved by the th december by one division which was coming up from durban. about november nd the news was received that the armoured train at colenso had been attacked, derailed, and captured. on the rd kincaid-smith received orders to proceed with one of his guns during the following night down to the river-bed near the dummy battery and open fire if the boers fired at it in the morning. this they had done the previous day, much to every one's amusement. at daybreak he opened fire from the river-bed. after his second shot the boers found him and made wonderful practice, bursting shrapnel all over him. no damage, however, was done as he was well dug into the bank. they continued their shelling for an hour, after which they turned their big guns on to tunnel hill for a short time. this hill was held by the liverpool regiment, who lost two killed and twelve wounded, of whom five died of their wounds next day. the works on devon post and cemetery hill were strengthened during the next few nights until the front walls were from twelve to fifteen feet thick. most of this work was carried on in heavy rain, which greatly added to the general discomfort of the men. on november th the garrison was encouraged by the information that the boers had been badly beaten near estcourt, that of them had gone off (it was not reported where to!), and that general clery was at colenso. on november th general clery opened up signalling communication with ladysmith by flashing his message with his searchlight at night on to the clouds. the message, which was in cipher, could be easily read by every one, but the garrison was unable to reply as they had no searchlight. in the early days of december, in order to keep the men as far as possible in a condition for any eventualities, the regiment evacuated their works twice a week at dusk and went for a march twice round the town. starting at nightfall the works were regained about p.m. the exercise was good for the men's limbs and the change of scene undoubtedly nourishment for their minds, but it is doubtful if it conduced to the health of the men, as during the march they were smothered in their own dust, and also in that kicked up by the artillery horses exercising at the same time and on the same roads. it certainly gave the men something to think about besides rocks and stones and building, and the walking stretched their legs. on december nd colonel knox, desirous of carrying on the work of building in the daytime as well as by night, ordered some canvas screens to be put up in the post, behind which the men could work concealed from view. but although stained the colour of the surroundings, the screens were seen at once by the boers, and the battalion was much troubled by a new gun stationed near pepworth hill, which opened fire shortly after they were erected. one shell from this howitzer topping the hill pitched within a yard of the guard tent underneath, which was full of men. no damage was done, however, beyond scattering the ammunition boxes and covering the men with mud. the screens were then taken down, and on the disappearance of the noxious objects the firing ceased, and the boers appeared pacified. at p.m., whilst the regiment was at work building on cemetery hill, an order came to parade at once and march to a rendezvous down in the town in lyle street. it was given out "for operations near limit hill." on reaching the rendezvous it was learnt that the force consisted of two brigades of infantry, some batteries, and all the mounted troops. after half an hour's wait, a staff officer rode up to say that the operations were cancelled. about this time the siege newspaper, the _ladysmith lyre_, came into existence. there were only four issues, on account of want of paper. shelling continued daily with but little or no result. the boers were apparently much incensed with the town hall, upon which the geneva red cross flag was flying, and which was being used as a hospital, for they continually fired at it till the flag was taken down early in december, when they scarcely ever fired at it again. [illustration: town hall, ladysmith, clock-tower damaged by shell fire] on december th general hunter made his sortie to gun hill. the secret was well kept. in the evening, at dark, the battalion was sent to abattis hill with orders to entrench, the scheme ostensibly being that a force was to go out and stir up the boers round pepworth hill whilst the regiment threatened to attack the boers on the other flank. at p.m. a letter was received telling the officer commanding the devon regiment to meet general hunter under devon post at . p.m. shortly after this hour a force of colonial mounted infantry, with general hunter at their head, passed the post to assault gun hill. this they found but sparsely guarded, and, dispersing the small picquet, they succeeded in blowing up the two big guns and a maxim located there. the regiment remained out till the operation was over. it had been placed in this position on abattis hill to act as a flank guard, with the object of preventing the boers attacking from the left round general hunter's rear, which was very open, and to act as a support upon which general hunter could fall back in case his surprise failed and he was driven in. this successful operation was accomplished with the loss of seven men wounded. the operation that followed was not, however, so successful. colonel knox reported that his mounted troops had gone out eight miles up the newcastle road past limit hill, and had not met or seen a single boer. he suggested that the cavalry brigade should go out and capture and burn the boer stores at elandslaagte station. they proceeded to carry out the suggestion, starting at a.m., but they fell in with a large force of boers under pepworth hill who had been in their laagers when the reconnaissance was made and had thus escaped detection. they came under heavy musketry fire as well as shell fire, and retired back to ladysmith with a loss of three killed and fifteen wounded. on december th an attack on devon post was expected, and precautions taken accordingly. the attack, however, did not come off. on the night of december th the rifle brigade made a sortie and blew up a boer big gun on surprise hill. this attack was admirably planned and carried out, but the losses sustained by the rifle brigade were heavy, being fourteen killed and fifty wounded out of the five companies employed. the boers attacked them as they were retiring; there was a good deal of indiscriminate firing, and the bayonet was freely used. the boers lost considerably, partly in the general mix-up, from their own fire, and partly owing to the close-quarter combat with the rifle brigade. the regiment, with other troops, was ordered out with all baggage on the night of the th, the rendezvous being the iron bridge on the vanreenen's pass road. on arrival there the order was received to go home. this was supposed to be a rehearsal for a sortie. on december th general buller's guns were heard for the first time due south from ladysmith, and at p.m. the regiment and transport were inspected by colonel knox to see if everything was complete and in readiness to move out, and on the th the regiment was placed with other troops in a flying column formed under the personal command of sir george white. it was expected by all that general buller would relieve the ladysmith garrison on december th. the following day, december th, a very heavy cannonade commenced at a.m. in the direction of colenso; and at a.m. a heliograph message was sent into ladysmith which told the garrison that "the boers are suffering terribly from our thirty guns and , men." the cannonade ceased at about p.m. this day the meat ration was reduced to oz. per man, but - / lb. of bread per man was still being issued. december th being dingaan's day, the garrison of ladysmith was treated to heavy shell fire at daybreak. on december th the regiment and the gordon highlanders were told off as reserve battalions under the immediate orders of sir george white. it was officially given out that sir r. buller had been unable to make good his advance at colenso, and that the garrison must be prepared to hold on for another two weeks. the orders publishing this news stated that the "lieutenant-general regrets to have to announce that the lieutenant-general commanding-in-chief in south africa failed to make good his first attack on colenso; reinforcements will therefore not arrive as early as expected." on the evening of december th the regiment gave over the good works they had completed on devon post and cemetery hill to the liverpool regiment, and moved into the latter's camp at tunnel hill, or, as it was otherwise known, railway cutting camp. * * * * * helpmakaar hill, on account of being so exposed, had, at the commencement of the siege, been considered indefensible and untenable. under the vigorous superintendence of colonel knox, the commandant of the section who planned the defences, the works on this hill had by now been almost completed by the officers and men of the battalion. the defences were as complete as possible--flanking works, covered ways, splinter and shell-proof covers were dug or erected, and the main trenches had been turned into defensible barracks with head cover to keep off the rain. it was possible to proceed from the reserve under cemetery hill up to and round the front and main works, and round the other side of the hill back to the reserve again, without once coming into view from the boer positions on gun hill, bulwana, or elsewhere, a six-feet covering wall having been built for this purpose. it was thus possible to send reinforcements to any part of the works without exposure to fire or view. during the siege this post was never attacked or seriously threatened. the regiment, being now in the general reserve, was ordered to be ready to jump into mule wagons, and be carted at a gallop to any place where they might be required, at any moment, and on the th the manoeuvre was put into execution. it was not altogether a success. at dusk the regiment proceeded to the railway station and the men were duly loaded up in the wagons. a start was then made, but as the second wagon nearly took the whole station with it in its endeavours to negotiate the first corner of the galvanized iron goods shed, no great speed was effected, for this wagon and the demolished corner of the shed blocked all further egress from the station till the road was cleared. shortly afterwards the wagons, at last let loose, came into contact with the two city filth carts, the "powerful" and "terrible," which were parading about the streets on their own. these exceedingly powerful ironclads completed the defeat of the mule wagons, upset finally their order of going, and the retirement was effected in detachments. the manoeuvre was never repeated. wonderful tales and reports were continually being circulated from day to day. on one day there would perhaps be no news of any value, followed on the next day by the most woeful tidings; but on the third day, as if ashamed of themselves for furnishing such bad news the previous day, the tale-bearers would turn the winter of its discontent into the most glorious summer, by sending forth to the garrison shaves bubbling over with pleasing items. on the evening of the st a heliograph message was received from the nd battalion, which was with sir redvers buller, stating that at the colenso fight on the th december colonel bullock, major walter, and lieutenant smyth-osbourne had been taken prisoners, and captains goodwyn, vigors, and radcliffe and lieutenants gardiner and storey wounded. after standing to arms daily at . a.m. till daylight, the regiment was employed in building long stone traverses, behind which the men were to live, and this work was carried on again in the evening after dark by the light of candles. the dimensions of the traverses were sixty yards long, eight feet high, six feet (of stonework) thick at the top, and nine feet of stonework at the base, the earth from a ditch in front being thrown up at an angle of / . they had a topping of sand-bags, with intervals for air passage; and a tent, stretched lengthways from the top down to ground, afforded the men shelter and accommodation. on december nd a serious catastrophe happened to a party of the gloucester regiment, who were quartered in a small traverse near those occupied by the regiment. a shell caught the whole party of twelve men as they were sitting away from the cover of the traverse. five were killed, four died of their wounds almost immediately, and three were severely wounded. a man with a telescope was now placed on the look-out, with orders to blow a whistle if he saw the big gun on bulwana turned towards the lines when firing; and as the shell took about thirty seconds from the time of the discharge to reach its mark, the warning gave the men time to get under cover. there were frequently some very amusing incidents when the look-out man blew his whistle. one morning whilst the business at the orderly-room was being conducted, and a culprit being told off, the whistle gave warning that the gun on bulwana had fired, and in the direction of tunnel hill. as all could not get inside the orderly-room shelter, which was merely a hole dug into the side of the hill, there was a general scuttle and _sauve qui peut_. one officer, trying to get into the orderly-room from outside, ran into another who was escaping from it to get into the first traverse, and each tumbled over the other. the quartermaster, trying to crawl on his hands and knees under the tenting of the second traverse, got blocked out, and at the same time shut out another officer flying for safety. at the same moment a man jumped from above on the quartermaster's back, and he, fancying that it was the shell and that his end had come, gave himself up for lost. all, however, ended happily for the immediate neighbourhood, for the look-out man had made a mistake, and the shell, instead of arriving at tunnel hill, crashed into the town. all these incidents and accidents, individually very serious at the time, were always amusing in the telling as soon as the tyranny was overpast, and, resulting in a hearty laugh, helped to relieve the strain. the london _gazette_ of october th was signalled into ladysmith by the nd battalion. this stated: "major park to be lieutenant-colonel; davies, nd-in-command; ellicombe, major; radcliffe, captain." a list of prices at this time in ladysmith at the public auction is of interest:-- eggs per dozen, s. d. small vegetable marrow, s. d. twelve small carrots, s. d. small water melon (worth d.), s. d. condensed milk per tin, s. d. fifty-two small potatoes, £ s. chickens, each, s. ducks, s. d. dutch butter in tins, s. d. per lb. / d. manilla cigars, s. there was no english smoking tobacco obtainable, and one bottle of whisky changed hands at £ s. december th, christmas day. "hark, the herald angels sing!" was forcibly brought to notice by the whistling of shells passing overhead at daylight. no divine service was therefore held. the garrison received the following message from her majesty the queen: "i wish you and all my brave soldiers and sailors a happy christmas. god protect and bless you all.--v.r.i." in the evening there was a soldiers' sing-song in the lines, which was finished off by three most hearty cheers for her majesty. christmas day completed the eighth week of the siege. the losses which the nd battalion sustained at colenso were heliographed into ladysmith. these were n.c.o.'s and men killed, wounded, and taken prisoners. this was in addition to the officers wounded and taken prisoners already mentioned. on december th, shortly after breakfast, a shell from the big gun from bulwana pitched and burst in the officers' mess shelter, where fourteen officers had taken cover on the whistle being blown. lieutenant a.f. dalzel was killed and the following were wounded:-- lieutenant p.h. price-dent, dangerously in the head. lieutenant caffin, dangerously in arm and shoulder. lieutenant byrne, slightly. lieutenant tringham, slightly. lieutenant kane, slightly. lieutenant scafe, slightly. lieutenant twiss, slightly. lieutenant blunt, slightly. captain lafone, slightly. private laycock, mess waiter, slightly. the wounded were taken into the railway cutting and there cared for. they were then sent down to hospital in a church in the town. lieutenant dalzel was buried that night in the cemetery after dark during a heavy thunderstorm and in torrents of rain. the men had a bad experience on the night of the th. the rain flooded their bivouacs, and the morning found blankets and clothes floating about in the water in the trenches. later on, however, the weather cleared, the sun came out, and everything was soon dried. [illustration: after a wet night in the traverses, ladysmith] at the latter end of december marksmen were sent out daily to the hill-tops some yards in front of the line of forts to act as countersnipers to the boers, who continually fired at the grazing guards. one man was hit twice in one day by a boer sniper, but only slightly wounded. it would appear from a letter written by a boer that these marksmen made it very uncomfortable for the boer snipers. in the letter, which was afterwards published in a boer newspaper, the correspondent, writing to a friend in pretoria, said: "i and my two comrades went out this morning to fire into the english position. we had only just got to our hiding-place when one of my comrades was shot dead; shortly after, my other comrade was badly wounded, and i lay down and hid the whole day till dark, when i got back to the laager." this would go to prove that, comparing him with the boer, the british infantry soldier is not such a duffer with his weapon as some of those in authority were in the habit of asserting. there was a good deal of musketry fire whilst the scouts were out, and it was supposed that shots were being exchanged with the boer snipers; but when the marksmen, who were posted on the hills near the orange free state junction station and just above the abandoned piggery, came back with portions of the carcasses of pigs, it was evident that all the firing had not been at transvaal boers. lieutenant price-dent died at a.m. on the st december in the intombi hospital. it was found that a piece of shell had penetrated his brain and lodged there. he was buried in the intombi cemetery. up to the end of december things had been going fairly well with the besieged. the regiment had had plenty of hard work to keep them fit, although they had been exposed to the elements and had had to rough it considerably. but nothing in the way of disease had troubled them. with the advent of january, however, whether it was from want of exercise or from the surroundings of their new camp, disease in the form of fever and dysentery became rife. they had been situated formerly for the most part on a well-drained kopje, whereas now they were down on the flat, and in a position that was not altogether healthy. there were no longer any comforts in the shape of tobacco, etc., and the news given to them from the outside world in the place of food was of so poor a quality that the men's minds as well as their bodies were becoming affected. the regiment kept heart under the depressing circumstances in a wonderful manner, and when sir redvers buller kept putting off his arrival from day to day and week to week, the news that he was coming at last was generally received with a smile as if it was rather a joke. the boers were very busy on new year's day, . it was supposed that a number of excursion trains filled with the youth and beauty of the transvaal had arrived, and consequently the young boer blood was all for showing off. the big gun on bulwana threw in the aggregate during the day - / tons of iron into the town, with the result that two men were killed. there was likewise a good deal of sniping, chiefly at the indian "grass cuts." one shell thrown into ladysmith on new year's day had engraved on it "compliments of the season," and contained a bursting charge of liquorice in the place of melinite, and a paper on which was written:-- "good morning mr. franchise, don't be so cowardly to stay in holes, ye brave hero. "your faithfully, "small long tom." another blind shell picked up was full of sweetmeats. messages of good wishes to the garrison were received from her majesty, from sir redvers buller, and from the soldiers, sailors, and civilians of hong kong. sir george white came round to see the regiment in the evening, and informed the officers that sir redvers buller would make no move for a fortnight. this was definite news, at any rate. at dawn on january rd most of the naval guns fired off a large amount of shell, and there was considerable guessing amongst the uninitiated as to what was or were the targets. shells fell at the foot of bulwana, near the searchlight on the top, and also near the big gun. it was afterwards learnt that all the shells were meant for one particular spot on bulwana, viz. the big gun. on occasions it was the duty of the regiment to send one company to dismount the . gun known as "lady anne" and place it on carts preparatory to its being shifted elsewhere. this was easily accomplished at the commencement of the siege in one night by men. at the end of the siege, however, owing to the weakness of the men, the task was never completed under two nights, and then by men. about this time one company of the regiment was ordered down to the railway station as a station and bridge guard. this was a three-days' post, and was much appreciated, as the men, being quite concealed amongst trees, had more freedom, and the officer in command had a railway carriage to sleep in. on january th the following moves took place, and as the position of companies is important, they are given in full. three companies proceeded under major curry to observation hill to relieve the companies of the th rifles ordered to cæsar's camp. one company was ordered to the railway station as bridge guard. a half company was sent to form the bell's spruit picquet, the other half remaining at the railway cutting. in the early hours of january th three fresh companies relieved those on observation hill, the latter returning to the railway cutting; the two companies at the railway bridge and at bell's spruit stood fast in their positions of the previous day. the boer attack of january th on the positions round ladysmith commenced on wagon hill at about . a.m., and the boers were not finally repulsed till after dark on the evening of the same day. as the great attack has been so ably described by various authors, it will suffice here to give a rough outline of what took place on cæsar's camp and wagon hill prior to the companies of the regiment reaching the latter place. the boers attacked wagon hill at about . a.m., and amidst a good deal of confusion on the top, where : gun was in the act of being mounted, gained possession of the front crest. their attempt to take wagon hill itself failed. reinforcements consisting of two companies gordon highlanders and three squadrons of i.l.h. were sent to assist the th rifles, the men of the i.l.h., and the detachment of sappers already engaged with the boers. [illustration: the railway bridge, with cæsar's camp in distance, ladysmith] an hour later the attack on cæsar's camp developed. the manchesters were prepared for them, and one company gordon highlanders was sent to reinforce. the boers, unable to advance against the front crest of cæsar's camp, attempted to turn the flank of the manchesters along the northern slopes. this attempt was foiled by the advance of the one company gordon highlanders, assisted by the rd battery which had come into action on the plain below. the rifle brigade reinforced cæsar's camp at about a.m., and two more companies of the gordons were sent there at about p.m. by a.m. the boers had been pushed back off cæsar's camp, and wagon hill was reported nearly clear. wagon hill was further reinforced by the th hussars at a.m. at p.m. the boers, who had always hung on to their crest line, again attempted to rush wagon hill point, and though they gained a temporary advantage failed to establish themselves. sir george white ordered that the hill should be cleared of boers at all costs before nightfall, and he sent the th lancers and th hussars to support the troops already at wagon hill, and at the same time three companies of the devons were ordered to proceed there with all dispatch. at a.m. the three companies of the devons, which were in camp, commanded respectively by captain w.b. lafone, lieutenant masterson with lieutenant walker, and lieutenant field, the whole commanded by lieutenant-colonel park, had been ordered to proceed to the camp near iron bridge vacated that morning by the gordon highlanders, to be ready as a reserve if wanted. at about . p.m. these three companies received orders to proceed at once to wagon hill to reinforce colonel ian hamilton's command and to push on, as help was urgently required. the adjutant, captain h.s.l. ravenshaw, was sent back to camp to order rations and water to be sent out. wagon hill was reached at . p.m., and it was then ascertained that the th lancers and th hussars had already been merged into the firing line, and that a party of forty or fifty boers were still in possession of the hill some yards in front of the ridge held by the imperial light horse, and directly in front of where the three companies were then halted under cover, that these boers had been holding on all day there and inflicting great loss, and that our troops had been unable to dislodge them. colonel park was asked if he could turn them out by rushing them with the bayonet. he answered, "we will try." after the three companies had been formed up in column with bayonets fixed and magazines charged, colonel park gave the order to advance at fifty paces interval in quick time, and when the top of the ridge was reached to charge the position occupied by the boers. the charge took place in a blinding hail-storm, a time well chosen, as the hail was beating into the faces of the boers. the men, before reaching the place where they formed up for the charge, were wet through, and had put on their warm coats which they had carried strapped on to their belts. when the storm was at its height, colonel park gave the order to charge. lieutenant field, who commanded the leading company, rushed forward up the slope, shouting, "company, double charge!" he was immediately followed at a distance of about ten yards by masterson's company, which was immediately followed by lafone's. as they got to the top of the crest they came in view of the sangar of rocks held by the i.l.h. at the corner of this they had to change direction half right, and the moment they reached it came under fire from the boers. there was necessarily some crowding at this corner, owing to the change of direction, and the fact that the companies in their eagerness had followed so soon the one behind the other. there was, however, no halting, no dwelling here. on they went to reach their goal, yards away, over perfectly flat open ground, fired into at short range from right, left, and front. three-parts of the way across park directed the rear company more to the right, the position the boers occupied being in a semicircle. [illustration: lieut.-colonel c.w. park] the enemy held on, firing most heavily, until the charging lines were within fifteen yards of them, and then ran down the slope and disappeared behind a ridge of rocks some forty yards ahead, beyond which the ground was dead and fell steeply away to the front. almost before the men could be secured in the position they had won, bullets began to come in quickly from the right and left, and the cover of the rocks had to be sought as several men were hit. a few of the boers who had been dislodged also crept back to the low ridge of rocks in front and began firing, and it was at this time that captain lafone and lieutenant field were hit. lieutenant walker, somerset light infantry, and about thirty-five men were hit during the charge. colonel park was then the only officer left, the three companies being commanded by non-commissioned officers. lieutenant walker was one of the last shot dead in the charge. he was shot through the head (as were most of the killed) within fifteen yards of the kopje held by the boers. lieutenant field rushed forward beyond this kopje and lay down in the open and commenced firing at the boers at the crest just in front. he was very shortly afterwards shot through the head. captain lafone was shot shortly before lieutenant field. he was in the act of firing at the time, taking aim, and was shot by a boer lying in the grass some twenty-five yards away on his right rear. before he was killed he had suggested to lieutenant masterton that some one should go back to the i.l.h. sangar to ask them to direct their fire on to some boers on the left front; these were firing into the dead and wounded who had been hit during the charge and left out in the open. lieutenant masterton at once volunteered, and started to run back over the yards. he got most of the way across when he was hit in the legs by a bullet, but he continued his course, and being struck again fell, and was dragged behind cover by the i.l.h. he delivered his message. the position won was held until the boers retired under cover of darkness. the men were then placed in defensive positions, and picquets told off. the wounded were subsequently cared for, and the dead left where they had fallen till daylight. colonel park described the fire of the boers as like the crackle of a piece of gorse in a blazing fire. colour-sergeant palmer, who so greatly distinguished himself both during and after the charge, said the air was hot with bullets. his rifle was shot in two at the lower band as he was taking aim, splinters grazing his face and hands. half the survivors had their clothing shot through, and the majority of the killed were found to have been hit two or three times. the strength of the force was officers and non-commissioned officers and men, of whom officers and men were killed and officer and men were wounded. although the loss was great, viz. nearly one-third of the total number, it is a matter of surprise that more were not hit during the run of yards, exposed as they were for about three minutes to magazine fire at a point-blank range. it can be accounted for by the fact that the boers crouching behind the rocks were rather below than above the level of the men, and their fire being consequently directed upwards, the bullets passed high and over the heads of the charging companies. this would explain why the majority of the killed were shot through the head. lieutenant walker was hit in the chin, the bullet cutting his chin-strap and passing out at the back and top of his head. the following morning, as the men were collecting and parading preparatory to marching back to the railway cutting, sir george white rode up and addressed them. shaking colonel park by the hand he said: "i congratulate and thank you for the splendid work you and your men did yesterday. it was magnificently done. i am afraid you suffered very heavily, but you must remember that such work as that cannot be done for the empire without loss." whilst the three companies were performing such gallant deeds on the southern defences, the three companies under major curry were holding their own on the north-west defences at observation hill. the boers attacked this post heavily in the morning, and were supported by six field-guns, which were supposed to have been the colenso guns of general buller's army, shrapnel being continually burst with excellent precision over the defences. [illustration: naval battery hill, ladysmith] [illustration: monument erected to devons on wagon hill, on spot where the charge took place, ladysmith] the account of the fighting which took place is told in major curry's own words:-- "the battle of ladysmith commenced between and a.m. on cæsar's camp and soon we were engaged all round. the three companies which had proceeded to observation hill originally had just been relieved by three fresh companies. at about a.m. lieutenant emerson reported to me that there was a party of boers to his front, that he had fired on them, and that they had retired. i thought it was the usual picquet and that they had gone right back (it was too dark to see much); but such was not the case, for they had concealed themselves in a fold in the ground about yards to our front. their strength must have been between seventy and eighty. "the enemy brought fire to bear on us from a -pounder howitzer, a field-gun, and a hotchkiss on surprise hill, and from one or two field-guns on the hill to our right over hyde's farm. they pounded away all the morning, and brought a continuous rifle fire on our position as well. at about . a.m. i heard a rattle of musketry from our centre work, and when i went up there i found that the enemy, who had concealed themselves in the fold in the ground in the early morning, had advanced right up the hill and had got within a few yards of our sangars before being seen. we killed nine and wounded twelve. they retired again to their cover, where they remained for the greater part of the day, slipping away by ones and twos back to their position. at about p.m. a tremendous thunder and hail storm came on, which blotted out everything. the fire, which had ceased as the storm came on, was not renewed. our loss was two killed by rifle fire, when the boers made their attack. our sangars were frequently breached by the -lb. shell during the day, but there was no loss from shell fire." these three companies were relieved by the leicesters the next evening. lieutenant masterson was rewarded with the victoria cross, and the following is the official account of his gallant deed:-- "during the action at wagon hill, on the th january, , lieutenant masterson commanded with the greatest gallantry and dash one of the three companies of his regiment, which charged a ridge held by the enemy, and captured the position. "the companies were then exposed to a most heavy and galling fire from the right and left front. lieutenant masterson undertook to give a message to the imperial light horse, who were holding a ridge some hundred yards behind, to fire to the left front and endeavour to check the enemy's fire. "in taking this message he crossed an open space of a hundred yards, which was swept by a most heavy cross fire, and although badly wounded in both thighs managed to crawl in and deliver his message before falling exhausted into the imperial light horse trench. his unselfish heroism was undoubtedly the means of saving several lives." the gallant conduct of colour-sergeant palmer was brought to notice under the following circumstances: when three companies of the regiment were ordered to charge the ridge held by the enemy on wagon hill on january th, , colour-sergeant gilbert palmer was with the leading company, and he at once dashed out to the front with most conspicuous bravery, and went straight for the point from which the heaviest fire was coming. the enemy ran before they were reached, but the three companies were exposed to a galling fire from the right, left, and front. colour-sergeant palmer got behind a rock and shot several of the enemy, at the same time keeping a constant eye upon his own men, telling them when and where to fire, and when to take cover. when all the company officers were either killed or wounded, he at once recognized his position as senior non-commissioned officer, and was invaluable in getting orders passed to the other companies, and in superintending the men till dark, when the enemy retired. he then, acting under orders, personally placed the outpost line, saw to the collection of the dead and wounded, and, in fact, rendered invaluable assistance in every way. his dash and pluck during the bayonet charge, his coolness and steady courage under a heavy cross fire, and the power of command and of quick and correct judgment displayed by him were most brilliant. colour-sergeant palmer's name was previously brought to notice for gallant conduct at the battle of elandslaagte on october st, , so that this made the second occasion on which he conspicuously distinguished himself. the names of the following non-commissioned officers and men were also brought to notice for gallantry on the occasion:-- lance-corporal gilbert young. " " frank john rowe. private henry brimmicombe. " r.g. hansford. " e. norman. " h. cox. the following message from her majesty the queen was received by sir george white for promulgation:-- "to sir george white, "ladysmith. "warmly congratulate you and all under your command on your brilliant success. greatly admire conduct of devonshire regiment. v.r.i." the following telegram was also received:-- "o/c devon regiment, "railway cutting. "g.o.c. directs me to convey direct to you the following message from sir r. buller:-- "'congratulate all troops on gallant defence, especially devon regiment.'" the losses sustained by the garrison of ladysmith on the th january were:-- killed. wounded. officers men total killed and wounded, . by the death of captain lafone the regiment lost one of the kindest-hearted and best officers that ever led a company. the boers' losses are estimated at killed and wounded. this estimate may be considered low, for the _standard and diggers' news_, copies of which were found later on in the war, gave six full-length columns of killed and wounded amongst the various commandos. a large donga was utilized by the boers as a dressing station. the violent storm on the afternoon of the th filled all the dry dongas and turned them at once into mountain torrents. it is said that all the wounded boers in this donga were swept out into the klip river and drowned. the dead of the regiment were buried with those of other regiments, in a grave under wagon hill. captain lafone and lieutenant field were buried in the cemetery in ladysmith. on the morning of january th all the wounded were sent by train to intombi camp, including lieutenant masterson, who was doing well. on january th the regiment was concentrated at the railway cutting, the company at the railway station having been permanently relieved from the post by a company of the liverpool regiment. the battalion was thus ready to be moved to any portion of the defences requiring assistance, in case of attack. the estimation in which the battalion was held at this time by the ladysmith garrison was well borne out by a remark made by sir george white. "the devons," he said, "have never failed me yet. on the th they held one place and took another." a scare in the evening that the boers were to attack again in the morning caused various preparations to be made for their advent. the garrison stood to arms at . a.m. awaiting the attack. it is a curious fact that the regiment was never ordered to stand to arms in the morning before three o'clock at any time previous to or after the th january, and the only time the boers made a night attack they did so at . a.m. this was on january th, on which day the regiment was ordered to stand to arms at . a.m. during the night of january th- th the naval guns fired in the direction of surprise hill, and whilst this was proceeding the mountain battery's two remaining guns also threw some star shell in the same direction. the boers were hugely elated at the sight of the star shell. this was probably the first time they had seen them. they turned their searchlight on to the stars when they fell on the ground, and cheered lustily. they evidently considered that it was a performance got up for their special entertainment by messrs. brock and co., direct from the crystal palace. the cause of all this shell fire was not known, but it would appear as if information had been received that the boers had been collecting at the back of surprise hill the evening before, with a view to a renewed attack. nothing, however, in the shape of an attack occurred, and at a.m. firing ceased, and the sun rose in the morning in tranquillity. on the th three messages were received by the garrison congratulating them on their good work of january th: one from the governor of natal, one from valparaiso, and one from general buller. the last named stated in his telegram that he would relieve ladysmith as soon as possible. it was stated that sir george white had heliographed to sir redvers buller informing him that there were over sick and wounded in intombi hospital camp, that he could not hold out for much longer, and that he must not expect any assistance from him when he made his effort. sir redvers buller had replied that he was sparing no effort to push forward, and that he hoped to be ready soon. the number of patients in the intombi hospital camp had increased by january th to-- over cases of dysentery; " cases of enteric fever; " cases not yet diagnosed, but probably enteric fever; " cases wounded and various. the daily rations of the garrison now consisted of / lb. of tinned meat and lb. of bread per man. had it not been for the indian contingent there would have been no flour at all in ladysmith. all the flour, all the rum, in fact almost everything that the garrison lived upon with the exception of meat, was brought from india with the indian contingent, which carried with it six months' supply of every description. from january th, another duty assigned to the regiment was the sending of two companies every morning at two o'clock to the examining guard on the newcastle road, which was situated just under the . naval gun "lady anne." they had orders to stop there till . a.m. to check any rush of boers into ladysmith down the newcastle road. later on, the ground in front of this post was covered with barbed wire entanglement, but up to this time there was nothing at this point to prevent the boers galloping right into the town. [illustration: a peaceful sunday] [illustration: klip river and camp of the imperial light horse, ladysmith] as these two companies went to their places on the th, the boer searchlight on bulwana was flashing everywhere, and the mountain guns throwing star shell. it looked as if both sides expected an attack. the officer commanding the two companies had orders to operate on the flank of any attack made on the northern defences. on the following morning the garrison was told that general buller was moving round by springfield; in the evening it was given out that he was moving west of chieveley and colenso, and was twelve miles from ladysmith; and on the th the news came in that he was at potgieter's drift, and that general warren was across the tugela river; and in confirmation of this last information heavy gun fire was heard on the th in the direction of potgieters, and the relieving army's balloon was seen on the following day in the same direction. as an attack was expected on the night of the th on observation hill, three companies of the regiment under major curry proceeded there in the evening and bivouacked, the remainder of the regiment being under orders to hold themselves in readiness to proceed there at a moment's notice. the night, however, passed quietly, and the companies returned to their camp before dawn. on january th better news was received from sir redvers buller; his advance had been very satisfactory. reports stated that he had reached acton holmes, and that four brigades had crossed the tugela. his shells were seen falling thickly on thabba nyama mountain. the tea and sugar rations were, however, cut down to half. the health of the men began now to generally improve, probably owing to better drinking water which was obtainable from the condenser, recently arranged for, at the railway station. very heavy gun fire, night and day, was continually heard from the direction of spion kop and acton holmes, and on the rd a demonstration was made from ladysmith, the mounted troops going out under cover of the fire of all the guns. the ladysmith guns on all the fronts opened, but were answered only by the boer guns on gun hill and bulwana. there was but little musketry fire from pepworth direction, and surprise hill seemed deserted. still no relief appeared, and the rations were:-- oz. of beef, lb. of bread. half ration of sugar. half ration of tea. an order published on the rd gave hope:-- "sir george white has received further satisfactory news as to sir r. buller's advance. the relief of ladysmith may be said to be within measurable distance." very heavy gun fire was heard from a.m. on the th till p.m., and in the evening further encouragement was circulated:-- "reassuring news has been received from sir r. buller." no news from the relieving army was received on the th. heavy firing continued, and in the evening the boers were seen trekking from the direction of spion kop, all the laagers on the rear slopes of the mountain clearing off and making for vanreenen's pass and newcastle. in fact, the whole country round spion kop seemed about to be hurriedly abandoned by the boers. great excitement prevailed in ladysmith. an investigation of the slopes of spion kop through the glasses at daybreak on the following morning proved, however, disappointing, for the laagers which had cleared off the night before were back again in their places. moreover, the boers round ladysmith were very truculent on the morning of the th, which necessitated the garrison standing to arms till a.m. prices at the weekly auction had gone up considerably. two vegetable marrows were sold for s. d. pumpkins fetched s. d. each. a small plate of potatoes reached s. whilst four sticks ( oz.) of black tobacco, "fair-maid" brand, changed hands at £ s. from now till the end of the siege two companies of the regiment were moved to a healthier spot, known as the "convalescent camp." it was situated at the eastern end of convent hill. this post was relieved weekly, and as the men were concealed and in a healthier position the change was much appreciated. on the morning of january th a native runner brought in news. his account was:-- "boers lost heavily from artillery fire on wednesday, and say that the british artillery is too much for them. i saw six field cornets dead on one wagon. some english were taken prisoners, and they were from the left flank attack. the english attacked spion kop and surrounded the base of the hill, and the boers lost heavily from the english shrapnel fire. when the english got to the top of the hill the boers ran down the other side. the boers are much disheartened by their losses." judging from the above, the native must have then run away and not have waited to see the finish, for in the evening the following news came in:-- "buller attacked spion kop, seized and occupied it, but was driven off again the next night. our loss is estimated at killed and wounded." with the knowledge that history has given the world about the battle of spion kop, further comment is needless. the news above is given as it was received by the garrison of ladysmith, who of course knew nothing but what was sent in in scraps by sir redvers buller, and what came in to the intelligence department by native runners. on the th the daily ration was further cut down to / lb. of meat, biscuits, / oz. of tea, and / oz. of sugar per man. horses, except those belonging to the artillery, went rationless. on january st horse-flesh was issued for the first time as a ration. one dozen whisky was raffled in the town, and fetched £ --£ s. per wineglass! the only news received from the outside world on february nd was that-- "sir r. buller has retired behind the tugela to rearrange, and sir john lubbock has been made a peer." the question asked is, who is lubbock, and is he connected in any way with the evacuation of spion kop? some say that the news is the wrong way about, and that lubbock has retired and sir r. buller been made a peer. confirmation of the news was anxiously awaited. whichever way it was, in the face of the evacuation of spion kop it was poor news to feed a half-starved and anxious garrison on. however, in the meantime the big gun on bulwana had fired his great shells into the railway cutting camp and killed the doctor's horse. about this time a decoction called "chevril" was issued to the men. it was supplied by the th hussars' horses, whose bodies were boiled down for the purpose. it was nourishing and the men liked it, which was a good thing. there was nothing else by which to recommend it. the men were also allowed to go down to the chevril factory, which was close to the station, and buy the flesh of the horse after it had passed through the boiling process. this did not appear appetizing, but again the men liked it, and when cooked up with wild spinach which grew about the lines it was considered very tasty. two items of news were received on february th, one being that general buller had again crossed the tugela in three places and was to be expected shortly, and the other that the garrison of ladysmith was to be attacked again next morning by , boers. arrangements were made to meet the latter, the arrival of the former being considered hypothetical. the garrison stood to arms at three o'clock the following morning and anxiously awaited the dawn, but everything went off quietly, and at . a.m. general buller's guns commenced in three different directions. the sound of the heavy gun fire increased in intensity, till at . p.m. the noise could be compared to a heavy storm with incessant thunder. the regiment was now told off as part of a flying column. this was hopeful, as it was supposed that arrangements were being made to co-operate with the relieving army. at . a.m. on the th buller's guns began firing again and continued the whole day. for the next few days there was no news from the outside world. buller's guns were heard incessantly, and one boer big gun was seen firing on dornkloof, south of manger's hill. a few of buller's lyddite shells were bursting near him, and one shell was seen to strike his magazine and explode it. on the seventh night men of the regiment were again engaged in shifting the . gun "lady anne." on the th nothing was heard of buller's guns--perfect silence! this gave rise to all sorts of reports, one actually given out being that buller had taken his position and could come in at any time he liked, but he had been stopped by a telegram from the cape in order to allow of lord roberts pushing up through the free state; and then both buller and roberts would relieve ladysmith and take bloemfontein respectively on the same day. and this on the very day on which buller was retiring south of tugela again from vaal krantz. it was now considered advisable to strengthen the defences held by the regiment by an additional work, and the men were kept hard at it from . p.m. till p.m. a dish of chevril was served out to each man of the working party before turning in. on february th information was received that buller had taken two positions on the north side of the tugela with small loss--one krantz kloof, and the other vaal krantz spruit. this information seemed somewhat belated. a message was also received from lord roberts in which he stated that he had entered the free state with a very large force, chiefly of artillery and cavalry, and hoped that the pressure on ladysmith would shortly be reduced. heavy gun fire commenced in the colenso direction on the night of february th, and continued with slight interruption till the th; and on the th the boer pompom was heard in action, which went to show that the opposing forces were not very far from each other. at the last public auction ever held in the town, i.e. on the th evening, the prices were:-- eggs, s. per dozen. vegetable marrows, s. each. mealies, s. d. each. pot of jam, s. d. crosse & blackwell's piccalilli, s. d. tin of ox tongue, s. d. oz. stick of cake tobacco, s. fifty cigars, guineas. as much as s. per stick was paid about this time for two ounces of cake tobacco. no kaffir leaf tobacco was to be bought in the town, although as much as £ per leaf was offered. on the th the railway cutting camp again received the attention of the long tom gunners on bulwana, who pitched some shells into the lines, but without doing damage. the news of the relief of kimberley was received by the garrison on february th, and it was reported that general french had captured five laagers. on sunday, the th, the battalion and th battery, the remains of the gloucester regiment, and the mountain battery assembled as usual under "liverpool castle" for divine service. the reverend j. tuckey officiated. the usual "extermination" service and prayers for the "right" were said, the hymns chosen being-- there is a blessed home beyond this land of woe; and there is a green hill far away, sung sadly to the accompaniment of buller's guns. he appears to be nearer, and his shells have been bursting on a hill and ridge in the distance, colenso way. the following statistics are of interest:-- early in november the garrison of ladysmith numbered about , men. during the siege there were over , admissions to hospital. thirty-eight men had been killed by shell fire, and men had died of disease. four shells only had accounted for nearly all the thirty-eight. on february th news was sent in that general buller had captured cingolo mountain and monte christo, and that excellent progress was being made by him. the boers were seen trekking north all day; and in the evening buller's heliographs were seen flashing from monte christo, and two guns on the same hill firing at the boers. with the exception of buller's heliograph and balloon this was the first occasion that the relieving army was seen from ladysmith. on february nd, with the intention of finding out whether there had been any reduction in the investing force, the regiment with some mounted infantry were ordered to reconnoitre in the direction of flag hill. a start was made at . a.m. some sixty boers were encountered, and the regiment was ordered back to camp at . a.m., fired at by the sixty boers. buller's guns were heard firing incessantly all day and every day. his shells were now seen bursting on a southern spur of bulwana and near intombi camp. during the siege the boers conceived the idea of flooding the ladysmith plain and the town by damming the klip river below intombi camp. this dam was commenced towards the end of the siege, but was not completed when ladysmith was relieved. it was a good target for the naval -pounder guns on cæsar's camp, which frequently fired at it. these in their turn received on such occasions a good deal of attention from the boer big gun on bulwana. on the night of the th the . gun "lady anne" was again moved; this was for the fourth and the last time. on the same night very heavy rifle and maxim gun fire was heard on the hills south of cæsar's camp. this continued for about one hour, when the firing was taken up by the boer outposts all round ladysmith, a few bullets reaching the convalescent camp on convent hill. february th being majuba day, the garrison, expecting a demonstration from the boers, stood to arms at . a.m., but, much to the astonishment of everybody, not a shot was fired. general buller sent the garrison in the following message:-- "colenso rail bridge, which was totally destroyed, is under repair; road bridge partially destroyed; am doing very well, but the country is difficult and my progress is slow; hope to be with you soon." official news was also received that lord roberts had surrounded cronje, who had surrendered with boers, the english losses being given as killed and wounded. on the th rations were further cut down to one biscuit and three ounces of mealies, with one pound of horse as before per man. this was perhaps the most distressing circumstance connected with the siege, and it had a most depressing effect. it was not so much the reduction of the ration that was of consequence, as the reason for the reduction. this could not be guessed at, and it gave rise to conjectures, the chief being that buller had again failed, and could not get through. his shells had been seen bursting on the hills, and that had encouraged the garrison; but the garrison had been encouraged before by the sight of buller's shells bursting on thabba nyama. three days previously, owing to the good news received from buller, the garrison had been put on full rations, but now, after further good news, the order was promulgated:-- "highly satisfactory reports have been sent from general buller as to his advance, but the country is difficult and progress slow, therefore i am obliged to reduce the ration, etc. etc." this sudden cancelling of the increase of the ration, and its still further reduction in the face of the news received and in the sight of buller's shells, was disappointing. having ascertained that the garrison could exist till april th and not longer, and that then there would not be a horse, ox, or mule left, sir george white, much against his will, but to make things certain in case general buller was again checked, gave the orders for the reduction on the day before the relief. during the day the big gun on bulwana made an attempt to reach observation hill post, which were the furthest works from him in that direction. his attempt succeeded, and he put many shells into the works. his record for the siege was an attempt to reach wagon hill. he failed in this, but his range, as measured on the map, was , yards, or miles and yards. february th, the last day of the siege, was very hot and oppressive; everybody seemed depressed, trying to guess at some reason for the ration reduction. at about p.m., however, major riddel, brigade-major to colonel knox, came up to the officers' mess smiling all over, and said that excellent news, the very best, had come in, but that "_it is confidential, and i am not allowed to say what it is_." he called for volunteers who were willing and able to march seven miles and fight at the end of it. the whole regiment, officers and men, volunteered, but after a medical examination had been made of the battalion, only one hundred men were found to come up to requirements. at about . p.m. the news was distributed that general buller had gained a complete victory over the boers, who were in full retreat. hundreds of wagons were seen going off north towards modder station and vanreenens, and at p.m. a derrick was seen hoisted over the big gun on bulwana, and the naval guns opened fire on him. the boers dismounted him under a heavy fire from one . and two naval -pounders, and got him away. at . p.m. a welcome sight greeted the eyes of the weary garrison, for suddenly out of the bush appeared two squadrons of mounted men, riding leisurely in across the plain from the direction of intombi, and the truth dawned on the garrison that ladysmith was at last and in reality relieved. the siege had lasted four calendar months to the day. frantic cheering greeted them as they crossed the ford and reached the town. on the following day a column, consisting of the devons, gordon highlanders, three batteries of artillery, all the cavalry who had horses, and the two mounted colonial corps, the whole under the command of colonel w.g. knox, sallied forth at a.m. towards modder station to pursue and to stop the boers getting their big guns away by train. on arriving abreast of pepworth hill, which the boer rear-guard had occupied, the advanced troops, consisting of devons and the batteries, came under rather a sharp fire. all further progress was stopped, and the column returned to camp. the devons had two men wounded. camp was reached at . p.m. the battalion was met on the way home by major davies, captains bols and vigors, lieutenants lafone and munro, all of the nd battalion. these had ridden in from their camp, and brought with them tobacco, whisky, rum, and milk. the companies of the nd battalion sent in to their corresponding companies tea, sugar, tobacco, matches, etc. these were all most eagerly accepted. sir redvers buller and his staff rode into ladysmith in the afternoon. explosions at modder station and on the railway could be heard, signifying that the boers were making good their retreat by blowing up the bridges. on march rd general buller made his public entry into ladysmith at the head of his army. the march of buller's army through ladysmith was a pageant which those who took part in the siege will never forget. the garrison of ladysmith lined the streets. sir george white with his staff took his stand mounted, under the damaged clock tower of the town hall--the gordons on the one hand, the devons on the other--the gordon pipers facing him on the opposite side of the road. it was a great sight, and those who had been through the siege and had heard the words of their leader at the end, "thank god we have kept the flag flying," knew it for a great sight. general buller rode at the head of his army, and received an immense ovation, as did all his regiments and artillery as they passed through the lines of the weedy, sickly-looking garrison. these with their thin, pale faces cheered to the full bent of their power, but after standing in the sun for some time they became exhausted, and sir redvers sent back word for them to sit down, which they gladly did, whilst the relievers, as they passed along, chucked them bits of tobacco, ready cut up, from their small store, small because they themselves were also hard put for luxuries. the tramp! tramp! of these men, who to the weakly garrison appeared as veritable giants, will never be forgotten, as they hurried past to the strains of the gordons' pipes, cheering with the utmost enthusiasm the figure of sir george white as they passed him. they were almost to a man reservists, well covered, hard, and well set up. they were filthy, their clothes were mended and patched, and most of them had scrubby beards. tied on to their belts in almost all cases was a boer blanket, telling that they had been busy in some boer laager; on the top of this a small bundle of sticks for each man to cook his own tea, and by his side, attached to his belt, hung his black tin pot. but how well they looked--the picture of vigour, health, and strength, as they "tramp, tramp"--"tramp, tramp" through the town. a corps that came in for a good deal of notice was the bearer company. they were at first taken for boer prisoners, but when it became known who they were they were much cheered. clad in worn-out "slops" they slouched along, in each man's hand a pot of sorts, enamel or china, and a bundle of something over each man's shoulder. the meeting of the two battalions was not quite so emotional as has been depicted by some authors. the nd battalion, the relievers, came through late at the rear of buller's army, and by that time the st battalion, the relieved, had been in the sun, standing or sitting down on the curbstone, for some hours, and a great many men had fallen out exhausted. still the meeting was very hearty, officers recognizing men and men old comrades. there was little time to enact the scene so graphically described by one author "which would make old men weep." buller's army was straggled out a good deal and the rear had to catch up, so if a pal was seen he was gone next moment to give way to another pal. most of the reservists had been through the ranks of the st battalion, and with it through the tirah campaign; almost all were hurriedly recognized, and a hearty and hasty shake of the hand was all the greeting exchanged. old jokes came to the fore, and were bandied from one to the other as the nd battalion hurried along. there was no time for more--one battalion was in a hurry and the other exhausted. [illustration: devon officers remaining fit for duty at the end of the siege (rajab--regimental barber)] it was well on in the day before the st battalion got back to its camp at the railway cutting. on sunday, march th, a thanksgiving service was held on the flat ground between the convent hill and the naval brigade hill, which was attended by generals buller and white, and on its conclusion the battalion moved into tents outside the works and in front of gloucester post. it was a strange experience moving out into the open, away from the protection of the works. the nerves of most had had a severe strain from want of food and continual anxiety. it was the anxiety which killed. there is nothing more conducive to the deterioration of men's minds than false alarms on an empty stomach. chapter iii events following the siege of ladysmith, and the advance north under sir redvers buller the first few days following the relief were employed in the sorting and reading of four months' mails and the opening up of presents. many complimentary telegrams were received by the battalion from england. major davies, captain bartlett, and lieutenant willis, all of whom had been doing duty with the nd battalion during the relief operations, joined the battalion on the th with some eighty-six men who had been sent from jullunder. the two battalions were together for a few days only, as the nd battalion after a short rest proceeded with sir redvers buller's force towards modder spruit. on march th the ladysmith garrison was reorganized, the battalion being placed in the th brigade with the gordon highlanders, the manchester regiment, and the nd battalion rifle brigade. this brigade was commanded by colonel w.g. knox, c.b. colonel park, unfortunately struck down with enteric fever on the last day of the siege, was shortly afterwards invalided to england. in his absence major davies took over command of the battalion, and major curry having been appointed commandant of ladysmith, captain jacson took over the duties of second-in-command. on march th the th brigade marched to arcadia, seven miles out of ladysmith on the vanreenen's pass road, camping on a kopje overlooking dewdrop spruit. the men were then occupied in route marching and generally getting fit. [illustration: brigadier-general walter kitchener] brigadier-general walter kitchener arrived in camp on the th march and took over the command of the th brigade from colonel knox, and on april nd the battalion, accompanied by general w. kitchener, marched to brakfontein, seventeen miles distant under spion kop, stopped there in camp on the rd, when parties of men went off to view the boer positions on spion kop and vaal-krantz, and returned to arcadia on the th. innumerable presents were continually arriving from england for the battalion, and the thanks of all are due especially to mr. young of torquay for the indefatigable manner in which he worked, and for the numerous bundles and boxes of presents which he was instrumental in collecting and dispatching both at this time and also afterwards. all these presents were highly appreciated. a draft of men, consisting of reservists, section "d" militia reservists, and recruits joined the battalion on the th; amongst these were married men. at . a.m. on april th orders were received to move at once into ladysmith, which was to be reached at p.m. the reason for the sudden move was not explained. there was no transport. out of six wagons, the complement for a battalion on light field service scale, there were only two in camp at the time. at arcadia the battalion, in common with the rest of the brigade, was allowed tents, and told that it could have anything it liked to take with it. there was consequently a good deal more than six carts could carry. towards evening, after the tents had been struck, packed, and sent on ahead, and the battalion was waiting in the open for more wagons, a most violent thunderstorm came on, lasting about two hours. ten men of one company which was holding a work on rifleman's ridge, between arcadia and ladysmith, were struck by lightning, none, however, being killed. the battalion eventually reached camp at star hill, just above the iron bridge outside ladysmith, at a.m. wet to the skin. it was found that the tents had arrived. these were pitched and the men turned in. the greater part of the brigade did not reach star hill till the following day. on the th the gordons and devons moved camp to hyde's farm under surprise hill, the devons proceeding next day to a camp under thornhill's kopje, throwing out picquets on that hill and also on another kopje further out towards nicholson's nek known as devon kopje. from this time till may th the battalion remained quietly encamped under thornhill's kopje. route marching and field days occupied the men most mornings, hockey and football most afternoons. the men suffered a good deal at first from jaundice, which was chiefly the result of over-eating after their long abstinence, but they got fit and recovered their strength gradually; it was, however, fully six weeks to two months before they were really ready to take the field. in the meantime general buller had turned the biggarsberg, and the boers had fallen back on laing's nek. the th brigade now formed part of the th division under the command of major-general neville lyttleton, and on may th the regiment was ordered to proceed north to modder's spruit. here it remained till the th, on which day it continued its march to elandslaagte, and encamped near the railway station. on the rd, having handed in all tents and excess baggage, the regiment marched to sunday's river, where it joined up with the divisional head-quarters, and on the following day formed the rear-guard on the march to black craig farm. here the division encamped in the heart of the biggarsberg. halting at kalabis on the th, the division reached ingagane on the th. [illustration: railway bridge destroyed by boers, ingagane] the brigade was now split up and placed on the line of communications, and it was thought probable that the regiment would see no more fighting and that the war would soon be brought to a conclusion. of the four regiments in the brigade, the manchester regiment had been left behind to garrison jonono's kop and the railway line near elandslaagte, the devons were left to garrison ingagane on the railway, and the rifle brigade was at newcastle and between that place and ingogo at the foot of the laing's nek pass. the gordon highlanders were at ingogo and guarded the railway line still further north. the regiment itself was also split up. a detachment of one company under captain travers (increased afterwards to two companies) proceeded to occupy dannhauser, and two companies under captain bartlett were ordered to rooi pint on the high ground between ingagane and newcastle. a battery of artillery was also stationed at this place. the remaining companies of the regiment, including a th or k company which had been created shortly after the siege, were posted on the low hill overlooking ingagane railway station. on june th the st cavalry brigade arrived to form part of the garrison of ingagane. this brigade was commanded by brigadier-general burn murdoch, who was in charge of the line of communication newcastle-dannhauser. at ingagane hill the regiment found itself again employed in building stone walls. entrenchments against attack were considered necessary, for it was thought probable that the boers would attempt to break through from the north-east of the free state on the west and cross into utrecht and vryheid districts. the real danger, however, lay on the east, for the vryheid district long remained a boer stronghold, and parties of boers frequently raided to the blood river in the immediate neighbourhood of dannhauser. it was owing to this that on june th a second company was sent to reinforce captain travers at dannhauser. the hill selected by captain travers for defence overlooked dannhauser railway station, and commanded a large extent of ground to the east of the post. this hill was very strongly fortified, and the works on it, designed and built by captain travers and his men, were perhaps the best works for protection against musketry fire constructed by the regiment during the war. [illustration: making barbed-wire entanglement, ingagane] news was received daily that thousands of boers with dozens of guns were on the eastern flank, with every intention of raiding, cutting the line, and attacking dannhauser. dundee also, according to the newspapers and the evidence of native scouts, was in deadly peril from attack by chris. botha. it was, perhaps, on account of these rumours that a column was formed to reconnoitre utrecht. in conjunction with another column which moved out from ingogo, three companies of the regiment, with the royal dragoons and the th dragoon guards and two field guns, moved out on the afternoon of july st from ingagane and camped at tundega farm. on the following morning tundega hill was occupied by the infantry whilst the cavalry reconnoitred over the buffalo river to utrecht, which was distant twenty miles. this place was found occupied by about four hundred boers, and after some skirmishing and a good deal of firing the cavalry returned with a loss of one royal dragoon taken prisoner. next morning the force returned to ingagane. the operations were supposed to have been very successful. by the end of july the regiment had quite recovered tone and vigour, and was well and fit for any work, and on august nd, , orders were received to pack up and proceed by rail the following day to zandspruit. on the afternoon of the rd the regiment entrained in coal trucks for the north. majuba and laing's nek were passed next morning at dawn, and at . a.m. zandspruit was reached. the strength of the battalion was now of all ranks. all tents and excess baggage had been returned to store, and on the th the regiment marched to meerzicht, where the remainder of general lyttleton's th division was found in bivouac. the th division was now complete and ready to march north with sir redvers buller. general buller's force moved out from meerzicht on august th. for some days previously the boers had been occupying in force some high ground known as rooi kopjes, a few miles north of meerzicht, and the gordon highlanders had already twice been slightly engaged with them. the th brigade advanced out of their camp in attack formation, the gordons leading the advance, the devons in support. their objective was the rooi kopjes. these were found unoccupied, and, having gained the summit, the th brigade were ordered to make a sweep round to the right. the new objective was the high ground above amersfoort. general buller's line now occupied some five miles of front. a very high wind was blowing, and it was not for some time that the head-quarter staff, who at the time were with the th brigade, knew that the artillery of the th brigade, which had marched direct on amersfoort, were in action, firing at some boer guns mounted on the amersfoort hills. the boers were strongly entrenched on these hills to the number of about to with fourteen guns under chris. botha and d. joubert. the th brigade advanced across a large undulating plain, the devons leading. the gordons had been sent round to the left to support dundonald's mounted brigade, who had been checked by some fifty boers. about yards from the position boer shells began to fall among the companies of the leading battalion. one half battalion under major davies thereupon opened out and advanced, while the other half battalion was sent to the left under captain jacson, with orders to proceed as rapidly as possible to the assistance of the gordon highlanders, who, it was reported, were being heavily threatened by the boers on the extreme left. with the exception of some shell fire the main advance was continued unopposed. the left half battalion of the regiment had to make a very long detour, and on its arrival to the assistance of the gordons it was found that the boer force, which was threatening the left flank, was simply dundonald's mounted troops drawing up stationary behind some rising ground. after a stiff climb the summit of the amersfoort hills was reached just before dark. it was found that the boers had evacuated their position, on their left flank and rear being threatened by the th brigade. the leading battalion of this brigade, the th rifles, came under some heavy musketry fire from the houses in the town, and after several casualties, which included four officers, major campbell, commanding the th, threatened to burn the town if the firing was not discontinued. the firing then ceased, and the boers retired to the hills north of the town. the boers had set fire to the long dry grass in every direction, and it was chiefly by the light of these fires that regiments, companies, and parties of mounted men found their way off the hill on a pitch-dark night. no orders had been circulated as to where the force was to halt and bivouac for the night, and from every direction various bodies of men groped their way in the dark towards the town, in the hopes that when once there some orders might be obtained. it was late when the half battalion under captain jacson found its bivouac and joined hands again with that of major davies just outside the town. one company came in later, having unfortunately lost its way in the dark. some of the leading wagons of the transport, which had been sent along the direct road from meerzicht to amersfoort, broke down in a bad drift, thus blocking the remainder. no wagons arrived in amersfoort that night, and the men after their long tramp, a continuous march without a halt from . a.m. till about . at night, were without greatcoats or blankets. the night was bitterly cold, with a hard frost. gangs of men went down to the town and brought back wood. soon fires began to light up in the devons' and gordons' bivouacs, which were adjoining, and for the remainder of the night groups of men sat round them trying to keep warm. the four companies of the regiment on outpost duty suffered very severely, as they were without fires, none being allowed in the outpost line. the force halted at amersfoort on the following day, owing firstly to the fog which enveloped everything, and secondly to allow of the baggage train coming up. this began to arrive at a.m., having been detained at the drift the whole night. during the fog a few boers came down from the high ground above the river and fired into the horses watering, at very close range. they failed, however, to do any damage. on august th the army continued its advance. on leaving amersfoort, a bad drift with a steep climb of half a mile on the further side was met with, and the baggage was formed into two columns. this was assisted up the hill by two companies of the regiment, sir redvers buller personally superintending. klippaal drift was reached late in the afternoon after a difficult march of ten miles. general buller's army was now on the high veldt in winter time. the cold was intense, especially at night, when there were several degrees of frost. owing to the intense cold, two men of the rifle brigade died from exposure during the night. [illustration: the baggage of general buller's army crossing beginderlyn bridge] on the following day the force continued its march to beginderlyn bridge. this was found intact, and there was no opposition, and the march was resumed on the th as far as kleinfontein. on august th ermelo was occupied, and a few of the leading boers belonging to the place surrendered. so far, and until twyfelaar was reached, buller's army received little or no opposition from the boers. chris. botha, who had occupied amersfoort, had retired east after evacuating that place, and was marching parallel to the british force and at a distance of about ten miles on its right flank. they were evidently watching buller, probably thinking that he would turn east towards piet retief, where almost all their stock, sheep, and cattle had been driven, the mountainous and difficult country there being suitable for its concealment and protection. the main body of the boers was concentrated between belfast and machadodorp, north-east of twyfelaar, in a country eminently suited for what was considered their final effort. the valley of the komati river was exceedingly difficult country for the british army to operate over. the boers to the end of the war were very fond of this country, and it was there, or in the vicinity towards lake chrissie, that several engagements took place later on, during the guerilla stage of the war, not always in favour of the british. the town of ermelo, which the regiment was destined to see again on several future occasions, was left on august th, on the evening of which day the force reached klipfontein. the regiment, being rear-guard, did not reach its bivouac till after dark. witbank was reached the following day, and communication was opened up with general french's column, fifteen miles to the north-west. carolina could be seen eight miles away to the north-east. the force marched next day to twyfelaar, and here a halt was made till august st, in order to allow of lord roberts's army, which was advancing east from pretoria along the lorenzo marques railway, joining hands with general buller's army. the rear-guard of the force was attacked by the boers on august st on its march from twyfelaar to van wycks vlei. the gordon highlanders lost nine killed and eight wounded, and the liverpool mounted infantry eight killed. on the following morning a force consisting of devons, manchesters, gordons, south african light horse, one field battery, and the howitzers, advanced from van wycks vlei under general w. kitchener, for the purpose of reconnoitring and driving some boers off the hills east of general buller's camp, so that the road for the next day's march might be cleared of the enemy. a large number of boers was seen in the direction of carolina, and it was supposed that chris. botha's force was opposed to the column. the manchester regiment led the advance, supported by the devon regiment. the former, on crossing a nek to a low underlying hill, came under a heavy rifle fire from the boers below and across the valley, and lost two killed and nine wounded. the force returned to camp at p.m. on the following day buller's army advanced to geluk, some five or six miles, the battalion with the gordons and mounted troops of dundonald's brigade, acting as rear-guard. a very difficult spruit, with steep sides, was crossed, and the high hills on the further side occupied. these had been held by the boers in strength, but they had retired on buller's approach. as soon as the infantry of the rear-guard had arrived in camp, the mounted troops of the rear-guard were attacked rather sharply, but they managed to hold their own and to beat off the boers. two companies of the liverpool regiment, who formed part of the advance guard, fell into an ambush and lost considerably, leaving, it was reported, some eighty men either killed, wounded, or prisoners in the hands of the boers. shortly after arrival in camp, five companies of the regiment were sent out on outpost duty, taking up a short line and entrenching--two companies were entrenched in front and furnished sentries, with three companies entrenched in rear in support. on august th and th the force stood fast, exchanging occasional big gun and musketry fire with the boers. information was received that lord roberts had entered belfast on the th, thus practically joining hands with sir redvers buller. the position taken up by the boers already referred to, an immensely powerful one, straddled the pretoria-lorenzo railway east of belfast and west of machadodorp. botha had taken up a front of some fifty miles in length, and his force numbered about men. his right rested on the broken mountainous country of elandskloof to the north, and his left on the mountains overlooking the komati to the south. his centre was at bergendal farm and the rugged and precipitous hills in the rear of the farm, through which wound the railway and road, his line of retreat, quite concealed from the fire and view of the british force. on the extreme left a big gun with two or three smaller pieces were mounted, but these were useless to give much support to the centre, as they were too distant. the line of retreat to komati poort, which, from the nature of the country, could not be threatened except by an extended movement round the north or south, lay along the belfast-machadodorp road and the railway line. briefly, the course of the two days' battle may be described as follows:-- while pole carew threatened the centre at belfast and the position north of the railway, french was sent with his cavalry division still further north to threaten the boer line of retreat towards pilgrim's rest, and their right flank. buller attacked the boers' left with the intention of driving it in and getting behind their centre on their line of retreat. he on the first day, however, could make no impression on them, and the two forces held on to the position they were in for the night. on the morning of the second day buller, leaving a brigade of infantry and dundonald's mounted brigade to watch the boers' left, moved across their front under cover of the undulating slopes of ground, and made an attack at bergendal farm and kopje. after a sharp fight this was carried, and the boers retired all along their line in the direction of machadodorp. it is necessary to state in detail the part played by the regiment. on the morning of sunday, august th, buller's force was put in motion. the regiment was advance guard to the division. when about half a mile from the camp, the four advanced and extended companies under captain jacson came under fire from some high ground on their right flank, losing two men. major davies, proceeding along this ridge of high ground with the remainder of the regiment, forced the boers posted there off the hills. the advance guard companies then continued their march with orders to make bergendal farm their point, but not to go beyond it. when these companies had proceeded some four or five miles, it was found that general buller's main body had changed direction to the right and had gone east. on retracing their steps, the companies with great difficulty ascertained the whereabouts of buller's force. sir redvers was now attacking the boer left within a mile or two of his former camping ground. a message was then received stating that the regiment was at that time a left flank guard to buller's army, and that the former advance guard companies were to join the remainder of the regiment. the boers, opposed to buller in very considerable numbers, were sangared on some low hills about yards distant from and in front of and below the high ridge over which his force had to advance. buller made his dispositions behind this high ridge. the reverse slope was completely raked by the boer fire, and no cover except that afforded by some ant-hills was obtainable. the dropping bullets followed the form and slope of the hill, so that neither front nor rear was secure. [illustration: trekking with general buller; -inch guns on the march] as soon as the regiment was formed up, an order was sent to advance. captain emerson with fifteen men extended, rushed down the forward slope under a heavy fire, and took cover behind some ant-hills. the moment the men showed over the crest line they were met by a hail of bullets, and further advance was impossible. later, another order was sent to advance, but owing to the want of cover it was found impossible for the line to make headway in the face of the fire brought to bear upon it. it was not until the howitzer battery was brought into action late in the day, to cover the retirement of the advanced companies, that captain emerson and his men were able to get back. this they did under a very heavy fire from rifles and machine guns. one company under lieutenant harris, which had been moved off to the right, had advanced and got into an exposed place. the men took cover behind ant-hills, and remained there for the rest of the day. three companies had been moved to the neighbourhood of the guns. these came under shell fire from the boer guns and had some casualties, amongst whom was colour-sergeant burchell, who was shot through the shoulder. under general buller's direct supervision one company was ordered forward. immediately their four scouts showed over the crest line a storm of bullets met them, and they were all hit. the four scouts were found dead on the second day afterwards by the liverpool mounted infantry. dusk found the companies posted as under: three companies extended on the ridge on the left, with two companies extended in support on the rear side of the hill. one company was extended on the ridge in the centre, whilst three companies were near the guns, three-quarters of a mile away on the right. one man was killed and one wounded just at dark by unaimed fire and by the last shots fired. the companies on the ridge retired to the crest of the hill after dark and took up an entrenched outpost line for the night. rations were then issued for the following day. it was a pitch-black night, and two cooks' orderlies who had gone to fetch their company's tea and sugar rations from their wagon, missed their way in the dark when returning, and walked into the boer position, distant only a few hundred yards, and were made prisoners. these two men were the first prisoners of war lost to the battalion up to this date; and with the exception of one other prisoner, who was temporarily in the hands of the boers in the badfontein valley in the following year, they were the only men of the battalion taken prisoners during the war. the casualties of the battalion for the day were killed, wounded, and prisoners. early the following morning the th brigade, with the exception of the manchester regiment, moved off to the left, the rifle brigade, whose turn it was to lead, being in front. the guns accompanied the brigade. there was little or no opposition till the scouts came under fire from bergendal kopje, or drie kraal as it was otherwise known. this rocky kopje was strongly fortified and held by the boers. a field battery opened fire on to the kopje at about yards' range from some rising ground. shortly afterwards the remaining guns-- -inch, . 's, naval -pounders, in all to the number of about thirty-nine--commenced pouring shells on to this one spot in the boer position. this shelling continued for about three hours. very early in the morning a train had been seen coming out from machadodorp with reinforcements. these, it was ascertained, were the johannesburg police, to the number of about eighty, and they formed the garrison of the kopje, about a hundred more being in the farm behind the kopje. this kopje was a small hill covered with large boulders. the rocks had been connected with large stones to form sangars, behind which the garrison found cover. a pompom was included in the armament of the position, which measured about eighty yards by forty yards only. it fell away abruptly in the rear, the farm and outbuildings lying very close under the steep rear side of the hill. the english shells fell with terrible accuracy into the sangars, and there was an almost continuous explosion on the hill. yet the boers kept up their fire till the rifle brigade were within ten yards of them, and their pompom was in action, although partly jammed and firing single shots, till the very end. this pompom was bravely served by one man, the remainder of the gun team having been either killed or wounded. it is not known whether this plucky fellow survived or not. general walter kitchener, who was commanding the infantry attack, decided to attack with the rifle brigade along the ridge which ended in the kopje, which was slightly above the level of the ridge. at the same time he ordered the inniskilling fusiliers to attack over the low ground on the rifle brigade's right, whilst the gordon highlanders and the devonshire regiment were held in support. the rifle brigade started from the foot of the hills under which they had taken cover, and which was about yards from the boer position, and almost immediately came under heavy musketry fire, being much exposed on the high open ridge. they, however, continued their advance in perfect order and eventually rushed the kopje, the british shells dropping and the boers firing till the assault had been delivered. the inniskillings advanced across the low ground underneath the rifle brigade. their advance was slightly delayed, and their delivery of the assault was consequently later than that of the rifle brigade. captain emerson with one company of the regiment which had been told off as escort to the maxim guns, advanced with the leading company of the inniskillings. the whole boer position was evacuated as soon as their line had been penetrated by the capture of the bergendal kopje. the casualties amongst the rifle brigade were severe, owing to the much exposed ground over which it was necessary for the attack to be delivered, and to the fact that, as the extended lines converged on to the small kopje, the men naturally became crowded and formed a better mark for the boer rifles. they lost two officers and fourteen men killed and five officers and fifty men wounded, of whom two officers died of their wounds the following day. the regiment had one man wounded. the position was soon made good, although the boers held on tenaciously to a long rocky ridge in their rear to which they had retired, till nightfall. the force bivouacked for the night near the farm. this action was known officially as the battle of belfast. a quiet night was passed, and next morning, august th, the force occupied machadodorp with slight opposition. the boers were seen retreating up the road leading to lydenburg, and on the high ground above the town they brought two big guns into action. the gordon highlanders, in support of dundonald's mounted brigade, were sent on through the town and occupied the high ground on the far side, and the boers retired before them. the boers had made a very hurried retirement. in machadodorp on the evening of the day of the fight, guns and cartloads of ammunition were parked in the big open space in the centre of the town. these were moved off very hurriedly on the approach of the british force, and the guns had only reached the top of the hills on the further side of machadodorp when general buller's infantry came in view. general buller brought some long-range guns into action and shelled them as they ascended the hill, but without result. from lack of efficient pursuit after the battle the evening before, and a too cautious advance in the morning, an opportunity to do the boer forces considerable damage was apparently lost. a wagon containing pompom ammunition was captured by dundonald's mounted brigade, but the pompom itself got away, notwithstanding the very slight opposition offered by the boers. the following day general buller's forces reached helvetia farm, where general french's column and general pole carew's division joined up. with the object of releasing the prisoners who had been sent by the boers from pretoria to noitgedacht down the railway line towards komati poort, general buller's force now turned eastwards and marched along the heights on the north side of the railway. on the first day out from helvetia his cavalry saw some released english prisoners marching up the line towards waterval onder from the direction of noitgedacht, and having been unable to obtain touch with the boers, the force retraced their steps, and encamped some six miles from helvetia at vluchtfontein, and at this place a halt was made on the following day. from here general buller turned north, and on september st, advancing up the lydenburg road, reached badfontein on the crocodile river. here the army bivouacked for the night, and an advance was made up the badfontein valley next morning, but coming into contact with the boers who were holding the northern end of the valley, his further progress was checked. the boer position extended along the high hills which straddled the road in a semicircular position some eight miles from badfontein. the regiment formed the infantry advance guard of the army, and on reaching what was then named redvers' kopje and afterwards known as devon kopje, came under shell fire from three big guns which the boers had brought into action on the hills above. at this place the regiment stopped for the day, taking cover from shell fire behind the large boulders of rocks of which the kopje was composed. the remainder of sir redvers buller's force returned to its old encampment of the previous night. the two mounted brigades and one battery r.h.a., which had advanced to the foot of the hills occupied by the boers, returned to camp at dusk. as soon as it was dark, four companies of the regiment were left on devon kopje as an advanced post, whilst the remainder of the regiment retired to the rear of the hill and bivouacked. the kopje was entrenched and everything made comfortable for the following day. all the baggage wagons were sent back to the main camp during the night. september rd, th, and th were spent quietly in position, the boers on the th firing over the heads of the regiment into the brigade camp, but doing very little damage. on the evening of the th a hill to the east was shelled, and after some opposition from the boers, when strathcona's horse had some casualties, the hill was occupied by the th rifles and the leicester regiment. a battery of artillery was then hauled up the steep incline to the top. on the th, general ian hamilton having brought up reinforcements consisting of a brigade, from belfast by way of dullstrom, thus turning the boers' right, general buller advanced the following day and found that the boers had evacuated their position. but, in ignorance of this retirement, great preparations were made for a big fight. the devonshire regiment headed the advance of the infantry. it was divided into two half battalions, one half battalion under major davies proceeding up the road in support of the mounted troops, whilst five companies under captain jacson were sent more to the left to attack the large farm at the foot of the hill, with orders "to proceed as far as possible without severe loss." these manoeuvres having been accomplished in safety without a shot being fired, the force reached the top and bivouacked some two miles further on for the night. owing to the steepness of the road the baggage did not arrive till after midnight. lydenburg was occupied next day without opposition, the boers having retired to a position on paardeplaats, a range of high and irregular hills five miles distant from and overlooking lydenburg on the mauchberg-spitzkop road. from this position the boers shelled the baggage, bursting shrapnel over it as it defiled into the open in front of the town. the train formed up and halted under cover behind a hill, and came into camp at dusk. the following morning, september th, sir redvers buller decided to attack the boer position on paardeplaats, and for this purpose he detailed general walter kitchener's brigade to advance up the spurs of the hills against the boers' right, whilst general ian hamilton's brigade was to turn the boers' left, the attack being covered by the artillery which proceeded up the main road in the centre. general kitchener's brigade moved out from lydenburg on to the race-course. the battalion being the leading regiment deployed and advanced towards a hill jutting out into the plain, with the mounted brigade of general dundonald working round the left. this hill was afterwards known to the regiment as ben tor. as the regiment deployed into the open it came under shrapnel fire from two big guns posted on paardeplaats. the regiment was, however, extended, and had only one man wounded. the gordon highlanders, who were in support, marched across the boers' front, in rear of the extended devons, in column of companies. several shells burst amongst them, and one shell, bursting thirty feet above graze, took their volunteer company end on and killed and wounded fifteen. with dundonald's men on their left flank, four companies of the regiment under captain jacson advanced up the spurs without opposition, whilst major davies, in command of the remaining companies, climbed the spurs on jacson's right. little or no opposition was met with on this flank. jacson's companies were reinforced by four companies of the gordon highlanders and the th rifles, and at p.m., when nearing the summit, a thick mist came on, and the flanking brigade halted. meanwhile davies, with two of his companies, had reached the top of the hill and was proceeding down the far side when the fog lifted. it was then ascertained that the boers, under cover of the fog, had left the position to which they had clung with great determination, and had retired. the position had been turned by ian hamilton's right flank attack. the thick mist saved the boers, who would otherwise undoubtedly have lost their big guns in their retirement. just before dark the companies of the regiment, which had become scattered, were collected, and captain jacson received an order to return with these to the old camp on the far side of lydenburg; seven companies were thus taken down the hills over very rough country to the old camp, a distance of nearly six miles. on arrival there a message was received which stated that the army was encamped half-way up the hill towards paardeplaats. the seven companies then returned, and finally reached camp very late. they had been marching and climbing incessantly from . a.m. till p.m. the brigades had by this time become rather intermingled. of general kitchener's brigade the manchester regiment had been left behind at witklip, at the north end of the badfontein valley. a garrison had also been left at lydenburg under general howard, consisting of the rifle brigade and leicesters, with general brocklehurst's cavalry brigade. the devonshire regiment was now left behind at paardeplaats, while general buller's force, consisting of the gordon highlanders and the th rifles, with dundonald's mounted brigade, two field batteries, and the -inch guns, advanced on the th, the day following the capture of paardeplaats, in the direction of the mauchberg. the country was extremely difficult, and the boer guns and pompoms well served, and considerable opposition was met with in the advance. general buller's force reached the mauchberg that evening and proceeded on the following day to devil's knuckles, down the steep mauchberg road (known as hell's gate), where the two boer big guns again narrowly escaped capture, and so on to spitzkop, just north of nelspruit on the pretoria-lorenzo marques railway. on the th four companies and two guns under captain jacson were ordered to the mauchberg. the companies got off by midday, and after a stiff climb occupied the mountain just before dark. the top of the mauchberg, feet high, was found to be very extended, and the garrison was much split up. company forts were erected on the main features, and the place was held till the th, mostly in thick fog and rain. the mauchberg post was the terminus of the telegraph line, communication thence with general buller's head-quarters being continued by visual signalling. the mountain was intersected by deep kloofs and ravines, into most of which the boers had collected their families and supplies, in the hope that neither would be found. these were all disclosed from the summit of the mountain, which commanded a view of a great extent of country. general buller succeeded in collecting a large amount of stores from these "caches." the families of boers who surrendered with their stock were sent into lydenburg, together with any prisoners that had been taken. on the th two of the mauchberg companies with the two guns were ordered to proceed to devil's knuckles, to supply picquets for dundonald's mounted brigade which was stationed there, and on september th the companies of the regiment stationed at paardeplaats marched to the mauchberg, being relieved at the former place by the leicesters, the remaining two mauchberg companies proceeding to devil's knuckles. on the st the regiment was again united and marched with dundonald's brigade down the sabi valley, reaching sabi drift that evening, where the force bivouacked. the column under general dundonald remained at sabi drift till the th awaiting the arrival of general buller, who was returning from spitzkop. [illustration: devons crossing the sabi river] a story is told anent the positions out of which general buller's infantry had turned the boers, which goes to show the estimation in which the british infantry were held by their opponents. the words are those of general botha, and were told to an officer of the head-quarter staff. "i shall give it up," he said. "i have taken up position after position which i considered impregnable; i have always been turned off by your infantry, who come along in great lines in their dirty clothes with bags on their backs. nothing can stop them. i shall give it up." on september th the remainder of general buller's force marched into sabi drift, and on the th the army, united again, advanced north for pilgrim's rest. burgher's nek and mac-mac diggings were reached about noon on that day. the pass over burgher's nek was held by the boers under gravett, botha and the state treasure with a small escort having crossed only a few hours before, whilst a portion of their army under viljoen retired at the same time to the north towards pietersburg. the infantry of the advance guard was composed of four companies of the regiment under captain jacson. on reaching the foot of the pass the mounted troops were checked and the artillery came into action. the position occupied by the boers was formidable--a long stretch of high rugged hills, with the forward slope ending precipitously. the pass lay over a nek between two high shoulders of hills. the boers, exceedingly well posted, occupied the hills on either side of the nek, taking cover behind the immense boulders on the summit. after the artillery had been bombarding the south side of the nek for some considerable time, the mounted infantry were sent forward to occupy the hill known as grass kop, but were unable to proceed. in the meantime, the four companies of the advance guard had been moved off to the left and nearer to the hills. they now got the order to attack and occupy the hill. whilst these companies moved off under cover of the undulating ground to the foot of the hills, two companies with the maxim gun took up a position in rear to cover the advance, firing with a range of yards at the top of the hill. most of the artillery came into action at the same time and at the same objective. the foot of the hill was reached by the attacking force with two casualties. one company was then directed to the left to attack round the flank, and the ascent of the precipitous side of the hill was commenced. crawling up a goat's track in single file, on hands and knees, through dense bush, the first portion of the ascent was accomplished, and the little force formed up under a spur to get breath before debouching into the open for the final rush to the top. after a short halt the advance was continued to the summit, the companies on their way coming under a smart shell fire from their own guns (happily without casualties), which were bursting shrapnel with wonderful precision between the two leading companies. just before reaching the top the flanking company, coming in from the left with a well-timed advance, joined the general advance to the summit. it was found that the boers had retired, and fire was brought to bear on them as they descended the rear slope of the hill. the high hill on the left of the pass was then occupied, and the nek over which the road passed cleared of boers. a heliograph message from sir redvers buller was received on the summit, "well done devons!" and in lord roberts' official dispatch for the day it was notified that general buller had occupied burgher's nek, and that "the pass had been turned by a half battalion of the devonshire regiment, well led by captain jacson." the four companies bivouacked on the top. efforts were made by those down below to get food and blankets up to them, but owing to the steepness and difficulties of the climb and the darkness, it was found impossible. the head-quarter companies of the regiment were engaged on outpost duty at the foot of the pass, where the army had bivouacked, almost all the men being on duty. on the following day the march was resumed, the head-quarter companies of the regiment being rear-guard to the force. the companies on the hill were relieved by two companies of the regiment under captain wren. the road was extremely bad and crossed by many drifts, which caused considerable delay, and it was not till the early hours of morning that the rear-guard companies got into camp. the bivouac was formed amongst the hills, some five miles from pilgrim's rest, which had been occupied the previous day by strathcona's horse. on the th the march was continued through pilgrim's rest to the foot of morgenzon hill, the mounted troops surprising the boers on the summit and putting them to flight. the baggage was safely brought up the six miles of steep hill on the following day. the road, which was the old coaching highway pilgrim's rest-lydenburg, was found in excellent condition, but it was heavy work for the oxen, and all wagons were double spanned. the force camped on the summit, and halted there on the th. a good number of boers were reported in the vicinity to the west and north, but they did not make their presence felt and sunday was spent quietly. on october st morgenzon was left and the march continued towards kruger's post and lydenburg. it was a long, dusty road through narrow valleys. opposition was encountered at the bifurcation of the lydenburg-morgenzon and lydenburg-ohrigstadt roads, which, however, was soon overcome, the boers retiring to the hills out of reach of the guns, and kruger's post was reached at p.m. shortly after the regiment had settled itself in its bivouac a boer big gun opened on to it from a hill about yards distant, and not very far from the road. this gun also shelled the wagons as they came into camp, necessitating their halting under cover and coming in later. in the evening, about . , the boers brought another gun into action on a hill due west of the camp, and shelled the cavalry and infantry bivouacs for one and a half hours in the dark. after several shells had pitched into their midst the regiment moved out and formed up into two long lines and entrenched. it was whilst marching out to take up this position in the dark that a shell emptied itself into the head of one company, killing lieutenant cumin and severely wounding captain luxmoore and one man. the south african light horse and strathcona's horse had a number of casualties amongst their men and horses. the boers by a skilful manoeuvre had kept their guns concealed, ready to be brought into action as soon as general buller's army had settled itself quietly in its bivouac. they expended some cartloads of ammunition in this manner without interference. in the early hours of the following morning a band of volunteers ascended the hill to capture the guns. they had both been withdrawn and were not traced. on the morning of october nd buller's army reached lydenburg without further opposition. lieutenant cumin was buried in the evening in lydenburg cemetery. on saturday, october th, sir redvers buller bade farewell to his army. the troops lined the streets and roads and gave him a hearty send-off. he was immensely popular with the men and they were sorry to see him go. general w. kitchener took over command of the lydenburg district and its garrison, on sir redvers buller's departure. on the writer asking sir redvers on the eve of the day of his departure which was his best army--the one he commanded into ladysmith or the one with which he trekked north--he replied, "the army i went north with was the best. i watched the devons pass me at burgher's nek and it struck me how wonderfully well they looked. i considered they were ready for anything i asked them to do; but," he added, "they surprised me with the pace they went up the hill at burgher's nek." chapter iv lydenburg - on october th, , the battalion moved out of lydenburg to the mission station, three miles north of the town on the kruger's post road. the mission station was a collection of kaffir houses, containing some christian men, women, and children. the mission-house was taken over as a post and fortified as soon as the german pastor, who was found to be communicating with the boers, had been sent to pretoria to be locked up. [illustration: colonel c.w. park, mission camp, lydenburg] the site of the camp having been chosen, it was immediately surrounded by company forts consisting of ditches four feet deep and two feet wide for protection against shell fire, which it was considered possible would be brought to bear on the camp. this entrenchment was finished in one afternoon. two guns of the rd battery under lieutenant higgins, and one -inch gun under second lieutenant mclellan, were added to the garrison. the battalion stood to arms daily just before dawn. on the th two companies under captain bartlett were moved to paardeplaats as a permanent garrison, whilst two companies under captain travers were sent to ben tor. on the th two companies of the regiment, two guns, and one company mounted infantry proceeded just before daylight to a farm some six miles away, and burnt it. they encountered no opposition. this company of mounted infantry was then added to the garrison for permanent duty. the two following days were employed in collecting forage from different farm-houses. very few boers were seen, and there was little or no opposition. on the th, it having been ordained that all the boer women in the various towns were to be sent out to their husbands in the laagers, two companies and two guns under captain ravenshaw were ordered to escort the ladies of lydenburg over the spekboom bridge on the kruger's post road, and there hand them over to their husbands and friends. captain ravenshaw went out with a flag of truce and met the boers, amongst whom was erasmus. they were most affable, and shook hands cordially. the women reached kruger's post that evening. the next day general walter kitchener started out at a.m. with a column of infantry (devons), mounted infantry and guns towards kruger's post for the purpose of shelling the farm. at dawn the column crossed the spekboom bridge and mounted the hills in the face of slight opposition. a -inch gun was then brought to the front and shells dropped into kruger's post, after which the column returned to camp. a patrol of four boers was captured, and there were no casualties on the british side. very shortly after this the order concerning the boer women was cancelled and a fresh order was issued, which ordained that all boer women who were captured or gave themselves up should be confined in large concentration camps on the railway line. on the evening of the th one company was ordered down from ben tor to be posted on the hill overlooking the spekboom bridge. the company proceeded there on the th escorted by two companies, two guns, and some mounted infantry. on the following day, as the boers were threatening the bridge post before the works were complete, one company and two guns were sent out as a covering party. the battalion was now split up; two companies under lieutenant tringham proceeded to witklip, two companies under captain bartlett were at paardeplaats, one company under lieutenant cowie was at ben tor, one company under captain travers was at bridge post. of the three remaining companies one was holding the mission house, and the two others with the -inch gun and the two field guns formed the garrison of the main camp. on october th two companies from mission camp were ordered to march at sunset through lydenburg to the bank of the river. here they halted and had supper, being eventually joined by the rifle brigade. starting again at p.m. and marching all through the night, they attacked some boer laagers at dawn. after some heavy firing the laagers, which had been completely surprised, were captured with all their tents, etc. the column returned at p.m. the same day, when the companies redistributed themselves to their various posts, having marched from a.m. till . p.m. a distance of thirty-five miles. there were four casualties, one of which was a devon man slightly wounded. november was spent rather quietly by the battalion, the men being employed in strengthening the various posts and making them comfortable. on november th one company was sent off to garrison strathcona hill on the southern side of the town. on the th general walter kitchener again attacked the boers, this time employing entirely mounted troops, he brought back with him sheep, ponies, and wagons. five boers were killed, and the mounted troops had two casualties. colonel park returned from sick leave on the th, when major davies resumed his position as second in command. lieutenants hext and kane left shortly afterwards to join the mounted infantry at pretoria, and at the end of november lieutenant woollcombe rejoined the regiment from maritzburg, lieutenant harris returned from pretoria with a draft of thirty-eight men, and lieutenant twiss rejoined from hospital at newcastle. at the beginning of december the following was the distribution of the companies of the regiment:-- two companies at paardeplaats under captain bartlett. one company at bridge post under captain travers. one company at strathcona hill under lieutenant willis; and four companies at mission camp. on december th and th a foraging expedition with three guns and four companies of the rifle brigade went out towards van der merves' farm under colonel park. these brought back twenty-eight wagon loads of forage without experiencing any opposition. it was reported on the th that nelspruit had been cut off by the boers and required assistance. a column was immediately formed, composed of one squadron th hussars, four companies devons under major davies, and four companies rifle brigade with some guns; the whole proceeding under general kitchener _en route_ to the mauchberg and devil's knuckles. three companies of the regiment had been taken from mission camp and one from paardeplaats. a blizzard blowing all night and the following morning, accompanied with thunder and heavy rain, delayed the advance of the troops till noon, when a start was effected, and the mauchberg was occupied by the devons without opposition. further advance down hell's gate to the devil's knuckles was found impracticable owing to the state of the road. troops from machadodorp had been sent to lydenburg to act as a garrison whilst the column was out; but instructions were received from head-quarters on the th ordering the immediate return of the column to lydenburg, as well as of the reinforcements back to machadodorp. the devons had been, however, sent out from the mauchberg previous to the receipt of the order to retire. they skirmished down the road towards devil's knuckles, and in a very thick fog boers and british nearly walked into each other's arms. there was a good deal of musketry fire, with the result to the british side of one devon wounded. as was usually said on such occasions, "boers' loss was probably very great." the three companies returned to mission camp late on the evening of the th. on the th major davies was ordered to witklip to take command of the forts; he took with him one company as a reinforcement to the garrison. on christmas day the regiment received a number of telegrams from friends in england wishing them good luck. a race meeting was held in the afternoon on the lydenburg race-course. the public went armed, and two field guns were brought into action on the course. these precautions were necessary, for the boers at this time were very busy, and on the night of december th- th attacked the post at helvetia, near machadodorp, and captured it. the post contained a . naval gun called "lady roberts," and this, with the garrison of three companies of the liverpool regiment, was taken, only one small fort manned by a small contingent of about fifteen men holding out. general walter kitchener left at once with four companies of the rifle brigade, two companies of the regiment (from witklip), two guns, and the mounted troops, in the hope of intercepting the boers and recovering the gun. the boers, however, had made good their retirement to the hills, and general kitchener returned to lydenburg with the column on the st. the liverpool regiment lost at helvetia killed, wounded, and prisoners. the boers about this time attacked all along the line from lydenburg to pretoria. the defences, except at lydenburg, were of the most meagre description. in fact, the works constructed by the rifle brigade and the devons at lydenburg were the only works of any strength, and these were as complete as possible. witklip was being placed in a fortified condition, but up to the time of the taking of helvetia post little had been done anywhere, except at lydenburg. for the next few nights all posts round lydenburg stood to arms at . a.m. owing to the activity of the boers, but it was not till january th that they attacked the bridge hill post. they attempted to capture the picquet on the bridge over the spekboom river, but were beaten off. about this time one company was ordered down from paardeplaats to mission camp, the garrison at paardeplaats being thus reduced to one company; and witklip garrison was reinforced by the addition of one company, which was sent there from mission camp. on the early morning of january th the boers made a simultaneous attack on almost all posts on the line between belfast and lydenburg. the following posts were attacked: badfontein, schwarzkop, helvetia, machadodorp, belfast, pan, and noitgedacht. the badfontein post was shelled only, by a big gun mounted on the hills west of the fort, which failed, however, to reach the post. the result of the general attack was that two posts only, those at belfast, were captured by the boers. these were not held, and the boers retired, leaving twenty-four dead upon the ground. the posts had been well prepared for defence after the disaster at helvetia. a wire bridge over the lydenburg river, constructed by lieutenant green and the twelve men of the maxim gun team, was completed about this time, and as it attracted a good deal of attention a description of it may be interesting. the bridge had a span of sixty feet, and was constructed on the system of the "jhula," or rope bridge, of cashmere, out of telegraph wire. the roadway, to admit of one person at a time, was made of two lengths of twisted wire, each ten strands thick. these being stretched tightly across the river, and the ends well worked into the ground and pegged down, were joined together by small laths of wood two inches apart. two more lengths, each ten strands thick, were stretched from two uprights on each bank, at a convenient height above the roadway, to form a support for it. these were joined on to the roadway by stout sticks, about one to two feet apart, on either side to give stability. the bridge was then secured up and down stream by wires to keep it steady. the height of the bridge above the stream was about twenty feet. [illustration: wire bridge, lydenburg] the chief cause of attraction and interest in the bridge to outsiders was the fact that it had been constructed entirely by british infantry without the aid of the royal engineers, and that the plan had been thought out by them alone, and was not "in the book." the idea had been taken from some photographs of a cashmere "jhula," and the work had been carried out from descriptions of the rope bridges furnished by an officer of the regiment who had crossed them. all previous bridges had been washed away, but this bridge was still standing at the end of the war, and was being utilized then by the kaffirs at mission camp as an easy access and short cut to their cultivated fields. on january th, as a larger convoy than usual was coming through to lydenburg, a small force under captain jacson, consisting of two companies devons, one company mounted infantry and one gun went out from mission camp to demonstrate towards schoeman's laager on the west. no boers, however, were seen, and the convoy came safely into lydenburg without opposition. several changes occurred in the disposition of the companies of the regiment during the latter half of january, . the head-quarters with three companies were stationed at witklip under colonel park. two companies proceeded to badfontein as a garrison under major davies. one company held each of the posts at bridge hill and paardeplaats respectively. one company was in charge of the mission house, whilst one company was left at mission camp to commence the construction of a new work south of the old camp. [illustration: wire bridge, lydenburg (general kitchener and colonel park)] these changes were made on account of some large convoys going and coming to and from the railway line, larger escorts having to be provided owing to the proximity and increased activity of the boers on the lines of communication. the convoys came through safely without any trouble, and on january th major davies with his two companies returned to witklip. the head-quarters of the regiment, with three companies, left witklip the following day and proceeded to mission camp. further changes were made during february, , the post at paardeplaats being given up and the company posted there returning to mission camp. towards the latter end of january a flying column was organized by general walter kitchener. the objective of this column was the high hills south of lydenburg towards witpoort and belfast. it was under the personal command of the general, and was composed of the following troops:-- squadron th hussars. battery r.f.a. naval -pounder. pompom. company manchester mounted infantry. companies devons under captain travers. the column set out at a.m. in the direction of elandskloof. it was a bright night, although a thick white mist hung everywhere. the th hussars, who knew the difficult country, conducted the advance. after marching for two hours the column found itself in the hills. a halt was made whilst the three companies of the regiment extended and occupied the high ground which barred the advance, to drive off any boers who might be in possession. this manoeuvre was executed without opposition. it was learnt, however, that a boer picquet had been on the top, and had galloped off on the approach of the infantry. daylight found the column in possession of elandskloof, which was reached after a difficult climb by steep and circuitous paths. shortly after daylight several boers were observed to be driving their cattle into kloofs above the badfontein valley for safety. an advance was made shortly afterwards towards schwartz kopjes, which place was reached without much opposition towards dark. at schwartz kopjes camp was formed for the night, the infantry entrenching themselves in the kopjes round the camp, with one company posted in a farmhouse about yards west of the main camp. on the following day general kitchener ordered the mounted troops and guns to make a reconnaissance towards dulstroom. whilst the rest of the force remained in camp, the baggage under escort was sent towards belfast. the reconnoitring force fared badly, for after advancing a few miles boers in large numbers were seen collecting on the high hills due west, and approaching at a rapid pace. the reconnoitring force was shortly afterwards heavily engaged, and compelled to retire on to the camp. the infantry were now ordered to retire as rapidly as possible to a ridge in rear, distant about to yards. the cavalry retired hard pressed on to schwartz kopjes, which they held until the infantry had completed their movement, when the cavalry again retired back to the neighbourhood of the infantry. schwartz kopjes were immediately occupied by the boers, who collected there in large numbers and endeavoured to get round the flanks of the column. followed hotly by the boers, the column made a rapid retirement, units covering each other until camp was reached. it was only then that the boers drew off. there was no further engagement that day or during the night, and the column completed its advance next day to belfast, where it arrived about midday and camped to the south side of the railway. the distribution of the garrison, carried out at the commencement of february, continued more or less the same till the time the regiment left lydenburg. three companies were north of lydenburg, and were stationed at the mission house, mission camp fort, and bridge hill. one company was at strathcona hill, south of the town, two companies under the command of major davies were at witklip, whilst the three companies which had proceeded with general kitchener to belfast were quartered on their return in lydenburg. during this time colonel park was commanding the lydenburg district with captain ravenshaw as brigade major. on february th the boers attacked all the lydenburg posts. the attacks were not heavily pressed. there were no casualties on the side of the defenders, whilst the boers lost, as far as could be ascertained, two killed and seven wounded. on february th two boers surrendered at mission camp. these stated that their friends in the laagers were badly off for meat and had hardly any horses left, most of them having died of horse-sickness. early in march, , colonel park decided on raiding piet schwartz's laager, which was stationed on the ridge to the north of and overlooking kruger's post. his force consisted of three companies devons under captain jacson, three companies rifle brigade, three companies royal irish, one squadron th hussars, three companies mounted infantry, three guns rd battery, one howitzer, and one pompom, and by the th his arrangements were complete. the infantry were to make a night march and to attack at dawn, whilst the mounted troops and guns were to be at kruger's post just after dawn to assist. under cover of darkness, the column rendezvoused at the spekboom bridge, one company having gone on ahead to seize any boers who might be coming down at nightfall, as was their wont, to form a picquet there. a start was made from the bridge at about p.m. leaving the main road on their left, the column proceeded in single file, devons leading, along a footpath which led them over a nek in the hills and thence down into a donga. an accident, which might have been attended with very unfortunate results, occurred at the very commencement. the royal irish, who were in the rear, instead of following and keeping in touch with the remainder of the column missed connection, and went up the main road, on which, about two miles ahead, was a boer picquet. they were, however, stopped just in time and turned back. this delayed the advance for about an hour. along the donga the march was continued for some six miles, when a cross donga was met with, the sides of which were steep and about fifteen feet high. the leading troops crossed and halted on the far side till the rear closed up. the maxim gun mules with difficulty negotiated the obstacle, and the advance was, after one hour's halt, continued to kruger's post. the force kept to the donga almost the whole march, scarcely for a moment leaving its shelter. terribly rough going it was, with long high grass soaking wet, and the men tumbling about into ruts and over rocks. on they trudged, twisting and turning, up and down, falling about, with every now and then a suppressed exclamation and an imprecation on rocks and ruts in general and night marches in particular--no lights, no smoking. no one except he who has done it knows what a strain it is marching along through the dark night, without a word and without the company of a pipe. on emerging from the donga at kruger's post on to the open veldt a further halt was made; the leading troops lay down in the soaking grass and were fast asleep in a moment. it was found that the column had opened out considerably, and must have stretched for some four miles from lead to end. the rate of marching at the head of the column had been about two miles per hour. this was found, over the rough ground, to be too quick to allow of the rear keeping closed up--the pace should not have exceeded one mile an hour. the column having closed up and the sleeping men having with difficulty been found and turned up out of the wet grass, a further advance was made. but now the direction was to the right in order to avoid kruger's post farm, which was occupied by the boers. this took the column over some millraces, a biggish jump for the men. the mules, having been relieved of their loads, were man-handled across. once over these and then a wade through a stream knee deep, the ghostly column again halted. it was now . a.m. the foot of the low hills behind which was the laager, had been reached, and the officers were busy getting their men collected. an intelligence officer reports that if there is the slightest delay dawn will break before the positions are reached. the first streak of dawn is . a.m. "may we go off now on our own?" is the question asked. "all right; off you go!" is the cheery answer from colonel park. the devons had the furthest to go, perhaps one and a half miles to reach the far side of the laager. the royal irish were already at the foot of the hill on the top of which was the position assigned to them. two of the rifle brigade companies had unfortunately missed connection and had gone off into the "ewigkeit" in the dark, but one company was ready and handy to the nek which they had to occupy, to fill up the gap between the devons and the royal irish. the devons, who by this time were well together, started off, captain travers with a guide leading. he had orders to take on with him the two first companies, the guide showing him where to place his men. on they went, running and walking, walking and running, up the slippery road, across the nek and then down into the valley below. two small groups of men were posted in the ditch leading up to the nek. as the last man reached the knoll overlooking the nek at the place where the main road crossed it, and which was the right of the devons' allotment of position, the two leading companies could be heard down in the valley below stumbling amongst the stones, getting into a position that would entirely cut off the boers' retreat down the main road leading north. [illustration: mission camp fort, lydenburg] suddenly all was still: everything was ready. it was exactly . a.m. all lay down and waited in breathless silence for the coming dawn. the devons had orders to withhold their fire as long as possible, to make sure of the other units being in their places. "that's the position of the laager, just behind that little knoll," whispered an intelligence scout; "but it seems as if the bird has flown." [illustration: mission camp fort, lydenburg (interior)] for some ten minutes the silence continued, with not so much as the crack of a twig to interrupt it. what's that? it's a cock crowing! there it is again! there's another! the laager's there right enough, and we've got them! in the far distance, lydenburg way, the faint noise of musketry fire could be heard; it was the mounted troops advancing and driving in the boer picquets on the road above the spekboom bridge, eight miles back. in about five minutes' time the laager was roused by a boer, who commenced swearing roundly at some one in a very loud voice. one man came out and posted himself on a little rise of ground, and gazed, listening, kruger's post way. he was joined by another, then another, until there was a group of nine of them, two dressed in long white robes. it was thought that these were women. suddenly they all returned into the laager out of sight, only to appear again in a few minutes on horseback. three of them came straight up to the high road just under the knoll where the devons were in readiness. they were allowed to go on, and they continued their career down the road towards kruger's post. now the utility of posting the groups in the ditch by the side of the road became manifest. suddenly from their direction crack! went a single rifle, then a burst of rifle fire, which was immediately taken up all round the circle. no, not quite round; there was silence from the hill which should have been occupied by the royal irish. a party of some twenty boers were seen ascending this hill, the top of which was covered with big rocks. the devons' rifles as well as their maxim gun were turned on to them. the boers, however, succeeded in reaching the safety of the rocks a few moments before the ascending irish. meanwhile the firing had become general, and in the dim light also a trifle mixed. the rifle brigade fired into the two devon companies down in the valley and across the laager. the latter in their turn fired at some boers trying to escape through the gap left open by the royal irish. these were striving with the boers for the possession of the rock-capped hill, and both were being fired into by the devons across the valley. after some twenty minutes of sharp musketry fire the "cease fire" sounded, and everything was again quiet; it was then found that the whole laager had fallen into british hands. two boers were killed, three wounded, and thirty-six captured, whilst the british casualties were two killed and four wounded, all of them royal irish. the distance from lydenburg to piet schwartz's laager by road is about eighteen miles; the distance marched by the column could not have been under twenty miles, and this over very difficult ground. the column had left lydenburg at p.m., and reached its destination at . a.m. unfortunately, piet schwartz himself escaped capture, as he was not in the laager; he had left it the previous day. the mounted troops and guns were very slow in coming out, with the result that a large quantity of cattle located in the various kloofs which should have been captured, escaped. abel erasmus was taken the following day. the force bivouacked at kruger's post for the night, and returned to lydenburg next day, bringing with it fifteen boer families in addition to the prisoners. on their return a wire was received by colonel park from lord kitchener: "highly appreciate successful operation of colonel park and troops engaged." the remainder of the month was spent mostly in convoy work between witklip and lydenburg. whilst returning to lydenburg with one of these convoys, general walter kitchener, who was riding ahead with a small escort, suddenly came across some boers lying concealed in the grass. he lost two of his own personal escort killed, his own horse also being shot. he himself narrowly escaped capture. on april th an order was issued for the battalion to concentrate in lydenburg, preparatory to a general advance of three columns. the posts at bridge hill, mission village, strathcona, and paardeplaats were evacuated, and the company at witklip withdrawn. the destinations of the columns were as follows:-- one column under colonel park was to proceed in the kruger's post direction and to scour the country towards the north, and later to join hands with general kitchener's column, which was to proceed in a north-westerly direction, and the third column under colonel douglas was to proceed from witklip in a westerly direction. on the th, lieutenant-colonel park handed over the command of the battalion to major davies, who had arrived from witklip, and captain jacson took over the duties of second in command. chapter v trekking in the north-east transvaal on april th, , general walter kitchener commenced his long trek with a night march. his force consisted of-- two guns rd f.b.r.a. under major johnson and captain talbot-ponsonby. one -inch gun. one -inch howitzer. one naval -pounder. one company mounted infantry. st battalion devonshire regiment ( officers and men). nd battalion rifle brigade. the th western australians. general walter kitchener's column formed one of the many operating at the time in a combined movement in the northern transvaal and bush veldt, under the direction of general sir bindon blood. two columns were sent north to drive the bush veldt, forcing any boers that might be located there on to the other columns, who were acting as stops near the tautes berg and bothas berg, immediately north of the pretoria-lorenzo railway line. general walter kitchener decided to start his operations with an attack on schoeman's laager, and for this purpose the regiment was ordered to take up a position before dawn which would cut off the laager, situated in the steenkampsberg mountains, near the entrance of the lydenburg road into the hills, from the north. this entailed a night march of about sixteen miles. the remainder of the column was to proceed by the main road and attack the laager at daybreak. the regiment rendezvoused on the west side of the river, clear of the town, before dusk. here the men had food, and a start was made at p.m. the going at first was fairly simple, but once the track was left the ground became rough, stony, and intersected with dongas. the advance was then made in single file. as an instance of how a small obstruction delays troops marching in the dark, one small water-course - / feet wide and about foot deep delayed the head of the column for some thirty-five minutes, till all the men had crossed and were closed up again, and then in crossing one in every ten fell into it. the top of the steenkampsberg was reached at about a.m., after a steep climb over a rough track. the difficulty of the march was increased by a thick fog. on the far side a steep cliff, at the bottom of which was a deep donga and a mountain torrent, was encountered, and this had to be negotiated on hands and knees. slipping and sliding down, the bottom of the donga was reached and the mountain torrent waded, and then after a steep ascent the top of the plateau was reached. it was here that the laager was supposed to be situated, and an extension was made and the advance continued. just as the dawn was breaking some flying boers, appearing and disappearing in the fog, were fired at by the leading extended company. the boers had been disturbed prematurely and had escaped, taking with them their pompom, but the wagon containing its ammunition fell into the hands of the regiment. the actual position of the laager was found to be about one mile away from where it had been previously located, and was very difficult to find in the dark owing to the undulations of the ground at the top of the ridge. complete success under these circumstances was scarcely probable, but as a test as to what a regiment could do when called upon, the undertaking was effective and complete. after the regiment had been engaged in long-range firing for some time, the head of the main column appeared on the lydenburg road, and the force finally went into bivouac for the night at boshhoek. about sheep and some cattle were picked up on the neighbouring farms. the following morning the column marched north down the waterval valley, and after the mounted troops had experienced some opposition in very hilly and rough country, boshfontein was reached. shortly after the force had settled into camp heavy gun fire was heard from the direction of waterval. the boers' shells exploded in the valley immediately to the north of the camp and in the vicinity of a farm, where it would appear the boers considered the column should have bivouacked. after the explosion of some twenty shells a louder report than usual was heard, and the shelling ceased. the mounted troops reported that the boers were in position above waterval, where there was a large women's laager. in the dark of the morning, at three o'clock, general kitchener set his column in motion: four companies, with a -pounder and two -inch guns, under major davies, preceded the force, with the intention of capturing the big boer gun; four companies, with two field guns, under captain jacson, made a flanking movement through scrub and dongas round the left. very little opposition was met with. the mounted troops captured a few prisoners, and it was found that the boers had blown up their big gun. this was the gun that had been situated on pepworth hill, and which had been disabled by one of the naval brigade's shells during the siege of ladysmith. its muzzle had been shortened, showing that it had been damaged. the boers had blown the gun to pieces. the barrel of the gun was blown about fifty yards in front of the emplacement, whilst the breech-block was found afterwards - / miles in rear. they had destroyed also one pompom and one maxim. twenty-eight boers were captured, with about sixty head of cattle and thirteen wagons. the australians had one man killed and one man wounded. [illustration: remains of boer big gun, waterval] the waterval valley was well watered and exceedingly rich in crops, and the numerous farm-houses were full of families. these were collected afterwards by colonel park's column and sent into lydenburg. on the th the column set out from waterval in a north-westerly direction, the objective being secoconi's country and magnet heights. the first day found the force on the east bank of the steelpoort river. the dwars river, which was found in full flood owing to a very violent thunderstorm, had been forded on the way. the regiment was rear-guard to the column, and, owing to delay in passing the baggage over the river, reached camp some considerable time after dark. the australian mounted troops did not halt at the steelpoort, but, fording the river, pushed on to magnet heights, which they occupied the same night. park's column had been in touch with kitchener's in the morning. [illustration: crossing the steelport river] on the banks of the dwars river secoconi's men were first met with. these, armed with rifles of various patterns ancient and modern, were out scouting for general kitchener in all directions. at dawn on april th the crossing of the steelpoort river was commenced. one company of the regiment was first sent across to occupy the high ground on the far side and to cover the crossing. the river was in flood owing to the heavy rain of the previous day, and the water above the men's waist. the advanced company having got safely across and having occupied the high ground, the remainder of the infantry were sent over without casualty. the march was then continued towards magnet heights, which was reached at dusk. here camp was formed, and on the following day the march was again resumed with mule transport only, through secoconi's land. secoconi was at the time at war with a neighbouring tribe, and a fringe of hills only, divided the combatant parties, but an interval was called in their operations by mutual consent to allow of the passage of the british through their respective countries. on leaving behind the outposts of one, the outposts of the other were met with. having reached this point to the north of the transvaal, general kitchener's column was in a position to turn south, and, in conjunction with other columns on his right and left hand, to sweep the bush veldt and mountains southward towards the railway, near which another force under the personal command of sir bindon blood, who was in charge of the entire operations, was drawn up ready to intercept any boers who might try to move across the railway from north to south. at vergelegen, where the column halted for the night of the th, some of secoconi's headmen came into camp for an interview. they were much impressed with what they saw, patted the -inch gun with friendly concern, and having relieved the general of his tobacco-pouch and a box of cigars, and offering their assistance when not busy with their neighbours, returned to their kraals. the mounted troops were sent on ahead the same day to pokwani town, where it was supposed the boers had collected a quantity of cattle. no trace, however, of either boers or cattle was found there. the columns comprising the drive southward were in constant communication with each other by signalling. plumer's column was immediately on kitchener's right, holding the line of the oliphant's river, thus preventing the boers, who were scattered in small groups in the bush veldt, from escaping in the direction of pietersburg, whilst park's column was operating on kitchener's left, thus preventing the boers breaking back towards waterval and the steenkampsberg mountains. gradually kitchener's column moved southward, driving the boers off the high ground and picking them up with their cattle and families in the low or bush veldt. to do this with greater effect the column was divided, one portion consisting of the battalion, one gun, the i.l.h. and australians under colonel davies proceeding in a north-westerly direction to stop the boers breaking back into the bush veldt in rear, whilst general kitchener with the remainder of the column marched over the high ground overlooking the bush veldt, and on the direct road to the south. on the nd davies' column reached enkeldedoorn, whilst general kitchener with the rifle brigade occupied vaal kop on the morning of the rd. on the first day out the mounted troops of davies' force, scouring the bush in their advance, captured prisoners, wagons, head of cattle, and sheep. they also brought in a number of families, some of whom had been hiding for months in kloofs and dongas in great fear of the kaffirs. one woman with her children was seen weeping by the side of the track, and on being asked the reason, she implored that she also might be taken into the railway and not left behind. she was comforted by an assurance that the column would return and that she would be taken in. stores were now running short, and the biscuit and sugar rations were reduced to half. in order to keep connection between the two portions of general kitchener's column, two companies were left at enkeldedoorn under the command of captain bartlett. these also formed a "stop" to prevent the boers breaking back, and a post to which prisoners' families and cattle could be forwarded on their way to join the head-quarters at paardeplaats, whither general kitchener had gone from vaal kop. the regiment, with the australian mounted troops, operating through dense bush proceeded in the direction of the oliphant's river, capturing a considerable number of prisoners, cattle, wagons, and families, amongst the prisoners being commandant fourie. eight privates of the regiment, who were escorting an ammunition cart, and who had lost their way, captured six boers with all their cattle and brought them into camp. when within twelve miles of the oliphant's river, davies, hearing that commandant schroeder with a small commando was directly between him and plumer's column on the oliphant's river, split his force into two. the infantry, comprising five companies of the regiment, were sent back under captain jacson, with all the prisoners wagons and families to enkeldedoorn, while davies himself, with the australians and one gun, started in pursuit of schroeder. on nearing the oliphant's river it was ascertained that schroeder, with forty-one men and one maxim gun and several wagons, had been forced by davies' mounted troops across the river into the hands of plumer, who had them in safe keeping. jacson's train of prisoners reached enkeldedoorn on april th, and on the following day he received orders to proceed at once to zuikerboschplaats and to take with him bartlett's two companies from enkeldedoorn. this place was reached at dusk, and shortly afterwards davies brought up his australians to the same camp, his column being then again united. the northern part of the bush veldt having been swept clear of boers, davies then moved due south and scoured the country round the tafel kop mountain, capturing a number of prisoners and wagons. haartebeestfontein was reached late in the evening of the th, some of the companies of the regiment having marched over hill and dale through thick scrub more than twenty miles. four men had lost their way and were missing. orders were received on the following day from general kitchener for davies' force to rejoin head-quarters at paardeplaats. an early start was made at a.m. lackau, - / miles, was reached at a.m., and here the column halted and the cattle outspanned till . p.m. the heat in the bush veldt was excessive, and was very trying to the men and cattle. at . p.m. the march was again resumed, and after another ten miles paardeplaats was reached at dusk. it had been a hot and dusty march of - / miles, and the men and cattle were rather "done up." on arrival it was found that the general had moved on to goedgedacht. as soon as it was dark rockets were fired to try and direct the four missing men into camp, but without success. on the following day the battalion with the australians marched down the steep zaaiplaats pass to buffelsvlei, bivouacking for the night on the banks of the buffelsvlei river. on arrival there it was again found that the general had moved on to rooi plaats, and that the nd rifle brigade had proceeded by the tautesberg road with prisoners and families and cattle to wonderfontein on the railway line. may st found the force at rooi plaats, and here a halt was made on the nd. two companies under captain bartlett were dispatched to diepkloof and two companies under captain wren to waterval in order to block the two roads to the north from the botha's berg, and to stop the boers breaking back. on may rd the regiment with the australian mounted infantry reached waterval, and on the following day proceeded to blinkwater. two companies with two guns under captain ponsonby, r.a., were left behind to cover the retirement of some mounted infantry, with orders to rejoin in the evening. general blood, with the whole of his personal command, had left blinkwater on the previous day for middleburg, and on the th general kitchener received orders to follow him. the column marched that day to rooi kop, twelve miles distant on the middleburg road, and on the following day two companies devon regiment, two companies rifle brigade, five guns and one howitzer, with the sick, the whole under captain jacson, left for bankfontein, where they were joined next morning by the remainder of general kitchener's column. at bankfontein a telegram was received which announced that major davies had been promoted to the brevet rank of lieutenant-colonel, major curry granted a d.s.o., and captain jacson was to be promoted to the brevet rank of lieutenant-colonel on attaining the rank of major. a halt was made at bankfontein from the th till the th, when the force refitted, and on may the th the column marched to rondebosch on the outskirts of middleburg. in the early part of may, , a further drive on a large scale was organized by head-quarters. this was intended to traverse the whole of the eastern transvaal south of the railway. the columns were to be extended from middleburg through carolina up to the swazi border on the east, and then, with a circling movement based on middleburg, gradually to sweep the country through ermelo towards bethel. having rounded up all this country, the drive, extending from bethel on the south to the pretoria-lorenzo railway on the north, was by a combined movement to the westward, to push all the boers remaining in this part of the country with their cattle on to johannesburg-springs and the pretoria-standerton railway lines, which were guarded. the movement was under the direction of sir bindon blood, and his forces consisted of eight columns. the battalion found itself again under the command of general walter kitchener, forming part of his column, which was composed of the following troops:-- st devonshire regiment. nd rifle brigade. th west australians ( strong). nd i.l.h. ( strong). four guns rd field battery r.a. one -inch gun. one naval -pounder. its position in the drive was on the left or outside edge of the circle of the operations. the forces were put in motion on the th may, on which day kitchener, advancing in the direction of the swazi border, marched to zaaiplaats ( - / miles), and thence without incident through riet kuil, reaching schoonora on the th. in the neighbourhood of schoonora commandant trichardt, with of his followers, was surprised by the australian mounted infantry, who killed one boer and captured head of cattle. a considerable number of boers were reported to be in the neighbourhood. the drifts over which the column had to pass after leaving riet kuil were bad, and only two companies reached schoonora that night. the remainder of the battalion, which was rear-guard to the column, bivouacked with the baggage three miles out of camp near a branch of the klein oliphants river, and joined up with the column next morning. the following day mooiplaats was reached, when a large number of cattle and some families were taken. on may th the column moved to grobellars recht. here the boers were found in large numbers under botha. the th and th west australians whilst operating on the right flank of the column were ambushed, losing one officer and six men killed and thirteen wounded. the boers were very truculent and gave considerable trouble, and the force was not in camp till dark. it was not, however, disturbed during the night. the column left grobellars recht on the th with the th and th west australians as rear-guard, supported by the devonshire regiment. the boers followed up smartly for some hours, but there were no casualties, and camp was reached at kromkrans at about p.m. smutsoog was reached the next day. on the march pulteney's column, which was seen in the distance, mistaking kitchener's column for a commando of boers, shelled them with field guns. their shooting was accurate, and it was not till general kitchener threatened to send a -inch shell at them that they desisted. fortunately no damage was done. from smutsoog the column proceeded to goedevervachting, a few boers sniping the column on the march. much inconvenience was experienced from the cold, as it froze hard every night. on the th the column marched to florence, passing bothwell and lake chrissie, and on the following day reached veltevreden. here the nd rifle brigade and the west australians left the column. on the march to veltevreden a few boers were seen, and there was some firing at the rear-guard. on the following day a short march brought the force to uitkyk, where a halt was made on the rd. on the th the column on its march to schapenberg captured cattle and sheep, and five boers surrendered. a halt was made on the th and th at schapenberg. here , sheep, which were being driven along with the column, were slaughtered. these, daily increasing in number, hampered the movements of the rearguard on the march to such an extent, that it was found impossible to drive them on to the railway; they were therefore slaughtered. lekkerloop was reached on the th, on which day the i.l.h. captured twenty-two prisoners. a halt was made at lekkerloop from the th to st, during which time the i.l.h. under colonel mackenzie were busy capturing prisoners and clearing the country. on june st the column marched to bushman's kop, proceeding on the following day to vierwonden, crossing the theespruit _en route_. the i.l.h. brought six prisoners into camp with them. the main column halted at vierwonden from the rd till the th, whilst captain bartlett left for hoilake on the rd in command of three companies as escort to a convoy, and on the th captain wren was ordered with one company and five guns to bonnybraes. on the th the column marched to bonnybraes, colonel mackenzie and the i.l.h. bringing in eighteen boers and about cattle and some families. a halt was made at bonnybraes on the th. the column was reunited on the th at fernyhaugh, and on the th marched to busby, the march being greatly delayed by a bad drift over the umpolosi river. ring kink was reached on the th, and woodstock on the th. thirty boer rifles were found on woodstock farm. the column was then divided. seven companies of the regiment under lieutenant-colonel davies, with the nd i.l.h. and the th and th west australians, left woodstock at a.m., the remainder of the column proceeding, under general kitchener's personal command, further south towards bank kop to round up some boers reported in that neighbourhood. davies' mounted troops captured during the day fourteen boers, some families, cattle, sheep, and six wagons. this column marched twenty-two miles and camped for the night at blaukrans, where colonel davies rested his men on the th. colbank was reached on the th, when all mounted troops left to join kitchener's column at bank kop. the following day the regiment marched to kranspan and joined up with general kitchener. the column captured that day several families and twenty-two boers. on the th the whole column marched in the direction of ermelo, and camped for the night on a hill overlooking the town. camp was reached at nightfall after a very long, dusty, and tiring march, the rear-guard getting in after dark. on the th the force marched through ermelo to driehook. a number of boers followed up the rear-guard, and there was a good deal of firing, but no casualties. the march was resumed on the following day and kranspoort was reached. on the nd the column marched to witbank, the rear-guard being engaged almost the whole march. a halt was made at witbank. the west australians were here again ambushed, losing two men killed, one officer and two men wounded, and five taken prisoners. three hundred boers were reported on the left flank at nightfall, and preparations were made to receive a night attack, which, however, did not come off. on the following day a dense fog delayed the march till a.m., and it was not till late that vaal bank was reached. the rear-guard, consisting of the devon regiment and the th west australians, was engaged the whole day with the boers, who followed the column right up to the new camp. that night the whole regiment was on outpost duty. the rear-guard was engaged heavily the following day during the march to bankpan. campbell's and babington's columns were on the immediate right. the devons halted for the day at bankpan, when the th and th west australians left to join campbell's column at middlekraal, the th hussars exchanging over to kitchener's column. a night march was made on the th for the purpose of surrounding a farm some eight miles distant. this was accomplished by midnight. no boers were taken. the column halted till daylight, when the march was again resumed, and erstegeluk reached in the afternoon. a number of boers were surprised in the neighbouring farms by the mounted troops; and shortly after camp was formed, a body of boers attempted to drive in the outposts and to attack the camp, but without success. the following day bethel was reached, and camp was formed close to colonel babington's column. the th hussars, reconnoitring to the south-east of bethel, were surprised by a large party of boers. lieutenant green, devonshire regiment, who was in charge of the colt gun attached to the th hussars and which was manned by men of the devonshire regiment, behaved very gallantly in bringing his gun at once into action and engaging the boers within a range of yards, thus covering the cavalry and giving them time to rally. on june th the march was resumed, and the column reached schurvekop, the rear-guard receiving a good deal of attention from the boers. camp was formed at middlekraal on the following day. here campbell's column was again met with. middlekraal was left on july st, and the column marched in the direction of springs. a number of boers were in the vicinity of the first camp, witbank, and the camp was sniped during the night. the following day the column marched to bakenlaagte, the scene of the disaster to benson's column, the rear-guard being followed up by a few boers. after a short march the following day grootpan was reached, and at p.m. three companies of the regiment under captain bartlett, and the th and th west australians, made a night march to the south, capturing a picquet of six boers early next morning. the column, after a twelve-miles' march, reached sondagskraal on the th at p.m. on arrival there news was received that a boer convoy, accompanied by louis botha, was in the neighbourhood of trichardtsfontein, about fifteen miles from sondagskraal. general kitchener determined to intercept this convoy, and for this reason the following force under his personal command, viz. two squadrons th hussars, th and th west australians, and four companies of the devonshire regiment under captain jacson, set out the same evening. the mounted troops of colville's column co-operated. trichardtsfontein was reached an hour before dawn, when the place was found deserted. a halt was made there for the day, when colville's column left. [illustration: dawn--after a night march, trichardtsfontein] at nightfall several boers were seen on the hills in the vicinity, and there was every reason to suppose that a night attack was contemplated by them. preparations were made accordingly, but the night was passed quietly. at dawn the return march was commenced. the boers attacked the rear-guard before it left camp and before it was formed up, and engaged it the whole way back to sondagskraal, until finally they came under fire of the -inch gun in position in that camp. during the preceding thirty-one hours the four companies of the regiment had marched forty-two miles. whilst this enterprise was being undertaken the remainder of the battalion, with the transport of the column, had remained at sondagskraal under colonel davies. on the th the force marched to goedehoop, and proceeding without incident on the th to brakfontein, on the th to strypan, reached springs on the th. the last two marches were long and tiring, and what little strength was left in the oxen was exhausted. the men likewise required a rest and a refit after their long trek from lydenburg, which had extended through secoconi's country in the northern transvaal, down south to middleburg, thence east to the swazi border and over the eastern transvaal, reaching as far south as bethel, to springs, near johannesburg. eighty per cent of the men had on arrival at springs neither shirts nor socks, and the bitter cold of the high veldt pierced keenly through the thin indian khaki drill. the column required generally doing up before again "taking the floor." it was expected by all that the infantry at least would be relieved by a fresh battalion. but it was not to be, for general walter kitchener insisted on the devons accompanying him, and his column set out again from springs on the th on a trek to the north, and without much fighting or incident reached middleburg on july nd. the country through which the column passed was cleared of everything living, including kaffirs. three days' halt was allowed the column at middleburg, and on the th a start was again made for the north. it was now composed as under:-- four guns st field battery r.a., under major simpson. one pompom. th hussars. th and th west australians. half company scottish horse. half company mounted infantry. seven companies devonshire regiment. two companies under captain bartlett had left on the th july to garrison elands river station, on the pretoria-lorenzo railway. the seven companies with general kitchener marched out strong. two other columns were operating with general kitchener, one under colonel park and the other under colonel campbell. the whole were under the supreme command of general walter kitchener. on the first day out the th hussars captured a pompom and about sixty prisoners of ben viljoen's and muller's commandos after a very gallant little action in which five men of the th hussars especially distinguished themselves. a great number of cattle and many wagons were also taken, and the boers lost about twelve killed and twenty wounded. general walter kitchener's column encamped at rooi kraal for a few days before moving to a camp at diep kloof, from which place convoys were sent to the railway for stores for the three columns. the first of these convoys under lieutenant-colonel jacson left on august st, marched to middleburg, by blinkwater and elandslaagte, and reached middleburg in three days; halted one day there to load up, and returned via elandslaagte and noitgedacht to diepkloof in three more days, receiving on their return the congratulations of general kitchener on their performance. on the th another convoy, again under lieutenant-colonel jacson, with an escort composed of men of the devons and leicesters and some scottish mounted infantry and two field guns, started for wonderfontein. this convoy consisted of all the wagons of the columns of colonels park and campbell and general kitchener, which had to be filled up at the railway line and brought back. waterval was reached on the th, rhenoster hoek on the th, sterkloop on the th, uitflucht on the th, and wonderfontein on the th. slight opposition was met with, and three boers were captured with wagons containing a quantity of grain. the convoy having halted and loaded up on the th, started on its return journey on the th. the journey to wonderfontein had been up the steelpoort valley, and the road had been found difficult. it was very much intersected with water-courses running off the high veldt, and these necessitated frequent halts to allow of the passage of the wagons in single file, and the reclosing up of the convoy after crossing. a different road over the high veldt, thus avoiding the water-courses, was chosen for the return journey, and it was perhaps fortunate that this new road was selected, as it was reported afterwards that ben viljoen had taken up a position at the time in the steelpoort valley to intercept the return column. on the th the convoy marched to panplaats; on the th to roedekop (where some of viljoen's men were met with and some more of his grain carts captured), blinkwater on the th, and diepkloof on the th. after a few days' scouring of the country round diepkloof and the valley towards the oliphants river, the three columns concentrated at blinkwater. here an entrenched camp was formed under the command of lieutenant-colonel jacson, consisting of the baggage of the three columns, the hospitals, and most of the field guns, with a garrison included amongst which were four companies of the regiment. park's and campbell's columns marched east into the hills in the ohrigstadt direction, park penetrating almost as far as pilgrim's rest, while general kitchener's column moved south towards middleburg. on september rd the force was broken up, colonel park's column being left in the neighbourhood of blinkwater, whilst general kitchener's column marched towards the railway at wonderfontein, which was reached on september th. on arrival at wonderfontein it was found that trekking was for the time being, finished. orders were received for the regiment to entrain for machadodorp for the purpose of garrisoning the railway blockhouses. the general's farewell order to the regiment on its leaving the column with which it had been so long associated was as follows:-- "column order by major-general f.w. kitchener "_wonderfontein, september th, ._ "it has been the privilege of the major-general to include the st devon regiment in his command since the relief of ladysmith, and it is with great regret that he has now to part with the last fighting unit of the th brigade. the reputation earned by the regiment at elandslaagte and ladysmith is a matter of history. since that time this excellent corps has fought and marched in summer rain and winter frost during many long months, through the length and breadth of the eastern transvaal. "the face of the country will remain for many years scarred with the trenches they have dug and the works they have made. they have proved on all occasions what a sound regimental system worked by thoroughly sound officers, n.c.o.s, and men can do. "the major-general and all in number one column wish the devons good luck and a pleasant time in the near future." on september th the regiment entrained. the general and his staff and the whole column turned out to give the regiment a hearty farewell. machadodorp was reached at about p.m., and all the posts round the town were taken over from the royal irish fusiliers. the railway blockhouses in the neighbourhood of machadodorp were also taken over. colonel davies was appointed commandant of the station, and captain ravenshaw station staff officer. during september and october six companies were located on the lydenburg road as far as witklip, holding the following posts:--helvetia, schwartzkop, schoeman's kloof, badfontein, and witklip. two companies remained at machadodorp with the battalion head-quarters. in october, one company under captain holland and lieutenant willis, whilst acting as escort to a party erecting blockhouses in the badfontein valley, was attacked by ben viljoen and about three hundred boers. the boers galloped down from the hills on to the extended company. the men behaved with great gallantry, and finally, after a sharp and mixed-up fight, drove off the boers. one man of the company fell into their hands and was stripped and left. lieutenant willis, for gallantry on this occasion, was rewarded with the d.s.o., and lance-corporal cummings was promoted corporal by the commander-in-chief for gallantry in the field. during the first week of november, orders were received for the st battalion to proceed to standerton _en route_ to india. the nd battalion had been quartered there for a considerable time, and a transfer of men was effected from one battalion to the other. the two battalions spent christmas together. [illustration: devons en route to durban] on january st ( ) the st battalion entrained at daylight for durban. the battalion met with a great reception at maritzburg, where a halt was made for nine hours. here each man was presented by the ladies of that place with a pipe, half a pound of tobacco, and a pockethandkerchief. the battalion sailed from south africa for india, with the following officers and rank and file:-- bt. lieutenant-colonel t.a.h. davies, d.s.o. bt. lieutenant-colonel m.g. jacson. captain e.c. wren. " t.c.b. holland. " g.h.i. graham. lieutenant t.b. harries. " g.i. watts. " d.h. blunt. " h.r. gunning. " s.t. hailey. " h.w.f. twiss. " e.s.c. willis. " w.e. scafe. " g.f.a. kane. nd lieutenant c. edward-collins. " " m.d. young. " " c.w. hext. " " a.m. mills. " " r.c. wrey. brevet-major and adjutant h.s.l. ravenshaw. of the above, it may be noted that the following left india with the battalion in :-- bt. lieut.-colonel m.g. jacson. captain e.c. wren. " g.h.i. graham. lieutenant t.b. harries. " g.i. watts. " d.h. blunt. " h.r. gunning. " s.t. hayley. " h.w.f. twiss. bt-major and adjutant h.s.l. ravenshaw. the following officers of the battalion remained behind in south africa:-- colonel c.w. park, a.d.c., commanding a column. captain and bt.-major e.m. morris, south african constabulary. captain bartlett, d.a.a.g. for intelligence. " vyvyan, provost marshal, barberton. " travers, south african constabulary. lieutenant-general lyttleton met the battalion at howick on its way to durban, and wished them "farewell." the following telegram was received at durban from lord kitchener, commanding the forces in south africa:-- "to o.c. st devon regiment, durban. "from lord kitchener, johannesburg. "please express to officers and men of the regiment under your command my high appreciation of their services in south africa during the war, which has already enhanced the great reputation of the regiment. in bidding you good-bye, i associate myself with all your comrades remaining in the country in hearty wishes for your future good luck." it should be added to the records of the battalion, which throughout two years and three months had fought and marched incessantly in south africa, that it had never once experienced the slightest trace of an "unfortunate incident," and had during that time lost only three prisoners of war, two of whom lost their way in the dark at geluk and marched into enemy's lines, the third having been taken during the company fight in the badfontein valley against of ben viljoen's men. the miles traversed by the battalion in the long continuous treks during the war are summarized as under. the miles are measured off the map simply from place to place and from camp to camp, and they do not include the distances marched in fighting, flanking, or other movements, or in convoy work and expeditions in the lydenburg district, which, if included, would probably double the distance marched. _trek under sir redvers buller._ august th till october nd, . zandspruit to lydenburg, miles in days, including all halts. _trek under general walter kitchener._ april th till september nd, . lydenburg, secoconi's country, middleburg, swazi border, bethel, springs, middleburg, bothas berg, and country north of the railway line. miles in days, including all halts. on the evening of january st the regiment embarked on the s.s. _armenian_, and was followed by the nd battalion gordon highlanders, who embarked on january nd. on january rd the ship conveying the two regiments sailed for bombay, which port was reached on january th. lord northcote, the governor of bombay, received the two regiments on disembarkation and addressed them, congratulating them on their good work in south africa. the devons entrained the same evening for shahjehanpur in the united provinces. the honours gained by the officers and men of the battalion were as follows:-- . colonel yule to be c.b. . lieutenant-colonel park to be brevet-colonel and aide-de-camp to the king. . major davies, d.s.o., to be brevet lieutenant-colonel. . major curry granted d.s.o. . captain jacson to be brevet lieutenant-colonel on promotion to the rank of major. . captain norton goodwyn, d.s.o., to be brevet lieutenant-colonel on promotion to the rank of major. . captain travers granted d.s.o. . captain and adjutant ravenshaw to be brevet-major. . captain masterson to be brevet-major and awarded the victoria cross. . captain e.m. morris to be brevet-major. . lieutenant emerson granted d.s.o. . " willis granted d.s.o. _attached officers_. . lieutenant tringham, the queen's, granted d.s.o. . lieutenant cowie, dorset regiment, granted d.s.o. the following officers of the st battalion were mentioned in dispatches:-- colonel yule--once. brevet-colonel park, a.d.c.--twice. brevet lieutenant-colonel davies, d.s.o.--twice. brevet lieutenant-colonel jacson--twice. " " goodwyn--twice. major curry, d.s.o.--twice. brevet-major ravenshaw--four times. " masterson, v.c.--twice. captain w.b. lafone--twice. " bartlett--once. " travers, d.s.o.--once. " wren--once. " smyth-osbourne--twice. " luxmore--once. lieutenant field--twice. " emerson, d.s.o.--three times. " willis, d.s.o.--once. " tringham, d.s.o. (attached)--once. " cowie, d.s.o. (attached)--twice. " twiss--once. " harris--once. " green--once. " watts--once. " gardiner--once. _non-commissioned officers and men._ the following were granted distinguished conduct medals:-- colour-sergeant payne. " horswell. " palmer. " burnell. " webb. " aplin. sergeant pitt. " downing. " hudson. " williams. lance-sergeant poulter. " young. " rowe. corporal hansford. private boulton. " davies. the following non-commissioned officers and men were mentioned in dispatches:-- colour-sergeant palmer--four times. " payne--twice. " horswell--once. " burnell--once. " webb--once. " burchell--once. sergeant hudson--once. " downing--once. " young--twice. " poulter--once. " curtis--once. lance-sergeant rowe--twice. corporal hayes--once (promoted sergeant). lance-corporal cummings--once (promoted corporal). private brimicombe--twice. " norman--three times. " cox--twice. " smith--once. " youlden--once. " clay--once. " edwards--once. " hayman--once. " davies--once. " hansford--twice. " boulton--once. [illustration: monument erected in ladysmith cemetery] the following is a list of the killed and wounded and of those who died of disease during the campaign:-- _officers: killed._ captain w.b. lafone. lieutenant field. " dalzel. " price-dent. nd lieutenant cumin. " carey. lieutenant walker, somerset light infantry (attached). _wounded._ captain lafone--twice. " masterson. " luxmore. nd lieutenant twiss. " " scafe. " kane. lieutenant caffin (attached). " tringham (attached). " byrne (attached). nd lieutenant gunning. " hayley. " green. _n.c.o.'s and men._ _killed and died of wounds and diseases._ private taylor, died of disease ladysmith. " forman, killed ladysmith. " salter " " " nolloth, died of disease ladysmith. " richards " " " " edwards " " " " paddon " " transvaal. " hayward " " " " morgan, died of wounds " " manley, died of disease " " goff, killed transvaal. " brockett, killed ladysmith. " cook, died of disease ladysmith. " banfield, died of wounds ladysmith. " sullivan, died of disease " " woolacott, died of disease transvaal. " penfold " " " " silvester " " ladysmith. " marsh " " " " nunn " " " lance-corporal leonard, died of disease ladysmith. private evans, died of disease ladysmith. " parrott, killed transvaal. " arthur, died of disease transvaal. " luck " " " " mathews " " " " clements " " ladysmith. " seager, died of wounds " " connabeer, died of disease " " swannell " " " lance-corporal spear, died of disease. private litton, killed ladysmith. " vinnicombe, died of disease. " down " " " rowland " " lance-corporal pratt, killed ladysmith. private bibb, killed ladysmith. " harvey " " " woods, died of wounds received ladysmith. " hornsby, died of wounds received ladysmith. private milton, died of disease ladysmith. " firminger " " " " vicary " " " " newbury " " " " lane " " " " sheridan " " " " horswell " " " lance-corporal vern, killed ladysmith. private bamsey, killed ladysmith. " fair " " " roper " " " davidson " " " curtis " " " marden " " " brown " " " newcombe " " lance-corporal pigeon, died of wounds received ladysmith. private bevan, died of wounds received ladysmith. private page, died of wounds received ladysmith. private vern, died of disease. " rosser died of disease. " clotworthy " " " turner " " " ponting " " " rawbone " " " jeffries, died of wounds. " young, died of disease. " davidson " " " cunningham " " lance-corporal murfin, died of disease. private livermore " " corporal wright " " private humphrey, killed. " bowles, died of disease. " watts " " " meade " " " phillips " " " kingham " " " winsor, killed reitfontein. " mayne, died of disease. " tayler " " " pike " " " trenchard " " " salter, killed geluk. " cole " " " mcgrath " " " smith " " " lashbrook, died of wounds. " rowe, died of disease. " holmes " " " conian " " _n.c.o.'s and men wounded._ private bidwell. " turner. " pirouet. " spiller. " laycock. " wright. col.-sergeant webb. corporal shapland. " bradford. lance-corporal millward. lance-corporal bennet. lance-corporal whitman. private cox. " norman. " palmer. " webber. " lemon. private lock. " hutchings. " bevan. " orchard. " spreadbury. " barnett. " cox. " hay. " page. " king. " saunders. " wheaton. " stapley. " brazil. " west. " onyett. " winson. " dudley. " lott. " hornsby. " fordham. " turner. " varndell. " mower. " taylor. colour-sergeant burchell. sergeant williams. " hawkins. corporal lovell. " saunders. private lupton. " harford. " parrott. " mahoney. " allen. " curtiss. " o'brien. " brown. " gray. " anstey. " lucas. sergeant leach. private capp. " gander. private gregory. " reynolds. " devitte. " osmonde. " burge. " newton. " reed. lance-corporal bromford--twice. private rowe. " sussex. " ward. " smith. " easton. " legatt. col.-sergeant palmer. private bray. lance-corporal spear. private kean. " welch. " peckham. lance-corpl. quick. private burns. " simmons. " palmer. total number of killed and wounded and died of disease:-- killed and died of disease. wounded. officers n.c.o.'s and men total casualties a large memorial is erected to the memory of those who fell on january th at wagon hill, ladysmith, on the spot where the charge took place. it bears the following inscription: to the glory of god, and in memory of the following officers, non-commissioned officers, and men of the st battalion devonshire regiment, who fell in the gallant and successful charge made across this place by three companies during the fight on th january, . siege of ladysmith. captain w.b. lafone. lieutenant h.n. field. lance-corpl. j. pigeon. " " w.d. pratt. " " a. vern. private t. bamsey. " a. bevan. " j. bibb. " w. brown. " a. curtis. " w. davidson. private w. fair. " w. harvey. " e. hornsby. " t. litton. " h. marden. " w. newcombe. " f.w.j. page. " g. roper. " j. seager. " w. woods. lieutenant e.e.m. walker, somerset light infantry (attached). "semper fidelis." a marble monument is erected in ladysmith cemetery to those who were killed or died of disease during the siege of ladysmith, and their names are recorded on it. a small iron cross was also placed at the head of the grave of every man of the regiment who was killed or who died of disease during the war. these memorials were erected by the officers, non-commissioned officers, and men of the st battalion devonshire regiment, to the memory of their gallant comrades. william brendon and son, ltd. printers, plymouth the amateur army by patrick macgill by the same author children of the dead end the rat-pit [illustration: rifleman patrick macgill] herbert jenkins limited arundel place haymarket london s.w. mcmxv _wyman & sons ltd., printers, london and reading._ preface i am one of the million or more male residents of the united kingdom, who a year ago had no special yearning towards military life, but who joined the army after war was declared. at chelsea i found myself a unit of the nd london irish battalion, afterwards i was drilled into shape at the white city and training was concluded at st. albans, where i was drafted into the st battalion. in my spare time i wrote several articles dealing with the life of the soldier from the stage of raw "rooky" to that of finished fighter. these i now publish in book form, and trust that they may interest men who have joined the colours or who intend to take up the profession of arms and become members of the great brotherhood of fighters. patrick macgill. "the london irish," british expeditionary force, _march th_, . contents page chapter i i enlist and am billeted chapter ii rations and sick parade chapter iii pickets and special leave chapter iv officers and rifles chapter v the coffee-shop and wankin chapter vi the night side of soldiering chapter vii divisional exercise and mimic warfare chapter viii the general inspection and the everlasting waiting chapter ix ready to go--the battalion moves chapter i i enlist and am billeted what the psychological processes were that led to my enlisting in "kitchener's army" need not be inquired into. few men could explain why they enlisted, and if they attempted they might only prove that they had done as a politician said the electorate does, the right thing from the wrong motive. there is a story told of an incident that occurred in flanders, which shows clearly the view held in certain quarters. the honourable artillery company were relieving some regulars in the trenches when the following dialogue ensued between a typical tommy atkins and an h.a.c. private: t.a.: "oo are you?" h.a.c.: "we're the h.a.c." t.a.: "gentlemen, ain't yer?" h.a.c.: "oh well, in a way i suppose--" t.a.: "'ow many are there of yer?" h.a.c.: "about eight hundred." t.a.: "an' they say yer volunteered!" h.a.c.: "yes, we did." t.a.: (with conviction as he gathers together his kit). "blimey, yer must be mad!" for curiosity's sake i asked some of my mates to give me their reasons for enlisting. one particular friend of mine, a good-humoured cockney, grinned sheepishly as he replied confidentially, "well, matey, i done it to get away from my old gal's jore--now you've got it!" another recruit, a pale, intelligent youth, who knew nietzsche by heart, glanced at me coldly as he answered, "i enlisted because i am an englishman." other replies were equally unilluminating and i desisted, remembering that the germans despise us because we are devoid of military enthusiasm. the step once taken, however, we all set to work to discover how we might become soldiers with a minimum of exertion and inconvenience to ourselves. during the process i learned many things, among others that i was a unit in the most democratic army in history; where oxford undergraduate and farm labourer, cockney and peer's son lost their identity and their caste in a vast war machine. i learned that tommy atkins, no matter from what class he is recruited, is immortal, and that we british are one of the most military nations in the world. i have learned to love my new life, obey my officers, and depend upon my rifle; for i am rifleman patrick macgill of the irish rifles, where rumour has it that the colonel and i are the only two _real_ irishmen in the battalion. it should be remembered that a unit of a rifle regiment is known as rifleman, not private; we like the term rifleman, and feel justly indignant when a wrong appellation plays skittles with our rank. the earlier stages of our training took place at chelsea and the white city, where untiring instructors strove to convince us that we were about the most futile lot of "rookies" that it had ever been their misfortune to encounter. it was not until we were unceremoniously dumped amidst the peaceful inhabitants of a city that slumbers in the shadow of an ancient cathedral that i felt i was in reality a soldier. here we were to learn that there is no novelty so great for the newly enlisted soldier as that of being billeted, in the process of which he finds himself left upon an unfamiliar door-step like somebody else's washing. he is the instrument by which the war office disproves that "an englishman's home is his castle." he has the law behind him; but nothing else--save his own capacity for making friends with his victims. if the equanimity of english householders who are about to have soldiers billeted upon them is a test of patriotism, there may well be some doubts about the patriotic spirit of the english middle class in the present crisis. the poor people welcome to their homes soldiers who in most cases belong to the same strata of society as themselves; and, besides, ninepence a night as billet-fee is not to be laughed at. the upper class can easily bear the momentary inconvenience of tommy's company; the method of procedure of the very rich in regard to billeting seldom varies--a room, stripped of all its furniture, fitted with beds and pictures, usually of a religious nature, is given up for the soldiers' benefit. the lady of the house, gifted with that familiar ease which the very rich can assume towards the poor at a pinch--especially a pinch like the present, when "all petty class differences are forgotten in the midst of the national crisis"--may come and talk to her guests now and again, tell them that they are fine fellows, and give them a treat to light up the heavy hours that follow a long day's drill in full marching order. but the middle class, aloof and austere in its own seclusion, limited in means and apartment space, cannot easily afford the time and care needed for the housing of soldiers. state commands cannot be gainsaid, however, and tommy must be housed and fed in the country which he will shortly go out and defend in the trenches of france or flanders. the number of men assigned to a house depends in a great measure on the discretion of the householder and the temper of the billeting officer. a gruff reply or a caustic remark from the former sometimes offends; often the officer is in a hurry, and at such a time disproportionate assortment is generally the result. a billeting officer has told me that fifty per cent. of the householders whom he has approached show manifest hostility to the housing of soldiers. but the military authorities have a way of dealing with these people. on one occasion an officer asked a citizen, an elderly man full of paunch and english dignity, how many soldiers could he keep in his house. "well, it's like this--," the man began. "have you any room to spare here?" demanded the officer. "none, except on the mat," was the caustic answer. "two on the mat, then," snapped the officer, and a pair of tittering tommies were left at the door. matronly english dignity suffered on another occasion when a sergeant inquired of a middle-aged woman as to the number of men she could billet in her house. "none," she replied. "i have no way of keeping soldiers." "what about that apartment there?" asked the n.c.o. pointing to the drawing-room. "but they'll destroy everything in the room," stammered the woman. "clear the room then." "but they'll have to pass through the hall to get in, and there are so many valuable things on the walls--" "you've got a large window in the drawing-room," said the officer; "remove that, and the men will not have to pass through the hall. i'll let you off lightly, and leave only two." "but i cannot keep two." "then i'll leave four," was the reply, and four were left. sadder than this, even, was the plight of the lady and gentleman at st. albans who told the officer that their four children were just recovering from an attack of whooping cough. the officer, being a wise man and anxious about the welfare of those under his care, fled precipitately. later he learned that there had been no whooping cough in the house; in fact, the people who caused him to beat such a hasty retreat were childless. he felt annoyed and discomfited; but about a week following his first visit he called again at the house, this time followed by six men. "these fellows are just recovering from whooping cough," he told the householder; "they had it bad. we didn't know what to do with them, but, seeing that you've had whooping cough here, i feel it's the only place where it will be safe to billet them." and he left them there. but happenings like these were more frequent at the commencement of the war than now. civilians, even those of the conventional middle class, are beginning to understand that single men in billets, to paraphrase kipling slightly, are remarkably like themselves. with us, rations are served out daily at our billets; our landladies do the cooking, and mine, an adept at the culinary art, can transform a basin of flour and a lump of raw beef into a dish that would make an epicurean mouth water. even though food is badly cooked in the billet, it has a superior flavour, which is never given it in the boilers controlled by the company cook. army stew has rather a notorious reputation, as witness the inspired words of a regimental poet--one of the st surrey rifles--in a pæan of praise to his colonel: "long may the colonel with us bide, his shadow ne'er grow thinner. (it would, though, if he ever tried some army stew for dinner.)" billeting has gained for the soldier many friends, and towns that have become accustomed to his presence look sadly forward to the day when he will leave them for the front, where no kind landlady will be at hand to transform raw beef and potatoes into beef pudding or potato pie. the working classes in particular view the future with misgiving. the bond of sympathy between soldier and workers is stronger than that between soldier and any other class of citizen. the houses and manners of the well-to-do daunt most tommies. "in their houses we feel out of it somehow," they say. "there's nothin' we can talk about with the swells, and 'arf the time they be askin' us about things that's no concern of theirs at all." most toilers who have no friends or relations preparing for war have kinsmen already in the trenches--or on the roll of honour. and feelings stronger than those of friendship now unite thousands of soldiers to the young girls of the houses in which they are billeted. for even in the modern age, that now seems to voice the ultimate expression of man's culture and advance in terrorism and destruction, love and war, vital as the passion of ancient story, go hand in hand up to the trenches and the threat of death. chapter ii rations and sick parade it has been said that an army moves upon its stomach, and, as if in confirmation of this, the soldier is exhorted in an official pamphlet "never to start on a march with an empty stomach." to a hungry rifleman the question of his rations is a matter of vital importance. for the first few weeks our food was cooked up and served out on the parade ground, or in the various gutter-fringed sheds standing in the vicinity of our headquarters. the men were discontented with the rations, and rumour had it that the troops stationed in a neighbouring village rioted and hundreds had been placed under arrest. sometimes a haunch of roast beef was doled out almost raw, and potatoes were generally boiled into pulp; these when served up looked like lumps of wet putty. two potatoes, unwashed and embossed with particles of gravel, were allowed to each man; all could help themselves by sticking their fingers into the doughy substance and lifting out a handful, which they placed along with the raw "roast" on the lid of their mess-tin. this constituted dinner, but often rations were doled out so badly that several men only got half the necessary allowance for their meals. tea was seldom sufficiently sweetened, and the men had to pay for milk. after a time we became accustomed to the epsom salts that a kindly war office, solicitous for our well-being, caused to be added, and some of us may go to our graves insisting on epsom salts with tea. the feeding ground being in many cases a great distance from the fire, the tea was cold by the time it arrived at the men's quarters. those who could afford it, took their food elsewhere: the restaurants in the vicinity did a roaring trade, and several new ones were opened. a petition was written; the men signed it, and decided to send it to the colonel; but the n.c.o.'s stepped in and destroyed the document. "you'll not do much good at the front," they told us, "if you are grumbling already." a week followed the destruction of the petition, and then appeared the following in battalion orders: "from to-morrow until further orders, rations will be issued at the men's billets." this announcement caused no little sensation, aroused a great deal of comment, and created a profound feeling of satisfaction in the battalion. thenceforth rations were served out at the billets, and the householders were ordered to do the cooking. my landlady was delighted. "not half feeding you; that's a game," she said. "and you going to fight for your country! but wait till you see the dishes i'll make out of the rations when they come." the rations came. in the early morning a barrow piled with eatables was dragged through our street, and the "ration fatigue" party, full of the novelty of a new job, yelled in chorus, "bring out your dead, ladies; rations are 'ere!" "what have you got?" asked my landlady, going to the door. "what are you supposed to leave for the men? nothing's too good for them that's going to fight for their country." "dead rats," said the ration-corporal with a grin. "don't be funny. what are my men to get?" "each man a pound of fresh meat, one and a half pounds of bread, two taters, two ounces of sugar, and an ounce of tea and three ounces of cheese. and, besides this, every feller gets a tin of jam once in four days." this looks well on paper, but pot and plate make a difference in the proposition. army cheese runs to rind rapidly, and a pound of beef is often easily bitten to the bone: sometimes, in fact, it is all bone and gristle, and the ravages of cooking minimise its bulk in a disheartening way. one and a half pound of bread is more than the third of a big loaf, but minus butter it makes a featureless repast. breakfast and tea without butter and milk does not always make a dainty meal. even the distribution of rations leaves much to be desired; the fatigue party, well-intentioned and sympathetic though it be, often finds itself short of provisions. this may in many cases be due to unequal distribution; an ounce of beef too much to each of sixteen men leaves the seventeenth short of meat. this may easily happen, as the ration party has never any means of weighing the food: it is nearly always served out by guesswork. but sometimes the landladies help in the distribution by bringing out scales and weighing the provisions. one lady in our street always weighed the men's rations, and saw that those under her care got the exact allowance. never would she take any more than her due, and never less. but a few days ago, when weighing sugar and tea, a blast of wind upset the scales, and a second allowance met with a similar fate. sugar and tea littered the pavement, and finally the woman supplied her soldiers from the household stores. she now leaves the work of distribution in the hands of the ration party, and takes what is given to her without grumbling. the soldiers' last meal is generally served out about five o'clock in the afternoon, sometimes earlier; and a stretch of fourteen hours intervenes between then and breakfast. about nine o'clock in the evening those who cannot afford to pay for extras feel their waist-belts slacken, and go supperless to bed. and tea is not a very substantial meal; the rations served out for the day have decreased in bulk, bread has wasted to microscopic proportions, and the cheese has diminished sadly in size. a regimental song, pent with soldierly woes, bitterly bemoans the drawbacks of tommy's tea: "bread and cheese for breakfast, for dinner army stew, but when it comes to tea-time there's dough and rind for you, so you and me won't wait for tea-- we're jolly big fools if we do." but those who do not live in billets, and whose worldly wealth fails to exceed a shilling a day, must be content with army rations, with the tea tasting of coom, and seldom sweetened, with the pebble-studded putty potato coated in clay, with the cheese that runs to rind at last parade, and, above all, with the knowledge that they are merely inconvenienced at home so that they may endure the better abroad. there is another school of theorists that states that an army moves, not upon its stomach, but upon its feet, the care of which is of vital importance. this, too, finds confirmation in the official pamphlet, which tells the soldier to "remember that a dirty foot is an unsound foot. see that feet are washed if no other part of the body is," etc. my right foot had troubled me for days; a pain settled in the arch of the instep, and caused me intense agony when resuming the march after a short halt; at night i would suddenly awake from sleep to experience the sensation of being stabbed by innumerable pins in ankle and toes. marching in future, i felt, would be a monstrous futility, and i decided that my case was one for the medical officer. sick parade is not restricted by any dress order; the sore-footed may wear slippers; the sore-headed, balaclava helmets; puttees can be discarded; mufflers and comforters may be used. "the sick rabble" is the name given by the men to the crowd that waits outside the door of the m.o.'s room at eight in the morning. and every morning brings its quota of ailing soldiers; some seriously ill, some slightly, and a few (as may be expected out of a thousand men of all sorts and conditions) who have imaginary or feigned diseases that will so often save "slackers" from a hard day's marching. the aim and ambition of these latter seem to be to do as little hard work as possible; some of them attend sick parade on an average once a week, and generally obtain exemption from a day's work. to obtain this they resort to several ruses; headaches and rheumatic pains are difficult to detect, and the doctor must depend on the private's word; a quick pulse and heightened temperature is engendered by a brisk run, and this is often a means towards a favourable medical verdict--that is, when "favourable" means a suspension of duties. at a quarter to eight i stood with ten others in front of the m.o.'s door, on which a white card with the blue-lettered "no smoking" stood out in bold relief. the morning was bitterly cold, and a sharp, penetrating wind splashed with rain swept round our ears, and chilled our hands and faces. one of the waiting queue had a sharp cough and spat blood; all this was due, he told us, to a day's divisional field exercise, when he had to lie for hours on the wet ground firing "blanks" at a "dummy" enemy. another sick soldier, a youth of nineteen, straight as a lance and lithe as a poplar, suffered from ulcer in the throat. "i had the same thing before," he remarked in a thin, hoarse voice, "but i got over it somehow. this time it'll maybe the hospital. i don't know." an orderly corporal filled in admission forms and handed them to us; each form containing the sick man's regimental number, name, religion, age, and length of military service, in addition to several other minor details having no reference at all to the matter in hand. these forms were again handed over to another orderly corporal, who stood smoking a cigarette under the blue-lettered notice pinned to the door. the boy with the sore throat was sitting in a chair in the room when i entered, the doctor bending over him. "would you like a holiday?" the m.o. asked in a kindly voice. "where to, sir?" "a couple of days in hospital would leave you all right, my man," the m.o. continued, "and it would be a splendid rest." "i don't want a rest," answered the youth. "maybe i'll be better in the morning, sir." the doctor thought for a moment, then: "all right, report to-morrow again," he said. "you're a brave boy. some, who are not the least ill, whine till one is sick--what's the matter with you?" "sore foot, sir," i said, seeing the m.o.'s eyes fixed on me. "off with your boot, then." i took off my boot, placed my foot on a chair, and had it inspected. "what's wrong with it?" "i don't know, sir. it pains me when marching, and sometimes--" "have you ever heard that napoleon said an army marches on its stomach?" "yes, sir, when the feet of the army is all right," i answered. "quite true," he replied. "no doubt you've sprained one of yours; just wash it well in warm water, rub it well, and have a day or two resting. that will leave you all right. your boots are good?" "yes, sir." "they don't pinch or--what's wrong with you?" he was speaking to the next man. "i don't know, sir." "don't know? you don't know why you're here. what brought you here?" "rheumatic pains, i think, sir," was the answer. "last night i 'ad an orful night. couldn't sleep. i think it was the wet as done it. lyin' out on the grass last field day--" "how many times have you been here before?" "well, sir, the last time was when--" "how many times?" "i don't know, sir." "was it rheumatic pains last time?" "no sir, it was jaw-ache--toothache, i mean." "i'll put you on light duties for the day," said the m.o. and the rheumatic one and i went out together. "that's wot they do to a man that's sick," said the rheumatic one when we got outside. "me that couldn't sleep last night, and now it's light duties. i know what light duties are. you are to go into the orderly room and wash all the dishes: then you go and run messages, then you 'old the orficer's horse and then maybe when you're worryin' your own bit of grub they come and bundle you out to sweep up the orficers' mess, or run an errand for the 'ead cook and bottle-washer. light duties ain't arf a job. i'm blowed if marchin' in full kit ain't ten times better, and i'm going to grease to the battalion parade." fifteen minutes later i met him leaving his billet, his haversack on the wrong side, his cartridge pouches open, the bolt of his gun unfastened; his whole general appearance was a discredit to his battalion and a disgrace to the army. i helped to make him presentable as he bellowed his woes into my ear. "no bloomin' grub this mornin'," he said. "left my breakfast till i'd come back, and 'aven't no time for it now. anyway i'm going out on the march; no light duties for me. i know what they are." he was still protesting against the hardships of things as he swung out of sight round the corner of the street. afterwards i heard that he got three days c.b. for disobeying the orders of the m.o. save for minor ailments and accident, my battalion is practically immune from sickness; colds come and go as a matter of course, sprains and cuts claim momentary attention, but otherwise the health of the battalion is perfect. "we're too healthy to be out of the trenches," a company humorist has remarked, and the company and battalion agrees with him. chapter iii pickets and special leave one of the first things we had to learn was that our ancient cathedral town has its bounds and limits for the legions of the lads in khaki. beyond a certain line, the two-mile boundary, we dare not venture alone without written permission, and we can only pass the limit in a body when led by a commissioned officer. the whole world, with the exception of the space enclosed by this narrow circle, is closed to the footsteps of tommy; he cannot now visit his sweetheart, his sweetheart must come and visit him. the housemaid from hammersmith and the typist from tottenham have to come to their beaux in billets, and as most of the men in our town are single, and nearly all have sweethearts, it is estimated that five or six thousand maidens blush to hear the old, old story within the two-mile limit every week-end. once only every month is a soldier allowed week-end leave, and then he has permission to be absent from his billet between the hours of p.m. on saturday and p.m. on sunday. his pass states that during this time he is not liable to be arrested for desertion. some men use one pass for quite a long period, and alter the dates to suit every occasion. one sunday, when returning from week-end leave, i travelled from london by train. my compartment was crowded with men of my division, and only one-half of these had true passes; one, who was an adept calligraphist, wrote his own pass, and made a counterfeit signature of the superior who should have signed the form of leave. another had altered the dates of an early pass so cleverly that it was difficult to detect the erasure, and a number of men had no passes whatsoever. these boasted of having travelled to london every week-end, and they had never been caught napping. passes were generally inspected at the station preceding the one to which we were bound. my travelling companions were well aware of this, and made preparations to combat the difficulty in front; two crawled under the seats, and two more went up on the racks, where they lay quiet as mice, stretched out at full length and covered over with several khaki overcoats. one man, a brisk cockney, who would not deign to roost or crawl, took up his position as far away as possible from the platform window. "grease the paper along as quick as you know 'ow and keep the picket jorin' till i'm safe," he remarked as the train stopped and a figure in khaki fumbled with the door handle. "would you mind me lookin' at passes, mateys?" demanded the picket, entering the compartment. the man by the door produced his pass, the one he had written and signed himself; and when it passed inspection he slyly slipped it behind the back of the man next him, and in the space of three seconds the brisk cockney had the forged permit of leave to show to the inspector. the men under the seat and on the racks were not detected. every station in our town and its vicinity has a cordon of pickets, the sunday farewell kisses of sweethearts are never witnessed by the platform porter, as the lovers in khaki are never allowed to see their loves off by train, and week-end adieux always take place at the station entrance. some time ago the pickets allowed the men to see their sweethearts off, but as many youths abused the privilege and took train to london when they got on the platform, these kind actions have now become merely a pleasing memory. pickets seem to crop up everywhere; on one bus ride to london, a journey of twenty miles, i have been asked to show my pass three times, and on a return journey by train i have had to produce the written permit on five occasions. but some units of our divisions soar above these petty inconveniences, as do two brothers who motor home every sunday when church parade comes to an end. when these two leave church after divine service, a car waits them at the nearest street corner, and they slip into it, don trilby hats and civilian overcoats, and sweep outside the restricted area at a haste that causes the slow-witted country policeman to puzzle over the speed of the car and forget its number while groping for his pocket-book. it has always been a pleasure to me to follow for hours the winding country roads looking out for fresh scenes and new adventures. the life of the roadside dwellers, the folk who live in little stone houses and show two flower-pots and a birdcage in their windows, has a strange fascination for me. when i took up my abode here and got my first free sunday afternoon, i shook military discipline aside for a moment and set out on one of my rambles. there comes a moment on a journey when something sweet, something irresistible and charming as wine raised to thirsty lips, wells up in the traveller's being. i have never striven to analyse this feeling or study the moment when it comes, and that feeling has been often mine. now i know the moment it floods the soul of the traveller. it is at the end of the second mile, when the limbs warm to their work and the lungs fill with the fresh country air. at such a moment, when a man naturally forgets restraint to which he has only been accustomed for a short while, i met the picket for the first time. he told me to turn--and i went back. but it was not in my heart to like that picket, and i shall never like him while he stands there, sentry of the two-mile limit; an ogre denying me entrance into the wide world that lies beyond. there is one thing, however, before which the picket is impotent--a pass. it is like a free pardon to a convict; it opens to him the whole world--that is for the period it covers. the two most difficult things in military life are to obtain permit of absence from billets, and the struggle against the natural impulse to overstay the limit of leave. there are times when soldiers experience an intense longing to see their own homes, firesides, and friends, and in moments like these it takes a stiff fight to overcome the desire to go away, if only for a little while, to their native haunts. only once in five weeks may a man obtain a week-end pass--if he is lucky. to the soldier, luck is merely another word for skill. with us, the rifleman who scores six successive "bulls" at six hundred yards on the open range has been lucky; if he speaks nicely to the quartermaster and obtains the best pair of boots in the stores, he has been lucky; if by mistake he is given double rations by the fatigue party he is lucky; but if the same man, sweating over his rifle in a carnival of "wash-outs," or, weary of blistered feet and empty stomach, asks for sympathy because his rifle was sighted too low or because he lost his dinner while waiting on boot-parade, we explain that his woes are due to a caper of chance--that he has been unlucky. to obtain a pass at any time a man must be lucky; obtaining one when he desires it most is a thing heard of now and again, and getting a pass and not being able to use it is of common occurrence. now, when i applied for special leave i was more than a little lucky. it was necessary that i should attend to business in london, and i set about making application for a permit of leave. i intended to apply for a pass dating from p.m. of a friday evening to p.m. of the following sunday. on wednesday morning i spoke to a corporal of my company. "if you want leave, see the platoon sergeant," he told me. the platoon sergeant, who was in a bad temper, spoke harshly when i approached him. "no business of mine!" he said; "the company clerk will look into the matter." but i had no success with the company clerk; the leave which i desired was a special one, and that did not come under his jurisdiction. "the orderly sergeant knows more about this business than i do. go to him about it," he said. by wednesday evening i spoke to the orderly sergeant, who looked puzzled for a moment. "come with me to the lieutenant," he said. "he'll know more about this matter than i do, and he'll see into it. but it will be difficult to get special leave, you know; they don't like to give it." "why?" i asked. "why?" he repeated; "what the devil does it matter to you? you're paid here to do what you're told, not to ask questions." the lieutenant was courteous and civil. "i can't do anything in the matter," he said. "the orderly sergeant will take you to the company officer, captain ----, and he'll maybe do something for you." "if you're lucky," said the sergeant in a low whisper. about eight o'clock in the evening i paraded in the long, dimly-lighted passage that leads to our company orderly-room, and there i had to wait two hours while the captain was conducting affairs of some kind or another inside. when the door was opened i was ordered inside. "quick march! left turn! halt!" ordered the sergeant as i crossed the threshold, and presently i found myself face to face with our company commander, who was sitting by a desk with a pile of papers before him. "what is it?" he asked, fixing a pair of stern eyes on me, and i explained my business with all possible despatch. "of course you understand that everything is now subservient to your military duties; they take premier place in your new life," said the officer. "but i'll see what i can do. by myself i am of little help. however, you can write out a pass telling the length of time you require off duty, and i'll lay it before the proper authorities." i wrote out the "special pass," which ran as follows: "rifleman ---- has permission to be absent from his quarters from p.m. (date) to p.m. (date), for the purpose of proceeding to london." i came in from a long march on thursday evening to find the pass signed, stamped, and ready. on the following night i could go to london, and i spent the evening 'phoning, wiring, and writing to town, arranging matters for the day ahead. also, i asked some friends to have dinner with me at seven o'clock on friday night. next day we had divisional exercise, which is usually a lengthy affair. in the morning i approached the officer and asked if i might be allowed off parade, seeing i had to set out for london at six o'clock in the evening. "oh! we shall be back early," i was told, "back about three or thereabouts." the day was very interesting; the whole division, thousands of men, numberless horses, a regiment of artillery, and all baggage and munition for military use took up position in battle formation. in front lay an imaginary army, and we had to cross a river to come into contact with it. engineers, under cover of the artillery, built pontoon bridges for our crossing; on the whole an intensely interesting and novel experience. so interesting indeed that i lost all count of time, and only came to consciousness of the clock and remembrance of friends making ready for dinner when some one remarked that the hour of four had passed, and that we were still five miles from home. i got to my billet at six; there i flung off my pack, threw down my rifle, and in frenzied haste consulted a railway timetable. a slow train was due to leave our town at five minutes to seven. i arranged my papers, made a brief review of matters which would come before me later, and with muddy boots and heavy heart i arrived at the station at seven minutes to seven and took the slow train for london. when i told the story of my adventures at dinner a soldier friend remarked: "you've been more than a little lucky in getting away at all. i was very unlucky when i applied--" but his story was a long one, and i have forgotten it. chapter iv officers and rifles as i have said, i have learned among other things to obey my officers and depend upon my rifle. at first the junior officers appeared to me only as immaculate young men in tailor-made tunics and well-creased trousers, wearing swords and wrist-watches, and full of a healthy belief in their own importance. my mates are apt to consider them as being somewhat vain, and no tommy dares fail to salute the young commissioned officers when he meets them out with their young ladies on the public streets. for myself, i have a great respect for them and their work; day and night they are at their toil; when parade comes to an end, and the battalion is dismissed for the day, the officers, who have done ten or twelve hours' of field exercise, turn to their desks and company accounts, and time and again the last post sees them busy over ledgers, pamphlets, and plans. accurate and precise in every detail, they know the outs and ins of platoon and company drill, and can handle scores and hundreds of men with the ease and despatch of artists born to their work. where have these officers, fresh youngsters with budding moustaches and white, delicate hands, learned all about frontage, file, flank, and formation, alignment, echelon, incline, and interval? words of direction and command come so readily from their lips that i was almost tempted to believe that they had learned as easily as they taught, that their skill in giving orders could only be equalled by the ease with which i supposed they had mastered the details of their work. later i came to know of the difficulty that confronts the young men, raw from the officers' training corps, when they take up their preliminary duties as commanders of trained soldiers. no "rooky" fresh to the ranks is the butt of so many jokes and such biting sarcasm as the young officer is subjected to when he takes his place as a leader of men. soon after my arrival in our town a score of young lieutenants came to our parade ground, accompanied by two commanders, a keen-eyed adjutant, brisk as a bell, and a white-haired colonel with very thin legs, and putties which seemed to have been glued on to his shins. the young gentlemen were destined for various regiments, and most of them were fresh and spotless in their new uniforms. some wore glengarry bonnets, kilts, and sporrans, some the black ribbons of wales; one, whose hat-badge proclaimed the dublin fusilier, was conspicuous by the eyeglass he wore, and others were still arrayed in civilian garb, the uniform of city and office life. several units of my battalion were taken off to drill in company with the strange officers. i was one of the chosen. the young men took us in hand, acting in turn as corporals, platoon sergeants, and company commanders. the gentleman with the eyeglass had charge of my platoon, and from the start he cast surreptitious glances at a little red brochure which he held in his hand, and mumbled words as if trying to commit something to memory. "get to your places," the adjutant yelled to the officers. "hurry up! don't stand there gaping as if you're going to snap at flies. we've got to do some work. there's no hay for those who don't work. come on, weary, and drill your men; you with the eyeglass, i mean! i want you to put the company through some close column movements." the man with the eyeglass took up his position, and issued some order, but his voice was so low that the men nearest him could not hear the command. "shout!" yelled the adjutant. "don't mumble like a flapper who has just got her first kiss. it's not allowed on parade." the order was repeated, and the voice raised a little. "louder, louder!" yelled the adjutant. then with fine irony: "these men are very interested in what you've got to tell them.... i don't think." eyeglass essayed another attempt, but stopped in the midst of his words, frozen into mute helplessness by the look of the adjutant. "for heaven's sake, try and speak up," the adjutant said. "if you don't talk like a man, these fellows won't salute you when they meet you in the street with your young lady. on second thoughts, you had better go back and take up the job of platoon sergeant. come on, glengarry, and try and trumpet an order." glengarry, so-called from his bonnet, a sturdy youth with sloping shoulders, took up his post nervously. "a close column forming column of fours," he cried in a shrill treble, quoting the cautionary part of his command. "advance in fours from the right; form fours--right!" "form fours--where?" roared the adjutant. "left," came the answer. "left, your grandmother! you were right at first. did you not know that you were right?... where's eyeglass, the platoon sergeant, now? who's pinched him?" this unfortunate officer had dropped his eyeglass, and was now groping for it on the muddy ground, one of my mates helping him in the search. other officers took up the job of company commander in turn, and all suffered. one, who was a dapper little fellow, speedily earned the nickname of "tailor's dummy;" another, when giving a platoon the wrong direction in dressing, was told to be careful, and not shove the regiment over. a third, a welshman, with the black ribbons, got angry with a section for some slight mistake made by two of its number, and was told to be careful and not annoy the men. he had only got them on appro'. spick and span in their new uniforms, they came to drill daily on our parade ground. slowly the change took place. they were "rookies" no longer, and the adjutant's sarcasm was a thing of the past. commands were pronounced distinctly and firmly; the officers were trained men, ready to lead a company of soldiers anywhere and to do anything. no man who has trained with the new armies can be lacking in respect for the indefatigable n.c.o., upon whom the brunt of the work has fallen. with picturesque scorn and sarcasm he has formed huge armies out of the rawest of raw material, and all in a space of less than half a year. his methods are sometimes strange and his temper short; yet he achieves his end in the shortest time possible. he is for ever correcting the same mistakes and rebuking the same stupidity, and the wonder is, not that he loses his temper, but that he should ever be able to preserve it. he understands men, and approaches them in an idiom that is likely to produce the best results. "every man of you has friends of some sort," said the musketry instructor, as we formed up in front of him on the parade ground, gripping with nervous eagerness the rifles which had just been served out from the quartermaster's stores. we were recruits, raw "rookies," green to the grind, and chafing under discipline. "and some sort of friends it would be as well as if you never met them," the instructor continued. "they'd play you false the minute they'd get your back turned. but you've a friend now that will always stand by you and play you fair. just give him a chance, and he'll maybe see you out of many a tight corner. now, who is this friend i'm talking about?" he asked, turning to a youth who was leaning on his rifle. "come, weary, and tell me." "the rifle," was the answer. "the crutch?" "no, the rifle." "i see that, boy, i see that! but, damn it, don't make a crutch of it. you're a soldier now, my man, and not a crippled one yet." thus was the rifle introduced to us. we had long waited for its coming, and dreamt of cross-guns, the insignia of a crack shot's proficiency, while we waited. and with the rifle came romance, and the element of responsibility. we were henceforward fighting men, numbered units, it was true, with numbered weapons, but for all that, fighters--men trained to the trade and licensed to the profession. our new friend was rather a troublesome individual to begin with. in rising to the slope he had the trick of breaking free and falling on the muddy barrack square. a muddy rifle gets rusty, and brings its owner into trouble, and a severe penalty is considered meet for the man who comes on parade with a rusty rifle. bringing the friend from the slope to the order was a difficult process for us recruits at the start the back-sight tore at the fingers, and bleeding hands often testified to the unnatural instinct of the rebellious weapon. but the unkindest kick of all was given when the slack novice fired the first shot, and the heel of the butt slipped upwards and struck the jaw. then was learnt the first real lesson. the rifle kicks with the heel and aims for the jaw. control your friend, humour him; keep him well in hand and beware his fling. i was unlucky in my first rifle practice on the miniature range, and out of my first five shots i did not hit the target once. the instructor lay by my side on the waterproof ground-sheet (the day was a wet one, and the range was muddy) and lectured me between misses on the peculiarities of my weapon and the cultivation of a steady eye. "keep the beggar under control," he said. "you've got to coax him, and not use force. pull the trigger easily, as though you loved it, and hold the butt affectionate-like against the shoulder. it's an easy matter to shoot as you're shooting now. there's shooting and shooting, and you've got to shoot straight. if you don't you're no dashed good! give me the rifle, you're not aiming at the bull, man, you're aiming at the locality where the bull is grazing." he took my rifle, slid a cartridge into the breech, and coaxed the trigger lovingly towards him. three times he fired, then we went together to look at the target. not a bullet fired by him had struck it. the instructor glared down the barrel of the gun, made some nasty remarks about deflection, and went back to yell at an orderly corporal. "what the dickens did you take this here for?" he cried. "it's a blooming wash-out,[ ] and was never any good. old as an unpaid bill and worn bell-mouth it is, and nobody can fire with it." [footnote : "wash-out" is a term used by the men when their firing is so wide of the mark that it fails to hit any spot on the card. the men apply it indiscriminately to anything in the nature of a failure.] on a new rifle being obtained i passed the preliminary test, and a rather repentant instructor remarked that it might be possible to make a soldier of me some day. since then my fellow-soldiers and i have had almost unlimited rifle practice, on miniature and open ranges, at bull and disappearing targets, in field firing at distances from to yards. on a field exceeding yards it is almost impossible to hit a point the size of an ordinary bull; fire then must be directed towards a position. field or volley firing is very interesting. once my company took train to dunstable and advanced on an imaginary enemy that occupied the wastes of the chiltern hills. practice commenced by firing at little squares of iron standing upright in a row about yards off in front of our line. these represented heads and shoulders of men rising over the trenches to take aim at us as we advanced. in extended order we came to our position, yards distant from the front trenches. at the sound of the officer's whistle, we sank to the ground, facing our front, fixed our sights, and loaded. a second whistle was blown; we fired "three rounds rapid" at the foe. the aiming was very accurate; little spurts of earth danced up and around the targets, and every iron disc fell. the "searching ground," the locality struck by bullets, scarcely measured a dozen paces from front to rear, thus showing that there was very little erratic firing. "that's some shooting!" my jersey friend remarked. "if the discs were germans!" "they might shoot back," someone said, "and then we mightn't take as cool an aim." we are trained to the rifle; it is always with us, on parade, on march, on bivouac, and recently, when going through a dental examination, we carried our weapons of war into the medical officer's room. as befits units of a rifle regiment, we have got accustomed to our gun, and now, as fully trained men, we have established the necessary unity between hand and eye, and can load and unload our weapon with butt-plate stiff to shoulder and eye steady on target while the operation is in progress. in fact, our rifle comes to hand as easy as a walking-stick. we shall be sorry to lose it when the war is over, and no doubt we shall feel lonely without it. chapter v the coffee-shop and wankin what the pump is to the villager, so the coffee-shop is to the soldier of the new army. here the men crowd nightly and live over again the incidents of the day. our particular coffee-shop is situated in our corner of the town; our men patronise it; there are three assistants, plump, merry girls, and three of our men have fallen in love with them; in short, it is our very own restaurant, opened when we came here, and adapted to our needs; the waitresses wear our hat-badges, sing our songs, and make us welcome when we cross the door to take up our usual chairs and yarn over the cosy tables. the jersey youth with the blue eyes, the oxford man, who speaks of things that humble waitresses do not understand, the company drummer, the platoon sergeants, and the cockney who vows that water is spoilt in making every cup of coffee he drinks, all come here, and all love the place. i have come to like the place and do most of my writing there, catching snatches of conversation and reminiscence as they float across to me. "i wasn't meanin' to 'urt ole ginger nobby nohow, but the muck i throwed took 'im dead on the jor. 'wot's yer gime?' 'e 'ollers at me. 'wot's my gime?' i says back to 'im. 'nuffin', if ye want ter know!' i says. 'i was just shyin' at squidges.'" thus spoke the bright-eyed cockney at the table next me, gazing regretfully at his empty coffee-cup and cutting away a fringe of rag-nails from his finger with a clasp-knife. the time was eight o'clock of the evening, and the youth was recounting an adventure which he had had in the morning when throwing mud at sparrows on the parade ground. a lump of clay had struck a red-haired non-commissioned officer on the jaw, and the officer became angry. the above was the cockney version of the story. one of my friends, an army unit with the oxford drawl, was voluble on another subject. "russian writers have had a great effect on our literature," he said, deep in a favourite topic. "they have stripped bare the soul of man with a realism that shrivels up our civilisation and proves--two coffees, please." a tall, well-set waitress, with several rings on her fingers, took the order as gravely as if she were performing some religious function; then she turned to the cockney. "cup of cawfee, birdie!" he cried, leaning over the table and trying to grip her hand. "not like the last, mind; it was good water spoilt. i'll never come in 'ere again." "so you say!" said the girl, moving out of his way and laughing loudly. "strike me balmy if i do!" "where'll yer go then?" "round the corner, of course," was the answer. "there's another bird there--and cawfee! it's some stuff too, not like 'ere." "all right; don't come in again if yer don't want ter." the cockney got his second cup of coffee and pronounced it inferior to the first; then looked at an evening paper which oxford handed to him, and studied a photograph of a battleship on the front page. "can't stand these 'ere papers," he said, after a moment, as he got to his feet and lit a cigarette. "nuffink but war in them always; i'm sick readin' about war! i saw your bit in one a couple of nights ago," he said, turning to me. "what did you think of it?" i asked, anxious to hear his opinion on an article dealing with the life of his own regiment. "nuffink much," he answered, honestly and frankly. "everything you say is about things we all know; who wants to 'ear about them? d'ye get paid for writin' that?" one of his mates, a youth named bill, who came in at that moment, overheard the remark. "paid! of course 'e gets paid," said the newcomer. "bet you he gets 'arf a crown for every time 'e writes for the paper." all sorts and conditions of soldiers drift into the place and discuss various matters over coffee and mince pies; they are men of all classes, who had been as far apart as the poles in civil life, and are now knit together in the common brotherhood of war. caste and estate seem to have been forgotten; all are engaged in a common business, full of similar risks, and rewarded by a similar wage. in one corner of the room a game of cards was in progress, some soldiers were reading, and a few writing letters. now and again a song was heard, and a score of voices joined in the chorus. the scene was one of indescribable gaiety; the temperament of the assembly was like a hearty laugh, infectious and healthy. now and then a discussion took place, and towards the close of the evening hot words were exchanged between bill and his friend, the bright-eyed cockney. "i'll give old ginger nobby what for one day!" said the latter. "will you? i don't think!" "bet yer a bob i will!" "you'd lose it." "would i?" "straight you would!" "strike me pink if i would!" "you know nothin' of what you're sayin'." "don't i?" "git!" "shut!" in the coffee-shop wankin is invariably the centre of an interested group. as the company scapegrace and black sheep of the battalion he occupies in his mates' eyes a position of considerable importance. his repartees are famous, and none knows better than he how to score off an unpopular officer or n.c.o. he has the distinction also of having spent more days in the guard-room than any other man in the battalion. on the occasion when identity discs were being served out to the men and a momentary stir pervaded the battalion, it was wankin who first became involved in trouble. he employed the disc string to fasten the water-bottle of the man on his left to the haversack of the man on his right, and the colour-sergeant, livid with rage, vowed to chasten him by confining him eternally to barracks. but the undaunted company scapegrace was not to be beaten. fastening the identity disc on his left eye he fixed a stern look on the sergeant. "my deah fellah," he drawled out, imitating the voice of the company lieutenant who wears an eyeglass, "your remarks are uncalled for, really. by jove! one would think that a scrap of string was a gold bracelet or a diamond necklace. i could buy the disc and the string for a bloomin' 'apenny." "you'll pay dearly for it this time," said the colour with fine irony. "three days c.b.[ ] your muckin' about'll cost you." and before wankin could reply the sergeant was reporting the matter to the captain. [footnote : confinement to barracks.] wankin is eternally in trouble, although his agility in dodging pickets and his skill in making a week's c.b. a veritable holiday are the talk of the regiment. all the officers know him, and many of them who have been victims of his smart repartee fear him more than they care to acknowledge. the subaltern with the eyeglass is a bad route-marcher, and wankin once remarked in an audible whisper that the officer had learned his company drill with a drove of haltered pack-horses, and the officer bears the name of "pack-horse" ever since. on another occasion the major suffered when a battalion kit inspection took place early one december morning. wankin had sold his spare pair of boots, the pair that is always kept on top of the kit-bag; but when the major inspected wankin's kit the boots were there, newly polished and freed from the most microscopic speck of dust. someone tittered during the inspection, then another, and the major smelt a rat. he lifted wankin's kit-bag in his hand and found wankin's feet tucked under it--wankin's feet in stockinged soles. the major was justly indignant. "one step to the front, left turn," he roared. "march in front of every rank in the battalion and see what you think of it!" with stockinged feet, cold, but still wearing an inscrutable smile of impudence, wankin paraded in front of a thousand grinning faces and in due course got back to his kit and beside the sarcastic major. "what do you think of it?" asked the latter. "i don't think much of it, sir," wankin replied. "it's the dirtiest regiment i ever inspected." wankin was sometimes unlucky; fortune refused to favour him when he took up the work of picket on the road between st. albans and london. no unit of his regiment is supposed to go more than two miles beyond st. albans without a written permit, and guards are placed at different points of the two-mile radius to intercept the regimental rakes whose feet are inclined to roving. wankin learned that the london road was not to be guarded on a certain sunday. the regiment was to parade for a long route-march, and all units were to be in attendance. wankin pondered over things for a moment, girt on his belt and sword and took up his position on the london road within a hundred yards of a wayside public-house. at this tavern a traveller from st. albans may obtain a drink on a sabbath day. soldiers, like most mortals, are sometimes dry and like to drink; wankin was often dry and wankin had seldom much money to spend. the first soldier who came out from the town wanted to get to the tavern. "can't pass here!" the mock-picket told him. "but i'm dry and i've a cold that catches me awful in the throat." "them colds are dangerous," wankin remarked in a contemplative voice, tinged with compassion. "used to have them bad myself an' i feel one coming on. i think gin, same as they have in the trenches, is the stuff to put a cold away. but i'm on the rocks." "if you'll let me through i'll stand on my hands." "it's risky," said wankin, then in a brave burst of bravado he said, "damn it all! i'll let you go by. it's hard to stew dry so near the bar!" an hour later the young man set off towards home, and on his way he met two of his comrades-in-arms on the road. "going to ---- pub?" he inquired. "going to see that no one does go near it," was the answer. "picket duty for the rest of the day, we are." "but wankin--" "what?" the young man explained, and shortly afterwards wankin went to headquarters under an armed escort. three days later i saw his head sticking out through the guard-room window, and at that time i had not heard of the london road escapade. "here on account of drink?" i asked him. "you fool," he roared at me. "do you think i mistook this damned place for the canteen?" i like wankin and most of his mates like him. we feel that when detention, barrack confinement and english taverns will be things of yesterday, wankin will make a good and trustworthy friend in the trenches. chapter vi the night side of soldiering there are three things in military life which make a great appeal to me; the rifle's reply to the pull of the trigger-finger, the gossip of soldiers in the crowded canteen, and the onward movement of a thousand men in full marching order with arms at the trail. and at no time is this so impressive as at night when with rifles held in a horizontal position by the side, the arm hanging easily from the shoulder, we march at attention in complete silence. not a word is spoken by anyone save officers, little is heard but the dull crunch of boots on the gravel and the rustle of trenching-tool handles as they rub against trousers or haversack. seen from a flank at the rear, the moving battalion, bending round the curve or straining to a hill, looks like the plesiosaur of the picture shown in the act of dragging its cumbrous length along. the silence is full of mystery, the gigantic mass, of which you form so minute a unit, is entirely voiceless, a dumb thing without a tongue, brooding, as it were, over some eternal sorrow or ancient wrong to which it cannot give expression. marching thus at night, a battalion is doubly impressive. the silent monster is full of restrained power; resolute in its onward sweep, impervious to danger, it looks a menacing engine of destruction, steady to its goal, and certain of its mission. a march like this fell to our lot once every fortnight. at seven in the evening, loaded with full pack, bayonet, haversack, ground-sheet, water-bottle, overcoat, and rifle, we would take our way from the town out into the open country. the night varied in temper--sometimes it rained; again, it froze and chilled the ears and finger-tips; and once we marched with the full moon over us, lighting up the whole county--the fields, the woods, the lighted villages, the snug farmhouses, and the grey roads by which the long line of khaki-clad soldiers went on their way. that night was one to be remembered. we went off from the parade ground, a thousand strong, along the sloping road that sweeps down the hill on which our town is built. giggling girls watched us depart--they are ever there when the soldiers are on the move--old gentlemen and ladies wished us luck as we passed, but never a head of a thousand heads turned to the left or right, never a tongue replied to the cheery greetings; we were marching at attention, with arms at the trail. the sky stood high, splashed with stars, and the moon, pinched and anæmic, hung above like a whitish speck of smoke that had curled into a ball. marching at the rear, i could see the long brown line curving round a corner ahead, the butt-plates of the rifles sparkling brightly, the white trenching-tool handles shaking backward and forward at every move of the men. "march easy!" half an hour had passed, and we were now in the open country. at the word of command rifles were slung over the shoulders, and the battalion found voice, first in brisk conversation and exchange of witticisms, then in shouting and song. we have escaped from the tyranny of "tipperary," none of us sing it now, but that doggerel is replaced by other music-hall abominations which are at present in the full glory of their rocket-reign. a parody of a hymn, "toiling on," is also popular, and my jersey mate gave it full vent on the left. "lager beer! lager beer! there's a lager beer saloon across the way. lager bee-ee-eer! is there any lager beer to give away." although the goddess of music forgot me in the making, i found myself roaring out the chorus for all i was worth along with my jersey friend. "you're singing some!" he remarked, sarcastically, when the chorus came to an end. "but, no wonder! this night would make a brass monkey sing. it's grand to be alive!" every battalion has its marching songs. one of the favourites with us was written by a certain rifleman in "c" company, sung to the air of "off to philadelphia in the morning." it runs: "it is said by our commanders that in trenches out by flanders there is work to do both trying and exciting, and the men who man the trenches, they are england's men and french's where the legions of the khaki-clad are fighting. though bearing up so gaily they are waiting for us daily, for the fury of the foemen makes them nervous, but the foe may look for trouble when we charge them at the double, we, the london irish out on active service. _chorus._ "with our rifles on our shoulder, sure there's no one could be bolder, and we'll double out to france when we get warnin' and we'll not stop long for trifles, we're the london irish rifles, when we go to fight the germans in the mornin'. "an' the girls: oh it will grieve them when we take the train and leave them, oh! what tears the dears will weep when we are moving, but it's just the old, old story, on the path that leads to glory, sure we cannot halt for long to do our loving. they'll see us with emotion all departing o'er the ocean, and every maid a-weepin' for her lover; 'good-bye' we'll hear them callin', while so many tears are fallin' that they'd almost swamp the boat that takes us over. _chorus._ "with our rifles," etc. our colonel sang this song at a concert, thus showing the democratic nature of the new army, where a colonel sings the songs written in the ranks of his own battalion. at the ten minutes' halt which succeeded the first hour's march, my jersey friend spoke to me again. "aren't there stars!" he said, turning his face to the heavens and gripping his rifle tightly as if for support. his wide open eyes seemed to have grown in size, and were full of an expression i had never seen in them before. "i like the stars," he remarked, "they're so wonderful. and to think that men are killing each other now, this very minute!" he clanked the butt of his gun on the ground and toyed with the handle of his sword. hour after hour passed by; under the light of the moon the country looked beautiful; every pond showed a brilliant face to the heavens, light mists seemed to hover over every farmhouse and cottage; light winds swept through the telegraph wires; only the woods looked dark, and there the trees seemed to be hugging the darkness around them. on our way back a sharp shower, charged with a penetrating cold, fell. the waterproof ground-sheets were unrolled, and we tied them over our shoulders. when the rain passed, the water falling in drops from our equipment glittered so brightly that it put the polished swords and brilliant rifle butt-plates to shame. we stole into the town at midnight, when nearly all the inhabitants were abed. with arms at the trail, we marched along, throwing off company after company, at the streets where they billeted. the battalion dwindled down slowly; my party came to a halt, and the order "dismiss!" was given, and we went to our billets. the jersey youth came with me to my doorstep. "'twas a grand march!" he remarked. "fine," i replied. "i can't help looking at the stars!" he said as he moved off. "there are a lot to-night. and to think--" he hesitated, with the words trembling on his tongue, realising that he was going to repeat himself. "anyway, there's some stars," he said in a low voice. "good night!" there is a peculiar glamour about all night work. the importance of night manoeuvring was emphasised in the south african war, and we had ample opportunities of becoming accustomed to the darkness. on one occasion at about nine o'clock we swung out from the town with our regimental pipe-band playing to pursue some night operations. so far the men did not know what task had been assigned to them. "we've got to do to-night's work as quiet as a growing mushroom," someone whispered to me, as we took our way off the road and lined up in the field that, stretching out in front and flanks, lost itself in formless mistiness under the loom of the encircling hedgerows. here and there in the distance trees stand up gaunt and bare, holding out their leafless branches as if in supplication to the grey sky; a slight whisper of wind moaned along the ground and died away in the darkness. our officer, speaking in a low voice, gave instructions. "the enemy is advancing to attack us in great force," he explained, "and our scouts have located him some six miles away from here. we have now found that it is inadvisable to march on any farther, as our reinforcements are not very strong and have been delayed to rear. therefore we have decided to take up our present position as a suitable ground for operations and entrenching ourselves in--ready to give battle. everything now must be done very quickly. our lives will, perhaps, depend at some early date on the quickness with which we can hide ourselves from the foe. so; dig your trench as quickly as possible, as quickly, in fact, as if your life depended on it. work must be done in absolute silence; no smoking is allowed, no lighting of matches, no talk. "a word about orders. commands are not to be shouted, but will be passed along from man to man, and none must speak above his breath. the passing of messages along in this manner is very difficult; words get lost, and unnecessary words are added in transit. but i hope you'll make a success of the job. now we'll see how quickly we can get hidden!" a "screen" of scouts (one man to every fifty yards of frontage) took up its place in line a furlong ahead. a hundred paces to rear of the "screen" the officers marked out the position of the trenches, placing soldiers as markers on the imaginary alignment. in front lay a clear field of fire, a deadly area for an enemy advancing to the attack. we took off our equipment, hafted the entrenching tools which we always carry, and bent to our work in the wet clay. the night was close and foggy, the smell of the damp earth and the awakening spring verdure filled our nostrils. in the distance was heard the rumbling of trains, the jolting of wagons along the country road, the barking of dogs, and clear and musical through all these sounds came the song of a mavis or merle from the near hedgerows. in the course of ten minutes we were sweating at our work, and several units of the party took off their tunics. one hapless individual got into trouble immediately. his shirt was not regulation colour, it was spotlessly white and visible at a hundred yards. a whispered order from the officer on the left faltered along the line of diggers. "man with white shirt, put on his tunic!" the order was obeyed in haste, the white disappeared rapidly as the arms of the culprit slid into sleeves, and the covering tunic hid his wrong from the eyes of man. the night wore on. now and again a clock in the town struck out the time with a dull, weary clang that died away in the darkness. on both sides i could see stretching out, like some gigantic and knotted rope, the row of bent workers, the voiceless toilers, busy with their labours. picks rose into the air, remained poised a moment, then sank to tear the sluggish earth and pull it apart. the clay was thrown out to front and rear, and scattered evenly, so that the natural contour of the ground might show no signs of man's interference. and even as we worked the section commanders stole up and down behind us, urging the men to make as little sound as possible--our safety depended on our silence. but pick and shovel, like the rifle, will sing at their toil, and insistent and continuous, as if in threat, they rasped out the almost incoherent song of labour. a man beside me suddenly laid down his shovel and battled with a cough that strove to break free and riot in the darkness. i could see his face go purple, his eyes stare out as if endeavouring to burst from their sockets. presently he was victor, and as he bent to his shovel again i heard him whisper huskily, "'twas a stiff go, that; it almost floored me." thrown from tongue to tongue as a ball is thrown in play, a message from the captain on the flank hurried along the living line. "close in on the left," was the order, and we hastened to obey. trenching tools were unhafted and returned to their carriers, equipments were donned again, belts tightened, and shoulder-straps buttoned. singly, in pairs, and in files we hurried back to the point of assembly, to find a very angry captain awaiting us. "i am very disappointed with to-night's work," he said. "i sent five messages out; two of them died on the way; a third reached its destination, but in such a muddled condition that it was impossible to recognise it as the one sent off. the order to cease work was the only one that seemed to hurry along. out at the front, where all orders are passed along the trenches in this manner, it is of the utmost importance that every word is repeated distinctly, and that no order miscarries. even out there, it is found very difficult to send messages along." the captain paused for a moment; then told a story. "it is said that an officer at the front gave out the following message to the men in the trenches: 'in the wood on the right a party of german cavalry,' and when the message travelled half a mile it had changed to: 'german navy defeated in the north sea.' we don't know how much truth there is in the story, but i hope we will not make a mistake like that out there." lagging men were still stealing in as we took up our places in columns of fours. a clock struck out the hour of twelve, and the bird in the hedgerow was still singing as we marched out to the roadway, and followed our merry pipers home to town. chapter vii divisional exercise and mimic warfare divisional exercise is a great game of make-believe. all sorts of liberties are taken, the clock is put forward or back at the command of the general, a great enemy army is created in the twinkling of an eye, day is turned into night and a regular game of topsy-turvydom indulged in. on the occasion of which i write the whole division was out. the time was nine o'clock in the forenoon, and an imaginary forced march was nearly completed, and an imaginary day was at an end. we were being hurried up as reinforcements to the main army, which was in touch with the enemy ahead and an engagement was developing. our battalion came to a halt on the roadway, closing in to the left in order to give full play to the field telephone service in process of being laid. our officers went out in front to seek a position for a bivouac; the doctor accompanied them to examine the place chosen, see to the water supply, the drainage, and sanitation. in addition to this, our commanders had to find the battalion a resting-ground easy to defend and of merit as a tactical position. at ten o'clock we lay down, battalion after battalion, just as we halted: equipment on, our packs unloosened but shoved up under our heads, and our rifles by our sides, muzzles towards the enemy. one word of command would bring twenty thousand men from their beds, ready in an instant, rifles loaded, bayonets at hips, quick to the route and ready for battle. we would rise, as we slept, in full marching order, and the space of a moment would find us hurrying, fully armed, into battle, with the sleep of night still heavy in our eyes. for miles around the soldiers lay down, each in his place and every place occupied. hardly a word was spoken; commands were whispered, and our officers crept round explaining the work ahead. two miles in front the enemy was assembled in great strength on a river, and by dawn, if all went well, we would enter the firing line. at present we had to lie still; no man was to move about, and sentries with fixed bayonets were stationed at front, flank, and rear, ready to give the alarm at the first sign of danger. behind us were the kitchen, horse-lines, and latrines. the position of these varies as the wind changes, and it is imperative that unhealthy odours are not blown across the bivouac. the battalion lay in two parallel squares, with a gangway, blocked up with baggage and various necessaries, between. on these squares no refuse was to be thrown down; the ground had to be kept clean; papers, scraps of meat, and pieces of bread, if not eaten, had to be buried. even as we lay, and while the officers were explaining the work in hand, the artillery took up its stand on several wooded knolls that rose behind us. what a splendid sight, the artillery going into action! heavy guns, an endless line of them, swept over the greensward and rattled into place. six horses strained at each gun, which was accompanied by two ammunition wagons with six horses to each wagon. how many horses! how many guns! out of nowhere in particular they came, and disappeared as if behind a curtain barely four hundred yards away. thirty minutes afterwards i fancied as i looked in their direction that i could see black, ominous muzzles peering through the undergrowth. probably i was mistaken. anyhow, they were there, guarding us while we slept, our silent watchers! about eleven o'clock an orderly stole in and spoke to the colonel, a hurried consultation in which all the officers took part was held, and the messenger departed. again followed an interval of silence, only broken by the officers creeping round and giving us further information. the enemy was repulsed, they told us, and was now in retreat, but before moving off he had blown up all the bridges on the river. the artillery of our main army in front was shelling the fleeing foe, and our engineers had just set off to build three pontoon bridges, so that the now sleeping division could cross at dawn and follow the army in retreat. our dawn came at one o'clock in the afternoon; a whistle was blown somewhere near at hand, and the battalion sprang to life; every unit, with pack on back, cartridge pouches full, rifle at the order, was afoot and ready. only two hours before had the engineers set out to build the bridges which the whole division, with its regiment after regiment, with its artillery, its guns, ammunition wagons and horses, its transport section, and vehicles of all descriptions, was now to cross. the landscape had changed utterly, the country was alive, and had found voice; the horse-lines were broken, and all the animals, from the colonel's charger to the humble pack horse, were on the move. the little squares, dotted brown, had taken on new shape, and were transformed into companies of moving men in khaki. we were out on the heels of the retreating foe. two hours' forced marching brought us to the river, a real one, with three pontoon bridges, newly built and held firm on flat-bottomed boats moored in mid-stream. we took our way across, and bent to the hill on the other side. half-way up, in a narrow lane, a wagon got stuck in the front of our battalion, and we were forced to come to a halt for a moment. looking back, i could see immediately behind three lines of men straining to the hill; farther back the same lines were crossing the bridges and, away in the far distance, pencilled brown on the ploughed fields, the three lines of khaki crawled along like long threads endlessly unwinding from some invisible ball. now and again i could see the artillery coming into sight, only to disappear again over a wooded knoll or into an almost invisible hollow. thus the division, the apparently limitless lines of men, horses, and guns crawled on the track of the fleeing enemy. as we stood there, held in check by the wagon, and as i looked back at the thousands of soldiers in the rear, i felt indeed that i was a minute mite amongst the many. and then a second thought struck me. the whole mass of men around me was a small thing in relation to the numbers engaged in the great war. even i, rifleman something or another, no. so-and-so, bulked larger in the division as one of its units than the division did in the war as a unit of the allied forces. even more interesting than divisional exercises is the mimic warfare that is heralded by a notice in battalion orders such as the following: "the battalion will take part in brigade exercise to-day. ten rounds of blank ammunition and haversack rations will be carried." at eight o'clock in the morning whistles were blown at the bottom of the street in which my company is billeted, and the soldiers, rubbing the sleep from their eyes or munching the last mouthful of a hasty breakfast, came trooping out from the snug middle-class houses in which they are quartered. the morning was bitterly cold, and the falling rain splashed soberly on the pavement, every drop coming slowly to ground as if selecting a spot to rest on. the colour-sergeant, standing at the end of the street, whistle in hand, was in a nasty temper. "hurry up, you heavy-footed beggars," he yelled to the men. "the parade takes place to-day, not to-morrow! and you, what's wrong with your understandings?" he called to a man who came along wearing carpet slippers. "my boots are bad, colour," is the answer. "i cannot march in them." "and are you goin' to march in them drorin'-room abominations?" roared the sergeant. "get your boots mended and grease out of it." at roll-call three of the company were found to be absent; two were sick, and one who had been found guilty of using bad language to a n.c.o. was confined to the guard-room. those who answered their names were served out with packets of blank ammunition, one packet per man, and each containing ten cartridges wrapped in brown paper and tied with a blue string. the captain read the following instructions: "the enemy is reported to be in strong force on x hill, and battalions a and b are ordered to dislodge him from that position. a will form first line of attack, b will send up reserves and supports as needed." the rifles were examined by our young lieutenant, after which inspection the company joined the battalion, and presently a thousand men with rifles on shoulder, bayonets and haversacks on left hip, and ammunition in pouches, were marching through the rain along the muddy streets, out into the open country. the day promised to be an interesting one from my point of view; i had never taken part in a mimic battle before, and the day's work was to be in many ways similar to operations on the real field of battle. "only nobody gets killed, of course," my mate told me. he had taken part in this kind of work before, and was wise in his superior knowledge. "one-half of the brigade, two thousand men, is our enemy," he explained; "and we're going to fight them. the battalion that's helping us is on in front, and it will soon be fighting. when it's hard pressed we'll go up to help, for we're the supports. it won't be long till we hear the firing." an hour's brisk march was followed by a halt, when we were ordered to draw well into the left of the road to let the company guns go by. dark-nosed and cold, they wheeled past, the horses sweating as they strained at the carriage shafts; the drivers, by deft handling, pulling the steeds clear of the ruts; out in front they swung, and the battalion closed up and resumed its march behind. the rain ceased and a cold sun shot feeble rays over the sullen december landscape. again a halt was called; the brigadier-general, followed by two officers and several orderlies, galloped up, and a hurried consultation with our colonel took place. in a moment the battalion moved ahead only to come to a dead stop again after ten minutes' slow marching, and find a company detailed off to guard the rear. the other companies, led by their officers, turned off the road and moved in sections across the newly furrowed and soggy fields. a level sweep of december england broken only by leafless hedgerows and wire fencing stretched out in front towards a wooded hillock, that stood up black against the sky-line two miles away. the enemy held this wood; we could hear his guns booming and now considered ourselves under shell fire. each squad of sixteen men marched in the rear or on the flank of its neighbour; this method of progression minimises the dangers of bursting shrapnel, for a shell falling in the midst of one body of men and causing considerable damage will do no harm to the adjacent party. somewhere near us our gunners were answering the enemy's fire; but so well hidden were the guns that i could not locate them. we still crept slowly forward; section after section crawled across the black, ploughed fields, now rising up like giant caterpillars to the crest of a mound, and again dropping out of sight in the hollow land like corks on a comber. on our heels the ambulance corps followed with its stretchers, and in front the enemy was firing vigorously; over the belt of trees that lined the summit of the hillock little wisps of smoke could be seen rising and fading in the air. suddenly we came into line with our guns hidden in a deep narrow cart-track, their dark muzzles trained on the enemy, and the gunners, knee-deep in the mire of the lane, sweating at their work. "we're under covering fire now," our young lieutenant explained, as we trudged forward, lifting enormous masses of clay on our boots at every step. "one battalion is engaged already; hear the shots." the rifles were barking on the left front; in a moment the reports from that quarter died away, and the right found voice. the men of the first line were in the trenches dug by us a fortnight earlier, and there they would remain, we knew, until their supports came to their aid. already we passed several of them, who were detailed off on the anticipated casualty list in the morning. these wore white labels in their buttonholes, telling of the nature of their wounds. one label bore the words: "shot in right shoulder; wound not dangerous." another read: "leg blown off," and a third ran: "flesh wounds in arm and leg." these men would be taken into the care of the ambulance party when it arrived. when within fifteen hundred yards of the enemy, the command for extended order advance was given, and the section spread out in one long line, fronting the knoll, with five pace intervals between the men. we were now under rifle-fire, and all further movements forward were made in short sharp rushes, punctuated by halts, during which we lay flat on the ground, our bodies deep in the soft earth, and the rain, which again commenced to fall, wetting us to the skin. six hundred yards from the enemy's front we tumbled into the trenches already in possession of battalion b, and i found myself ankle-deep in mire, beside a unit of another regiment who was enjoying a cigarette and blowing rings of smoke into the air. although no enemy was visible we got the order to fire, and i discharged three rounds in rapid succession. "don't fire, you fool!" said the man who was blowing the smoke rings. "them blanks dirty 'orrible, and when you've clean't the clay from your clothes t'night you'll not want to muck about with your rifle. there's a price for copper, and i always sell my cartridge cases. the first time i came out i fired, but never since." several rushes forward followed, and the penultimate hundred yards were covered with fixed bayonets. in this manner we were prepared for any surprise. the enemy replied fitfully to our fire, and we could now see several khaki-clad figures with white hat-bands--the differential symbols--moving backwards and forwards amidst the trees. presently they disappeared as we worked nearer to their lines. we were now rushing forward, lying down to fire, rising and running only to drop down again and discharge another round. within fifty yards of the coppice the order to charge was given. a yell, almost fiendish in its intensity, issued from a thousand throats; anticipation of the real work which is to be done some day, lent spirit to our rush. in an instant we were in the wood, smashing the branches with our bayonets, thrusting at imaginary enemies, roaring at the top of our voices, and capping a novel fight with a triumphant final. and our enemies? having finished their day's work they were now fifteen minutes' march ahead of us on the way back to their rest and rations. chapter viii the general inspection and the everlasting waiting one of our greatest trials is the general inspection, which takes place every month, and once lord kitchener inspected the battalion, in company with the division quartered in our town. but that was before i joined. it involves much labour in the way of preparation. on one occasion, midnight the night before, a friday, found us still busy with our work. my cot-mate was in difficulties with his rifle--the cloth of the pull-through stuck in the barrel, and he could not move it, although he broke a bamboo cane and bent a poker in the attempt. "it's a case for the armoury," he remarked gloomily. "what a nuisance that ramrods are done away with! we've been at it since eight o'clock, and getting along a . now that beastly pull-through!" what an evening's work! on the day following the brigadier-general was to inspect us, and we had to appear on parade spick and span, with rifles spotless, and every article of our equipment in good order. packs were washed and hung over the rim of the table by our billet fire, web-belts were cleaned, and every speck of mud and grease removed. our packs, when dry, were loaded with overcoat, mess-tin, housewife, razor, towel, etc., and packed tightly and squarely, showing no crease at side or bulge at corner. ground-sheets were neatly rolled and fastened on top of pack, no overlapping was allowed; rifles were oiled and polished from muzzle to butt-plate, and swords rubbed with emery paper until not a single speck of rust remained. saturday morning found us trim and tidy on the parade ground. an outsider would hardly dream that we were the men who had ploughed through the muddy countryside and sunk to the knees in the furrowed fields daily since the wet week began. where was the clay that had caked brown on our khaki, the rust that spoilt the lustre of our swords, and the fringes that the wire fences tore on our tunics? all gone; soap and water, a brush, needle and thread, and a scrap of emery paper had worked the miracle. we stood easy awaiting the arrival of the general; platoons sized from flanks to centres (namely, the tallest men stood at the flanks, and the khaki lines dwindled in stature towards the small men in the middle), and company officers at front and rear. the officers saw that everything was correct, that no lace-ends showed from under the puttees, that no lace-eye lay idle, and that laces were not crossed over the boots. each man had shaved and got his hair cut, his hat set straight on his head, and the regimental badge in proper position over the idle chin-strap. pocket-flaps and tunics were buttoned, water-bottles and haversacks hung straight, the tops of the latter in line with the bayonet rings, and entrenching tool handles were scrubbed clean--my mate and i had spent much soap on ours the night before. one of our officers gave us instructions as to how we had to behave during the inspection, more especially when we were under the direct gaze of the general. "not a movement," he told us. "every eyelash must be still. if the general asks me your name and i make a mistake and say you are smith instead of brown, your real name, you're not to say a word. you are brown for the time being. if he speaks to you, you're to answer: 'sir,' and 'sir' only to every question. if you're asked what was your age last birthday, 'sir' is to be the only answer. is that clear to every man?" it was, indeed, clear, surprisingly clear; but we wondered at the command, which was new to us. to answer in this fashion appeared strange to us; we thought (the right to think is not denied to a soldier) it a funny method of satisfying a general's curiosity. he came, a tall, well-set man, with stern eyebrows and a heavy moustache, curled upwards after the manner of an emperor whom we heartily dislike, attended by a slim brigade major, who wore a rather large eyeglass, and made several entries in his notebook, as he followed on the heels of the superior inspecting the battalion. we stood, every unit of us, sphinx-like, immovable, facing our front and resigned to our position. to an onlooker it might seem as if we were frozen there--our fingers glued on to our rifles and our feet firm to the earth at an angle of forty-five degrees. i stood near the rear, and could see the still platoons in front, not a hat moved, not a boot shifted. the general broke the spell when he was passing me. "another button. there were forty-seven the last time," he said, and the man with the eyeglass made an entry in the notebook. through an oversight, i had helped to lower the prestige of the battalion: a pocket flap of my tunic was unbuttoned. kit inspection was a business apart; the general picked out several soldiers haphazard and ordered their packs to be opened for an examination of the contents--spoons, shirts, socks, and the various necessaries which dismounted men in full marching order must carry on their persons were inspected carefully. a full pack is judged best by its contents, and nearly all packs passed muster. one man was unlucky: his mate was chosen for kit inspection, but this hapless individual came out minus a toothbrush and comb, and the friend in need took his place in the freshly-formed ranks. here, the helper found that his own kit was inefficient, he had forgotten to put in a pair of socks. that afternoon he had to do two hours' extra drill. perhaps an even greater trial than divisional inspection was that of waiting orders when we were the victims of camp rumours. but this was as nothing to the false alarms. there is some doggerel known to the men which runs: "we're off to the front," said the colonel, as he placed us in the train, "and we went at dawn from the station, and at night came back again." for months we had drilled and drilled, all earnest in our labours and filled with enthusiasm for our new profession, and daily we await the order to leave for foreign parts. where are we going to when we leave england? france, egypt, or india? rumour had it yesterday that we would go to egypt; to-day my mate, the blue-eyed jersey youth, heard from a friend, who heard it from a colour-sergeant, that we are going out to india, where we will be kept as guardians of the king's empire for a matter of four years. ever since i joined the army it has been the same: reports name a new destination for my battalion daily. afterwards we had to go and help the remarkable russians who passed through england on the way to france; but when the russians faded from the ken of vision and the press bureau denied their very existence, it was immediately reported that we had been drilled into shape in order to demolish de wet and all his south african rebels. de wet was captured and is now under military control, and still we waited orders to move from the comfortable billets and crowded streets of our town. dry eyes would see us depart, mocking children would bid us sarcastic farewells, the kindly landladies and their fair daughters would laugh when we bade adieu and moved away to some destination unknown. we had already taken our farewell three times, and on each occasion we have come back again to our billets before the day that saw our departure came to an end. the heart of every man thrilled with excitement when the announcement was made for the first time, one weary evening when we had just completed a ten-hour divisional field exercise. our officer read it from a typewritten sheet, and the announcement was as follows: "all men in the battalion must stand under arms until further orders. no soldier is to leave his billet; boots are not to be taken off, and best marching pairs are to be worn. every unit of the company who lacks any part of the necessary equipment must immediately report at quartermaster's stores, where all wants will be supplied. identity discs to be worn, swords must be cleaned and polished, and twenty-four hours' haversack rations are to be carried. the battalion has to entrain for some unknown destination when called upon." the news spread through the town: the division was going to move! on the morrow we would be sailing for france, in a fortnight we would be in berlin! our landladies met us at the doors as we came in, looks of entreaty on their faces and tears in their eyes. the hour had come; we were going to leave them. and the landladies' daughters? one, a buxom wench of eighteen, kissed the jersey youth in sight of the whole battalion, but nobody took any notice of the unusual incident. all were busy with their own thoughts, and eager for the new adventures before them. i did not go to sleep that night; booted and dressed i lay on the hearthrug in front of the fire, and waited for the call. about four o'clock in the morning a whistle was blown outside on the street; i got to my feet, put on my equipment, fastened the buckles of my haversack, bade adieu to my friends of the billet who had risen from bed to see me off, and joined my company. five or six regiments were already on the move; transport wagons, driven by khaki-clad drivers with rifles slung over their shoulders, lumbered through the dimly-lighted thoroughfares; ammunition vans stood at every street corner; guns rattled along drawn by straining horses, the sweat steaming from the animals' flanks and withers; an ambulance party sped through the greyness of the foggy morning, accompanied by a red cross lorry piled high with chests and stretcher poles, and soldiers in files and fours, in companies and columns, were in movement everywhere--their legions seemed countless and endless. ammunition was given out from the powder magazine; each man was handed rounds of ball cartridge--a goodly weight to carry on a long day's march! with our ammunition we were now properly equipped and ready for any emergency. each individual carried on his person in addition to rifle, bayonet (sword is the military name for the latter weapon) and ball cartridge, a blanket and waterproof sheet, an overcoat, a water-bottle, an entrenching tool and handle, as well as several other lighter necessaries, such as shirts, socks, a knife, fork, and spoon, razor, soap, and towel. at eight o'clock, when the wintry dawn was breaking and the fog lifting, we entered the station. hundreds of the inhabitants of the town came to see us off and cheer us on the long way to tipperary: and tipperary meant berlin. one of the inhabitants, a kindly woman who is loved by the soldiers of my company, to whom she is very good, came to the station as we were leaving, and presented a pair of mittens to each of fifty men. the train started on its journey, puffed a feeble cloud of smoke into the air, and suddenly came to a dead stop. heads appeared at the windows, and voices inquired if the engine-driver had taken the wrong turning on the road to berlin. the train shunted back into the station, and we all went back to our billets again, but not before our officers informed us that we had done the work of entraining very smartly, and when the real call did come we would lose no time on the journey to an unknown destination. later we had two further lessons in entraining, and we came to fear that when the summons did come dry eyes would watch us depart and sarcastic jibes make heavy our leave-taking. indeed, some of the inhabitants of our town hinted that we should never leave the place until the local undertakers make a profit on our exit. so much for their gentle sarcasm! but well they knew that one day in the near future it would suddenly occur to our commanders to take us with them in the train to berlin. chapter ix ready to go--the battalion moves rumour had been busy for days; the whole division was about to move, so every one stated, except our officers, and official information was not forthcoming. "you are going between midnight and five o'clock to-morrow morning," announced my landlord positively. he is a coal-merchant by trade. "how do you know?" i inquired. "because i can't get any coal to-morrow--line's bunged up for the troops." "no, he'll be going on tuesday," said his wife, whose kindliness and splendid cooking i should miss greatly. "is that so?" i asked, feigning an interest which i did not feel. a sore toe eclipsed all other matters for the time being. "the ration men have served out enough for two days, and it doesn't stand to reason that they're going to waste anything," the little lady continued with sarcastic emphasis on the last two words. parades went on as usual; the usual rations were doled out to billets and the usual grumbling went on in the ranks. we were weary of false alarms, waiting orders, and eternal parades. some of us had been training for fully six months, others had joined the army when war broke out, and we were still secure in england. "why have we joined?" the men asked. "is it to line the streets when the troops come home? we are a balmy regiment." one evening, thursday to be exact, the battalion orders were interesting. one item ran as follows: "all fees due to billets will be paid up to friday night. if any other billet expenses are incurred by battalion the same will be paid on application to the war office." friday evening found more explicit expression of our future movements in orders. the following items appeared: "mess tin covers will be issued to-morrow. no white handkerchiefs are to be taken by the battalion overseas. all deficiencies in kit must be reported to-morrow morning. bayonets will be sharpened. any soldiers who have not yet received a copy of the new testament can have same on application at the town hall p.m. on saturday. "where are we going?" we asked one another. some answered saying that we were to help in the sack of constantinople, others suggested egypt, but all felt that we were going off to france at no very distant date. was not this feeling plausible when we took into account a boot parade of the day before and how we were ordered to wear two pairs of socks when trying on the boots? two pairs of socks suggested the trenches and cold, certainly not the sun-dried gutters of constantinople, or the burning sands of egypt. saturday saw an excited battalion mustered in front of the quartermaster's stores drawing out boots, mess-tin covers, blankets, ground-sheets, entrenching tools, identity discs, new belts, water-bottles, pack-straps, trousers, tunics and the hundred and one other things required by the soldier on active service. in addition to the usual requisites, every unit received a cholera belt (they are more particular over this article of attire than over any other), two pairs of pants, a singlet and a cake of soap. the latter looked tallowy and nobody took it further than the billet; the pants were woollen, very warm and made in canada. this reminds me of an amusing episode which took place last general inspection. while standing easy, before the brigadier-general made his appearance, the men compared razors and found that eighty per cent. of them had been made in germany. but these were bought by the soldiers before war started. at least all affirmed that this was so. saturday was a long parade; some soldiers were drawing necessaries at midnight, and no ten-o'-clock-to-billets order was enforced that night. i drew my boots at eleven o'clock, and then the streets were crowded with our men, and merry and sad with sightseers and friends. wives and sweethearts had come to take a last farewell of husbands and lovers, and were making the most of the last lingering moments in good wishes and tears. sunday.--no church parade; and all men stood under arms in the streets. the officers had taken off all the trumpery of war, the swords which they never learned to use, the sparkling hat-badges and the dainty wrist-watches. they now appeared in web equipment, similar to that worn by the men, and carried rifles. dressed thus an officer will not make a special target for the sniper and is not conspicuous by his uniform. our captain made the announcement in a quiet voice, the announcement which had been waited for so long. "to-morrow we proceed overseas," he said. "on behalf of the colonel i've to thank you all for the way in which you have done your work up to the present, and i am certain that when we get out yonder," he raised his arm and his gesture might indicate any point of the compass, "you'll all do your work with the spirit and determination which you have shown up till now." this was the announcement. the men received it gleefully and a hubbub of conversation broke out in the ranks. "we're going at last"; "i thought when i joined that i'd be off next morning"; "what price a free journey to berlin!"; "it'll be some great sport!" such were the remarks that were bandied to and fro. but some were silent, feeling, no doubt, that the serious work ahead was not the subject for idle chatter. a little leaflet entitled "rules for the preservation of health on field service," was given to each man, and i am at liberty to give a few quotations. "remember that disease attacks you from outside; it is your duty to keep it outside." "don't drink unboiled water if you can get boiled water." "never start on a march with an empty stomach." "remember that a dirty foot is an unsound foot. see that feet are washed if no other part of the body is. socks should be taken off at the end of the march, be flattened out and well shaken. put on a clean pair if possible, if not, put the left sock on the right foot, and vice versa." "remember, on arrival in camp, _food before fatigues_." "always rig up some kind of shelter at night for the head, if for no other part of the body." at twelve noon on monday the whistles blew at the bottom of the street and we all turned out in full marching order with packs, haversacks, rifles and swords. i heard the transport wagons clattering on the pavement, the merry laughter of the drivers, the noise of men falling into place and above all the voice of the sergeant-major issuing orders. yet this, like other days, was a "wash-out." all day we waited for orders to move, twice we paraded in full marching kit, eager for the command to entrain; but it was not forthcoming. another day had to be spent in billets under strict instructions not to move from our quarters. the orders were posted up as usual at all street corners, a plan which is adopted for the convenience of units billeted a great distance from headquarters, and the typewritten orders had an air of momentous finality: the battalion moves to-morrow. parade will be at . a.m. entraining and detraining and embarking must be done in absolute silence. i rose from bed at three and set about to prepare breakfast, while my cot-mate busied himself with our equipment, putting everything into shape, buckling belts and flaps, burnishing bayonets and oiling the bolts of the rifles. twenty-four hours' rations were stored away in our haversacks all ready, the good landlady had been at work stewing and frying meat and cooking dainty scones up to twelve o'clock the night before. when breakfast, a good hearty meal of tea, buttered toast, fried bacon and tomatoes, was over, we went out to our places. the morning was chilly, a cold wind splashed with hail swept along the streets and whirled round the corners, causing the tails of our great coats to beat sharply against our legs. it was still very dark, only a few street-lamps were lighted and these glimmered doubtfully as if ashamed of being noticed. men in full marching order stamped out from every billet, took their way to the main street, where the transport wagons, wheels against kerbstones, horses in shafts, and drivers at reins, stood in mathematical order, and from there on to the parade ground where sergeants, with book in one hand and electric torch in the other, were preparing to call the roll. ammunition was served out, one hundred and twenty rounds to each man, and this was placed in the cartridge pouches, rifles were inspected and identity discs examined by torch-light. this finished, we were allowed to stand easy and use ground-sheets for a shelter from the biting hail. our blankets were already gone. the transport wagons had disappeared and with them our field-bags. i suppose they will await us in ---- but i anticipate, and at present all we know is that our regiment is bound for some destination unknown where, when we arrive, we shall have to wear two pairs of socks at our work. we stood by till eight o'clock. the day had cleared and the sun was shining brightly when we marched off to the station, through streets lined with people, thoughtful men who seemed to be very sad, women who wept and children who chattered and sang "tipperary." three trains stood in the sidings by the station. places were allotted to the men, eight occupied each compartment, non-commissioned officers occupied a special carriage, the officers travelled first-class. soon we were hurrying through england to a place unknown. most of my comrades were merry and a little sentimental; they sang music-hall songs that told of home. there were seven with me in my compartment, the jersey youth, whom i saw kissing a weeping sweetheart in the cold hours of the early day; mervin, my cot-mate, who always cleaned the rifles while i cooked breakfast in the morning; bill, the cockney youth who never is so happy as when getting the best of an argument in the coffee-shop of which i have already spoken, and the oxford man. the other three were almost complete strangers to me, they have just been drafted into our regiment; one was very fat and reminded me of a dickens character in _pickwick papers_; another who soon fell asleep, his head warm in a balaclava helmet, was a tall, strapping youth with large muscular hands, which betoken manual labour, and the last was a slightly-built boy with a budding moustache which seemed to have been waxed at one end. we noticed this, and the fat soldier said that the wax had melted from the few lonely hairs on the other side of the lip. stations whirled by, mervin leant out of the window to read their names, but was never successful. cigarettes were smoked, the carriage was full of tobacco fumes and the floor littered with "fag-ends." rifles were lying on the racks, four in each side, and caps, papers and equipment piled on top of them. the jersey youth made a remark: "where are we going to?" he asked. "france i suppose, isn't it?" "maybe egypt," someone answered. "with two pairs of socks to one boot!" mervin muttered in sarcastic tones; and almost immediately fell asleep. he had been a great traveller and knows many countries. his age is about forty, but he owns to twenty-seven, and in his youth he was educated for the church. "but the job was not one for me," he says, "and i threw it up." he looks forward to the life of a soldier in the field. our train journey neared the end. bill was at the window and said that we were in sight of our destination. all were up and fumbling with their equipment; and one, the university man, hoped that the night would be a good one for sailing to france. if we are bound for france we shall be there to-morrow. the end. * * * * * just published the rat-pit by patrick macgill, author of "children of the dead end." crown vo. price /-. inland postage d. extra. "children of the dead end" came upon the literary world as something of a surprise; it dealt with a phase of life about which nothing was known. it was compared with the work of borrow and kipling. incidentally three editions, aggregating , copies, were called for within fifteen days. in his new book mr. macgill still deals with the underworld he knows so well. he tells of a life woven of darkest threads, full of pity and pathos, lighted up by that rare and quaint humour that made his first book so attractive. "the rat-pit" tells the story of an irish peasant girl brought up in an atmosphere of poverty, where the purity of the poor and the innocence of maidenhood stand out in simple relief against a grim and sombre background. norah ryan leaves her home at an early age, and is plunged into a new world where dissolute and heedless men drag her down to their own miry level. mr. macgill's lot has been cast in strange places, and every incident of his book is pregnant with a vivid realism that carries the conviction that it is a literal transcript from life, as in fact it is. only last summer, just before he enlisted, mr. macgill spent some time in glasgow reviving old memories of its underworld. his characters are mostly real persons, and their sufferings, the sufferings of women burdened and oppressed with wrongs which women alone bear, are a strong indictment against a dubious civilisation. herbert jenkins ld., arundel place, london, s.w. * * * * * , copies called for in days. children of the dead end the autobiography of a navvy. by patrick macgill. crown vo. price /-. inland postage d. extra. manchester gdn. "a grand book." globe "a living story." d. citizen "still booming!" standard "a notable book." saturday review "an achievement." bookman "something unique." outlook "a remarkable book." bystander "a human document." country life "a human document." truth "intensely interesting." ev. standard "a thrilling achievement." d. telegraph "will have a lasting value." pall mall gaz. "nothing can withstand it." sphere "the book has genius in it." bookman "a poignantly human book." english review "a wonderful piece of work." graphic "an enthralling slice of life." d. sketch "a book that will make a stir." athenÆum "we welcome such books as this." ill. london news "an outstanding piece of work." d. chronicle "tremendous, absorbing, convincing." rev. of reviews "the book is not merely notable--it is remarkable." la stampa "un nuovo grande astro della litteratura inglese." d. express "will be one of the most talked-of books of the year." spectator "a book of unusual interest, which we cannot but praise." herbert jenkins, ld. arundel place, london, s.w. * * * * * _by the same author_ songs of the dead end poems by patrick macgill "remarkable."--_daily express_. "work of real genius."--_bookman_. "this is a remarkable book."--_graphic_. "he can do things, can our navvy poet."--_the clarion_. "this extraordinary man of the people."--_public opinion_. 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"when, in the terse vernacular of his calling, he gives voice to the sorrows and impatience, the humour and the resignation of his workmen comrades, and lets his songs find their own natural bent, then at length he attains real lyrical strength and sincerity.... for we need have no hesitation in hailing mr. macgill as a poet."--_sunday times_. * * * * * , sold in days quick training for war some practical suggestions. illustrated by diagrams by lt.-gen. sir robert baden-powell, k.c.b. price /- net. post free by all booksellers / .</b> first reviews _daily mail_.--"b.p. has a reputation which is second to none, and this little book is so brightly and cleverly written that it will be read with advantage by the recruit and studied with infinite pleasure and profit by the professional soldier." _lady's pictorial_.--"ladies who are anxious to give a practical present which not one of their soldier men-folk should disdain to accept would certainly find this acceptable." _globe_.--"i advise every young officer, regular or terrier, to get 'quick training for war' and study it.... it is a most sunny and stimulating book." _sporting chronicle_.--"great interest is being taken in baden-powell's book 'quick training for war' which is enjoying a tremendous boom." _daily chronicle_.--"the volume is full of good things for every officer, n.c.o., and man in the british territorial forces, and rifle club." _daily telegraph_.--"this little handbook should be a companion of all officers and men now training or being trained for war." herbert jenkins ld., arundel place, london, s.w. * * * * * quick training for war first reviews (_continued_). _academy_.--"if books were sold on intrinsic value, sir robert baden-powell's little volume would be issued at a sovereign." _sporting life_.--"should be studied by every man who is entering the service of his country or contemplates doing so." _spectator_.--"in heartily commending general baden-powell's little book to the trainers of the new army we should like," etc. _athenæum_.--"sir robert's hundred pages teem with evidence of how common-sense helps." _truth_.--"will prove a valuable gift to those who have answered the appeal of the war office." _sunday times_.--"the book should be in the knapsack of every recruit in the new army." _daily express_.--"a copy ought to be in the pocket of every officer and man in the new armies." _daily sketch_.--"every young officer, n.c.o. and private should have a copy." _morning post_.--"as instructive as it is interesting." _saturday review_.--"a manual of great good sense." _daily graphic_.--"it is concentrated wisdom." _observer_.--"clear and persuasive to a degree." herbert jenkins ld., arundel place, london, s.w. * * * * * sir john french an authentic biography by cecil chisholm, m.a. with a portrait of sir john french by his son, j.r.l. french. cr. vo. cloth. price /- net. postage d. extra. "capital."--_globe_. "a very excellent character study."--_daily news_. "an excellent little book."--_westminster gazette_. "an admirable story of the field-marshal's life."--_academy_. "a book which everyone should read at the present moment."--_field_. "a welcome and admirable little volume in every way."--_observer_. * * * * * atkins at war as told in his own letters. by j.a. kilpatrick. with a cover design by sir r. baden-powell, k.c.b. cloth. price /- net. postage d. extra. "a human document."--_globe_. "a human document."--_graphic_. "sure of a wide circulation."--_nation_. "a veritable human document."--_bookman_. "a capital little book."--_pall mall gazette_. "a book that throbs with life."--_daily call_. "mr. kilpatrick has performed a public service."--_evening standard_. herbert jenkins ld., arundel place, london, s.w. this ebook was transcribed by les bowler. general gordon: saint and soldier. by j. wardle, c.c., a personal friend. nottingham: henry b. saxton, king street. . {the author: p .jpg} preface. nothing but the greatest possible pressure from my many kind friends who have heard my lecture on "general gordon: saint and soldier," who knew of my intimacy with him, and had seen some of the letters referred to, would have induced me to narrate this little story of a noble life. i am greatly indebted to many friends, authors, and newspapers, for extracts and incidents, etc., etc.; and to them i beg to offer my best thanks and humble apology. this book is issued in the hope, that, with all its imperfections, it may inspire the young men of our times to imitate the christ-like spirit and example of our illustrious and noble hero, c. g. gordon. j. wardle. this brief story of a noble, saintly and heroic life, i dedicate with much affection to my son, joseph gordon wardle "if i am asked, who is the greatest man? i answer, "the best." and if i am requested to say, who is the best, i reply: "he that deserveth most of his fellow creatures." --_sir william jones_. index. _chapter_ i.--introduction--gordon's birth, parentage and school--his first experience of warfare in the crimea--his display of exceptional soldierly qualities--the storming of sebastopol and its fall. _chapter_ ii.--gordon assisting to lay down frontiers in russia, turkey and armenia--gordon in china--burning of the summer palace--chinese rebellion and its suppression. _chapter_ iii.--gordon at manchester--my experiences with him--ragged school work--amongst the poor, the old, the sick--some of his letters to me, showing his deep solicitude for the lads. _chapter_ iv.--gordon's letters--leaflet, &c.--his work at gravesend--amongst his "kings"--his call to foreign service, and leave taking--the public regret. _chapter_ v.--his first appointment as governor general of the soudan--his journey to, and his arrival at khartoum--his many difficulties--his visit to king john of abyssinia, and resignation. _chapter_ vi.--gordon's return to egypt and welcome by the khedive--home again--a second visit to china--soudan very unsettled--the madhi winning battles--hicks pasha's army annihilated--gordon sent for; agrees again to go to khartoum. _chapter_ vii.--gordon's starting for khartoum ( nd appointment)--his arrival and reception--khartoum surrounded--letter from the madhi to gordon--gordon's reply--his many and severe trials in khartoum. _chapter_ viii.--expedition of lord wolseley's to relieve gordon--terrible marches in the desert--battle of abu-klea--colonel burnaby killed--awful scenes--the arabs break the british square--victory and march to mettemmeh. _chapter_ ix.--gordon's boats, manned by sir charles wilson, fighting up to khartoum--khartoum fallen--gordon a martyr--mourning in all lands--our queen's letter of complaint to gladstone--gladstone's reply and vindication--queen's letters to gordon's sister--account of the fall of khartoum--acceptance by the queen of gordon's bible. chapter i. "there is nothing purer than honesty; nothing sweeter than charity; nothing warmer than love; nothing richer than wisdom; nothing brighter than virtue; nothing more steadfast than faith."--_bacon_. it has been said that the most interesting study for mankind is man; and surely one of the grandest objects for human contemplation, is a noble character; a lofty type of a truly great and good man is humanity's richest heritage. the following lines by one of our greatest poets are true-- "lives of great men all remind us, we can make our lives sublime, and departing leave behind us, footprints on the sands of time." while places and things may have a special or peculiar charm, and indeed may become very interesting, nothing stirs our hearts, or rouses our enthusiasm so much as the study of a noble heroic life, such as that of the uncrowned king, who is the subject of our story, and whose career of unsullied splendour closed in the year in the beleaguered capital of that dark sad land, where the white and blue nile blend their waters. "noble he was contemning all things mean, his truth unquestioned and his soul severe, at no man's question was he e'er dismayed, of no man's presence was he e'er afraid." general gordon was the son of a soldier who proved his gallantry on many occasions, and who took a pride in his profession. it was said of him that he was greatly beloved by all who served under him. he was generous, genial and kind hearted, and strictly just in all his practices and aims. he gave to his queen and country a long life of devoted service. his wife, we are told, was a woman of marked liberality; cheerful and loving, always thoughtful of the wants of others; completely devoid of selfishness. the fourth son, and third soldier of this happy pair, charles george, was born at woolwich in . he was trained at taunton. when about years of age he was sent to the royal military academy at woolwich, to prepare for the army; a profession his father thought most worthy of the gordons. while here at school an incident occurred which served to show that our young hero was no ordinary student. his tutor, with an air of contempt, rebuked him severely for some error or failure in his lessons, and told him sneeringly he would never make a general. this roused the scotch blood of the budding soldier, and in a rage he tore the epaulettes from his shoulders, and threw them at his tutor's feet--another proof of the correctness of the old adage, "never prophesy unless you know." by the time he reached the age of twenty-one, he had become every inch a soldier, and when tested he proved to have all a soldier's qualities--bravery, courage, heroism, patriotism, and fidelity, characteristics of the best soldiers in our army. archibald forbes, writing of him, says "the character of general gordon was unique. as it unfolded in its curiously varied but never contradictory aspects, you are reminded of cromwell, of havelock, of livingstone, and of captain hedley viccars. but gordon's individuality stood out in its incomparable blending of masterfulness and tenderness, of strength and sweetness. his high and noble nature was made more chivalrous by his fervent, deep and real piety. his absolute trust in god guided him serenely through the greatest difficulties. because of that he was not alone in the deepest solitude. he was not depressed in the direst extremity. he had learned the happy art of leaning upon the omnipotent arm." {gordon, the hero: p .jpg} early in a leading newspaper said of him, "general gordon is without doubt the finest captain of irregular forces living." about the same time mr. gladstone said of him, "general gordon is no common man. it is no exaggeration to say he is a hero. it is no exaggeration to say he is a christian hero." mr. w. e. forster also remarked of him, "i know no other man living for whom i have a greater admiration than general gordon. he is utterly unselfish. he is regardless of money. he cares nothing for fame or glory. he cares little for life or death. he is a deeply religious man. the world to come, and god's government over this, are to him the greatest of life's realities. true heroism has been said to be a sacrifice of self for the benefit of others. if this is true, gordon has well won the appellation, "the hero of the soudan." his soldierly qualities were first tested in the crimea, where we find him in and . here for the first time in his military career he was brought face to face with all the horrors of actual war, and here for the first time he saw friend and foe lie locked like brothers in each other's arms. here he got his first baptism of fire; and here he showed the splendid qualities which in after years made him so famous and so beloved. an old soldier who served under him during this terrible campaign says "i shall never forget that remarkable figure and form, which was an inspiration to all who knew him, and saw him on the field of carnage and blood." he was utterly unconcerned in the midst of dangers and death. he would twirl his cane and good humouredly say "now boys, don't fear, i see no danger." on one occasion when engaged in the very thick of a most awful struggle he said, "now my boys, i'm your officer, i lead, you follow," and he walked literally through a shower of lead and iron with as little concern apparently, as if he were walking across his own drawing-room; and he came out of the conflict without a scar. sir e. stanton in his dispatches home, making special reference to our hero, says--"young gordon has attracted the notice of his superiors out here, not only by his activity, but by his special aptitude for war, developing itself amid the trenches before sebastopol, in a personal knowledge of the enemy's movements, such as no officer has displayed. we have sent him frequently right up to the russian entrenchments to find out what new moves they are making." amid all the excitement of war and its dangers he never omitted writing to his mother; an example i hope my readers, if boys, or girls, will studiously copy. he loved his mother with the passion of his great loving heart. soldier lads often forget their mother's influence, their mother's prayers, and their mother's god. writing home to his mother he says "we are giving the redan shells day and night, in order to prevent the russians from repairing it and they repay us by sending amongst us awful missiles of death and destruction, and it requires one to be very nimble to keep out of their way. i have now been thirty-four times, twenty-four hours in the trenches; that is more than a month without any relief whatever, and i assure you it gets very tedious. still one does not mind if any advance is being made." an eye witness of this bloody work in the trenches and the storming of the malakof and the redan, writes:-- "on that terrible th of september, every gun and mortar that our people and our noble allies, the french, could bring to bear upon the enemy's work, was raining death and destruction upon them. the stormers had all got into their places. they consisted of about , men of the old light and nd division; the supports were formed up as closely as possible to them, and all appeared in readiness. history may well say, 'the storming of a fortress is an awful task.' there we stood not a word being spoken; every one seemed to be full of thought; many a courageous heart, that was destined to be still in death in one short hour, was now beating high." "it was about . a.m., and our heavy guns were firing in such a way as i have never heard before. the batteries fired in volleys or salvoes as fast as they could load and fire, the balls passing a few feet above our heads, while the air seemed full of shell. the enemy were not idle; for round shot, shell, grape and musket balls were bounding and whizzing all about us, and earth and stones were rattling about our heads like hail. our poor fellows fell fast, but still our sailors and artillery men stuck to it manfully. we knew well that this could not last long, but many a brave soldier's career was cut short long before we advanced to the attack--strange some of our older hands were smoking and taking not the slightest notice of this 'dance of death.' some men were being carried past dead, and others limping to the rear with mangled limbs, while their life's blood was streaming fast away. we looked at each other with amazement for we were now under a most terrible fire. we knew well it meant death to many of us. several who had gone through the whole campaign shook hands saying, 'this is hot,' 'good bye, old boy,' 'write to the old folks for me if i do not return.' this request was made by many of us. i was close to one of our generals, who stood watch in hand, when suddenly at o'clock mid-day the french drums and bugles sounded the charge, and with a shout, 'vive l'empereur' repeated over and over again by some , men, a shout that was enough to strike terror into the enemy. the french, headed by the zouaves, sprang forward at the malakof like a lot of cats. on they went like a lot of bees, or rather like the dashing of the waves of the sea against a rock. we had a splendid view of their operations, it was grand but terrible; the deafening shouts of the advancing hosts told us they were carrying all before them." "they were now completely enveloped in smoke and fire, but column after column kept advancing, pouring volley after volley into the breasts of the defenders. they (the french) meant to have it, let the cost be what it might. at . up went the proud flag of france, with a shout that drowned for a time the roar of both cannon and musketry. and now came our turn. as soon as the french were seen upon the malakof our stormers sprang forward, led by colonel windham--the old light division consisting of men of the th, about the same number of the th, and about of the nd battalion rifle brigade, and with various detachments of the nd and light divisions, and a number of blue jackets, carrying scaling ladders. our men advanced splendidly, with a ringing british cheer, although the enemy poured a terrible fire of grape, canister and musketry into them, which swept down whole companies at a time. we, the supports, moved forward to back up our comrades. we advanced as quickly as we could until we came to the foremost trench, when we leaped the parapet, then made a rush at the blood stained walls of the redan. we had had a clear run of over yards under that murderous fire of grape, canister and musketry. how any ever lived to pass that yards seemed a miracle; for our poor fellows fell one on the top of another; but nothing could stop us but death. on we went shouting until we reached the redoubt. the fighting inside these works was of the most desperate character, butt and bayonet, foot and fist; the enemy's guns were quickly spiked: this struggle lasted about an hour and a half. it was an awful time, about , of our brave soldiers were slain in this short period." our hero gordon, tells us that on the evening of this th of september-- "i heard most terrific explosions, the earth seemed to be shaken to its very centre;--it was afterwards discovered the enemy's position was no longer tenable, so they had fired some tons of gunpowder, which had blown up all their vast forts and magazines. o! what a night: many of our poor fellows had been nearly buried in the _debris_, and burning mass: the whole of sebastopol was in flames. the russians were leaving it helter-skelter--a complete rout, and a heavy but gloriously-won victory." for his acknowledged ability, his fine heroism, and his true loyalty to his superiors during this most trying campaign, he received the well-earned decoration of the legion of honour from the french government, a mark of distinction very rarely conferred upon so young an officer. "god gives us men, a time like that demands. strong minds, great hearts, true faith and ready hands; men whom the lusts of office cannot kill, men whom the spoils of office cannot buy, men who possess opinions and a will, men who have honour, men who never lie." we must not leave this part of our story without a brief notice of one whose name will live in song and story, when this generation shall have passed away. many noble english ladies bravely went out to nurse the suffering soldiers; but in this noble band was one whose name remains a synonym for kindly sympathy, tenderness and peace--miss florence nightingale. the following lines were written in her praise-- "britain has welcomed home with open hand her gallant soldiers to their native land; but one alone the nation's thanks did shun, though europe rings with all that she hath done; for when will shadow on the wall e'er fail, to picture forth fair florence nightingale: her deeds are blazoned on the scroll of fame, and england well may prize her deathless name." chapter ii. "the greatness of a nation depends upon the men it can breed and rear.--_froude_. the war over and peace duly established, lieutenant gordon (for so he was then) accompanied general sir lintorn simmons to galatz, where, as assistant commissioner, he was engaged in fixing the new frontiers of russia, turkey and roumania. in , when his duties here were finished, he went with the same officer to armenia; there, in the same capacity, he was engaged in laying down the asiatic frontiers of russia and turkey. when this work was completed he returned home and was quartered at chatham, and employed for a time as field work instructor and adjutant. in , now holding the rank of captain, he joined the army in china, and was present at the surrender of pekin; and for his services he was promoted to the rank of major. the burning of the summer palace. "on the eleventh of october," gordon relates, "we were sent down in a hurry to throw up earth works against the city; as the chinese refused to give up the gate we demanded their surrender before we could treat with them. they were also required to give up the prisoners. you will be sorry to hear the treatment they have suffered has been very bad. poor de norman, who was with me in asia, is one of the victims. it appears they were tied so tight by the wrists that the flesh mortified, and they died in the greatest torture. up to the time that elapsed before they arrived at the summer palace, they were well treated, but then the ill- treatment began. the emperor is supposed to have been there at the time. but to go back to the work, the chinese were given until twelve on the th, to give up the gate. we made a lot of batteries, and everything was ready for assault of the wall, which is a battlement, forty feet high, but of inferior masonry; at . p.m., however, the gate was opened, and we took possession; so our work was of no avail. the chinese had then, until the rd, to think over our terms of treaty, and to pay up ten thousand pounds ( , pounds) for each englishman, and five hundred pounds ( pounds) for each native soldier who had died during their captivity. this they did, and the money was paid, and the treaty signed yesterday. i could not witness it, as all officers commanding companies were obliged to remain in camp, owing to the ill-treatment the prisoners experienced at the summer palace. the general ordered this to be destroyed, and stuck up proclamations to say why it was ordered. we accordingly went out, and after pillaging it, burned the whole magnificent palace, and destroyed most valuable property, which could not be replaced for millions of pounds. "this palace" (wrote the author of _our own times_), "covered an area of many miles. the palace of adrian, at tivoli, might have been hidden in one of its courts. gardens, temples, small lodges and pagodas, groves, grottoes, lakes, bridges, terraces, artificial hills, diversified the vast space. all the artistic treasures, all the curiosities, archaeological and other, that chinese wealth and taste, such as it was, could bring together." gordon notes, "this palace, with its surrounding buildings, over two hundred in number, covered an area eight by ten miles in extent." he says, "it makes one's heart burn to see such beauty destroyed; it was as if windsor palace, south kensington museum, and british museum, all in one, were in flames: you can scarcely imagine the beauty and magnificence of the things we were bound to destroy." "these palaces were so large, and we were so pressed for time, that we could not plunder them carefully. quantities of gold ornaments were burned, considered as brass. it was wretchedly demoralizing for an army: everybody was wild for plunder . . . the throne and room were lined with ebony, carved in a wonderful manner. there were huge mirrors of all shapes and sizes, clocks, watches, musical boxes with puppets on them, magnificent china of every description, heaps and heaps of silks of all colours, coral screens, large amounts of treasures, etc. the french have smashed up everything in a most shameful way. it was a scene of utter destruction which passes my description." this was not much in gordon's line. in the following year he made a tour on horseback to the outer wall of china at kalgan, accompanied by lieutenant cardew. a chinese lad of the age of fourteen, who knew a little english, acted as their servant and interpreter, while their personal luggage was conveyed in the chinese carts. in the course of this tour we are told they passed through districts which had never before been visited by any european. at kalgan the great wall was seen, with its parapet about twenty-two feet high, and sixteen feet broad. both sides were solid brick, each being three times the size of our english bricks. gordon writes: "it is wonderful to see the long line of wall stretching over the hills as far as the eye can reach." from kalgan they travelled westwards to taitong; here they saw huge caravans of camels laden with tea going towards russia. here they were forced to have the axle trees of their carts widened, for they had come into a great part of the country where the wheels were set wider than in the provinces whence they came. their carts, therefore, no longer fitted into the deep ruts which had been worn into the terribly bad roads. the main object of their journey was to find out if there was in the inner wall any pass besides the tchatiaou which on that side of the country led from the russian territory to pekin. it was not until they reached taiyuen that they struck the road that led to pekin or tientsin. their first bit of trouble on this somewhat venturesome tour occurred at taiyneu; when the bill was brought for their night's entertainment, they found it was most exorbitant. they saw they were likely to have trouble, so they sent on the carts with luggage and waited at this strange hostelry till they believed they had got well out of the way. then they offered what they believed was a reasonable amount in payment of their bill. it was refused. they then tried to mount their horses but the people at the inn stopped them. major gordon hereupon drew his revolver more for show than for use, for he allowed them to take it from him. he then said, "let us go to the mandarin's house." to this consent was given, and the two wide-awake english officers walked alongside their horses. on the way gordon said to his companion "are you ready to mount?" "yes" he replied. so they mounted quietly, and went on with the people. when they reached the mandarin's, they turned their horses and galloped off after their carts as fast as they could, having paid what they believed a reasonable amount for expenses. the people yelled and rushed after them, but it was too late. some distance from the place where they had spent the night they came upon the pass over the mountains which led down into the country, drained by the great peiho river. "the descent" says gordon, "was terrible, and the cold so intense that raw eggs were frozen as hard as if they had been boiled half an hour." to add to their troubles, the carts they had sent on in front had been attacked by robbers. they, however, with many difficulties managed to reach tientsin in safety; their leave of absence had been exceeded by about fourteen days. in major gordon left for shanghai under the orders of sir charles staveley who had been appointed to the command of the english forces in china. at the very time that england and france were at war with china, a terrible and far reaching rebellion was laying waste whole provinces. an article in our london _daily news_ about this date said, "but for gordon the whole continent of china might have been a scene of utter and hopeless ruin and devastation." at the date he took charge of the "ever victorious army," china was in a state of widespread anarchy and confusion. this rebellion which gordon was here authorized to suppress was called "the tai-ping rebellion." its rise was brought about by a strange mixture of incredulity and fanaticism, caused by some european christian giving away his literature. a village demagogue named hung-tsne-shuen caught the idea, after reading the papers referred to, that he was inspired; that he was god, king, emperor, and that he ought to rule; so, puffed up with pride and insatiable ambition, he began raising an army; and aimed at nothing less than the usurpation of the "dragon throne." some thought him mad; but he gathered about him some , men whom he had influenced to believe in him as the "second celestial brother," and gave out he was a seer of visions, a prophet of vengeance and freedom; a champion of the poor and oppressed; and many were mad enough to believe him, and thus he raised an army which grew in strength until it reached some hundreds of thousands strong; he then proclaimed himself the heavenly king, the emperor of the great place; and then with five wangs or warrior kings, chosen from amongst his kinsmen, he marched through china, devastating the country, and increasing his army in his progress. the most populous, and until now wealthy provinces were soon in his hands. the silk factories were silent; the cities were falling into utter and hopeless desolation: rebellion, war and famine, raged and reigned supreme. gordon made them pause! his marvellous power of organizing and leading men, a power derived from an inflexible, determined, fearless, and deeply religious temperament, influenced the chinese character quickly and powerfully. his very name soon became a terror to the banded brigands and to all evil doers. an englishman in china at the time wrote home and said "the destiny of china is in the hands of major gordon, and if he remains at his post the question will soon be settled, and peace and quiet will be restored to this unfortunate, but sorely tried country." in all the strange and trying experiences of this chinese campaign gordon bore himself with a bravery and courage seldom equalled, we think never surpassed. dr. guthrie once said, "it is very remarkable, and highly creditable to the loyalty and bravery of our british soldiers, that, notwithstanding all the wars in which they have been engaged, no foreign nation to-day flaunts a british flag as a trophy of its victory and of our defeat. nor in the proud pillar raised by the great napoleon in commemoration of his many victories--a pillar made of the cannons taken by him in battles, is there an ounce of metal that belongs to a british gun." the characteristics of the bravest of our british soldiers were pre-eminently displayed in gordon. for-- "he holds no party with unmanly fears, where duty points he confidently steers: faces a thousand dangers at her call, and trusting in his god surmounts them all." his soldierly qualities were very often put to the test in this strange land. hung, the leader of this rebellion, had become so popular and made such marvellous progress that when gordon had organized his ever victorious army, hung had captured nanking, one of the principal cities, and made this his capital; and here, under the very shadow of the chinese metropolis, he established himself in royal state. his followers were held together by the force of his religious tenets; they believed in him as the lord from heaven, who would save the suffering minds and give them a celestial reward. a missionary who was in nanking, rev. j. l. holmes, gives his impressions of this warlike devotee. "at night (he says) we witnessed their worship. it occurred at the beginning of their sabbath, midnight on friday. the place of worship was the chung-wang's private audience room. he was himself seated in the midst of his attendants, no females were present. they first sang, or rather chanted; after which a written prayer was read, then burned by an officer; then they rose and sang again, then separated. the chung-wang sent for me before he left his seat, and asked me if i understood their mode of worship. i replied i had just seen it for the first time. he explained that the tien-wang had been to the celestial world and had seen the great god and obtained a revelation! &c. . . . as the day dawned we started for the palace of the tien-wang. the procession was headed by a number of brilliantly coloured banners, after which followed a troop of armed soldiers; then came the chung-wang in a large sedan, covered with yellow satin and embroidery, and borne by eight coolies. music of a peculiar kind added to the scene, as the curious sightseers lined the streets on either side, who probably never saw such a sight before. reaching the "morning palace," we were presented to the tsau-wang and his son with several others including the tien-wang's two brothers, who were seated in a deep recess over the entrance of which was written "illustrious heavenly door." in another place was "holy heavenly gate," from which a boy of about fourteen made his appearance and took his place with the royal group; then they proceeded with their religious ceremonies again: this time kneeling with their faces to the tien-wang's seat. then they sang in a standing position. a roast pig and the body of a goat were lying with other articles on tables in the outer court, and a fire was kept burning on a stone altar in the front of the tien-wang's seat. afterwards, says the missionary, i was led through a number of rooms and courts to see chung- wang privately. i was brought into one of his private sitting-rooms, where he sat clothed loosely in white silk, with a red kerchief round his head, and a jewel in front. he was seated in an easy chair, and fanned by a pretty slipshod girl. he asked me to a seat beside him and questioned me about a map he had seen with parallel lines running each way, said to have been made by foreigners, asked me to explain what it was. he also showed me a musical-box and a spy-glass, asking many questions. from all i could learn by my visit to this pretender there was nothing in their religion to elevate, but everything to degrade. with them to rob and murder were virtuous deeds. "slay the imps" was their watchword. gordon found in this fanatic a foe of no mean order. but he soon found too that courage and faith in god had done and would still lead to victory. in a letter home he says--"i am afraid you will be much vexed at my having taken the command of the sung-kiang force, and that i am now a mandarin. i have taken the step on consideration. i think that any one who contributes to putting down this rebellion fulfils a human task, and also tends a great deal to open china to civilization. i will not act rashly, and i trust to be able soon to return to england; at the same time i will remember your and my father's wishes, and endeavour to remain as short a time as possible. i can say that if i had not accepted the command i believe the force would have been broken up and the rebellion gone on in its misery for years. i trust this will not now be the case, and that i may soon be able to comfort you on this subject. you must not fret about me, i think i am doing a good service . . . i keep your likeness before me, and can assure you and my father that i will not be rash, and that as soon as i can conveniently, and with due regard to the object i have in view, i will come home." gordon had hardly yet realized the difficulties and dangers which beset him. his troops were undisciplined and largely composed of all nationalities. men bent on plunder, and exceedingly numerous; about , men. gordon's appointment as chief in command of the "ever victorious army" proved to be a wise and good one for china. colonel chesney thus writes:--"if general staveley had made a mistake in the operations he personally conducted the year before, he more than redeemed it by the excellence of his choice of gordon. this strange army was made up of french, germans, americans, spaniards, some of good and some of bad character, but in their chief they had one whose courage they were bound to admire, and whose justice they could not help but admit. the private plundering of vanquished towns and cities allowed under their former chief, disappeared under the eye of a leader whose eye was as keen, as his soul was free from the love of filthy lucre. they, however, learned to respect and love a general in whose kindness, valour, skill, and justice they found cause unhesitatingly to confide; who never spared himself personal exposure when danger was near. in every engagement, and these numbered more than seventy, he was to the front and led in person. his somewhat undisciplined army, had in it many brave men; but even such men were very reluctant at times to face these desperate odds. whenever they showed signs of vacillation he would take one of the men by the arm, and lead him into the very thick of the fight. he always went unarmed even when foremost in the breach. he never saw danger. a shower of bullets was no more to him than a shower of hailstones; he carried one weapon only, and that was a little cane, which won for itself the name of "gordon's magic wand." on one occasion when leading a storming party his men wavered under a most withering fire. gordon coolly turned round and waving his cane, bade his men follow him. the soldiers inspired by his courage, followed with a tremendous rush and shout, and at once grandly carried the position. after the capture of one of the cities, gordon was firm in not allowing them to pillage, sack and burn such places; and for this some of his men showed a spirit of insubordination. his artillery men refused to fall in when ordered; nay more, they threatened to turn upon him their guns and blow him and his officers to pieces. this news was conveyed to him by a written declaration. his keen eye saw through their scheme at a glance, and with that quiet determination which was his peculiar strength, he summoned them into his presence and with a firmness born of courage and faith in god, he declared that unless the ringleader of this movement was given up, one out of every five would be shot! at the same time he stepped to the front and with his own hand seized one of the most suspicious looking of the men, dragged him out, and ordered him to be shot on the spot at once, the order was instantly carried out by an officer. after this he gave them half an hour to reconsider their position at the end of which he found them ready to carry out any order he might give. it transpired afterwards that the man who was shot was the ringleader in this insubordination." when gordon had broken the neck of this far-reaching and disastrous rebellion, and had restored to the emperor of china the principal cities and towns in peace, the london _times_ wrote of him:--"never did a soldier of fortune deport himself with a nicer sense of military honour, with more gallantry against the resisting, with more mercy towards the vanquished, with more disinterested neglect of opportunities of personal advantage, or with more entire devotion to the objects and desires of the government he served, than this officer, who, after all his splendid victories, has just laid down his sword." before leaving china he was offered a very large reward in cash, as it was acknowledged on all hands he had saved the empire more than , , pounds sterling. all money he refused; he, however, asked that some of it might be given to the troops, who had served him on the whole with great loyalty, and this was granted. a gold medal was struck in honour of his marvellous achievements, and this he accepted and brought home; but it was soon missing. he thought more of the starving poor than of any medal; so he sold it, and sent the cash it realized to the lancashire cotton operatives, who were then literally starving. the imperial decree of china conferred upon him the rank of "ti-tu," the very highest honour ever conferred upon a chinese subject. also the "peacock's feather," "the order of the star," and the "yellow jacket." by these he was constituted one of the "emperor's body guard." in a letter home he says, "i shall leave china as poor as i entered it, but with the knowledge that through my weak instrumentality from eighty to one hundred thousand lives have been saved. than this i covet no greater satisfaction." before he left china, as a proof of the estimation in which he was held, a grand illuminated address was presented to him, signed by more than sixty of the leading firms of the empire, and by most of the bankers and merchants of the cities of pekin, shanghai, and of the principal towns throughout china. it read thus:--"honoured sir,--on the eve of your departure to your native country, we, the undersigned, mostly fellow-countrymen of your own, but also representing other nationalities, desire to express to you our earnest wish for a successful voyage and happy return to your friends and the land of your birth. "your career during your stay amongst us has been, so far as we know, without a parallel in the history of foreign nations with china; and we feel that we should be alike wanting towards you and towards ourselves, were we to pass by this opportunity without expressing our appreciation and admiration of the line of conduct which you personally have pursued. in a position of unequalled difficulty, and surrounded by complications of every conceivable nature, you have succeeded in offering to the eyes of the chinese empire, no less by your loyal and thoroughly disinterested line of action than by your conspicuous gallantry and talent for organization and command, the example of a foreign officer, serving the government of this country, with honourable fidelity and undeviating self- respect. {chinese gordon: p .jpg} "once more wishing you a prosperous voyage, and a long career of usefulness and success." signed, &c. there is truth in this as applied to gordon:-- "he strove not for the wealth of fame, from heaven the power that moved him came. and welcome as the mountain air, the voice that bid him do and dare. onward he bore and battled still with a most firm enduring will, his only hope to win the prize laid up for him beyond the skies." the emperor wished the british minister to bring before the notice of her majesty the queen of england his appreciation of the splendid services which gordon had rendered. he hoped that he would be rewarded in england as well as in china for his heroic achievements. a subsequent letter in the _times_ said that prince kung, who was then the regent of china, had waited upon sir frederick bruce, and said to him, "you will be astonished to see me again, but i felt i could not allow you to leave without coming to see you about gordon. we do not know what to do. he will not receive money from us, and we have already given him every honour which it is in the power of the emperor to bestow; but as these are of little value in his eyes, i have brought you this letter, and i ask you to give it to the queen of england that she may bestow on him some reward which would be more valuable in his eyes." sir frederick bruce sent this to london with a letter of his own:--"i enclose translation of a despatch from prince kung, containing the decree published by the emperor, acknowledging the services of gordon and requesting that her majesty's government be pleased to recognise him. gordon well deserves the favours of your majesty for the skill and courage he has shown, his disinterestedness has elevated our national character in the eyes of the chinese. not only has he refused any pecuniary reward, but he has spent more than his pay in contributing to the comforts of the officers who served under him, and in assuaging the distress of the starving population whom he relieved from the yoke of their oppressors." it does not appear that this letter was ever sent to the queen, or noticed by the government, and so the heroic deeds of a man of whom any nation might justly be proud, were forgotten. chapter iii. "we are to relieve the distressed, to put the wanderer into his way, and to share our bread with the hungry, which is but the doing good to others."--seneca. our hero having returned to his native land, and to settle for a little while at the quiet town of gravesend, refused to be lionized, and he begged that no publication of his deeds of daring and devotion in china, should be recorded. his quiet life here as an engineer was not less remarkable, though of a different kind, than life in china had been. here, however, he spent the energies of his spare time, to the services of the poor. at this juncture i was privileged to come in contact with this remarkable man, in the great city of manchester, where for a few months, he was employed on some governmental commission. like his master christ--he went about doing good. my position at this time was an agent, or scripture reader for "the manchester city mission." gordon found his way to the office and saw the chairman of the mission, and from him got permission to accompany one of the missioners round his district. he expressed his desire to go round one of the poorest districts of the city; as it might afford him an opportunity of seeing for himself some of the social blots and scars in our national life; also of giving some practical help to the deserving poor. my district was such an one as would furnish him with the opportunities to satisfy him in that particular, and i was therefore asked to allow col. gordon to accompany me to its squalid scenes, to my ragged school, cottage and open-air services, and to the sick and suffering, of which i had many on my list. this request was gladly complied with; for the first sight of the stranger made me love and trust him. and now the hero of so many battles fought for freedom and liberty, was to witness scenes of warfare of a very different kind. war, it is true, but not where there are garments rolled in blood and victims slain; but war with the powers of darkness, war between good and evil, truth and error, light and darkness. we went together into the lowest slums of the district; walked arm in arm over the ground where misery tells its sad and awful tale, where poverty shelters its shivering frame, and where blasphemy howls its curse. we found out haunts of vice and sin, terrible in their character, and distressing in their consequences. i found he had not hitherto been accustomed to this kind of mission. once on my entering a den of dangerous characters and lecturing them on their sinful course and warning them in unmistakable words of the consequences, he afterwards said: "i could not have found courage of the kind you show in this work; yet i never was considered lacking in courage on the field of battle. when in the crimea, i was sent frequently and went on hands and knees through the fall of shells and the whizz of bullets right up to the russian walls to watch their movements, and i never felt afraid; i confess i need courage to warn men of sin and its dangerous consequences." he met me, for a time almost daily, well supplied with tracts, which i noticed he used as a text for a few words of advice, or comfort, or warning as the case required, but he invariably left a silver coin between the leaves; this i think was a proof he was sincere in his efforts to do good. along old millgate, and around the cathedral, at that time, were numerous courts and alleys, obscure, often filthy, dark and dangerous; down or up these he accompanied me; up old rickety staircases, into old crumbling ruins of garrets he followed without hesitation. {c. g. gordon: p .jpg} at the bedside of the dying prodigal or prostitute he would sit with intense interest, pointing them to him who casts out none. in our house to house visitation he would sit down and read of the saviour's love, making special reference to those that are poor in this world, assuring them it was for the outcast and the forsaken, and the lost, that jesus came to die. he would kneel down for prayer by a broken chair or the corner of a slop-stone, or by the wash-tub, and with the simplicity of a child, address in tender and touching petition, the great father of all in heaven, while tears chased each other down his sun-tanned face; his great soul going out with his prayer for heaven's blessing on the helpless poor. his sympathy was tender as a child's, and his beneficence as liberal as the best of christian's can be. he often came and took tea with me in my quiet home, where we had many very interesting interviews, and where we conversed on subjects varied but mostly religious; he rarely referred to his military achievements; when he did so it was with the greatest self abnegation and humility. he would say, "no honour belongs to me, i am only the instrument god uses to accomplish his purpose." i introduced him to my ragged school; this to him was a most interesting scene of work, and he volunteered to give us some of his time and service; and to see him with or of these ragged lads about him was to say the least, full of interest. he, however, had the happy art of getting at their heart at once; by incidents, stories and experiences, which compelled attention and confidence. in a very short time he won the esteem and the love of every lad in the school. to some of these lads he became specially attached, and for some time after he left manchester he kept up with me, and with several of the lads, also with some of my colleagues on the mission--a very interesting correspondence. happily, i have preserved a good number of these letters, and they show the spirit and motive of that noble soul, more than any poor words of mine can do. letter. gravesend, _june th_, _ _. "my dear mr. wardle.--my long silence has not been because i had forgot you and your kind reception of me; but because secular work has so completely taken up my time of late. i was glad to hear of you . . . . and of the dark lane (ragged school) lads. i often wish i could go down with you and see them; i often think of them. i wish i could help them, but it is only by prayer that i can now benefit them. i loved them very much, and look forward to the time when our weary march, dogged by our great foe will be ended; and we meet for ever in our heavenly home. i remember them all, jones, carr, &c., &c., and i often think of their poor young faces which must soon get deepened into wrinkles with sorrow and care. thank god we go like israel of old, after a new home; we cannot find our rest here! day by day we are, little as we may think it, a day's march nearer, till someday we shall perhaps unexpectedly reach it." good bye, my dear mr. wardle, yours sincerely, c. h. gordon. "kind regards to _my_ lads." gordon was deeply moved by the sights of poverty and distress around him; this was shown by the dress and appearance of the factory hands. he was especially struck by the clatter of the clogs--the lancashire cotton operative's foot gear. to his sister he wrote:-- manchester, _september st_, _ _. "your heart would bleed to see the poor people, though they say there is no distress such as there was some time ago; they are indeed like sheep having no shepherd, but, thank god, though they look forlorn, they have a watchful and pitying eye upon them. it does so painfully affect me, and i do trust will make me think less of self, and more of these poor people. little idea have the rich of other countries of the scenes in these parts. it does so make me long for that great day when he will come and put all things straight. how long, o lord, how long! i have but little time to write by this post, so will say no more about that. i have less confidence in the flesh than ever, thank god, though it is a painful struggle and makes one long for the time when, this our earthly tabernacle, shall be dissolved; but may his will be done. if there is sin and misery, there is one who over-rules all things for good; we must be patient. the poor scuttlers here, male and female, fill me with sorrow. they wear wooden clogs, a sort of sabot, and make such a noise. good-bye, and may god manifest himself in all his power to all of you, and make you to rejoice with joy unspeakable. if we think of it, the only thing which makes the religion of our lord jesus christ differ from that of every other religion, or profession, is this very indwelling of god the holy ghost in our bodies; we can do nothing good; christ says, "without me, ye can do nothing." you are dead in trespasses and sins, you are corpses, and must have life put in you, and that life is god himself, who dwells in us, and shows us the things of christ." c. g. gordon. letter. no. . "my dear mr. wardle,--i had a nice letter the other day from one of my lads, carr, whom i hope you will look after, as well as all the rest. i have often thought of you all. keep the "tongue of fire," { } before you, and you will have great joy. i have thought much lately on the subject of god dwelling in us, and speaking through us. we are only witnesses, not judges; the gospel is:--god loves you: not--do you love god. the one is a witness, the other an inquiry which is not to be made by man of his fellow man, for it is impossible for man to love god unless he first feels and knows that god loves him. our fault is, want of charity one towards another. we do not go down to the poor lost sinner, but ask him to do what of himself he cannot do, viz., come up to us. what ought to be always floating in our proud hearts is:--'who made thee to differ.' kind regards to all my friends. never forgotten, or to be forgotten. yours truly, c. g. gordon." letter. no. . "my dear mr. wardle, i send you 'jukes on genesis' and on the 'four gospels.' i have to send you his work on 'the offerings in leviticus,' and also macintosh's 'genesis and exodus.' i am sure you will enjoy them. i cut genesis up so as to lend it about; i hope you won't mind my having used them, and marked some papers. i hope d.v. to see you monday evening, and with kind regards. believe me yours sincerely in christ, c. g. gordon." gordon was intensely and deeply religious; it was in him certainly "as a well of water springing up into everlasting life." he could talk of nothing else, in whatever company, it was the same theme--"christ in you the hope of glory." a favourite text of his was . john, chap. , ver. --"whosoever shall confess that jesus is the son of god, god dwelleth in him, and he in god." this he took as a text for a little homily which he printed and circulated by thousands. after the above head-line, in special type, it ran thus:--"reader! do you confess that jesus is the son of god? do you believe in your heart that jesus is the son of god? if you do then god dwells in you to-day. whatever you are, whatever you have been, or have done,--and if you ask him, 'o lord, i believe that jesus is the son of god; show me, for his sake, that thou livest in me.' he will make you feel his presence in your hearts, and will make you feel perfectly happy, which you cannot be in any other way. many believe sincerely that jesus is the son of god, but are not happy, because they do not believe that which god tells them--that he lives in them both in body and soul, transforming the whole man into the likeness of jesus christ, if they confess jesus to be his son. do you believe this statement? if you do, yet do not feel god's presence, ask him to show himself to you, and he will surely do so." after this homily, on the same tract, were the following passages of scripture:-- luke, chap. , v. . "if ye then being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children; how much more shall your heavenly father give the holy spirit to them that ask." rom., chap. , v. . "if thou shall confess with thy mouth the lord jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that god hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved." i. cor., chap. , v. . "know ye not that ye are the temple of god, and that the spirit of god dwelleth in you." i. cor., chap. , v. . "know ye not that your body is the temple of the holy ghost which is in you, which ye have of god, and ye are not your own." ii. cor., chap. , v. . "ye are the temple of the living god; as god hath said, i will dwell in them, and walk in them; and i will be their god, and they shall be my people." the tone and spirit of this tract, is the kernel, if i may say so, of his deepest religious convictions. he gave me a number of new testaments for distribution, as he did also to one or two others of our missioners. the following letter accompanies the parcel:-- "my dear mr. wardle,--i have sent thirty testaments for you and thirty for mr. fielden. will you kindly oblige by marking in each the following passages, viz.:-- matt. chap. , v. , . "come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and i will give you rest." "take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for i am meek and lowly in heart; and ye shall find rest unto your souls." gal. ch. , v., ., . "now the works of the flesh are manifest, which are these: adultery, fornication, uncleanliness, lasciviousness, idolatry, witchcraft, hatred, variance, emulations, wrath, strife, seditions, heresies, . envyings, murders, drunkenness, revellings, and such like; of the which i tell you before, as i have also told you in time past, that they which do such things shall not inherit the kingdom of god." . but the fruit of the spirit is love, joy, peace, long suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, . meekness, temperance; against such there is no law. . and they that are christ's have crucified the flesh with the affections and lusts. if we live in the spirit, let us walk in the spirit." also i john ch. , v. . "whosoever shall confess, etc." he also published a little work entitled "christ and his members; or the in-dwelling of god, the root of faith in christ." one or two quotations may be sufficient to show the nature or scope of the work, a copy now lies before me. "belief or faith in jesus being the son of god, is the distinguishing spiritual mark of the members of christ's body; it is a fruit which springs from a root, or source, from which it is sustained, and increased. this root is the indwelling of god the holy ghost in the soul. this indwelling gives faith or belief in the fact that even as the sun gives light, or the fire gives warmth, and as there can be no warmth without fire, and no light without the sun, neither can there be any belief in jesus, without the indwelling of god in the soul." he wrote me from liverpool as follows: "my dear mr. wardle, do not forget to take the testaments on tuesday night. i always carry some with me, and always regret if i am taken by surprise, and have not any. read and delight in "the tongue of fire," especially the first four or five chapters. if a man would be the instrument of winning souls to his lord, it is utterly impossible for him to do so except through and by the holy ghost. he must be loving the praise of god, more than that of man. he must be humble, mean spirited it is called by many; even sometimes by his friends: and he can only be mean spirited by living near god. let a man live distant from god, who is light, and he will not think he is so bad, but will think himself a little better than others, but let him live near god, and as he lives near him he will feel himself worse than the worst; such is the power of the glorious light . . . . goodbye; kind regards to all. yours sincerely, c. g. gordon." another letter from gravesend. nov. , . "my dear mr. wardle, i thank you for your kind note. i send you leaflets, kindly give them to the boys and girls of buxton. the servant forgot to pay the carriage, so i send a small sum which i hope will cover it. i hear now and then of the dark lane ragged school, from mr. james johnson, who kindly writes now and then. i will write (d.v.) again shortly. kind regards. yours sincerely c. g. gordon." again he writes from gravesend. "my dear mr. wardle, i hope you have not forgotten me, for i have not done so to you, but i am sure you are very busy, and hard worked . . . . will you thank fielden for his kind note and remember me to his wife and brother. tell him i was very glad to hear of two of my boys, english and hogg. i often would like to look in and see you and the lads at _dark lane_, { } and all my poor old sick folk i used to visit. remember me to them all. i do not see my way to come down yet awhile, for we have all our leave stopped. excuse me for i have my hands full of work. believe me, my dear mr. wardle. yours sincerely c. g. gordon." chapter iv. "in the love of a brave and faithful man, there is always a strain of maternal tenderness; he gives out again those beams of protecting fondness, which were shed on him as he lay upon his mother's knee."--geo. elliott. a son of one of our missionaries (j. johnson) says of gordon "he was one of the most unassuming and gentle men i ever met; and i well remember his saintly conversation, as he sat at tea with us. i also remember, (though only a youth) being struck with his humility, especially for one of his rank and profession. he generally had on a well worn greyish overcoat, the side pockets of which gaped somewhat with constant usage for into them he would cram a large number of tracts and sally forth in company with me or another of the missionaries, or as sometimes happened he went alone, drop a tract here or there and speak a seasonable word. he spoke to me as a youth, as some of our saintly old pastors used to do to the children of the penniless where they stayed. he wrote me occasionally. a specimen i herewith append." letter to mr. johnson, junr.: "my dear j. . . . since we had a few words together you have not been out of my mind for any length of time together, and i was very glad to hear of you to-day from your father. god acts in mysterious ways and he gave me comfort concerning you on that evening. trust him with all thine heart. he says (he who cannot lie) he lives in you if you believe that jesus is the son of god. his word is truth whatever may be our feelings, which change as the clouds. you are my dear friend, saved not on account of your feelings, but because our blessed lord loved you unto death, and has washed you in his own blood . . . . i will not write more than express my hope that he who has begun a good work may perfect it. yea he surely will, for he says he will perfect that which concerneth us--make you useful in his service. may he strengthen you to fight the good fight of faith, and give you that crown of glory which fadeth not away; i am very sure he will. may his will be done on this poor sorrowing world, for the longer we live the more fleeting are its glories. good-bye, my dear young friend. believe me yours sincerely c. g. gordon." also a further letter to mr. johnson. this was written during my illness and leave of absence from duty-- "my dear mr. johnson, i have received your letter with many thanks. i am so much obliged for your letting me know of my lads, and have written to them a few lines. i wish sometimes i was with you. i like your quiet earnestness; there is little of that here, and i like the work; i have also said a few words to your son; the holy ghost is the teacher for him, and will not leave his work till he is happy. i hope mr. wardle is improving in health. "and he shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver." silver is spoilt if heated too much, therefore the refiner sits watching; until it is purified when the refiner sees his image reflected in its surface; so with us, our lord will see that we are not too much heated, only just enough to reflect his image. will you thank mr. fielden for his kind letter, i quite feel for his trials in that district, but he has a fellow helper and worker in his kind lord who feels for him and will support him through all. give my kind regard to spence, your wife and son, and to all my friends. and believe me my dear mr. johnson, yours sincerely, c. g. gordon." mr. johnson writes:-- "one evening after i had been observing his patient endurance and perseverance with one of the reckless, insolent lads as we left the school, i, in a quiet pleasant way remarked "i fear colonel, your christian work in dark lane ragged school will never get the fame and applause from this world that your military achievements in china have lately secured for you." "my dear sir," he replied "if i can but be the means in the hands of god of leading any of these precious sons to jesus, i must place that amongst the most glorious trophies of my life, and to hear the master at last say 'inasmuch as ye have done it to one of the least of these, ye have done it unto me,' will be to me a resplendent undying glory when so many of earth's fleeting honours have tarnished." "it is impossible (says lord blatchford about general gordon) to imagine a man more completely in the presence of god, or more absolutely careless of his own distinction, comfort, wealth or life. a man unreservedly devoted to the cause of the oppressed. one bows before him as before a man of a superior order of things." mr. boulger says, "there will never be another gordon." sir william butler said of him, "he was unselfish as sydney; of courage, dauntless as wolfe; of honour, stainless as outram; of sympathy, wide-reaching as drummond; of honesty, straightforward as napier; of faith, as steadfast as moore." we believe gordon answered to all these encomiums and well deserved them. edgmont hake, writing of him says:--"he lived wholly for others; his home at gravesend was school, hospital, church, and almshouse all in one. his work more like that of a home missionary than of a military officer. the troubles of all interested him alike, but he had a warm corner in his heart for lads." this will be seen from letters produced. many of the lads he rescued from the slums and gutters; he cleaned them, clothed them, fed them, and gave them shelter and home, sometimes for weeks and even longer. he taught in the evenings lessons suitable to their conditions; not forgetting the moral and spiritual side of his work. and he did this work without fee or reward, and he did it with all his heart. he was as enthusiastic about this duty as he was about his military duties. he called these lads "_his kings_." leigh hunt's ideal of a king describes very closely gordon's ideal:-- "'tis not the wealth that makes a king nor the purple colouring, nor a brow that's bound with gold, nor gate on mighty hinges rolled; that king is he who void of fear, can look abroad with bosom clear, who can tread ambition down, nor be swayed by smile nor frown, nor for all the treasure cares, that mine conceals or harvest wears, or that golden sands deliver, bosomed on a glassy river, safe with wisdom for his crown, he looks on all things calmly down, he has no fear of earthly thing, this is it that makes a king, and all of us who e'er we be may carve us out such royalty." on one occasion a lad in the employ of a gravesend tradesman was discovered to have been pilfering on a somewhat serious scale. when the fact was proved beyond question, the master declared he would have the boy punished by imprisonment. the mother of the boy, hearing of this sad affair, was almost broken-hearted, and at her wit's end. someone who had heard of gordon's love for lads, also his intense desire to help all in trouble, suggested that she should see him and explain her case. so, with all a mother's earnestness, she went at once to gordon and told him the whole story, and begged with tears for his sympathy and help. after hearing the story his heart was touched, he could not refuse a mother's appeal. when a mother pleads, there is power and pathos difficult for any to withstand, much less gordon. so he went to the lad's late employer, and after considerable argument, the master undertook not to prosecute, but only on condition that gordon would personally undertake to look after the lad himself, for one year at least. this gordon promised, and he took the boy to his own home, sent him to a good school at his own expense for the year; then he got him a good situation on board one of her majesty's vessels. that lad became a man of honour and respectability, secured good situations, won for himself a good character, and the mother and the sailor boy in their heart often blessed gordon, who saved the boy from prison, ruin and disgrace, and the mother from a broken heart. his rescue work amongst boys was work he loved supremely, in it he found his highest joys. his pleasures were not secured where many seek them, viz., at the theatre, at the gambling-house, at the racecourse, at the public-house, or in accumulating wealth, or in winning renown and glory--these were nothing to gordon. to save a fallen lad, was to him the highest gratification; in this work he was very successful. many a rescued lad was he able to restore to his home and to society, and to the world. for many of these lads he was able to secure situations on board ship. to show his interest in them when away he had a large map on his study wall, in this map were pins in very many places. these, he told a visitor, showed the position of the ships on which his lads were located; and he moved the pins as the ships moved and prayed for each boy from day to day. the workhouse and the infirmary were places he used to visit, and his visits were remembered by the inmates, as all the fruits and flowers he could grow were given to these places and to the sick and poor whom he visited. very often the dying sent for him in preference to a clergyman, and he was, if at home, always ready; no matter what the weather or what the distance. his works were essentially works of charity, and these were not done to be seen of men. he was one of the humblest men i ever met. he would not occupy the chair at a meeting or even go on to the platform. once i remember he addressed a gathering after tea of those who had been rescued and who were likely to be useful to others, but he would not be lionised or praised. he would say, "no; i am but the instrument: the praise belongs to god." his spirit was the fruitful cause of all the work he did. "give me that lowest place, not that i dare ask for that lowest place. but thou hast died that i might share thy glory by thy side. give me that lowest place, or if for me that lowest place too high make one more low, where i may sit and see my god; and love thee so." he recognised "that pure religion and undefiled before god the father is this, to visit the fatherless, and the widows in their affliction, and to keep unspotted from the world." this kindled his enthusiasm, influenced his chivalrous character, and we think had largely to do with his success. to know him was to know a christian, a christlike man--god's man. with job (ch. , verses , , etc.) he could say truly-- "when the ear heard me, then it blessed me; when the eye saw me, it gave witness to me. because i delivered the poor that cried and the fatherless, and him that had none to help him. the blessing of him that was ready to perish came upon me: and i caused the widow's heart to sing for joy. i was eyes to the blind and feet was i to the lame. i was a father to the poor, and the cause which i knew not i searched out." he could truly say "i live for those that love me: for those that know me true; for the heaven that smiles above me and waits my coming too. for the cause that needs assistance, for the wrong that needs resistance. for the future in the distance, and for the good that i can do." upon his removal from gravesend in a local newspaper writing of his removal, and deploring his loss, said--"our readers will hear with regret of the departure of colonel gordon from the town, in which he has resided for six years; gaining a name for the most exquisite charity that will long be remembered. nor will he be less missed than remembered, for in the lowest walks of life he has been so unwearied in well-doing that his departure will be felt as a terrible calamity. his charity was essential charity, having its root in deep philanthropic feeling and goodness, and always shunning the light of publicity." many were the friends who grieved over his departure from gravesend, for they ne'er would look upon his like again. chapter v. "if a man do not erect in this age his own tomb e'er he dies, he shall live no longer in monuments than the bell rings and his widow weeps."--shakespeare. a new chapter now opens in our story of gordon. sir samuel baker had resigned the honoured position of governor general of the soudan. gordon was selected as the man who, of all others, was most suitable for such an appointment. our government acquiesced in the khedive's offer of this post to gordon, so he accepted the responsible position. the khedive offered him, it is stated, a salary , pounds per annum; this, however, he refused to accept. he said "your majesty i cannot accept it, as i should look upon it as the life's blood wrung out of those poor people over whom you wish me to rule." "name your own terms then," said the khedive. "well," replied gordon, " , pounds per annum i think will keep body and soul together, what should i require more than this for." about the close of the year he left his country and loved ones behind him, for that lone sad land, with its ancient history. we think gordon played such a part that his name will be honourably associated with egypt, and remembered from generation to generation. i am indebted to the author of _gordon in central africa_ for the following abstract of the khedive's final instructions to col. gordon, dated feb. th, . "the province which colonel gordon has undertaken to organise and to govern is but little known. up to the last few years, it had been in the hands of adventurers who had thought of nothing but their own lawless gains, and who had traded in ivory and slaves. they established factories and governed them with armed men. the neighbouring tribes were forced to traffic with them whether they liked it or not. the egyptian government, in the hope of putting an end to this inhuman trade had taken the factories into their own hands, paying the owners an indemnification. some of these men, nevertheless, had been still allowed to carry on trade in the district, under a promise that they would not deal in slaves. they had been placed under the control of the governor of the soudan. his authority, however, had scarcely been able to make itself felt in these remote countries. the khedive had resolved therefore to form them into a separate government, and to claim as a monopoly of the state, the whole of the trade with the outside world. there was no other way of putting an end to the slave trade which at present was carried on by force of arms in defiance of law. when once brigandage had become a thing of the past, and when once a breach had been made in the lawless customs of long ages, then trade might be made free to all. if the men who had been in the pay of adventurers were willing to enter the service of the government, col. gordon was to make all the use of them he could. if on the other hand they attempted to follow their old course of life, whether openly or secretly, he was to put in force against them to the utmost severity of martial law. such men as these must find in the governor neither indulgence, nor mercy. the lesson must be made clear even in those remote parts that a mere difference of colour does not turn men into wares, and that life and liberty are sacred things." another object of the new governor should be to establish a line of posts through all his provinces, so that from one end to the other they might be brought into direct communication with khartoum. those posts should follow, as far as was possible, the line of the nile; but for a distance of seventy miles the navigation of that river was hindered by rapids. he was to search out the best way of overcoming this hindrance, and to make a report thereon to the khedive. in dealing with the _chieftains_ of the tribes which dwelt on the shores of the lakes, the governor was above all to try to win their confidence. he must respect their territory, and conciliate them by presents, and whatever influence he gains over them, he must use in the endeavour to persuade them to put an end to the wars, which they so often make on each other in the hope of carrying off slaves. much tact would be needed, for should he succeed in stopping the slave trade, while wars were still waged among the chiefs, it might well come to pass that, for want of a market, the prisoners would, in such a case, be slaughtered. should he find it needful to exercise a real control over any of these tribes, it will be better to leave to the chieftains the direct government. their obedience must be secured by making them dread his power. he made the journey to khartoum without any mishap or serious difficulty, reaching there in may, , and was installed in office on the fifth. a royal salute from the government house guns was fired in honour of this event; the new governor-general was, of course, expected to make a speech, after the order of his predecessors. but all he said was, "with the help of god i will hold the balance level." this was received with the greatest enthusiasm, for it evidently pleased the people more than if he had addressed them for an hour. his attention was soon directed towards the poverty-stricken and helpless people all around him. he caused special enquiries to be made; then he began to distribute his gifts of charity to all who he believed were really in need; and in three days he had given away one thousand pounds of his first year's salary. he had not been long in the soudan before he realized the tremendous responsibilities he had assumed; and with all his strength of character, and his trust in his almighty, ever-present friend, it is not to be wondered at that when alone in the trackless desert, with the results of ages of wrong-doing before him, this man of heroic action and indomitable spirit sometimes gave way to depression and murmuring; although this was exceedingly rare. if we remember what he had already done and suffered for down-trodden humanity. and that now he was doing heroic work for the true hero's wages--the love of christ, and the good of his fellow-men. he was labouring not for himself, but as the hand of god in providence, in the faith that his work was of god's own appointing. the wonder is that in the face of perils so dangerous, work so difficult, and sufferings so intense, that his spirit was not completely crushed and broken. we must bear in mind, his work there was to secure peace to a country that appeared to be bent on war; to suppress slavery amongst a people to whom it was a second nature, and to whom the trade in human flesh was life, and honour, and fortune. to make and discipline an army out of the rawest recruits ever put in the field, to develop and grow a flourishing trade, and to obtain a fair revenue, amid the wildest anarchy in the world; the immensity of the undertaking, the infinity of detail involved in a single step toward this end, the countless odds to be faced; the many pests, the deadly climate, the nightly and daily alternations of overpowering heat, and of bitter cold, to be endured and overcome; the environment of bestial savagery, and ruthless fanaticism;--all these contributed to make the achievement unique in human history. he was face to face with evil in its worst form, and saw it in all its appalling effects upon the nation and its people. he seemed to have everything against him, and to be utterly alone. there stood in front of him the grim ruined land. he faced it, however, as a saint and soldier should do; he stood for right, truth, and for god. {gordon on his favourite camel: p .jpg} "he would dare to do right. dare to be true he had a work that no other could do; he would do it so wisely, so bravely, so well, that angels might hasten the story to tell." after some time he writes:-- "how the khedive is towards me i don't know, but thank god he prevents me caring for any one's favour or disfavour. i honestly say i do not know anyone who would endure the exile and worries of my position out here. some might fear if they were dismissed, that the world would talk. thank god! i am screened from that fear. i know that i have done my best, as far as my intellect would allow me, for the khedive, and have tried to be just to all." on contemplating retirement, he writes:-- "now imagine what i lose by coming back, if god so wills it; a life in a tent, with a cold humid air at night, to which if, from the heat of the tent you expose yourself, you will suffer for it, either in liver or elsewhere. the most ordinary fare. _most_ ordinary i can assure you; no vegetables, dry biscuits, a few bits of broiled meat, and some dry macaroni, boiled in water and sugar. i forgot some soup; up at dawn and to bed between eight and nine p.m. no books but one, and that not often read for long, for i cannot sit down for a study of those mysteries. all day long, worrying about writing orders, to be obeyed by others in the degree as they are near or distant from me: obliged to think of the veriest trifle, even to the knocking off the white ants from the stores, etc.--that is one's life; and, speaking materially, for what gain? at the end of two years, say , pounds. at the end of three say , pounds at the outside. the gain to be called 'his excellency,' and this money. yet his poor 'excellency' has to slave more than any individual; to pull ropes, to mend this; make a cover to that (just finished a capital cover to the duck gun). i often say, 'drop the excellency, and do this instead.'" again he writes:-- "this country would soon cure a man of his ambition, i think, and make him content with his lot. the intense heat, and other stagnation except you have some disagreeable incident, would tame the most enthusiastic; a thin, miserable tent under which you sit, with the perspiration pouring off you. a month of this life, and you would be dissatisfied with your lot." gordon had kept up some very interesting correspondence with an old friend in china; an old officer in gordon's "ever victorious army," li hung chang. while gordon is feeling unwell, and disposed to send his resignation to the khedive--he writes in his journal:-- july st, . "i shall (d.v.) leave for cairo in ten days, and i hope to see you soon; but i may have to go to johannis before i go to cairo. i am a wreck, like the portion of the 'victory' towed into gibraltar after trafalgar; but god has enabled me, or rather has used me, to do what i wished to do--that is, break down the slave trade. "those that honour me i will honour." may i be ground to dust, if he will glorify himself in me; but give me a humble heart, for then he dwells there in comfort. i wrote you a letter about my illness and tore it up. thank god, i am pretty well now, but i have passed the grave once lately, and never thought to see khartoum. the new khedive is more civil, but i no longer distress myself with such things. god is the sole ruler, and i try to walk sincerely before him." the letter from li hung chang was to him a source of great satisfaction and pleasure, as it showed his example had affected for good this eastern ambassador, who visited this country only a very few years ago. the letter ran thus:-- tientsin, _march nd_, _ _. "to his excellency colonel c. g. gordon, khartoum, egypt. "dear sir.--i am instructed by his excellency the grand secretary, li, to answer your esteemed favour, dated the th october, , from khartoum, which was duly received. i am right glad to hear from you. it is now fourteen years since we parted from each other. although i have not written to you, i often speak of you, and remember you with very great interest. the benefit you have conferred on china does not appear with your person, but is felt throughout the regions in which you played so important and active a part. all those people bless you for the blessings of peace and prosperity which they now enjoy. your achievements in egypt are well known throughout the civilized world. i see often in the papers of your noble works on the upper nile. you are a man of ample resources, with which you suit yourself to any emergency. my hope is that you may long be spared to improve the conditions of the people amongst whom your lot is cast. i am striving hard to advance my people to a higher state of development, and to unite both this and all other nations within the 'four seas' under one common brotherhood. i wish you all manner of happiness and prosperity. with my highest regards, i remain, yours truly, li hung chang." in all, and through all these various trying vicissitudes he remained true to his innate religious convictions, and looked upon it all as the filling in of a plan, which was divine. his hours for prayer were maintained with as great a regularity as were those of another eastern official servant, daniel, who "three times a day kneeled on his knees and prayed and gave thanks to god." gordon, when at prayer, placed outside his tent a white handkerchief, this was the sign the governor was at his devotions, and no servant or messenger must disturb him. he kept closely in touch with god, so to speak. his outer life might be ruffled by storms and tempests, but within he had the perfect peace. while gordon was hoping to get away from the trying climate and yet more trying circumstances around him, a message (not unexpected) reached him, giving him instructions to proceed to abyssinia, and see if he could settle the dispute or misunderstanding that had arisen between johannis the king and the khedive. he proceeded on that very risky mission as he states in his letters; the journey was "indescribable in its solitary grandeur. these interminable deserts, and arid mountain passes fill the heart with far different thoughts than civilized lands do." with few attendants, he writes:--"we are still slowly crawling over the world's crust. reaching the dominions of the king of abyssinia, we camped near ras alonla, and the priests used to gather at a.m. in knots of two and three and chant for an hour in a wild melodious manner the psalms of david. awakened at this unearthly hour no one could help being impressed. some of them had children who chanted." again he writes:--"we have just passed a famous convent. the great high priest, who only comes out to meet the king, and who is supposed to be the king's right hand in religious questions, came out to meet us. i had some splendid silk brocade, which i gave him. he held a gold cross in his hand, and spoke of the love of christ. he seemed to be a deeply religious man." father soho says of abyssinia:-- "no country in the world is so full of churches, monasteries, and ecclesiastics, as abyssinia. it is hardly possible to sing in one church, or monastery, without being heard in another, and perhaps by several. they sing the psalms of david, of which they have a very exact translation in their own language. they begin their concert by stamping their feet on the ground, and playing gently on their instruments; but when have become warm by degrees, they leave off drumming, and fall to leaping, dancing, shouting and clapping hands, till their is neither tune nor pause, but rather a religious riot. for this manner of religious worship, they quote the psalm--"o clap your hands, all ye nations." gordon says, "i could not but like this poor simple-minded peasantry." again he writes:-- "we are about a days march from the river taczzi, which joins the nile at berber. nearing the palace, if so i may call it, i was met by the king's body guard. i was of course wearing the crest and field marshal's uniform; the soldiers were sitting on their heels and never got up. passing through them i found my mule so tired that i got down and walked. on arrival at the palace, i was admitted to the king, who sat upon a raised dais, with the itage, or chief priest on the ground at his left hand. then guns were fired, and the king said, "that is in your honour, and you can retire," which i did, to see him again shortly. again gordon visited the royal personage, and was granted permission to present his case, but gordon considered himself unduly humbled as he was ordered to stand afar off; a stool at length was placed for him to sit upon. this humble position gordon would at other times have accepted and tolerated, but not here and now; he must show his dignity as the representative of a foreign, powerful monarch; he seized the stool and carried it up to near where the king sat, and placed it by his side, saying, "though in your hands i may be a prisoner, i am a man as much as you are, and can only meet you as an equal." his sable majesty was greatly annoyed at gordon's audacious conduct, and remarking said, "gordon pasha don't you know i am the king, and could kill you if i wished." "i am perfectly aware of that," said gordon, "do so at once if it is your royal pleasure, i am ready." "what," said the king, "ready to be killed?" "certainly," said gordon, "i am always ready to die, and so far from fearing you putting me to death, you would confer a favour on me by so doing, for you would be doing for me that which i am precluded by my religious convictions from doing for myself. you would relieve me from all the troubles the future may have in store for me." "then my power has no terror for you, gordon!" "none whatever," he replied. so gordon proved more than a match for this half-civilized abyssinian king. his visit, however, could not be considered successful as his majesty was unreasonable in all his demands, and so put out of the power of gordon to reach any settlement. so he left the king without effecting what he came to do. how to get away now was to him a source of anxiety. as he surmised, they were not likely to allow him to carry back the valuables he had in his possession. it required all his tact and wit and discretion in this perilous position. he, however, at the cost of about , pounds in bribes and gifts, managed to get away. then he had to find his way back alone. this was a severe ordeal. over mountains covered with snow, and through defiles of rocky places, now meeting with wild hordes of the dog-faced baboons, then with the uncivilized tribes of the human species none the less dangerous. he, however, by the care of an ever watchful providence, had escaped serious harm and reached khartoum in safety." chapter vi. "there is no death, what seems so is transition. this life of mortal breath is but the suburb of the life elysian, whose portals we call death."--longfellow. gordon had felt for some time uneasy in his position, as the under officials looked upon him as a religious fanatic, and too strict to govern; they tried to annoy him, and they succeeded: so he sent in his resignation to the khedive, and as soon as he could conveniently, he turned his face homeward. first of course he visited the khedive, and he received from him a princely welcome, being addressed by him in these words: "i am glad to see you gordon pasha again amongst us, and have great pleasure in once more personally acknowledging the loyalty with which you always served my country, and my government. i should very much like you to remain in my service, but if you must retire from us, as you say you must, then i am reluctantly compelled to accept your resignation. i regret, my dear gordon, to lose so valued a counsellor and friend, and the hearty co-operation of so useful a servant: and in parting from you, i desire to express my sincere thanks to you; assuring you that my remembrance of you and of your services to this country will never be forgotten." gordon was greatly in need of the rest he now seemed to have secured by his resignation. his over sensitive nature could not have borne up much longer; a frame of iron must have gone under in such circumstances; for on his own individual shoulders he carried each man's burden, causing him days of anxiety and nights of unrest. at alexandria he was examined by dr. mackie the surgeon to the british consulate, who certified that he was "suffering from symptoms of nervous exhaustion. i have recommended him (the dr. adds) to retire for several months for complete rest, and quiet--and that he may be able to enjoy fresh and wholesome food, as i consider much of this illness is the result of continued bodily fatigue, anxiety and indigestible food. i have strongly insisted on his abstaining from all exciting work--especially such as implies business or political excitement." splendid advice, but would gordon follow it? could his active life be suppressed even for so short a time? none find it harder to rest than those who need it most. gordon had often thought of what pleasure in rest he would find when his retirement was an accomplished fact. he would lie in bed until dinner. he would take short walks after dinner. he would undertake no long journeys, either driving or by railway. he would not be tempted to go to dinner parties. he would really have a quiet time; it was, however, only for a short period. the private secretaryship to lord ripon was vacant, and it was offered to gordon; he accepted it, but on landing at bombay he found the position would not be to his liking. he says of lord ripon, "we parted perfect friends." after gordon left egypt someone there wrote to our press saying, "the name of gordon whenever and wherever mentioned sends a thrill of admiration and love throughout the vast soudan territory. for a hand so strong, yet withal so beneficent, has never before ruled the peoples of this unhappy country." gordon left the soudan peaceful, prosperous and happy, comparatively. after his resignation of the position of private secretary to lord ripon, he was invited to visit china again by mr. hart, chinese commissioner of customs at pekin, who said to gordon, "i am directed to invite you here (that is to say china). please come and see for yourself. this opportunity for doing really useful work on a large scale ought not to be lost: work, position, conditions can all be arranged with yourself here to your satisfaction. do take six months leave and come." it was characteristic of gordon that he replied as follows:--"inform hart, gordon will leave for shanghai first opportunity; as for the conditions, gordon is indifferent." he applied to our government for leave of absence on the grounds that he was invited to go to china. they asked him to state more particularly what for, and what position he was intending to fill. "i am ignorant" was his reply. this was not considered satisfactory and leave was refused. he, however, sent his resignation to the war office, and proceeded to china. reaching the flowery land, once more he proceeded from shanghai to tientsin and there he had an interview with his old friend and companion in arms, li hung chang. from him he learned the condition in which national and political matters stood. his stay in china was not very prolonged, but his influence was felt in the councils of the empire; and when he left he knew that peace prevailed, and that the war between russia and china had been averted. in the meantime things in the soudan began to give trouble, the cloud on the horizon gathered in blackness. almost immediately gordon left the soudan the turkish pashas began their plundering, robbing and ill-treating the poor soudanese so much that we cannot wonder at the rising of the natives in favour of the madhi, for the latter was promising them deliverance from this cruel oppression. the rule of the pashas and bashi-ba-zoucks, the duke of argyle declared to be "cruel, intolerant, and unbearable." colonel stewart, in his report, stated that "he believed not one half of the taxes wrung from these poor people ever found their money go into the treasury of the khedive." they were taxed and levied so unjustly and unmercifully that whole districts were reduced to absolute destitution. the general rising of the natives against this dire oppression, threw them into the arms of the madhi. he very soon had a most powerful following, and he quickly mobilized an army that in was believed to number not less than , fighting men. in july of that year this boastful usurper pushed his forces into conflict with the egyptians, when the latter were worsted with terrible loss. about , of their bravest men were either killed in battle or left wounded on the field and the remainder were routed. shortly after another great battle followed. this also went in favour of the usurper, and a loss of , men inflicted. one engagement followed another and all went to show that the madhi had won the sympathy and support of the masses of the people, and it appeared likely he would soon have undisputed sway over the entire soudan. still another effort was to be made to hurl back this powerful and persistent foe. hicks pasha, "a brave leader," "a noble general," with an army of , men, with , camels, a large number of pack horses and mules, was sent to arrest the advance of this desperate foe. for some time no news reached us, as he was shut out from all means of communication with the outer world. at length the appalling news came, not only of his defeat, but of his utter destruction. one man only was known to have escaped to tell the tale. he states, "we were led by a treacherous guide into a mountain pass or defile, and there shut in by rocks; we were confronted and surrounded by probably , of the enemy. for three days and nights the battle raged; the few british officers fought like lions against these overwhelming odds, until, so completely cut up by sword, bullet and spear, that he feared he was the only man who managed to escape." this large army was literally annihilated-- , officers perished in this one battle. the madhi took , remington rifles, krupp guns, nordenfelts, brass mounted cannon, and a very large amount of ammunition. so that he appeared to be master of the situation. "what next for the soudan?" was being everywhere asked in egypt and in the soudan. "oh that gordon was here," was the cry of many of the poor down-trodden soudanese. they believed him to be the only man who could bring peace to their desolate and unhappy country. gordon was at that time taking a quiet rest near jaffa, in the holy land, and making investigations into places specially spoken of in the scriptures. he thought he could locate the place where samuel took agag and hewed him to pieces. also the well, called "jacob's well," and other places of interest. it is said at this juncture, things in the soudan had become hopeless. a gentleman sent to one of the papers at cairo the following message: "would to god that an angel would stand at the elbow of lord granville in london, and say, and now send men to joppa, and call for one gordon, and he shall tell thee what thou oughtest to do." strange to say, about this time, gordon was sent for to london, where he had interviews with lord hartington, secretary of state for war, lord granville, minister for foreign affairs, lord northbrook, first lord of the admiralty, and sir charles dilke, president of the local government board, at the war office, and in a very short space of time, the question, which was destined to have far reaching results, was settled, and gordon declared his willingness to go to khartoum at the earliest possible date. indeed he said, "at once," and to go alone. something like the following conversation is said to have taken place between gordon and one of his very intimate friends: "well, general, have you got your kit ready?" his reply was, "i have got what i always have: this hat is good enough, so are these clothes, my boots i think are strong enough." "and how are you off for cash?" "ah! i was nearly forgetting that. i had to borrow pounds from the king of the belgians to bring me home from palestine; this i must repay, and i shall of course need a little more for common daily use." "how much do you think, two or three thousand pounds?" "oh dear no! one hundred pounds apiece for myself and stewart, will be enough; what on earth should we want so much money for." and so the gallant general, with his faithful companion--the late lamented colonel stewart, started. we are told they were accompanied to charing cross railway station by h. r. h. the duke of cambridge, who took their tickets for them; also by lord wolseley (who would insist on carrying gordon's portmanteau), colonel brackenbury, and lord hartington's private secretary, who bade them good-bye, and god speed on their mission, from which they were never to return. we think history will never record a more heroic example of patriotism, than that of this god-fearing officer, riding forth upon his swift footed camel, with only one english friend and companion, the colonel stewart, and a few arab attendants, to confront and settle the wild and barbarous hordes of the madhi. one of our papers published the following appropriate lines:-- "not with an army at command, not fenced about with guns and swords, but trusting to their single hands, amid a host of savage hordes, the hero gordon wends in haste, across the desert's arid waste, beset with perils lies his way, yet fear he knows not: nelson like, his life would be an easy prey, if but the arab dare to strike. but over him there hangs a spell, the soudan people know full well: oft he had taught the eastern mind the grace of noble-hearted deeds; oft cast abuses to the wind, and succoured men in direst needs; nor shall the charm that all allow is grandly his, forsake him now: oh! should the power of his name bend the false prophet to its thrall and make him deem the hero came, to pay him just a friendly call, the ruthless carnage soon might cease, and egypt be again at peace." the subject of gordon's mission came up several times in the british house of commons as might be expected. sir stafford northcote on one occasion said--"there is one point upon which all our minds are fixed--i mean the mission of general gordon. on that point i was anxious to say little or nothing. general gordon is now engaged in an attempt of the most gallant and dangerous kind. no one can speak with too much admiration of his courage and self-devotion: no one can fail, in this country to sympathise with him, and earnestly desire his safety and success." reaching cairo, gordon received his plans and instructions from the khedive, and here we think arose some of the complications and misunderstandings as to his actual position. was he in the employ of the khedive, or was he still responsible to the home government? the khedive expressed himself to gordon in a letter dated jan. , . "excellency,--you are aware that the object of your arrival here, and of your mission to the soudan is to carry into execution the evacuation of those territories, and to withdraw our troops, civil officials, and such of the inhabitants, together with their belongings, as may wish to leave for egypt. we trust that your excellency will adopt the most effective measures for the accomplishment of your mission in this respect, and that, after completing the evacuation, you will take the necessary steps for establishing an organized government in the different provinces of the soudan, for the maintenance of order, and the cessation of disasters, and incitement to revolt. we have full confidence in your tried abilities and tact, and are convinced that you will accomplish your mission according to your desire." this was hardly in harmony with a telegram from lord granville who said that "_undertaking military expeditions was beyond the scope of the commission he held_, _and at variance with the pacific policy which was the purpose of his mission to the soudan_." between the khedive's instructions and commission to gordon, and his holding commission as an officer of the crown, gordon was in a very difficult position, and those who have blamed mr. gladstone, for what they may have been pleased to call "desertion of gordon," should acquaint themselves with all the circumstances of the case before doing so, and when all is known, such blame will be withheld. gordon, without lingering in cairo, hastened to cross the desert and get to khartoum as quickly as possible. thus our hero went forth with a gallantry never surpassed, if ever equalled. he rode his camel across that land of storm and drought, trusting only in him, who had so often "covered his defenceless head, beneath the shadow of his wing." chapter vii. "not all who seem to fail have failed indeed, not all who fail have therefore worked in vain; there is no failure for the good and wise; what though the seed should fall by the way-side, and the birds snatch it; yet the birds are fed, or they may bear it far across the tide to give rich harvests after thou art dead." kingsley. sir e. baring wired to lord granville, "the interview between gordon and the khedive was very satisfactory." again--"gordon leaves cairo in good spirits." his arrival at khartoum, it is stated, was marked by wonderful demonstrations of welcome by the people; thousands of them pressing towards him to kiss his feet: calling him the "sultan of the soudan." his first speech was received with the wildest enthusiasm. he said, "i come not with soldiers but with god on my side, to redress the wrongs of the soudan." the day after he held a levee at the palace, when vast multitudes thronged around him, kissing the ground on which he walked, calling him "father," "sultan," "saviour." he appreciated highly their apparent loyalty and devotion, and he had offices opened at once where everyone who had a grievance might bring it, have it heard and judged. the government books recording the outstanding debts of the over-taxed people, _were publicly burned in the presence of thousands of onlookers; the kourbasher_, _whips_, _and implements of torture were thrown down upon the blazing pile_: thus the evidence of debts, and the emblems of oppression perished together in the presence of an almost frenzied people! next gordon visited the prisons; there he found dreadful dens of misery; over two hundred poor starving emaciated beings were confined therein; some bound with chains: some mere boys, some old men and women. many of them were there simply on suspicion, and had never had a hearing. the cases were quickly and carefully enquired into, and before sunset that day, most of the unhappy wretches had their chains struck off and their freedom given them. for many days, the markets and shops, and bazaars were finely illuminated; and the rejoicing for gordon's presence and deeds was general and universal. alas, however, the cloud which had so long hung over the soudan began to thicken. the madhi was not to be cheated of what he thought his rightful authority and dominion. the following letter recorded in gordon's journal was received by him from the madhi:-- "in the name of god the merciful and compassionate; praise be to god, the bountiful ruler, and blessing on our lord mahomet and peace. from the servant who trusts in god--mahomet, the son of abdallah. to gordon pasha of khartoum,--may god guide him into the path of virtue, amen! know that your small steamer, named 'abbas' which you sent with the intention of forwarding your news to cairo, by the way of dongola, the persons sent being your representative, stewart pasha, and the two consuls, french and english, with other persons, has been captured by the will of god. those who believed in us as the madhi and surrendered, have been delivered; and those who did not have been destroyed. as your representative afore-named, with the consuls and the rest--whose souls god has condemned to the fire and to eternal misery: that steamer and all that was in it have fallen a prey to the moslems, and we have taken knowledge of all the letters and telegrams which were in it, in arabic and in frankish (languages) and of the maps, which were opened to us (translated) by those on whom god has bestowed his gifts, and has enlightened their hearts with faith, and the benefits of willing submission. also we have found therein the letters sent from you to the mudir of dongola, with the letters, &c., accompanying to be forwarded to egypt and to european countries. all have been seized, and the contents are known. it should all have been returned to you, not being wanted here; but as it was originally sent from you, and is known to you, we prefer to send you part of the contents, and mention the property therein, so that you may be certified: and in order that the truth may make a lasting impression on my mind--in the hope that god may guide thee to the faith of islam, and to surrender to him and to us, that so you and they may obtain everlasting good and happiness. now, first among the documents seized is the cipher dated september , , 'to the mudir of dongola.' . . . on the back of which is your telegram to the khedive of egypt . . . we have also taken knowledge of your journal (daily record) of the provision in the granary . . . also your letters written in european all about the size of khartoum; and all about the arranging of the steamers, with the number of troops in them and their arms, and the cannon, and about the movements of the troops, and the defeat of your people, and your request for reinforcements, even if only a single regiment, and all about how your agent cuzzi turned moslem. also many letters which had come to you from your lieutenants and what they contained of advice, also stating the number of europeans at khartoum . . . . also the diary (registry) of the arms, ammunition, guns and soldiers . . . . we have also noted the telegrams of the officials and of the presidents of courts, and of the kadi and the muftis, and ulema, numbering , sent to the mohurdar of the khedive in egypt, dated aug. th, , in which they ask for succour from the egyptian government . . . also your cipher telegrams to the mohurdar of the khedive in which you explain that on your arrival at khartoum the impossibility had become clear to you of withdrawing the troops and the employes, and sending them to egypt, on account of the rebellions in the country, and on the closing of the roads; for which reason you ask for reinforcements which did not come . . . also about your coming to khartoum with seven men after the annihilation of hicks' army; and your requesting a telegram to be sent to you in arabic, in plain language, about the soudan to show to the people of khartoum--as the telegrams in european cipher do not explain enough . . . also your letter to the khedive of egypt, without date, in which you ask to have english soldiers sent . . . and your letter to the president of the council and the english minister at cairo, in which you speak of your appointing three steamers to go and inquire as to the state of sennaar, and that you will send soldiers to berber by the steamers to recapture it, sending with them stewart and the consuls, whom the most high god has destroyed. also we have seen the two seals engraved with our name to imitate our seals . . . . tricks in making ciphers, and using so many languages, are of no avail. from the most high god, to whom be praise, no secrets can be hidden. as to your expecting reinforcements, reliance for succour on others than god, that will bring you nothing but destruction, and cause you to fall into utmost danger in this world and the next. for god most high has dispersed sedition through our manifestation, and has vanquished the wicked and obstinate people, and has guided those who have understanding in the way of righteousness. and there is no refuge but in god, and in obedience to his command, and that of his prophet and of his madhi. no doubt you have heard what has happened to your brethren from whom you expected help, at suakin and elsewhere, whom god has destroyed, and dispersed and abandoned. notwithstanding all this, as we have arrived at a days journey from omdurman and are coming please god, to your place, if you return to the most high god and become a moslem and surrender to his order and that of his prophet, and believe in us as the madhi, send us a message from thee, and from those with thee, after laying down your arms and giving up the thought of fighting, so that i may send you one with safe conduct, by which you will obtain assurance of benefits of the blessings of this world and the next. otherwise, and if you do not act thus, you will have to encounter war from god and his prophet. and know that the most high god is mighty for thy destruction, as he has destroyed others before thee, who were much stronger than thee, and more numerous. and you, and your children and your property, will be for a prey to the monsters, and you will repent when repentance will not avail . . . and there is no succourer or strength but in god, and peace be upon those who have followed the madhi. (_guidance_.) postscript.--"in one of your cipher-telegrams sent to bahkri and seized, you mention that the troops present in bahr gazelle and the equator and elsewhere number , soldiers whom you cannot leave behind, even though you should die. and know that bahr gazelle and the equator are both of them under our power and both have followed us as madhi, and that they and their chiefs and all their officers are now among the auxiliaries of the madhi. and they have joined our lieutenants in that part, and letters from them are constantly coming and going without hinderence or diminution of numbers. . . . by this thou wilt see and understand that it is not under thy command as thou thinkest. and for thy better information and our compassion for thee we have added this postscript. (_seal_.) there is no god but allah. mahomet is the prophet allah. mahomet the madhi, son of abd allah." year . gordon's reply was just what we should expect from an officer of his temperament and experience. it is true things looked anything but cheering and our hero needed all his force of character and confidence in the god of israel. this he had and kept brightly burning. to the madhi he replied-- "sheikh mahomed achmed has sent us a letter to inform us that lupton bey, mudir of 'bahr gazelle' has surrendered to him, and that the small steamer in which was stewart pasha, has been captured by him, together with what was therein. but to me it is all one whether lupton bey has surrendered or has not surrendered. and whether he has captured twenty thousand steamers like the 'abbas' or twenty thousand officers like stuart pasha or not; it is all one to me. i am here like iron, and hope to see the newly arrived english; and if mahomed achmed says that the english die, it is all the same to me. and you must take a copy of this and give it to the messenger from slatin, and send him out early in the morning, that he may go to him. it is impossible for me to have any more words with mahomed achmed, only lead; and if mahomed achmed is willing to fight he had better, instead of going to omdurman, go to the white hill by the moat." (signed) c. g. gordon. gordon, though borne up by a sense of the divine presence, yet he occasionally at least, felt as if he was leading a forlorn hope. we know not, nor can we ever know all the deeds of heroism he did for that down trodden people. "a life long year unsuccoured and alone he stemmed the fury of fanatic strife, till all lands claimed the hero as their own, and wondering would he there lay down his life." it is a mystery, and one that will never be solved, how he supported his vast family in khartoum; for food had to be distributed to each individual member for months. it is also a sad but remarkable fact, that through the last ten months he had to depend upon the most unreliable and worthless of troops. and for four of those weary months, he had been without the cheering presence of his companion in arms, colonel stewart. yet he held out bravely, courageously, and in hope of english help. at this juncture a poetess wrote-- "a message from one who went in haste came flashing across the sea, it told not of weakness, but trust in god, when it asked us--pray for me. and since from churches, and english homes, in the day or the twilight dim, a chorus of prayers went up to god-- bless and take care of him: a lonely man to those strange far lands, he has gone with a word of peace; and a million hearts are questioning with a pain that cannot cease: is gordon safe? is there news of him? what will the tidings be? there is little to do but trust and wait; yet utterly safe is he. was he not safe when the chinese shots, were flying about his head, when trouble thickened with every day, and he was sore bestead; was he not safe in his dreary rides, over the desert sands; safe with the abyssinian king; safe with the robber bands; we know not the dangers around him now, but this we surely know-- he has with him in his hour of need, his protector of long ago; he is not alone, but a friend is by who answers to every need; god is his refuge and strength at hand, gordon is safe indeed: safe in living, in dying safe, where is the need of pain; we may pray--god give the hero long life, but death would be infinite gain. chapter viii. "there is a better thing on earth than wealth, a better thing than life itself, and that is to have done something before you die, for which good men may honour you, and god your father smile upon your work." --geo. macdonald. the last arab messenger that came from khartoum before it fell, said, "gordon goes every morning at sunrise to the top of his palace wall, and with his large field glass, sweeps the horizon as far as possible, and notes as clearly as may be the position of the madhi's forces, which now surrounded the city. as night falls, he visits the men at their various stations, to give them advice, or encouragement, as the case might be deemed necessary. in the daytime he studies his maps and reads his bible, and a work on "holy living," by thomas a kempis, and preserves such a faith in god as inspired all around him with a courage akin to his own. "he held the city, he so long faithful mid falterers, mid much weakness strong, upon those ramparts now he fought, he planned, that citadel was by one true man well manned." a letter from kitchener reached gordon, which raised his hopes and considerably brightened his prospects for the time being. it ran thus:-- "dear general gordon.--mr. edgerton has asked me to send you the following:--'august th. tell gordon steamers are being passed over the second cataracts, and that we wish to be informed through dongola exactly when he expects to be in difficulties as to provision and ammunition.' message ends--"lord wolseley is coming out to command; the th regiment is now being sent from halfa to dongola. sir e. wood is at halfa, general earle, dormer, buller, and freemantle are coming up the nile with troops. i think an expedition will be sent across from here to khartoum, while another goes with steamers to berber. a few words about what you wish to be done would be acceptable." {gordon's last slumber: p .jpg} in gordon's journal he says:--"my view is this as to the operations of british forces. i will put three steamers each with two guns on them, and an armed force of infantry at the disposal of any british authority; will send these steamers to either methemma opposite shendy, or to the cataract below berber to meet there any british force which may come across country to the nile. . . . i cannot too much impress upon you that this expedition will not encounter any enemy worth the name in a european sense of the word; the struggle is with the climate and destitution of the country. it is one of time and patience, and of small parties of determined men backed by native allies, which are to be got by policy and money. . . . it is the country of the irregular, not of the regular. if you move in mass you will find no end of difficulties; whereas if you let detached parties dash out here and there, you will spread dismay in the arab camps. the time to attack is the dawn, or rather before it, but sixty men would put the arabs to flight just before dawn, while one thousand would not accomplish in daylight. the reason is that the strength of the arabs is in their horsemen, who do not dare to act in the dark. i do hope that you will not drag on the artillery, it will only cause delay and do no good." to his sister he writes:-- _november th_, _ _. "your kind letter, august th, came yesterday. we have the madhi close to us, but the arabs are very quiet. . . . . terrible news--i hear the steamer i sent down with stewart, power, and herbin (french consul) has been captured and all are killed. i cannot understand it--whether an act of treachery by someone, or struck on a rock, it is to me unaccountable, for she was well armed and had a gun with her; if she is lost, so is the journal of events from jan. rd, , to sept. th, . a huge volume illustrated and full of interest. i have put my steamers at metemma to wait for the troops. i am very well but very gray, with the continual strain upon my nerves. i have been putting the sheikh-el-islam and cadi in prison; they were suspected of writing to the madhi. i let them out yesterday. i am very grieved for the relatives of stewart, power, and herbin." again he writes:-- _dec. th_, _ _. "this may be the last letter you will receive from me, for we are on our last legs, owing to the delay of the expedition. however, god rules all, and i know he will rule to his glory and our welfare. i fear that, owing to circumstances, my affairs pecuniarily are not over bright. your affectionate brother, c. g. gordon." p.s.--"i am very happy, thank god, and, like lawrence, 'i have tried to do my duty.'" meanwhile, gordon is thus hemmed in. general wolseley and his noble band are on their way to his relief. many and peculiar are the difficulties of both climate, country, and foes; yet they face them like brave, true englishmen. the journey from cairo to ambukol, a distance of more than one thousand miles, had been traversed without serious opposition. from here, however, as they near khartoum, now about two hundred and fifty miles, taking the nearest desert route. lord wolseley seems here to halt and hesitate, whether it is best to go by the nile, which, as shown on a map, takes a bend, forming the shape of a letter 's' nearly; or whether to take the shortest cut and risk the opposition that may be expected. he eventually decides that the camel corps and a portion of the infantry shall take the short cut; the desert route to metemmeh: the rest to go by the nile. it is evidently wolseley's wish to punish the tribes who murdered stewart, and his companions; so he orders the south staffordshire, th, and the royal sussex, th, and the black watch, nd, to advance to abu hamed, which lies at the northern bend of the 's,' which the nile makes between dongola and metemmeh. the camel corps are ordered to make a dash across the desert to the same place. little did our force dream of the difficulties, dangers and deaths that lay before them as they entered upon that desert march. we only indicate some of them. on their march we are told that having nearly reached abu klea "we were turning into our zareba, when it was noticed that a group of some two hundred arabs were on the hills, not far from us. two shells were sent amongst them, which caused them to retire, but we soon found their sharpshooters had crept to within , yards of our right flank. also they began to drop bullets into our midst, which were annoying and destructive. half a company of mounted infantry were told off to drive them away. all officers were to see that the men were at their posts, with bayonets fixed, ready to jump to their feet at the very first alarm. with their overcoats on and their blankets wrapped around them, men lay down on that memorable night. all lights put out, all talking and smoking strictly prohibited. a deadly stillness, disturbed only by the whizzing or thud of the shot from the enemy's guns. colonel burnaby, who had managed somehow to find a place in the expedition, expressed his great delight in having arrived in time to engage in what he now saw to be the prospect of a terrible struggle. he stated, "that he had arrived at that time of life when the two things that interested him most were war and politics; and was just as happy in the desert fighting the arabs, as he was at home slating an unworthy politician. here, however, he was, and must face the conflict." january, th, . about p.m. the sentries came rushing into the lines. the officers called out, "stand to your arms men." the alarm, however, was false--only a feint on the part of the enemy. still (says the writer), they kept harassing us by a continual dropping of shot from their long rangers. about . a.m., general stewart prepared to send out an attacking column, with the object of driving them from the wells, which were now only four or five miles distant. the troops marched out--mounted infantry, royal artillery with three guns, guards (this was the front face); right face--guards, royal sussex; left face--mounted infantry, heavy cavalry regiment. the th hussars, under colonel barrow, numbering sabres, were sent to left flank to advance along the spur of land on the north of the wady. their duty was to move forward on a line paralleled with the square, and prevent the enemy on our left from gaining the high ground across the little wady. a squadron of the th, thirty sabres strong, followed the square, marching by the front right to assist the skirmishers. the heavies were in charge of colonel talbot; the guards by colonel boscowen; the mounted infantry by major barrow; the naval brigade by lord charles beresford; the royal sussex by major sunderland; the royal artillery by captain norton; and the royal engineers by major dorwood. so they marched slowly forward. the progress was like that of some ponderous machine, slow, regular, compact, despite the hail of bullets that came from front, left and right, and ultimately from the rear. some ten or twelve thousand arabs it was seen had surrounded the zareba. there was no retreat; it was "do or die!" about . a.m., about of the enemy were seen on the opposite side of the square, or yards distant, and seemed as if they would make a dash for our square. dervishes on horseback, and some on foot, marshalled them, standing a few paces in front of the frantic host. with banners fluttering, tom-toms clamouring, and shouts of allah, they began to move towards our square. the skirmisher's fire seemed to have no effect; though a few of them fell, they ultimately made a run towards us like the roll of a black surf. lord charles beresford's superintendence was moved to the left face, rear corner, to be brought into action; for here they seemed to press the attack. unhappily, before many rounds had been fired, the cartridges stuck and the weapon was useless. still down came the arab wave. one terrible rush of swordsmen and spearmen--scarcely any carrying guns--their rifle fire had practically ceased. in wild excitement, their white teeth glistening and the sheen of their brandished weapons flashing like thousands of mirrors; onward they came against us." the writer says:--"a volley of shot was sent into them at yards; at least one hundred arabs fell, and their force wavered, as a man stops to get his breath; but the forces behind them came leaping over their falling brethren, and came charging straight into our ranks. i was at that instant inside the square, when i noticed our men shuffling backwards. some say colonel burnaby issued an order for the men to fall back, but i did not hear it. burnaby rode out apparently to assist our skirmishers, who were running in, hard pressed: all but one succeeding in getting inside the square: burnaby went, sword in hand, on his borrowed nag, for his own had been shot under him that morning--he put himself in the way of a sheik who was charging down on horseback. ere the arab closed with him a bullet from some in our ranks brought the sheik headlong to the ground. the enemy's spearmen were close behind, and one of them clashed at colonel burnaby, pointing the long blade of his spear at his throat. burnaby leant forward in his saddle and parried the moslem's thrusts; but the length of the weapon ( feet or more) made it difficult to deal a blow as desired. once or twice the colonel managed to touch him. this only made him the more alert. burnaby fenced smartly, just as if he was playing in an assault-at-arms, and there was a smile on his features as he drove off the man's awkward points. with that lightning instinct which i have seen the desert warrior display in battle, whilst coming to another's aid, an arab who had been pursuing a soldier, passed five paces to burnaby's right and rear, and, turning with a sudden spring, this second arab ran his spear point into the colonel's right shoulder! it was but a slight wound, enough though to cause burnaby to twist round in his saddle to defend himself from this unexpected attack. one of our soldiers saw the situation, and ran and drove his sword bayonet through this second assailant. as the soldier withdrew his steel the ferocious arab wriggled round and tried to reach him. this he could not do, for he reeled and fell over. brief as was burnaby's glance at this second assailant, it was long enough for the first arab to deliver his spear-point thrust full in the brave officer's throat. the blow brought burnaby out of his saddle; but it required some seconds before he let go of the bridle-reins, and tumbled upon the ground. half-a-dozen arabs were now about him. with the blood gushing in streams from his gashed throat the dauntless burnaby leaped to his feet, sword in hand, and slashed at the ferocious group. they were the wild shrieks of a proud man dying hard, and he was quickly overborne, and left helpless and dying! the heroic soldier who sprang to his rescue, was, i fear, also slain in the melee, for though i watched for him, i never saw him get back to his place in the ranks. but the square had been broken. the arabs were driving their spears at our men's breasts. happily, however, the enemy's ranks had been badly decimated by our bullets; yet they fought desperately, until bullet or bayonet stopped their career. then from another quarter came a great onrush with spears poised and swords uplifted straight into our rear corner, the arab horse struck like a tempest. the heavies were thrown into confusion, for the enemy were right among them, killing and wounding with demoniacal fury. general stewart himself rode into their midst to assist, but his horse was killed under him, and he was saved from the arab spearmen with great difficulty: lord airlie received two slight spear wounds, and so did lord c. beresford. the dervishes made terrible havoc for a few minutes. it was an awful scene, for many of the wounded and dying perished by the hands of the merciless arabs, infuriated by their sheiks, whose wild hoarse cries rent the air, whilst the black spearmen ran hither and thither thirsting for blood. lord st. vincent had a most providential escape. so great was the peril that the officers in the guards and mounted infantry placed their men back to back to make one last effort to save the situation. "to me," says the writer, who was outside on the right face: "they appeared to spin round a large mound like a whirlpool of human beings." soon the enemy showed signs of wavering, for the fire of our english lads was fierce and withering. a young officer rallied a number of men on the rear; and these delivered a most telling fire into the enemy's ranks; the strained tension of the situation had been most severe, when at last the arabs, two or three at first, then twenties and fifties, trotted off the field and in a very few minutes there was not an enemy to be seen. with cheer upon cheer, shouting until we were hoarse, we celebrated this dearly won victory. "thus ended one of several terrible conflicts the men of the expedition had to go through on their way to the beleaguered city." these lines of poetry, were written shortly after the news of this fierce engagement reached england:-- "they were gathered on the desert, like pebbles on the shore, and they rushed upon the christian with a shout like cannon's roar; like the dashing of the torrent, like the sweeping of the storm, like the raging of the tempest, came down the dusky swarm. from the scant and struggling brush-wood, from the waste of burning sand, sped the warriors of the desert, like the locusts of the land: they would crush the bold invader, who had dared to cross their path; they were fighting for their prophet, in the might of islam's wrath, they were savage in their fury, they were lordly in their pride; there was glory for the victor, and heaven for him who died. they were mustered close together, that small devoted band; they knew the strife that day would rage in combat hand to hand. and wild and weird the battle-cry was sounding through the air, as the foe sprang from his ambush, like the tiger from his lair. they knew the distant flashing of the bright arabian spear, as, spurring madly onward, they saw the host appear in numbers overwhelming, in numbers ten to one; they knew the conflict must be waged beneath the scorching sun; they knew the british soldiers grave might lie beneath their feet; but they never knew dishonour, and they would not know defeat. and swifter, ever swifter swept on the savage horde, and from the serried british ranks a murderous fire was poured; and like the leaves in autumn fell arab warriors slain, and like the leaves in spring-time they seemed to live again. midst the rattle of the bullets, midst the flashing of the steel, they pressed to the encounter with fierce fanatic zeal. one moment swayed the phalanx, one moment and no more; then british valour stemmed the tide, as oft in days of yore. at length the foe was vanquished, and at length the field was won, for the longest day had ended, and the fiercest course was run. ye smiling plains of albion! ye mountains of the north! now up and greet your heroes with the honours they are worth. then pause and let a nation's tears fall gently on the sod where thy gallant sons are sleeping, whose souls are with their god." mr. burleigh tells us that "history records no military events of a more stirring character, or situation more thrilling and dramatic than those through which sir herbert stewart's flying column passed on this dreadful march. through those terrible struggles with the followers of the madhi, many a brave soldier fell and his body lies in the grave of the african desert. it did, however, seem as if through all the difficulties of the relieving forces, that lord wolseley would soon give the gallant defender of khartoum succour and relief. the splendid victories won at abu klea wells, and other places, and their march to join the nile forces, clearly showed that they were terribly in earnest, and that they had the true british sympathetic heart. finding some of gordon's steamers on the nile, it was their first impulse to man them and force their way up to khartoum at once. this was on january st, . the general in command learned that the steamers needed some repairs, and he (sir charles wilson) deemed it necessary for the safety of his troops to make a reconnaissance down the river towards berber before starting up to khartoum. he took the steamers, which, though small as the thames pleasure boats, had been made bullet-proof by the ingenuity and industry of the hero in distress; and with a small british force and two hundred and forty soudanese (they also had in tow a nugger laden with dhura), they proceeded towards berber some distance, and then, returning for their important work of relief, they pressed on to khartoum in the face of the greatest dangers from the numerous fanatical arabs, until they could see the city, and found to their horror and disappointment that gordon's flag was torn down. the city had surrendered to the forces of the madhi, and it could be seen to swarm with his followers! treachery had been at work, as gordon feared; and the brave defender of khartoum sealed his fidelity with his own blood. we never doubted but he would "die at his post." the right hon. w. e. gladstone was on a visit to holker hall to see the duke of devonshire, when the sad tale was told of gordon's betrayal and death. to add to the grief, the queen, whose inmost soul had been stirred by the terrible news, sent to mr. gladstone and lord hartington a telegram couched in terms of anger and of blame, and this, not in cypher as was her wont, but plain and open. mr. gladstone addressed to her majesty by return, in the most courteous manner possible, what may be considered a vindication of his actions in the matter and also that of his cabinet:-- "to the queen,-- "mr. gladstone has had the honour this day to receive your majesty's telegram, _en clair_, relating to the deplorable intelligence received this day from lord wolseley, and stating that it is too fearful to consider that the fall of khartoum might have been prevented and many precious lives saved by earlier action. mr. gladstone does not presume to estimate the means of judgment possessed by your majesty, but so far as his information and recollection at the moment go, he is not altogether able to follow the conclusion which your majesty has been pleased thus to announce. mr. gladstone is under the impression that lord wolseley's force might have been sufficiently advanced to save khartoum, had not a large portion of it been detached by a circuitous route along the river, upon the express application of general gordon, to occupy berber on the way to the final destination. he speaks, however, with submission on a point of this kind. there is, indeed, in some quarters, a belief that the river route ought to have been chosen at an earlier period, and had the navigation of the nile, in its upper region, been as well known as that of the thames, this might have been a just ground of reproach. but when, on the first symptoms that the position of general gordon in khartoum was not secure, your majesty's advisers at once sought from the most competent persons the best information they could obtain respecting the nile route, the balance of testimony and authority was decidedly against it, and the idea of the suakin and berber route, with all its formidable difficulties, was entertained in preference; nor was it till a much later period that the weight of opinion and information warranted the definite choice of the nile route. your majesty's ministers were well aware that climate and distance were far more formidable than the sword of the enemy, and they deemed it right, while providing adequate military means, never to lose from view what might have proved to be the destruction of the gallant army in the soudan. it is probable that abundant wrath and indignation will on this occasion be poured out upon them. nor will they complain if so it should be; but a partial consolation may be found on reflecting that neither aggressive policy, nor military disaster, nor any gross error in the application of means to ends, has marked this series of difficult proceedings, which, indeed, have greatly redounded to the honour of your majesty's forces of all ranks and arms. in these remarks, which mr. gladstone submits with his humble devotion, he has taken it for granted that khartoum has fallen through the exhaustion of its means of defence. but your majesty may observe from the telegram that this is uncertain. both the correspondent's account and that of major wortley refer to the delivery of the town by treachery, a contingency which on some previous occasions general gordon has treated as far from improbable; and which, if the notice existed, was likely to operate quite independently of the particular time at which a relieving force might arrive. the presence of the enemy in force would naturally suggest the occasion or perhaps even the apprehension of the approach of the british army. in pointing to these considerations, mr. gladstone is far from assuming that they are conclusive upon the whole case; in dealing with which the government has hardly ever at any of its stages been furnished sufficiently with those means of judgment which rational men usually require. it may be that, on a retrospect, many errors will appear to have been committed. there are many reproaches, from the most opposite quarters, to which it might be difficult to supply a conclusive answer. among them, and perhaps amongst the most difficult, as far as mr. gladstone can judge, would be the reproach of those who might argue that our proper business was the protection of egypt, that it never was in military danger from the madhi, and that the most prudent course would have been to provide it with adequate frontier defences, and to assume no responsibility for the lands beyond the desert." "heroes have fought, and warriors bled, for home, and love, and glory; your life and mine will soon be sped, then what will be the story?" --j. rushton. the agonizing suspense in which our nation had been kept for weeks, was now at an end, and we learned the worst. the news fell like a thunderbolt upon our country! within forty-eight hours of the time when gordon would have heard the triumph ranting of english cheers, and once more clasped the faithful hands of british brother soldiers; treachery had done its worst. thus ended this unique life's drama of one of the noblest hearts that ever beat in soldier's bosom, and one of the truest to his queen, to his country, and to his god. the heart that had caused him to share his home with the homeless, and his bread with the hungry, that had led him to kneel in prayer by the dying; the heart that had so often throbbed for the misery of slavery, and the slave trade, as to risk his life as of no value to stop that cursed practice and traffic; that heart was pierced by the treacherous hands (in all probability) of the very man gordon had made the greatest sacrifice to save. such terrible news threw our land into universal mourning, and thousands wept for the hero that would never return. the military correspondent of the "daily news" at dongola, writes: "two men arrived here yesterday, april th, , whose story throws some light on the capture of khartoum. they were soldiers in gordon's army, taken at the time and sold as slaves, but who ultimately escaped. their names are said abdullah and jacoob mahomet. i will let them tell their own history." "after stating they were first taken at omdurman, subsequently to the capture of khartoum; were then stolen by arabs and sold to two kabbabish merchants, and afterwards escaped from aboudom to debbah, from which place they had reached dongola; they went on to relate the doings of farig pasha previously to the taking of khartoum. i have given you some account of the story by telegraph, and it has been partly made familiar substantially through other channels. they continued: "that night khartoum was delivered into the hands of the rebels. it fell through the treachery of the accursed farig pasha, the circassian, who opened the gate. may he never reach paradise! may shaytan take possession of his soul! but it was kismet. the gate was called bouri'; it was on the blue nile. we were on guard near, but did not see what was going on. we were attacked and fought desperately at the gate. twelve of our staff were killed, and twenty-two of us retreated to a high room, where we were taken prisoners, and now came the ending. the red flag with the crescent was destined no more to wave over the palace; nor would the strains of the hymns of his excellency be heard any more at eventide in khartoum. blood was to flow in her streets, in her dwellings, in her very mosque, and on the kenniseh of the narsira. a cry arose, "to the palace! to the palace!" a wild and furious band rushed towards it, but they were resisted by the black troops, who fought desperately. they knew there was no mercy for them, and that even were their lives spared, they would be enslaved, and the state of the slave, the perpetual bondage with hard taskmasters, is worse than death. slaves are not treated well, as you think; heavy chains are round their ankles and middle, and they are lashed for the least offence until blood flows. we had fought for the christian pasha and for the turks, and we knew that we should receive no mercy. the house was set on fire: the fight raged and the slaughter continued till the streets were slippery with blood. the rebels rushed onward to the palace. we saw a mass rolling to and fro, but did not see gordon pasha killed. he met his fate, we believe, as he was leaving the palace, near the large tree which stands on the esplanade. the palace is not a stone's throw, or at any rate a gun shot distance from the austrian consul's house. he was going in that direction, to the magazine on the kenniseh, a long way off. we did not hear what became of his body, nor did we hear that his head was cut off; but we saw the head of the traitor farig pasha, who met with his deserts. we have heard it was the blacks that ran away; and that the egyptian soldiers fought well; that is not true, they were craven. had it not been for them, in spite of the treachery of many within the town, the arabs would not have got in, for we watched the traitors. and now fearful scenes took place in every house and building, in the large market place, in the small bazaars; men were slain crying for mercy, but mercy was not in the hearts of those savage enemies. women and children were robbed of their jewels of silver, of their bracelets, necklaces of precious stones, and carried off to be sold to the bishareen merchants as slaves. yes, and white women too, mother and daughter alike were carried off from their homes of comfort. wives and children of egyptian merchants, formerly rich, owning ships and mills; these were sold afterwards, some for thaleries or more, some for , according to age and good looks. and the poor black women already slaves, and their children, or thaleries. their husbands and masters were slain before their eyes . . . . this fighting and spilling of blood continued till noon, till the sun rode high in the sky. there was riot, wrangling, hubbub and cursing, till the hour of evening prayer. but the muezzin was not called, neither were any prayers offered up at the moslem mosque on that dark day in the annals of khartoum. meanwhile the screeching devils bespattered with gore, swarming about in droves and bands, found very little plunder, so were disappointed, and sought out farig pasha, and found him with the dervishes. 'where is the hidden treasure?' they at once demanded of him. 'we know that you are acquainted with the hiding place. where is the money and riches of the city and its merchants? we know that those who left khartoum did not take away their valuables, and you know where it is hid.' the dervishes seeing the tumult questioned him sharply, and addressed him thus: "the long expected one our lord, desires to know where the english pasha hid his wealth. we know he was very rich, and every day paid large sums of money; that has not been concealed from our lord. now therefore let us know that we may bear him word where all the money is hidden. let him be bound in the inner chamber and examined; and the gates closed against the arabs." farig was then questioned, but he "swore by allah and by the souls of his fathers back to three generations, that gordon had no money, and that he knew of no hidden treasure." "you lie (cried the dervishes); you wish after a while to come and dig it out yourself. listen to what we are going to say to you. we are sure you know where the money is hidden. we are not careful of your life, for you have betrayed the man whose salt you had eaten; you have been the servant of the infidel, and you have betrayed even him. unless you unfold this secret of the buried treasure, you will surely die." farig with proud bearing said, "i care not for your threats. i have told you the truth, allah knows. there is no money, neither is there treasure. you are fools to suppose there is. i have done a great deed, i have delivered to your lord and master (the madhi), the city which you never could have taken without my help. i tell you again there is no treasure, and you will rue the day if you kill me." one of the dervishes then stepped forward and struck him, bound as he was, in the mouth; then another rushed at him with his two-edged sword, struck him behind the neck so that with this one blow his head fell from his shoulders; (so perished the arch traitor); may his soul be afflicted! but as for gordon pasha the magnanimous, may his soul have peace!" the story of these men may, or may not be true, but it seems on the face of it trustworthy. it is, however, out of harmony with the description given of gordon's death by slatin pasha, who was taken a prisoner at the time of the fall of khartoum, and had been kept for eleven years in captivity, but eventually made his escape. he was in attendance at the international geographical congress held at the imperial institute, and devoted to african affairs, when he told the story of his escape from khartoum. he says "the city of khartoum fell on the th jan., , and gordon was killed on the highest step of the staircase of his palace. his head was cut off and exhibited to slatin whilst the latter was in chains, with expressions of derision and contempt." we have no doubt now as to the fact that gordon pasha, the illustrious, the saintly, the brave defender, died doing his duty. in all civilized lands there are still men who tell of gordon pasha's unbounded benevolence; of his mighty faith, of his heroism and self-sacrifice, and they mourn with us the loss of one of the most saintly souls our world has ever known. "warrior of god, man's friend, not laid below, but somewhere dead far in the waste soudan, thou livest in all hearts, for all men know this earth hath borne no simpler, nobler man." tennyson. a most interesting and exquisitely touching letter was forwarded to the bereaved and stricken sister of our hero from the khedive of egypt, written from "abdui palace, "cairo, "feb. , . "madam,-- "altho' i do not wish to intrude upon the great sorrow which has fallen upon you in the death of your distinguished brother, the late general gordon pasha, yet as egypt and myself have so much reason to deplore his loss, i desire to convey to you my heart-felt sympathy in the terrible bereavement it has been god's will you should suffer. i cannot find words to express to you the respect and admiration with which your brother's simple faith and heroic courage have inspired me: the whole world resounds with the name of the englishman whose chivalrous nature afforded it for many years its brightest and most powerful example,--an example which i believe will influence thousands of persons for good through all time. to a man of gordon's character the disappointment of hopes he deemed so near fruition, and the sudden manner of his death were of little importance. in his own words, he left weariness for perfect rest. our mourning for him is true and real; as is also our loss, but we have a sure hope that a life and death such as his are not extinguished by what we call death. i beg to renew to you, madam, the assurance of my sincere sympathy and respectful condolence. "mehemit tewfik." also from the queen, a letter full of womanly and queenly sympathy is here recorded from _the daily news_: "dear miss gordon,--how shall i write to you, or how shall i attempt to express what i feel? to think of your dear, noble, heroic brother, who served his country and his queen so truly, so heroically, with a self-sacrifice so edifying to the world, not having been rescued: that the promises of support were not fulfilled--which i so frequently and constantly pressed on those who asked him to go--is to me grief inexpressible: indeed it has made me ill. my heart bleeds for you, his sister, who have gone through so many anxieties on his account, and who loved the dear brother as he deserved to be. you are all so good and trustful, and have such strong faith, that you will be sustained even now, when real absolute evidence of your brother's death does not exist--but i fear there cannot be much doubt of it. some day i hope to see you again to tell you all i cannot express. my daughter beatrice, who has felt quite as i do, wishes me to express her deepest sympathy with you. i hear so many expressions of sorrow from abroad; from my eldest daughter the crown princess, and from my cousin the king of the belgians--the very warmest. would you express to your other sister, and your elder brother my true sympathy, and what i do so keenly feel, the stain left upon england for your dear brother's cruel, though heroic fate! ever, dear miss gordon, yours sincerely and sympathizingly, v.r.i." a second letter from her majesty the queen to acknowledge miss gordon's gift of her brother's bible. the very bible he used when with me in manchester. his companion at gravesend, and during his sojourn in the soudan (first time). "it was so worn out (says miss gordon) that he gave it to me. hearing that the queen would like to see it, i forwarded it to windsor castle." and this bible is now placed in an enamel and crystal case called "the st. george's casket," where it now lies open on a white satin cushion, with a marble bust of general gordon on a pedestal beside it. her majesty writes:-- "windsor castle, "march th, . "dear miss gordon,--it is most kind and good of you to give me this precious bible, and i only hope that you are not depriving yourself and family of such a treasure, if you have no other. may i ask you, during how many years your dear, heroic brother had it with him? i shall have a case made for it with an inscription, and place it in the library here, with your letter and the touching extract from his last to you. i have ordered, as you know, a marble bust of your dear brother to be placed in the corridor here, where so many busts and pictures of our greatest generals, and statesmen are, and hope that you will see it before it is finished, to give your opinion as to the likeness.--believe me always yours very sincerely, "victoria r.i." a most touching and i think true epitaph has been written in greek and translated by professor jebb, of the university of glasgow touching the death of general gordon:-- "leaving a perpetual remembrance, thou art gone; in thy death thou wert even such as in thy life; wealth to the poor, hope to the desponding, support to the weak. thou couldst meet desperate troubles with a spirit that knew not despair, and breathe might into the trembling. the lord of china owes thee thanks for thy benefits; the throne of his ancient kingdom hath not been cast down. and where the nile unites the divided strength of his streams, a city saw thee long- suffering. a multitude dwelt therein, but thine alone was the valour that guarded it through all that year, when by day and by night thou didst keep watch against the host of the arabians, who went around it to devour it, with spears thirsting for blood. thy death was not wrought by the god of war, but by the frailties of thy friends. for thy country and for all men god blessed the work of thy hand. hail, stainless warrior! hail, thrice victorious hero! thou livest and shalt teach aftertimes to reverence the council of the everlasting father." should he have been spared to return to our land-- "we had the laurels ready that patient brow to crown, but the traitors steel was swift and sharp to strike our honours down. god his own victor crowneth, he counts not gain nor loss, for the dauntless heart that battles 'neath the shadow of the cross. rest for the gallant soldier, where'er he lieth low, his rest is still and deep to-day, 'mid clash of friend and foe. he stands amid the light he loved, whence all the clouds depart, but there's a gap within our ranks, and a void within our hearts." great men are usually measured by their character, not by their successes; but measured by either standard gordon must be considered a _great_ man. in him were incarnated all the highest characteristics of the heroes of our land, and other lands, and of the illustrious servants of god in all ages. his life was swayed by a noble purpose, and by this he was borne onward and upward in a career of noble doing and daring. he had courage of the very highest quality, and by this he carved his way into the very front rank of our heroes, and won remarkable distinctions in life's fiercest battles. his crowning characteristics were, i think, his genuineness, and unfailing trust in god. these, especially the latter, were the inspiration of his life; and these alone offer the truest explanation of his heroic deeds. even in spain his name had a fragrance that was attractive and beautiful. one of the papers _the el dia_, of madrid, wrote: "where even the greatest events which occur abroad hardly attract the attention of the general public, the daring enterprises of general gordon had excited the greatest interest. this was partly because of the immense importance of the drama which was being played in the soudan, and because of the extraordinary development of the drama; but it was chiefly due to the sympathy of the people with the heroic champion of light and civilization; for his spotless honesty; for his valour, tried times without number; for his british tenacity; for his faith in his religion and country; for his keen insight; for his heroic unselfishness, and for all his other fine qualities. gordon has become recognised in spain as an original character, grand and complete, whom future generations will idealize, and whom history will call by the name of genius." but gordon, the great soldier and loveable saint is dead; and he himself could wish no nobler ending of an unselfish life, after such a life of adventure, of heroism, and of humble trust in god. a combination of strange, rare qualities helped to make him one of the most remarkable men our country has ever seen. as a christian of rarest purity and consecration, and as a hero whose fame has filled two hemispheres, "his name shall be had in everlasting remembrance." he has added new chapters to the glorious stories of british pluck and heroism, and has left a name to which our young men will look back upon with pride; and the best of us will reverence, so long as truth, faith, self- devotion, and lofty sense of duty stir the admiration of men who are worthy to be called his fellow-countrymen. our british nation thrills with a proud joy as it reflects upon the splendid achievements of that stainless life, now crowned with the laurels of martyrdom, and of an empire's love. the memorial in st. paul's cathedral most beautifully sets forth the leading traits in his character:-- "major general charles george gordon, c.b., who at all times and everywhere, gave his strength to the weak, his substance to the poor, his sympathy to the suffering, his heart to god. "born at woolwich, th jan., . "slain at khartoum, th jan., . "he saved an empire by his warlike genius, he ruled vast provinces with justice, wisdom, power. and lastly, obedient to his sovereign's command, he died in the heroic attempt to save men, women and children from imminent and deadly peril. 'greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.'--st. john, xv. ch., v. . {the memorial in st. paul's cathedral: p .jpg} "this monument is erected by his only surviving brother, whose eldest son also perished in the service of his country, as midshipman in h.m.s. 'captain,' and is commemorated with others in the adjoining recess." "gordon! thou lost ideal of our time, while men believe not, and belief grows pale, before the daring doubters that assail; we need thy child-like faith, thy gaze sublime, that pierced the nearer gloom, and still onward strode through death and darkness, seeing only god." "servant of christ, well done, praise be thy new employ; and while eternal ages run, rest in thy saviour's joy." finis. footnotes. { } a work by the rev. wm. arthur, which gordon presented to me. { } the name of our ragged school. deeds that won the empire historic battle scenes by w. h. fitchett, ll. d. london: john murray first edition (smith, elder & co.) . . . november twenty-ninth impression . . . . . . . . october reprinted (john murray) . . . . . . . . september reprinted . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . february preface the tales here told are written, not to glorify war, but to nourish patriotism. they represent an effort to renew in popular memory the great traditions of the imperial race to which we belong. the history of the empire of which we are subjects--the story of the struggles and sufferings by which it has been built up--is the best legacy which the past has bequeathed to us. but it is a treasure strangely neglected. the state makes primary education its anxious care, yet it does not make its own history a vital part of that education. there is real danger that for the average youth the great names of british story may become meaningless sounds, that his imagination will take no colour from the rich and deep tints of history. and what a pallid, cold-blooded citizenship this must produce! war belongs, no doubt, to an imperfect stage of society; it has a side of pure brutality. but it is not all brutal. wordsworth's daring line about "god's most perfect instrument" has a great truth behind it. what examples are to be found in the tales here retold, not merely of heroic daring, but of even finer qualities--of heroic fortitude; of loyalty to duty stronger than the love of life; of the temper which dreads dishonour more than it fears death; of the patriotism which makes love of the fatherland a passion. these are the elements of robust citizenship. they represent some, at least, of the qualities by which the empire, in a sterner time than ours, was won, and by which, in even these ease-loving days, it must be maintained. these sketches appeared originally in the _melbourne argus_, and are republished by the kind consent of its proprietors. each sketch is complete in itself; and though no formal quotation of authorities is given, yet all the available literature on each event described has been laid under contribution. the sketches will be found to be historically accurate. contents the fight off cape st. vincent the heights of abraham the great lord hawke the night attack on badajos the fire-ships in the basque roads the man who spoiled napoleon's "destiny" great sea-duels the blood-stained hill of busaco of nelson and the nile the fusileers at albuera the "shannon" and the "chesapeake" the great breach of ciudad rodrigo how the "hermione" was recaptured french and english in the passes famous cutting-out expeditions mountain combats the bloodiest fight in the peninsula the battle of the baltic king-making waterloo-- i. the rival hosts ii. hougoumont iii. picton and d'erlon iv. "scotland for ever!" v. horsemen and squares vi. the fight of the gunners vii. the old guard viii. the great defeat the night attack off cadiz trafalgar-- i. the strategy ii. how the fleets met iii. how the victory was won list of plans the battle off cape st. vincent the siege of quebec the siege of badajos the battle of the nile the battle of albuera the siege of ciudad rodrigo the combat of roncesvalles the battle of st. pierre the battle of the baltic the battle of waterloo the attack of trafalgar the fight off cape st. vincent the sceptre of the sea. "old england's sons are english yet, old england's hearts are strong; and still she wears her coronet aflame with sword and song. as in their pride our fathers died, if need be, so die we; so wield we still, gainsay who will, the sceptre of the sea. we've raleighs still for raleigh's part, we've nelsons yet unknown; the pulses of the lion-heart beat on through wellington. hold, britain, hold thy creed of old, strong foe and steadfast friend, and still unto thy motto true, 'defy not, but defend.' men whisper that our arm is weak, men say our blood is cold, and that our hearts no longer speak that clarion note of old; but let the spear and sword draw near the sleeping lion's den, our island shore shall start once more to life, with armèd men." --herman charles merivale. on the night of february , , an english fleet of fifteen ships of the line, in close order and in readiness for instant battle, was under easy sail off cape st. vincent. it was a moonless night, black with haze, and the great ships moved in silence like gigantic spectres over the sea. every now and again there came floating from the south-east the dull sound of a far-off gun. it was the grand fleet of spain, consisting of twenty-seven ships of line, under admiral don josef de cordova; one great ship calling to another through the night, little dreaming that the sound of their guns was so keenly noted by the eager but silent fleet of their enemies to leeward. the morning of the th--a day famous in the naval history of the empire--broke dim and hazy; grey sea, grey fog, grey dawn, making all things strangely obscure. at half-past six, however, the keen-sighted british outlooks caught a glimpse of the huge straggling line of spaniards, stretching apparently through miles of sea haze. "they are thumpers!" as the signal lieutenant of the _barfleur_ reported with emphasis to his captain; "they loom like beachy head in a fog!" the spanish fleet was, indeed, the mightiest ever sent from spanish ports since "that great fleet invincible" of carried into the english waters--but not out of them!-- "the richest spoils of mexico, the stoutest hearts of spain." the admiral's flag was borne by the _santissima trinidad_, a floating mountain, the largest ship at that time on the sea, and carrying on her four decks guns. next came six three-deckers carrying guns each, two ships of the line of guns each, and seventeen carrying guns, with no less than twelve -gun frigates to act as a flying cordon of skirmishers. spain had joined france against england on september , , and don cordova, at the head of this immense fleet, had sailed from cadiz to execute a daring and splendid strategy. he was to pick up the toulon fleet, brush away the english squadron blockading brest, add the great french fleet lying imprisoned there to his forces, and enter the british channel with above a hundred sail of the line under his flag, and sweep in triumph to the mouth of the thames! if the plan succeeded, portugal would fall, a descent was to be made on ireland; the british flag, it was reckoned, would be swept from the seas. sir john jervis was lying in the track of the spaniards to defeat this ingenious plan. five ships of the line had been withdrawn from the squadron blockading brest to strengthen him; still he had only fifteen ships against the twenty-seven huge spaniards in front of him; whilst, if the french toulon fleet behind him broke out, he ran the risk of being crushed, so to speak, betwixt the upper and the nether millstone. never, perhaps, was the naval supremacy of england challenged so boldly and with such a prospect of success as at this moment. the northern powers had coalesced under russia, and only a few weeks later the english guns were thundering over the roofs of copenhagen, while the united flags of france and spain were preparing to sweep through the narrow seas. the "splendid isolation" of to-day is no novelty. in , as it threatened to be in , great britain stood singly against a world in arms, and it is scarcely too much to say that her fate hung on the fortunes of the fleet that, in the grey dawn of st. valentine's day, a hundred years ago, was searching the skyline for the topmasts of don cordova's huge three-deckers. fifteen to twenty-seven is enormous odds, but, on the testimony of nelson himself, a better fleet never carried the fortunes of a great country than that under sir john jervis. the mere names of the ships or of their commanders awaken more sonorous echoes than the famous catalogue of the ships in the "iliad." trowbridge, in the _culloden_, led the van; the line was formed of such ships as the _victory_, the flagship, the _barfleur_, the _blenheim_, the _captain_, with nelson as commodore, the _excellent_, under collingwood, the _colossus_, under murray, the _orion_, under sir james saumarez, &c. finer sailors and more daring leaders never bore down upon an enemy's fleet. the picture offered by the two fleets in the cold haze of that fateful morning, as a matter of fact, reflected the difference in their fighting and sea-going qualities. the spanish fleet, a line of monsters, straggled, formless and shapeless, over miles of sea space, distracted with signals, fluttering with many-coloured flags. the english fleet, grim and silent, bore down upon the enemy in two compact and firm-drawn columns, ship following ship so closely and so exactly that bowsprit and stern almost touched, while an air-line drawn from the foremast of the leading ship to the mizzenmast of the last ship in each column would have touched almost every mast betwixt. stately, measured, threatening, in perfect fighting order, the compact line of the british bore down on the spaniards. [illustration: the battle off cape st. vincent. cutting the spanish line. from allen's "battles of the british navy."] nothing is more striking in the battle of st. vincent than the swift and resolute fashion in which sir john jervis leaped, so to speak, at his enemy's throat, with the silent but deadly leap of a bulldog. as the fog lifted, about nine o'clock, with the suddenness and dramatic effect of the lifting of a curtain in a great theatre, it revealed to the british admiral a great opportunity. the weather division of the spanish fleet, twenty-one gigantic ships, resembled nothing so much as a confused and swaying forest of masts; the leeward division--six ships in a cluster, almost as confused--was parted by an interval of nearly three miles from the main body of the fleet, and into that fatal gap, as with the swift and deadly thrust of a rapier, jervis drove his fleet in one unswerving line, the two columns melting into one, ship following hard on ship. the spaniards strove furiously to close their line, the twenty-one huge ships bearing down from the windward, the smaller squadron clawing desperately up from the leeward. but the british fleet--a long line of gliding pyramids of sails, leaning over to the pressure of the wind, with "the meteor flag" flying from the peak of each vessel, and the curving lines of guns awaiting grim and silent beneath--was too swift. as it swept through the gap, the spanish vice-admiral, in the _principe de asturias_, a great three-decker of guns, tried the daring feat of breaking through the british line to join the severed squadron. he struck the english fleet almost exactly at the flagship, the _victory_. the _victory_ was thrown into stays to meet her, the spaniard swung round in response, and, exactly as her quarter was exposed to the broadside of the _victory_, the thunder of a tremendous broadside rolled from that ship. the unfortunate spaniard was smitten as with a tempest of iron, and the next moment, with sails torn, topmasts hanging to leeward, ropes hanging loose in every direction, and her decks splashed red with the blood of her slaughtered crew, she broke off to windward. the iron line of the british was unpierceable! the leading three-decker of the spanish lee division in like manner bore up, as though to break through the british line to join her admiral; but the grim succession of three-deckers, following swift on each other like the links of a moving iron chain, was too disquieting a prospect to be faced. it was not in spanish seamanship, or, for the matter of that, in spanish flesh and blood, to beat up in the teeth of such threatening lines of iron lips. the spanish ships swung sullenly back to leeward, and the fleet of don cordova was cloven in twain, as though by the stroke of some gigantic sword-blade. as soon as sir john jervis saw the steady line of his fleet drawn fair across the gap in the spanish line, he flung his leading ships up to windward on the mass of the spanish fleet, by this time beating up to windward. the _culloden_ led, thrust itself betwixt the hindmost spanish three-deckers, and broke into flame and thunder on either side. six minutes after her came the _blenheim_; then, in quick succession, the _prince george_, the _orion_, the _colossus_. it was a crash of swaying masts and bellying sails, while below rose the shouting of the crews, and, like the thrusts of fiery swords, the flames shot out from the sides of the great three-deckers against each other, and over all rolled the thunder and the smoke of a titanic sea-fight. nothing more murderous than close fighting betwixt the huge wooden ships of those days can well be imagined. the _victory_, the largest british ship present in the action, was only feet long and feet broad; yet in that little area men fought, great guns thundered. a spanish ship like the _san josef_ was feet in length and feet in breadth; but in that area guns were mounted, while the three decks were thronged with some men. when floating batteries like these swept each other with the flame of swiftly repeated broadsides at a distance of a few score yards, the destruction may be better imagined than described. the spanish had an advantage in the number of guns and men, but the british established an instant mastery by their silent discipline, their perfect seamanship, and the speed with which their guns were worked. they fired at least three broadsides to every two the spaniards discharged, and their fire had a deadly precision compared with which that of the spaniards was mere distracted spluttering. meanwhile the dramatic crisis of the battle came swiftly on. the spanish admiral was resolute to join the severed fragments of his fleet. the _culloden_, the _blenheim_, the _prince george_, and the _orion_ were thundering amongst his rearmost ships, and as the british line swept up, each ship tacked as it crossed the gap in the spanish line, bore up to windward and added the thunder of its guns to the storm of battle raging amongst the hindmost spaniards. but naturally the section of the british line that had not yet passed the gap shortened with every minute, and the leading spanish ships at last saw the sea to their leeward clear of the enemy, and the track open to their own lee squadron. instantly they swung round to leeward, the great four-decker, the flagship, with a company of sister giants, the _san josef_ and the _salvador del mundo_, of guns each, the _san nicolas_, and three other great ships of guns. it was a bold and clever stroke. this great squadron, with the breeze behind it, had but to sweep past the rear of the british line, join the lee squadron, and bear up, and the spanish fleet in one unbroken mass would confront the enemy. the rear of the british line was held by collingwood in the _excellent_; next to him came the _diadem_; the third ship was the _captain_, under nelson. we may imagine how nelson's solitary eye was fixed on the great spanish three-deckers that formed the spanish van as they suddenly swung round and came sweeping down to cross his stern. not napoleon himself had a vision more swift and keen for the changing physiognomy of a great battle than nelson, and he met the spanish admiral with a counter-stroke as brilliant and daring as can be found in the whole history of naval warfare. the british fleet saw the _captain_ suddenly swing out of line to leeward--in the direction from the spanish line, that is--but with swift curve the _captain_ doubled back, shot between the two english ships that formed the rear of the line, and bore up straight in the path of the spanish flagship, with its four decks, and the huge battleships on either side of it. the _captain_, it should be remembered, was the smallest in the british fleet, and as the great spanish ships closed round her and broke into flame it seemed as if each one of them was big enough to hoist the _captain_ on board like a jolly-boat. nelson's act was like that of a single stockman who undertakes to "head off" a drove of angry bulls as they break away from the herd; but the "bulls" in this case were a group of the mightiest battleships then afloat. nelson's sudden movement was a breach of orders; it left a gap in the british line; to dash unsupported into the spanish van seemed mere madness, and the spectacle, as the captain opened fire on the huge _santissima trinidad_, was simply amazing. nelson was in action at once with the flagship of guns, two ships of guns, one of guns, and two of guns! to the spectators who watched the sight the sides of the _captain_ seemed to throb with quick-following pulses of flame as its crew poured their shot into the huge hulks on every side of them. the spaniards formed a mass so tangled that they could scarcely fire at the little _captain_ without injuring each other; yet the english ship seemed to shrivel beneath even the imperfect fire that did reach her. her foremast was shot away, her wheel-post shattered, her rigging torn, some of her guns dismantled, and the ship was practically incapable of further service either in the line or in chase. but nelson had accomplished his purpose: he had stopped the rush of the spanish van. at this moment the _excellent_, under collingwood, swept into the storm of battle that raged round the _captain_, and poured three tremendous broadsides into the spanish three-decker the _salvador del mundo_ that practically disabled her. "we were not further from her," the domestic but hard-fighting collingwood wrote to his wife, "than the length of our garden." then, with a fine feat of seamanship, the _excellent_ passed between the _captain_ and the _san nicolas_, scourging that unfortunate ship with flame at a distance of ten yards, and then passed on to bestow its favours on the _santissima trinidad_--"such a ship," collingwood afterwards confided to his wife, "as i never saw before!" collingwood tormented that monster with his fire so vehemently that she actually struck, though possession of her was not taken before the other spanish ships, coming up, rescued her, and she survived to carry the spanish flag in the great fight of trafalgar. meanwhile the crippled _captain_, though actually disabled, had performed one of the most dramatic and brilliant feats in the history of naval warfare. nelson put his helm to starboard, and ran, or rather drifted, on the quarter-gallery of the _san nicolas_, and at once boarded that leviathan. nelson himself crept through the quarter-gallery window in the stern of the spaniard, and found himself in the officers' cabins. the officers tried to show fight, but there was no denying the boarders who followed nelson, and with shout and oath, with flash of pistol and ring of steel, the party swept through on to the main deck. but the _san nicolas_ had been boarded also at other points. "the first man who jumped into the enemy's mizzen-chains," says nelson, "was the first lieutenant of the ship, afterwards captain berry." the english sailors dropped from their spritsail yard on to the spaniard's deck, and by the time nelson reached the poop of the _san nicolas_ he found his lieutenant in the act of hauling down the spanish flag. nelson proceeded to collect the swords of the spanish officers, when a fire was opened upon them from the stern gallery of the admiral's ship, the _san josef_, of guns, whose sides were grinding against those of the _san nicolas_. what could nelson do? to keep his prize he must assault a still bigger ship. of course he never hesitated! he flung his boarders up the side of the huge _san josef_, but he himself had to be assisted to climb the main chains of that vessel, his lieutenant this time dutifully assisting his commodore up instead of indecorously going ahead of him. "at this moment," as nelson records the incident, "a spanish officer looked over the quarterdeck rail and said they surrendered. it was not long before i was on the quarter-deck, where the spanish captain, with a bow, presented me his sword, and said the admiral was dying of his wounds. i asked him, on his honour, if the ship was surrendered. he declared she was; on which i gave him my hand, and desired him to call on his officers and ship's company and tell them of it, which he did; and on the quarterdeck of a spanish first-rate--extravagant as the story may seem--did i receive the swords of vanquished spaniards, which, as i received, i gave to william fearney, one of my bargemen, who put them with the greatest _sang-froid_ under his arm," a circle of "old agamemnons," with smoke-blackened faces, looking on in grim approval. this is the story of how a british fleet of fifteen vessels defeated a spanish fleet of twenty-seven, and captured four of their finest ships. it is the story, too, of how a single english ship, the smallest in the fleet--but made unconquerable by the presence of nelson--stayed the advance of a whole squadron of spanish three-deckers, and took two ships, each bigger than itself, by boarding. was there ever a finer deed wrought under "the meteor flag"! nelson disobeyed orders by leaving the english line and flinging himself on the van of the spaniards, but he saved the battle. calder, jervis's captain, complained to the admiral that nelson had "disobeyed orders." "he certainly did," answered jervis; "and if ever you commit such a breach of your orders i will forgive you also." the heights of abraham "sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife! to all the sensual world proclaim, one crowded hour of glorious life is worth an age without a name." --sir walter scott. the year is a golden one in british history. a great french army that threatened hanover was overthrown at minden, chiefly by the heroic stupidity of six british regiments, who, mistaking their orders, charged the entire french cavalry in line, and destroyed them. "i have seen," said the astonished french general, "what i never thought to be possible--a single line of infantry break through three lines of cavalry ranked in order of battle, and tumble them into ruin!" contades omitted to add that this astonishing infantry, charging cavalry in open formation, was scourged during their entire advance by powerful batteries on their flank. at quiberon, in the same year, hawke, amid a tempest, destroyed a mighty fleet that threatened england with invasion; and on the heights of abraham, wolfe broke the french power in america. "we are forced," said horace walpole, the wit of his day, "to ask every morning what new victory there is, for fear of missing one." yet, of all the great deeds of that _annus mirabilis_, the victory which overthrew montcalm and gave quebec to england--a victory achieved by the genius of pitt and the daring of wolfe--was, if not the most shining in quality, the most far-reaching in its results. "with the triumph of wolfe on the heights of abraham," says green, "began the history of the united states." the hero of that historic fight wore a singularly unheroic aspect. wolfe's face, in the famous picture by west, resembles that of a nervous and sentimental boy--he was an adjutant at sixteen, and only thirty-three when he fell, mortally wounded, under the walls of quebec. his forehead and chin receded; his nose, tip-tilted heavenwards, formed with his other features the point of an obtuse triangle. his hair was fiery red, his shoulders narrow, his legs a pair of attenuated spindle-shanks; he was a chronic invalid. but between his fiery poll and his plebeian and upturned nose flashed a pair of eyes--keen, piercing, and steady--worthy of caesar or of napoleon. in warlike genius he was on land as nelson was on sea, chivalrous, fiery, intense. a "magnetic" man, with a strange gift of impressing himself on the imagination of his soldiers, and of so penetrating the whole force he commanded with his own spirit that in his hands it became a terrible and almost resistless instrument of war. the gift for choosing fit agents is one of the highest qualities of genius; and it is a sign of pitt's piercing insight into character that, for the great task of overthrowing the french power in canada, he chose what seemed to commonplace vision a rickety, hypochondriacal, and very youthful colonel like wolfe. pitt's strategy for the american campaign was spacious, not to say grandiose. a line of strong french posts, ranging from duquesne, on the ohio, to ticonderoga, on lake champlain, held the english settlements on the coast girdled, as in an iron band, from all extension westward; while quebec, perched in almost impregnable strength on the frowning cliffs which look down on the st. lawrence, was the centre of the french power in canada. pitt's plan was that amherst, with , men, should capture ticonderoga; prideaux, with another powerful force, should carry montreal; and wolfe, with men, should invest quebec, where amherst and prideaux were to join him. two-thirds of this great plan broke down. amherst and prideaux, indeed, succeeded in their local operations, but neither was able to join wolfe, who had to carry out with one army the task for which three were designed. on june , , the advanced squadron of the fleet conveying wolfe came working up the st. lawrence. to deceive the enemy they flew the white flag, and, as the eight great ships came abreast of the island of orleans, the good people of quebec persuaded themselves it was a french fleet bringing supplies and reinforcements. the bells rang a welcome; flags waved. boats put eagerly off to greet the approaching ships. but as these swung round at their anchorage the white flag of france disappeared, and the red ensign of great britain flew in its place. the crowds, struck suddenly dumb, watched the gleam of the hostile flag with chap-fallen faces. a priest, who was staring at the ships through a telescope, actually dropped dead with the excitement and passion created by the sight of the british fleet. on june the main body of the fleet bringing wolfe himself with troops, was in sight of the lofty cliffs on which quebec stands; cook, afterwards the famous navigator, master of the _mercury_, sounding ahead of the fleet. wolfe at once seized the isle of orleans, which shelters the basin of quebec to the east, and divides the st. lawrence into two branches, and, with a few officers, quickly stood on the western point of the isle. at a glance the desperate nature of the task committed to him was apparent. [illustration: siege of quebec, . from parkman's "montcalm & wolfe."] quebec stands on the rocky nose of a promontory, shaped roughly like a bull's-head, looking eastward. the st. lawrence flows eastward under the chin of the head; the st. charles runs, so to speak, down its nose from the north to meet the st. lawrence. the city itself stands on lofty cliffs, and as wolfe looked upon it on that june evening far away, it was girt and crowned with batteries. the banks of the st. lawrence, that define what we have called the throat of the bull, are precipitous and lofty, and seem by mere natural strength to defy attack, though it was just here, by an ant-like track up feet of almost perpendicular cliff, wolfe actually climbed to the plains of abraham. to the east of quebec is a curve of lofty shore, seven miles long, between the st. charles and the montmorenci. when wolfe's eye followed those seven miles of curving shore, he saw the tents of a french army double his own in strength, and commanded by the most brilliant french soldier of his generation, montcalm. quebec, in a word, was a great natural fortress, attacked by troops and defended by , ; and if a daring military genius urged the english attack, a soldier as daring and well-nigh as able as wolfe directed the french defence. montcalm gave a proof of his fine quality as a soldier within twenty-four hours of the appearance of the british fleet. the very afternoon the british ships dropped anchor a terrific tempest swept over the harbour, drove the transports from their moorings, dashed the great ships of war against each other, and wrought immense mischief. the tempest dropped as quickly as it had arisen. the night fell black and moonless. towards midnight the british sentinels on the point of the isle of orleans saw drifting silently through the gloom the outlines of a cluster of ships. they were eight huge fire-ships, floating mines packed with explosives. the nerve of the french sailors, fortunately for the british, failed them, and they fired the ships too soon. but the spectacle of these flaming monsters as they drifted towards the british fleet was appalling. the river showed ebony-black under the white flames. the glare lit up the river cliffs, the roofs of the city, the tents of montcalm, the slopes of the distant hills, the black hulls of the british ships. it was one of the most stupendous exhibitions of fireworks ever witnessed! but it was almost as harmless as a display of fireworks. the boats from the british fleet were by this time in the water, and pulling with steady daring to meet these drifting volcanoes. they were grappled, towed to the banks, and stranded, and there they spluttered and smoked and flamed till the white light of the dawn broke over them. the only mischief achieved by these fire-ships was to burn alive one of their own captains and five or six of his men, who failed to escape in their boats. wolfe, in addition to the isle of orleans, seized point levi, opposite the city, and this gave him complete command of the basin of quebec; from his batteries on point levi, too, he could fire directly on the city, and destroy it if he could not capture it. he himself landed the main body of his troops on the east bank of the montmorenci, montcalm's position, strongly entrenched, being between him and the city. between the two armies, however, ran the deep gorge through which the swift current of the montmorenci rushes down to join the st. lawrence. the gorge is barely a gunshot in width, but of stupendous depth. the montmorenci tumbles over its rocky bed with a speed that turns the flashing waters almost to the whiteness of snow. was there ever a more curious military position adopted by a great general in the face of superior forces! wolfe's tiny army was distributed into three camps: his right wing on the montmorenci was six miles distant from his left wing at point levi, and between the centre, on the isle of orleans, and the two wings, ran the two branches of the st. lawrence. that wolfe deliberately made such a distribution of his forces under the very eyes of montcalm showed his amazing daring. and yet beyond firing across the montmorenci on montcalm's left wing, and bombarding the city from point levi, the british general could accomplish nothing. montcalm knew that winter must compel wolfe to retreat, and he remained stubbornly but warily on the defensive. on july the british performed a daring feat. in the darkness of the night two of the men-of-war and several sloops ran past the quebec batteries and reached the river above the town; they destroyed some fireships they found there, and cut off montcalm's communication by water with montreal. this rendered it necessary for the french to establish guards on the line of precipices between quebec and cap-rouge. on july the french repeated the experiment of fire-ships on a still more gigantic scale. a vast fire-raft was constructed, composed of some seventy schooners, boats, and rafts, chained together, and loaded with combustibles and explosives. the fire-raft is described as being fathoms in length, and its appearance, as it came drifting on the current, a mass of roaring fire, discharging every instant a shower of missiles, was terrifying. but the british sailors dashed down upon it, broke the huge raft into fragments, and towed them easily ashore. "hang it, jack," one sailor was heard to say to his mate as he tugged at the oar, "didst thee ever take hell in tow before?" time was on montcalm's side, and unless wolfe could draw him from his impregnable entrenchments and compel him to fight, the game was lost. when the tide fell, a stretch of shoal a few score yards wide was left bare on the french side of the montmorenci. the slope that covered this was steep, slippery with grass, crowned by a great battery, and swept by the cross-fire of entrenchments on either flank. montcalm, too, holding the interior lines, could bring to the defence of this point twice the force with which wolfe could attack it. yet to wolfe's keen eyes this seemed the one vulnerable point in montcalm's front, and on july he made a desperate leap upon it. the attack was planned with great art. the british batteries thundered across the montmorenci, and a feint was made of fording that river higher up, so as to distract the attention of the french, whilst the boats of the fleet threatened a landing near quebec itself. at half-past five the tide was at its lowest, and the boat-flotilla, swinging round at a signal, pulled at speed for the patch of muddy foreshore already selected. the grenadiers and royal americans leaped ashore in the mud, and--waiting neither for orders, nor leaders, nor supports--dashed up the hill to storm the redoubt. they reached the first redoubt, tumbled over it and through it, only to find themselves breathless in a semi-circle of fire. the men fell fast, but yet struggled fiercely upwards. a furious storm of rain broke over the combatants at that moment, and made the steep grass-covered slope as slippery as mere glass. "we could not see half-way down the hill," writes the french officer in command of the battery on the summit. but through the smoke and the driving rain they could still see the grenadiers and royal americans in ragged clusters, scarce able to stand, yet striving desperately to climb upwards. the reckless ardour of the grenadiers had spoiled wolfe's attack, the sudden storm helped to save the french, and wolfe withdrew his broken but furious battalions, having lost some of his best men and officers. the exultant french regarded the siege as practically over; but wolfe was a man of heroic and quenchless tenacity, and never so dangerous as when he seemed to be in the last straits. he held doggedly on, in spite of cold and tempest and disease. his own frail body broke down, and for the first time the shadow of depression fell on the british camps when they no longer saw the red head and lean and scraggy body of their general moving amongst them. for a week, between august and august , he lay apparently a dying man, his face, with its curious angles, white with pain and haggard with disease. but he struggled out again, and framed yet new plans of attack. on september the captains of the men-of-war held a council on board the flagship, and resolved that the approach of winter required the fleet to leave quebec without delay. by this time, too, wolfe's scanty force was diminished one-seventh by disease or losses in battle. wolfe, however had now formed the plan which ultimately gave him success, though at the cost of his own life. from a tiny little cove, now known as wolfe's cove, five miles to the west of quebec, a path, scarcely accessible to a goat, climbs up the face of the great cliff, nearly feet high. the place was so inaccessible that only a post of men kept guard over it. up that track, in the blackness of the night, wolfe resolved to lead his army to the attack on quebec! it needed the most exquisite combinations to bring the attacking force to that point from three separate quarters, in the gloom of night, at a given moment, and without a sound that could alarm the enemy. wolfe withdrew his force from the montmorenci, embarked them on board his ships, and made every sign of departure. montcalm mistrusted these signs, and suspected wolfe would make at least one more leap on quebec before withdrawing. yet he did not in the least suspect wolfe's real designs. he discussed, in fact, the very plan wolfe adopted, but dismissed it by saying, "we need not suppose that the enemy have wings." the british ships were kept moving up and down the river front for several days, so as to distract and perplex the enemy. on september wolfe's plans were complete, and he issued his final orders. one sentence in them curiously anticipates nelson's famous signal at trafalgar. "officers and men," wrote wolfe, "_will remember what their country expects of them_." a feint on beauport, five miles to the east of quebec, as evening fell, made montcalm mass his troops there; but it was at a point five miles west of quebec the real attack was directed. at two o'clock at night two lanterns appeared for a minute in the maintop shrouds of the _sunderland_. it was the signal, and from the fleet, from the isle of orleans, and from point levi, the english boats stole silently out, freighted with some troops, and converged towards the point in the black wall of cliffs agreed upon. wolfe himself was in the leading boat of the flotilla. as the boats drifted silently through the darkness on that desperate adventure, wolfe, to the officers about him, commenced to recite gray's "elegy":-- "the boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, and all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, await alike the inevitable hour. the paths of glory lead but to the grave." "now, gentlemen," he added, "i would rather have written that poem than take quebec." wolfe, in fact, was half poet, half soldier. suddenly from the great wall of rock and forest to their left broke the challenge of a french sentinel--"_qui vive_?" a highland officer of fraser's regiment, who spoke french fluently, answered the challenge. "_france_." "_a quel regiment_?" "_de la reine_," answered the highlander. as it happened the french expected a flotilla of provision boats, and after a little further dialogue, in which the cool highlander completely deceived the french sentries, the british were allowed to slip past in the darkness. the tiny cove was safely reached, the boats stole silently up without a blunder, twenty-four volunteers from the light infantry leaped from their boat and led the way in single file up the path, that ran like a thread along the face of the cliff. wolfe sat eagerly listening in his boat below. suddenly from the summit he saw the flash of the muskets and heard the stern shout which told him his men were up. a clear, firm order, and the troops sitting silent in the boats leaped ashore, and the long file of soldiers, like a chain of ants, went up the face of the cliff, wolfe amongst the foremost, and formed in order on the plateau, the boats meanwhile rowing back at speed to bring up the remainder of the troops. wolfe was at last within montcalm's guard! when the morning of the th dawned, the british army, in line of battle, stood looking down on quebec. montcalm quickly heard the news, and came riding furiously across the st. charles and past the city to the scene of danger. he rode, as those who saw him tell, with a fixed look, and uttering not a word. the vigilance of months was rendered worthless by that amazing night escalade. when he reached the slopes montcalm saw before him the silent red wall of british infantry, the highlanders with waving tartans and wind-blown plumes--all in battle array. it was not a detachment, but an army! the fight lasted fifteen minutes, and might be told in almost as many words. montcalm brought on his men in three powerful columns, in number double that of wolfe's force. the british troops stood grimly silent, though they were tormented by the fire of indians and canadians lying in the grass. the french advanced eagerly, with a tumult of shouts and a confused fire; the british moved forward a few rods, halted, dressed their lines, and when the french were within forty paces threw in one fierce volley, so sharply timed that the explosion of muskets sounded like the sudden blast of a cannon. again, again, and yet again, the flame ran from end to end of the steadfast hue. when the smoke lifted, the french column were wrecked. the british instantly charged. the spirit of the clan awoke in fraser's highlanders: they flung aside their muskets, drew their broadswords, and with a fierce celtic slogan rushed on the enemy. never was a charge pressed more ruthlessly home. after the fight one of the british officers wrote: "there was not a bayonet in the three leading british regiments, nor a broadsword amongst the highlanders, that was not crimson with the blood of a foeman." wolfe himself charged at the head of the grenadiers, his bright uniform making him conspicuous. he was shot in the wrist, wrapped a handkerchief round the wound, and still ran forward. two other bullets struck him--one, it is said, fired by a british deserter, a sergeant broken by wolfe for brutality to a private. "don't let the soldiers see me drop," said wolfe, as he fell, to an officer running beside him. an officer of the grenadiers, a gentleman volunteer, and a private carried wolfe to a redoubt near. he refused to allow a surgeon to be called. "there is no need," he said, "it is all over with me." then one of the little group, casting a look at the smoke-covered battlefield, cried, "they run! see how they run!" "who run?" said the dying wolfe, like a man roused from sleep. "the enemy, sir," was the answer. a flash of life came back to wolfe; the eager spirit thrust from it the swoon of death; he gave a clear, emphatic order for cutting off the enemy's retreat; then, turning on his side, he added, "now god be praised; i die in peace." that fight determined that the north american continent should be the heritage of the anglo-saxon race. and, somehow, the popular instinct, when the news reached england, realised the historic significance of the event. "when we first heard of wolfe's glorious deed," writes thackeray in "the virginians"--"of that army marshalled in darkness and carried silently up the midnight river--of those rocks scaled by the intrepid leader and his troops--of the defeat of montcalm on the open plain by the sheer valour of his conqueror--we were all intoxicated in england by the news." not merely all london but half england flamed into illuminations. one spot alone was dark--blackheath, where, solitary amidst a rejoicing nation, wolfe's mother mourned for her heroic son--like milton's lycidas--"dead ere his prime." the great lord hawke the english flag "what is the flag of england? winds of the world, declare! * * * * * * * * * the lean white bear hath seen it in the long, long arctic night, the musk-ox knows the standard that flouts the northern light. * * * * * * * * * never was isle so little, never was sea so lone, but over the scud and the palm-trees an english flag has flown. i have wrenched it free from the halliard to hang for a wisp on the horn; i have chased it north to the lizard--ribboned and rolled and torn; i have spread its folds o'er the dying, adrift in a hopeless sea; i have hurled it swift on the slaver, and seen the slave set free. * * * * * * * * * never the lotos closes, never the wild-fowl wake, but a soul goes out on the east wind, that died for england's sake-- man or woman or suckling, mother or bride or maid-- because on the bones of the english, the english flag is stayed. * * * * * * * * * the dead dumb fog hath wrapped it--the frozen dews have kissed-- the naked stars have seen it, a fellow-star in the mist. what is the flag of england? ye have but my breath to dare; ye have but my waves to conquer. go forth, for it is there!" --kipling. "the great lord hawke" is burke's phrase, and is one of the best-earned epithets in literature. yet what does the average englishman to-day remember of the great sailor who, through the bitter november gales of , kept dogged and tireless watch over the french fleet in brest, destroyed that fleet with heroic daring amongst the sands of quiberon, while the fury of a bay of biscay tempest almost drowned the roar of his guns, and so crushed a threatened invasion of england? hawke has been thrown by all-devouring time into his wallet as mere "alms for oblivion"; yet amongst all the sea-dogs who ever sailed beneath "the blood-red flag" no one ever less deserved that fate. campbell, in "ye mariners of england," groups "blake and mighty nelson" together as the two great typical english sailors. hawke stands midway betwixt them, in point both of time and of achievements, though he had more in him of blake than of nelson. he lacked, no doubt, the dazzling electric strain that ran through the war-like genius of nelson. hawke's fighting quality was of the grim, dour home-spun character; but it was a true genius for battle, and as long as great britain is a sea-power the memory of the great sailor who crushed gentians off quiberon deserves to live. hawke, too, was a great man in the age of little men. the fame of the english navy had sunk to the lowest point. its ships were rotten; its captains had lost the fighting tradition; its fleets were paralysed by a childish system of tactics which made a decisive battle almost impossible. hawke describes the _portland_, a ship of which he was in command, as "iron-sick"; the wood was too rotten, that is, to hold the iron bolts, so that "not a man in the ship had a dry place to sleep in." his men were "tumbling down with scurvy"; his mainmast was so pulverised by dry rot that a walking-stick could be thrust into it. of another ship, the _ramilies_--his favourite ship, too--he says, "it became water-logged whenever it blowed hard." the ships' bottoms grew a rank crop of grass, slime, shells, barnacles, &c., till the sluggish vessels needed almost a gale to move them. marines were not yet invented; the navy had no uniform. the french ships of that day were better built, better armed, and sometimes better fought than british ships. a british -gun ship in armament and weight of fire was only equal to a french ship of guns. every considerable fight was promptly followed by a crop of court-martials, in which captains were tried for misconduct before the enemy, such as to-day is unthinkable. admiral matthews was broken by court-martial for having, with an excess of daring, pierced the french line off toulon, and thus sacrificed pedantic tactics to victory. but the list of court-martials held during the second quarter of the eighteenth century on british captains for beginning to fight too late, or for leaving off too soon, would, if published, astonish this generation. after the fight off toulon in , two admirals and six post-captains were court-martialled. admiral byng was shot on his own deck, not exactly as voltaire's _mot_ describes it, _pour encourager les autres_, and not quite for cowardice, for byng was no coward. but he had no gleam of unselfish patriotic fire, and nothing of the gallant fighting impulse we have learned to believe is characteristic of the british sailor. he lost minorca, and disgraced the british flag because he was too dainty to face the stern discomforts of a fight. the corrupt and ignoble temper of english politics--the legacy of walpole's evil régime--poisoned the blood of the navy. no one can have forgotten macaulay's picture of newcastle, at that moment prime minister of england; the sly, greedy, fawning politician, as corrupt as walpole, without his genius; without honour, without truth, who loved office only less than he loved his own neck. a prime minister like newcastle made possible an admiral like byng. horace walpole tells the story of how, when the much-enduring british public broke into one of its rare but terrible fits of passion after the disgrace of minorca, and newcastle was trembling for his own head, a deputation from the city of london waited upon him, demanding that byng should be put upon his trial. "oh, indeed," replied newcastle, with fawning gestures, "he shall be tried immediately. he shall be hanged directly!" it was an age of base men, and the navy--neglected, starved, dishonoured--had lost the great traditions of the past, and did not yet feel the thrill of the nobler spirit soon to sweep over it. but in the dazzling intellect and masterful will of the first pitt controlled the fortunes of england, and the spirit of the nation was beginning to awake. burns and wilberforce and the younger pitt were born that year; minden was fought; wolfe saw with dying eyes the french battalions broken on the plains of abraham and canada won. but the great event of the year is hawke's defeat of conflans off quiberon. hawke was the son of a barrister; he entered the navy at fourteen years of age as a volunteer, obtained the rating of an able seaman at nineteen years of age, was a third lieutenant at twenty-four, and became captain at thirty. he knew the details of his profession as well as any sea-dog of the forecastle, was quite modern in the keen and humane interest he took in his men, had something of wellington's high-minded allegiance to duty, while his fighting had a stern but sober thoroughness worthy of cromwell's ironsides. the british people came to realise that he was a sailor with the strain of a bulldog in him; an indomitable fighter, who, ordered to blockade a hostile port, would hang on, in spite of storms and scurvy, while he had a man left who could pull a rope or fire a gun; a fighter, too, of the type dear to the british imagination, who took the shortest course to the enemy's line, and would exchange broadsides at pistol-shot distance while his ship floated. in a great french army threatened the shores of england. at havre and dunkirk huge flotillas of flat-bottomed boats lay at their moorings; , french veterans were ready to embark. a great fleet under the command of conflans--one of the ablest seamen france has ever produced--was gathered at brest. a french squadron was to break out of toulon, join conflans, sweep the narrow seas, and convoy the french expedition to english shores. the strategy, if it had succeeded, might have changed the fate of the world. to hawke was entrusted the task of blockading conflans in brest, and a greater feat of seamanship is not to be found in british records. the french fleet consisted of ships, manned by , men, and carrying guns. the british fleet numbered ships, with , men, and carrying guns. the two fleets, that is, were nearly equal, the advantage, on the whole, being on the side of the french. hawke therefore had to blockade a fleet equal to his own, the french ships lying snugly in harbour, the english ships scourged by november gales and rolling in the huge seas of the bay of biscay. sir cloudesley shovel, himself a seaman of the highest quality, said that "an admiral would deserve to be broke who kept great ships out after the end of september, and to be shot if after october." hawke maintained his blockade of brest for six months. his captains broke down in health, his men were dying from scurvy, the bottoms of his ships grew foul; it was a stormy season in the stormiest of seas. again and again the wild north-west gales blew the british admiral off his cruising ground. but he fought his way back, sent his ships, singly or in couples, to torbay or plymouth for a moment's breathing space, but himself held on, with a grim courage and an unslumbering vigilance which have never been surpassed. on november , a tremendous westerly gale swept over the english cruising-ground. hawke battled with it for three days, and then ran, storm-driven and half-dismantled, to torbay for shelter on the th. he put to sea again on the th. the gale had veered round to the south-west, but blew as furiously as ever, and hawke was once more driven back on the th to torbay. he struggled out again on the th, to find that the french had escaped! the gale that blew hawke from his post brought a french squadron down the channel, which ran into brest and joined conflans there; and on the th, when hawke was desperately fighting his way back to his post, conflans put to sea, and, with the gale behind him, ran on his course to quiberon. there he hoped to brush aside the squadron keeping guard over the french transports, embark the powerful french force assembled there, and swoop down on the english coast. the wild weather, conflans reckoned, would keep hawke storm-bound in torbay till this scheme was carried out. but hawke with his whole fleet, fighting his way in the teeth of the gale, reached ushant on the very day conflans broke out of brest, and, fast as the french fleet ran before the gale, the white sails of hawke's ships, showing over the stormy rim of the horizon, came on the frenchman's track. hawke's frigates, outrunning those heavy sea-waggons, his line-of-battle ships, hung on conflans' rear. the main body of the british fleet followed, staggering under their pyramids of sails, with wet decks and the wild north-west gale on their quarter. hawke's best sailers gained steadily on the laggards of conflans' fleet. had hawke obeyed the puerile tactics of his day he would have dressed his line and refused to attack at all unless he could bring his entire fleet into action. but, as hawke himself said afterwards, he "had determined to attack them in the old way and make downright work of them," and he signalled his leading ships to attack the moment they brought an enemy's ship within fire. conflans could not abandon his slower ships, and he reluctantly swung round his van and formed line to meet the attack. as the main body of the english came up, the french admiral suddenly adopted a strategy which might well have baffled a less daring adversary than hawke. he ran boldly in shore towards the mouth of the vilaine. it was a wild stretch of most dangerous coast; the granite breton hills above; splinters of rocky islets, on which the huge sea rollers tore themselves into white foam, below; and more dangerous still, and stretching far out to sea, wide reaches of shoal and quicksand. from the north-west the gale blew more wildly than ever; the sky was black with flying clouds; on the breton hills the spectators clustered in thousands. the roar of the furious breakers and the shrill note of the gale filled the very air with tumult. conflans had pilots familiar with the coast, yet it was bold seamanship on his part to run down to a lee shore on such a day of tempest. hawke had no pilots and no charts; but he saw before him, half hidden in mist and spray, the great hulls of the ships over which he had kept watch so long in brest harbour, and he anticipated nelson's strategy forty years afterwards. "where there is room for the enemy to swing," said nelson, "there is room for me to anchor." "where there's a passage for the enemy," argued hawke, "there is a passage for me! where a frenchman can sail, an englishman can follow! their pilots shall be ours. if they go to pieces in the shoals, they will serve as beacons for us." and so, on the wild november afternoon, with the great billows that the bay of biscay hurls on that stretch of iron-bound coast riding shoreward in league-long rollers, hawke flung himself into the boiling caldron of rocks and shoals and quicksands. no more daring deed was ever done at sea. measured by mere fighting courage, there were thousands of men in the british fleet as brave as hawke. but the iron nerve that, without an instant's pause, in a scene so wild, on a shore so perilous, and a sea sown so thick with unknown dangers, flung a whole fleet into battle, was probably possessed by no other man than hawke amongst the , gallant sailors who fought at quiberon. the fight, taking all its incidents into account, is perhaps as dramatic as anything known in the history of war. the british ships came rolling on, grim and silent, throwing huge sheets of spray from their bluff bows. an -gun french ship, _le formidable_, lay in their track, and each huge british liner, as it swept past to attack the main body of the french, vomited on the unfortunate _le formidable_ a dreadful broadside. and upon each british ship, in turn, as it rolled past in spray and flame, the gallant frenchman flung an answering broadside. soon the thunder of the guns deepened as ship after ship found its antagonist. the short november day was already darkening; the thunder of surf and of tempest answered in yet wilder notes the deep-throated guns; the wildly rolling fleets offered one of the strangest sights the sea has ever witnessed. soon hawke himself, in the _royal george_, of guns, came on, stern and majestic, seeking some fitting antagonist. this was the great ship that afterwards sank ignobly at its anchorage at spithead, with "twice four hundred men," a tale which, for every english boy, is made famous in cowper's immortal ballad. but what an image of terror and of battle the _royal george_ seemed as in the bitter november storm she bore down on the french fleet! hawke disdained meaner foes, and bade his pilot lay him alongside conflans' flagship, _le soleil royal_. shoals were foaming on every side, and the pilot warned hawke he could not carry the _royal george_ farther in without risking the ship. "you have done your duty," said hawke, "in pointing out the risk; and now lay me alongside of _le soleil royal_." a french -gun ship, _la superbe_, threw itself betwixt hawke and conflans. slowly the huge mass of the _royal george_ bore up, so as to bring its broadside to bear on _la superbe_, and then the english guns broke into a tempest of flame. through spray and mist the masts of the unfortunate frenchman seemed to tumble; a tempest of cries was heard; the british sailors ran back their guns to reload. a sudden gust cleared the atmosphere, and _la superbe_ had vanished. her top-masts gleamed wet, for a moment, through the green seas, but with her crew of men she had sunk, as though crushed by a thunderbolt, beneath a single broadside from the _royal george_. then from the nearer hills the crowds of french spectators saw hawke's blue flag and conflans' white pennon approach each other, and the two great ships, with slanting decks and fluttering canvas, and rigging blown to leeward, began their fierce duel. other french ships crowded to their admiral's aid, and at one time no less than seven french line-of-battle ships were pouring their fire into the mighty and shot-torn bulk of the _royal george_. howe, in the _magnanime_, was engaged in fierce conflict, meanwhile, with the _thesée_, when a sister english ship, the _montague_, was flung by a huge sea on the quarter of howe's ship, and practically disabled it. the _torbay_, under captain keppel, took howe's place with the _thesée_, and both ships had their lower-deck ports open, so as to fight with their heaviest guns. the unfortunate frenchman rolled to a great sea; the wide-open ports dipped, the green water rushed through, quenched the fire of the guns, and swept the sailors from their quarters. the great ship shivered, rolled over still more wildly, and then, with men, went down like a stone. the british ship, with better luck and better seamanship, got its ports closed and was saved. several french ships by this time had struck, but the sea was too wild to allow them to be taken possession of. night was falling fast, the roar of the tempest still deepened, and no less than seven huge french liners, throwing their guns overboard, ran for shelter across the bar of the vilaine, the pursuing english following them almost within reach of the spray flung from the rocks. hawke then, by signals, brought his fleet to anchor for the night under the lee of the island of dumet. it was a wild night, filled with the thunder of the surf and the shriek of the gale, and all through it, as the english ships rode, madly straining at their anchors, they could hear the sounds of distress guns. one of the ships that perished that night was a fine english seventy-four, the _resolution_. the morning broke as wild as the night. to leeward two great line-of-battle ships could be seen on the rocks; but in the very middle of the english fleet, its masts gone, its hull battered with shot, was the flagship of conflans, _le soleil royal_. in the darkness and tempest of the night the unfortunate frenchman, all unwitting, had anchored in the very midst of his foes. as soon as, through the grey and misty light of the november dawn, the english ships were discovered, conflans cut his cables and drifted ashore. the _essex_, guns, was ordered to pursue her, and her captain, an impetuous irishman, obeyed his orders so literally that he too ran ashore, and the _essex_ became a total wreck. "when i consider," hawke wrote to the admiralty, "the season of the year, the hard gales on the day of action, a flying enemy, the shortness of the day, and the coast they were on, i can boldly affirm that all that could possibly be done has been done." history confirms that judgment. there is no other record of a great sea-fight fought under conditions so wild, and scarcely any other sea-battle has achieved results more decisive. trafalgar itself scarcely exceeds it in the quality of effectiveness. quiberon saved england from invasion. it destroyed for the moment the naval power of france. its political results in france cannot be described here, but they were of the first importance. the victory gave a new complexion to english naval warfare. rodney and howe were hawke's pupils, nelson himself, who was a post-captain when hawke died, learned his tactics in hawke's school. no sailor ever served england better than hawke. and yet, such is the irony of human affairs, that on the very day when hawke was adding the thunder of his guns to the diapason of surf and tempest off quiberon, and crushing the fleet that threatened england with invasion, a london mob was burning his effigy for having allowed the french to escape his blockade. the night attack on badajos "hand to hand, and foot to foot; nothing there, save death, was mute: stroke, and thrust, and flash, and cry for quarter or for victory, mingle there with the volleying thunder, which makes the distant cities wonder how the sounding battle goes, if with them, or for their foes; if they must mourn, or must rejoice in that annihilating voice, which pierces the deep hills through and through with an echo dread and new. * * * * * * * from the point of encountering blades to the hilt, sabres and swords with blood were gilt; but the rampart is won, and the spoil begun, and all but the after carnage done." --byron. it would be difficult to find in the whole history of war a more thrilling and heroic chapter than that which tells the story of the six great campaigns of the peninsular war. this was, perhaps, the least selfish war of which history tells. it was not a war of aggrandisement or of conquest: it was waged to deliver not merely spain, but the whole of europe, from that military despotism with which the genius and ambition of napoleon threatened to overwhelm the civilised world. and on what a scale great britain, when aroused, can fight, let the peninsular war tell. at its close the fleets of great britain rode triumphant on every sea; and in the peninsula between - her land forces fought and won nineteen pitched battles, made or sustained ten fierce and bloody sieges, took four great fortresses, twice expelled the french from portugal and once from spain. great britain expended in these campaigns more than , , pounds sterling on her own troops, besides subsidising the forces of spain and portugal. this "nation of shopkeepers" proved that when kindled to action it could wage war on a scale and in a fashion that might have moved the wonder of alexander or of caesar, and from motives, it may be added, too lofty for either caesar or alexander so much as to comprehend. it is worth while to tell afresh the story of some of the more picturesque incidents in that great strife. [illustration: siege of badajos, . from napier's "peninsular war."] on april , , badajos was stormed by wellington; and the story forms one of the most tragical and splendid incidents in the military history of the world. of "the night of horrors at badajos," napier says, "posterity can scarcely be expected to credit the tale." no tale, however, is better authenticated, or, as an example of what disciplined human valour is capable of achieving, better deserves to be told. wellington was preparing for his great forward movement into spain, the campaign which led to salamanca, the battle in which " , frenchmen were beaten in forty minutes." as a preliminary he had to capture, under the vigilant eyes of soult and marmont, the two great border fortresses, ciudad rodrigo and badajos. he had, to use napier's phrase, "jumped with both feet" on the first-named fortress, and captured it in twelve days with a loss of men and officers. but badajos was a still harder task. the city stands on a rocky ridge which forms the last spur of the toledo range, and is of extraordinary strength. the river rivillas falls almost at right angles into the guadiana, and in the angle formed by their junction stands badajos, oval in shape, girdled with elaborate defences, with the guadiana yards wide as its defence to the north, the rivillas serving as a wet ditch to the east, and no less than five great fortified outposts--saint roque, christoval, picurina, pardaleras, and a fortified bridge-head across the guadiana--as the outer zone of its defences. twice the english had already assailed badajos, but assailed it in vain. it was now held by a garrison strong, under a soldier, general phillipson, with a real genius for defence, and the utmost art had been employed in adding to its defences. on the other hand wellington had no means of transport and no battery train, and had to make all his preparations under the keen-eyed vigilance of the french. perhaps the strangest collection of artillery ever employed in a great siege was that which wellington collected from every available quarter and used at badajos. of the fifty-two pieces, some dated from the days of philip ii. and the spanish armada, some were cast in the reign of philip iii., others in that of john iv. of portugal, who reigned in ; there were -pounders of george ii.'s day, and russian naval guns; the bulk of the extraordinary medley being obsolete brass engines which required from seven to ten minutes to cool between each discharge. wellington, however, was strong in his own warlike genius and in the quality of the troops he commanded. he employed , men in the siege, and it may well be doubted whether--if we put the question of equipment aside--a more perfect fighting instrument than the force under his orders ever existed. the men were veterans, but the officers on the whole were young, so there was steadiness in the ranks and fire in the leading. hill and graham covered the siege, picton and barnard, kempt and colville led the assaults. the trenches were held by the third, fourth, and fifth divisions, and by the famous light division. of the latter it has been said that the macedonian phalanx of alexander the great, the tenth legion of caesar, the famous spanish infantry of alva, or the iron soldiers who followed cortes to mexico, did not exceed it in warlike quality. wellington's troops, too, had a personal grudge against badajos, and had two defeats to avenge. perhaps no siege in history, as a matter of fact, ever witnessed either more furious valour in the assault, or more of cool and skilled courage in the defence. the siege lasted exactly twenty days, and cost the besiegers men, or an average loss of per day. it was waged throughout in stormy weather, with the rivers steadily rising, and the tempests perpetually blowing; yet the thunder of the attack never paused for an instant. wellington's engineers attacked the city at the eastern end of the oval, where the rivillas served it as a gigantic wet ditch; and the picurina, a fortified hill, ringed by a ditch fourteen feet deep, a rampart sixteen feet high, and a zone of mines, acted as an outwork. wellington, curiously enough, believed in night attacks, a sure proof of his faith in the quality of the men he commanded; and on the eighth night of the siege, at nine o'clock, men of the third division were suddenly flung on the picurina. the fort broke into a ring of flame, by the light of which the dark figures of the stormers were seen leaping with fierce hardihood into the ditch and struggling madly up the ramparts, or tearing furiously at the palisades. but the defences were strong, and the assailants fell literally in scores. napier tells how "the axemen of the light division, compassing the fort like prowling wolves," discovered the gate at the rear, and so broke into the fort. the engineer officer who led the attack declares that "the place would never have been taken had it not been for the coolness of these men" in absolutely walking round the fort to its rear, discovering the gate, and hewing it down under a tempest of bullets. the assault lasted an hour, and in that period, out of the men who attacked, no less than , with officers, were killed or wounded! three men out of every five in the attacking force, that is, were disabled, and yet they won! there followed twelve days of furious industry, of trenches pushed tirelessly forward through mud and wet, and of cannonading that only ceased when the guns grew too hot to be used. captain maccarthy, of the th regiment, has left a curious little monograph on the siege, full of incidents, half tragic and half amusing, but which show the temper of wellington's troops. thus he tells how an engineer officer, when marking out the ground for a breaching-battery very near the wall, which was always lined with french soldiers in eager search of human targets, "used to challenge them to prove the perfection of their shooting by lifting up the skirts of his coat in defiance several times in the course of his survey; driving in his stakes and measuring his distances with great deliberation, and concluding by an extra shake of his coat-tails and an ironical bow before he stepped under shelter!" on the night of april , wellington determined to assault. no less than seven attacks were to be delivered. two of them--on the bridge-head across the guadiana and on the pardaleras--were mere feints. but on the extreme right picton with the third division was to cross the rivillas and escalade the castle, whose walls rose time-stained and grim, from eighteen to twenty-four feet high. leith with the fifth division was to attack the opposite or western extremity of the town, the bastion of st. vincente, where the glacis was mined, the ditch deep, and the scarp thirty feet high. against the actual breaches colville and andrew barnard were to lead the light division and the fourth division, the former attacking the bastion of santa maria and the latter the trinidad. the hour was fixed for ten o'clock, and the story of that night attack, as told in napier's immortal prose, is one of the great battle-pictures of literature; and any one who tries to tell the tale will find himself slipping insensibly into napier's cadences. the night was black; a strange silence lay on rampart and trench, broken from time to time by the deep voices of the sentinels that proclaimed all was well in badajos. "_sentinelle garde à vous_," the cry of the sentinels, was translated by the british private as "all's well in badahoo!" a lighted carcass thrown from the castle discovered picton's men standing in ordered array, and compelled them to attack at once. maccarthy, who acted as guide across the tangle of wet trenches and the narrow bridge that spanned the rivillas, has left an amusing account of the scene. at one time picton declared maccarthy was leading them wrong, and, drawing his sword, swore he would cut him down. the column reached the trench, however, at the foot of the castle walls, and was instantly overwhelmed with the fire of the besieged. maccarthy says we can only picture the scene by "supposing that all the stars, planets, and meteors of the firmament, with innumerable moons emitting smaller ones in their course, were descending on the heads of the besiegers." maccarthy himself, a typical and gallant irishman, addressed his general with the exultant remark, "tis a glorious night, sir--a glorious night!" and, rushing forward to the head of the stormers, shouted, "up with the ladders!" the five ladders were raised, the troops swarmed up, an officer leading, but the first files were at once crushed by cannon fire, and the ladders slipped into the angle of the abutments. "dreadful their fall," records maccarthy of the slaughtered stormers, "and appalling their appearance at daylight." one ladder remained, and, a private soldier leading, the eager red-coated crowd swarmed up it. the brave fellow leading was shot as soon as his head appeared above the parapet; but the next man to him--again a private--leaped over the parapet, and was followed quickly by others, and this thin stream of desperate men climbed singly, and in the teeth of the flashing musketry, up that solitary ladder, and carried the castle. in the meanwhile the fourth and light divisions had flung themselves with cool and silent speed on the breaches. the storming party of each division leaped into the ditch. it was mined, the fuse was kindled, and the ditch, crowded with eager soldiery, became in a moment a sort of flaming crater, and the storming parties, strong, were in one fierce explosion dashed to pieces. in the light of that dreadful flame the whole scene became visible--the black ramparts, crowded with dark figures and glittering arms, on the one side; on the other the red columns of the british, broad and deep, moving steadily forward like a stream of human lava. the light division stood at the brink of the smoking ditch for an instant, amazed at the sight. "then," says napier, "with a shout that matched even the sound of the explosion," they leaped into it and swarmed up to the breach. the fourth division came running up and descended with equal fury, but the ditch opposite the trinidad was filled with water; the head of the division leaped into it, and, as napier puts it, "about of the fusiliers, the men of albuera, perished there." the breaches were impassable. across the top of the great slope of broken wall glittered a fringe of sword-blades, sharp-pointed, keen-edged on both sides, fixed in ponderous beams chained together and set deep in the ruins. for ten feet in front the ascent was covered with loose planks, studded with sharp iron points. behind the glittering edge of sword-blades stood the solid ranks of the french, each man supplied with three muskets, and their fire scourged the british ranks like a tempest. hundreds had fallen, hundreds were still falling; but the british clung doggedly to the lower slopes, and every few minutes an officer would leap forward with a shout, a swarm of men would instantly follow him, and, like leaves blown by a whirlwind, they swept up the ascent. but under the incessant fire of the french the assailants melted away. one private reached the sword-blades, and actually thrust his head beneath them till his brains were beaten out, so desperate was his resolve to get into badajos. the breach, as napier describes it, "yawning and glittering with steel, resembled the mouth of a huge dragon belching forth smoke and flame." but for two hours, and until men had fallen, the stubborn british persisted in their attacks. currie, of the nd, a cool and most daring soldier, found a narrow ramp beyond the santa maria breach only half-ruined; he forced his way back through the tumult and carnage to where wellington stood watching the scene, obtained an unbroken battalion from the reserve, and led it towards the broken ramp. but his men were caught in the whirling madness of the ditch and swallowed up in the tumult. nicholas, of the engineers, and shaw, of the rd, with some fifty soldiers, actually climbed into the santa maria bastion, and from thence tried to force their way into the breach. every man was shot down except shaw, who stood alone on the bastion. "with inexpressible coolness he looked at his watch, said it was too late to carry the breaches," and then leaped down! the british could not penetrate the breach; but they would not retreat. they could only die where they stood. the buglers of the reserve were sent to the crest of the glacis to sound the retreat; the troops in the ditch would not believe the signal to be genuine, and struck their own buglers who attempted to repeat it. "gathering in dark groups, and leaning on their muskets," says napier, "they looked up in sullen desperation at trinidad, while the enemy, stepping out on the ramparts, and aiming their shots by the light of fireballs, which they threw over, asked as their victims fell, 'why they did not come into badajos.'" all this while, curiously enough, picton was actually in badajos, and held the castle securely, but made no attempt to clear the breach. on the extreme west of the town, however, at the bastion of san vincente, the fifth division made an attack as desperate as that which was failing at the breaches. when the stormers actually reached the bastion, the portuguese battalions, who formed part of the attack, dismayed by the tremendous fire which broke out on them, flung down their ladders and fled. the british, however, snatched the ladders up, forced the barrier, jumped into the ditch, and tried to climb the walls. these were thirty feet high, and the ladders were too short. a mine was sprung in the ditch under the soldiers' feet; beams of wood, stones, broken waggons, and live shells were poured upon their heads from above. showers of grape from the flank swept the ditch. the stubborn soldiers, however, discovered a low spot in the rampart, placed three ladders against it, and climbed with reckless valour. the first man was pushed up by his comrades; he, in turn, dragged others up, and the unconquerable british at length broke through and swept the bastion. the tumult still stormed and raged at the eastern breaches, where the men of the light and fourth division were dying sullenly, and the men of the fifth division marched at speed across the town to take the great eastern breach in the rear. the streets were empty, but the silent houses were bright with lamps. the men of the fifth pressed on; they captured mules carrying ammunition to the breaches, and the french, startled by the tramp of the fast-approaching column, and finding themselves taken in the rear, fled. the light and fourth divisions broke through the gap hitherto barred by flame and steel, and badajos was won! in that dreadful night assault the english lost men. "let it be considered," says napier, "that this frightful carnage took place in the space of less than a hundred yards square--that the slain died not all suddenly, nor by one manner of death--that some perished by steel, some by shot, some by water; that some were crushed and mangled by heavy weights, some trampled upon, some dashed to atoms by the fiery explosions--that for hours this destruction was endured without shrinking, and the town was won at last. let these things be considered, and it must be admitted a british army bears with it an awful power. and false would it be to say the french were feeble men. the garrison stood and fought manfully and with good discipline, behaving worthily. shame there was none on any side. yet who shall do justice to the bravery of the british soldiers or the noble emulation of the officers? . . . no age, no nation, ever sent forth braver troops to battle than those who stormed badajos." the fire-ships in the basque roads "ship after ship, the whole night long, their high-built galleons came; ship after ship, the whole night long, with her battle-thunder and flame; ship after ship, the whole night long, drew back with her dead and her shame. for some were sunk and many were shattered, and so could fight us no more-- god of battles, was ever a battle like this in the world before?" --tennyson. on the night of april , , lord cochrane steered his floating mine against the gigantic boom that covered the french fleet lying in aix roads. the story is one of the most picturesque and exciting in the naval annals of great britain. marryat has embalmed the great adventure and its chief actor in the pages of "frank mildmay," and lord cochrane himself--like the earl of peterborough in the seventeenth century, who captured barcelona with a handful of men, and gordon in the nineteenth century, who won great battles in china walking-stick in hand--was a man who stamped himself, as with characters of fire, upon the popular imagination. to the courage of a knight-errant cochrane added the shrewd and humorous sagacity of a scotchman. if he had commanded fleets he would have rivalled the victories of nelson, and perhaps even have outshone the nile and trafalgar. and to warlike genius of the first order cochrane added a certain weird and impish ingenuity which his enemies found simply resistless. was there ever a cruise in naval history like that of cochrane in his brig misnamed the _speedy_, a mere coasting tub that would neither steer nor tack, and whose entire broadside cochrane himself could carry in his pockets! but in this wretched little brig, with its four-pounders, cochrane captured in one brief year more than vessels carrying an aggregate of guns, took prisoners, kept the whole spanish coast, off which he cruised, in perpetual alarm, and finished by attacking and capturing a spanish frigate, the _gamo_, of heavy guns and men. what we have called the impish daring and resource of cochrane is shown in this strange fight. he ran the little _speedy_ close under the guns of the huge _gamo_, and the spanish ship was actually unable to depress its guns sufficiently to harm its tiny antagonist. when the spaniards tried to board, cochrane simply shoved his pigmy craft a few yards away from the side of his foe, and this curious fight went on for an hour. then, in his turn, cochrane boarded, leaving nobody but the doctor on board the speedy. but he played the spaniards a characteristic trick. one half his men boarded the gamo by the head, with their faces elaborately blackened; and when, out of the white smoke forward, some forty demons with black faces broke upon the astonished spaniards, they naturally regarded the whole business as partaking of the black art, and incontinently fled below! the number of spaniards killed and wounded in this fight by the little _speedy_ exceeded the number of its own entire crew; and when the fight was over, british sailors had to keep guard over spanish prisoners. afterwards, in command of the _impérieuse_, a fine frigate, cochrane played a still more dashing part on the spanish coast, destroying batteries, cutting off supplies from the french ports, blowing up coast roads, and keeping perspiring battalions of the enemy marching to and fro to meet his descents. on the french coast, again, cochrane held large bodies of french troops paralysed by his single frigate. he proposed to the english government to take possession of the french islands in the bay of biscay, and to allow him, with a small squadron of frigates, to operate against the french seaboard. had this request been granted, he says, "neither the peninsular war nor its enormous cost to the nation from onwards would ever have been heard of!" "it would have been easy," he adds, "as it always will be easy in case of future wars, so to harass the french coasts as to find full employment for their troops at home, and so to render operations in foreign countries impossible." if england and france were once more engaged in war--_absit omen_!--the story of cochrane's exploits on the spanish and french coasts might prove a very valuable inspiration and object-lesson. cochrane's professional reward for his great services in the _impérieuse_ was an official rebuke for expending more sails, stores, gunpowder and shot than any other captain afloat in the same time! the fight in the basque roads, however--or rather in the aix roads--has great historical importance. it crowned the work of trafalgar. it finally destroyed french power on the sea, and gave england an absolute supremacy. no fleet actions took place after its date between "the meteor flag" and the tricolour, for the simple reason that no french fleet remained in existence. cochrane's fire-ships completed the work of the nile and trafalgar. early in the french fleet in brest, long blockaded by lord gambier, caught the british napping, slipped out unobserved, raised the blockades at l'orient and rochefort, added the squadrons lying in these two places to its own strength, and, anchoring in the aix roads, prepared for a dash on the west indies. the success with which the blockade at brest had been evaded, and the menace offered to the west indian trade, alarmed the british admiralty. lord gambier, with a powerful fleet, kept guard outside the aix roads; but if the blockade failed once, it might fail again. eager to destroy the last fleet france possessed, the admiralty strongly urged lord gambier to attack the enemy with fire-ships; but gambier, grown old, had visibly lost nerve, and he pronounced the use of fire-ships a "horrible and unchristian mode of warfare." lord mulgrave, the first lord of the admiralty, knowing cochrane's ingenuity and daring, sent for him, and proposed to send him to the basque roads to invent and execute some plan for destroying the french fleet. the scotchman was uppermost in cochrane in this interview, and he declined the adventure on the ground that to send a young post-captain to execute such an enterprise would be regarded as an insult by the whole fleet, and he would have every man's hand against him. lord mulgrave, however, was peremptory, and cochrane yielded, but on reaching the blockading fleet was met by a tempest of wrath from all his seniors. "why," they asked, "was cochrane sent out? we could have done the business as well as he. why did not lord gambier let us do it?" lord gambier, who had fallen into a sort of gentle and pious melancholy, was really more occupied in distributing tracts among his crews than in trying to reach his enemies; and harvey, his second in command, an old trafalgar sea-dog, when cochrane arrived with his commission, interviewed his admiral, denounced him in a white-heat on his own quarter-deck, and ended by telling him that "if nelson had been there he would not have anchored in the basque roads at all, but would have dashed at the enemy at once." this outburst, no doubt, relieved admiral harvey's feelings, but it cost him his flag, and he was court-martialled, and dismissed from the service for the performance. cochrane, however, set himself with characteristic daring and coolness to carry out his task. the french fleet consisted of one huge ship of guns, two of guns, eight seventy-fours, a -gun ship, and two -gun frigates--fourteen ships in all. it was drawn up in two lines under the shelter of powerful shore batteries, with the frigates as out-guards. as a protection against fire-ships, a gigantic boom had been constructed half a mile in length, forming two sides of a triangle, with the apex towards the british fleet. over this huge floating barrier powerful boat squadrons kept watch every night. cochrane's plan of attack was marked by real genius. he constructed three explosion vessels, floating mines on the largest scale. each of these terrific vessels contained no less than _fifteen hundred_ barrels of gunpowder, bound together with cables, with wedges and moistened sand rammed down betwixt them; forming, in brief, one gigantic bomb, with barrels of gunpowder for its charge. on the top of this huge powder magazine was piled, as a sort of agreeable condiment, hundreds of live shells and thousands of hand grenades; the whole, by every form of marine ingenuity, compacted into a solid mass which, at the touch of a fuse, could be turned into a sort of floating vesuvius. these were to be followed by a squadron of fire-ships. cochrane who, better, perhaps, than any soldier or sailor that ever lived, knew how to strike at his foes through their own imagination, calculated that when these three huge explosion vessels, with twenty fire-ships behind them, went off in a sort of saltpetre earthquake, the astonished frenchmen would imagine _every_ fire-ship to be a floating mine, and, instead of trying to board them and divert them from their fleet, would be simply anxious to get out of their way with the utmost possible despatch. the french, meanwhile, having watched their enemy lying inert for weeks, and confident in the gigantic boom which acted as their shield to the front, and the show of batteries which kept guard over them on either flank and to the rear, awaited the coming attack in a spirit of half-contemptuous gaiety. they had struck their topmasts and unbent their sails, and by way of challenge dressed their fleet with flags. one ship, the _calcutta_, had been captured from the english, and by way of special insult they hung out the british ensign under that ship's quarter-gallery, an affront whose deadly quality only a sailor can understand. the night of the th set in stormily. the tide ran fast, and the skies were black and the sea heavy--so heavy, indeed, that the boats of the english fleet which were intended to follow and cover the fire-ships never left the side of the flagship. cochrane, however, had called the officers commanding the fire-ships on board his frigate, given them their last instructions, and at half-past eight p.m. he himself, accompanied only by a lieutenant and four sailors, cut the moorings of the chief explosion vessel, and drifted off towards the french fleet. seated, that is, on top of barrels of gunpowder and a sort of haystack of grenades, he calmly floated off, with a squadron of fire-ships behind him, towards the french fleet, backed by great shore batteries, with seventy-three armed boats as a line of skirmishers. "it seemed to me," says marryat, who was an actor in the scene, "like entering the gates of hell!" the great floating mine drifted on through blackness and storm till, just as it struck the boom, cochrane, who previously made his five assistants get into the boat, with his own hand lit the fuse and in turn jumped into the boat. how frantically the little crew pulled to get clear of the ignited mine may be imagined; but wind and sea were against them. the fuse, which was calculated to burn for twelve minutes, lasted for only five. then the barrels of gunpowder went simultaneously off, peopling the black sky with a flaming torrent of shells, grenades, and rockets, and raising a mountainous wave that nearly swamped the unfortunate boat and its crew. the fault of the fuse, however, saved the lives of the daring six, as the missiles from the exploding vessel fell far _outside_ them. "the effect," says cochrane, who, like caesar, could write history as well as make it, "constituted one of the grandest artificial spectacles imaginable. for a moment the sky was red with the lurid glare arising from the simultaneous ignition of barrels of powder. on this gigantic flash subsiding the air seemed alive with shells, grenades, rockets, and masses of timber, the wreck of the shattered vessel." then came blackness, punctuated in flame by the explosion of the next floating mine. then, through sea-wrack and night, came the squadron of fire-ships, each one a pyramid of kindling flame. but the first explosion had achieved all that cochrane expected. it dismissed the huge boom into chips, and the french fleet lay open to attack. the captain of the second explosion vessel was so determined to do his work effectually that the entire crew was actually blown out of the vessel and one member of the party killed, while the toil of the boats in which, after the fire-ships had been abandoned, they and their crews had to fight their way back in the teeth of the gale, was so severe that several men died of mere fatigue. the physical effects of the floating mines and the drifting fire-ships, as a matter of fact, were not very great. the boom, indeed, was destroyed, but out of twenty fire-ships only four actually reached the enemy's position, and not one did any damage. cochrane's explosion vessels, however, were addressed not so much to the french ships as to the alarmed imagination of french sailors, and the effect achieved was overwhelming. all the french ships save one cut or slipped their cables, and ran ashore in wild confusion. cochrane cut the moorings of his explosion vessel at half-past eight o'clock; by midnight, or in less than four hours, the boom had been destroyed, and thirteen french ships--the solitary fleet that remained to france--were lying helplessly ashore. never, perhaps, was a result so great achieved in a time so brief, in a fashion so dramatic, or with a loss so trifling. when the grey morning broke, with the exception of two vessels, the whole french fleet was lying helplessly aground on the palles shoal. some were lying on their bilge with the keel exposed, others were frantically casting their guns overboard and trying to get afloat again. meanwhile gambier and the british fleet were lying fourteen miles distant in the basque roads, and cochrane in the _impérieuse_ was watching, with powder-blackened face, the curious spectacle of the entire fleet he had driven ashore, and the yet more amazing spectacle of a british fleet declining to come in and finally destroy its enemy. for here comes a chapter in the story on which englishmen do not love to dwell. cochrane tried to whip the muddy-spirited gambier into enterprise by emphatic and quick-following signal. at six a.m. he signalled, "_all the enemy's ships except two are on shore_," but this extracted from drowsy gambier no other response than the answering pennant. cochrane repeated his impatient signals at half-hour intervals, and with emphasis ever more shrill--"_the enemy's ships can be destroyed_"; "_half the fleet can destroy the enemy_"; "_the frigates alone can destroy the enemy_"; but still no response save the indifferent pennant. as the tide flowed in, the french ships showed signs of getting afloat, and cochrane signalled, "_the enemy is preparing to heave off_", even this brought no response from the pensive gambier. at eleven o'clock the british fleet weighed and stood in, but then, to cochrane's speechless wrath, re-anchored at a distance of three and a half miles, and by this time two of the french three-deckers were afloat. gambier finally despatched a single mortar-vessel in to bombard the stranded ships, but by this time cochrane had become desperate. he adopted a device which recalls nelson's use of his blind eye at copenhagen. at one o'clock he hove his anchor atrip and drifted, stern foremost, towards the enemy. he dare not make sail lest his trick should be detected and a signal of recall hoisted on the flagship. cochrane coolly determined, in a word, to force the hand of his sluggish admiral. he drifted with his solitary frigate down to the hostile fleet and batteries, which gambier thought it scarcely safe to attack with eleven ships of the line. when near the enemy's position he suddenly made sail and ran up the signal, "_in want of assistance_"; next followed a yet more peremptory message, "_in distress_." even gambier could not see an english frigate destroyed under the very guns of an english fleet without moving to its help, and he sent some of his ships in. but meanwhile, cochrane, though technically "in distress," was enjoying what he must have felt to be a singularly good time. he calmly took up a position which enabled him to engage an -gun ship, one of guns, and, in particular, that french ship which, on the previous day, had hung the british flag under her quarter-gallery. for half-an-hour he fought these three ships single-handed, and the calcutta actually struck to him, its captain afterwards being court-martialled and shot by the french themselves for surrendering to a frigate. then the other british ships came up, and ship after ship of the french fleet struck or was destroyed. night fell before the work was completed, and during the night gambier, for some mysterious reason, recalled his ships; but cochrane, in the _impérieuse_, clung to his post. he persuaded captain seymour, in the _pallas_, to remain with him, with four brigs, and with this tiny force he proposed to attack _l'ocean_, the french flagship of guns, which had just got afloat; but gambier peremptorily recalled him at dawn, before the fight was renewed. never before or since was a victory so complete and so nearly bloodless. five seamen were killed in the fire-ships, and five in the attack on the french fleet and about twenty wounded; and with this microscopic "butcher's bill" a great fleet, the last naval hope of france, was practically destroyed. for so much does the genius and daring of a single man count! that the french fleet was not utterly destroyed was due solely to gambier's want of resolution. and yet, such is the irony of history, that of the two chief actors in this drama, gambier, who marred it, was rewarded with the thanks of parliament; cochrane, who gave to it all its unique splendour, had his professional career abruptly terminated! that wild night in the aix roads, and the solitary and daring attack on the french fleet which followed next day, were practically cochrane's last acts as a british sailor. he achieved dazzling exploits under the flag of chili [transcriber's note: chile?] and brazil; but the most original warlike genius the english navy has ever known, fought no more battles for england. the man who spoiled napoleon's "destiny"! "oh, who shall lightly say that fame is nothing but an empty name! whilst in that sound there is a charm the nerves to brace, the heart to warm. as, thinking of the mighty dead, the young from slothful couch will start, and vow, with lifted hands outspread, like them to act a noble part?" --joanna baillie. from march to may , --for more than sixty days and nights, that is--a little, half-forgotten, and more than half-ruined syrian town was the scene of one of the fiercest and most dramatic sieges recorded in military history. and rarely has there been a struggle so apparently one-sided. a handful of british sailors and turkish irregulars were holding acre, a town without regular defences, against napoleon, the most brilliant military genius of his generation, with an army of , war-hardened veterans, the "army of italy"--soldiers who had dared the snows of the alps and conquered italy, and to whom victory was a familiar experience. in their ranks military daring had reached, perhaps, its very highest point. and yet the sailors inside that ring of crumbling wall won! at the blood-stained trenches of acre napoleon experienced his first defeat; and, years after, at st. helena, he said of sir sidney smith, the gallant sailor who baffled him, "that man made me miss my destiny." it is a curious fact that one englishman thwarted napoleon's career in the east, and another ended his career in the west, and it may be doubted which of the two napoleon hated most--wellington, who finally overthrew him at waterloo, or sidney smith, who, to use napoleon's own words, made him "miss his destiny," and exchange the empire of the east for a lonely pinnacle of rock in the atlantic. sidney smith was a sailor of the school of nelson and of dundonald--a man, that is, with a spark of that warlike genius which begins where mechanical rules end. he was a man of singular physical beauty, with a certain magnetism and fire about him which made men willing to die for him, and women who had never spoken to him fall headlong in love with him. his whole career is curiously picturesque. he became a middy at the tender age of eleven years; went through fierce sea-fights, and was actually mate of the watch when fourteen years old. he was a fellow-middy with william iv. in the fight off cape st. vincent, became commander when he was eighteen years of age, and captain before he was quite nineteen. but the british marine, even in those tumultuous days, scarcely yielded enough of the rapture of fighting to this post-captain in his teens. he took service under the swedish flag, saw hard fighting against the russians, became the close personal friend of the king, and was knighted by him. one of the feats at this period of his life with which tradition, with more or less of plausibility, credits sidney smith, is that of swimming by night through the russian fleet, a distance of two miles, carrying a letter enclosed in a bladder to the swedish admiral. sidney smith afterwards entered the turkish service. when war broke out betwixt france and england in , he purchased a tiny craft at smyrna, picked up in that port a hybrid crew, and hurried to join lord hood, who was then holding toulon. when the british abandoned the port--and it is curious to recollect that the duel between sidney smith and napoleon, which reached its climax at acre, began here--sidney smith volunteered to burn the french fleet, a task which he performed with an audacity and skill worthy of dundonald or nelson, and for which the french never forgave him. sidney smith was given the command of an english frigate, and fought a dozen brilliant fights in the channel. he carried with his boats a famous french privateer off havre de grace; but during the fight on the deck of the captured ship it drifted into the mouth of the seine above the forts. the wind dropped, the tide was too strong to be stemmed, and sidney smith himself was captured. he had so harried the french coast that the french refused to treat him as an ordinary prisoner of war, and threw him into that ill-omened prison, the temple, from whose iron-barred windows the unfortunate sailor watched for two years the horrors of the reign of terror in its last stages, the tossing crowds, the tumbrils rolling past, crowded with victims for the guillotine. sidney smith escaped at last by a singularly audacious trick. two confederates, dressed in dashing uniform, one wearing the dress of an adjutant, and the other that of an officer of still higher rank, presented themselves at the temple with forged orders for the transfer of sidney smith. the governor surrendered his prisoner, but insisted on sending a guard of six men with him. the sham adjutant cheerfully acquiesced, but, after a moment's pause, turned to sidney smith, and said, if he would give his parole as an officer not to attempt to escape, they would dispense with the escort. sidney smith, with due gravity, replied to his confederate, "sir, i swear on the faith of an officer to accompany you wherever you choose to conduct me." the governor was satisfied, and the two sham officers proceeded to "conduct" their friend with the utmost possible despatch to the french coast. another english officer who had escaped--captain wright--joined sidney smith outside rouen, and the problem was how to get through the barriers without a passport. smith sent wright on first, and he was duly challenged for his passport by the sentinel; whereupon sidney smith, with a majestic air of official authority, marched up and said in faultless parisian french, "i answer for this citizen, i know him;" whereupon the deluded sentinel saluted and allowed them both to pass! sidney smith's escape from the temple made him a popular hero in england. he was known to have great influence with the turkish authorities, and he was sent to the east in the double office of envoy-extraordinary to the porte, and commander of the squadron at alexandria. by one of the curious coincidences which marked sidney smith's career, he became acquainted while in the temple with a french royalist officer named philippeaux, an engineer of signal ability, and who had been a schoolfellow and a close chum of napoleon himself at brienne. smith took his french friend with him to the east, and he played a great part in the defence of acre. napoleon had swept north through the desert to syria, had captured gaza and jaffa, and was about to attack acre, which lay between him and his ultimate goal, constantinople. here sidney smith resolved to bar his way, and in his flagship the _tigre_, with the _theseus_, under captain miller, and two gunboats, he sailed to acre to assist in its defence. philippeaux took charge of the fortifications, and thus, in the breaches of a remote syrian town, the quondam prisoner of the temple and the ancient school friend of napoleon joined hands to wreck that dream of a great eastern empire which lurked in the cells of napoleon's masterful intellect. acre represents a blunted arrow-head jutting out from a point in the syrian coast. napoleon could only attack, so to speak, the neck of the arrow, which was protected by a ditch and a weak wall, and flanked by towers; but sidney smith, having command of the sea, could sweep the four faces of the town with the fire of his guns, as well as command all the sea-roads in its vicinity. he guessed, from the delay of the french in opening fire, that they were waiting for their siege-train to arrive by sea. he kept vigilant watch, pounced on the french flotilla as it rounded the promontory of mount carmel, captured nine of the vessels, carried them with their guns and warlike material to acre, and mounted his thirty-four captured pieces on the batteries of the town. thus the disgusted french saw the very guns which were intended to batter down the defences of acre--and which were glorious with the memories of a dozen victories in italy--frowning at them, loaded with english powder and shot, and manned by english sailors. it is needless to say that a siege directed by napoleon--the siege of what he looked upon as a contemptible and almost defenceless town, the single barrier betwixt his ambition and its goal--was urged with amazing fire and vehemence. the wall was battered day and night, a breach fifty feet wide made, and more than twelve assaults delivered, with all the fire and daring of which french soldiers, gallantly led, are capable. so sustained was the fighting, that on one occasion the combat raged in the ditch and on the breach for _twenty-five_ successive hours. so close and fierce was it that one half-ruined tower was held by _both_ besiegers and besieged for twelve hours in succession, and neither would yield. at the breach, again, the two lines of desperately fighting men on repeated occasions clashed bayonets together, and wrestled and stabbed and died, till the survivors were parted by the barrier of the dead which grew beneath their feet. sidney smith, however, fought like a sailor, and with all the cool ingenuity and resourcefulness of a sailor. his ships, drawn up on two faces of the town, smote the french stormers on either flank till they learned to build up a dreadful screen, made up partly of stones plucked from the breach, and partly of the dead bodies of their comrades. smith, too, perched guns in all sorts of unexpected positions--a -pounder in the lighthouse, under the command of an exultant middy; two -pounders under the charge of "old bray," the carpenter of the _tigre_, and, as sidney smith himself reports, "one of the bravest and most intelligent men i ever served with"; and yet a third gun, a french brass -pounder, in one of the ravelins, under a master's mate. bray dropped his shells with the nicest accuracy in the centre of the french columns as they swept up the breach, and the middy perched aloft, and the master's mate from the ravelin, smote them on either flank with case-shot, while the _theseus_ and the _tigre_ added to the tumult the thunder of their broadsides, and the captured french gunboats contributed the yelp of their lighter pieces. the great feature of the siege, however, was the fierceness and the number of the sorties. sidney smith's sorties actually exceeded in number and vehemence napoleon's assaults. he broke the strength of napoleon's attacks, that is, by anticipating them. a crowd of turkish irregulars, with a few naval officers leading them, and a solid mass of jack-tars in the centre, would break from a sally-port, or rush vehemently down through the gap in the wall, and scour the french trenches, overturn the gabions, spike the guns, and slay the guards. the french reserves hurried fiercely up, always scourged, however, by the flank fire of the ships, and drove back the sortie. but the process was renewed the same night or the next day with unlessened fire and daring. the french engineers, despairing of success on the surface, betook themselves to mining; whereupon the besieged made a desperate sortie and reached the mouth of the mine. lieutenant wright, who led them, and who had already received two shots in his sword-arm, leaped down the mine followed by his sailors, slew the miners, destroyed their work, and safely regained the town. the british sustained one startling disaster. captain miller of the _theseus_, whose ammunition ran short, carefully collected such french shells as fell into the town without exploding, and duly returned them alight, and supplied with better fuses, to their original senders. he had collected some seventy shells on the _theseus_, and was preparing them for use against the french. the carpenter of the ship was endeavouring to get the fuses out of the loaded shells with an auger, and a middy undertook to assist him, in characteristic middy fashion, with a mallet and a spike-nail. a huge shell under his treatment suddenly exploded on the quarter-deck of the _theseus_, and the other sixty-nine shells followed suit. the too ingenious middy disappeared into space; forty seamen, with captain miller himself, were killed; and forty-seven, including the two lieutenants of the ship, the chaplain, and the surgeon, were seriously wounded. the whole of the poop was blown to pieces, and the ship was left a wreck with fire breaking out at half-a-dozen points. the fire was subdued, and the _theseus_ survived in a half-gutted condition, but the disaster was a severe blow to sir sidney's resources. as evening fell on may , the white sails of a fleet, became visible over the sea rim, and all firing ceased while besiegers and besieged watched the approaching ships. was it a french fleet or a turkish? did it bring succour to the besieged or a triumph to the besiegers? the approaching ships flew the crescent. it was the turkish fleet from rhodes bringing reinforcements. but the wind was sinking, and napoleon, who had watched the approach of the hostile ships with feelings which may be guessed, calculated that there remained six hours before they could cast anchor in the bay. eleven assaults had been already made, in which eight french generals and the best officers in every branch of the service had perished. there remained time for a twelfth assault. he might yet pluck victory from the very edge of defeat. at ten o'clock that night the french artillery was brought up close to the counterscarp to batter down the curtain, and a new breach was made. lannes led his division against the shot-wrecked tower, and general rimbaud took his grenadiers with a resistless rush through the new breach. all night the combat raged, the men fighting desperately hand to hand. when the rays of the level morning sun broke through the pall of smoke which hung sullenly over the combatants, the tricolour flew on the outer angle of the tower, and still the ships bringing reinforcements had not reached the harbour! sidney smith, at this crisis, landed every man from the english ships, and led them, pike in hand, to the breach, and the shouting and madness of the conflict awoke once more. to use sidney smith's own words, "the muzzles of the muskets touched each other--the spear-heads were locked together." but sidney smith's sailors, with the brave turks who rallied to their help, were not to be denied. lannes' grenadiers were tumbled headlong from the tower, lannes himself being wounded, while rimbaud's brave men, who were actually past the breach, were swept into ruin, their general killed, and the french soldiers within the breach all captured or slain. one of the dramatic incidents of the siege was the assault made by kleber's troops. they had not taken part in the siege hitherto, but had won a brilliant victory over the arabs at mount tabor. on reaching the camp, flushed with their triumph, and seeing how slight were the apparent defences of the town, they demanded clamorously to be led to the assault. napoleon consented. kleber, who was of gigantic stature, with a head of hair worthy of a german music-master or of a soudan dervish, led his grenadiers to the edge of the breach and stood there, while with gesture and voice--a voice audible even above the fierce and sustained crackle of the musketry--he urged his men on. napoleon, standing on a gun in the nearest french battery, watched the sight with eager eyes--the french grenadiers running furiously up the breach, the grim line of levelled muskets that barred it, the sudden roar of the english guns as from every side they smote the staggering french column. vainly single officers struggled out of the torn mass, ran gesticulating up the breach, and died at the muzzles of the british muskets. the men could not follow, or only died as they leaped forward. the french grenadiers, still fighting, swearing, and screaming, were swept back past the point where kleber stood, hoarse with shouting, black with gunpowder, furious with rage. the last assault on acre had failed. the french sick, field artillery, and baggage silently defiled that night to the rear. the heavy guns were buried in the sand, and after sixty days of open trenches napoleon, for the first time in his life, though not for the last, ordered a retreat. napoleon buried in the breaches of acre not merely of his bravest troops, but the golden dream of his life. "in that miserable fort," as he said, "lay the fate of the east." napoleon expected to find in it the pasha's treasures, and arms for , men. "when i have captured it," he said to bourrienne, "i shall march upon damascus and aleppo. i shall arm the tribes; i shall reach constantinople; i shall overturn the turkish empire; i shall found in the east a new and grand empire. perhaps i shall return to paris by adrianople and vienna!" napoleon was cheerfully willing to pay the price of what religion he had to accomplish this dream. he was willing, that is, to turn turk. henri iv. said "paris was worth a mass," and was not the east, said napoleon, "worth a turban and a pair of trousers?" in his conversation at st. helena with las cases he seriously defended this policy. his army, he added, would have shared his "conversion," and have taken their new creed with a parisian laugh. "had i but captured acre," napoleon added, "i would have reached constantinople and the indies; i would have changed the face of the world. but that man made me miss my destiny." las cases dwells upon the curious correspondence which existed between philippeaux, who engineered the defences of acre, and napoleon, who attacked it. "they were," he says, "of the same nation, of the same age, of the same rank, of the same corps, and of the same school." but if philippeaux was in a sense the brains of the defence, sidney smith was the sword. there was, perhaps, it may be regretfully confessed, a streak of the charlatan in him. he shocked the judgment of more sober men. wellington's stern, sober sense was affronted by him, and he described him as "a mere vaporiser." "of all the men whom i ever knew who have any reputation," wellington told croker "the man who least deserved it is sir sidney smith." wellington's temperament made it impossible for him to understand sidney smith's erratic and dazzling genius. napoleon's phrase is the best epitaph of the man who defended acre. it is true napoleon himself describes sidney smith afterwards as "a young fool," who was "capable of invading france with men." but such "young fools" are often the makers of history. great sea-duels "the captain stood on the carronade: 'first lieutenant,' says he, 'send all my merry men after here, for they must list to me. i haven't the gift of the gab, my sons, because i'm bred to the sea. that ship there is a frenchman, who means to fight with we. and odds, bobs, hammer and tongs, long as i've been to sea, i've fought 'gainst every odds--but i've gained the victory! * * * * * * * * that ship there is a frenchman, and if we don't take she, 'tis a thousand bullets to one, that she will capture we. i haven't the gift of the gab, my boys; so each man to his gun; if she's not mine in half-an-hour, i'll flog each mother's son. for odds, bobs, hammer and tongs, long as i've been to sea, i've fought 'gainst every odds--and i've gained the victory!'" --marryat. british naval history is rich in the records of what may be called great sea-duels--combats, that is, of single ship against single ship, waged often with extraordinary fierceness and daring. they resemble the combat of knight against knight, with flash of cannon instead of thrust of lance, and the floor of the lonely sea for the trampled lists. he must have a very slow-beating imagination who cannot realise the picturesqueness of these ancient sea-duels. two frigates cruising for prey catch the far-off gleam of each other's topsails over the rim of the horizon. they approach each other warily, two high-sniffing sea-mastiffs. a glimpse of fluttering colour--the red flag and the _drapeau blanc_, or the union jack and the tricolour--reveals to each ship its foe. the men stand grimly at quarters; the captain, with perhaps a solitary lieutenant, and a middy as aide-de-camp, is on his quarter-deck. there is the manoeuvring for the weather-gage, the thunder of the sudden broadside, the hurtle and crash of the shot, the stern, quick word of command as the clumsy guns are run in to be reloaded and fired again and again with furious haste. the ships drift into closer wrestle. masts and yards come tumbling on to the blood-splashed decks. there is the grinding shock of the great wooden hulls as they meet, the wild leap of the boarders, the clash of cutlass on cutlass, the shout of victory, the sight of the fluttering flag as it sinks reluctantly from the mizzen of the beaten ship. then the smoke drifts away, and on the tossing sea-floor lie, little better than dismantled wrecks, victor and vanquished. no great issue, perhaps, ever hung upon these lonely sea-combats; but as object-lessons in the qualities by which the empire has been won, and by which it must be maintained, these ancient sea-fights have real and permanent value. what better examples of cool hardihood, of chivalrous loyalty to the flag, of self-reliant energy, need be imagined or desired? the generation that carries the heavy burden of the empire to-day cannot afford to forget the tale of such exploits. one of the most famous frigate fights in british history is that between the _arethusa_ and _la belle poule_, fought off brest on june , . who is not familiar with the name and fame of "the saucy _arethusa_"? yet there is a curious absence of detail as to the fight. the combat, indeed, owes its enduring fame to two somewhat irrelevant circumstances--first, that it was fought when france and england were not actually at war, but were trembling on the verge of it. the sound of the _arethusa's_ guns, indeed, was the signal of war between the two nations. the other fact is that an ingenious rhymester--scarcely a poet--crystallised the fight into a set of verses in which there is something of the true smack of the sea, and an echo, if not of the cannon's roar, yet of the rough-voiced mirth of the forecastle; and the sea-fight lies embalmed, so to speak, and made immortal in the sea-song. the _arethusa_ was a stumpy little frigate, scanty in crew, light in guns, attached to the fleet of admiral keppel, then cruising off brest. keppel had as perplexed and delicate a charge as was ever entrusted to a british admiral. great britain was at war with her american colonies, and there was every sign that france intended to add herself to the fight. no fewer than thirty-two sail of the line and twelve frigates were gathered in brest roads, and another fleet of almost equal strength in toulon. spain, too, was slowly collecting a mighty armament. what would happen to england if the toulon and brest fleets united, were joined by a third fleet from spain, and the mighty array of ships thus collected swept up the british channel? on june , , keppel, with twenty-one ships of the line and three frigates, was despatched to keep watch over the brest fleet. war had not been proclaimed, but keppel was to prevent a junction of the brest and toulon fleets, by persuasion if he could, but by gunpowder in the last resort. keppel's force was much inferior to that of the brest fleet, and as soon as the topsails of the british ships were visible from the french coast, two french frigates, the _licorne_ and _la belle poule_, with two lighter craft, bore down upon them to reconnoitre. but keppel could not afford to let the french admiral know his exact force, and signalled to his own outlying ships to bring the french frigates under his lee. at nine o'clock at night the _licorne_ was overtaken by the _milford_, and with some rough sailorly persuasion, and a hint of broadsides, her head was turned towards the british fleet. the next morning, in the grey dawn, the frenchman, having meditated on affairs during the night, made a wild dash for freedom. the _america_, an english --double, that is, the _licorne's_ size--overtook her, and fired a shot across her bow to bring her to. longford, the captain of the _america_, stood on the gunwale of his own ship politely urging the captain of the _licorne_ to return with him. with a burst of celtic passion the french captain fired his whole broadside into the big englishman, and then instantly hauled down his flag so as to escape any answering broadside! meanwhile the _arethusa_ was in eager pursuit of the _belle poule_; a fox-terrier chasing a mastiff! the _belle poule_ was a splendid ship, with heavy metal, and a crew more than twice as numerous as that of the tiny _arethusa_. but marshall, its captain, was a singularly gallant sailor, and not the man to count odds. the song tells the story of the fight in an amusing fashion:-- "come all ye jolly sailors bold, whose hearts are cast in honour's mould, while england's glory i unfold. huzza to the _arethusa_! she is a frigate tight and brave as ever stemmed the dashing wave; her men are staunch to their fav'rite launch, and when the foe shall meet our fire, sooner than strike we'll all expire on board the _arethusa_. on deck five hundred men did dance, the stoutest they could find in france; we, with two hundred, did advance on board the _arethusa_. our captain hailed the frenchman, 'ho!' the frenchman then cried out, 'hallo!' 'bear down, d'ye see, to our admiral's lee.' 'no, no,' says the frenchman, 'that can't be. 'then i must lug you along with me,' says the saucy _arethusa_!" as a matter of fact marshall hung doggedly on the frenchman's quarter for two long hours, fighting a ship twice as big as his own. the _belle poule_ was eager to escape; marshall was resolute that it should not escape; and, try as he might, the frenchman, during that fierce two hours' wrestle, failed to shake off his tiny but dogged antagonist. the _arethusa's_ masts were shot away, its jib-boom hung a tangled wreck over its bows, its bulwarks were shattered, its decks were splashed red with blood, half its guns were dismounted, and nearly every third man in its crew struck down. but still it hung, with quenchless and obstinate courage, on the _belle poule's_ quarter, and by its perfect seamanship and the quickness and the deadly precision with which its lighter guns worked, reduced its towering foe to a condition of wreck almost as complete as its own. the terrier, in fact, was proving too much for the mastiff. suddenly the wind fell. with topmasts hanging over the side, and canvas torn to ribbons, the _arethusa_ lay shattered and moveless on the sea. the shot-torn but loftier sails of the _belle poule_, however, yet held wind enough to drift her out of the reach of the _arethusa's_ fire. both ships were close under the french cliffs; but the _belle poule_, like a broken-winged bird, struggled into a tiny cove in the rocks, and nothing remained for the _arethusa_ but to cut away her wreckage, hoist what sail she could, and drag herself sullenly back under jury-masts to the british fleet. but the story of that two hours' heroic fight maintained against such odds sent a thrill of grim exultation through great britain. menaced by the combination of so many mighty states, while her sea-dogs were of this fighting temper, what had great britain to fear? in the streets of many a british seaport, and in many a british forecastle, the story of how the arethusa fought was sung in deep-throated chorus:-- "the fight was off the frenchman's land; we forced them back upon their strand; for we fought till not a stick would stand of the gallant _arethusa_!" a fight even more dramatic in its character is that fought on august , , between the _phoenix_ and the _didon_. the _didon_ was one of the finest and fastest french frigates afloat, armed with guns of special calibre and manned by a crew which formed, perhaps, the very élite of the french navy. the men had been specially picked to form the crew of the only french ship which was commanded by a bonaparte, the _pomone_, selected for the command of captain jerome bonaparte. captain jerome bonaparte, however, was not just now afloat, and the _didon_ had been selected, on account of its great speed and heavy armament, for a service of great importance. she was manned by the crew chosen for the _pomone_, placed under an officer of special skill and daring--captain milias--and despatched with orders for carrying out one more of those naval "combinations" which napoleon often attempted, but never quite accomplished. the _didon_, in a word, was to bring up the rochefort squadron to join the franco-spanish fleet under villeneuve. on that fatal august , however, it seemed to captain milias that fortune had thrust into his hands a golden opportunity of snapping up a british sloop of war, and carrying her as a trophy into rochefort. an american merchantman fell in with him, and its master reported that he had been brought-to on the previous day by a british man-of-war, and compelled to produce his papers. the american told the french captain that he had been allowed to go round the englishman's decks and count his guns--omitting, no doubt, to add that he was half-drunk while doing it. contemplated through an american's prejudices, inflamed with grog, the british ship seemed a very poor thing indeed. she carried, the american told the captain of the _didon_, only twenty guns of light calibre, and her captain and officers were "so cocky" that if they had a chance they would probably lay themselves alongside even the _didon_ and become an easy prey. the american pointed out to the eagerly listening frenchmen the topgallant sails of the ship he was describing showing above the sky-line to windward. captain milias thought he saw glory and cheap victory beckoning him, and he put his helm down, and stood under easy sail towards the fast-rising topsails of the englishman. now, the _phoenix_ was, perhaps, the smallest frigate in the british navy; a stocky little craft, scarcely above the rating of a sloop; and its captain, baker, a man with something of dundonald's gift for ruse, had disguised his ship so as to look as much as possible like a sloop. baker, too, who believed that light guns quickly handled were capable of more effective mischief than the slow fire of heavier guns, had changed his heavier metal for -pounders. the two ships, therefore, were very unequal in fighting force. the broadside of the _didon_ was nearly fifty per cent. heavier than that of the _phoenix_; her crew was nearly fifty per cent. more numerous, and she was splendidly equipped at every point. the yellow sides and royal yards rigged aloft told the "cocky" _phoenix_ that the big ship to leeward was a frenchman, and, with all sails spread, she bore down in the chase. baker was eager to engage his enemy to leeward, that she might not escape, and he held his fire till he could reach the desired position. the _didon_, however, a quick and weatherly ship, was able to keep ahead of the _phoenix_, and thrice poured in a heavy broadside upon the grimly silent british ship without receiving a shot in reply. baker's men were falling fast at their quarters, and, impatient at being both foiled and raked, he at last ran fiercely at his enemy to windward. the heads of both ships swung parallel, and at pistol-distance broadside furiously answered broadside. in order to come up with her opponent, however, the _phoenix_ had all sail spread, and she gradually forged ahead. as soon as the two ships were clear, the _didon_, by a fine stroke of seamanship, hauled up, crossed the stern of the _phoenix_, and raked her, and then repeated the pleasant operation. the rigging of the _phoenix_ was so shattered that for a few minutes she was out of hand. baker, however, was a fine seaman, and his crew were in a high state of discipline; and when the _didon_ once more bore up to rake her antagonist, the british ship, with her sails thrown aback, evaded the frenchman's fire. but the stern of the _didon_ smote with a crash on the starboard quarter of the phoenix; the ships were lying parallel; the broadside of neither could be brought to bear. the frenchmen, immensely superior in numbers, made an impetuous rush across their forecastle, and leaped on the quarter-deck of the phoenix. the marines of that ship, however, drawn up in a steady line across the deck, resisted the whole rush of the french boarders; and the british sailors, tumbling up from their guns, cutlass and boarding-pike in hand, and wroth with the audacity of the "french lubbers" daring to board the "cocky little _phoenix_," with one rush, pushed fiercely home, swept the frenchmen back on to their own vessel. on the french forecastle stood a brass -pounder carronade; this commanded the whole of the british ship, and with it the french opened a most destructive fire. the british ship, as it happened, could not bring a single gun to bear in return. baker, however, had fitted the cabin window on either quarter of his ship to serve as a port, in preparation for exactly such a contingency as this; and the aftermost main-deck gun was dragged into the cabin, the improvised port thrown open, and baker himself, with a cluster of officers and men, was eagerly employed in fitting tackles to enable the gun to be worked. as the sides of the two ships were actually grinding together the frenchmen saw the preparations being made; a double squad of marines was brought up at a run to the larboard gangway, and opened a swift and deadly fire into the cabin, crowded with english sailors busy rigging their gun. the men dropped in clusters; the floor of the cabin was covered with the slain, its walls were splashed with blood. but baker and the few men not yet struck down kept coolly to their task. the gun was loaded under the actual flash of the french muskets, its muzzle was thrust through the port, and it was fired! its charge of langrage swept the french ship from her larboard bow to her starboard quarter, and struck down in an instant twenty-four men. the deadly fire was renewed again and again, the british marines on the quarter-deck meanwhile keeping down with their musketry the fire of the great french carronade. that fierce and bloody wrestle lasted for nearly thirty minutes, then the _didon_ began to fore-reach. her great bowsprit ground slowly along the side of the _phoenix_. it crossed the line of the second aftermost gun on the british main-deck. its flames on the instant smote the frenchman's head-rails to splinters, and destroyed the gammoning of her bowsprit. gun after gun of the two ships was brought in succession to bear; but in this close and deadly contest the _phoenix_ had the advantage. her guns were lighter, her men better drilled, and their fierce energy overbore the frenchmen. presently the _didon_, with her foremast tottering, her maintopmast gone, her decks a blood-stained wreck, passed out of gunshot ahead. in the tangle between the two ships the fly of the british white ensign at the gaff end dropped on the _didon's_ forecastle. the frenchmen tore it off, and, as the ships moved apart, they waved it triumphantly from the _didon's_ stern. all the colours of the _phoenix_, indeed, in one way or another had vanished, and the only response the exasperated british tars could make to the insult of the _didon_ was to immediately lash a boat's ensign to the larboard, and the union jack to the starboard end of their cross jack yard-arm. the wind had dropped; both ships were now lying a in a semi-wrecked condition out of gunshot of each other, and it became a question of which could soonest repair damages and get into fighting condition again. both ships, as it happened, had begun the fight with nearly all canvas spread, and from their splintered masts the sails now hung one wild network of rags. in each ship a desperate race to effect repairs began. on the frenchman's decks arose a babel of sounds, the shouts of officers, the tumult of the men's voices. the british, on the other hand, worked in grim and orderly silence, with no sound but the cool, stern orders of the officers. in such a race the british were sure to win, and fortune aided them. the two ships were rolling heavily in the windless swell, and a little before noon the british saw the wounded foremast of their enemy suddenly snap and tumble, with all its canvas, upon the unfortunate _didon's_ decks. this gave new and exultant vigour to the british. shot-holes were plugged, dismounted guns refitted, fresh braces rove, the torn rigging spliced, new canvas spread. the wind blew softly again, and a little after noon the _phoenix_, sorely battered indeed, but in fighting trim, with guns loaded, and the survivors of her crew at quarters, bore down on the _didon_, and took her position on that ship's weather bow. just when the word "fire!" was about to be given, the _didon's_ flag fluttered reluctantly down; she had struck! the toils of the _phoenix_, however, were not even yet ended. the ship she had captured was practically a wreck, its mainmast tottering to its fall, while the prisoners greatly exceeded in numbers their captors. the little _phoenix_ courageously took her big prize in tow, and laid her course for plymouth. once the pair of crippled frigates were chased by the whole of villeneuve's fleet; once, by a few chance words overheard, a plot amongst the french prisoners for seizing the _phoenix_ and then retaking the _didon_ was detected--almost too late--and thwarted. the _phoenix_, and her prize too, reached gibraltar when a thick fog lay on the straits, a fog which, as the sorely damaged ships crept through it, was full of the sound of signal guns and the ringing of bells. the franco-spanish fleet, in a word, a procession of giants, went slowly past the crippled ships in the fog, and never saw them! on september , however, the _phoenix_ safely brought her hard-won and stubborn-guarded prize safely into plymouth sound. the fight between the two ships was marked by many heroic incidents. during the action the very invalids in the sick-bay of the _phoenix_ crept from their cots and tried to take some feeble part in the fight. the purser is not usually part of the fighting staff of a ship, but the acting purser of the _phoenix_, while her captain was in the smoke-filled cabin below, trying to rig up a gun to bear on the _didon_, took charge of the quarter-deck, kept his post right opposite the brazen mouth of the great carronade we have described, and, with a few marines, kept down the fire. a little middy had the distinction of saving his captain's life. the _didon's_ bowsprit was thrust, like the shaft of a gigantic lance, over the quarter of the _phoenix_, and a frenchman, lying along it, levelled his musket at captain baker, not six paces distant, and took deliberate aim. a middy named phillips, armed with a musket as big as himself, saw the levelled piece of the frenchman; he gave his captain an unceremonious jostle aside just as the frenchman's musket flashed, and with almost the same movement discharged his own piece at the enemy. the french bullet tore off the rim of captain baker's hat, but the body of the man who fired it fell with a splash betwixt the two ships into the water. here was a story, indeed, for a middy to tell, to the admiration of all the gun-rooms in the fleet. the middy of the period, however, was half imp, half hero. another youthful nelson, aetat. sixteen, at the hottest stage of the fight--probably at the moment the acting-purser was in command on the quarter-deck--found an opportunity of getting at the purser's stores. with jaws widely distended, he was in the act of sucking--in the fashion so delightful to boys--a huge orange, when a musket ball, after passing through the head of a seaman, went clean through both the youth's distended cheeks, and this without touching a single tooth. whether this affected the flavour of the orange is not told, but the historian gravely records that "when the wound in each cheek healed, a pair of not unseemly dimples remained." happy middy! he would scarcely envy nelson his peerage. [transcriber's note: the word "aetat." in the above paragraph is an abbreviation of the latin "aetatis", meaning "aged".] the blood-stained hill of busaco "who would not fight for england? who would not fling a life i' the ring, to meet a tyrant's gage, and glory in the strife? * * * * * now, fair befall our england, on her proud and perilous road; and woe and wail to those who make her footprints red with blood! up with our red-cross banner--roll a thunder-peal of drums! fight on there, every valiant soul, and, courage! england comes! now, fair befall our england, on her proud and perilous road; and woe and wail to those who make her footprints red with blood! now, victory to our england! and where'er she lifts her hand in freedom's fight, to rescue right, god bless the dear old land! and when the storm has passed away, in glory and in calm may she sit down i' the green o' the day, and sing her peaceful psalm! now, victory to our england! and where'er she lifts her hand in freedom's fight, to rescue right, god bless the dear old land!" --gerald massey. busaco is, perhaps, the most picturesque of peninsular battles. in the wild nature of the ground over which it raged, the dramatic incidents which marked its progress, the furious daring of the assault, and the stern valour of the defence, it is almost without a rival. the french had every advantage in the fight, save one. they were , strong, an army of veterans, many of them the men of austerlitz and marengo. massena led; ney was second in command; both facts being pledges of daring generalship. the english were falling sullenly back in the long retreat which ended at torres vedras, and the french were in exultant pursuit. massena had announced that he was going to "drive the leopard into the sea"; and french soldiers, it may be added, are never so dangerous as when on fire with the _élan_ of success. wellington's army was inferior to its foe in numbers, and of mixed nationality, and it is probable that retreat had loosened the fibre of even british discipline, if not of british courage. two days before busaco, for example, the light division, the very flower of the english army, was encamped in a pine-wood about which a peasant had warned them that it was "haunted." during the night, without signal or visible cause, officers and men, as though suddenly smitten with frenzy, started from their sleep and dispersed in all directions. nor could the mysterious panic be stayed until some officer, shrewder than the rest, shouted the order, "prepare to receive cavalry," when the instinct of discipline asserted itself, the men rushed into rallying squares, and, with huge shouts of laughter, recovered themselves from their panic. but battle is to the british soldier a tonic, and when wellington drew up his lines in challenge of battle to his pursuer, on the great hill of busaco, his red-coated soldiery were at least full of a grim satisfaction. one of the combatants has described the diverse aspects of the two hosts on the night before the fight. "the french were all bustle and gaiety; but along the whole english line the soldiers, in stern silence, examined their flints, cleaned their locks and barrels, and then stretched themselves on the ground to rest, each with his firelock within his grasp." the single advantage of the british lay in their position. busaco is a great hill, one of the loftiest and most rugged in portugal, eight miles in breadth, and barring the road by which massena was moving on lisbon. "there are certainly," said wellington, "many bad roads in portugal, but the enemy has taken decidedly the worst in the whole kingdom." the great ridge, with its gloomy tree-clad heights and cloven crest, round which the mists hung in sullen vapour, was an ideal position for defence. in its front was a valley forming a natural ditch so deep that the eye could scarcely pierce its depths. the ravine at one point was so narrow that the english and french guns waged duel across it, but on the british side the chasm was almost perpendicular. from their eyrie perch on september , , the english watched massena's great host coming on. every eminence sparkled with their bayonets, every road was crowded with their waggons; it seemed not so much the march of an army as the movement of a nation. the vision of "grim busaco's iron ridge," glittering with bayonets, arrested the march of the french. but ney, whose military glance was keen and sure, saw that the english arrangements were not yet complete; an unfilled gap, three miles wide, parted the right wing from the left, and he was eager for an immediate attack. massena, however, was ten miles in the rear. according to marbot, who has left a spirited account of busaco, massena put off the attack till the next day, and thus threw away a great opportunity. in the gloomy depths of the ravines, however, a war of skirmishers broke out, and the muskets rang loudly through the echoing valleys, while the puffs of eddying white smoke rose through the black pines. but night fell, and the mountain heights above were crowned with the bivouac fires of , warriors, over whom the serene sky glittered. presently a bitter wind broke on the mountain summits, and all through the night the soldiers shivered under its keen blast. massena's plan of attack was simple and daring. ney was to climb the steep front on the english left, and assail the light division under craufurd; regnier, with a _corps d'élite_, was to attack the english left, held by picton's division. regnier formed his attack into five columns while the stars were yet glittering coldly in the morning sky. they had first to plunge into the savage depths of the ravine, and then climb the steep slope leading to the english position. the vigour of the attack was magnificent. general merle, who had won fame at austerlitz, personally led the charge. at a run the columns went down the ravine; at a run, scarcely less swift, they swept up the hostile slope. the guns smote the columns from end to end, and the attack left behind it a broad crimson trail of the dead and dying. but it never paused. a wave of steel and fire and martial tumult, it swept up the hill, broke over the crest in a spray of flame, brushed aside a portuguese regiment in its path like a wisp of straw, and broke on the lines of the third division. the pressure was too great for even the solid english line to sustain; it, too, yielded to the impetuous french, part of whom seized the rocks at the highest point of the hill, while another part wheeled to the right, intending to sweep the summit of the sierra. it was an astonishing feat. only french soldiers, magnificently led and in a mood of victory, could have done it; and only british soldiers, it may be added, whom defeat hardens, could have restored such a reverse. picton was in command, and he sent at the french a wing of the th, the famous connaught rangers, led by colonel wallace, an officer in whom wellington reposed great confidence. wallace's address was brief and pertinent. "press them to the muzzle, connaught rangers; press on to the rascals." there is no better fighting material in the world than an irish regiment well led and in a high state of discipline, and this matchless regiment, with levelled bayonets, ran in on the french with a grim and silent fury there was no denying. vain was resistance. marbot says of the rangers that "their first volley, delivered at fifteen paces, stretched more than men on the ground"; and the threatening gleam of the bayonet followed fiercely on the flame of the musket. the french were borne, shouting, struggling, and fighting desperately, over the crest and down the deep slope to the ravine below. in a whirlwind of dust and fire and clamour went the whole body of furious soldiery into the valley, leaving a broad track of broken arms and dying men. according to the regimental records of the th, "twenty minutes sufficed to teach the heroes of marengo and austerlitz that they must yield to the rangers of connaught!" as the breathless rangers re-formed triumphantly on the ridge, wellington galloped up and declared he had never witnessed a more gallant charge. but a wing of regnier's attack had formed at right angles across the ridge. it was pressing forward with stern resolution; it swept before it the light companies of the th and th regiments, and unless this attack could be arrested the position and the battle were lost. picton rallied his broken lines within _sixty yards_ of the french muskets, a feat not the least marvellous in a marvellous fight, and then sent them furiously at the exulting french, who held a strong position amongst the rocks. it is always difficult to disentangle the confusion which marks a great fight. napier says that it was cameron who formed line with the th under a violent fire, and, without returning a shot, ran in upon the french grenadiers with the bayonet and hurled them triumphantly over the crest. picton, on the other hand, declares that it was the light companies of the th and the th, under major smith, an officer of great daring--who fell in the moment of victory--that flung the last french down over the cliff. who can decide when such experts, and actors in the actual scene, differ? the result, however, as seen from the french side, is clear. the french, marbot records, "found themselves driven in a heap down the deep descent up which they had climbed, and the english lines followed them half-way down firing murderous volleys. at this point we lost a general, colonels, officers, and or men." "the english," he adds in explanation of this dreadful loss of life, "were the best marksmen in europe, the only troops who were perfectly practised in the use of small arms, whence their firing was far more accurate than that of any other infantry." a gleam of humour at this point crosses the grim visage of battle. picton, on lying down in his bivouac the night before the battle, had adorned his head with a picturesque and highly coloured nightcap. the sudden attack of the french woke him; he clapped on cloak and cocked hat, and rode to the fighting line, when he personally led the attack which flung the last of regnier's troops down the slope. at the moment of the charge he took off his cocked hat to wave the troops onward; this revealed the domestic head-dress he unconsciously wore, and the astonished soldiers beheld their general on flame with warlike fury gesticulating martially in a nightcap! a great shout of laughter went up from the men as they stopped for a moment to realise the spectacle; then with a tempest of mingled laughter and cheers they flung themselves on the enemy. meanwhile ney had formed his attack on the english left, held by craufurd and the famous light division. marbot praises the characteristic tactics of the british in such fights. "after having, as we do," he says, "garnished their front with skirmishers, they post their principal forces out of sight, holding them all the time sufficiently near to the key of the position to be able to attack the enemy the instant they reach it; and this attack, made unexpectedly on assailants who have lost heavily, and think the victory already theirs, succeeds almost invariably." "we had," he adds, "a melancholy experience of this art at busaco." craufurd, a soldier of fine skill, made exactly such a disposition of his men. some rocks at the edge of the ravine formed natural embrasures for the english guns under ross; below them the rifles were flung out as skirmishers; behind them the german infantry were the only visible troops; but in a fold of the hill, unseen, craufurd held the rd and nd regiments drawn up in line. ney's attack, as might be expected, was sudden and furious. the english, in the grey dawn, looking down the ravine, saw three huge masses start from the french lines and swarm up the slope. to climb an ascent so steep, vexed by skirmishers on either flank, and scourged by the guns which flashed from the summit, was a great and most daring feat--yet the french did it. busaco, indeed, is memorable as showing the french fighting quality at its highest point. general simon led loison's attack right up to the lips of the english guns, and in the dreadful charge its order was never disturbed nor its speed arrested. "ross's guns," says napier, "were worked with incredible quickness, yet their range was palpably contracted every round; the enemy's shot came singing up in a sharper key; the english skirmishers, breathless and begrimed with powder, rushed over the edge of the ascent; the artillery drew back"--and over the edge of the hill came the bearskins and the gleaming bayonets of the french! general simon led the attack so fiercely home that he was the first to leap across the english entrenchments, when an infantry soldier, lingering stubbornly after his comrades had fallen back, shot him point-blank through the face. the unfortunate general, when the fight was over, was found lying in the redoubt amongst the dying and the dead, with scarcely a human feature left. he recovered, was sent as a prisoner to england, and was afterwards exchanged, but his horrible wound made it impossible for him to serve again. craufurd had been watching meanwhile with grim coolness the onward rush of the french. they came storming and exultant, a wave of martial figures, edged with a spray of fire and a tossing fringe of bayonets, over the summit of the hill; when suddenly craufurd, in a shrill tone, called on his reserves to attack. in an instant there rose, as if out of the ground, before the eyes of the astonished french, the serried lines of the rd and nd, and what a moment before was empty space was now filled with the frowning visage of battle. the british lines broke into one stern and deep-toned shout, and bayonets, in one long line of gleaming points, came swiftly down upon the french. to stand against that moving hedge of deadly and level steel was impossible; yet each man in the leading section of the french raised his musket and fired, and two officers and ten soldiers fell before them. not a frenchman had missed his mark! they could do no more. "the head of their column," to quote napier, "was violently thrown back upon the rear, both flanks were overlapped at the same moment by the english wings, and three terrible discharges at five yards' distance shattered the wavering mass." before those darting points of flame the pride of the french shrivelled. shining victory was converted, in almost the passage of an instant, into bloody defeat; and a shattered mass, with ranks broken, and colours abandoned, and discipline forgotten, the french were swept into the depths of the ravine out of which they had climbed. one of the dramatic episodes of the fight at this juncture is that of captain jones--known in his regiment as "jack jones" of the nd. jones was a fiery welshman, and led his company in the rush on general simon's column. the french were desperately trying to deploy, a _chef-de-bataillon_ giving the necessary orders with great vehemence. jones ran ahead of his charging men, outstripping them by speed of foot, challenged the french officer with a warlike gesture to single combat, and slew him with one fierce thrust before his own troops, and the nd, as they came on at the run, saw the duel and its result, were lifted by it to a mood of victory, and raised a sudden shout of exultation, which broke the french as by a blast of musketry fire. for hours the battle spluttered and smouldered amongst the skirmishers in the ravines, and some gallant episodes followed. towards evening, for example, a french company, with signal audacity, and apparently on its own private impulse, seized a cluster of houses only half a musket shot from the light division, and held it while craufurd scourged them with the fire of twelve guns. they were only turned out at the point of the bayonet by the rd. but the battle was practically over, and the english had beaten, by sheer hard fighting, the best troops and the best marshals of france. in the fierceness of actual fighting, busaco has never been surpassed, and seldom did the wounded and dying lie thicker on a battlefield than where the hostile lines struggled together on that fatal september . the _melée_ at some points was too close for even the bayonet to be used, and the men fought with fists or with the butt-end of their muskets. from the rush which swept regnier's men down the slope the connaught rangers came back with faces and hands and weapons literally splashed red with blood. the firing was so fierce that wellington, with his whole staff, dismounted. napier, however--one of the famous fighting trio of that name, who afterwards conquered scinde--fiercely refused to dismount, or even cover his red uniform with a cloak. "this is the uniform of my regiment," he said, "and in it i will show, or fall this day." he had scarcely uttered the words when a bullet smashed through his face and shattered his jaw to pieces. as he was carried past lord wellington he waved his hand and whispered through his torn mouth, "i could not die at a better moment!" of such stuff were the men who fought under wellington in the peninsula. of nelson and the nile "britannia needs no bulwarks, no towers along the steep; her march is o'er the mountain waves, her home is on the deep. with thunders from her native oak, she quells the floods below, as they roar on the shore when the stormy winds do blow; when the battle rages loud and long, and the stormy winds do blow. the meteor flag of england shall yet terrific burn, till danger's troubled night depart, and the star of peace return. then, then, ye ocean warriors, our song and feast shall flow to the fame of your name, when the storm has ceased to blow; when the fiery fight is heard no more, and the storm has ceased to blow." --campbell. aboukir bay resembles nothing so much as a piece bitten out of the egyptian pancake. a crescent-shaped bay, patchy with shoals, stretching from the rosetta mouth of the nile to aboukir, or, as it is now called, nelson island, that island being simply the outer point of a sandbank that projects from the western horn of the bay. flat shores, grey-blue mediterranean waters, two horns of land six miles apart, that to the north projecting farthest and forming a low island--this, ninety-eight years ago, was the scene of what might almost be described as the greatest sea-fight in history. on the evening of august , , thirteen great battleships lay drawn up in a single line parallel with the shore, and as close to it as the sandbanks permitted. the head ship was almost stern on to the shoal which, running out at right angles to the shore, forms aboukir island. the nose of each succeeding ship was exactly yards from the stern of the ship before it, and, allowing for one or two gaps, each ship was bound by a great cable to its neighbour. it was a thread of beads, only each "bead" was a battleship, whose decks swarmed with brave men, and from whose sides gaped the iron lips of more than a thousand heavy guns. the line was not exactly straight; it formed a very obtuse angle, the projecting point at the centre being formed by the _orient_, the biggest warship at that moment afloat, a giant of guns. next to her came the _franklin_, of guns, a vessel which, if not the biggest, was perhaps the finest sample of naval architecture in existence. the line of ships was more than one mile and a half long, and consisted of the gigantic flagship, three ships of the line of guns, and nine of guns. in addition, it had a fringe of gunboats and frigates, while a battery of mortars on the island guarded, as with a sword of fire, the gap betwixt the headmost ship and the island. this great fleet had convoyed napoleon, with , troops crowded into transports, from france, had captured malta on the voyage, and three weeks before had safely landed napoleon and his soldiers in egypt. the french admiral, bruéys, knew that nelson was coming furiously in his track, and after a consultation with all his captains he had drawn up his ships in the order which we have described, a position he believed to be unassailable. and at three o'clock on the afternoon of august , , his look-outs were eagerly watching the white topsails showing above the lee line, the van of nelson's fleet. napoleon had kept the secret of his egyptian expedition well, and the great toulon fleet, with its swarm of transports, had vanished round the coast of corsica and gone off into mere space, as far as a bewildered british admiralty knew. a fleet of thirteen -gun ships and one of guns was placed under nelson's flag. he was ordered to pursue and destroy the vanished french fleet, and with characteristic energy he set out on one of the most dramatic sea-chases known to history. with the instinct of genius he guessed that napoleon's destination was egypt; but while the french fleet coasted sardinia and went to the west of sicily, nelson ran down the italian coast to naples, called there for information, found none, and, carrying all sail, swept through the straits of messina. on the night of june the two fleets actually crossed each other's tracks. the french fleet, including the transports, numbered vessels, and their lights, it might be imagined, would have lit up many leagues of sea. yet, through this forest of hostile masts the english fleet, with keen eyes watching at every masthead, swept and saw nothing. nelson, for one thing, had no frigates to serve as eyes and ears for him; his fleet in sailor-like fashion formed a compact body, three parallel lines of phantom-like pyramids of canvas sweeping in the darkness across the floor of the sea. above all a haze filled the night; and it is not too much to say that the drifting grey vapour which hid the french ships from nelson's lookout men changed the face of history. nelson used to explain that his ideal of perfect enjoyment would be to have the chance of "trying bonaparte on a wind"; and if he had caught sound of bell or gleam of lantern from the great french fleet, and brought it to action in the darkness of that foggy night, can any one doubt what the result would have been? nelson would have done off the coast of sicily on june , , what wellington did on june , ; and in that case there would have been no marengo or austerlitz, no retreat from moscow, no peninsular war, and no waterloo. for so much, in distracted human affairs, may a patch of drifting vapour count! nelson, in a word, overran his prey. he reached alexandria to find the coast empty; doubled back to sicily, zigzagging on his way by cyprus and candia; and twelve hours after he had left alexandria the topsails of the french fleet hove in sight from that port. napoleon's troops were safely landed, and the french admiral had some four weeks in which to prepare for nelson's return, and at p.m. on august the gliding topsails of the _swiftsure_ above aboukir island showed that the tireless englishman had, after nearly three months of pursuit, overtaken his enemy. the french, if frigates be included, counted seventeen ships to fourteen, and ship for ship they had the advantage over the british alike in crew, tonnage, and weight of fire. in size the english ships scarcely averaged tons; the french ships exceeded tons. nelson had only seventy-fours, his heaviest gun being a -pounder. the average french -gun ship in every detail of fighting strength exceeded an english ninety-eight, and bruéys had three such ships in his fleet; while his own flagship, the _orient_, was fully equal to two english seventy-fours. its weight of ball on the lower deck alone exceeded that from the whole broadside of the _bellerophon_, the ship that engaged it. the french, in brief, had an advantage in guns of about twenty per cent., and in men of over thirty per cent. bruéys, moreover, was lying in a carefully chosen position in a dangerous bay, of which his enemies possessed no chart, and the head of his line was protected by a powerful shore battery. nothing in this great fight is more dramatic than the swiftness and vehemence of nelson's attack. he simply leaped upon his enemy at sight. four of his ships were miles off in the offing, but nelson did not wait for them. in the long pursuit he had assembled his captains repeatedly in his cabin, and discussed every possible manner of attacking the french fleet. if he found the fleet as he guessed, drawn up in battle-line close in-shore and anchored, his plan was to place one of his ships on the bows, another on the quarter, of each french ship in succession. it has been debated who actually evolved the idea of rounding the head of the french line and attacking on both faces. one version is that foley, in the _goliath_, who led the british line, owed the suggestion to a keen-eyed middy who pointed out that the anchor buoy of the headmost french ship was at such a distance from the ship itself as to prove there was room to pass. but the weight of evidence seems to prove that nelson himself, as he rounded aboukir island, and scanned with fierce and questioning vision bruéys' formation, with that swiftness of glance in which he almost rivalled napoleon, saw his chance in the gap between the leading french ship and the shore. "where a french ship can swing," he held, "an english ship can either sail or anchor." and he determined to double on the french line and attack on both faces at once. he explained his plan to berry, his captain, who in his delight exclaimed, "if we succeed, what will the world say?" "there is no 'if' in the case," said nelson; "that we shall succeed is certain; who will live to tell the story is a very different question." [illustration: the battle of the nile. doubling on the french line. from allen's "battles of the british navy."] bruéys had calculated that the english fleet must come down perpendicularly to his centre, and each ship in the process be raked by a line of fire a mile and a half long; but the moment the english ships rounded the island they tacked, hugged the shore, and swept through the gap between the leading vessel and the land. the british ships were so close to each other that nelson, speaking from his own quarter-deck, was able to ask hood in the _zealous_, if he thought they had water enough to round the french line. hood replied that he had no chart, but would lead and take soundings as he went. so the british line came on, the men on the yards taking in canvas, the leadsmen in the chains coolly calling the soundings. the battery roared from the island, the leading french ships broke into smoke and flame, but the steady british line glided on. the _goliath_ by this time led; and at half-past five the shadow of its tall masts cast by the westering sun fell over the decks of the _guerrier_, and as foley, its captain, swept past the frenchman's bows, he poured in a furious broadside, bore swiftly up, and dropped--as nelson, with that minute attention to detail which marks a great commander, had ordered all his captains--an anchor from the stern, so that, without having to "swing," he was instantly in a fighting position on his enemy's quarter. foley, however, dropped his anchor a moment too late, and drifted on to the second ship in the line; but hood, in the _zealous_, coming swiftly after, also raked the _guerrier_, and, anchoring from the stern at the exact moment, took the place on its quarter foley should have taken. the _orion_ came into battle next, blasted the unfortunate _guerrier_, whose foremast had already gone, with a third broadside, and swept outside the _zealous_ and _goliath_ down to the third ship on the french line. a french frigate, the _sérieuse_, of thirty-six guns, anchored inside the french line, ventured to fire on the _orion_ as it swept past, whereupon saumarez, its commander, discharged his starboard broadside into that frigate. the _sérieuse_ reeled under the shock of the british guns, its masts disappeared like chips, and the unfortunate frenchman went down like a stone; while saumarez, laying himself on the larboard bow of the _franklin_ and the quarter of the _peuple sovrain_, broke upon them in thunder. the _theseus_ followed hard in the track of the _orion_, raked the unhappy _guerrier_ in the familiar fashion while crossing its bows, then swept through the narrow water-lane betwixt the _goliath_ and _zealous_ and their french antagonists, poured a smashing broadside into each french ship as it passed, then shot outside the _orion_, and anchored with mathematical nicety off the quarter of the _spartiate_. the water-lane was not a pistol-shot wide, and this feat of seamanship was marvellous. miller, who commanded the _theseus_, in a letter to his wife described the fight. "in running along the enemy's line in the wake of the _zealous_ and _goliath_, i observed," he says, "their shot sweep just over us, and knowing well that at such a moment frenchmen would not have coolness enough to change their elevation, i closed them suddenly, and, running under the arch of their shot, reserved my fire, every gun being loaded with two, and some with three round shot, until i had the _guerrier's_ masts in a line, and her jib-boom about six feet clear of our rigging. we then opened with such effect that a second breath could not be drawn before her main and mizzen-mast were also gone. this was precisely at sunset, or forty-four minutes past six." the _audacious_, meanwhile, was too impatient to tack round the head of the french line; it broke through the gap betwixt the first and second ships of the enemy, delivered itself, in a comfortable manner, of a raking broadside into both as it passed, took its position on the larboard bow of the _conquerant_, and gave itself up to the joy of battle. within thirty minutes from the beginning of the fight, that is, five british line-of-battle ships were inside the french line, comfortably established on the bows or quarters of the leading ships. nelson himself, in the _vanguard_, anchored on the outside of the french line, within eighty yards of the _spartiate's_ starboard beam; the _minotaur_, the _bellerophon_, and the _majestic_, coming up in swift succession, and at less than five minutes' interval from each other, flung themselves on the next ships. how the thunder of the battle deepened, and how the quick flashes of the guns grew brighter as the night gathered rapidly over sea, must be imagined. but nelson's swift and brilliant strategy was triumphant. each ship in the french van resembled nothing so much as a walnut in the jaws of a nut-cracker. they were being "cracked" in succession, and the rear of the line could only look on with agitated feelings and watch the operation. the fire of the british ships for fury and precision was overwhelming. the head of the _guerrier_ was simply shot away; the anchors hanging from her bows were cut in two; her main-deck ports, from the bowsprit to the gangway, were driven into one; her masts, fallen inboard, lay with their tangle of rigging on the unhappy crew; while some of her main-deck beams--all supports being torn away--fell on the guns. hood, in the _zealous_, who was pounding the unfortunate _guerrier_, says, "at last, being tired of killing men in that way, i sent a lieutenant on board, who was allowed, as i had instructed him, to hoist a light, and haul it down as a sign of submission." but all the damage was not on the side of the french. the great french flagship, the _orient_, by this time had added her mighty voice to the tumult, and the _bellerophon_, who was engaged with her, had a bad time of it. it was the story of tom sayers and heenan over again--a dwarf fighting a giant. her mizzen-mast and mainmast were shot away, and after maintaining the dreadful duel for more than an hour, and having of her crew struck down, at . p.m. the _bellerophon_ cut her cable and drifted, a disabled wreck, out of the fire. meanwhile the four ships nelson had left in the offing were beating furiously up to add themselves to the fight. night had fallen, by the time troubridge, in the _culloden_, came round the island; and then, in full sight of the great battle, the _culloden_ ran hopelessly ashore! she was, perhaps, the finest ship of the british fleet, and the emotions of its crew and commander as they listened to the tumult, and watched through the darkness the darting fires of the titanic combat they could not share, may be imagined. "our army," according to well-known authorities, "swore terribly in flanders." the expletives discharged that night along the decks and in the forecastle of the culloden would probably have made even a flanders veteran open his eyes in astonishment. the _swiftsure_ and the _alexander_, taking warning by the _culloden's_ fate, swept round her and bore safely up to the fight. the _swiftsure_, bearing down through the darkness to the combat, came across a vessel drifting, dismasted and lightless, a mere wreck. holliwell, the captain of the _swiftsure_, was about to fire, thinking it was an enemy, but on second thoughts hailed instead, and got for an answer the words, "_bellerophon_; going out of action, disabled." the _swiftsure_ passed on, and five minutes after the _bellerophon_ had drifted from the bows of the _orient_ the _swiftsure_, coming mysteriously up out of the darkness, took her place, and broke into a tempest of fire. at nine o'clock the great french flagship burst into flame. the painters had been at work upon her on the morning of that day, and had left oil and combustibles about. the nearest english ships concentrated their fire, both of musketry and of cannon, on the burning patch, and made the task of extinguishing it hopeless. bruéys, the french admiral, had already been cut in two by a cannon shot, and casablanca, his commodore, was wounded. the fire spread, the flames leaped up the masts and crept athwart the decks of the great ship. the moon had just risen, and the whole scene was perhaps the strangest ever witnessed--the great burning ship, the white light of the moon above, the darting points of red flame from the iron lips of hundreds of guns below, the drifting battle-smoke, the cries of ten thousand combatants--all crowded into an area of a few hundred square yards! the british ships, hanging like hounds on the flanks of the orient, knew that the explosion might come at any moment, and they made every preparation for it, closing their hatchways, and gathering their firemen at quarters. but they would not withdraw their ships a single yard! at ten o'clock the great french ship blew up with a flame that for a moment lit shore and sea, and a sound that hushed into stillness the whole tumult of the battle. out of a crew of over a thousand men only seventy were saved! for ten minutes after that dreadful sight the warring fleets seemed stupefied. not a shout was heard, not a shot fired. then the french ship next the missing flagship broke into wrathful fire, and the battle awoke in full passion once more. the fighting raged with partial intermissions all through the night, and when morning broke bruéys' curved line of mighty battleships, a mile and a half long, had vanished. of the french ships, one had been blown up, one was sunk, one was ashore, four had fled, the rest were prizes. it was the most complete and dramatic victory in naval history. the french fought on the whole with magnificent courage; but, though stronger in the mass, nelson's strategy and the seamanship of his captains made the british stronger at every point of actual battle. the rear of the french line did not fire a shot or lose a man. the wonder is that when nelson's strategy was developed, and its fatal character understood, villeneuve, who commanded the french rear, and was a man of undoubted courage, did not cut his cables, make sail, and come to the help of his comrades. a few hundred yards would have carried him to the heart of the fight. can any one doubt whether, if the positions had been reversed, nelson would have watched the destruction of half his fleet as a mere spectator? if nothing better had offered, he would have pulled in a wash-tub into the fight! villeneuve afterwards offered three explanations of his own inertness--( ) he "could not spare any of his anchors"; ( ) "he had no instructions"! ( ) "on board the ships in the rear the idea of weighing and going to the help of the ships engaged occurred to no one"! in justice to the french, however, it may be admitted that nothing could surpass the fierceness and valour with which, say, the _tonnant_ was fought. its captain, du petit-thouars, fought his ship magnificently, had first both his arms and then one of his legs shot away, and died entreating his officers not to strike. of the ten french ships engaged, the captains of eight were killed or wounded. nelson took the seven wounded captains on board the _vanguard_, and, as they recovered, they dined regularly with him. one of the captains had lost his nose, another an eye, another most of his teeth, with musket-shots, &c. nelson, who himself had been wounded, and was still half-blind as a result, at one of his dinners offered by mischance a case of toothpicks to the captain on his left, who had lost all his teeth. he discovered his error, and in his confusion handed his snuff-box to the captain on his right, who had lost his nose! what was the secret of the british victory? nelson's brilliant strategy was only possible by virtue of the magnificent seamanship of his captains, and the new fashion of close and desperate fighting, which hood and jarvis and nelson himself had created. it is a french writer, captain gravière, who says that the french naval habit of evading battle where they could, and of accepting action from an enemy rather than forcing it upon him, had ruined the _morale_ of the french navy. the long blockades had made nelson's captains perfect seamen, and he taught them that close fighting at pistol-shot distance was the secret of victory. "no english captain," he said, "can do wrong who, in fight, lays a ship alongside an enemy." it was a captain of nelson's school--a scotchman--who at camperdown, unable, just as the action began, to read some complicated signal from his chief, flung his signal-book on the deck, and in broad scotch exclaimed, "d---- me! up with the hellem an' gang in the middle o't." that trick of "ganging into the middle o't" was irresistible. the battle of the nile destroyed the naval prestige of france, made england supreme in the mediterranean, saved india, left napoleon and his army practically prisoners in egypt, and united austria, russia, and turkey in league against france. the night battle in aboukir bay, in a word, changed the face of history. the fusileers at albuera "and nearer, fast and nearer, doth the red whirlwind come; and louder still, and still more loud, from underneath that rolling cloud, is heard the trumpet's war-note proud, the trampling and the hum. and plainly, and more plainly, now through the gloom appears, far to left and far to right, in broken gleams of dark-blue light, the long array of helmets bright, the long array of spears." --macaulay. albuera is the fiercest, bloodiest, and most amazing fight in the mighty drama of the peninsular war. on may , , the english guns were thundering sullenly over badajos. wellington was beyond the guadiana, pressing marmont; and beresford, with much pluck but little skill, was besieging the great frontier fortress. soult, however, a master of war, was swooping down from seville to raise the siege. on the th he reached villafranca, only thirty miles distant, and fired salvos from his heaviest guns all through the night to warn the garrison of approaching succour. beresford could not both maintain the siege and fight soult; and on the night of the th he abandoned his trenches, burnt his gabions and fascines, and marched to meet soult at albuera, a low ridge, with a shallow river in front, which barred the road to badajos. as the morning of may , , broke, heavy with clouds, and wild with gusty rain-storms, the two armies grimly gazed at each other in stern pause, ere they joined in the wrestle of actual battle. all the advantages, save one, were on the side of the french. soult was the ablest of the french marshals. if he had not ney's _élan_ in attack, or massena's stubborn resource in retreat, yet he had a military genius, since lannes was dead, second only to that of napoleon himself. he had under his command , war-hardened infantry, guns, and magnificent cavalry, commanded by latour maubourg, one of the most brilliant of french cavalry generals. beresford, the british commander, had the dogged fighting courage, half dutch and half english, of his name and blood; but as a commander he was scarcely third-rate. of his army of , , , were spanish, half drilled, and more than half starved--they had lived for days on horse-flesh--under blake, a general who had lost all the good qualities of irish character, and acquired all the bad ones peculiar to spanish temper. of beresford's remaining troop were portuguese; he had only british soldiers. beresford ought not to have fought. he had abandoned the siege at badajos, and no reason for giving battle remained. the condition of blake's men, no doubt, made retreat difficult. they had reached the point at which they must either halt or lie down and die. the real force driving beresford to battle, however, was the fighting effervescence in his own blood and the warlike impatience of his english troops. they had taken no part in the late great battles under wellington; busaco had been fought and fuentes de onoro gained without them; and they were in the mood, both officers and men, of fierce determination to fight _somebody_! this was intimated somewhat roughly to beresford, and he had not that iron ascendency over his troops wellington possessed. as a matter of fact, he was himself as stubbornly eager to fight as any private in the ranks. the superiority of soult's warlike genius was shown before a shot was fired. beresford regarded the bridge that crossed the albuera and the village that clustered at the bridge-head as the key of his position. he occupied the village with alten's german brigade, covered the bridge with the fire of powerful batteries, and held in reserve above it his best british brigade, the fusileers, under cole, the very regiments who, four hours later, on the extreme right of beresford's position, were actually to win the battle. soult's sure vision, however, as he surveyed his enemies on the evening of the th, saw that beresford's right was his weak point. it was a rough, broken table-land, curving till it looked into the rear of beresford's line. it was weakly held by blake and his spaniards. immediately in its front was a low wooded hill, behind which, as a screen, an attacking force could be gathered. in the night soult placed behind this hill the fifth corps, under gerard, the whole of his cavalry, under latour maubourg, and the strength of his artillery. when the morning broke, soult had , men and guns within ten minutes' march of beresford's right wing, and nobody suspected it. no gleam of colour, no murmur of packed battalions, no ring of steel, no sound of marching feet warned the deluded english general of the battle-storm about to break on his right wing. a commander with such an unexpected tempest ready to burst on the weakest point of his line was by all the rules of war pre-doomed. at nine o'clock soult launched an attack at the bridge, the point where beresford expected him, but it was only a feint. beresford, however, with all his faults, had the soldierly brain to which the actual thunder of the cannon gave clearness. he noticed that the french battalions supporting the attack on the bridge did not press on closely. as a matter of fact, as soon as the smoke of artillery from the battle raging at the bridge swept over the field, they swung smartly to the left, and at the double hastened to add themselves to the thunderbolt which soult was launching at beresford's right. but beresford, meanwhile, had guessed soult's secret, and he sent officer after officer ordering and entreating blake to change front so as to meet soult's attack on his flank, and he finally rode thither himself to enforce his commands. blake, however, was immovable through pride, and his men through sheer physical weakness. they could die, but they could not march or deploy. blake at last tried to change front, but as he did so the french attack smote him. pressing up the gentle rise, gerard's men scourged poor blake's flank with their fire; the french artillery, coming swiftly on, halted every fifty yards to thunder on the unhappy spaniards; while latour maubourg's lancers and hussars, galloping in a wider sweep, gathered momentum for a wild ride on blake's actual rear. [illustration: battle of albuera, th may, . from napier's "peninsular war."] beresford tried to persuade the spaniards to charge as the french were thus circling round them. shouts and gesticulations were in vain. he was a man of giant height and strength, and he actually seized a spanish ensign in his iron grip, and carried him bodily, flag and all, at a run for fifty yards towards the moving french lines, and planted him there. when released, however, the bewildered spaniard simply took to his heels and ran back to his friends, as a terrified sheep might run back to the flock. in half-an-hour beresford's battle had grown desperate. two-thirds of the french, in compact order of battle, were perpendicular to his right; the spaniards were falling into disorder. soult saw the victory in his grasp, and eagerly pushed forward his reserves. over the whole hill, mingled with furious blasts of rain, rolled the tumult of a disorderly and broken fight. ten minutes more would have enabled soult to fling beresford's right, a shattered and routed mass, on the only possible line of retreat, and with the french superiority in cavalry his army would have been blotted out. the share of the british in the fight consisted of three great attacks delivered by way of counter-stroke to soult's overwhelming rush on the hill held by blake. the first attack was delivered by the second division, under colborne, led by general stewart in person. stewart was a sort of british version of ney, a man of vehement spirit, with a daring that grew even more flame-like in the eddying tumult and tempest of actual battle. he saw soult's attack crumpling up blake's helpless battalions, while the flash of the french artillery every moment grew closer. it was the crisis of the fight, and stewart brought on colborne's men at a run. colborne himself, a fine soldier with cool judgment, wished to halt and form his men in order of battle before plunging into the confused vortex of the fight above; but stewart, full of breathless ardour, hurried the brigade up the hill in column of companies, reached the spanish right, and began to form line by succession of battalions as they arrived. at this moment a wild tempest of rain was sweeping over the british as, at the double, they came up the hill; the eddying fog, thick and slab with the smoke of powder, hid everything twenty yards from the panting soldiers. suddenly the wall of changing fog to their right sparkled into swiftly moving spots of red; it shone the next instant with the gleam of a thousand steel points; above the thunder of the cannon, the shouts of contending men, rose the awful sound of a tempest of galloping hoofs. the french lancers and hussars caught the english in open order, and in five fierce and bloody minutes almost trampled them out of existence! two-thirds of the brigade went down. the st regiment flung itself promptly into square, and stood fast--a tiny island, edged with steel and flame, amid the mad tumult; but the french lancers, drunk with excitement, mad with battle fury, swept over the whole slope of the hill. they captured six guns, and might have done yet more fatal mischief but that they occupied themselves in galloping to and fro across the line of their original charge, spearing the wounded. one lancer charged beresford as he sat, solitary and huge, on his horse amid the broken english regiments. but beresford was at least a magnificent trooper; he put the lance aside with one hand, and caught the frenchman by the throat, lifted him clean from his saddle, and dashed him senseless on the ground! the ensign who carried the colours of the rd buffs covered them with his body till he was slain by a dozen lance-thrusts; the ensign who carried the other colours of the same regiment tore the flag from its staff and thrust it into his breast, and it was found there, stiff with his blood, after the fight. the spaniards, meanwhile, were firing incessantly but on general principles merely, and into space or into the ranks of their own allies as might happen; and the th, advancing to the help of colborne's broken men, finding the spaniards in their path and firing into their lines, broke sternly into volleys on them in turn. seldom has a battlefield witnessed a tumult so distracted and wild. the first english counter-stroke had failed, but the second followed swiftly. the furious rain and fog which had proved so fatal to colborne's men for a moment, was in favour of beresford. soult, though eagerly watching the conflict, could not see the ruin into which the british had fallen, and hesitated to launch his reserves into the fight. the st still sternly held its own against the french cavalry, and this gave time for stewart to bring up houghton's brigade. but this time stewart, though he brought up his men with as much vehemence as before, brought them up in order of battle. the th, the th, and the th swept up the hill in line, led by houghton, hat in hand. he fell, pierced by three bullets; but over his dead body, eager to close, the british line still swept. they reached the crest. a deep and narrow ravine arrested their bayonet charge; but with stubborn valour they held the ground they had gained, scourged with musketry fire at pistol-shot distance, and by artillery at fifty yards' range, while a french column smote them with its musketry on their flask. the men fell fast, but fought as they fell. stewart was twice wounded; colonel dutworth, of the th, slain; of the th, out of men, , with their colonel, inglis, fell. the men, after the battle, were found lying dead in ranks exactly as they fought. "die hard! my men, die hard!" said inglis when the bullet struck him; and the th have borne the name of "die hards" ever since. at inkerman, indeed, more than fifty years afterwards, the "die hard!" of inglis served to harden the valour of the th in a fight as stern as albuera itself. but ammunition began to fail. houghton's men would not yield, but it was plain that in a few more minutes there would be none of them left, save the dead and the wounded. and at this dreadful moment beresford, distracted with the tumult and horror of the fight, wavered! he called up alten's men from the bridge to cover his retreat, and prepared to yield the fatal hill. at this juncture, however, a mind more masterful and daring than his own launched a third british attack against the victorious french and won the dreadful day. colonel hardinge, afterwards famous in indian battles, acted as quartermaster-general of the portuguese army; on his own responsibility he organised the third english attack. cole had just come up the road from badajos with two brigades, and hardinge urged him to lead his men straight up the hill; then riding to abercrombie's brigade, he ordered him to sweep round the flank of the hill. beresford, on learning of this movement, accepted it, and sent back alten's men to retake the bridge which they had abandoned. abercrombie's men swept to the left of the hill, and cole, a gallant and able soldier, using the portuguese regiments in his brigade as a guard against a flank attack of the french cavalry, led his two fusileer regiments, the th and rd, straight to the crest. at this moment the french reserves were coming on, the fragments of houghton's brigade were falling back, the field was heaped with carcases, the lancers were riding furiously about the captured artillery, and with a storm of exultant shouts the french were sweeping on to assured victory. it was the dramatic moment of the fight. suddenly through the fog, coming rapidly on with stern faces and flashing volleys, appeared the long line of cole's fusileers on the right of houghton's staggering groups, while at the same exact moment abercrombie's line broke through the mist on their left. as these grim and threatening lines became visible, the french shouts suddenly died down. it was the old contest of the british line--the "thin red line"--against the favourite french attack in column, and the story can only be told in napier's resonant prose. the passage which describes the attack of the fusileers is one of the classic passages of english battle literature, and in its syllables can still almost be heard the tread of marching feet, the shrill clangour of smitten steel, and the thunder of the musketry volleys:-- "such a gallant line," says napier, "arising from amid the smoke, and rapidly separating itself from the confused and broken multitude, startled the enemy's masses, which were increasing and pressing forward as to assured victory; they wavered, hesitated, and then, vomiting forth a storm of fire, hastily endeavoured to enlarge their front, while the fearful discharge of grape from all their artillery whistled through the british ranks. myers was killed. cole and the three colonels--ellis, blakeney, and hawkshawe--fell wounded, and the fusileer battalions, struck by the iron tempest, reeled and staggered like sinking ships. suddenly and sternly recovering, they closed on their terrible enemies, and then was seen with what a strength and majesty the british soldier fights. in vain did soult, by voice and gesture, animate his frenchmen; in vain did the hardiest veterans break from the crowded columns and sacrifice their lives to gain time for the mass to open on such a fair field; in vain did the mass itself bear up, and, fiercely striving, fire indiscriminately on friends and foes, while the horsemen, hovering on the flanks, threatened to charge the advancing line. "nothing could stop that astonishing infantry. no sudden burst of undisciplined valour, no nervous enthusiasm weakened the stability of their order; their flashing eyes were bent on the dark columns in front, their measured tread shook the ground, their dreadful volleys swept away the head of every formation, their deafening shouts overpowered the dissonant cries that broke from all parts of the tumultuous crowd as slowly and with a horrid carnage it was driven by the incessant vigour of the attack to the farthest edge of the hill. in vain did the french reserves mix with the struggling multitude to sustain the fight; their efforts only increased the irremediable confusion, and the mighty mass, breaking off like a loosened cliff, went headlong down the ascent. the rain flowed after in streams discoloured with blood, and unwounded men, the remnant of unconquerable british soldiers, stood triumphant on the fatal hill." the battle of albuera lasted four hours; its slaughter was dreadful. within the space of a few hundred feet square were strewn some bodies, and over this aceldama the artillery had galloped, the cavalry had charged! the rd buffs went into the fight with officers and rank and file; at the roll-call next morning there were only officers and men. one company of the royal fusileers came out of the fight commanded by a corporal; every officer and sergeant had been killed. albuera is essentially a soldier's fight. the bayonet of the private, not the brain of the general, won it; and never was the fighting quality of our race more brilliantly shown. soult summed up the battle in words that deserve to be memorable. "there is no beating those troops," he wrote, "_in spite of their generals_!" "i always thought them bad soldiers," he added, with a frenchman's love of paradox; "now i am sure of it. for i turned their right, pierced their centre, they were everywhere broken, the day was mine, and yet _they did not know it_, and would not run!" the "shannon" and the "chesapeake" "the signal to engage shall be a whistle and a hollo; be one and all but firm, like me, and conquest soon will follow! you, gunnel, keep the helm in hand-- thus, thus, boys! steady, steady, till right ahead you see the land-- then soon as you are ready, the signal to engage shall be a whistle and a hollo; be one and all but firm, like me, and conquest soon will follow!" --c. dibdin. on the early morning of june , , a solitary british frigate, h.m.s. _shannon_, was cruising within sight of boston lighthouse. she was a ship of about tons, and bore every mark of long and hard service. no gleam of colour sparkled about her. her sides were rusty, her sails weather-stained; a solitary flag flew from her mizzen-peak, and even its blue had been bleached by sun and rain and wind to a dingy grey. a less romantic and more severely practical ship did not float, and her captain was of the same type as the ship. captain philip bowes vere broke was an englishman _pur sang_, and of a type happily not uncommon. his fame will live as long as the british flag flies, yet a more sober and prosaic figure can hardly be imagined. he was not, like nelson, a quarter-deck napoleon; he had no gleam of dundonald's matchless _ruse de guerre_. he was as deeply religious as havelock or one of cromwell's major-generals; he had the frugality of a scotchman, and the heavy-footed common-sense of a hollander. he was as nautical as a web-footed bird, and had no more "nerves" than a fish. a domestic englishman, whose heart was always with the little girls at brokehall, in suffolk, but for whom the service of his country was a piety, and who might have competed with lawrence for his self-chosen epitaph, "here lies one who tried to do his duty." a sober-suited, half-melancholy common-sense was broke's characteristic, and he had applied it to the working of his ship, till he had made the vessel, perhaps, the most formidable fighting machine of her size afloat. he drilled his gunners until, from the swaying platform of their decks, they shot with a deadly coolness and accuracy nothing floating could resist. broke, as a matter of fact, owed his famous victory over the _chesapeake_ to one of his matter-of-fact precautions. the first broadside fired by the _chesapeake_ sent a -pound shot through one of the gun-room cabins into the magazine passage of the _shannon_, where it might easily have ignited some grains of loose powder and blown the ship up, if broke had not taken the precaution of elaborately _damping_ that passage before the action began. the prosaic side of broke's character is very amusing. in his diary he records his world-famous victory thus:-- "june st.--off boston. moderate." "n.w.--w(rote) laurence." "p.m.--took _chesapeake_." was ever a shining victory packed into fewer or duller words? broke's scorn of the histrionic is shown by his reply to one of his own men who, when the _chesapeake_, one blaze of fluttering colours, was bearing down upon her drab-coloured opponent, said to his commander, eyeing the bleached and solitary flag at the _shannon's_ peak, "mayn't we have three ensigns, sir, like she has?" "no," said broke, "we have always been an _unassuming_ ship!" and yet, this unromantic english sailor had a gleam of don quixote in him. on this pleasant summer morning he was waiting alone, under easy sail, outside a hostile port, strongly fortified and full of armed vessels, waiting for an enemy's ship bigger than himself to come out and fight him. he had sent in the previous day, by way of challenge, a letter that recalls the days of chivalry. "as the _chesapeake_," he wrote to laurence, its captain, "appears now ready for sea, i request that you will do me the favour to meet the _shannon_ with her, ship to ship." he proceeds to explain the exact armament of the _shannon_, the number of her crew, the interesting circumstance that he is short of provisions and water, and that he has sent away his consort so that the terms of the duel may be fair. "if you will favour me," he says, "with any plan of signals or telegraph, i will warn you should any of my friends be too nigh, while you are in sight, until i can detach them out of the way. or," he suggests coaxingly, "i would sail under a flag of truce to any place you think safest from our cruisers, hauling it down when fair, to begin hostilities. . . . choose your terms," he concludes, "but let us meet." having sent in this amazing letter, this middle-aged, unromantic, but hard-fighting captain climbs at daybreak to his own maintop, and sits there till half-past eleven, watching the challenged ship, to see if her foretopsail is unloosed and she is coming out to fight. it is easy to understand the causes which kindled a british sailor of even broke's unimaginative temperament into flame. on june , , the united states, with magnificent audacity, declared war against great britain. england at that moment had efficient cruisers at sea, being line-of-battle ships. the american navy consisted of frigates and corvettes. it is true that england was at war at the same moment with half the civilised world; but what reasonable chance had the tiny naval power of the united states against the mighty fleets of england, commanded by men trained in the school of nelson, and rich with the traditions of the nile and trafalgar? as a matter of fact, in the war which followed, the commerce of the united states was swept out of existence. but the americans were of the same fighting stock as the english; to the viking blood, indeed, they added yankee ingenuity and resource, making a very formidable combination; and up to the june morning when the _shannon_ was waiting outside boston harbour for the _chesapeake_, the naval honours of the war belonged to the americans. the americans had no fleet, and the campaign was one of single ship against single ship, but in these combats the americans had scored more successes in twelve months than french seamen had gained in twelve years. the _guerrière_, the _java_, and the _macedonian_ had each been captured in single combat, and every british post-captain betwixt portsmouth and halifax was swearing with mere fury. the americans were shrewd enough to invent a new type of frigate which, in strength of frame, weight of metal, and general fighting power, was to a british frigate of the same class almost what an ironclad would be to a wooden ship. the _constitution_, for example, was in size to the average british frigate as . to . ; in weight of metal as to ; and in crew as to . broke, however, had a well-founded belief in his ship and his men, and he proposed, in his sober fashion, to restore the tarnished honour of his flag by capturing single-handed the best american frigate afloat. the _chesapeake_ was a fine ship, perfectly equipped, under a daring and popular commander. laurence was a man of brilliant ingenuity and courage, and had won fame four months before by capturing in the _hornet_, after a hard fight, the british brig-of-war _peacock_. for this feat he had been promoted to the _chesapeake_, and in his brief speech from the quarterdeck just before the fight with the _shannon_ began, he called up the memory of the fight which made him a popular hero by exhorting his crew to "_peacock_ her, my lads! _peacock_ her!" the _chesapeake_ was larger than the _shannon_, its crew was nearly a hundred men stronger, its weight of fire lbs. as against the _shannon's_ lbs. her guns fired double-headed shot, and bars of wrought iron connected by links and loosely tied by a few rope yarns, which, when discharged from the gun, spread out and formed a flying iron chain six feet long. its canister shot contained jagged pieces of iron, broken bolts, and nails. as the british had a reputation for boarding, a large barrel of unslacked lime was provided to fling in the faces of the boarders. an early shot from the _shannon_, by the way, struck this cask of lime and scattered its contents in the faces of the americans themselves. part of the equipment of the _chesapeake_ consisted of several hundred pairs of handcuffs, intended for the wrists of english prisoners. boston citizens prepared a banquet in honour of the victors for the same evening, and a small fleet of pleasure-boats followed the _chesapeake_ as she came gallantly out to the fight. never was a braver, shorter, or more murderous fight. laurence, the most gallant of men, bore steadily down, without firing a shot, to the starboard quarter of the _shannon_. when within fifty yards he luffed; his men sprang into the shrouds and gave three cheers. broke fought with characteristic silence and composure. he forbade his men to cheer, enforced the sternest silence along his deck, and ordered the captain of each gun to fire as his piece bore on the enemy. "fire into her quarters," he said, "main-deck into main-deck, quarter-deck into quarter-deck. kill the men, and the ship is yours." the sails of the _chesapeake_ swept betwixt the slanting rays of the evening sun and the _shannon_, the drifting shadow darkened the english main-deck ports, the rush of the enemy's cut-water could be heard through the grim silence of the _shannon's_ decks. suddenly there broke out the first gun from the _shannon_; then her whole side leaped into flame. never was a more fatal broadside discharged. a tempest of shot, splinters, torn hammocks, cut rigging, and wreck of every kind was hurled like a cloud across the deck of the _chesapeake_, and of one hundred and fifty men at stations there, more than a hundred were killed or wounded. a more fatal loss to the americans instantly followed, as captain laurence, the fiery soul of his ship, was shot through the abdomen by an english marine, and fell mortally wounded. the answering thunder of the _chesapeake's_ guns, of course, rolled out, and then, following quick, the overwhelming blast of the _shannon's_ broadside once more. each ship, indeed, fired two full broadsides, and, as the guns fell quickly out of range, part of another broadside. the firing of the _chesapeake_ was furious and deadly enough to have disabled an ordinary ship. it is computed that forty effective shots would be enough to disable a frigate; the _shannon_ during the six minutes of the firing was struck by no less than shot, a fact which proves the steadiness and power of the american fire. but the fire of the _shannon_ was overwhelming. in those same six fatal minutes she smote the _chesapeake_ with no less than shots, an average of shots of all sizes every minute, as against the _chesapeake's_ shots. the _chesapeake_ was fir-built, and the british shot riddled her. one _shannon_ broadside partly raked the _chesapeake_ and literally smashed the stern cabins and battery to mere splinters, as completely as though a procession of aerolites had torn through it. the swift, deadly, concentrated fire of the british in two quick-following broadsides practically decided the combat. the partially disabled vessels drifted together, and the _chesapeake_ fell on board the _shannon_, her quarter striking the starboard main-chains. broke, as the ships ground together, looked over the blood-splashed decks of the american and saw the men deserting the quarter-deck guns, under the terror of another broadside at so short a distance. "follow me who can," he shouted, and with characteristic coolness "stepped"--in his own phrase--across the _chesapeake's_ bulwark. he was followed by some seamen and marines-- british boarders leaping upon a ship with a crew of men, a force which, even after the dreadful broadsides of the _shannon_, still numbered unwounded men in its ranks. it is absurd to deny to the americans courage of the very finest quality, but the amazing and unexpected severity of the _shannon's_ fire had destroyed for the moment their _morale_, and the british were in a mood of victory. the boatswain of the _shannon_, an old _rodney_ man, lashed the two ships together, and in the act had his left arm literally hacked off by repeated strokes of a cutlass and was killed. one british midshipman, followed by five topmen, crept along the _shannon's_ foreyard and stormed the _chesapeake's_ foretop, killing the men stationed there, and then swarmed down by a back-stay to join the fighting on the deck. another middy tried to attack the _chesapeake's_ mizzentop from the starboard mainyard arm, but being hindered by the foot of the topsail, stretched himself out on the mainyard arm, and from that post shot three of the enemy in succession. meanwhile the fight on the deck had been short and sharp; some of the americans leaped overboard and others rushed below; and laurence, lying wounded in his steerage, saw the wild reflux of his own men down the after ladders. on asking what it meant, he was told, "the ship is boarded, and those are the _chesapeake's_ men driven from the upper decks by the english." this so exasperated the dying man that he called out repeatedly, "then blow her up; blow her up." the fight lasted exactly thirteen minutes--the broadsides occupied six minutes, the boarding seven--and in thirteen minutes after the first shot the british flag was flying over the american ship. the _shannon_ and _chesapeake_ were bearing up, side by side, for halifax. the spectators in the pleasure-boats were left ruefully staring at the spectacle; those american handcuffs, so thoughtfully provided, were on american wrists; and the boston citizens had to consume, with what appetite they might, their own banquet. the carnage on the two ships was dreadful. in thirteen minutes men were either killed or wounded, an average of nearly twenty men for every minute the fight lasted. in the combat betwixt these two frigates, in fact, nearly as many men were struck down as in the whole battle of navarino! the _shannon_ itself lost as many men as any -gun ship ever lost in battle. judge haliburton, famous as "sam slick," when a youth of seventeen, boarded the chesapeake as the two battered ships sailed into halifax. "the deck," he wrote, "had not been cleaned, and the coils and folds of rope were steeped in gore as if in a slaughter-house. pieces of skin with pendent hair were adhering to the sides of the ship; and in one place i noticed portions of fingers protruding, as if thrust through the outer walls of the frigate." watts, the first lieutenant of the _shannon_, was killed by the fire of his own ship in a very remarkable manner. he boarded with his captain, with his own hands pulled down the _chesapeake's_ flag, and hastily bent on the halliards the english ensign, as he thought, above the stars and stripes, and then rehoisted it. in the hurry he had bent the english flag under the stars and stripes instead of above it, and the gunners of the _shannon_, seeing the american stripes going up first, opened fire instantly on the group at the foot of the mizzen-mast, blew the top of their own unfortunate lieutenant's head off with a grape shot, and killed three or four of their own men. captain broke was desperately wounded in a curious fashion. a group of americans, who had laid down their arms, saw the british captain standing for a moment alone on the break of the forecastle. it seemed a golden chance. they snatched up weapons lying on the deck, and leaped upon him. warned by the shout of the sentry. broke turned round to find three of the enemy with uplifted weapons rushing on him. he parried the middle fellow's pike and wounded him in the face, but was instantly struck down with a blow from the butt-end of a musket, which laid bare his skull. he also received a slash from the cutlass of the third man, which clove a portion of skull completely away and left the brain bare. he fell, and was grappled on the deck by the man he had first wounded, a powerful fellow, who got uppermost and raised a bayonet to thrust through broke. at this moment a british marine came running up, and concluding that the man underneath _must_ be an american, also raised his bayonet to give the _coup de grace_. "pooh, pooh, you fool," said broke in the most matter-of-fact fashion, "don't you know your captain?" whereupon the marine changed the direction of his thrust and slew the american. the news reached london on july , and was carried straight to the house of commons, where lord cochrane was just concluding a fierce denunciation of the admiralty on the ground of the disasters suffered from the americans, and croker, the secretary to the admiralty, was able to tell the story of the fight off boston to the wildly cheering house, as a complete defence of his department. broke was at once created a baronet and a knight of the bath. in america, on the other hand, the story of the fight was received with mingled wrath and incredulity. "i remember," says rush, afterwards u.s. minister at the court of st. james, "at the first rumour of it, the universal incredulity. i remember how the post-offices were thronged for successive days with anxious thousands; how collections of citizens rode out for miles on the highway to get the earliest news the mail brought. at last, when the certainty was known, i remember the public gloom, the universal badges of mourning. 'don't give up the ship,' the dying words of laurence, were on every tongue." it was a great fight, the most memorable and dramatic sea-duel in naval history. the combatants were men of the same stock, and fought with equal bravery. both nations, in fact, may be proud of a fight so frank, so fair, so gallant. the world, we may hope, will never witness another _shannon_ engaged in the fierce wrestle of battle with another _chesapeake_, for the union jack and the stars and stripes are knitted together by a bond woven of common blood and speech and political ideals that grows stronger every year. for years the _shannon_ and the _chesapeake_ lay peacefully side by side in the medway, and the two famous ships might well have been preserved as trophies. the _chesapeake_ was bought by the admiralty after the fight for exactly l , , s. / d., and six years afterwards she was sold as mere old timber for pounds, was broken up, and to-day stands as a hampshire flour-mill, peacefully grinding english corn; but still on the mill-timbers can be seen the marks of the grape and round shot of the _shannon_. the great breach of ciudad rodrigo "attend, all ye who list to hear our noble england's praise, i tell of the thrice famous deeds she wrought in ancient days." --macaulay. the three great and memorable sieges of the peninsular war are those of ciudad rodrigo, badajos, and san sebastian. the annals of battle record nowhere a more furious daring in assault or a more gallant courage in defence than that which raged in turn round each of these three great fortresses. of the three sieges that of badajos was the most picturesque and bloody; that of san sebastian the most sullen and exasperated; that of ciudad rodrigo the swiftest and most brilliant. a great siege tests the fighting quality of any army as nothing else can test it. in the night watches in the trenches, in the dogged toil of the batteries, and the crowded perils of the breach, all the frippery and much of the real discipline of an army dissolves. the soldiers fall back upon what may be called the primitive fighting qualities--the hardihood of the individual soldier, the daring with which the officers will lead, the dogged loyalty with which the men will follow. as an illustration of the warlike qualities in our race by which empire has been achieved, nothing better can be desired than the story of how the breaches were won at ciudad rodrigo. at the end of the english and the french were watching each other jealously across the spanish border. the armies of marmont and of soult, , strong, lay within touch of each other, barring wellington's entrance into spain. wellington, with , men, of whom not more than , men were british, lay within sight of the spanish frontier. it was the winter time. wellington's army was wasted by sickness, his horses were dying of mere starvation, his men had received no pay for three months, and his muleteers none for eight months. he had no siege-train, his regiments were ragged and hungry, and the french generals confidently reckoned the british army as, for the moment at least, _une quantité négligeable_. and yet at that precise moment, wellington, subtle and daring, was meditating a leap upon the great frontier fortress of ciudad rodrigo, in the spanish province of salamanca. its capture would give him a safe base of operations against spain; it was the great frontier _place d'armes_ for the french; the whole siege-equipage, and stores of the army of portugal were contained in it. the problem of how, in the depth of winter, without materials for a siege, to snatch a place so strong from under the very eyes of two armies, each stronger than his own, was a problem which might have taxed the warlike genius of a caesar. but wellington accomplished it with a combination of subtlety and audacity simply marvellous. he kept the secret of his design so perfectly that his own engineers never suspected it, and his adjutant-general, murray, went home on leave without dreaming anything was going to happen. wellington collected artillery ostensibly for the purpose of arming almeida, but the guns were trans-shipped at sea and brought secretly to the mouth of the douro. no less than mule-carts were constructed without anybody guessing their purpose. wellington, while these preparations were on foot, was keenly watching marmont and soult, till he saw that they were lulled into a state of mere yawning security, and then, in napier's expressive phrase, he "instantly jumped with both feet upon ciudad rodrigo." this famous fortress, in shape, roughly resembles a triangle with the angles truncated. the base, looking to the south, is covered by the agueda, a river given to sudden inundations; the fortifications were strong and formidably armed; as outworks it had to the east the great fortified convent of san francisco, to the west a similar building called santa cruz; whilst almost parallel with the northern face rose two rocky ridges called the great and small teson, the nearest within yards of the city ramparts, and crowned by a formidable redoubt called francisco. the siege began on january . the soil was rocky and covered with snow, the nights were black, the weather bitter. the men lacked entrenching tools. they had to encamp on the side of the agueda farthest from the city, and ford that river every time the trenches were relieved. the st, rd, and light divisions formed the attacking force; each division held the trenches in turn for twenty-four hours. let the reader imagine what degree of hardihood it took to wade in the grey and bitter winter dawn through a half-frozen river, and without fire or warm food, and under a ceaseless rain of shells from the enemy's guns, to toil in the frozen trenches, or to keep watch, while the icicles hung from eyebrow and beard, over the edge of the battery for twenty-four hours in succession. nothing in this great siege is more wonderful than the fierce speed with which wellington urged his operations. massena, who had besieged and captured the city the year before in the height of summer, spent a month in bombarding it before he ventured to assault. wellington broke ground on january , under a tempest of mingled hail and rain; he stormed it on the night of the th. he began operations by leaping on the strong work that crowned the great teson the very night the siege began. two companies from each regiment of the light division were detailed by the officer of the day, colonel colborne, for the assault. colborne (afterwards lord seaton), a cool and gallant soldier, called his officers together in a group and explained with great minuteness how they were to attack. he then launched his men against the redoubt with a vehemence so swift that, to those who watched the scene under the light of a wintry moon, the column of redcoats, like the thrust of a crimson sword-blade, spanned the ditch, shot up the glacis, and broke through the parapet with a single movement. the accidental explosion of a french shell burst the gate open, and the remainder of the attacking party instantly swept through it. there was fierce musketry fire and a tumult of shouting for a moment or two, but in twenty minutes from colborne's launching his attack every frenchman in the redoubt was killed, wounded, or a prisoner. the fashion in which the gate was blown open was very curious. a french sergeant was in the act of throwing a live shell upon the storming party in the ditch, when he was struck by an english bullet. the lighted shell fell from his hands within the parapet, was kicked away by the nearest french in mere self-preservation; it rolled towards the gate, exploded, burst it open, and instantly the british broke in. for ten days a desperate artillery duel raged between the besiegers and the besieged. the parallels were resolutely pushed on in spite of rocky soil, broken tools, bitter weather, and the incessant pelting of the french guns. the temper of the british troops is illustrated by an incident which george napier--the youngest of the three napiers--relates. the three others were gallant and remarkable soldiers. charles napier in india and elsewhere made history; william, in his wonderful tale of the peninsular war, wrote history; and george, if he had not the literary genius of the one nor the strategic skill of the other, was a most gallant soldier. "i was a field-officer of the trenches," he says, "when a -inch shell from the town fell in the midst of us. i called to the men to lie down flat, and they instantly obeyed orders, except one of them, an irishman and an old marine, but a most worthless drunken dog, who trotted up to the shell, the fuse of which was still burning, and striking it with his spade, knocked the fuse out; then taking the immense shell in his hands, brought it to me, saying, 'there she is for you now, yer 'anner. i've knocked the life out of the crater.'" the besieged brought fifty heavy guns to reply to the thirty light pieces by which they were assailed, and day and night the bellow of eighty pieces boomed sullenly over the doomed city and echoed faintly back from the nearer hills, while the walls crashed to the stroke of the bullet. the english fire made up by fierceness and accuracy for what it lacked in weight; but the sap made no progress, the guns showed signs of being worn out, and although two apparent breaches had been made, the counterscarp was not destroyed. yet wellington determined to attack, and, in his characteristic fashion, to attack by night. the siege had lasted ten days, and marmont, with an army stronger than his own, was lying within four marches. that he had not appeared already on the scene was wonderful. in a general order issued on the evening of the th wellington wrote, "ciudad rodrigo must be stormed this evening." the great breach was a sloping gap in the wall at its northern angle, about a hundred feet wide. the french had crowned it with two guns loaded with grape; the slope was strewn with bombs, hand-grenades, and bags of powder; a great mine pierced it beneath; a deep ditch had been cut betwixt the breach and the adjoining ramparts, and these were crowded with riflemen. the third division, under general mackinnon, was to attack the breach, its forlorn hope being led by ensign mackie, its storming party by general mackinnon himself. the lesser breach was a tiny gap, scarcely twenty feet wide, to the left of the great breach; this was to be attacked by the light division, under craufurd, its forlorn hope of twenty-five men being led by gurwood, and its storming party by george napier. general pack, with a portuguese brigade, was to make a sham attack on the eastern face, while a fourth attack was to be made on the southern front by a company of the rd and some portuguese troops. in the storming party of the rd were the earl of march, afterwards duke of richmond; lord fitzroy somerset, afterwards lord raglan; and the prince of orange--all volunteers without wellington's knowledge! at o'clock a curious silence fell suddenly on the battered city and the engirdling trenches. not a light gleamed from the frowning parapets, not a murmur arose from the blackened trenches. suddenly a shout broke out on the right of the english attack; it ran, a wave of stormy sound, along the line of the trenches. the men who were to attack the great breach leaped into the open. in a moment the space betwixt the hostile lines was covered with the stormers, and the gloomy half-seen face of the great fortress broke into a tempest of fire. nothing could be finer than the vehement courage of the assault, unless it were the cool and steady fortitude of the defence. swift as was the upward rush of the stormers, the race of the th, th, and th regiments was almost swifter. scorning to wait for the ladders, they leaped into the great ditch, outpaced even the forlorn hope, and pushed vehemently up the great breach, whilst their red ranks were torn by shell and shot. the fire, too, ran through the tangle of broken stones over which they climbed; the hand-grenades and powder-bags by which it was strewn exploded. the men were walking on fire! yet the attack could not be denied. the frenchmen--shooting, stabbing, yelling--were driven behind their entrenchments. there the fire of the houses commanding the breach came to their help, and they made a gallant stand. "none would go back on either side, and yet the british could not get forward, and men and officers falling in heaps choked up the passage, which from minute to minute was raked with grape from two guns flanking the top of the breach at the distance of a few yards. thus striving, and trampling alike upon the dead and the wounded, these brave men maintained the combat." it was the attack on the smaller breach which really carried ciudad rodrigo; and george napier, who led it, has left a graphic narrative of the exciting experiences of that dreadful night. the light division was to attack, and craufurd, with whom napier was a favourite, gave him command of the storming party. he was to ask for volunteers from each of the three british regiments--the rd, nd, and the rifle corps--in the division. napier halted these regiments just as they had forded the bitterly cold river on their way to the trenches. "soldiers," he said, "i want men from each regiment to form the storming party which is to lead the light division to-night. those who will go with me come forward!" instantly there was a rush forward of the whole division, and napier had to take his men out of a tumult of nearly candidates. he formed them into three companies, under captains ferguson, jones, and mitchell. gurwood, of the nd, led the forlorn hope, consisting of twenty-five men and two sergeants. wellington himself came to the trench and showed napier and colborne, through the gloom of the early night, the exact position of the breach. a staff-officer looking on, said, "your men are not loaded. why don't you make them load?" napier replied, "if we don't do the business with the bayonet we shall not do it all. i shall not load." "let him alone," said wellington; "let him go his own way." picton had adopted the same grim policy with the third division. as each regiment passed him, filing into the trenches, his injunction was, "no powder! we'll do the thing with the _could_ iron." a party of portuguese carrying bags filled with grass were to run with the storming party and throw the bags into the ditch, as the leap was too deep for the men. but the portuguese hesitated, the tumult of the attack on the great breach suddenly broke on the night, and the forlorn hope went running up, leaped into the ditch a depth of eleven feet, and clambered up the steep slope beyond, while napier with his stormers came with a run behind them. in the dark for a moment the breach was lost, but found again, and up the steep quarry of broken stone the attack swept. about two-thirds of the way up napier's arm was smashed by a grape-shot, and he fell. his men, checked for a moment, lifted their muskets to the gap above them, whence the french were firing vehemently, and forgetting their pieces were unloaded, snapped them. "push on with the bayonet, men!" shouted napier, as he lay bleeding. the officers leaped to the front, the men with a stern shout followed; they were crushed to a front of not more than three or four. they had to climb without firing a shot in reply up to the muzzles of the french muskets. but nothing could stop the men of the light division. a -pounder was placed across the narrow gap in the ramparts; the stormers leaped over it, and the rd and nd, coming up in sections abreast, followed. the rd wheeled to the right towards the great breach, the nd to the left, sweeping the ramparts as they went. meanwhile the other two attacks had broken into the town; but at the great breach the dreadful fight still raged, until the rd, coming swiftly along the ramparts, and brushing all opposition aside, took the defence in the rear. the british there had, as a matter of fact, at that exact moment pierced the french defence. the two guns that scourged the breach had wrought deadly havoc amongst the stormers, and a sergeant and two privates of the th--irishmen all, and whose names deserve to be preserved--brazel, kelly, and swan--laid down their firelocks that they might climb more lightly, and, armed only with their bayonets, forced themselves through the embrasure amongst the french gunners. they were furiously attacked, and swan's arm was hewed off by a sabre stroke; but they stopped the service of the gun, slew five or six of the french gunners, and held the post until the men of the th, climbing behind them, broke into the battery. so ciudad rodrigo was won, and its governor surrendered his sword to the youthful lieutenant leading the forlorn hope of the light division, who, with smoke-blackened face, torn uniform, and staggering from a dreadful wound, still kept at the head of his men. [illustration: siege of ciudad rodrigo, . from napier's "peninsular war."] in the eleven days of the siege wellington lost men and officers, out of whom men and officers were struck down on the slopes of the breaches. two notable soldiers died in the attack--craufurd, the famous leader of the light division, as he brought his men up to the lesser breach; and mackinnon, who commanded a brigade of the third division, at the great breach. mackinnon was a gallant highlander, a soldier of great promise, beloved by his men. his "children," as he called them, followed him up the great breach till the bursting of a french mine destroyed all the leading files, including their general. craufurd was buried in the lesser breach itself, and mackinnon in the great breach--fitting graves for soldiers so gallant. alison says that with the rush of the english stormers up the breaches of ciudad rodrigo "began the fall of the french empire." that siege, so fierce and brilliant, was, as a matter of fact, the first of that swift-following succession of strokes which drove the french in ruin out of spain, and it coincided in point of time with the turn of the tide against napoleon in russia. apart from all political results, however, it was a splendid feat of arms. the french found themselves almost unable to believe the evidence of their senses. "on the th," marmont wrote to the emperor, "the english batteries opened their fire at a great distance. on the th the place was taken by storm. there is something so _incomprehensible_ in this that i allow myself no observations." napoleon, however, relieved his feelings with some very emphatic observations. "the fall of ciudad rodrigo," he wrote to marmont, "is an affront to you. why had you not advices from it twice a week? what were you doing with the five divisions of souham? it is a strange mode of carrying on war," &c. unhappy marmont! how the "hermione" was recaptured "they cleared the cruiser from end to end, from conning-tower to hold; they fought as they fought in nelson's fleet-- they were stripped to the waist, they were bare to the feet, as it was in the days of old." --kipling. the story of how the _hermione_ was lost is one of the scandals and the tragedies of british naval history; the tale of how it was re-won is one of its glories. the _hermione_ was a -gun frigate, cruising off porto rico, in the west indies. on the evening of september , , the men were on drill, reefing topsails. the captain, pigot, was a rough and daring sailor, a type of the brutal school of naval officer long extinct. the traditions of the navy were harsh; the despotic power over the lives and fortunes of his crew which the captain of a man-of-war carried in the palm of his hand, when made the servant of a ferocious temper, easily turned a ship into a floating hell. the terrible mutinies which broke out in british fleets a hundred years ago had some justification, at least, in the cruelties, as well as the hardships, to which the sailors of that period were exposed. pigot was rough in speech, vehement in temper, cursed with a semi-lunatic delight in cruelty, and he tormented his men to the verge of desperation. on this fatal night, pigot, standing at the break of his quarter-deck, stormed at the men aloft, and swore with many oaths he would flog the last man off the mizzentop yard; and the men knew how well he would keep his word. the most active sailor, as the men lay out on the yard, naturally takes the earing, and is, of course, the last man off, as well as on, the yard. pigot's method, that is, would punish not the worst sailors, but the best! the two outermost men on the mizzen-top yard of the _hermione_ that night, determined to escape the threatened flogging. they made a desperate spring to get over their comrades crowding into the ratlines, missed their foothold, fell on the quarter-deck beside their furious captain, and were instantly killed. the captain's epitaph on the unfortunate sailors was, "throw the lubbers overboard!" all the next day a sullen gloom lay on the ship. mutiny was breeding. it began, as night fell, in a childish fashion, by the men throwing double-headed shot about the deck. the noise brought down the first lieutenant to restore order. he was knocked down. in the jostle of fierce tempers, murder awoke; knives gleamed. a sailor, as he bent over the fallen officer, saw the naked undefended throat, and thrust his knife into it. the sight kindled the men's passions to flame. the unfortunate lieutenant was killed with a dozen stabs, and his body thrown overboard. the men had now tasted blood. in the flame of murderous temper suddenly let loose, all the bonds of discipline were in a moment consumed. a wild rush was made for the officers' cabins. the captain tried to break his way out, was wounded, and driven back; the men swept in, and, to quote the realistic official account, "seated in his cabin the captain was stabbed by his own coxswain and three other mutineers, and, forced out of the cabin windows, was heard to speak as he went astern." with mutiny comes anarchy. the men made no distinction between their officers, cruel or gentle; not only the captain, but the three lieutenants, the purser, the surgeon, the lieutenant of marines, the boatswain, the captain's clerk were murdered, and even one of the two midshipmen on board was hunted like a rat through the ship, killed, and thrown overboard. the only officers spared were the master, the gunner, and one midshipman. having captured the ship, the mutineers were puzzled how to proceed. every man-of-war on the station, they knew, would be swiftly on their track. every british port was sealed to them. they would be pursued by a retribution which would neither loiter nor slumber. on the open sea there was no safety for mutineers. they turned the head of the _hermione_ towards the nearest spanish port, la guayra, and, reaching it, surrendered the ship to the spanish authorities, saying they had turned their officers adrift in the jolly-boat. the spaniards were not disposed to scrutinise too closely the story. a transaction which put into their hands a fine british frigate was welcomed with rapture. the british admiral in command of the station sent in a flag of truce with the true account of the mutiny, and called upon the spanish authorities, as a matter of honour, to surrender the _hermione_, and hand over for punishment the murderers who had carried it off. the appeal, however, was wasted. the _hermione_, a handsome ship of tons, when under the british flag, was armed with thirty-two -pounders, and had a complement of men. the spaniards cut new ports in her, increased her broadsides to forty-four guns, and gave her a complement, including a detachment of soldiers and artillerymen, of nearly men. she thus became the most formidable ship carrying the spanish flag in west indian waters. but the _hermione_, under its new flag, had a very anxious existence. it became a point of honour with every british vessel on the station to look out for the ship which had become the symbol of mutiny, and make a dash at her, no matter what the odds. the brutal murders which attended the mutiny shocked even the forecastle imagination, while the british officers were naturally eager to destroy the ship which represented revolt against discipline. both fore and aft, too, the fact that what had been a british frigate was now carrying the flag of spain was resented with a degree of exasperation which assured to the _hermione_, under its new name and flag, a very warm time if it came under the fire of a british ship. the spaniards kept the _hermione_ for just two years, but kept her principally in port, as the moment she showed her nose in the open sea some british ship or other, sleeplessly on the watch for her, bore down with disconcerting eagerness. in september the _hermione_ was lying in puerto cabello, while the _surprise_, a -gun frigate, under captain edward hamilton, was waiting outside, specially detailed by the admiral, sir hyde parker, to attack her the instant she put to sea. the _surprise_ had less than half the complement of the _hermione_, and not much more than half her weight of metal. but hamilton was not only willing to fight the hermione in the open sea against such odds; he told the admiral that if he would give him a barge and twenty men he would undertake to carry the hermione with his boats while lying in harbour. parker pronounced the scheme too desperate to be entertained, and refused hamilton the additional boat's crew for which he asked. yet this was the very plan which hamilton actually carried out without the reinforcement for which he had asked! hamilton, to tempt the _hermione_ out, kept carefully out of sight of puerto cabello to leeward, yet in such a position that if the hermione left the harbour her topsails must become visible to the look-outs on the mastheads of the _surprise_; and he kept that post until his provisions failed. then, as the _hermione_ would not come out to him, he determined to go into the _hermione_. hamilton was a silent, much-meditating man, not apt to share his counsels with anybody. in the cells of his brooding and solitary brain he prepared, down to the minutest details, his plan for a dash at the _hermione_--a ship, it must be remembered, not only more than double his own in strength, but lying moored head and stern in a strongly fortified port, under the fire of batteries mounting nearly guns, and protected, in addition, by several gunboats. in a boat attack, too, hamilton could carry only part of his crew with him; he must leave enough hands on board his own ship to work her. as a matter of fact, he put in his boats less than men, and with them, in the blackness of night, rowed off to attack a ship that carried men, and was protected by the fire, including her own broadsides, of nearly guns! the odds were indeed so great that the imagination of even british sailors, if allowed to meditate long upon them, might become chilled. hamilton therefore breathed not a whisper of his plans, even to his officers, till he was ready to put them into execution, and, when he did announce them, carried them out with cool but unfaltering speed. on the evening of october , hamilton invited all the officers not on actual duty to dine in his cabin. the scene may be easily pictured. the captain at the head of his table, the merry officers on either side, the jest, the laughter, the toasts; nobody there but the silent, meditative captain dreaming of the daring deed to be that night attempted. when dinner was over, and the officers alone, with a gesture hamilton arrested the attention of the party, and explained in a few grim sentences his purpose. the little party of brave men about him listened eagerly and with kindling eyes. "we'll stand by you, captain," said one. "we'll all follow you," said another. hamilton bade his officers follow him at once to the quarter-deck. a roll of the drum called the men instantly to quarters, and, when the officers reported every man at his station, they were all sent aft to where, on the break of the quarter-deck, the captain waited. it was night, starless and black, but a couple of lanterns shed a few broken rays on the massed seamen with their wondering, upturned faces, and the tall figure of the silent captain. hamilton explained in a dozen curt sentences that they must run into port for supplies; that if they left their station some more fortunate ship would have the glory of taking the _hermione_. "our only chance, lads," he added, "is to cut her out to-night!" as that sentence, with a keen ring on its last word, swept over the attentive sailors, they made the natural response, a sudden growling cheer. "i lead you myself," added hamilton, whereupon came another cheer; "and here are the orders for the six boats to be employed, with the names of the officers and men." instantly the crews were mustered, while the officers, standing in a cluster round the captain, heard the details of the expedition. every seaman was to be dressed in blue, without a patch of white visible; the password was "britannia," the answer "ireland"--hamilton himself being an irishman. by half-past seven the boats were actually hoisted out and lowered, the men armed and in their places, and each little crew instructed as to the exact part it was to play in the exciting drama. the orders given were curiously minute. the launch, for example, was to board on the starboard bow, but three of its men, before boarding, were first to cut the bower cable, for which purpose a little platform was rigged up on the launch's quarter, and sharp axes provided. the jolly-boat was to board on the starboard quarter, cut the stern cable, and send two men aloft to loose the mizzen topsail. the gig, under the command of the doctor, was to board on the larboard bow, and instantly send four men aloft to loose the fore topsail. if the _hermione_ was reached without any alarm being given, only the boarders were to leap on board; the ordinary crews of the boats were to take the frigate in tow. thus, if hamilton's plans were carried out, the spaniards would find themselves suddenly boarded at six different points, their cables cut, their topsails dropped, and their ship being towed out--and all this at the same instant of time. "the rendezvous," said hamilton to his officers, as the little cluster of boats drew away from the _surprise_, "is the _hermione's_ quarter-deck!" hamilton himself led, standing up in his pinnace, with his night-glass fixed on the doomed ship, and the boats followed with stern almost touching stern, and a rope passed from each boat to the one behind. can a more impressive picture of human daring be imagined than these six boats pulling silently ever the black waters and through the black night to fling themselves, under the fire of two hundred guns, on a foe four times more numerous than themselves! the boats had stolen to within less than a mile of the _hermione_, when a spanish challenge rang out of the darkness before them. two spanish gunboats were on guard within the harbour, and they at once opened fire on the chain of boats gliding mysteriously through the gloom. there was no longer any possibility of surprise, and hamilton instantly threw off the rope that connected him with the next boat and shouted to his men to pull. the men, with a loud "hurrah!" dashed their oars into the water, and the boats leaped forward towards the _hermione_. but hamilton's boats--two of them commanded by midshipmen--could not find themselves so close to a couple of spanish gunboats without "going" for them. two of the six boats swung aside and dashed at the gunboats; only three followed hamilton at the utmost speed towards the _hermione_. that ship, meanwhile, was awake. lights flashed from every port; a clamour of voices broke on the quiet of the night; the sound of the drum rolled along the decks, the men ran to quarters. hamilton, in the pinnace, dashed past the bows of the _hermione_ to reach his station, but a rope, stretched from the _hermione_ to her anchor-buoy, caught the rudder of the pinnace and stopped her in full course, the coxswain reporting the boat "aground." the pinnace had swung round till her starboard oars touched the bend of the _hermione_, and hamilton gave the word to "board." hamilton himself led, and swung himself up till his feet rested on the anchor hanging from the _hermione's_ cat-head. it was covered with mud, having been weighed that day, and his feet slipping off it, hamilton hung by the lanyard of the _hermione's_ foreshroud. the crew of the pinnace meanwhile climbing with the agility of cats and the eagerness of boys, had tumbled over their own captain's shoulders as well as the bulwarks of the _hermione_, and were on that vessel's forecastle, where hamilton in another moment joined them. here were sixteen men on board a vessel with a hostile crew four hundred strong. hamilton ran to the break of the forecastle and looked down, and to his amazement found the whole crew of the _hermione_ at quarters on the main-deck, with battle-lanterns lit, and firing with the utmost energy at the darkness, in which their excited fancy saw the tall masts of at least a squadron of frigates bearing down to attack them. hamilton, followed by his fifteen men, ran aft to the agreed rendezvous on the _hermione's_ quarter-deck. the doctor, with his crew, had meantime boarded, and forgetting all about the rendezvous, and obeying only the natural fighting impulse in their own blood, charged upon the spaniards in the gangway. hamilton sent his men down to assist in the fight, waiting alone on the quarter-deck till his other boat boarded. here four spaniards rushed suddenly upon him; one struck him over the head with a musket with a force that broke the weapon itself, and knocked him semi-senseless upon the combings of the hatchway. two british sailors, who saw their commander's peril, rescued him, and, with blood streaming down from his battered head upon his uniform, hamilton flung himself into the fight at the gangway. at this juncture the black cutter, in command of the first lieutenant, with the _surprise's_ marines on board, dashed up to the side of the _hermione_, and the men came tumbling over the larboard gangway. they had made previously two unsuccessful attempts to board. they came up first by the steps of the larboard gangway, the lieutenant leading. he was incontinently knocked down, and tumbled all his men with him as he fell back into the boat. they then tried the starboard of the _hermione_, and were again beaten back, and only succeeded on a third attempt. three boats' crews of the british were now together on the deck of the hermione. they did not number fifty men in all, but the marines were instantly formed up and a volley was fired down the after hatchway. then, following the flash of their muskets, with the captain leading, the whole party leaped down upon the maindeck, driving the spaniards before them. some sixty spaniards took refuge in the cabin, and shouted they surrendered, whereupon they were ordered to throw down their arms, and the doors were locked upon them, turning them into prisoners. on the main-deck and under the forecastle, however, the fighting was fierce and deadly; but by this time the other boats had come up, and the cables fore and aft were cut, as had been arranged. the men detailed for that task had raced up the spaniard's rigging, and while the desperate fight raged below, had cast loose the topsails of the _hermione_. three of the boats, too, had taken her in tow. she began to move seaward, and that movement, with the sound of the rippling water along the ship's sides, appalled the spaniards, and persuaded them the ship was lost. on the quarter-deck the gunner and two men--all three wounded--stood at the wheel, and flung the head of the _hermione_ seaward. they were fiercely attacked, but while one man clung to the wheel and kept control of the ship, the gunner and his mate kept off the spaniards. presently the foretopsail filled with the land breeze, the water rippled louder along the sides of the moving vessel, the ship swayed to the wind. the batteries by this time were thundering from the shore, but though they shot away many ropes, they fired with signal ill-success. only fifty british sailors and marines, it must be remembered, were actually on the deck of the _hermione_, and amongst the crowd of sullen and exasperated spaniards below, who had surrendered, but were still furious with the astonishment of the attack and the passion of the fight, there arose a shout to "blow up the ship." the british had to fire down through the hatchway upon the swaying crowd to enforce order. by two o'clock the struggle was over, the _hermione_ was beyond the fire of the batteries, and the crews of the boats towing her came on board. there is no more surprising fight in british history. the mere swiftness with which the adventure was carried out is marvellous. it was past six p.m. when hamilton disclosed his plan to his officers, the _hermione_ at that moment lying some eight miles distant; by two o'clock the captured ship, with the british flag flying from her peak, was clear of the harbour. only half a hundred men actually got on board the _hermione_, but what a resolute, hard-smiting, strong-fisted band they were may be judged by the results. of the spaniards, were killed, and wounded, most of them dangerously. hamilton's men, that is, in those few minutes of fierce fighting, cut down four times their own number! not one of the british, as it happened, was killed, and only wounded, captain hamilton himself receiving no less than five serious wounds. the _hermione_ was restored to her place in the british navy list, but under a new name--the _retribution_--and the story of that heroic night attack will be for all time one of the most stirring incidents in the long record of brave deeds performed by british seamen. french and english in the passes "beating from the wasted vines back to france her banded swarms, back to france with countless blows, till o'er the hills her eagles flew beyond the pyrenean pines; follow'd up in valley and glen with blare of bugle, clamour of men, roll of cannon and clash of arms, and england pouring on her foes. such a war had such a close." --tennyson. "in both the passes, and on the heights above them, there was desperate fighting. they fought on the mountain-tops, which could scarcely have witnessed any other combat than that of the pyrenean eagles; they fought among jagged rocks and over profound abysses; they fought amidst clouds and mists, for those mountain-tops were feet above the level of the plain of france, and the rains, which had fallen in torrents, were evaporating in the morning and noon-day sun, were steaming heavenward and clothing the loftiest peaks with fantastic wreaths." these words describe, with picturesque force, the most brilliant and desperate, and yet, perhaps, the least known chapter in the great drama of the peninsular war: the furious combats waged between british and french in the gloomy valleys and on the mist-shrouded summits of the western pyrenees. the great campaign, which found its climax at vittoria, lasted six weeks. in that brief period wellington marched with , men miles, passed six great rivers, gained one historic and decisive battle, invested two fortresses, and drove , veteran troops from spain. there is no more brilliant chapter in military history; and, at its close, to quote napier's clarion-like sentences, "the english general, emerging from the chaos of the peninsular struggle, stood on the summit of the pyrenees a recognised conqueror. from those lofty pinnacles the clangour of his trumpets pealed clear and loud, and the splendour of his genius appeared as a flaming beacon to warring nations." but the great barrier of the pyrenees stretched across wellington's path, a tangle of mountains sixty miles in length; a wild table-land rough with crags, fierce with mountain torrents, shaggy with forests, a labyrinth of savage and snow-clad hills. on either flank a great fortress--san sebastian and pampeluna--was held by the french, and wellington was besieging both at once, and besieging them without battering trains. the echoes of vittoria had aroused napoleon, then fighting desperately on the elbe, and ten days after vittoria the french emperor, acting with the lightning-like decision characteristic of his genius, had despatched soult, the ablest of all his generals, to bar the passes of the pyrenees against wellington. soult travelled day and night to the scene of his new command, gathering reinforcements on every side as he went, and in an incredibly short period he had assembled on the french side of the pyrenees a great and perfectly equipped force of , men. wellington could not advance and leave san sebastian and pampeluna on either flank held by the enemy. some eight separate passes pierce the giant chain of the pyrenees. soult was free to choose any one of them for his advance to the relief of either of the besieged fortresses, but wellington had to keep guard over the whole eight, and the force holding each pass was almost completely isolated from its comrades. thus all the advantages of position were with soult. he could pour his whole force through one or two selected passes, brush aside the relatively scanty force which held it, relieve san sebastian or pampeluna, and, with the relieved fortress as his base, fling himself on wellington's flank while the allied armies were scattered over the slopes of the pyrenees for sixty miles. and soult was exactly the general to avail himself of these advantages. he had the swift vision, the resolute will, and the daring of a great commander. "it is on spanish soil," he said in a proclamation to his troops, "your tents must next be pitched. let the account of our successes be dated from vittoria, and let the fête-day of his imperial majesty be celebrated in that city." these were brave words, and having uttered them, soult led his gallant troops, with gallant purpose, into the gloomy passes of the pyrenees, and for days following the roar of battle sank and swelled over the snow-clad peaks. but when the imperial fête-day arrived--august --soult's great army was pouring back from those same passes a shattered host, and the allied troops, sternly following them, were threatening french soil! soult judged pampeluna to be in greater peril than san sebastian, and moved by his left to force the passes of roncesvalles and maya. the rain fell furiously, the mountain streams were in flood, gloomy mists shrouded the hill-tops; but by july , with more than , fighting men, and nearly seventy guns, soult was pouring along the passes he had chosen. it is impossible to do more than pick out a few of the purple patches in the swift succession of heroic combats that followed: fights waged on mountain summits feet above the sea-level, in shaggy forests, under tempests of rain and snow. d'erlon, with a force of , men, took the british by surprise in the pass of maya. ross, an eager and hardy soldier, unexpectedly encountering the french advance guard, instantly shouted the order to "charge!" and with a handful of the th flung himself upon the enemy, and actually checked their advance until cole, who had only , bayonets to oppose to , , had got into fighting form. a thick fog fell like a pall on the combatants, and checked the fight, and cole, in the night, fell back. the french columns were in movement at daybreak, but still the fog hid the whole landscape, and the guides of the french feared to lead them up the slippery crags. at maya, however, the french in force broke upon stewart's division, holding that pass. the british regiments, as they came running up, not in mass, but by companies, and breathless with the run, were flung with furious haste upon the french. the th, the th, the th in succession crashed into the fight, but were flung back by overpowering numbers. it was a battle of men against , . the famous th, fiercely advancing, checked the french rush at one point; but soult's men were full of the _élan_ of victory, and swept past the british flanks. the st and nd were brought into the fight, and the latter especially clung sternly to their position till two men out of every three were shot down, the mound of dead and dying forming a solid barrier between the wasted survivors of the regiment and the shouting edge of the french advance. "the stern valour of the nd," says napier, "principally composed of irishmen, would have graced thermopylae." no one need question the fighting quality of the irish soldier, but, as a matter of fact, there were highlanders in the regiment, and irishmen. the british, however, were steadily pushed back, ammunition failed, and the soldiers were actually defending the highest crag with stones, when barnes, with a brigade of the seventh division, coming breathlessly up the pass, plunged into the fight, and checked the french. soult had gained ten of the thirty miles of road toward pampeluna, but at an ominous cost, and, meanwhile, the plan of his attack was developed, and wellington was in swift movement to bar his path. soult had now swung into the pass of roncesvalles, and was on the point of attacking cole, who held the pass with a very inadequate force, when, at that exact moment, wellington, having despatched his aides in various directions to bring up the troops, galloped alone along the mountain flank to the british line. he was recognised; the nearest troops raised a shout; it ran, gathering volume as it travelled down all the slope, where the british stood waiting for the french attack. that sudden shout, stern and exultant, reached the french lines, and they halted. at the same moment, round the shoulder of the hill on the opposite side of the pass, soult appeared, and the two generals, near enough to see each other's features, eagerly scrutinised one another. "yonder is a great commander," said wellington, as if speaking to himself, "but he is cautious, and will delay his attack to ascertain the cause of these cheers. that will give time for the sixth division to arrive, and i shall beat him." wellington's forecast of soult's action was curiously accurate. he made no attack that day. the sixth division came up, and soult was beaten! [illustration: combat of roncesvalles, july , . from napier's "peninsular war."] there were two combats of sauroren, and each was, in wellington's own phrase, "bludgeon work"--a battle of soldiers rather than of generals, a tangle of fierce charges and counter-charges, of volleys delivered so close that they scorched the very clothes of the opposing lines, and sustained so fiercely that they died down only because the lines of desperately firing men crumbled into ruin and silence. nothing could be finer than the way in which a french column, swiftly, sternly, and without firing a shot, swept up a craggy steep crowned by rocks like castles, held by some portuguese battalions, and won the position. ross's brigade, in return, with equal vehemence recharged the position from its side, and dashed the french out of it; the french in still greater force came back, a shouting mass, and crushed ross's men. then wellington sent forward byng's brigade at running pace, and hurled the french down the mountain side. at another point in the pass the french renewed their assault four times; in their second assault they gained the summit. the th were in reserve at that point; they waited in steady silence till the edge of the french line, a confused mass of tossing bayonets and perspiring faces, came clear over the crest; then, running forward with extraordinary fury, they flung them, a broken, tumultuous mass, down the slope. in the later charges, so fierce and resolute were the french officers that they were seen dragging their tired soldiers up the hill by their belts! it is idle to attempt the tale of this wild mountain fighting. soult at last fell back, and wellington followed, swift and vehement, on his track, and moved alten's column to intercept the french retreat. the story of alten's march is a marvellous record of soldierly endurance. his men pressed on with speed for nineteen consecutive hours, and covered forty miles of mountain tracks, wilder than the otway ranges, or the paths of the australian alps between bright and omeo. the weather was close; many men fell and died, convulsed and frothing at the mouth. still, their officers leading, the regiment kept up its quick step, till, as evening fell, the head of the column reached the edge of the precipice overlooking the bridge across which, in all the confusion of a hurried retreat, the french troops were crowding. "we overlooked the enemy," says cook in his "memoirs," "at stone's-throw. the river separated us; but the french were wedged in a narrow road, with inaccessible rocks on one side, and the river on the other." who can describe the scene that followed! some of the french fired vertically up at the british; others ran; others shouted for quarter; some pointed with eager gestures to the wounded, whom they carried on branches of trees, as if entreating the british not to fire. in nine days of continual marching, ten desperate actions had been fought, at what cost of life can hardly be reckoned. napier, after roughly calculating the losses, says: "let this suffice. it is not needful to sound the stream of blood in all its horrid depths." but the fighting sowed the wild passes of the pyrenees thick with the graves of brave men. soult actually fought his way to within sight of the walls of pampeluna, and its beleaguered garrison waved frantic welcomes to his columns as, from the flanks of the overshadowing hills, they looked down on the city. then broken as by the stroke of a thunderbolt, and driven like wild birds caught in a tempest, the french poured back through the passes to french soil again. "i never saw such fighting," was wellington's comment on the struggle. for the weeks that followed, soult could only look on while san sebastian and pampeluna fell. then the allied outposts were advanced to the slopes looking down on france and the distant sea. it is recorded that the highlanders of hill's division, like xenophon's greeks years before them, broke into cheers when they caught their first glimpse of the sea, the great, wrinkled, azure-tinted floor, flecked with white sails. it was "the way home!" bearn and gascony and languedoc lay stretched like a map under their feet. but the weather was bitter, the snow lay thick in the passes, sentinels were frozen at the outposts, and a curious stream of desertions began. the warm plains of sunny france tempted the half-frozen troops, and southey computes, with an arithmetical precision which is half-humorous, that the average weekly proportion of desertions was spaniards, irish, english, scotch, and half a portuguese! one indignant english colonel drew up his regiment on parade, and told the men that "if any of them wanted to join the french they had better do so at once. he gave them free leave. he wouldn't have men in the regiment who wished to join the enemy!" meanwhile soult was trying to construct on french soil lines of defence as mighty as those of wellington at torres vedras; and on october , wellington pushed his left across the bidassoa, the stream that marks the boundaries of spain and france. on the french side the hills rise to a great height. one huge shoulder, called la rhune, commands the whole stream; another lofty ridge, called the "boar's back," offered almost equal facilities for defence. the only road that crossed the hills rose steeply, with sharp zigzags, and for weeks the french had toiled to make the whole position impregnable. the british soldiers had watched while the mountain sides were scarred with trenches, and the road was blocked with abattis, and redoubt rose above redoubt like a gigantic staircase climbing the sky. the bidassoa at its mouth is wide, and the tides rose sixteen feet. but on the night of october --a night wild with rain and sleet--wellington's troops marched silently to their assigned posts on the banks of the river. when day broke, at a signal-gun seven columns could be seen moving at once in a line of five miles, and before soult could detect wellington's plan the river was crossed, the french entrenched camps on the bidassoa won! the next morning the heights were attacked. the rifles carried the boar's back with a single effort. the bayonette crest, a huge spur guarded by battery above battery, and crowned by a great redoubt, was attacked by colborne's brigade and some portuguese. the tale of how the hill was climbed, and the batteries carried in swift succession, cannot be told here. it was a warlike feat of the most splendid quality. other columns moving along the flanks of the great hill alarmed the french lest they should be cut off, and they abandoned the redoubt on the summit. colborne, accompanied by only one of his staff and half-a-dozen files of riflemen, came suddenly round a shoulder of the hill on the whole garrison of the redoubt, strong, in retreat. with great presence of mind, he ordered them, in the sharpest tones of authority, to "lay down their arms," and, believing themselves cut off, they obeyed! a column of spanish troops moving up the flanks of the great rhune found their way barred by a strong line of abattis and the fire of two french regiments. the column halted, and their officers vainly strove to get the spaniards to attack. an officer of the rd named havelock--a name yet more famous in later wars--attached to alten's staff, was sent to see what caused the stoppage of the column. he found the spaniards checked by the great abattis, through which flashed, fierce and fast, the fire of the french. waving his hat, he shouted to the spaniards to "follow him," and, putting his horse at the abattis, at one leap went headlong amongst the french. there is a swift contagion in valour. he was only a light-haired lad, and the spaniards with one vehement shout for "el chico blanco"--"the fair lad"--swept over abattis and french together! famous cutting-out expeditions "we have fed our sea for a thousand years, and she calls us, still unfed, though there's never a wave of all her waves but marks our english dead; we have strawed our best to the weed's unrest, to the shark and the sheering gull. if blood be the price of admiralty, lord god, we ha' paid in full! * * * * * there's never a flood goes shoreward now but lifts a keel we manned; there's never an ebb goes seaward now but drops our dead on the sand. we must feed our sea for a thousand years, for that is our doom and pride, as it was when they sailed with the golden hind, or the wreck that struck last tide-- or the wreck that lies on the spouting reef where the ghastly blue lights flare. if blood be the price of admiralty, if blood be the price of admiralty, if blood be the price of admiralty, lord god, we ha' bought it fair!" --kipling. as illustrations of cool daring, of the courage that does not count numbers or depend on noise, nor flinch from flame or steel, few things are more wonderful than the many cutting-out stories to be found in the history of the british navy. the soldier in the forlorn hope, scrambling up the breach swept by grape and barred by a triple line of steadfast bayonets, must be a brave man. but it may be doubted whether he shows a courage so cool and high as that of a boat's crew of sailors in a cutting-out expedition. the ship to be attacked lies, perhaps, floating in a tropic haze five miles off, and the attacking party must pull slowly, in a sweltering heat, up to the iron lips of her guns. the greedy, restless sea is under them, and a single shot may turn the eager boat's crew at any instant into a cluster of drowning wretches. when the ship is reached, officers and men must clamber over bulwarks and boarding-netting, exposed, almost helplessly, as they climb, to thrust of pike and shot of musket, and then leap down, singly and without order, on to the deck crowded with foes. or, perhaps, the ship to be cut out lies in a hostile port under the guard of powerful batteries, and the boats must dash in through the darkness, and their crews tumble, at three or four separate points, on to the deck of the foe, cut her cables, let fall her sails, and--while the mad fight still rages on her deck and the great battery booms from the cliff overhead--carry the ship out of the harbour. these, surely, are deeds of which only a sailor's courage is capable! let a few such stories be taken from faded naval records and told afresh to a new generation. in july the -gun cutter _viper_, commanded by acting-lieutenant jeremiah coghlan, was attached to sir edward pellew's squadron off port louis. coghlan, as his name tells, was of irish blood. he had just emerged from the chrysalis stage of a midshipman, and, flushed with the joy of an independent command, was eager for adventure. the entrance to port louis was watched by a number of gunboats constantly on sentry-go, and coghlan conceived the idea of jumping suddenly on one of these, and carrying her off from under the guns of the enemy's fleet. he persuaded sir edward pellew to lend him the flagship's ten-oared cutter, with twelve volunteers. having got this reinforcement, and having persuaded the _amethyst_ frigate to lend him a boat and crew, mr. jeremiah coghlan proceeded to carry out another and very different plan from that he had ventured to suggest to his admiral. a french gun-brig, named the _cerbère_, was lying in the harbour of st. louis. she mounted three long and four -pounders, and was moored, with springs in her cables, within pistol-shot of three batteries. a french seventy-four and two frigates were within gunshot of her. she had a crew of eighty-six men, sixteen of whom were soldiers. it was upon this brig, lying under three powerful batteries, within a hostile and difficult port, that mr. jeremiah coghlan proposed, in the darkness of night, to make a dash. he added the _viper's_ solitary midshipman, with himself and six of his crew, to the twelve volunteers on board the flagship's cutter, raising its crew to twenty men, and, with the _amethyst's_ boat and a small boat from the _viper_, pulled off in the blackness of the night on this daring adventure. the ten-oared cutter ran away from the other two boats, reached the _cerbère_, found her with battle lanterns alight and men at quarters, and its crew at once jumped on board the frenchman. coghlan, as was proper, jumped first, landed on a trawl-net hung up to dry, and, while sprawling helpless in its meshes, was thrust through the thigh with a pike, and with his men--several also severely hurt--tumbled back into the boat. the british picked themselves up, hauled their boat a little farther ahead, clambered up the sides of the _cerbère_ once more, and were a second time beaten back with new wounds. they clung to the frenchman, however, fought their way up to a new point, broke through the french defences, and after killing or wounding twenty-six of the enemy--or more than every fourth man of the _cerbère's_ crew--actually captured her, the other two boats coming up in time to help in towing out the prize under a wrathful fire from the batteries. coghlan had only one killed and eight wounded, himself being wounded in two places, and his middy in six. sir edward pellew, in his official despatch, grows eloquent over "the courage which, hand to hand, gave victory to a handful of brave fellows over four times their number, and the skill which planned, conducted, and effected so daring an enterprise." earl st. vincent, himself the driest and grimmest of admirals, was so delighted with the youthful irishman's exploit that he presented him with a handsome sword. in , again, great britain was at war with the dutch--a tiny little episode of the great revolutionary war. a small squadron of british ships was cruising off batavia. a french squadron, with troops to strengthen the garrison, was expected daily. the only fortified port into which they could run was marrack, and the commander of the british squadron cruising to intercept the french ships determined to make a dash by night on marrack, and so secure the only possible landing-place for the french. marrack was defended by batteries mounting fifty-four heavy guns. the attacking force was to consist of seamen and troops, under the command of lieutenant lyons of the _minden_. just before the boats pushed off, however, the british commander learned that the dutch garrison had been heavily reinforced, and deeming an assault too hazardous, the plan was abandoned. a few days afterwards lyons, with the _minden's_ launch and cutter, was despatched to land nineteen prisoners at batavia, and pick up intelligence. lyons, a very daring and gallant officer, learned that the marrack garrison was in a state of sleepy security, and, with his two boats' crews, counting thirty-five officers and men, he determined to make a midnight dash on the fort, an exploit which men were reckoned too weak a force to attempt. lyons crept in at sunset to the shore, and hid his two boats behind a point from which the fort was visible. a little after midnight, just as the moon dipped below the horizon, lyons stole with muffled oars round the point, and instantly the dutch sentries gave the alarm. lyons, however, pushed fiercely on, grounded his boats in a heavy surf under the very embrasures of the lower battery, and, in an instant, thirty-five british sailors were tumbling over the dutch guns and upon the heavy-breeched and astonished dutch gunners. the battery was carried. lyons gathered his thirty-five sailors into a cluster, and, with a rush, captured the upper battery. still climbing up, they reached the top of the hill, and found the whole dutch garrison forming in line to receive them. the sailors instantly ran in upon the half-formed line, cutlass in hand; lyons roared that he "had men, and would give no quarter;" and the dutch, finding the pace of events too rapid for their nerves, broke and fled. but the victorious british were only thirty-five in number, and were surrounded by powerful forces. they began at once to dismantle the guns and destroy the fort, but two dutch gunboats in the bay opened fire on them, as did a heavy battery in the rear. at daybreak a strong dutch column was formed, and came on at a resolute and laborious trot towards the shattered gate of the fort. lyons had trained two -pounders, loaded to the muzzle with musket balls, on the gate, left invitingly open. he himself stood, with lighted match, by one gun; his second in command, with another lighted match, by the other. they waited coolly by the guns till the dutch, their officers leading, reached the gate, raising a tumult of angry guttural shouts as they came on. then, from a distance of little over ten yards, the british fired. the head of the column was instantly smashed, its tail broken up into flying fragments. lyons finished the destruction of the fort at leisure, sank one of the two gunboats with the last shot fired from the last gun before he spiked it, and marched off, leaving the british flag flying on the staff above the fort, where, in the fury of the attack, it had been hoisted in a most gallant fashion by the solitary middy of the party, a lad named franks, only fifteen years old. one of the two boats belonging to the british had been bilged by the surf, and the thirty-five seamen--only four of them wounded--packed themselves into the remaining boat and pulled off, carrying with them the captured dutch colours. let the reader's imagination illuminate, as the writer's pen cannot, that midnight dash by thirty-five men on a heavily armed fort with a garrison twelve times the strength of the attacking force. where in stories of warfare, ancient or modern, is such another tale of valour to be found? lyons, however, was not promoted, as he had "acted without orders." a tale, with much the same flavour in it, but not so dramatically successful, has for its scene the coast of spain. in august , the british sloop _minstrel_, of guns, and the -gun brig _philomel_, were blockading three small french privateers in the port of biendom, near alicante. the privateers were protected by a strong fort mounting guns. by way of precaution, two of the ships were hauled on shore, six of their guns being landed, and formed into a battery manned by eighty of their crews. the _minstrel_ and her consort could not pretend to attack a position so strong, but they kept vigilant watch outside, and a boat from one ship or the other rowed guard every night near the shore. on the night of the th the _minstrel's_ boat, with seven seamen, was in command of an irish midshipman named michael dwyer. dwyer had all the fighting courage of his race, with almost more of the gay disregard of odds than is natural to even an irish midshipman. it occurred to mr. michael dwyer that if he could carry by surprise the -gun battery, there would be a chance of destroying the privateers. a little before ten p.m. he pulled silently to the beach, at a point three miles distant from the battery, and, with his seven followers, landed, and was instantly challenged by a french sentry. dwyer by some accident knew spanish, and, with ready-witted audacity, replied in that language that "they were peasants." they were allowed to pass, and these seven tars, headed by a youth, set off on the three miles' trudge to attack a fort! there were eighty men in the battery when michael and his amazing seven rushed upon it. there was a wild struggle for five minutes, and then the eighty fled before the eight, and the delighted middy found himself in possession of the battery. but the alarm was given, and two companies of french infantry, each one hundred strong, came resolutely up to retake the battery. eight against eighty seemed desperate odds, but eight against two hundred is a quite hopeless proportion. yet mr. dwyer and his seven held the fort till one of their number was killed, two (including the midshipman) badly wounded, and, worst of all, their ammunition exhausted. when the british had fired their last shot, the french, with levelled bayonets, broke in; but the inextinguishable dwyer was not subdued till he had been stabbed in seventeen places, and of the whole eight british only one was left unwounded. the french amazement when they discovered that the force which attacked them consisted of seven men and a boy, was too deep for words. perhaps the most brilliant cutting-out in british records is the carrying of the _chevrette_ by the boats of three british frigates in cameret bay in . a previous and mismanaged attempt had put the _chevrette_ on its guard; it ran a mile and a half farther up the bay, moored itself under some heavy batteries, took on board a powerful detachment of infantry, bringing its number of men up to , and then hoisted in defiance a large french ensign over the british flag. some temporary redoubts were thrown up on the points of land commanding the _chevrette_, and a heavily armed gunboat was moored at the entrance of the bay as a guard-boat. after all these preparations the _chevrette's_ men felt both safe and jubilant; but the sight of that french flag flying over the british ensign was a challenge not to be refused, and at half-past nine that night the boats of the three frigates--the _doris_, the _uranie_, and the _beaulieu_--fifteen in all, carrying officers and men, were in the water and pulling off to attack the _chevrette_. lieutenant losack, in command, with his own and five other boats, suddenly swung off in the gloom in chase of what he supposed to be the look-out boat of the enemy, ordering the other nine boats to lie on their oars till he returned. but time stole on; he failed to return; and lieutenant maxwell, the next in command, reflecting that the night was going, and the boats had six miles to pull, determined to carry out the expedition, though he had only nine boats and less than men, instead of fifteen boats and men. he summoned his little squadron in the darkness about him, and gave exact instructions. as the boats dashed up, one was to cut the _chevrette's_ cables; when they boarded, the smartest topmen, named man by man, were to fight their way aloft and cut loose the _chevrette's_ sails; one of the finest sailors in the boats, wallis, the quartermaster of the _beaulieu_, was to take charge of the _chevrette's_ helm. thus at one and the same instant the _chevrette_ was to be boarded, cut loose, its sails dropped, and its head swung round towards the harbour mouth. at half-past twelve the moon sank. the night was windless and black; but the bearing of the _chevrette_ had been taken by compass, and the boats pulled gently on, till, ghost-like in the gloom, the doomed ship was discernible. a soft air from the land began to blow at that moment. suddenly the _chevrette_ and the batteries overhead broke into flame. the boats were discovered! the officers leaped to their feet in the stern of each boat, and urged the men on. the leading boats crashed against the _chevrette's_ side. the ship was boarded simultaneously on both bows and quarters. the force on board the _chevrette_, however, was numerous enough to make a triple line of armed men round the whole sweep of its bulwarks; they were armed with pikes, tomahawks, cutlasses, and muskets, and they met the attack most gallantly, even venturing in their turn to board the boats. by this time, however, the nine boats maxwell was leading had all come up, and although the defence outnumbered the attack by more than two to one, yet the british were not to be denied. they clambered fiercely on board; the topmen raced aloft, found the foot-ropes on the yards all strapped up, but running out, cutlass in hand, they cut loose the _chevrette's_ sails. wallis, meanwhile, had fought his way to the wheel, slew two of the enemy in the process, was desperately wounded himself, yet stood steadily at the wheel, and kept the _chevrette_ under command, the batteries by this time opening upon the ship a fire of grape and heavy shot. in less than three minutes after the boats came alongside, although nearly every second man of their crews had been killed or wounded, the three topsails and courses of the _chevrette_ had fallen, the cables had been cut, and the ship was moving out in the darkness. she leaned over to the light breeze, the ripple sounded louder at her stern, and when the french felt the ship under movement, it for the moment paralysed their defence. some jumped overboard; others threw down their arms and ran below. the fight, though short, had been so fierce that the deck was simply strewn with bodies. many of the french who had retreated below renewed the fight there; they tried to blow up the quarter-deck with gunpowder in their desperation, and the british had to fight a new battle between decks with half their force while the ship was slowly getting under weigh. the fire of the batteries was furious, but, curiously enough, no important spar was struck, though some of the boats towing alongside were sunk. and while the batteries thundered overhead, and the battle still raged on the decks below, the british seamen managed to set every sail on the ship, and even got topgallant yards across. slowly the _chevrette_ drew out of the harbour. just then some boats were discovered pulling furiously up through the darkness; they were taken to be french boats bent on recapture, and maxwell's almost exhausted seamen were summoned to a new conflict. the approaching boats, however, turned out to be the detachment under lieutenant losack, who came up to find the work done and the _chevrette_ captured. the fight on the deck of the _chevrette_ had been of a singularly deadly character. the british had a total of killed and wounded; the chevrette lost killed and wounded, amongst the slain being the _chevrette's_ captain, her two lieutenants, and three midshipmen. many stories are told of the daring displayed by british seamen in this attack. the boatswain of the _beaulieu_, for example, boarded the _chevrette's_ taffrail; he took one glance along the crowded decks, waved his cutlass, shouted "make a lane there!" and literally carved his way through to the forecastle, which he cleared of the french, and kept clear, in spite of repeated attacks, while he assisted to cast the ship about and make sail with as much coolness as though he had been on board the _beaulieu_. wallis, who fought his way to the helm of the _chevrette_, and, though wounded, kept his post with iron coolness while the fight raged, was accosted by his officer when the fight was over with an expression of sympathy for his wounds. "it is only a prick or two, sir," said wallis, and he added he "was ready to go out on a similar expedition the next night." a boatswain's mate named ware had his left arm cut clean off by a furious slash of a french sabre, and fell back into the boat. with the help of a comrade's tarry fingers ware bound up the bleeding stump with rough but energetic surgery, climbed with his solitary hand on board the chevrette, and played a most gallant part in the fight. the fight that captured the _chevrette_ is almost without parallel. here was a ship carried off from an enemy's port, with the combined fleets of france and spain looking on. the enemy were not taken by surprise; they did not merely defy attack, they invited it. the british had to assail a force three times their number, with every advantage of situation and arms. the british boats were exposed to a heavy fire from the _chevrette_ itself and from the shore batteries before they came alongside. the crews fought their way up the sides of the ship in the face of overwhelming odds; they got the vessel under weigh while the fight still raged, and brought her out of a narrow and difficult roadstead, before they had actually captured her. "all this was done," to quote the "naval chronicle" for , "in the presence of the grand fleet of the enemy; it was done by nine boats out of fifteen, which originally set out upon the expedition; it was done under the conduct of an officer who, in the absence of the person appointed to command, undertook it upon his own responsibility, and whose intrepidity, judgment, and presence of mind, seconded by the wonderful exertions of the officers and men under his command, succeeded in effecting an enterprise which, by those who reflect upon its peculiar circumstances, will ever be regarded with astonishment." mountain combats "at length the freshening western blast aside the shroud of battle cast; and first the ridge of mingled spears above the brightening cloud appears; and in the smoke the pennons flew, as in the storm the white sea-mew. then marked they, dashing broad and far, the broken billows of the war, and plumèd crests of chieftains brave floating like foam upon the wave, but nought distinct they see." --scott. the brilliant and heroic combats on the nive belong to the later stages of the pyrenean campaign; and here, as on the bidassoa, soult had all the advantages of position. he had a fortified camp and a great fortress as his base; excellent roads linked the whole of his positions together; he held the interior lines, and could reach any point in the zone of operations in less time than his great opponent. wellington, on the other hand, had almost every possible disadvantage. the weather was bitter; incessant rains fell; he had to operate on both sides of a dangerous river; the roads were mere ribbons of tenacious clay, in which the infantry sank to mid-leg, the guns to their axles, the cavalry sometimes to their saddle-girths. moreover, wellington's spanish troops had the sufferings and outrages of a dozen campaigns to avenge, and when they found themselves on french soil the temptations to plunder and murder were irresistible. wellington would not maintain war by plunder, and, as he found he could not restrain his spaniards, he despatched the whole body, , strong, back to spain. it was a great deed. it violated all military canons, for by it wellington divided his army in the presence of the enemy. it involved, too, a rare sacrifice of personal ambition. "if i had , spaniards, paid and fed," he wrote to lord bathurst, "i should have bayonne. if i had , i do not know where i should stop. now i have both the , and the , , . . . but if they plunder they will ruin all." wellington was great enough to sacrifice both military rules and personal ambition to humanity. he was wise enough, too, to know that a policy which outrages humanity in the long-run means disaster. wellington's supreme advantage lay in the fighting quality of his troops. the campaigns of six years had made them an army of veterans. "danger," says napier, "was their sport," and victory, it might also be added, was their habit. they fought with a confidence and fierceness which, added to the cool and stubborn courage native to the british character, made the battalions which broke over the french frontier under wellington perhaps the most formidable fighting force known in the history of war. to quote napier once more: "what alexander's macedonians were at arbela, hannibal's africans at cannae, caesar's romans at pharsalia, napoleon's guards at austerlitz, such were wellington's british soldiers at this period." on november , , was fought what is called the battle of nivelle, in which wellington thrust soult roughly and fiercely from the strong positions he held on the flanks of the great hills under which the nivelle flows. the morning broke in great splendour; three signal-guns flashed from the heights of one of the british hills, and at once the rd leaped out and ran swiftly forward from the flank of the great rhune to storm the "hog's back" ridge of the petite rhune, a ridge walled with rocks feet high, except at one point, where it was protected by a marsh. william napier, who commanded the rd, has told the story of the assault. he placed four companies in reserve, and led the other four in person to the attack on the rocks; and he was chiefly anxious not to rush his men--to "keep down the pace," so that they would not arrive spent and breathless at the french works. the men were eager to rush, however; the fighting impulse in them was on flame, and they were held back with difficulty. when they were still nearly yards from the enemy, a youthful aide-de-camp, his blood on fire, came galloping up with a shout, and waving his hat. the rd broke out of hand at once with the impulse of the lad's enthusiasm and the stroke of his horse's flying hoofs, and with a sudden rush they launched themselves on the french works still high above them. napier had nothing for it but to join the charging mass. "i was the first man but one," he says, "who reached and jumped into the rocks, and i was only second because my strength and speed were unequal to contend with the giant who got before me. he was the tallest and most active man in the regiment, and the day before, being sentenced to corporal punishment, i had pardoned him on the occasion of an approaching action. he now repaid me by striving always to place himself between me and the fire of the enemy. his name was eccles, an irishman." the men won the first redoubt, but simply had not breath and strength enough left to reach the one above it, and fell gasping and exhausted in the rocks before it, the french firing fiercely upon them. in a few minutes, however, they had recovered breath; they leaped up with a shout, and tumbled over the wall of the castle; and so, from barrier to barrier, as up some titanic stairway, the rd swept with glittering bayonets. the summit was held by a powerful work called the donjon; it was so strong that attack upon it seemed madness. but a keen-eyed british officer detected signs of wavering in the french within the fort, and with a shout the rd leaped at it, and carried it. it took the rd twenty minutes to carry the whole chain of positions; and of the eleven officers of the regiment, six were killed or desperately wounded. the french showed bravery; they fought, in fact, muzzle to muzzle up the whole chain of positions. but the rd charged with a daring and fury absolutely resistless. another amazing feature in the day's fight was the manner in which colborne, with the nd, carried what was called the signal redoubt, a strong work, crowning a steep needle-pointed hill, and overlooking the whole french position. colborne led his men up an ascent so sharp that his horse with difficulty could climb it. the summit was reached, and the men went in, with a run, at the work, only to find the redoubt girdled by a wide ditch thirty feet deep. the men halted on the edge of the deep cutting, and under the fire of the french they fell fast. colborne led back his men under the brow of the hill for shelter, and at three separate points brought them over the crest again. in each case, after the men had rested under shelter long enough to recover breath, the word was passed, "stand up and advance." the men instantly obeyed, and charged up to the edge of the ditch again, many of the leading files jumping into it. but it was impossible to cross, and each time the mass of british infantry stepped coolly back into cover again. one sergeant named mayne, who had leaped into the ditch, found he could neither climb the ramparts nor get back to his comrades, and he flung himself on his face. a frenchman leaned over the rampart, took leisurely aim, and fired at him as he lay. mayne had stuck the billhook of his section at the back of his knapsack, and the bullet struck it and flattened upon it. colborne was a man of infinite resource in war, and at this crisis he made a bugler sound a parley, hoisted his white pocket-handkerchief, and coolly walked round to the gate of the redoubt and invited the garrison to surrender. the veteran who commanded it answered indignantly, "what! i with my battalion surrender to you with yours?" "very well," answered colborne in french, "the artillery will be up immediately; you cannot hold out, and you will be surrendered to the spaniards." that threat was sufficient. the french officers remonstrated stormily with their commander, and the work was surrendered. but only one french soldier in the redoubt had fallen, whereas amongst the nd "there fell," says napier, " soldiers of a regiment never surpassed in arms since arms were first borne by men." in this fight soult was driven in a little more than three hours from a mountain position he had been fortifying for more than three months. amongst the brave men who died that day on the side of the british were two whose portraits napier has drawn with something of plutarch's minuteness:-- "the first, low in rank, for he was but a lieutenant; rich in honour, for he bore many scars; was young of days--he was only nineteen--and had seen more combats and sieges than he could count years. so slight in person and of such surpassing and delicate beauty that the spaniards often thought him a girl disguised in man's clothing; he was yet so vigorous, so active, so brave, that the most daring and experienced veterans watched his looks on the field of battle, and, implicitly following where he led, would, like children, obey his slightest sign in the most difficult situations. his education was incomplete, yet were his natural powers so happy that the keenest and best-furnished shrank from an encounter of wit; and every thought and aspiration was proud and noble, indicating future greatness if destiny had so willed it. such was edward freer of the rd. the night before the battle he had that strange anticipation of coming death so often felt by military men. he was struck by three balls at the first storming of the rhune rocks, and the sternest soldiers wept, even in the middle of the fight, when they saw him fall." "on the same day, and at the same hour, was killed colonel thomas lloyd. he likewise had been a long time in the rd. under him freer had learned the rudiments of his profession; but in the course of the war, promotion placed lloyd at the head of the th, and it was leading that regiment he fell. in him also were combined mental and bodily powers of no ordinary kind. graceful symmetry, herculean strength, and a countenance frank and majestic, gave the true index of his nature; for his capacity was great and commanding, and his military knowledge extensive, both from experience and study. of his mirth and wit, well known in the army, it only need be said that he used the latter without offence, yet so as to increase the ascendency over those with whom he held intercourse; for, though gentle, he was ambitious, valiant, and conscious of his fitness for great exploits. and he, like freer, was prescient of and predicted his own fall, but with no abatement of courage, for when he received the mortal wound, a most painful one, he would not suffer himself to be moved, and remained to watch the battle, making observations upon its changes until death came. it was thus, at the age of thirty, that the good, the brave, the generous lloyd died. tributes to his memory have been published by wellington, and by one of his own poor soldiers, by the highest and by the lowest. to their testimony i add mine. let those who served on equal terms with him say whether in aught it has exaggerated his deserts." a pathetic incident may be added, found in napier's biography, but which he does not give in his history. the night before the battle napier was stretched on the ground under his cloak, when young freer came to him and crept under the cover of his cloak, sobbing as if his heart would break. napier tried to soothe and comfort the boy, and learnt from him that he was fully persuaded he should lose his life in the approaching battle, and his distress was caused by thinking of his mother and sister in england. on december , wellington, by a daring movement and with some fierce fighting, crossed the nive. it was a movement which had many advantages, but one drawback--his wings were now separated by the nive; and soult at this stage, like the great and daring commander he was, took advantage of his position to attempt a great counter-stroke. it was within his power to fling his whole force on either wing of wellington, and so confident was he of success that he wrote to the minister of war telling him to "expect good news" the next day. wellington himself was on the right bank of the nive, little dreaming that soult was about to leap on the extremity of his scattered forces. the country was so broken that soult's movements were entirely hidden, and the roads so bad that even the cavalry outposts could scarcely move. on the night of the th soult had gathered every available bayonet, and was ready to burst on the position held by sir john hope at arcanques. in the grey dawn of the th the out-pickets of the rd noticed that the french infantry were pushing each other about as if in sport; but the crowd seemed to thicken and to eddy nearer and nearer the british line. it was a trick to deceive the vigilance of the british outposts. presently the apparently sportive crowd made a rush forwards and resolved itself into a spray of swiftly moving skirmishers. the french columns broke from behind a screen of houses, and, at a running pace, and with a tumult of shouts, charged the british position. in a moment the crowd of french soldiers had penetrated betwixt the rd and nd, and charging eagerly forward, tried to turn the flanks of both. but these were veteran regiments; they fell coolly and swiftly back, firing fiercely as they went. it was at once a race and a combat. the roads were so narrow and so bad that the british could keep no order, and if the french outpaced them and reached the open position at the rear first, the british line would be pierced. the rd came through the pass first, apparently a crowd of running fugitives, officers and men jumbled together. the moment they had reached the open ground, however, the men fell, as if by a single impulse, into military form, and became a steadfast red line, from end to end of which ran, and ran again, and yet again, the volleying flame of a sustained musketry fire. the pass was barred! the troops to the right of the french were not quite so quick or so fortunate, and about of the british--riflemen and men of the rd--were intercepted. the french never doubted that they would surrender, for they were but a handful of men cut off by a whole column. an ensign of the rd named campbell, a lad not eighteen years of age, was in the front files of the british when the call to surrender was heard. with a shout the boy-ensign leaped at the french column. where an officer leads, british soldiers will always follow, and the men followed him with a courage as high as his own. with a rush the column was rent, and though fifty of the british were killed or taken, fifty, including the gallant boy who led them, escaped. the fighting at other points was of the sharpest, and was strangely entangled and confused. it was a fight of infantry against infantry, and the whole field of the combat was interlaced by almost impassable hedges. at one point, so strangely broken was the ground, and so obscured the fight with smoke and mist, that a french regiment passed unseen betwixt the british and portuguese, and was rapidly filing into line on the rear of the th, fiercely occupied at that moment against a strong force in front. cameron, its colonel, left fifty men of his regiment to answer the fire in his front, faced about, and went at a run against the french regiment, which by this time had commenced volley-firing. cameron's men fell fast--eighty men and officers, in fact, dropped in little more than five minutes--but the rush of the th was irresistible. the frenchmen wavered, broke, and swept, a disorganised mass, past the flank of the royals, actually carrying off one of its officers in the rush, and disappeared. the sternest and most bewildering fighting took place round a building known as the "mayor's house," surrounded by a coppice-wood. coppice and outbuildings were filled with men of all regiments and all nations, swearing, shooting, and charging with the bayonet. the th was caught in a hollow road by the french, who lined the banks above, and lost its colonel and a great proportion of its rank and file. gronow tells an amusing incident of the fight at this stage. an isolated british battalion stationed near the mayor's house was suddenly surrounded by a flood of french. the french general galloped up to the british officer in command and demanded his sword. "upon this," says gronow, "without the least hesitation the british officer shouted out, 'this fellow wants us to surrender! charge! my boys, and show them what stuff we are made of.'" the men answered with a shout, sudden, scornful, and stern, and went with a run at the french. "in a few minutes," adds gronow, "they had taken prisoners or killed the whole of the infantry regiment opposed to them!" on the th desperate fighting took place on the same ground, but the british were by this time reinforced--the guards, in particular, coming up after a rapid and exhausting march--and soult's attack had failed. but on the night of the th the rain fell fast and steadily, the nive was flooded, the bridge of boats which spanned it swept away, and hill was left at st. pierre isolated, with less than , men. soult saw his opportunity. the interior lines he held made concentration easy, and on the morning of the th he was able to pour an attacking force of , bayonets on hill's front, while another infantry division, together with the whole of the french cavalry under pierre soult, attacked his rear. then there followed what has been described as the most desperate battle of the whole peninsular war. the bloodiest fight in the peninsula "then out spoke brave horatius, the captain of the gate: 'to every man upon this earth death cometh soon or late; and how can man die better than facing fearful odds, for the ashes of his fathers and the temples of his gods?'" --macaulay. hill's front stretched through two miles; his left; a wooded craggy ridge, was held by pringle's brigade, but was parted from the centre by a marshy valley and a chain of ponds; his centre occupied a crescent-shaped broken ridge; his right, under general byng, held a ridge parallel with the adour. the french gathered in great masses on a range of counter-heights, an open plain being between them and hill's centre. the day was heavy with whirling mist; and as the wind tore it occasionally asunder, the british could see on the parallel roads before them the huge, steadily flowing columns of the french. abbé led the attack on the british centre. he was "the fighting general" of soult's army, famous for the rough energy of his character and the fierceness of his onfall. he pushed his attack with such ardour that he forced his way to the crest of the british ridge. the famous nd, held in reserve, was brought forward by way of counter-stroke, and pushed its attack keenly home. the head of abbé's column was crushed; but the french general replaced the broken battalions by fresh troops, and still forced his way onward, the nd falling back. [illustration: battle of st. pierre, december th & th, . from napier's "peninsular war."] in the meanwhile on both the right and the left of the british position an almost unique disaster had befallen hill's troops. peacock, the colonel of the st, through some bewitched failure of nerve or of judgment, withdrew that regiment from the fight. it was a highland regiment, great in fighting reputation, and full of daring. how black were the looks of the officers, and what loud swearing in gaelic took place in the ranks, as the gallant regiment--discipline overcoming human nature--obeyed the mysterious order to retire, may be imagined. almost at the same moment on the right, bunbury, who commanded the rd or buffs, in the same mysterious fashion abandoned to the french the strong position he held. both colonels were brave men, and their sudden lapse into unsoldierly conduct has never been explained. both, it may be added, were compelled to resign their commissions after the fight. hill, surveying the spectacle from the post he had taken, commanding the whole field of battle, hastened down, met and halted the buffs, sent them back to the fight, drew his whole reserves into the fray, and himself turned the st and led them to the attack. with what joy the indignant highlanders of the st obeyed the order to "right about face" may be imagined, and so vehement was their charge that the french column upon which it was flung, though coming on at the double, in all the _élan_ of victory, was instantly shattered. meanwhile the nd was launched again at abbé's column. cameron, its colonel, was a soldier of a very gallant type, and, himself a highlander, he understood the highland temperament perfectly. he dressed his regiment as if on parade, the colours were uncased, the pipes shrilled fiercely, and in all the pomp of military array, with green tartans and black plumes all wind-blown, and with the wild strains of their native hills and lochs thrilling in their ears, the highlanders bore down on the french, their officers fiercely leading. on all sides at that moment the british skirmishers were falling back. the th was clinging desperately to a small wood that crowned the ridge, but everywhere the french were forcing their way onward. ashworth's portuguese were practically destroyed; barnes, who commanded the centre, was shot through the body. but the fierce charge of the nd along the high-road, and of the st on the left centre, sent an electric thrill along the whole british front. the skirmishers, instead of falling back, ran forward; the portuguese rallied. the nd found in its immediate front two strong french regiments, and their leading files brought their bayonets to the charge, and seemed eager to meet the nd with the actual push of steel. it was the crisis of the fight. at that moment the french commander's nerve failed him. that steel-edged line of kilted, plume-crested highlanders, charging with a step so fierce, was too much for him. he suddenly turned his horse, waved his sword; his men promptly faced about, and marched back to their original position. the french on both the right and the left drew back, and the battle for the moment seemed to die down. hill's right was safe, and he drew the th from it to strengthen his sorely battered centre; and just at that moment the sixth division, which had been marching since daybreak, crossed the bridge over the nive, which the british engineers with rare energy had restored, and appeared on the ridge overlooking the field of battle. wellington, too, appeared on the scene, with the third and fourth divisions. at two o'clock the allies commenced a forward movement, and soult fell back; his second counter-stroke had failed. st. pierre was, perhaps, the most desperately contested fight in the peninsular war, a field almost as bloody as albuera. hill's ranks were wasted as by fire; three british generals were carried from the field; nearly the whole of the staff was struck down. on a space scarcely one mile square, men were killed and wounded within three hours. wellington, as he rode over the field by the side of hill after the fight was over, declared he had never seen the dead lie so thickly before. it was a great feat for less than , men with guns to withstand the assault of , men with guns; and, at least where abbé led, the fighting of the french was of the most resolute character. the victory was due, in part, to hill's generalship and the lion-like energy with which he restored his broken centre and flung back the buffs and the st into the fight. but in a quite equal degree the victory was due to the obstinate fighting quality of the british private. the nd, for example, broke the french front no less than four times by bayonet charges pushed home with the sternest resolution, and it lost in these charges officers and rank and file. the french, it might almost be said, lost the field by the momentary failure in nerve of the officer commanding the column upon which the nd was rushing in its last and most dramatic charge. his column was massive and unbroken; the men, with bent heads and levelled bayonets, were ready to meet the nd with a courage as lofty as that of the highlanders themselves, and the nd, for all its parade of fluttering colours and wind-blown tartans and feathers, was but a single weak battalion. an electrical gesture, a single peremptory call on the part of the leader, even a single daring act by a soldier in the ranks, and the french column would have been hurled on the nd, and by its mere weight must have broken it. but the oncoming of the highlanders proved too great a strain for the nerve of the french general. he wheeled the head of his horse backward, and the fight was lost. weeks of the bitterest winter weather suspended all military operations after st. pierre. the rivers were flooded; the clayey lowlands were one far-stretching quagmire; fogs brooded in the ravines; perpetual tempests shrieked over the frozen summits of the pyrenees; the iron-bound coast was furious with breakers. but wellington's hardy veterans--ill-clad, ill-sheltered, and ill-fed--yet kept their watch on the slopes of the pyrenees. the outposts of the two armies, indeed, fell into almost friendly relations with each other. barter sprang up between them, a regular code of signals was established, friendly offices were exchanged. wellington on one occasion desired to reconnoitre soult's camp from the top of a hill occupied by a french picket, and ordered some english rifles to drive them off. no firing was necessary. an english soldier held up the butt of his rifle and tapped it in a peculiar way. the signal meant, "we must have the hill for a short time," and the french at once retired. a steady traffic in brandy and tobacco sprang up between the pickets of the two armies. a rivulet at one point flowed between the outposts, and an irish soldier named patten, on sentry there, placed a canteen with a silver coin in it on a stone by the bank of the rivulet, to be filled with brandy by the french in the usual way. canteen and coin vanished, but no brandy arrived. patten, a daring fellow, regarded himself as cheated, and the next day seeing, as he supposed, the same french sentry on duty, he crossed the rivulet, seized the frenchman's musket, shook the amazed sentry out of his accoutrements as a pea is shaken out of its pod, and carried them off. the french outposts sent in a flag of truce, complained of this treatment, and said the unfortunate sentry's life would be forfeited unless his uniform and gun were restored. patten, however, insisted that he held these "in pawn for a canteen of brandy," and he got his canteen before the uniform was restored. on february a white hard frost suddenly fell on the whole field of operations, and turned the viscid mud everywhere to the hardness of stone. the men could march, the artillery move; and wellington, whose strategy was ripe, was at once in action. soult barred his path by a great entrenched camp at bayonne, to which the adour served as a titanic wet ditch. the adour is a great river, swift and broad--swiftest and broadest through the six miles of its course below the town to its mouth. its bed is of shifting sand; the spring-tide rises in it fourteen feet, the ebb-tide runs seven miles an hour. where the swift river and the great rollers of the bay of biscay meet is a treacherous bar--in heavy weather a mere tumult of leaping foam. soult assumed that wellington would cross the river above the town; the attempt to cross it near the mouth, where it was barred with sand, and beaten with surges, and guarded, too, by a tiny squadron of french gunboats, was never suspected. yet exactly this was wellington's plan; and his bridge across the adour is declared by napier to be a stupendous undertaking, which must always rank amongst "the prodigies of war." forty large sailing-boats, of about twenty tons burden each, carrying the materials for the bridge, were to enter the mouth of the adour at the moment when hope, with part of hill's division, made his appearance on the left bank of the river, with materials for rafts, by means of which sufficient troops could be thrown across the adour to capture a battery which commanded its entrance. on the night of february , hope, with the first division, was in the assigned position on the banks of the adour, hidden behind some sandhills. but a furious gale made the bar impassable, and not a boat was in sight. hope, the most daring of men, never hesitated; he would cross the river without the aid of the fleet. his guns were suddenly uncovered, the tiny french flotilla was sunk or scattered, and a pontoon or raft, carrying sixty men of the guards, pushed out from the british bank. a strong french picket held the other shore; but, bewildered and ill led, they made no opposition. a hawser was dragged across the stream, and pontoons, each carrying fifteen men, were in quick succession pulled across. when about a thousand men had in this way reached the french bank, some french battalions made their appearance. colonel stopford, who was in command, allowed the french to come on--their drums beating the _pas de charge_, and their officers waving their swords--to within a distance of twenty yards, and then opened upon them with his rocket brigade. the fiery flight and terrifying sound of these missiles put the french to instant rout. all night the british continued to cross, and on the morning of the th the flotilla was off the bar, the boats of the men-of-war leading. the first boat that plunged into the tumult of breakers, leaping and roaring over the bar, sank instantly. the second shot through and was safe; but the tide was running out furiously, and no boat could follow till it was high water again. when high water came, the troops crowding the sandbanks watched with breathless interest the fight of the boats to enter. they hung and swayed like a flock of gigantic sea-birds on the rough and tumbling sea. lieutenant bloye of the _lyra_, who led the way in his barge, dashed into the broad zone of foam, and was instantly swallowed up with all his crew. the rest of the flotilla bore up to right and left, and hovered on the edge of the tormented waters. suddenly lieutenant cheyne of the _woodlark_ caught a glimpse of the true course and dashed through, and boat after boat came following with reeling decks and dripping crews; but in the whole passage no fewer than eight of the flotilla were destroyed. the bridge was quickly constructed. thirty-six two-masted vessels were moored head to stern, with an interval between each vessel, across the yards of the adour; a double line of cables, about ten feet apart, linked the boats together; strong planks were lashed athwart the cables, making a roadway; a double line of masts, forming a series of floating squares, served as a floating boom; and across this swaying, flexible, yet mighty bridge, wellington was able to pour his left wing, with all its artillery and material, and so draw round bayonne an iron line of investment. this movement thrust back soult's right, but he clung obstinately to the gave. he held by napoleon's maxim that the best way to defend is to attack, and wellington's very success gave him what seemed a golden opportunity. wellington's left had crossed the adour, but that very movement separated it from the right. soult took up his position on a ridge of hills above orthez. he commanded the fords by which picton must cross, and his plan was to crush him while in the act of crossing. the opportunity was clear, but somehow soult missed it. there failed him at the critical moment the swift-attacking impulse which both napoleon and wellington possessed in so high a degree. picton's two divisions crossed the gave, and climbed the bank through mere fissures in the rocks, which broke up all military order, and the nearest point which allowed them to fall into line was within cannon-shot of the enemy. even picton's iron nerve shook at such a crisis; but wellington, to use napier's phrase, "calm as deepest sea," watched the scene. soult ought to have attacked; he waited to be attacked, and so missed victory. by nine o'clock wellington had formed his plan, and ross's brigade was thrust through a gorge on soult's left. the french were admirably posted: they had a narrow front, abundant artillery, and a great battery placed so as to smite on the flank any column forcing its way through the gorge which pierced soult's left. ross's men fought magnificently. five times they broke through the gorge, and five times the fire of the french infantry on the slopes above them, and the grape of the great battery at the head of the gorge, drove the shattered regiments back. on soult's right, again, foy flung back with loss an attack by part of picton's forces. on both the right and left, that is, soult was victorious, and, as he saw the wasted british lines roll sullenly back, it is said that the french general smote his thigh in exultation, and cried, "at last i have him!" almost at that moment, however, the warlike genius of wellington changed the aspect of the scene. he fed the attacks on soult's right and left, and the deepening roar of the battle at these two points absorbed the senses of the french general. soult's front was barred by what was supposed to be an impassable marsh, above which a great hill frowned; and across the marsh, and upon this hill, the centre of soult's position, wellington launched the famous nd. colborne plunged with his men into the marsh; they sank at every step above the knee, sometimes to the middle. the skirmishers shot fiercely at them. but with stern composure the veterans of the light division--soldiers, as napier never tires in declaring, who "had never yet met their match in the field"--pressed on. the marsh was crossed, the hill climbed, and with a sudden and deafening shout--the cheer which has a more full and terrible note than any other voice of fighting men, the shout of the british regiment as it charges--the nd dashed between foy and taupin. a french battalion in their path was scattered as by the stroke of a thunderbolt. the french centre was pierced; both victorious wings halted, and began to ebb back. hill, meanwhile, had crossed the gave, and taking a wider circle, threatened soult's line of retreat. the french fell back, and fell back with ever-quickening steps, but yet fighting sternly; the british, with deafening musketry and cannonade, pressed on them. hill quickened his pace on the ridge along which he was pressing. it became a race who should reach first the single bridge on the luy-de-béarn over which the french must pass. the pace became a run. many of the french broke from their ranks and raced forward. the british cavalry broke through some covering battalions and sabred the fugitives. a great disaster was imminent; and yet it was avoided, partly by soult's cool and obstinate defence, and partly by the accident that at that moment wellington was struck by a spent ball and was disabled, so that his swift and imperious will no longer directed the pursuit. orthez may be described as the last and not the least glorious fight in the peninsular war. toulouse was fought ten day afterwards, but it scarcely belongs to the peninsular campaigns, and was actually fought after a general armistice had been signed. the battle of the baltic "let us think of them that sleep full many a fathom deep by thy wild and stormy deep, elsinore!" --campbell. "i have been in a hundred and five engagements, but that of to-day is the most terrible of them all." this was how nelson himself summed up the great fight off copenhagen, or the battle of the baltic as it is sometimes called, fought on april , . it was a battle betwixt britons and danes. the men who fought under the blood-red flag of great britain, and under the split flag of denmark with its white cross, were alike the descendants of the vikings. the blood of the old sea-rovers ran hot and fierce in their veins. nelson, with the glories of the nile still ringing about his name, commanded the british fleet, and the fire of his eager and gallant spirit ran from ship to ship like so many volts of electricity. but the danes fought in sight of their capital, under the eyes of their wives and children. it is not strange that through the four hours during which the thunder of the great battle rolled over the roofs of copenhagen and up the narrow waters of the sound, human valour and endurance in both fleets were at their very highest. less than sixty years afterwards "thunders of fort and fleet" along all the shores of england were welcoming a daughter of the danish throne as "bride of the heir of the kings of the sea." and tennyson, speaking for every briton, assured the danish girl who was to be their future queen-- "we are each all dane in our welcome of thee." what was it in which sent a british fleet on an errand of battle to copenhagen? it was a tiny episode of the long and stern drama of the napoleonic wars. great britain was supreme on the sea, napoleon on the land, and, in his own words, napoleon conceived the idea of "conquering the sea by the land." paul i. of russia, a semi-lunatic, became napoleon's ally and tool. paul was able to put overwhelming pressure on sweden, denmark, and prussia, and these powers were federated as the "league of armed neutrality," with the avowed purpose of challenging the marine supremacy of great britain. paul seized all british ships in russian ports; prussia marched troops into hanover; every port from the north cape to gibraltar was shut against the british flag. britain, stood alone, practically threatened with a naval combination of all the northern powers, while behind the combination stood napoleon, the subtlest brain and most imperious will ever devoted to the service of war. napoleon's master passion, it should be remembered, was the desire to overthrow great britain, and he held in the palm of his hand the whole military strength of the continent. the fleets of france and spain were crushed or blockaded: but the three northern powers could have put into battle-line a fleet of fifty great ships and twenty-five frigates. with this force they could raise the blockade of the french ports, sweep triumphant through the narrow seas, and land a french army in kent or in ulster. pitt was prime minister, and his masterful intellect controlled british policy. he determined that the fleets of denmark and of russia should not become a weapon in the hand of napoleon against england; and a fleet of eighteen ships of the line, with frigates and bomb-vessels, was despatched to reason, from the iron lips of their guns, with the misguided danish government. sir hyde parker, a decent, unenterprising veteran, was commander-in-chief by virtue of seniority; but nelson, with the nominal rank of second in command, was the brain and soul of the expedition. "almost all the safety and certainly all the honour of england," he said to his chief, "is more entrusted to you than ever yet fell to the lot of a british officer." and all through the story of the expedition it is amusing to notice the fashion in which nelson's fiery nature strove to kindle poor sir hyde barker's sluggish temper to its own flame. the fleet sailed from yarmouth on march , and fought its way through fierce spring gales to the entrance of the kattegat. the wind was fair; nelson was eager to sweep down on copenhagen with the whole fleet, and negotiate with the whole skyline of copenhagen crowded with british topsails. "while the negotiation is going on," he said, "the dane should see our flag waving every time he lifts up his head." time was worth more than gold; it was worth brave men's lives. the danes were toiling day and night to prepare the defence of their capital. but prim sir hyde anchored, and sent up a single frigate with his ultimatum, and it was not until march that the british fleet, a long line of stately vessels, came sailing up the sound, passed elsinore, and cast anchor fifteen miles from copenhagen. nothing could surpass the gallant energy shown by the danes in their preparation for defence, and nature had done much to make the city impregnable from the sea. [illustration: the battle of the baltic, april nd, . from brenton's naval history.] the sound is narrow and shallow, a mere tangle of shoals wrinkled with twisted channels and scoured by the swift tides. king's channel runs straight up towards the city, but a huge sandbank, like the point of a toe, splits the channel into two just as it reaches the harbour. the western edge runs up, pocket-shaped, into the city, and forms the actual port; the main channel contracts, swings round to the south-east, and forms a narrow passage between the shallows in front of the city and a huge shoal called the middle ground. a cluster of grim and heavily armed fortifications called the three-crown batteries guarded the entrance to the harbour, and looked right up king's channel; a stretch of floating batteries and line-of-battle ships, a mile and a half in extent, ran from the three-crown batteries along the edge of the shoals in front of the city, with some heavy pile batteries at its termination. the direct approach up king's channel, together with the narrow passage between the city and the middle ground, were thus commanded by the fire of over heavy guns. the danes had removed the buoys that marked all the channels, the british had no charts, and only the most daring and skilful seamanship could bring the great ships of the british fleet through that treacherous tangle of shoals to the danish front. as a matter of fact, the heavier ships in the british fleet never attempted to join in the desperate fight which was waged, but hung as mere spectators in the offing. meanwhile popular enthusiasm in the danish capital was at fever-point. ten thousand disciplined troops manned the batteries; but peasants from the farms, workmen from the factories, merchants from the city, hastened to volunteer, and worked day and night at gun-drill. a thousand students from the university enrolled themselves, and drilled from morning till night. these student-soldiers had probably the best military band ever known; it consisted of the entire orchestra of the theatre royal, all volunteers. a danish officer, sent on some message under a flag of truce to the british fleet, was required to put his message in writing, and was offered a somewhat damaged pen for that purpose. he threw it down with a laugh, saying that "if the british guns were not better pointed than their pens they wouldn't make much impression on copenhagen." that flash of gallant wit marked the temper of the danes. they were on flame with confident daring. nelson, always keen for a daring policy, had undertaken to attack the danish defences with a squadron of twelve seventy-fours, and the frigates and bomb-vessels of the fleet. he determined to shun the open way of king's channel, grope through the uncertain passage called the dutch deep, at the back of the middle ground, and forcing his way up the narrow channel in front of the shallows, repeat on the anchored batteries and battleships of the danes the exploit of the nile. he spent the nights of march and sounding the channel, being himself, in spite of fog and ice, in the boat nearly the whole of these two bitter nights. on april the fleet came slowly up the dutch deep, and dropped anchor at night about two miles from the southern extremity of the danish line. at eleven o'clock that night, hardy--in whose arms nelson afterwards died on board the _victory_--pushed off from the flagship in a small boat and sounded the channel in front of the danish floating batteries. so daring was he that he actually sounded round the leading ship of the danish line, using a pole to avoid being detected. in the morning the wind blew fair for the channel. nelson's plans had been elaborated to their minutest details, and the pilots of the fleet were summoned at nine o'clock to the flagship to receive their last instructions. but their nerve failed them. they were simply the mates or masters of baltic traders turned for the moment into naval pilots. they had no charts. they were accustomed to handle ships of or tons burden, and the task of steering the great british seventy-fours through the labyrinths of shallows, with the tide running like a mill-race, appalled them. at last murray, in the _edgar_, undertook to lead. the signal was made to weigh in succession, and one great ship after another, with its topsails on the caps, rounded the shoulder of the middle ground, and in stately procession, the _edgar_ leading, came up the channel. campbell in his fine ballad has pictured the scene:-- "like leviathans afloat lay their bulwarks on the brine, while the sign of battle flew on the lofty british line. it was ten of april morn by the chime; as they drifted on their path there was silence deep as death, and the boldest held his breath for a time. but the might of england flushed to anticipate the scene, and her van the fleeter rushed o'er the deadly space between." the leading danish ships broke into a tempest of fire as the british ships came within range. the _agamemnon_ failed to weather the shoulder of the middle ground, and went ignobly ashore, and the scour of the tide kept her fast there, in spite of the most desperate exertions of her crew. the _bellona_, a pile of white canvas above, a double line of curving batteries below, hugged the middle ground too closely, and grounded too; and the _russell_, following close after her, went ashore in the same manner, with its jib-boom almost touching the _bellona's_ taffrail. one-fourth of nelson's force was thus practically out of the fight before a british gun was fired. these were the ships, too, intended to sail past the whole danish line and engage the three-crown batteries. as they were _hors de combat_, the frigates of the squadron, under riou--"the gallant, good riou" of campbell's noble lines--had to take the place of the seventy-fours. meanwhile, nelson, in the _elephant_, came following hard on the ill-fated _russell_. nelson's orders were that each ship should pass her leader on the starboard side, and had he acted on his own orders, nelson too would have grounded, with every ship that followed him. the interval betwixt each ship was so narrow that decision had to be instant; and nelson, judging the water to the larboard of the _russell_ to be deeper, put his helm a-starboard, and so shot past the _russell_ on its larboard beam into the true channel, the whole line following his example. that sudden whirl to starboard of the flagship's helm--a flash of brilliant seamanship--saved the battle. ship after ship shot past, and anchored, by a cable astern, in its assigned position. the sullen thunder of the guns rolled from end to end of the long line, the flash of the artillery ran in a dance of flame along the mile and a half of batteries, and some pieces of artillery, most of them of the heaviest calibre, filled the long sound with the roar of battle. nelson loved close fighting, and he anchored within a cable's length of the danish flagship, the pilots refusing to carry the ship nearer on account of the shallow depth, and the average distance of the hostile lines was less than a hundred fathoms. the cannonade raged, deep-voiced, unbroken, and terrible, for three hours. "warm work," said nelson, as it seemed to deepen in fury and volume, "but, mark you, i would not be elsewhere for thousands." the carnage was terrific. twice the danish flagship took fire, and out of a crew of no fewer than were dead or wounded. two of the danish prams drifted from the line, mere wrecks, with cordage in rags, bulwarks riddled, guns dismounted, and decks veritable shambles. the battle, it must be remembered, raged within easy sight of the city, and roofs and church towers were crowded with spectators. they could see nothing but a low-lying continent of whirling smoke, shaken with the tumult of battle, and scored perpetually, in crimson bars, with the flame of the guns. above the drifting smoke towered the tops of the british seventy-fours, stately and threatening. the south-east wind presently drove the smoke over the city, and beneath that inky roof, as under the gloom of an eclipse, the crowds of copenhagen, white-faced with excitement, watched the homeric fight, in which their sons, and brothers, and husbands were perishing. nothing could surpass the courage of the danes. fresh crews marched fiercely to the floating batteries as these threatened to grow silent by mere slaughter, and, on decks crimson and slippery with the blood of their predecessors, took up the fight. again and again, after a danish ship had struck from mere exhaustion, it was manned afresh from the shore, and the fight renewed. the very youngest officer in the danish navy was a lad of seventeen named villemoes. he commanded a tiny floating battery of six guns, manned by twenty-four men, and he managed to bring it under the very counter of nelson's flagship, and fired his guns point-blank into its huge wooden sides. he stuck to his work until the british marines shot down every man of his tiny crew except four. after the battle nelson begged that young villemoes might be introduced to him, and told the danish crown prince that a boy so gallant ought to be made an admiral. "if i were to make all my brave officers admirals," was the reply, "i should have no captains or lieutenants left." the terrific nature of the british fire, as well as the stubbornness of danish courage, may be judged from the fact that most of the prizes taken in the fight were so absolutely riddled with shot as to have to be destroyed. foley, who led the van at the battle of the nile, was nelson's flag-captain in the _elephant_, and he declared he burned fifty more barrels of powder in the four hours' furious cannonade at copenhagen than he did during the long night struggle at the nile! the fire of the danes, it may be added, was almost as obstinate and deadly. the _monarch_, for example, had no fewer than of its crew lying dead or wounded on its decks. at one o'clock sir hyde parker, who was watching the struggle with a squadron of eight of his heaviest ships from the offing, hoisted a signal to discontinue the engagement. then came the incident which every boy remembers. the signal-lieutenant of the _elephant_ reported that the admiral had thrown out no. , the signal to discontinue the fight. nelson was pacing his quarterdeck fiercely, and took no notice of the report. the signal-officer met him at the next turn, and asked if he should repeat the signal. nelson's reply was to ask if his own signal for close action was still hoisted. "yes," said the officer. "mind you keep it so," said nelson. nelson continued to tramp his quarter-deck, the thunder of the battle all about him, his ship reeling to the recoil of its own guns. the stump of his lost arm jerked angrily to and fro, a sure sign of excitement with him. "leave off action!" he said to his lieutenant; "i'm hanged if i do." "you know, foley," he said, turning to his captain, "i've only one eye; i've a right to be blind sometimes." and then putting the glass to his blind eye, he exclaimed, "i really do not see the signal!" he dismissed the incident by saying, "d---- the signal! keep mine for closer action flying!" as a matter of fact, parker had hoisted the signal only to give nelson the opportunity for withdrawing from the fight if he wished. the signal had one disastrous result--the little cluster of frigates and sloops engaged with the three-crown batteries obeyed it and hauled off. as the amazon, riou's ship, ceased to fire, the smoke lifted, and the danish battery got her in full sight, and smote her with deadly effect. riou himself, heartbroken with having to abandon the fight, had just exclaimed, "what will nelson think of us!" when a chain-shot cut him in two, and with him a sailor with something of nelson's own genius for battle perished. by two o'clock the danish fire began to slack. one-half the line was a mere chain of wrecks; some of the floating batteries had sunk; the flagship was a mass of flames. nelson at this point sent his boat ashore with a flag of truce, and a letter to the prince regent. the letter was addressed, "to the danes, the brothers of englishmen." if the fire continued from the danish side, nelson said he would be compelled to set on fire all the floating batteries he had taken, "without being able to save the brave danes who had defended them." somebody offered nelson, when he had written the letter, a wafer with which to close it. "this," said nelson, "is no time to appear hurried or informal," and he insisted on the letter being carefully sealed with wax. the crown prince proposed an armistice. nelson, with great shrewdness, referred the proposal to his admiral lying four miles off in the _london_, foreseeing that the long pull out and back would give him time to get his own crippled ships clear of the shoals, and past the three-crown batteries into the open channel beyond--the only course the wind made possible; and this was exactly what happened. nelson, it is clear, was a shrewd diplomatist as well as a great sailor. the night was coming on black with the threat of tempest; the danish flagship had just blown up; but the white flag of truce was flying, and the british toiled, as fiercely as they had fought, to float their stranded ships and take possession of their shattered prizes. of these, only one was found capable of being sufficiently repaired to be taken to portsmouth. on the th nelson himself landed and visited the crown prince, and a four months' truce was agreed upon. news came at that moment of the assassination of paul i., and the league of armed neutrality--the device by which napoleon hoped to overthrow the naval power of great britain--vanished into mere space. the fire of nelson's guns at copenhagen wrecked napoleon's whole naval policy. it is curious that, familiar as nelson was with the grim visage of battle, the carnage of that four hours' cannonade was too much for even his steady nerves. he could find no words too generous to declare his admiration of the obstinate courage shown by the danes. "the french and spanish fight well," he said, "but they could not have stood for an hour such a fire as the danes sustained for four hours." king-making waterloo "last noon beheld them full of lusty life, last eve in beauty's circle proudly gay, the midnight brought the signal-sound of strife; the morn the marshalling in arms--the day battle's magnificently stern array! the thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent the earth is cover'd thick with other clay, which her own clay shall cover, heap'd and pent, rider and horse--friend, foe--in one red burial blent!" --byron. "i look upon salamanca, vittoria, and waterloo as my three best battles--those which had great and permanent consequences. salamanca relieved the whole south of spain, changed all the prospects of the war, and was felt even in prussia. vittoria freed the peninsula altogether, broke off the armistice at dresden, and thus led to leipsic and the deliverance of europe; and waterloo did more than any other battle i know of towards the true object of all battles--the peace of the world."--wellington, _conversation with croker_. on june , , the grey light of a sunday morning was breaking over a shallow valley lying between parallel ridges of low hills some twelve miles to the south of brussels. all night the rain had fallen furiously, and still the fog hung low, and driving showers swept over plain and hill as from the church spires of half-a-dozen tiny villages the matin bells began to ring. for centuries those bells had called the villagers to prayers; to-day, as the wave of sound stole through the misty air it was the signal for the awakening of two mighty armies to the greatest battle of modern times. more ink has, perhaps, been shed about waterloo than about any other battle known to history, and still the story bristles with conundrums, questions of fact, and problems in strategy, about which the experts still wage, with pen and diagram, strife almost as furious as that which was waged with lance and sword, with bayonet and musket, more than eighty years ago on the actual slopes of mont st. jean. it is still, for example, a matter of debate whether, when wellington first resolved to fight at waterloo, he had any express promise from blücher to join him on that field. did wellington, for example, ride over alone to blücher's headquarters on the night before waterloo, and obtain a pledge of aid, on the strength of which he fought next day? it is not merely possible to quote experts on each side of this question; it is possible to quote the same expert on both sides. ropes, for example, the latest waterloo critic, devotes several pages to proving that the interview never took place, and then adds a note to his third edition declaring that he has seen evidence which convinces him it did take place! it is possible even to quote wellington himself both for the alleged visit and against it. in he told a circle of guests at strathfieldsaye, in minute detail, how he got rid of his only aide-de-camp, lord fitzroy somerset, and rode over on "copenhagen" in the rain and darkness to wavre, and got from blücher's own lips the assurance that he would join him next day at waterloo. in , when directly asked by baron gurney whether the story was true, he replied, "no, i did not see blücher the day before waterloo." if homer nodded, it is plain that sometimes the duke of wellington forgot! [illustration: battle of waterloo, june th, .] clearness on some points, it is true, is slowly emerging. it is admitted, for example, that napoleon took the allies by surprise when he crossed the sambre, and, in the very first stage of the campaign, scored a brilliant strategic success over them. wellington himself, on the night of the famous ball, took the duke of richmond into his dressing-room, shut the door, and said, "napoleon has humbugged me, by ----; he has gained twenty-four hours' march on me." the duke went on to explain that he had ordered his troops to concentrate at quatre bras; "but," he added, "we shall not stop him there, and i must fight him here," at the same time passing his thumb-nail over the position of waterloo. that map, with the scratch of the duke's thumb-nail over the very line where waterloo was afterwards fought, was long preserved as a relic. part of the surprise, the duke complained, was due to blücher. but, as he himself explained to napier, "i cannot tell the world that blücher picked the fattest man in his army (muffling) to ride with an express to me, and that he took thirty hours to go thirty miles." the hour at which waterloo began, though there were , actors in the great tragedy, was long a matter of dispute. the duke of wellington puts it at ten o'clock. general alava says half-past eleven, napoleon and drouet say twelve o'clock, and ney one o'clock. lord hill may be credited with having settled this minute question of fact. he took two watches with him into the fight, one a stop-watch, and he marked with it the sound of the first shot fired, and this evidence is now accepted as proving that the first flash of red flame which marked the opening of the world-shaking tragedy of waterloo took place at exactly ten minutes to twelve. as these sketches are not written for military experts, but only pretend to tell, in plain prose, and for younger britons, the story of the great deeds which are part of their historical inheritance, all the disputed questions about waterloo may be at the outset laid aside. it is a great tale, and it seems all the greater when it is simply told. the campaign of waterloo, in a sense, lasted exactly four days, yet into that brief space of time there is compressed so much of human daring and suffering, of genius and of folly, of shining triumph and of blackest ruin, that the story must always be one of the most exciting records in human history. i. the rival hosts "hark! i hear the tramp of thousands, and of armèd men the hum; lo! a nation's hosts have gathered round the quick alarming drum,-- saying, 'come, freeman, come, ere your heritage be wasted,' said the quick alarming drum. * * * * * * 'let me of my heart take counsel: war is not of life the sum; who shall stay and reap the harvest when the autumn days shall come?' but the drum echoed, 'come! death shall reap the braver harvest,' said the solemn-sounding drum. what if, 'mid the cannons' thunder, whistling shot and bursting bomb, when my brothers fall around me, should my heart grow cold and numb?' but the drum answered, 'come! better there in death united, than in life a recreant,--come!'" --bret harte. for weeks the british and prussian armies, scattered over a district miles by , had been keeping guard over the french frontier. mighty hosts of russians and austrians were creeping slowly across europe to join them. napoleon, skilfully shrouding his movements in impenetrable secrecy, was about to leap across the sambre, and both blücher and wellington had to guess what would be his point of attack; and they, as it happened, guessed wrongly. napoleon's strategy was determined partly by his knowledge of the personal characters of the two generals, and partly by the fact that the bases of the allied armies lay at widely separate points--the english base at antwerp, the prussian on the rhine. blücher was essentially "a hussar general"; the fighting impulse ran riot in his blood. if attacked, he would certainly fight where he stood; if defeated, and driven back on his base, he must move in diverging lines from wellington. that blücher would abandon his base to keep touch with wellington--as actually happened--napoleon never guessed. wellington, cooler and more methodical than his prussian fellow-commander, would not fight, it was certain, till his troops were called in on every side and he was ready. blücher was nearer the french frontier. napoleon calculated that he could leap upon him, bar wellington from coming to his help by planting ney at quatre bras, win a great battle before wellington could join hands with his ally, and then in turn crush wellington. it was splendid strategy, splendidly begun, but left fatally incomplete. napoleon fought and defeated blücher at ligny on june , attacking quatre bras at the same time, so as to occupy the english. wellington visited blücher's lines before the fight began, and said to him, "every general knows his own men, but if my lines were drawn up in this fashion i should expect to get beaten;" and as he cantered back to his own army he said to those about him, "if bonaparte be what i suppose he is, the prussians will get a ---- good licking to-day." captain bowles was standing beside the duke at quatre bras on the morning of the th, when a prussian staff-officer, his horse covered with sweat, galloped up and whispered an agitated message in the duke's ear. the duke, without a change of countenance, dismissed him, and, turning to bowles, said, "old blücher has had a ---- good licking, and gone back to wavre, eighteen miles. as he has gone back, we must go too. i suppose in england they will say we have been licked. i can't help it! as they have gone back, we must go too." and in five minutes, without stirring from the spot, he had given complete orders for a retreat to waterloo. the low ridge on which the duke took up his position runs east and west. the road from brussels to the south, just before it crosses the crest of the ridge, divides like the upper part of the letter y into two roads, that on the right, or westward, running to nivelles, that on the left, or eastward, to charleroi. a country road, in parts only a couple of feet deep, in parts sunk from twelve to fifteen feet, traverses the crest of the ridge, and intersects the two roads just named before they unite to form the main brussels road. two farmhouses--la haye sainte, on the charleroi road, and hougoumont, on that to nivelles--stand out some yards in advance of the ridge. thus the cross-road served as a ditch to wellington's front; the two farmhouses were, so to speak, horn-works guarding his right centre and left centre; while in the little valley on the reverse side of the crest wellington was able to act on his favourite tactics of keeping his men out of sight till the moment for action arrived. the ridge, in fact, to the french generals who surveyed it from la belle alliance seemed almost bare, showing nothing but batteries at intervals along the crest, and a spray of skirmishers on the slopes below. looked at from the british ridge, the plain over which the great fight raged is a picture of pastoral simplicity and peace. the crops that sunday morning were high upon it, the dark green of wheat and clover chequered with the lighter green of rye and oats. no fences intersect the plain; a few farmhouses, each with a leafy girdle of trees, and the brown roofs of one or two distant villages, alone break the level floor of green. the present writer has twice visited waterloo, and the image of verdurous and leafy peace conveyed by the landscape is still most vivid. only hougoumont, where the orchard walls are still pierced by the loop-holes through which the guards fired that long june sunday, helps one to realise the fierce strife which once raged and echoed over this rich valley with its grassy carpet of vivid green. waterloo is a battlefield of singularly small dimensions. the british front did not extend for more than two miles; the gap betwixt hougoumont and la haye sainte, through which ney poured his living tide of cavalry, , strong, is only yards wide, a distance equal, say, to a couple of city blocks. the ridge on which napoleon drew up his army is less than yards distant from that on which the british stood. it sloped steadily upward, and, as a consequence. napoleon's whole force was disclosed at a glance, and every combination of troops made in preparation for an attack on the british line was clearly visible, a fact which greatly assisted wellington in his arrangements for meeting it. the opposing armies differed rather in quality than in numbers. wellington had, roughly, , infantry, , cavalry, a little less than artillerymen; a total of , men and guns. napoleon had , infantry, nearly , cavalry, over artillery; a total of, say, , men, with guns. in infantry the two armies were about equal, in cavalry the french were superior, and in guns their superiority was enormous. but the french were war-hardened veterans, the men of austerlitz and of wagram, of one blood and speech and military type, a homogeneous mass, on flame with warlike enthusiasm. of wellington's troops, only , were british and german; many even of these had never seen a shot fired in battle, and were raw drafts from the militia, still wearing the militia uniform. only , were old peninsula troops. less than of wellington's cavalry were british, and took any part in the actual battle. wellington himself somewhat ungratefully described his force as an "infamous army"; "the worst army ever brought together!" nearly , were dutch-belgians, whose courage was doubtful, and whose loyalty was still more vehemently suspected. wellington had placed some battalions of these as part of the force holding hougoumont; but when, an hour before the battle actually began, napoleon rode through his troops, and their tumultuous shouts echoed in a tempest of sound across to the british lines, the effect on the dutch-belgians in hougoumont was so instant and visible that wellington at once withdrew them. "the mere name of napoleon," he said, "had beaten them before they fired a shot!" the french themselves did justice to the native fighting quality of the british. "the english infantry," as foy told the emperor on the morning of waterloo, "are the very d---- to fight;" and napoleon, five years after, at st. helena, said, "one might as well try to charge through a wall." soult, again, told napoleon, "sire, i know these english. they will die on the ground on which they stand before they lose it." that this was true, even of the raw lads from the militia, waterloo proved. but it is idle to deny that of the two armies the french, tried by abstract military tests, was far the stronger. the very aspect of the two armies reflected their different characteristics. a grim silence brooded over the british position. nothing was visible except the scattered clusters of guns and the outposts. the french army, on the other side, was a magnificent spectacle, gay with flags, and as many-coloured as a rainbow. eleven columns deployed simultaneously, and formed three huge lines of serried infantry. they were flanked by mail-clad cuirassiers, with glittering helmets and breast-plates; lines of scarlet-clad lancers; and hussars, with bearskin caps and jackets glittering with gold lace. the black and menacing masses of the old guard and of the young guard, with their huge bearskin caps, formed the reserve. as napoleon, with a glittering staff, swept through his army, the bands of battalions and squadrons poured upon the peaceful air of that june sunday the martial cadences of the marseillaise, and the "vive l'empereur!" which broke from the crowded host was heard distinctly by the grimly listening ranks of the british. "as far as the eye could reach," says one who describes the fight from the french ranks, "nothing was to be seen but cuirasses, helmets, busbies, sabres and lances, and glittering lines of bayonets." as for the british, there was no tumult of enthusiasm visible among them. flat on the ground, in double files, on the reverse side of the hill, the men lay, and jested in rough fashion with each other, while the officers in little groups stood on the ridge and watched the french movements. let it be remembered that many of the troops had fought desperately on the th, and retreated on the th from quatre bras to waterloo under furious rain, and the whole army was soddened and chilled with sleeping unsheltered on the soaked ground. many of the men, as they rose hungry and shivering from their sleeping-place in the mud, were so stiff and cramped that they could not stand upright. ii. hougoumont "the trumpets sound, the banners fly, the glittering spears are rankèd ready, the shouts o' war are heard afar, the battle closes thick and bloody." --burns. the ground was heavy with the rains of the night, and napoleon lingered till nearly noon before he launched his attack on the british lines. at ten minutes to twelve the first heavy gun rang sullenly from the french ridge, and from the french left reille's corps, strong, flung itself on hougoumont. the french are magnificent skirmishers, and as the great mass moved down the slope, a dense spray of tirailleurs ran swiftly before it, reached the hedge, and broke into the wood, which, in a moment, was full of white smoke and the red flashes of musketry. in a solid mass the main body followed; but the moment it came within range, the british guns keeping guard over hougoumont smote it with a heavy fire. the french batteries answered fiercely, while in the garden and orchard below the guards and the french fought almost literally muzzle to muzzle. hougoumont was a strong post. the fire from the windows in the main building commanded the orchard, that from the orchard commanded the wood, that from the wood swept the ridge. the french had crossed the ridge, cleared the wood, and were driving the guards, fighting vehemently, out of the orchard into the hollow road between the house and the british ridge. but they could do no more. the light companies of the foot guards, under lieut.-colonel macdonnell, held the buildings and orchard, lord saltoun being in command of the latter. muffling, the prussian commissioner on wellington's staff, doubted whether hougoumont could be held against the enemy; but wellington had great confidence in macdonnell, a highlander of gigantic strength and coolest daring, and nobly did this brave scotsman fulfil his trust. all day long the attack thundered round hougoumont. the french masses moved again and again to the assault upon it; it was scourged with musketry and set on fire with shells. but steadfastly under the roar of the guns and the fierce crackle of small-arms, and even while the roofs were in flames above their heads, the gallant guardsmen held their post. once the main gateway was burst open, and the french broke in. they were instantly bayoneted, and macdonnell, with a cluster of officers and a sergeant named graham, by sheer force shut the gate again in the face of the desperate french. in the fire which partially consumed the building, some of the british wounded were burned to death, and mercer, who visited the spot the morning after the fight, declared that in the orchard and around the walls of the farmhouse the dead lay as thick as on the breach of badajos. more than killed and wounded fell in the long seven hours' fight which raged round this belgian farmhouse. more than , infantry were flung into the attack; the defence, including the dutch and belgians in the wood, never exceeded men. but when, in the tumult of the victorious advance of the british at nightfall, wellington found himself for a moment beside muffling, with a flash of exultation rare in a man so self-controlled, he shouted, "well, you see macdonnell held hougoumont after all!" towards evening, at the close of the fight, lord saltoun, with the wreck of the light companies of the guards, joined the main body of their division on the ridge. as they came up to the lines, a scanty group with torn uniforms and smoke-blackened faces, the sole survivors of the gallant hundreds who had fought continuously for seven hours, general maitland rode out to meet them and cried, "your defence has saved the army! every man of you deserves promotion." long afterwards a patriotic briton bequeathed pounds to the bravest soldier at waterloo, the duke of wellington to be the judge. the duke named macdonnell, who handed the money to the sergeant who was his comrade in the struggle at the gate of hougoumont. iii. picton and d'erlon "but on the british heart were lost the terrors of the charging host; for not an eye the storm that view'd changed its proud glance of fortitude. nor was one forward footstep staid, as dropp'd the dying and the dead." --scott. meantime a furious artillery duel raged between the opposing ridges. wellington had ordered his gunners not to fire at the french batteries, but only at the french columns, while the french, in the main, concentrated their fire on the british guns. french practice under these conditions was naturally very beautiful, for no hostile bullets disturbed their aim, and the british gunners fell fast; yet their fire on the french masses was most deadly. at two o'clock napoleon launched his great infantry attack, led by d'erlon, against la haye sainte and the british left. it was an attack of terrific strength. four divisions, numbering , men, moved forward in echelon, with intervals between them of paces; seventy-two guns swept as with a besom of fire the path along which these huge masses advanced with shouts to the attack, while thirty light guns moved in the intervals between them; and a cavalry division, consisting of lancers and cuirassiers, rode on their flank ready to charge the broken masses of the british infantry. the british line at this point consisted of picton's division, formed of the shattered remains of kempt's and pack's brigades, who had suffered heavily at quatre bras. they formed a mere thread of scarlet, a slender two-deep line of about men. as the great mass of the enemy came slowly on, the british line was "dressed," the men ceased to talk, except in monosyllables, the skirmishers lying flat on the trampled corn prepared to fire. the grape of the french guns smote picton's red lines with fury, and the men fell fast, yet they closed up at the word of command with the most perfect coolness. the french skirmishers, too, running forward with great speed and daring, drove in the british skirmishers, who came running back to the main line smoke-begrimed and breathless. as the french masses began to ascend the british slope, the french guns had to cease their fire for fear of striking their own forces. the british infantry, too, being drawn slightly back from the crest, were out of sight, and the leading french files saw nothing before them but a cluster of british batteries and a this line of quickly retreating skirmishers. a dutch-belgian brigade had, somehow, been placed on the exterior slope of the hill, and when d'erlon's huge battalions came on, almost shaking the earth with their steady tread, the dutch-belgians simply took to their heels and ran. they swept, a crowd of fugitives, through the intervals of the british lines, and were received with groans and hootings, the men with difficulty being restrained from firing upon them. a sand-pit lay in the track of the french columns on the left. this was held by some companies of the th rifles, and these opened a fire so sudden and close and deadly that the huge mass of the french swung almost involuntarily to the right, off its true track; then with fierce roll of drums and shouts of "en avant!" the frenchmen reached the crest. suddenly there rose before them picton's steady lines, along which there ran, in one red flame from end to end, a dreadful volley. again the fierce musketry crackled, and yet again. the frenchmen tried to deploy, and picton, seizing the moment, ordered his lines to charge. "charge! charge!" he cried. "hurrah!" it is yet a matter keenly disputed as to whether or not d'erlon's men actually pierced the british line. it is alleged that the highlanders were thrown into confusion, and it is certain that picton's last words to his aide-de-camp, captain seymour, were, "rally the highlanders!" pack, too, appealed to the nd. "you must charge," he said; "all in front have given way." however this may be, the british regiments charged, and the swift and resolute advance of picton's lines--though it was a charge of men on a body four times their number--was irresistible. the leading ranks of the french opened a hurried fire, under which picton himself fell shot through the head; then as the british line came on at the double--the men with bent heads, the level bayonets one steady edge of steel, the fierce light which gleams along the fighting line playing on them--the leading battalions of the french halted irresolute, shrunk back, swayed to and fro, and fell into a shapeless receding mass. there were, of course, many individual instances of great gallantry amongst them. thus a french mounted officer had his horse shot, and when he struggled from beneath his fallen charger he found himself almost under the bayonets of the nd. but just in front of the british line was an officer carrying the colours of the regiment, and the brave frenchman instantly leaped upon him. he would capture the flag! there was a momentary struggle, and the british officer at the head of the wing shouted, "save the brave fellow!" but almost at the same moment the gallant frenchman was bayoneted by the colour-sergeant, and shot by a british infantryman. the head of the french column was falling to pieces, but the main body was yet steady, and the cuirassiers covering its flank were coming swiftly on. but at this moment there broke upon them the terrific counterstroke, not of wellington, but of lord uxbridge, into whose hands wellington, with a degree of confidence quite unusual for him, had given the absolute control of his cavalry, fettering him by no specific orders. iv. "scotland for ever!" "beneath their fire, in full career, rush'd on the ponderous cuirassier, the lancer couch'd his ruthless spear, and hurrying as to havoc near, the cohorts' eagles flew. in one dark torrent, broad and strong, the advancing onset roll'd along, forth harbinger'd by fierce acclaim that, from the shroud of smoke and flame, peal'd wildly the imperial name!" --scott. the attack of the household and union brigades at waterloo is one of the most dazzling and dramatic incidents of the great fight. for suddenness, fire, and far-reaching results, it would be difficult to parallel that famous charge in the history of war. the household brigade, consisting of the st and nd life guards, and the dragoon guards, with the blues in support, moved first. lord uxbridge, temporarily exchanging the functions of general for those of a squadron-leader, heading the attack. they leaped the hedge, or burst through it, crossed the road--at that point of shallow depth--and met the french cuirassiers in full charge. the british were bigger men on bigger horses, and they had gained the full momentum of their charge when the two lines met. the french, to do them justice, did not shrink. the charging lines crashed together, like living and swiftly moving walls, and the sound of their impact rang sharp, sudden, deep, and long drawn out, above the din of the conflict. the french wore armour, and carried longer swords than the british, but they were swept away in an instant, and went, a broken and shattered mass of men and horses, down the slope. some of them were tumbled into the sand-pit, amongst the astonished rifles there, who instantly bayoneted them. others were swept upon the masses of their own infantry, fiercely followed by the life guards. the nd life guards and the dragoons, coming on a little in the rear, struck the right regiment of the cuirassiers and hurled them across the junction of the roads. shaw, the famous life guardsman, was killed here. he was a perfect swordsman, a man of colossal strength, and is said to have cut down, through helmet and skull, no fewer than nine men in the _mêlée_. how shaw actually died is a matter of dispute. colonel marten says he was shot by a cuirassier who stood clear of the _mêlée_, coolly taking pot-shots at the english guardsmen. captain kelly, a brilliant soldier, who rode in the charge beside shaw, says that shaw was killed by a thrust through the body from a french colonel of the cuirassiers, whom kelly himself, in return, clove through helmet and skull. meanwhile the union brigade on the left, consisting of the royals and the inniskillings, with the scots greys in support, had broken into the fight. the royals, coming on at full speed over the crest of the ridge, broke upon the astonished vision of the french infantry at a distance of less than a hundred yards. it was an alarming vision of waving swords, crested helmets, fierce red nostrils, and galloping hoofs. the leading files tried to turn, but in an instant the royals were upon them, cutting them down furiously. de lacy evans, who rode in the charge, says, "they fled like a flock of sheep." colonel clark kennedy adds that the "jamb" in the french was so thick that the men could not bring down their arms or level a musket, and the dragoons rode in the intervals between their formation, reaching forward with the stroke of their long swords, and slaying at will. more than frenchmen flung down their arms and surrendered; and on the next morning the abandoned muskets were still lying in long straight lines and regular order, showing that the men had surrendered before their lines were broken. the charge of the inniskillings to the left of the royals was just as furious and just as successful. they broke on the front of donzdot's divisions and simply ground them to powder. the scots greys were supposed to be "in support"; but coming swiftly up, they suddenly saw on their left shoulder marcognet's divisions, the extreme right of the french. at that sight the greys swung a little off to their left, swept through the intervals of the nd, and smote the french battalions full in front. as the greys rode through the intervals of the footmen--scotch horsemen through scotch infantry--the scotch blood in both regiments naturally took fire. greetings in broadest doric flew from man to man. the pipes skirled fiercely. "scotland for ever!" went up in a stormy shout from the kilted lines. the greys, riding fast, sometimes jostled, or even struck down, some of the nd; and armour, the rough-rider of the greys, has told how the highlanders shouted, "i didna think ye wad hae saired me sae!" many of the highlanders caught hold of the stirrups of the greys and raced forward with them--scotsmen calling to scotsmen--into the ranks of the french. the nd, in fact, according to the testimony of their own officers, "went half mad." what could resist such a charge? the two british cavalry brigades were by this time riding roughly abreast, the men drunk with warlike excitement and completely out of hand, and most of their officers were little better. they simply rode over d'erlon's broken ranks. so brave were some of the french, however, that again and again a solitary soldier or officer would leap out of the ranks as the english cavalry came on, and charge them single-handed! one french private deliberately ran out as the inniskillings came on at full gallop, knelt before the swiftly galloping line of men and horses, coolly shot the adjutant of the inniskillings through the head, and was himself instantly trodden into a bloody pulp! the british squadrons, wildly disordered, but drunk with battle fury, and each man fighting for his "ain hand," swept across the valley, rode up to the crest of the french position, stormed through the great battery there, slew drivers and horses, and so completely wrecked the battery that forty guns out of its seventy never came into action again. some of the men, in the rapture of the fight, broke through to the second line of the french, and told tales, after the mad adventure was over, of how they had come upon french artillery drivers, mere boys, sitting crying on their horses while the tragedy and tumult of the _mêlée_ swept past them. some of the older officers tried to rally and re-form their men; and lord uxbridge, by this time beginning to remember that he was a general and not a dragoon, looked round for his "supports," who, as it happened, oblivious of the duty of "supporting" anybody, were busy fighting on their own account, and were riding furiously in the very front ranks. then there came the french counter-stroke. the french batteries opened on the triumphant, but disordered british squadrons; a brigade of lancers smote them on the flank and rolled them up. lord edward somerset, who commanded the household brigade, was unhorsed, and saved his life by scrambling dexterously, but ignobly, through a hedge. sir william ponsonby, who commanded the union brigade, had ridden his horse to a dead standstill; the lancers caught him standing helpless in the middle of a ploughed field, and slew him with a dozen lance-thrusts. vandeleur's light cavalry brigade was by this time moving down from the british front, and behind its steady squadrons the broken remains of the two brigades found shelter. though the british cavalry suffered terribly in retiring, nevertheless they had accomplished what sir evelyn wood describes as "one of the most brilliant successes ever achieved by horsemen over infantry." these two brigades--which did not number more than swords--wrecked an entire infantry corps, disabled forty guns, overthrew a division of cuirassiers, took prisoners, and captured two eagles. the moral effect of the charge was, perhaps, greater than even its material results. the french infantry never afterwards throughout the battle, until the old guard appeared upon the scene, moved forward with real confidence against the british position. those "terrible horsemen" had stamped themselves upon their imagination. the story of how the eagles were captured is worth telling. captain clark kennedy of the dragoons took one. he was riding vehemently in the early stage of the charge, when he caught sight of the cuirassier officer carrying the eagle, with his covering men, trying to break through the _mêlée_ and escape. "i gave the order to my men," he says, "'right shoulders forward; attack the colours.'" he himself overtook the officer, ran him through the body, and seized the eagle. he tried to break the eagle from the pole and push it inside his coat for security, but, failing, gave it to his corporal to carry to the rear. the other colour was taken by ewart, a sergeant of the greys, a very fine swordsman. he overtook the officer carrying the colour, and, to quote his own story, "he and i had a hard contest for it. he made a thrust at my groin; i parried it off, and cut him down through the head. after this a lancer came at me. i threw the lance off by my right side, and cut him through the chin and upwards through the teeth. next, a foot-soldier fired at me, and then charged me with his bayonet, which i also had the good luck to parry, and then i cut him down through the head. thus ended the contest. as i was about to follow the regiment, the general said, 'my brave fellow, take that to the rear; you have done enough till you get quit of it.'" v. horsemen and squares "but yet, though thick the shafts as snow, though charging knights like whirlwinds go, though bill-men ply the ghastly blow, unbroken was the ring; the stubborn spearmen still made good their dark impenetrable wood, each stepping where his comrade stood, the instant that he fell. no thought was there of dastard flight; linked in the serried phalanx tight, groom fought like noble, squire like knight, as fearlessly and well." --scott. napoleon's infantry had failed to capture either hougoumont or la haye sainte, which was stoutly held by baring and his hanoverians. the great infantry attack on the british left had failed, and though the stubborn fight round the two farmhouses never paused, the main battle along the ridge for a time resolved itself into an artillery duel. battery answered battery across the narrow valley, nearly four hundred guns in action at once, the gunners toiling fiercely to load and fire with the utmost speed. wellington ordered his men to lie down on the reverse of the ridge; but the french had the range perfectly, and shells fell thickly on the ranks of recumbent men, and solid shot tore through them. the thunder of the artillery quickened; the french tirailleurs, showing great daring, crept in swarms up the british slope and shot down the british gunners at their pieces. both hougoumont and la haye sainte were on fire at this stage of the battle. the smoke of the conflict, in an atmosphere heavy with moisture, hung like a low pall of blackest crape over the whole field; and every now and again, on either ridge, columns of white smoke shot suddenly up and fell back like gigantic and vaporous mushrooms--the effect of exploding ammunition waggons. "hard pounding this, gentlemen," said wellington, as he rode past his much-enduring battalions. "let us see who will pound longest." at four o'clock came the great cavalry attack of the french. through the gap between, not merely the two farmhouses, but the two farmhouses plus their zone of fire--through a gap, that is, of probably not more than yards, the french, for two long hours, poured on the british line the whole strength of their magnificent cavalry, led by ney in person. to meet the assault, wellington drew up his first line in a long chequer of squares, five in the first line, four, covering their intervals, in the second. in advance of them were the british guns, with their sadly reduced complement of gunners. immediately behind the squares were the british cavalry brigades; the household brigade, reduced by this time to a couple of squadrons; and behind them, in turn, the dutch-belgian infantry, who had fortitude enough not to run away, but lacked daring sufficient to fill a place on the fire-scourged edge of actual battle. when the british front was supposed to be sufficiently macadamised by the dreadful fire of the french batteries, ney brought on his huge mass of cavalry, twenty-one squadrons of cuirassiers, and nineteen squadrons of the light cavalry of the guard. at a slow trot they came down the french slope, crossed the valley, and, closing their ranks and quickening their stride, swept up to the british line, and broke, a swirling torrent of men and horses, over the crest. nothing could be more majestic, and apparently resistless, than their onset--the gleam of so many thousand helmets and breastplates, the acres of wind-blown horse-hair crests and many-coloured uniforms, the thunder of so many galloping hoofs. wellington had ordered his gunners, when the french cavalry reached their guns, to abandon them and run for shelter beneath the bayonets of the nearest square, and the brave fellows stood by their pieces pouring grape and solid shot into the glittering, swift-coming human target before them till the leading horses were almost within touch of the guns, when they ran and flung themselves under the steady british bayonets for safety. the french horsemen, as they mounted the british slope, saw nothing before them but the ridge, empty of everything except a few abandoned guns. they were drunk with the rapture of victory, and squadron after squadron, as it reached the crest, broke into tempests of shouts and a mad gallop. all the batteries were in their possession; they looked to see an army in rout. suddenly they beheld the double line of british squares--or, rather, "oblongs"--with their fringe of steady steel points; and from end to end of the line ran the zigzag of fire--a fire that never slackened, still less intermitted. the torrent and tumult of the horsemen never checked; but as they rode at the squares, the leading squadron--men and horses--smitten by the spray of lead, tumbled dead or dying to the ground. the following squadrons parted, swept past the flanks of the squares, scourged with deadly volleys, struggled through the intervals of the second line, emerged breathless and broken into the space beyond, to be instantly charged by the british cavalry, and driven back in wreck over the british slope. as the struggling mass left the crest clear, the french guns broke in a tempest of shot on the squares, while the scattered french re-formed in the valley, and prepared for a second and yet more desperate assault. foiled in his first attack, ney drew the whole of kellerman's division--thirty-seven squadrons, eleven of cuirassiers, six of carabineers, and the bed lancers of the guard--into the whirlpool of his renewed assault, and this time the mass, though it came forward more slowly, was almost double in area. gleaming with lance and sword and cuirass, it undulated as it crossed the broken slopes, till it seemed a sea, shining with , points of glancing steel, in motion. the british squares, on the reverse slope, as they obeyed the order, "prepare to receive cavalry!" and fell grimly into formation, could hear the thunder of the coming storm--the shrill cries of the officers, the deeper shouts of the men, the clash of scabbard on stirrup, the fierce tramp of the iron-shod hoofs. squadron after squadron came over the ridge, like successive human waves; then, like a sea broken loose, the flood of furious horsemen inundated the whole slope on which the squares were drawn up. but each square, a tiny, immovable island of red, with its fringe of smoke and steel and darting flame, stood doggedly resolute. no french leader, however daring, ventured to ride home on the very bayonets. the flood of maddened men and horses swung sullenly back across the ridge, while the british gunners ran out and scourged them with grape as they rode down the slope. from four o'clock to six o'clock this amazing scene was repeated. no less than thirteen times, it was reckoned, the french horsemen rode over the ridge, and round the squares, and swept back wrecked and baffled. in the later charges they came on at a trot, or even a walk, and they rode through the british batteries and round the squares, in the words of the duke of wellington, "as if they owned them." so dense was the smoke that sometimes the british could not see their foes until, through the whirling blackness, a line of lances and crested helmets, or of tossing horse-heads, suddenly broke. sometimes a single horseman would ride up to the very points of the british bayonets and strike at them with his sword, or fire a pistol at an officer, in the hope of drawing the fire of the square prematurely, and thus giving his comrades a chance of breaking it. with such cool courage did the british squares endure the fiery rush of the french cavalry, that at last the temper of the men grew almost scornful. they would growl out, "here come these fools again," as a fresh sweep of horsemen came on. sometimes the french squadrons came on at a trot; sometimes their "charge" slackened down to a walk. warlike enthusiasm had exhausted itself. "the english squares and the french squadrons," says lord anglesey, "seemed almost, for a short time, hardly taking notice of each other." in their later charges the french brought up some light batteries to the crest of the british ridge, and opened fire at point-blank distance on the solid squares. the front of the st life guards was broken by a fire of this sort, and gronow relates how the cuirassiers made a dash at the opening. captain adair leaped into the gap, and killed with one blow of his sword a french officer who had actually entered the square! the british gunners always ran swiftly out when the french cavalry recoiled down the slope, remanned their guns, and opened a murderous fire on the broken french. noting this, an officer of cuirassiers drew up his horse by a british battery, and while his men drew off, stood on guard with his single sword, and kept the gunners from remanning it till he was shot by a british infantryman. directly the broken cavalry was clear of the ridge, the french guns opened furiously on the british lines, and men dropped thick and fast. the cavalry charges, as a matter of fact, were welcomed as affording relief from the intolerable artillery fire. for two hours , french horsemen rode round the british squares, and again and again the ridge and rear slope of the british position was covered with lancers, cuirassiers, light and heavy dragoons, and hussars, with the british guns in their actual possession; and yet not a square was broken! a gaily dressed regiment of the duke of cumberland's (hanoverian) hussars watched the homeric contest from the british rear, and lord uxbridge, as the british cavalry were completely exhausted by their dashes at the french horsemen as they broke through the chequer of the squares, rode up to them and called on them to follow him in a charge. the colonel declined, explaining that his men owned their own horses, and could not expose them to any risk of damage! these remarkable warriors, in fact, moved in a body, and with much expedition, off the field, seymour (lord uxbridge's aide) taking their colonel by the collar and shaking him as a dog shakes a rat, by way of expressing his view of the performance. vi. the fight of the gunners "three hundred cannon-mouths roar'd loud; and from their throats with flash and cloud their showers of iron threw." --scott. one of the most realistic pictures of the fight at this stage is given by captain mercer, in command of a battery of horse artillery. mercer was on the extreme british right during the first stage of the battle, and only got occasional glimpses of the ridge where the fight was raging--intermittent visions of french cavalry riding in furious charges, and abandoned british batteries with guns, muzzle in air, against the background of grey and whirling smoke. about three o'clock, in the height of the cavalry struggle, fraser, who was in chief command of the horse artillery, galloped down the reverse slope to mercer's battery, his face black with powder, his uniform torn, and brought the troop at full gallop to the central ridge, explaining as they rode the duke's orders, that, when the french cavalry charged home, mercer and his men should take refuge under the bayonets of the nearest square. as they neared the crest at a gallop, mercer describes the humming as of innumerable and gigantic gnats that filled the bullet-torn air. he found his position betwixt two squares of brunswickers, in whose ranks the french guns were making huge gaps, while the officers and sergeants were busy literally pushing the men together. "the men," says mercer, "were like wooden figures, semi-paralysed with the horrors of the fight about them;" and to have attempted to run to them for shelter would certainly have been the signal for the whole mass to dissolve. through the smoke ahead, not a hundred yards distant, were the french squadrons coming on at a trot. the british guns were swung round, unlimbered, loaded with case-shot, and fire opened with breathless speed. still the french came on; but as gun after gun came into action, their pace slowed down to a walk, till the front files could endure the terrific fire no longer. they turned round and tried to ride back. "i actually saw them," says mercer, "using the pommels of their swords to fight their way out of the _mêlée_." some, made desperate by finding themselves penned up at the very muzzles of the british guns, dashed through their intervals, but without thinking of using their swords. presently the mass broke and ebbed, a flood of shattered squadrons, down the slope. they rallied quickly, however, and their helmets could be seen over the curve of the slope as the officers dressed the lines. the french tirailleurs, meanwhile, crept up within forty yards of the battery, and were busy shooting down mercer's gunners. mercer, to keep his men steady, rode slowly to and fro in front of the muzzles of his guns, the men standing with lighted port-fires. the tirailleurs, almost within pistol-shot, seized the opportunity to take pot-shots at him. he shook his glove, with the word "scélérat," at one of them; the fellow grinned, and took a leisurely aim at mercer, the muzzle of his gun following him as he turned to and fro in his promenade before his own pieces. the frenchman fired, and the ball passed at the back of mercer's neck into the forehead of the leading driver of one of his guns. but the cavalry was coming on again in solid squadrons, a column so deep that when the leading files were within sixty yards of mercer's guns the rear of the great mass was still out of sight. the pace was a deliberate trot. "they moved in profound silence," says mercer, and the only sound that could be heard from them, amidst the incessant roar of battle, was the low, thunder-like reverberation of the ground beneath the simultaneous tread of so many horses, through which ran a jangling ripple of sharp metallic sound, the ring of steel on steel. the british gunners, on their part, showed a stern coolness fully equal to the occasion. every man stood steadily at his post, "the guns ready loaded with round-shot first, and a case over it; the tubes were in the vents, the port-fires glared and sputtered behind the wheels." the column was led on this time by an officer in a rich uniform, his breast covered with decorations, whose earnest gesticulations were strangely contrasted with the solemn demeanour of those to whom they were addressed. mercer allowed the leading squadron to come within sixty yards, then lifted his glove as the signal to fire. nearly the whole leading rank fell in an instant, while the round shot pierced the column. the front, covered with struggling horses and men, was impassable. some of the braver spirits did break their way through, only to fall, man and horse, at the very muzzles, of the guns. "our guns," says mercer, "were served with astonishing activity, and men and horses tumbled before them like nine-pins." where the horse alone was killed, the cuirassier could be seen stripping himself of his armour with desperate haste to escape. the mass of the french for a moment stood still, then broke to pieces and fled. again they came on, with exactly the same result. so dreadful was the carnage, that on the next day, mercer, looking back from the french ridge, could identify the position held by his battery by the huge mound of slaughtered men and horses lying in front of it. the french at last brought up a battery, which opened a flanking fire on mercer's guns; he swung round two of his pieces to meet the attack, and the combat raged till, out of fine horses in mercer's troop, lay dead or dying, and two men out of every three were disabled. ney's thirteen cavalry charges on the british position were magnificent, but they were a failure. they did not break a single square, nor permanently disable a single gun. both wellington and napoleon are accused of having flung away their cavalry; but wellington--or, rather, uxbridge--by expending only sabres, wrecked, as we have seen, a french infantry corps, destroyed a battery of guns, and took prisoners. ney practically used up , magnificent horsemen without a single appreciable result. napoleon, at st. helena, put the blame of his wasted cavalry on ney's hot-headed impetuosity. the cavalry attack, he said, was made without his orders; kellerman's division joined in the attack without even ney's orders. but that napoleon should watch for two hours his whole cavalry force wrecking itself in thirteen successive and baffled assaults on the british squares, without his orders, is an utterly incredible supposition. if two hours of cavalry assault, punctuated as with flame by the fire of guns, did not destroy the stubborn british line, it cannot be denied that it shook it terribly. the british ridge was strewn with the dead and dying. regiments had shrunk to companies, companies to mere files. "our square," says gronow, "presented a shocking sight. we were nearly suffocated by the smoke and smell from burnt cartridges. it was impossible to move a step without treading on a wounded or slain comrade." "where is your brigade?" vivian asked of lord edward somerset, who commanded the life guards. "here," said lord edward, pointing to two scanty squadrons, and a long line of wounded or mutilated horses. before nightfall the two gallant brigades that made the great cavalry charge of the morning had contracted to a single squadron of fifty files. wellington sent an aide-de-camp to ask general hackett, "what square of his that was which was so far in advance?" it was a mass of killed and wounded men belonging to the th and rd regiments that lay slain, yet in ranks, on the spot the square had occupied at one period of the fight, and from which it had been withdrawn. seen through the whirling smoke, this quadrangle of corpses looked like a square of living men. the destruction wrought by the french guns on the british squares was, in brief, terrific. by a single discharge of grape upon a german square, one of its sides was completely blown away, and the "square" transfigured into a triangle, with its base a line of slaughtered men. the effect produced by cannon-shot at short range on solid masses of men was sometimes very extraordinary. thus croker tells how an officer received a severe wound in the shoulder, apparently from a jagged ball. when the missile was extracted, however, it turned out to be a huge human double-tooth. its owner's head had been shattered by a cannon-ball, and the very teeth transformed into a radiating spray of swift and deadly missiles. there were other cases of soldiers being wounded by coins driven suddenly by the impact of shot from their original owners' pockets. the sustained fire of the french tirailleurs, too, wrought fatal mischief. la haye sainte by this time had been captured. the brave men who held it for so many hours carried rifles that needed a special cartridge, and supplies of it failed. when the french captured the farmhouse, they were able to push some guns and a strong infantry attack close up to the british left. this was held by the th, who had marched from ghent at speed, reached waterloo, exhausted, at nine a.m., on the very day of the battle, slept amid the roar of the great fight till three o'clock, and were then brought forward to strengthen the line above la haye sainte. the th was drawn up in square, and the french skirmishers opened a fire so close and fatal, that, literally, in the space of a few minutes every second man was shot down! vii. the old guard "on came the whirlwind--like the last, but fiercest sweep of tempest blast-- on came the whirlwind--steel-gleams broke like lightning through the rolling smoke; the war was waked anew." --scott. napoleon had expended in vain upon the stubborn british lines his infantry, his cavalry, and his artillery. there remained only the guard! the long summer evening was drawing to a close, when, at half-past seven, he marshalled these famous soldiers for the final attack. it is a curious fact that the intelligence of the coming attack was brought to wellington by a french cuirassier officer, who deserted his colours just before it took place. the eight battalions of the immortal guard formed a body of magnificent soldiers, the tall stature of the men being heightened by their imposing bearskin caps. the prestige of a hundred victories played round their bayonets. their assault had never yet been resisted. ney and friant led them on. napoleon himself, as the men marched past him to the assault, spoke some fiery words of exhortation to each company--the last words he ever spoke to his guard. it is a matter of keen dispute whether the guard attacked in two columns or in one. the truth seems to be that the eight battalions were arranged in echelon, and really formed one mass, though in two parallel columns of companies, with batteries of horse artillery on either flank advancing with them. nothing could well be more majestic, nothing more menacing, than the advance of this gallant force, and it seemed as if nothing on the british ridge, with its disabled guns and shot-torn battalions, could check such an assault. wellington, however, quickly strengthened his centre by calling in hill's division from the extreme right, while vivian's light cavalry, surrendering the extreme left to the advancing prussians, moved, in anticipation of orders, to the same point. adams's brigade, too, was brought up to the threatened point, with all available artillery. the exact point in the line which would be struck by the head of the guard was barred by a battery of nine-pounders. the attack of the guard was aided by a general infantry advance---usually in the form of a dense mass of skirmishers--against the whole british front, and so fierce was this that some hanoverian and nassau battalions were shaken by it into almost fatal rout. a thread of british cavalry, made up of the scanty remains of the scots greys and some of vandeleur's light cavalry, alone kept the line from being pierced. all interest, however, centred in the attack of the guard. steadily, on a slightly diagonal line, it moved up the british slope. the guns smote it fiercely; but never shrinking or pausing, the great double column moved forward. it crossed the ridge. nothing met the eyes of the astonished french except a wall of smoke, and the battery of horse artillery, at which the gunners were toiling madly, pouring case-shot into the approaching column. one or two horsemen, one of whom was wellington himself, were dimly seen through the smoke behind the guns. the duke denied that he used the famous phrase, "up guards, and at 'em!" "what i may have said, and possibly did say," he told croker, "was, 'stand up, guards!' and then gave the commanding officers the order to attack." an officer who took part in the fight has described the scene at the critical moment when the french old guard appeared at the summit of the british ridge: "as the smoke cleared away, a most superb sight opened on us. a close column of the guard, about seventies in front, and not less than six thousand strong, their drums sounding the _pas de charge_, the men shouting 'vive l'empereur!' were within sixty yards of us." the sudden appearance of the long red line of the british foot guards rising from the ground seems to have brought the french guard to a momentary pause, and, as they hesitated, along the whole line of the british ran--and ran again, and yet again--the vivid flash of a tremendous volley. the guard tried to deploy; their officers leaped to the front, and, with shouts and waving swords, tried to bring them on, the british line, meanwhile, keeping up "independent" firing. maitland and lord saltoun simultaneously shouted the order to "charge!" the bayonets of the british guards fell to level, the men came forward at a run, the tramp of the charging line sounded louder and louder, the line of shining points gleamed nearer and yet nearer--the bent and threatening faces of the british came swiftly on. the nerve of the french seemed to fail; the huge battalion faltered, shrank in upon itself, and tumbled in ruin down the hill! but this was only the leading battalion of the right segment of the great column, and the left was still moving steadily up. the british guards, too, who had followed the broken battalion of the french down the hill, were arrested by a cry of "cavalry!" and fell back on the ridge in confusion, though the men obeyed instantly the commands of the officers. "halt! front! re-form!" meanwhile the left section of the huge column was moving up, the men as steady as on parade, the lofty bearskins of the grenadiers, as they mounted the ridge, giving them a gigantic aspect. the black, elongated shadows, as the last rays of the setting sun smote the lines, ran threateningly before them. but the devoted column was practically forcing itself up into a sort of triangle of fire. bolton's guns crossed its head, the guards, thrown slightly forward, poured their swift volleys in waves of flame on its right shoulder, the nd and st on its left scourged it with fire, beneath which the huge mass of the french guard seemed sometimes to pause and thrill as if in convulsion. then came the movement which assured victory to the british. colborne, a soldier with a singular genius for war, not waiting for orders, made his regiment, the nd, bring its right shoulder forward, the outer company swinging round at the double, until his whole front was parallel with the flank of the french guard. adams, the general in command of the brigade, rode up and asked him what he was going to do. colborne replied, "to make that column feel our fire," and, giving the word, his men poured into the unprotected flank of the unfortunate guard a terrific volley. the nd, it should be noted, went into action with upwards of one thousand bayonets, being probably the strongest battalion in the field. colborne had "nursed" his regiment during the fight. he formed them into smaller squares than usual, and kept them in shelter where possible, so that at this crisis the regiment was still a body of great fighting force, and its firing was of deadly volume and power. adams swiftly brought the st to sustain colborne's attack, the guards on the other flank also moved forward, practically making a long obtuse angle of musketry fire, the two sides of which were rapidly closing in on the head of the great french column. the left company of the nd was almost muzzle to muzzle with the french column, and had to press back, while the right companies were swinging round to bring the whole line parallel with the flank of the guard; yet, though the answering fire of the frenchmen was broken and irregular, so deadly was it--the lines almost touching each other--that, in three minutes, from the left front of the nd one hundred and fifty men fell! when the right companies, however, had come up into line with the left, colborne cried, "charge! charge!" the men answered with a deep-throated, menacing shout, and dashed at the enemy. napoleon's far-famed guard, the victors in a hundred fights, shrank, the mass swayed to and fro, the men in the centre commenced to fire in the air, and the whole great mass seemed to tumble, break into units, and roll down the hill! the nd and st came fiercely on, their officers leading. some squadrons of the rd dragoons came at a gallop down the slope, and literally smashed in upon the wrecked column. so wild was the confusion, so dense the whirling smoke that shrouded the whole scene, that some companies of the nd fired into the dragoons, mistaking them for the enemy; and while colborne was trying to halt his line to remedy the confusion, wellington, who saw in this charge the sure pledge of victory, rode up and shouted, "never mind! go on! go on!" gambier, then an officer of the nd, gives a graphic description of how that famous regiment fought at this stage:-- "a short time before, i had seen our colonel (colborne), twenty yards in front of the centre, suddenly disappear, while his horse, mortally wounded, sank under him. after one or two rounds from the guns, he came striding down the front with, 'these guns will destroy the regiment.'--'shall i drive them in, sir?'--'do.'--'right section, left shoulders forward!' was the word at once. so close were we that the guns only fired their loaded charges, and limbering up, went hastily to the rear. reaching the spot on which they had stood, i was clear of the imperial guard's smoke, and saw three squares of the old guard within four hundred yards farther on. they were standing in a line of contiguous squares with very short intervals, a small body of cuirassiers on their right, while the guns took post on their left. convinced that the regiment, when it saw them, would come towards them, i continued my course, stopped with my section about two hundred yards in front of the centre square, and sat down. they were standing in perfect order and steadiness, and i knew they would not disturb that steadiness to pick a quarrel with an insignificant section. i alternately looked at them, at the regiment, and up the hill to my right (rear), to see who was coming to help us. "a red regiment was coming along steadily from the british position, with its left directly upon me. it reached me some minutes before the nd, of which the right came within twenty paces of me. colonel colborne then called the covering sergeants to the front, and dressed the line upon them. up to this moment neither the guns, the squares of the imperial guard, nor the nd had fired a shot. i then saw one or two of the guns slewed round to the direction of my company and fired, but their grape went over our heads. we opened our fire and advanced; the squares replied to it, and then steadily facing about, retired. the cuirassiers advanced a few paces; our men ceased firing, and, bold in their four-deep formation, came down to a sort of elevated bayonet charge; but the cuirassiers declined the contest, and turned. the french proper right square brought up its right shoulders and crossed the _chaussée_, and we crossed it after them. twilight had manifestly commenced, and objects were now bewildering. the first event of interest was, that getting among some french tumbrils, with the horses attached, our colonel was seen upon one, shouting 'cut me out!' then we came upon the hollow road beyond la belle alliance, filled with artillery and broken infantry. here was instantly a wild _mêlée_: the infantry tried to escape as best they could, and at the same time turn and defend themselves; the artillery drivers turned their horses to the left and tried to scramble up the bank of the road, but the horses were immediately shot down; a young subaltern of the battery threw his sword and himself on the ground in the act of surrender; his commander, who wore the cross of the legion of honour, stood in defiance among his guns, and was bayoneted, and the subaltern, unwisely making a run for his liberty, was shot in the attempt. the _mêlée_ at this spot placed us amid such questionable companions, that no one at that moment could be sure whether a bayonet would be the next moment in his ribs or not." it puts a sudden gleam of humour into the wild scene to read how colonel sir felton harvey, who led a squadron of the th, when he saw the old guard tumbling into ruins, evoked a burst of laughter from his entire squadron by saying in a solemn voice, "lord wellington has won the battle," and then suddenly adding in a changed tone, "if we could but get the d----d fool to advance!" wellington, as a matter of fact, had given the signal that launched his wasted and sorely tried battalions in one final and victorious advance. vivian's cavalry still remained to the duke--the th and th hussars--and they, at this stage, made a charge almost as decisive as that of the household and union brigades in the morning. the th crashed into some cuirassiers who were coming up to try and relieve the flank of the guard, overthrew them in a moment, and then plunged into the broken french guard itself. these veterans were retreating, so to speak, individually, all formation wrecked, but each soldier was stalking fiercely along with frowning brow and musket grasped, ready to charge any too audacious horsemen. vivian himself relates how his orderly alone cut down five or six in swift succession who were trying to bayonet the british cavalry general. when vivian had launched the th, he galloped back to the th, who had lost almost every officer. "my lads," he said, "you'll follow me"; to which the sergeant-major, a man named jeffs, replied, "to h----, general, if you will lead us!" the wreck of vandeleur's brigade, too, charged down the slope more to the left; batteries were carried, cavalry squadrons smashed, and infantry battalions tumbled into ruin. napoleon had an entire light cavalry brigade still untouched; but this, too, was caught in the reflux of the broken masses, and swept away. the wreck of the old guard and the spectacle of the general advance of the british--cavalry, artillery, and infantry--seemed to be the signal for the dissolution of the whole french army. two squares of the french guard yet kept their formation. some squadrons of the th hussars, under major howard, rode fiercely at one. howard himself rode home, and died literally on the french bayonets; and his men rivalled his daring, and fought and died on two faces of the square. but the frenchmen kept their ranks, and the attack failed. the other square was broken. the popular tradition that cambronne, commanding a square of the old guard, on being summoned to surrender, answered, "la garde meurt, et ne se rend pas," is pure fable. as a matter of fact, halkett, who commanded a brigade of hanoverians, personally captured cambronne. halkett was heading some squadrons of the th, and noted cambronne trying to rally the guard. in his own words, "i made a gallop for the general. when about cutting him down, he called out he would surrender, upon which he preceded me to the rear. but i had not gone many paces before my horse got shot through his body and fell to the ground. in a few seconds i got him on his legs again, and found my friend cambronne had taken french leave in the direction from which he came. i instantly overtook him, laid hold of him by the aiguillette, and brought him back in safety, and gave him in charge of a sergeant of the osnabruckers to deliver to the duke." napoleon himself, from a spot of rising ground not far from la haye sainte, had watched the advance of his guard. his empire hung on its success. it was the last fling of the dice for him. his cavalry was wrecked, his infantry demoralised, half his artillery dismounted; the prussian guns were thundering with ever louder roar upon his right. if the guard succeeded, the electrifying thrill of victory would run through the army, and knit it into energy once more. but if the guard failed----! viii. the great defeat. "and while amid their scattered band raged the fierce riders' bloody brand, recoil'd in common rout and fear, lancer and guard and cuirassier, horsemen and foot--a mingled host, their leaders fall'n, their standards lost." --scott. napoleon watched the huge black echelon of battalions mount the slope, their right section crumbled under the rush of the british guards. colborne and the nd tumbled the left flank into ruin; the british cavalry swept down upon them. those who stood near napoleon watched his face. it became pale as death. "ils sont mêlés ensemble" ("they are mingled together"), he muttered to himself. he cast one hurried glance over the field, to right and left, and saw nothing but broken squadrons, abandoned batteries, wrecked infantry battalions. "tout est perdu," he said, "sauve qui peut," and, wheeling his horse, he turned his back upon his last battlefield. his star had set! napoleon's strategy throughout the brief campaign was magnificent; his tactics--the detailed handling of his troops on the actual battlefield--were wretched. "we were manoeuvred," says the disgusted marbot, "like so many pumpkins." napoleon was only forty-seven years old, but, as wolseley says, "he was no longer the thin, sleek, active little man he had been at rivoli. his now bloated face, large stomach, and fat and rounded legs bespoke a man unfitted for hard work on horseback." his fatal delay in pursuing blücher on the th, and his equally fatal waste of time in attacking wellington on the th, proved how his quality as a general had decayed. it is a curious fact that, during the battle of waterloo, napoleon remained for hours motionless at a table placed for him in the open air, often asleep, with his head resting on his arms. one reads with an odd sense of humour the answer which a dandy officer of the british life guards gave to the inquiry, "how he felt during the battle of waterloo?" he replied that he had felt "awfully bored"! that anybody should feel "bored" in the vortex of such a drama is wonderful; but scarcely so wonderful as the fact that the general of one of the two contending hosts found it possible to go to sleep during the crisis of the gigantic battle, on which hung his crown and fate. napoleon had lived too long for the world's happiness or for his own fame. the story here told is that of waterloo on its british side. no attempt is made to describe blücher's magnificent loyalty in pushing, fresh from the defeat of ligny, through the muddy cross-roads from wavre, to join wellington on the blood-stained field of waterloo. no account, again, is attempted of grouchy's wanderings into space, with , men and guns, lazily attacking thielmann's single corps at wavre, while blücher, with three divisions, was marching at speed to fling himself on napoleon's right flank at waterloo. it is idle to speculate on what would have happened to the british if the prussians had not made their movement on napoleon's right flank. the assured help of blücher was the condition upon which wellington made his stand at waterloo; it was as much part of his calculations as the fighting quality of his own infantry. a plain tale of british endurance and valour is all that is offered here; and what a head of wood and heart of stone any man of anglo-saxon race must have who can read such a tale without a thrill of generous emotion! waterloo was for the french not so much a defeat as a rout. napoleon's army simply ceased to exist. the number of its slain is unknown, for its records were destroyed. the killed and wounded in the british army reached the tragical number of nearly , . probably not less than between , and , slain or wounded human beings were scattered, the night following the battle, over the two or three square miles where the great fight had raged; and some of the wounded were lying there still, uncared for, four days afterwards. it is said that for years afterwards, as one looked over the waving wheat-fields in the valley betwixt mont st. jean and la belle alliance, huge irregular patches, where the corn grew rankest and was of deepest tint, marked the gigantic graves where, in the silence and reconciliation of death, slept wellington's ruddy-faced infantry lads and the grizzled veterans of the old guard. the deep cross-country road which covered wellington's front has practically disappeared; the belgians have cut away the banks to build up a huge pyramid, on the summit of which is perched a belgian lion, with tail erect, grinning defiance towards the french frontier. a lion is not exactly the animal which best represents the contribution the belgian troops made to waterloo. but still the field keeps its main outlines. to the left lies planchenoit, where wellington watched to see the white smoke of the prussian guns; opposite is the gentle slope down which d'erlon's troops marched to fling themselves on la haye sainte; and under the spectator's feet, a little to his left as he stands on the summit of the monument, is the ground over which life guards and inniskillings and scots greys galloped in the fury of their great charge. right in front is the path along which came milhaud's cuirassiers and kellerman's lancers, and friant's old guard, in turn, to fling themselves in vain on the obstinate squares and thin red line of the british. to the right is hougoumont, the orchard walls still pierced with loopholes made by the guards. a fragment of brick, blackened with the smoke of the great fight, is one of the treasures of the present writer. victors and vanquished alike have passed away, and, since the old guard broke on the slopes of mont st. jean, british and french have never met in the wrestle of battle. may they never meet again in that fashion! but as long as nations preserve the memory of the great deeds of their history, as long as human courage and endurance can send a thrill of admiration through generous hearts, as long as british blood beats in british veins, the story of the brave men who fought and died at their country's bidding at waterloo will be one of the great traditions of the english-speaking race. of wellington's part in the great fight it is difficult to speak in terms which do not sound exaggerated. he showed all the highest qualities of generalship, swift vision, cool judgment, the sure insight that forecasts each move on the part of his mighty antagonist, the unfailing resource that instantly devises the plan for meeting it. there is no need to dwell on wellington's courage; the rawest british militia lad on the field shared that quality with him. but in the temper of wellington's courage there was a sort of ice-clear quality that was simply marvellous. he visited every square and battery in turn, and was at every point where the fight was most bloody. every member of his staff, without exception, was killed or wounded, while it is curious to reflect that not a member of napoleon's staff was so much as touched. but the roar of the battle, with its swift chances of life and death, left wellington's intellect as cool, and his nerve as steady, as though he were watching a scene in a theatre. one of his generals said to him when the fight seemed most desperate, "if you should be struck, tell us what is your plan?" "my plan," said the duke, "consists in dying here to the last man." he told at a dinner-table, long after the battle, how, as he stood under the historic tree in the centre of his line, a scotch sergeant came up, told him he had observed the tree was a mark for the french gunners, and begged him to move from it. somebody at the table said, "i hope you did, sir?" "i really forget," said the duke, "but i know i thought it very good advice at the time." only twice during the day did wellington show any trace of remembering what may be called his personal interest in the fight. napoleon had called him "a sepoy general." "i will show him to-day," he said, just before the battle began, "how a sepoy general can defend himself." at night, again, as he sat with a few of his surviving officers about him at supper, his face yet black with the smoke of the fight, he repeatedly leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hands convulsively, and exclaiming aloud, "thank god! i have met him. thank god! i have met him." but wellington's mood throughout the whole of the battle was that which befitted one of the greatest soldiers war has ever produced in the supreme hour of his country's fate. the duke was amongst the leading files of the british line as they pushed the broken french guard down the slope, and some one begged him to remember what his life was worth, and go back. "the battle is won," said wellington; "my life doesn't matter now." dr. hulme, too, has told how he woke the duke early in the morning after the fight, his face grim, unwashed, and smoke-blackened, and read the list of his principal officers--name after name--dead or dying, until the hot tears ran, like those of a woman, down the iron visage of the great soldier. as napoleon in the gathering darkness galloped off the field, with the wreck and tumult of his shattered army about him, there remained to his life only those six ignoble years at st. helena. but wellington was still in his very prime. he was only forty-six years old, and there awaited him thirty-seven years of honoured life, till, "to the noise of the mourning of a mighty nation," he was laid beside nelson in the crypt of st. paul's, and tennyson sang his requiem:-- "o good grey head, which all men knew, o voice from which their omens all men drew, o iron nerve, to true occasion true; o fall'n at length that tower of strength which stood four-square to all the winds that blew." the night attack off cadiz "'captain,' they cry, 'the fight is done, they bid you send your sword!' and he answered, 'grapple her stern and bow. they have asked for the steel. they shall have it now; out cutlasses, and board!'" --kipling. on the morning of july , , a curious scene, which might almost be described as a sea comedy, was being transacted off the coast of alicante. three huge french line-of-battle ships were manoeuvring and firing round a tiny little british brig-of-war. it was like three mastiffs worrying a mouse. the brig was lord cochrane's famous little _speedy_, a craft so tiny that its commander could carry its entire broadside in his own pockets, and when he shaved himself in his cabin, had to put his head through the skylight and his shaving-box on the quarter-deck, in order to stand upright. cochrane was caught by admiral linois' squadron, consisting of two ships of eighty guns and one of seventy-four, on a lee shore, where escape was impossible; but from four o'clock till nine o'clock cochrane evaded all the efforts of his big pursuers to capture him. the french ships separated on different tacks, so as to keep the little _speedy_ constantly under the fire of one or the other; and as the british brig turned and dashed at one opening of the moving triangle or the other, the great ships thundered their broadsides at her. cochrane threw his guns and stores overboard, and by the most ingenious seamanship evaded capture for hours, surviving some scores of broadsides. he could tack far more quickly than the gigantic ships that pursued him, and again and again the _speedy_ spun round on its heel and shot off on a new course, leaving its particular pursuer with sheet shivering, and nothing but space to fire into. once, by a quick turn, he shot past one of the -gun ships occupied in trying to tack, and got clear. the _desaix_, however, a seventy-four, was swiftly on the track of the _speedy_; its tall canvas under the growing breeze gave it an advantage, and it ran down to within musket-shot of the _speedy_, then yawed, bringing its whole broadside to bear, intending to sink its tiny foe with a single discharge. in yawing, however, the _desaix_ shot a little too far, and the weight of her broadside only smote the water, but the scattered grape cut up the _speedy's_ rigging and canvas so terribly that nothing was left but surrender. when cochrane went on board his captor, its gallant captain refused to take his sword, saying he "could not accept the sword of an officer who had struggled for so many hours against impossibility." cochrane and his gallant crew were summarily packed into the frenchman's hold, and when the french in their turn were pursued by the british line-of-battle ships, as every broadside crashed on the hull of the ship that held them captive, cochrane and his men gave a round of exultant cheers, until the exasperated frenchmen threatened to shoot them unless they would hold their tongues--an announcement which only made the british sailors cheer a little louder. the fight between saumarez and linois ended with a tragedy; but it may be said to have begun with a farce. the presence of a french squadron in the straits of gibraltar at this particular moment may be explained in a few sentences. napoleon had woven afresh the web of those naval "combinations" so often torn to fragments by british seamanship and daring. he had persuaded or bullied spain into placing under the french flag a squadron of six line-of-battle ships, including two leviathans of guns each, lying in the harbour of cadiz. with haughty, it might almost be said with insolent daring, a couple of british seventy-fours--sometimes, indeed, only one--patrolled the entrance to cadiz, and blockaded a squadron of ten times their own force. napoleon's plan was to draw a strong french squadron, under admiral linois, from toulon, a second spanish squadron from ferrol, unite these with the ships lying in cadiz, and thus form a powerful fleet of at least fifteen ships of the line, with a garnishing of frigates. once having got his fleet, napoleon's imagination--which had a strong predatory bias--hesitated betwixt two uses to which it could be turned. one was to make a dash on lisbon, and require, under threat of an instant bombardment, the delivery of all british ships and goods lying there. this ingenious plan, it was reckoned, would fill french pockets with cash and adorn french brows with glory at one stroke. the amount of british booty at lisbon was computed--somewhat airily--at , , pounds; its disappearance would send half the mercantile houses of great britain into the insolvency court, and, to quote a french state paper on the subject, "our fleet, without being buffeted about the sea, would return to brest loaded with riches and covered with glory, and france would once more astonish europe." the alternative scheme was to transport some , new troops to egypt and restore french fortunes in that country. meanwhile great britain took energetic measures to wreck this new combination. sir james saumarez, in the _caesar_, of eighty guns, with six seventy-fours, was despatched to keep guard over cadiz; and he had scarcely reached his station there when a boat, pulling furiously over from gibraltar, reported that admiral linois' squadron had made its appearance off the rock, beating up westward. the sails of the _caesar_ were instantly swung round, a many-coloured flutter of bunting summoned the rest of the squadron to follow, and saumarez began his eager chase of the french, bearing away for the gut under a light north-west wind. but the breeze died down, and the current swept the straggling ships westward. all day they drifted helplessly, and the night only brought a breath of air sufficient to fan them through the straits. meanwhile linois had taken refuge in the tiny curve of the spanish coast known as the roadstead of algeciras. linois was, perhaps, the best french seaman of his day, having, it is true, very little french dash, but endowed with a wealth of cool resolution, and a genius for defensive warfare altogether admirable. algeciras gave linois exactly what he wanted, an almost unassailable position. the roadstead is open, shallow, and plentifully besprinkled with rocks, while powerful shore batteries covered the whole anchorage with their zone of fire. the french admiral anchored his ships at intervals of yards from each other, and so that the lines of fire from the batteries north and south crossed in front of his ships. the french squadron carried some troops, and these were at once landed, and, manning the batteries, raised them to a high degree of effectiveness. some fourteen heavy spanish gunboats added enormously to the strength of the french position. the french never doubted that saumarez would instantly attack; the precedents of the nile and of copenhagen were too recent to make any doubt possible. and saumarez did exactly what his enemies expected. algeciras, in fact, is the battle of the nile in miniature. but saumarez, though he had the swift daring of nelson, lacked his warlike genius. nelson, in aboukir bay, leaped without an instant's pause on the line of his enemy, but then he had his own ships perfectly in hand, and so made the leap effective. saumarez sent his ships into the fight headlong, and without the least regard to mutual support. at . on the morning of july , an uncertain gust of air carried the leading british ship, the _pompée_, round cabrita; hood, in the _venerable_, lay becalmed in the offing; the flagship, with the rest of the squadron, were mere pyramids of idle canvas on the rim of the horizon. the _pompée_ drifted down the whole french line, scorched with the fire of batteries and of gunboats, as well as by the broadsides of the great french ships, and at . dropped her anchor so close to the _formidable_--a ship much bigger than itself--that the frenchman's buoy lay outside her. then, deliberately clewing up her sails and tautening her springs, the _pompée_ opened a fire on her big antagonist so fierce, sustained, and deadly, that the latter found it intolerable, and began to warp closer to the shore. the _audacious_ and _venerable_ came slowly up into their assigned positions, and here was a spectacle of three british ships fighting four french ships and fourteen spanish gunboats, with heavy shore batteries manned by troops thrown into the scale! at this stage, too, the _pompée's_ springs gave way, or were shot away, the current swung her round till she lay head on to the broadside of her huge antagonist, while the batteries smote her with a deadly cross-fire. a little after ten o'clock the _caesar_ dropped anchor three cables' lengths from the _indomptable_, and opened a fire which the french themselves described as "tremendous" upon her antagonist. linois found the british fire too destructive, and signalled his ships to cut or slip their cables, calculating that a faint air from the sea, which was beginning to blow, would drift them closer under the shelter of the batteries. saumarez, too, noticed that his topsails were beginning to swell, and he instantly slipped his cable and endeavoured to close with the _indomptable_, signalling his ships to do the same. the british cables rattled hoarsely through their hawse-holes along the whole line, and the ships were adrift; but the breeze almost instantly died away, and on the strong coast current the british ships floated helplessly, while the fire from the great shore batteries, and from the steady french decks, now anchored afresh, smote them heavily in turn. the _pompée_ lay for an hour under a concentrated fire without being able to bring a gun to bear in return, and then summoned by signal the boats of the squadron to tow her off. saumarez, meanwhile, had ordered the _hannibal_, under captain ferris, to round the head of the french line and "rake the admiral's ship." ferris, by fine seamanship, partly sailed and partly drifted into the post assigned to him, and then grounded hopelessly, under a plunging fire from the shore batteries, within hail of the frenchman, itself also aground. a fire so dreadful soon reduced the unfortunate _hannibal_ to a state of wreck. boats from the _caesar_ and the _venerable_ came to her help, but ferris sent them back again. they could not help him, and should not share his fate. saumarez, as a last resource, prepared for a boat attack on the batteries, but in the whole squadron there were not enough uninjured boats to carry the marines. the british flagship itself was by this time well-nigh a wreck, and was drifting on the reefs. a flaw of wind from the shore gave the ships steerage-way, and saumarez drew off, leaving the _hannibal_ to its fate. ferris fought till his masts were gone, his guns dismounted, his bulwarks riddled, his decks pierced, and one-third of his crew killed or wounded. then he ordered the survivors to the lower decks, and still kept his flag flying for half-an-hour after the shot-torn sails of the shattered british ships had disappeared round cabrita. then he struck. here was a french triumph, indeed! a british squadron beaten off, a british seventy-four captured! it is said that when the news reached paris the city went half-mad with exultation. napoleon read the despatch to his ministers with eyes that danced, and almost wept, with mere gladness! the british squadron--officers and men in such a mood as may be imagined--put into gibraltar to refit; the _caesar_, with her mainmast shot through in five places, her boats destroyed, her hull pierced; while of the sorely battered _pompée_ it is recorded that she had "not a mast, yard-spar, shroud, rope, or sail" which was not damaged by hostile shot. linois, meanwhile, got his grounded ships and his solitary prize afloat, and summoned the cadiz squadron to join him. on the th these ships--six sail of the line, two of them giants of guns each, with three frigates--went triumphantly, with widespread canvas and many-coloured bunting, past gibraltar, where the shattered british squadron was lying, and cast anchor beside admiral linois in algeciras bay. the british were labouring, meanwhile, with fierce energy, to refit their damaged ships under shelter of the guns of gibraltar. the _pompée_ was practically destroyed, and her crew were distributed amongst the other ships. saumarez himself regarded the condition of his flagship as hopeless, but his captain, brenton, begged permission to at least attempt to refit her. he summoned his crew aft, and told the men the admiral proposed to leave the ship behind, and asked them "what they thought about it." the men gave a wrathful roar, punctuated, it is to be feared, with many sea-going expletives, and shouted, "all hands to work day and night till she's ready!" the whole crew, down to the very powder-boys, actually worked while daylight lasted, kept it up, watch and watch, through the night, and did this from the evening of the th to the noon of the th! probably no ship that ever floated was refitted in shorter time. in that brief period, to quote the "naval register," she "shifted her mainmast; fished and secured her foremast, shot through in several places; knotted and spliced the rigging, which had been cut to pieces, and bent new sails; plugged the shot-holes between wind and water; completed with stores of all kinds, anchors and cables, powder and shot, and provisions for four months." on sunday, july , , the french and spanish ships in algeciras bay weighed anchor, formed their line of battle as they came out, off cabrita point, and, stately and slow, with the two -gun spaniards as a rearguard, bore up for cadiz. an hour later the british ships warped out of the mole in pursuit. it was an amazing sight: a squadron of five sail of the line, which had been completely disabled in an action only five days before, was starting, fresh and refitted, in pursuit of a fleet double its own number, and more than double its strength! all gibraltar crowded to watch the ships as, one by one, they cleared the pier-head. the garrison band blew itself hoarse playing "britons, strike home," while the _caesar's_ band answered in strains as shrill with "come, cheer up, my lads, 'tis for glory we steer." both tunes, it may be added, were simply submerged beneath the cheers which rang up from mole-head and batteries and dock-walls. just as the _caesar_ drifted, huge and stately, past the pier-head, a boat came eagerly pulling up to her. it was crowded with jack-tars, with bandaged heads and swathed arms. a cluster of the _pompée's_ wounded, who escaped from the hospital, bribed a boatman to pull them out to the flagship, and clamoured to be taken on board! saumarez had strengthened his squadron by the addition of the _superb_, with the _thames_ frigate, and at twenty minutes to nine p.m., vainly searching the black horizon for the lights of the enemy, he hailed the _superb_, and ordered its captain, keats, to clap on all sail and attack the enemy directly he overtook them. saumarez, in a word, launched a single seventy-four against a fleet! keats was a daring sailor; his ship was, perhaps, the fastest british seventy-four afloat, and his men were instantly aloft spreading every inch of canvas. then, like a huge ghost, the _superb_ glided ahead and vanished in the darkness. the wind freshened; the blackness deepened; the lights of the british squadron died out astern. but a wide sprinkle of lights ahead became visible; it was the spanish fleet! eagerly the daring _superb_ pressed on, with slanting decks and men at quarters, but with lights hidden. at midnight the rear ships of the spanish squadron were under the larboard bow of the _superb_--two stupendous three-deckers, with lights gleaming through a hundred port-holes--while a french two-decker to larboard of both the spanish giants completed the line. keats, unseen and unsuspected, edged down with his solitary seventy-four, her heaviest guns only -pounders, on the quarter of the nearest three-decker. he was about to fling himself, in the gloom of the night, on three great ships, with an average of guns each! was ever a more daring feat attempted? silently through the darkness the _superb_ crept, her canvas glimmering ghostly white, till she was within some yards of the nearest spaniard. then out of the darkness to windward there broke on the astonished and drowsy spaniards a tempest of flame, a whirlwind of shot. thrice the _superb_ poured her broadside into the huge and staggering bulk of her antagonist. with the second broadside the spaniard's topmast came tumbling down; with the third, so close was the flame of the _superb's_ guns, the spanish sails--dry as touch-wood with lying for so many months in the sunshine of cadiz--took fire. meanwhile a dramatic incident occurred. the two great spaniards commenced to thunder their heavy broadsides into each other! many of the superb's shots had struck the second and more distant three-decker. cochrane, indeed, says that the _superb_ passed actually betwixt the two gigantic spaniards, fired a broadside, larboard and starboard, into both, and then glided on and vanished in the darkness. it is certain that the _san hermenegildo_, finding her decks torn by a hurricane of shot, commenced to fire furiously through the smoke and the night at the nearest lights. they were the lights of her own consort! she, in turn, fired at the flash of the guns tormenting her. so, under the black midnight skies, the two great spanish ships thundered at each other, flame answering flame. they drifted ever closer. the fire of the _real carlos_ kindled the sails of the sister ship; the flames leaped and danced to the very mast-heads; and, still engaged in a fiery wrestle, they blew up in succession, and out of their united crews of men only a little over were picked up! the _superb_, meanwhile, had glided ahead, leaving the three-deckers to destroy each other, and opened fire at pistol-shot distance on the french two-decker, and in thirty minutes compelled her to strike. in less than two hours of a night action, that is, this single english seventy-four had destroyed two spanish three-deckers of guns each, and captured a fine french battle-ship of guns! the british ships by this time were coming up in the rear, with every inch of canvas spread. they swept past the amazing spectacle of the two great spaniards destroying each other, and pressed on in chase of the enemy. the wind rose to a gale. in the grey dawn the _caesar_ found herself, with all her sister ships, far astern, except the _venerable_, under hood, which was hanging on the quarter of the rearmost french ship, the _formidable_, a magnificent ship of guns, with a gallant commander, and carrying quite too heavy metal for hood. hood, however, the most daring of men, exchanged broadsides at pistol-shot distance with his big antagonist, till his ship was dismasted, and was drifted by the current on the rocky shoals off san pedro. the _caesar_ came up in time to enable its disgusted crew to see ship after ship of the flying enemy disappear safely within the sheltering batteries of cadiz. trafalgar i. the strategy "uprose the soul of him a star on that brave day of ocean days; it rolled the smoke from trafalgar to darken austerlitz ablaze. are we the men of old, its light will point us under every sky the path he took; and must we fight, our nelson be our battle-cry! he leads: we hear our seaman's call in the roll of battles won; for he is britain's admiral till setting of her sun." --george meredith. that trafalgar was a great british victory, won by splendid seamanship and by magnificent courage, everybody knows. on october , , nelson, with twenty-seven line-of-battle ships, attacked villeneuve, in command of a combined fleet of thirty-three line-of-battle ships. the first british gun was fired at . o'clock; at o'clock the battle was over; and within those five hours the combined fleets of france and spain were simply destroyed. no fewer than eighteen ships of the line were captured, burnt, or sunk; the rest were in flight, and had practically ceased to exist as a fighting force. but what very few people realise is that trafalgar is only the last incident in a great strategic conflict--a warfare of brains rather than of bullets--which for nearly three years raged round a single point. for that long period the warlike genius of napoleon was pitted in strategy against the skill and foresight of a cluster of british sailors; and the sailors won. they beat napoleon at his own weapons. the french were not merely out-fought in the shock of battling fleets, they were out-generalled in the conflict of plotting and warlike brains which preceded the actual fight off cape trafalgar. the strategy which preceded trafalgar represents napoleon's solitary attempt to plan a great campaign on the tossing floor of the sea. "it has an interest wholly unique," says mahan, "as the only great naval campaign ever planned by this foremost captain of modern times." and it is a very marvellous fact that a cluster of british sailors--jervis and barham (a salt eighty years old) at the admiralty, cornwallis at brest, collingwood at cadiz, and nelson at toulon--guessed all napoleon's profound and carefully hidden strategy, and met it by even subtler plans and swifter resolves than those of napoleon himself. the five hours of gallant fighting off cape trafalgar fill us with exultant pride. but the intellectual duel which preceded the shock of actual battle, and which lasted for nearly three years, is, in a sense, a yet more splendid story. great britain may well honour her naval leaders of that day for their cool and profound strategy, as much as for the unyielding courage with which such a blockade as, say, that of brest by cornwallis was maintained for years, or such splendid daring as that which collingwood showed when, in the _royal sovereign_, he broke villeneuve's line at trafalgar. when in the war which brought to an end the brief peace of amiens broke out, napoleon framed a great and daring plan for the invasion of england. french plans for the invasion of england were somewhat numerous a century or so ago. the committee of public safety in , while keeping the guillotine busy in the place de la révolution, had its own little plan for extending the reign of terror, by means of an invasion, to england; and on may of that year solemnly appointed one of their number to represent the committee in england "when it was conquered." the member chosen was citizen bon saint andré, the same hero who, in the battle of the st of june, fled in terror to the refuge of the french flagship's cock-pit when the _queen charlotte_, with her triple lines of guns, came too alarmingly near. but napoleon's plans for the same object in were definite, formidable, profound. great britain was the one barrier in the path of his ambition. "buonaparte," says green, in his "short history of the english people," "was resolute to be master of the western world, and no notions of popular freedom or sense of popular right ever interfered with his resolve. . . . england was now the one country where freedom in any sense remained alive. . . . with the fall of england, despotism would have been universal throughout europe; and it was at england that buonaparte resolved to strike the first blow in his career of conquest. fifteen millions of people, he argued, must give way to forty millions." so he formed the vast camp at boulogne, in which were gathered , veterans. a great flotilla of boats was built, each boat being armed with one or two guns, and capable of carrying soldiers. more than of such boats were built, and concentrated along twenty miles of the channel coast, and at four different ports. a new port was dug at boulogne, to give shelter to the main division of this flotilla, and great and powerful batteries erected for its protection. the french soldiers were exercised in embarking and disembarking till the whole process could be counted by minutes. "let us," said napoleon, "be masters of the straits for six hours, and we shall be masters of the world." when since the days of william the conqueror were the shores of great britain menaced by such a peril? "there is no difficulty," said moltke, "in getting an army into england; the trouble would be to get it out again." and, no doubt, englishmen, fighting on their own soil and for their own hearths, would have given an invader a very rough time of it. but let it be remembered that napoleon was a military genius of the first order, and that the , soldiers waiting on the heights above boulogne to leap on british soil were, to quote mahan, "the most brilliant soldiery of all time." they were the men who afterwards won austerlitz, who struck down prussia with a single blow at jena, who marched as victors through the streets of vienna and of berlin, and fought their way to moscow. imagine such an army, with such a leader, landed on the green fields of kent! in that case there might have been an english austerlitz or friedland. london might have shared the fate of moscow. if napoleon had succeeded, the fate of the world would have been changed, and toronto and cape town, melbourne and sydney and auckland might have been ruled by french prefects. napoleon himself was confident of success. he would reach london, he calculated, within four days of landing, and then he would have issued decrees abolishing the house of lords, proclaiming a redistribution of property, and declaring england a republic. "you would never have burned your capital," he said to o'meara at st. helena; "you are too rich and fond of money." the london mob, he believed, would have joined him, for, as he cynically argued, "the _canaille_ of all nations are nearly alike." even napoleon would probably have failed, however, in subduing great britain, and would have remained a prisoner where he came intending to be a conqueror. as he himself said when a prisoner on his way to st. helena, "i entered into no calculation as to the manner in which i was to return"! but in the battles which must have been fought, how many english cities would have perished in flames, how many english rivers would have run red with the blood of slain men! "at waterloo," says alison, "england fought for victory; at trafalgar for existence." but "the streak of silver sea" guarded england, and for more than two years napoleon framed subtle plans and organised vast combinations which might give him that brief six hours' command of the strait which was all he needed, as he thought, to make himself the master of the world. the flotilla could not so much as get out of the ports, in which the acres of boats lay, in a single tide, and one half of the army of invasion must lie tossing--and, it may be suspected, dreadfully sea-sick--for hours outside these ports, waiting for the other half to get afloat. then there remained forty miles of sea to cross. and what would happen if, say, nelson and collingwood, with a dozen -gun ships, got at work amongst the flotilla? it would be a combat between wolves and sheep. it was nelson's chief aspiration to have the opportunity of "trying napoleon on a wind," and the attempt to cross the straits might have given him that chance. all napoleon's resources and genius were therefore strained to give him for the briefest possible time the command of the channel; and the skill and energy of the british navy were taxed to the utmost to prevent that consummation. now, france, as a matter of fact, had a great fleet, but it was scattered, and lying imprisoned, in fragments, in widely separated ports. there were twelve ships of the line in toulon, twenty in brest, five in rochefort, yet other five in ferrol; and the problem for napoleon was, somehow, to set these imprisoned squadrons free, and assemble them for twenty-four hours off boulogne. the british policy, on the other hand, was to maintain a sleepless blockade of these ports, and keep the french fleet sealed up in scattered and helpless fragments. the battle for the straits of dover, the british naval chiefs held, must be fought off brest and ferrol and toulon; and never in the history of the world were blockades so vigilant, and stern, and sleepless maintained. nelson spent two years battling with the fierce north-westers of the gulf of lyons, keeping watch over a great french squadron in toulon, and from may to august left his ship only three times, and for less than an hour on each occasion. the watch kept by cornwallis off brest, through summer and winter, for nearly three years, mahan declares, has never, for constancy and vigilance, been excelled, perhaps never equalled, in the history of blockades. the hardship of these long sea-watches was terrible. it was waging an fight with weariness and brain-paralysing monotony, with cold and scurvy and tempest, as well as with human foes. collingwood was once twenty-two months at sea without dropping anchor. in seventeen years of sea service--between and --he was only twelve months in england. the wonder is that the seamen of that day did not grow web-footed, or forget what solid ground felt like! collingwood tells his wife in one letter that he had "not seen a green leaf on a tree" for fourteen months! by way of compensation, these long and stern blockades developed such a race of seamen as perhaps the world has never seen before or since; exhaustless of resource, hardy, tireless, familiar with every turn of sea life, of iron frame and an iron courage which neither tempest nor battle could shake. great britain, as a matter of fact, won her naval battles, not because she had better ships or heavier guns than her enemies, but only because she trained a finer race of seamen. says brenton, himself a gallant sailor of the period, "i have seen spanish line-of-battle ships twenty-four hours unmooring; as many minutes are sufficient for a well-manned british ship to perform the same operation. when, on any grand ceremony, they found it necessary to cross their top-gallant yards in harbour, they began the day before; we cross ours in one minute from the deck." but it was these iron blockades that in the long-run thwarted the plans of napoleon and changed the fate of the world. cornwallis off brest, collingwood off rochefort, pellew off ferrol, nelson before toulon, fighting the wild gales of the bay of biscay and the fierce north-westers of the gulf of lyons, in what mahan calls "that tremendous and sustained vigilance which reached its utmost tension in the years preceding trafalgar," really saved england. "those far-distant, storm-beaten ships, upon which the grand army never looked," says mahan, "stood between it and the dominion of the world." an intellect so subtle and combative as napoleon's was, of course, strained to the utmost to break or cheat the british blockades, and the story of the one crafty ruse after another which he employed to beguile the british leaders is very remarkable. even more remarkable, perhaps, is the manner in which these plain-minded, business-like british seamen, for whose mental powers napoleon cherished the deepest contempt, fathomed his plans and shattered his combinations. napoleon's first plot was decidedly clever. he gathered in brest , troops, ostensibly for a descent upon ireland. this, he calculated, would preoccupy cornwallis, and prevent him moving. the toulon fleet was to run out with the first north-west wind, and, as long as a british look-out ship was in sight, would steer east, as though making for egypt; but when beyond sight of british eyes the fleet was to swing round, run through the straits, be joined off cadiz by the rochefort squadron, and sweep, a great fleet of at least sixteen sail of the line, past the scilly islands to boulogne. napoleon calculated that nelson would be racing in the direction of egypt, cornwallis would be redoubling his vigilance before brest, at the exact moment the great boulogne flotilla was carrying its , invading frenchmen to dover! napoleon put the one french admiral as to whose resolve and daring he was sure--latouche treville--in command of the toulon fleet; but before the moment for action came treville died, and napoleon had to fall back upon a weaker man, villeneuve. he changed his plans to suit the qualities of his new admiral--the toulon and rochefort squadrons were to break out, sail separately to a rendezvous in the west indies, and, once joined, spread havoc through the british possessions there. "i think," wrote napoleon, "that the sailing of these twenty ships of the line will oblige the english to despatch over thirty in pursuit." so the blockades everywhere would be weakened, and the toulon and rochefort squadrons, doubling back to europe, were to raise the blockade off ferrol and brest, and the brest squadron was to land , troops, under augereau, in ireland, while the grand army of boulogne was to cross the straits, with napoleon at its head. thus great britain and ireland would be invaded simultaneously. the trouble was to set the scheme going by the release of the toulon and rochefort squadrons. nelson's correspondence shows that he guessed napoleon's strategy. if the toulon fleet broke loose, he wrote, he was sure its course would be held for the atlantic, and thither he would follow it. in the meanwhile he kept guard so steadfastly that the great french strategy could not get itself started. in december war broke out betwixt britain and spain, and this gave napoleon a new ally and a new fleet. napoleon found he had nearly sixty line-of-battle ships, french or spanish, to weave into his combinations, and he framed--to use mahan's words--"upon lines equal, both in boldness and scope, to those of the marengo and austerlitz campaigns, the immense strategy which resulted in trafalgar." the toulon and rochefort squadrons, as before, were to break out separately, rendezvous in the west indies, return by a different route to european waters, pick up the french and spanish ships in ferrol, and then sweep through the narrow seas. the rochefort squadron duly escaped; villeneuve, too, in command of the toulon squadron, aided by the weather, evaded nelson's watchfulness and disappeared towards the east. nelson, however, suspected the real plan, and with fine insight took up a position which must have intercepted villeneuve; but that admiral found the weather too rough for his ships, and ran back into toulon. "these gentlemen," said nelson, "are not accustomed to a gulf of lyons gale. we have faced them for twenty-one months, and not lost a spar!" the rochefort squadron was, of course, left by its own success wandering in space, a mere cluster of sea-vagrants. by march , napoleon had a new combination prepared. in the ports between brest and toulon were scattered no less than sixty-seven french or spanish ships of the line. ganteaume, with his squadron, was to break out from brest; villeneuve, with his, from toulon; both fleets were to rendezvous at martinique, return by an unusual route, and appear off boulogne, a great fleet of thirty-five french ships of the line. about the end of june the toulon fleet got safely out--nelson being, for once, badly served by his frigates--picked up additional ships off cadiz, and disappeared on its route to the west indies. nelson, misled by false intelligence, first went eastward, then had to claw back through the straits of gibraltar in the teeth of strong westerly gales, and plunged over the horizon in fierce pursuit of villeneuve. but the watch kept by cornwallis over ganteaume in brest was so close and stern that escape was impossible, and one-half of napoleon's combination broke down. napoleon despatched swift ships on villeneuve's track, summoning him back to ferrol, where he would find a squadron of fifteen french and spanish ships ready to join him. villeneuve, napoleon believed, had thoroughly deceived nelson. "those boasted english," he wrote, "who claim to know of everything, know nothing of it," _i.e._ of villeneuve's escape and course. but the "boasted english," as a matter of fact, did know all about it, and in place of weakening their forces in the bay of biscay, strengthened them. meanwhile nelson, with ten ships of the line, was hard on the track of villeneuve with eighteen. at barbadoes, nelson was sent a hundred miles out of his course by false intelligence, and that hundred miles just enabled villeneuve to double back towards europe. nelson divined this plan, and followed him with the fiercest energy, sending off, meanwhile, his fastest brig to warn the admiralty. villeneuve, if he picked up the ferrol and rochefort squadrons, would arrive off brest with forty line-of-battle ships; if he raised the blockade, and added ganteaume's squadron to his own, he might appear off boulogne with sixty great ships! napoleon calculated on british blunders to aid him. "we have not to do with a far-sighted, but with a very proud government," he wrote. the blunder napoleon hoped the british admiralty would make was that of weakening the blockading squadrons in order to pursue villeneuve's fleet, and thus release the imprisoned french squadrons, making a great concentration possible. but this was exactly the blunder into which the admiralty refused to be tempted. when the news that villeneuve was on his way back to europe reached the admiralty, the first lord, barham, an old sailor, eighty years of age, without waiting to dress himself, dictated orders which, without weakening the blockades at any vital point, planted a fleet, under sir robert calder, west of finisterre, and right in villeneuve's track; and if calder had been nelson, trafalgar might have been fought on july , instead of october . calder fought, and captured two of villeneuve's ships, but failed to prevent the junction of villeneuve's fleet with the squadron in ferrol, and was court-martialled for his failure--victory though he called it. but this partial failure does not make less splendid the promptitude shown by the british admiralty. "the english admiralty," napoleon reasoned, "could not decide the movements of its squadron in twenty-four hours." as a matter of fact, barham decided the british strategy in almost as many minutes! meanwhile nelson had reached the scene; and, like his ship, worn out with labours, sailed for portsmouth, for what proved his last visit to england. on august , villeneuve sailed from ferrol with twenty-nine ships. he had his choice between brest, where cornwallis was keeping guard, with boulogne beyond, and where napoleon was watching eagerly for the white topsails of his fleet; or cadiz, where collingwood with a tiny squadron held the spanish fleet strictly bottled up. villeneuve's true course was boulogne, but cornwallis lay in his path with over thirty sail of the line, and villeneuve's nerve failed him. on august he swung round and bore up for cadiz; and with the turn of the helm which swung villeneuve's ship away from boulogne, napoleon's last chance of invading england vanished. villeneuve pushed collingwood's tiny squadron aside and entered cadiz, where the combined fleet now numbered nearly forty ships of the line, and collingwood, with delightful coolness, solemnly resumed his blockade--four ships, that is, blockading forty! napoleon gave way to a tempest of rage when his fleet failed to appear off boulogne, and he realised that the british sailors he despised had finally thwarted his strategy. a french writer has told how daru, his secretary, found him walking up and down his cabinet with agitated steps. with a voice that shook, and in half-strangled exclamations, he cried, "what a navy! what sacrifices for nothing! what an admiral! all hope is gone! that villeneuve, instead of entering the channel, has taken refuge in ferrol. it is all over. he will be blockaded there." then with that swift and terrible power of decision in which he has never been surpassed, he flung the long-cherished plan of invading england out of his brain, and dictated the orders which launched his troops on the road which led to austerlitz and jena, and, beyond, to the flames of moscow and the snows of the great retreat, and which finally led napoleon himself to st. helena. villeneuve's great fleet meanwhile lay idle in cadiz, till, on october , the ill-fated french admiral led his ships out to meet nelson in his last great sea-fight. ii. how the fleets met "wherever the gleams of an english fire on an english roof-tree shine, wherever the fire of a youth's desire is laid upon honour's shrine, wherever brave deeds are treasured and told, in the tale of the deeds of yore, like jewels of price in a chain of gold are the name and the fame he bore. wherever the track of our english ships lies white on the ocean foam, his name is sweet to our english lips as the names of the flowers at home; wherever the heart of an english boy grows big with a deed of worth, such names as his name have begot the same, such hearts will bring it to birth." --e. nesbit. it was the night of october , , a night moonless and black. in the narrow waters at the western throat of the straits of gibraltar, at regular intervals of three minutes through the whole night, the deep voice of a gun broke out and swept, a pulse of dying sound, almost to either coast, while at every half-hour a rocket soared aloft and broke in a curve of stars in the black sky. it was one of nelson's repeating frigates signalling to the british fleet, far off to the south-west, villeneuve's movements. nelson for more than a week had been trying to daintily coax villeneuve out of cadiz, as an angler might try to coax a much-experienced trout from the cool depths of some deep pool. he kept the main body of his fleet sixty leagues distant--west of cape st. mary--but kept a chain of frigates within signalling distance of each other betwixt cadiz and himself. he allowed the news that he had detached five of his line-of-battle ships on convoy duty to the eastward to leak through to the french admiral, but succeeded in keeping him in ignorance of the fact that he had called in under his flag five ships of equal force from the westward. on october , villeneuve, partly driven by hunger, and by the news that a successor was on the road from paris to displace him, and partly tempted by the belief that he had before him a british fleet of only twenty-one ships of the line, crept out of cadiz with thirty-three ships of the line--of which three were three-deckers--and seven frigates. nelson had twenty-seven sail of the line with four frigates. the wind was light, and all through the th, villeneuve's fleet, formed in seven columns--the _santissima trinidad_ towering like a giant amongst them--moved slowly eastward. nelson would not alarm his foe by making too early an appearance over the sky-line. his frigates signalled to him every few minutes, through sixty miles of sea-air, the enemy's movements; but nelson himself held aloof till villeneuve was too far from cadiz to make a dash back to it and safety. all through the night of the th, villeneuve's great fleet--a procession of mighty phantoms--was dimly visible against the spanish coast, and the british frigates sent the news in alternate pulses of sound and flame to nelson, by this time eagerly bearing up from cape st. mary. the morning of the st broke misty, yet bright. the sea was almost like a floor of glass. the faintest of sea-airs blew. a lazy atlantic swell rolled at long intervals towards the straits, and the two fleets at last were visible to each other. villeneuve's ships stretched a waving and slightly curved line, running north and south, with no regularity of order. the british fleet, in two compact and parallel columns, half a mile apart, came majestically on from the west. the ships in each column followed each other so closely that sometimes the bow of one was thrust past the quarter of the ship in advance of it. nelson, in the _victory_, headed one column, collingwood, in the _royal sovereign_, led the other, and each flagship, it was to be noted, led with a clear interval between itself and its supports. villeneuve had a tactician's brain, and his battle-plan was admirable. in a general order, issued just before leading out his fleet, he told his captains, "there is nothing to alarm us in the sight of an english fleet. their -gun ships have not men on board; they are not more brave than we are; they are harassed by a two-years' cruise; they have fewer motives to fight well!" villeneuve explained that the enemy would attack in column, the french would meet the attack in close line of battle; and, with a touch of nelson's spirit, he urged his captains to take every opportunity of boarding, and warned them that every ship not under fire would be counted a defaulter. nelson's plan was simple and daring. the order of sailing was to be the order of battle. collingwood leading one column, and he the other, would pierce the enemy's lines at points which would leave some twelve of the enemy's ships to be crushed betwixt the two british lines. nelson, whose brooding genius forecast every changing eddy of battle, gave minute instructions on a score of details. to prevent mistakes amid the smoke and the fight, for example, he had the hoops on the masts of every british ship painted yellow; every ship was directed to fly a st. george's ensign, with the union jack at the fore-topmast, and another flying from the top-gallant stays. that he would beat the enemy's fleet he calmly took for granted, but he directed that every effort should be made to capture its commander-in-chief. nelson crowned his instructions with the characteristic remark, that "in case signals were obscure, no captain can do wrong if he places his ship alongside of an enemy." [illustration: the attack at trafalgar, october st, . five minutes past noon. from mahan's "life of nelson."] by twelve o'clock the two huge fleets were slowly approaching each other: the british columns compact, grim, orderly; the franco-spanish line loose, but magnificently picturesque, a far-stretching line of lofty hulls, a swaying forest of sky-piercing masts. they still preserve the remark of one prosaic british sailor, who, surveying the enemy through an open port, offered the comment, "what a fine sight, bill, yon ships would make at spithead!" it is curious to reflect how exactly both british and french invert on sea their land tactics. french infantry attack in column, and are met by british infantry in line; and the line, with its steadfast courage and wide front of fire, crushes the column. on sea, on the other hand, the british attack in column, and the french meet the attack in line; but the column wins. but it must be admitted that the peril of this method of attack is enormous. the leading ship approaches, stern on, to a line of fire which, if steady enough, may well crush her by its concentration of flame. attack in column, in fact, means that the leading ships are sacrificed to secure victory for the ships in the rear. the risks of this method of attack at trafalgar were enormously increased by the light and uncertain quality of the wind. collingwood, in the _royal sovereign_, and nelson, in the _victory_, as a matter of fact, drifted slowly rather than sailed, stern on to the broadsides of their enemy. the leading british ships, with their stately heights of swelling canvas, moved into the raking fire of the far-stretching franco-spanish line at a speed of about two knots an hour. his officers knew that nelson's ship, carrying the flag of the commander-in-chief, as it came slowly on, would be the mark for every french gunner, and must pass through a tempest of flame before it could fire a shot in reply; and blackwood begged nelson to let the _téméraire_--"the fighting _téméraire_"--take the _victory's_ place at the head of the column. "oh yes, let her go ahead," answered nelson, with a queer smile; and the _téméraire_ was hailed, and ordered to take the lead. but nelson meant that the _téméraire_ should take the _victory's_ place only if she could, and he watched grimly to see that not a sheet was let fly or a sail shortened to give the _téméraire_ a chance of passing; and so the _victory_ kept its proud and perilous lead. collingwood led the lee division, and had the honour of beginning the mighty drama of trafalgar. the _royal sovereign_ was newly coppered, and, with every inch of canvas outspread, got so far ahead of her followers, that after collingwood had broken into the french line, he sustained its fire, unhelped, for nearly twenty minutes before the _belleisle_, the ship next following, could fire a gun for his help. of collingwood, thackeray says, "i think, since heaven made gentlemen, it never made a better one than cuthbert collingwood," and there was, no doubt, a knightly and chivalrous side to collingwood worthy of king arthur's round table. but there was also a side of heavy-footed common-sense, of dutch-like frugality, in collingwood, a sort of wooden-headed unimaginativeness which looks humorous when set against the background of such a planet-shaking fight as trafalgar. thus on the morning of the fight he advised one of his lieutenants, who wore a pair of boots, to follow his example and put on stockings and shoes, as, in the event of being shot in the leg, it would, he explained, "be so much more manageable for the surgeon." and as he walked the break of his poop in tights, silk stockings, and buckled shoes, leading, in his single ship, an attack on a fleet, he calmly munched an apple. to be able to munch an apple when beginning trafalgar is an illustration of what may be called the quality of wooden-headed unimaginativeness in collingwood. and yet collingwood had a sense of the scale of the drama in which he was taking part. "now, gentlemen," he said to his officers, "let us do something to-day which the world may talk of hereafter." collingwood, in reality, was a great man and a great seaman, and in the battle which followed he "fought like an angel," to quote the amusingly inappropriate metaphor of blackwood. the two majestic british columns moved slowly on, the great ships, with ports hauled up and guns run out, following each other like a procession of giants. "i suppose," says codrington, who commanded the _orion_, "no man ever before saw such a sight." and the element of humour was added to the scene by the spectacle of the tiny _pickle_, a duodecimo schooner, gravely hanging on to the quarter of an -gun ship--as an actor in the fight describes it--"with the boarding-nettings up, and her tompions out of her four guns--about as large and as formidable as two pairs of wellington boots." collingwood bore down to the fight a clear quarter of a mile ahead of the next ship. the fire of the enemy, like so many spokes of flame converging to a centre, broke upon him. but in silence the great ship moved ahead to a gap in the line between the _santa anna_, a huge black hulk of guns, and the _neptune_, of . as the bowsprit of the _royal sovereign_ slowly glided past the stern of the _santa anna_, collingwood, as nelson had ordered all his captains, cut his studding-sails loose, and they fell, a cloud of white canvas, into the water. then as the broadside of the _royal sovereign_ fairly covered the stern of the _santa anna_, collingwood spoke. he poured with deadly aim and suddenness, and at pistol-shot distance, his whole broadside into the spaniard's stern. the tempest of shot swept the unhappy _santa anna_ from end to end, and practically destroyed that vessel. some of its crew are said to have been killed or wounded by that single discharge! at the same moment collingwood discharged his other broadside at the _neptune_, though with less effect; then swinging round broadside to broadside on the spanish ship, he swept its decks again and again with his guns. the first broadside had practically done the spaniard's business; but its captain, a gallant man, still returned what fire he could. all the enemy's ships within reach of collingwood had meanwhile opened on him a dreadful fire; no fewer than five line-of-battle ships were emptying their guns upon the _royal sovereign_ at one time, and it seemed marvellous that the british ship was not shattered to mere splinters by the fire poured from so many quarters upon her. it was like being in the heart of a volcano. frequently, it is said, the british saw the flying cannon-balls meet in mid-air. the seamen fell fast, the sails were torn, the bulwarks shattered, the decks ran red with blood. it was at that precise moment, however, that collingwood said to his captain, "what would not nelson give to be here!" while at the same instant nelson was saying to hardy, "see how that noble fellow collingwood takes his ship into action!" the other ships of collingwood's column were by this time slowly drifting into the fight. at a quarter past twelve the _belleisle_, the next ship, ranged under the stern of the unfortunate _santa anna_, and fired her larboard guns, double shotted, into that ship, with the result that her three masts fell over the side. she then steered for the _indomptable_, an -gun ship, and sustained at the same moment the fire of two spanish seventy-fours. ship after ship of collingwood's column came steadily up, and the roar of the battle deepened as in quick-following crashes each new line-of-battle ship broke into the thunder of broadsides. nelson, leading the weather column, steered a trifle to the northward, as the slowly moving line of the enemy pointed towards cadiz. nelson had given his last orders. at his mainmast head was flying, fast belayed, the signal, "engage the enemy more closely." nelson himself walked quietly to and fro on the little patch of clear plank, scarcely seven yards long, on the quarter-deck of the _victory_, whence he could command the whole ship, and he wore the familiar threadbare frock uniform coat, bearing on the left breast four tarnished and lack-lustre stars. then came the incident of the immortal signal. "we must give the fleet," said nelson to blackwood, "something by way of a fillip." after musing a while, he said, "suppose we signal, 'nelson confides that every man will do his duty'?" some one suggested "england" instead of "nelson," and nelson at once caught at the improvement. the signal-officer explained that the word "confide" would have to be spelt, and suggested instead the word "expects," as that was in the vocabulary. so the flags on the masthead of the _victory_ spelt out the historic sentence to the slowly moving fleet. that the signal was "received with cheers" is scarcely accurate. the message was duly acknowledged, and recorded in the log of every ship, but perhaps not one man in every hundred of the actors at trafalgar knew at the moment that it had been sent. but the message rings in british ears yet, across ninety years, and will ring in the ears of generations yet unborn. nelson led his column on a somewhat slanting course into the fight. he was bent on laying himself alongside the flagship of the enemy, and he knew that this must be one of the three great line-of-battle ships near the huge _santissima trinidad_. but there was no sign to show which of the three carried villeneuve. at half-past twelve the ships upon which the _victory_ was moving began to fire single shots at her slowly drifting hulk to discover whether she was within range. the seventh of these shots, fired at intervals of a minute or so, tore a rent through the upper canvas of the _victory_--a rent still to be seen in the carefully preserved sail. a couple of minutes of awful silence followed. slowly the _victory_ drifted on its path, and then no fewer than eight of the great ships upon which the _victory_ was moving broke into such a tempest of shot as perhaps never before was poured on a single ship. one of the first shots killed scott, nelson's secretary; another cut down eight marines standing in line on the _victory's_ quarter-deck; a third passed between nelson and hardy as they stood side by side. "too warm work to last long, hardy," said nelson, with a smile. still the _victory_ drifted majestically on its fiery path without an answering gun. the french line was irregular at this point, the ships lying, in some instances, two or three deep, and this made the business of "cutting" the line difficult. as nelson could not pick out the french flagship, he said to hardy, "take your choice, go on board which you please;" and hardy pointed the stern of the victory towards a gap between the _redoutable_, a -gun ship, and the _bucentaure_. but the ship moved slowly. the fire upon it was tremendous. one shot drove a shower of splinters upon both nelson and hardy; nearly fifty men and officers had been killed or wounded; the victory's sails were riddled, her studding-sail booms shot off close to the yard-arm, her mizzen-topmast, shot away. at one o'clock, however, the _victory_ slowly moved past the stern of the _bucentaure_, and a -pounder carronade on its forecastle, charged with a round shot and a keg of musket balls, was fired into the cabin windows of the french ship. then, as the great ship moved on, every gun of the remaining fifty that formed its broadside--some of them double and treble loaded--was fired through the frenchman's cabin windows. the dust from the crumpled woodwork of the _bucentaure's_ stern covered the persons of nelson and the group of officers standing on the _victory's_ quarter-deck, while the british sailors welcomed with a fierce shout the crash their flying shot made within the frenchman's hull. the _bucentaure_, as it happened--though nelson was ignorant of the fact--was the french flagship; and after the battle its officers declared that by this single broadside, out of its crew of nearly men, nearly were struck down, and no less than twenty guns dismounted! but the _neptune_, a fine french -gun ship, lay right across the water-lane up which the _victory_ was moving, and it poured upon the british ship two raking broadsides of the most deadly quality. the _victory_, however, moved on unflinchingly, and the _neptune_, fearing to be run aboard by the british ship, set her jib and moved ahead; then the _victory_ swung to starboard on to the _redoutable_. the french ship fired one hurried broadside, and promptly shut her lower-deck ports, fearing the british sailors would board through them. no fewer, indeed, than five french line-of-battle ships during the fight, finding themselves grinding sides with british ships, adopted the same course--an expressive testimony to the enterprising quality of british sailors. the _victory_, however, with her lower-deck guns actually touching the side of the _redoutable_, still kept them in full and quick action; but at each of the lower-deck ports stood a sailor with a bucket of water, and when the gun was fired--its muzzle touching the wooden sides of the _redoutable_--the water was dashed upon the ragged hole made by the shot, to prevent the frenchman taking fire and both ships being consumed. the guns on the upper deck of the _victory_ speedily swept and silenced the upper deck of the _redoutable_, and as far as its broadsides were concerned, that ship was helpless. its tops, however, were crowded with marksmen, and armed with brass coehorns, firing langrage shot, and these scourged with a pitiless and most deadly fire the decks of the _victory_, while the _bucentaure_ and the gigantic _santissima trinidad_ also thundered on the british flagship. iii. how the victory was won "all is over and done. render thanks to the giver; england, for thy son let the bell be toll'd. render thanks to the giver, and render him to the mould. under the cross of gold that shines over city and river, there he shall rest for ever among the wise and the bold." --tennyson. nelson's strategy at trafalgar is described quaintly, but with real insight, in a sentence which a spanish novelist, don perez galdos, puts into the mouth of one of his characters: "nelson, who, as everybody knows, was no fool, saw our long line and said, 'ah, if i break through that in two places, and put the part of it between the two places between two fires, i shall grab every stick of it.' that was exactly what the confounded fellow did. and as our line was so long that the head couldn't help the tail, he worried us from end to end, while he drove his two wedges into our body." it followed that the flaming vortex of the fight was in that brief mile of sea-space, between the two points where the parallel british lines broke through villeneuve's swaying forest of masts. and the tempest of sound and flame was fiercest, of course, round the two ships that carried the flags of nelson and collingwood. as each stately british liner, however, drifted--rather than sailed--into the black pall of smoke, the roar of the fight deepened and widened until the whole space between the _royal sovereign_ and the _victory_ was shaken with mighty pulse-beats of sound that marked the furious and quick-following broadsides. the scene immediately about the _victory_ was very remarkable. the _victory_ had run foul of the _redoutable_, the anchors of the two ships hooking into each other. the concussion of the broadsides would, no doubt, have driven the two hulls apart, but that the _victory's_ studding-sail boom iron had fastened, like a claw, into the leech of the frenchman's fore-topsail. the _téméraire_, coming majestically up through the smoke, raked the _bucentaure_, and closed with a crash on the starboard side of the _redoutable_, and the four great ships lay in a solid tier, while between their huge grinding sides came, with a sound and a glare almost resembling the blast of an exploding mine, the flash, the smoke, the roar of broadside after broadside. in the whole heroic fight there is no finer bit of heroism than that shown by the _redoutable_. she was only a -gun ship, and she had the _victory_, of guns, and the _téméraire_, of , on either side. it is true these ships had to fight at the same time with a whole ring of antagonists; nevertheless, the fire poured on the _redoutable_ was so fierce that only courage of a steel-like edge and temper could have sustained it. the gallant french ship was semi-dismasted, her hull shot through in every direction, one-fourth of her guns were dismounted. out of a crew of , no fewer than were killed or wounded. only , indeed, lived to reach england as prisoners. and yet she fought on. the fire from her great guns, indeed, soon ceased, but the deadly splutter of musketry from such of her tops as were yet standing was maintained; and, as brenton put it, "there was witnessed for nearly an hour and a half the singular spectacle of a french -gun ship engaging a british first and second rate, with small-arms only." as a matter of fact, the _victory_ repeatedly ceased firing, believing that the _redoutable_ had struck, but still the venomous and deadly fire from the tops of that vessel continued; and it was to this circumstance, indeed, that nelson owed his death. he would never put small-arms men in his own tops, as he believed their fire interfered with the working of the sails, and, indeed, ran the risk of igniting them. thus the french marksmen that crowded the tops of the _redoutable_ had it all their own way; and as the distance was short, and their aim deadly, nearly every man on the poop, quarter-deck, and forecastle of the _victory_ was shot down. nelson, with hardy by his side, was walking backwards and forwards on a little clear space of the _victory's_ quarter-deck, when he suddenly swung round and fell face downwards on the deck. hardy picked him up. "they have done for me at last, hardy," said nelson; "my backbone is shot through." a musket bullet from the _redoutable's_ mizzen-top--only fifteen yards distant--had passed through the forepart of the epaulette, smashed a path through the left shoulder, and lodged in the spine. the evidence seems to make it clear that it was a chance shot that wrought the fatal mischief. hardy had twice the bulk of nelson's insignificant figure, and wore a more striking uniform, and would certainly have attracted the aim of a marksman in preference to nelson. few stories are more pathetic or more familiar than that of nelson's last moments. as they carried the dying hero across the blood-splashed decks, and down the ladders into the cock-pit, he drew a handkerchief over his own face and over the stars on his breast, lest the knowledge that he was struck down should discourage his crew. he was stripped, his wound probed, and it was at once known to be mortal. nelson suffered greatly; he was consumed with thirst, had to be fanned with sheets of paper; and he kept constantly pushing away the sheet, the sole covering over him, saying, "fan, fan," or "drink, drink," and one attendant was constantly employed in drawing the sheet over his thin limbs and emaciated body. presently hardy, snatching a moment from the fight raging on the deck, came to his side, and the two comrades clasped hands. "well, hardy, how goes the battle?" nelson asked. he was told that twelve or fourteen of the enemy's ships had struck. "that is well," said nelson, "but i had bargained for twenty." then his seaman's brain forecasting the change of weather, and picturing the battered ships with their prizes on a lee shore, he exclaimed emphatically, "anchor! hardy, anchor!" hardy hinted that collingwood would take charge of affairs. "not while i live, i hope, hardy," said the dying chief, trying to raise himself on his bed. "no! do you anchor, hardy." many of nelson's expressions, recorded by his doctor, beatty, are strangely touching. "i am a dead man, hardy," he said, "i am going fast. it will all be over with me soon." "o _victory_, _victory_," he said, as the great ship shook to the roar of her own guns, "how you distract my poor brain!" "how dear is life to all men!" he said, after a pause. he begged that "his carcass might be sent to england, and not thrown overboard." so in the dim cock-pit, with the roar of the great battle--bellow of gun, and shout of cheering crews--filling all the space about him, and his last thoughts yet busy for his country, the soul of the greatest british seaman passed away. "kiss me, hardy," was one of his last sentences. his last intelligible sentence was, "i have done my duty; i praise god for it." it may interest many to read the prayer which nelson wrote--the last record, but one, he made in his diary--and written as the final act of preparation for trafalgar: "may the great god, whom i worship, grant to my country, and for the benefit of europe in general, a great and glorious victory; and may no misconduct in any one tarnish it; and may humanity after victory be the predominant feature in the british fleet. for myself individually, i commit my life to him that made me, and may his blessing alight on my endeavours for serving my country faithfully. to him i resign myself, and the just cause which is entrusted to me to defend. amen, amen, amen." nelson's plan allowed his captains a large discretion in the choice of their antagonists. each british ship had to follow the wake of her leader till she reached the enemy's line, then her captain was free to choose his own foe--which, naturally, was the biggest frenchman or spaniard in sight. and the huge _santissima trinidad_, of course, attracted the eager attention of the ships that immediately followed the _victory_. the spaniard carried guns, and in that swaying continent of fighting ships, towered like a giant amongst dwarfs. the _neptune_, the _leviathan_, and the _conqueror_, in turn, hung on the quarter or broadside of the gigantic spaniard, scourged it with fire, and then drifted off to engage in a fiery wrestle with some other antagonist. by half-past two the spanish four-decker was a mastless wreck. the _neptune_ at that moment was hanging on her bow, the _conqueror_ on her quarter. "this tremendous fabric," says an account written by an officer on board the conqueror, "gave a deep roll, with a swell to leeward, then back to windward, and on her return every mast went by the board, leaving her an unmanageable hulk on the water. her immense topsails had every reef out, her royals were sheeted home but lowered, and the falling of this majestic mass of spars, sails, and rigging plunging into the water at the muzzles of our guns, was one of the most magnificent sights i ever beheld." directly after this a spaniard waved an english union over the lee gangway of the _santissima trinidad_ in token of surrender; whereupon the _conqueror_, scorning to waste time in taking possession of even a four-decker that had no longer any fight in it, pushed off in search of a new foe; while the _neptune's_ crew proceeded to shift the tattered topsails of their ship for new ones, with as much coolness as though in a friendly port. the _africa_, sixty-four, less than half the size of the spaniard, presently came slowly up through the smoke, and fired into the spanish ship; then seeing no flag flying, sent a lieutenant on board the mastless hulk to take possession. the englishman climbed to the quarterdeck, all black with smoke and bloody with slaughter, and asked the solitary officer he found there whether or not the _santissima trinidad_ had surrendered. the ship, as a matter of fact, was drifting into the centre of a cluster of french and spanish ships; so the spaniard replied, "non, non," at the same time pointing to the friendly ships upon which they were drifting. the englishman had only half-a-dozen men with him, so he coolly returned to his boat, and the _santissima trinidad_ drifted like a log upon the water till half-past five p.m., when the _prince_ put a prize crew on board. perez galdos has given a realistic picture--quoted in the _cornhill magazine_--of the scenes within the gloomy recesses of the great spanish four-decker as the british ships hung on her flanks and wasted her with their fire: "the english shot had torn our sails to tatters. it was as if huge invisible talons had been dragging at them. fragments of spars, splinters of wood, thick hempen cables cut up as corn is cut by the sickle, fallen blocks, shreds of canvas, bits of iron, and hundreds of other things that had been wrenched away by the enemy's fire, were piled along the deck, where it was scarcely possible to move about. from moment to moment men fell--some into the sea; and the curses of the combatants mingled with groans of the wounded, so that it was often difficult to decide whether the dying were blaspheming god or the fighters were calling upon him for aid. i helped in the very dismal task of carrying the wounded into the hold, where the surgeons worked. some died ere we could convey them thither; others had to undergo frightful operations ere their worn-out bodies could get an instant's rest. it was much more satisfactory to be able to assist the carpenter's crew in temporarily stopping some of the holes torn by shot in the ship's hull. . . . blood ran in streams about the deck; and, in spite of the sand, the rolling of the ship carried it hither and thither until it made strange patterns on the planks. the enemy's shot, fired, as they were, from very short range, caused horrible mutilations. . . . the ship creaked and groaned as she rolled, and through a thousand holes and crevices in her strained hull the sea spurted in and began to flood the hold. the _trinidad's_ people saw the commander-in-chief haul down his flag; heard the _achille_ blow up and hurl her six hundred men into eternity; learnt that their own hold was so crowded with wounded that no more could be received there. then, when all three masts had in succession been brought crashing down, the defence collapsed, and the _santissima trinidad_ struck her flag." the dreadful scenes on the decks of the _santissima trinidad_ might almost have been paralleled on some of the british ships. thus the _belleisle_, collingwood's immediate supporter, sustained the fire of two french and one spanish line-of-battle ships until she was dismasted. the wreck of her mizzen-mast covered her larboard guns, her mainmast fell upon the break of the poop; her larboard broadside was thus rendered useless; and just then another french line-of-battle ship, the _achille_, took her position on the _belleisle's_ larboard quarter, and opened on her a deadly fire, to which the british ship could not return a shot. this scene lasted for nearly an hour and a half, but at half-past three the _swiftsure_ came majestically up, passed under the _belleisle's_ stern--the two crews cheering each other, the _belleisle's_ men waving a union jack at the end of a pike to show they were still fighting, while an ensign still flew from the stump of the mainmast--and the fury with which the _swiftsure_ fell upon the _achille_ may be imagined. the _defiance_ about the same time took off the _aigle_, and the _polyphemus_ the _neptune_, and the much-battered _belleisle_ floated free. masts, bowsprit, boats, figure-head--all were shot away; her hull was pierced in every direction; she was a mere splintered wreck. the _téméraire_ fought a battle almost as dreadful. the _africa_, a light ship carrying only sixty-four guns, chose as her antagonist the _intrépide_, a french seventy-four, in weight of broadside and number of crew almost double her force. how dreadful were the damages sustained by the british ship in a fight so unequal and so stubborn may be imagined; but she clung to her big antagonist until, the _orion_ coming up, the _intrépide_ struck. at three p.m. the firing had begun to slacken, and ship after ship of the enemy was striking. at a quarter past two the _algeziras_ struck to the _tonnant_, and fifteen minutes afterwards the _san juan_--the _tonnant_ was fighting both ships--also hailed that she surrendered. lieutenant clement was sent in the jolly-boat, with two hands, to take possession of the spanish seventy-four, and the boat carrying the gallant three was struck by a shot and swamped. the sailors could swim, but not the lieutenant; the pair of tars succeeded in struggling back with their officer to the _tonnant_; and as that ship had not another boat that would float, she had to see her prize drift off. the _colossus_, in like manner, fought with the french _swiftsure_ and the _bahama_--each her own size--and captured them both! the _redoutable_ had surrendered by this time, and a couple of midshipmen, with a dozen hands, had climbed from the _victory's_ one remaining boat through the stern ports of the french ship. the _bucentaure_, villeneuve's flagship, had her fate practically sealed by the first tremendous broadside poured into her by the _victory_. with fine courage, however, the french ship maintained a straggling fire until both the _leviathan_ and the _conqueror_, at a distance of less than thirty yards, were pouring a tempest of shot into her. the french flagship then struck, and was taken possession of by a tiny boat's crew from the _conqueror_ consisting of three marines and two sailors. the marine officer coolly locked the powder magazine of the frenchman, put the key in his pocket, left two of his men in charge of the surrendered _bucentaure_, put villeneuve and his two captains in his boat with his two marines and himself, and went off in search of the _conqueror_. in the smoke and confusion, however, he could not find that ship, and so carried the captured french admiral to the _mars_. hercules robinson has drawn a pen picture of the unfortunate french admiral as he came on board the british ship: "villeneuve was a tallish, thin man, a very tranquil, placid, english-looking frenchman; he wore a long-tailed uniform coat, high and flat collar, corduroy pantaloons of a greenish colour with stripes two inches wide, half-boots with sharp toes, and a watch-chain with long gold links. majendie was a short, fat, jocund sailor, who found a cure for all ills in the frenchman's philosophy, "fortune de la guerre" (though this was the third time the goddess had brought him to england as a prisoner); and he used to tell our officers very tough stories of the 'mysteries of paris.'" by five o'clock the roar of guns had died almost into silence. of thirty-three stately battle-ships that formed the franco-spanish fleet four hours earlier, one had vanished in flames, seventeen were captured as mere blood-stained hulks, and fifteen were in flight; while villeneuve himself was a prisoner. but nelson was dead. night was falling. a fierce south-east gale was blowing. a sea--such a sea as only arises in shallow waters--ugly, broken, hollow, was rising fast. in all directions ships dismantled, with scuppers crimson with blood, and sides jagged with shot-holes, were rolling their tall, huge hulks in the heavy sea; and the shoals of trafalgar were only thirteen miles to leeward! the fight with tempest and sea during that terrific night was almost more dreadful than the battle with human foes during the day. codrington says, the gale was so furious that "it blew away the top main-topsail, though it was close-reefed, and the fore-topsail after it was clewed up ready for furling." they dare not set a storm staysail, although now within six miles of the reef. the _redoutable_ sank at the stern of the ship towing it; the _bucentaure_ had to be cut adrift, and went to pieces on the shoals. the wind shifted in the night and enabled the shot-wrecked and storm-battered ships to claw off the shore; but the fierce weather still raged, and on the th the huge _santissima trinidad_ had to be cut adrift. it was night; wind and sea were furious; but the boats of the _ajax_ and the _neptune_ succeeded in rescuing every wounded man on board the huge spaniard. the boats, indeed, had all put off when a cat ran out on the muzzle of one of the lower-deck guns and mewed plaintively, and one of the boats pulled back, in the teeth of wind and sea, and rescued poor puss! of the eighteen british prizes, fourteen sank, were wrecked, burnt by the captors, or recaptured; only four reached portsmouth. yet never was the destruction of a fleet more absolutely complete. of the fifteen ships that escaped trafalgar, four were met in the open sea on november by an equal number of british ships, under sir richard strahan, and were captured. the other eleven lay disabled hulks in cadiz till--when france and spain broke into war with each other--they were all destroyed. villeneuve's great fleet, in brief, simply vanished from existence! but napoleon, with that courageous economy of truth characteristic of him, summed up trafalgar in the sentence: "the storms occasioned to us the loss of a few ships after a battle imprudently fought"! trafalgar, as a matter of fact, was the most amazing victory won by land or sea through the whole revolutionary war. it permanently changed the course of history; and it goes far to justify nelson's magnificently audacious boast, "the fleets of england are equal to meet the world in arms!" the end gil the gunner; or, the youngest officer in the east, by george manville fenn. ________________________________________________________________________ this is a very long book from this author. gilbert vincent, very young at the time, joins the army to serve in india. various battles and engagements take place, as a result of which gil gets injuries, and spends a lot of time unconscious or recovering. at one stage he is captured by the local rajah, who is extremely wealthy, and who takes a shine to our hero, making sure that he is treated extremely well by his domestic servants. gil is offered any jewels he likes, but declines the gift, saying that his freedom to go back to his father in his regiment was worth more than any amount of opulent jewels. the object of all this fighting is nominally to oust the british from their position as peace-keepers in india. it ought to have made it much more clear to young readers what devastation would result if the british were removed. i do not think it was clear to many of us in the last years of the british raj how much hatred various kinds of indians had for each other, until the days immediately following the hand-over of power on th august , when they really got going on one another. nh ________________________________________________________________________ gil the gunner; or, the youngest officer in the east, by george manville fenn. or, the youngest officer in the east. chapter one. "you're another." "so are you." "i am, am i?" "yes; a cocky overbearing bully. you want your comb cut, gil vincent." "cut it, then, you miserable humbug. take that." _crack_--_thud_! my fist went home on morton's cheek, and almost simultaneously his flew out and struck me in the ribs. _crack_--_thud_! morton's return sounding like an echo of my blow. there was a buzz of excitement. coats flew off; two of our fellows eagerly pressed forward to act as seconds; my shirt-sleeves were rolled up over my thin arms, and in another instant we two fellow-pupils were squaring at each other, and i was gathering myself up to deliver as hard a blow as i could when-- "stop! halt!" came in a sharp harsh voice, and general crucie, with the great scar upon his white forehead looking red and inflamed as it always did when he was angry, strode up, thumped down his thick malacca cane, so that the ferule went into the grass and it stood alone, while he looked from one to the other fiercely. "upon my word!" he cried. "very pretty! two gentlemen flying at each others' throats like a couple of street boys. a regular blackguardly fight. i'm ashamed of you, gentlemen. what does it all mean?" "well, sir, it was like this," began hendry, my second. "silence, sir! i will not hear a word. i pretty well know what it all means. you, vincent, as usual; that nasty overbearing temper of yours again. is it utterly impossible for you to live in unity with your fellow-students?" "no, sir; not if they would let me be, and not fasten quarrels on me," i cried in an ill-used tone. "stuff, sir! rubbish, sir! nonsense, sir!" cried the general. "i know you better than you know yourself; and, mark my words, you will never succeed in your profession until you learn to behave like a gentleman. how can you expect to command men if you cannot command yourself. there, i'll hear no more, for i'm sure you have been in the wrong." the general pointed in _so_ unmistakable a manner that i walked off with my uniform jacket half on, slowly thrusting my arm into the vacant sleeve, and thinking bitterly, with my head bent and my forehead wrinkled up like that of an old man. i was not long in reaching my little room, a favourite one amongst our fellows; and as i shut myself in, and locked the door, my conscience reproached me with certain passages in the past which led to my having that room, when a fellow-student gave way in my favour, and i don't think it was from kindly feeling towards me. "i'm a miserable, unhappy wretch," i said, as i threw myself in a chair which resented the rough usage by creaking violently and threatening to break one leg. "nobody likes me. i'm always getting into trouble, and every one will be glad when i am gone to calcutta, madras, or bombay." i sat scowling down at the floor, thinking of how the others made friends and were regular companions, while i was almost avoided--at any rate, not sought out. "is it all my fault?" i thought; and that day i had a very long think as i wondered why i was so different from other fellows of my age. i believed i was affectionate, for i felt very miserable when i saw my father off with his regiment four years before, and he sailed for the madras presidency, and i went back home with my mind made up to work hard at my studies; to look well after my mother and grace; and always to be a gentleman in every act and thought. and as i sat there in the silence of my own room, i asked myself whether i had done exactly as my father had wished. "i might have worked harder," i owned. "i might have been more of a gentleman. but i did try." then i began thinking that i had given my mother a good deal of trouble before she and grace went out to join my father at madras. "but mamma did not mind," i said to myself, for nothing could have been more loving than our parting, when i was so miserable at being left that i felt as if everything were at an end. "the fellows don't understand me," i said at last. "and now if i try to be extra civil to any one of them, they all laugh and think i mean something--want to borrow money, or get another favour." this had been at the bottom of the quarrel that morning, and as i sat there thinking, i grew more and more roused, giving myself the credit of being shamefully ill-used by every one, from general crucie and the professors, down to the newest comer, while the governor seemed to me to be the greatest offender. "boasts about understanding boys and young men," i said bitterly, "and does not know how to be just. i wish i was out of it all, and could go away, so that i could be where people understood me, and--" there was a sharp tap at the door, but i was too savage and sulky to answer, and there was a fresh tapping on the panel. "vincent, why don't you answer? i know you are in there." it was the voice of my fellow-pupil with whom i had been about to fight, when the general came upon us. "well, what do you want?" i said sourly. "the governor has sent me for you. come along, look sharp. he wants you in his room." my temper bubbled up like the carbonic acid gas in a chemical experiment, and my fists involuntarily clenched. "to go there and be rowed," i thought; "and all through morton. he might have let me off now after bullying me before the chaps. and then to send morton!" i stood quite still, frowning and angry, but all was still outside, and it was evident that, after delivering his message, morton had run down again. "a prig!" i muttered. "lucky for him he didn't stop. i'd have punched his head if i'd been expelled for it." i crossed the room, and threw open the door to go down, for, amiable as the governor always was to us, he was most stern and exacting in having all his orders obeyed with military promptitude, and there stood morton waiting with, as i thought, a derisive smile on his face. but i altered my opinion directly, for he held out his hand. "i say, gil, old chap," he said, "i'm sorry we fell out, and i'm jolly glad the old boy came and stopped us. pretty pair of fools we should have looked by this time, with black eyes and swollen noses.--i was wrong. shake hands." a few moments before i could have struck him; but now i was so utterly overset by his frank manner, that it was not my nose which swelled up, but my throat, so that i could hardly speak as i caught hold of his hand and held it with all my force. "no," i said huskily, "it wasn't your fault. mine. i've got such a beastly temper." "tchah! not you. come on down; it's all right now." "not quite," i said grimly. "i've got to face the gov., and have another dose. has he given you yours?" "no! 'tisn't that post's in, and he has had despatches or something. he had a great sealed paper in his hand when he told me to fetch you." "what?" i cried excitedly. "'tisn't--?" "i'm not sure, but i think it is," he said. "come on." i felt as if all my breath had been taken away. the blood flushed right up to my temples; there was a singing in my ears, and my hands grew moist in their palms with excitement; but i could not speak as we hurried down. "you are a lucky one," continued morton. "i say, you do know some one in the india house, don't you?" "yes," i said. "uncle joe's on the board." "that's it, then. you've got your commission, as safe as wheat, as our old coachman used to say. i salute you, sir. you'll be a lord clive one of these days, before i get my captaincy." "oh, nonsense!" i cried, and then all seemed to be one buzz of confusion, till i reached general crude's study, and found him walking up and down the room. he had left his table with his gold snuff-box in one hand, his pinched-together finger and thumb of the other holding a tiny modicum of snuff, which he applied to his nose as i entered, and he stopped short before me. "oh, there you are, vincent," he said in his prompt military way, and i noticed that the trouble of a short time before was all put aside. "you know what i want, i suppose?" "i can't help guessing, sir." "no, i suppose not. you must have plenty of interest, my dear lad, and i congratulate you. here you are appointed to the artillery. calcutta." "ah!" i ejaculated; and in those busy moments as i stood looking right ahead out of the study into my future, i felt as if young, slight, and youthful as i was, boyhood was dropping away, and i was going to be a man to command men. "it's too early, vincent," he said, shaking his head, and tapping his snuff-box; "much too early. you are such a boy. why, you'll be the youngest officer in the service, though you do look old. i should have liked you to stay with us a couple of years longer." "yes, sir," i faltered. "i'm afraid i've got on very badly." "no," he said sharply, "that's it; you have not got on badly with your studies. from every professor i have had the same report, that your papers are excellent. that's where it is. you were nearly at the head of the list in the artillery, and it was only just that you should be appointed. but, all the same, you dog, you've influential people at your back. that old uncle the director. i hope one of these days both services will give their promotions and appointments by merit alone." "then you think it unjust, sir, that one so young as i am should get his commission?" i said warmly. "no, i do not, vincent. don't be so peppery. what a temper you have, sir. you must master that. i think, in this instance, the interest has been well exercised. i have had plenty of inquiries about you, and i've been obliged to speak well of you always." i coloured a little. "you're too young, but they want officers badly, and you'll soon get older, and i have no doubt will make a good soldier, if you command your temper. you ought to have been in the engineers, though." "oh no, sir," i said eagerly. "i want to be a gunner. is the commission for the horse artillery?" he laughed and took snuff. "why, you conceited young greenhorn!" he said good-humouredly. "has all the teaching of the honourable the east india company's profession been so poor here at brandscombe, that you have not learned that it is quite a promotion to get into the horse brigade. that they are picked men from the foot--men full of dash--who can afford to keep the best of horses, and who are ready to ride at anything." "my uncle would let me have any horses i want, sir," i said; "and i can ride." "like a gentleman in the park," he said contemptuously. "no, sir," i said warmly. "my father is a splendid horseman, and i've hunted a great deal. why, he used to put me on a pony when i was only six, and whenever i was at home he made me hunt with him, and go straight across country." "humph! wonder he did not break your neck!" "oh no, sir," i replied; "but i have broken my arm, and had some falls." "ah, well; be content with your commission in the foot. some day, perhaps, you may get into the horse, especially if you ride well, and have some interest to back you up. well, i congratulate you, vincent, my lad, and i am well satisfied with your progress." "satisfied, sir?" i said, as i recalled the scolding of an hour earlier. "oh yes, on the whole, my boy. you've got the makings of a good soldier in you. little too fond of fighting. ought to be in your favour, eh? but it isn't. a good officer never fights if he can help it; but when he does, why, of course, he fights skilfully, and lets the enemy know that he is in earnest. but seriously, vincent, you have one great failing." "more than one, sir, i'm afraid," i said dolefully. "never mind the others; perhaps they'll cure themselves. but you must keep a strict watch over that temper of yours, eh?" "yes, sir," i said penitently; "i have a horrible temper." "a temper, vincent, not a horrible temper. and i don't know that you need regret it so long as you learn to subdue it. tight-curb, that's all. make a better soldier of you. it means spirit and decision, properly schooled. oh, you'll do, boy. i should like to turn out another hundred of you." i stared at him in surprise, for i had been working under my military tutor always troubled by the impression that i was the most troublesome pupil he had, and that i was getting on worse than any fellow there. "i mean it, boy," he said, smiling and taking another tiny pinch of snuff. "well, vincent, my lad, i congratulate you. an hour ago you were my student and pupil; this despatch tells me that you are now my brother-officer. so good speed to you, and god bless you!" his eyes looked a little moist as he shook hands with me warmly, and, though my own eyes felt a little misty from emotion, a cloud seemed to pass from them, and i began to realise that i had been fancying all kinds of things which were not true. "sit down, my dear lad, and let's have a bit of a chat," continued the general. "this is a short notice." "short, sir?" i said wonderingly. "oh yes; very. you are to go out in the _jumna_ on the twenty-ninth. there's just three weeks for preparation and the good-byes." "so soon, sir?" i cried excitedly. "yes, so soon. there's a captain brace going out in charge of a draft of men from warley--recruits, of course. you go under his charge; so you will have to be brisk in ordering your outfit." "yes, sir," i said. "i must write to my father to-day about money." "by all means," said the general, smiling; and i saw what a stupid thing i had said. "you sail in three weeks, long before your father could get your letter, eh?" "yes, sir, of course," i said confusedly. "but that's all right, my boy. your father authorised me in his last letters to see that you had a proper military outfit, and draw upon him; so you need be under no apprehension. you will have to run the colonel up a pretty good bill; so be careful not to get superfluous things. by the way, there's a letter for you. have you got it?" "no, sir," i said; "i've been in my room. i'll go and--" "no, no; sit still," said the general, ringing. "i'll have it brought here." he told the servant to fetch the letter, and sat chatting pleasantly till the man returned with an old-fashioned-looking missive, ornamented with a great red seal. "from my uncle, sir!" i said excitedly. "well, open and read it, boy. it may be more news." i opened the letter with trembling fingers, and read as follows:-- " , queen's square,-- "may th, --. "dear nephew,-- "i hear that you have your commission. i stirred up some old friends. you go out with the next draft. be a good boy, act like a gentleman, and keep up the honour of your family. you'll find it very hot. i did when i was out there. don't eat too much, and don't drink, or you'll come home with a bad liver, like your affectionate uncle, "joseph vincent. "gilbert vincent, esq. "p.s.--i mean lieutenant vincent. don't come to see me, for i'm off to-night to carlsbad to drink rusty waters instead of port. remember me to your father and mother, if you meet them, and miss grace. by the way, boy, you'll want some clothes and a sword. i've told ferries and harquars to honour your cheques up to two hundred and fifty pounds, so that you need not draw on your father. you don't deserve it, because you have such a bad temper; but if ever you can get promoted into the horse artillery, i'll buy you a horse. mind and get an arab; they suit the country. i always rode one; but not in your break-neck way. i tried to get them to let you have a commission in the horse, but they wouldn't stand it. said it was a feather in a man's cap to get that; so look sharp and grow, and make yourself fit to wear that feather. you'll get it if you deserve it. i'll see that you do. my postscript is longer than my letter. so with compliments to general crucie, i am, etc." i handed the letter to the general, who read it through and nodded. "hah! that's right," he said, handing it back. "nothing like having an uncle rich, and a director at the india house. you'll get into the horse by-and-by. let's see, what was your uncle?" "an indigo-planter, sir." "hah! that means money, vincent. well, i shall not have to draw on your father. so much the better. there, you had better begin making your preparations at once, and if there is anything i can do in the way of help or advice, come to me without scruple. seems only the other day that i was ordering my own kit, vincent, previous to sailing for bombay. there, off with you. i'm sure you want to digest the news." i did--badly, but i could not do it, for the news had already leaked out, and there was morton at the head of all the other fellows, ready to raise a hearty cheer for the new officer about to depart from their midst. the cheering was followed by a chairing, and when at last i escaped, i hurried off to my room with the whirl of confusion greater than ever, so that i began to wonder whether it was not all a dream. chapter two. i was horribly suspicious about that military tailor in saint james's street. over and over again i felt that he must be laughing at me, as he passed his tape round my chest and waist. but he was a pattern of smooth politeness, and as serious as a judge, while i sought for little bits of encouragement, painfully conscious as i was about my physique. he was so quiet and confidential, and took such pains to suggest the various articles i should require, that i felt bound to place myself in his hands, and to a certain extent he won my confidence sufficiently to make me ask a _few_ questions, to set myself a little at my ease. "don't often have any one so thin and young as i am to measure for a uniform, do you?" i said. he looked at me with astonishment--real or assumed. "thin as you, sir! oh, you are nothing to some gentlemen--i mean," he added hastily, "as to being slender. why, some officers who come here are little better than schoolboys." "but i am thin," i said. "slight, sir," he said reprovingly--"slight. i should hardly call you thin. you'd look a little thin in evening-dress, but in uniform only slight. you see, we are obliged to pad a little in the chest, and to square the shoulders a little, and, one way and another, sir, when we have finished you, you will be surprised." i was. but just then i only coughed, and felt glad that i was not the youngest and thinnest officer the tailor had fitted out. "oh, by the way," i said as indifferently as i could, "what about swords?" i felt proud of my nonchalantly easy way of dealing so familiarly with the _arme blanche_, as the french call it, in the plural number. "oh, we shall supply your sword, sir; everything, if you entrust us with your commands. there are some gentlemen who advise that you should not go to a military tailor, but to a sword-cutler; and, of course, every gentleman has a right to go where he pleases, but if you will trust me, sir, you shall have a proved blade, of which you will be proud." "oh, of course i shall trust you," i said hurriedly. "but about size. i think i should like, er--a light, rather smaller-sized sword." "oh no; excuse me, sir," said the tailor apologetically. "speaking from experience, sir, no. there was lieutenant verney, sir, younger and lighter than you sir, and not so big-boned--major verney he is now, a regular customer--said just the same as you did, sir, and we gave way. consequently he was greatly dissatisfied. he grew, but the sword did not, and he soon had to have another. now, if i might advise, i should say have a full-size regulation weapon, well balanced with a good heavy hilt. you'll be surprised, big-boned as you are, sir, how soon you will put on muscle and spread out." of course i gave way, being naturally proud of being considered capable of wielding a full-sized sword, and in due time, though not until i had fretted myself into a great state of excitement, the accoutrements were sent home. it was hard work to assume that indifference which i did not feel, and i'm afraid that i did not deceive anybody save myself. i knew when the things came, for one of the servants came and told me, and i said in a tone suggestive of the idea that i was in the habit of having uniforms sent home, "have the things placed in my room." the servant stared at me, and i turned away, feeling furiously hot as i longed to run up and tear open the packages and tin boxes to gloat over their contents. but i taught myself to feel that i could not do that now--it would be too boyish, so i suffered tortures as i went out into the grounds to talk to some of our fellows, and try to keep my mind to what was being said. then came relief in the shape of morton, who hurried up to the group where i stood. "hi! gil vincent," he cried excitedly. "what's the matter?" i said in what was intended to be a cool way, but decidedly was not. "what's the matter, indeed! they're taking your gorgeous array up into your room. tin cases and swords, and goodness knows what. come on!" "come on?" i said coolly; "what do you mean?" "hark at him!" cried morton. "here he is, as cool as a fish. don't you want to tog out?" "no. what nonsense!" i said; but i can remember feeling excited as he spoke. "get out! don't be a humbug. you're red hot to get into them." "absurd! why, i shall be always wearing that sort of thing soon." "gammon!" cried morton. "oh, i say, what a jolly impostor you are, gil. come on, lads, let's have him in, and make him paint himself up for our glorification." "oh, if you all particularly wish it," i said, "i don't mind." there was a roar of laughter at this; and to hide my annoyance, i joined in, and was soon after spreading out jacket and coatee, striped trousers, belts, and slings, all of which, after being duly admired, were donned and exhibited in their proper places. "talk about pomp and vanity!" cried morton. "don't be jealous," i replied, as i began to feel excited. "i'm not a bit, gil; but you might own to being proud as a peacock of your togs. come, you are--aren't you?" "i suppose so," i said, as i involuntarily glanced at myself in the glass; and then i felt hotter than ever, for i saw my fellow-pupils laughing, and this was the signal for me to hurry out of the stiff embroidered uniform as rapidly as i could. but that night, when i went up to bed! well, i was very young then; and i suppose any boy of my age would have been just as proud of his new uniform, all suggestive as it was of sword and flashing steel, trampling horses, and spirit-stirring trumpet and band. my candle was a long time before it went out that night, but even then i tried to salve my conscience--to make myself believe that it was not all vanity, for i said that the things wanted trying on, and the buttons and buttonholes were stiff. but at last everything was neatly folded up again and put away, and i lay down to sleep and dream of my new career. somehow i only saw one side of a soldier's life just then. perhaps if i could have had the slightest idea of the horrors and dangers through which i should have to pass, i might have shrunk away appalled, and been glad to have taken to some more peaceful career. chapter three. the good-byes were said, and i was sent off with a ringing cheer by my old companions. my luggage had gone to the ship days before, and i had only a couple of tin cases to take with me in the cab when i reached london and was driven to the docks. here, after going astray several times, i at last found the great towering-sided _jumna_, and went on board with my belongings. everything was in confusion, for provisions were still being taken on board along with passengers' luggage; and it was some time before i could find any one in the busy crowd which thronged the deck, to show me my cabin, which, to my disgust, i found contained a second berth and several articles of luggage labelled, "captain brace, calcutta," and in smaller letters, "cabin; wanted on voyage." "not much room for two," i thought, as my own luggage was brought in, and i found by the number of my berth that i was to sleep on the shelf-like bed above that on which a portion of the captain's luggage lay. then, wondering what he would be like; whether he would be agreeable, or disposed to look down upon me as a boy, i went back on deck, and stood about watching the busy scene, and learning which was the quarter-deck, steerage, forecastle, and the like. by virtue of being an officer, i found myself at liberty to go where i pleased, and noted which were passengers and which were leave-taking friends. then i had a good look at the officers and sailors, many of whom were yellow-faced lascars with dark oily-looking eyes, whose whites seemed to have an opalescent tinge. every one was busy, and a good many of the dock-men were up aloft giving the finishing touches to the rigging, a great deal of which seemed to be new. but somehow, as an idler, i seemed to be in everybody's way, and was constantly being requested to make way, or stand aside, or my leave was requested in tones rather insulting, as i thought then. suddenly i remembered that general crucie had said that a draft of men was going out in the vessel, in charge of captain brace. "i wonder where the men are," i said to myself; and at last, as i had looked in vain for red or blue uniforms, i asked one of the sailors. "swaddies?" he said. "oh yes. forrard. there they are." he pointed toward the head of the vessel as he hurried off in answer to a shout from a red-faced man who was directing a gang of sailors hauling at something up aloft which he called a yard, and i went forward to have a look at the smart detachment of soldiers i was to help to command. the illusion was soon swept away, for the detachment was composed of about fifty unhappy, thin-looking men in white flannel jackets, sitting about or leaning over the bulwarks, smoking and watching the dock quay where stood a group of slatternly-looking women, staring wearily at the ship; and now and then one of them would wave a hand or a handkerchief to the men in white flannel, a salute as often as not evoking no response, though sometimes a man would take off his ugly blue woollen forage-cap by the red worsted tuft at the top, give it a twist, and put it on again. "this cannot be the detachment," i thought, and then, thinking that the best way to know was to ask, i said to the nearest man-- "would you mind telling me whether you belong to captain brace's detachment?" "what?" a surly, half-insolent question in reply to mine, which i repeated. "i dunno nothing about no 'tachments," he growled. "well, are you in the service, and going out to india?" i said. "i've took the shilling, and i'm going out to cholera borgus, if that's what you mean. don't bother!" "you'll get yourself in for it directly, mate," growled another of the men. "can't you see the gent's a horficer?" i felt better at this, but i was damped down directly, for my man i had spoken to growled out-- "horficer? well, all i can say is as he don't look it." as the man turned away to rest his arms on the bulwark and refill his pipe, the second man saluted me. "yes, it's all right, sir. we're just down from warley barracks, and we are going out as part of captain brace's draft." i saluted and walked away, feeling in no wise proud of the men who would be partly under my charge. physically, they were well-made fellows enough, but there was neither romance nor sentiment about them, and in the midst of all the bustle and confusion on board, with the decks literally swarming, i began to feel horribly lonely and depressed, and a sensation of home-sickness was coming on fast, till i told myself it was all nonsense, the home for which i was sickening was only the kind of school which for many months past i had been longing to leave, and that i should in all probability soon meet father, mother, and sister, as well as begin my career as a man. just then my attention was taken up by an angry encounter. three men were brought on board, almost dragged, and thrown down, and it did not need a second thought to grasp the fact that they were sailors who had been spending their advance-money at one of the public-houses which swarmed about the docks. all at once one of them, as he lay upon the deck, began to sing, and this brought out a smart-looking officer in uniform. "here, get these pigs below," he cried angrily; and half a dozen of the sailors crossed to one side, returned with a coil of rope, fastened it round the waist of one of the last-comers, and then seizing him, trotted forward, dragging him along the deck to an open hatchway, where he was unceremoniously lowered down; one sailor followed to unfasten the rope, which was hauled up, and the other men were hauled to the hatchway and lowered in turn. "that's the way to serve them," said the officer to me sharply. "some time before they get drunk again." he nodded shortly and went aft, while, feeling disgusted with the rough scene, i made my way aft too, and came upon quite a crowd of people, evidently friends of the passengers, bidding good-bye, many of them with tears. "this is cheerful," i thought, and then by an absurd change of feeling, i was hurt because there was no one to bid good-bye to me. "confound it all, sir, do get out of the way, please!" said another officer sharply. i gave him a resentful look, and backed out of his way into somebody else's, sending a man who was carrying part of a passenger's luggage staggering, so that he caught the corner of a trunk sharply against an officer's shoulder, with anything but a pleasant result for the burdened man, who recovered himself, and hurried to the cabin stairs, while, after apologising to the officer, i followed the man, meaning to go up on the poop deck. but the staircase was full of people, and i dived under to go below and find my cabin, which i now resentfully remembered was not mine. "never mind, i'll go and sit down till dinnertime," i thought. "i suppose there will be some dinner some time." i went along by the row of cabin doors, and found that i was on the port instead of the starboard side; and, crossing over, i found the right cabin at last, seized the handle sharply, for a man was coming along with more luggage, and, turning the fastening, i was about to dive in, but the door was fast, and a quick, authoritative voice cried from within-- "well, what is it?" "open this door," i said as sharply, for i felt irritated at being shut out of my place of refuge from the noise and misery of the deck. there was the sound of a bolt shooting back, the door was thrown open, and i was face to face in the dim light with a tall, dark, youngish man, whose expression was stern and severe in the extreme. "well, sir," he said shortly, "what is it?" "what is it?" i cried angrily, with a sharp look at my luggage. "what are you doing here? why is this door fastened?" he looked at me quite fiercely for a few moments, and then his face softened a little, and he smiled, but it was a cold, wintry sort of facial sunshine. "ah, i see," he said, "you are mr vincent, i suppose?" "yes, i am, sir, and that is my luggage. what then?" "only that my name is brace, and i suppose we are to be fellow-passengers." "i--i--beg your pardon," i stammered, with my face turning scarlet. "there is no need," he said coldly. "perhaps it was my fault for fastening the door." he turned away, stooped down to a trunk in which glistened a bunch of keys, turned the lock, and then altered his mind and unlocked the trunk, and took out his keys. "no," he said rising, "there will be no need for that." he turned coldly, and went out of the cabin, leaving me with the sensation that i had behaved rudely and insolently to an officer who was my superior, and under whose orders i supposed i was to be. "nice beginning," i said to myself, and i sat down on one of my own trunks, feeling anything but comfortable, as i came to the conclusion that i had made an enemy who would pay me handsomely during the voyage. "this is a happy sort of place," i muttered, as i sat listening to the banging of cabin doors and shouting of people for stewards and others, and angry complaints about being kept waiting; and all the time there was a stamping, tramping, and rattling going on overhead that was maddening. and there i sat, gazing dreamily at the little round pane of glass which lit the cabin, till i grew so hot and weary of the stuffy little cupboard of a place, that i got up and went on deck again, to find that the great vessel had been cast loose, and that hawsers and capstans were being used to work us out of the dock. we were already some little distance from the dock wall, which was crowded with the friends of the soldiers and sailors on board, those of the passengers for the most part remaining to go down the river, while the men thronged the bulwarks, and climbed to every point of vantage, to respond, with shouts and cheers, to waving of hands and, bonnets and the shrill good-byes. "everybody seems to have some one to say good-bye to him but me," i thought again; and half pitying, half contemptuously, i leaned over the side watching the little crowd of excited women and old men who hurried along the dock quay so as to keep abreast of the vessel. "a sad thing, too--saying good-bye," i thought. "perhaps they'll never come back and meet again, and--" my heart seemed to stand still, and i clutched the edge of the bulwark spasmodically, for all at once as i watched the women pressing along the edge of the stone quay, their faces turned toward us as they cried out to the men on board, i saw one young-looking thing wave her handkerchief and then press it to her eyes, and in imagination i heard her sobbing as she hurried on with the rest. but next instant i saw that she had caught her foot in one of the ropes strained from the great ship to the edge of the quay, and plunged forward headlong to strike the water twenty feet below, and disappear. a wild shriek from the quay was mingled with the excited shouts of the men on board. then orders were rapidly given, men ran here and there, and amidst a great deal of shouting, preparations were made for lowering down the nearest boat. but all the time the huge east indiaman, now steadily in motion, was gliding slowly toward the dock entrance, and the unfortunate woman had risen to the surface, and was beating the water slowly with her hand. "she'll be drowned long before that boat's down," said a gruff voice behind me, plainly heard in the shouting and excitement. "why don't they throw her a life-buoy?" as whoever it was spoke a yellow ring fell from the vessel, splashed, and floated on the surface, but nowhere near the drowning woman. two men ran along the quay to throw ropes. other ropes were sent flying in rings from the _jumna's_ stern; but i could see that the woman was too helpless to reach them, even if she saw them, which was doubtful, and the watching and waiting grew horrible. the woman was now many yards away from where i stood, and i had seen her wild eyes gazing up as if into mine as we glided by her, the look seeming in my excitement to appeal specially to me, and at last i could bear it no longer. i drew myself up on to the bulwark, and looked round. the boat stuck with something wrong about one of the davits; no other boat was visible; no one had leaped and swum to save the woman, whose clothes, after sustaining her for some moments, were gradually sinking out of sight, and the motion of her hand grew slower. "yes; she'll be drowned long before they can save her," i said, i believe aloud, for i seemed to hear the words; and then, without calculating the consequences, i dived from the high side of the great east indiaman, struck the surface, and went on down, down, into the black muddy water, till i felt as if i should never rise. then there was light once again, and i struck out, dimly conscious of shouts and cheering, but fully awake to the fact that i was swimming there with the ship gliding away, and the steep forbidding wall of the dock about a score or two of yards distant, looking slippery, and as if it would afford no hold if i swam there, as for the moment i felt urged to do. for i had forgotten the object which made me plunge into the dock, and the long immersion had confused me for the time being, as i tried vainly to make out what people were shouting to me from the quay. all at once, away to my right, i saw a hand appear above the surface, and like a flash it came back, and, amidst shrieks and cheers, i swam as hard as i could for the spot, to reach it just as the hand disappeared. for the moment i thought all was over, but, thrusting my hands down, they touched something, and the snatch i gave made the woman's shoulder roll up above the surface, then her face appeared, and, knowing the imminent danger, i tried to swerve aside to avoid the clutch of the poor creature's hand. i was too late. the fingers seized me with a death-grip, and as i was thrown off my balance, i struggled to free myself, went under, made a desperate effort which brought me up again, and recovering myself a little, i tried hard to swim now and keep both afloat. it was a time of confused effort and excitement i don't know that i felt much fear, only that i was getting weaker and weaker, and in a dull, half-stupefied fashion, i thought that if help did not come soon i should not be able to save the poor woman. then all was black again; there was a thundering in my ears, a scalding sensation in my throat, and my arms seemed to be turning to lead. but i was striving hard all the time, and once more in a dim way i saw the light, and struck out blindly enough, my only aim being to keep afloat. i was conscious of shouting. some one close by cried, "hold her!" but the water was rising over my eyes again as i felt a sharp shock; hands clutched me directly after, and i was hauled into a boat, where i lay panting, my heart throbbing, and a sensation at the back of my neck as if i had received a sharp blow. "oh, he's all right," said a familiar voice. "give way, my lads, and let's land her. i dare say they'll bring her to. better chance than we shall have." in a dreamy way i saw the dock wall above me, and people looking down; then we reached some steps, and the dripping figure of the woman was lifted out of the boat, and taken by other hands. "get her into a room, and fetch a doctor directly," said a voice close to me, which i now recognised as that of the officer i had run against. "now, my lads, give way.--i say, how are you?" i looked up, feeling dull and confused, and saw the officer was bending down over me. "that's better," he said. "we'll soon have you on board, and the surgeon will put you right in no time." in a few minutes the great stern of the _jumna_ was looming over us, and a tremendous burst of cheering rose as we were pulled alongside; but it did not strike me then what it all meant. i looked up, and could see white faces looking down at us, and handkerchiefs were being waved because the woman was saved, i supposed, but i was too weak and exhausted to trouble much. i was conscious of the hooks being made fast, of the creaking of the blocks as the boat was run up to the davits, and then of being lifted out on to the deck, all wet and cold, with the water streaming from me. there was a crowd of excited people around, but all dimly seen, and a loud humming of voices and an order or two, but the faces were swimming round me, and the voices sounded distant, all but one, which seemed to belong to my cabin, and it said-- "my gallant lad!" almost at the same moment, as it appeared to me, a rough hand caught mine, and gripped it so that it would have been painful if all i was passing through had not been confused and misty, as if it were part of a dream. there was a face, too, looking down in mine with a woollen cap and a red tuft, and a suggestion of a white flannel jacket, and a hoarse voice said-- "bless you for that, sir. she's my dear lass." then everything was dark again, as if my head had gone under water, and when i saw clearly once more i was in the cabin and two gentlemen were standing by my berth. chapter four. "better, my lad?" said one of the gentlemen, smiling; but i was looking at the other, who was captain brace, as i said in a puzzled way-- "better? what's the matter? have i been ill?" "only nearly drowned. i hope you haven't swallowed much of that filthy dock water." "drowned? dock water?" i said in a puzzled way; and then "oh!" and i started up, but lay down and said "oh!" again in a different tone of voice, for i had given my head a sounding rap against the beam above my berth. "hurt yourself?" said captain brace. "not very much," i cried, "but i recollect now. that woman--was she saved?" "ask yourself," said the first speaker. "you saved her, and it was a precious plucky thing to do. oh yes, they'd soon bring her round. there, you don't want me," he continued, as he felt my pulse, and then laid his hand upon my forehead. "lie still a bit, and have a nap." he nodded in a friendly way, and then went out of the cabin, leaving me with captain brace, whose dark stern face did not look half so repellent now, for it was lit up by a grave sad smile. "head ache?" he said gently. "no--yes--a little. who was that?" "the ship's doctor." "oh. did i go off in a faint?" "well, hardly that. you were nearly drowned." "i couldn't keep up," i said excitedly. "she clung to me so." "yes, of course; we could see that. but be calm. don't get excited." "no," i said. "i'm no worse for it, only i ought to have managed better. i should have swum behind her, and held her up by the hair." "yes," said my companion, smiling, "that is one theory; but it is very hard to put theory into practice at such a time." i lay looking at him searchingly for a few minutes, and thinking i should never like him, for he was cold and sad and stern in his manner. he smiled at me when he caught my eye, but the smile kept fading away again directly, like wintry sunshine, and i was thinking that i would ask if i could not have another berth in a cabin to myself, however small, when another thought occurred to me, and i turned to him sharply. "i say, that dirty water will spoil all my clothes!" "never mind your clothes, my lad," he said smiling. "a _few_ pounds will put that right. they are as nothing compared to a human life. besides, it was not the brand-new uniform in that case." i felt the blood come into my cheeks, for he was smiling rather contemptuously. "i'm not so proud of my uniform as all that," i said hurriedly. "don't be a humbug, my dear fellow," he replied quietly. "you would not be natural if you were not proud of it. i was very proud of mine, i know. stop; what are you going to do?" "get up," i said quickly. "nonsense; not yet. what about your clothes?" "my clothes?" "yes; you have no other suit unpacked. i gave your wet things to the steward to get dry." "i can soon unpack another suit," i said, "if--if you will go." "oh, i'll go, if you like, my lad," he replied with a smile; "but as we are to be chums through this voyage, we cannot afford to be very particular, especially as the accommodation is so limited. there, i will be your valet now; you shall be mine if i am ill. here are your keys, purse, and pocket-book. i took everything out of your wet things. there," he continued, "tell me which is the key, and i will get out clean linen and another suit. then i'll tell my servant to see that a bath is prepared; and, by the way, you have no servant yet, i suppose?" i shook my head, as i lay wondering whether i liked this stern, cold, dark man, or whether i did not. "ah, well, we will soon pick out a man from the draft. this looks like the key." it was the right one, and in a quiet matter-of-fact way, and with very little help from me, he selected the necessary articles; and an hour later i went on deck, saving a slight headache, very little the worse. i was eager to see how far we had dropped down the river; but at the end of ten minutes i was back in the cabin, flushed, hot, and excited, to find the door unfastened this time, and captain brace unpacking and arranging such articles as he wanted on the voyage. "hullo!" he cried; "not so well?" "oh, it's horrid!" i cried excitedly. "how can people be so stupid!" "why, what is the matter?" "i felt quite ashamed of myself," i cried. "i had no sooner got on deck than the men began to cheer. i did not know then that it was meant for me, but directly after the captain came up and shook hands with me." "very civil of him," said my brother-officer, drily. "oh yes, if he had only meant it civilly; but then the chief officer came up, and a lot of passengers, and they all shook hands, and there was quite a crowd, and before i knew what was going to happen, i found a pack of ladies had come up, and one, a very stout little woman, called me her dear boy, and kissed me, and two others took out their handkerchiefs and began to cry." captain brace laughed unpleasantly, and i grew hotter. "why, you are quite the hero of the day, vincent," he said grimly. "it's horrid!" i cried pettishly. "i declare i wouldn't have done it if i had known what they meant to do. such nonsense!" "ah, you are talking nonsense, boy. bah! take no notice. they'll forget it all in a few hours. people soon get over these hysterical displays." i sat down sulkily on one of my cases, while he went on coolly arranging his shaving tackle, night things, and the boots and shoes. "i like him less and less," i said to myself, as i sat and watched him, while, as i fancied, he treated me in the most cavalier of ways, only speaking now and then; but when he did speak it was to ask me some question about myself, and each time he made me think how young and inexperienced i was, for he appeared to be getting to know everything, while he was still quite a stranger to me. "yes," he said at last, "i have heard of colonel vincent--a brother-officer of mine once met him at dinner somewhere up the country. i was in quite a different part." "then you have been out in india before?" i cried eagerly. "i?" he said, with a faint smile. "oh yes. i was out there seven years--quite an apprenticeship. i was just such a griffin as you when i went out first, but a couple of years older." "griffin!" i thought; and i felt i disliked him more and more; just, too, as i was warming up to him a little, and thinking he was improving. we were silent for a time, and i waited for him to speak, which he did at last, but in a forced, half-bantering way. "you'll find it pretty hot, squire," he said; "and sometimes you'll wish your uniform back at the tailor's. it is terribly hot at times." "yes, i've heard so," i said, with my curiosity getting the better of my annoyance. "tell me something about the country." "eh? about the country? ah! of course you, in your young enthusiasm, are full of romantic fancies." "oh, i don't know," i replied haughtily. "yes, you are," he said laughing. "all boys going out are. i was. but don't expect too much, my lad," he continued coldly. "there are grand and lovely bits of scenery, and times when the place looks too beautiful for earth; but, to balance this, deserts and storms, terrible rains, and dust borne on winds that seem as if they had come from the mouth of a furnace. there are times, too, when the state of the atmosphere affects your nerves, and life seems to be unendurable." "it doesn't sound very cheerful," i said bitterly. "no; and i am acting like a wet blanket to you," he said, with a sad smile. "but you will do your duty, and make friends, and it is not such a bad life after all." there was another silence, and i waited in vain for him to speak. "what regiment are you in, sir?" i said at last, as he stood with his back to me, as if wrapped in thought. "i?" he said, starting, and looking round. "oh, i am in the artillery-- the horse artillery. i thought you would know." i shook my head. "we may run against each other sometimes out yonder; but it is a great country, and you may be stationed hundreds of miles away." "i hope so," i thought. "rather a rough time to come for you, my lad," he said, with what i took to be a cynical smile; "but you will soon get used to the noise of the guns." "of course," i said coldly. "tell me more about the country. there are plenty of tigers, i suppose?" "oh yes, but far more mosquitoes." "well, i know that," i said. "you have never seen one, i suppose?" "no." "then don't make the same mistake as the irish private's wife at madras." "what was that?" i said. "it is an old story that you may not have heard. she was on shipboard, and eagerly listening to an old sergeant's wife who had been there before; and this woman told her that one of the great troubles of the country was the mosquito. `an' what's a moskayto?' said the irishwoman. `oh, a horrid creature with a long trunk, and it plunges it into you, and sucks your blood.' at last they reached the coast, and the young irishwoman was eagerly watching the shore with its troops of turbaned natives, palanquins, and mounted men, till suddenly a train of elephants came in sight, steadily nodding their heads and waving their trunks. the young irishwoman drew a long deep breath, and looked as if she would never see home again, and the old sergeant's wife asked her what was the matter. `oh,' she said, in a hoarse whisper, `is thim moskaytoes?'" captain brace appeared so different as he told me this little old anecdote, that i felt as if i should like him after all; but the light died out of his face again, and he looked at me in a troubled way, as if vexed with himself for having been so frivolous. "how long have you been back home?" i said, so as to keep up the conversation, for it was miserable to sit there in the silence. "six months," he said gravely. "that's a good long holiday," i said merrily. "holiday, boy?" he cried, in so wild and passionate a tone that i was startled, and looked at him wonderingly as he turned away. "i--i beg your pardon," i said apologetically. "i'm afraid i have blurted out something which i ought not to have said." "never mind--never mind," he said, with his head averted; "of course you could not know." he sank down on the edge of his berth with so sad and dejected a look that i rose and went to him. "pray forgive me," i said. "i did not know." he looked up at me with his face drawn and old. "thank you," he said, taking my hand. "there is nothing to forgive, my lad. you may as well know, though. brother-officers ought to be brotherly, even if they are a little strange. it was a case of illness. i took some one home--to save her life, and--" he was silent for some moments, and i could feel his hand tremble as he pressed mine very hard, and seemed to be making a desperate effort to be calm, and master the emotion which evidently thrilled him. "god knows best," i heard him whisper, hardly above his breath. and then aloud, "i am going back to my duties, you see--alone." the painful silence which followed was broken by the sound of a bell, and he started up quite a changed man. "there!" he said, in a strange tone, "soldiers have no time for sorrow. it is the dead march, vincent. then a volley over the grave, and a march back to quarters to a lively quick-step. come, brother-officer, we are abreast of gravesend: as far as we shall go to-night, and there's the dinner-bell. right shoulder forward. march!" "no," i said to myself. "i am sorry for him, but he is too strange. i shall never like captain brace." chapter five. rough weather as soon as we were out of the mouth of the thames gave me something else to think about, and i did not spend much time in calculating whether i liked captain brace or not; but i suppose i behaved pretty well, for in two days i went on deck feeling a little faint, and as if the great ship was playing at pretending to sink beneath my feet. "come, that's good," said a familiar voice; and i found captain brace had crossed over to where i was holding on by the bulwark, looking at the distant shore. "why, vincent, you are a better sailor than i am." i smiled at him in rather a feeble manner. "oh, i mean it," he said. "it has been very rough for the past forty-eight hours, and i have been, as you know, pretty queer, but i forced myself to get up this morning, and it has done me no end of good. i have been down to see the men, thinking i would rouse them up, but, poor fellows, they are all so utterly miserable that i think i'll leave them alone to-day." human nature is curious; for i was so glad that the men were worse than the officers, that i felt quite cheerful, and after breakfast--to which i went down feeling as if i could not touch a bit, but did touch a good many bits and drops--i found myself walking up and down the deck with captain brace, taking an interest in the towering masts with their press of sail, and the flashing, sparkling water, which came with a bump every now and then against the side of the great ship, and scattered a fine shower of spray over the bows. for the wind was brisk, and the ship heeled over pretty well as she sped down channel. in the course of the day, during which i began to be acquainted with the officers, a passenger or two slowly made his appearance. i say "his," because not a lady showed on deck during the week. then, as the weather fell calm, they all came up nearly at once; and when i caught sight of the stout elderly lady who had been so affectionate to me in the docks, i felt disposed to go down. but there was no occasion. the week's confinement below, and their miserable state of illness, had pretty well swept away the recollection of the drowning scene, and beyond one or two looks and a whisper passed on from one to the other, which i felt were about me, there was nothing to make me feel nervous and red. i am not going to give a description of our long voyage round by the cape, for that was our course in those days; let it suffice if i say that we sailed south into warmer seas, with the torrid sun beating down upon us in a way which captain brace said would prepare us for what was to come. we had storms in rounding the cape, and then we sailed on again north and east. it was a long, slow, monotonous voyage, during which i went on learning a good deal of my profession, for there was drilling every morning on deck, and the draft of men were marched and countermarched till the rough body of recruits began to fall correctly into the various movements, while i supplemented the knowledge i had acquired as a cadet, and more than once obtained a few words of praise from the sergeant with the draft, and what were to me high eulogies from captain brace. "nothing like mastering the infantry drill, vincent," he said to me one day. "young officers know, as a rule, far too little of foot drill. it will save you a good deal of trouble when we get there." it was monotonous but not unpleasant, that voyage out. we had the customary sports on crossing the line; we fished and caught very little, though the men captured the inevitable shark with the lump of salt pork; and used the grains, as they called the three-pronged fork, to harpoon dolphins. i had my first sight of flying fish, and made friends with the officers. then there was music and dancing on the hot moonlit nights; deck quoits under the awning by day; a good deal more sleep than we took at home; and at last we reached ceylon and touched at colombo, where everything struck me as being wonderfully unlike what i had pictured in my own mind. "well," said captain brace one evening, after we had had a run together on the shore, "what do you think of the cingalese?" "that they look so effeminate," i said. "exactly," he replied, nodding his head as i went on. "they are not bad looking; but it looks so absurd to see those elderly men dressed in muslins, with drawers and clothes that put me in mind of little girls about to go to a children's party or a dance." he looked amused, and i continued-- "and then the ordinary people, with their oily black hair all done up in a knot behind and held by a comb. it does look so womanish." "yes; to us," said captain brace. "but their clothes are comfortable for the hot climate, and that is more than you will be able to say of ours when you get out in the plains in full uniform some day." "and it will not be long first now," i thought; and i did not look forward to my first appearance in full uniform under a hot sun with any degree of dread. then we were once more at sea, sailing on and on through fine weather and foul, till i learned that we were sailing up through the sunderbunds, and on up the hooghly, passing outward-bound vessels with great towering east indiamen among them. then the shore began to draw in, and i learned from one that there was good tiger-shooting in that district, beyond where i could see a fringe of palms, and from another that it would not be safe to bathe where we were. "on account of sharks," i said, with an assumption of knowledge. "no, sir; muggers." and when i stared inquiringly, he added-- "crocodiles; and higher up the river, sir, great turtles, which will snap a man, or a horse, or a dood to pieces in no time." it was the same evening that i was standing looking at the low, far-off shore, with captain brace, and i said quietly-- "i say, that little stout mr binns--" "mr commissioner binns," said the captain. "give him his full title. what about him?" "was he telling me travellers' tales about the crocodiles--muggers, as he called them--and the risk of bathing?" "oh no; they swarm in this muddy river. i wonder they have let that come down." he pointed to something floating at a short distance from the ship, and i looked at it with curiosity. "some dead animal?" i said. "a dead man, vincent. we are going up the estuary of the sacred river, you know, and it is the burial-place of the great cities which are upon its bank." i turned away from the floating object with a shudder of horror, and was silent for some minutes, but broke out with-- "but the great turtles--will they drag a man or a horse under water, and eat him?" "i have never seen it," he replied; "but i have seen them attack a dood." "what is a dood?" "a camel; one of a troop fording the river. it had plunged into a deep hole, and before it could struggle back into the shallow it was pulled under, and never rose again." "ugh!" i shuddered; "how horrid!" "yes. you will know the danger if ever you have to take your men across a ford." a couple of days later we were anchored in the great stream in front of the city of palaces, and i was gazing with eyes full of wonder and eagerness at the noble buildings, the great flights of steps leading down to the water, the constant procession of people to and fro, with huge elephants gaily caparisoned and bearing temple-like howdahs, some filled with europeans, more often with turbaned chiefs or people of importance. the white garments and turbans of the natives gave a light and varied look in the bright sunshine, while amongst them were the carriages of the english residents, the handsome horses of officers, and the gay uniforms of the english and native troops, from whose weapons the dazzling sunshine flashed. "yes; plenty of the military element," said captain brace, pointing out different figures in the busy scene. "take my glass," he continued. "that's a sepoy regiment. you can see their dark faces." "yes, i see," i cried eagerly. "do you see those two mounted men in white, with lances?" "yes; who are they?" "sowars of the native cavalry; and that little half troop behind--you can tell what they are?" "they look like english hussars," i said. "right. part of the eighth, i should say. they are stationed here." "but they are not the east india company's men." "no. part of the regular army. those sowars are some of ours, and--ah, you are in luck," he cried, taking back the glass and using it quickly, before lending it again. "look: there are some of the horse brigade." "artillery?" i cried excitedly. "yes; and in review order. a troop of our horse artillery with their guns." my hands trembled so that i could hardly bring the glass to bear upon the long line of men, but at last i had it correct, and excitedly saw them file by at a distance, the sun glancing on their polished brass helmets with long trailing plumes of red horsehair; their blue heavily braided jackets looking as if suddenly cut off by the men's white breeches, and then again by their heavy black boots. it was to me a gallant show, and i drew a long, deep breath as i counted the guns with the men mounted upon the limbers, and watched attentively till they passed out of sight. "well," said my companion, "what do you think of our brigade?" "oh!" i ejaculated, "i wish i belonged." a very brief reply, but the tone made my sad-looking companion smile sadly. "ah, vincent," he said, "you can only see the parade and show. yes; it is very bright and fresh to you, but the time will come when all that pomp will be very irksome to you, and you will wish that the company would let you dress simply and sensibly in a uniform suited to this terrible climate, and in which you could use your limbs freely without distressing yourself and your horse." "but they look magnificent," i said. "yes, brilliant, my lad, brilliant; but there is another side to soldiering besides the show. there! all this sounds as if i were trying to damp and discourage you, but i have had seven years' hard work out here in india, vincent; perhaps, when you have been here as long, you may talk as i do." "i shall not," i muttered to myself. "i should be a poor soldier if i did. what did you say?" i said aloud. "i said that to-morrow morning we go ashore, and i can introduce you at head-quarters when i go to report myself. but, vincent, my lad, what luck it would be if you had been in the horse brigade, and found yourself appointed to my troop." "yes," i said, rather non-enthusiastically, for my hopes went in quite a contrary direction. "you would rather not," he said, gazing at me sadly, and i coloured up like a girl, for i felt that he had read my thoughts. "i'm afraid you don't like me, my lad." my face burned as i said, "i've tried hard to like you ever since we met." "tried," he said, smiling, as he raised his brows. "ah, well! that is frankly spoken, after all," and he walked away, leaving me feeling that i had hurt his feelings by showing that i did not like him in the least. we met next day, and i went with him to report myself, the officers i saw making more than one jocular allusion to my being so much of a boy, but good-humouredly telling me that i should soon correct that. then followed my introduction to my company in the artillery, where with my brandscombe knowledge i was soon able to hold my own, and obtained some little notoriety from the interest i took in the horses which drew our heavy guns. i never let slip a chance either of being present at the parades of the horse artillery, visiting captain brace often; and i am afraid very selfishly, for i felt little warmth for him as a man, though a great deal for him as an officer, as i admired his bearing and the way in which he handled his men. and so a year passed away, and then came a day when i had to appear at head-quarters, where i showed myself, feeling that i was in disgrace for some reason or another. i was kept waiting for some little time before an orderly bade me follow him, and directly after, i found myself in the presence of four stern-looking officers, who began to question me severely, one beginning as soon as another ceased. i suppose my replies were satisfactory, all being on technical matters connected with field-gunnery, but what it all meant, unless i was to be promoted, i could not tell. at last the officer who seemed to be the head, turned to me. "look here, lieutenant vincent," he said; "this sharp examination is due to the fact that some pressure has been brought to bear, to have you transferred to the horse artillery." i turned scarlet with excitement. "well, sir, we naturally resent this, as we are proud of our horse service, and do not want some lout with interest to back him, foisted upon us. it would be degrading, but i tell you frankly that we are favourably impressed." "thank you, sir," i said. "we have carefully gone into your antecedents. we find that you are the son of a distinguished officer in the queen's service; that your career at brandscombe was excellent, and we learn nothing but good of you in connection with your year's work here." i bowed. "of course, we push you forward reluctantly, for it is a great honour to such a youth as you are. why, you will be the youngest officer in the horse artillery." "i am young, sir," i said, humbly, but with my heart beating fast. "and there is another thing before this is settled. what about riding?" "i can ride anything, sir," i said eagerly. "indeed!" "i have hunted a great deal at home." "ah, well, i suppose we must give way, and i hope you will prove worthy of your promotion to so gallant a corps. by the way, you know captain brace?" "oh yes, sir," i replied. "yes; he speaks very highly of you. so you shall go on probation with his troop at rambagh." i tried to speak, but no words came. "which means, mr vincent," said another of the old officers, "that if you prove yourself a soldier of spirit you will stay." i hardly knew what followed, and soon after i was dismissed, to go and find brace, who welcomed me with outstretched hands. "i am very glad, vincent," he said, "very glad indeed. come along with me, and i'll introduce you to major lacey, and the other officers of your new corps." chapter six. "you miserable, ugly, lazy nigger, take that, and that, and that." there was the sound of blows at each _that_, and then a volley of abuse as i neared the officers' quarters, and every word and blow came through the open windows. "confound you! do you think i keep you to do nothing but sleep? i'll have my horses look better than any one else's, and they look worse," came clearly; and there were more blows, while a group of white-clothed syces, two of whom held horses, looked at one another, and i saw that their faces wore a troubled aspect, as they whispered as soon as the english sentry on guard by the gateway turned his back to march steadily in the shade to the end of his beat, but as soon as he faced round they stood like bronze statues. then came more blows, and it was evident to me that the trouble, or whatever it might be, was taking place in the quarters to which i had been directed; but i wanted to make sure, and i turned out of my way to meet the sentry, who halted and saluted as i drew near. "which are lieutenant barton's quarters?" i said. "straight in front, sir. through that door where the horses stand." "is there something the matter?" the man grinned. "lieutenant's licking his syce, sir, for being dirty." "oh!" i said; and i was about to turn away, when the man said respectfully-- "beg pardon, sir; you don't know me again." "no," i said, looking at the man in a puzzled way. "yes, of course; you are denny. i did not expect to find you here. how are you?" "nicely, sir, thank ye. i was picked with two more to enter this troop. very glad, sir, you are appointed to it." "thank you, denny," i said. "it is pleasant to see the same faces." "beg pardon, sir," continued the man eagerly. "i oughtn't to talk like this, perhaps, but i got a letter from london yesterday, and she's all right, and ain't no worse for being pretty nigh drowned; and she said if ever i see the young gent as saved her life, as she'd always pray for him that he might live long and die happy." "oh, don't talk about it, denny," i said hastily. "thank you. that door where the syces are with the horses?" "don't stand sulking there, you black-looking scoundrel. it won't do with me; i'll cut it out of you." there was the sound of more blows, and then, as i nearly reached the doorway, where the native servants made way respectfully, i heard what was evidently the final blow, and the words, "now get out." directly after, a tall native in white came out, with his face convulsed and the blood streaming down one cheek from a cut on the left temple, and staining his white cotton garment; but as he came upon me, his countenance suddenly grew unnaturally calm, and he drew up on one side and saluted, as if nothing was the matter, though i could see that he was trembling like a leaf. discipline had already taught me that i had no right to interfere with the actions of my superior officers, but human nature had made me already resent the way in which overbearing englishmen bullied and ill-used the patient, long-suffering natives; and as i had heard the sounds of abuse and blows coming across the compound, a curious sensation of shame and annoyance made me feel hot and uncomfortable; and now as i came suddenly face to face with the good-looking, dark-faced man, with his bleeding temple, i hurriedly drew out a clean white handkerchief, doubled it into a bandage, and signing to the man to bend down, tied it tightly, bandage fashion, over what was a very severe cut. the man shrank from me for a moment, as if my action repelled him, but the next he had crossed his hands humbly over his breast, and bent forward. the act on my part was very quickly done, and then he raised his head, and his eyes met mine with a look that i could not read, but i could see that his lips were quivering, and the side of his head left uncovered was full of lines. the next moment i had remembered that i was an officer, and drew myself up stiffly. "is lieutenant barton in his rooms?" i said, in what i meant to be sharp, authoritative tones. "yes; what do you want?" came out through the window; and i stepped forward, catching one peculiar look from the injured man again, and noticing that the other syces salaamed to me as i passed out of the glare of sunshine, into the comparative darkness of a mat-hung passage, and from thence into a comfortable room well-furnished with cane chairs, gay indian rugs, and curtains, and with a light table, on which stood a cigar-box, a bottle or two, and glasses. between them lay a stout, silver-topped malacca cane, evidently the instrument with which the native groom had been chastised. but the principal object in the room was a fair-haired, supercilious-looking young man of seven or eight and twenty, in the lightest of pyjamas, and with a scarlet sash about his waist. he was lolling back in a reclining-chair as i entered, and he wrinkled his face, half-closing his eyes, and drawing his heavy moustache close up under his nose in a very unpleasant way, as he stared at me. "oh, you're our new fire-eater," he said, in a bantering tone. "i heard you had come while i was away. how are you? sit down and have a cigar. here, hi!" he clapped his hands, and a grave-looking native in white entered, salaamed, and said softly-- "sahib?" "mix two cool drinks, and put in plenty of ice. look sharp!" "don't order anything for me," i said, as the man bowed and left the room. "don't object to my having one, do you?" was said sneeringly, as i sat down; and then the officer laughed. "take a cigar." "thank you. i don't smoke." "don't drink--don't smoke? ah, well, i dare say we can teach you before we've done. well, how do you like rambagh?" "i haven't been here long enough to tell yet. it is very hot." "pooh! this is nothing. ninety. wait a bit, and we'll give it to you up to twenty." "no, that's too cold," i said, laughing. "is it? wait till you try." "oh, you mean a hundred and twenty." "i do. you will not be so ready to use a lot of words when one will do, after you've been here a while." "i suppose it does make you languid." "yes, and you can't get a thing done by the lazy hounds you have for servants. the more you keep, the less there is done. i had to thrash my new syce this morning to bring him to his senses." "yes, i heard you," i said. "are you allowed to knock people about like that?" he opened his eyes, and then squeezed them up again, as he stared at me wonderingly. "allowed? who's to prevent it?" "i don't know," i said. "i'm new to the place." just then the native servant brought in two glasses of some cool-looking drink, and handed them to his master. "now, idiot! how often am i to tell you to go to the visitors first?" "ask pardon, master," said the man; and he brought the brass tray to me, but the lieutenant took his own first. "health," he said shortly, and half drained his glass. i sipped mine, and set it down as the man left the room. "let's see; you came over with brace, didn't you?" "yes; in the _jumna_. he advised me to call and see you this morning, as you were out when we came." "much obliged to him. fond of shooting?" "i dare say i should be. i have had no opportunity so far." "fishing, then?" "oh yes. i have had a little trout and bottom fishing." "ah! we can give you some mahseer fishing here. trying after big ones that can pull you in." "thank you. i shall be very glad." "but you will not have much time yet. nice grind you've got before you to master your drill." "yes, i suppose so," i replied. "don't drink, don't smoke, and i suppose you can't ride?" "yes, i can ride," i said quickly. "i suppose so--in a riding-school. wait till you are going at full gallop over the plain, with six or eight guns bumping and jumping after you; you'll find out then whether you can ride. well, how do you like brace?" the question startled me. "i--i hardly know yet," i said. "with him long enough, anyhow!" "i thought him very gentlemanly and kind." "bah! you don't want a man to be gentlemanly and kind. you have got to learn to be a soldier--an artilleryman, not a molly. but, there, don't you be uneasy about that. i'll see that you are not spoiled. got your servants yet?" "no; there is nothing settled. i have only just come." "no horses, i suppose?" "no. captain brace said he would help me to get a couple." "hum! deal he knows about horses. better let me buy them for you. i know just the thing for you: plenty of speed, showy, and grand action-- sort of a charger that wouldn't do for me. not up to my weight, but it would carry you splendidly. brace always was the worst mounted man in the brigade. better try a cigar." i declined again, and sat chatting to my brother-officer till i thought i had been with him long enough, when i rose to go. "what! off already?" he said. "oh, well, if you can't stay. but you haven't swallowed your drink." i declined that too, feeling that he must be looking down upon me with the most utter contempt; but he said nothing till i had shaken hands. "then i shall look out for a charger for you?" "please no; not till i have spoken to captain brace." "what for? oh, he'll be glad to be saved the trouble. that will be all right. you stick to me, and i'll see you through." i left my brother-officer's quarters soon afterwards, feeling very glad to get away, and certainly under the impression that he thought me very stupid and boyish. "i suppose i've been keeping him in," i thought, for outside i found the syces still waiting with the horses i had noticed on entering, and there, too, was the man who had been punished by the lieutenant; but my handkerchief was not tied round his head now, his wound having been bathed and covered with a scrap of plaister. i observed, too, that he must have changed the slight white garments he wore, for the ugly stains were gone. he salaamed as i passed and went back to my own quarters, thinking that i should have to alter a good deal if i used the native servants as i had seen the man treated that day. chapter seven. i felt bound to tell captain brace of lieutenant barton's proposal respecting my horses, and he looked at me sharply. "do you wish him to manage that for you?" he said. "certainly not," i replied quickly; "he is quite a stranger, and i have known you from leaving england." "he has not a very high opinion of my knowledge of horses, i know; but i think i can save your father some money in the transaction; and i promise you that you shall be well-mounted. and, by the way, vincent, i don't want to worry you with advice, but i must tell you one thing. the climate here is very trying to an english constitution, and if a man--" i looked up sharply, and i saw a faint smile on his lip as he went on-- "--wishes to keep in health, he must be careful, and very abstemious as to what he drinks. do you understand?" i said i did, and thought of the table in lieutenant barton's quarters; feeling sure it was meant as a hint to me not to follow my brother-officer's example. i was so busy during those early days drilling, and learning my various duties, that the time went very fast. i had my servants engaged, and felt rather ashamed to have so many; but the captain said that they were absolutely necessary, and the lieutenant that there were not half enough. he found terrible fault, too, with my horse the first day i was mounted, and on parade; and this, too, after i had tried the handsome dark arched-necked creature several times, and found that it carried me delightfully, being one of those elastic short-stepping animals, whose pace suited so well with the military style of riding. "well," said barton, sourly, "i gave you my advice, and offered to help you. don't blame me if you get ridden over one of these days." i was nervous enough before he spoke that morning, and naturally felt a good deal more so afterwards; and during the evolutions in which i took part for the first time, with a stern-looking sergeant close by me to help me through, it seemed to me as if my brother-officer's words were about to be fulfilled. for in my confusion during a gallop i managed to get where i had no business to be, and turned sharply round to see that the men with the gun were pretty close to me before they reined in. to complete my misery, the major in charge of the battery rode up, and delivered a few pretty sharp adjurations to me and to the sergeant. i did not feel very comfortable that morning as i rode up to the quarters, dismounted, covered with perspiration and dust, and saw my horse led away; neither did i feel much better after my bath and change, as i hesitated whether i should go over to captain brace's rooms, he having invited me to breakfast. "i shall never manage it," i thought. every one was laughing at me, and it was dreadful to be rowed like that by the major. i threw myself despondently in my chair, and had quite given up going, when captain brace's servant came round to say that his master was waiting breakfast. there was nothing else for it but to go, and i followed the man to the bright-looking, cool room where brace was seated. "come, my lad," he cried, "i should have thought you would be ravenous. hallo! what's wrong?" i looked at him with my face all in wrinkles, and sank down despondently in the seat to which he pointed. "tired out?" he said. i shook my head. "then, pray, what's the matter?" "matter?" i cried bitterly. "you saw what a fool i made of myself this morning." his face wore a peculiar look as he shook his head. "no," he said; "i was not there that time. what did you do?" "not there! why, you saw me get all wrong, and the men nearly ride me down, as barton said they would, with that horse." "i thought so," said brace drily. "how curious it is that a prophecy of evil always makes more impression than one of good." "i don't understand you," i said. "my words were simple, my lad. barton ran that horse down because he did not buy it for you. now, naturally enough, i kept my eye upon you all through the drill, so as to see how you would get on. your horse behaved admirably; and i should be ready to give you a couple of hundred rupees more for it than it cost; while, for a beginner, i thought you did remarkably well. here: have some coffee." "well!" i cried, excitedly, "when i was nearly ridden over!" "you were not nearly ridden over; nothing of the kind." "but you heard what the major said." "yes. he shouts pretty sharply sometimes. you were out of your place, of course." "oh yes; i was out of my place, of course," i said bitterly. "i feel completely disgraced." "go on with your breakfast, boy," cried brace, with a good-humoured laugh. "disgraced! you, a mere calf in just learning your drill. if you had been in the troop for four or five years, and made such a blunder, why, it would have been rather disgraceful; but for you! why, we are quite proud of the rapid way you are picking up the evolutions." "no: you are saying that to comfort me," i cried bitterly. "i have a good many faults, vincent," he said quietly; "but i don't think insincerity is one of them. if i say a thing to you, my lad, pleasant or unpleasant, you may take it for granted that i believe it to be honest and true." "but the major? what he said to me before all the men was dreadful." "not at all. he was bound to say it. he might have spoken less harshly; but--wonderful!--here he is." for just then i nearly jumped out of my chair on hearing the major's voice asking for captain brace, and the next moment he had stridden into the room. "how nice and cool you are here," he said. "ah, vincent, my lad, feel a bit sore after our gallop?" "yes, sir," i replied, gloomily, as the major seated himself at the table, helped himself to coffee and curry, and began to eat. "you'll soon get over that. it's rough work at first; but use is second nature. i say, that's a very pretty little nag of yours; rather slight, but quite up to your weight. she gallops splendidly. here, i'm regularly breakfasting. i wanted to have a few words with you, so i came over, as my wife was not down." "shall i go, sir?" i said, rising. "no, no, my dear boy; sit still." i stared. not an hour before he was bullying me fiercely before the whole troop. brace saw my face, and laughed. "vincent is in the doldrums," he said. "what about?" grumbled the major, with his mouth full of curry. "you asked him if he was sore. he is: about the thrashing you gave him this morning." "bah! nonsense! good lesson for you, boy. you won't make that mistake again. you are getting on capitally. wish we had a couple more of your breed." "there, vincent," said brace; "what do you say now?" i could not say anything, only feel as if the morning had suddenly become bright and joyous; and i began to make a wonderful breakfast; while the major chatted over a few matters connected with the discipline of the troop and the behaviour of some of the men. "well," said brace, as soon as the major had gone; for he jumped up suddenly on receiving a message from his own quarters, leaving his half-eaten curry and a newly filled cup of coffee. "the general down," he cried. "bring vincent over this evening for an hour or two." "well," said brace, "how are the spirits now?" "oh, better," i said, smiling; "but i do wish i was more clever." "rubbish! don't be impatient. a soldier can't learn his duties in a month; and when he has learned them, it requires incessant practice to keep up to the mark; and will need," he continued sadly, "to work hard; and, by the way, pay all the attention you can to your sword practice and fencing. i would not miss any of the pistol practice either." i looked at him curiously, for there seemed to be a meaning underlying his words. "you need not worry about the riding-school; you can't help getting on well in that. what are you looking at?" "you don't think there is going to be war, do you?" "i think a soldier ought always to be ready in case there is," he replied evasively. "yes; but not war out here. you don't think russia means--" "hallo! who has been talking to you about russia? no, vincent, my boy, i do not; but i should not be surprised if we have a bit of trouble in one of the provinces before long. i hope not; but we are always having a little affair with some native prince. however, if we do, it may not affect us. our troop may be a thousand miles away. india is a big place." "yes, and isn't it wonderful that so few englishmen should keep so many millions of the natives in subjection?" "in some respects, yes, my lad; in others, no. the great power comes from the fact that india embraces many nations who do not all think alike, neither are they of the same religion; and hence if we had trouble with one nation, the possibility is that we could bring some of the others to fight upon our side. but matters are not as they should be, vincent; and i cannot help having forebodings now and then. we do not treat the people as we should. there is a little too much of the iron heel of the despot on their necks." i thought of barton's treatment of the syce, and of many similar incidents wherever i had been since i came out, and then forgot every one but the fact that the post had come in, and with it a letter from my father, enclosing two others from my mother and sister. "where are they now?" asked brace. "in the north-west provinces," i said eagerly, "at nussoor." "some hundred miles away, vincent. you are not likely to meet them for some time to come. you will have to introduce me to your people when you do." chapter eight. my work was hard at rambagh, for i had no measured hours. i was ambitious too; eager to master my profession, and in constant dread of exciting derision by making some mistake. perhaps some lads of my age would not have worked so hard, but would have contented themselves by acquiring the necessary knowledge slowly; but that did not accord with my ideas, and i eagerly attended all the early morning drills, and though the sergeant sourly said that i wanted a deal of setting up, and the riding-master laughingly told me that i looked like a tailor on horseback, i suppose i got on pretty well. at any rate, i was able to keep my place without making many outrageous blunders. i suppose it was a good deal due to the petting bestowed upon him, but i found my charger--the sheik--as i called him, at captain brace's suggestion, grew quite attached to me, and would follow me like a dog. and in spite of the intense heat, it was a pleasant life when i grew more used to my work, and less conscious and afraid of ridicule. i had my servants, who were very obedient and servile, but not at all attentive. i was too easy with them, barton said, and he told me that a good kicking would do them good. certainly his men flew to obey every word, and shrank at every look. "and hate him like poison," captain brace said bitterly. but they did not show their hatred, if brace was right; and no officer rode out to parade in better trim than barton. one hot day, as i was seated panting at my shuttered window, i saw that barton's way of treating the syces was imitated by his subordinates, for one of the serjeants, for some reason or another, raised his hand to strike a white-clothed figure across the enclosure, but altered his mind, and kicked him instead, with the result that the man shrank away, but made no sign, and i could not help thinking what a tyrant the white man was to the conquered black. i don't know how it was, but as i lay back in my chair weary after a heavy morning drill, and drowsy from the effects of a good breakfast, i kept my eyes on the white-clothed figure whom the serjeant had kicked. he had stood like a statue till the serjeant had gone into the barracks, but as soon as the officer's back was turned, i saw him glance round sharply, and then he appeared to be speaking to the natives near him in a quick excited way. from where i lay back, it was like looking at some photograph, every figure stood out so sharply in the bright sunshine, and i was just thinking that i did not feel so indignant at what had taken place as i had when i had first witnessed such a thing, when i half sleepily noticed that the native had left the group of syces by the open doorway which looked black on the white walls. then he appeared to be crossing the great barrack square, and passed out of my sight, while my eyes closed, and i was dropping off to sleep, when i started wide-awake again listening. the sound which had aroused me was repeated close to the open window, and it was a sharp hissing drawing in of the breath, as of one in pain; and directly after the _syce_ who had crossed over to my side of the square, passed my window, halting slightly, and with a strange expression on his face, which impressed me even then. as i watched him it passed away, and he drew himself up, walking as usual, and salaaming to some one approaching in the opposite direction, and major lacey and captain brace sauntered by, while i lay thinking about the syce's expression, and the patient way in which he had hidden the pain from which he was suffering. i had recognised him, too, as the tall, handsome native who had been struck by barton--a man who, ever since, had saluted me with a grave, gentle smile. "it's too bad," i was saying to myself; and then, in my listless weariness, i was dropping off to sleep again, as i generally did after a hard drill, when my black servant entered silently, and presented me with a little packet. "what is it?" i said lazily. "no know, sahib. ny deen bring, and say tell master dhoby man keep it and couldn't get back." i opened the packet, which smelt most fragrantly, and found first some white flowers, and beneath them, very carefully washed, ironed, and scented, a pocket-handkerchief. "mine," i said half wonderingly, and then i grasped what it meant. "did that syce, lieutenant barton's man, bring this just now?" "yes, sahib. ny deen." "that will do," i said; and i lay back thinking of the morning when i saw the man come out of barton's quarters bleeding, and bound up the cut. "a set of black scoundrels, are they," i said to myself. "well, some of them have feeling, and a way of showing their gratitude." i took up and smelt the fragrant white blossoms thoughtfully; and then i remember saying to myself, for those events were stamped pretty deeply in my memory-- "an englishman would never have dreamed of sending flowers like that. i dare say it means something, if one only knew." a few days after, when i had almost forgotten the incident, save that i always politely returned ny deen's salute when i passed him, i was returning to my quarters one evening, when--not at all an uncommon thing--i heard loud voices in front, and saw that three of our men were going unsteadily along, evidently after too long a stay at one of the wretched places where they were supplied with the poisonous arrack which was answerable for the miserable death of so many british soldiers. one of the men in particular was in that noisy, excited state when reason seems to have run riot, and folly and madness have been taken for companions. the man's two companions were greatly under the influence of drink, but they had sense enough left to try and control their drunken friend; and as i kept back unseen in the darkness, i saw them check the fellow when an insane desire had come upon him to kick and hammer at the officers' quarters; and later on they engaged in a struggle, when he swore that he would go and let loose every horse in the troop. all this made me so indignant with the idiot that i was several times on the point of interfering, but i thought that nature would punish the fellow enough the next day, and kept back, waiting to see the others get him to his quarters. but, in spite of my determination, i found myself unexpectedly dragged into the affair; for, just as they were near lieutenant barton's quarters, two of the syces' wives came by, and with a shout the man escaped from his comrades' grasp, made a rush at the two frightened women, and caught one of them in his arms. she cried aloud for help, and a couple of the native servants rushed out; one of them seizing the drunken gunner, and, in the brief struggle which ensued, i saw the two women run away, while their assailant held on to one of the white-clothed men, and, steadying himself, began striking him savagely, while the syce made no resistance, but passively received the blows. "the fool!" i said to myself, as i hurried up, thinking that if it had been an englishman instead of a native, our drunken gunner would have received a severe thrashing. i did not pause to consider any consequences, but just watched my opportunity, and as the englishman struck the syce heavily with his right hand, as he held the poor fellow with his left, i, too, delivered a stinging blow, as i ran in, right in the gunner's ear, and then stood astonished at what i had done. for the next moment the fellow had gone down heavily, his head striking against a stone, and then he rolled over and lay still, with the syce standing close by looking on. "you've killed him, sir," said one of the man's comrades, as he went down on one knee by his side and raised his head. "serve the brute right," i said passionately. "yes; he's pretty bad," growled the other, as he, too, bent down over his comrade, the affair having pretty well sobered them, as it had sobered me, too; for a chill of horror ran through me at the very thought of the man's words being true. "here, you," i said roughly; "go and tell the sergeant of the guard. what, you in trouble again, ny deen?" "yes, sahib," said the syce softly, for i had recognised barton's groom. he ran off quickly, and the sergeant and a couple of men came up just as barton was returning to his quarters. "hillo! what's up?" he said; "an accident?" "no," i said shortly; "this drunken fellow was insulting our women, and then ill-using your syce for protecting them, and i knocked him down." "and you have done it, sir," grumbled the sergeant. "i'm afraid he isn't going to come to." barton bent down over the man, who, i now saw, by a stable-lantern, was bleeding from the head, and the chill of horror increased as the lieutenant rose. "here," he said; "carry him into hospital. be smart. you, sergeant, go and rouse up the doctor." "yes, sir;" and the men hurried off. "he'll be pleased," said barton to me, with a cynical laugh. "he has had nothing but cholera cases and a broken arm to see to for months. but, i say, don quixote, you've put your foot in it this time." "enough to make me." i cried petulantly. "i can't stand by and see men such brutes." we stopped and saw the insensible man carried into the building used as an infirmary, and by that time the doctor, who had been dining with major lacey--brace being of the party--came into the building, and was followed by the above-named officers, who looked on in silence till the surgeon made his report. "concussion of the brain, i'm afraid," he said shortly. "bad for a man in his state. this fellow is always on the drink. he must have fallen very heavily. was he fighting?" "yes--no," i said, rather confusedly. "not very clear, vincent," said the major. "which was he doing?" "the fact is, sir, he was brutally ill-using one of the syces, who did not dare to defend himself, and i knocked the fellow down." "oh!" said the major, coldly; and he walked away, but turned back. "you had better go to your quarters, sir," he said. "i suppose we can do you no good, danby?" "no; thanks. only let me have the nurse. place will be cooler without company." i went to my quarters, feeling as if the whole of my military career had come to an end through my passionate, quixotic behaviour; and yet somehow i could not deeply regret my action. i was sitting in my dim room, watching the moths and flies circling round the shaded lamp, when i received a summons to go to the major's quarters, and on going across i found brace there, and the doctor. "this is a serious matter, vincent," said the major. "dr danby gives a very bad account of this man's state. how did it all happen? tell me everything." i explained all the circumstances, and then there was a pause. i glanced at brace, who sat there in the shade, so that i could not see his face, and a curious sensation of misery attacked me as i began to think of court-martials, and dismissal, or resignation, if there were no worse punishment, and my brain had already pictured the man's death, with the following military funeral, and volleys fired over the grave, when the major said-- "we must wait and see how this matter turns out, vincent. it will be a most painful thing for me to report at head-quarters. but i will say no more to-night, only to warn you that you are too quixotic." that word again! how i did loathe it then. "i have a great objection myself to seeing the natives beaten, and i have more than once punished men for it; but it will not do for a junior officer like you to take upon yourself the defence of every black whom you consider ill-used. there, sir; you can return to your quarters. no, no, don't say anything to-night. go back, and think of what i have said. going, brace?" "yes," said the captain, rising. "i'll walk back with vincent: you don't want me any longer. i'll see danby again to-night, and hear how the man is going on." a minute later i was walking across in the darkness, with brace, waiting for him to speak, and listening to the regular tramp of the sentry near us, and the softer sound of another at a distance, like an echo of the one by the officers' quarters. but we had reached my quarters, and still brace did not speak. "good night," i said, coldly. "i am very sorry, vincent," he said, ignoring my extended hand; and i felt, more than ever, that we never could be friends. "then you think i have done very wrong?" i said bitterly. "yes, very wrong. as an officer, you had no right to strike one of the men." "then you would have me stand by and see the poor fellows about us struck, kicked, and insulted, until it is beyond bearing," i cried passionately. "i declare i wonder sometimes that they don't rise up against us, and put an end to the cruel oppression from which they suffer." "hush!" he said gravely. "you are letting your tongue get the better of your discretion, vincent. you, a young officer, can only amend these ways by your example. you must see, when you are cooler, that you have been guilty of a grave breach of discipline. i am speaking as your brother-officer, who sincerely wishes to see you rise in the profession you have chosen. we have been thrown together, and i hoped, by my experience, to help you--one so much younger--living, as you are, among strangers. it is not a pleasant task, vincent, for i cannot help seeing that you resent my interference often, and think me cold, hard, and unsympathetic. there, good night for the present. i will come on later, and report how the man is." he turned on his heel, and i stood listening to the tramp of his feet till he turned in to his own quarters, while i sat down to think, after telling the servants to go to bed. it was a miserable night for me. the window was open, and the hot wind came in, making me feel so low and depressed, that life was almost unbearable. there was the _ping, ping, ping_, of the mosquitoes, and the piteous wailing shriek of the jackals as they hunted in a pack, and there, too, was the monotonous tramp of the sentry, hour after hour. "asleep, vincent?" i started from a nap to see the open window a little darker. "no. i have been dozing. how is he?" "i have just come from the hospital. there is no concealing the fact, my lad, that he is very bad; but let us hope it will not come to the worst. good night." "good night," i said, as he walked away; "however can it be a good night for me again?" then, after a weary time, i rose, and began to walk up and down my quarters with the question always before me-- "suppose that man dies, what will you do?" very little sleep came to me that night, and at dawn i sent a man for news, and my servant came back looking horrified. "oh, mastah!" he whispered, "dey say private smith going to die." chapter nine. private smith did not die, but he had a month in hospital for his punishment, while mine was confined to a severe reprimand. i was not happy at rambagh, for though the other officers were pleasant enough with me, barton always seemed to be sneering at my efforts, and was ready to utter some disparaging remark. there was one consolation, however: the others did not seem to like him, so that it did not look as if it were all my fault. i noticed one thing, though, and it was this: barton was always ready to say disparaging things about brace; but the latter never retaliated, and always refrained from mentioning, save in the most general way, his brother-officer's name. i was getting on fast, i suppose, for i felt less nervous and more at home with the troop. the various words of command had ceased to be a puzzle, and when i had orders to give, i was beginning to be able to use my voice in a penetrating, decisive way, and did not feel ashamed of it when i heard my words ring out clearly, and not as if they were jerked or bumped out by the motion of my horse. then, too, i had got on so far that i did not mind standing close to the brass field-pieces when they were fired, and the discharge had ceased to make my ears ring for hours after, and feel deaf. at the first shots i heard, i could not help wondering whether the piece i stood by would burst, and kill or wound us with a jagged fragment of brass. while now the dashing gallop, with the guns leaping and bounding over the plain, and the men on the limbers holding on with both hands to keep from being jerked off, had grown exhilarating and full of excitement. there was always the feeling that one must have a bad fall, and sometimes a horse would go down, and a man be hurt more or less seriously; but somehow i always escaped. and one morning i went back to breakfast after a heavy gallop, tired, but prouder than i had ever before felt in my life, for i had heard one of the men whisper to another as we drew up into line after a fierce gallop-- "how the young beggar can ride!" and, to make matters better, brace came alongside of me, and uttered the one word, "capital," as he passed. i felt the colour come into my cheeks, and a sense of delight such as i had not experienced for months; and then i gave my horse's sides a nip with my knees, which made it start, for i caught sight of barton smiling superciliously, and supplying the drop of bitterness which kept me from growing conceited. i must hurry through these early days, a full account of which would sound dull and uninteresting, but during which i had grown to be quite at home on the sheik, and on another horse which brace purchased for me, and which, from his speed, i called hurricane. for though i found that i belonged to the fastest and best-trained troop of horse artillery in the service, from being so light a weight, i had to keep a pretty tight rein on my new horse, so as to hold him in his place. barton laughed at it, and called it a wretched screw; but i did not mind, for i found out before i had been attached to the corps long that everything in which brace had a hand was wrong, and that he bore anything but a friendly feeling toward me, dubbing me brace's jackal, though all the time i felt that i was no nearer being friends than on the day i joined. i had learned from barton why brace had been over to england. it was to take his young wife, to whom he had only been married a year, in the hope of saving her life; and if i had felt any repugnance to the lieutenant before, it was redoubled now by the cynically brutal way in which he spoke. "she died, of course," he said. "we all knew she would--a poor, feeble kind of creature--and a good job for him. a soldier don't want an invalid wife." these words explained a good deal about brace that i had not grasped before, and as i thought of his quiet, subdued ways, and the serious aspect of his face, i could not help feeling how fond he must have been of the companion he had lost, and how it had influenced his life. at the end of a year, we received the route, and were off, to march by easy stages, to rajgunge, where we were to be stationed, and a glorious change it seemed to me, for i was as weary of the ugly town, with its dirty river and crowded bazaars, as i was of our hot, low barracks and the dusty plain which formed our training-ground. rajgunge, brace told me, was quite a small place, in a beautifully wooded, mountainous country, where there was jungle and cane-brake, with plenty of sport for those who cared for it, the rajah being ready enough to get up shooting-parties and find elephants and beaters for a grand tiger battue from time to time. it was quite a new experience to me, all the preparations for the evacuation of the barracks, and i stared with astonishment at the size of the baggage-train, with the following of servants, grooms, tentmen, elephants, and camels, deemed necessary to accompany our marches. it was like the exodus of some warlike tribe; but, as brace told me, it was quite the regular thing. "you see, everything is done to spare our men labour. their profession is to fight, and as long as they do that well, john company is willing that they should have plenty of assistance to clean their horses, guns, and accoutrements." our marches were always made in the very early morning, many of our starts being soon after midnight, and a curious scene it was in the moonlight, as the long train, with its elephants laden with tents, and camels moaning and grumbling at the weight of the necessaries they were doomed to carry, the light flashing from the guns or the accoutrements of the mounted men, and all on and on, over the sandy dust, till i grew drowsy, and nodded over my horse's neck, rousing myself from time to time with a start to ask whether it was not all some dream. just as the sun was getting unpleasantly hot, and the horses caked with sweat and dust, a halt would be called in some shady tope, where the tents rose as if by magic, fires were rapidly lighted by the attendants, and, amidst quite a babel of tongues, breakfast was prepared, while parroquets of a vivid green shrieked at us from the trees, squirrels leaped and ran, and twice over we arrived at a grove to find it tenanted by a troop of chattering monkeys, which mouthed and scolded at us till our men drove them far into the depths of the jungle with stones. here, with our tents set up in the shade of the trees, we passed the hot days, with the sun pouring down with such violence that i have often thought it might be possible for a loaded gun to get heated enough to ignite the powder. there would be plenty of sleeping, of course, with the sentries looking longingly on, and wishing it was their turn; and then, soon after midnight, the column would be _en route_ again, to continue its march till seven, eight, or nine o'clock, according to the distance of the camping-place, the same spots being used by the different regiments year after year. there was very little variety, save that we had more or less dust, according to the character of the road material over which we travelled; and i heard the news, after many days, that the next would be the last, as eagerly as i had of the one which had been nominated for our start. it was a brilliant morning when we came in sight of a sparkling river, beyond which were the white walls and gilded minarets of rajgunge, with squat temples and ghauts down at the riverside, and everywhere dotted about tall waving palms, groves of trees, and again, beyond these, the rich green of cultivated lands, rising up to mountains blue in the distance, where the wild jungle filled up the valleys and gorges which seamed their sides. "lovely!" i ejaculated, as i feasted my eyes on the glorious scene. "eh? what?" said barton, who heard me. "bah! what a gushing girl you are, gil vincent! does look, though, as if we might get a bit of shooting." he rode on, and i hung back till brace came abreast of me, and looked at me inquiringly. "well, vincent," he said, "you wanted some beautiful country to look at. i have not exaggerated, have i?" "no; it is glorious!" i cried. "yes; beautiful indeed, and the more lovely to us who have been so long in the plains." we rode on in silence for a time till we neared the head of the bridge of boats we had to cross--a structure which looked too frail to bear our guns and the ponderous elephants in our baggage-train; but the leading men advanced; the first gun was drawn over by its six horses, and the rest followed, while, as i passed over with the sheik snorting and looking rather wild-eyed at the rushing water, i was only conscious of an elastic motion of the plank roadway, as a hollow sound came up at the trampling of the horses' feet, and before long we were winding through that densely-populated city, and then right through to our quarters, high up on a slope, where the wind came down fresh and sweet from the hills. "how long shall we stay here?" i asked brace, that evening, after mess, as we stood at the edge of our parade-ground, looking down at the city with the level rays of the setting sun lighting up the gilded minarets, and glorifying the palm-trees that spread their great feathery leaves against the amber sky. "how long shall we stay here?" said brace, sadly, as he repeated my question. "who can tell? perhaps for a year--perhaps for a month. till we are wanted to crush out some mad attempt on the part of a chief to assert his independence, or to put down a quarrel between a couple of rajahs hungry for each other's lands." chapter ten. it was a delightful change, for the country was grand, the english society pleasant and hospitable, and the chief of the district most eager to be on friendly terms with the officers of our troop, and of the foot regiment stationed in the lower part of the town, so that the months soon glided by, and whenever any of us could be spared from duty, we were off on some expedition. brace cared little for sport, but he used to join the shooting-parties got up by the nawab; and gloriously exciting beats we had through the jungle; those when brace was my companion being far more enjoyable than when barton had leave. for the latter's sole idea was to slay everything; while brace, who was a dead shot, and who laid low several tigers during our stay, always seemed to be fonder of studying the habits of the birds and smaller animals that we came across. as for myself, i believe i shared to some extent the tastes of both; but to me the whole expedition, with its elephant-ride and train of picturesque servants, and the tiffin in the tent set up by the nawab's people, was the great attraction. it was a merry life we all led, with some festivity always on the way, from hunting-parties down to lunches at the different civilians', and then up again to dinner-parties and balls, given by the mess of the artillery, or the sepoy regiment, which had an excellent band. the officers of this black regiment were as pleasant and sociable a's could be, and the colonel as fine a specimen of an english country gentleman as could be found. there was quite an emulation as to which corps should be the most soldierly and perfect in their evolutions. the colonel took to me, and we were the best of friends. he told me why. "because of your seat in the saddle, boy. i used to be passionately fond of hunting at home, and my heart warmed to you the first day i watched you in a gallop. however did you learn to ride like that?" "i suppose it came almost naturally to me," i said, laughing. "my father always insisted upon my having a pony, and spending several hours a day in the saddle." "your father was a wise man, sir; and you ride capitally." "our riding-master said my seat was everything that was bad." "bah! he is a mechanic, and wants every man to ride like a pair of compasses slung across a rail. don't you spoil your seat to please any of them. i like to see a man sit a horse as if he belonged to it. then he can use his sword." how proud he was of his regiment. "look at them," he would say; "only that they are a little curved in the upper leg, they are as fine a set of men as you will find in any english regiment; and if it was not for their black faces, they would pass for guards." he was very kind to them, and set a splendid example to his officers, but, unfortunately, they did not follow his example. in fact, the whole of the english people at the station treated the black race as if they were inferior beings; and though every one in rajgunge was humble and servile to the whites, it always seemed to me as if they were civil only because they were obliged. i used to talk to brace about it sometimes, and he would agree. "but what can you expect?" he said. "they are a conquered race, and of a different religion. i question whether, with the kindest treatment, we should ever make them like us; but we never try." i did not say anything, but thought that the black servants were always ready and eager to attend to him, and i never had any difficulty in getting things done; and often after that i used to wonder that a man like ny deen should patiently put up with the brutal insult and ill-usage he met with from barton, who treated him like a dog, while like a dog the indian used to patiently bear all his abuse and blows. "does him good," barton said to me one day, with an ugly grin, because it annoyed me. "see what a good servant it makes him. you're jealous, vincent. you want him yourself." "yes," i said, "i should like to have him, and show him that all english officers are not alike." "do you mean that as an insult, sir?" he cried. "i meant it more as a reproach," i replied coolly. "look here, vincent," he said hotly, "i have put up with a good deal from you since you have been in the troop, and i don't mean to stand much more from such a boy." "really, barton--" i began. "stop, sir, please, and hear me out. ever since i joined, and as far back as i can hear of, it has been considered a feather in a man's cap to belong to the horse artillery. many a fine fellow has put down his name and wanted to be transferred from the foot, and want has been his master. but nowadays the service is going to the dogs." "i don't want to--" "stop! you are going to hear me out," he cried, interposing between me and the door. "i've long wanted to come to an understanding with you, but you have always sneaked behind your nurse." "i don't understand you," i said angrily; but it was not true. "then i'll tell you what i mean. you have always hung on the apron-string of mr brace, and a nice pair there are of you. the troop's going to ruin, and i shall tell lacey so. i'm not going to stand it. here, you came out, a mere schoolboy, and before you've been two years in the foot, you are selected to come into what used to be the smartest troop in the company's service. i'm not blind. it's all grossly unfair. you've got relatives on the board, and it's all money and interest. it's a disgrace to the service." "do you mean i am a disgrace to the troop?" i said hotly. "yes, i do," he cried savagely; "and i know well enough one of these days how it will be. there will be some excuse made, and you will be promoted over me; and if you are, i warn you i won't rest until the whole miserable bit of trickery has been exposed." "you would be clever if you did expose anything, for there is nothing for you to expose. my uncle did write to head-quarters, i know, but i read his letter first." "what did it say?" "and he only asked for my wishes to be acceded to, if i was found worthy." "found worthy!" he cried, with a mocking laugh, which made my cheeks burn. "found worthy! it's a disgrace to the service!" "oh, there, i'm not going to quarrel with you," i said, fighting down my annoyance. "no, and i am not going to quarrel with you, but for a couple of annas i'd give you a downright horsewhipping." i started up from my seat, but a hand was laid upon my arm, and i was pressed down as i swung my head round and gazed up in brace's stern face. "be quiet," he said, grimly; and then--"may i ask, mr barton, what this means?" "no, you may not," cried barton, offensively. "but i do ask, sir. i heard you threaten to horse-whip your junior officer as i entered the room." "and most creditable for an officer and a gentleman to stand at the door listening," cried barton, in a mocking tone. "eavesdropping." brace's pale sallow face changed colour, but he spoke very calmly, for he realised that barton had made up his mind to quarrel with him. "what has been the matter, vincent?" "mr barton has thought proper to accuse my friends of gross favouritism, and he tells me that i have no business in the horse brigade." "lieutenant barton is not the judge of what officers are suitable for our troop; and you may take it for granted that if you had not proved yourself worthy of the selection made, you would very soon have been transferred back." "don't you believe it, vincent," cried barton, whose face was flushed, and whose manner indicated that he had been drinking overnight, with the consequence that he was irritable and bitter with every one about him. "the whole service is being neglected, or else there would very soon be a weeding out in this troop." brace had been very grave and calm so far. again and again he had turned aside the sneers and innuendoes of barton, who for months had grown more and more offensive as he found that he could insult brace with impunity; but now he was startled by the change which came over his brother-officer, for brace flushed up, his eyes glittered, and in a voice that i did not recognise as his own, he said-- "yes, sir, and lieutenant barton would be removed, perhaps disgraced, for insolence to his brother-officers, brutality to the people under him, and conduct generally unworthy of an officer and a gentleman." "what?" cried barton. "you understand my words, sir," said brace. "you have forced me by your treatment to turn at last, and tell you that i will submit to your insults no longer, neither will i allow you to annoy vincent." "you will not allow me!" "i will not. do you think i am a child because i have been forbearing? your insolence has been beyond bounds." "then why did you bear it?" cried barton. "for the honour of the service, sir. because i would not degrade myself and you in the eyes of our men by descending to a quarrel." "how brave!" cried barton, mockingly; but brace paid no heed, and went on. "because, sir, i would not be your boon companion, and drink and generally conduct myself in a way unworthy of an english officer in the high position i hold in this country, i have been constantly marked out as the butt for your offensive sarcasm, even as far back as the time when, if you had possessed a spark of manliness or feeling, you would have respected me and shown consideration for one who was passing through such an ordeal as i pray heaven you may be spared." "bah! a parade of your sufferings," said barton, mockingly. brace winced, but he went on calmly. "i have seen all and borne all, and even now i should not have spoken but for your insult to vincent, whom i heard you threaten to horse-whip." "which he daren't do," i cried angrily. "silence!" cried brace sternly. "you are no longer a boy, and this is not a school." "indeed!" said barton, looking me up and down with an offensive laugh. "i thought it was." i winced now in my turn, and then looked wonderingly at brace, who uttered the word-- "contemptible!" barton took a step forward angrily. "keep your bullying looks and words, sir, for the poor hindoos, whom you have so disgracefully trampled down. they are wasted upon me, for i know your nature now only too well. i am not going to quarrel, though i have easy excuse." "then what will you do?" said barton. "fight?" "yes, when my duty renders it necessary, sir. as matters stand, i feel bound to report what has taken place to major lacey, and to leave it in his hands to reprimand you, and call upon you to apologise." barton sank back into a chair, uttering a forced laugh that made brace turn pale. "`and out crept a mouse!'" cried the lieutenant. "is that all, my brave, fire-eating captain? report all to major lacey! by jingo, sir, i'll spare you the trouble. i'll go and tell him what a miserable, contemptible, beggarly coward he has in his troop, and that he is allowing you to drag down your wretched pupil to your own level. there, stand out of my way." he thrust captain brace aside, as he strode toward the door--a thrust that was almost a blow, and then aloud, "here you: open that door-- quickly. do you hear?" i looked across sharply, and saw that a couple of the native servants had entered the room, and felt that they must have heard every word. they opened the door, barton passed out, and the two white-robed men turned to look at us wonderingly before hurrying out, and the door fell to. "they must have heard," i said to myself; "and they'll go and tell the others. it will be all round the station directly that captain brace is a coward." for a few moments i felt as if i dared not raise my eyes, but it was as if something was dragging me to look up, and as i did, i saw that brace was looking at me fixedly, and there was something very singular in his gaze; but for some time he did not speak, and there was so strange a tumult in my breast that no words would come. "well," he said at last. "what are you thinking?" "of all this," i said huskily. "and that as an officer and a gentleman i ought to have knocked barton down?" "something of the kind," i replied. "of course; and then, according to the code of honour among gentlemen, i ought to fight him at daybreak to-morrow morning." i was silent. "yes," he said passionately; "that is what you are thinking." "i can't help it," i cried angrily. "he almost struck you, and the khansamah saw it, and that other man too. it will be all over the place. you must fight him now." he looked at me very strangely, and i saw his brows contract as he said gravely-- "duelling is a thing of the past, vincent; a cowardly, savage practice in which the life of a man is at the mercy of his skilful adversary. life is too valuable to throw away in a quarrel. i do not feel as if i had done all my work yet." "but what can you do?" i said excitedly, for my brain was in a turmoil. i loved him, but his conduct frightened me; it was so unlike anything i could have expected from a gallant soldier; and there was a singularly cold sensation of dread creeping over me. i felt afraid that i was going to dislike him as one unworthy to be known, as i cried angrily, "but what can you do?" he looked at me as if he could read me through and through, and his face grew very sad as he replied-- "there is the proper course open to me, vincent, and that i am about to do." "fight him?" i cried eagerly, and the miserable sensation of dread began to pass off. "no, boy; i am going to explain everything to major lacey, who will report to head-quarters if he considers it right." he passed slowly out of the room, and i heard his step echoing beneath the broad verandah, as he went in the direction of major lacey's, while, unable to restrain myself in my bitterness and contempt, i too got up and hurried out. "he is a coward!" i muttered; "a coward!"--for i could not see the bravery of the man's self-control; "and i have been gradually growing to like him, and think of him always as being patient and manly and noble. why, i would have tried to knock barton down, if he had killed me for it." "gone to report," i thought again, after a pause; "gone to tell, like a little schoolboy who has been pushed down. him a soldier; and a coward like that!" chapter eleven. joined to the love of a military life, i had all a boy's ideal notions of bravery and chivalry. by which i mean the frank, natural, outside ideas, full of the show and glitter, and i could not see beneath the surface. i did not know then that it might take more courage to refuse to fight and face the looks and scorn of some people than to go and meet an adversary in the field, after the braggart fashion of some of our french neighbours, whose grand idea of honour is to go out early some morning to meet an enemy about some petty, contemptible quarrel, fence for a few moments till one or the other is pricked or scratched, and then cry, "_ah, mon ami! mon ami_!" embrace, and go home to breakfast together. very beautiful, no doubt, to a certain class of frenchman, but to a nineteenth-century englishman--fluff. i'm afraid that i was very gallic in my ideas in more ways, so that when next morning i knew that both brace and barton had had long interviews separately with major lacey, and then met him together in the presence of the doctor, and found that a peace had been patched up, my feelings toward brace were very much cooled, and i was ready to become fast friends with barton--at least, i could have been if he had been a different kind of man. as it was, i was thrown a great deal on the society of the doctor and the other officers, while brace, who rightly interpreted my coolness, held himself aloof at mess. i found myself near the major that evening, and after a time he began chatting to me in a low tone. "let's see; you were in the squabble yesterday," he said. "great pity. we don't want any references to head-quarters, vincent, nor court-martial; and as for their fighting, that sort of thing's as dead as queen anne. we've got to keep our fighting for the queen's enemies, eh?" "i suppose so, sir." "of course you suppose so," he said sharply. "why, you did not want them to fight, did you?" "that, it seems to me, would have been the most honourable course, sir," i said stiffly. he turned his head and stared in my face. "you're a young goose--gander, i mean. no: gosling," he said. "there, i've made them shake hands, after barton had apologised. i'm not going to have any of that nonsense. and look here, you've got to be friends with barton too. why, hang it, boy, a handful of englishmen here, as we are, in the midst of enemies, can't afford to quarrel among ourselves; we must hold together like--like--well, like britons. here, i've something else for you to think about. i've had a messenger over from the nawab. a couple of man-eaters have been doing a lot of mischief a few miles from his place, and he wants some of us to go over very early to-morrow to rid the country of the brutes. perhaps i shall go too." the thoughts of such an exciting expedition soon drove away those of the trouble, and upon the major making the announcement, it was at once discussed, while in imagination i pictured the whole scene, ending with the slaughter of the monsters, and their being brought home in triumph upon a pad elephant. "i thought so," the major whispered to me with a chuckle; "that has put them both in a good temper. i did think of going, but i shall send them." i went across the square to my bed that night, full of thoughts of the expedition, and not far from my quarters came upon three figures in white, talking eagerly together, but ready to start apart when they caught sight of me, and salaam profoundly. "ah, ny deen," i said. "fine night." "yes, sahib," he said in his soft low voice. "does the sahib go to the hunt to-morrow?" "how did you know there was to be a hunt to-morrow?" i said sharply. "there are orders to have the buggies ready, sahib, before day." "oh," i said. "then your master is going?" "no, sahib; he stays with the men." "i don't think he does," i said to myself, as i went into my quarters, where i gave orders for all my shooting things to be put out; and then, after making sure that i should be called in time, i dived in behind the mosquito curtains, so as to get all the rest i could, and in half a minute was sleeping heavily, but not until i had repented leaving the mess-room without saying "good night" to brace, barton having gone some time before, as he was on duty that evening. i scarcely seemed to have fallen asleep before a hand was laid upon my shoulder. "master's bath and coffee ready," said a voice; and i looked up to see by the light of a lamp that my man dost was gazing down at me, with the curtains held aside, and a curiously troubled fixed look in his face. "time to get up already?" i said. "yes, sahib," he said hurriedly. "all the other gentlemen call and get up." "all right," i said; and springing out, i stepped into my tiled bath-room, and had myself refreshed with some chatties of cold water poured over my head, after which, feeling elastic as steel, i towelled, and began to dress. "why, hallo, dost," i said, as i saw that the man was trembling, "what's the matter? not ill?" "no, no, sahib; quite well, quite well!" he cried hastily. "but you are not," i cried. "you are all of a shiver. let me give you something." he shook his head violently, and kept on reiterating that he was quite well. "come, out with it, dost," i said. "you are not deceiving me. what is the matter?" he looked round quickly, and i could see that the poor fellow evidently was in great alarm about something. "master always good to dost," he said. "of course i am, when you are good and attentive to me. is my rifle ready?" "yes, sahib. dost afraid for his lord." i laughed at him, though i felt touched, as i grasped what he seemed to mean. "you coward!" i said. "do you think the first tiger i see will get into my howdah and maul me?" he nodded his head, and looked more nervous than before. "and that i shall be a job for dr danby, and you will have to nurse me?" he bowed his head again. "then you would like me to stop, and not go to the tiger-hunt?" "no, no, sahib," he cried excitedly, and i smiled again at him, as i thought that it was very doubtful whether ny deen and his other men were in such anxiety about barton. dost hung about me with the greatest of solicitude as, fully equipped at last, i made my way to where the buggies and their attendants were in waiting. it was very dark, and it was only by the light of the lanterns that i made out who was there, and saw brace, the doctor, and a quiet gentlemanly lieutenant of ours named haynes. just then the major came bustling up, his genial nature having urged him to leave his comfortable bed, and come to see us off. "all here?" he cried. "you'll have a glorious day. needn't have taken rifles; the rajah would have everything for you, and better pieces than your own, i dare say. wish i was going with you." "why not come?" said brace. "no, no! don't tempt me; i've quite work enough. some one ought to stay." "i will stop with pleasure," cried brace. "no, no, my dear boy; we settled that you should go. i'll have my turn another time." "but really--" began brace. "be quiet, man!" cried the major. "you are going. keep an eye on vincent here, and don't let a tiger get him. he can't be spared." "i dare say we shall be in the same howdah," replied brace; and somehow i did not feel pleased any more than i did at the major taking such pains to have me looked after like a little boy. "these young chaps are so thoughtless," continued the major. "they run into danger before they know where they are, and then, when they are in the midst of it, they forget to be cool." "oh, i shall be careful, sir," i said pettishly. "you think so, of course," said the major. "i suppose you will not be back till quite late. like an escort to meet you?" "oh no, it is not necessary," said brace. "hullo! where's barton?" cried the doctor. "any one seen him?" "not coming," said the major quietly. "not coming?" "no; he sent me a line last thing to say he preferred not to go." i heard brace draw his breath in a hissing way, and then he hesitated and descended from the buggy to speak to the major, who said aloud-- "no, no! if he likes to turn disagreeable, let him. there, be off, and a good day's sport to you. here, vincent, try if you can't manage a skin rug for yourself this time, and don't any of you waste your charges on small game. you are sure to scare the big away." we promised, and five minutes after were going at a pretty good pace along the main road, each vehicle with a native driver, and a man running at the horses' heads as well. we had about fifteen miles to go along the road to a point where elephants or horses would be in waiting for us, sent by the rajah from his jungle palace. then we should leave the buggies and the main road, to follow a track leading up to the rajah's place, where he often went, to be out of the heat and dust of the city, in which every pair of feet was kicking up the dust all day long, till it was as if the lower part of the town was shrouded in a dense stratum of fog twelve or fourteen feet thick. we had been riding for some time at a rapid rate before we began to note a change in the surroundings. first a tree would stand out in a pale grey ghostly way; then a clump of high cane-like grass would loom out like something solid, and then, on turning round, i could see a pale grey light in the sky, which rapidly turned to pale crimson, and then to deep ruddy gold, as up came the sun almost at once, the change from night to day being rapid there. for some little time now we had been ascending; and getting into a part clear of trees, we were suddenly aware of a tent pitched in the shade of a mango tope, and close by, quietly picking up freshly cut green food, and tucking it into their mouths with their trunks, were half a dozen elephants, three of which bore handsome trappings and howdahs, while the others had only the ordinary pads. a couple of handsomely dressed servants came forward to meet us as we dismounted, and we were ushered into the open-sided tent, where breakfast was waiting, spread on a soft indian carpet, while the rajah's men waited upon us with the greatest of attention. but, as the doctor said, we had not come to eat, and very soon expressed our readiness to start, when the elephants were guided to the front of the tent, and we mounted, after giving orders to the drivers of the vehicles in which we had come, to be in waiting for us just at dusk. then the huge animal on which i was mounted with the doctor moved slowly on apparently, but covering a good deal of ground in his shuffling stride. a shout from brace on the next elephant arrested us, though, and, on turning, we found that he was pointing back. the scene was worth stopping to contemplate, for there, miles away behind us, lay rajgunge, with its mosques and temples glittering in the morning sun, and the dust which often shrouded the place now visible only as a faint haze, while the sparkling river looked a very band of silver curving round it like the fold of some wondrous serpent undulating over the plain. the city lay in a hollow, from which the land sloped away on one side, while, on the other, hill and valley alternated, with the country rising higher and higher to where we stood, and then rose more and more into a wild of jungle and mountain, whose more distant eminences died into a soft blue mist. "i never saw a more beautiful view," said the doctor to me. "grand place to send patients to. sight of the country would do them more good than my physic. make much of it, vincent," he said; "you may never see the city look so beautiful again." i looked at him so wonderingly that he laughed. "well, next time it may be dark or cloudy, or raining, or at a different time of year." the elephants were again in motion, and, leaving the well-beaten dak road behind us, we were now following an elephant's track, going at every step more and more into scenery such as i had pictured to myself when thinking about india as my future home. "look!" i cried excitedly, as, from the edge of a patch of jungle, a couple of peacocks ran along for a few yards, and then took flight, one blaze of bright colour for a few moments, as i caught flashes of vivid blue and green, and metallic gold. my hand went mechanically to the rifle behind me in the howdah, and the doctor laughed. "well done, englishman!" he cried. "something beautiful, and wild. let's kill it!" "we've come out shooting," i said, half sulkily. "yes--tigers!" said the doctor. "what a curious fate mine is--to live always with you soldiers, who think of nothing but killing, while my trade is to save life! there goes another peacock," he cried, as one of the lovely birds, with an enormous train, ran out into the open, rose, and went skimming away before us. "i wonder such beautiful birds don't attract the common people; they're grand eating. why don't they get shot?" "sacred to everybody but to us englishmen," he replied. "we are the only savages out here who kill peafowl." "then the hindoos don't like it?" "of course not; but they have to put up with it, all the same. and we do rid them of the great cats which kill their cows--and themselves, sometimes. why, they will not even kill their poisonous snakes, and thousands die of the bites every year." "how lovely!" i said, as my eyes wandered round. "what! to be killed by a snake?" "no, no; this scenery." "oh yes; and brace seems to be enjoying it too. i say, you don't seem so thick with him as you were, squire." "oh, i don't know," i said indifferently. "well, i do, and i think you are foolish. brace is a thorough good fellow. better stick to him, even if he does stir you up. he'll make a man of you, without winning your money at cards." _snork_! the elephant we were on trumpeted, and those behind threw up their trunks, and seemed to echo the huge beast's cry. "look out!" said the doctor. "rifles!" for, about a hundred yards in front, there was something moving among the trees, and soon after a couple of the huge indian buffaloes walked out into the open track in front, threw up their heads, one touching the other with his wide-spreading horns, and stood staring at us, as if puzzled at what he saw. "hold fast. our elephant may spin round, and go off at a gallop," said the doctor. but the huge beast stood firm, only lowering its head, and swinging it right and left, as it kept its little sagacious-looking eyes fixed upon the great bulls in front, while its great tusks were ready to meet the bulls' wide-spreading horns. it was my first experience of being face to face with any of the large game of india; and, as i grasped the idea of what a formidable creature the buffalo was--certainly nearly double the size of one of our ordinary oxen, my heart began to beat rather heavily. "shall i fire?" i whispered to the doctor; for i had my rifle resting on the front of the howdah, ready to take aim. "no," said a familiar voice on my right; and i found that brace's elephant had been urged forward until it was now close abreast of ours. "if you fired at this distance, you would only be wasting a shot. you could not bring either of the brutes down, and it would be only wounding them for nothing." "going to charge, aren't they?" said the doctor. "i hope not. they may think better of it, and go back into the jungle." brace was right, for, after standing staring stupidly at the elephants for some moments, the great slaty-black creatures slowly moved off into the dense growth on our left. i suppose that i showed my disappointment, for brace said quietly-- "it is not considered wise to spend time in firing at everything one meets, when bound to beat up tiger." he addressed a word or two in hindustanee to the mahouts, and the elephants, freed now from apprehension, shuffled onward till we came upon an open park-like space, at the end of which, on a slope, was the rajah's shooting-box. here half a dozen more elephants were standing, with a number of well-mounted men armed with spears, shields, and tulwars, and quite a host of lightly clad hindoos were lying about, waiting to commence their task--that of beating for game, and driving it toward where the sportsmen were stationed. upon our appearance, the rajah came out of the large verandah in front of the house, and saluted us cordially. he was a young, active-looking man, dressed like an ordinary english sportsman bound for a day's shooting on the moors; and, after pressing us to enter the house and partake of refreshment, which we declined, he at once called up a couple of hard, muscular-looking men, gave them an order or two, and the result was that these two shouldered their long, clumsy-looking old matchlocks. they signed to the crowd of beaters, who had all sprung to their feet as the rajah came out, and marched them all off, so that they could make for the head of a valley where a tiger had had a kill, and up which valley we were to slowly progress, after taking a circuit, so as to reach its mouth about the same time as the beaters reached the head. we had a much greater distance to go than the men on foot, and after a few preliminaries, the rajah mounted to the howdah of one of the waiting elephants, followed by his chief huntsman, well provided with quite a battery of english rifles. two or three of his officers took their places on other elephants, and the mounted men and a party of foot marched at our side, as the imposing little procession started. the rajah spoke very good english, and there were moments when i forgot his smooth oily manner and dark countenance, and could almost feel that he was some swarthy sportsman who had invited us to his place for a day's shooting. he was as eager as any of us, and, as we marched off, he told us that his shikaree had marked down two tigers of exceptional size--beasts that had done a great deal of mischief in the district; and he was confident that we should have an excellent day's sport. the sun was now tremendously powerful, but the motion of the huge beasts we rode produced a certain amount of air, and the excitement made us forget everything but the object of our visit. our course was toward a spur of a range of hills, and on rounding this, we found ourselves at the entrance of a narrow valley, across which we were formed up, the rajah's huntsman giving us a few words of instruction as to keeping as nearly as possible in a line, and warning us to have a watchful eye upon every patch of bushes and tall, sun-dried grass. a move was made as soon as we were in line, and with the valley gradually contracting in width, and the hills over our side growing higher and more steep, our prospects of seeing game grew brighter each moment; in fact, it was almost a certainty, as the head of the valley was occupied by the beaters, who would soon begin to move down in our direction. certain enough, but very tantalising, for every now and then there was a sharp rustle or breaking of twigs and something bounded from its lair to dash up the valley without giving us a chance of seeing its flank. "never mind," said the doctor. "not what we want; and we shall have a chance at them, perhaps, by-and-by, when they are turned back." as we went on, from my elevated position i began to have better fortune, seeing now a deer dart up the valley, and directly after, from some yellow dried-up grass, there was a loud rush and a scramble. "pig," said the doctor unconcernedly; and as i watched the grass i could see it undulate and wave where the little herd of wild swine was making its way onward. "no sign of a tiger," i said aloud; and, to my surprise, a reply came from brace, whose elephant was shuffling along not many yards away, and i could, as he spoke, just see his face through the tops of the tall reedy grass. "no," he said; "but very likely one of them is creeping and gliding along just ahead of us, so keep a sharp look-out." just then i began thinking of brace instead of the tigers, for it seemed so painful to be at odds with him, and to go on in the distant way we had kept up lately, because i looked upon him as a coward. i cannot explain my feelings. all i know is that i felt that i did not like him a bit, and all the time i was drawn towards him and was hurt when i spoke coldly to him, and more hurt when he gave me one of his half-sad, penetrating looks, and then spoke distantly. "i think i could like him," i said to myself, "if he had not proved such a coward." and then i thought that under the circumstances i should have had no hesitation in going out and fighting barton. as i arrived at this pitch, i felt uncomfortable, for something within me seemed to ask the question-- "wouldn't you?" just then an elephant again uttered his harsh grunting squeal known as "trumpeting," and an electric thrill ran through me, for i had learned enough of tiger-shooting to know that the great animal had scented his enemy, and the strange cry was taken up by another of the elephants. orders were passed along to right and left for us to keep in a steady line, and the men between the elephants grew every moment more excited. for the action of the animals proved that it was no false alarm, and in the momentary glances i had from right to left, i saw that the rajah and brace were waiting, with finger on trigger, for a shot at the striped monster creeping on up the valley. "keep cool," said the doctor to me in a whisper; "and if you get a good chance at him, fire at the shoulder, but don't throw away a shot. a slight wound may do more harm than good--make the brute break back through the line, perhaps, and we should lose him." "i'll be careful," i said huskily. "that's right. i want for us to get one tiger, and not the rajah. he has plenty of chances." "keep a sharp look out, doctor," came from brace, in a loud voice, which told that he was evidently excited. in a few minutes we were through the dense thicket of grass, and in a rocky bottom, dotted sparely with tufts of bush and loose stones; and, as i ran my eye over this, i turned to the doctor despairingly. "there is nothing to hide him here," i said. "we must have passed him in the thick grass." "nothing to hide him!" cried the doctor; "why, the gorge is full of hiding-places. i call this good cover." "is that something moving?" i said suddenly; and i pointed to some thin yellowish-brown grass, about fifty yards ahead. "eh, where? by george!" his rifle was to his shoulder in a moment, there was a flash, a sharp echoing report, and the mahout shouted "_bagh! bagh_!" while, as the smoke rose, i had a faint glimpse of a great striped animal bounding out of sight, a hundred and fifty yards ahead. "clever miss," said the doctor, reloading, as inquiries came from right and left. "no doubt about the tigers now, vincent," he added to me. "i thought i saw something moving, but i could hardly tell it from the stems of the dry grass." "i suppose not nature has been pretty kind to tigers that way. it is almost impossible to see them amongst grass or reeds, so long as they keep still. bah! that was a wretched shot. but it's easier to miss than hit, vincent." "i wish i had seen him," i said, in a disappointed tone. "why, you did see him, lad, and missed a good chance. your rifle ought to have been up to your shoulder the moment he moved." "but i thought it was grass," i said. "ah, you will not think it was grass again. capital practice this in decision, my lad. you've had a splendid lesson." we pressed on as fast as the roughness of the ground would allow, for it was so open now that, in all probability, the tiger would have gone on some distance, and with the elephants plainly in view and the mounted and dismounted men between them, we made quite a goodly show. but the heat was terrific. it seemed as if the rocks were glowing and reflecting the sun's rays, so that at any other time we should have declared it unbearable, but now excitement kept us going. as we passed the spot where we had seen the tiger disappear, our ranks were closed up, and we went on watchfully. in my eagerness now, i was ready to turn tufts of grass and blocks of stone into tigers; and had taken aim at one with my ears singing with excitement, when the doctor laid his hand on mine. "what are you doing?" he said. i pointed, for i could not speak, and he laughed, and then raised his own piece to his shoulder, as a shot rang out from brace's howdah, followed by one from the rajah's. "a hit," cried the doctor. "did you see him?" i shook my head. "i got one glimpse of him." "that shot was home, doctor, i think," said brace. "not a doubt about it. steady; keep on." the elephants advanced slowly, with their trunks thrown up in the air, and as, in the midst of intense excitement, we neared the spot where the tiger had been seen slinking from one stone to the other, one of the men uttered an exclamation and pointed down at a spot of blood upon the hot stone at our feet; and then at another and another at intervals, on dry grass and leaf. "take care," said the rajah; "he will be very savage now." the warning was hardly needed, for every one was on the alert, expecting at any moment to find the tiger lying dead, or to see it bound out defiantly and ready to spring at the nearest elephant. "mind how you shoot, vincent," said the doctor, meaningly. "i came out for a day's sport, and don't want it spoiled by professional pursuits." "i don't understand you," i said. "well, if i must put it plainly, don't shoot a beater instead of a tiger." "_bagh! bagh_!" came from one of the men on foot; and this time the rajah led off with a shot, but it seemed that he had only obtained a glimpse of the great cat-like beast sneaking round a tuft of bushes, as it made its way onward. the brute was evidently severely wounded, for blood-stains were found again and again, several together, showing where the tiger had halted to watch or listen for his enemies; but still we could not get close enough for a decisive shot, and over and over again the line of elephants was halted in the belief that we must have passed the beast crouching down among the grass. at the last of these halts, when, in spite of careful search, no more traces of the fierce man-eater could be seen, a council of war was held, and the question was raised whether we should go back, when the distant sound of shouts and the beating of tom-toms came faintly toward us, and this decided the line of action, for the rajah at once proposed that we should go and meet the beaters, for there was another tiger in the valley, and then we could beat out the one wounded on our return. this was decided on, and the word was given to advance again; but hardly had the elephants moved, when there was a terrific roar, and a monstrous tiger bounded out toward us, lashing his tail from side to side, baring his white teeth, and laying down his ears as his eyes literally blazed at us in the sun. brace's rifle rang out on the instant, and, with a snarling roar, the beautifully striped beast swung his head round, made a snap at his shoulder, then turned and charged straight at the rajah's elephant, which uttered a shriek of dread, spun round, and dashed back at a mad pace. the tiger did not pursue, but, evidently untouched by a couple more shots fired at it, came bounding toward us. the doctor fired, but it did not check the onslaught, and the brute bounded right on to the elephant's shoulder and tried to claw its way into our howdah, as the mahout yelled with horror. but the savage brute did not get quite up to us, for the doctor snatched my rifle from my hand, held it with the barrel resting on the edge of the howdah just as one would a pistol, fired, and the tiger dropped quite dead upon the scorched earth. an eager shout arose, and there was a round of congratulations as a pad elephant was brought up from the rear, and the monster hauled across the creature's back, and securely fastened with ropes. but we did not stop to finish this, for the shouting and tomtoming was growing plainer, and already a deer had trotted out of the tender growth a hundred yards ahead, stood listening to the sounds behind, and then, catching sight of us, darted down the valley at a tremendous pace. a minute or two later, as we advanced, another deer appeared, turned, and trotted back; while soon after, a huge boar dashed out, charged through us, and was followed by a mother pig and her progeny, all of which dashed downward for their liberty. and as we pushed on, with the valley still narrowing, and the noise made by the beaters increasing, animal after animal dashed past us, or, seeing the line of elephants, crept back, but only to appear again, and find that it could escape unmolested. "no sign of another tiger, rajah," i heard brace say. "yes, yes. there is another," he cried. "my people have seen him twice." "perhaps so," said the doctor to me, in a low voice; "but he would have shown before now, with all that noise in front." he was wrong, though; for five minutes later, and when the beaters could not have been above a couple of hundred yards away, another magnificent beast dashed out of the cover with a roar, and charged down upon us, putting the line of elephants into such confusion that the aims of those who had a chance were disarranged. then there came a wild scream from somewhere to our right, and we knew directly after that the tiger had broken through the line, striking down one of the rajah's men as he passed, and the poor fellow had to be bandaged by the doctor before he was lifted on to one of the elephants, fainting from loss of blood. "will it kill him?" i said huskily, as we returned to our own howdah. "oh no," replied the doctor. "a nasty clawing; but these men get over far worse wounds than that. there, keep your eyes open; we must try and take revenge. i never feel any compunction in shooting a tiger. there isn't room for them in a civilised land." we were returning over the same ground now, with the beaters far behind, and every bush, and tuft, and patch of dry grass was carefully searched as hour after hour went by, and there was talk about a halt for lunch; but with such a monster known to be somewhere in the gorge no one felt disposed for anything but a refreshing cup of water, and downward we went again. the feeling was fast growing upon us that the tiger had gone right on and out of the valley into the open country, when once more an elephant trumpeted, and told of our being near the object of our search. heat and fatigue were forgotten directly, the elephants were urged on by the mahouts, and cane-brake and reed-flat were searched, long grass was ridden through, and for a couple of hours more we were on the tiptoe of expectation, but found no tiger, till just as we were growing thoroughly dispirited, and felt that we must be driving it lower and lower, and helping it to escape, the monster bounded out from a cluster of loose rocks, faced us, and rolled over at a shot from the doctor's rifle. it sprang up again with a tremendous roar, and stood open-jawed, glaring at us as if considering which it should attack, when the rajah and brace fired at the same time, and the monster rolled over again to struggle feebly, and then stretched itself out--dead. "never mind, vincent," said the doctor, clapping me on the shoulder; and then addressing the others with us: "your turn next; and you have been in at the death." "look! look!" i cried suddenly. "what is it?" "on that little elephant coming up the valley; isn't it one of our men?" brace heard me, and took out the little glass slung from his shoulder. "yes," he said. "it must be a message from the major. good heavens! i hope there is nothing wrong." a word or two in hindustani from the doctor to the mahout, and our elephant began to shuffle toward the one coming, for brace had gone on at once. our elephant made a good circuit to avoid the dead tiger, holding his trunk high, and evidently in doubt as to whether the beast was feigning death; and directly after we were close up to the messenger, whom i saw to be denny, the man who had come over in the _jumna_, and whose sweetheart i had jumped overboard to save. "what is it, denny? anything wrong?" cried brace. the man gave him a wild look, and nodded his head, as he held on by one hand to the rope which secured the elephant's pad. "well, well!" cried brace, excitedly; "what is it? speak." the man's lips parted, and one hand went up towards his head, while the mahout who had brought him looked back with his face full of horror. then, as our elephant was urged up on the other side, the doctor reached over from the howdah, and by a quick movement caught the poor fellow's arm just as his hold had given way, and he was about to pitch off the pad to the ground. "i thought so," cried the doctor, helping to lower him down. "he was fainting. the poor fellow has been wounded--badly, too!" "what is this? how did he get hurt?" cried brace to the mahout in hindustani. "my lord, i don't know. he came on a poor horse, and ordered me to come to you. my lord, he is very bad." just then the rajah came up, and i fancied there was a peculiar look in his face. he had changed colour, and seemed wild and strange, and when brace fixed his eyes upon him he averted his gaze. chapter twelve. i noticed all this, but our attention was taken up by the wounded man, to whose side we had rapidly descended, all thought of tigers being now at an end. "the poor fellow has been set upon by budmashes as he was on his way here with a despatch," said brace. "let me come a minute, doctor, and search his pockets." "hang the despatch, man!" said the doctor sternly. "i want to save the lad's life." he was down on his knees by denny's side, and had taken out his pocket-book and thrown it open, displaying surgical instruments, needles, silk, and bandages. "here, vincent, come and help me," he said. "some of you cut a branch or two and shade us from this awful sun. now, vincent, slit open that sleeve; never mind damages. hah! i thought so. that's one exhauster." as the man's arm was bared, the doctor caught my hand, and made me seize and press upon an artery high up in the limb; for from a terrible gash the blood was pumping out in regular pulsations, and as this act checked the bleeding a little, the doctor rapidly found and tied the divided artery, and then bandaged the wound. "that was the most dangerous," he said. "now, then, what next? cut on shoulder, not serious--ugly gash on head, bad--stab in thigh--must have been mounted--bullet in muscles of shoulder, fired evidently as the man was escaping. hah! enough for one poor fellow. now, vincent, we'll stop the bleeding, and then we must have him carried on a litter under shelter." "couldn't he bear the motion of the elephant?" said brace. "no! yes," said the doctor; "perhaps it would be best. while we are waiting for a litter we could get him to the rajah's. there, i think he will not hurt. you may try for your despatch now." brace and i tried the man's pockets, and the doctor thrust his hand into the breast, but the result was _nil_. "no despatch," said brace, uneasily; and i saw his face wrinkle up, as if he were puzzled and anxious. "let's get him on the little pad elephant; it will be easier." "now," said the doctor, who had been bathing the poor fellow's forehead and trickling water between his parched lips, "he's coming to. don't question him; leave it to me." for at that moment the man's face twitched a little, and he began to mutter excitedly; his words being plain enough to those near. "cowards!" he said. "treachery--you dog--it's murder! look out, boys! ah--sentry--the gate!" he uttered a low groan and was silent. "not attacked on the road," said brace, excitedly. "no," said the rajah, hastily; "my people would not attack him." "there's something wrong at the barracks," cried brace, excitedly. "he said treachery." i felt the blood thrill through my veins at these words; and then i stepped closer to gunner denny, whose eyes had now opened widely, and he was staring wildly round, till his gaze rested on me, and he made a sign to me to bend down. "look out, sir," he said, in a faint voice. "ah! water!" his eyes seemed to film over, but as water was trickled between his lips, he swallowed a little with difficulty, and revived, while we leant over him, listening intently for his next words. "mutiny," he panted; "don't go back." "what!" cried brace; and i saw a movement amongst the rajah's people, and they gathered round him. "this morning," said denny, faintly. "quarters seized; major and mr barton cut down." "great heavens!" cried brace. "masters of the barracks--sepoy regiment--down town--murdered their officers--i--got away--came on, and--" he uttered a low sigh and fainted. "dr danby! you hear?" "yes," said the doctor, in a low voice. "what i always feared. they've risen against us at last." "but both regiments? absurd!" "no; of course our men wouldn't. and they've seized the barracks, i gather. brace, old fellow, we're in for it. the storm has broken." "i don't understand you. there is trouble with the native infantry regiment, i suppose, and some of the men have gone up and seized our barracks. oh, why was i not there?" "because you've other work to do, man," whispered the doctor. "look at the rajah. brace, old fellow, we shall have to fight for our lives. this is the first flash of the fire; the whole country is rising in revolt." "no, no; impossible!" said brace. then, turning to the rajah, he saw that in his face which made him flash into a tempest of passion, and he seized the double rifle he had thrown on the ground, cocked both barrels, and advanced furiously toward the chief, while at his first menace the men advanced, drew their tulwars, slung their shields round from where they hung over their shoulders, or presented spears. "you dog!" roared brace, whose manner had completely changed. "you knew of all this!" the rajah waved one hand to his men, who stopped short, scowling angrily, and with their dark eyes flashing, as, following my captain's example, i cocked my own piece. "captain brace will not fire on his host," he said, in very good english, and i saw his nostrils quivering as he spoke and stepped forward. "we have eaten salt and are brothers." brace lowered his piece and i did the same. "yes, i knew of it," said the rajah, quietly. "that the men of the native regiment meant to mutiny," cried brace, "and did not warn us?" "i knew and did not warn you," said the rajah, quietly. "what treachery!" "no," said the rajah, "not treachery. i have held my hand. i would not join, but i could not go against the people." "but why--why have the men mutinied?" cried brace, as the doctor and my companions listened excitedly. "because they were told," replied the rajah. "can you not see? the storm has been gathering for years, and now it is spreading fast. the great koompanni is no more, and their people are being scattered like the dust." "what i have always feared," muttered the doctor. "and you call yourself my friend--the friend of the officers who have welcomed you at our mess, whose hands you have pressed a hundred times." "yes," said the rajah, with a grave, sad smile, "and i have proved that i am your friend." "but you owned that you knew of the mutiny." "yes, and asked you and the other english officers here to-day." "to enable the men to seize the barracks." "no; to save your lives," said the rajah. "those who came lived; those who stayed away are dead." brace looked at him coldly, and then turned to us. "quick!" he said, "let's mount and get back. help the wounded man. doctor, you will ride with him?" "of course." "what are you going to do?" said the rajah, quickly. "go back to rajgunge," said brace, sternly. "to certain death?" "to bring these madmen to their senses. rajah, you will let the hathees bear us back?" "to my place? yes. no further." "what?" "i have saved your lives, and must try and keep you from harm. i cannot let you have the hathees. i will not fight against the koompanni. it has always been just to me, but i cannot, i dare not, fight against the people of my country." "then we shall take them," said brace, sternly. "quick, make ready. doctor, mount that small beast with the wounded man, and go first. we will cover your retreat, if any one dares to stop us." the doctor prepared to mount without a word, and we pressed up to the huge elephant that the doctor and i had ridden; but the rajah passed his rifle to one of his men and came to us. "don't be so mad, captain brace," he said quietly, "i tell you i am your friend." "no. you are with the enemy, sir. stand back." "no. i will not see you go straight to your death like that; neither will i give my life by supplying you with my hathees. it would be death to me and mine." "stand back, sir." "speak to him, vincent," said the rajah. "tell him i must order my people to stop you. it is madness--death; you against all my people." brace stopped short. "you will order your men to fight," he said; "in other words, you join in the revolt against your queen." the rajah smiled, and, with true eastern cunning, paid-- "i shall order my men to protect their chiefs property. those are my hathees. they shall not go and show the men who have risen that i have helped you. come, be wise. stop here, and i will give you refuge. where can you flee better?" "to where men are faithful to their queen." "it is of no use, brace," said the doctor. "make a virtue of necessity, man." then, turning to the rajah, "you will give us safe conduct down to your place?" "yes," said the rajah, quickly; "and if there is danger, my people shall hide my old friends. it is war now, not against men we know, but against the koompanni." "let's ride back to the rajah's place," said the doctor, in a whisper; "we may make some terms with him on the way." "can we trust him?" replied brace. "there is a look about him i hardly like." "help the sahibs," said the rajah; and then he made a sign, with the result that the mahouts made their elephants kneel down again, and, after a little hesitation, brace mounted, and i followed him, while, after orders had been given for the second tiger to be placed on the pad elephant, we set off down the valley, the rajah riding abreast, while his armed men came behind, leading the pad elephant with the shikaree and the beaters. the sun shone brightly as ever; the jungle growth away to right and left was glorious to behold, and the sky was of as vivid a blue as the edge of the forest was green; but it was as if a terrible black cloud had come down over us, and all were changed. we had ridden up that gorge full of excitement, and in the eager anticipation of a day's sport; now we knew that we were on our way to face death and terrors that i shrank from contemplating. from time to time brace gave an order to our mahout, and he went on abreast of the little elephant which bore the doctor and the wounded man, when a short eager conversation took place; brace being of opinion that the outbreak was only local, and that our course would be to send messengers at once east and west to the nearest stations for help; but the doctor took a more serious view of the case. "perhaps i'm wrong," he said, "but i fear we have been growing this trouble for years past." "what do you mean?" cried brace, impatiently. "you ask me that?" said the doctor. "well, i mean that your bartons, of whom there are thousands through the country--as officers, magistrates, collectors, and the like--have been trampling down and insulting these people, till they have been crushed in the dust, till they could bear no more, and they have risen. now do you ask me what i mean?" brace glanced at me as i was thinking of the handsome, patient syce at the barracks, and the treatment i had often seen him meet with; and then, as if reading my thoughts, he turned away with a look of despair. "there is no hiding the fact, brace," continued the doctor. "i only hope i am exaggerating the troubles. but if i am right, i say, god help the wives and daughters of those who have them here, and may he spread his hands over the unfortunate children!" his words seemed to cut through me with an agonising pain, as i mentally repeated his words--wives and daughters; and then i felt giddy, and as if i should fall from the howdah. "wives and daughters!" i said aloud, and then, with a horrible feeling of despair, i pictured trouble at nussoor, where my father's regiment was stationed, and thought of my mother and sister face to face with the horrors of a revolt. "hold up, vincent," said brace, in a sharp whisper. "what's the matter? feel the sun too much? take some water, lad. i want your help. you must not break down." "no, no," i said quickly; "i'm better now." "that's right! we must get back and learn the full extent of the mischief. yon poor fellow was excited, and he may have exaggerated the affair. he is as bad as can be, and perhaps he imagines that the rest were the same. cheer up, lad! lacey is too clever and experienced an officer to have been cut up like that. i dare say we shall find him looking out for us anxiously. perhaps we shall meet an escort sent to meet us." just then the rajah's elephant came abreast, and its master reached out his hand with refreshments, which brace declined, but the next moment took eagerly. "thank you," he said quickly. "eat, drink, vincent," he half whispered; "we shall want all our strength." "and you?" i said. "oh, i shall do the same," he said bitterly; and then he held out his hand, and whispered softly, "we have been very poor friends lately, my lad, but shake hands now, for perhaps we are very near the end of life's journey." "brace," i gasped as i snatched at his hand and gripped it hard. "i hope not, for your sake, boy," he said in a low voice; "for you have your young life before you. i hope not for my own. i may be very useful now. there may be a great deal to do, and if there is, my lad," he said, smiling, "i am going to try not to be such a coward as to shrink from that duty; though you thought me one, because i would not fight the man who, perhaps, has had much to do with the rising." "oh, brace," i faltered, "i don't think i ever thought you a coward." "you did," he said quietly. "most people in your place, and educated as you have been, would have judged me in the same hard way. perhaps i am one, gil; but i shall not show it, and i shall not shrink from anything i have to do." "you think, then, that there is a wider trouble than that at the station?" "i am obliged to think so. the doctor is right. i fought against it, telling myself i was panic-stricken, but i felt the same. you see the rajah knew of it, and--i am speaking plainly now--if matters turn out very bad, and i am not near you, try to get a horse and make for nussoor. it is a very long journey, but the way may be open, and the trouble not spreading in that direction. at present your white face may command help and shelter, but don't tarry on the way--the great north-west road, mind, and--" "i shall keep with you," i said quietly. "let's wait and know the worst." in another couple of hours we were at the rajah's, and as the elephants halted and knelt down, brace turned to their owner, who was conversing with a couple of horsemen. "now, sir," he said, "i am not addressing the enemy, but the old friend and companion. you will let us have these two elephants as far as rajgunge?" "it is impossible, captain brace. i would help you, but i should bring down destruction on myself and people." "then you will lend us a dhooly for this man, and people to carry him?" "no. they would not carry him, or, if they did, they would halt on the road and attack you when you were not prepared. an evil spirit for you and yours has been going through the land for months, and now the fire has sprung up all round." brace turned from him, and his face looked fixed and stern. "listen," said the rajah, laying a hand upon his arm; "it would be madness to move that man. ask the doctor. the man would be dead before you were half-way there." "i'm afraid so," said the doctor, sadly. "leave him, then, with me. i give you my word that i will protect him. i sent for you all to come here, so that you might be safe. stay." brace was silent for a few moments, and then he held out his hand to the rajah. "thank you," he said. "forgive me for doubting you, but i cannot stay." "i tell you that you are going to your death," whispered the rajah, earnestly. "the whole city is in revolt against your people; the sepoy regiment has slain all its officers, and your own men are scattered heaven knows where." "how do you know?" said brace, fiercely. "those men i was speaking with have ridden over from the town. they just gave me the news." brace looked at the fierce-looking fellows, and knew that they were watching us intently. "i will gladly take your offer for my man," said brace at last. "and you yourselves?" said the rajah, eagerly. brace turned to us. "what do you say?" he said. "i shall follow my captain," replied haynes. "doctor?" "i am an englishman," he said quietly. brace looked at me. "vincent!" he said, in a low hurried voice. "we have a painful tramp before us, and in all probability the buggies will not come to meet us. you are young and not used to such work as we have before us. the doctor will give you a few instructions, so you shall stop and look after denny." i don't know how it was--i make no professions of being brave, but a strange feeling of exaltation came over me then, and i said quickly-- "don't make me feel like a coward. i cannot stay; i must go with you." he looked at me fixedly for a few moments, and then turned to the rajah. "give us bread and wine," he said. the rajah pointed toward his house, but brace refused to turn, and, in obedience to a command, a couple of men were sent in, and directly after three of the chiefs servants hurried out with refreshments and handed them to us. we partook sparingly, and as we ate and drank brace whispered-- "see, all of you, that you have plenty of ball cartridges." the order was needless, for we were all well supplied; and, five minutes later, a brief and distant leave-taking followed, and, shouldering our pieces, we set off, through the hot afternoon sunshine, to try and follow the track to the road. this reached, it would be one steady descent to rajgunge, but, as we afterwards owned, not one of us believed that we should reach it alive. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ note . budmashes are outlaws, footpads. note . hathees are elephants. chapter thirteen. "seems too bad to leave my patient," said the doctor. "am i doing right?" "you have dressed his wounds, and we are going to get help for him," replied brace. "i hope so," muttered the doctor. and then we toiled on and on, under the blazing sun, with our pieces growing so hot that they scorched our shoulders, but he man made a complaint, and two and two we tramped on, keeping a sharp look-out for the danger that might spring up at any moment. "we must chance an ambuscade," said brace, quietly. "if we are attacked, and there is cover to be had, follow me to it at once. we four, with these rifles, ought to keep a pretty good party at bay. by the way, always hold your left hand barrels in reserve. we may want them to stop a rush." my recollection of that march is as that of some feverish dream; the sun came down with terrible power, and that which had been beautiful in the morning, from the howdah of an elephant, was now gloomy, painful, and apparently endless. twice over we found that we had strayed from the track, and i had to turn and go watchfully back till we could see the great circular impressions of the elephants' feet, and at last we reached the spot from whence we had started in the morning. there was the litter left by the rajah's men when they had struck the shelter-tent, and followed us; there were the elephants' footprints, and the marks of the stakes. but there was no sign of that which i had fondly hoped, in my parched and footsore state, might be in waiting--a couple of vehicles, ready to take us back. all was silent save the cry of a hawk soaring round and round in the blue sky, and once there came the sharp shriek of a jay. we had now reached the road along whose dusty side we steadily trudged on, till we came in sight of rajgunge, far away below us, and now bathed in the warm, ruddy glow of the setting sun. we involuntarily halted, and, after a sharp look round for danger, stood gazing at the beautiful city, so calm and peaceful, with the golden riband-like river curving round in the evening glow, that it was impossible to think that anything could be wrong. in fear of such a catastrophe, we looked forward to seeing the smoke rising from a conflagration. but no; there was the faint haze caused by the dust trampled up by many thousand feet, and softening the outline of some of the dazzling white buildings. that was all. "can it be possible?" said the doctor at last, after he had gazed through the little field-glass handed to him by brace. "one could fancy it was all a false alarm, and that poor denny's injuries were the result of some troubles in the bazaar." "hist! quick!" i said sharply; and i pointed to a cloud of dust far away before us. "our men!" but as the words were spoken, we caught sight of the glint of steel just above the dust cloud; and knowing, as we did, that they were lance-points, we obeyed a sign from brace, and took refuge among the trees by the roadside. we were none too soon, for the cloud swept nearer, and, headed by a splendidly mounted man in a yellow caftan, belted with a rich cashmere shawl, about a couple of dozen white-clothed troopers swept by, and disappeared as they had come, in a cloud of dust. "what are they?" said the doctor, inquiringly. "soldiers of some irregular regiment," replied brace, looking after the horsemen thoughtfully. "then there is no reason why they may not be friends," i said. "where is their regular officer, then?" said brace, drily. "they would not be led by a man like the one we saw." the opinion was unanswerable, and we tramped on along the dusty road, wearied out, but kept going by the excitement; till, coming upon a group of people, whose appearance suggested that they had journeyed from the city, brace stopped them to question them about the state of the place. for answer they rushed by us, and pursued their way, an action telling pretty plainly that some great change must have taken place, or these people would have been obsequious to a degree. the sun went down, but the heat was as great as ever; and feeling at times as if i must drop, i kept on that weary tramp. then darkness fell, the great stars came out, and feeling that our prospects would be better of getting unnoticed into the city, now not very distant, we took heart, and tramped forward in regular military time, the swing of the march seeming to help us forward. group after group of people were passed, but none heeded us, and no further efforts were made to stay and question them. "no," said brace; "we will get our answer at head-quarters." then, calling a halt for ten minutes, we sank down by the roadside to rest before starting for the finishing stage of our painful journey. but we had no sooner thrown ourselves down, than from the darkness ahead came the murmur of voices and the tramp of feet, very low and distant, but peculiar enough to make brace spring up, while my heart began to beat heavily. "draw farther back," he whispered; "they are not country people." just then there was a click familiar enough to us all, and then another. "it must be some of our lads," whispered brace; and the next minute, as a little body of men came by, in regular military step, i heard him mutter, "must be;" and he cried, "halt!" "draw--swords!" rang out in answer, and there was the peculiar grating rattle of sabres being drawn from steel scabbards. "who is that? sergeant craig?" cried brace. "captain!" shouted a familiar voice. "thank god, we've found you at last!" and a faint cheer rose up. "quick! tell me," cried brace, as we pressed up to the men--"is it all true?" "you've heard, then, sir?" said the sergeant, with a groan. "yes; denny escaped and reached us." "poor lad! i thought he was one of the goners." "how was it?" said brace, sternly. "i hardly know, sir. a surprise. everything was as usual, just at the hottest time, when they were down upon us like a thunder clap. one party made for the officers' quarters, another for the guard, and shot down the sentries; another made the men fast in their quarters, and before we could grasp it, they had seized the whole place, and we were helpless." "but the major--lieutenant barton?" "don't ask me, sir," said the man, hoarsely. "speak, man." "i saw the major run out, sword in hand, followed by a dozen of the scoundrels, and he was shouting for the trumpeter; but before dick dobbs could get out, the poor major was cut down, and we were locked in, could hear the lieutenant crying for help, and there was firing going on in his quarters, and then the scoundrels came out, shouting wildly." "killed?" the sergeant uttered a low groan. "the wretches! the cowardly, traitorous wretches!" cried brace. "they had murdered their own officers, and then came up to the barracks." "beg pardon, sir." brace repeated his words. "what! were the niggers mutinied too?" "yes; did you not know?" "not a word, sir. we were like being in prison till we managed to creep out; and then after a bit of a talk among us non-coms, as were left, we determined, as our officers were gone, to come and try and find you, sir." "then you were kept locked in the barracks?" "yes, sir; and if any of us showed a head, it was made a mark for a bullet. but we could hear all that was going on. one of them sounded boot and saddle as well 'most as little dick." "nay!" cried a boyish voice from the darkness. "well, tidy enough; and then we could hear them bringing out the horses, and limbering up and forming up in the barrack yard, sir, till i could bear it no longer, and i risked the bullets so as to get a peep now and then; and i did till, with everything in order, and the ammunition chests and waggons crammed, they rode out of the yard, with the people yelling and tom-tomming like mad." "but who--who did all this? the sepoys of the native regiment?" "no, sir," cried the sergeant. "then who did?" "the syces, sir." "what?" "the whole gang of them, sir; led by ny deen." "what?" said brace again. "it has been a plot, sir, all slowly worked out. that ny deen is some big chief, from his ways to-day; and others with him are somebodies. they've been watching our drill, and quietly learning everything, till the time came, and then, at some word of command, they rushed in, carried all before them; and, after a way, they've gone off with guns, ammunition, and every horse except the officers', which somehow they overlooked." "is this some horrible dream?" panted brace. "no, sir; but horrid wide-awake truth," said the sergeant, sadly. "twenty-two of our men cut up, and as fine a troop of horses and battery of guns gone as there is in the army; and as for me, sir, i feel as if i was that disgraced, that if i'd had a carbine, i believe i should have gone up in some corner, said a bit of a prayer, and then--good-bye to it all, and shot myself dead." "but the sentries?" said brace, after an interval, during which we had stood as if utterly crushed by the news. "they could not have been doing their duty." "nay, sir, but they were," said the sergeant, speaking with energy now, the last words he had uttered having been in a hoarse, broken voice, which told of his sorrow and despair. "poor chaps! they saw a party of syces coming toward them in white--men they knew well enough. was it likely, sir, that they'd think them enemies?" "no," said brace, sadly. "poor lads! poor lads!" "god save the queen, sir!" cried the sergeant, hysterically, for the poor fellow was utterly broken down, "and long life to one's officers, whom i for one would follow anywhere, even to certain death. yes; i'd have followed him, poor chap. but it was his doing, sir, and the likes of him; and i'll say it now, even if i'm court-martialled for it. lieutenant barton brought it on us. the niggers 'll bear a deal, but it's only natural that they'd turn some time; and quiet as ny deen was, i've seen his eyes flash sometimes when mr barton was rating him, and not because he deserved it, for a better groom and a man more proud of turning out a horse well, never came into cantonments." "silence in the ranks," said brace, shortly. "lie down all of you and rest. gentlemen," he continued, turning to us, "this way, please. we must consider what is to be done." we followed him a few yards into the darkness, and brace whispered to us to sit down, setting the example himself; but though we waited he did not speak, and at last the doctor whispered to me to say something to the captain. he heard the whispering and spoke at once, hurriedly. "i beg your pardon," he said; "i was thinking hard about our position." "yes? well?" said the lieutenant with us. "what have you decided?" whispered the doctor. "to act," said brace, with decision. "this mutinous rising may be one that is extending, or merely a local trouble here, at rajgunge; but that is no affair of ours, gentlemen. we were away from our duties, on our own pleasure. we allowed ourselves to be inveigled--" "no, no," said the doctor. "poor lacey gave us leave after accepting the invitation." "the major kept to his post, and died defending it, sir," said brace, sternly. "we were away, and the position in which we find ourselves is a disgrace which we must wipe off." "how?" cried my brother-officers. "as men should," replied brace, sternly. "as i have said, the rising is nothing to us, whether great or small. we have only one thing to study." "to get back the guns!" i cried excitedly. brace's hand gripped my arm with all his force. "yes," he cried. "right. to get back those guns and horses at any cost." "impossible!" muttered the doctor. "tell me that, doctor," cried brace, "when i am wounded to the death, and you press my hand, tell me you can do no more, and say `good-bye.' there is no such word as impossible in a british soldier's thoughts when he has to charge. duty says forward! and he advances with a cheer. now, gentlemen, are you with me? i am going to get back those guns. doctor, you are a non-combatant; i am not speaking to you. haynes, will you follow me?" "as long as i can lift an arm." "i don't ask you, vincent. you are a soldier's son, and i know that i can depend on you. there, i see my way now. let us go back to the men." we rose and followed him, the doctor whispering sharply, "am i a non-combatant, brace? this is a case of emergency, and perhaps i can use a sword as well as i can use a rifle. at any rate, i am going to try." "'tention!" said brace, in a low quick voice, and the men sprang to their feet and formed in line, their figures looking weird and strange in the darkness. "can you all hear me?" the silence which followed his question was proof that his words were heard, and he stepped back a few yards and stood listening intently before returning to face the men. "now, my lads," he said, "we are a mere handful in the midst, perhaps, of thousands of enemies; but we are englishmen." there was a loud murmur like the precursor of a shout. "silence! not a sound, my lads. listen. we have been taken by surprise, and our comrades have many of them met their death through treachery, while the officers and men are disgraced by our position." there was another murmur, but it was in protest. "yes; i say disgraced. ours, the smartest troop in the company's army, has been disarmed, and there are two courses open to us--to fly for our lives and try to make our way to the nearest station, tramping, and without our guns; or to make a bold dash, like the men you are, to get our guns and horses back. those are the two courses open, and i am not going to insult my brave lads by asking them which course we shall take. sergeant--men, i'm going to have those guns back. if i go down, here is lieutenant haynes to carry on the work. after him mr vincent, and after him the doctor. if we all break down, there's sergeant craig. plenty to lead you, and there isn't a man among you who will not follow, i know." "not a man, sir," said sergeant craig. "i'll answer for them all." "please, sir, mayn't we cheer?" said a voice in the ranks. "no, my lads," said brace. "i can feel your hearts are throbbing beat for beat with mine. when we get back our guns and horses you shall cheer; till then, you must work with me in silence, and with the cunning of the natives, for it is only by scheming that we can win. i know how you feel. that is all." there was a low murmur like a thrill, and a sound as of men tightening their belts and loosening their swords. the next minute, as if it were a parade, brace was walking along the front of the rank, and returning by the rear, followed by the sergeant and me. "a short muster, but enough," said brace. "now, my lads, i propose to rest here for a couple of hours, then to march back to rajgunge and reconnoitre the barracks when all is quiet. we may pick up one or two of our men, and, if fortunate, get the officers' horses. break off. we are out of sight here. mr haynes, post sentries. the others will try to get a couple of hours' sleep. silence!" in five minutes the sentries were posted and the officers lay down near the men, while we three talked in whispers about our chances of success, brace having left us to begin steadily pacing up and down as if working out his plans. chapter fourteen. at the appointed time the men fell in, rested a little, no doubt, but not one had slept, and after a few words respecting the importance of silence, brace placed himself at their head, whispered to me to come to his side, and the word was given--_march_! it was a strange, weird tramp along the deserted road, for not a soul was encountered; but as we drew nearer, the lights in the city were many, and from the noise and drumming it was evident that there were festivities in progress, possibly rejoicings among the natives at the fall of the british rule. but as we got on to lower ground the illuminations disappeared, and brace pointed out that the part in the direction of our barracks seemed to be all dark. but we could, of course, make out little at that distance, and as we neared the river, brace struck off to the right, so as to avoid the houses as much as possible, his intention being, he said, to get round till we were about opposite to our quarters, and then march boldly and silently on. "the probabilities are," he said, "that at this hour of the night we shall not meet a soul." about this time he called up the sergeant and questioned him, but there was little more to be communicated. apparently there had been very little plundering; the party led by ny deen having its one important object in view--the capture of the horses, guns, and ammunition; and after cutting down those who resisted, and securing the rest in their quarters, they had busied themselves over their task, and marched out in triumph. "but i'm expecting, sir, that when we get back we shall find that the mob from the bazaar has been busy, and plundered and burned the whole place; and if so--" he stopped short. "well, speak up, man. what do you mean--the wounded?" "no, sir," replied the sergeant, as i shuddered at the horrors these words suggested; "i don't think there were any wounded left; they did their work too well. i was thinking of the poor chargers." "oh!" i ejaculated, as i thought of my noble-looking arab and its companion, and i involuntarily quickened my pace. "steady, vincent," whispered the captain; and i checked myself. "let's hope it is not so." then, turning to the sergeant--"you feel sure that the officers' horses are not gone?" "i can't say that, sir. only that the mutineers did not take them. they wanted to get the gun-horses and the others; that was all they seemed to be thinking about." "yes, that would be all," assented brace. "the mob may have carried off the poor creatures since, sir; i don't know." as we approached the outskirts, all was as anticipated, quite still, and after another whisper to the men to keep as silent as possible, we marched boldly in through the narrow lanes, threading our way for some time without hardly seeing a soul, and those whom we encountered only looked at us with curiosity or else fled at once. twice over we became confused, losing our way, but our good luck aided us, for we recognised places which we had passed through before, and resumed our march, getting nearer and nearer to our barracks, and now hearing shouting, drumming, with the clash of music, but right away from us; and at last it was left well behind to our right. from time to time the captain halted and let the men pass by him, so as to keep a sharp look-out, and see whether we were followed. but that did not seem to enter into the thoughts of any of the natives we had passed. they were apparently thinking solely of their own safety, and at last, trembling with eagerness, we approached the gateway that we had left so short a time before; and a painful sensation of sorrow smote me as i recalled the genial face of the major and his words wishing us success as he saw us off on our pleasant expedition. "and now dead!--cruelly murdered by treachery," i said to myself; while the painful feeling was succeeded by one of rage, accompanied by a desire to take vengeance on the men who had cut him down. but i had something else to think of now, for brace halted the men and took me to examine the gateway, where all was silent and black. there was no armed sentry on duty, no lights in the guard-room, and a chill struck through me, and i searched the ground with my eyes in dread lest i should trip over the remains of some man by whose side i had ridden during many a parade or drill. brace stepped forward boldly, and we passed through the gateway into the yard when, suddenly, and as silently as if barefooted, a white figure started up near us, and would have fled had not brace caught it by the arm. "silence!" he said in hindustani. "don't kill me, master," came in a low supplicating whisper. "dost!" i exclaimed, for i recognised the voice. "yes, master," he cried, turning to me. "what were you doing here?" said brace, sternly. "i came up when all was dark and the budmashes were all gone, master," said the man with trembling accents. "i have been to master's quarters." "to plunder?" said brace, sternly. "master's servant is honest and never steals," said dost, quickly. "master can search and see." "i think--i'm sure he is honest," i said hastily. "tell us, dost. who is in the barracks now?" "the dead men, master," said the hindu solemnly. "there is no one living there. yes," he added quickly, "i did hear sounds, but i could find nobody. and the mem sahib is gone." "where did you hear the sounds?" i asked. "by the stables, my lord. if the budmashes had not taken away all the horses i should have thought the horses were there still." "and they are," i whispered to brace. "be cautious," he whispered back. "we must not trust this man. dost, tell me; the major--where is he?" the man sighed, and said softly-- "the burra major is dead. i have laid his body inside the mess-room. the mem sahib must have escaped or been carried off." "you did this, dost?" i cried, after a pause. "yes, sahib. it was dreadful for him to lie there." "take us where you have laid him," said brace, sternly; "but mind, if you attempt to escape, i shall fire." "why should thy servant try to escape?" said the man simply. "this way." "you do not trust him?" i said to brace. "trust?" he replied bitterly. "who can ever trust a hindu again?" we followed dost across the compound, to where the blank windows of the mess-room loomed out of the darkness, and we saw that they and the door were carefully closed. "i have misjudged him, gil," whispered brace; "he has been here." as the hindu began to open the door, we glanced sharply about the place, each holding his double rifle, ready for immediate action against human tigers, as i told myself. but all was silent and deserted, and as i looked toward the major's quarters and thought of the pleasant english lady who had so often made me welcome in the little drawing-room she fitted up so charmingly wherever we stayed, and whose soft carpets, purdahs, and screens came back to my memory in the soft light of the shaded lamps, i shivered, and wondered what had been her fate. "i could not find the lieutenant, sahib," said dost, as he threw open the door. "be on your guard, gil," whispered brace to me in french; "it may be a trap after all. hush! look out. i thought so," he cried; and i swung round the muzzle of my rifle, as four figures suddenly came upon us from out of the darkness at our back. the alarm was momentary, for a familiar voice said, as the point of a sword gritted in the sand at the speaker's feet-- "all right. i was growing uneasy about you, and brought three of the boys in case of accident." "thank you, doctor," said brace. "we are going in here. the major--" "hush!" said the doctor, drawing in a hissing breath. "stand fast, my lads." "if you hear anything wrong," said brace to the three men who stood sword in hand, "you know what to do." there was a low hiss, more than a murmur, and then we were in the darkness of the mess-room. "i'll shut the door," said dost, softly. "why?" said the doctor, quickly. "the sahib doctor can trust me," said the man, quietly. "it is dark. i am going to light a candle. i think the barracks are quite empty, but some of the budmashes might be about seeking to rob, and they would see the light." he closed the door, and the darkness for the moment was intense, while my heart beat with a heavy throb as i wondered whether, after all, there was treachery intended, and brace's words rang in my ears--"who can ever trust a hindu again?" the silence was awful in the moments which followed the closing of the door. there was a faint rustling sound followed by a sharp click click, which i knew was the cocking of a rifle or pistol; then came a scraping sound as of a sword-edge touching the wall--sounds which told me that my suspicions were shared; but, directly after, they were dispelled, for there was a crackling noise and a faint line of light; a repetition of the scratching, accompanied by a few sparks, and, at the third repetition, there was a flash which lit up the dark face of dost and his white turban; then the match began to burn, and we could see his fingers look transparent as he sheltered the flame and held it to a piece of candle, which directly after lit up the mess-room, one wreck now of broken glass, shattered chairs, and ragged curtain and cloth. i saw all that at a glance, but as my eyes wandered about the room, they rested upon a couch at the side, upon which lay something covered completely by a tablecloth, whose whiteness was horribly stained. i shuddered, and tried to turn my eyes away, but i could not, and involuntarily i followed brace and the doctor, as dost went to the couch. "better keep away, gil, lad," said brace, in a low voice, full of emotion. "you will have enough horrors forced upon you without seeking them out." i made no answer, but i did not retire, as brace softly raised the cloth from the face of our commanding officer, and i saw that, though disfigured by a couple of terrible cuts, it was quite placid; and my heart warmed--in my sorrow for my poor friend--toward the hindu servant who had so reverently treated his remains. then a thrill ran through me, for as brace stood holding the cloth raised, and dost held the candle for us to see, the doctor uttered an ejaculation, pushed brace rudely aside, and then laid his rifle on the ground, and began to tear open the light cotton garment the major wore, while his busy hands played, in the dim light, about his breast. "here, dost," he whispered, "put down the light. tear this cloth into narrow bandages. vincent, lad, take out my pocket-book from my breast, and open it." "great heavens, danby!" began brace. "thank heaven, you mean," said the doctor, in his quick, business-like way. "good job i'm here. dost, you fool, you shouldn't be in such a hurry. why, you might have buried him. the man's not dead." no word was uttered, but there was a quick expiration of the breath, and then a busy silence, only broken by the rustling movements of the doctor, who kept on examining and bandaging. at last he began to speak. "wonderful how nature stops bleeding," he whispered. "he has cuts and stabs enough to have bled any one to death, but there's a spark left yet." "hist! what's that?" said brace, as a sound came from the door. "right, sir," said a voice, which i knew to be sergeant craig's. "mr haynes is getting uneasy." "go and tell him," said brace, who was kneeling and holding one end of a bandage. i crossed to the door. "we've found the major," i whispered, "desperately wounded, but alive." "oh!" came in one burst from the men. "go and tell mr haynes." "best news i've heard to-day, sir," whispered the sergeant, who turned and went off at the double while i stepped outside, and closed the door to satisfy myself that the light could not be seen. "no, sir," said one of the men, "we couldn't see a speck of it." i hurried back to report in a whisper that all was safe, and for the next quarter of an hour i looked on till the doctor had finished his task. "there," he said, rising, "he's as bad as can be, but i may bring him round if we can get him to a place of safety." "dost can help us, perhaps," i whispered. "try and manage it with him, danby," said brace, "while i go and see if the horses are safe. dost, i ask your pardon for my unjust suspicions. forgive me!" "the captain sahib did not know my heart," was the reply; and before leaving, i caught and pressed the hindu's hand. outside in the black night, where the hot wind was sighing, and the great stars blinking down, we left one man on guard at the mess-room door, and hurried round to the stables, where, to our great delight, we were saluted by a low whinnying from the horses, my two and brace's being safe and eagerly waiting for their supply of food. leaving the men to feed them, we hurried to the next stables, where the major's horses should have been, in company with the doctor's, but the place was empty; and on continuing our quest, barton's and haynes's were all missing, while the men's troopers were gone, and a glance at the sheds showed that not a gun or limber was left. "back to the mess-room," said brace, after we had come upon several of our dead men, but had seen no trace of either of the women attached to the corps. "heard anything?" he whispered to the sentry. "woman scream, sir." "no, no." "yes, sir; i swear to it. heard it twice quite plain." "jackals on the prowl, man," said brace. "must have been a female jackal, then," i heard the man mutter, as i passed in and found the doctor and my hindu servant by the couch. "how is he?" whispered brace. "well, he's alive, and that's all," replied the doctor. "dost here says that if we have him carried to a house in the town about a quarter of a mile away, he knows people who will nurse him. will you give orders. there are plenty of light dhoolies." "will he be safe?" said brace, quickly. "my life upon it, sahib," said dost. "i can attend him too when the master does not want me. but i can be useful to him still." "this is no time for wanting servants," said brace, shortly. "let it be as he proposes. i will get the men and the dhooly at once." "where will the master be when i want to follow him?" brace hesitated for a few moments, and seemed to be about to speak out, but he altered his mind, and said slowly: "i cannot say yet. but we will keep communicating with you where the major is." "but the master had better take me," said dost, quickly. "the place will be full of budmashes, and the people all about will be enemies now. how are the sahibs to know where to get food or shelter, or to get news without me? i can go anywhere--you nowhere." "not yet," said brace, meaningly; "but you are right, dost, you shall go with us, and keep open our communications." we went out and across to the gate, where haynes was fretting with anxiety, but a thrill ran through the men as they found there was work on hand. the orders were given, and a corporal and four men were told off to carry the dhooly, which was found at once, and borne to the mess-room. then the major was carefully lifted in, and with the doctor in charge and dost as guide, the little party sallied forth with the understanding that they were to return as quickly as possible. the interval was spent in a search for food; then arms were hunted out, we officers finding that our quarters had not been plundered, and hurriedly changing our hunting garments for service uniform; and somehow as i stepped out again into the dark night, with sword belted on, and pistols ready to place in my saddle holsters, the helpless despairing feeling began to wear off. by this time the horses had been saddled and bridled, and all were ready for the next move, but the doctor did not return, and while we were waiting a faint shouting arose from below in the city. we had been well over the barracks and learned the worst, brace sharing my surprise that so little plundering had been going on; and whilst we were standing once more in the court with the men drawn up, a picket at the gate, and one of the horses laden with provisions and ammunition, haynes turned to me. "it's terribly un-english," he said; "but they would have no mercy on us." "what do you mean?" i said. "they have declared war on us, and they ought to take the consequences." "explain yourself," i said, as i felt as if i were listening to him with one ear, and for the return of our absent men with the other. "well," he said, "i feel as if i should like to give the scoundrels a lesson. the magazine is half full of powder, and to-morrow the wretches will be up here plundering and destroying." "well, what then?" "it would be so easy to lay a trap for them. plant all the powder behind the gates, after carefully barricading them; lay a train; wait till they were all crowded together, and trying to get in, and then fire the train and blow them all to destruction." "and who would fire the train, haynes?" said brace, who, unnoticed by us, had heard every word. "i feel as if i could enjoy staying behind on purpose," said haynes. "hah! i've better work on hand for you," said brace, quietly. "it would do no good, and only be destroying a mob of the greatest ruffians in rajgunge. hah, there is the challenge at last." in effect the doctor and the men with the dhooly came back just then. "where's dost--staying with the major?" cried brace. "no, sahib, i am here," came from the interior of the dhooly, out of which dost stepped as the men set it down. "what does this mean?" said brace, angrily. "his ruse to save us," said the doctor. "we got poor lacey safe into comfortable quarters at the house of two of the women who washed for the men, and they are to be trusted, i think. i can do no more for him, but see to his wounds to-morrow. as soon as i had seen him right, we were coming back, when, as luck had it, we got into a narrow lane, and half-way along it, heard a noisy party coming shouting along from some festivity. retreat was impossible, and i gave the orders to the men to draw and cut our way through, but dost here stopped us by proposing to get in the dhooly." "why?" said brace, angrily. "i'll tell you. it was a last resource; and though the men grumbled, they lifted the dhooly, and i marched by the side. the next minute we were stopped." "well?" "hang him!" cried the doctor; "he began to curse them in hindustani for stopping his gharry, ordered them to let his servants go by, and the idiots took it that a complete change had come over the state of affairs; that dost must have turned rajah, and was using the english as his slaves. so they all shouted with delight, let us pass, and here we are, thanks to rajah dost." "then, now for our start," said brace, "unless it would be wiser to stay here till morning, dost must go out and try and obtain news of the women." "no, no, sahib," cried the hindu, excitedly. "by daylight all the budmashes of the city will be up here to plunder and burn." "do you hear, haynes?" said brace, bitterly. "they may bring the punishment upon themselves." "i have thought of the mem sahib, master," continued dost, "and one of the women will try and learn news for us. she will find it better than i could." "you are right," said brace; and giving orders for the horses to be led in the rear, he placed himself at the head of our little column, gave the word march, and we filed out of the gate, dost leading through the silent lanes of the city, and then round below its walls to the bridge of boats, which was passed without our having encountered a soul. in our helpless state it was felt that we could do no better than to go by dost's advice, for he knew the country round, and suggested that we should go on as rapidly as possible, so as to reach one of the patches of forest which clothed the slopes of the valley side opposite the city before daybreak. "and when we are there?" asked brace. "we shall be within reach of the major sahib, and i can take the doctor sahib over to him when it is night again." "very well," said brace, thoughtfully. then, as if remembering the great aim he had in view-- "did the scoundrels go up the valley toward the rajah's?" "no, sahib; they brought the guns over the bridge, and some say they have gone to ramul." "that is only a few miles away," said brace, quickly, "and beyond the hills. forward, my lads. no speaking in the ranks." we tramped on silently for a couple of hours with the night growing darker as we went onward, the men literally reeling at times from weariness and exhaustion after the terrible day. all at once, one man fell out, and dropped upon the road side. "halt!" cried brace, in a low voice. "no, no, captain; keep on," said the man. "i'm dead beat. never mind me." "we have no dhooly, my lad, to carry you, so we must wait till you can walk, for we must hold together now to the last. who is it?" "sergeant craig, sir," said one of the men; and brace hurried to his side. "why, craig, my poor fellow, this will not do." as he spoke, the man who had thrown himself on the ground struggled to his knees. "some one give me a drink of water," he cried hoarsely; and a canteen having been handed to him, he drank deeply, and then tried to rise, but failed. "you'll have to go on, captain," he said hoarsely. "i've got a bit of a hurt. i did not think it was so much as it is. makes me a bit faint. if some one took my arm perhaps i could struggle on." "we are close to the jungle, sahib," whispered dost. "two of you support the sergeant," cried the captain; and a couple of men being detailed for the duty, the sergeant struggled on again for about a couple of hundred yards, the last hundred being in the deep shadows of the trees; and none too soon, for a few bird notes were heard announcing the coming day. ten minutes later sentries were posted, the horses picketed, and the men were lying down to drop asleep directly, while the doctor busily examined the sergeant's wound. "a big and ugly one," he said, "but nothing to mind. made you faint, of course. there, it isn't your sword arm." "'tisn't your sword arm" rung in my ears again and again, mingled with the whistling and singing of birds; and to me the bird song had something to do with the dressing of the wound; and then all was blank, and i was plunged in a deep sleep which after some time grew disturbed, and i seemed to be back at the college, drilling, and studying under general crucie. then i was getting into difficulties with my fellow cadets and being sent to coventry, as the most ill-humoured fellow they knew; and then i was awake, gazing up at the trees whose boughs shaded us from the sun, bathed in perspiration, and smelling tobacco smoke. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ note . dhoolies are light ambulances. note . purdahs, curtains or hangings. chapter fifteen. "awake, gil?" said a voice by me, and i started up to see that brace was seated close by me, with his elbow upon his knee and his chin resting in his hand. "yes," i said. "have i been asleep long?" "about seven or eight hours, my lad." "oh, why didn't you rouse me?" i cried. "because there was no work for you to do, and it was better for you to have a good long rest ready for when i want you. come and have some breakfast--such as it is." "can't i wash first?" i asked. he laughed. "no, my lad. there is the river below us yonder, and you can see the barracks, what is left of them." "left of them?" "yes. they were set on fire about nine o'clock, and the smoke is rising thickly still." i uttered an angry ejaculation. "bah! never mind them. we can soon have better ones built." he led me to where there was some bread and a little meat, and as i went among the trees i could see that we had sentries stationed, while the rest of the men lay about resting or smoking, while the doctor was seated by sergeant craig, whose arm lay upon a folded coat. i felt no appetite. the heat beneath the trees was terrible, and i was stiff and sore with the previous day's exertions; but i ate a little in obedience to brace's wish, and he sat watching me. "go on, my lad," he said. "i cannot," i replied. "you must. you will want all your strength for to-night's work. eat." i went on again with the bread tasting like chaff, and the meat tainted, but at last i turned away in utter disgust. "it will do me harm, not good," i said. "now tell me, what are we going to do?" "wait till dark," he said, "and then try and reconnoitre the village over yonder. as far as i can make out the rebels are making it their quarters for the day. i want to see whether it will be possible to do anything by a night surprise, but whether i shall attempt it must depend on the position they have taken up." "where is the village?" i asked. he led me to the edge of the patch of forest in which we were hidden, and pointed out a cluster of mud-houses about a couple of miles away, right in an open part of the plain which spread away from us for miles. "keep back behind the leaves," he said, "in case watchful eyes might be directed this way." i obeyed, and tried to make out the glint of steel or the white garments of the rebels. but nothing was to be seen but the glaring sunshine bathing the trees which overhung the cottages. not a soul was in sight. "they can't be there," i said, after watching for some time. "they are there," replied brace, quietly. "look under that tree, the one with a couple more standing out from it at intervals. tell me what you can see." i looked as well as the glare of the sun and the distance would allow me. "i can only see a cottage," i said. "it is not a cottage; it is a tent." "but surely they would not stop at a place like that." "why not?" he replied. "they have something to do now that they have seized the guns--to manage them." "then you think they have stopped there to drill?" i cried. "i fancy so; but we shall see after the reconnaissance to-night." "whom shall you send?" i cried eagerly. "let me go." "it is too important a task to trust to another," he replied. "i am going myself. you can go with me if you like." i eagerly snatched at the opportunity, and then sat down with him near the edge of the jungle patch to watch the village and note everything that passed. in the course of conversation brace told me that the doctor would also start on his expedition at dark, dost accompanying him to the lane in the city, where he could attend to the major's wounds and learn whether there was any news of the women. brace kept on chatting to me; but i soon found out that it was to keep down his excitement, and his mind employed, so that he should not dwell upon the terrible enforced delay; for quite a fever was consuming him, his eyes looked unnaturally bright, and his fingers kept twitching and playing with the handle of his sword. that night seemed as if it would never come, and i never suffered so from the heat; but it came at last, and, almost before i realised it, brace was giving the doctor his final instructions and a message for the major. "tell him," said brace, in a low voice, "that i shall never rest till i have retrieved our disgrace. tell him to be of a good heart, for i will get back the guns." "my dear brace," said the doctor coldly, "our poor friend is not likely to understand anything for some days to come, perhaps weeks. your message is all in vain. now, dost--ready?" the white figure of my servant glided up to us, and the next minute the pair had disappeared, while, after a few words had been addressed to haynes as to keeping the men well under cover, we two stepped out of the shelter of the jungle, and the darkness swallowed us from the sight of the sentry. we had carefully mapped our way that afternoon, and i saw it all in my mind; how we must go down that nullah, along by those trees, and make straight for the cultivated land, which spread out around the village, evidently one whose inhabitants cultivated largely for the benefit of the city. and in all our discussions as to our course, brace and i had thoroughly agreed, for the task was, or seemed to be, simplicity itself; but in the intense darkness of the indian night it proved to be very different in character. as we started we could see the distant lights of the city across the river, and, keeping them on our right, they formed sometimes a guide for a few minutes; but they were soon hidden from us by the trees, and, with the darkness growing more intense, we had literally to feel our way along. "are we going straight?" i said, after we had been walking for about a quarter of an hour. "we ought to have reached the cultivated land before now. we are still among the trees." "distances are deceptive in the sunshine," replied my companion. "keep close behind me." "as close as i can," i whispered, as it struck me that distances seemed to be more deceptive in the darkness. brace had drawn his sword, and was using it as a guide, to keep from walking into some bush or against a tree; and as i followed him i could hear the blade rustle amongst the bushes, and tap against small tree trunks; but, though it saved him, i was not so guarded, for i tripped twice, and once went down headlong through getting my foot caught in some kind of wild vine. at last, after what had seemed to be a tremendous while, we found ourselves brought up by an irrigation ditch; but we managed to clear it, and alighted at once upon soft earth, which we knew was cultivated ground, and stepped out more freely. it seemed to me a mad venture, but, without daring almost to madness, it was not likely that we could rescue our guns from the enemy's hands, though how we were going to reconnoitre that night, or gain any information as to the movements of the enemy, i could not see. still i was on duty; my superior officer was leading, and i felt no other inclination than to blindly obey. whenever i recall that expedition now, i begin somehow to think about blind men and their feelings; for we might almost as well have been thus. our eyes were not of the slightest use to us, the stars being blotted out as it were by the thick mist into which we had plunged, and through which we slowly groped our way. "keep tight hold of my hand," said brace, in a whisper. "we shall never find the village," i said. "we must find it, gil," he said, as he gripped my hand hard. and on we went, with my companion feeling his way step by step, still using his sword as guide, and for the peaceful object of guarding us from such enemies as trees, against which we might run, and ditches into which we might fall. the heat was terrible--a hot, steamy, misty heat, which helped to saturate us--as we slowly struggled on, pausing every now and then to listen, knowing, as we did, that almost at any minute now we might hear a voice challenging us out of the darkness, and see the flash of a musket or rifle as it sent a leaden messenger in our direction. but all was still as death for a time, and then i stopped short with a horrible feeling of dread; for from a short distance in front there suddenly rang out the terrible cry as of one in mortal peril. some one was being killed i was sure; and to hear that sound in the pitchy darkness, overwrought as i was by exertion and nervous excitement, robbed me for the moment of the power to move or speak. "what is it?" said brace at last, as he tugged at my hand to get me forward. "that--that horrible cry!" i whispered. "bah!" he replied. "you ought by this time to know a jackal." i hurried on at once with a sense of shame that was painful, for i felt that brace would despise me for my cowardice; but we spoke no more for some time, and then he halted as if puzzled and confused. "we ought to have reached the place before now," he whispered. "we must have borne off too much to the right or left." "what shall we do?" i said, with my lips close to his ear. "wait! listen!" we stood there with our feet sinking in the soft mud of what i fancied must be a rice-ground; but, save our laboured breathing, there was not a sound. it was a stillness like death. "i'm a poor guide, gil," he said at last; "but we must find it. shall we try to the right or the left?" "better wait a little longer," i replied. "we must hear some one speak if the place is near." "if only one of the horses would whinny," he muttered. but the silence was unbroken, and, with the feeling upon me that we might be going farther and farther from the place we sought, i followed him again, still holding tightly by his hand. for the next hour we struggled on, now wading through mud and water, now feeling some kind of growth brushing against our legs; but when, at the end of that time, we stopped short for a further consideration of our position, it seemed to be hopeless in the extreme. we listened, but there was not a sound, and at last brace uttered an impatient ejaculation. "an utter failure!" he whispered. "i'm afraid so," i replied. "we must have wandered off to left or right. had we not better go back and make a fresh start?" "how?" before he had said that word bitterly, i felt how foolish my remark was, and remained silent. "my good gil," he continued, "i wish we could; it is terrible. i have not the most remote idea which way to turn, and the next thing will be that we shall be found hopelessly bogged at daybreak, and become prisoners, or--" a shiver ran through me, for there was no need for him to finish his sentence; but there was a feeling of reaction directly. "not so bad as that," i said. "we must find the place somehow. it can't be so very far away." _cock-a-doodle-doo_! the crowing was so close to us that i gave quite a jump, and then stood fast, as from almost above our heads there was the rustle and beating of wings and the querulous cry of a hen, as if fowls were fidgeting somewhere upon a perch, no doubt disturbed by our being so near. _cock-a-doodle-doo_ came from a short distance off to our left, and directly after, in response to the challenge, there came the beating of wings from somewhere away in front, and another deeper-voiced crow came through the denser darkness. "gil," whispered brace--and i felt his hot breath in my ear--"we are close up to the village." we stood there with beating hearts, and a feeling of excitement that was almost unbearable growing upon us as, after a little more rustling, the fowls quieted down, and carefully feeling his way with his sword, brace took a few steps in the direction of the first crowing. then his sword tapped against wood, and there was a loud cackling from several fowls above our head. "hist," i said. "no danger," he said; "they will think it is a jackal disturbing the birds." as he spoke, he felt about with his sword, and whispered to me-- "we are in a rough kind of shed supported on bamboo poles. come on." he led the way again past the place that he had first touched with his sword, and we could feel that we were passing over hard beaten ground. directly after, brace touched another building, and went on, carefully feeling about, while i fully expected from moment to moment that i should hear a challenge followed by the flash of a piece and its loud report. "cottage--door open--empty," whispered brace; and he crept on cautiously, to find another place directly, and so on, one after the other, cottage after cottage, the beaten path telling us that we were in a well-frequented place; but the silence was profound, and it soon became evident that we were on the site of the village--if village it was--that was quite deserted. brace stopped short, his sword having encountered what he found was a tree trunk, and a little further investigation proved that several more were dotted about. "we must bear off to the right," he whispered. "the people deserted the place when the rebels came, and they are quartered on the other side. come along." the words were at my lips to implore him to be careful, but i thought he would think me cowardly, so i followed him as we crept slowly on, passing house after house--mere hovels, most of them, but all open and empty. as we paused before one of these, i whispered-- "suppose we come upon them suddenly?" "keep fast hold of my hand and retreat; the darkness is on our side." i said no more, and we kept slowly on past dozens of houses all in the same condition, and either deserted, or with their occupants asleep. then the buildings ceased as far as we could make out in the darkness, for we came upon trees. "we must have come right through the village," whispered brace. "it is very strange. they would have been sure to set sentries, and we ought to hear the horses stamping or whinnying." "brace!" "well?" "we've come to the wrong village." "impossible. there was no other village for many miles," he whispered angrily. "this is the place, and i saw them here. we'll follow the houses round from the outside. forward." i followed him, and our previous experience was repeated, with the difference that we kicked against a basket that had been dropped or thrown away as worthless, and soon after, on leaving one of the houses which was larger than those we had before examined, but as utterly silent, there was a click which i took to be the cocking of a musket, and imitated brace's movement, for he stooped down, but rose again sharply. "feel here," he whispered, as he let his sword hang from his wrist by the knot, and pressed something into my hand. "what is this?" "a cavalry sabre," i said directly, in an excited tone. "yes; one of ours. now am i right, lad? they must be here, and we are pretty close to their quarters. can you hear the horses?" i listened attentively, but there was not a sound, and once more we proceeded till one of my feet went down. i stumbled and nearly fell. "hurt?" whispered brace. "no. i only stepped in a deep rut." "rut?" he said sharply; "where?" he was down on his knees instantly, feeling with his hands, and i heard him breathe hard. "yes, i am right," he whispered. "that rut was made by the wheels of one of our guns; the cart-marks are distinct. no native cart would have cut into the ground like that. forward." he stepped down with one foot in the crack, and, keeping it there, walked slowly on, making it our guide, while i followed suit with another rut, or series of ruts, a short distance from the first. "only to follow them," he whispered; "and they will lead us right to the wasps' nest." we went on easily enough now, and very cautiously, with the soil growing softer and the ruts more deeply cut, as if several guns had passed along our way. then i stopped, and went down on one knee to feel the ground. "what is it?" "the hoof-marks. they are very deep here," i said excitedly, as my fingers traced the deep impressions one after the other, and close enough together for me to divine that many horses had passed. "well, yes," he said impatiently; "they are here, of course. i noticed that some were crushed out by the wheel-tracks." "yes," i cried; "but we are going wrong; the hoof-marks are all coming this way." chapter sixteen. "what?" cried brace, excitedly; and he raised his voice, so that i sprang to my feet, and snatched my sword from its scabbard with the edge grating in an ominous way as it left the steel sheath. my companion also stood upon his guard, and we stood there in the darkness listening, but there was not a sound, though we were within a few feet of houses at each side. "no challenge," he whispered, and going down on one knee, he felt about the wet earth for a few moments. "yes," he said, drawing in his breath with an angry hiss; "we are going wrong." then, after a pause, as he stood behind me--"never mind; we'll trace them this way first, and find where the ruts enter the village. it will be a guide." we resumed our steady progress, walking with one foot in the wheel-tracks for about twenty yards further, and then brace's sword suddenly struck something, either tree or upright. it proved to be the latter, being the support of a great shed, and here i found that the ruts suddenly became confused--branching off, and directly after i found traces of horses having been picketed about where we stood. "yes," said brace quickly, "here's where they have been tethered. they must have altered their position. quick! let's follow them up." we went off at once, finding no difficulty in keeping to the trail, which, as far as we could tell in the darkness, swept round the outside of the village, for every now and then we tried off to right and left, to find cottages on the latter side, what seemed to be cultivated fields on the other. then, all at once, the houses ceased, and the tracks grew deeper with the wheel-ruts half filled with water, and it was evident that the horses had struggled hard to drag the guns through soft ploughed fields. "brace," i said, after we had tramped on through the heavy ground for about a quarter of a mile. "yes." "i hope i'm wrong, but i'm very much afraid--" "that settles it, gil, lad," he said quickly. "you are thinking as i have been for the last quarter of an hour, are you not? that we are too late?" "yes. they have deserted the place." "undoubtedly. i ought to have grasped the notion at once. we could not have got into this village unchallenged. we have not been drilling before these men so many years for them to occupy a place like this without sentries." "can we have failed?" i said despondently. "oh no; say we have not succeeded yet," he cried cheerily, as he clapped me on the shoulder. "you and i are going to recapture those guns, gil, my lad. we must; we must." "but what are you going to do now?" i asked. "practise patience, lad. we have spent many hours over this vain struggle, and it is madness to go wandering about in the darkness, so let's get back to the village and pick out the best house we can, and rest till daylight. it is the only course open to us. there, we need not whisper now." "i wish i was stronger," i said rather despondently. "bah! you are tired. so am i. cheer up, lad. you'll feel like a new man when you've lain down for an hour. nothing like it. flat down on your back. it is the most refreshing thing there is." as he was speaking, we were following the track back toward the village, and as there was no need now to practise caution, the distance did not seem great before we were abreast of the houses again, and after passing his hands over the entrances of one or two, brace entered the third cautiously, stood within; there was a rustling noise, a sharp crackling, and the match he had struck blazed up and spread what appeared to me quite a brilliant glare around. "no," he said sharply, "we are not dogs, to rest in such a kennel as this. there must be a decent house somewhere." but for a long time it seemed as if there was not, and i was ready to say, "anything will do," when we cautiously entered another door; a light was struck, and though the place was deplorable enough, it did not look so desolate, and it had evidently lately been occupied, for there was a half-burned candle standing on a rough stool, and to this candle brace applied his match. "officers' quarters, i should say," he cried cheerily. "why, gil, this is the very thing; three charpoys, and there has been eating and drinking going on. but, look out!" he raised the candle with one hand, and with his sword advanced, made for a ragged purdah or curtain hanging from the roof just beyond the farthest native bedstead. "here, gil," he said sharply, "i'll defend you; come and snatch away this piece of hangings." i did as he told me, with my heart beating heavily the while, and, holding my sword ready, i snatched the purdah aside, when the light fell upon the thin, deeply lined face of an extremely old-looking hindu, whose white beard seemed to quiver as he threw up his arms and fell down before us. "my lord will not slay his servant," he cried in a trembling voice in his own tongue. "he has done no harm." "come out," cried brace in hindustani. "why were you hiding there?" "thy servant was afraid that the white sahib would slay him." "what are you doing here?" "thy servant was too old to go when the budmashes came, and all the others fled away." "where are the budmashes now?" "thy servant knoweth not. they all rode off with the great guns directly it began to grow dark to-night." "put up your sword, gil," said brace. "the poor old fellow is frightened out of his wits." then, turning to the old hindu-- "is there no one left in the village?" "no, sahib. they have all fled but me." brace was silent for a few minutes, and then he said sharply-- "look here, old man, you can walk?" "yes, sahib, a little way; not very far." "gil," said brace, thoughtfully, "he could walk well enough to guide us back to the tope. the doctor will be back by now, and anxious. shall i make him do it?" "no," i said excitedly. "he may see some of the mutineers afterwards, and tell them we are following." "of course. no, he must not know; and i suppose we must not kill him in cold blood to keep him from telling tales." "brace!" i cried, but he only smiled, and, turning to the hindu-- "get water," he said. "we are thirsty." the old man went to a corner of the room, trembling in every limb, and taking a brass lotah from where it was hidden, he went out of the place into the darkness. "do you think he is treacherous?" i whispered, "and will bring back others?" "no. the old man is honest enough, gil. there, lie down on that charpoy." "but you?" i said. "i shall lie down too. go to sleep after you have had some water. i will keep watch till daybreak." just then the old man came back with the brass vessel full of clear, cold water, and handed to brace. "i hope the old fellow has not poisoned it," he said. "i'll taste it first, gil," and he raised the vessel to his lips, took a hearty draught, and then handed it to me. "pure water," he said; and i gladly partook of the refreshing draught, while brace felt in his pocket for a coin. "there," he said, taking out a rupee, "that's as much as his lotah is worth. i don't know for certain, but i expect he will consider that we have denied his vessel, and will throw it away when we are gone." "then why doesn't he think the rupee is defiled?" i said, as the old man received the coin with a salaam, and then hid it in the folds of his turban. "can't say," replied brace, making the bamboo bedstead creak as he threw himself down. "here, grandfather," he continued in the old man's native tongue, "keep watch, and warn us if there is any danger. your caste will not let you betray those within your house." "the sahibs are quite safe here," he replied. "there is no one in the village but their servant. but i will watch." "stop!" said brace, sharply, as the old man moved toward the door. "stay here; don't try to leave." the old man bowed. "where are the budmashes gone?" "thy servant cannot tell." i could just understand enough of the colloquial language to grasp all this. "well," said brace, "stop and keep watch, so as to give us warning if they come." the old man salaamed again, and then stood with his arms folded near the door, while i lay back on the charpoy with my eyes half-closed, watching him by the faint light of the candle, and thinking how miserably thin the old man was, and how his bones showed through the slight cotton garment he wore. his hollow cheeks and eyes looked dark, and strange shadows were cast over his features, but from time to time i could see his deeply sunken eyes flash, and a sensation of dread came over me as i thought how easy it would be for him, weak old man though he was, to wait till we were both asleep, and then seize us one after the other by the throat with his long, thin, bony fingers, and hold us till we had ceased to breathe. and as this idea strengthened, i told myself that it would be madness to close my eyes. i would lie there and watch him, i thought; and in this intent i lay thinking how wet my feet were, how coated my legs were with mud, and how, in spite of the drenching i had had with perspiration, i was now growing rapidly dry. but oh, how weary i felt, and how my back and legs ached! it would be _so_ restful, i thought, to go soundly off to sleep, if for only five minutes, and then resume my watch. i could not go off, though. it would have been like inviting the old hindu to rid himself of two enemies of his people and of his religion; and as i watched him i saw, or thought i did, an ugly evil look in his eyes: the shadows played about his face, and his lips seemed to be pressed together in a thin, malignant-looking smile, as if he were quite satisfied that in a few more minutes we should be both at his mercy. for brace had no sooner thrown himself back on the charpoy, with his arms crossed upon his breast, than his head sank on one side so that his face was toward me, while one arm slowly began to give way, and glided from his chest down by the side of the charpoy, and hung at last at full length, with the back of his hand resting upon the earthen floor. with brace fast asleep, i felt that it was my duty to watch, and after carefully scrutinising the hindu's face, which now looked malignant to a degree, i determined to hold myself in readiness to cut the old wretch down the moment he approached and tried to attack brace. my sword was so near that i could let my hand rest upon it, and planning carefully how i could in one movement spring up, and with one swing round of my arm drag out my blade and cut him down, i waited. the candle burned more dimly, but the hindu's eye grew more bright, while his face and that of my brother-officer darkened in the shade. now and then the wretched light flickered and danced, and as the little flame played about, the smile upon the old man's lips grew more ghastly, till it broadened into a laugh that sent a shiver through me. the light grew more dim and the shadows deeper, then darker still, and rapidly darker, till the room was quite black, and the old hindu's face was completely blotted out, but i knew he was creeping nearer and nearer, and felt that he had by slow degrees reached the side of brace's charpoy, and was bending himself down, till his fingers, now spread out like the long ugly talons of some horrible bird of prey, were within a few inches of poor brace's throat, then nearer and nearer till he seized his prey, and as a dull, low sound of painful breathing rose in the dark room, i knew that it was time to swing my arm round, snatching the sword from the scabbard, and laying the horrible old miscreant lifeless upon the floor. the time had come, my right arm was across my chest, my hand tightly holding my sword-hilt, but that arm was now heavy as lead, and i tried in vain as i lay there upon my back to drag out that blade. but it was impossible. i was as if turned to stone, and the horrible gurgling breathing went on, heard quite plainly as i lay in that terrible state. how i tried to struggle, and how helpless i felt, while the mental agony was terrible, as i seemed to see the old wretch's features distorted with a horrible joy at his success, and i knew that as soon as poor brace was dead, he would come over and find me an easy victim, and then i should never see the light of another day; i should never meet father, mother, sister again out on the hot plains of india; and the guns would never be recaptured; and yet they seemed so near, with the wheels sinking deeper, and ploughing those deep ruts which i was walking in with one foot, so as to keep to the track, for poor brace was so set upon recovering them; and now he was dead, it was ten times my duty to keep on and get them, if the old hindu would only spare my life. poor old brace! and i had thought him a coward, and yet how brave and determined he was, but yet how helpless now that the tiger had crept up closely and sprung into the howdah to force him back and plant its talons in his throat. no, it was not the tiger, it was the hindu, the old old-looking man with the bony fingers. no, the tiger, and it was not brace who was making a horrible, strangling noise, but the elephant snorting and gurgling and moving its trunk in the air, instead of snatching out its bright sword and with one stroke cutting off the tiger's--the hindu's--the tiger's head, because it had left its sword in its quarters when it went out shooting that morning, and it had all grown so dark, and its arm was as heavy as lead, because i was turned into an elephant and the tiger had leaped on to me, and then into the howdah to attack poor brace, while we were trying to find the guns of our troop, and it was too dark to see them, and how long the hindu was killing him, and i could not help, and-- "asleep, gil?" a pause, and then again, as i lay panting on my back, streaming with perspiration, and with my arm feeling numb as i listened to the horrible, strangulated breathing once more-- "asleep, gil?" "no--yes--not now;" and i was all of a tremble. "cheerful style of watchman that, lad. hear him? any one would think he was being strangled. what shall i do to wake him? prick him with the point of my sword?" "no, no; don't do that," i whispered, as i tried hard to realise that i was awake, and had been dreaming. "well, i'm too tired to get up. i've had a nap too, and you've been breathing pretty hard, but not snorting and gurgling like that old wretch. here, hi! you, sir," he cried in hindustani. "the sahib wants his servant?" "yes--no," cried brace. "what are you doing?" "thy servant was keeping watch over his masters, and smoking his chillum." brace's charpoy creaked, and he uttered a curious laugh even in hindustani. "that's right; go on. i did not know what it was in the dark." then to me: "did you understand what he said?" "only partly. didn't he say he was smoking?" "yes; puffing away at his old hubble-bubble. there he goes again." for the snorting, gurgling sound recommenced, and i knew that the candle had burned out, while i was struggling in the horrors of a nightmare-like dream. "is it near morning, brace?" i said. "it must be; but try and go to sleep again, lad. if it is only for one hour, it will do you good, and make you fresher for the day's work." "you think i need not mind sleeping?" "not in the least, lad. there is no danger till daybreak, and i am afraid not then, for our enemies are miles away by now." he was silent, and i lay listening to the old man's hubble-bubble for a time, till a delicious feeling of repose stole over me, and the next thing i heard was the chattering song of minahs--the indian starlings-- in the trees somewhere outside of the hovel where i lay, and, on opening my eyes, they rested on the ancient face of the old man, squatting down on his heels at a short distance from the foot of my bedstead, the level rays of the sun pleasantly lighting up his calm old face; and as he saw that i was looking at him, he rose to his feet and salaamed to me. "it is morning, sahib," he said in hindustani. "eh, morning?" cried brace, springing up. "thank heaven! now, gil, lad, for the work of another day." chapter seventeen. the place did not seem so desolate and horrible in the bright morning light; and after we had bathed our faces in water brought for us by our host, who also produced some homely cakes, and the lotah full of clear water for us to drink, i felt refreshed and bright, and so, i thought, did brace; but the stern, hard look came into his face again as soon as he had recompensed our host and we stood outside the house, seeing above the mist the tops of the trees of the tope where our men lay, and as i saw them standing up apparently so near, i wondered how we could have had so much difficulty in finding our way, and said so. "no cause for wonder, gil," said brace, quietly. "once you go astray in the dark or in a mist, every struggle makes you more confused. why, gil, lad, i once got out of bed in the dark, and lost myself in my own room." i looked at him wonderingly, for his face once more looked pleasant and smiling, but it was dark the moment after, as we crossed the track of the guns, and, trying to make out our past night's course, started at once for the tope. "they will think us prisoners or dead, gil. let's get back." "and what next?" i said. he turned and pointed to the deep marks made by our horses and guns, and i had no occasion to ask more. we both agreed that it was no wonder that we had lost our way in the black darkness of the night, and been wandering about in the most erratic manner, for it was difficult enough to keep in a straight line for the tope where the mist was most dense in the lower ground. but we reached our temporary shelter at last, were challenged by the sentries, and before we had gone many steps among the trees, the doctor rushed at us, closely followed by dost. "my dear brace!" he cried; "my dear boy!" and he wrung our hands warmly. "i thought--oh, i don't know what i did not think." "why, doctor," said brace, warmly, "i did not think we were of so much consequence to you." "of course not; and i'm a donkey to make so much fuss over you," said the doctor, changing his manner directly, and speaking in his customary snappish, decisive manner. "but i object to anybody else killing you both. that's my business. am i not your surgeon?" dost said nothing; but i saw the tears in his eyes as he followed close behind me and took hold of the lapel of my jacket as he whispered softly-- "oh, sahib!" "well," cried brace, after a few explanations, "how is the major? how did you get on?" "our friend dost took me safely there, and i stayed with the poor fellow for hours. he is terribly cut about, but far better than i expected, and i believe that those women will nurse him round." "thank god!" said brace, earnestly; "and i hope we shall be able to give him comfort before long by our news." "i hope so," said the doctor, bluntly. "you are not upset, then, by your night's experience? you mean to go on?" "i mean to go on. yes, doctor, at once. but about you and the major?" "i am sorry to say that the poor fellow must take his chance now. dost was of opinion that we could not get in and out again safely, and i did not need to be told. we had a very narrow escape of being made prisoners." "but, lacey, the nursing?" "he has that, and there is no disease, my dear boy. those two women will do all that i could. it is only a question of seeing to his bandages, and cleanliness. i could say i'll go and stay with him; but if i did, the chances are that i should not get there; and if i did, i make the risk of his being murdered ten times greater. on the other hand, you and the lads here will want my help. my duty is with you." dost was consulted, and said warmly that it was impossible to get back into the city, and that two foot regiments and one of cavalry had marched into and occupied the place. "and their english officers?" said brace, excitedly. "don't ask me, sahib," said dost, sadly. "it is too terrible; the people have gone mad against our masters, and the fire is spreading through the land." the peculiarly stern look in brace's countenance deepened as my hindu servant went on. "if the doctor sahib tried to get into the city again, he would be taken, and the budmashes of the bazaar would murder him. lacey sahib will be quite safe and get well. we must not go again; it means death." "there," said the doctor, "and i'm too busy to die yet, brace; but pray go on eating and drinking, my dear boys; you must both be horridly faint. i prescribe food and rest." "right, doctor; we'll take your first remedy. but there is no rest. we start in an hour or less. we must make a short march before the sun gets too hot." "you mean to keep to that mad idea of yours, then, about recapturing the guns?" "yes, mad as it is." "better try and join some of our men, where they are holding out, my dear boy. this is going to be a terrible business, and we must all row together and help one another." "yes," said brace, "i am going to help; but i must have my guns first, and remount my men." then hastily finishing his rough breakfast, he rose and went off to give orders for an immediate start. "vincent, my lad," said the doctor, "we shall all be cut to pieces, i'm afraid." "our chances look very bad, i'm afraid," i replied. "hold your tongue, sir," cried the doctor. "you are not afraid of anything. i said i was, but i'm not a fighting man. we're in for it, and are going to do our duty. my great trouble is about poor craig. that man's a gentleman." "hist!" came from close by among the trees. "eh? who was that?" "only me, doctor--craig." "bah! i had forgotten him. you heard?" "yes, sir," said the wounded sergeant faintly, as we went to his side, and he smiled up at me. "i heard you blacking my character behind my back. never mind about the past. what about sergeant craig?" "well, what about him, sir? he's going to get better." "afraid not, doctor. i heard the captain say that we march directly. i couldn't even ride if i had a horse. hadn't you better put me out of my misery at once?" "if you talk nonsense like that to me, sir," cried the doctor, "i'll give you the nastiest dose you ever had in your life." "but i can't walk." "of course not; but there are plenty of good men and true to carry you, so hold your tongue, and get better as fast as you can." "but--" "silence, sir! or i'll put a bandage on your mouth, as well as on your arm." poor craig smiled at me, and closed his eyes. half an hour after our men were found all refreshed and rested, and looking ready to do any deed of valour, or follow their leader to the death. the order was given, and in the lightest of light marching-order, save that there was the litter to carry, on which poor craig had been laid, when one of the sentries still on guard, but with orders to fall in on the rear when we marched, reported the approach of a party of the people of the city. brace ordered the men to lie down while he focussed his glass, and examined the men from the edge of the tope, afterwards handing the glass to me as i watched the white-clothed party about a quarter of a mile away, evidently making straight for the wood. "what do you make of them, gil?" "sepoys," i said; "nine of them, all with muskets and bayonets, evidently coming to occupy this place." "yes," he said; "we must repulse them. gil, this is a godsend. i want every man i have to fight. these are scoundrels from one of the revolted regiments." "and this is to be a bit of practice for our men?" "no, boy; we can trap the dogs without fighting. can't you see what i want?" "no." "bearers for poor craig's dhooly. here they are--two sets; one for relief." i uttered a cry of delight, and then after making sure by which track the sepoys would come up to the tope, a dozen men were placed in ambush with orders not to move till the native soldiers had passed them, and then to cut off their retreat when they found enemies in front. the arrangements were cleverly made, our men lying down among the bushes; and, in perfect ignorance of the reception awaiting them, the sepoys came on with their muskets shouldered; and in a careless, easy-going way, as they came on talking loudly, they drew and fixed bayonets. "they think some poor creatures have taken refuge here," whispered brace. "the bloodhounds!" i lay there with my sword drawn, and the knot tight about my wrist, my heart beating, and a curious sensation of dread troubling me, for i was going to face armed men for the first time in my life. but i had no time for thinking; the sepoys were close at hand, and as they reached the edge of the tope, one, who seemed to be their leader, gave the order, and the men lowered their bayonets, and were about to open out to search the tope, when brace sprang up right in their way. what followed did not take a minute. the first movement of the mutineers was to turn and flee, but their leader yelled at them savagely, and dashed at us with his levelled bayonet, when a shot from brace's pistol rang out, and the man threw up his piece, bent back, fell, and clutched at the broken twigs upon which he had fallen, while, uttering a fierce yell of rage, the others came on. but brace was equal to the occasion. he shouted an order to our lads, and then one in hindustani to the sepoys, who, on seeing a party of our men spring up behind us, stopped short, and then turned to flee, but only to find themselves face to face with the dozen men by whom they had passed. "down with your arms!" roared brace, rushing at them. and with a sullen growl, seven of them threw down their muskets, but the eighth made a fierce thrust at brace, which would have been deadly, had he not deftly turned it aside to his left with his sabre, and then striking upward with the hilt, he caught the man a terrible blow in the cheek, and rolled him over stunned. our men gave a cheer as they closed in round the sepoys, and the next minute two stout gunners were breaking the bayonets from the muzzles, snapping some off, and doubling the others completely back before taking the muskets by the barrels; and then _crash, crash, crash_, the stocks were splintered off by blows against the largest trees, while the sepoys stood together closely guarded, their faces turning of a horrible drab tint, as their eyes rolled in anxious quest from face to face, for they evidently expected moment by moment to hear the order for their execution. one poor wretch, with his lips ashy, glanced up at the trees, and then wildly round, as i interpreted it, to see if any one was bringing ropes; and a shudder ran through him, and he closed his eyes, but opened them widely, showing a ring of white about the iris as the doctor strode up. "soon got a job ready for me, then, brace?" he said. "poor wretch!" was the reply. "i am sorry i shot him." "i'm not," said the doctor, going down on one knee. "why, man, his bayonet was getting close to your breast, and i hate a bayonet wound; it generally beats me. humph!" he added coolly, after a brief examination of the fallen man, who was lying motionless, "so does this," and he rose. "dead?" said brace, with a look of pain in his face. "quite. come, soldier, it was in self-defence." "yes," said brace slowly; "but i never killed a man before, doctor, even in self-defence." then, drawing himself up, he turned to the sepoys, and giving the regular orders, they obeyed, took a few steps, and then, as if moved by the same spirit, halted, and threw themselves upon their knees with their hands outstretched for mercy, the man whom brace had temporarily stunned by his blow, uttering a loud appeal, for all thought their end was near. "stand!" cried brace, sternly; and then he told them that if they were faithful and obedient their lives should be spared. they were grovelling at his feet on the instant, and a driver behind me laughed. "well, i don't think i'd kiss the captain's boots like that to save myself," he said. for one of the men was actually kissing the muddy boots brace wore. at a second command, they sprung to their feet, and, obeying orders with alacrity, they were drawn up in line, where brace once more addressed them, announcing that they would be treated without mercy if they attempted to escape. then poor craig's litter was pointed out to them, and four raised the handles to their shoulders, while the others were placed in front. a guard was detailed to keep watch over them, and armed with carbines, with orders to shoot down the first man who tried to escape. a minute later our men were in their places; the order was given, and we left the tope on the side farthest from the city, and descended toward the low, cultivated ground, marched steadily toward the village where brace and i had passed the night, there to take up the track made by the wheels of our limbers, guns, and tumbrils, a long, wearisome task we felt; for the enemy had many hours' start, and they were mounted, while we were on foot. chapter eighteen. my toilsome marches through a country that was generally deserted, we came to village after village in following the track of those guns; and generally it seemed as if the force of mutineers frightened the simpler ryots away from their tiny farms and rice-grounds; for the villages were generally empty. when they were not, our appearance was sufficient to send man, woman, and child flying; for already the land was being delivered up to the horrors of war. ny deen's men plundered as they went, and helped themselves to all they required; while we, in turn, were forced to follow their example; and where food was not given, we were obliged to take it. our marches ought to have been made by night, so as to avoid the heat of the sun; but this was impossible, for the track of the guns would have been lost, and hence we had to journey on by daylight, rarely finding any difficulty, for the wheels made distinctive marks in the dusty roads; while in the open country, where ny deen made short cuts, the deep ruts were so plain that, had we been mounted, we could have galloped after them. it was very rarely that we could get any information from a native; but when we did, it was invariably to learn that the enemy was a full day ahead; and, in spite of our efforts, he always keep that distance. i remember that terrible broiling march with a shudder, for our men suffered horribly from heat and thirst, often from want of food, while our constant dread was lest any of the poor fellows should go down with sunstroke. but we were spared that, though every night, when we halted, the doctor confided to me his opinion that it was miraculous. craig was very weak and ill, and more than once he asked brace to have him laid down under a shady tree to die, so that better use might be made of the bearers. "impossible, my good fellow," brace used to say. "i can't spare you-- the smartest sergeant in the troop." "smartest, sir?" repeated craig, with a piteous smile. "a helpless invalid, too weak to lift a sword, let alone use it, or sit a horse." "wait, craig, and you will sit a horse yet, and help me to redeem this terrible reverse." the days wore slowly on, and we seemed no nearer; and, but for the energy and knowledge of dost, we should have starved; but his knowledge of the natives of the country people enabled him somehow or another to provide for our commissariat, and we marched on with the sepoys always bearing poor craig's dhooly, and making no attempt to escape. i said something about it one night to brace. "wait," he said, "and then we shall have to be doubly watchful. they will try to escape when we have overtaken the enemy; and our great peril will be their betraying our presence; for we cannot play the lion now, gil; we must play the fox." it was a wonder to me that we did not come upon any stragglers from the force we were pursuing; but we did not overtake any; neither did we come upon a broken-down horse. "plain proof," said brace, "that they are taking care of them. gil, my lad, if we do not recapture those guns, they will prove to be deadly in their injury to our side; for, depend upon it, those daring fellows will train themselves to use them, and they will be terrible weapons in an enemy's hands." "more need for us to get them back," i said. "you don't despair of overtaking them?" "i will not," he said firmly; and then, to change the subject, "how did you think our horses looked?" "very well. why don't you ride?" "why don't you?" he retorted. "because all our poor fellows have to walk." "exactly, gil; my reason. wait a bit, and we'll mount them all. ah, if that time would only come!" it did not then, nor yet for many days, during which we had steadily followed the track, never once losing it; but i could note how weary both haynes and brace grew. "you see," said the former, "they must be making for some trysting-place--one of the big towns, perhaps; and if they reach it, our chance has gone." "don't let brace hear you say that," i whispered; but from hints the captain dropped that night, i was certain that he was thinking something of the kind. it was toward evening, after a fearfully hot day, during part of which we had been forced to rest, while dost had gone on in advance to investigate, that we were toiling on through a very beautiful part of the country--all green, and a succession of park-like patches and plains, that were wonderfully refreshing after weary tramps over brown deserts of dust, that we were suddenly checked by our advance men announcing a native some distance ahead. but as we reached the front, the distant figure held up its turban in a peculiar way, and i exclaimed-- "dost!" the order was given to advance; and before we had gone far, the man, who was hurrying to meet us, signed to us to bear off to the left; and five minutes later, when we met, he pointed to a beautiful patch of forest, into which we filed. "well, dost, what now?" said brace, gloomily. "they are halting, sahib, only a short distance in front." "is there a town there?" "no, sahib; only a large village at the end of a wide plain. we can get round to the end, and perhaps see them." "but are you sure it is the party we are tracking?" i cried excitedly. "oh yes, sahib. there are all the horses and guns. they were drawn up in front when i came away." "ready to start once more," said brace, eagerly. "let's get on and see if anything can be done." leaving haynes in charge of the men who were allowed to rest in the grateful shade of the forest edge, brace called to me to accompany him, and with dost for our guide, we threaded our way among the trees for nearly an hour, when dost suddenly stopped short, as a shout fell upon our ears, followed by a familiar trampling sound, with the jingle of accoutrements, and rattle of gun and limber. "they are going," said brace, quickly; and hurrying forward, he made for a spot where the forest looked lighter; and in another minute we had to stoop down and shelter ourselves, for where we were the trees ended, and a wide plain spread out far as eye could reach, while on the right was a large village with a temple just on the banks of a river, whose bright waters looked welcome in that thirsty land. but we had no eyes for river or plain with such a scene between us and the village as greeted us; for there, in very fair order, thanks to our highly trained horses, was our little battery of six six-pounders, with their limbers and mounted men complete; but, in place of the english gunners and drivers in their laced jackets, breeches and boots, brass helmets, and long scarlet horsehair plumes, the battery was manned by dark-faced men in white, with turbans to match, and under the command of a noble-looking chief in a turban that flashed in the sunlight with gold or gems; while, even at the distance we were, we could make out that the man in gay shawls and rich stuffs, who waved his sword as he cantered along upon a magnificent arab, was barton's old syce, ny deen. "the scoundrel!" muttered brace, whose hand played with the hilt of his pistol as we crouched there, and i felt that if ever he came within range, a bullet would lay him low. as the troop went along at a trot, a thrill ran through me, and i felt an intense longing to be mounted once more in my place; and from that moment shared more intensely brace's longing to recover the guns. "they are on the march again," my companion whispered, as he used his glass and went on making comments. "the guns look bright and clean; the scoundrels, they know their value to them. but they cannot manage them like our lads. oh, gil, boy, it is maddening to see them going off under our eyes, and we able to do nothing." "no," i said sadly; "it must be a surprise. we could do nothing even if our men were here." "nothing," he replied as the rattle and tramp grew fainter, and horse after horse that i recognised, from some peculiarity of colour or mark, became merged in the crowd. "there must be a road through the village and along by the river. oh, gil, if they had been going to stay there for the night, i should have risked a surprise. yes. there they go. well, we can see at last the direction they take, and if there is a road, we'll risk a night's march, and try to come up with them. our horses--our guns--in the hands of that wretched crew! and look at the groom dressed out in all that finery--plunder, i suppose. but only wait." at that moment i clutched at brace's arm, and he gave quite a gasp of relief, for all at once we saw ny deen turn his horse, gallop to our left, and then pull up and face round while the troop wheeled to the left, trotted steadily along past the village, wheeled again, and then advanced parallel to the course we had seen them taking, but of course in the reverse direction, so that if they went on far enough, they would pass us about half a mile away. "they're drilling," i whispered excitedly. "yes, drilling," cried brace, and turning as he spoke. "gil, lad, they will halt here for the night." he caught my hand in a tremendous grip, and his face lit up and his eyes flashed with excitement as he uttered a curious laugh. "sit down, lad, and let's watch them," he cried mockingly. "we shall have some lessons on the management of a troop. by george, look at the dear old horses! they know the work so well that they are taking the men with them. look, gil, there's poor craig's grey arab. there they go. he wants to gallop, and that fellow has hard work to hold him in." the troop was kept at a steady trot, and as it reached the part of the plain facing us, we saw ny deen dash in front, wave his sword--a flashing curved tulwar--and the horses were reined in, halted, and then, after a minute's interval, during which we could hear the voice of the leader giving orders, they advanced again, but this time at a walk, while ny deen galloped on in advance, as if to map out the course he meant the troop to take. "the scoundrel rides well," muttered brace, as we saw ny deen rein up and throw his horse back almost on its haunches. "pretty good that, for a syce." "it is the maharajah of ahdenpore, sahib," said dost, who had crouched behind us unnoticed, looking on and hearing every word we said. "what!" cried brace, harshly. "i can see. i know the man; lieutenant barton's syce." "yes, sahib; but it is the great maharajah. he came and worked as a syce all that time, so that he might learn all about the drilling and training of the guns. it was a plot--a cunning plot, sahib, and he was waiting his time." "hah!" ejaculated brace. "yes. too clever for us; but we may have our day yet. yes; they are drilling," he continued, as the troop wheeled again, and began advancing toward the forest at whose edge we crouched in hiding; but when they were about half-way toward us from the spot where they had turned, there was another order, the troop wheeled into line, and the men sprang down, unlimbered, the guns were trained, and we saw slowly, but with fair regularity, the pieces brought into action, the white-robed gunners going through the loading and firing drill, ramming, sponging, firing, till about ten rounds had been discharged in blank, when the order rang out again, and the guns were limbered up, and retired three or four hundred yards before halt was again called, the same performance gone through and repeated then in the advance, as if they were sheltering the village, each halt being at the end of some three hundred yards. in this way they passed us, not two hundred yards distant, and we had to lie close for fear of being seen. then a fresh movement was gone through, the troop was formed into column again, and as we watched, the men were halted just in front of the village, where they were dismissed, and the horses were trotted off to various parts where there were sheds beneath the trees, the guns being left in line, in front of the principal house of the place. "they stay here for the night, gil," said brace excitedly. "yes, sahib, and they slept here last night." "ah," cried brace; "you know?" "yes, sahib, i have been right through the village where the people are staying. no one took me for a spy; it was there i learned that ny deen was the rajah of ahdenpore. he is going to stay here--it is one of his villages--and drill the men till they can gallop and fire quickly, then he is going to join shah rogan's army, fifty miles to the north, and they are to sweep all the white sahibs out of our land." "_l'homme propose, et dieu dispose_, gil," said brace, quietly. "so we have run the rajah to earth, eh? then the next best thing is to keep our men out of sight, gil, eh?" he continued cheerily. "dost, you will be faithful to us, i know. perhaps we shall not all be swept out of the country. now then, cautiously," he said. "hah, yes, they have sentries placed. rajah syce is no fool. it was a clever, well-contrived scheme, but he will have to work hard to keep those guns, gil. now, three hours for rest and food; we must get strength, if we are to succeed." "have you a plan yet?" i said as we walked on in the shade of the trees. "none as yet. the only thing i have been planning is to make sure those sepoy prisoners do not betray us. the rest will come." half an hour later we were back in our little camp, where haynes had sentries placed, and our evening meal ready. "any luck?" he said, in a tired voice. "yes," said brace; "we have been watching a review of our troop. we have run the enemy to his lair." "and what next?" "hah! we must settle that after a sleep," said brace, and i stared at him in astonishment, he seemed so cheerful and calm. chapter nineteen. i sat talking to craig that evening as the poor fellow was indulged by the doctor with his pipe. "are you in much pain?" i said. "yes, sir; horrible--in my head." "i'll soak my handkerchief, and lay it across your forehead," i said, rising. "no, no, sir; that will do no good," he replied, laughing. "it's mental pain, because i'm so helpless. i want to be on my legs again, and then on a horse. it's horrible being carried about as i am, and in every one's way." "be patient," i said. "you're a hale, hearty man, and will soon recover." "i should, sir, if i could be of any use," he said sadly. to divert his attention, poor fellow, i told him of the scene we had witnessed, and he listened to it all eagerly, sometimes giving vent to an angry ejaculation, sometimes laughing, and then looking at me apologetically. "i beg your pardon, sit," he said; "but i couldn't help laughing to hear of their blundering about like that." "but it's no joke, craig." "no, sir; but it all goes to show that this business has been a long time hatching, and it means more trouble than you gentlemen think for, sir." "you think so--that the mutiny is widespread?" "i think, sir, and i've often thought so before, that if the native princes ever had a chance, they would make a fight for the country. i may be wrong, but i believe that they've been plotting all this for years, and now the fire has begun, it's running all through the country, and unless the english look sharp, the land of india is gone for ever." "and we are so helpless here," i said; "unable to do anything." "don't you talk like that, sir; you and mr brace are doing your best. the captain is following the enemy up to get back the guns and horses, of course?" i nodded. "and the job is how to get them," he continued, thoughtfully. i nodded again. "i've got nothing to do but lie here and think. i'll see if i can't scheme a way. it can only be done by a trick." "i'm afraid not," i said. "only to think of ny deen turning out to be a big rajah, sir. well, he always seemed a curious sort of fellow to me. he's a clever one, that's certain and the captain has his work cut out to deal with a fox of that kind. he will not fight, and he will be off if you show yourselves. he'll wait till he has drilled his fellows into being smart with the guns and till then you'll get no fight out of him. why, mr vincent, that man will do no end of mischief by-and-by with the guns. how would it be to--" "eh? come, come, my man, this will not do," said the doctor, walking up. "you're getting hot and feverish. there, put away that pipe, and have a good long sleep." "let me say one word, sir, please," pleaded craig. "quick, then. what is it?" and as i leaned eagerly forward to hear what plan he had to propose, craig said quietly-- "i'm a bit in doubt about my bearers, sir. there's a good deal of whispering going on. they know that we are near their friends, and if they communicate it may mean mischief, or else another long weary tramp, for the enemy will retreat." "yes, i'll tell captain brace," i said; and i went away meaning to ask craig his plan the next day. as i went across to where our quarters were, under a tree, i came upon young dick dobbs, our trumpeter, busy with a bit of rag and some powder, polishing away at his bugle, and i nodded to the happy-looking bright-faced lad. "that's right," i said; "keep it bright." "i will, sir," he said, raising the instrument to his lips. "oh, i should like to have a good blow." "and blow all poor brace's schemes to the winds," i said to myself. "i wonder what craig's plan is." the next minute i was telling brace of craig's suspicions. "hum, yes," he cried. "that's a good man, craig. i'd give something for him to be well and strong again. i'll go and speak to the bearers, and double their guard. it would be ruin if they communicated with the enemy now." he went and gave the necessary orders, returned, and after making arrangements for our bivouac that night, dost was summoned to a consultation, the result being that the hindu stole off as soon as it was dark, and did not return for some hours. haynes was sleeping, and after lying down for a time enjoying the comparative coolness of the air, and listening to the peculiar noises in the forest, wondering the while whether any stray tiger might be on the prowl, i rose and went to where brace was sitting. "you!" he said. "why are you not asleep?" "i can't go off," i replied. "i'm uneasy about dost." "so am i," replied brace. "he does not come back. i hope he is faithful." "i feel sure he is," i cried. "not so loud, my lad," he whispered. "we are deep in the forest, but sound passes far on a night like this. yes, i think he is faithful; but he belongs to another people, and if he thinks that his people are about to get the upper hand, it is too much to expect him to stand fast by an alien race." just then one of our men uttered a deep sigh, and as i looked in the direction from which the sound had come, i could not help thinking how dependent we were upon our posts at a time like that, with our poor weary fellows lying about fast asleep, and the thought had hardly occurred to me, when i sprang up, for there was a challenge from our sentry out in the direction of the rajah's town. brace was on the _qui vive_ at once, and we stood there listening and trying to pierce the gloom when a dimly seen white figure stole up; and i was thinking how easily a daring party of natives might rush in amongst us, and, in a few minutes of surprise, cut us up, when the figure spoke, and i recognised dost's voice. "what news?" cried brace, eagerly. "i got right in among the people," said dost, quietly. "they hardly noticed that i was a stranger, most of them taking me for one of the rajah's followers." "and what have you learned?" said brace, eagerly--"that they march to-morrow!" "no, sahib, they stay here to drill till the maharajah is satisfied, and then they go to join the other chief." "yes, yes," said brace. "but you are sure they stand fast here for the present?" "as sure as man can be, sahib," replied dost. "the rajah says that he will stay; but if he learns that you are here he will either attack you, or go at once." brace remained very thoughtful as soon as dost was dismissed, and quite a little council of war was held, to which haynes was summoned, and after much talking, we could only come to the conclusion that an attack would be full of the risk of failure. such an attempt would be unsatisfactory, brace said, unless we could thoroughly scotch the rajah's power by carrying off all the horses and guns, and to do this seemed impossible in the face of such strong odds and the careful watch kept by the enemy. "can any one suggest a ruse by which we could capture them?" "what about a night attack with lights and plenty of shouting?" said the doctor. "we have no lights," replied brace; "and if we had, we should scare the horses as well as the enemy, and send them galloping over the plains." "better keep to my own profession," said the doctor grimly. "haynes, can you suggest anything?" said brace. "no; i leave that to you. but what you ask me to do i'll do with all my might." "i know that, old fellow; but i want some suggestion. you, vincent, can you propose anything?" "only for us to steal up to their quarters, cast loose the horses, and then carry them off some night--to-night, if you like. the guns would be of no use to them without horses, and, once mounted, we could cut them up." "good!" said brace, patting me on the shoulder. "but how are we to get at the horses without being discovered?" "by the help of dost and his spying." "yes, it must be somehow in that way; but i cannot see the scheme yet in a successful form. well, we shall do nothing to-night. let's rest, those of us who can. but about rations; how long can we hold out?" "till to-morrow night," said haynes. "by that time, sahib, i shall be able to get a donkey load or two of food. i know this country, and to-morrow i can go to the villages away to the east, and buy rice and cakes." "about water?" "there is a good spring a hundred yards away," said the doctor quickly; and at rest on this point, careful watch was set, silence enjoined, and soon after the little camp was asleep. i was so utterly wearied out, that i believe i was one of the first to drop off, and the next thing i remember is lying on my back gazing up at the bright golden shafts of sunlight which penetrated the dense leafage overhead. it was morning once more, and i immediately began to think about our guns. chapter twenty. that day passed slowly away, with the heat increasing till the afternoon, and then slowly declining again towards evening. the greatest care was taken of the sepoy prisoners, and the men had the most stringent orders not to go anywhere near the edge of the wood, lest they should be seen by any of the natives at the rajah's camp, and nothing could have been better than their conduct--all, to a man, busying themselves in polishing up their accoutrements and waiting patiently until their services were wanted, for the discipline of our troop was perfection. quite early in the day i went to sergeant craig, but the doctor was by him. "a little irritable this morning," said the latter. "wounds going on all right; but they pain him, and i've given him something to make him sleep. don't disturb him, poor fellow." "is he worse?" i whispered. "worse? no; better. i'm making a splendid job of him. he'll be about again before long." i had to come away disappointed, but i soon had something else to take up my attention; for, as i was wondering what sort of a plan craig's would be for seizing the guns, dost came up to me. "going to the captain, sahib," he said. "he will give me rupees, and i can go, and buy food." "but you'll be careful not to betray our hiding-place, dost." "the sahib may trust me," he said, proudly. "they will only think me one who buys to sell again." i walked with him to where brace was standing, watching the changing guard over our prisoners, and he turned to us sharply. "ready to start, dost?" "yes, sahib," replied the man, holding out his hand for the rupees. "i will try all i can to get plenty, but it will be poor food for the sahib." "never mind. now, be careful." "yes, sahib," said dost, taking the rupees given to him, hiding them in a fold of his turban, and then salaaming and going off amongst the trees, while after satisfying himself about the safety of his prisoners, brace laid his hand upon my shoulder, and led me toward the edge of the deep forest, which we approached carefully, going down on our hands and knees before peering out, and seeing a long line of men, with their laden donkeys, each bearing a heavy yellowish-green pile. "the grass-cutters," i whispered, as the men led their animals up toward the little flat, which looked bright and cheerful in the morning sunshine. "i'm glad to see that, gil, my lad," said the captain. "it shows that they are taking good care of the poor horses." as we watched, the line of grass-cutters disappeared in a hollow, and we could then see the sentries, with their drawn swords, slowly marching up and down, while a couple more at a distance gave a hint of the care ny deen was taking to guard against surprise. as we had half expected, quite early in the morning the troop rode slowly out, the men in white, looking fairly soldierly, and the horses, as far as we could judge at that distance, in excellent condition, and carefully groomed. "gil," said brace, suddenly, "go back and send three men with the horses a good half-mile further into the forest. let them stay there till i send for them back. if they are within hearing here, one of them is sure to hear the jingle of the accoutrements, and neigh out a challenge." "of course; it would be ruinous," i said, "unless we use it as a lure to bring them near to us, and then made a sudden dash." "it would not bring them near, gil," said brace, smiling, "but send them farther away. ny deen did not plot and plan and suffer, as he has suffered, to get those guns, and make himself master of a dashing troop of horse artillery, to run any risk of losing it again." "no," i said, thoughtfully; and i hurried away, feeling how right he was. the task did not take me many minutes; i only stopped to see three men leading off our three beautiful chargers, and gratified myself with a few pats on their glossy necks, before hurrying back and creeping down by brace's side, where i watched with him the drilling and training of the native gunners, who, under the orders of ny deen, whose clothes glittered in the sun, went slowly and fairly through the gun-drill, making believe to carry cartridges to the gun muzzle, ram them home, fire, and then sponge out the bores, and all in a way which went to prove that, after a few months, they would be clever enough gunners to do a great deal of mischief to a foe. the proceedings were very similar to those we had seen on the previous day, only that the troop marched by us much more closely, and i had a better view of ny deen, unmistakably our syce at the barracks, but now transformed into a gorgeously dressed, princely looking chief, mounted on his graceful-looking arab, whose hoofs hardly seemed to touch the ground, so beautifully elastic was every bound as it cantered by. i was admiring the group before me, and had turned to whisper something to brace, but i saw such a fixed look of misery and despair in his face that i was silent, and felt for him, knowing, too, that i ought to have been as much hurt at the loss of our horses and guns as he. we crouched there, watching and listening to the dull trample of the horses over the plain, the jingle of the swords, and the peculiar unmistakable rattle of gun-carriage and limber. now they halted, and pretended to fire; now they limbered up, and advanced and retreated, and finally, in capital order, marched down to their quarters, the guns being parked, as before; and not till then did brace give any sign of his presence by giving vent to a low, deep sigh. "if i could only think of some scheme!" i kept on saying to myself, as i walked back with him to our little camp; but the more i tried to invent some plan, the more hopeless it all seemed. the only idea i had was to gather our men together in two bodies, to be hidden among the trees, half on one side of the plain, half on the other, and one of those parties to attack and try to surprise the troop when they came near, when, if they took alarm and galloped off to the other side, they would be running into the arms of another little ambuscade, whom we could go over to help. i had just got to this point, when brace turned to me sharply. "you have just thought out some plan," he said. "what is it?" i told him, and he listened patiently to the end. "what do you think of it now?" he said, gravely. "i think it's as bad and stupid as ever it can be," i cried, pettishly. "you are right, gil," he said; "it is. absolutely hopeless, my dear boy. no; men on foot cannot catch arab horses. they would be off at a very different pace to that we have seen, directly we showed ourselves. it would not do, gil--it would not do." i sighed now, partly from vexation, and we joined our companions in the miserable meal, of which we were badly in want. then the horses were fetched back, and we anxiously awaited the return of dost, who joined us just at dusk, driving two donkeys before him, so laden with provisions that our prospects looked ten times as hopeful. "why, dost, man," said brace, smiling at him, "i was thinking ten minutes ago that it would be impossible for us to hold this position for want of food. you have given us two or three days more. quick! let's give the poor lads a good supper, gil; they want it badly." that night, just at watch-setting, i went again to see craig, but with no great hope of his having any plan worth listening to, for the whole business seemed to be impossible. there is only one way, i said to myself: a dash at them by night, sword in hand. but when i reached the place where the poor fellow lay, he was sleeping easily, and it was quite out of the question to waken a wounded man. all was quiet in the camp at last, and, fortunately for us, the weather lovely. we had our quiet talk after watch-setting, and it fell to my lot that night to have to make the rounds, so that i had plenty of time for thought, as i leaned against a tree, and tried once more to make some plan, but tried in vain. then i listened to faint distant sounds in the rajah's village, and to the howling of the jackals, with the croakings, whisperings, and mutterings which came out of the black forest, all sounding so weird and strange that i was glad to keep going from post to post, to chat in a whisper with the men, and make sure that no attempt at evasion was being made by our prisoners, who all appeared to be asleep. and so my part of the uneasy night watch passed away, and i was relieved by brace. "thought out anything?" i said. "no," he replied. "have you?" i shook my head, and went and lay down to drop asleep on the instant, and wake up at daybreak according to my custom. i had hardly risen when the doctor came to me. "vincent, my lad," he said, "i don't think craig is any worse, but he is uneasy. he has got something on his mind, and wants to speak to you." "to me?" i said eagerly. "i'll go." i hurried to where the poor fellow lay, and he signed to me to kneel down by him. "why, craig, man," i said, "what is it?" "what is it?" he said angrily. "that doctor has been giving me stuff to keep me asleep just at a time when i could help you all so." "help us? how? with that plan of yours for getting the guns and horses back?" "yes," he whispered eagerly. "i wouldn't say a word to any one else as i spoke to you first." i looked at him curiously. "oh no," he said, as he interpreted my look. "i'm not feverish or delirious. quite calm and cool, sir. listen!" i bent down, and he began talking in a low whisper, full of earnestness, as he unrolled his plan, and as he went on my heart began to beat, and my cheeks to flush. "that makes your eyes sparkle, sir, doesn't it?" he said. "that will do, won't it?" "do, craig!" i whispered. "it's glorious. if it succeeds, they ought to give you a commission." "think so?" he said. "ah, well, perhaps i shan't live to want it. but what are you going to do?" "go and tell the captain, of course," i cried. "that's right; go and tell him, sir," whispered the wounded man; "and good luck to you. oh, if i could only have been in the game!" "i wish from my heart you could have been, craig," i said, pressing his hand. "and you won't leave me behind, sir, to the crows?" "if you are left behind, craig, i shall be left behind too," i said. "but left! why, you'll be riding on a limber or in the waggon, man. there, i must go and tell him. hurrah! oh, craig, if i had only been born with a brain like yours!" "perhaps you would have only wasted your life, sir, as i did. but go along and tell him, and god bless your efforts, for it may mean saving thousands of innocent lives, and preventing the pandies from running riot over the country, and marking their track in blood." the next minute i was seeking brace, feeling that i had the guns under my hands; and so occupied that i did not notice a peculiar fact. our prisoners were not in their customary places, though the sentries were on guard! chapter twenty one. bubbling over with excitement, i was not long in finding brace, whom i took aside and told of the plan. he stood with knitted brows in perfect silence, hearing me to the very end, and then, feeling chilled and disappointed, i looked into his stern face, and said-- "then you don't think it will do?" he did not speak for a few moments. then he gripped my wrist with all his might. "gil," he said huskily, "it almost stunned me. the idea is as grand as it is simple. it is certain of success. my dear boy, what a brain you have!" "oh no," i said hastily; "it was not i. it was poor craig. he thought of it the day before yesterday, but i only got to know of it this morning." "i wish it had been you," said brace. "but never mind; it is glorious. craig will have saved us and our reputation far more than he thinks for." "then he ought to be rewarded," i said. "of course!" "then you will put the plan in force?" "directly, my dear fellow," cried brace, excitedly. "there, i must be calm, and make my plans." he stood thinking for a few minutes, and then turned to me. "yes," he said, "that will do. now then; you will take the men, and--" "oh no," i cried, "don't send me away. i must be in it, brace." he looked at me searchingly. "it's a daring thing to do," he said. "and you are very young yet, my lad." "but i brought you the idea." "yes; but carrying it out is another thing. mr haynes must come." "oh no," i cried passionately. "it wouldn't be fair to me. besides, it would be with my horses." "the queen's horses for the time being, my boy. don't you see that it will require strength and dash?" "yes; and i feel as if i could dash into it." "but the risk?" "never mind the risk, brace," i cried excitedly. "pray, pray, let me be in it." "very well," he said--and my heart leaped. "you shall go; but follow my orders to the smallest point, and don't let your excitement get the better of you." "no; i'll be calm," i said. "then there is no time to lose; they will be out soon, this cool pleasant morning." he took a few steps to one side, and gave the order to the men to fall in. the men saw that something was on the way, and sprang to their places, when brace ordered the three horses to be saddled and bridled. this was quickly done, and by that time, and while they were being tethered to the nearest trees, the men had buckled on their belts, and taken the carbines from their rustic stand among the undergrowth. then there was a dead silence, and brace signed to me, and then marched off haynes towards the edge of the forest, while i followed. when we got to the border, and stood by the plain with the rajah's town on our right, and the level extending to the left, till the forest swept round about a mile away, brace pointed out a spot in the curve of verdure, where some half-dozen large trees towered up. "you see those, haynes?" said brace. "yes." "march all the men to that spot, and form an ambush at the foot of those trees. be quite ready for us when we join you." "what are you going to do?" "silence, and listen to my orders," said brace sternly. "you will march the men there in single file by keeping just at the edge of the forest, where it is more open; but the greatest care will be necessary so that you are not seen from the town. if you are, the plan is spoiled." "right; i'll be careful. i understand. when am i to attack?" "when i or vincent give the word. you ought to be at that spot in less than an hour, in spite of dense growth." "yes; i'll be there." "keep your men hidden, and whatever you see take place, don't stir, even if we are taken prisoners." "well--i'll obey orders, sir." "that is good. now then, back to your men; and, mind, it is of vital importance that you carry out my orders to the smallest item." "you may trust me," said haynes, quietly; and it was the soldier speaking now to his superior. the friendly, easy-going ways of brother-officers were gone, and we stood together watching him till he disappeared among the trees. for a few moments brace made no movement, but stood as if plunged in thought. then, turning suddenly, he moved to the very edge of the forest, and leaning forward gazed intently at the town, whose houses looked bright in the morning sun, and among which were throngs of white-clothed people emerging here and there. we could see the guns too glistening in the sun, but no sign of armed men excepting the sentries, whose swords glittered as they walked to and fro. "why, gil," said brace, drawing a long breath, "how satisfied they seem of their safety; a squadron of lancers would capture those guns with ease." "and we are going to capture them without," i said. "hist! what was that?" "haynes giving an order to march," i said. "no; some one coming this way! well, what is it?" he cried to a man who came on at the double, and saluted. "the lieutenant, sir," replied the man. "will you come at once?" "something wrong," i heard brace mutter, as he strode back through the trees to where the men were drawn up with haynes in front. "now, what is it?" said brace, sharply. "why are you not gone, sir?" "i thought it my duty to stop and see if you would change your plans," replied haynes. "the prisoners have escaped." "what?" cried brace, excitedly, as he ran his eyes along the men. "who were on duty?" "the men were _all_ ordered to fall in," said haynes. "yes; quite right. oh, what a blunder!" added brace, excitedly, beneath his breath. then turning to me--"gil," he murmured, "our plan is thwarted." "don't give up yet," i whispered. "but they will have gone to the town and given warning of our presence." "they may have fled in another direction." brace was silent for a few moments, and then he said quickly-- "well, it need not interfere; we should be obliged to move off, but must alter our plans a little." he spoke to haynes, who gave the orders for four men to fall out. the litter was seized, sergeant craig carefully lifted upon it, the doctor looking on wonderingly; and then, as the men raised the handles, brace spoke again. "dobbs," he said sharply, "fall out and take charge of the horses." the lad stepped back, and as he did so a gleam of sunshine through the trees made his trumpet flash for a moment. the next he was standing by the beautiful animals which were impatiently champing their bits and pawing the ground. then brace made haynes a sign, and the men turned right face, and with haynes at their head, filed off, the bearers falling in with their load, and the doctor looking undecided. "follow the wounded man, sir," said brace, and the doctor immediately took his place at the end of the little column, while we stood watching them till they had disappeared among the trees. "we may succeed even now, gil," said my companion; "but once more, while there is time, speak out frankly to me as if i were your brother; the trumpeter cannot hear. do you feel--well, to be plain--frightened?" "i suppose so," i said. "it's a curious nervous sensation." "then give up, and follow the men, and i'll go alone." "you said i was to speak to you as if you were my brother," i said. "yes." "then i will speak," i said through my teeth. "it is to my brother, and not to my commanding-officer. i won't. i'll go with you now if i die for it." and all the time the feeling of dread i felt was horrible, and worse than all was that the feeling grew. brace caught my hand and wrung it. "well done!" he said in a low voice. "i can see. i know the sensation; but that's the way. fight it down." "i'm trying," i said, huskily; "but i wish i was not such a coward." "i don't, gil," he said, smiling, "there, now we have a horrible task before us to wait nearly an hour. dobbs, follow us with the horses, and keep about twenty yards behind." he advanced to the three noble beasts, and began to examine their bridles, and then tightened their girths himself, before saying shortly, "now forward," and, carrying the scabbard of his sword, he led the way once more to the edge of the wood, where, after taking care that we were carefully screened, he swept the plain with his eyes, and then took out his glass. "yes, that will do," he said to the trumpeter, who had stopped with the bridles of the horses in his hands and a look of eager excitement in his eyes, as he evidently anticipated riding that day instead of a long weary tramp. brace used his glass and watched the town, making comments to me from time to time. "all very quiet," he said. "our lads must have an hour, for they may find the tangle very hard to get through." there was a long pause, during which he was almost constantly watching the place with his glass. and how that scene is imprinted in my mind; the beautiful fringe of green trees, where we stood in the shade, and before us the broad plain bright in the fresh morning sunshine, and wreaths of mist still floating over it, but being rapidly dispelled by the sun, though the distance still looked hazy and of a delicious blue. there on the right was the village or town, dotted with the figures of the white-robed hindus, whose arms flashed now and then, as they moved here and there. "if they will only give us a full hour, gil," said brace. "how long have our men been gone?" "not a quarter yet," i said. he uttered an ejaculation full of impatience, and began watching again. "i'm between two fires," he said at last. "i am eager for them to come out before those scoundrelly sepoys give the rajah warning; and i am longing for them to stay for a full three-quarters of an hour yet. what a dilemma. it is terrible." just then there was the sound of a horse plunging and squealing, and we turned to where the trumpeter held the three. "that would ruin us if they were passing," muttered brace. then aloud, "keep them quiet, my lad. what are you doing?" "beg pardon, sir; did not move. mr vincent's horse, sir, a bit playful. they're all so fresh." we patted and quieted the beautiful animals, and left them again to resume our old place, to find that all remained still. there was no excitement, and we could see nothing to suggest that there had been an alarm, and men were coming out to attack us or a retreat had been ordered. but as we watched, we suddenly saw a man in white riding the beautiful gaily caparisoned arab, which even at that distance i recognised as the rajah's charger. he was passing along in front of some buildings, and my heart beat faster as i felt that at last the time was rapidly approaching for action. "how long do you think it is now since they started?" said brace, in a hoarse voice. "half an hour," i replied; and i did not recognise my own voice, it sounded so husky. "hah!" sighed brace, still using his glass. then, after a few minutes-- "they're turning out," he said. "yes; and there is no sign of hurry;" and he kept on telling me as, by the help of the glass, the confusion i could see was cleared; and the leading out of horses, and falling in of men, was described, "they're going through it all exactly as if they were our troop," said brace, bitterly. "we've let them see our training, and trained them, too, to some purpose. hasn't another quarter of an hour gone yet?" "no," i said; "not more than ten minutes." "it seems like ten hours. hah! trumpeter, keep those horses quiet, on your life." there was a neighing and stamping and trampling mingled with the breaking of bushes, and then all was quiet again; while i felt an intense longing to mount my arab, and gallop as hard as that beautiful creature could go. "you can see them plainly now?" said brace. "oh yes; quite plainly," i replied, as i saw the limbers brought out, each by its six horses, and the men drawn up ready, some on foot, the rest mounted, and holding the horses of the dismounted gunners, two of whom, however, would in each case mount to their seats on the limber. "where is the rajah?" said brace, impatiently. "i can't see him. can you?" "no." "then those scoundrels of sepoys must have reached the place, and, instead of their coming out to drill to-day, they will retreat once more." just then came the squealing and trampling of the horses again, and i had to run back and help poor dobbs, whose face was scarlet. "i can hardly hold them, sir. the flies are beginning to worry them, too." "only a little longer, dobbs," i said. "pray--pray try and keep them quiet." i tried hard to soothe my restive charger, which whinnied after me impatiently as i went away again, just as if the poor brute felt disappointed because i had not mounted and ridden him off. but they were pretty quiet when i left them, and i rejoined brace, who was trembling with excitement. "it must be nearly an hour now," he said to me appealingly. "yes, it must be," i replied. "and haynes ought to be ready. it will take a few minutes, too, which will all be in their favour. but the scoundrels don't come out; and, though i can see the rajah's arab, i can't see him. take the glass and try yourself." i caught the glass from his hand, and swept the ground, to see that the six guns were all out in front, the long line of horses ready with their riders, and the drivers already seated, waiting for the limbering up, each team of glossy creatures breaking up the regularity of the line. "no," i said, returning the glass. "i can't see him." "but you could make out his horse?" "yes, plainly." "gil," said brace, after a pause, "our hour must be up; and we could act at once if they came out. but there is something wrong." "i hope not." "and i; but i'm afraid. is your pistol charged?" "no," i said. "then load, man, load. heaven knows i don't want to destroy life; but we are fighting for our queen and country, and for the thousands of women and children who may soon be at the mercy of these men." i hastily dragged my cartouche-box round, and charged my pistol, and when this was done, looked at brace, as if asking for further commands. "is your sword sharp?" "yes, very," i replied. "good. recollect, lad, that you may have to use it; and then you must strike or give point--do so with vigour. your life or mine may depend upon it." "i'll try, and do my best," i said huskily. "i know you will, gil; and may god help us!" there was another long period of watching before he spoke again. "it is of no use, lad," he said. "my fault; and i have upset as splendid a plan as was ever conceived, by letting those prisoners escape. they must have reached the place, and are giving the rajah the information of danger to him and his being so near. it's all over; they will not drill to-day." "but we can follow them up, and get another chance," i said soothingly. "no, lad," he replied, "never again. knowing that he is pursued, he will be too watchful. our chance is gone." "look there," i said, steadying my eyes with my hand; "isn't that the rajah mounting? i can't see, but i saw something flashing in the sun." "yes," cried brace, in a trembling voice. "it is--it is; and he is riding out to the front. look, there is the order. the men have limbered up, and mounted. there, again. hurrah! they are in motion. do you see? they are coming out into the plain. gil, lad, your hand. he cannot have got the warning, or they would follow the road. now, may heaven help our good cause, bring us safely through to-day's peril, and help us to acquit ourselves like british soldiers and like men." chapter twenty two. my heart beat faster than ever at his words, and as the troop advanced at a walk, wheeled, and then came along towards us, i felt that the time had nearly come, and offered up a short prayer for help, strength, and protection; for never before had the world seemed to me so beautiful, or life so sweet. for the moment, i felt as if i should certainly be killed in the encounter so near; and in a desperate mood i told myself that it did not matter, so long as the honour of our troop was redeemed by the rescue of the guns from the mutineers. then, with the quickness of thought, i dwelt on my father getting the news, and quietly breaking it to my mother and sister, who would bitterly weep for me; and i thought of their wearing mourning, and i hoped that my father would feel proud of what i had done, and have a marble tablet put up to my memory in the old devon church, near which i was born. in fact, so vividly picturesque were those thoughts which flashed through me, that i could see in imagination the bent, mourning figures of my mother and sister standing before the marble tablet. i was just building up some more sentimental nonsense about myself--for i'm afraid that just at that period i was very romantic, and fond of thinking too much of gil vincent--when i was brought back to the present by brace. "look at them," he cried. "they are going through that movement remarkably well. be careful, and don't show yourself." i shrank back a little among the trees, and for a few minutes we watched the troop go through some of the regular evolutions, passing us on their way down the plain, at a distance of about two hundred yards, and i trembled lest our horses should select that moment for whinnying or trying to break away. but they were quiet, and the cavalcade went slowly on at a walk towards where our men ought to be in ambush. then i turned to look at brace, whose left hand was fidgeting with the hilt of his sword, lifting it nervously, and dropping it again as he watched the guns; and i could see the veins in his temples throbbing heavily. "why does he not act?" i said to myself. "we shall lose our chance." and on went the troop till they were nearly half a mile to our left, and i was in despair. "if all has gone right, they will soon be abreast of our men," said brace, as if thinking to himself. "i hope they are all well hidden." "and so do i," i thought. "but why have you let the chance go by?" "look at them, gil, lad," he said, more loudly. "doesn't it make your heart beat to hear the rattle of the wheels and the snorting of the horses? bah! it seems an insult to the poor brutes to have them mounted by that cowardly mutinous crew." just then we heard an order given, and could we see the rajah seated alone with his sword flashing as he held it high in air; and i was obliged to own myself that he looked a noble specimen of a barbaric chief, sitting his horse as he did to perfection. then, as we watched, the troop wheeled to the right, went forward for a hundred yards, and then wheeled again, and advanced at a trot, their course taking them back in a line parallel to that they had followed in passing us at first. the trotting fell far short of the walk past; and, as they were abreast, on their way back toward the town, brace muttered, but so that i could hear-- "if they would only leave the horses alone, they would keep the line far better!" i looked at him in astonishment, for his conduct seemed in dead opposition to our plans, and still he made no sign; and at last, flushed, excited, and angry with him for losing what i looked upon as splendid opportunities, i said aloud-- "isn't it time to act?" "eh?" he exclaimed, with a start. "no; not yet. wait! they'll wheel again directly, and form a line in front of the houses. yes; there they go. that will be our time. yes; there goes the order." he was right; the troop was wheeled, and in another minute or two they were half across the plain, with the third gun about level with the centre of the village, when the rajah rode out into the front, raised his sword in the air, and the troop halted. then, faintly heard, came another order, and men and guns came to the front, ready for a second advance down the plain and past us, probably at a trot. "hah!" ejaculated brace, drawing back quickly. "ready, gil?" "yes," i cried hoarsely. "now, my lad, the horses," he said sharply, and there was a movement among the beautiful creatures as if his words had inspired them with excitement. it was only a few yards to where they stood, and the next minute we each had a rein. brace gave the order to mount, and we sprang into our saddles, a thrill running through me, as my knees once more gripped the elastic animal's sides, and he uttered a snort of satisfaction. "now," cried brace, firmly. "i depend on you, dobbs, my boy. keep close behind me, and obey my orders instantly." the lad raised his hand to his helmet, and then loosened the trumpet slung over his shoulder, took it in hand with the bell mouth resting on his right thigh, and sat as firm as a statue. "you, vincent, on my right. as soon as we are out of the edge of the forest, we advance at a trot. leave everything to me. don't draw till i give the order. let them think first that we come peaceably." we advanced to the edge of the wood, and were just passing out, when i saw something which made me say-- "look!--look!" "ah, just in time!" said brace, for now out to the right of the village we could see a little crowd, and in front of them a party of sepoys, marching towards where the guns were drawn up. "yes," he repeated; "just in time. forward! we shall be first." we took our places instantly, and rode out in the formation ordered, and as we advanced, with my arab dancing beneath me, all excitement to be off, it appeared to me that we were not seen, and that the attention of the rajah was taken up by the advancing party of sepoys, evidently our late prisoners. but the distance was still too great for me to be sure, and i had no time for thinking. then, all at once, i heard a shout, followed by others, and the rajah, who had had his back to us, reined round, and sat looking at us. there was a movement, too, all along the troop, as if men were in a disorderly way drawing their swords without waiting for an order, for there was a flash here and a flash there, the men evidently expecting an attack. but, as the rajah realised that we were only three, he turned his horse and rode along the front of the troop shouting to his men, who all sat firm, and he turned then, and sat there looking haughty and calm, waiting evidently for what he must have taken as some envoy from his enemies. and all this time we were rapidly lessening the distance; so were the sepoys, followed by quite a crowd; but they were advancing from the left, and the rajah had ridden to the extreme right, so that the sepoys had a greater distance to go; but they were getting excited now, and had commenced to run. "you are too late with your news, you black-hearted scoundrels!" cried brace, loudly, though his words would be heard only by us; and just then my arab burst out with a loud challenge, followed by one from brace's horse, and it was loudly answered by first one and then another of their old friends in the troop, several of which became uneasy and excited. "well done, brave lads; neigh again," cried brace, excitedly, as we were now not two hundred yards from the row of black faces, while at the end, and twenty yards away, sat the rajah, with a couple more gallantly-dressed officers who had ridden out to him. "they are waiting for our message, gil," cried brace, wildly. "they shall have it directly. ready, my lad--steady, horses. right for the centre; never mind the rajah. let him wait. forward!" we rode right for the centre of the troop drawn up there in the brilliant sunshine, and there it all is now vividly before my eyes as i write, and see myself riding on brace's left, and dobbs the trumpeter just behind him on his right, ever growing nearer at our steady trot, with the opal of the hindus' eyes plainer each moment and a wondering expression clearly seen now upon their faces, as if they were asking what it meant. there were the sepoys, too, on our right, running fast and shouting, but we reached the centre long before they, and the mob following, could attain to the end of the line nearest to them; and just then, as i glanced to my left, i saw the rajah clap spurs to his horse, as if to ride up, but he reined instantly, and his two companions followed his example; dignity forbade this. we must go to him. but we did not. as we reached the centre at our steady trot, but with our horses bearing hard on the bit, brace shouted-- "halt!" without a touch, our horses stopped short, and there was an uneasy movement of those facing us, the beautiful animals tossing their heads, snorting, and seemed to know what was coming. then in another instant brace said to us softly-- "right about face!" and we turned, and sat to the wonder of the sowars the rajah was training, while i felt how easily they might rush out and cut us down from behind. but there was not time, for brace thundered out-- "draw--swords!" and then, "the troop will advance at a walk." there was a flash in the sunlight as our sabres leapt from their scabbards, and another as dobbs raised his trumpet to his lips and his note rang out. in an instant the whole line was in motion, advancing slowly, with the heavy dull trampling of the horses, loudly heard by me above the tumultuous beating of my heart. i glanced to the right, and then at the rajah and his two officers glittering with gold and gems, motionless, and as if astounded. it must have struck him and his men that we were volunteers, renegades come to join them, and drill the little force. but as we came abreast of them, with the sowars all steadily in their places, and taking everything as a matter of course, brace's voice rose again-- "trot!" again dobbs's trumpet rang out, and the splendid horses, all trained to the notes of that bugle, broke at once into a steady trot. the gun wheels and limbers rattled, and an exciting yell ran along the line, men beginning to drag frantically at their reins as the rajah and his officers now awoke to the position of affairs, and roared out orders. but, above the noise and the confusion in the line, brace's voice rose clear and loud--"gallop!" then, clear ringing, and given with all his might, dobbs blew forth a triumphant charge, and the sowars might as well have pulled at rocks as against the bits of the excited horses, as they broke into the swift race to which they had been trained, gathering excitement from the rattle of the wheels as, in a quarter of a minute, we were thundering away down the plain, our speed increasing, the guns leaping and bounding over the uneven ground; and as i gave one glance back, i saw the white-robed gunners leaping off the limbers, their men frantically trying to check their horses, and ending by throwing themselves off--one or two, then half a dozen, then more, till the track in our rear was dotted with white spots, till fully half the sowars had dropped off, and the horses dashed on in the wild exciting gallop that was almost terrific in its speed. i saw, too, the rajah and his officers shouting and striving hard on our right, and trying to cut in before us, to stop the movement. again, they might as well have tried to check the wind, and all they could do was to fall in the line, galloping with us, and striking at their men with their glittering tulwars, as gunners and riders sat watching for opportunities to throw themselves from their horses without being trampled to death. it was all a matter of minutes; and by the time we had galloped a mile, half the men had dropped off and were left behind, while on we tore with a rush like a whirlwind; till all at once from the wood some hundreds of yards to the front and left, there was a rush, the flash of helmets; and, led by haynes, our men dashed out at the double, as if to take up ground right on our front. the effect was magical. a great yell rose from behind us, and the sowars rolled or tumbled off their horses to a man, while as we thundered on, and left them behind, dotting the plain with white spots and patches, many of the poor wretches being unable to rise again, the rajah and his two followers reined up and sat fast, while a couple of hundred yards further on we three, riding at the head of a troop of horse and our six guns, prepared to halt. brace threw up his sword, the trumpet rang out; and the horses, no longer in an even line, but in a regular drove, obeyed the call on the instant, while from our men in front rose a frantic cheer of excitement. they tore over the ground to, meet us, literally yelling with delight. formation there was none; it was a little crowd of armed men, each trying to be first to reach and find his horse, of to get to the gun to which he belonged; while at the word of command, the horses now pressed together in something approaching a line. then orders rang out quick and sharp, and so good was the training that in a very short time men were getting well in their places, a couple of guns were unlimbered, and shot after shot was fired, the grape sweeping the plain, and sending the rajah and his officers back at a gallop, while those dismounted ran or limped after them, some poor wretches being merely able to crawl, and about a dozen lay quite still. then discipline was for the moment at an end. the order was given, "cease firing!" and the men broke their ranks to run in a crowd round brace, shouting, cheering, waving their helmets, swords, sponges, and rammers, and literally dancing with delight, while haynes and the doctor were shaking his hands as if they would drag him off his horse. the next minute they were at me, and, to my astonishment, the doctor was literally crying. "ah, god bless you, my boy!" he cried. "i never thought i could be such a fool.--hi! hooray! hooray! cheer, my lads, cheer!" he shouted, as he waved his sun helmet. but the men were cheering, and they had now collected round dicky dobbs, two leading his horse, others hanging on to the saddle, and actually holding by the horse's tail, as they marched him round in a kind of procession, one stalwart gunner shouting-- "blow, you beggar, blow!" dobbs, ready to fall off his horse with laughter and excitement, gave one feeble blast, and then was silent again. it was merely a matter of a few minutes--brace letting the gallant fellows have their way. then, after warmly pressing haynes's hand, he rode toward the excited mob, and held up his sword. then dobbs blew a blast, and every man rushed to his horse and gun. "fall in!" rang out; and in an incredibly short space of time the line was reformed, men giving a grunt of satisfaction as they rapidly altered the length of their stirrups, and sat at ease upon some favourite horse. chapter twenty three. the excitement was still high, as we all sat in our places about a couple of hundred yards from the forest, and then brace cried-- "attention!" save the champing of bits by the horses, there was not a sound. "there, my lads," he cried, "i feel now as if i can look you all once more in the face, for the dear old troop is itself again." "god bless you, sir!" shouted the oldest corporal we had. "the bravest act ever done in the british army." "silence!" cried brace, but not angrily. "you must not thank me, my lads, but mr vincent and sergeant craig." i wanted to say, "yes, craig; let me fetch him;" but discipline forbade, and i knew that brace would do him justice. "then three cheers for sergeant craig, if i lose my stripes for it," shouted the corporal again, who was as intoxicated with excitement as if he had partaken of drink--the vile arrack that ruins so many of our men. but brace was lenient then. "yes," he cried, "three cheers for sergeant craig," and they were given with a will. then, to my great delight, he gave orders; four men reined back, and sprang from their horses, with the corporal, and went off at the double toward the wood, from where they soon reappeared, bearing the litter with poor craig. brace rode forward to meet him, and leaned over the litter to shake hands, when a low murmur of satisfaction rose from the line, but i did not hear what he said, though i longed to ride up and thank him too. to my great delight, though, they brought him close up to me, and we exchanged a nod and smile. "i thought that would do it, sir," he said feebly. "what do you say, doctor? do you think we could safely take him on the ammunition-waggon?" "so long as you don't blow it up," said the doctor, shortly. "you think you could sit up now?" "i will sit up, sir," said craig, firmly. "but the jolting and shaking, my man?" craig laughed. "why, sir, i'm used to all that; i've ridden so many times on the limbers of gun-carriages, that being knocked about's natural to me." "let him try," said brace, sharply. "watch him, doctor, and he must take to the dhooly again if he cannot bear it. quick! i must advance at once." i looked at him wonderingly, having been under the impression that now we had succeeded in the object we had in view we should retire. brace's words quite overset that notion. it was evident that he meant to give the rajah a severe lesson, for the troop was in motion directly after, and as we advanced, we could see that the town was in a state of the most intense excitement, people running here and there. but before we had gone far, brace halted, the guns were unlimbered, loaded, and then as we stood ready for action, scouts were sent out to right and left; the former soon returning, while a minute later, those sent off to the left came galloping in to announce that the rajah and his men were in rapid retreat along the bank of the river. this was a fresh move in the game of war, for in expectation of firing from the town, the gunners stood ready to send shot and shell crashing into the defences. so orders were given, guns were limbered up again, and away we went at a gallop in full pursuit. "we must capture the rajah," brace cried to haynes, as we followed on, soon coming within range of quite a mob of hurrying men, who, for the most part, threw away their arms, made for the patches of wood which bordered the river, and hid among the trees unnoticed by our men, for, in the distance, we could see in full flight, about forty well-mounted men, among whom the rajah was conspicuous by his brilliant costume; and as we tore on, we saw them ride down a slope leading to the river, and directly after take to the water, swimming their horses as soon as it grew deep, for the opposite bank. i saw at a glance that the guns could not follow, and knew directly that brace had come to the same conclusion, for he halted the troop, and unlimbering a couple of the guns, began to scatter grape shot with terrible effect amongst the escaping fugitives, horse after horse being struck and swept away by the rushing stream. those were exciting moments, mingled, to me, with horror, as at every discharge and puff of white smoke, i saw the water torn up by the grape, and some horse make a frantic plunge, rear up, fall over, and horse and man disappear. it was only a matter of a few minutes, though, before we saw the rajah and the greater part of his followers mounting the opposite bank, and then galloping off to disappear beyond the trees that came down nearly to the water's edge. "let me pursue, with twenty or thirty men," said haynes, excitedly. "we'll take him." but brace shook his head. "what i should like to do myself," he said; "but i cannot. no; they are well-mounted; they know the country, and they have the start. besides, we are too weak as it is, and i can't afford to risk losing the guns again by sending half of my force away. we don't know yet what reception we may meet with in the town." very soon after we were trotting back toward the place in full expectation of being fired upon; but we did not receive a shot, and as we rode boldly in, we did not encounter a single military-looking man, those who crowded the streets being the ordinary traders and work-people, who treated us with a quiet cold stare. the first task was to scout through the place with a couple of pickets, while our guns were drawn up on an open space in the middle of the town, where some of the principle people came with offerings of sweets and chupatties, beside more substantial food and offerings. the place was so small that our men were not long in bringing in a report that there was not an armed man visible, the whole of the fighting element having retreated with the rajah, as soon as it was seen that the guns were retaken. but our numbers were so small, and the position so precarious, that brace used every precaution, throwing out posts in the two directions from which danger was likely to approach, while the men were rested and refreshed, and a search made for ammunition, of which there was none too much in the boxes. this was for a time in vain, but as soon as dost was taken into consultation, he salaamed, started off, and in a quarter of an hour was back again to announce that he had discovered two ammunition-waggons in a kind of shed, and upon my following him with half a dozen men and a couple of teams of horses, he led us to the spot where i found that the rajah and his men had brought away as many cartridges, with ball, grape, and canister, as the two waggons would hold. these were drawn out at once, and taken to the halting-place, where the gunners gave a cheer as they saw that for some time to come their six-pounders would not want for food. the heat was intense, but we could not afford to study that; and after a little council of war, in which i felt proud to be allowed to participate, it was debated as to what should be our next move. haynes was still eager to go on in pursuit of the rajah, and the doctor expressed his opinion that it would give him profound satisfaction to make him prisoner, while to me the excitement of such a chase sounded very tempting, although somehow i could not help feeling that the rajah had had some cause for the steps he had taken. then brace spoke. "my feelings go with all of you," he said, "but i am obliged to oppose you. our chase would be a long one, and into country about which we know scarcely anything. consequently we should have very little prospect of success. as it is, we have crippled him almost completely, and our troop would be invaluable to any officer who is coming down from calcutta or barrackpore with a regiment or two." "but is any one coming down?" said haynes. "for certain. the news of the rising at rajgunge must have reached there, and the mutiny of other regiments. depend upon it, the government is straining every nerve to check the wildfire from spreading far." "then what do you propose doing?" said haynes. "starting at once back to rajgunge, and finding out the state of affairs there as we pick up the major. possibly we shall find a european regiment or two there already. if not, we can continue our way. i don't think we need fear meeting any of the enemy." "fear?" said the doctor. "i only wish we may. if we do, depend upon it they will give us a wide berth. then we move east at once?" "at once," said brace. "yes; what is it?" he cried, as dost once more made his appearance, this time to announce that he had found the stables of the rajah's elephants--three huge beasts, with their howdahs, pads, and mahouts. "we don't want them now," said haynes. "no time for tigers." "we do want them now," said brace, eagerly. "they will carry a quantity of provisions, and one of them can take sergeant craig as well. it will be better than pressing bearers into our service, more than we absolutely want for grass-cutters. we must keep our train as small as possible now." so the elephants were brought out, and the mahouts duly admonished upon the dangers they would run if they attempted any treachery. loads were adjusted, and just at midday, when the sun was hottest, our little column was set in motion, and we marched out of the little town that we had watched so intently, hardly able to realise how successful we had been. there were plenty of people about, old men and boys, and there was a sullen, lowering look in their amber eyes as we rode by, but no voice was raised against us, so wholesome a dread had they of the guns, of whose power they had all more or less heard--a power which might at any moment be directed against their homes. to the delight of all, the horses proved to be in admirable condition, and in their excitement and glee, the men never seemed to trouble about the heat, but rode on, chatting together and discussing the morning's feat and the value of the long, careful drilling, whose results had been shown in the way in which the horses had behaved. the road was dusty, but fairly good; and as the three elephants shuffled slowly along, i ventured to approach the one which bore craig, time after time, but generally to find that he was sleeping, and upon calling the doctor's attention to the fact, he said abruptly-- "best thing for him. nature goes on best with her mending when a man is asleep. phew! how hot it is." "worse walking," i said. "yes. thank goodness, we are all well-mounted again. what a fish out of water one does feel without a horse." we were not destined to reach rajgunge without adventure, for that same evening we were thinking it time for a halt when the advance-guard galloped back to announce the coming of what seemed to be a regiment of native lancers. the elephants were sent into the rear instantly, with a guard to ensure us against flight on the part of the mahouts; and, quick as thought, the guns were unlimbered and loaded, while we anxiously waited to see whether these were friends or enemies. but we were not kept long in doubt, for their confused, disorderly advance proved that they were without english officers, and they came on at a gallop, evidently in chase of our advance-guard, their lance-points glittering as they were brought down to the charge, the dust in front raised by our men partly hiding us till they were well within range, and one shot would have torn through their line and littered the dusty road with struggling men and horses. but the word was not given, for no sooner did the front men grasp the peril into which they were galloping, than they raised a loud yell of warning, wheeled off to right and left, wheeled again, and scattered in wild flight, leaving us to pursue our way in peace, for there was nothing to be gained by pursuit, a duty reserved for the light cavalry. it was another warning, though, of the state of the country, this being evidently one of the native cavalry regiments which had mutinied, and, perhaps, slain their european officers, though of course we could not be sure; and to have fired upon them when they first advanced might have been a grievous error. chapter twenty four. bajgunge proved to be strongly occupied by the enemy, and after due reconnoitring, brace felt that nothing could be done there, and determined to strike off across country for arbagh, a town where one of the queen's foot regiments was stationed, so as to form a junction with the infantry, and co-operate in holding the place, or marching with them to one of the larger towns, or to some place where help might be required. five days were taken up in hot, weary marches, but the men were all full of eagerness, and looking longingly forward to having a brush with the enemy. we passed village after village, sometimes to be well received, at others meeting with heavy, sullen looks, which told too plainly of the disaffection spreading everywhere, and the knowledge in the country that an attempt was being made to throw off the english rule. it was toward the evening of the fifth day that we suddenly came upon a party of dusty, weary-looking natives, who at a glance were seen not to be villagers, for they wore the aspect of being domestic servants, and, as we approached, they made no attempt to imitate the action of the villagers on our route by taking flight, but drew up on one side to let us pass. brace halted, and signed to dost to approach and act as interpreter. but there was no need, for one of the party, a venerable-looking, grey-headed man in a white turban, salaamed, and then waited with crossed arms to be questioned. "salaam, sahib," he said humbly. "where are you from?" said brace. "arbagh, sahib. you come too late." "too late? what is their trouble, then?" "trouble, sahib? the mem sahibs, and the little children and their fathers--" he did not finish, but groaned. "speak out. what is it?" "all slain." "but there was a regiment there--a whole regiment of foot." "yes, sahib; but they were called away to fight the budmashes, and the evildoers from the bazaar at miapore; and when they had marched away the budmashes came. the sahibs strengthened one of the houses, and fought bravely for two days, but they were only few in number, and there was neither food nor water at last." "and then?" the old man shook his head, and uttered a low groan. "and the wretches who have done all this?" cried brace. "they are there, sahib, with two regiments who have risen up against their officers. it is not safe to go. the white sahibs have marched to miapore, away yonder to the west." "and where are you going?" asked brace, who looked suspiciously at the people behind their spokesman. but they were unarmed, and carried no plunder. the words of the old man were evidently the truth, as he said-- "to be at peace, and away from those who rob and slay. to rajgunge, sahib." "turn back," said brace. "you are going to where there are worse troubles, man. better follow us." there was a low moan from the little group, for brace's words filled them with consternation. "but you will not go on to arbagh, sahib?" said the old man, who seemed to have been the native butler to some family. "yes; to drive these wretches out," was the reply; and the march was resumed. "yes, we must drive these scoundrels out, gil," he said again. "we need have no compunction about firing now. likely enough our friends the sowars may be there. they headed for the south. now, if we could send a message on to miapore." i turned round soon afterwards, and found that the weary, footsore party were tramping back with us, close to the elephants, apparently trusting in brace's power to protect them, and restore peace in the place that had been their home. dost came alongside soon after to tell me more of these people's experience, for they had all been servants to the european residents at arbagh. it was a terrible experience, but very similar to our own at rajgunge. the english residents and officers had been in utter ignorance of the impending peril. they had heard rumours of troubles in connection with cartridges being issued to the men greased, so that they might pass more easily down the rifle barrels, the mahommedan soldiers considering that they would be defiled by touching paper moistened with the fat of the pig; and the hindus, jumping at the conclusion that the fat used was that of the cow--an animal held sacred in their religion; while, in all probability, the fat used would be prepared from neither of these animals, the whole being an excuse for the irruption in which mahommedans and brahmins made common cause. "it has all been hatching for a long time, sahib," dost said to me; "and the men have been waiting for an excuse. you english officers and gentlemen have known nothing; but the sepoys and sowars have been prepared." "and you knew this?" i said sternly. "i? no, sahib; not till after the men broke out. the soldiers had their message sent round to be prepared to rise, and slay every white man, woman, and child, to destroy all nazarenes, and restore the great king again at delhi." "at delhi?" i said. "then there are troubles there too?" "there are troubles all through the country by now, sahib. of course they did not trust us, who were our lord's servants, and not fighting men. they said to themselves, these men have blood now like water; they live amongst the white people, and have defiled themselves by eating their food and drinking out of their vessels--they will go and betray us to their lords. we know nothing, sahib; but they, the men of the native regiments, had the lotus flower sent round to them." "the lotus flower?" i said, wonderingly. "yes, sahib. it was a secret way of communication. a man came to a regiment bearing a lotus flower, and this was passed on from man to man right through the regiment, till the last had the blossom, and he had to take it to the next regiment." "but what did it mean?" i asked. "i can tell you no more, sahib. it was their secret sign. and then, after a time, the chupatties were sent round to the villages." "chupatties? the little cakes?" "yes, sahib, and that was a sign. a messenger went to the head man of a village, and gave him six little cakes of indian corn. `these are for you,' he said. `you will make six more, and send them on to the next village.' this the head man did, and the cakes passed on from village to village, as a sign that the rising was to take place, and all were to be ready when the time came." "but it seems so stupid," i said. "why not have sent a messenger?" "the cause was too great to risk anything. it was more mysterious to send like that. they knew what it meant; but if the collector or the police heard, and said, `what is this?--ye are plotting against your lords;' they could reply, `no, it is nothing; the head man of the next village has only sent me a few chupatties.' who else would think it was a secret sign?" i knew comparatively little about the people then, and the question seemed to me unanswerable. i rode on, depressed and thoughtful, for a terrible idea had taken root in my breast. these people of arbagh had been surprised, and, saving a few who had escaped, murdered without mercy, and with horrible indignities. suppose there had been such a sudden rising at nussoor, where my father's regiment was stationed, what of my mother and my sister grace? a cold perspiration broke out all over me, and a mist rose before my eyes, through which the horrors that had taken place at arbagh rose out, at first dimly, and then clearer and clearer; but with those i loved as victims, and i was shuddering with horror, and so wrapped up in my own thoughts, that i did not notice that brace had ridden up alongside, and he had gripped my arm before i knew he was there. "why, gil, lad," he said sharply, "what is it? the sun? come, i can't afford to have you ill." "ill?" i gasped. "no, i'm not ill." "then why do you look so strange?" i made an effort to recover myself, and told him as calmly as i could all that dost had said to me. "yes," he said, after hearing me patiently to the end, "the man is honest enough; and there must have been some such mystic message sent round. these people are believers in symbolism and parable. it is bad news, gil, and i am afraid too true. the rebellion is widespread; but what of that? we must put it down. england is not going to have her great conquests wrenched from her hands like this." "put it down?" i faltered. "yes, man. if you and i and a trumpeter could do such a thing as we did at a hint from our brave sergeant yonder, don't you think that the many regiments of englishmen here in india, with all our magnificent troops of horse artillery, moved by the combined brain-power of our most gallant officers, will be able to restore order through the country?" "yes, i suppose so," i said, but in an unconvinced tone of voice. "you are getting hungry, gil, my lad," he said merrily. "you will not be depressed like this when we have halted at arbagh, scattered those dogs, and had a good meal. for we must fight first," he cried fiercely. "gil," he said, sinking his voice, "i was never meant for a soldier-- this blood-shedding is abhorrent to me. i shrink from using my sword; but since i have heard the horrors these wretches are perpetrating-- slaying english ladies, murdering sweet innocent children, my nerves thrill as i grasp my blade, and i feel as if i would gladly aim every gun, and send the grape and canister hurtling amongst the hounds--no, it is an insult to a dog to call them so--these savage, bloodthirsty tigers. come, lad, you must set aside compunction, and be ready to strike--for you can." "you do not understand me," i said sadly. "oh yes, i think i do, gil. i have studied you pretty well. you were thinking that we shall be beaten, after listening to dost's account of the rising at this town. ah, if i had only known of this when we met that regiment of sowars! why, gil, they _must_ be the scoundrels who murdered their european officers here." "i'm afraid so," i said. "then we must strike, and strike hard now, gil. i am not unmerciful, but for the sake of home, and our english kindred, we must be stern as well as just. come, you are better already." "no," i said gloomily, "i am horribly troubled." "about what?" "nussoor." "ah! where your father's regiment is stationed?" "yes. my mother and sister are there. oh, brace, if my father has been surprised as these people were here, and--" i stopped short--the words choked me. "my dear gil!" cried brace, gently, "i see now. yes; such thoughts are enough to chill any one. i had not thought of them. but come, come; we have enough to do to fight with real troubles. you must not build up imaginary ones. your father is a good soldier, i have heard, and his regiment is noted for its discipline. let us trust that he has not been surprised, but had warnings of the trouble to come, and has placed your mother and sister and the other ladies of his station in safety." "thank you," i said quietly, for his words were comforting; and i knew that my trouble was imaginary. "hah, that's better!" he cried. "come, we must be getting near the town." we were passing through a wooded part of the country now, the road being cut in several places through patches of forest; and scouts and flankers were sent out to make sure against surprise, as we were getting so near the enemy's lair. ten minutes later there was an alarm in front, shouts and the clashing of swords, and in a wonderfully short time a couple of guns were unlimbered and ready for action, while haynes was sent forward to support our men as they were out of sight beyond the trees, and did not return. but before haynes had gone far, he met them coming back, to report that they had surprised a picket of half a dozen sowars who were watching our road. "and you let them gallop off," cried brace, angrily, "to alarm their comrades?" "no, sir," said the corporal, who was at the head of the advance; "we went at 'em directly." "how many got back?" "none on 'em, sir." "anybody hurt?" "no, sir. scratch or two on the horses' heads and necks; that's all." the orders were given to limber up again, and we advanced once more, as soon as the farriers had roughly seen to the injuries the horses had received; and as we went on, i caught a glimpse or two of the white uniforms and puggrees of the sowars in amongst the trees to right and left, the broken-down twigs and herbage showing where the running fight had taken place. brace reined up by one of the dead men. "why, gil," he said, "this must be the same regiment as the one we met." i was thinking the same, and said so. "the scoundrels! if we could only surprise them. we are so weak in numbers, i hardly dare leave my guns; otherwise, with a troop of our lads to act as cavalry, i could pretty well cut them up, and scatter the rest, so that they would not do much more mischief for months to come." "hush!" i whispered, as i caught his arm. "what's that?" "the first gun bumping over bad ground and rattling." "no; it's firing," i whispered, though the sound must have been a mile away. "yes; you are right. what is going on now? some fresh outrage?" our pace was increased, and orders given to the advance-guard to increase their distance ahead. the firing grew fiercer, and a halt was called, the guns took up position, and we waited full of anxiety for news from the scouts sent out. we had not long to wait in our uncertainty, for one of our men galloped back with the information that the firing was on this side of the town, and, directly after, a second man dashed up with the news that a regiment of cavalry in white coats was in full retreat toward us. "then they are being driven out by the foot regiment, which must have returned. stand fast, my lads, if they charge us; but i doubt whether they will come right up to the guns." a few exciting minutes passed, and then, as the running, trampling noise of a large body of horse came nearer, brace rode from gun to gun, giving his order that no shot should be fired till he was certain these were not friends, and then the fire was to be concentrated on the advancing column. the sun had gone down, and night was coming on fast, but as the head of the regiment came into sight, the firing having ceased beyond them, brace's glass satisfied him as to whom these were. "the sowar regiment!" he cried. "fire!" one after the other rapidly the six guns thundered forth a terrible reception, just as, in fairly good order, the regiment in full retreat came on at a gallop, and in perfect ignorance of our proximity. it was the work of a moment; i saw the white column galloping toward us looking dim and strange, like some strange body rushing along beneath a cloud of dust; then it was rent and torn and thrown into confusion, as round shot and canister hurtled through the rank; and at the sixth report the road was littered with struggling horses, and then the fields on either side dotted with galloping fugitives, and the sowar regiment that had been tearing across the road towards us was non-existent. six shots; no more. by the time another one had reloaded, there were only flying individuals to aim at as they galloped over the plain, and brace looked in vain for a rallying point, and the gathering together of a troop at which a round shot could be aimed. "_sauve qui peut_!" cried brace, as orders were given for a fresh advance. "we cannot pursue them. now forward for the town." "some one coming," i said, as the galloping of a horse was heard. "their last man," said brace. "open out, my lads, and capture him." the horseman came on at a swinging gallop, and made straight for us, checking his charger as he drew near, and we saw that the face of the rider was white. "where's your officer?" he cried hoarsely, as he reined up, with his sword hanging by the knot from his wrist. "here," replied brace. "thank god!" cried the new-comer. "i'm mason--captain mason, th highlanders. you fired on those bloodthirsty scoundrels." "and scattered the regiment. i could do no more." "ah, if you could have shot them to a man! we were called away to help at miapore, where a sepoy regiment mutinied. it was a long march, and as soon as we had gone--the european officers of that cursed regiment answering for their men's fidelity--they rose and murdered the poor fellows who trusted them, and then--" he stopped there and groaned. "my wife--her sister--two of my little children--the whole of the english residents, and--oh, why don't you pursue? hah!" "take care!" i roared, as i snatched sword from sheath, pistol from holster, and fired, for, from out of the gathering darkness, a dozen of the sowars, men who had recovered their horses, or those of slain men, dashed down upon us like a whirlwind right for where brace stood talking to the highland officer. as i fired into the thick of them, i saw one man throw up his sword, but i also saw a fierce-looking savage charge right at brace, who was unprepared; the sowar's sword was raised, and he made a tremendous cut at our captain, one which must have ended his career; but, quick with the quickness begotten by practice and peril, our new friend caught and raised the point of his sword; and in the act of delivering his cut, the man was literally transfixed. he fell back over the cantrel of his saddle, and as his horse dashed on, he was dragged out of the saddle by captain mason's jerk to withdraw his sword. i saw all this, and almost at the same moment was conscious of a crushing blow on the head, accompanied by a terrible shock, and then i was looking stupidly at the doctor, who was kneeling by me in the road. "here, what is it?" i cried angrily. "who was it rode me down? is my horse hurt?" "never mind your horse, gil. speak, lad. doctor. his head?" "oh, his head's right enough," said the doctor, as i struggled into a sitting position, and felt very sick and giddy. "i say, vincent, my lad, you will have to send the accoutrement-maker a testimonial. here's a tremendous dint in your helmet, but it has saved your life." "then he isn't killed, sir?" cried a familiar voice. "no, my lad; only a bit stunned," said the doctor. "hooray!" rose in a tremendous cheer, in which every man in the troop seemed to join. "nice to be a favourite," i heard haynes say. "but, look here," i cried in an irritated way, "i don't quite understand it. my head's all--i--why, some one must have knocked me down. did i pitch on to my helmet, then?" "my dear boy, you were struck down by a sowar, and your helmet saved your life." "the savage brute!" i cried pettishly. "it couldn't have been the one who rode at you, because--yes, i remember. then the man who rode at me got off free." "humph!" ejaculated the doctor, turning round and looking off to our right. i followed his eyes, and saw a white figure lying face downward among some green corn. "yes," said the doctor, "that is he; and you may thank haynes for saving your life." "oh, nonsense!" cried my brother-officer hastily. "we can't be talking about that sort of thing; it's nonsense. i only did what any one else would have done. steady there, my lads. silence in the ranks." the word was given to advance directly after, and in a few minutes there was a burst of cheers from on in front, where a skirmishing party of captain mason's regiment had come upon our advance-guard. this was answered by our troop, and directly after the officers were eagerly talking together as we marched into the outskirts of the little town, and soon after were congratulating ourselves on the excellent quarters we had found, the foot regiment being most eager in showing us where we could obtain provisions, and the necessaries for a restful night. about an hour after, when the sentinels and outposts had been visited, and the round made of the horses, i was one of a party in one of the ruined rooms of the residency, where the officers were debating what steps should be taken at daylight the next morning, and matters were still in doubt as to whether we should march east or west when a prisoner was brought in. this was a shivering non-combatant, who eagerly gave every information he knew about the movements of the rebels, and was able to inform us, by way of buying his own life, as he thought, that the sowars were going to join the rajah, ny deen, the next morning, when their arrangements were suddenly upset by the return of the foot regiment which, on finding out that it had been deluded, came back by a forced march, but too late to save those at the station. "then the relics of the regiment will still seek to join this revolted rajah," said the colonel of the foot regiment. "but his power has been broken up," said brace. "we put him to flight." "they'll try to join him, all the same," cried the colonel. "the only hope of these men," he continued, "is in co-operation. depend upon it, the scoundrels will move west, and i say we ought to follow. our march must be on badhpore, and from thence in the direction of nussoor. what do you say?" "i say," cried brace, "that we are weak without infantry, and you are feeble without guns. it is a question of expediency, sir, and our force may prove to be the nucleus of a little army strong enough to sweep the mutineers from the land." chapter twenty five. a thrill ran through me at the colonel's mention of nussoor, and i listened eagerly to brace's reply, for i had felt in a dread lest he should oppose the plan of marching on that city, though i was obliged to own that it was quite possible that my father's regiment might have left there in these disturbed times, and of course he would have placed my mother and sister where they would be safe. after a little discussion, it was decided that we should stay twenty-four hours where we were, to recruit the men and horses, for, though the men all declared their readiness to go on at once, the infantry had had a very severe forced march or two, and required rest. it was a terrible experience--a walk or two i had about the town with brace during that halt, one which was utilised for collecting an ample supply of provisions and recruiting followers for our little camp, and i remember asking brace whether he thought it wise to trust the natives. "yes and no, gil," he said. "i am not blind; i can see that every one here in this place humbles himself to the dust before us as the conquerors, and is ready to obey our slightest command; but, if we met with a reverse, they would rise and trample on us to a man, and glory in murdering such a set of unclean, infidel dogs as we are. but it is a necessity, my lad. we want our lads to fight, and they must be always ready for action. we cannot have them exhausted in this terrible climate, carrying loads, cutting grass for the horses, foraging for the elephants, and cooking. we must have hewers of wood and drawers of water, my dear boy, and keep a strict watch over these modern children of gibeon. we cannot trust them, but we must have their services." "yes, i see," i replied. "and there is this advantage: we are journeying through a strange country, which they know. we must eat, so must they. we should not be able to forage; they are, and in finding food for themselves they are compelled to find it for us. no, we cannot trust them. look here. for aught we know, the men who are bowing down before us, and calling us sahibs, had a hand in this." we had reached a large bungalow, which, we afterwards learned, had been the commissioner's house, and as i went with my companion from room to room, which at one time must have been furnished in exquisite taste, there were traces of the wanton destruction of a savage mob. furniture had been smashed, the floor was littered with the remains of mirrors and ornaments; curtains and carpets were torn to shreds, and everything that could be battered and destroyed was in pieces. it was so in the next room, and we were about to pass on to others, with the picture rising to my mind of what this place must have been before the rising, when brace suddenly stepped before me, swung me round hastily, and gave me a push. "here, let's get out of the miserable place, gil," he said hastily. "you were too late," i said. "i saw it the same moment. it's of no use; i may as well get accustomed to such things, even if i am a mere boy." for, in one corner of the once handsome room, there were spots and splashes on the white wall, and terrible stains on the floor. the plaster of the sides, too, was scarred and dotted with bullet holes, and we could grasp the terrible fact that some one, probably more than one, had made a desperate defence in that corner, for there was a sword, broken in two pieces, lying behind a shattered piano, in whose woodwork were dozens of cuts, such as might have been given by savage men trying to get at those behind who had made it their breastwork; and as i saw all this, i could not refrain from going close--brace making no opposition now--to see other terrible traces of the desperate fight of which this place must have been the scene. one of the first things i saw behind the broken piano was a white handkerchief, horribly stained. it had been apparently hastily folded into a bandage, and tied round some one's head, the knots being still there, and the kerchief lying on the floor, forming a rough circle. close by were pieces of a woman's dress, one fragment being a sleeve, evidently torn off in a desperate struggle. but the most horrible traces were those which told in simple language the result of the desperate defence that must have taken place; for, at the far end of the piano, where it stood about three feet from the wall, there lay a double rifle, broken off at the stock, a bayonet snapped at the socket, and between them, marks which showed only too plainly that the defenders of that corner of the room had been dragged out by the feet, and out through a farther door. "come away, gil," said brace, hoarsely; "it only makes me feel mad against these wretches; and at a time when, with the work i have in hand, i want to be calm and cool as a judge." at that moment there was a furious roar from somewhere at the back of the house, and brace's hand went to his sword on the instant, mine naturally following suit. "draw, lad!" he cried. "we had no business to come without an escort. keep close to me." but a second burst of shouting reassured us. no one but englishmen could raise an indignant cry such as we heard. "what does it mean?" i said, as we hurried out through the door, out of which the poor creatures who had defended themselves had been dragged, and we came directly upon about a dozen of our men, with some of the foot regiment. "this way, sir--this way!" cried one of the men, who was in a terrible state of excitement; and unable to grasp more than that the men had been foraging about, and had made some discovery, they hurried us on to what must have been a kind of summer-house in a pleasant garden with a goldfish tank, and various other proofs of the taste of the late occupants of the place. in this tank were various objects, apparently thrown in by the fierce mob which had plundered the house; while, as we drew near, there was just before us a heap of furniture and household goods, which had been piled up in front of the summer-house entrance, and fired, evidently to blaze furiously for a time, and with the object of burning down the summer-house as well. a number of the half-burnt and charred things had been dragged away by the soldiers so as to clear the doorway, prompted, no doubt, by curiosity to see what was in the place the mob had tried to burn down; and, as we neared the spot, and the men, who were half mad with excitement, made way for us to look in, i felt for the moment as if turned to stone, and then the tears started to my eyes, weak as it may sound to say so, and formed a veil which shut out the horrors of the scene before me. shall i describe it? yes; from no morbid wish to dwell upon the frightful scenes which, alas! grew too common, but as some palliation of the acts of our men, against whom charges were plentiful about their want of mercy. twelve poor creatures lay there, but only two were men in the prime of life, and who, hacked almost to pieces, had died bravely in the defence of their wives, sisters, and the helpless children, who lay in a heap with them--nine white women and children; and, holding it tightly to her breast even in death, a black woman, the faithful ayah or nurse of the infant she held, in protecting and trying to save which she had died. i will try to describe no more, save that the funeral pyre, which the murderers had raised to hide their crime, had not reached them, not a garment being singed. the men stood back, panting as if after a hard run, watching us now, as if to see what effect it would have upon us, and the silence after their fierce oaths and shouting was terrible. as we drew back, one of our corporals cried fiercely-- "we don't want no more rest, sir. take us on at once." "oh," shouted another, "how can we hold our hands after this, sir?" "ay," cried an irish gunner, who was one of the party, "we were ready to foight the mutineers as min again min; but it isn't min, lads--it's savage bastes. and, hurrah! boys, come and take a last look of the poor darlins, to harden your hearts!" "halt!" cried brace, sternly. "joliffe,--brian, advance; draw! stand sentry at this door. no one is to profane the resting-place of our dead. go back, my lads; you want no such sight to nerve your arms for the work we have to do." the men uttered a low murmur of acquiescence, and, without orders, fell in and marched behind us to the spot we had made our head-quarters. here there was a short consultation between the officers, and directly a party of men was marched out to the foot of a clump of trees, where one great shallow grave was dug, and an hour afterwards, every man under arms, and the infantry lining the road to keep back the crowd of natives gathered from all parts of the town, the remains of the unfortunate people were borne, reverently draped, on the guns and tumbrils of our troop, to the open grave, laid therein carefully, the colonel said a short prayer, a volley was fired, the last resting-place of the two civil officials and their families was filled in, and a cross carved upon the nearest tree. long before the little ceremony was over, i saw that the natives, of whom a great crowd had collected, were beginning to steal away, till scarcely a soul was left; but i thought very little of this, for supposing that their curiosity was satisfied, it did not appear strange to me that they should go back to their homes. perhaps, i thought, they may think we shall take vengeance upon them. but this fact suddenly took brace's attention, just as the final duties were being paid to the dead; and, turning sharply to the colonel of the foot regiment, he said sharply-- "the people are drawing off; there must be some reason." hardly had he spoken, when a shot was fired at a distance, followed by another and another; and in an instant our men sprang to their places, while half a mile down the road we could see the infantry, which had lined the sides, running back as hard as they could, men from each flank joining them, and the road growing full of a retreating detachment, toward which a couple of officers ran, giving orders as they went, with the result that the men nearer to us fell in and took position, line behind line, across the road, while those retreating in the extreme distance suddenly halted in the same formation. the next minute the cause was evident, for a strong body of mounted men dashed into sight far down the road, and tore along as if to ride over the little line of men, and then sweep the place. but their shouting and yelling did not scare the men in the least. they stood firm, waiting in double line, till the sowars were close upon them, and then delivered a sharp volley, the front rank going down on one knee directly, with their bayonets sloping upward, while the rear rank formed a second bristling line of sharp points on a level with their shoulders. we had a glimpse of this as the smoke rose, and, to use the familiar expression, my heart was in my mouth, as i strained my eyes to pierce the cloud, expecting to see the poor fellows who kept the road ridden over, and the sowars come tearing on to where the next line was now drawn up a hundred and fifty yards nearer. but as the smoke lifted, to my great delight i saw the sowars all in confusion, and cantering away, while the little line of infantry was doubling back towards their supporting line, through which they passed, and formed up again nearer to us. there was another yelling, and a fresh body of sowars came tearing down the road, but only to be sent to the rightabout in the same way, for the volley they received emptied several saddles, and they dared not face the double line of bayonets, but turned and cantered back. then the same evolution was gone through again by the line of foot, and this was repeated twice with the effect of drawing in the straggling force, till the foot regiment was condensed, and our position strengthened. "i don't think much of their charging," i said to brace. "why, our men wouldn't have turned back like that. we should have gone through them, guns and all." brace smiled, as we stood close beside a couple of our pieces, all there was room for in that narrow road, waiting for an opportunity to bring them into action, which, so far, we had been unable to do for fear of injuring our own men. two of our guns were planted further back, facing in the other direction, in case of an attack in our rear, while, right and left, the men of the foot regiment held the houses which lined the road. for a few minutes after the repulse of the last charge by the sowars, the enemy made no sign, and a quick consultation was held between the colonel of the foot regiment and brace, in which it was decided to advance at once further into the town to where we had made our head-quarters, and where our provisions and ammunition were stored, so as to occupy that much stronger position, in case the enemy was in force, as only a small guard had been left. for that was a good central position selected for its opportunities for defence, and an advance was made at once. we only had about a quarter of a mile to go, and as the men sent in front were about half-way along the road toward where we should have to turn off at right angles, we suddenly became aware of the advance of a stronger body of cavalry, and this time the guns were brought into action, a couple of shots checking their advance, and giving us time to reach the open square, and the large buildings which we had occupied for quarters in conjunction with the foot regiment. the men left as baggage-guard over the stores and elephants gave a loud cheer as we trotted into the square with the guns, the foot regiment following at the double, to occupy the roof and windows of the big buildings, while our guns were planted so as to command the approaches, outposts being placed all round. we were none too soon, for hardly had the position been occupied, than from the outposts and from the top of the building we had reports of the enemy's approach from the west, a second regiment of native cavalry being in advance, while a cloud of dust gradually resolved itself into quite a little army of native infantry, followed by a huge crowd of camp-followers with horses, donkeys, elephants, and camels. the colonel was on the roof, making good use of his glass, and he shouted down to where brace was standing with the two reserve guns-- "lucky we got back," he said. "their fighting men must be about three or four thousand strong." in spite of their numbers, the inclination was to advance at once and attack them, before they had time to get in order or into a strong position, brace being naturally strongly in favour of this course, his branch of the service being, of course, adapted for field duty; but the colonel of the foot regiment was more cautious. his men were, opposed to so great a force, strongest behind walls defending such a building as that they occupied, and brace had to give way. and there we waited, while the mutineers marched into the place. from where i was stationed with two of the guns i had an uninterrupted view before me, for about half a mile, of the scouting parties, mounted and on foot, which came to spy out our position, some of them going so far as to begin firing, the balls stirring up the dust in front of us, and the practice getting warmer, till one of the balls struck and glanced off from the gun nearest to me, while the carriage was struck directly after, the sound being like a sharp rap. but about half a dozen pretty good marksmen replied from our side, and the firing was soon silenced. after this a knot of sowars rode down into sight from time to time, offering our men a tempting mark for a discharge of grape, but there was no firing, for such shots could do no good, and they were reserved for a time when they could have a demoralising and scattering effect upon some attacking party. all at once, as i stood there, hot and weary in the scorching sun, i saw another party ride up reconnoitring, one evidently composed of the leaders of the little army that was now closing us in, for scouts had brought us word how the enemy had occupied positions all around. they were evidently examining us carefully; and i could not help admiring the daring of the well-mounted, gaily-dressed men who had halted about a couple of hundred yards away, right in front of our guns, which, at a word, would have belched forth a shower of grape. there was not much for them to see, only the gunners with their linstocks, and the heads of the support of infantry, sheltering for the most part in the houses on either side of the road, the limbers and horses of each gun, and those of the gunners being back in an opening a few yards away, and completely hidden from the party in front. and as i watched them, i could not help thinking that a clever officer who was not sparing of his men, might easily take our guns, for if one party made a dash at them, and drew our fire, a reserve party might dash in, and sabre the gunners before they had time to reload. just then i was conscious of a curious movement among our men, eyes being turned to me appealingly, while every gunner was on the _qui vive_, and i could see that at a word the guns would be rapidly discharged. but i had no orders to commence hostilities, unless an attack was made, and i stood as eager as the men, watching the scouting party, as there was a sudden movement among them. they opened out, and one whom i had not before seen rode through them quite to the front, and just then a voice behind me whispered-- "look, gil! do you see?" yes, i had seen; and i had been so taken up by the sight that i had not heard brace come up to the guns. "i could fetch that dandy chap down, and a dozen more," i heard a man whisper. "silence there," said brace, sternly. then to me, "why, gil, i thought he must be miles and miles away from here." "then it is ny deen," i said excitedly. "i thought i must be wrong." "yes, it is he," replied brace. "and i feel as if i ought to fire, and sweep the whole gang away; but it seems such a cowardly thing to do." the temptation to fire was removed directly after, for the party drew back and disappeared, while all was still in the blazing sunshine, saving a dull humming sound of many voices, telling that the little town was densely thronged by the new-comers. and once more brace drew back as if to go, but stopped short, for the colonel and major of the foot regiment appeared, and brace signed to me to come to his side. "i think i should have given him the two charges," the colonel was saying as i came up; and then, soon after, "well, perhaps you are right." "i am sure i am," brace said eagerly. "if my men were a company or two of infantry like your own, i should say, by all means let us strengthen the residency, and after getting together all the provisions we could, stand fast till more help came; but with my guns and horses cooped up here in these streets, i am almost useless. we can fire a _few_ times, and then, if the enemy makes a bold dash, there will be a short struggle, and they must capture the guns again. you see, my horses are in the way here, where there is no room to manoeuvre." "yes; that is quite right. but we might get them in the compound, and turn your guns into pieces for our little fort." "yes," said brace; "and how are you going to feed the poor beasts when you have them in the compound? there is no begging the question, sir; i can make my troop invaluable, and act as cavalry as well, out in the open; but here we cannot develop our strength." "he's quite right," said the major. "then what would you propose?" said the colonel. "we have abundance of ammunition, and our waggons and elephants. moving out as soon as it is dark." "they will not let us move; and it would be murderous for my poor lads to carry on a hand-to-hand fight in these narrow lanes." "more murderous to be shut up in that residency, to be attacked day after day by a force that will always be increasing, while we grow weaker." "unless help comes.--but you would move out?" "yes." "and what then? retreat and leave these scoundrels in possession?" "no; they will think we are retreating, and follow us. we can keep on retiring till you have got into a good position, when i can literally mow them down from a distance." "unless their cavalry take your guns." "i am not afraid of that, sir," said brace, with a laugh. "and they will be six or seven to one," said the colonel. "the odds were greater at plassy," said brace, quietly. "depend upon it, if we get them out on fair ground--which we will--they will receive a tremendous check." "what do you say?" said the colonel, turning to his brother-officer, the major. "i side with captain brace, decidedly. if we shut ourselves up, we are crippling a dashing troop of artillery; and, worse still, letting the scoundrels think they are our masters. that they must never think. no: retreat, but as a ruse. we are their masters still, and we will show them we are." "yes," said the colonel, firmly. "i shrink from it, as being a very grave responsibility, weak as we are; but i quite agree with you both. we shall be stronger in the field; and if we are not attacked before night, we will march out." "why wait for the darkness, and the confusion it will cause?" said brace. "i was of the opinion that we might retreat under cover of the darkness, but i think now it would be best to dash out and give battle at once." "yes," said the colonel, drily; "that's easy enough for you and your troop. you can rattle out at full gallop; but we have got to march, and fight our way step by step." "exactly. but i can take up a position at once and cover you; and i will." the colonel bowed and stood frowning and thoughtful for a few moments. then i saw his face clear, and he held out his hand. "it is good advice," he said; "and i shall look for your co-operation to its fullest extent. ah! what's this?" for at that moment a bugle rang out; and, as i turned, i saw a sowar officer advancing with a trumpeter, and one of his men beside him, bearing a white flag on his lance, while several followers rode behind. chapter twenty six. brace and the infantry officers passed between the guns, and took a few steps forward to meet the bearer of the flag of truce, who came forward alone and saluted them, but with a haughty, contemptuous look. "well, sir," said the colonel, "have you a despatch or message?" as the colonel spoke, i saw that a larger party of cavalry had collected behind the little group which accompanied the officer, and one of the infantry men at a window above my head whispered down to me that there were more behind. this put me on the watch; and i spoke to my men not to make the slightest movement, but to be ready. all this was almost momentary, and the next instant, as i kept a keen eye on the enemy, i was listening to the sowar officer speaking. "his highness the maharajah ny deen, who has with him now an army, many as the sands of the holy river, surrounding you on all sides, bids you lay down your arms and surrender." "yes; and what then?" "his highness will treat you as prisoners, but kindly; and your lives will be spared. but you must lay down your arms at once, and march out." "for his bloodthirsty band of cut-throats to fall upon us, and treat us as they do all unarmed men." "his highness the maharajah gives you his word that your lives will be spared." "and if we refuse to surrender, what then?" "your bodies will be given to the crows and vultures," said the officer. "for by sundown nothing of you will be left alive." "look here, sir," said the colonel; "have you ever read the bible?" "no; i read the koran," said the native officer, whose haughty, overbearing way seemed to be humbled before the stern englishman who addressed him. "read in the bible, too, and you will find there about how one rabshakeh came summoning a people to surrender. he boasted, and so do you." "do you surrender?" said the officer, with an attempt to resume his haughty tone of supremacy. "no. go and tell your mutinous master that we are ready to meet and punish him and his treacherous following of traitors, who are false to the queen they swore to serve. tell him that if he will lay down his arms, and surrender to her majesty's and the great company's troops, he will have justice done, and to send no more messages here. they are insults to honourable gentlemen and their followers." "then you refuse his highness's mercy?" said the officer, haughtily. "back, sir, and deliver your message," cried the colonel; "and tell his highness that if he dares to send any of his insolent mutinous scoundrels here again, i shall fire upon them. a flag of truce is not to protect traitors." the man scowled, and seemed to writhe at the contemptuous manner in which he had been treated. then, in obedience to long habit, he saluted and rode back with his men. "yes, we must act at once," said the colonel; "and take the initiative." "in, quick!" i shouted, as i caught sight of a movement in front; and so cleverly and quickly was the manoeuvre carried out, that as the three officers passed between the guns, a column of mounted men came tearing along the street. but i was ready, and one gun thundered out its defiance, the shot sending the column into confusion; but they dashed on, and were within forty yards of us when the second gun bellowed with such dire effect that the foremost men turned and fled, throwing those who still advanced into confusion, and giving our men time to reload; while the infantry commenced firing from the windows on either side, and a company waiting a hundred yards away in reserve came up at the double, and, with fixed bayonets, took up their position, ready to protect the guns. it was my first responsible piece of action, in charge of the guns alone, and as i saw the dire havoc my orders had caused, a curious sickening sensation attacked me, and for a few moments all seemed dim. just then our irish gunner brian exclaimed, forgetful of discipline in his excitement-- "look at that now! murther! what would my poor ould mother say, if she saw what i've done?" he had fired the second gun, and he stood scratching his ear with a curiously perplexed look on his droll countenance. then he brightened up, and shook his head at the poor wretches who were crawling from among the injured horses to get into shelter of the houses to right and left. "bedad!" he cried, fiercely, "i don't moind a bit. come on, and i'll do it again. i'd forgotten about the summer-house and the fire." "'tention!" "yis, sor. i beg pardon. it was me excitement." but the enemy did not come on again; the lesson had been too terrible, and we all stood there, hot with excitement and fretting against the inaction; while preparations were being rapidly made behind us for evacuating the residency, the infantry now manned the roof, keeping down observations by a shot or two now and then at any of the enemy who appeared at the windows of the houses near. but i knew that before long they must know of our intention to retreat, and i stood there with my men on the strain, and watching the people who came to the help of the wounded and carried them away. "oh, murther!" muttered brian, at last, as if his tongue would not rest without speaking; "if oi were a fut-artilleryman, i should desart. i couldn't stand much of this." "will you be silent, sir!" i cried sternly. "sure, sor, it isn't me; it's me tongue, bad luck to it. but, beggin' your hanner's pardon, would ye order one of the naygers to bring round a dhrink o' wather." i ordered a bucketful to be fetched, for we were all suffering from thirst and from the unnecessary heat produced by our clothes, which, like those provided for the british soldier, were utterly unsuited for our work, everything being sacrificed for show. the men drank the cool water with avidity, brian looking at me with twinkling eyes as he helped himself to a second pannikin. "talk about yer port wines and champagnes, sor," he said; "there's ownly two things fit to dhrink, and one's whiskey, and the other's wather." "why, you said the other day there was nothing like _tay_," cried one of the men. "sure an' i did, for ould women," retorted brian; "but even they put a dhrop o' whiskey in it sometimes." "silence!" i cried, very much against my will; and the men were back in their places as stiff as if on parade, till i heard orders given. there was the clattering of hoofs; the horses came up, the guns were hooked on to the limbers, and the next minute we were mounted, leaving the company of foot holding the street. i was not long kept in doubt as to the arrangements, for, as we were moved into the square, there was the rest of our troop with the four guns, and i saw that the ammunition and baggage-waggons, water-tubs, and provender, were, along with the elephants, ready to come out with the foot regiment, leaving us free to dash out and clear the way, acting as cavalry or artillery as the need arose. when all was quite ready, it had been arranged that we should make for the open country down the street which haynes had been holding, and where a company of foot were now stationed to replace the two guns. as i glanced up at the residency, i could see that about half a dozen soldiers were still on the roof, otherwise the place was completely evacuated, and the men waiting eagerly for the advance. then i heard the final arrangements made with the colonel, who was to put his column in motion directly, and follow us with the elephants and waggons, it being left to brace to occupy the best position he could. at this time a shot or two from a distance was being aimed by the enemy's matchlock men, at the sentries on the residency roof, but no harm was done, and, saving the dull distant hum of many people swarming in the town, all was so still that our evacuation of the place promised to be a very simple and easy affair. and there we sat watching the various companies of the foot regiment ranged up; that occupying the street haynes had held being the advance; that by us was the main body and baggage-guard; whilst the company who had been with us was to form the rear. then orders were given, and a message brought back that the road we were to take seemed clear; and we waited a few minutes more, while brace sent out an advance-guard of three of our mounted men, to go on by the infantry picket straight for the plain. these were anxious moments. there was a pause, and then we waited for the order to advance. how vividly it all comes back; the dazzling sunshine flashing from arms and accoutrements; the stern, sun-browned, determined faces of the men; and, with their shadows looking dwarfed and strange, there were the three huge elephants nodding their heads and swinging them from side to side, as they writhed and curled their trunks, lifting first one foot and then the other, impatient to be on the move. at last the word was given, and as the foot regiment stepped out toward the opening in the main street, along which we were to pass, our advance was on the way, in a quick walk, which, as we entered the street held by the foot company, which opened and stood back on either side to let us pass, became a trot with the horses' hoofs clattering and the guns and limber wheels rattling loudly. there was a disposition on the part of the men to give us a cheer as we passed, but a stern command stayed them; and on we went, feeling that we had, after all, an easy task to perform, for everything was so still. i was with the two centre guns, and i glanced back to see that, as our last man passed, the company of foot marched after us. then brace gave a sharp order, the trumpet rang out, and we thundered on at a gallop, for he had seen the meaning of the silence; the enemy had either received a hint from one of the native followers, who must have deserted, or have divined our probable course of action, for suddenly men appeared on the tops of the houses on either side of the road, and began firing, while right in front a body of sepoys, followed by a squadron of horse, occupied the street from side turnings to block our way. i expected to hear the halt called for the guns to be unlimbered, so as to clear the road before us, but brace kept to the plans laid down for his guidance. passing almost unscathed among the bullets which pattered around, we increased our pace, dashing straight at the natives in front with such a roar of horse hoof and wheel, accompanied by so fierce a cheer, that before we reached them the mutineers broke and fled into the shelter of the side streets, and we thundered by, our advance cutting up the stragglers who could not escape, and soon reaching the suburbs, and then the open plain. here brace halted upon a mound, from which there was a good view of the road by which we had come, while just behind was a dense tope or patch of forest that would give our infantry a tremendously strong position, and from which they were not easily to be dislodged by an enemy not provided with guns. the fight had begun, for, as we unlimbered, we could see quite a mob of the enemy closing in from right and left to check the advance of the foot regiment, which they knew could only come on slowly, while probably they looked upon us as out of the engagement, having made good our retreat. as we loaded, the steady rattle of musketry began to increase, telling us that our friends were having to fight their way, and ours was the task to help them, and to undeceive the enemy, whose ranks thickened, and about whom had hovered two large bodies of sowars, waiting their turn to attack as soon as the foot regiment began to file into the open. "now is our time," said brace, excitedly; and then, suddenly growing calm, "don't waste a shot, my lads. good careful aim." there was a few moments' pause while brace examined the gathering groups with his glass, and gave us a few final instructions. then the guns came into action with a steady, regular fire from right to left, shot following shot, so that at the second round the effect had been almost magical. one minute body after body of men were crowding up toward the road, the next they were scattering and seeking the shelter of the houses, while our attention was now directed toward the two columns of cavalry. meanwhile the rattle of the musketry came fiercer and louder, telling that our friends had not been checked, but were steadily advancing through a terrible fire; but i knew that the heavy boom of our guns must encourage them, and i looked on with a strange eagerness as my two guns were sponged and loaded, giving directions to the men for their next aims. these were, as i have said, at the white squadron of native cavalry, the men whom our people had so carefully trained, with the result that their english officers were slain, and the native officers in command. i could see for myself that there was very little of the guiding spirit of our generals at work, each commander of a regiment acting according to his own ideas, and i was thinking, young soldier as i was, that if i had had command, i should have sent forward one of the native regiments in skirmishing order to attack us while the two sowar regiments had been sent off right and left to try and cut us off, the result being, i thought, the almost certain routing and capture of our own troops. but nothing of the kind was done; the officers in command of the cavalry sat watching the sepoy ranks being ploughed up by our grape and canister, till they scattered to shelter, and commenced a useless fire upon us, and then seemed utterly astounded as round shot after round shot plunged in among their squadrons, making terrible gaps, and throwing them into utter confusion. but they closed up again as well as they could, and sat fast in spite of dozens of the men taking fright and galloping off with riderless horses over the plain; but half a dozen more shots scattered them again, and now for the first time the idea seemed to enter the brains of their leaders that they must act in concert, and after a trooper had dashed across the road from one side to the other, the new columns advanced, and we directed our fire right at the thick masses in which they were formed. to my mind we had time for one shot, and then i expected the call to limber up and gallop off, but it did not come; and as we loaded again, then, with a roar like that of a tempest, the sowars came on till, as we fired again, we could see their gleaming eyes and the savage rage and hate in their countenances. i knew that we should have no time to retreat after those six shots, and felt that in a few seconds i should be in the midst of a terrible _melee_. but our men fired grape and canister now, and as gun after gun sent out its puff of smoke, a perfect tempest of bullets surged through the columns, while as i sat fast, panting and awaiting their charge, i found that brace knew the enemy better than i, for as the shot tore among them they broke off to right and left, scattering as they went back toward the spots from which they had started on their desperate charge, leaving scores of their men about upon the plain. "risky," said brace to me, as the men ceased firing, and waited for fresh orders; "but i knew our lads would be steady, and that the scoundrels would never hold together after those last charges of grape." "and if they had kept together?" "if," he said, smiling. "well, then they would have cut us all down with their tulwars; but they could not keep together--no sowars could bear such a tempest as that. some of them were sure to turn tail, and then force of example upsets more, and the rest followed them in such a retreat as you see." "look! they are gathering again on each side of the road. round shot." two guns dispersed them this time, for they were evidently preparing to revenge themselves upon our friends, who had by this time reached the outskirts of the place, as we could see by the dotted puffs of smoke rising whitely here and there among the houses. just then, though, we saw a fresh body of sepoys, many hundreds strong, debouching from a road some fifty yards from that by which we had issued from the place, evidently to intercept our friends. there was very little order among them in spite of their being, as their uniform showed, men of sepoy regiments, and their confusion was our opportunity. there was a slight alteration of the guns, so that their fire might be concentrated; and just as they were tearing along, and we saw the skirmishers of our party issuing from among the houses, we opened a terrible fire of grape. the effect was wonderful. at the first shot, the sepoys halted; at the second they wavered, and by the time the sixth had sent in its deadly storm, their survivors were in full flight, while, cheering loudly, our column marched out into sight, and now for the first time, and just as the waggons and elephants came full in view, we heard, instead of the rattle of scattered firing, the heavy roar of a volley in the rear. then the order was given to double, and the column came on with a couple of companies in the rear now in sight, taking it in turns to halt, kneel, and fire a volley before turning and doubling past their comrades waiting to hold the enemy in check and fire a volley in turn. for the enemy were in force behind them, and came pouring out in pursuit till nearly a couple of thousand men must have rushed out of the wide road, and as they opened out to right and left, firing on the retreating regiment, the position of our friends was growing perilous in the extreme. men were dropping fast, and it was evident that the two rear companies wanted support. the support was coming, for our guns were run off to our right, took up fresh position where we could fire clear of our own men, and rapidly as they could be served, and the heated vents would permit, a terrific fire was brought to bear upon the sepoys, crushing them so effectually that ten minutes after, and only followed by a scattered fire, the infantry regiment reached the patch of wood, the elephants, ammunition-waggons, and native followers were placed in safety, and the colonel found time to canter up to brace and warmly wring his hand. "splendid!" he cried. "we have lost wonderfully few." then aloud to our troop, "thank you, my lads, thank you." "oh, it's all right, colonel dear," i heard brian say in a loud voice; "we shall be wanting ye to hilp us before long." chapter twenty seven. the colonel was delighted with the position, knowing that, if the ammunition held out, he could, with brace's help, make it a centre from which he could thrash twice as many of the enemy. but it seemed to me, as i noted how many poor fellows were wounded, that we did not want any more fighting that day; and for a time it did not look as if we were to be troubled. i was wrong, though, for in about half an hour the enemy's leaders were showing front again, and it was evident that ny deen did not mean us to escape, for strong bodies of cavalry filed off to right and left, exactly as i had planned in my own mind, while his foot were mustered in great strength, their numbers being rapidly added to by men from out of the town. to add to the peril of our position, we made out a whole line coming along from the west which soon showed itself to be a fresh regiment of native cavalry coming to join ny deen's standard and help drive the infidel out of the land. in the consultation which took place, with the men all at ease, and bread and water being partaken of eagerly, the colonel said calmly-- "i'm not a bit alarmed for myself. my lads will fight to the last. we've plenty of ammunition, and i know we can make our square smaller and smaller, till they are sick of it, as they soon will be, for they cannot rush us. they will not face the bayonet. what about you? there's my fear." "i'll help you all i can," said brace, "and i don't think you need fear for us. we can manoeuvre and keep them at a distance. we fight best at a pretty good range," he said laughingly. our men had escaped without a scratch, so that our doctor was able to devote himself to the help of his brother in the profession at the temporary hospital made under a huge tree, well out of range of any firing that might arise. the foot regiment had suffered very heavily, for the fighting had been most severe through the narrow street, enemies springing up constantly in the most unexpected places; and, as i heard from the officers, to have halted for a minute to repel the attacks would have been fatal. in fact, from the time we left them, the poor fellows had literally to run the gauntlet of a fierce fire, and all confessed that it was wonderful that the casualties had been so few. the moments of rest and refreshment now being enjoyed were most needful, and it was wonderful to see how restorative the simple draught of water and handful of bread seemed, the men brightening up and looking ready directly after. meanwhile scouts were sent out, and skirmishers took advantage of every depression to hold ready for the enemy's advance, though, after a time, this looked doubtful, for, after drawing up his men, as if for an immediate attack, ny deen had halted and waited the advance of the fresh corps of cavalry to strengthen his hand in that direction. it meant an addition of about three hundred men to his forces; but it gave us little cause for anxiety, the general opinion being that the sowars would not face us; the only cause for alarm being in the event of the foot giving way, when their pursuit might prove terrible. while we waited, the ammunition-waggon was brought up, and our ammunition chests refilled, to make up for the vast waste, brace taking care that an extra supply of grape and canister should be placed in the boxes, both on the gun-carriages and the limbers. the cartridge-boxes of the men in the foot regiment, too, had been repacked, and now, rested, refreshed, and ready for action, all waited for the attack which was still delayed. we were drawn up at a little distance from the patch of trees, our troop having, of course, a perfectly free hand to advance, retire, or harass the enemy, as seemed best to our leader; and brace sat watching anxiously the sowars lying between us and the town, while haynes kept sweeping the plain on the other side of the tope for the enemy's cavalry, but without avail, a patch or two of forest effectually screening their advance. all at once the colonel cantered up to brace. "do you see what they mean?" he cried, and, as brace looked at him wonderingly, he continued, "there's some one at the head of affairs there with his head screwed on the right way. he is waiting for night before attacking." "so as to make my guns of half the service," said brace, quickly. "exactly!" they were both silent for a few moments, and sat gazing at the rajah's forces. "then we must take the initiative," said brace, sharply. "that is what i have come to say," cried the colonel, quickly. "it seems," he added in a lower tone, "daring, half mad; but we have right on our side, and the scoundrels, with all their hatred, fear us horribly. the odds are very great; but if we can scatter them, it will be a lesson that will bear fruit greater than we can imagine. it will teach them how terrible the wrath of england can be, and how hopeless their attempt is likely to prove, no matter how many men they bring into the field. you agree with me?" "thoroughly," said brace, "for my men are at their worst when placed in a fixed battery." "at once, then," said the colonel. "at once," replied brace, "before their cavalry come in sight. don't think me impertinent." "no; go on." "you will fight in square." "trust me," was the reply, with a nod and a smile, and the colonel cantered off to join his men, and beginning to manoeuvre them at once, after leaving a strong rear guard among the trees in case the sowars should make a sudden dash, for they had nothing to fear from the sepoys; any attempt on their part being for a long time to come impossible, for the colonel could fall back and protect his rear and baggage-guard long before the infantry could get near. a low murmur of satisfaction ran through our little troop as orders were given which they knew meant immediate action. we went off at a trot, as if going right away, the object being to get upon the enemy's flank, and long before they grasped our object we had changed to a gallop, wheeled round, the men sprang from horse and limber, and in less than a minute round shot were ploughing through their ranks, sending them into confusion, and doing a vast deal of mischief before they had changed their formation, and skirmishers were sent out in advance of a regiment, the firing growing after a while somewhat annoying, when quick almost as it can be described, we limbered up and went out of range, taking up a fresh position, from which fresh confusion was thrown into their ranks, the regiment sent out against us being left far on our left. by this time our infantry friends were steadily marching in close formation as if to aid us in our attack, when our scouts came in at a gallop, and we saw the cause, one of the sowar regiments was coming down upon us over the plain, the other being in all probability advancing too, but hidden from us by the tope. will the colonel see them? i wondered as, at a word, the limbers were drawn round, and we changed front, slewing about the guns, and sending round shot at the sowars now approaching rapidly, while i wondered whether brace would stand fast and brave them. but there was in those exciting moments no time for thought. shot after shot was sent at the advancing regulars, which began to leave horses and men struggling on the plain, while their formation was broken up. but onward they came now in what more resembled a drove than the line of a regiment, and into this the grape shot was poured with such terrible effect, that they broke, turned, and swept away, never coming within fifty yards of us. our men sent up a cheer, but we had to canter off, and take up a fresh position, for the sepoy skirmishers were close upon us, and shots began to whizz by our heads. hardly were our men mounted again, and we were moving off, before my heart leaped to my throat, for from the other side of the tope i saw the second sowar regiment dash into sight and race down to attack our foot regiment. "look, look!" cried brace, excitedly; "they'll be through them. what is he about?" but almost as the words left his lips, the double line of infantry, advancing toward the rajah's main force, folded back, as it were, upon itself, and by the time the horsemen were getting close, they were faced by a triple line of bayonets, and a sputtering line of fire curled out, emptying saddles and checking the advance, the sowars sweeping round and galloping away. "i knew they would not face the bayonets," cried brace. "gallop," he shouted; and he led us toward a bit of an eminence, where he evidently meant to take up position, and rake the retreating enemy in their flight. but they were not retreating. quick in their action nearly as we were, they wheeled round, and instantly it was evident that their leader was about to try and capture the guns. i saw it all at a glance, so did every man in the troop, as we galloped on toward the eminence which it would be impossible to reach before they were upon us, while it was equally impossible for us to halt, unlimber, and bring the guns into action. the infantry regiment was too far off to help us, and our only chance appeared to me to be to wheel off to the right, and race for our lives. brace rightly saw the position differently. "draw--swords!" he roared; then changing our form of advance by a rapid movement taken at the gallop, the trumpet rang out, and i felt for the moment as if i was at the head of the mutineers once more, when we recaptured the guns; then, with sword on guard, i was gazing full at the long line of sowars charging us as we tore on at a frantic gallop, the guns now in echelon, leaping and bounding over the ground, the men on the limbers, sword in hand, holding on with the other, and every driver of the three to each gun holding his sabre at the charge. one moment it must have seemed to the leaders of the native regiment that they had an easy capture, their line overlapping ours by far on either wing; the next, that an english horse artillery troop is no plaything, for there was a tremendous collision, horses and men went down headlong, and our troop swept on, their echelon formation causing shock after shock, as the tremendous momentum of the six horses of each gun was too great to be withstood by the light-armed sowars, and the guns were saved. i was conscious of a sharp volley, then of another and another, as we galloped on, the man beside me sinking lower and lower over his horse's neck; then, in what was to me like a nightmare, i saw him drop headlong from his horse, and had a glimpse of his face as his helmet fell off. then, growing more and more composed, i wondered why the english regiment should be firing volleys at us, their friends; and all this time the blinding perspiration seemed to be pouring from my head, and i was not seeing clearly. then, raising my empty right hand, i swept it across my eyes, and as i did so grasped the fact that my sword was hanging by its knot from my wrist, as i saw clearly for a moment that i was alone, and yet not alone, for fierce-looking men in their white garb were galloping by me. then i knew that in the dashing charge i had been separated from my troop; that i was bleeding horribly from a wound; and one thought came like lightning across my brain--no; two thoughts, and they were these. "it is all over; but have i done my duty like a man?" the next minute a sowar turned and made a cut at me; but his blow fell upon steel, which flashed. something else glittered and flashed too, and a fierce voice roared an order in hindustani as we tore on, with a nervous hand grasping my arm, just as it suddenly seemed to turn to night, and i knew no more. chapter twenty eight. i felt that if whoever it was would only have left me alone, i would not have cared; but to be bothered like that, when i was so sleepy, and when i had been so hard at work all day, and done my rounds at night, was too bad. yes; i knew it was after sunrise, and that in an ordinary way i ought to have jumped up, but the sleepy, stupid feeling was too much for me, and i only lay there and grumbled. "don't!" i remember crying, "you hurt me;" but whoever it was kept on all the same, doing something to my head, and then he began dragging my arm about, and then i went off fast asleep. i remembered all that when i opened my eyes again. it was my first thought, and i lay wondering in a puzzled sort of way whether it was haynes, for he was the only one likely to play any trick with me, and unlikely enough too. brace was too stern, thoughtful, and serious, so i thought it could not have been he. "hullo!" i exclaimed. no: it could hardly be called an exclamation, for it was said in a very low tone of voice, as i stared about me, and grew confused. for i felt that i ought to be lying in one of the shattered rooms of the residency. no: we had left the residency, and i ought to be lying under a tree in the tope. it was very puzzling, and i could not make it out at all. in fact, the more i tried, the more perplexing it grew, and while i was trying to get my head to think properly, everything grew dull and misty, and i went off to sleep once more. but the next time i awoke and ran over my position, i found that i was able to think well, and i did, though the puzzle was great still, why it was that i was lying on cushions with handsome purdahs or curtains hung about the sides of what was evidently a tent, with handsome indian carpets spread on the floor, and a punkah over my head, waving gently to and fro to cool the air. as i was trying to pierce the cloud that closed me in, i at last got a gleam of light through it as if the cloud had opened a little, and i recollected distinctly standing by my two guns in the glaring hot street. yes; i could recollect that clearly, but no more. then came a period of confusion, but that passed off, and i remembered our trot and then gallop out of the town, down the long road, and out into the country-like plain, where we took up position, and brought the guns into action. after a time i recalled the whole of the particulars of the engagement right on to our halt beside the tope, within whose shades the waggons, elephants, and wounded men were placed. and now a feeling of trouble and worry came over me, for i recollected that i had been so busy that i had not been to see serjeant craig. it looked hard, for he had done so much for us, but i hoped that brace had been to him, and that he would not think it unkind of me, knowing as he would that i had been heavily on duty. but, all the same, it was hard for the poor fellow lying wounded. i paused there, and then repeated the words in a strange, puzzled way--"poor fellow lying wounded--poor fellow lying wounded." and then, with the intention of sitting up, i moved my arm. no; i only tried to move it, and felt a horrible twinge of pain. then i tried to raise my head, but it felt like so much lead, and the effort made me feel sick. but my mind was active now, and as i said in a whisper, "why, i must be wounded," the scene of our last gallop came back to my mind with vivid force, and i saw it all, and even, as it were, felt the sensation of the mad gallop, and the shock of our collision with the sowars, even to the curious sensation of galloping along with our men firing at us, and then awakening to the fact that i had fierce-looking troopers on either side, and then of one cutting at me, and another interposing to save my life. yes; i could recollect that clearly, and i recalled, too, the poor fellow falling headlong from his horse. was that i? it seemed as if it must have been; but in a confused way i argued that, if it had, i could not have sat on horseback and seen him fall. i was still puzzling about it with a _feeling_ upon me that my brain would not work properly, when a purdah was thrust on one side, and a tall, grave, grey-bearded man in white and gold came slowly in. his voluminous turban was of white muslin, and his long snowy garment descended almost to his feet. i felt, as he gravely fixed his eyes upon me, and advanced to where i lay, that this must be a kind of dream, and that possibly the sun had beat so hotly upon my helmet that it had had some effect upon my brain. consequently, all i had to do was to be still, and then all would come clear. but the dream became to me wonderfully real as the tall grave mussulman went down on one knee and laid his hand upon my head, the touch feeling cool and pleasant, while, as he saw my eyes fixed upon his inquiringly, he said in very good english-- "the young sahib is better?" "better?" i replied in a curiously faint voice--"better? have i been ill?" "don't try to talk. not ill, sahib--wounded." "oh!" i ejaculated. "then i was hurt in that charge. where is captain brace?" "don't talk; you are weak. let me look at your wound." as he spoke he laid his hand upon my left arm, but changed his mind, and his hands were busy about my head, which i found now was confined by a bandage. this being removed, he gave me a little pain by touching one spot just above my temple, which was extremely tender, and then, taking out a pair of scissors, he snipped away a little hair closely; after this he drew a piece of fine white cloth from his pocket, he poured some brown strongly scented fluid from a little flask to moisten it, and laid the little wet patch on my head, with the result that it tingled sharply. "hurt?" he said quietly. "yes; a little." "it will soon go off." as he spoke he very carefully bound the linen bandage he had removed back in its place. "is it a sword-cut?" i asked. "no, sahib; a bullet struck your helmet, and made a bad place within. it is not very serious, and if you are quiet, it will soon be well." "but where is dr danby? why does he not come?" i asked; then, in a startled way, "he is not killed?" the grey-bearded old fellow merely shook his head and repeated his injunction that i should not talk, and now began examining my left arm, which was firmly bandaged, and began to pain me severely at his touch. "is that a bullet wound?" i said in a whisper, for i felt that i must resign myself to my position, and, after the first shock, i began to feel rather proud that i had been wounded, for i felt not the slightest inclination to stir. "no," he said, as he removed bandage after bandage, "a cut from a tulwar just below the shoulder. you will be brave, and bear what i do without being faint? yes," he added, with a grave smile, "you english sahibs are brave. hurt?" "hurt? yes," i said, with a wince. "is it a big cut?" "yes," he said softly; "a big cut--a bad cut, but it is beautiful, and will soon grow up again." "are you going to put any of that smarting stuff on?" i asked. "oh no. it wants nothing but to be left to grow well with bandages round it. these fresh bandages. young healthy flesh soon heals." "are you a surgeon?" i asked. "yes; and learned to be one in london," he continued, with a smile. "but now you must be still and not talk." i was not sorry to be forbidden to speak, for it was an effort, and i lay watching him, feeling very sick and faint, while he dressed my wound; and then i felt nothing till i found myself staring at the grave face of the eastern surgeon, as he lightly passed a moistened finger beneath my nostrils, and then touched the neck of a bottle which he turned upside down, and proceeded to moisten my temples, while a peculiar cool pungent odour filled the tent. "better?" he said. "yes," i said dreamily; and then as i realised what had passed--"did i faint?" he bowed gravely. "it was natural, sahib. i hurt you very greatly; but the wound looks well. ah, your colour is coming back to your lips." "thank you," i said feebly. "i am sorry i was so cowardly. now ask captain brace to come." he shook his head. "well, then, mr haynes." he shook his head again. "they are far away," he said. "then what place is this? a hospital?" he shook his head again. "i am only the doctor," he said, with a smile. "my duty is to dress your wounds, and it is done." "but tell me this--the fight yesterday?" "i cannot," he replied. "there was no fight yesterday." "nonsense! there was; and i remember now coming off my horse. i thought it was some one else; but i recall it now." "the sahib talks too much," said the grave, patient-looking doctor. "i will hold my tongue directly," i cried; "but tell me this--were you at the fight?" "oh no; i was far away, and the rajah summoned me here to attend on you." "rajah? what rajah?" "his highness, my master." "what!" i cried excitedly. "then i am a prisoner?" "yes, sahib. you were cut down in the battle a week ago." a low expiration of the breath, which sounded like a sigh, was the only sound i uttered as i lay back, weak, faint, utterly astounded by the news. a prisoner--cut down a week ago. then the troop; where was the troop? if i was made a prisoner, had the guns been taken? a cold chill of despair ran through me as those crushing thoughts occurred, and in imagination i saw our men surrounded and slaughtered, perhaps mutilated, the guns taken, and the fight of that day a tremendous victory for the enemy. but after a time a better way of thinking came over me when i was alone; for, after a grave smile, the doctor had bowed and left the tent. it was a daring, desperate charge i felt, but the only thing brace could do under the circumstances; and he must have cut his way through. he could not turn and retreat, for it would have looked like being afraid of the sowars; and surely, i thought, it was not in them to overcome our brave little troop even if they were ten times the number. then, as i lay there, confused and troubled, a fresh thought struck me-- the firing? yes, of course there was sharp firing; and i remembered now pretty clearly i was galloping away with troopers on each side. i must have been separated from my men in the desperate shock, and borne off by the foe as they retreated. yes, of course, i thought, with growing excitement; they must have been retreating; and it was the colonel's regiment that was firing upon us as we fled. with these thoughts hope came back, and i could think no more, but dropped off into a deep sleep that was greatly like a swoon. my next recollection is of lying in that heated tent, feverish and thirsty, and the tall, grey-bearded doctor coming in to busy himself about me, and at every touch of his hand seeming to give me ease. then i slept again, and slept--ah, how i must have slept, and dreamed of brace being safe, and coming sooner or later to rescue me from that silent tent where i saw no one but the doctor and a couple of hindu servants, who never answered any questions, only salaamed and left the tent if i spoke! neither could i get any information from the doctor. all i knew grew from my own calculations, and these taught me that i was the prisoner of some great chief who seemed to be reserving me to exchange for some other prisoner, perhaps to act as a hostage in case he should happen to be captured. i could come to no other conclusion; for so far the custom had been for the revolted people to murder and mutilate every one who fell into their hands. i was lying there one afternoon, wondering where the tent could be, and why it was that everything was so silent about me. it was puzzling now that i was not quite so weak and feverish; for this could hardly be a camp in which i was a prisoner. if it had been, i should have heard the trampling of horses and the coming and going of armed men. then i seldom heard voices, save those of the servants who came to attend upon me by the doctor's orders. but i knew one thing--the tent in which i was sheltered had been pitched under a great tree; for at certain times, when the sun was low, i saw the shadows of leaves and boughs upon the canvas; and when the wind blew sometimes at night, i had heard the rushing sound through the branches. feeling a little better as i did that afternoon, i had quite made up my mind to attack the doctor when he came, as i knew he would later on, and try hard to get some particulars about where we were, and what had happened after the fight; for it seemed strange and i shrank at times from the thought that brace and the colonel had not followed up their success. but had it been a success? the question was terrible; for their long silence suggested that it might equally have been a failure; and this was the more likely from the odds they had to engage. i lay there very patiently, for i was not in much pain now; but that afternoon the doctor did not come, and my patience was rapidly fading away; for it was growing late, and it appeared hard, now that i had come to such a determination, for my attendant to stay away. that he must come from a distance, i knew; and more than once i had detected little things which showed me that he had been attending wounded men--a fact which of course told me that there was trouble going on somewhere near at hand. perhaps there was trouble that day, i thought, and he was detained in consequence. this thought made me listen intently for the sound of guns; but all was still, and my impatience began to get the mastery, and the feeling that i had taken up the wrong idea to make itself clear; for there could be no serious fighting such as would keep the doctor away, or else i must have heard the firing. still the doctor did not come, and in consequence i began to think that my wound was hot and fretful; and this brought up the fight on that eventful day about which i had lost count, save that it must be going on for three weeks since it occurred; and all that time i had been lying there, a miserable, wounded prisoner. so i was proceeding to silently bemoan my fate, when my common sense stepped in to point out that the enemy who had captured me evidently respected the british, and that no one could have been better treated than i. but i wanted news. i was burning to hear what had taken place since i had been cut down; whether the fire of revolt had been checked, but was still holding its own, or spreading--and i knew nothing. "but i will know," i said, as my ear, grown quick by constant listening, detected distant sounds, followed by a hurried rustling, as of people leaving the adjoining tent. "they heard the doctor coming," i said to myself. "i'll make him speak somehow; and, by the way, i've never asked him where they have put my uniform and sword." i strained my ears and listened, for the sound was drawing nearer, and a feeling of disappointment stole over me as i made out that it was the trampling of horses; and i had never heard that when the doctor came before. i had always believed that he came in a palanquin; while these certainly were horses' feet--yes, and the jingling of accoutrements. "why, it must be our troop," i thought, but crushed the delightful thought on the instant, for there was none of the peculiar rattle made by the guns and limbers. could it be a body of sowars? if softly thoughts went back to the wild gallop i had had in their company, and one hand stole to my wounded arm, which was there as a reminder of what i might expect from them. no wonder my heart beat fast as recollections of their merciless treatment of their officers came flooding my brain, and i felt that if they behaved like this to their officers, whom they had sworn to obey, there would be scant mercy for a prisoner. the trampling and jingling came nearer, and there was the familiar snorting of horses, while i was now experienced enough to be able to say that there was a body of forty or fifty mounted men approaching nearer, nearer, till a loud order rang out, such as would be given by a native cavalry officer; a sudden halt; a fresh order, and then one for the men to dismount, and i was listening for the next ordering the men to draw swords, when i felt with beating heart that it need not come, for the men would be lancers. "i'll try and meet it like a man," i said to myself, "for father's sake, and that of my mother and sister;" but i could not feel brave, and my eyes were fixed upon the purdah which screened the entrance to the tent, and, in spite of my weakness, i struggled up on one arm looking wildly round for a weapon that i could not have used. then there was a quick footstep. the doctor's? no; that of an armed man. the purdah was swept aside, and a gorgeously dressed chief, robed in white muslin and shawls of the most delicate fabric, and richly ornamented with gold, strode into the tent. his white turban glittered with pearls and diamonds, while his breast and sword-belt and slings were also encrusted with the same rich gems, so that at every movement some cluster of precious stones scintillated in the subdued light. chapter twenty nine. he crossed at once to my couch, and stood looking down at me, his handsome, thoughtful face, with its dark eyes, being wonderfully familiar, as he bent over me; and as he gazed, a smile crossed his lips, and there was a look of sympathy in his countenance which was unmistakable. but there was no smile on mine, for as i met his eyes i saw in him, in spite of his gallant bearing and gorgeous dress, the bloodthirsty traitor and schemer who had risen against us and headed the mad savages who had cut down my brother-officers and friends. he was the man, too, who held me prisoner, and my resentment was growing when, in an indistinct dreamy way, the scene in the desperate charge came back, and those moments when, half-stunned by the bullet which had struck my helmet, and of which i was not conscious then, i had been galloping away surrounded by sowars, one of whom was about to cut me down, giving me a second blow sufficient to destroy the little life left in me. and i saw it clearly now; it was this man who bent over me--this chief, all gorgeous in gold and gems, whose arm had been stretched out to save me, and had undoubtedly brought me where i was, and had me carefully tended back to life. and with these thoughts filling my mind, i lay looking up at him angry, and yet grateful, wondering, too, at the change from the slightly clothed syce whom i had so often seen ill-used by his master, barton; and as he watched me, i shuddered slightly, for i seemed to know that he had taken deadly vengeance upon my brother-officer in return for months of harsh treatment, insult, and wrong. we neither of us spoke, he evidently contenting himself with watching me, and enjoying the surprise i felt at recognising him as the disguised chief--the groom no longer, but as the powerful leader of a large native force; i, in my weak state, fascinated by his peculiar smiling eyes, that were one moment haughty and fierce and full of triumph, the next beaming with friendliness. at last he bent down on one knee, and as he did so his magnificently jewelled tulwar fell forward naturally enough from the point of the scabbard touching the carpet right between us, and he started as if the sword between us had come as a strange portent to show that we were enemies, always to be kept apart by the deadly blade. i saw that he changed colour and hesitated, influenced by his superstitious eastern nature and education; but the next moment he laughed contemptuously, and unbuckled his jewelled belt, and threw it and the sword two or three yards away, before going down on one knee by my pillow, laying his hand upon my head and gazing intently in my eyes. "hah!" he ejaculated, speaking for the first time, and in excellent english. "you are getting well fast now. you are weak, but you will live and soon be well. i thought once you would die. you know me?" he added, with a smile. i spoke now for the first time, and my voice sounded feeble, i felt, compared to his. "yes, i know you again, ny deen." his eyes flashed, and his face lit up strangely as he exclaimed-- "yes; ny deen, the syce, beaten, kicked, trampled upon; ny deen, the dog--the--" he paused for a moment or two, and then with an emphasis that would have made the term of reproach sound absurd, but for the fierce revengeful look in his countenance, he added-- "nigger!" there was an intensity of scorn in his utterance of the word that was tragic; and as i lay back there on my cushion i read in it the fierce turning at last of the trampled worm--the worm as represented by the venomous serpent of the conquered land, and i knew from my own experience what endless cases there were of patient, humbled, and crushed-down men, no higher in position than slaves, ill-used, and treated with contempt by my insolent, overbearing countrymen of that self-assertive class who cannot hold power without turning it to abuse. the silence in the tent as my captor knelt by me was intense, and i could hear his hard breathing, and see how he was striving to master the fierce emotion in his breast. his eyes were mostly fixed on me with a savage scowl, and for a moment or so i fancied that he must have saved my life so as to take it himself in some way which would add torture and throw dismay amongst the english ranks. but i was ready to smile at my own vanity as i thought to myself of what a little consequence the life of a young artillery subaltern would be in the great revolt now in progress. then i felt a strong desire to speak, to make some great utterance such as would impress him and raise me in his estimation sufficiently to make him treat me with the respect due to an english officer; but no such utterance would come. i felt that i was only a poor, weak, wounded lad, lying there at the mercy of this fierce rajah, and when at last my lips parted, as if forced to say something in answer to his searching gaze, i writhed within myself and felt ashamed of the contemptible words. for his utterance of that term of contumely so liberally used toward one of a race of people who had been for countless generations great chiefs in their own land, and whose cities were centres of a civilisation, barbaric, perhaps, but whose products we were only too glad to welcome in england. "nigger" still seemed to ring in my ears, as i gazed still as if fascinated in the handsome pale-brown eastern face, and i said feebly, just about in the tone of voice in which some contemptible young found-out sneak of a schoolboy, who was trying to hide a fault with a miserable lie, might say, "please, sir, it wasn't me--" "i never insulted you, or called you so." his face changed like magic, and he bent low over my pillow, as he cried excitedly, and with a passionate fervour in his voice, which almost startled me-- "never! never, sahib." he paused, frowned, and then his face lit up again, and he uttered a merry laugh. "you see," he cried, "i am one of the conquered race. you have been our masters so long that it comes natural to say _sahib_. but that is at an end now; we are the masters, and the reign of the great koompanni is at an end." a pang of misery ran through me at these words, which were uttered with so much conviction that i felt they must be true. after a few moments, and from a desire to say something less weak than my last poor feeble utterance, i said-- "was it not you who saved my life when that sowar was going to cut me down?" "yes," he cried excitedly. "if he had killed you, he should not have lived another hour." "why?" i said, with a smile. "i was his enemy fighting against him." "but you were my friend," he said, in a soft low voice, full of emotion; "almost the only one who treated me as if i were something more than a pariah dog. yes, always my friend, who softened those bitter hours of misery and despair when i was suffering for my people, that some day we might cast off the heel which held us crushed down into the earth. my friend, whom i would have died to save." "ny deen!" i cried, for his words moved me, and i stretched out my hand to him. "hah!" he cried, seizing it tightly between his own. "i could not ask you to give me the hand of friendship, but it has come from you." "and yet how can i shake hands with you, rajah?" i said sadly; "we are enemies." his eyes flashed with pride as i called him rajah, and he retained my hand firmly. "enemies?" he said. "yes, in the field, when face to face; but you are wounded, and there is a truce between you and me. we can be friends, and eat salt together. you are my guest, my honoured guest. this tent is yours; the servants are yours; order them, and they will obey you. as soon as you are well enough, there is a palanquin waiting with willing men to bear you. when you are better still, there is your elephant and a horse." "my horse, my arab?" i cried. "is he safe?" he smiled. "yes, quite safe, with two syces to care for him; the horse of their rajah's friend. what can i get you? ask for anything. i am _very_ rich, and it shall be yours." "you can only give me one thing," i cried. "no; two things." "the first, then?" he said, smiling. "news of my troop, of captain brace, and our men; of the officers of the foot regiment. tell me," i cried excitedly, "how did the fight end?" "how could it end?" he replied, with a smile full of pride. "what could that poor handful of men do against my thousands?" "defeated?" i cried excitedly. "yes; they were defeated; they fled." my countenance fell, and there must have been a look of despair in my eyes, which he read, for he said more quietly-- "captain brace is a brave man, and he did everything he could; but he had to flee--and you were left in my hands a prisoner," he added, with a smile. "he had to flee," i said to myself; and that means that he had escaped uninjured from a desperate encounter. there was something consoling in that; and i wanted to ask a score of questions about haynes and the infantry officers, but i could not. for one thing, i felt that it would be like writing a long account of a list of disasters; for another, i was not sure that i could trust an enemy's account of the engagement. so i remained silent, and the rajah asked me a few questions about my symptoms, and whether there was anything he could get for me. i shook my head, for, though gratified by the warm liking and esteem he had displayed, my spirits had sunk very low indeed, and i wanted to be alone to think. seeing that i was weak and troubled, the rajah soon after rose, and moved to the doorway of the tent, where he summoned one of the attendants, and uttered a few words, the result being that a few minutes after the tall, grave, eastern physician appeared at the doorway, and salaamed in the most lowly way before his prince. "go to him," said the rajah in their own tongue, and the doctor came across to me and began examining my injuries, while the rajah stood looking on, watching everything attentively. i could not help noticing how nervous and troubled the doctor seemed, performing his task with trembling hands, as if in great awe of the chief his master. he ended by rising and salaaming again. "well?" said the rajah quickly; and i knew enough hindustani now to be able to snatch at the meaning of their words. "you must make him well quickly." "i will try, your highness." "no, sir; you will do," said the rajah, sternly. "he must be made strong and well soon. i want him; he is my friend." he turned from the doctor, who took this as his dismissal, and bowed and left the tent, while the rajah seated himself on the carpet by his sword, and stayed there in one position as if deep in thought, making probably more plans. i lay watching him wonderingly, asking myself whether he had ever grasped the fact of how much i had had to do with the recovery of the guns, and if he did not, what would be his feelings toward one who had utterly baulked him, and robbed him of the prize he went through so much to win. i certainly did not feel disposed to enlighten him, but by watching his troubled face, and thinking of how valuable, if he had succeeded in well training his men, a troop of horse artillery would be, and how different our position would have been during that encounter if he had had half a dozen six-pounders well-served. "but he has no guns," i ended by saying to myself; "and we--i mean our people--have, and i cannot believe in our--i mean their--being swept away, so long as they hold such a supremacy as the guns afford to them." i was stopped short by the rajah re-buckling his sword-belt, and a minute later he was bending over me. "make haste," he said in hindustani. "i shall not be at peace till you are well once more." he pressed my hand warmly, and bade me order anything i wished, for i was in my own tent, and then, after smiling at me, and telling me to grow strong, he strode to the purdah, drew it aside, turned to look back, and then the curtain fell between us, and i was alone once more. i lay listening to the stamping and plunging of horses, and in imagination could picture the whole scene with the restless, excitable animals, shrinking from being backed, and pretending to bite, but calming down the moment they felt a strong hand at the bit. then came an order, followed by the jingling of weapons and the snorting of the horses and their heavy trampling upon the soft earth, the sound gradually growing fainter, till it was like a distant murmur, one which had the effect of sending me, tired as i was, off into a heavy sleep. chapter thirty. it was night when i awoke, refreshed and ready to ask myself whether it was a dream, one of the many vivid sleep scenes which i had conjured up since i had been there, wounded and a prisoner. but i knew directly that it was no dream, and i began thinking of how sadly some of the natives must have been treated for the simple civilities which i had bestowed upon ny deen to be appreciated as they were. from that i began thinking of brace and haynes, about the colonel of the foot regiment, and of ny deen's words that they were beaten and had fled. "i don't believe it," i said, half aloud. there may have been thousands against our hundreds; but our fellows would not study that. it would only make them fight the more fiercely. i suppose that was his idea of it; but i felt sure that it would not be brace's, or that of his brother in arms. i thought then of our tremendous charge with the guns, and i could not keep from smiling. "that does not seem to be the work of a man who wants to retreat," i said to myself. "if brace has retired, it is only to act like a wave of the sea, so that he can come back with greater force, and sweep everything before him." yes; i was sure of that, as i lay there gazing at the lamp, whose soft light seemed to look dreamy and pleasant. i was in better spirits, and the old depression and feeling of misery had gone. then i began to plan what i should do as i grew stronger. i would make use of the palanquin and the elephant's howdah; but at the first opportunity i decided that i would escape. i did not want to be ungrateful to ny deen, and it was very pleasant to feel that he liked me; but i must get back to my own people, i felt, and he would know that it was quite reasonable. a faint rustling sound drew my attention just then, somewhere near the head of my bed; but it ceased directly, and i attributed it to the servants. to prove this, i made up my mind to clap my hands, but at the first movement such a keen pain shot through my shoulder that i contented myself by calling, "who waits?" there was a quick rustling sound at once, and the purdah was drawn aside by a shadowy figure, and held while three men in white entered with trays so quickly and silently that i felt as if i were going through some scene from the "arabian nights," when the four men came up to my couch, and the chief attendant pointed out places on the carpet for the various things to be placed, and then signed to the men to go, which they did without word or look. "i suppose i shall not be allowed to eat and drink what i like," i thought, and i laughed to myself, for it was such a good sign even to think about food at all. directly after i found i was right, for my attendant poured me out something warm which smelt savoury, and as he raised me carefully and propped me up with cushions, i smiled again, for i felt as if i were a baby about to be fed. my amusement was quite justified, for i was as weak as an infant, and was glad to let the calm, silent man supply my wants, holding me so that i could drink what tasted like a strong preparation of chicken; after which he gave me a very delicious and sweet preparation which i recognised as cocoanut cream. lastly, he gave me some curious-looking _bonbons_, helping me to lie back first, so that i need not grow weary while i partook of the preparations, which were nice, but possessed a peculiar aromatic taste, which was new to me. i had eaten three of these, and then half uneasily told myself that, without doubt, the doctor ordered these preparations because they contained the medicines he wished me to take. i think so now; for in a short time a pleasant drowsiness stole over me, and i fell asleep to awake with a start, as it seemed to me; but it must have been only a slight one, for i could not have moved more than my eyes, which were at once directed to the lamp on its stand, some ten or a dozen feet from me, and i wondered why my breath came so short, and grasped at once the fact that i had a heavy weight upon my chest. it appeared simple enough. i had hardly taken anything of late, and my meal on the previous night had been fairly liberal. consequently, being a sick or delicate man, i was suffering from the consequences--that of a heavy weight at my chest. i lay thinking that i had not taken much, and that it was very hard that i should suffer so much inconvenience for so trivial a meal, when the weight on my chest moved, and i felt something cool touch my neck. i was still not clearly awake, and i did not feel any very great surprise at this; for during what must have been my delirium, i had in imagination had stranger adventures than this, and consequently i lay perfectly still, waiting for the sensation to pass off before closing my eyes and enjoying another pleasant, restful, strength-giving sleep. i had just arrived at this pitch of reasoning, and i was considering how long it would be before the sensation passed away, when, as i stared with half-closed eyes at the lamp, i fancied that i saw something gleam only a short distance before me; and this exciting my curiosity, i looked again, felt startled, my heart began to beat painfully, and a cold chill ran through me, as i realised the horrible fact that, consequent upon my bed being made up on the ground, instead of upon the native bedstead known as a charpoy, a serpent had crept in beneath the side of the tent--the rustle i had heard--and, attracted by the warmth, coiled itself upon my chest, where it now lay with its cool head upon my neck. i was awake now fully, and, above all, to the terror of my situation. what shall i do? i asked myself, as the icy feeling of horror increased. i dared not move or attempt to call, for the reptile's head was close to my chin, and the slightest stir might cause it to bite; for at the first alarm i felt certain that it must be one of the poisonous cobras which infested the land. as i lay there, i could feel the perspiration streaming out of my pores, and the weight upon my chest increasing rapidly, till i began to fancy that if i were not soon relieved i should be suffocated. how long i lay like this i cannot say; but it felt to me almost an eternity, and the more painful from the fact that there was help close at hand, so near that a call would bring in one if not more of the servants instantly. one moment my lips parted ready to utter a cry; but that cry, in spite of several attempts, was not uttered. for the idea of being bitten, of receiving the two sharp fangs of the monster in my flesh, was so horrible that, cowardly or no, i could not call. i had heard too much of the results of a cobra bite, and the thought of the insidious poison making its way rapidly through the veins, and ending one's life by arresting the pulsations of the heart in a few minutes, or at most hours, was too terrible for me to run any risk. i think i must have nearly fainted away, for i was very weak; but i never quite lost my senses, but lay looking with misty eyes across the gleaming scaly skin there upon my heart, and feeling from time to time a peculiar movement, as if one coil were passing over another. then i tried hard to call up my courage, and wondered whether by a sharp movement i could heave the reptile from me, while i tried to roll myself off on the other side of the bed. but i knew that it was impossible, for i was weak as a child, and, setting aside the pain such a movement would have caused, it was in my then state impossible. at last, when the stress upon my mind was enough to make me feel that, at any cost, i must try and call for help, i heard a movement outside the tent, and my lips parted once more to speak, but no sound came. i could only lie in expectancy, with my eyes fixed upon the gleaming scales, which were now certainly in motion. there was another faint noise outside, and i felt that help was coming-- one of the men, to see whether i required anything. but, no; it ceased once more; hope died out of my breast, and at all costs i was going to utter a hoarse cry, for i could bear the suspense no longer, when there was a louder rustle outside, and this time my flesh seemed to creep, for the serpent was all in motion, and it had raised its head to look in the direction of the sound, and i could see its bent, spade-like shape, and the bright gleaming eyes. suddenly the purdah was softly drawn aside; and as i strained my eyes sidewise to try and catch a glimpse of the man who entered, i saw him approach silently, till he was near my couch, when he suddenly caught sight of the serpent, uttered a faint cry, and fled. i shuddered in my despair as i saw him sweep back the purdah and dart through, and then i mentally called him a coward for not coming to my help. but i was premature in judging him, for all at once he darted back, armed with a stout bamboo, and came cautiously toward where i lay now nearly freed from my burden; for, at the sight of the men who came swiftly in, the serpent's coils began to pass one over the other till it was all in motion; and it was evidently gliding off me, to retreat to the hole beneath the canvas through which it had found its way. but it had not made sufficient haste. just before it had reached the canvas, the man was upon it, bringing the bamboo down with so terrible a blow that the serpent twisted itself up, writhing and struggling in a perfect knot, the tail flogging the carpet, and the head rising and falling convulsively, till the man struck at it again and again, crippling the tail with one blow; and, after watching his opportunity, succeeded in delivering so fierce a cut at the head that the neck was broken, and it fell back upon the writhing knot perfectly inert, a few more blows making the body as helpless as the head and neck. this done, the man seized the creature by the tail, and drew it out to its full length, which seemed to me to be eight or nine feet; but the creature was very thick. the man had turned to me with a scared face, and spoke almost for the first time since he had been my attendant, saying in hindustani-- "i pray that my lord will not tell my master the maharajah!" "not tell him you killed the snake?" "no, my lord. he would say thy servant did right to slay the serpent; but he would punish him for not keeping guard, and seeing that no serpent came." "would it have bitten and poisoned me?" i asked. "no, my lord. this kind does not bite and poison, only twists round and crushes. it is very strong." "how did it come in?" i said. he went down on his hands and knees and examined the edge of the tent, looking for a hole where the creature could have crept under; but every part was secure, and the man rose, and his face wore a puzzled look. "thy servants have done their work well," he said. "there is no hole where the serpent could have crept under. i do not know." he was peering about in silence, while i lay gradually recovering my equanimity, and congratulating myself on the fact that my nocturnal visitor had been a serpent of the boa kind, and not a deadly cobra, when the man suddenly held up his finger, and pointed to a spot beyond the lamp, where the roof and canvas wall of the tent joined. as i tried to penetrate the dim, warm twilight of the room, i could hear a faint rustling sound, and i saw my attendant stoop cautiously and go, without making a sound, toward the spot where his stick lay on the carpet, not far from the still heaving body of the reptile he had slain. as i gazed hard at the place whence the rustling came, i suddenly caught sight of something behind the lamp, something shadowy or misty, swaying gently to any fro, and i at once grasped the fact that it was another serpent entering the tent by the way in which the first must have found its way. i had hardly arrived at this point when my attention was taken up by the action of my attendant, who was stealing round like a black shadow close to the side of the tent, and the next minute he raised his stick, and made a sharp blow at the intruder. there was a sharp crack, a loud rustling, and the man darted back with only half his staff in his hand, to run out of the tent, and leave me alone with the body of the first serpent, which i half fancied was moving slowly toward where i lay helpless, if it happened to have still vitality enough left in its shattered length to come and wreak its vengeance on one who could not defend himself. but while i was watching the slowly writhing creature, which in the dim light looked of far greater proportion than before, i could hear trampling and voices outside, then loud rustling as if men were hurrying about through bushes, and at last, to my great relief, the man came back. "thy servant struck the snake," he said, "and broke the staff; but so much of it was outside that it darted back and crawled away before we could get to the spot and find it. the creature has gone away to die." "and now others will come, and that one too, if you have not killed it." "no, my lord," he said. "that was the mate of the snake i killed. they go two together, and there is no fear. i struck it so hard that it will die, and the hole up there shall be fastened tightly." to my great satisfaction, he bent down and took the serpent by the tail and drew it out of the tent, and i heard him give orders to his companions to drag it right away into the forest, and to bury it as soon as it was day. as he was talking, i was conscious of a peculiar, slightly musky odour pervading the tent, and i was wondering what it could be, when the man returned with two or three burning splints of some aromatic wood, which gave forth a great deal of smoke, and he walked about the tent, waving the pieces and holding them low down near the carpet where the serpent had lain, and also along a track leading past the lamp to the side of the tent where i had seen the shadowy form of the second serpent. he busied himself in this way till the matches were pretty well burned down, and then placed the ends in a little brass vessel, which he stood on the carpet not far from my couch. then approaching me, he said humbly, and with a low reverence-- "will my lord grant his servant's prayer?" "what do you mean?" i said, rather testily, for his excessive humility worried me. i hated to be worshipped like that. "not tell the rajah about the snakes?" "if my master the rajah knows, thy servant may be slain." "what! for that?" i said. "yes, my lord. his highness bade me take as great care of your life as i would of my own. thy servant has tried to do his duty, and serve my lord. he has done everything the great physician, the rajah's own doctor, bade him do, and cared for my lord as if he had been thy servant's own son. it would be hard to die because a serpent of the forest came in after seeing the light." "hard? yes," i said quietly. "there, mind no more of the brutes get in. i shall not say a word to the rajah or any one else." "ah," he cried joyfully. and before i could remove it, he had gone down on his knees and kissed my hand. "thy servant goes back with joy in his heart. he did not love to serve him, for the white sahibs are cruel to their servants, and are hated; but they are not all so, and thy servant seeth now why his master the rajah loveth my lord, and careth for him as one who is very dear." "how i do hate for any one to fawn upon me like that!" i said to myself as soon as i was alone and i lay thinking about all my troubles, and being a prisoner, wondering how long it would be before i was strong again and able to escape; for i meant to do that. it was very pleasant to find that ny deen liked me, and recalled my civility to him sufficiently to make him wish to save my life; but all the same, i felt that i did not like him, for there was the treachery of a man who had come under false pretences to our cantonments, waiting, with others in his secret, for the time when they could throw off the british yoke. and as i lay thinking, though i felt ready to acquit him of the atrocities that had been committed, i felt that he had opened the awful door and let loose the tide of miscreants who had raged through the cities, murdering every one whose skin was white. "no," i thought, "whatever cause ny deen and his people might have had for retaliation, it had not been by an open declaration of war, but by treachery." and then i went to sleep, to dream about snakes. chapter thirty one. i suppose it was through being weak, and having passed through a feverish state, which made me dream to such a tremendous extent, with everything so real and vivid that it was horrible. it comes natural to a man to dread snakes. it is as part of his education, and the dread was upon me terribly that night. for i was pursued by them in all kinds of grotesque shapes: now they were all sowars in white, but with serpents' heads, galloping down upon me in a mad charge; now they were slimy monsters, creeping round my tent, trying to crawl in and murder me because the rajah had taken me under his protection. then ny deen himself came to me, all glittering with gold and gems, but in a confused way. he did not seem to be any longer a man, for his face looked serpent-like and treacherous, and one moment there were glittering jewels, the next it was the light shimmering upon his brilliant scales. and so on for the rest of the night, till i dreamed that the serpent slain by the attendant had revived, and crept back through the hole between the two portions of the canvas, after heaving off the earth and sand in which it had been buried. and then it came gliding and writhing its way over the carpet, nearer and nearer to where i lay, not with the graceful, gliding motion of an ordinary serpent, but clumsily, with its neck broken and a portion of its tail bent almost at right angles. but, all the same, as i lay there, it came on nearer and nearer, till it was close to my couch in the full light of the lamp, and then, to my horror, it raised itself up, bent its broken neck over me, and glared down with its horrible eyes threatening to strike. i awoke then, and it was quite time, for the agony was greater than i seemed to be able to bear. and there was the bright glow of light, and the eyes gazing down into mine, not with the malignant glare of a serpent, but in a pleasant, friendly way. it was morning, and on one side the tent wall had been lifted, so that the place was flooded with the clear, soft, early sunshine, and the place was sweet with the fresh, cool air which came with the dawn even in that hot land. it was my attendant bending over me, and he said quietly-- "my lord was restless, and sleeping ill. the tent was hot, and the great drops were on his face, so i opened the side to let in the light." he ceased speaking, and i uttered a sigh of relief as all the feverish vision of the night passed away, the sensation of rest and comfort growing stronger as he clapped his hands, and the other men came in bearing a large brass basin full of cool fresh water, with which my face was bathed with all the care and solicitude that would have been shown by a woman. then followed my medicine, and, soon after, coffee and sweet cakes, preparatory to a real breakfast later on, to which i found that i could pay greater attention, eating so that the man smiled with satisfaction. "my lord is getting well," he said. and i gave my head a feeble nod. "tell me whereabouts we are," i said at last. he shook his head. "i am only to tell you that you are in my lord the rajah's care," he replied. "well, i can guess," i replied. "i can hear nothing of people; there is no town near; and i know from the noises made by birds and beasts, and by the coming of those serpents, that we must be in the forest. i am at some hunting-station, i suppose. look here," i continued, as the man remained silent, "tell me where the english soldiers are." "i cannot, my lord. i do not know," he replied. "it is of no use to ask you anything," i cried pettishly. "yes, it is; you can tell me this--what is your name?" "salaman, my lord," he replied, with a smile. "humph!" i said sourly, for i was getting into an invalid's tetchy, weary state. "salaman! why couldn't they call you solomon? that's the proper way to pronounce it." "my lord can call me solomon," he said quietly. "of course i can," i said, "and i will. then look here, solomon, did you bury that great snake?" "yes, my lord, as soon as it was light, and the others found and killed its mate. they are now dead, and covered with the earth." "that's right. no fear of their getting out?" i added, as i remembered my dream. he laughed and shook his head. "tell me this too; the rajah, will he be here to-day?" "who can say, my lord? his highness is master, and he goes and comes as he pleases. perhaps he will come, perhaps he will not. i never know." "the doctor, then; will he be here?" "oh yes, my lord, and soon." he left the tent, and i lay thinking again, ready to quarrel with everything, for my arm pained me, and my head felt stiff and sore. "i wish he'd speak in a plain, matter-of-fact way," i grumbled to myself. "i'm sick of being `my lorded' and bowed down to. i always feel as if i could kick a fellow over when he bows down to me as if i were one of their precious idols." then i laughed to myself long and heartily, for i knew that i must be getting better by my irritable ways. and now i forced myself into thinking about our position as english rulers of the land, and wondered whether it would be possible for our power to be overthrown. then came on a feverish desire to know where brace was, and in what kind of condition his men were, and those of the colonel. "it seems hard that they do not come and try to rescue me," i thought. "brace would come fast enough," i added spitefully, "if i were a gun." this idea seemed so comic in its disagreeable tone, and so thoroughly due to my state of weakness and unreason, that i laughed silently. "how precious ill-tempered i am!" i said to myself. a moment later i was wondering about the fate of those dear to me at nussoor--whether my father was still there, and whether there had been any rising in his neighbourhood. directly after i came to the conclusion that his regiment would certainly have been called away, and i hoped that he had made arrangements for my mother and sister to go back to england; and then i was marvelling at the rapid way in which my thoughts ran excitedly from one subject to the other. "it is all through being so weak, i suppose," i said to myself; and then i began eagerly to listen, for i could hear trampling. feeling certain that it was the rajah, and making up my mind to speak quietly to him, and ask him to try and exchange me for some other prisoner, i lay with my eyes fixed upon the open side of the tent, to see directly after the tall, stately figure of the grey-bearded physician, who came to my side in his customary sedate fashion, and knelt down to examine and dress my injuries, which he declared to be in a perfectly satisfactory state. but, all the same, they pained me a great deal during the time he was unbandaging and covering them afresh. i plied him with questions all the time--as to how long it would be before i was well; how soon i might sit up; how soon i might go out in a palanquin, and the like; all of which he answered in the same grave way, but when i turned the question to the state of the country, and asked for information about our troop, and the late battle, he shook his head and smiled gravely. "i am the rajah's physician," he said, "and my duties are with the sick. i can tell you no more." "but tell me this," i said eagerly; "where are our people now?" "i only know about my own people," he replied, with a smile. "you are one of them, and you are troubling your brain about matters that you cannot deal with now, so be at rest." i made an impatient gesture, and he laid his hand upon my brow, saying gently-- "be at rest. you will learn all these things in time. you have but one duty now--to get well." there was only one other resource left to me--to get an answer somehow from the rajah when he came; and upon the doctor leaving, i lay there impatiently listening for the visitor who would, i was sure, come before long, though whether i should get my information appeared doubtful indeed. chapter thirty two. the days passed slowly by, and one hour i was horribly dejected by the dulness of my existence, the next cheery and in high spirits, as i felt that i was getting stronger, and in less pain. it was very lonely lying there, but many things put me in mind of the "arabian nights"--the fine tent, with the shadows of the trees upon its roof; the silent servants who might very well have been slaves, so eager were they to respond to the slightest call, and so silent in their obedience; the soft glow of the lamp on the rich curtain and carpets; and the pleasant little banquets which were spread for me with silver vessels to drink from, and gilded baskets full of rare fruits or flowers. at times, as i sat propped up, able now to feed myself, i used to begin by enjoying the meal, but before i had half finished the flowers looked dull, and the fruit tasted flat, for i told myself that, after all, i was only a prisoner, a bird in a gilded cage, broken winged and helpless. the doctor came nearly every day, and told me that i was to ask for everything i wished for, as he preferred that i should wait until the rajah had been again before i went out. "and when is he coming again?" i asked impatiently. "i can only say when his highness pleases," replied the doctor, with a grave smile. "but i will give orders for something to be done to please you; to-morrow a couch shall be made for you outside the tent." that was something, and only one who has been wounded and lain hot and restless upon a couch alone can judge of the eagerness with which i looked forward to the next day. it came at last, and after trying very hard to comport myself with the dignity becoming a british officer, the fact that i was almost the youngest in the company's service would come out, and i suddenly burst out with-- "i say, salaman, when is this couch outside to be ready?" "it is ready, my lord," he said. "i was awaiting your commands." "oh!" i mentally exclaimed, "what a fool i am! why don't i act like a real `my lord,' and order these people about more?" then aloud, with importance-- "is it shady where you have placed it?" he shook his head. "what!" i cried angrily. "you have put it in the sun?" "no, my lord; it is under a great tree." "why, i asked you if it was shady," i cried; and then it occurred to me that, in spite of my studies at brandscombe and out here, my hindustani was very imperfect, for the man smiled in a deprecatory way which seemed to mean that he hoped my lord would not be angry with him for not understanding his words. "take me out now," i said. salaman clapped his hands softly, and the two men i knew by sight entered at once, followed by two more whom i had not previously seen. these four, at a word from my attendant, advanced to stand two at the head, two at the foot of my couch. "tell them to be very careful how they lift me," i said; "and have some water ready in case i turn faint." for i had a painful recollection of the horrible sensation of sickness which attacked me sometimes when the doctor was moving me a little in dressing my wounded arm; and, eager as i was to go out in the open air, i could not help shrinking at the thought of being moved, so as the four men stooped i involuntarily set my teeth and shut my eyes, with a determination not to show the pain i should be in. to my astonishment and delight, instead of taking hold of me, the four men at a word softly rolled over the sides of the rug upon which my couch was made, until it was pretty close to my side, when they seized the firm roll, lifted together, and i was borne out through the open side of the tent, so lightly and with such elasticity of arm and hand, that instead of being a pain it was a pleasure, and i opened my eyes at once. i was very eager to see where i was, and what the country was like all round. in fact, i had a slight hope that i should be able to recognise some point or another, even if it were only one of the mountains. but my hopes sank at once, for as we passed from out of the shadow of the tent and into the beautiful morning sunshine i could see trees, and trees only, shutting me in on every side, the tents being pitched partly under a small banyan, or baobab tree, and standing in an irregular opening of about a couple of acres in extent, while the dense verdure rose like a wall all around. i could not help sighing with disappointment; and, at a sign from salaman, the bearers stopped while he held the cup he had taken from a stand to my lips. "no, no," i said; "not now. let them go on." he signed to the bearers, and they stepped off again all together, and the next moment almost they stopped in a delightful spot beneath the spreading boughs of a tree, where carpets were spread and pillows already so arranged that the men had only to lower down the rug they bore, and i was reclining where the soft wind blew, and flowers and fresh fruits were waiting ready to my hand. in spite of my disappointment, there was a delightful feeling of satisfaction in resting down there on the soft cushions, able to see the bright sky and drink in the fresh air which seemed a hundred times better than that which floated in through the side of the tent; and when salaman bent over me anxiously with the cup of cool water in his hand, the smile i gave him quieted his dread lest i should faint. the four men glided away into the shadow of the trees, but after a minute i saw them reappear in front and glide silently into a long, low tent, standing at a little distance from the one i had left, and beyond which i could see another. but my eyes did not rest long on the tents, for there were the glistening leaves of the trees and the clustering flowers which hung in wreaths and tangles of vines from their spreading boughs, all giving me plenty of objects of attraction without counting the brightly plumaged birds, which flitted here and there at will; while just then a flock of brilliant little parrots flew into the largest tree, and began climbing and hanging about the twigs, as if for my special recreation. i had seen such places scores of times, but they never attracted my attention so before, neither had i given much consideration to the brilliant scarlet passion flowers that dotted the edge of the forest, or the beautiful soft lilac-pink cloud of blossoms, where a bougainvillea draped a low tree. so lovely everything seemed that i felt my eyes grow moist and then half close in a dreamy ecstasy, so delicious was that silence, only broken by the cries of the birds. i must have lain there for some time, drinking in strength from the soft air, now rapidly growing warmer, when i started out of my dreamy state, for i heard a familiar sound which set my heart beating, bringing me back as it did to my position--that of a prisoner of a war so horrible that i shuddered as i recalled all i had seen and heard. the sound was coming closer fast, and hope rose like a bright gleam to chase away the clouds, as i thought it possible that the trampling i heard might be from the horses of friends; but as quickly came a sense of dread lest it might be a squadron of bloodthirsty sowars, and if so my minutes were numbered. "what folly!" i said to myself, with a sigh; "it is the rajah's escort." and a few minutes later the advance rode in through an opening among the trees at the far end, bringing the blood rushing to my heart as i recognised the long white dress of a native cavalry regiment, one that had joined the mutineers, and, as i fancied then, that which had been stationed at rajgunge. immediately after, as they drew off to right and left, the rajah himself rode in, turning his horse toward the tent, dismounting and throwing the rein to one of his escort, he was about to enter, but salaman and the four bearers stepped up salaaming profoundly, and the chief turned in my direction, to stride across the opening, with the sun flashing from the jewels and brilliant arms he wore. by the time he reached my couch, the men, horse and foot, had withdrawn, so that we were alone as he bent down, offering his hand, but without any response from me, and the smile on his handsome face died out to give way to a frown. that passed away as quickly, and with his countenance quite calm, he said in excellent english-- "not to the enemy, but to your host." "i beg your pardon, rajah," i said; and i could feel the colour coming into my cheeks as i felt how ungrateful i was to the man who had saved my life, and was sparing nothing to restore me to health. my hand was stretched out as i spoke, but it remained untouched for a few moments. "it will not be a friendly grasp," he said coldly. "indeed it will," i cried; "for you have saved those who love me from a terrible time of sorrow." "those who love you?" he said, taking my hand and holding it. "yes; mother, father, sister." "ah, yes," he said; "of course. you have friends at home in england?" "no: here," i said. he did not speak for a few moments, and still retaining my hand, sank down cross-legged on the carpet close to my pillow, gazing at me thoughtfully. then, with the smile coming back to light up his face in a way which made me forget he was a deadly enemy, he said cheerfully-- "i am glad to see this. i knew you were better, and now you must grow strong quickly." he held my hand still, and let the other glide on my arm, shaking his head the while. "this will not do," he continued. "you always were slight and boyish, but the strength has gone from your arm, and your cheeks are all sunken and white." "yes, i am very weak," i said faintly, and with a bitter feeling of misery at my helplessness. "of course. such wounds as yours would have killed many strong men. it was a terribly keen cut. the wonder is that it did not take off your arm. as it is, you nearly bled to death." "don't talk about it," i said, with a slight shudder; "it is healing now, and after lying so long thinking, i want to forget my wounds." "of course. let us talk about something else. tell me," he said gently, "do your servants attend you well?" "yes; they do everything i could wish for." "is there anything you want? i have been a long time without coming." "yes," i said; but hesitated to make the request that rose to my lips, and deferred it for the moment; "where have you been?" his eyes brightened, and he gave me a curious look. then, gravely-- "fighting." i winced, for his manner suggested that he had been successful, and i knew what that meant. "don't look like that," he said kindly. "you are a soldier, and know that only one side can win. you and yours have carried all before you for many years; it is our turn now." "but only for a little while," i said quietly. "you must be beaten in the end." "indeed!" he said, frowning, but turning it off with a laugh. "oh no; we carry everything before us now, and we shall be free once more." my brows knit, and i tried to say something, but only words which i felt would anger him seemed to come to my lips, and after watching me, he smiled. "you do not agree with me, of course?" he said. "how could you? but you did not tell me if there was anything you wanted," he continued pleasantly. i looked in his eyes, then my own wandered over him and his dress; and as he sat there by my pillow, looking every inch an eastern king, the scene once more suggested some passage out of the "arabian nights," and there was an unreality about it that closed my lips. just then my eyes rested upon the beautiful tulwar that he had drawn across his knees when he sat down. it was a magnificent weapon, such as a cunning indian or persian cutler and jeweller would devote months of his life in making; for the hilt was of richly chased silver inlaid with gold, while costly jewels were set wherever a place could be found, and the golden sheath was completely encrusted with pearls. it must have been worth a little fortune; and, while my eyes rested upon the gorgeous weapon, he smiled, and drew it nearly from the sheath, when i could see the beautifully damascened and inlaid blade, upon which there was an inscription in sanscrit characters. "there is no better nor truer steel," he said, turning it over, so that i could see the other side of the blade. "get strength back in your arm, and you could kill an enemy with that at a blow. you like it?" "it is magnificent." he quickly unfastened the splendid belt, twisted it round the weapon, and held it to me. "it is yours, then," he said. "you are weak from your wound, but you are still a soldier at heart. i give it gladly to my dear friend." "no, no," i cried excitedly, surprised now at the strength of my voice, as startled by the richness of the gift, and ashamed that he should think i wanted it, i thrust it back, and he frowned. "you refuse it?" he said. "is it not enough?" "you do not understand me," i said. "i could not take such a rich present." "not from your friend?" he cried, interrupting me. "well, yes, if he had thought of giving it to me," i said; "but you fancied i wanted it, and i did not. it was not that; it was something else." "ah," he cried eagerly, "something else. well, ask. i am very rich; i am a prince now, not your brother-officer's syce. tell me, and it is yours." i was silent, and after a few moments' thought, he continued-- "i know; it is my horse. well, i love him, but i give him gladly. he is yours. get well quickly, and you shall ride." "no, no, rajah," i cried, unable to repress a feeling of emotion at his generosity, which was indeed princely; "indeed it was not that." he looked at me gently, and said slowly-- "name what you wish;" and he passed his hand over the great emeralds and diamonds sparkling about his throat, breast, and turban. i involuntarily followed his hand as it played about the gems, conscious the while that, in spite of his gentle smile, he was watching me very keenly. "is it any or all of these?" he said. "i will give them freely to my friend." "no," i cried eagerly; "it is something greater to me than all you have offered." "and what is that?" he said, with his eyes half-closed. "give me my liberty, and let me go to my friends." he took my extended hand and held it, as he said softly-- "i have been told that some of you english are great and good. men who cannot be tempted by riches; who would not take from another any gift unless it was some little token--a ring of silver or plain gold; but i never met one before. i called you my friend; i felt from the first that you were noble and great of heart; now i know it ten times more, and i am glad. i should have given you everything i wear if it would have pleased you; but i should have felt sorry, for my friend would not have been so great as i wished." "then you will give me what i ask?" "your liberty?" he said, smiling. "my poor brave boy, you do not know what you ask." "yes," i cried. "as soon as i am strong. i am grateful, and will never think of you as an enemy; always as a friend. you will let me go?" "no," he said gravely, "i could not lose my friend." "no?" i cried passionately. "is this your friendship?" "yes," he said, holding the hand firmly which i tried to snatch away, but with a poor feeble effort. "say i gave you leave to go. where would you make for? the country is all changed. our men scour it in all directions, and your freedom would mean your death." "is this true?" i cried piteously, as his words told me that our cause was lost. "i could not lie to my friend," he said. "yes, it is true. the company's and the english queen's troops are driven back, while our rajahs and maharajahs are gathering their forces all through the land. no; i cannot give you liberty. it means sending you to your death; for i am, perhaps, the only chief in this great country who would take you by the hand and call you friend." he ceased speaking, and i lay back, feeling that his words must be true, and that hope was indeed dead now. "there," he said, "i have done. your bearers are coming. i will go now, and return soon. come, you are a soldier, and must not repine at your fate. give me your hand, and accept your fall as a soldier should. rest and be patient. good-bye, more than ever my friend." i believe i pressed his hand in return as he held it in his, and laid his left upon my brow, smiling down at me. then in a low whisper he said, as softly as a woman could have spoken-- "you are weak, and need sleep." he drew his hand over my eyes, and they closed at his touch, a feeling of exhaustion made me yield, my will seeming to be gone, and when i opened them again, salaman was kneeling by me, waiting with two of the attendants standing near holding trays of food. "have i been asleep?" i said. "yes, my lord. long hours." "and the rajah? did he come, or was it a dream?" i added to myself. "the great rajah came, and went while my lord slept. it is time he ate and drank, for he is still weak." "yes," i replied, as i recalled all that had passed--"so weak, so very weak, that this man seems to master even my very will." chapter thirty three. the doctor came the next day, and did not seem satisfied; the fact being that, on awakening, my mind was all on the fret. for i was always face to face with the thought of what had become of my mother and sister at nussoor. of course i sorrowed, too, about my father's fate; but i was not so anxious about him. he was a soldier, with some hundreds of trusty englishmen at his back, and i knew that he would be ready to meet any difficulties. then there was brace to fidget about, and my other friends of the troop. i wanted to know whether they had been scattered, as ny deen had assured me, and whether the english rule really was coming to an end. "he thinks so," i said; "but i will not believe it yet." then i worried about being a prisoner, and with no prospect of getting free. it was very pleasant to be waited on, and treated as the rajah's friend, and there were times when i almost wondered at myself for refusing the costly gifts he had offered. but i soon ceased wondering, and began to feel that jewelled swords and magnificent horses were worthless to one who was a prisoner. the days passed drearily by in spite of bright sunshine and breezes and delicious fruits, with every attention a convalescent could wish for. by degrees i reached the stage when i was borne out through the shady edge of the forest in a palanquin, plenty of bearers being forthcoming when needed, and then disappearing again, leaving me wondering whence they came, and how far away the rajah's principal city might be. everything i asked for was obtained directly; but i was a prisoner, and not the slightest information could i get. the only inkling i had of my whereabouts was obtained one day when i was being borne along in the shade by my bearers, with salaman at my side. they halted at the edge of what was almost a precipice, to give me a view through an opening of a far-spreading plain at a considerable depth below; and this taught me at once that i had been placed, of course by the rajah's command, in the shady forest somewhere on a mountain slope, where the air was comparatively cool, and where i was far more likely to recover than in some crowded city in the broiling plains. that was all that the view down the precipitous slope taught me. i could not recognise a single landmark, and returned to my prison-tent as low-spirited as ever. it must have been a day or two after, when i was making my first essays in walking, that, unexpectedly as usual, the rajah came riding in among the trees quite alone, and as he drew rein, smiling, close to where i was standing, i could not help envying him the strength and ease with which he managed his splendid charger. he was quite simply dressed on this occasion, and his appearance indicated that he must have ridden far. as we shook hands, i was wondering that he should have come without any escort, but just then i heard the snort of a horse at some distance, which made the beautiful arab by my side throw up his head and challenge loudly, when two more horses answered, and i felt that i had been premature in thinking the country so peaceful and free from troops that the rajah could ride alone. he swung himself down, and a man sprang forward to lead away the horse, while, taking my arm, the rajah led me to the cushioned carpets spread beneath the tree, looking at me smilingly the while. "come," he said; "this is better; up and walking. you look different, too. why, i might venture to send your horse over for you to try and mount, but not yet." "why not yet?" i said, as we sat down among the cushions. "for several reasons," he replied, smiling at me. "i want to see you stronger." "but i think i could mount now; and, at a gentle walk, the exercise would do me good." "perhaps," he said; "but we must see." he clapped his hands, and salaman glided up. "bring coffee and a pipe," he said. salaman bowed and retired. "i have ridden far," he said to me, "and am tired." "tell me about the state of the country," i said eagerly, after we had sat some moments in silence. "it is not peaceful yet," he replied. "the english are making a little struggle here and there. they do not like to give up the land they have held so long." we were silent again, and salaman and the two servants i had seen most often, came up, bearing a tray with coffee, a long snake pipe, and a little pan of burning charcoal. a minute after the pipe was lit, and the great amber mouthpiece handed to the rajah, who took it after sipping his coffee, and the men retired as he began to smoke, gazing at me the while. "it is useless," he said at last. "a lost cause." i sat frowning and thinking that he did not understand englishmen yet, or he would not talk of our cause being lost. "well," he said at last, "i am very glad to see you getting so strong. in another fortnight you will be well enough to come back to the city." "what city?" i asked. "mine. to my palace," he replied proudly; but he turned off his haughty manner directly, and continued. "i have had rooms set apart for you, and a certain number of servants, so that you will be quite free, and not dependent upon me." "free!" i cried, catching that one word; it had such a delightful ring. "then you will let me go as soon as i have visited you at your palace." "to be cut down--slain, after i have taken such pains to save your life?" he said, with a smile. "oh, i am very grateful for all that," i cried hastily; "but you must feel that even if they are unfortunate, my place is with my own people." "no," he said quietly, as he went on smoking and gazing straight away at the densely foliaged trees. "i cannot feel that. for i know that it would be folly for you to return to meet your death. it would be impossible for you to get across the plains to the nearest place where your people are trying to hold out. even if you could get there, the army besieging them would take you, and no one there could save your life." "let me try," i said. he shook his head. "it would be madness. if i let you have your horse now, you would try some such folly." "you call it a folly," i replied. "i call it my duty." "to rush on your death? look here, my friend; why do you want to get back? to take up your old position as a junior officer?" "yes, of course!" "i thought so," he said, with animation, and his eyes flashed as he went on. "you are young and ardent. you wish to rise and become the chief of a troop of artillery?" "of course," i said. "and some day a general, to command others?" "i hope so--a long way ahead," i replied, smiling. "of course. i knew it," he said, as he let fall the tube of his pipe, and grasped my arm. "it would be long years before you could command a troop?" "oh yes--long, long years." "and you would be quite an old man before you became a general?" "perhaps never," i said, wondering at his eagerness, and yet feeling something akin to a suspicion of his aim. "then why wish to go?" he said, with a smile. "why wish to go?" i replied. "i do not understand you." "i say, why wish to go and compete with hundreds of others who would not understand you, and any one of whom might carry off the prize--when you can stay with me?" "stay with you! what for?" i faltered. "i will make you a general, now--at once," he said excitedly, "and ten thousand men shall bend down before their moslem rajah's friend, who, from this time forward, will lead and direct my artillery." "rajah!" i exclaimed, surprised but not surprised, for i had half expected some such proposal, but of course only in a very minor form. "look here, vincent," he continued, bending forward, and speaking excitedly. "when i came to your barracks as a humble syce, it was to learn everything about your guns, and the way in which the horse artillery was trained. in those days, beaten, kicked, trampled upon, i always had you in my mind, and i watched you, how quick, how clever, and how brave you were. my heart warmed to you even then; but as i have grown to know you better and seen what you are in the field in action with your men, i have said again and again that there could be no one better for my trusted friend and general." i laughed, though a curious feeling came over me that the man who would make me such a proposal must be mad. "why do you laugh?" he said. "are you pleased at what i propose?" "pleased? no," i said frankly. "you are laughing at me--making fun of me." he frowned. "is it so trifling a thing, that i should laugh over it?" "no, it is not a trifling matter; but it seems to be trifling with me to propose such a thing. you cannot be in earnest." "i am in earnest, and it is wise," he said sternly. "but it is an appointment for an old, experienced man, and i suppose that i am a mere boy." "the great company thought you old enough to take charge of their guns," he said gravely. "yes, but with older officers over me." "well; i shall be over you; but you will have full charge of all my cannons. you understand them thoroughly." "of course i know a little about them." "little!" he cried. "it is magnificent. have i not seen you often? did i not see you carry them off after i had captured them, and was training my men? but slowly--oh, so slowly." "you forget that i was only a junior officer acting under my captain's orders. it is nonsense, and you are saying all this to make me vain, to flatter me." "i never stoop to flatter," he said coldly. "it is the truth. yes, you are young, but you will soon grow older and more experienced, and train my men till they have all the speed of yours. do you tell me that you could not drill and teach my soldiers?" "oh no, i do not tell you that," i said frankly, "because i could." "yes; of course you could, and it will be a proud position for you." "what! as a british officer in the service of a rajah?" "yes; i could tell you of a dozen cases where an english soldier has drilled his master's forces as you will drill them, for i must have large troops of horse artillery like you had. you shall be in command." i looked hard at him, for even then i felt that he must be joking with me, the proposal seemed to be so out of all reason, and i had so small an estimate of my own powers, that there were moments when i felt ready to laugh, and felt sure that if brace, serious as he was, had heard it, he would have burst into a hearty fit of mirth. but the rajah's face was grave and stern, and his words were full of the calm conviction that i was the very person to take the command of his men and train them as he wished. as he sat gazing at me, waiting for me to accept his proposal, i tried to treat it in all seriousness, as if quietly discussing the matter with him. "do i understand you rightly?" i said; "that you wish me to be your chief artillery officer?" "yes, that is it," he said, "to arrange everything, and above all to get up as quickly as possible three or four troops of horse artillery. you know exactly how it should be done, and could teach the men till they were as quick and dashing as your own." "it would require englishmen then," i thought, for i could not see that it was possible with indians. "would it take very long?" he said. "you could start with men from the cavalry, and so only have to teach them gun-drill." "yes, it would take very long," i said. "never mind; they would get better every day. i should be satisfied, for i know what you can do." "why do you wish to have these troops?" i said, more for the sake of keeping back my reply than for anything else. "why? to make me strong," he cried excitedly. "with men like that, and the quick-firing guns, i shall be more powerful than any of the rajahs near. but you hesitate; you do not say yes." i looked at him sadly. "come," he continued, "at your age there should not be any hanging back. have you thought what it means?" "you have taken me so by surprise," i replied. "oh yes; but can you not see that i make you at once a great man? one whom i trust in everything, and who will be next in my country to myself? come, speak. you will accept?" his eyes were fixed upon me searchingly, and i felt that i must speak now, though i trembled for the effect my words would have upon such a determined, relentless man, accustomed to have his will in all things. "there are plenty of men more suited to the task than i am," i said with a last attempt to put off the final words. "where?" he said, coldly. "bring me a thousand older and more experienced than you, and i should refuse them all." "why?" "because i like and trust you, and know that you would be faithful." "then," i cried, snatching at the chance of escape, "if you knew i should be faithful, why did you propose such a thing?" "i do not understand you," he said coldly. "i am one of the company's officers, sworn to be true to my duties. how can i break my oath? i should be a traitor, and worthy of death." "you have been faithful," he said quietly. "i knew you would say that. but the tie is broken now." "no; not while i am in their service." "you are no longer in their service," he said, watching me intently the while. "the great company is dead; its troops are defeated, scattered, and in a short time there will hardly be a white man left in the land over which they have tyrannised so long." i sank back staring at him wildly, for his words carried conviction, and setting aside the horrors that such a state of affairs suggested, and the terrible degradation for england, i began thinking of myself cut off from all i knew, separated from my people, perhaps for ever, asked to identify myself with the enemies of my country--become, in short, a renegade. "it sounds terrible to you," he said gravely; "but you must accept it, and be content. it is your fate." "no," i cried passionately, "it is impossible. i cannot." "why?" he said coldly. "have i not promised you enough?" "yes, more than enough," i cried; and nerved myself with recollections of all my old teachings, and my duty as an officer and a gentleman. "it is not a question of rewards, but of honour. you ask me to train your men, who have risen up against their rulers, to fight against my people." "no," he said; "your people are conquered. it is more to strengthen me against those who will be jealous of my power--to make me strong." "oh, i could do that." "then you accept?" he said eagerly. "no; i could not, unless it was by the command of those whose commission i hold." "wait. think about it," he said gravely, as he rose with an impatient gesture, and a heavy frown upon his brow. but it passed off quickly, and he turned and offered me his hand. "good-bye," he said quietly. "i am not angry; i like you the more. if you had said `yes' quickly, and been dazzled by the thoughts of becoming a great officer, with show, and grand horses, and attendants, i should have shrunk within myself, and said, `you are wrong. he is only mean and vain like others. he is not worthy of your trust.' i know now that you are worthy, and you must come to me and be more than friend--my brother and chief counsellor. for i mean to be great among my people here, and raise up a grand nation from those who have been trampled down so long. this is a mighty country, vincent, and should be ruled over by one who can make himself great." he shook hands and left the shelter of the tree, while as he stepped out into the sunshine the man who had been holding his horse ran forward quickly as if he had been on the watch, and the rajah mounted and rode away, the trampling i heard directly after telling my educated ears that he must have a pretty good escort after all. chapter thirty four. i went back to my tent directly after, glad to lie down and think of my position, and to try and work out some course to follow when the rajah came back, as i felt convinced he would in a very few days. i felt that he must like me. his manners proved that; but the liking might be very shallow, while beneath it all the reasons--the true reasons--were very deep. this, then, was why he had brought me here, and had me so carefully nursed back to life. it was because i was young, and could easily weld myself into the life of those about me, and with my knowledge, and whatever adaptability and knowledge i possessed as a gunner, i was to be henceforth devoted to his service--to use his expression--to make him strong. i don't think i was vain, for my thoughts had agreed here, as i said to myself that i was clever as an artilleryman. no, it was not vanity, for i was strong in my drill, for the simple reason that i was ready to ride anywhere at anything, when i joined, and because i was so devoted to my profession, and thoroughly gloried in keeping those with whom i had to do perfect in every evolution they had to perform. and as i lay there--a mere boy, suddenly called upon to undertake such a tremendous task, i calmly said to myself-- "yes; i suppose i could drill up a lot of his men, who can ride, into decent gunners in time; and it would be very pleasant to be a great man, and the rajah's favourite; but it is impossible. i could not undertake it. i should deserve to have the lace stripped from my uniform before all the men, and then to be kicked out of the service. "what shall i do?" i said, as i lay there. "he will try first to persuade me; then he will threaten, in spite of his smooth way, for he can be fierce enough, that's plain. if he does, shall i have strength enough to hold out, and refuse to promise; or shall i, at last, quite in despair, give way and act as he wishes?" i lay, going over it all, for a long while, and at last came to the despairing conclusion that there was only one way out of the difficulty, for, in my position, i doubted my powers of holding out--only one way, and that was to escape. this idea roused me for a few minutes, but i felt despondent again very soon, as i recalled all that he had said about the white man being driven from the land; and i asked myself, as i thought of escaping, "where to?" hope came directly after, and i knew enough of the eastern character to say that these people exaggerated and talked in flowery language; and why should not the rajah, ny deen, be acting in the same way? "it isn't true," i said half aloud. "he thinks it is, or wishes it may be; but england will not give up like that. she is too strong, and has too much at stake. he cannot tell. for aught he knows, poor brace may be a few miles away with our brave lads ready to knock his palace about his ears, and make him prisoner in turn." i was just thinking that i should not like him to be made prisoner in turn, for i knew that it meant death, and i was beginning to plan how i should set about making my escape as soon as i felt sufficiently strong, when the heat and my weakness combined to send me off into a heavy sleep, one of the many that i indulged in during those days, not from idleness, for i suppose it was natural while my nerves and muscles were slowly building themselves up once more. chapter thirty five. i worried and fretted a great deal about that proposal of the rajah's, but i firmly declared that it was quite impossible, however tempting to my vanity. how could i become officer over a set of cowardly, mutinous, murderous scoundrels, even if i had been set free to undertake the task; and in my most bitter times i told myself that i would far rather turn the guns upon such a crew than teach them to work them. i fully expected the rajah to come to me the next day, but he did not, and a week had gone by, during which time, although i was growing stronger, it was not so fast as it would have been had i felt free. and then came a night when i was very low indeed. the monotony of my life in that solitary place affected my spirits terribly. they were already weak enough, consequent upon my hurts; but that time i was so depressed that i prayed that the rajah might not come, lest i should accept his proposal as a means of escape from a life which, in spite of the constant attention i received, had grown unbearable. it made me so irritable to the attendants that they shrank from coming near more often than they could help, and i saw salaman look at me sometimes as if he thought that i should develop into a tyrant also, or would be a danger to those who served. "i know what it is," i muttered to myself that night. "he is waiting on purpose so as to catch me in some weak moment, when i am utterly tired out of this wretched prison, and ready to say yes." my wretched prison, be it remembered, was a luxurious tent, with men who were like so many slaves about me ready to obey my slightest wish; but i was miserable, of course, all the same. it had grown dark rapidly that evening, and there was a curious sensation of heat in the air, great puffs coming as if from off heated metal. then there were distant flashes of lightning, and faint mutterings which i knew portended a storm; and, as it drew near, i felt a kind of satisfaction in wishing that it would be very bad, for i was just in the frame of mind, no doubt from being weak and easily affected by the electricity in the atmosphere, to welcome anything for a change. "i hope it will come a regular roarer," i said to myself as i lay on my back with my wounds aching, and the faint blue of the lightning making my lamp look dim. "wish it would blow the tents all down, and scare the black scoundrels right away." a sensible wish, for in my weak state it meant exposure, a drenching, and probably a feverish attack; but i was in an unreasoning fit, and ready for anything absurd just then. after a time, there was the rush of wind through the trees, and the side of the tent flapped like a filling sail on board ship. "it's coming," i said, with a laugh; and then i thought of the torrents of rain that would now begin to fall, and called to mind that twice over there had been very heavy rains, but that the double canvas roof had turned it all away. then there was a lull, followed by a pattering of rain, and i heard the men go round and tighten the cords, while salaman came in and secured the tent door, pausing to ask me if he should bring me anything, but i was too ill-tempered to answer him, and i suppose he thought i was asleep, for he went out very softly. then, with a rush, down came the storm, with the water rushing in sheets, and beating against the tent, off which i could hear it streaming, while it was lit up almost constantly by the blue glare of the lightning. next came the thunder, deafening roar after roar, to which i listened with satisfaction, for it was a change. but the change soon grew as monotonous as my prison life. the rain poured down, there were fierce rushes of wind, blinding flashes of lightning, and deafening peals of thunder; but the tents were not blown down, they were too well sheltered by the huge trees around, and as the rain brought a feeling of coolness, i began to grow more sensible, and to feel glad that no catastrophe had happened. i must have dropped asleep, to wake up with a start and the recollection of my visitation from the serpents. i could see nothing, and my heart seemed to cease beating as i recalled the habits of the creatures, how, drowned out of their holes by such a storm, they would seek shelter in houses, and here was one wet, cold creature with its head playing over my face, and from there gliding down my arm to my hand, which it seized, the jaws closing upon my fingers while i lay, unable in my horror to call for help. then my confusion and horror mingled passed off, and a curious sensation of exultation came over me, for it was all fancy about the serpent. the lamp was out, the tent in total darkness, and that which i had felt was a hand gliding over my face, and from thence to my hand, into which it had pressed something. at that moment i heard a rustling to my left, and sounds to my right, the tent door was thrown open, and i could just make out the figure of salaman, as he uttered an ejaculation at the darkness, and hurried across to the stand, where he paused to strike a light, the lamp having by some accident gone out. the light of the match he had struck illuminated the tent, and i glanced sharply round, but no one else was visible; and as i lay wondering, and ready to believe it all fancy, there was what felt like a note crushed in my hand, and salaman was busy about the tent. "is my lord asleep?" he said softly. "no," i replied. "when my lord wishes the lamp to be turned out, so that he may look at the lightning, if he calls his servant will come." "yes; thank you," i said. and then i lay thinking, my heart thumping heavily the while. somebody--a friend, then--had crept into the tent and turned out the lamp, before trying to give me the note. but was it a note? it felt like it, as i held it tightly in my hand, longing now for the man to go, but afraid to say a word to send him away, for fear i should raise his suspicions in the slightest degree, and induce him to rouse his companions and watch, or go round the tent at a time when i felt sure that the bearer of the note was hiding just outside. oh, how long it seemed, and what a number of petty, trifling little things salaman did before he moved toward the doorway of the tent! i do not think he did more than was his custom; but this time i fancied he suspected something wrong, and was watching me. i was quite right. he was watching me intently; and i turned hot and trembled, for it would be horrible, i felt, if help was near, to have it discovered by this man, who was thoroughly devoted to the rajah's interests, and who would, i felt sure, have to answer with his head if i escaped through his neglect. he came nearer to me, and i was afraid he would read the anxiety in my face; and yet i dared not turn it round and away from him, for fear of making him suspect me more, so i lay gazing straight at him. "would my lord like a cool drink?" he asked. "no," i replied; "not now." "my lord's voice is changed!" he cried excitedly. "he is not worse?" "oh no;--better," i said. "but my lord speaks strangely--as he did that night when the serpent crawled into the room. he has not been alarmed? yes, i know--by the terrible storm." "think--think it was that?" i faltered. "yes, my lord," he said eagerly; "but it is gone now. can i get anything for my lord?" "no; not now," i said. and at last he left the tent. i was lord and master, according to salaman; but i felt quite a slave as i lay there, afraid to move lest he should come back. and as i listened, i heard him go round the tent to try all the ropes, two others being with him, as i judged by the voices. while they went quietly round, i listened with eager ear, fully expecting some alarm to be raised, and my messenger, whoever he was, to be discovered. but i heard the men go right round, and return to their own tent; and then, as soon as i felt it to be safe, i crawled from my couch and made my way to the lamp, trembling with eagerness to read the message that had been sent, i hoped, by brace. the paper was a mere scrap doubled up quite small, and, as i opened it, and held it close to the light, my eyes fell on these characters, scrawled in a very feeble hand, with some kind of pencil which left a very uncertain mark-- there were faint traces of similar lines above and below, but they were so rubbed as to be undecipherable; while, as to the above, fancy my chagrin and disappointment as i turned the paper over, then back, and scanned the crabbed shorthand-like characters over and over again, but only to grow more and more confused, for i could make no sense of it whatever. even if the upper and lower lines had been plain, i am afraid that i should have been no wiser. certainly i had gone through a long study of the eastern languages, and this bore a strong resemblance to some of the characters; but what it meant, i had no more idea than a babe. i remained by the lamp, puzzling over that scrap of paper till my brain began to swim; and at last, wearied out, and in utter despair, i went back to my couch and threw myself down, to lie and think. and all the time i knew that this might be a message bidding me be quite ready, for an effort was to be made, perhaps that very night, to rescue me and restore me to my friends. that it must be something of the kind, i had no doubt; but how foolish it seemed to be of brace to trust another to write his message! he might have anticipated that it would be badly written. but perhaps it was not brace's doing, and it might be a communication from some friendly chief. at any rate, i could not make it out, and there was nothing to be done but keep on the _qui vive_, and wait for what was to come. for that something would result from the missive i was sure, but what it would be i could only imagine; and my mind played strange pranks, possibly because i was still so weak. chapter thirty six. the rajah came upon me suddenly the next day, just when i was most disturbed, and had been lying down here and there, poring over that note with the strange characters till my head ached, and yet i was no nearer a solution. it was, i knew, a warning to be ready to escape, or to tell me that my friends were near, but not a bit nearer could i get. i was under the big tree, still puzzling it out, and abusing the brandscombe professors for not teaching me better, and making me able to decide whether this was modern hindustani, sanscrit, or persian. i felt that i ought to know, but not a word could i make out, so as to be sure, when all at once i heard the familiar trampling of horses in the distance, and hurriedly thrust the scrap of paper into my pocket, before leisurely changing my position; for i always felt that some one was watching me. this was a fact; for whenever salaman was off that duty, one or other of his men took it up, though, to do them justice, it was as much to be on the alert to see whether i wanted anything as to mind that i did not escape. there was a good deal more noise and jingling of accoutrements this time; and as i listened eagerly, but assuming perfect unconcern, the trampling increased to such an extent that, from thinking first that it was a troop which formed the rajah's escort, my estimate rose to a squadron, a regiment, two regiments; and then i gave it up, wondering and in doubt whether my captor had come to make one of his calls. at this i began to feel a little excited. perhaps this was, after all, the meaning of the message i had received, and friends were coming. this idea was strengthened by a show of excitement among my attendants, who were hurrying here and there. but it was an excitement which calmed down directly, for they stood ready to receive the visitor, who was preceded by a party of about a dozen fierce-looking mounted men on splendid horses. they were well set up military-looking fellows, fully armed, and having lances, but were evidently not ordinary soldiers, their turbans being of rich stuff, and one and all wearing handsome shawls. they formed up on either side of the opening among the trees, through which they had ridden, reining back their horses so as to allow room for their leader to ride into the place; and as he cantered quickly in, and threw himself lightly from his horse, i stared at him in amazement, he looked such a magnificent object glittering in the sun. upon one other occasion he had been splendidly dressed, and the precious stones he wore must have been of great value; but now the display was wonderful, and at every movement the rays of light flashed from him, and i could not help thinking that he must be a prince of vast wealth. directly after, though, it struck me that all this show was to impress me, and i smiled to myself as i thought that he could not have chosen a worse time for trying to convert me. for the piece of paper was within touch, and, though i could not read it, i felt sure that it meant help and freedom. he dismissed his followers before coming up to me smiling, and as i advanced to meet him i could not, suspicious as i was, doubt for a moment the look of pleasure that came into his face as he took my hand and held it firmly. "hah!" he cried; "this is more like my young officer. what a great change for the better! you feel much stronger?" "oh yes," i said. "i think i could ride now." "i am sure you could--a little; but you must not try much yet. we must not have the wound reopened by too much exertion. let us sit down. it is hot." we went to the temporary divan beneath the tree, and as soon as he was seated he said, smiling-- "it is time you dressed better, more like my officer. you must not play the sick man any longer." my cheeks felt a little warm for the moment. up to that time i had not given a thought to my costume, which was simple--a shirt and trousers, the former clean and white enough, thanks to salaman; but i must have looked a very pitiable object by the side of the gorgeous prince at my side. he was keen-witted enough to see the effect of his words, and he laid his hand on my arm. "it is not this i mind," he said quietly. "i do not judge one by his dress. i know you; but i want to see my friend, who is henceforth to be a great chief, held in reverence by the people. my subjects are not like your english, who care so little for show; they judge a man by his appearance." "yes; i know that," i said, warming toward him, for his words were kindly meant. "i don't care for all these that i wear. they are tiresome, hot, and in the way. but i am the maharajah, and if i did not impress my subjects by my dress and grandeur, as well as by the strength of my arm and the sharpness of my sword, they would despise me." "i can quite understand that," i said eagerly; for i was anxious to keep him conversing about everything but the one subject which i feared. "well," he said gravely, "have you no questions to ask--about your fellow-countrymen?" "no," i said. "that is right. i am glad you are growing so wise and sensible. it is useless to regret the past. they had their reign. they are conquered, and all is at an end." i crushed the paper in my pocket with almost feverish joy. "and now," he continued, "i hope that a brighter and better day is rising for my land." i looked at him, and saw that his face was lighted up, and that he was in thorough earnest. "but we'll talk about that another time, gil," he said. i stared at this familiar usage of my name, and he smiled. "yes, gil," he said; "my friend gil, who will be my counsellor, and help me to rule over my people with strength and justice." "but--" "no, no," he said; "don't speak yet. you are going to decide hastily, and a great judge is slow, and thinks much before he speaks. we were talking about your dress. i did think of taking you back with me to my city." "no, no," i cried excitedly, and completely thrown off my guard; "not yet." i felt that i had made a mistake, for i saw his eyes flash, and a curious watchful look in his face. "very well," he said; "there is no need for haste. you find that you are steadily growing strong up here?" "yes; fast," i replied. "it is cooler than it would be in a town." "quite right. then i will not hurry you away to-day. perhaps to-morrow. let us talk about your dress. i want you to help me think out a suitable uniform for my gun regiment. not like yours. it is too hot and wearisome for the men. the helmet is too heavy, and shines too much. what do you think of a little steel cap, something like mine, with a white puggaree round it, and a little plume in front?" "it would be excellent," i said. he looked pleased. "then a white tunic, with gold binding across the chest. light, not heavy, like yours." "that would be quite right," i said. "and then they shall wear boots like your men. they are heavy, but a man rides so much better in boots." "yes; you are quite correct," i said eagerly. "it gives him firmness in the saddle, and he never notices their weight. the tunic, too, should be fairly loose and light, so that the men have perfect freedom for their arms. our lads were too tightly trussed up, and stiff. a man wants to be so that every muscle is free to play." "quite right," he said; and in imagination i saw a troop of men uniformed as he proposed, and thought how admirably suited the dress would be. "then, for their arms," he continued, "a long light lance, without pennon." "nonsense!" i cried. "they must not carry lances." "well, then," he continued, "short guns--carbines." "no, no," i said impetuously, for he had led me on so that i was thoroughly interested. "the carbine would only be in the men's way." "ah! what, then--pistol?" "no," i said; "artillerymen want no pistols. they have their guns, which can deal with their enemies a mile away." "then you would not give them any arms but the cannon?" "yes," i cried, "certainly; swords." "ah, yes; swords," he said quietly; "like your men had." "no!" i said emphatically; "not those heavy, clumsy, blunt sabres, but well-made, keen-edged cutting and thrusting swords, something like your tulwars, but with a better hilt and grip. i would make the men perfect with their blades--thorough swordsmen. let them use them well, and be clever with their guns; that is all that a horse artilleryman needs-- except, of course, the power to ride anywhere at full speed, and stop at nothing." "but i like the lance," said the rajah, thoughtfully. "it is a grand weapon well managed." "of course," i said; "but you must keep that for your light horse regiment; well trained, mounted, and officered, they would be a most valuable force." "i think you are right," he said thoughtfully. "i am sure i am," i cried. "the mounted artilleryman must be light and active, a good horseman, perfectly daring; and as to the dress, such a one as you proposed might be made to look smart and handsome, while it gave the men freedom to move." "yes," he said thoughtfully; "and the officers' uniforms might be made very striking with gold ornaments and silver caps." i was silent, for it had suddenly occurred to me that i had allowed my enthusiasm for military matters to carry me away. he smiled. "it is of no use to draw back," he said; "your heart is in it, and you know that you must accept the position." "must?" i said sharply. "oh, we will not talk about `must,'" he replied, laughing; "we are friends, and you have been showing me what a thorough soldier you are, with bright original thoughts of your own. why, even if you could go back to your people, you would never have such an opportunity as this. gil, you must make me an army that shall carry everything before it." "no," i said gravely; "it is impossible." he frowned slightly, but his face was calm directly. "oh no, it is not impossible; you have shown me that your heart is in it, but you naturally shrink from so great a work, and feel, too, that you must not forsake your people. but it will not be so. if anything, they will have forsaken you. come, gil," he continued, with a smile, "you have held out as you should, but it is now time to give way, and take my hand, meaning to be my faithful friend and follower to the last." "no," i said firmly, "i cannot." "suppose i tell you that you must?" he said. "it would make no difference," i replied. "i must do my duty as a soldier." "you have done it, boy. now come and do your duty by me." i shook my head. "it is of no use for you to try and tempt me," i said. "i am not tempting you, only trying to show you that your fate has thrown you with me, and that you can do good here." "as a renegade," i said hotly. "no," he rejoined; "i have not asked you to change your religion. but we will say no more to-day. you are angry, and an angry man makes more. i should be sorry to say harsh things to one who is weak, and whom i have made my friend." he smiled, and held out his hand. "i must go, gil," he said. "i have much to do. i have to fight with enemies, and to see to the ruling of my house. i could sit down and let things go, but i wish mine to be a country of which a man may be proud, and that means work for us." i made no reply, and he looked at me gravely. "good-bye; i am not angry. you are behaving very well, boy. i respect and esteem you the more. but be reasonable; try and see what is before you, and do not trifle with the great opportunity of your life." he nodded pleasantly to me, and we walked on together to where his horse had been led. "i will send you some clothes," he said. "i cannot send you an english uniform; but, whenever you like, men shall come to make that of my horse artillery according to your wish." i made a quick gesture. "when you like," he said quietly. "i am not hurrying you, for you're still too weak. when would you like your horse?" "directly," i said, so eagerly that he smiled. "to try and escape," he said sadly. i started and drew back. "yes," i said firmly. "i shall try to escape, and as soon as i possibly can." he held out his hand again, and i gave mine reluctantly to be held in a firm grip. "you make me like you, gil," he said, "even when you cause me most anger. i like that; it is so frank and honest. you must come to me. i shall never meet with another whom i can trust as i do you." i shook my head, but he smiled. "it is your fate," he said. "now come and see some of my men. they are drawn up outside. you shall see then what stuff there is for making good regiments when you begin." he glanced at my dress and saw that i noted it. "it does not matter," he said; "you are my friend. they will not think of your dress. englishmen are careless, and do not mind how they look. come." i hesitated, but his will was stronger than mine, and i gave way, following him through the opening, and passing the twelve fierce-looking troopers who had formed the advance, and one of the men who was holding the beautiful arab, which looked so perfect in its rich trappings that, lover of a horse as i was, i could not help going up to caress it, and pat its graceful arched neck, and pass my hand over its velvety nose. "mount," said the rajah, who had followed me. "you will like his paces." "you wish it?" i said eagerly. "and so do you," he said, smiling. "mount; and as a gentleman, i ask you to remember your honour to your host. you will not run away. it would be useless. you would surely be captured again." "i give you my word," i said coldly. "then mount." i hesitated for a moment or two, and then mounted, for a thrill of delight to run through me as i felt the quivering muscles of the beautiful beast, and its eagerness to be off. "now try a short canter," he said; and at a touch the graceful, thoroughly docile beast moved off, and my pulses began to bound as the wind played round my cheeks; for it was glorious. there was the open country before me, and i had but to slacken the rein, and the spirited arab would have borne me off, far beyond pursuit; but i had given my word, and i turned just as we were increasing our speed, and i saw that the rajah was watching me intently. "wondering whether he can trust me," i said to myself, as we rapidly approached. then, all at once, i found that i had overtaxed my strength. there was a curious mistiness before my eyes which blotted out the rajah and his men, and two companies of troops which i saw off to my left. then i felt that i was falling, and made a clutch or two at vacancy. the next moment my sound arm was caught in a strong grip, and i heard the rajah's voice say-- "help him down. too ill and weak yet for so much exertion." then all was blank, and when i came to, the doctor was with me. "only beginning a little too soon," he said pleasantly. "it takes long to grow strong." he left me after a short time to the care of salaman, from whom i learned that the rajah had been very anxious about me, and had given orders that every care was to be taken, and that i was to be told how sorry he was that he could not stay. "i am glad he is gone," i said to myself; and then i turned cold with the thought which struck me. "suppose my note had been found!" for a few moments i was afraid to try whether it was still where i had placed it, lest it should have been taken; but in thrusting my hand down into my pocket, there it was quite safe, and i drew a long deep breath full of satisfaction. for though i could not make it out, the rajah or the doctor would probably have guessed its meaning in an instant. as i lay there i half determined to destroy it at once, but i gave up the idea, thinking that perhaps, after all, i might yet read it with ease. "did the rajah say when he was coming again?" i said to salaman, as he was about to go. "no, my lord; he--" "don't say `my lord' to me," i cried pettishly. "i am only an english officer." salaman smiled. "i will obey in everything; but you are his highness's greatest friend, and he said i was to treat you as if you were his brother. how can i call you less than `my lord'?" "well, what did he say?" "that he would be back soon, and that i was to make you strong enough to ride away with him upon your horse." chapter thirty seven. that night passed away slowly as i lay listening, expecting at any moment to have some visitation before morning, and three times over i heard faint footsteps outside the tent, but they only proved to be those of my watchful attendants; and once more, sick at heart, i began to think that my case was hopeless, because i had not grasped the meaning of the message, which, for aught i knew, might mean that i was to leave my tent as soon as it was dark, to trust my would-be rescuers. the next night i determined to put this plan in force; and soon after dark i left the tent, and began to stroll up and down, as if enjoying the cool night air, ending by walking slowly, straight for the opening by which the rajah always entered the forest glade. i was just thinking that i had nothing to do but quietly walk away at any time i chose, when i suddenly came upon a white-robed figure, bearing shield and naked sword. the sentry was standing directly in my way, but he moved instantly to let me pass, and, so as not to excite suspicion by showing any alarm, i walked on by him; but the next minute there was another armed sentry just ahead, and on glancing back, there, dimly seen, was the first sentry, and with him another man, who i fancied was salaman. "hopeless," i thought to myself; and after walking as far as the second sentry, i quietly turned and began to walk slowly back, coming directly upon salaman, who, i now saw, was armed with curved sword and shield like the others. he drew half to one side of the path, the first sentry to the other, for me to pass between them. "a fine night, salaman," i said. he salaamed at my condescension, and i went on. "there's no occasion to attend upon me so closely." "my lord must forgive his servant, but there is need. my lord is weak and unarmed, and there are tigers sometimes in the forest. should one spring upon my lord, i should pray that he would then spring upon me, for i could never face his highness again. hark! that is six times i have heard one cry these last few days. and there are budmashes, too, journeying about, evil men who have been robbing and murdering after the fights. if they saw my lord's white face, they would fall upon him, and then when his highness came and said, `where is my lord?' how could i face his fierce wrath?" i made no reply, but strolled back to the wide opening in front of my tent, passed it, and found myself face to face with another sentry, to whom i paid not the slightest heed, but bore off to the right, to find another and another. after this, pretty well satisfied that i was well guarded, and seeing here the reason why i had had no visitor again, i returned to my tent, encountering salaman on the way. "why, salaman," i said, "you keep pretty good guard." "it is his highness's orders, my lord." "how many men have you on sentry?" "twenty, my lord; and there are forty in the guard-tent, waiting to go on duty in turn." "what?" i cried. "i thought you only had about six men here." "only six by day, my lord; these others march over every night to go on duty." "then there is no one on guard in the day?" "oh yes, my lord; but they are mounted men with lances; they watch the roads here for a mile round." i went into the tent, just as a low distant cry told of the proximity of a tiger somewhere on the border of the forest. i was vexed with myself, for my conduct was, i felt, so transparent that my guardian must be sure to see that i was meditating escape. "how carefully he guards me!" i thought, as i threw myself on my couch. "no wonder the bearer of the letter has not been here again." and there i lay thinking of my position--of the rajah's offer, and, tempting as it seemed, the more i thought, the more i felt how impossible it was to turn from my duty as an english officer, to become the servant and _aide_ of one of our deadliest enemies. "it can't be," i muttered. "i would sooner die." and, as i said this, i thought of how likely it would be that this would be my fate; for, under the smooth velvety ways of the rajah, i could see that there were sharp feline claws, and that, however great his liking for me might be if i yielded and acted as he wished, there was all the fierceness of the eastern semi-savage, ready to spring out with volcanic fury if i persisted in thwarting him to the end. i could not help pitying myself as i lay there, for i was growing stronger again, and that mounting of the horse had, short as the enjoyment was, revived in me all my love of exciting action; and was i-- so young as i was--a mere boy, to give up all this when forced, as it were, by circumstances? i had but to say "yes," and become the greatest man in the rajah's domains. "but i can't do it. i won't do it," i said passionately. "i was not trained in a military school by brave, honourable gentlemen, to give up and become a renegade. and i will not believe, either, that england is so beaten that the native rajahs are going to have all their own way." somehow, in spite of my desperate position, fully expecting that, at my next refusal, the rajah would flash out and try force to bring me to his way, i felt after my calm, quiet, nightly prayer, out there in the silence of that forest, more at rest and full of hope. "things generally mend when they come to the worst," i said, with a sigh; and now, giving up all expectation of any visitor making his way to my couch that night, i lay listening to the faint calling of the huge cat that was prowling about, gazing the while at my shaded lamp, round which quite a dozen moths were circling, and finally dropped off to sleep. it was late in the morning when i opened my eyes, to find the white figure of salaman patiently in attendance, waiting for me to get up. he smiled as soon as he saw that i was awake, and threw open the folds of the tent door to admit the sunshine. then, with all the skill and cleverness of the native valet, he carefully waited on me, relieving me of all difficulties due to my wounded arm, which was painful in the extreme if i attempted to move it, and when i was nearly dressed, turned silently to the door to signal to his men to be ready with my early coffee. "the morning is _very_ hot, my lord," he said; "and i have told them to place the breakfast under the tree. it is a fresh spot, which i hope my lord will like." at that moment there was a low moaning cry, as of some one in pain, hurried steps, loud voices, and then a dull thud, as if some one had fallen. salaman ran out of the tent, and i followed, to find that, some twenty yards away, a figure in ragged white garments was lying on the ground, his face covered with blood, which literally dyed his garments; and as he lay there upon his breast with his arms extended, one hand held a little round shield, the other grasped a bloody sword. "what is it?" cried salaman to four of his men, who were standing about the prostrate figure. "as we live, we do not know," said one of them. "he came running up, crying for help, and when we spoke, he looked back as if frightened, and struggled on till he fell, as you see." "he has been attacked by budmashes," said another. "no," said the first. "look at his long beard; he is a holy man--a fakir." at that moment the poor fellow tried to raise himself, and groaned out the words, "bagh, bagh!" "ah!" cried salaman, bending down over him. "quick! some cotton--some water," i said; "the poor fellow has been attacked and mauled by a tiger." "bagh, bagh!" groaned the man again, and he struggled up now to rest upon his shield-hand, gazing wildly round, and, shuddering before seeming satisfied that the danger was passed, he raised his curved sword and looked at it. by this time one of the men had fetched some strips of cotton, and another brought fresh water, a portion of which the fakir drank heartily, but resented the attendant's action, as he sought to bathe his face, but submitted willingly to having his arm washed and the wounds tied up. they proved to be only superficial; but, all the same, they were four ugly scratches down the fleshy part of the man's left arm, while over his right shoulder there were three more marks, which had bled pretty freely; and now, as i stood by helpless myself, i listened as he told the attendants how he was slowly journeying, thinking of staying by the first well, as the sun was growing hot, the tiger suddenly sprang out at him, alighting upon his back, and sending him down insensible. that he had come to, struggled up, and was on his way again, sick, but eager to get away from the edge of the forest, when the tiger had appeared again, creeping from tuft of grass to bush, tracking him, he said, as a cat does a mouse, and always threatening to spring. for long enough this continued, till at last it sprang, after the poor fellow had suffered that most intense agony of dread. as the tiger sprang, he in turn had involuntarily crouched, holding the sword before him, so that the savage beast leaped right upon it, as it struck him down, deluging him with blood, and then uttering a snorting yell as it bounded away again amongst the low growth of the forest-side. he rose and continued his retreat, but the beast appeared again, still skulking along near the track, and threatening to spring, but with a rush back it had plunged into some dry grass; and had not reappeared as he staggered on, faint with terror, till he had caught sight of one of my attendants, and run on here, to fall completely exhausted. they led the poor fellow away as, after seeing that he was out of danger, i turned from him in disgust, and soon after was seated at my morning meal. "how is the old man?" i asked salaman. "have you given him a bath?" "oh no, my lord." "a few chatties thrown over him ought to do him good." "but he is a holy man, my lord. he would be ready to curse us, if we did so. he has not washed for years." "he looked it," i said. "but why?" "who knows, my lord? perhaps he had sworn an oath. he is one of the blessed." "will he go on to-day?" "no, my lord. he will stay till he is strong enough to go. it is a blessing on our camp for him to be here, and the tiger must have been possessed of the evil spirit to dare to attack a fakir." "well, don't let him come near me," i said. "i believe that cleanliness is next to godliness, salaman. you are strange people: if i, a christian, drink out of one of your vessels, you would say it was defiled, and break it. but you go and handle that nasty, dirty old man, and say it is a blessing for him to come." "yes, my lord; he is a fakir." "very good," i said; "but, i repeat, don't let him come near me." "he will not, my lord. we could not have it. he might curse my lord, because he is an unbeliever." "well, never mind that," i said. "he knows no better. i trust he was more frightened than hurt." "yes, my lord; but those are ugly wounds." "yes," i said. "but what would the rajah say at your having people so near?" "his highness may not know. he would be angry if he knew that the fakir was here. but if he does know--well, it was fate." "will he come to-day?" "thy servant knoweth not. it would be better that he stayed till the holy man has gone his way." chapter thirty eight. the rajah did not come that day, nor the next, and it troubled me sadly, for it made me feel that he thought he was sure of me, and the more i led that solitary life, and satisfied myself that i was most carefully watched, the more i dreaded my firmness. for, in my greatest fits of despondency, i began asking myself why i should hold out. if the english were driven out of india, who would know or care anything about me? but i always came back to the dirty slip of paper with the characters on that i could not read. they meant hope to me, and friends coming to help me, and this gave me strength. the second day after the dirty old fakir came, i went for a walk, for my horse had not arrived; and, as i expected, the sentries were at hand, but they did not follow me, and i soon found out the reason. about a quarter of a mile from my tent, i came upon a fierce-looking man, sitting like a statue upon his horse, grasping his lance, and, whichever way i went, there were others. to test this, i turned in several directions--in amongst the trees, and out toward the slope leading to the plain; but everywhere there were these mounted sentries ready to start out quietly from behind some tree, and change their position so as to be a hundred yards ahead of me wherever i went; and it was all done so quietly that, to a casual observer, it would have appeared as if they had nothing whatever to do with me, but were simply watching the country for advancing foes, an idea strengthened by the way in which signals were made with their tall lances. they took no notice of me, and apparently, as in their case, i took no notice of them, but finished my stroll, after gathering in all i could of the aspect of the beautiful slope, the forest at its head, and the far-spreading plain below, thinking what a splendid domain the rajah owned, and then made for my tent, with the mounted men slowly closing in again. i could only escape by night, i remember thinking, and i was getting close up to the trees that hid our little camp, dolefully pondering over my position and the hopelessness of succour from without, when all at once a hideous figure rose up from beneath a tree and confronted me; and as i stopped short, startled by the foul appearance of the man, with his long tangled hair and wild grey beard, i saw salaman and two of his helpers come running toward us, just as the old fakir--for it was he-- raised his hands, and in a denunciatory way poured forth a torrent of wild abuse. his eyes looked as if starting out of his head; he bared his arms, and, as it seemed to me, cursed and reviled me savagely as an infidel dog whom he would deliver over to the crows and jackals, while he hoped that the graves of my father, mother, and all our ancestors, might be defiled in every possible way. and all the time he looked as if he would spring upon me, but i did not much fear that, for he was very old, and as weak as could be from his wounds. this and his passion, which increased as salaman and the men came up, forced him to cling to a tree for support, but his tongue was strong enough, though his throat grew hoarse, and his voice at last became a husky whisper, while salaman and the others tried to calm him, though evidently fearing to bring the curses down upon their own heads, and shrinking from the old wretch whenever he turned angrily upon them, as they tried to coax him away. these efforts were all in vain, and as i stood there quite firm, not liking to appear afraid, and caring very little for his curses, his voice grew inaudible, and he began to spit upon the ground. "i pray my lord to go," said salaman at last. "why should i go?" i said pettishly. "drive the reviling old rascal away." "no, no, my lord," he whispered; "we dare not." "then i shall complain to the rajah. i am sure he would not have me annoyed in this way if he knew." "no, my lord," said salaman, humbly; "but what can thy servant do?" "do? send the dirty old madman off." "oh, hush, my lord, pray," whispered salaman. "thy servant loves to serve thee, and his highness is thy friend. if aught befel my lord from the holy man's curses, what should i do?" "do?" i repeated. "send him about his business." "but he will not go, my lord, until he pleases." "then i shall send one of the sowars with a message to the rajah," i said firmly. "i am not going to be insulted by that old dog." "my lord, i pray," said salaman, imploringly. "his highness would punish me, and my lord knows it is no fault of mine his coming." "look here, salaman," i said; "if you call me `my lord' again, instead of `sahib,' i will send to his highness. there, get rid of the old fellow as soon as you can. we should have such a man put in prison in england. come and give me some food, and let him curse his voice back again. i don't wonder that the tiger wanted to kill him." salaman shrugged his shoulders. "do you know why the fierce beast did not eat him?" "because he found out that he had made a mistake in striking down a holy man, my--" "ah!" "sahib," cried salaman, hurriedly. "that's better," i said. "no! the tiger did not touch him afterwards, because he was so dirty." i walked away, hearing the fakir whispering wishes of evil against me to the attendants, and spitting on the ground from time to time, while salaman followed me to my dinner under the tree, and brought me a cool, pleasant draught of lemon and water and some fresh fruit, leaving me afterwards to moralise on the difference between my religion and his, and afterwards to sit dejectedly waiting for my wound to heal, and to hope that the rajah would not come. he did not come, and as i sat thinking, i was obliged to confess that i was too weak to make any attempt at escape for some time yet; and even when i grew stronger, the chances appeared to be very small. "never mind," i said at last, trying to be cheerful. "some chance may come yet." but my spirits did not rise, for there was always the black cloud which i could not pierce, behind which was hidden the fate of my friends, and all that were dear to me. the next day i heard that the old fakir had not gone. his wounds were bad, and he had taken up his abode about a hundred yards away, amongst the roots of a large tree. "have you doctored his scratches?" i asked. "no, my lor--sahib," said salaman; "he will not have them bathed, and he has torn off all the bandages, and he made me guide his finger along them." "dirty finger?" "yes, sahib, it is a very dirty finger. at least it would be if it was mine; but his fingers are holy. they cannot be unclean, and he says that the touch will heal the wounds." "i hope it will," i said; "but, i say, look here, salaman, have you washed your hands since you touched him?" "oh yes, sahib, many times," he cried eagerly. i laughed heartily for the first time for long enough, and salaman looked puzzled, and then smiled. "i know why, my--sahib laughs," he said. "these things are a puzzle. i cannot make them out." "never mind; only don't let the old fakir come near me." that day passed as the others had gone. everything about me was beautiful, and i was treated like a prince, but the word "renegade" was always in my mind's eye, and i went to my rest at last as despondent as ever, after another attempt to decipher the writing, but all in vain. it was a very hot night, and for a long time i could not sleep; but at last i was dozing lightly, when i woke with a start to listen. but all was still for a time. the lamp burned with its soft shaded light, and there was not a sign of anything startling, but, all the same, i had awakened suddenly, in a fright, and with an instinctive feeling that something was wrong. all at once, from the back of the tent, there was a low, sharp hiss, and i felt that my enemies, the snakes, were about again, trying to get in, and i wondered at my folly in not insisting upon having some weapon at hand, though i knew it was doubtful whether i should have been so favoured. i lay listening, and then rose up quickly, meaning to rush to the tent opening, and call for whoever was on the watch, when a soft voice whispered--"hist, sahib!" "ah!" i ejaculated, with my heart beating as if i had been running. "hist! friends near." i was on my way to the side of the tent whence the voice came, when i heard hurried steps, and had just time to throw myself back on my couch, as the tent door was thrown open and salaman appeared. "the sahib called," he said. i was nearly speechless with emotion, which i dared not show, and i knew that my duty was to keep the man there, and engage him in conversation so as to give my nocturnal visitor a chance of escape. mastering myself as well as i could, i said in a fretful, angry way-- "come here." he was at my side in an instant. "take off these bandages. they hurt my arm." "my lord, no. the doctor would be angry." "so shall i be, if you do not take them off," i cried. "my arm is like fire." it was quite true, for the excitement at my sudden movement had started the wound stinging and aching. "it might bleed horribly," said salaman, humbly. "let me loosen the bandage, sahib." "very well," i replied sulkily, quite satisfied now that whoever had been outside the canvas had had plenty of opportunity to get away; and i lay patiently enough, while my attendant loosened and re-tied my bandages before leaving me once more to lie wondering whether i should have another visitation that night, and fervently hoping that whoever it was would take care not to be seen. i lay awake for hours, but there was not another sound; and at last exhaustion had its way, and i slept till quite late, angry with myself for my drowsiness, and determined not to close my eyes that night. in the course of the day i sought an opportunity to examine the tent in the direction from which the sound had come, and had there been any doubt in my mind as to whether i had dreamed i had heard a voice, it was now dispersed, for about the height of my shoulder there was a slit about an inch long just sufficient for any one to apply his lips to the opening and speak. no rajah that day, which was, i think, the longest i ever spent. toward afternoon i summoned salaman. "look here," i said. "i am sure the rajah does not wish me to be treated as a prisoner." "no, sahib." "then give me my sword again." "thy servant has it not," replied salaman. "then fetch me another." "his highness gave me no commands." "but i do," i said simply. "let me have one at once." "thy servant grieves that he must disobey my lord," said the man humbly. "he cannot do this thing." "go!" i said angrily, though i knew the man was not to blame. "my lord is angry with his servant," he said humbly. "if he brought him a sword, he might cut his servant down, and try to escape; but it would be vain, for every part is strictly watched." i turned away in misery, for, with the place so firmly watched, how were my friends to reach me? toward evening, when it was cooler, i went for a stroll, but soon turned back, for the loathsome figure of the filthy old fakir rose from among some bushes with his hands raised, cursing me volubly, and i was glad to get back to my tent and lie down to have a good rest before night, ready to keep awake for the visitor who might come. salaman now came to say that my dinner was ready, and had been waiting two hours, but my appetite was very poor, and i got on badly. still i ate, feeling that i needed all the strength i could get up, and at last my regular retiring hour came, and i lay down once more to listen to the trampling of my attendants and their low murmuring voices; then to the noises in the forest, and twice over i heard in the distance the low howl of a tiger. but how slowly the time passed before all was silent in the camp, and i waited for the whispering voice at the canvas! the moment it came i meant to creep to the side silently, and then i could hear the news of the friends who were near, and what they proposed to do. can you imagine the misery and weariness of waiting hour after hour in the midst of this silence, broken only by the calls of the wild beasts and nightbirds, the slightest sound being turned into a footstep or voice? a hundred times over i must have thought that i heard salaman or his men listening, and i grew hot with anxiety as i wondered whether they suspected anything. then i turned cold as ice and shivered, for a shriek rang out from somewhere among the trees, and immediately i pictured the messenger transfixed by the lance of one of the sowars on guard. but i heard no further sound, and by degrees grew calmer, as i recalled hearing such a cry before, and knew that it was made by a night-bird. there, stretched out on the cushions upon my back, gazing at the lamp, and with my ears all attent for the slightest sound--the right for danger, the left for my friends--thus i lay listening, till the lamp grew dim. the sounds of the forest were distant; and then i was at brandscombe, busy with the notes of lectures, and in great trouble about something, but what i could not tell, only that the old professor of sanscrit, with a long grey beard and much tangled hair, was leaning over me, his eyes wild and strange, his cheeks hollow, and a horrible look of fierce anger in his voice as he whispered hoarsely, evidently in disgust with my knowledge of the subject he taught. but what it was he whispered i could not tell, only that it chilled me and paralysed me when i wanted to struggle and get away from him. i tried hard, i knew, but it was all in vain, and an interminable time passed on, during which i lay helpless there, with the old professor whispering to me, and his face growing more and more terrible, till, to my terror, i saw that it was not the professor of sanscrit, but the old fakir who had taken such a dislike to me; and, fully awake now, i found myself gazing up in his fierce eyes. for the nightmare had passed off, and in the reality i was gazing up at my enemy, who had evidently stolen into my tent, knife-armed--for there it was, gleaming in his hand--to rid himself and his country of an enemy of his religion and his race. and i could not move, even when i felt his left hand steal once into my breast, which hardly heaved, so utterly paralysed was i by my nightmare dream; ten times it seemed to me more terrible than the serpent i had found where the fakir's hand now lay. chapter thirty nine. in my horror, as i saw the knife flash, and as my senses became under my control, i was about to cry aloud for help, but grasping this, the hideous-looking being clapped his hand over my mouth, pressing it down tightly, while he quickly bent down his head till he could place his lips close to my ear, and whisper in english-- "not a word, sahib! don't you know me! i am dost." i uttered a low sigh, and then gazed at him, sick and dizzy, but with my heart beginning to beat wildly with a strange delight. for at last help had come, and my task now was first to warn my faithful follower of the peril he had incurred, as i lay in mute admiration of the skill with which he had played his part, and, after struggling in vain to reach my well-watched tent, had by his ruse contrived to have himself brought to my side by my guards. the rest he had managed by himself. i could not speak for some minutes. i dared not even try, lest he should hear how my voice trembled. at last, though, after lying quite still, holding my faithful follower's hand, i whispered-- "how did you get here?" "cut the bottom of the tent, sahib," he said in the same hard tone, "with this knife, and scrambled through." "but they will see the opening, and you will be taken." "yes; they will see it," he replied, "but you must make the hole larger, and fasten it open. they will think you have cut the tent to make it cool. you are the master here, and can do as you please." "yes; but tell me--captain brace?" "quite well, sahib." "then he was not beaten and driven away?" "no, sahib; but the fight went against him and the white colonel. they were obliged to draw back. their enemies were too many. as fast as they killed, others came to take their place." "and lieutenant haynes, the doctor, and sergeant craig?" "all well when i left them, sahib. i came away many days ago, and reached here, finding you, after a long, long search. then i gave you a letter, telling you to be hopeful, for your friends were near, and went away again to tell the captain sahib, and ask him what i should do, for he was waiting to find out whether you were alive, and how we could help you." "yes; and what did he say?" i asked. "nothing, sahib." "nothing?" "i could not find him. i had been away so long that he must have supposed that i was killed, and he had gone." "but where?" "how can i tell, sahib? he was gone, and, as i could not find him, i said i would come back and help you to escape without, but i could not get near you. there were men watching everywhere at night, and all day there were evil-minded budmashes of sowars for miles round. oh, sahib, they take great care that you shall not escape." "yes; i am watched in every direction." "yes, sahib, and i was in despair till a few days ago i was in a village where a tiger sprang on a man, and mauled him, and then let him go, and hunted him again till he got away at last. and then i said i would be that man, and come here as soon as the tiger let me go." "what! you ran that risk on purpose?" i said excitedly. "hush! not a word, sahib," said the man laughing. "i meant a sham tiger to fly at me and claw me. they would not know that it was not a real one." "but the wounds--the clawings?" "i made those, sahib, with a hook fastened in a tree." "dost!" "oh, it hurt a little, sahib; but there was no other way to come. and even then, when i was ready to tear and wound, i stopped, for i said to myself, `if i run there for help and refuge, they will not let me stay, and i was ready to pull my hair and bewail myself.' but that would not help me, and i sat down and thought all one day and all the next night, and no help came, till it was gaining light, when i jumped up and shouted, for i could see the way." "to disguise yourself as a fakir?" "yes, sahib, for i said that no one would dare to say no to a holy man. and you see i am here, and can stay, and--" "hist!" i said; and in a few moments he was lying beside my couch with the light coverlid and two of the cushions tossed over him, effectually hiding him as he lay on the side of the tent farthest from the lamp. it was only just in time, for the tent door opened, and salaman came in softly, peering in my direction as i lay pretending to be asleep, but i jumped up on the instant. "yes? what is it?" i cried. "ah, salaman, is it morning?" "no, my lord. thy servant came to see if he could bring anything." "no," i said with a yawn; "nothing. but call me quite early, as soon as it is light. i shall walk while it is cool." salaman bowed and drew back softly, whilst, after waiting till he had been gone some time, i turned to dost, and was about to speak, but his hand was laid upon my lips by way of warning. for at that moment, unheard by me at first, there was a light step outside, followed by one that was heavier, and i knew, though i could not see, that some one was making the rounds of the little camp, and anything i might have said would have been heard. there was no time to lose when the rounds had been made, and after listening patiently for some minutes, i urged dost to go, though i would gladly have kept him. "there is no need for haste," he replied. "if i can get out of the tent, it will not matter much if i am met. they would not stop me, and they will never think that we are friends." "but i could not bear for you to be found out," i said. "it would be like depriving me of all hope." "leave it to me, sahib," he replied. "you shall not be deprived of hope. i have no plan ready yet, but very soon i shall have made one, and you and i will return to the troop and gladden the captain sahib's heart." "then you must make haste, dost," i said, "for the rajah will soon be taking me away to his town." "ah!" he said, "i am glad you told me that. but you have been wounded. are you strong enough to walk or run with me many days?" i was silent, for i could not say "yes." "no, you are not, sahib. then we must wait. for the land is full of enemies. troops of budmashes roam everywhere robbing and slaying. we might have to fight. who knows, and the young sahib must be able to use a sword." "dost," i whispered, "my horse will soon be here." "ah? then we must wait and take that--wait until the sahib is quite strong." "and suppose the rajah takes me away?" "i shall follow you, sahib; never fear." "but tell me this," i whispered. "i hear that the english are being driven out of the country, and that the rajahs and begums are going to call the land their own once more." dost laughed silently. "yes; they may call the land their own once more, but it never will be again." "you believe that, dost?" i said. "yes, i believe that, sahib, for the rajahs will never hold together, and fight as one man. the english will. the budmashes have won some fights where they were many against few, but the english will come again and drive them back, as you know. no; the rajahs will never hold the land again. now i must go." "but when will you come again?" "soon, sahib, but when i cannot tell. we must wait and see. i shall be near you even when you do not know it, and sooner or later i shall set my master free." "but let it be soon, dost," i said, "for the rajah is trying to make me promise to enter his service, and drill his men." "but you are not strong and well yet." "no, but he is trying to make me give my word, and he promises me great rewards." "but the young sahib does not want his great rewards?" "no, of course not; but i expect him directly to ask me again." "well, you must promise him, sahib, to gain time." "what?" i cried indignantly. he made no reply, and i repeated my question, but still he was silent. "do you think an english gentleman would make such a false promise, knowing that he could not keep it?" he was silent. "do you hear me, dost?" i said indignantly. he still made no reply, and feeling that he was repentant for having made so base a proposal, i went on whispering. "it is impossible, dost," i said. "you are a good, brave fellow, but you do not understand these things as an english officer would. if i gave my word to the rajah, i should be obliged to keep it, and it would be a disgrace. i might have a grand position in the rajah's army, but i should be degraded from my own, and be a traitor in training men to fight against our flag. no; i cannot promise the rajah, and i shall have to refuse him again. the next thing will be that he is fiercely angry, and i shall be imprisoned--if he spares my life," i said sadly. "you will have a harder task to set me at liberty then. better wait till my horse comes, and then we can both make a rush for liberty, and try and find out the captain. if the horse comes to-morrow, shall we try and escape at night?" he did not answer. "dost! shall we try and escape to-morrow night?" there was no answer, and i stretched out my hand to touch him as a curious suspicion flashed through me. i touched carpet, cushion, the coverlid. that was all, and hurriedly creeping to the canvas opening, i found that it hung loose, so that a man could easily pass through. while i had been trying to teach my faithful follower the value of an english gentleman's word, he had glided silently out of the tent, leaving me to wonder at his skill, and to fasten open the canvas wall, so as to make it seem as if i had done it for ventilation. but i could not do that till morning. to have opened it now was to invite some savage beast of the forest to enter therein, so i left it as it was, and returned to my couch to wonder when it was that dost had gone. chapter forty. "the tent is cut, my lord," cried salaman, as i awoke the next morning. "fasten it up," i said sharply. "no, no, not close it. open it so that i can get air. the tent is too hot." he looked at me searchingly, and i made an effort to throw him off the scent by effrontery. "well," i said, "do you hear me? quick, or get somebody else." he turned sharply and went for help while i congratulated myself on my power there. for it seemed that in most things i really only had to order to be implicitly obeyed. then, as the tent was pinned open, i wondered whether they would suspect _me_, and whether the rajah would come that day, not fearing his coming much, for i felt that i had help now at hand. the doctor came, and looked quite pleased at my condition. he said it was a sign that his management of my "terrible" wound, as he called it now, had been excellent. he little thought of how great an impetus to my recovery the coming of the dirty old fakir had been. for as soon as the learned doctor had gone, i went back into my tent, so that i might indulge in something that had now grown quite strange--that is to say, as soon as i was quite out of sight, i indulged in a good hearty laugh, and then revelled in the thought that however bad some of the hindus might be, here was one as faithful to his master as man could wish, and risking his life to come to my help. then i laughed again, as i recalled the scene when the ragged-looking old saint had reviled and cursed and spat at me, thinking, too, of how wonderfully he had carried out the disguise, and what pain he must have suffered from his wounds. then i began to think more seriously of dost's risk, for if he were discovered it would mean instant death at the hands of the rajah's men. "he'll come to-night," i thought, and i waited patiently. but the night had nearly passed as i sat watching by the opening cut in my tent, before my heart began to beat, and i felt that he was near, for there was a low rustling sound, a short distance off, beneath the great tree. "poor old dost!" i said to myself; "he is a brave, true fellow;" and then it was on my lips to say in a whisper, "quick! this way," when i turned cold, for there was a low muttering, and i awoke to the fact that salaman was talking to some one away there in the darkness. acting on the impulse of the moment, i said aloud, "what's that? who's there?" "it is i, my lord," came in salaman's voice. "is there anything wrong?" i said hastily, vexed with myself now for speaking. "no, my lord;" he would call me my lord; "but i dared not leave the new opening to the tent unwatched. there might be serpents or a leopard or tiger prowling near." "poor dost!" i said to myself, and i might have added, "poor me!" for mine seemed to be a very pitiable case, and after a minute or two's thought, i called to salaman, who came at once to the freshly cut opening. "it is cooler to-night," i said sharply, as i turned now upon my couch, to which i had crept silently. "fasten up the place." "yes, my lord," he said eagerly, and summoning his people, he soon had the hole closed up. "it does not matter," i said to myself, "a sharp knife would soon make another way out or in." i felt that it was of no use to expect dost that night, or rather early morning, and so i went to sleep, awaking fairly refreshed and ready to turn my thoughts to the invention of a plan to get into conversation with dost. but try as i would, no ideas came, and the day had nearly gone by, when, as i sat beneath my canopy tree where the divan had been formed, expecting at any moment to hear the trampling of horses heralding the coming of the rajah, to my astonishment i saw dost coming across the opening, straight for where i sat. he was stalking toward me slowly, and using a stout bamboo, about six feet long, to support his steps, while in his left hand he carried a bowl formed of a gourd, and this he tapped against his stick at every stride, while he went on half shouting, half singing, a kind of chant, and turning his head, and swaying it from side to side. "how well he acts his part," i thought, but i shivered at his daring, as i saw salaman come from behind my tent watching him, and following closely as he saw the fakir making for where i was seated. "he will be found out," i thought, but directly after it struck me that salaman was coming for my protection, and i sat watching the progress of the scene. dost came on mumbling and shouting his wild song, thumping down his staff and swaying his body from side to side while salaman followed close up now; but, in his character of fakir, dost ignored his presence entirely, and came on till he was not above a couple of yards from where i sat. here he stopped short, scowling at me fiercely for some time before raising his staff and waving it in the air, as he burst forth into a fierce tirade against the english usurpers of the land, and me in particular, while i sat as if on my guard, but keeping a keener watch on salaman, whose face was a study, i could not catch a tenth of what dost said, far it was delivered in a peculiar way in a low, muttering tone for a long sentence, whose last two or three words he shouted, bringing down his staff with a bang, and then beginning again; but i found there was a great deal of repetition and comparison of my relatives to pigs and pariah dogs, and there were threats of what he would do, i think, to my great-great-grandfather if ever he came into his hands. but he did not come a step nearer, only grew fiercer in his final utterances; and at last salaman stepped forward, just as i was trying hard to keep from laughing, and plucked the supposed fakir by the garment. dost swung round and raised his staff threateningly, as if to strike, but contented himself with waving my attendant away, and turned and went on with his abuse. "let him be, salaman," i said quietly. "i'm not afraid of the old fellow. he will not hurt me." "i do not think his curses will hurt, my lord," he replied, "but he might strike." "he had better not," i said sharply, in hindustani, as if for the fakir to hear. "if he does, holy man or no, i'll knock him over. i'm growing stronger now." salaman came close behind me, and whispered, "no, no, my lord, don't strike him; push him away, he is very old and mad; but he must not be hurt." at that moment dost began in a very low voice and went on, with his declamation growing louder, till it was a roar, when he suddenly ceased, and dropped down on the ground with his legs under him in the position of an indian idol, and, with his chin upon his breast, sat there perfectly silent, and as if in rapt contemplation. salaman seemed puzzled, and dost looked like a statue that had been very much knocked about. "what shall i do, my lord?" he whispered. "i do not like to touch him; he would begin to curse again." "then pray don't touch him," i said testily. "he will go to sleep now; he is tired." "it is not sleep," whispered salaman. "he goes into a state that may last for hours or days. will my lord come to his tent?" "no," i said emphatically; "if i move, perhaps it will set him off again. let him stay and curse the rajah when he comes." "i pray he may not," said salaman hurriedly; "his highness is soon angry. but, no: he would not curse him." "never mind," i said; "get me a melon. i am thirsty." salaman glanced at the motionless figure with its head bent down, and then hurried away to obey my command. dost did not stir, but sat there staring hard at the ground, and i saw his ears twitch. then, in a quick whisper, he said-- "i could not come near your tent. watched, sahib. was obliged to do this. turn your head away, and do not look at me, but hiss, hiss, like a snake, when you see him coming." "yes," i said, as i threw myself sidewise on the pillows. "tell me what you propose doing." "going away to-day to find the captain, and tell him all. he may come to your help at once. if he does not, it is because the country is full of enemies." "can't you take me with you, dost?" "no, sahib, you are growing stronger, but you could not sit a horse for long enough yet, and you have not strength enough to fight and defend us both. i am not a fighting man." hiss! salaman was on his way back with a silver dish, on which lay a melon and knife, while one of the bearers carried a plate and sugar. the former glanced at dost, as he paused, and then placed the melon before me. "it is beautifully ripe, my lord," he said, "and will quench your thirst." i laughed. "it is good to see my lord smile," said salaman, "he is better, and it makes my heart glad." "i was laughing," i said, "because the old fakir must be thirstier than i. all those hot words must have burned his throat." salaman smiled, but became solemn again directly. "truly his words were hot, my lord," he said. "then cut him a big piece of the melon, and give him, before i touch it, and he thinks it is defiled." salaman looked pleased, and obeyed my words, placing the melon in dost's lap; but the latter did not move or unclose his eyes, but sat there perfectly motionless, with the piece of the fruit in his lap, while i partook of mine, which was delicious in the extreme, and i enjoyed it as i saw how completely the people about me were deceived. salaman and the bearer stood humbly close at hand till i had finished, and then took plate and tray with the remains of the melon. "will my lord return to the tent?" asked salaman. "oh, i don't know," i said indifferently. "but my lord might be sleeping when the holy man comes back to himself. you see, he is not there now. it is only his body." "how these old impostors of fakirs do deceive the people," i thought, as i glanced at dost; then aloud-- "well, suppose i were sleeping?" "the holy man might harm my lord." "not he," i said, in a voice full of contempt. "words do no harm whatsoever." salaman bowed and went his way, and i took up a palm-leaf fan, and began to use it, not as a wafter of cool wind, but as a screen to hide my face when i spoke to dost, and from behind which i could keep an eye on the tents, and see when any one was coming. as soon as i gave him a signal, dost began again, but without stirring a muscle; in fact, so rigid did he look that it would have puzzled any one to make out whence the low muffled voice came with such a peculiar whispered hiss, caused by its passing through the thick beard which muffled his lips. "you understand, sahib," he said. "i shall be gone before morning, and if you do not hear anything, be not afraid, for if i get safely to the captain sahib, he will be making plans to come and save you as soon as he can." "tell me one thing," i said quickly. "what about major lacey?" "ah! at rajgunge, sahib. i do not know. i was not able to go there again, but he will be well. those with whom he was placed would not let him come to harm." "and sergeant craig?" "his wounds were healing fast, sahib. but now listen. when i come back to you to get you away to your friends, who will be waiting close by, i shall let you know i am there by making a hiss like a snake--so--in a quick way, twice." he gave the imitation, but so softly that it could not have been heard. "now," he said, "go, and take no more notice of me. if the servants suspect anything, my work must be begun all over again, and it is hard to deceive them." "but have you nothing more to say?" "nothing, sahib; there is no time, and this is not the place. be patient, and grow strong. the captain sahib will save you, and all will be well. go." i hesitated for a few minutes, being reluctant to leave, but satisfied at last that dost's advice was right, and that i must wait patiently for my release, i covered my face with the great palm fan, and said in a low tone-- "mind and tell captain brace that the rajah may have taken me to his city." "yes, yes; but go, sahib, pray. i must wake up now. it is too hot here to bear it much longer." in spite of my trouble, i wanted to laugh, but i managed to control it, and rising slowly, i said in a low voice-- "good-bye, old friend. i trust you, for you are a true, brave man. tell captain brace i will be patient, and that i am nearly well." i could say no more, but sauntered slowly away under the shade of the trees, to find that my guards sprang into sight, ready to follow me, the first one so near that i was startled. i had not known of his proximity, and i trembled for dost's safety. this man might have heard us talking, and he would of course repeat it to his head. but i could only go on hoping and trying to be patient, and when at last i slowly started back to the tent, and glanced over toward the divan, my excitement increased, for the fakir was no longer seated in the hot sunshine. where was he? back in his place by the great tree, or a captive taken away and condemned at once as a spy? i could not tell; i must wait, and my brain was so active that my fears hourly increased. chapter forty one. i was spared one trouble to add to my others that day, for the rajah did not come. if he had, i fear that he would have noticed my manner as being peculiar and strange. i dreaded, too, his encountering dost, for, though salaman and his companions had been easily imposed upon, now that i was in the secret, i forgot all about my having also been deceived, and felt that the rajah would see through the disguise at once. it was then with a feeling of the most intense relief that i saw the nightfall, and felt now that he would not visit me that day. of course i lay listening that night in the tent, wondering whether dost would make an attempt to visit me again, and then whether he was making his way back to where he expected to meet my troop, and "oh!" i mentally ejaculated, "if i could only have been with him." the desire brought with it a despondent feeling and weary loneliness. i was very weak and miserable, thinking that perhaps i should never grow strong again, never mount my beautiful horse as of old. and then i fell a wondering for the first time in my life at myself; thinking what a weak, helpless creature a human being was, if he received a wound, for there seemed to be little reason for my long illness. i had had a blow on the head, and a cut on the arm--that was all. it never occurred to me then that my injuries were such as would have killed many men, and that it was my youth and vigorous health alone which had enabled me to bear all i had gone through. the morning broke dull and lowering. my spirits were quite in the same key, and i trembled when i first encountered salaman, looking at him sharply, to see if his eyes told tales of any particular excitement. and they did; there was no mistaking their import; he was evidently in high glee, and that, i felt, could only mean one thing--the discovery and making prisoner of poor dost, whose fate must be sealed. but still salaman made no communication; he only busied himself about his work, waiting on me, seeing to my tent, and then adjusting the sling for my wounded arm. my breakfast was ready beneath the tree; and i walked to it feeling certainly stronger, while every day i passed i could not help noticing how beautifully clean and well prepared everything was, and how pleasant the life beneath the tent would have been, if my mind had only been at peace. salaman waited upon me with more than his usual ease, and twice over i saw him smiling, as if with greater satisfaction than ever; but still he did not speak, but appeared to avoid my eye, till i could bear it no longer. feeling that something had occurred--a something which could only mean the discovery of dost, and the credit he would get with the rajah--i at last asked him sharply what he was laughing at. "i have good news for my lord," he said eagerly; and to me his manner seemed to be full of sneering triumph. "well, what is it?" i said huskily. "the holy man has gone?" "to prison!" i exclaimed involuntarily, for that was my first thought. "oh no, my lord; away upon his long journey." "dead!" i ejaculated. salaman looked at me wonderingly. "oh no, my lord; that kind of old man very seldom dies. they live on and on and on, they are so hard and strange. i have seen many fakirs so thin and dry that they hardly seemed to be alive, but they were, and they went on living. i never saw a fakir die." "then you mean that he has gone away on his travels--pilgrimage, we call it?" "yes, my lord, and he will not be here to curse you again." "when--when did he go?" i asked, taking up my coffee, so as to seem indifferent. "who knows, my lord? no one saw him leave. they come and they go, and some of them are always coming and going. they have no home. perhaps he went in the night, perhaps as soon as it was day. and with all those wounds not healed, it is wonderful." i was already beginning to enjoy my breakfast at this glorious news, for dost had evidently got away in safety, and his disguise would no doubt enable him to pass easily through the land. "well," i said, speaking cheerfully now, "what is your other news?" "ah, that coffee has done my lord good," said salaman. "he smiles and looks brighter and better for his highness to see. i made that coffee myself, and it is fresh and good." "beautiful, salaman," i said, emptying my cup, and longing for some good honest english milk; "but your news--your other news." "his highness is coming to-day." "how do you know?" i cried, the aroma departing from my coffee, and the chupatties beginning to taste bitter. "a horseman rode over to bid me have refreshments ready for his highness this afternoon, which he will partake of with you, and afterwards the tents are to be taken down, bullock-waggons will come, and we shall sleep at the palace to-night. but my lord does not seem glad." "glad?" i said bitterly. "why, this means that i, too, am to go." "yes, my lord; thy servant said so, and it is right. the great doctor spoke to me, and said that you wanted a change from here." "oh no," i cried. "but the great doctor said so, my lord. he knows. my lord was nearly dead when he was brought here, but the good medicine brought him back to life, and now he is nearly strong. this place is good, and it was made ready for my lord, but it is very lonely, and the wild beasts are always about the tents at night." salaman said no more, but walked away. he had already said too much. i was in agony, and could think no more, for it appeared as if my chance had been thrown away. only a few hours back, and dost was talking to me, there, where my meal was spread, and i, his master, had let him go, instead of ordering him to take me away with him. i bitterly reproached myself for what i looked upon as my weakness in giving way, though i know now that i did quite right, for of course i could not foresee so sudden a change. i had expected it, and we had discussed its probability, but i had hoped that there would be time for my rescue first. "once inside the city, brace will not have much chance of getting me away," i said to myself despondently; and then, as i sat thinking over my unhappy lot, and of the coming interview with the rajah, there was only one way in which i felt that i could help myself, and that was to seem worse instead of better when my captor came. but i threw that idea aside directly; it was too contemptible. "i must act like an english officer," i said. "it would be despicable to sham, and he would see through it all at once." like many another one in such a position, i gave up thinking at last, and prepared myself for the inevitable. "after all," i mused, "he may not think me well enough, and then there will be a respite. if he does say i am to go, well, i suppose it will be to a prison." i could not help feeling low-spirited, and the more so that on the other hand there was the temptation offered to me of going straight to a palace, and taking up at once my position, boy as i was, as the rajah's most trusted leader of his troops. the time went slowly on, and i sat expecting to hear the jingling of the escort's accoutrements; but hour after hour passed, it would soon be sundown, and then there would be another day's respite. salaman had made great preparations, and i was astonished at their extent, for i had not thought it possible so elaborate a meal could be prepared out there in the forest; but when i made some remark thereon, he only smiled and said-- "i have only to give orders, my lord, and messengers bring everything i want; but it is all in vain, the sun will sink directly, and his highness has given up coming to-day." almost as he spoke, my heart beat, for in the distance there was the sound of a horse galloping. "a messenger," cried salaman, excitedly, "to say his highness cannot come." i felt that he must be right, for, though i listened, i could hear no more. it was evidently only one horse. he was not coming that day. i uttered a sigh of relief, and strained my eyes to watch the opening between the trees, through which directly after a handsomely dressed horseman cantered, sprang from his steed, and threw the rein to an attendant, after which he marched up to me, and bowed low as he approached, to say only two words, which drove away all the hopes i had been nursing. "his highness!" he said, and i knew then that he was the avant-courier who had galloped on to announce his lord's coming. after which he stepped on one side and drew his sword, to stand on guard waiting for the rajah's entry. for a time, as i strove hard to be firm and ready to meet the greatest enemy i had, i listened vainly for some sign of his drawing near, but for a long space there was nothing but the customary bird-cries from the forest. at last, though, there was the unmistakable sound of approaching cavalry, and feeling firmer, i still sat with my eyes fixed upon the narrow opening, schooling my lips to utter the final word, "no," when he should come and repeat his offer. "he will not kill me," i said to myself, "only put me in prison to make me weary and glad to accept his offer; but he does not know how obstinate i can be." the open space surrounded by trees was now flooded with the rich orange light of sundown, and as i listened to the approach of horse, and saw a troop of showily dressed men ride in, i could not help a lingering sensation coming over me, and the temptation would, i felt, be a hard one to battle. but first one and then another party rode in, till quite a hundred men had formed up, with their dress looking brilliant in the sun's horizontal rays. but there was no rajah, and i had begun to wonder at his non-appearance on his favourite arab. the wonder passed away directly after, for all at once there was a peculiar soft tread and rustling that was very familiar, sounding quite distinct from the heavy sharp trampling of horse, and directly i saw the painted head and gilded tusks of an enormous elephant come from among the trees. its head was covered with a scarlet cloth, heavily fringed with gold, upon which sat its white-robed mahout, and the rest of the housings were also of the same brilliant red, embroidered and fringed most heavily with gold, the trappings completely hiding the huge animal's sides, while the ropes which secured the massive silver howdah were also twisted and tasselled with the rich yellow metal, much of which was used to compose the rails and front of the canopied structure in which the rajah was seated, completing what was a dazzling object towering far above the magnificently dressed spearmen who marched by the elephant's side, and the army of richly uniformed bodyguards who rode behind. the rajah had been lavish enough in his dress before, but on this occasion he far outshone all previous display. pearls and diamonds encrusted his breast, and his draped helmet, with its flowing white aigrette, was a perfect blaze of jewels, from whose many facets the setting sun flashed in a way wonderful to behold at every movement of the ponderous beast he rode. but the gorgeous procession was not yet complete, for, as the rajah advanced, two more splendidly caparisoned elephants appeared, bearing a couple of venerable-looking officials simply dressed in white, their marks of distinction being their noble presence, and what seemed to be stars of emeralds and diamonds in the front of their large white turbans. i at once supposed these grey-bearded old men to be a couple of the rajah's counsellors, but i had no time for further examination of the gorgeous retinue, for, with the exception of the rajah and his nearest attendants, all halted, while the great elephant came forward, till, at a word from its sedate-looking mahout, it stopped just before where i stood, curled up its trunk, uttered a loud trumpeting sound, and then softly knelt down. as it subsided, and rested there, motionless, with its gorgeous trappings now touching the ground, there was a quick movement amongst the spearmen, who formed up on either side, four of them raising their arms to enable their august master to descend. but he did not avail himself of their help. stepping lightly out of the howdah, and slowly placing one foot on a kind of step, suspended by gold cords, he sprang to the ground, and then advanced towards me with a grave smile, his followers prostrating themselves on either side of the noble-looking figure, while i alone stood erect, and gave him my hand, thinking the while how plain and shabby i looked in the face of all this grand display. chapter forty two. i remember feeling a kind of angry contempt for the magnificently dressed men who bowed down before this eastern potentate, and i believe i drew myself up stiffly in face of all this abject humility. i suppose it was pride--the pride of race; of one who knew that these were a conquered people, men of an old-world, barbaric civilisation, which had had to bow before the culture and advance of england; and in the midst of all the gorgeous display of show and wealth, i could not help, as i clasped hands with the rajah, thinking of the syce, ny deen, standing patient and humble by our barracks at rajgunge, ready to spring forward obediently at lieutenant barton's call. as the rajah grasped my hand with friendly warmth, i glanced round at his followers, expecting to see looks of contempt directed at me; but every face was fixed in one solemn, respectful stare, and all drew back, so as to form a half-circle before us, while the rajah led me to the tent, making way for me to enter first, and then following. i could feel my face flush a little, and it was impossible to help a kind of self-consciousness at the honour paid me; for it was plain enough that the rajah was not only treating me before his followers as his friend, but as one whom he was seeking to place next him in authority. "hah!" he said, smiling, as he seated himself, after making a sign that i should follow his example; "i am glad there are refreshments. i am hungry after a long, tiring day. you are better?" "yes," i said; "much better and stronger." "your face tells it before your lips," he said, as we began our meal, with half a dozen attendants gliding rapidly about us, but so silently that we hardly realised their presence till they handed curry, or some other carefully prepared dish. for some time scarcely anything was said beyond matters relative to the dinner, the journey he had made, and the elephant he had ridden; but i was holding myself ready for what i knew must follow as soon as the servants had left the tent; and as soon as we were alone it came, as i anticipated. "well, gil," he said familiarly, as he leaned back and began to smoke from the great pipe salaman had ignited and placed ready to his hand, "what do you think of those of my people whom you saw this evening?" "they make a good display," i replied, "and seem to hold you in great reverence." "they do," he said, without a shadow of conceit. "they believe in me because they know that for their sakes i suffered a kind of martyrdom, going, as i did, amongst your people to serve in the lowest state, and all to help free my country." i was silent. "you do not share their admiration," he said, with a laugh. "how can i?" was my reply. "you tried to rise by the downfall of me and mine." "and i have risen, and they have fallen," he said firmly. "but you have not--you rise with me." i was silent. "i am going to present you to my people this evening, by-and-by, when they have eaten and rested. my servants are waiting for you in the little tent at the back." "waiting? what for?" i said in surprise. "you will see," he said, smiling. "oh, well, there need be no reserve or form between us. you have been badly wounded, and you are dressed as one who has suffered. i have had more worthy garments brought for the great chief and brave young warrior, my friend." "my own uniform?" i said sharply. "yes; of your own design," he said quietly. "no, no; i mean my own--the company's uniform." "a noble uniform," he said warmly; "because it is stained with a brave swordsman's blood. i have it still, but it is cut, torn, and spoiled, gil. it is something to have--to treasure up as one would a good weapon that has done its duty." "i must wear that or none," i said firmly. "no," he replied gravely, as he leaned toward me; "you will never wear the company's uniform again. the great company has passed away, as other great powers have passed before." the fierce words rose to my lips to say that this was nothing, for my people were; fighting hard to recover lost ground, but i checked myself. i did not want to insult a brave man who was my friend, neither did i wish to show that i had had news of the state of the country, so i said quietly-- "i told you last time that what you wish is impossible." he frowned, but smiled again directly. "yes, when you were weak and suffering. you are stronger now, and have thought better of my proposal." "i have thought it a great honour, ny deen--rajah--your highness, i mean." "no, no; ny deen always to you, gil vincent," he said warmly. "i am a maharajah, but only a man. i have not forgotten." his words, and the way in which they were uttered, moved me, and i held out my hand, which he grasped and held as i went on excitedly-- "yes, i know you are my friend," i cried. "you love me, and you are great and noble and chivalrous. you would not wish to see me degrade myself?" "by becoming my greatest officer?" he said, in a low, reproachful voice. "no," i cried; "that would be a great honour, far too great for such a boy as i am." he shook his head. "you are only a boy yet, but you have had the training of a man, and you have the knowledge of a great soldier growing in you rapidly. the boyhood is going fast, gil, and life is very short. you will make a great soldier, and i hold you in honour for that, as i love you for a brave, true gentleman--my friend." "then you would not wish me to degrade myself by becoming false to my oaths--to see me, for the sake of promotion, turn from my duty to those i have sworn to serve--see me become a renegade. you would never believe in me or trust me again. no, rajah--no, ny deen--my friend; you think so now, but by-and-by, in some time of danger, you would say, `no; i cannot trust him. he has been false to his people--he will be false to me.'" "no," he said, looking at me earnestly, "i shall never doubt you, gil, and it is vain to resist. every word you say, boy--every brave piece of opposition makes me more determined. you are proving more and more how worthy you are of the great honours i offer you. come, you have fought enough. you are conquered. give up your english sword, and take the tulwar i will place in your hands." "no," i cried passionately. "i am the company's officer." "there is no company," he cried. "you have fought to crush down a conquered people; now fight to raise them up into a great nation; to make me into one of the greatest kings who ever ruled in hindustan. it will be a great work." "i cannot," i said passionately. he turned a furious look upon me, and dashed away my hand. "ungrateful!" he cried fiercely. "no," i retorted. "i must do my duty to my queen." "i tell you that you are mine now," he cried furiously. "you must obey me. i am your maharajah and your king." "no; you are the great chief who has made me his prisoner, sir. i am english, and you will have to give account to my people for my life." "pish! your life! what are you among so many? i tell you my purpose is fixed. you are my officer, and--" "you will have me killed?" "killed!--imprisoned till you grow wiser. i should not kill you yet." "very well," i said, trying to speak calmly; but a crowd of faces seemed to come before my eyes, and i believe my voice shook. "what?" he raged out. "i said `very well,'" i replied. "i am ready." my words only drove away his anger; and he sat gazing at me for some moments before bursting out into a merry laugh. "my dear gil!" he cried, rising and coming closer to plant his hands upon my shoulders, giving me such pain that i felt faint, for one was over my wound, "it is of no use to fight. i tell you that everything you say makes you more mine. come, my brave, true lad, accept your fate. go into the next tent, and come back my chief. i have brought many of my best officers over to be presented to you--noble men who will place their swords at your feet, for they know what you have done, and they are eager to receive you as their brave young leader. there, i cannot be angry with you, boy. you master even me, and make me quite your slave. kill, imprison you! it is impossible. you accept?" i shook my head. i thought he was going to flash cut again in his anger; but though his brow wrinkled up, it was only with a puzzled look; and then he looked alarmed, for i sank back half fainting, and for a few moments everything before me was misty. but it passed off as i felt a vessel of cold water at my lips; and directly after i came quite to myself. "what is it?" he said anxiously. "you are ill." "your hand was pressing my wounded shoulder," i said rather faintly. "my dear gil!" he cried, as he took and pressed my hand, "i did not know." "of course not," i said, smiling. "it is long healing. i'm better now. it was very weak and cowardly of me to turn so. there," i cried, with an attempt at being merry; "you see what a poor officer i should make." "you cowardly!" he cried. "it is wonderful how you have recovered so quickly. but, come, it is getting late, and we have a long journey back. go and put on your uniform." "i cannot," i said sadly. "i am not asking you to say `yes' now," he continued calmly. "i only wish you to appear before my people worthily dressed as my friend, and ready to enter my city." "you want to take me with you?" i said quickly. "yes; you will share my howdah. it is you i care for as my friend. i do not care for your clothes; but my people would think it strange." i sat frowning and thinking of dost and brace, but i was helpless. "if i put on the uniform you have brought, it is accepting your proposal and promising to serve you." "no, i shall want a better promise than that, gil. i shall wait. you do not know ny deen yet. some day you will come to me and say `yes. i know you now as a brave, good man, who is seeking to do what is right.' you think of me now, and judge me by what savage men have done everywhere at a time when i only wished that they should fight as soldiers. when you know me well, you will place your sword at my service. i am going to wait." "then leave me here," i said eagerly. "i cannot. you must come with me to-night; and i promise you that at present you shall only be my guest." "you promise this?" i said. "i do. you do not wish for my guest to look--there as you do now?" "no," i said, for i felt that i must yield. "go, then, and come back, not as my officer, but as the friend in whom my people's rajah delights." he held out his hand again, and weakly, or diplomatically, whichever it may have been, i grasped his hand, rose, and went into the outer tent, to find salaman and one of my attendants patiently awaiting my arrival. chapter forty three. as i saw the two attendants waiting there, and by the light of a lamp caught sight of a glittering uniform wonderfully like my ideas as given to the rajah in conversation, i felt as if i must retreat and go back to the other tent and announce my determination, but i had several thoughts to combat now--shame and inclination among others, for i felt as if i could go back to the rajah and argue with him again; and i tried to convince myself that wearing the clothes spread out before me need make no difference. i should no doubt be armed, and that would help me in my escape; besides, he had promised me that i should go with him only as a friend. to sum up, i was compelled to own that resistance was out of the question, and i had better appear before these people dressed in a way worthy of a british officer than reduced to the slight, well-worn shirt and trousers i had persisted in wearing all through my sojourn in the tent. "it's of no use," i muttered; "and i must make a virtue of necessity." as i said this, i turned to salaman, who eagerly began to hand me the various articles of attire; and in spite of my determination to be calm and stoical, i could not help feeling a glow of satisfaction as my eyes lit upon russia leather boots, with gold spurs, a handsomely braided and corded tunic, helmet with handsome plume and puggaree of glittering gold-embroidered muslin wound lightly round, after the fashion of a slight turban. and as i put on article after article, i began to marvel at the accuracy of the fit until i felt that the rajah must have given instructions for the clothes to be made exactly like the cut and torn uniform i had worn when i was made prisoner. i could not help it, for i was still a boy, and one of the youngest officers in the company's service: a warm glow of satisfaction ran through me. i forgot the pain in my arm as i passed it through the sleeve of the loose tunic, and buttoned it across my breast, which seemed to swell as i drew myself up, feeling as if, in spite of the eastern cut of my uniform, i was an english officer once more. i had turned to the second man, who was holding my gauntlet gloves and helmet, when salaman produced something i had not before seen, and i flushed a little more with pleasure, for it was a magnificent cartouch-box and cross-belt, which i felt must have belonged to the rajah; and while i was hesitating about passing the belt over my head, salaman forestalled me, and then drew back as if to admire me. then, looking at me with a peculiar smile, he passed his hands behind a purdah, and produced the gorgeously jewelled tulwar and sheath which the rajah had offered me before. i shrank from it, for it seemed like a bond to link me to the rajah's service, but salaman fastened the magnificent belt, and, for the life of me, i could not refrain from drawing the flashing blade from its sheath, and holding it quivering in my trembling hand, from which it sent a thrill right to my heart. "if it is a bond between us forced upon me," i thought, "this can cut us apart;" and at this i thrust it back into its sheath, allowed salaman to alter the buckle a little, and then took the helmet and gloves, putting both on, and involuntarily turning to see if there was a looking-glass. vanity? well, perhaps so; but what lad of my years would not have done the same? but there was no glass. i had to be contented by seeing myself in imagination with my attendants' eyes as they drew back and gazed at me as proudly as if my appearance was entirely their work. "ah!" exclaimed salaman. "now my lord looks indeed my lord. who could call him sahib when he is like that?" i winced at the man's flattery, and yet it was hardly that, and i laughed to myself as i felt that it was the clothes they were admiring and not the wearer. "if the holy man could see my lord now," said salaman, in a whisper, lest his words should be heard in the next tent, "he would not dare to curse again." these words made me wince once more; and in imagination i saw poor dost in his ragged fakir's garb staring at me wildly in disappointment because i was going away. worse still, that busy imagination called up the face of brace, pointing scornfully at my gay unspecked attire, and asking me whether it would not have been more honourable to have clung to the torn and stained uniform which was mine by right. but these musings were cut short by salaman and his assistant drawing back the curtains over the tent door and admitting a flood of light, which half startled me, and i turned to salaman, asking if one of the tents was blazing. "no, my lord; it is the light of the torches the men carry." the next minute i entered the other tent, determined to carry myself erect, and to be firm in spite of my ambiguous position; and before i had taken a couple of steps forward in the well-lit scene of our last conversation, the rajah rose quickly, scanned me from top to toe, and then his eyes flashed with satisfaction as he strode to meet me with extended hands. "hah!" he ejaculated; "my people will be proud of their lord's friend." i was silent as i stood there, proud and pleased, and yet full of mental pain, while he scanned me once more, and ended by buckling on his own sword, placing his helmet upon his head, and offering me his hand as the curtains were thrown back, and he led me forth into a blaze of light, spread by at least a couple of hundred torches, which flashed from the weapons of horse and foot, and poured on the gorgeous housings of the three elephants, two of which stood near bearing the occupants of their howdahs, while behind was the dense shadowy leafage of the trees, throwing up the wonderful scene with its vivid play of colour, and then looking black as night beneath the boughs. a wild shout greeted us as we advanced slowly; and then, at a sign, the huge elephant was led forward to go down upon its knees before its master, who led me to its side. "go first, gil," he said. "no," i replied quietly; and i drew back for him to lead the way. another wild shout broke forth at this, and i saw that the rajah looked pleased as he stepped lightly up; and as soon as he was in the howdah, bent down and held out his hand. "don't forget your wound," he said, and i was glad to grasp his hand as i mounted, and the next minute i was by his side. then for the moment, as i felt the huge elephant heave itself up, it was like starting upon a tiger-hunt, but the likeness ceased directly, as, preceded by about fifty horsemen, and a score of torch-bearers in their front, and another score between the advance-guard and our elephant's head, we moved out of the opening, the other two elephants following, with torch-bearers on either side, and the rest of the horsemen of the great escort taking their places as the glittering procession wound among the trees, and then meandered toward the plain which i had so often sadly watched, longing for strength and liberty. the rajah was very silent for a time, and it struck me that he was leaving me to my own thoughts, so that i might be impressed by the martial spectacle, as i looked back from time to time at the wild barbaric pageant, with the torches in a long train, lighting up the dark faces of the rajah's followers, flashing from their arms, and sending back a ruddy cloud of smoke which formed like a canopy above our heads. it was impossible to keep down a feeling of proud exultation, and i could not for the time being think of anything else but the night march across what spread out like an endless plain, while the stars above us spangled what looked like a vast dome of purple black. i was used to the motion of an elephant, and, after my long inaction, enjoyed the swaying of the howdah as the monster of his kind shuffled along at a great rate, keeping the footmen at a sharp run, and the horses at a gentle trot; and, as i listened to the jingle of the accoutrements, i could not help wishing that i had been mounted on my arab, gripping the saddle between my knees, instead of being seated there. about this i asked myself what i should have done. the only answer that would come was: clap my spurs to his sides, and make him fly over the plain; and in imagination i saw myself tearing over the wide space, pursued by a cloud of sowars and mounted chiefs. and then i sighed, for i knew that escape would have been impossible, and also that i was too weak even then to sit a horse for long. "tired, gil?" said the rajah, as he heard my sigh. "yes," i said; "i suppose so. it is an exciting time, after being a prisoner so long." "hardly a prisoner," he said, with a little laugh. "only a wounded man." "have we very far to go?" i asked. "we shall be nearly two hours yet, but the people expect us; and after we have passed through the forest that lies right before us, you will be able to see the lights of the city. we are rather late." there was another silence, broken at last by another inquiry from the rajah as to my being weary. "shall i make them walk?" he said, showing his sympathy and consideration. "oh no," i said in protest. "i am not so weary as that." i forced myself to talk to him, and he seemed pleased, conversing eagerly, sometimes in excellent english, and at others in hindustani, and so the time passed on, till i found by the darkness and the blotting out of the stars that we were going along a forest path. the ride had seemed peculiar before, now it was far more strange, from peculiar shadows cast upon the tree trunks, and the various effects of light and shade as the smoky torches played about us, and formed a long line of light both in front and rear. at last the excitement of the evening and the unwonted exercise in my weak state began to tell, and i was very silent. the journey had now lost its interest, the motion of the elephant became almost intolerable, and i was beginning to feel that i would give anything to go to my couch in the tent and lie down and sleep, when, just as i noticed that the stars were out again overhead, the rajah suddenly exclaimed-- "there is your future home, gil;" and, as i followed the direction of his pointing hand, i saw a light glow in the distance as of a fire, out of which a flash suddenly rose, and then ended in a burst of stars, the tiny sparks showing that they were at a considerable distance yet. "signs of rejoicing," he said to me, with a smile. then, evidently noticing how exhausted i looked, he said quickly-- "we shall not be long, and you can go to your room directly we reach my palace." "his palace!" i thought bitterly; "the palace of a syce." and i was thinking of it all contemptuously when my hand fell upon the gems which encrusted my sword-hilt, and i felt that ny deen must be one of the wealthiest of the native chiefs. the distance that we had to traverse was not great, and i saw emissaries in the form of sowars dashing forward to announce our coming; but i felt very weak as i sat back watching the glare of light get brighter and brighter till i could see that it was rising from among houses, and that in front of them was a kind of gate hung with lanthorns, while others kept coming into sight and growing more clear as we approached. then i could see the tops of temples and minarets standing up full in the increasing glare, which made plain at last that we were approaching a city of considerable size, one that was evidently illuminated in the rajah's honour, so that the place to which he had taken the guns, and where we had recovered them, could only have been one of his villages. in spite of my weariness, the increasing brilliancy of the scene roused me a little, so that i was sitting up watching eagerly as we drew nearer, and i could hear the peculiar buzzing roar of a great crowd. then fireworks began to rush up skyward rapidly, and the rockets scattered their blazing stars; the lights of the illumination increased in number, and at last, as we reached the edge of a crowd which had surged out through the great gates, there was a sudden burst of wild, barbaric music, trumpets sent out their brazen clangour, drums were beaten, and as the band took its place in front, and marched before us, we went slowly in beneath the great illuminated gate, and then on along a wide road whose houses were one blaze of light, and sides thronged with the white-robed people, their eyes glittering curiously as we passed. it was a wonderful scene, but i could not appreciate it, for, after the first few minutes of our triumphal progress, my weariness returned in greater force, and it all became a blurred dream of lights and glitter, trampling horses, the swaying elephants, and the deafening clamour of trumpet and drum. and all the time i knew that i ought to feel very proud and glad, because all this preparation and display was got up in my honour; but i felt neither, for under all was the knowledge that it was for the rajah's friend, for the one who was to help him by drilling his forces and making them able to fight and conquer the infidel; and i was one of the infidels, and one who would not fight against his people to save his life. the place was very large, and the light and show appeared as if it would never end; but at last we turned an angle, and crossed a bridge, beyond which i could see the white walls of some great building, and trees, and more lights. there were soldiers there too, and a noble-looking gateway through which we passed, leaving the crowd behind, and with it the music and display. for here all seemed peaceful and beautiful, with the lights glistening among the trees, and i did not need the rajah's touch upon the arm, nor his word, to tell me that i had reached his home. "welcome," he said quietly, and with a pleasant smile. "but, poor boy, how weary and ill you look." for i was completely exhausted, and glad of the assistance of the servants, who supported me into an enclosed court with white marble paving, and whose centre was a square tank, in which a fountain played among the glistening leaves of lilies. i heard the rajah give some order, and directly after the grave old doctor appeared, and gave me a cup of some cool drink, but it revived me very little, and the next thing i remember is being carried to a couch, and uttering a sigh of relief as my helmet and uniform were removed. then i dimly saw the face of the rajah looking down at me, and he said something, but i could not answer, for all was growing misty and strange, and i dropped at once into a heavy sleep. chapter forty four. it was only exhaustion, and i woke the next morning very little the worse, and half expecting to find myself back in my tent and the journey part of a fevered dream. but the first things my eyes lighted upon were rich cushions and curtains, flowers, a shaded window looking out on an inner court, full of verdant trees, and, standing silent and watchful by one of the curtains, there was salaman waiting to show me my bath, and summon two more to assist. people nowadays boast about their baths, some having endless praise to give to those they call turkish, but to thoroughly know what a good bath is, they must have been on the hot plains of india, and known the luxury of having porous chatties of cool, delicious water dashed over them, and sending, as it were, life rushing through their enervated limbs. i felt a different being in a few minutes after salaman and the others had finished their duties with all the assiduity of hindu servants; and then as i sat in the handsome apartment arranged in its simple, rich, eastern luxury, a feeling of wretchedness and misery came over me. i looked round at the rich carpets, soft cushions, and costly curtains; and then at my magnificent uniform, and began thinking of the old, old fable i had read as a child, of the jackdaw in borrowed plumes, and felt that i thoroughly deserved to share the vain daw's fate. i know now that i was rather hard upon myself, and that circumstances had forced me into this position, but i am not sorry that i felt so strongly then. what was to be done? i did not want to be ungrateful to a man who evidently liked me for myself as well as for the use i might prove to be, but help him i would not, i was determined, and i said i would sooner die, though, even as i made that declaration mentally, i wondered whether i was composed of the kind of stuff that would prove so staunch when put to the test. at any rate, i was firm enough then, and began to think out the possibilities of escape. they seemed very remote. i was now in a strong town, surrounded by thousands of people; and, unless brace came in company with quite a little army, there was not much prospect of his setting me free. i had no doubt about dost tracking me out. after finding me in the tiny camp in the forest, he would not have much difficulty in tracking me here. but what to do? how could i hold back? i was certainly growing stronger every hour, and in spite of my breakdown on the previous night, i felt that it would be absurd to pretend that i was an invalid. i could not assume weakness, and i was not going to play a deceitful part. i should have, i knew, to dare the rajah's anger, for, in spite of his words, i knew enough of the hindu race, and had seen enough of his volcanic character, to feel that he would, sooner or later, change his manner, and threaten force. consequently, i could only come to one conclusion--i must escape, and the sooner the better. the question was, how could it be done? i went to the open window and looked out, to find below me the beautiful court, with its trees, marble tank, and fountain of brilliantly clear water, in whose depths swam scores of great gold and silver fish, to which i could not help comparing myself as a fellow-prisoner in bright armour. i looked round the court, which was surrounded by handsome erections, but i did not see a single face at any window. at a gateway, though, were half a dozen armed men, showing me that the palace was carefully guarded. i went to another window, but it gave precisely the same view, except that i could see partly through the gateway, a place which at once had a great interest for me, as it might be the only path to liberty. salaman entered the room just then, and i asked him if i was at liberty to go into the next room. "oh yes," he replied; "my lord is free to go where he likes. it was not safe out there on the forest hill. here he is in a great city, surrounded by his friends." "his enemies," i muttered. "there are five rooms set apart for my lord. will he come and see?" i nodded, and followed him from the room in which i had slept, across a little hall or entry, out of which was the place with tiled floor in which i had had my bath, and then with a smile he drew back a curtain and i entered a handsome room, with a divan in the centre, and others about the walls. then into another, evidently intended for smoking, and from that into one which was set apart for my meals, as a very english-looking breakfast was spread, and a couple of white-robed servants stood waiting to receive my orders. my first move was in each case to the windows, to find that my apartments were in a corner of the court, and that all looked out on the goldfish-tank, but of course in different directions. but there was no tree near the walls big enough to be of use in an escape, and the tank, though it looked deep enough, was too far distant for a dive. "will my lord have food?" said salaman, humbly. "not yet. wait," i replied; and i continued my inspection of my prison, for such it was to me, admiring most of all the curtains, which were of rich soft fabric, and salaman smiled as he saw me pass them through my hand. "beautiful!" i said to myself, and i felt in better spirits, for i saw those curtains cut down, slit up, twisted and knotted together, with one end secured to the side of a window ready for me to slide down the night i made my escape. "that's step the first," i said to myself; and then i looked hard at the two servants standing with folded arms motionless as bronze statues. they were, as i have said, dressed in white, and i saw now, as i examined them more closely, that the stuff was white muslin, both robe and turban, the latter being ornamented with a fine cord of gold twist. they were not very different to scores of men of their class, such as i had seen in good houses at calcutta, or at the messes of the regiments where i had dined, but they attracted me greatly now, and my eyes rested searchingly on their brown faces, thick beards, bare legs, and feet partly hidden by red slippers. it was a neat, becoming dress, and i kept up my scrutiny, noting everything, including, of course, the cummerbund or broad cotton scarf or belt about the men's waists. as for them, they did not even raise their eyes, but stood gazing down at the floor while i made a mental picture of their appearance, and oddly enough, i began thinking about walnuts, and wishing i had some. a curious wish, you will say, for a prisoner who had only to give the word, and a delicious breakfast would be placed before him, with curries and fruits, and sweets with his coffee. but i did not want any of them; i wanted walnuts. ah! you will say, and a pair of nutcrackers, and some salt into which i could dip the ivory-white corrugated scraps when i had peeled them, and possibly then a glass of fine old port wine, making together--the one indigestible, the other heating--about as bad a mixture as a weak convalescent could partake of in india. but then, you see, you are perfectly wrong, for i was not thinking of eating and drinking, but wishing i could have a dozen or so of the big green walnuts i remembered growing on a great tree down in surrey. what for? why, to beat up into a kind of dark juice, in which i could wash my hands, neck, and face, my head, too, and then my feet and legs, till i had stained myself as dark as the darkest hindu i had ever met. the windows, with the gateway to be reached by means of the twisted curtains; the dress of one of those men, and my skin darkened. so far as this already on the first morning of my gilded captivity! "i am getting on," i said to myself, with a smile on my face, and then i grew rigid; for i turned and saw that salaman was watching me keenly, as if he could read every thought. "let not my lord be angry," he said humbly. "i could not help seeing that he was pleased. yes, they are two good servants; the best i could find. his highness said i was to do everything to make my lord happy. but will he not eat?" "yes," i cried eagerly, for i felt that he could not have read my thoughts, but had interpreted my looks to have meant satisfaction with the servants. and then i took my place, feeling all at once hungry and ready for my meal. "i must eat and grow strong," i said. "dost cannot get to me here, even if he dared use the same disguise. i must get out of the palace, and away into the country, and then all will be well." my hopes were a little dashed directly after, for i felt that i had been too sanguine. but i brightened up again, for i knew that i could not succeed all at once, and that i had done wonders towards getting my liberty by making a beginning. i quite enjoyed the delicious breakfast they gave me, and felt in high spirits thinking such a life as the rajah offered me would be glorious if it could have been accepted with honour, and one could have made sure that his enemies would not be of his own race. the meal removed, salaman informed me that the rajah had sent to know how i was; and, as i heard his words, there was the excuse ready to gain time. i might say i was weak and ill. but i did not. i sent word that i was rested and better. salaman sent off his messenger, and then returned to say that a palanquin and bearers were waiting if i wished to go out about the gardens and park. but i declined, preferring to rest for the day, and think. i really was tired, and a seat in the shade by an open window would, i felt, be far preferable, so i seated myself, and tried to follow up my early success with some fresh idea that would help my escape. i looked down into the court, and watched the goldfish and those of a deep orange; then i looked down at the men on guard, and wondered whether they would stop one of the servants of the palace if they saw him walking steadily out, for that seemed to me the task before me. i was watching the gate, and picturing myself walking boldly up to the sentries, when i heard a familiar sound, and leaned out, as there was a loud trampling of horses, and i knew that a regiment must be passing by. but i could see nothing, only mentally picture what was going on as i listened, making out that it must be a very strong body to take so long in passing, while hardly had they gone before there came the dull regular tramp of foot, and regiment after regiment went past i wondered what for, and wished that my window looked right upon the road by which they passed, knowing full well that a request to that effect would be eagerly granted by one who would be pleased to see me taking so much interest in his troops. so of course i could not ask, only content myself by thinking out what was going on--whether the men were going to some drill, or whether an attack was imminent. my cheeks tingled at this, and my imagination grew busy as i began to picture the advance of some of our force. all i had been told by the rajah vanished like mist, and with patriotic fervour i mentally declared that england could not be beaten so easily as he supposed. but time wore away, and as the day glided by i grew dull and low-spirited, for i began to dread a visit. "he has been busy with his troops," i said; "and to-night he will come to talk to me." i was quite right; just at dark the rajah came to greet me smilingly, and sat down to smoke and chat as freely as if such a question as my joining his army were quite out of the question. he seemed pleased to find me so well, and begged me to ask for anything i wished--except liberty--and ended by telling me how hard he had been at work all day drilling and reviewing troops. "they want a great deal of teaching," he said gloomily. "there is everything in them to make good soldiers, and they are willing to learn, but there is no one to drill them properly, and make them smart and quick like the whites." we were getting on to dangerous ground, and he felt it too, and as if not to break his word about treating me as a friend, he changed his position directly, and began to ask my opinion about certain manoeuvres made by foot regiments, and whether i did not think them a great mistake. from that we drifted into the manufacture of powder, and the casting of shot and shell. "i mean to have all that done by my people," he said--"in time. by-and-by i shall cast my own cannon. no, no," he cried merrily; "we must not talk about guns." "no; please don't," i said. "i'll keep my word, gil," he cried; and as he spoke he looked one of the most noble gentlemen i ever saw. "oh yes, i'll keep my word to you, gil; but we can talk about soldiering, even if you are not in my service." and he went on talking upon that subject with all the keen interest of a man who was a soldier at heart, and who meant to gather round him an army which he meant to be invincible. i am sorry to say that i was very ignorant of the history of india; but still i had read and studied it a great deal, and i felt that ny deen was of the same type of men as the old warriors who rose from time to time, petty chiefs at first, but who by their indomitable energy conquered all around, and grew into men whose names were known in history, and would never die. "i tire you," he said at last, after talking eagerly for some time about raising a regiment of light horse--all picked men, with the swiftest and best arab troopers that could be obtained. "mount them for speed," he said, "and to harass the advance of an enemy, and keep him engaged when he is in retreat. such men, if i can get them drilled and trained to the perfection i want, will be invaluable. you see, i have plenty of schemes," he added, with a laugh. "all ambition, i suppose. no, not all," he continued, earnestly; "for i want my nation to be great, and my people prosperous and well governed. it is not from the greed of conquest, gil, nor the love of blood. i hope it is something better; but this rising of the peoples of hindustan is my opportunity. once the english are driven out of the country, the rest will be easy." "then the english are not driven out?" i said sharply. "not quite, boy; but they are at their last gasp. there, gil, i have placed myself in your hands. if you betray what i have said to-night, every one of the chiefs who now help me, and are my allies, would turn against me, and i should stand alone." "you have no fear of that," i said quietly. "you would not have trusted me if you had." "no," he said, rising, "i should not. so you see what confidence i have in you. there, i shall leave you now. go to rest, man, and get stronger. you are beginning to look weary already." he held out his hand as i walked with him to the door, and as i gave him mine, not without a feeling of compunction, for i was playing a double part, and letting him, as i thought, believe i was settling down, when he laughed merrily. "it is of no use," he said. "i don't understand," i said, colouring like a girl. "then i'll explain. you are thinking of nothing else but escaping. well, try to get away. there are only curtains before the doors; but you will find my plans stronger than locks and bolts. try and grow contented with your lot, gil--with the great future that is before you; for it is greater than you can grasp, boy. there, good night." he passed through the doorway, and the purdah dropped behind him, while i stood thinking of his words, and ended by going to one of the windows and leaning out to gaze at the great stars. "that is not my fate," i said to myself; and as the cool night-breeze came softly over my heated forehead, i saw better things in store than becoming the servant of a conquering tyrant, and i went to my couch more strongly determined than ever to scheme some way of escape. chapter forty five. i suppose it was the returning flush of strength which made my rest so pleasant during my stay in the rajah's palace, for my sleep was dreamless and delicious, and i awoke every morning in spirits so buoyant that i felt ashamed of them as unsuitable for a prisoner. five days passed over now, during which i had been out twice in a palanquin, but only in the extensive gardens about the palace. i had not been idle, though; for i had, while apparently sitting back listlessly, made myself thoroughly acquainted with the shape and position of the place, knowing now that one side was protected by a swiftly flowing river. it was only about a hundred and fifty feet across, but deep, and its waters looked suggestive of crocodiles, so that one thought of attempting to cross by swimming with a shudder. i had by degrees pretty well got the plan of the place in my mind, but at the same time woke to the fact that the rajah's was no empty boast, for the palace was surrounded by sentries, who were changed as regularly as in our service. besides, i felt that every servant was a sentry over my actions, and that any attempt at evasion for some time to come was out of the question. and so the days glided by with no news from outside, and for aught i knew, the war might be over, and the country entirely in the hands of the mutineers. once or twice i tried to get a little information from salaman, but he either did not know or would not speak. i tried him again and then again, and at last, in a fit of temper, i cried-- "you do know, and you will not speak." "i am to attend on my lord," he said deprecatingly, "not to bear news. if i told my lord all i knew to-day, i should have no head to tell him anything to-morrow." i was in the territory of a rajah who did as he pleased with his people, and i did not wonder at salaman's obstinate silence any more. so there i was with my plans almost in the same state as on my first day at the palace. there were the curtains waiting to be turned into ropes; there were the servants with their white garments; but i had no walnuts, and i knew of nothing that would stain my skin; and i was beginning to despair, when a trifling thing sent a flash of hope through me, and told me that i was not forsaken. it was one hot day when everything was still but the flies, which were tormenting in the extreme; and, after trying first one room and then the other, i was about to go and lie down in the place set apart for my bath as being the coolest spot there was, when i heard a dull thud apparently in the next room where i had been sitting at the window, and i was about to go and see what it was, but stooped down first to pick up my handkerchief which had fallen. i was in the act of recovering it, when i heard a faint rustling sound, and knew what that was directly--salaman looking in from behind the curtain to see if anything was wrong. apparently satisfied, he drew back, and a splashing sound drew me to the window. that sound was explained directly, for just below me a couple of bheesties, as they are called, were bending low beneath the great water-skins they carried upon their backs, while each held one of the legs of the animal's skin, which had been formed into a huge water-bladder, and was directing from it a tiny spout which flashed in the sun as he gave it a circular motion by a turn of his wrist, and watered the heated marble floor of the court, forming a ring or chain-like pattern as he went on. it was something to look at, and the smell of the water on the stones was pleasant; so i stayed there watching the two men, one of whom took the side of the court beyond the fountain, the other coming almost beneath my window. the weight of the water-skin must have been great at first, but it grew lighter as the man went on; and one moment i was thinking of what strength there was in his thin sinewy legs and arms, the next of the clever way in which the pattern was formed upon the pavement, and lastly of what a clumsy mode it was of watering the place, and how much pleasanter it would be if there were greater power in the fountain, and it sent up a great spray to come curving over like the branches of a weeping-willow. and by that time the skin was empty, hanging flaccid and collapsed upon the bheestie's back, as he went slowly out by the guarded gate, still bent down as if the load was heavy even yet. "what a life for a man!" i thought, as, yawning again--i yawned very much during those hot days--i went slowly into the next room and felt startled, for just in front of the window lay a little packet, one which had evidently been thrown in, and it was that which had made the noise when it fell. it was hard work to refrain from stooping to pick up what i felt almost sure was a message of some kind, but i dared not for fear of being seen. there were curtains over every door, and i never knew but one of the native servants might be behind it; and after what salaman had said about the safety of his head if he talked, i felt sure that the reason why the rajah's servants were so watchful was that they feared danger to themselves if they were not careful of my safety. however, there was the little packet waiting--just a little packet not much larger than a seidlitz-powder, tied up with grass; and, beginning to walk up and down the room, i contrived to give it a kick now and then, till at last i sent it right into the purdah which hung in front of my chamber. this done, i went to the window, looked out, saw that the two bheesties were back watering the court again, the former sprinkling having nearly dried up; and then, turning, i walked right into my room, let the curtain fall back, to find, to my vexation, that the packet was still outside; but by kneeling down and passing my hand under, i was able to secure it, though i trembled all the while for fear my hand should have been seen. for fear of this, i thrust the packet into my breast, and lay down on my couch, listening. all was still, so i took out the packet quickly, noting that it was slightly heavy, but i attributed this to a stone put in with a note to make it easy for throwing in at the window. "oh!" i ejaculated, as my trembling fingers undid the string, "if this is another of dost's letters!" but it was not, and there was no scrap of writing inside the dirty piece of paper. instead, there was another tiny packet, and something rolled in a scrap of paper. i opened this first, and found a piece of steel about an inch and a half long, and after staring at it for a few moments, i thrust it into my pocket, and began to open the tiny packet which evidently contained some kind of seed. "not meant for me," i said to myself, sadly, as i opened the stiff paper, and-- i lay there staring at the fine black seed, and ended by moistening a finger, and taking up a grain to apply to my tongue. the result was unmistakable. i needed no teaching there, for i had had a long education in such matters. it was gunpowder, and i laughed at myself for thinking that it was a kind of seed, though seed it really might be called--of destruction. "yes; it's meant for some one else," i thought, as i carefully refolded the black grains in their envelope, and took out the piece of steel again, to turn it over in my hands, and notice that one end was fairly sharp, while the other was broken, and showed the peculiar crystalline surface of a silvery grey peculiar to good steel. "why, it's the point of a bayonet," i said to myself; and then i sat thinking, regularly puzzled at the care taken to wrap up that bit of steel and the powder. "what does it mean?" i said, or does it mean anything? "some children playing at keeping shop, perhaps," i said; "and when they were tired, they threw the packet in at the first window they saw. just the things soldiers' children would get hold of to play with." "but there are no children here," i said to myself, as i began to grow more excited, and the more so i grew, the less able i was to make out that which later on appeared to be simplicity itself. "the point of a bayonet in one, and some grains of powder in another," i said to myself. "oh, it must be the result of some children at play; they cannot possibly be meant for me;" and in disgust, i tossed the powder out of the window, and directly after, flung out the piece of steel with the result that, almost simultaneously, i heard what sounded like a grunt, and the jingling of the metal on the marble paving. i ran to the window, and looked out from behind the hanging which i held before me, suspecting that i had inadvertently hit one of the bheesties. and so it proved, for i saw the man nearest to me stoop to pick up the piece of bayonet, and then nearly go down on his nose, for the water-skin shifted, and it was only by an effort that he recovered himself, and shook it back into its place on his loins. just then the other water-bearer came up to him, and said something in a low tone--i could not hear what, for he and his companion conversed almost in whispers, as if overawed by the sanctity of the place in which they stood. but it was all evident enough, as i could make out by their gestures: the second bheestie asked the first what was the matter, and this man told him that some one had taken aim with a piece of steel, which he passed on, and struck him on the back. the second man examined the piece, passed it back, and evidently said, "some one is having a game with you," for he laughed, and they both looked up at the windows, as if to see who threw the piece. just then i saw a fierce-looking man come from the gateway, sword in hand; the two bheesties went on with their watering, and i heard him speaking angrily, and he gave force to his abuse by striking each man sharply with the flat of his sword. but the blows were harmless, for they fell on the water-skins, and, as soon as he had marched off, i saw the men look at each other and grin. i drew back, and began to pace my room like a wild beast in a cage, for the idea had come strongly upon me that, after all, those packets were meant for me, and the more i told myself that it was folly, the stronger the conviction grew, and i found myself muttering, "powder and bayonet-- powder and bayonet--what can it mean?" "declaration of war," i said to myself at last; but i gave that idea up, for war had been declared long enough ago. no. it could not mean that. and yet it seemed as if it might be a symbolical message, such as these unseen people would send. "a message--a message--a message," i muttered; and then the light came, or what i thought was the light, and i exclaimed joyfully, "then it was meant for me!" yes; a symbolical message, because whoever sent it was afraid to write lest it should fall into other hands. i was so excited by my next thought that i threw myself face downward on my couch, and laid my head on my folded arms for fear my face should be seen. for i had just been interpreting the message to mean: bayonet-- powder--fighting going on near, when i felt that no one but dost could have sent that message, and its full meaning must be: bayonet, infantry; powder, artillery; and help must be at hand. i heard salaman come softly into the room, but i did not stir, and after a minute he passed out again, and i breathed more freely. i was afraid that he might read my thoughts, for i was in so great a state of excitement and exaltation that i imagined a score of impossible things, and it was with the greatest difficulty that i could contain myself sufficiently to look anything like calm, and keep my position on the bed. for, after the first glance of light, the rest came quickly enough. i was right, i felt sure, about the troops coming, and the sender of the message must be dost, who evidently would not trust himself to write again after the way in which his last letter had puzzled me. he it was, then, who had thrown the packet through the window, and consequently i felt that he must be somewhere about the palace, if he had not trusted his packet to some one else. "no," i thought. "he would not do that. he must be near me in disguise. the old fakir is somewhere about;" and i went to the window to look round, for i could lie no longer. but there was no sign of the old fakir in the courtyard, and my heart sank as i felt how impossible it would be for him to get there. the guards would never let him pass, and i was wondering more and more how he had managed to send me such hopeful news, when i suddenly caught sight of the men coming back heavily laden with their full skins to continue pouring cold water on the marble paving of the heated court, and i shrank away at once, so as to conceal my joy, for i knew now. one of the bheesties must be dost! chapter forty six. i dared not go to the window now, for i knew i was right; and it was impossible for me to be aware of how much i might be watched, while a look might be sufficient, if exchanged between me and the bheestie, to draw suspicion to him, and cause his immediate death. so i kept away, hoping that he would take the blow he had received, although accidentally given, as an answer to his communication. but suppose the wrong man received the blow? it did not matter, i thought. one told the other, and perhaps they were confederates. that was enough. help was at hand. i had but to wait; and it was evidently not some furtive kind of help--some attempt at an escape, but a bold attack to be made on the place, and the message was to put me on my guard. i was in such a state of joyous excitement that i could hardly bear myself. i wanted to laugh aloud at dost's cleverness. only the other day playing the part of fakir, and completely deceiving me, when he stood reviling, and now so transformed that i might have passed the humble water-carrier a hundred times without having the slightest suspicion as to his being genuine. "he is not a fighting man," i thought, "but quite as brave in his way; for nothing could be more daring than for him to march into the enemy's camp with his life in his hand like this." then i began to wonder how long it would be before an attack was made upon the town, and what ny deen would do. it would be a surprise--of that i felt sure; for the rajah was completely satisfied of his safety-- at least, so he seemed, and ready to treat the british power as completely broken. then, feeling that i must be perfectly calm and self-contained, and being fully convinced that there might be an attack almost at any moment, i began to wonder whether i could find some place to hide, in case ny deen wanted to make me the sharer of his flight, for i had not the slightest doubt about the result of an engagement. "yes," i said; "i must be cool, and not seem bubbling over with delight." in fact, i felt just then so elated, partly by the news, partly by the returning health beginning to course through my veins, that i went straight to a mirror, to see if there was anything in my countenance likely to betray my state of mind, and, as soon as i reached it, i stood staring. then i turned away, and went and sat down, thinking that mine was a very uncomfortable position; for, if any of our troops came rushing through the palace and saw me, looking in my present dress, exactly like some hindu chief, my chances of escape would be very small. "why, they would bayonet me before i had time to explain; the fellows don't wait for explanations," i said dismally. and i walked at once into my sleeping-chamber, to see if the remains of my old uniform were by any chance left, though i was certain that they were not. and then a feeling of anger rose against ny deen. "it is all his doing," i said. "he has been trying to make me look as much like a hindu as possible. i wonder that he did not want me to stain my skin!" "no need," i muttered, after a glance at the mirror. "i'm sunburnt enough to look like a sikh." and a feeling of bitter resentment was growing against him now, stronger than i had felt before, knowing as i did that in spite of his kindness, and the friendly feeling he professed, he was moved by the strong motive of making me his most useful follower. i had just arrived at this pitch, when salaman came in quickly. "my lord, his highness is here," he whispered, and then ran out i would have given anything not to have stood before him that day, but there was no help for it; and, forcing myself to look calm and unconcerned, i went into the principal room, just as the rajah entered by the farther doorway, very plainly dressed, and quite alone. "hah!" he exclaimed, with a friendly nod, "there is no need to ask. i can see. better and better! so you shall have a change.--well?" he paused for me to speak, and i could not dissimulate. "oh, thank you," i said; "i do not want a change." "the doctor says that you do, and i say that you do," he continued, smiling; but there was no mistaking his tone. "so you shall go out. we will go out together. you are a great hunter, i know." "oh no," i said hastily. "well, you are fond of hunting." "i liked shooting," i said, as i thought of the end of my last expedition. "i know you do," he continued, with a meaning smile. "there is a tiger at the village a little way toward the hills, and he has been taking the poor people's cows. yesterday he struck down a woman, and carried her off into the forest. i have had him tracked by the shikaris, and ordered the elephants and beaters to be ready. you shall take me with you, gil, and give me a lesson in shooting tiger." "then he has not a suspicion," i thought. and then i asked myself whether i should go or refuse. "if i go," i thought, "i shall be serving brace, for the attack may be made in our absence, and, without their leader, the troops will give way. but if i go with him, knowing what i do, i shall be acting treacherously to the man who saved my life." it was a difficult point to decide, and i said hastily-- "i would rather not go." "why?" he asked, with a quick, suspicious look. "because i am not strong yet, and the sun is hot." "it will give you strength," he said quietly. "you have stayed in till you are fretful, and dislike going out. as soon as we are started, you will be glad." i felt that it was useless to oppose him, and said no more. in fact, i had no time, for he turned to me with a smile. "i meant it quite as a surprise for you," he said; "and i have given all the men a rest from duty to-day, so that i am free. there, get your puggaree; the elephants are waiting, and the guns are in the howdahs." i obeyed him with beating heart, and stood ready before him the next minute, wondering whether an attack would be made in our absence, and if there was, what ny deen would do. if he fled, i felt that he would take me with him, and that there would be another weary time before dost could find me out. "but no," i said; "he will not go. he will hurry back to lead his people. he has too much at stake to flee." "well," he said, "are you counting the tigers?" i started back into the present, and followed him out through chamber after chamber, and along passages till we descended into a court something like the one upon which i looked down, but larger; and here i found three elephants, a strong party of horsemen, and two little bullock-waggons, in which were a couple of hunting leopards, each carefully chained, and with its attendant. in spite of my excitement, i looked with some little curiosity on the two long-legged graceful-looking spotted creatures, each with a peculiar far-off look in its eyes, as if it were trying to pierce the walls and catch sight of the antelopes it was to chase. ny deen saw my look, and smiled. "the tiger may have gone," he said. "if he has, we'll hunt for the deer." he pointed to his elephant, and signed to me to mount the great kneeling creature, which was fitted with quite a plain howdah, open, and suitable for the purpose in hand. as i took my place, i found that there were two double rifles on either side, and as soon as the rajah had mounted, a quick-looking beater climbed up behind us, to kneel behind our seats. the other elephants were made to kneel as we moved onward a few paces, and four of the rajah's followers climbed into the howdahs. then the word was given, six horsemen rode to the gate as advance-guard, and we were following toward the entrance, when the rajah turned to me with a grave smile. "you _are_ better," he said reproachfully. "come, we will not even think of military matters to-day, but make it all pleasure." he had hardly finished the words when i saw him give a quick look and seize one of the guns, for the six horsemen had suddenly ridden back, to make for the rajah's elephant, followed by a mounted sowar, who passed between them as they opened out, and came close up to the side of the elephant. "well?" cried the rajah, fiercely, and speaking in hindustani. "news?" my heart gave a bound as the sowar announced the approach of the enemy, and i glanced at ny deen, in whose face i saw astonishment and disbelief for the moment. but it was only for the moment. directly after, he gave several orders in a quick, decisive manner, and the officer to whom he spoke dashed off to obey his instructions. then he turned to me. "you heard?" he said. i bowed. "will you help me--will you take charge of the guns at once?" i looked full in the fierce, questioning face, and in those anxious moments i could not help feeling the danger of my position; but i had to speak. to refuse, now that he was driven to bay, might mean an order for immediate execution, and, cowardly or no, i could not speak. i suppose that i ought to have been brave, and exclaimed boldly, "kill me, if you like; i will not fight against my countrymen." but i was very young; i had been badly wounded, and was just recovering and beginning to feel how beautiful, in spite of all my sufferings, life was, so i remained silent. "you refuse, then?" he cried fiercely. i was still silent, and he turned from me in a rage, making a fierce motion for me to descend from the elephant, which i obeyed, while ny deen gave a short, sharp order in an angry tone, whose result was that one of his men seized me on either side, and i was more a prisoner than ever, with six men in front and six behind, fresh summoned from the guard-house, to march me away. it was to my death, so it seemed in those terrible moments; while i had but to raise my voice and give my promise to the rajah, to be at once his honoured and trusted friend, commissioned with great power. but i could not say the necessary words, any more than i could speak a minute before, and in the silence of despair i walked as firmly as i could in the direction taken by the men, feeling giddy with excitement, and as if all this were not real, but part of some terrible trouble befallen another. i did not see what was about to happen, and was so wrapped up in my position, that i did not hear the huge elephant from which i had just descended shuffling after me, till the rajah's voice called to my guard to halt. then, leaning down from the howdah, he said to me-- "this is blind obstinacy. come, say you will be my friend, and help me now that i want your services." "i cannot," i said huskily. ny deen uttered a fierce command to the mahout, the elephant swung round, and i set my teeth hard to keep from shouting to him to stop and take me with him. but i mastered my cowardly feeling, and marched on to what i felt was my execution, giving ny deen the credit of treating me as a soldier, though all the while it was in a curious, half-stupefied way, as if the shock had terrorised me, though after the first sensation of horror, i do not recall feeling any great amount of dread. it was then with something approaching wonder that i saw the leading men of the guard wheel to the left through the entrance, and up the broad staircase, and along the passages, at the end of which were my rooms. here they drew back for me to enter, and the door was closed, the rattle of the men's muskets announcing that they remained on guard. i felt so faint on being left alone that i was glad to fly to the great cool vessel of water always standing in one of the rooms, after which i sank down on one of the piles of cushions, and wiped the cold perspiration from my forehead. i was still half-stunned, and wondering whether this was only a respite; but hope soon began to be busy, and i felt that, after all, the being led off to instant death was the work of my own imagination, and that ny deen had probably never even had such a thought beyond holding it up as a threat. as i recovered myself, i rose and walked to the farther door, where, there could be no doubt, the twelve men were stationed, and from thence i hurried to one of the open windows, and looked out to see that there was a guard still at the gateway, and beyond it i could hear a dull, hoarse murmur, and the heavy tramp, tramp of marching men, which was followed by the rush of a body of horse going by at a gallop. this last revived me more than the water, for it sent a thrill through me, suggesting as it did preparations to meet our forces, which must be pretty close at hand, but whether in sufficient strength to attack this great town i would have given anything to know. the beating of the horses' hoofs passed away, but the steady tramp of infantry went on for some time before it had died out, and the dull, distant roar as of many people in a crowd, did not cease. i fancied that it was on the increase, while below me in the court, the fountain played and sparkled in the sunshine, the great goldfish sailed about in the tank, and the green leaves trembled and glistened in the bright light. for whatever might be going on in the town, here everything was perfectly peaceful and still. i was just wishing that i could have been at liberty to mount a horse, and, only as a spectator, go about the town and see what arrangements were being made for its defence, wondering whether it was strongly walled, my recollections on the night of our entry only extending to the great gate through which we had passed, and thinking that if the force advancing were only small, ny deen might decide to go out and attack it, when i saw a couple of dark figures in the gateway, which were not those of the guard, and directly after, bending low beneath the weight of their loads, my old friends, the two bheesties, walked slowly across to the other side of the court, where they separated as before, one going round by the far side of the tank, the other coming in my direction. "it cannot be a very serious alarm," i thought, "or matters would not be going on so calmly here." then i stopped short to watch the actions of the nearest man, wondering whether my ideas were right, or it was only fancy. "it can't be dost," i said to myself, as the man diligently directed the thin tube of leather formed by the leg of the animal from which it had been stripped, sending the water round and round to form chains of circles on the marble paving. "no. it can't be dost," i thought, with the feeling of sadness of one who was suffering terribly from his solitary position. "it was all imagination." but then i felt that it could not have been imagination about the message, for there were the forces approaching. still, that heavy-looking man's sole aim in life seemed to be to make the rings of water on the pavement perfectly exact, and i was wondering at myself for being so ready to jump at conclusions as i watched him come slowly nearer and nearer, his back bent, his head and neck forward, and his shadow cast by the sun on the white pavement--exactly that of a laden camel. on he came, nearer and nearer, but so well-drilled in his work that he seemed to see nothing but the pavement, which glistened in the bright sunshine, as he spread the water in ring after ring, splashing his brown feet and legs at every turn. at last he was right beneath me without there appearing to be the most remote possibility of his being dost; and in spite of the cleverness of his disguise as the fakir, i gave up my idea, when a voice in a whisper said-- "be of good cheer, master; there is help coming." "dost!" i ejaculated aloud, and as the man started violently, i stepped back from the window, feeling sure that my voice would bring some one into the room. i was quite right, for i had hardly left the window when the curtain was drawn aside, and salaman entered. "yes. quick; bring me something to eat." he salaamed, and passed behind the curtain, while i followed, and saw him draw aside the purdah at the next doorway, the momentary glimpse i had showing me a group of armed men on guard, so that, if i had any doubts before, there was room for none now. i went back and glanced through the window again, just in time to see the two bheesties join again, and slowly march out with their empty skins to fetch more water. i was in the act of turning away wondering whether by any possibility dost would be able to make his way to me when it was dark, and with my heart beating fast, hoping that he would have designed some way of escape, when my heart gave another bound, and i ran to the window to thrust out my head and listen, for unmistakably, although at some distance off, came the quick dull thud of a cannon. "hah!" i ejaculated, as i saw in my imagination the men serving the guns, and in my own mind making certain that it was one of brace's six-pounders. "how glorious!" i cried; "one of the pieces he carried off turned upon him now." "my lord is glad there is fighting?" said a voice behind me; and i saw that salaman had come quickly up behind, and he now pointed to where the meal i had asked for had been placed upon the matting. i frowned, but made no answer, as i walked to the spot where the repast was spread, and i had hardly seated myself, with the two attendants who had brought in the food standing before me, when i heard another report, and then, slowly and steadily the whole of the guns were brought into action, keeping up a regular steady fire, one which told me that an advance was being made by infantry, which the firing was to cover. i began to eat, trying to be perfectly calm, but at the first mouthful i broke down. it was impossible, and, jumping, up i went and sat down by the window, to listen to the firing, and try to picture to myself what was going on. it was weary work. all imagination, and i knew it; but still i could not keep from picturing the scene, especially when the firing suddenly ceased. my cheeks grew flushed then, and i seemed to hear the order, see the men trot up with the limbers, the gunners hook on the trail of the gun-carriage, and then spring to their seats on horse or limber, and go off at a gallop. "no," i muttered, "come on at a gallop," to take up a fresh position. i could have sworn that the next minute i should hear them open again, and i seemed to see the swift horses going along at full speed to come to a sudden halt, the men spring down, unhook, and bring the guns into action again. but that minute passed, then another, and another--long, weary minutes--till quite ten must have gone by before i heard the familiar dull report again, and now, to my misery, i acknowledged to myself that it must be from fully a mile further away. four guns were fired, or two twice over, i could not, of course, tell which. then the firing ceased, and a dull feeling of misery came over me, for it meant retiring. they must be driven back by the superior force of the rajah's army. i turned away from the window with a feeling of depression that was terrible, and, try how i would, to keep from thinking, i kept on seeing the fierce-looking lancers of ny deen making furious charges at perhaps a mere skeleton of a regiment of foot, which grew gradually less and less, till the men scattered, and were ridden down. oh how vivid that all seemed, till i saw that which was real, and not imaginary. salaman and the two attendants patiently watching me, as i began once more to walk up and down. chapter forty seven. i passed the whole of the day in misery, thirsting for news with a very great thirst, but none came. the servants about the palace evidently knew nothing though, if they had, they would not have dared to speak. it was quite plain, from the noise, that the town was crowded, and in a state of excitement, but the sounds were at a distance, and they kept on. had the noise gradually died out, i should have been hopeful, for i should have thought that they were leaving the place because the english were advancing. but though i sat at the window and strained my ears, there was no distant sound of firing, and i was getting into a very despairing mood, when my spirits revived again just before sunset, for all at once there was the sound of a gun; faint, distant, but unmistakably the report of a field-piece; and as i held my breath and listened, there was another and then another. i knew the sound at once as coming from a troop of horse artillery, for the firing was regular; and i was so sanguine that i immediately set it down to brace's troop. "oh, if i could only escape!" i thought; and my ideas went at once to the disguise and the hangings to be used as a rope. if i could only get down into the court, i trusted to my good fortune to find a way through some other window, and thence to an unwatched opening. how to manage it? i was so conspicuous a figure in the uniform i wore that i felt that i dared not go like that, while to obtain the dress of one of the servants was impossible. "i shall have to escape as i am," i thought, and i went down into the sleeping-room, and laid the sword ready. it was the magnificent tulwar the rajah had given me, and as i looked at the flashing jewels upon the hilt, i felt some compunction in taking it; but making up my mind to return it after i had escaped, feeling, as i did, the necessity for possessing a weapon, i laid it behind a purdah, where i could quickly catch it up. the next thing was to select one of the silken curtains, which i could divide longwise, and tie the ends together. they would be quite enough to enable me to reach the ground; and there was a ring on one side of the window strong enough to bear my weight, i felt. it was nearly dark by the time i had made those plans, which were interrupted by pauses, to listen to the distant firing away toward where the sun set. that was to be my direction, if i could get out of the town, and i was calculating my chances of escape when a happy thought struck me--to drape myself in a light curtain, and loosen the pugaree about my helmet. but the next minute i felt that there was no need, for my uniform would be sufficient to command respect among the rajah's troops, if i backed it up with plenty of coolness and decision. the people, as a rule, knew that i was the rajah's friend, and expected that i should take some command. they could not all know, i argued, that i had refused to turn renegade; and gathering confidence now, as the darkness increased, i felt that if once i could get out of the palace, all i had to do was to be haughty and overbearing with the people; to assume for the time the position the rajah had offered, and trust to my confidence to carry all before me. i had reached this point, and was still listening to the firing, when it occurred to me that i had better try and throw salaman off his guard. to do this i went into the room where i partook of my meals, and summoned him. he entered so quickly that i knew he must have been close to the curtain, and i looked at him curiously to try and make out whether his face displayed any alarm or anxiety respecting the advance of the english force, but he looked perfectly calm. "bring a light, and some more fruit," i said; and as soon as i had spoken i thought of how foolish my last request was, for i was not in the habit of eating much fruit. he bowed, and was leaving, when i stopped him. "is there any news of the fight going on?" i said, as carelessly as i could. "yes, my lord; messengers have come in. his highness is driving the english sahibs right away into the far country." i should have liked to say i did not believe it, but i could not, for the gradual dying away of the firing agreed with his words. then, as i said no more, he left the room, to return directly with a lamp, and some fruit was borne in by one of the attendants. i waited till they had gone, and then slowly went to the curtain-covered opening, and looked through to see that salaman was sitting down talking to the officer of the guard; and satisfied that now was my time, i walked quickly back and secured the curtain which i bore into my sleeping-room, where it was all dark, having determined to descend from there if i could find a place to secure the end of the curtain-rope. but previous to twisting it up, i cautiously looked out of the window, and drew back in despair; for there, just beneath me, were the men of the guard slowly pacing the place, each bearing a lanthorn, as if to take special care that i did not escape that way, and i saw at a glance that, even if i could descend the rope, it would be impossible to cross the court, and in my despair i seated myself upon my couch to think. this way was impossible. it was just as impossible to try and get out by the door, for it was strongly guarded. "there is only one way," i said to myself, angrily. "i must get the dress of one of the men. but how?" i could see no way, for i had no money to offer a bribe, and the possibility of escaping grew more and more hopeless. "it is of no use to try," i said, half aloud. "i may just as well accept my fate. ny deen will never let me go." but the idea of giving way irritated me to such an extent, and was so bitterly contemptible that i leaped up, seized and buckled on the sword, and for the minute had some wild idea of getting down into the court, and cutting my way through the guards. i could take them by surprise, i thought; but the next minute i was forced to grant the fact that directly after they would recover and take me by surprise in a way that might quite put an end to further ventures on my part. as soon as i had reached this point of reasoning, i went once more to the window, and looked down to see if the guards were still there. i had full evidence directly, for there they all were, and as fully on the alert as men would be who knew that their heads would answer for a prisoner's escape. "i must wait my opportunity," i said bitterly, as i turned away, after seeing one of the guards go by beneath my window, when there was a faint, rustling noise, which made me turn in time to see something dark at the window, whose feet rested for a moment lightly on the window-sill before it sprang into the room, and darted behind one of the curtains. i was so much startled that i half-drew my sword as i gazed at the curtain, which was barely visible, the only light being that which came from the lamps in the next room, and a trifle from the window as the lanthorns, carried by the guard in the court, moved here and there. "no, no, sahib," came in a faint whisper, which relieved me, for at that moment i had been ready to fancy it was some curious wild beast. "dost!" i whispered back, as i crept softly to the curtain. "yes, sahib. but look! did the men see me come in?" i peered out of the window, and saw that the guard were marching slowly to and fro, with their lanthorns swinging. "no; they have seen nothing," i whispered; and then i passed through into the next room, crossed it, and made sure that salaman was not coming. "it is all safe," i said, as i returned. "how did you manage to get up?" "it was impossible, sahib," he said, hardly above his breath. "i could not get near for the guard." "then how did you manage?" i said. "i came over the roof, sahib, and let myself down by a cord." "then we can escape that way," i whispered. "is the sahib strong enough to climb the rope?" a pang of misery shot through me as i involuntarily applied my right hand to my wounded arm. "no," i said. "then i must pull the sahib up," said dost, calmly. "we ought to go soon." "pst!" i whispered, and i stepped to the window, leaned out, and seemed to be studying the sounds outside, for there was the faint rustle of a curtain, and a light step crossing the next room. directly after i heard salaman's voice. "did my lord call?" "eh? call? no," i said, coming from the window, and trying to command my voice, as i walked toward where he stood in the open doorway. "i can't hear any firing now." "no, my lord; the battle must be over, and at any time his highness will be back." i made some remark, but what it was i cannot tell now, and went on into the lighted room, noticing that he glanced suspiciously at my sword, but i appeared not to notice it, and went to the window of that room, while salaman went back. "he has had strict orders to keep on watching me," i said to myself; and i had hardly thought this, than, to my horror, i heard the regular tramp of feet, and the officer and four men marched into the next room, where i heard them moving about. i was going to rush into the sleeping-room to warn dost, when salaman appeared. "my lord will not be angry with his servant," he said. "it is his highness's commands that you should be watched carefully, and they are searching the rooms." "searching the rooms?" i said aloud. "yes, my lord. i am not to blame." just then the officer entered bearing a lanthorn, and his four men came behind. he bowed to me respectfully, and then made a sign to his followers, who carefully searched the room--a simple task, for all that was needed was to look behind the hangings. my heart felt in my mouth, as people say, for the officer led the way now to my bed and the bath-room, where poor dost was certain to be discovered if he had not succeeded in making his escape. salaman followed the guard, and i sat listening for the first cry of excitement, but none arose, and i breathed freely as the officer came back, lanthorn in hand, followed by his men, to salaam to me again, and pass out to his station by the far door while salaman hung back. "my lord has offended his highness, who is angry. that is why the search is made." i did not answer--i could not; and the man bowed and went out, while i stepped quickly to the window of the bedroom, at which dost appeared directly after--a dark shadowy figure, and leaped down. "we must go at once, sahib," he whispered. "it is so dark up here that the guard in the court can see nothing. i shall go up on to the roof, and lower the rope. the sahib will make it quite fast round beneath his arms, and then tug once, and step on to the window-sill. he will then trust to me, and i shall draw him up." "but can you, dost?" i said nervously. "the sahib may believe me. i am very strong." as he spoke, he placed his hands on my waist, and lifted me up with the greatest ease, setting me down again lightly. "now, sahib; ready?" i could just dimly see him step to the window, and i felt that he must have seized a rope, up which he passed with the activity of a monkey, and i saw plainly enough now why he had not been discovered. the next minute, after a faint grating noise, i felt the rope swinging backward and forward. i caught it, and secured it firmly about my waist, climbed on to the window-sill, jerked the rope, and felt it tighten slowly, then more and more, till it lifted me from where i stood, and i felt myself gliding slowly upward, my heart beating violently the while, for i was utterly helpless, and as i was not exerting myself, i suffered the more mentally, wondering whether the rope would hold--whether dost would have strength enough to haul me right up--whether the guards pacing the court would hear us, and look up and see us by the light of their lanthorns, and give the alarm--whether salaman would enter the room and miss me. these thoughts rushed like lightning through my brain as i felt the jerk, jerk of the rope, and gazed skyward. i suppose i must have been about half-way to the roof when i heard a faint click and shivered. my scabbard had struck against the wall, and i looked wildly down at the guards, but to my great surprise they had not heard it, and were continuing their walk. dost paused for a few moments as he heard the sound, and i did not stir, but hung close to the wall, with my heart beating painfully, before i dared to seize the scabbard with one hand and hold on. then the jerking motion was begun again, and once more i suffered a kind of martyrdom as i fully expected to find that the rope would slacken, and that i should be precipitated on to the marble flags of the court. oh, how long it seemed. for it was a minute of gold drawn out into a wire of what seemed to be endless length. then i was at the top, and passed my right hand over to seize the parapet, while dost's hands were busy about my chest, and the next thing i remember is being dragged down on to the flat, eastern roof, where i lay panting with dost lying by my side, but with his eyes level with the parapet, as he listened for tokens of alarm. there was not a sound, and satisfied that all was right so far, dost whispered to me to sit up, when he rapidly twisted the rope round my breast, and turned in one end, while i looked about me, to try and make out the kind of place we were on. but it was too dark to see much, and i waited for my companion's next order, contenting myself to leave everything in his hands. "now, sahib," he whispered, with his lips to my ear, "take my hand, keep in a stooping attitude, and walk with me." i should have liked to ask, "what are you going to do?" but he was commanding-officer for the moment, and all i had to do was to obey. i rose, and, bending down as i grasped his hand, walked softly to where we reached the end of that side of the court--the roof seeming perfectly flat--and then we turned off at right angles and walked along till we had reached the end of the building which formed another side. here the process was repeated till we were about opposite to the spot where i had been drawn up. here dost stopped. "we must get down here!" he whispered. "into the court?" "no; down into the gardens," he said. "the next side would be best, but there is a guard in the gateway, and sentries walking up and down." "are there sentries in the gardens?" i whispered. "i think so. we'll look." crossing softly to the side of the palace furthest from the court, we peered cautiously down into what looked intensely black, but dotted with points of soft light which i knew at once to be lanthorns carried by guards. "can we get across?" i whispered. "we must, sahib. there is no other way. there are plenty of bushes to hide us. what's that?" i listened, and from a little distance off i could hear the trampling of horses, which suddenly ceased, apparently somewhere on the other side of the court. "cavalry," i whispered, and then listened as dost went on. "i shall lower you down here first," he whispered, "for i think there is a place to which i can hook on the rope, and draw it down afterward. yes; here it is. i found it to-night." he had been on his knees feeling about, and, evidently satisfied, began to unwind the rope from my chest. "did you make the end quite fast?" he whispered, just as i was wondering how he had found the window from up here on the roof. "yes." "don't stop to untie it," he said, "but slip it over your arms and head as soon as you are down. no; it is long enough; hold it fast till i join you. i'll pass it round this post and slide down the other end." "what's that?" i whispered, as a shout arose; and involuntarily we both crossed the roof again to look. but we did not look down into the court, but across the fountain in the centre to where lights shone brightly from three windows opposite, while at one of them, open, i could see two figures, one of which held up a shaded lamp above his head, while the other, who i could plainly see was the rajah, without his voice endorsing the fact, roared forth his commands to the guards in the court and at the gate--orders which were followed by hurrying feet, and shouts could be heard, answered in all directions. "rajah--come back--too soon," said dost, hurriedly. "quick, sahib." "but they will be all on the watch." "so shall we be, sahib," he whispered eagerly, as he pressed me toward the outer parapet close by the low stone projection. "quick! go down." i was obliged to let him help me over the parapet, so as to get my arm clear, and then, with the lamps moving about in all directions, and every now and then meeting and gliding away again, dost began to lower me rapidly. to my horror, when i was some distance down, i could see two lanthorns approaching, as if their bearers had seen me, and were coming to meet exactly where i should touch the ground. dost could not see them, evidently, and to call to him meant betraying us both, so i gave myself up for lost. but all at once the rope stopped, and i hung there motionless, just as a door about ten feet below me opened, and some one came out. it was to meet the two lamp-bearers coming in different directions, and directly after the man from the doorway had stopped, they came up to him. "keep a strict look-out," the man said. "a prisoner is trying to escape. he must be found." the men briefly said that they would watch, and that no one had been in the grounds; after which they went off, leaving me breathless, as i hung there, listening for the departure of the first man, who seemed to be watching me. so silent was everything that i felt that he must be just beneath me, and my fingers crisped up, ready to seize my sword. but the moments glided by, and he still did not move, my suspense, in both senses of the word, being brought to an end by dost lowering me down quickly. by the time i reached the ground, i had drawn my sword, ready to resist attack; but, to my utter surprise, i found that the door was closed, the man having retired so silently that i had not heard a sound. the moment i had convinced myself that i had no attack to fear, i lay down, turning myself into a counterpoise as dost threw down the other end of his rope, and began rapidly to descend. as i felt the rope give jerk after jerk, i listened to the sounds within the palace. men being apparently running in all directions, as if searching for me; and dost muttered something to the same effect, as he dropped lightly by my side, after i had been wondering whether the rustling noise he made in his descent would be heard. the noise he made, though, was greater as he drew the rope round the projection which held it above, and i caught his wrist in horror as we stood there in the darkness, he pulling and i twisting the rope round and round my chest. "don't," i whispered; "some one will hear." "but we must have the rope, sahib, to get down from the top of the wall," he said; and he pulled away at the line more quickly, the end falling directly after with a sharp crushing sound among the bushes. this had evidently been heard, for a lanthorn rapidly approached us out of the darkness, and as we crouched down, the face of a man could be seen at last, with the eyes flashing as he held up his light. but, as is the case on a dark night, the man who bears a light is far easier to see than the one who watches or hides, and i crouched there, wondering at last, as the man held up his lanthorn nearly over me, why it was that he could not detect my presence. but he did not, and after looking carefully round, he turned and walked away, just where, had he taken a couple or so steps nearer to the palace, he would have come in contact with one of us. "saved!" i breathed to myself, as he walked away, and his light disappeared among the trees. "the rope, sahib," whispered dost; and i rapidly drew it up and twisted it round me. "now your hand," he said; and as i gave it to him, he led me cautiously in and out among the trees, avoiding the men easily enough, for their lanthorns showed exactly the direction in which they were going, though, had a few been about without lights, we must have been taken! it was slow work, and, as we crept along, the moving lights behind the windows and the shouts and commands that came made me aware that a careful search was being made for me, and, moment by moment, our chance of escape appeared more hopeless. but dost did not seem to be in the slightest degree troubled. he kept on right through the grounds toward where lights flitted about in the window of a building, and he whispered-- "they are searching it, sahib. when they have done, we will go there." i felt hopeless, but kept on close to his side, thinking all the time that we must be taken before long. just now the capture was imminent, for men approached us, but in every case something took off their attention, and we reached the great building, to find it now all dark, as if the search there was at an end, and the place deserted. dost uttered a low grunt of satisfaction, and crept softly along beneath the windows; but we came upon no door, only reaching a blank stone wall at the end of the building, and having to retrace our steps to where we started, and then go in the other direction. here we were more fortunate, coming upon a door, and entering the building, which was evidently a kind of summer-house, but of a very substantial character. it was perfectly empty, but lights flashed in through the windows on the opposite side to that by which we had entered, and as we went cautiously forward, it was to see scores of armed men with torches, their task evidently being, as shown by their actions, to seek me out. i say me, because i felt that they must be in profound ignorance of the existence of dost. the light which shone in was enough to show his anxious, eager face, and as his eyes met mine, he gave his head a nod in the direction of the window. "not that way," he said, with a little laugh; "this." we hunted about some moments, with the cries of the men outside sounding wonderfully close to my ears, and then found the way to the upper floor, which, though well-furnished, was utterly deserted. here we made at once for the end, to find a way on to the roof, but it was at the other end, and proved to be, as we reached it, exactly like that of the palace--flat, and with a parapet all round. dost signed to me to stoop, for i was a striking object with my bright uniform, and the reflection from the lanthorns and torches down below was sufficient to make us visible to each other. bending low, we approached the side whence the light came, and, taking off my helmet, i cautiously peered down, to see the great court beneath crowded with soldiers, all standing to their arms, as if expecting instant orders to join in the search. "no go down there, sahib," said dost, softly. i shook my head, and followed him to the end, where a stronger light shone up, and on looking down there, we found that the officers were collected, as if waiting for orders. dost shook his head again, and walked back along the roof, with the grounds on our left, the well-filled square on the right, and the dark end of the large summer-house before us. there everything was black, and we had no need for caution in looking over. i could not help shuddering as i drew back my head, on hearing a loud slapping noise below me, and a peculiar whishing, rushing sound. "no," said dost. "no boat. muggers. can't go that way." for the swift river was gliding by just beneath the walls of the summer-house; whose windows looked down upon what by day would be doubtless a lovely scene, but which now was gloomy and repulsive in the extreme. "what shall we do, then?" i asked. "wait," said dost, quietly, and he unwound the rope from me, and carefully made it into a coil, which he passed over his left arm. "wouldn't it be better to stop till later? they will not search this place again." "i don't know, sahib. they may come up here, and there is nowhere to hide." "shall we go back into the garden, and try some other way." "there is no other way," he replied. "the river shuts off all one side, sahib, and the other is full of ny deen's soldiers." "tell me," i whispered. "what about the fighting? our people were not beaten?" "i don't know, sahib. i can't understand. the rajah drove all before him, and they retreated far away." that was piteous news, and i drew a long breath as i felt how hopeless my condition was growing. it had seemed so easy to escape when once i was out of the palace, but on putting it to the test, the difficulties had increased with every step. "let's look down into that great court again, dost," i said softly. "there may be a part that is not watched." we looked over, and dost drew back shaking his head. "no, sahib," he said; "we have done that twice. once i hung down over the guards' heads. we must not try again. it might mean death." he was quite right, and i remained silent for a few moments. he spoke at last. "if we could only get among the houses, sahib," he said, "and walked quietly--you like that, i like this. no one would speak to us. come, we must try the garden again." it seemed to be the only way, and i followed him down from the roof to the first floor, and then down to the bottom, where our position was very precarious, for the men outside had only to reach up to the windows, raise their torches, and gaze in to see us in one or other of the great rooms. but as they had thoroughly searched the place, this was not done, and we reached the door in safety, and stood looking out into the extensive grounds, with their walks, great trees, and clumps of shrubs. the place seemed to be just the same as before; intensely dark, surrounded as it was by high buildings, and the moving lanthorns looked in the distance like sparks in tinder, gliding here and there. "where shall we make for, dost?" i said. "the big house in the corner, sahib," he whispered back. "it is close to the river; but we may be able to get through there, and into a part not watched. if we cannot get away then, we must wait till morning." i could do nothing but obey, and following him closely, we began our dangerous walk through the great gardens, always on the point of being seen by one of the guards; but, thanks to the darkness, and the effect the lights had on the men's own eyes, escaping, though often enough it was by the merest chance. we had passed about half-way toward the building at the right-hand corner, its lights in the windows acting as our guide, and were crouching down among some bushes while a couple of the guards went by, when, all at once, there was a light flashed up from behind us, one which grew brighter every moment, and, looking back, we made out that the men we had seen were coming into the grounds through the great summer-house, and were spreading across, evidently to thoroughly search the grounds again. dost uttered a low murmur of dismay, as, by the distribution of the lights, he saw that there was to be a regular hunt of the gardens, after the fashion of beating up a tiger. "come, quick!" he whispered. "the rajah must be there." he snatched my hand, and led me on toward the far end of the garden, but only to stop short, for, to my horror, i saw a door open, a blaze of light flash out, and a body of men bearing torches troop down some steps and spread across that end where they were quickly marshalled by some one in authority, and began to advance toward us. our position was hopeless, for now the two lines of men advancing from either end were making the place as light as day, and gradually narrowing the ground in which we could be free. it was only a matter of minutes before we should be caught between them. dost pressed my hand hard as he looked wildly about him. "no trees, sahib, no trees to climb," he whispered. "i did try so hard to save you, but i have failed. good-bye, sahib. i was thy faithful servant. good-bye!" "why do you say that?" i said huskily. "why?" he uttered a little laugh, and passed his hands about his neck. "they will make short work of me." "no," i said; "you are my servant, and no one shall harm you. i will appeal to the rajah myself." i drew my sword, and thrust my injured arm through poor dost's, meaning to defend him; but before i could even think of what i should do next, there was a sharp rustle, a rush, and half a dozen of the original searchers, with their lanthorns, urged by their position to make a capture before the two lines of men came up and shut us in, pounced upon us, drawn there by our voices, and then in the midst of a scuffle, i saw two men go down while i was pinioned from behind. then my captors shouted for lanthorns, there was the heavy beat of feet, and in a blaze of light, i saw ny deen advance, and stand before me smiling in his triumph, but making me shrink with anger and mortification, for there was a good deal of contempt in his look, as he signed to me to approach, and to the man who held me to remove my sword. chapter forty eight. as soon as i could drag my eyes from ny deen's mocking gaze, i looked round sharply for dost, and a chill ran through me as i failed to see him. for the moment i hesitated to speak, in the hope that he might have escaped, and inquiries might only lead to his pursuit; but it was such a forlorn hope that i gave it up at once, and turned to speak to the rajah. "where is my servant?" i said. "salaman?" he replied. "no, no; my old servant, dost." "the man who was with you just now?" "yes," i cried. "i do not know," replied ny deen. "i suppose killed, as the result of his rashness." i gave him a glance full of horror, and then looked round at the crowd of armed men so fiercely, that the rajah spoke. "where is the man," he said. there was a dead silence, which i interpreted to mean that he had been killed. the rajah took a step or two forward, glaring round so savagely that one of the men who had seized us prostrated himself. "you have killed him?" said ny deen, in a low guttural voice, which made me shiver. "my lord, no. the man was seized, and in the fight he fell, and we thought him dead, for he was bleeding. then we held the english lord here, and when we went to pick up the man, he was gone." "then he has escaped?" the man remained silent, and ny deen turned to me with his eyes full of mockery and a strange light, as they flashed in the glare of the torches. "well," he said, "are you satisfied?" "yes," i replied, "if it is true." "it is true enough," he said carelessly. "come." he signed to me to approach his side, and to my surprise, instead of my being led off as a prisoner, the rajah laid his hand upon my shoulder, and walked by me as if nothing had happened, right back to my room, when he threw himself upon the cushions and laughed. "you foolish boy!" he said good-humouredly; "how could you be so weak as to commit such a folly. i am angry with you, not for offending me, for i suppose it was natural, but for lowering yourself so before my people, forcing me to have you--the man i meant to be my chief officer--hunted like an escaping prisoner. you might have been killed in your mad climbing, or by my people by accident in a struggle. that man came and tempted you to go?" "i wanted no tempting," i replied. "it is a pity," he said, after a moment's pause. "you degraded yourself, and you lowered me before my people." "i want my liberty," i cried angrily. "well, boy, i offer you liberty," he said quietly; "liberty and honour. i only stand in your way when i see that, in a blind madness, you are going to rush headlong to destruction. you do not know; i do." i was silent. "where would you have gone to-night," he said, "supposing that you had not fallen and killed yourself, or been cut down by my guards?" "to my friends." "you have no friends," he said sternly. "you would have escaped, perhaps, to the wild country or the forest to starve, or to be killed by the wild beasts. no one would give you food, and you would scarcely have found one who would not have sought to slay you as an enemy. you say you would, have fled to your friends. where are they?" "you should know best," i said sullenly. "you have been fighting with them." "yes," he cried, with his eyes flashing. "i have been fighting with enemies of my country. i have nothing to hide from you. i will tell you all, so that you may know, and see how mad it is for you to fight against the decrees of fate. yes, i fought with those you call your friends to-day, and drove them before me till after sundown. my men are following them now to complete the pursuit, scattering them like dead leaves before the blast which heralds the monsoon. you heard the firing?" "yes," i said sadly. "and know that it grew more distant as they were beaten off, till they turned and fled. i came back then. i cannot fight with flying foes. it was a mad attempt, a last desperate struggle, just a little flashing up of an expiring fire. by now it is dead, and you will hear of them no more." we both sprang to our feet, for, as he spoke, there was a crashing volley not far away--a volley such as would be fired only by well-drilled troops--and directly after there was another, followed by a scattered firing, and shouts rising up to a perfect roar. ny deen, who looked astounded, made for the door, and in my excitement i followed him; but he thrust me back, and turned to the guard standing beyond the hangings. "your lives for his!" he thundered to them. "he does not leave this place." the curtain was thrown between us, and i ran to the open window, to find the court full of troops hurrying here and there, while lights were flashing, and in the midst of the excitement the rattle of distant musketry was on the increase. "crushed--scattered--where are my friends?" i said aloud. "why, they are here. it is an attack upon the town!" i felt a little doubt as soon as i had uttered these words; but the longer i listened the more convinced i felt that this must be a surprise, and by degrees matters took their shape in my mind, thus accounting for the apparent ease with which the rajah had scattered his enemies. "it has all been a ruse--a piece of strategy," i thought. "they have retreated, and drawn ny deen's men right away, so as to weaken him, and now they have got back first, or this is another force." as i stood at that window, i, for the moment, thought of throwing myself down, but the attempt would have been madness, for the moon was now up nearly full, and helping the torches to flood the place with light which flashed from the tank, and made the fountain resemble molten silver. i gave up the thought at once, for i could see a strong guard were watching my windows, and that i was carefully observed as i sat down and listened to the increasing roar away to my right, where the shouting, cheering, and yelling were mingled strangely with the bursts of firing which grew nearer. i seemed to see the fight going on, and grew more excited moment by moment, as i knew by the sounds exactly how matters progressed. for, as i judged, a body of infantry was fighting its way along a street, and every now and then a sharp volley was heard, followed by a tremendous cheer, which suggested to me that the men fired, and then made a rush forward, driving their enemies back; and then after a short space another volley was fired, followed by a fresh rush, and so on, the fusillade sounding each time nearer. "they are carrying everything before them," i thought; for though there was plenty of firing in return, it was scattered and desultory, and, even if i could see nothing, i was perfectly sure that the defenders of the town were giving way, though perhaps only to make a more desperate stand as they were driven together. then all at once my heart leaped, for there was the sound of a gun to my left, in the direction where i believed the great gate stood through which we had entered the town that night. then another heavy thud came, and another as the guns were brought into action, and their point must be, i felt sure, to batter down the gate, to admit a fresh attacking force, whose duty would be to take the defenders in the rear. the effect on the guards in the court was startling. several ran to the gateway to question the sentry there eagerly, and then return to their companions. then came the rattle of musketry from the left, evidently in answer to the firing of the heavy guns which were battering the gates; but it had no effect, for the pieces were being served with the greatest regularity, and i listened eagerly, wondering whether it could be brace's troop, and how soon they would open a way for the infantry which i felt sure would be in support. at last i went away from the window, and began to walk excitedly about the room, but only to rush back again, as i heard a fresh volley of musketry in the distance, and on looking out saw a dull glow out over the walls of the palace, a light which grew brighter, and, as it increased, i knew that attackers or defenders had fired some house, the beginning of a work whose end it was impossible to foretell. i shuddered slightly, for i was a prisoner. "suppose," i thought, "this place should catch, and i found myself hemmed in!" i looked down at the depth below, and my eyes once more sought the hangings, as i recalled how i had thought of contriving a rope. the fire was increasing fast, the dull glow becoming each minute more vivid, till, when i reached out of the window, i could see orange-tinted clouds rolling up from the direction of the volley firing, whilst the shouting was certainly coming nearer. i felt as if it was impossible to bear this confinement longer, and it was only by forcing myself to dwell upon the varying fortunes of the fight that i was able to contain myself. there, on the one hand, was the attack upon the gate; there, on the other, the advance of the troops through the town, to which they must have obtained entrance by a surprise. and now i longed to be where i could see the varying fortunes of the fight, which at times i thought must be going in another direction. that was only a passing thought, for all at once the firing of the artillery ceased; so did that of the musketry opposed to it, and i listened breathlessly, wondering what was the cause. had they failed to batter down the gate? and had they limbered up and retired? no; for, as the thought came, there was a sudden crash of musketry, volley after volley, and the incessant scattered firing of the defenders. then, as i listened, a faint sound of cheering, increasing in loudness, reached my ears, and directly after i felt certain that the gate had been taken. a minute later there was no doubt about it, for i could hear the fighting right and left, and to my great joy, i knew that it must be going against the rajah's men, who were retiring, and i soon found that the palace was the place for which they were making. first of all, there was a great deal of excitement in the court. then a sowar came riding in to give orders to the officer in command, and while it was being executed, a gallantly-dressed chief dashed in, shouted some fresh orders, and directly after, quite in confusion, a regiment of sepoys doubled in through the gateway, and were then hurried in at an open doorway, opposite to where i stood watching. they had hardly disappeared before another regiment in better order marched in; and they too passed in through the same door, my doubts as to their object being soon at an end, for i heard them doubling along the roof, evidently manning it as a rampart; while, from a glimpse i caught through an open window, it was evident that the floor on a level with mine was also occupied by troops who were stationed at windows looking out upon the road. another regiment, and directly after quite a mob of armed men came hurrying through the gateway to occupy every room and window looking outwards, while a strong force partially filled the court, the numbers being rapidly increased as the firing and cheering came nearer. it was all plain enough now; the rajah's troops were being driven back, and were ordered to make a stand here at the palace, which lent itself well for the purpose, one side being protected by the river, while, as far as i knew, the entrance was only through the gateway, which could easily be blocked and held. "till brace came with the guns," i thought. i had wished to see something of the fight; now i regretted my desire, for i foresaw that there was going to be a desperate struggle. the light of the fire was rapidly increasing, and a very short time had elapsed before there was a sudden rush, and a disorderly mob of fighting men came tearing through the gateway, wild, excited, torn, and yelling furiously. then, as another volley was fired, i knew that the rajah's men had been driven in, for a tremendous fire was opened from the roof away to my right, and i could see the smoke rising in a dense cloud. as this firing was kept up, the court gradually grew more packed. i could see mounted men come in, and before long i was able to make out the rajah, as he seemed to be giving orders, which resulted in a body of men rushing into the palace and returning bearing loads, which they piled up within the gateway, forming a breastwork, from behind which the men kept up a furious fire. outside, the replies had quite ceased, and i found what it meant; the infantry were under cover, and the guns had been ordered up to batter in the gateway, and send its defenders flying before a rush was made. as i gazed down at the dense crowd of fighting men in the court, i shuddered, for, driven to bay as the sepoys were, and with no means of escape when the attack was made, the carnage would be frightful, and all the worse from the fact that the men would rush in and occupy the windows that looked upon the court from whence a sustained fire could be kept up on our men, one which would be frightful. all at once it struck me that perhaps now the doors of my apartments would be unguarded, and i ran to look; but, on drawing aside the hangings, there sat salaman and four attendants, while behind them were at least twenty well-armed men. i went back, feeling that, whatever happened, these men would be faithful to their duty, though how i was to have got out of the palace and past the crowd of soldiers at every window and door, i had not stopped to think. i again returned to the window from which i had watched before, and stood gazing out at the crowded court where the men had now been reduced to something more like military order, and it was a wonderful sight to see the swarthy faces with their gleaming eyes, and the flashing weapons the men carried. the moon poured down its silver light to mingle strangely with the glare of the torches many of the men bore; while away to my right the burning houses sent a glow of orange so strong that the broad end of the court opposite to me gleamed as if the fire was there as well. it was a terrible pause that, and i knew that before long the attack would come, when the place would either be carried at once or its defenders starved into submission; for, though there was water in abundance, i did not believe there could be food to provide for a garrison. i was thinking all this when a voice behind me made me start, and face round to the speaker. "it is long hours since my lord has eaten," said salaman. "shall i bring in some food?" "who can eat at a time like this?" i cried; and i signed to him to go, turning back directly after, for i could hear a peculiar rattling sound in the distance which i knew well enough. it was what i had anticipated; they were bringing up the guns. almost at that moment the firing from the roof recommenced, and was answered from different directions; but it ceased as quickly as it had begun, for all at once there was the dull echoing thud of a six-pounder, and a rush of men from the barricade in the gateway, through which a round shot plunged, striking the edge of the stonework arch, sending down a shower of fragments, in the midst of whose falling the shot struck the wall of the palace on my left, shivering the stonework there. no one attempted to man the barricades again, the task was too perilous, for gun after gun sent its iron messenger ploughing through the archway. as i stood there midway between the gateway and the wall on my left, at right angles to my window, i did not stir, for i knew that though the balls came by within ten feet from where i stood, none was likely to injure me. there was a kind of fascination in listening to the heavy report, and then instantly for the whistling of the ball as, after demolishing a portion of the barricade, it struck the wall with a heavy crash, and sent the splinters of stone flying. opposite to me were the soldiers, densely packed, forming one side of the lane, down which the balls came plunging. now and then one was deflected by the part of the barricade it struck, and it flew higher against the wall, or lower so as to touch the paving, and then ricochet; but the work was being thoroughly well done; and as i saw the great gaps made, and the clearance in the gateway, i knew the final attack must come before long. it was much sooner than i expected, for the firing from the roof suddenly blazed out furiously, and it was as if shots were being poured from every window, as a fierce roar literally followed the next shot--a roar of men's voices, and beating feet, and my heart seemed for a moment to stand still, but then began to bound as i leaned out to watch the struggle, from which i could not have torn myself even to save my life. i could see nothing outside, only hear the coming of men, whose cheering was mingled with many a shriek and groan, as poor fellows dropped under the terrible fire poured down upon them. then i saw the men within the court running round to defend the gateway; but ere they could fire a shot, there was the flashing of steel, and a little ridge of bristling bayonets appeared; their banners changed hands; the sepoys broke and rushed for the doorway and windows of the inner court; and in a wonderfully short time, so rapidly flowed in the stream of glittering bayonets through the archway, the court was cleared, and the firing came now, as i had expected, from the inner windows and the roof. i heard the orders ring out. "no firing! in with you, lads; the bayonet!" and with a rush, our men leaped in at the door, climbed in at the windows, and as the stream still flowed in through the gateway, the fighting was going on in room after room, and our foot regiment chased the flying sepoys from floor to floor, to finish the deadly strife upon the roof. it was horrible, but through it all there would come the remembrance of the horrors perpetrated by the savage mob and the brutal soldiery. there was a wild fascination about it, too, and i could not turn away, but stood with staring eyes and stunned ears, noting how the fire rapidly ceased, and wild cheering rose as room and roof were cleared. i was standing by the window full of exultation, triumphing in the bravery and daring of the englishmen, who must have been outnumbered by six to one, when i heard shots close at hand, yells, shouts, and the rush of feet; and the next minute my attendants and guards came backing in, fighting desperately as much in my defence as for their own lives, for they were driven from room to room by half a dozen men of the foot regiment that had stormed the place, and then for the first time i recalled that i was standing there in turbaned helmet and regular eastern uniform, girt with jewelled belts, and with a magnificent tulwar at my side. "they'll take me for a hindu chief," i thought as, quick as lightning, i snatched out the blade. i was just in time. half my defenders were down, the others had dropped from the windows in spite of the depth, and two men with levelled bayonets dashed at me. i did not think i could have done it, but i had worked hard at sword practice, and with a parry i turned one bayonet aside, avoided the other with a bound, and sent the man who would have run me through, down on his knees, with a terrible cut across the ear. the others turned upon me, but i had found my tongue. "halt! back, you idiots!" i roared. "i am a friend." "oh, bedad, an' i don't belave ye," cried one of the party, as the others hesitated; and he held his bayonet to my breast. "give up yez sword, or i'll make a cockchafer of ye." i turned his point, and cut at another man frantically, for they were too much excited to listen to explanations. but in another instant i believe i should have been bayoneted, if there had not been a wild cry, and a dark figure rushed between me and my dangerous friends. "stop, he's a sahib," roared the new-comer, and i saw it was dost. "then he's me prisoner, and that sword's me loot," cried the irishman. "stand back!" i roared. "i am lieutenant vincent, of captain brace's troop." i took off my helmet as i spoke, and the men were convinced. "look at that now," said the irishman; "jest, too, when i thought i'd got a bit of lovely shpoil." at that moment there was a rush of feet, and a tall grey officer hurried in, followed by another, and quite a crowd of men. "have you found him?" cried the tall officer. "oh, bedad, yis, colonel," cried the irishman. "what! the rajah?" "yis, sor. there he is, only he shwears he's a liftinant in a troop." "that!" cried the officer; and then, in a choking voice, "why, gil, my boy, is this you?" i could not speak, only cling to him who had a thousand times nursed me in his arms. "hold up, boy, be a man," he whispered; but his arms tightened round me. "i thought you were dead, gil," he cried excitedly. "but why are you like this?" "i am a prisoner, father," i said. "but the rajah?" he said excitedly. "where is he?" "he left here an hour ago to head his men," i said. "but, father, if you take him, defend him; he has been very good to me." "let's take him first," cried my father. "now, my lads, forward! he must be somewhere in the place." "three cheers for the colonel's boy!" cried the irishman. "your hanner should have been here a bit sooner to see him foight. hi, sam raggett, get up and show the colonel your ear. you're not half killed yet." "forward!" cried the colonel. then to the officer with him. "smith, take charge of my son. a sergeant's guard, gil," he cried from the door. "take off some of those things. you look like a sepoy chief. it is not safe with the lads like this." he hurried after his men, and the young officer held out his hand. "tell me," i said quickly; "captain brace--my troop?" "yonder, not a hundred yards away," he said. "didn't you hear him speak?" "yes," i cried. "thank heaven, then, it was he." "let's get out of here," said my new friend; "but hadn't you better change your clothes?" "he cannot, sahib," said a voice behind me. "he has none here." "hallo! who are you?" cried the officer. "my servant," i cried, as i laid my hand on his arm. "dost, you saved my life." "and he'll have to save it again," cried my new friend, "if we stay here. come along, and let's get among our men, for this palace swarms with the enemy yet." even as he spoke, a couple of shots rang out, and as they were aimed at us, we rapidly beat a retreat. chapter forty nine. my appearance excited plenty of surprise as we reached the front of the palace, where a portion of my father's regiment had now fallen in, the enemy having taken flight, and a couple of squadrons of lancers were in full pursuit. but in a very short time it was whispered through the regiment that i was the colonel's son, and i was saluted with a cheer. just then there was the clattering of hoofs, and an officer galloped up, "where's colonel vincent?" he cried; and i looked at him wildly. "scouring the palace with a couple of companies of men." "but the people are pouring out of the town, and only those lancers after them." "he's trying to catch the rajah." "got away safe," cried the officer. "i want orders to pursue; i can't stay here. whom have you got there--the rajah's son?" "brace, don't you know me?" i cried, in a choking voice. "gil!" he shouted, and he swung himself off his horse, and rushed at me. "i thought i should never see you again. a prisoner?" "yes, yes," i cried. "but--" he loosened my hands. "you haven't--? oh, gil, my lad!" that seemed the unkindest cut of all--to be suspected after what i had gone through; and i half turned away. brace saw it as a confession that i had turned renegade, and his face was growing very dark as my father strode up. "pursuit, captain brace," he said; "the rascal has escaped." brace sprang into his saddle, and galloped away, while, in spite of my father being at hand, my heart sank, and i felt more miserable than i had been for days. chapter fifty. i stayed by my father, who, in the intervals of giving orders for the occupation of the palace by the troops, the planting of sentries and pickets, and the stoppage of all pillaging, told me how he, with his regiment and two squadrons of lancers, had joined the other foot regiment and brace's horse artillery. that plans had been made for the attack on ahdenpore, the maharajah ny deen's chief city, and this had been carried out by one regiment of foot, half the horse artillery battery, and two troops of light horse, the rest, the larger part of the force, remaining at a distance quite out of sight. the object had been to make a bold attack, and if the rajah's people gave way, to advance and send for help from the hidden force. but, if they fought stubbornly, to retire, and keep on making so sturdy a defence as should lure the rajah's army on to a long pursuit, leading them right away from the town, which was then to be attacked by colonel vincent's force while the greater part of the rajah's men were away. this had all been carried out. the retreating party would be by this time retiring or holding its ground, and as soon as it was day, if the rajah's men had not heard of the defeat through the fugitives from the town, they would be attacked, and taken between two fires. "but ought you not to advance at once, father?" i said. "your men are flushed with success, and you are sure of meeting the enemy as he comes back." he clapped me on the shoulder. "good!" he said, looking at me proudly. "quite right, if the men were fresh, but they are worn out with marching, fighting, and want of food. they must have a few hours' rest." "but if the rajah, with his fugitives, meets the returning force, and they come back and attack us?" "let them," said my father drily. "i wish they would, and save us a long march to-morrow morning." "but," i said, hesitating, and afraid to hear the news, in case it should be very bad, "mother and sister grace?" we had by this time entered the palace, and naturally i had led my father to the room i had occupied. he looked very hard and stern as he drew a long deep breath. "they are in god's hands," he said. "not dead, father?" i cried wildly. "heaven forbid, boy!" he said excitedly. "i was summoned away with all who could be spared, to form a junction with the --nth and brace's troop. my orders were to take command, break up any bands which were collecting, and to keep an eye on ny deen, who has been a perfect firebrand through the country. i left as strong a garrison as i could at nussoor, the place fairly provisioned and armed, and all the women and children are shut up in the residency. but since i have been away with my little force i have had no communication with the place. we have been completely cut off, and it has been impossible to send or bring news." "then you know nothing of nussoor?" "nothing." "but have you sent messengers?" "at least a dozen, gil, my boy." "how far is it?" "about sixty miles from here--perhaps seventy. once this maharajah is taken, we shall go to the relief of the place." just then there was a loud shouting, and my father sent an orderly for news; but the cause of the noise was announced directly. the fire was gaining ground, and there was a possibility of its reaching the palace. my father, who had thrown himself upon the cushions to snatch a few minutes' rest, sprang up. "come, gil," he said, "you had better keep by me now, till your troop comes back. but have you no other clothes?" "none," i said, "and i look like a enemy." "no, no. a friendly native," said my father, laughing, as he hurried out to where a number of buildings were blazing furiously, and a company of the regiment were busily engaged in trying to extinguish the flames. a few short, sharp orders were given, the men ceased their hopeless toil, and a sapper sergeant and a dozen men set to work to finish the task. this they did by making a way amongst the people who had not fled. a quantity of powder was obtained from the rajah's magazine, and in less than half an hour, bags were planted here and there, several houses blown up, and all chance of the fire spreading was at an end. as the night wore on, with every one but the pickets snatching some rest, there were different little incidents full of excitement, officer after officer coming in to make his report to my father. first there was the lancer officer who had not succeeded in capturing ny deen, who, with a very strong body of men, had entered a forest many miles away, and so evaded further pursuit. next came brace, to announce that he had been too late to do any good in the darkness; but he had the news to impart that ny deen and his flying men had formed a conjunction with the little army which had been in pursuit of our men when the sham flight had been carried out. toward morning, this information was endorsed by the arrival of the foot regiment with the half of our horse artillery troop, and the lancers, who had all performed their duty with very little loss. "lie down and sleep, gil," said my father. "we shall have hard work to-morrow." "but suppose the rajah comes back to-night to try and surprise us?" "he will not," said my father quietly. "he would, but he will not get his men up to the work. hallo! what's this?" for at that moment a white figure entered the room, looking perfectly clean and neat. "dost!" i exclaimed. "who is dost?" said my father. "my servant." he had come to announce that a supper was spread in the outer room, and upon our going, there stood salaman and three of his assistants, all of whom dost had hunted out, and ordered to set to work. "very tempting," said my father; "but is all this safe?" "on my head be it, sahib," said dost, respectfully. "there is no poison in the meat." the supper, which was partaken of by a dozen officers as well, being finished, we returned, after going the rounds, to my sleeping-chamber. "go to sleep, gil, boy," said my father. "our pickets will give plenty of notice if ny deen comes." but i could not sleep for thinking of brace, who had not been to the supper, and i wanted to make my position clear before my mind would be at rest. chapter fifty one. the strange silence that reigned in the palace, the dying out of the fierce glare of the fire, and utter exhaustion, at last weighed down my eyelids, and i dropped into an uneasy sleep, but only to dream about escaping over the roofs with dost, being captured, and then watching the terrible assault and carrying of the rajah's house. from that i wandered into the meeting with my father, and fancied that i was going with him to nussoor, where my mother and sister would not recognise me because brace had been there first and told them i was a miserable renegade who had gone over to the rebels, and slain women and children with a tulwar whose hilt and sheath were covered with jewels. oh dear, what nonsense one does dream when one's brain gets into a fevered state. i was calling ny deen to witness to my perfect innocence, for he was somehow there at nussoor, when my father suddenly said-- "it is of no use, gil. you may as well get up." i started awake to see that his grey, worn face was bent down over me, and found that he was holding my hand. "you had better rouse up, and have a bath, lad," he said kindly. "your sleep is doing you no good." "oh, what a horrible muddle of a dream," i exclaimed, as i sprang to my feet. "you should have undressed, my lad. you are bathed in perspiration." dost came in just then with coffee borne by salaman, and i turned to him directly. "how did you escape?" i cried. "i was beaten down, sahib, and i managed to crawl away. i was not much hurt," he added, with a smile. "i am glad," i cried; and ten minutes later i was out in the court with my father, listening to the arrangements being made; and soon after i was audience to a little council of war in the rajah's principal room, where it was arranged that two strong companies of the other foot regiment should garrison the palace, and hold it while a troop of lancers stayed back to help preserve order in the town. an hour later, they were forming a marching column to go out and give battle to the rajah and his force, which lay, according to spies, ten miles away, holding a patch of forest beyond the swift river which ran from there to this town. "which will you do, gil?" said my father; "come with me, or stay with the major who is in command here?" "i want to go back to my troop," i said sharply; and as i spoke, brace, who had before met me that morning, came in looking very careworn, and with his uniform almost in rags. "ah, well," said my father; "here is your captain." i hesitated for a moment, and then walked across to brace, who moved away to one of the windows. "you wish to speak to me, sir?" he said coldly. "of course i do," i cried passionately; "why are you so ready to condemn me unheard?" "say what you wish to say; we march in five minutes," he replied. i could not speak, for the hot sensation of indignation which burned within me. "you are silent," he said, with a contemptuous shrug of his shoulders. "well, i am not surprised. i was making every effort possible, as soon as i heard through spies that you were alive, to rescue you; but when--" "well, when what?" i said indignantly. "since you take that tone, sir," he retorted, "when i had the news brought to me that you were perfectly unhurt, and had accepted service with the rajah as his chief officer of artillery, why then of course i gave you up." "who told you that?" i said hotly. "one of the spies i sent in," he replied coldly. "it was not true." "not true?" said brace, bitterly. "your appearance belies your words, sir. why, were you not occupying rooms in the rajah's palace?" "yes; as a prisoner," i said angrily. brace laughed mockingly. "a prisoner in a newly designed artillery uniform, and wearing a magnificent sword and belts, evidently presented by the rajah, i did not know ny deen treated his prisoners so well; i thought he murdered them at once." i tried to speak, but for some moments no words would come, and it was he who spoke first. "well," he said, "have you anything to say?" "yes," i said; "i want to come back into the troop. can i have a horse?" "i have no means of looking after prisoners, sir," he said. "you can only join your troop as a captured rebel against your queen." i turned away, and found myself directly after face to face with haynes and doctor danby; but as i went up, the former turned his back and walked away, while the doctor blew out his cheeks and looked very fierce at me. "doctor," i said, holding out my hand, but he did not take it. i laughed bitterly, thinking that they would all apologise to me some day. "brace thinks i have not been wounded," i said, signing to him to accompany me into another room. his whole manner changed in the instant, and he was looking at me with interest. "eh? wounded?" he cried. "let's see. ah, head. humph! only a bad crack. healing all right. put on your iron pot again, and don't let it fret the place." "oh yes; that's all right," i said; "but my arm: shall i ever get the full use of it again?" "arm? let's see." i removed the loose tunic, and he turned up the delicate silk shirt i wore, to become wrapt at once in the interest of his profession, as he examined the wound carefully. "brace says you have not been hurt, does he?" cried the doctor. "tell him to mind his guns, and not talk about what he does not understand. why, it's a beautiful wound, my dear boy--a splendid cut. a little more draw in the cut, and the budmash who did it would have lopped it clean off. here, who was your surgeon?" i told him. "then he is a precious clever fellow, vincent, and i should like to know him. by george, sir, he has saved your limb. get back it's use? oh yes, with care. why, my dear fellow, i should have been proud of saving an arm like that. here, let me help you on with your dandy jacket. so you would be ny deen's artillery general, eh?" i only gave him a look. "not right, boy; but i suppose you could not help yourself. there, i must go." we went back into the other room, where brace, and nearly all the officers, had left. "father," i said, "captain brace will not have me back. can i come with you as a sort of aide-de-camp?" "of course. yes, my boy; but try and keep out of danger." the next minute we were following the column out over the bridge, the head wing already raising a long cloud of dust, the horse artillery rattling away in front, and the lancers off scouting in front, and sending out flankers, to take care that no approach was made on either side of the flying column. by my father's orders, a magnificent horse had been brought from the rajah's stables, and, mounted upon this, though i felt very sore about the treatment i had received, i was getting into excellent spirits; and as i was not to be a gunner, i was quite content to ride on in my dashing uniform, though i saw the cavalry and infantry officers exchange smiles. it was very early yet, and the plain was quite deserted, while the hot sun formed a haze that the eyes could only penetrate to a certain distance. every one was on the look-out for the shimmering river and the patch of forest beyond, where we knew, from our spies, that the rajah had halted to gather his men together in as strong a position as he could find; and here my father expected that he would hold out while efforts were made to dislodge him from a place where our cavalry would be of no service. they would have to wait until the ranks were driven from among the trees, when the sharp charges of the lancers would scatter them in all directions. at last, river and green woods were in view, both welcome sights, with their promises of shade and bathing, to men parched by the torrid sunshine, and half choked by the dust turned up by elephant, camel, horse, and men's trampling feet. i watched my father's actions with all the interest of a young soldier, and saw how he divided his little force of cavalry, sending them forward, where they would be out of musket shot, but ready to slip like greyhounds on their swift arab troopers, as soon as the mutineers broke out and tried to flee. then he sent forward the horse artillery--and how i longed to be with them--and company after company of foot, to act as supports to save the guns from capture; and as soon as the troop had taken up position, we waited for the order to fire to be sent. but it was not despatched, for scores of the lancers came riding in, after galloping by the edge of the forest, to announce that the enemy was not there. the rajah seemed to have shrunk from fighting; and i wondered, as we advanced once more, and saw how strong the position had been, and how easily he could have beaten a force not a fourth of his number. we were not long in finding out the direction he had taken. a miserable-looking peasant announcing the way; and there it was plainly enough. there could be no doubt of it, for the dust was trampled, and plenty of traces lay about, showing that the little army must have been in rather a demoralised state. "well, we must give him no rest," said my father; and, in spite of the heat, the march was resumed, with halts wherever a village promised water. but, fortunately, a great part of our way was near the river, whose bends offered refreshment to the thirsty horses, camels, and elephants. then on again till evening, when a halt was called at a good-sized village, once evidently a place of some importance, but now utterly desolate; the lands and gardens around trampled, and the traces of a large body of men having passed quite plain. here there was nothing for it but to bivouac, and after the customary precautions had been taken, the men were ordered to eat their food quickly, and then lie down and get all the rest they could. the officers off duty followed their example, and i was asleep, too, when the bugle-call roused us in the middle of the cool moonlit night, and about half an hour after, we were all on the march again, a couple of natives having undertaken to act as guides as far as following the trail of the rajah's army was concerned. the consequence was, that by the time the sun began to make its presence felt, we were many miles on our road. "how far shall you follow them?" i heard brace ask the colonel. "till i overtake them," said my father, rather coldly. and i could see a determined look in his eyes which made me think of ny deen, and something like a hope that he might escape would come into my mind. on again, after a brief halt for refreshment, and about an hour before midday advantage was taken of a great mango tope for another halt; but as soon as the sun began to decline we were off again, with the track plain before us. ah, it is slow work marching under a hot indian sun; but no one complained, tramping steadily on with scouts well out in front, till it was dark, when there was another rest till midnight; and on again in the cool moonlight, with the men on the gun-limbers asleep, and those mounted nodding and swaying in their saddles, as if ready to come down. but no one fell, and the march seemed to me part of some strange dream, till the stars paled, and the orange sun came up, growing hotter and hotter, till we were all anxiously looking out for our next halting-place, and wondering how many more days must elapse before we should overtake ny deen. it was sooner than we expected, for somewhere about nine o'clock there was a little excitement on in front. there was a cloud of dust, and another, and a few minutes after we could see a native horseman, sword in hand, and with his round shield banging against his shoulders, where it was hung from his neck. he was splendidly mounted, and appeared to be galloping for his life to escape from half a dozen of our lancers, the scouts, who had evidently cut him off and turned him in our direction. he came straight for us, turning neither to the right nor the left, though there was plenty of room; and as he came nearer, we could see that his horse was sadly blown, so that it appeared as if the rider would be overtaken, and run through by the men in chase. "the fools! they must make him a prisoner. you, gil, you are well-mounted, gallop out, and call to him to surrender. we may gain valuable information. take care, and--" so spoke my father, and before he had finished, i was off at a gallop, glad of the excitement. i was only just in time, for one too-enthusiastic lancer was closing up, and would have given point had i not struck his lance aside and seized the sowar's rein. "surrender!" i shouted in hindustani, and i pointed my sword at the blackened, dust-grimed fellow's throat. "surrender! yes, of course," he panted. "take me to an english officer. i am an englishman." "don't you believe the treacherous dog, sir," cried the foremost lancer. "he tried that on with us." "yes, you thick-headed idiot," panted my prisoner angrily. "this is only a disguise. i know where the niggers are, if you want to kill some one." i looked at him in wonder. "why are you like this?" i said. "i have brought a message from nussoor." "where?" i cried excitedly. "nussoor. who is in command here?" "colonel vincent," i said. "thank heaven!" he cried; and he reeled in his saddle, but recovered directly. "i'm beaten," he said. "a terrible long round to avoid the enemy. i had to go out the other side. it was a forlorn hope." by this time my father and several officers had ridden up, and i exclaimed excitedly-- "this is a messenger from nussoor." "yes," said my prisoner. "i was obliged to assume this disguise. colonel vincent, don't you know me?" "brooke! ah, my dear fellow, what news?" "bad; terrible. we were at the end nearly of our ammunition. closely invested for many days past. people fighting like heroes; but they can hold out no longer. and, to make matters worse, that fiend, ny deen, is advancing on the place with a powerful force. i was nearly taken by his men." "how far is nussoor from here?" said my father hoarsely. "about fourteen miles, i should say." "then that is where he has been making for," muttered my father. "and i not to know that it was so near." it was all plain enough now. knowing from spies that nussoor was weakly guarded, and having lost his own city, ny deen was hurrying on to seize and entrench himself in another; one which would form a centre where his adherents might flee. just then i caught my father's eyes, and saw in them a terrible look of agony, which made me think of the horrors which had been perpetrated at these places where the mutineers had gained the upper hand. it had been horrible enough in the past; but now the rajah's men were smarting from a sharp defeat. and i felt that they would make fierce reprisals on the hard-pressed garrison, all of whom would certainly be put to the sword. chapter fifty two. in the eagerness of pursuit but small heed had been paid to the rajah's course, and hence it was that my father, who knew little of this side of the city, had been so taken by surprise as to its being so near. and now, when every pulse was throbbing with agony, and one wish only was in his breast, he was forced to call a halt, and wait for three or four hours till the heat of the day was past, and the men had rested and refreshed their horses by a huge tank covered with lotus, and whose cool dark waters were evidently deep. he had kept on for a long time, but the halt was forced upon him by the terrible heat. men were staggering in the ranks, one poor fellow dropped from his horse, and he unwillingly gave the word as we reached the tank where the men threw themselves down, while others schemed all kinds of contrivances to keep off the scorching heat. "we must rest for a few hours," said my father. "it would be like courting defeat to throw the poor fellows against the rajah's mob utterly exhausted by a twelve-miles' walk through this fearful sun." it was agreed that it would be madness for the infantry; but brace proposed at a little council that was held, that he should hurry on with his troop, and that the officer in command of the cavalry should go with him in support. i saw my father hesitate for a few moments, while all eyes were turned upon him, and then he rose. "yes," he said; "it will create a diversion, and give hope to the poor creatures who are making so brave a struggle. what do you say, brooke?" mr brooke, who was the commissioner of the place, exclaimed eagerly-- "in heaven's name, send them! it will show them that help is near." "an hour's rest first," said my father, "and then go." "but the men, sir--" protested brace. "i am not thinking of the brave fellows," said my father, "but of their poor dumb beasts." "yes," said brace, "you are right;" and he went to see that the horses were being carefully tended--almost an unnecessary task, for our men were very proud of their mounts, and i followed him silently till he heard my step, and faced round to look at me angrily. "what do you want?" he said. "to ride with the old guns again," i faltered in a choking voice. "it is impossible," he said coldly. "the men would rise against you after what they know." a flush of anger rose to my brow, and i felt my throat hot, as i cried angrily-- "they would not. there is not a man amongst them who would believe me such a scoundrel as you and haynes do." then my voice broke, and i turned to him appealingly. "brace," i cried; "indeed you are wrong. i would not stoop to beg of you like this, but you are going to their help. my mother and my sister are there, and i seem to see them holding out their hands to us to come and help them. i must come with you. if you say no, i shall gallop on by myself, and if they cut me down, well, i shall have tried to help those i love." he had turned from me, but as my words, which i suppose were full of passionate excitement, fell upon his ears, he faced round and stared at me fixedly, as he raised his hand, hesitated, and then dropped it again. "gil," he cried, "swear to me on your honour as a soldier and a gentleman that you had not joined the rajah's men." the moment before i was humble and pleading, but these words, this tone of doubt, this demand for an oath drove humility to the winds, and i felt as if i would die sooner than degrade myself as he wished. "i will not," i cried hotly. "i'll swear nothing. i don't want you to believe me. i thought you were a gentleman, and my friend." "then tell me as a brother-officer that i am really wrong." "i tell you that you are a coward and blind," i cried; "and sooner than humble myself, i'd do as i said, and die." "gil," he said hoarsely, "you are right. i can't go down on my knees to you here, but i do believe you, lad. i was blind and miserable, and disappointment made me doubt you more and more. forgive me, lad; i own it. you couldn't have been such a miserable hound." i wanted to speak, but the words would not come for long enough. when they did, i could only whisper huskily-- "may i go to my guns?" he nodded, for he could not speak either for a time. "like this?" i said, making a sign towards my uniform. "anyhow, as long as it is the lad i believed in from the first," he half whispered; and then, in quite his old tone, "but we must ride and fire as we never rode and fired before. now then, come and have a few words with the men." i went with him, and he spoke three words, the men answering with a cheer, and i saw dick dobbs raise the trumpet, and sergeant craig take a run toward his horse, while denny seemed to try and catch my eye. then haynes and danby came up, and both shook hands, or, rather, asked me to shake hands with them, in a deprecating way, and soon after, as if it were once more a dream, i was in the saddle by the guns, listening to my father's advice to brace. he was to try and hold the rajah's people engaged with the help of the cavalry, harassing them till the infantry could come up, but he was not to risk losing the guns. just then, still in the costume of an ordinary budmash, but with his face washed clear of his black disguise, mr brooke rode up, and asked leave to join the advance. "why?" said my father, abruptly. "i know every inch of the country for miles round, and i can land them close up to the residency by the forest gate at the back," said mr brooke, earnestly. "besides, i should like to make a dash in and tell the poor shivering creatures i have brought them help." "go," said my father, abruptly; and a minute later the dust was rising, the lance-points glittering, and the wheels of the guns and limbers were giving forth their peculiar dull, clattering rattle as we advanced at a trot across the burning plain. this pace was soon reduced to a walk, of necessity, so as to have the horses as fresh as possible when we went into action, and after a time the lancer captain reined back and joined brace and haynes, who were riding close by me, and mr brooke rode to us at a sign from brace. "now, gentlemen," said the latter, "the question is, how our attack is to be made. of course we can say nothing decisive till we find out whether the rajah's troops are inside or outside the town." "may i speak?" said brooke. "of course. you know the place," replied brace. "i am not a soldier, but i have had a severe lesson in fighting lately, and it seems to me that the only course open for you is to approach the town gates, or one of them, without letting your approach be seen, and then make a bold dash right into the little quarter defended by the europeans." "you forget that we are not infantry, sir," said brace. "we cannot fight our way through streets where every window and roof would be manned by mutineers. we should be all shot down, or in hopeless confusion before we were half-way there." brooke smiled. "i know the place, sir," he said. "it is a walled and fortified city with gates, and the european quarter, where we have been besieged, is surrounded by open gardens, and there are wide roads from the north-west gate. you will find no enemy in the plain; they will have marched in by the north-east gate, the nearest to here. i can take you round unseen to the north-west, where, by a sudden dash of the lancers, the gate could be surprised, and they could charge right down the open road, followed by you and your guns right up to the residency entrenchments, and obtain admittance with the guns before the scoundrels had recovered from their surprise. of course they would come on again by hundreds or thousands; but your well-served guns can hold them at bay till the colonel comes up with his men." brace remained thoughtful for a few minutes. "this is quite opposed to the colonel's ideas," he said at last; "but it certainly sounds feasible, if we can pass the gate, and the road is open for the horse to charge." "i guarantee that," said mr brooke; "and if the manoeuvre is executed with spirit, it cannot fail." "then it cannot fail," said brace, with a smile. "what do you say, sir?" he continued, appealing to the lancer captain. "i say it is the wisest thing to do, always supposing the enemy is not outside. then we ought to try to harass him only, and keep him engaged." "but the rajah is clever enough to find out our weakness, and we shall be driven back further and further, till we can do comparatively little, i am afraid, but encourage our friends by the sound of our guns. the surprise is the plan--if it can be carried out. we will try." very little more was said as we advanced, keeping a bright look-out forward for cavalry, who would gallop back and announce our approach. of people on foot we had no fear, for we could reach nussoor long before them; and at last the broad track in the dusty plain left by the rajah's force was quitted, mr brooke leading us off at an angle, and making for higher ground with patches of forest trees. among these he made his way till, at the densest part, he pointed south, and announced that we were passing the city, which lay in a hollow about a mile away. but as he spoke, there was a sudden burst of firing, and, thrilled by this, we increased our pace as fast as the bad ground would allow, till we reached the edge of the open, park-like ground, where a halt was called, and the officers advanced cautiously to an eminence, where we dismounted and peered down to where, in a bowl-like depression a mile away, lay, with its beautiful white marble mosque and dome-shaped tombs of former kings, the city of nussoor. wall, gates, minarets, gardens with their trees both inside and outside the walls, all were before us as on a map; while, half a mile before us, a white, dusty-looking road wound across the plain toward a great gate. we were now on the opposite side to that by which ny deen would have entered with his troops; and as the smoke hung more heavily over the side of the town nearest to us, and the firing grew louder, we did not need mr brooke's words to tell us that a fierce attack was going on against the brave handful of europeans who were making a desperate endeavour to hold their own, in the hope that help might come; if not, to die fighting, and not trust to the cruel mercies of the mutineers. "we are still in time," said mr brooke, hoarsely. "see, i can lead you round there by those trees, so that you can reach the road half a mile from the gate. then a score of your swiftest men could dash up to the gate and hold it till the rest come up, but the place looks so utterly unoccupied that i feel sure the attention of all is upon the fight going on in the european quarter, and a bold dash will take you in." "yes," said brace, decisively; "we'll try it." "if i go down," said brooke, "for i shall go with the first men--take the broad road off to the left the moment you are through the gate. it is clear and good, and there will be nothing but an earthwork, with some guns planted by the enemy to play upon the houses. that is so low, that it will not stop you. if it is too high, you can pass it by going into the gardens to the right." "you hear, captain," said brace; "and you will select twenty men for the first advance." "yes," he replied. the order was given to lower the lance-points, and we turned off to the right, and, following brooke's guidance, the twenty selected men led the advance, keeping well under cover till the dusty road was reached, both cavalry and artillery advancing as nearly in line as the rough ground would allow; then, as we faced to the left, and formed a column, the little troop went off at a trot, then at a gallop, and then raced for the gate, raising a cloud of dust sufficiently thick to hide our advance, the lancers first, four abreast, the guns last, at such a headlong gallop that the half-mile seemed nothing. in the midst of the wild excitement, the firing ahead sounded louder, and there were yells and shrieks which literally fired my blood; then i heard a few scattered shots and some yelling close at hand, which meant the lancers riding down the feeble opposition at the gate, which we seemed to reach a few moments later; and as we wheeled slightly to the left, along we tore down a wide, open road. next there was a leaping and bounding of the guns and limbers over the low earthwork, and we were on our way again at a gallop toward a cloud of smoke, and the next minute the clash of arms, the yelling of men, the shouts and cheers of our lancers as they tore on, sweeping all before them, rang in my ears, while my brain swam in the giddiness produced by excitement. amidst it all the trumpet sounded a halt, the men leaped from horse and limber, the guns were at once unhooked, and loaded with grape where we stood, close up to some walls and barricades, from beyond which came shouts and cheers which almost maddened us. then, dominating these sounds, there came the beat of hoofs, as the lancers rode back, after forcing their charge as far they could, passed between the guns, and faced round, to form up behind us ready for a fresh charge on the wave of fierce enemies, beaten back for the moment, but now recoiling and coming back to the attack on the barricade, behind which our fellow-countrymen had been desperately trying to hold their own. i had a full view of this huge wave of savage humanity--inhumanity, i ought to say--as they came on at a rush, with eyes and weapons gleaming, their wildest passions roused, one vast mob of fighting men, a hundred yards--eighty--fifty yards away, when brace's order rang out, heard above the roar as of a storm raging on a rocky coast. then _thud_, and like the slow pulse-beats of doom, _thud_--_thud_--each gun spoke out from our little line, and at every flash there was a white puff of smoke, which slowly rose, and we saw beneath the vapour, how at each discharge of grape an open lane was torn through the savage crowd. but these closed up, and they still came on, those behind forcing those in front, till they were within twenty yards. never had those guns been served with such rapidity before, nor with such regular motion. the men worked like machines, and as calmly, but our case was becoming desperate. round after round tore through them, but with fanatical rage the survivors came on, and in another few moments we knew that they would be among us with their keen tulwars and sheltering shield. but not a man shrank. i knew it was hopeless to think of limbering up, and carrying off the guns; we should have been cut down at once; and rendered desperate by our position, every man at liberty pressed forward to try and defend the gunners, who still toiled on. "why don't the lancers charge again?" i thought, as i thrust savagely at a man who was making a cut at a gunner, and a cold feeling of despair began to attack me, as i thought of mother and sister behind the barricade over our heads, and that brace's gallant troop would be utterly cut to pieces, and the guns turned against my father when he advanced. "ny deen will get his wish," i thought, as i thrust again with all my force and saved the life of the man who was ramming the gun beside me. "the lancers--where are the lancers?" i thought again; and at that moment a line of men came in among us, and formed a slight hedge of lance-points which darted rapidly out between the gunners whenever one was threatened. half the men had been dismounted, and while they helped to keep the enemy at bay, a ragged volley suddenly roared above our heads where the brave defenders of the place had collected to give us their little aid. that volley was so fresh and unexpected that, blazing out as it did, close to the enemy, they fell back for a few moments. only a few, but long enough to enable the men of one of the most crowded-up guns to send its charge tearing through the foe. then another spoke, and, with yells of despair, the wave swung back a little. another volley from the barricade staggered them more, and the fire of the guns increased in regularity, while all at once i found that we had more room; the lancers had been withdrawn. a few more shots into the mass made them waver. "cease firing!" rang out, and the trampling of horses began once more, as the lancers passed through us, and hurled themselves at full gallop against the crowd. that finished the attack, for the enemy turned and fled, throwing into disorder reinforcements coming up; and as the lancers retired in single file, right and left, we played round shot between them, and finished the discomfiture of the attacking force, which rolled back into shelter among the houses at the back. then, amidst frantic cheers, a portion of the nearest wall was thrown down, and the guns were dragged into the enclosure, the lancers followed into the shelter; and, as a part of our men repaired the breach, and the guns were mounted ready for the next advance, such a scene of weeping, shouting, and embracing took place as is beyond description, and can only be recalled with a choking sensation of the throat. i looked wildly round for the faces dear to me, but it was some time before i could make them out in the little crowd of haggard ragged ladies who had been obliged to crowd together in a mere cellar, so as to avoid the shot poured into the enclosure night and day. but there was no time for sorrow or joy. i had hardly embraced those dear to me when there was a cry raised that the enemy were coming on again, and as i was literally obliged to drag myself away from my sister, she, in her faintness from want of food, staggered, and would have fallen, had not an officer suddenly caught her in his arms. "thank you, brace," i said, as he helped her to the door of the house from whence she had come. "my sister must have suffered horribly." "your sister, gil!" he said; "that lady? ah!" he twisted himself violently round as he uttered a sharp cry, and it was my turn to catch him in my arms as he was falling. "not hit?" cried a familiar voice, and danby hurried up as two of our men helped me to bear our leader to the door through which my sister had just passed; and there, sheltered from the bullets which had now begun to fly fast from a tall building a short distance away, the doctor made a rapid examination. "well?" i said excitedly, "is he wounded?" "badly," whispered the doctor, "through the lungs, i'm afraid." i could stay to hear no more, as i had to hurry off to the guns, for threatening shouts told me that the enemy were coming on again, and were heralding their approach by a terrific fire prior to the next assault. fortunately there was ample shelter for the horses among the buildings, which had been fortified and enclosed by a strong earthwork and barricade under my father's orders; and here, with the women and children for the most part in the partially underground cellarage of the residency, the gallant little garrison had still held out after brooke's departure, in spite of their thirst, and the constant harassing attacks kept up by the enemy. they had again and again felt that all was over, but still kept up the struggle till a sudden commotion in the city, and the sight of fresh troops pouring in, seemed completely to crush out their last hopes. for they had clung to the belief that mr brooke would succeed in making their position known, and bring reinforcements, but these had come to the other side. there had seemed to be nothing left but to fight to the last, and, when the enemy mastered the barricades, to retreat to the building beside that where the women and children were, and apply a match to the magazine--finding death, but avenging it upon their cowardly foes, who must have perished by hundreds in the explosion, so large was the store of powder in the place. our arrival had been in the nick of time, and a scene of frantic joy had ensued; but it was soon at an end, for the guns had to be worked again after a very brief period utilised in getting them into position. still, small as was the reinforcement, it placed the powder-blackened, ragged, haggard men--soldiers and civilians--in a far better position, and they rushed to the batteries and loopholes, to help pour a rain of bullets on the advancing enemy, while the dismounted lancers worked guns which had been silent for want of help, and our six-pounders grew hot with the rapidity of the fire. "how long will the colonel be?" said haynes, coming to my side for a few moments, our men needing no encouragement, but fighting the guns with a look of suppressed rage in their eyes, as if they were seeking to avenge the blow which had fallen upon their captain. "i cannot say," i replied. "certainly not till dark." "then he will be too late," said haynes, gloomily. "we shall never be able to hold out till then. danby is getting busier every moment." "yes; it's those black wretches on that big building," i said, pointing at a place a little over a hundred yards away; and as i spoke, a bullet whistled by my ear. "they have some of their best marksmen there. never mind; let's show them we have good marksmen too." he did as i suggested, and three of our guns were trained and shotted, two being aimed by sergeant craig and denny, whom brace had made corporal, during the past few days. "quickly as you can," i said, as shot after shot was fired from the roof of the building. it meant exposure for our men, but they did not heed it, and in ten minutes the top of the building was crumbling about its occupants' ears, while a couple of cleverly sent shell completed their discomfiture, and they rapidly evacuated the place. it was only a temporary success, but it relieved us for the time, and enabled us to direct our attention to other dangers. the rest of that day is one horrible scene of confusion to me, as we worked on, burned by the sun, faint with the sickening smell of powder, and many falling beneath the rushing hail of bullets poured into the enclosure; but there was no sign of shrinking. the men had long before cast off their jackets, and worked on in shirt and trousers, always preserving their discipline, and trying their best to make their shot tell. twice over i saw a figure on horseback appear directing the men--a figure i could not mistake, and man after man tried to bring him down, but he seemed to bear a charmed life. he was most prominent at an attempt to storm the place when, mad with fury, a column rushed forward bearing ladders and poles under one arm, whilst they waved their gleaming swords with the other. but as soon as we were certain of their approach, our light guns were slewed round, and such a condensed hail of grape was sent into them that when close up they reeled, wavered, and retreated again. then, without cessation, the firing was resumed from every sheltered spot within range, and we waited for the night attack, one we were sure would come; and as we waited, the sun went down, the darkness began to approach rapidly, and there was not a man there, as he slowly ate his scraps of food, and drank the water brought round by the ladies, who did not feel that it would be our last night on earth. i was leaning against the wheel of the nearest gun, eating mechanically, and thinking that my father would be too late, for in the distance i could see sepoys gathering and marching forward as if for another assault, when a lady approached me with a cup and a vessel of water. "will you drink, sir?" she said faintly. "grace!" i exclaimed. "oh, gil, dear brother," she sobbed; "must we all be killed?" "no," i cried passionately; "there are too many brave fellows here. and cheer up; father must be close at hand. there, give me some water. how is poor captain brace?" "don't ask me," she said, in a faint whisper. "i never thought to meet the brave friend you wrote of like this." i had just drunk the water, and was handing back the cup, when sergeant craig, who was at the other gun, shouted-- "look out! they're stealing up in the dark." "quick! under cover!" i cried to grace; and i ran her up to the shelter, and started back to the guns, which were already sending flash after flash into the growing darkness, but all in vain. ny deen had been preparing for an assault which he meant to be final and, heading his men himself, he brought them on in such force that i saw our case must be hopeless, and that in another minute they would be over the earthworks, cutting us down. "quicker, boys! quicker!" i cried, as the men fired. "now rammers and swords. they're on to us." i felt a boy no longer, but as fierce a man as any there, for mother and sister were not twenty yards away, and i used the rajah's sword with all my strength, saving poor sergeant craig from instant death by a sharp thrust. then we were being borne back, and the sepoys and armed rabble were over the earthworks in several directions. "all over! keep together!" yelled haynes. "old england for ever!" shouted craig, still weak from his wounds, but fighting like the brave man he was, when _crash_! and then _crash_! and again _crash_! volley after volley, such as could only be fired by a well-drilled english regiment, not two hundred yards away; and, encouraged by the sounds, our little garrison sent up a tremendous cheer, and, instead of giving way, beat their enemies back, while volley after volley came again. then there was the sound of a bugle, a rattling british cheer, and we knew that our friends were coming on at the double, with bayonets at the charge. taken in the rear, in spite of their numbers, this was too much for the mutineers, who turned and leaped back over the earthworks, seeking flight in a wild panic; while, a minute later, there was a glittering line of bayonets in the darkness, and our brave fellows came clambering over into the enclosure. i saw them coming, but i was sick and fainting, held up by craig and denny, as a bronzed face was thrust close up to mine. "gil!--your mother--your sister?" cried my father wildly. "safe! safe!" i said faintly. "thank god we were in time!" cried my father. "but my boy--wounded?" "i--don't know, father," i gasped, as everything seemed to turn round, and then something blacker than the night came over me, and i knew no more for some time. chapter fifty three. "his old wound, colonel. broken out with the exertion, perhaps from a blow," some one was saying when i opened my eyes, and saw the softly glittering stars over my head. then all came back with a flash, and i tried to rise, but a hand was pressed on my chest. "how's brace?" i said quickly. "bad; but i have hopes," said danby. "lie still." "but, father," i said excitedly; "you can hold the place now?" "oh yes; they're in full retreat; the town will be empty by daybreak. oh for light now, to let loose your troop, and the lancers after them." "better let the poor lads rest," grumbled danby. "is colonel vincent there?" said a voice. "yes; what is it?" cried my father, striding in the direction of the voice. "they found the rajah, sir, under quite a heap of slain." "hah!" cried my father, and he hurried away. it was true enough, as i soon heard. ny deen had fallen when trying to make his followers face my father's charge, and somehow a feeling of bitterness and sorrow came over me, for, in my sight, he was a brave man, and i felt that he was justified in his struggle to cast off his allegiance to our race. it was as my father had said: the next day the city was emptied of all but the peaceably disposed inhabitants, who made no secret of their delight at the scattering of ny deen's forces. the best homes were taken possession of for our sick and wounded; food was plentiful, and those who had toiled like slaves in the enclosure had found servants enough willing to attend upon them. for the remnants of the rajah's forces had gone far away in utter disbandment now their chief was no more, seeking to fight under some other rebel leader, and the tide of war ebbed farther and farther from nussoor, where the wounded and sick lay in peace and comfort, tended by loving hands. my father insisted upon brace being carried to the house we occupied, and my mother and grace were unremitting in their attention during the next few weeks, in which i rapidly grew stronger, though brace mended more slowly. it was wonderful to me to see how rapidly grace and my mother changed. the terribly anxious look died out of their faces, but in both there was a saddened aspect which grew stronger daily; and it was most marked when they talked of the perils of the past, and my mother offered up a prayer that those she loved might not be called upon again to face the perils of the fight. her prayer was heard, for the horrors of war swept farther and farther away. others had the task of crushing it out, while we remained to garrison nussoor; and the various civil officers toiled hard to restore order and remove the horrible traces of the war of desperate fights for life. it was during these days, when i was busy with haynes--captain haynes now--trying to work up the draft of new men--who had come to fill up the gaps made in our troop in action--to something like the form of our old, that we had a surprise in the coming of major lacey, still rather weak, but who had made a wonderful recovery. he was full of anecdotes of his narrow escapes during the time he was being nursed back to health by the two faithful dhoby women, and he gave us a terrible account of the surprise that day when barton was slain--for he was killed--the major saw him fall. but the old officer never referred to the death of his wife, that was too sacred a subject, and we dared not ask. it was about two months after that awful night, and the cool season had come. my mother had had a few friends to dinner, and i was out on the verandah with the doctor, as he smoked his cigar. "humph! so you want to get on active service again, eh?" he said, after a long chat. "well, after what you went through, i think you might wait for a few years." "you misunderstand me," i said. "i don't want that kind of active service, but something more to do." "it'll come," he said; and then he laughed. "what are you laughing at?" i said. "at you." "why?" "at the idea of their promoting such a boy as you." "what? promoted?" i cried. "yes; but i oughtn't to have let it out. it was told me as a secret." "oh, i am glad," i cried. "but i say, doctor, i can't help being such a boy." "don't try, gil," he said; "you don't grasp it, but to be a boy, sir, is the grandest thing in the world. never be discontented because you have no moustache. it will come." "i am not discontented," i said maliciously, "only because we have such a bad doctor in the troop." "bad! why, what do you mean?" "my arm pained me horribly this morning, and poor old dost nearly cried as he bathed it, i was in such agony." "bah! stuff!" "and, then, look at poor brace," i said. "you don't cure him a bit." "ha, ha! ho, ho!" laughed the doctor. "i like that. why, between you and me, gil, old man," he whispered, "brace is a sham. he could be well enough, at least nearly, if he liked." "what do you mean?" i said. "go and tell him i say he's to be promoted to major, and he'll grow strong at once. no, he will not. can't you see what's going on?" he added jocosely, as he took my arm, for of late the doctor and i had grown quite chums, and brace had drifted away. "no," i said; "only that he keeps very low-spirited." "not a bit of it, boy. you're too young to understand these things. but poor brace once lost his fair young wife." "yes, i know that," i said. "well, he is waiting till he is quite well again, and then he is going to ask a certain beautiful young lady, who is about as near an angel of mercy among wounded soldiers as a woman can be; and i ought to know." "ask a certain beautiful young lady what?" i said. "to shed light on his dark life, boy, and be his wife." "why, you don't mean to say that he loves our grace?" i said. "look there, then." he pointed to the window through which, by the light of the shaded lamp, i could see that in both their eyes that made me exclaim-- "oh, doctor, i am glad!" and so was every one else, when it was fully known. brace became, in fact, a true brother to me, and in later days, when i had long ceased to be the youngest subaltern in the horse artillery, we two saw some service, though none so full of danger and horrors as we passed through in the struggle wherein england nearly lost her proudest possessions in the east. the end. page images generously made available by internet archive canadian libraries (http://www.archive.org/details/toronto) note: images of the original pages are available through internet archive canadian libraries. see http://www.archive.org/details/tommyatkinswar kilpuoft tommy atkins at war "the english soldier is the best trained soldier in the world. the english soldier's fire is ten thousand times worse than hell. if we could only beat the english it would be well for us, but i am afraid we shall never be able to beat these english devils." _from a letter found on a german officer._ tommy atkins at war as told in his own letters by james a. kilpatrick new york mcbride, nast & company note this little book is the soldier's story of the war, with all his vivid and intimate impressions of life on the great battlefields of europe. it is illustrated by passages from his letters, in which he describes not only the grim realities, but the chivalry, humanity and exaltation of battle. for the use of these passages the author is indebted to the courtesy and generosity of the editors of all the leading london and provincial newspapers, to whom he gratefully acknowledges his obligations. j.a.k. contents i off to the front ii sensations under fire iii humor in the trenches iv the man with the bayonet v cavalry exploits vi with the highlanders vii the intrepid irish viii "a first-class fighting man" ix officers and gentlemen x brothers in arms xi atkins and the enemy xii the war in the air xiii tommy and his rations tommy atkins at war i off to the front "it is my royal and imperial command that you concentrate your energies, for the immediate present upon one single purpose, and that is that you address all your skill and all the valor of my soldiers to exterminate first the treacherous english and walk over general french's contemptible little army."[a] while this imperial command of the kaiser was being written, atkins, innocent of the fate decreed for him, was well on his way to the front, full of exuberant spirits, and singing as he went, "it's a long way to tipperary." in his pocket was the message from lord kitchener which atkins believes to be the whole duty of a soldier: "be brave, be kind, courteous (but nothing more than courteous) to women, and look upon looting as a disgraceful act." troopship after troopship had crossed the channel carrying sir john french's little army to the continent, while the boasted german fleet, impotent to menace the safety of our transports, lay helpless--bottled up, to quote mr. asquith's phrase, "in the inglorious seclusion of their own ports." never before had a british expeditionary force been organized, equipped and despatched so swiftly for service in the field. the energies of the war office had long been applied to the creation of a small but highly efficient striking force ready for instant action. and now the time for action had come. the force was ready. from the harbors the troopships steamed away, their decks crowded with cheery soldiers, their flags waving a proud challenge to any disputant of britain's command of the sea. the expedition was carried out as if by magic. for a few brief days the nation endured with patience its self-imposed silence. in the newspapers were no brave columns of farewell scenes, no exultant send-off greetings, no stirring pictures of troopships passing out into the night. all was silence, the silence of a nation preparing for the "iron sacrifice," as kipling calls it, of a devastating war. then suddenly the silence was broken, and across the channel was flashed the news that the troops had been safely landed, and were only waiting orders to throw themselves upon the german brigands who had broken the sacred peace of europe. and so the scene changes to france and belgium. tommy atkins is on his way to the front. he has already begun to send home some of those gallant letters that throb throughout the pages of this book. if he felt the absence of the stimulating send-off, necessitated by official caution and the exigencies of a european war, he at least had the new joy of a welcome on foreign soil. it is difficult to find words with the right quality in them to express the feelings aroused in our men by their reception, or the exquisite gratitude felt by the franco-belgian people. they welcomed the british troops as their deliverers. "the first person to meet us in france," writes a british officer, "was the pilot, and the first intimation of his presence was a huge voice in the darkness, which roared out 'a bas guillaume. eep, eep, 'ooray!'" as transport after transport sailed into boulogne, and regiment after regiment landed, the population went into ecstasies of delight. through the narrow streets of the old town the soldiers marched, singing, whistling, and cheering, with a wave of their caps to the women and a kiss wafted to the children (but not only to the children!) on the route. as they swept along, their happy faces and gallant bearing struck deep into the emotions of the spectators. "what brave fellows, to go into battle laughing!" exclaimed one old woman, whose own sons had been called to the army of the republic. it was strange to hear the pipes of the highlanders skirl shrilly through old boulogne, and to catch the sound of english voices in the clarion notes of the "marseillaise," but, strangest of all to french ears, to listen to that new battle-cry, "are we down-hearted?" followed by the unanswerable "no--o--o!" of every regiment. and then the lilt of that new marching song to which tommy atkins has given immortality:-- "it's a long, long way to tipperary"[b] up to mighty london came an irishman one day; as the streets are paved with gold, sure ev'ry one was gay, singing songs of piccadilly, strand and leicester square, till paddy got excited, then he shouted to them there: chorus it's a long way to tipperary, it's a long way to go; it's a long way to tipperary, to the sweetest girl i know! good-by piccadilly, farewell leicester square. it's a long, long way to tipperary, but my heart's right there! it's a' there! paddy wrote a letter to his irish molly o', saying, "should you not receive it, write and let me know! if i make mistakes in spelling, molly dear," said he, "remember it's the pen that's bad, don't lay the blame on me." (_chorus_) molly wrote a neat reply to irish paddy o', saying, "mike maloney wants to marry me, and so leave the strand and piccadilly, or you'll be to blame, for love has fairly drove me silly--hoping you're the same!" (_chorus_) it may seem odd that the soldier should care so little for martial songs, or the songs that are ostensibly written for him; but that is not the fault of tommy atkins. lyric poets don't give him what he calls "the stuff." he doesn't get it even from kipling; thomas hardy's "song of the soldiers" leaves him cold. he wants no epic stanzas, no heroic periods. what he asks for is something simple and romantic, something about a girl, and home, and the lights of london--that goes with a swing in the march and awakens tender memories when the lilt of it is wafted at night along the trenches. and so "tipperary" has gone with the troops into the great european battlefields, and has echoed along the white roads and over the green fields of france and belgium. on the way to the front the progress of our soldiers was made one long fête: it was "roses, roses, all the way." in a letter published in _the times_, an artillery officer thus describes it: "as to the reception we have met with moving across country it has been simply wonderful and most affecting. we travel entirely by motor transport, and it has been flowers all the way. one long procession of acclamation. by the wayside and through the villages, men, women, and children cheer us on with the greatest enthusiasm, and every one wants to give us something. they strip the flower gardens, and the cars look like carnival carriages. they pelt us with fruit, cigarettes, chocolate, bread--anything and everything. it is simply impossible to convey an impression of it all. yesterday my own car had to stop in a town for petrol. in a moment there must have been a couple of hundred people round clamoring; autograph albums were thrust in front of me; a perfect delirium. in another town i had to stop for an hour, and took the opportunity to do some shopping. i wanted some motor goggles, an eye-bath, some boracic, provisions, etc. they would not let me pay for a single thing--and there was lunch and drinks as well. the further we go the more enthusiastic is the greeting. what it will be like at the end of the war one cannot attempt to guess." similar tributes to the kindness of the french and belgians are given by the men. a private in the yorkshire light infantry--the first british regiment to go into action in this war--tells of the joy of the french people. "you ought to have seen them," he writes. "they were overcome with delight, and didn't half cheer us! the worst of it was we could not understand their talking. when we crossed the franco-belgian frontier, there was a vast crowd of belgians waiting for us. our first greeting was the big union jack, and on the other side was a huge canvas with the words 'welcome to our british comrades.' the belgians would have given us anything; they even tore the sheets off their beds for us to wipe our faces with." another tommy tells of the eager crowds turning out to give our troops "cigars, cigarettes, sweets, fruits, wines, anything we want," and the girls "linking their arms in ours, and stripping us of our badges and buttons as souvenirs." then there is the other side of the picture, when the first battles had been fought and the strategic retreat had begun. no praise could be too high for the chivalry and humanity of our soldiers in these dark days. they were almost worshiped by the people wherever they went. some of the earliest letters from the soldiers present distressing pictures of the poor, driven refugees, fleeing from their homes at the approach of the germans, who carry ruin and desolation wherever they go. "it is pitiful, pitiful," says one writer; "you simply can't hold back your tears." others disclose our sympathetic soldier-men sharing their rations with the starving fugitives and carrying the children on their shoulders so that the weary mothers may not fall by the way. "be invariably courteous, considerate, and kind" were lord kitchener's words to the army, and these qualities no less than valor will always be linked with tommy atkins' name in the memories of the french and belgian people. they will never forget the happy spick-and-span soldiers who sang as they stepped ashore from the troopships at boulogne and havre, eager to reach the fighting line. these men have fought valiantly, desperately, since then, but their spirits are as high as ever, and their songs still ring down the depleted ranks as the war-stained regiments swing along from battle to battle on the dusty road to victory. ii sensations under fire it is said of sir john french that, on his own admission, he has "never done anything worth doing without having to screw himself up to it." there is no hint here of practical fear, which the hardened soldier, the fighting man, rarely experiences; but of the moral and mental conflict which precedes the assumption of sovereign duties and high commands. every man who goes into battle has this need. he requires the moral preparation of knowing why he is fighting, and what he is fighting for. in the present war, lord kitchener's fine message to every soldier in the expeditionary force made this screwing-up process easy. but to men going under fire for the first time some personal preparation is also necessary to combat the ordinary physical terror of the battlefield. soldiers are not accustomed to self-analysis. they are mainly men of action, and are supposed to lack the contemplative vision. that was the old belief. this war, however, which has shattered so many accepted ideas, has destroyed that conviction too. nothing is more surprising than the revelation of their feelings disclosed in the soldiers' letters. they are the most intimate of human documents. here and there a hint is given of the apprehension with which the men go into action, unspoken fears of how they will behave under fire, the uncertainty of complete mastery over themselves, brief doubts of their ability to stand up to this new and sublime ordeal of death. rarely, however, do the men allow these apprehensions to depress or disturb them. throughout the earliest letters from the front the one pervading desire was eagerness for battle--a wild impatience to get the first great test of their courage over, to feel their feet, obtain command of themselves. "we were all eager for scalps," writes one of the royal engineers, "and i took the cap, sword, and lance of a uhlan i shot through the chest." an artilleryman says a gunner in his battery was "so anxious to see the enemy," that he jumped up to look, and got his leg shot away. others tell of the intense curiosity of the young soldiers to see everything that is going on, of their reckless neglect of cover, and of the difficulty of holding them back when they see a comrade fall. "in spite of orders, some of my men actually charged a machine gun," an officer related. after the first baptism of fire any lingering fear is dispelled. "i don't think we were ever afraid at all," says another soldier, "but we got into action so quickly that we hadn't time to think about it." "habit soon overcomes the first instinctive fear," writes a third, "and then the struggle is always palpitating." of course, the fighting affects men in different ways. some see the ugliness, the horror of it all, grow sick at the sight, and suffer from nausea. others, seeing deeper significance in this desolation of life, realize the wickedness and waste of it; as one highlander expresses it: "being out there, and seeing what we see, makes us feel religious." but the majority of the men have the instinct for fighting, quickly adapt themselves to war conditions, and enter with zest into the joy of battle. these happy warriors are the men who laugh, and sing, and jest in the trenches. they take a strangely intimate pleasure in the danger around them, and when they fall they die like mr. julian smith of the intelligence department, declaring that they "loved the fighting." all the wounded beg the doctors and nurses to hurry up and let them return to the front. "i was enjoying it until i was put under," writes lance-corporal leslie, r.e. "i must get back and have another go at them," says private j. roe, of the manchesters. and so on, letter after letter expressing impatience to get into the firing line. the artillery is what harasses the men most. they soon developed a contempt for german rifle fire, and it became a very persistent joke in the trenches. but nearly all agree that german artillery is "hell let loose." that is what the enemy intended it to be, but they did not reckon upon the terrors of hades making so small an impression upon the british soldier. there is an illuminating passage in an official statement issued from the general headquarters: "the object of the great proportion of artillery the germans employ is to beat down the resistance of their enemy by a concentrated and prolonged fire, and to shatter their nerve with high explosives before the infantry attack is launched. they seem to have relied on doing this with us; but they have not done so, though it has taken them several costly experiments to discover this fact. from the statements of prisoners, indeed, it appears that they have been greatly disappointed by the moral effect produced by their heavy guns, which, despite the actual losses inflicted, has not been at all commensurate with the colossal expenditure of ammunition which has really been wasted. by this it is not implied that their artillery fire is not good. it is more than good; it is excellent. but the british soldier is a difficult person to impress or depress, even by immense shells filled with high explosives which detonate with terrific violence and form craters large enough to act as graves for five horses. the german howitzer shells are to inches in caliber, and on impact they send up columns of greasy black smoke. on account of this they are irreverently dubbed 'coal-boxes,' 'black marias,' or 'jack johnsons' by the soldiers. men who take things in this spirit, are, it seems, likely to throw out the calculations based on the loss of _moral_ so carefully framed by the german military philosophers." every word of this admirable official message is borne out by the men's own version of their experiences of artillery fire. "at first the din is terrific, and you feel as if your ears would burst and the teeth fall out of your head," writes one of the west kents, "but, of course, you can get used to anything, and our artillerymen give them a bit of hell back, i can tell you." "the sensation of finding myself among screaming shells was all new to me," says corporal butlin, lancashire fusiliers, "but after the first terrible moments, which were enough to unnerve anybody, i became used to the situation. afterwards the din had no effect upon me." and describing an artillery duel a gunner declares: "it was butcher's work. we just rained shells on the germans until we were deaf and choking. i don't think a gun on their position could have sold for old iron after we had finished, and the german gunners would be just odd pieces of clothing and bits of accouterment. it seems 'swanky' to say so, but once you get over the first shock you go on chewing biscuits and tobacco when the shells are bursting all round. you don't seem to mind it any more than smoking in a hailstorm." smoking is the great consolation of the soldiers. they smoke whenever they can, and the soothing cigarette is their best friend in the trenches. "we can go through anything so long as we have tobacco," is a passage from a soldier's letter; and this is the burden of nearly all the messages from the front. "the fight was pretty hot while it lasted, but we were all as cool as liffy water, and smoked cigarettes while the shells shrieked blue murder over our heads," is an irishman's account of the effect of the big german guns. the noise of battle--especially the roar of artillery--is described in several letters. "it is like standing in a railway station with heavy expresses constantly tearing through," is an officer's impression of it. a wounded gordon highlander dismisses it as no more terrible than a bad thunderstorm: "you get the same din and the big flashes of light in front of you, and now and then the chance of being knocked over by a bullet or piece of shell, just as you might be struck by lightning." that is the real philosophy of the soldier. "after all, we are may-be as safe here as you are in piccadilly," says another; and when men have come unhurt out of infinite danger they grow sublimely fatalistic and cheerful. an officer in the cavalry division, for instance, writes: "i am coming back all right, never fear. have been in such tight corners and under such fire that if i were meant to go i should have gone by now, i'm sure." and it is the same with the men. "having gone through six battles without a scratch," says private a. sunderland, of bolton, "i thought i would never be hit." later on, however, he was wounded. though the artillery fire has proved most destructive to all ranks, by far the worst ordeal of the troops was the long retreat in the early stages of the war. it exhausted and exasperated the men. they grew angry and impatient. none but the best troops in the world, with a profound belief in the judgment and valor of their officers, could have stood up against it. a statement by a driver of the royal field artillery, published in the _evening news_, gives a vivid impression of how the men felt. "i have no clear notion of the order of events in the long retreat," he says; "it was a nightmare, like being seized by a madman after coming out of a serious illness and forced towards the edge of a precipice." the constant marching, the want of sleep, the restless and (as it sometimes seemed to the men) purposeless backward movement night and day drove them into a fury. the intensity of the warfare, the fierce pressure upon the mental and physical powers of endurance, might well have exercised a mischievous effect upon the men. instead, however, it only brought out their finest qualities. in an able article in _blackwood's magazine_, on "moral qualities in war," major c.a.l. yate, of the king's own yorkshire light infantry, dealt with the "intensity" of the war strain, of which he himself had acute experience. "under such conditions," he wrote, "marksmen may achieve no more than the most erratic shots; the smartest corps may quickly degenerate into a rabble; the easiest tasks will often appear impossible. an army can weather trials such as those just depicted only if it be collectively considered in that healthy state of mind which the term _moral_ implies." it is just that _moral_ which the british expeditionary force has been proved to possess in so rich a measure, and which must belong to all good soldiers in these days of nerve-shattering war. little touches of pathos are not wanting in the scenes pictured in the soldiers' letters, and they bring an element of humanity into the cold, well-ordered, practical business of war. men who will meet any personal danger without flinching often find the mists floating across their eyes when a comrade is struck down at their side. private plant, manchester regiment, tells how his pal was eating a bit of bread and cheese when he was knocked over: "poor chap, he just managed to ask me to tell his missus." "war is rotten when you see your best pal curl up at your feet," comments another. "one of our chaps got hit in the face with a shrapnel bullet," private sidney smith, first warwickshires, relates. "'hurt, bill?' i said to him. 'good luck to the old regiment,' says he. then he rolled over on his back." "partings of this kind are sad enough," says an irish dragoon, "but we've just got to sigh and get used to it." their own injuries and sufferings don't seem to worry them much. the sensation of getting wounded is simply told. one man, shot through the arm, felt "only a bit of a sting, nothing particular. just like a sharp needle going into me. i thought it was nothing till my rifle dropped out of my hand, and my arm fell. rotten luck." that is the feeling of a clean bullet wound. shrapnel, however, hurts--"hurts pretty badly," tommy says. and the lance and the bayonet make ugly gashes. in sensitive men, however, the continuous shell-fire produces effects that are often as serious as wounds. "some," says mr. geoffrey young, the _daily news and leader_ correspondent, "suffer from a curious aphasia, some get dazed and speechless, some deafened"; but of course their recovery is fairly rapid, and the german "black marias" soon exhaust their terrors. a man may lose his memory and have but a hazy idea of the day of the week or the hour of the day, but tommy still keeps his nerve, and after his first experience of the enemy's fire, to quote his own words, "doesn't care one d---- about the danger." as showing the general feeling of the educated soldier, independent altogether of his nationality, it is worth quoting two other experiences, both russian. mr. stephen graham in the _times_ recites the sensations of a young russian officer. "the feeling under fire at first is unpleasant," he admits, "but after a while it becomes even exhilarating. one feels an extraordinary freedom in the midst of death." the following is a quotation from a soldier's letter sent by mr. h. williams, the _daily chronicle_ correspondent at petrograd: "one talks of hell fire on the battlefield, but i assure you it makes no more impression on me now than the tooting of motors. habit is everything, especially in war, where all the logic and psychology of one's actions are the exact reverse of a civilian's.... the whole sensation of fear is atrophied. we don't care a farthing for our lives.... we don't think of danger. in this new frame of mind we simply go and do the perfectly normal, natural things that you call heroism." when the heroic things are done and there comes a lull in the fighting, it is sweet to sink down in the trenches worn out, exhausted, unutterly drowsy, and snatch a brief unconscious hour of sleep. some of the men fall asleep with the rifles still hot in their hands, their heads resting on the barrels. magnificently as they endure fatigue, there comes a time when the strain is intolerable, and, "beat to the world," as one officer describes it, they often sink into profound sleep, like horses, standing. at these times it seems as if nothing could wake them. shrapnel may thunder around them in vain; they never move a muscle. in mr. stephen crane's fine phrase, they "sleep the brave sleep of wearied men." iii humor in the trenches one of the most surprising of the many revelations of this war has been that of the gaiety, humor, and good nature of the british soldier. all the correspondents, english and french, remark upon it. a new tommy atkins has arisen, whose cheery laugh and joke and music-hall song have enlivened not only the long, weary, exhausting marches, but even the grim and unnerving hours in the trenches. theirs was not the excitement of men going into battle, nervous and uncertain of their behavior under fire; it was rather that of light-hearted first-nighters waiting in the queue to witness some new and popular drama. "a party of the king's own," writes sapper mugridge of the royal engineers, "went into their first action shouting 'early doors this way! early doors, ninepence!'" "the kaiser's crush" is the description given by a sergeant of the coldstream guards as he watched a dense mass of germans emerging to the attack from a wood, and prepared to meet them with the bayonet. when first the fierce german searchlights were turned on the british lines a little cockney in the middlesex regiment exclaimed to his comrade: "lord, bill, it's just like a play, an' us in the limelight"; and as the artillery fusillade passed over their heads, and a great ironical cheer rose from the british trenches, he added: "but it's the kaiser wot's gettin' the bird." many of the wounded who have been invalided home were asked whether this humor in the trenches is the real thing, or only an affected drollery to conceal the emotions the men feel in the face of death; but they all declare that it is quite spontaneous. one old soldier, well accustomed to being under fire, freely admitted that he had never been with such a cheery and courageous lot of youngsters in his life. "they take everything that comes to them as 'all in the game,'" he said, "and nothing could now damp their spirits." songs, cards and jokes fill up the waiting hours in the trenches; under fire, indeed, the wit seems to become sharpest. a corporal in the motor cycle section of the royal engineers writes: "at first the german artillery was rotten. three batteries bombarded an entrenched british battalion for two hours and only seven men were killed. the noise was simply deafening, but so little effect had the fire that the men shouted with laughter and held their caps up on the end of their rifles to give the german gunners a bit of encouragement." the same spirit of raillery is spoken of by a seaforth highlander, who says one of the wiltshires stuck out in the trenches a tin can on which was the notice "business as usual." as, however, it gave the enemy too good a target he was cheerily asked to "take the blooming thing in again," and in so doing he was wounded twice. "the liveliest sunday i ever spent" is how private p. case, liverpool regiment, describes the fighting at mons. "it was a glorious time," writes bandsman wall, connaught rangers; "we had nothing to do but shoot the germans as they came up, just like knocking dolls down at the fair ground." "a very pleasant morning in the trenches," remarks one of the officers' special reserve; and another writer, after being in several engagements, says, "this is really the best summer holiday i've ever had." nothing could excel the coolness of the men under fire. with a hail of bullets and shells raining about them they sing and jest with each other unconcernedly. wiping the dust of battle from his face and loading up for another shot, a highlander will break forth into one of harry lauder's songs: "it's a wee deoch an' doruis, jist a wee drap, that's a'," and with a laugh some english tommies will make a dash at the line "a braw, bricht, minlicht nicht," with ludicrous consequences to the pronunciation! according to "joe," of the nd royal scots, the favorite songs in the trenches or round the camp-fire are "never mind," and "the last boat is leaving for home." "hitchy koo" is another favorite, and was being sung in the midst of a german attack. "one man near me was wounded," says a comrade, "but he sang the chorus to the finish." it is remarkable how these songs and witticisms steady the soldiers under fire. in a letter in the _evening news_ sergeant j. baker writes: "some of our men have made wonderful practise with the rifle, and they are beginning to fancy themselves as marksmen. if they don't hit something every time they think they ought to see a doctor about it.... artillery fire, however, is the deadliest thing out, and it takes a lot of nerve to stand it. the germans keep up an infernal din from morning till far into the night; but they don't do half as much damage as you would think, though it is annoying to have all that row going on when you're trying to write home or make up the regimental accounts." writing home is certainly done under circumstances which are apt to have a disturbing effect upon the literary style. "excuse this scrawl," writes one soldier, "the german shells have interrupted me six times already, and i had to dash out with my bayonet before i was able to finish it off." another concludes: "well, mother, i must close now. the bullets are a bit too thick for letter-writing." to a young engineer the experience was so strange that he describes it as "like writing in a dream." some of the nick-names given by tommy atkins to the german shells have already been quoted, but the most amusing is surely that in a letter from private watters. "one of our men," he relates, "has got a ripping cure for neuralgia, but he isn't going to take out a patent for it! while lying in the trenches, mad with pain in the face, a shell burst beside him. he wasn't hit, but the explosion rendered him unconscious for a time, and when he recovered, his neuralgia had gone. his name is palmer, so now we call the german shells 'palmer's neuralgia cure.'" the amusing story of a long march afforded some mirth in the trenches when it got to be known. a party of artillerymen who had been toiling along in the dark for hours, and were like to drop with fatigue, ran straight into a troop of horsemen posted near a wood. "we thought they were germans," one gunner related, "for we couldn't make out the colors of the uniforms or anything else, until we heard some one sing out 'where the hell do you think you're going to?' _then we knew we were with friends._" football is the great topic of discussion in the trenches. mr. harold ashton, of the _daily news and leader_, relates an amusing encounter with a royal horse artilleryman to whom he showed a copy of the paper. "where's the sporting news?" asked the artilleryman as he glanced over the pages. "shot away in the war," replied mr. ashton. "what!" exclaimed tommy, "not a line about the arsenal? well, i'm blowed! this _is_ a war!" "we are all in good spirits," writes a bombardier in the th battery, royal artillery, "and mainly anxious to know how football is going on in newcastle now." "i got this," said a gordon highlander, referring to his wound, "because i became excited in an argument with wee geordie ferris, of our company, about the chances of queen's park and rangers this season." an artilleryman sends a description of the fighting written in the jargon of the football field. he describes the war as "the great match for the european cup, which is being played before a record gate, though you can't perhaps see the crowd." in spite of all their swank, he adds, "the germans haven't scored a goal yet, and i wouldn't give a brass farthing for their chances of lifting the cup." at the battle of mons it was noticed that some soldiers even went into action with a football attached to their knapsacks! but there is no end to the humor of tommy atkins. mr. hamilton fyfe tells in the _daily mail_ how he stopped to sympathize with a wounded soldier on the roadside near mons. asking if his injury was very painful he received the remarkable reply: "oh, it's not that. i lost my pipe in the last blooming charge." in a letter from the front, published in the _glasgow herald_, this passage occurs: "our fellows have signed the pledge because kitchener wants them to. but they all say, 'god help the germans, when we get hold of them for making us teetotal.'" what a frenchman describes as the "new british battle-cry" is another source of amusement. whenever artillery or rifle fire sweeps over their trenches some facetious tommy is sure to shout, "are we downhearted?" and is met with a resounding "no!" and laughter all along the line. to those at home all this fun may seem a little thoughtless, but to those in the fighting line it is perfectly natural and unforced. "our men lie in the trenches and play marbles with the bullets from shrapnel shells," writes one of the royal engineers; "we have been in two countries and hope to tour a third," says a letter from a cheery artilleryman; and mr. w.l. pook (godalming), who is with one of the field post-offices, declares that things are going so badly with "our dear old chum wilhelm" that "i've bet x---- a new hat that i'll be home by christmas." bets are common in the trenches. gunners wager about the number of their hits, riflemen on the number of misses by the enemy. daring spirits, before making an attack, have even been known to bet on the number of guns they would capture. "we have already picked up a good deal in the way of german souvenirs," says one wag; "enough, indeed, to set a decent-sized army up in business." the british army, indeed, is an army of sportsmen. every man must have his game, his friendly wager, his joke, and his song. as one officer told his men: "you are a lively lot of beggars. you don't seem to realize that we're at war." but they do. that is just tommy's way. it is how he wins through. he always feels fit, and he enjoys himself. corporal graham hodson, royal engineers, provides a typical atkins letter with which to conclude this chapter. "i am feeling awfully well," he writes, "and am enjoying myself no end. all lights are out at eight o'clock, so we lie in our blankets and tell each other lies about the number of germans we have shot and the hairbreadth escapes we have had. oh, it's a great life!" iv the man with the bayonet some military writers have declared that with the increasing range of rifle and artillery fire the day of the bayonet is over. battles, they say, must now be fought with the combatants miles apart. bayonets are as obsolete as spears and battle axes. evidently this theory had the full support of the german general staff, whose military wisdom was in some quarters believed to be infallible--before the war. as events have proved, however, there has been no more rude awakening for the german soldiery than the efficacy of the bayonet in the hands of tommy atkins. in spite of the employment of gigantic siege guns and their enormous superiority in strength, though not in handling, of artillery, the germans have failed to keep the allies at the theoretical safe distance. they have been forced to accept hand-to-hand fighting, and in every encounter at close quarters there has never been a moment's doubt as to the result. they have shriveled up in the presence of the bayonet, and fled in disorder at the first glimpse of naked steel. it is not that the germans lack courage. "they are brave enough," our soldiers admit with perfect frankness, "but the bayonet terrifies them, and they cry out in agony at the sight of it." admittedly, it requires more than ordinary courage to face a bayonet charge, just as it calls for a high order of valor to use that deadly weapon. instances are given of young soldiers experiencing a sinking sensation, a feeling of collapse, at the order "fix bayonets!" their hands trembling violently over the task. but when the bugle sounds the charge, and the wild dash at the enemy's lines has begun, with the skirl of the pipes to stir up the blood, the nerves stiffen and the hands grip the rifle with grim determination. "it was his life or mine," said a young highlander describing his first battle, "and i ran the bayonet through him." there is no time for sentiment, and there can be no thought of chivalry. just get the ugly business over and done with as quickly as possible. one soldier tells what a sense of horror swept over him when his bayonet stuck in his victim, and he had to use all his strength to wrench it out of the body in time to tackle the next man. many men describe the effects of the british bayonet charges and the way the germans--uhlans, guards, and artillerymen--recoil from them. "if you go near them with the bayonet they squeal like pigs," "they beg for mercy on their knees," "the way they cringe before the bayonet is pitiful"--such are examples of the hundreds of references to this method of attack. private whittaker, coldstream guards, gives a vivid account of the fighting around compiègne. "the germans rushed at us," he writes, "like a crowd streaming from a cup-tie at the crystal palace. you could not miss them. our bullets plowed into them, but still on they came. i was well entrenched, and my rifle got so hot i could hardly hold it. i was wondering if i should have enough bullets, when a pal shouted, 'up guards and at 'em.' the next second he was rolled over with a nasty knock on the shoulder. when we really did get orders to get at them we made no mistakes, i can tell you. they cringed at the bayonets. those on the left wing tried to get round us. we yelled like demons, and racing as hard as we could for quite yards we cut up nearly every man who did not run away." one of the most graphic pictures of the war is that of attack in the night related by a sergeant of the worcester regiment, who was wounded in the fierce battle of the aisne. he was on picket duty when the attack opened. "it was a little after midnight," he said "when the men ahead suddenly fell back to report strange sounds and movements along the front. the report had just been made when we heard a rustling in the bushes near us. we challenged and, receiving no reply, fired into the darkness. immediately the enemy rushed upon us, but the sleeping camp had been awakened by the firing, and our men quickly stood to arms. as the heavy german guns began to thunder and the searchlights to play on our position we gathered that a whole army corps was about to be engaged and, falling back upon the camp, we found our men ready. no sooner had we reached the trenches than there rose out of the darkness in front of us a long line of white faces. the germans were upon us. 'fire!' came the order, and we sent a volley into them. they wavered, and dark patches in their ranks showed that part of the white line had been blotted out. but on they came again, the gaps filled up from behind. at a hundred yards' range, the first line dropped to fix bayonets, the second opened fire, and others followed. we kept on firing and we saw their men go down in heaps, but finally they swarmed forward with the bayonet and threw all their weight of numbers upon us. we gave them one terrible volley, but nothing could have stopped the ferocious impetus of their attack. for one terrible moment our ranks bent under the dead weight, but the germans, too, wavered, and in that moment we gave them the bayonet, and hurled them back in disorder. it was then i got a bayonet thrust, but as i fell i heard our boys cheering and i knew we had finished them for the night." this is one of the few accounts that tell of the germans using the bayonet on the offensive, and their experience of the businesslike way in which tommy atkins manipulates this weapon has given them a wholesome dread of such encounters. private g. bridgeman, th royal fusiliers, tells of the glee with which his regiment received the order to advance with the bayonet. "we were being knocked over in dozens by the artillery and couldn't get our own back," he writes,[c] "and i can tell you we were like a lot of schoolboys at a treat when we got the order to fix bayonets, for we knew we should fix them then. we had about yards to cover before we got near them, and then we let them have it in the neck. it put us in mind of tossing hay, only we had human bodies. i was separated from my neighbors and was on my own when i was attacked by three germans. i had a lively time and was nearly done when a comrade came to my rescue. i had already made sure of two, but the third would have finished me. i already had about three inches of steel in my side when my chum finished him." the charge of the coldstream guards at le cateau is another bayonet exploit that ought to be recorded. "it was getting dark when we found that the kaiser's crush was coming through the forest to cut off our force," a sergeant relates, "but we got them everywhere, not a single man getting through. about of us drove them down one street, and didn't the devils squeal. we came upon a mass of them in the main thoroughfare, but they soon lost heart and we actually climbed over their dead and wounded which were heaped up, to get at the others." "what a sight it was, and how our fellows yelled!" says another coldstreamer, describing the same exploit. tommy atkins has long been known for his accurate artillery and rifle fire, but the bayonet is his favorite arm in battle. through all our wars it has proved a deciding, if not indeed the decisive, factor in the campaign. once it has been stained in service he fondles it as, next to his pipe, his best friend. and it is the same with the frenchman. he calls his bayonet his "little rosalie," and lays its ruddy edges against his cheek with a caress. v cavalry exploits "we have been through the uhlans like brown paper." in this striking phrase sir philip chetwode, commanding the th cavalry brigade, describes the brilliant exploits in the neighborhood of cambrai when, in spite of odds of five to one, the prussian horse were cut to pieces. sir philip was the first man to be mentioned in despatches, and sir john french does not hesitate to confirm this dashing officer's tribute to his men. "our cavalry," says the official message, "do as they like with the enemy." there is no more brilliant page in the history of the war than that which has been furnished to the historian by the deeds of the british cavalry. they carried everything before them. in a single encounter the reputation of the much-vaunted uhlans was torn to shreds. the charge of the th lancers at toulin was a fine exploit. it was balaclava over again, with a gallant four hundred charging a battery of eleven german guns. but there was no blunder this time; it was a sacrifice to save the th infantry division and some guns, and the heroic lancers dashed to their task with a resounding british cheer. "we rode absolutely into death," says a corporal of the regiment writing home, "and the colonel told us that onlookers never expected a single lancer to come back. about charged and rallied afterwards, but during the week more turned up wounded and otherwise. you see, the infantry of ours were in a fix and no guns but four could be got round, so the general ordered two squadrons of the th to charge, as a sacrifice, to save the position. the order was given, but not only did a and b gallop into line, but c squadron also wheeled and came up with a roar. it was magnificent, but horrible. the regiment was swept away before , yards was covered, and at yards from the guns i was practically alone--myself, three privates, and an officer of our squadron. we wheeled to a flank on the colonel's signal and rode back. i was mad with rage, a feeling i cannot describe. but we had drawn their fire; the infantry were saved." "it was the most magnificent sight i ever saw," says driver w. cryer, r.f.a., who witnessed the lancers go into action. "they rode at the guns like men inspired," declares another spectator, "and it seemed incredible that any could escape alive. lyddite and melinite swept like hail across the thin line of intrepid horsemen." "my god! how they fell!" writes captain letorez, who, after his horse was shot under him, leapt on a riderless animal and came through unhurt. when the men got up close to the german guns they found themselves riding full tilt into hidden wire entanglements--seven strands of barbed wire. horses and men came down in a heap, and few of the brave fellows who reached this barrier ever returned. the th lancers covered themselves with glory, and this desperate but successful exploit will live as perhaps the most stirring and dramatic battle story of the war. the germans were struck with amazement at the fearlessness of these horsemen. yet the th lancers themselves took their honors very modestly. "we only fooled around and saved some guns," said one of the four hundred, after it was over. he had his horse shot under him and his saddle blanket drilled through. captain f.o. grenfell, of the th lancers, was the hero of an incident in the saving of the guns. all the gunners had been shot down and the guns looked likely to fall into the enemy's hands. "look here, boys," said grenfell, "we've got to get them back. who'll help?" a score of men instantly volunteered--"our chaps would go anywhere with grenfell," says the corporal who tells the story--and "with bullets and shrapnel flying around us, off we went. it was a hot time, but our captain was as cool as on parade, and kept on saying, 'it's all right; they can't hit us.' well, they did manage to hit three of us before we saved the guns, and god knows how any of us ever escaped." later on captain grenfell was himself wounded, but before the ambulance had been brought up to carry him off he sprang into a passing motor-car and dashed into the thick of the fighting again. the th hussars and the th dragoon guards were also in these brilliant cavalry engagements, but did not suffer anything like so badly as the th lancers. corporal clarke, of the remount depot, which was attached to the th hussars, thus described their "little scrap" with the german horsemen near landrecies: "we received orders to form line (two ranks), and the charge was sounded. we then charged, and were under the fire of two batteries, one on each side of the cavalry. we charged straight through them, and on reforming we drove the germans back towards the st lincoln regiment, who captured those who had not been shot down. we had about men missing, and we were about , strong. the order then came to retreat, and we returned in the direction of cambrai, but we did not take any part in the action there." history seems to be repeating itself in amazing ways in this war. just as the charge of the light brigade at balaclava has been reproduced by the th lancers, so the scots greys and th lancers have reproduced the famous charge of the "greys" at waterloo. this is the fight which aroused the enthusiasm of sir philip chetwode, for his brigade went through the german cavalry just as circus horses might leap through paper hoops. "i watched the charge of the scots greys and th lancers," writes sergeant c. meades, of the berkshires. "it was grand. i could see some of the germans dropping on their knees and holding up their arms. then, as soon as our cavalry got through, the germans picked up their rifles and started firing again. our men turned about and charged back. it was no use the germans putting up their hands a second time. our cavalry cut down every one they came to. i don't think there were ten germans left out of about , . i can tell you they had all they wanted for that day." an officer of the dragoons, describing the same charge, says the dragoon guards were also in it, and that his lads were "as keen as mustard." in fact, he declares, "there was no holding them back. horses and men positively flew at the germans, cutting through much heavier mounts and heavier men than ours. the yelling and the dash of the lancers and dragoon guards was a thing never to be forgotten. we lost very heavily at mons, and it is a marvel how some of our fellows pulled through. they positively frightened the enemy. we did terrible execution, and our wrists were feeling the strain of heavy riding before sunset. with our tunics unbuttoned, we had the full use of our right arms for attack and defense." another charge of the scots greys is thus described: "seeing the wounded getting cut at by the german officers, the scots greys went mad, and even though retreat had been sounded, with a non-commissioned officer leading, they turned on the potsdam guards and hewed their way through, their officers following. having got through, the officers took command again, formed them up, wheeled, and came back the way they went. it was a sight for the gods." another episode was the capture of the german guns by the nd and th dragoons. an officer of the th gives an account of the exploit. "we were attacked at dawn, in a fog," he relates, "and it looked bad for us, but we turned it into a victory. our brigade captured all the guns of the german cavalry division, fourteen in all; the bays lost two-thirds of their horses and many men. the gunner battery of ours was annihilated (twenty left), but the guns were saved, as we held the ground at the end. this was only a series of actions, as we have been at it all day, and every day. my own squadron killed sixteen horses and nine uhlans in a space of ft., and many others, inhabitants told me, were lying in a wood close by, where they had crawled. we killed their officer, a big postdam guard, shot through the forehead. l battery fought their guns to the last, 'bradbury' himself firing a gun with his leg off at the knee; a shell took off his other leg. he asked me then to be carried from the guns so that the men could not hear or see him." one of the nd dragoons, wounded in this engagement, says the bays were desperately eager for the order to charge, and exultant when the bugle sounded. "off they went, 'hell for leather,' at the guns," is how he described it. "there was no stopping them once they got on the move." "no stopping them." that sums up what every eye-witness of the british cavalry charges says. the coolness and dash of the men in action was amazing. their voices rang out as they spurred their horses on, and when they crashed into the enemy, the british roar of exultation was terrific, and the mighty clash of arms rent the air. "many flung away their tunics," writes a yeomanry officer with general smith-dorrien's division, "and fought with their shirt sleeves rolled up above the elbow. some of the hussars and lancers were almost in a horizontal position on the off-side of their mounts when they were cutting right and left with bare arms." most intimate details of the fighting at close quarters are given by another officer. "i shall never forget," he says, "how one splendidly-made trooper with his shirt in ribbons actually stooped so low from his saddle as to snatch a wounded comrade from instant death at the hands of a powerful german. and then, having swung the man right round to the near side, he made him hang on to his stirrup leather whilst he lunged his sword clean through the german's neck and severed his windpipe as cleanly as ---- would do it in the operating theater." and here is another incident: "a young lancer, certainly not more than twenty, stripped of tunic and shirt, and fighting in his vest, charged a german who had fired on a wounded man, and pierced him to the heart. seizing the german's horse as he fell, he exchanged it for his own which had got badly damaged. then, his sword sheathed like lightning, he swung round and shot a german clean through the head and silenced him forever." the soldiers' letters throb with such stories, and the swiftness, vigor, and power of expression revealed in them is astonishing. most of them were written under withering fire, some scribbled even when in the saddle, or when the writers were in a state of utter exhaustion at the end of a nerve-shattering day. "'hell with the lid off' describes what we are going through," one of the th lancers says of it. but the men never lose spirit. even after eighteen or nineteen hours in the saddle they still have a kindly, cheering message to write home, and a jocular metaphor to hit off the situation. "we are going on all right," concludes corporal g.w. cooper, th lancers; "but still it isn't exactly what you'd call playing billiards at the club." vi with the highlanders the highlanders have been great favorites in france. their gaiety, humor and inexhaustible spirits under the most trying conditions have captivated everybody. through the villages on their route these brawny fellows march with their pipers to the proud lilt of "the barren rocks of aden" and "the cock o' the north," fine marching tunes that in turn give place to the regimental voices while the pipers are recovering their breath. "it's a long way to inveraray" is the scotch variant of the new army song, but the scots have not altogether abandoned their own marching airs, and it is a stirring thing to hear the chorus of "the nut-brown maiden," for instance, sung in the gaelic tongue as these kilted soldiers swing forward on the long white roads of france. a charming little letter published in _the times_ tells how the highlanders and their pipers turned melun into a "little scotland" for a week, and the enthusiastic writer contributes some verses for a suggested new reel, of which the following have a sly allusion to the kaiser's order for the extermination of general french's "contemptible little army": "what! wad ye stop the pipers? nay, 'tis ower soon! dance, since ye're dancing, william, dance, ye puir loon! dance till ye're dizzy, william, dance till ye swoon! dance till ye're deid, my laddie! we play the tune!" this is all quite in the spirit of the highland soldiers. a frenchman, writing to a friend in london goes into ecstasies over the behavior of the scots in france, and says that at one railway station he saw two wounded highlanders "dancing a scotch reel which made the crowd fairly shriek with admiration." nothing can subdue these highlanders' spirits. they go into action, as has already been said, just as if it were a picnic, and here is a picture of life in the trenches at the time of the fierce battle of mons. it is related by a corporal of the black watch. "the germans," he states, "were just as thick as the hielan' heather, and by weight of numbers (something like twenty-five to one) tried to force us back. but we had our orders and not a man flinched. we just stuck there while the shells were bursting about us, and in the very thick of it we kept on singing harry lauder's latest. it was terrible, but it was grand--peppering away at them to the tune of 'roamin' in the gloamin'' and 'the lass o' killiecrankie.' it's many a song about the lassies we sang in that 'smoker' wi' the germans." according to another highlander "those men who couldn't sing very well just whistled, and those who couldn't whistle talked about football and joked with each other. it might have been a sham fight the way the gordons took it." with this memory of their undaunted gaiety it is sad to think how the gordons were cut up in that encounter. their losses were terrible. "god help them!" exclaims one writer. "theirs was the finest regiment a man could see." but that was in the dark days of the long retreat, when the highlanders, heedless of their own safety, hung on to their positions often in spite of the orders to retire, and avenged their own losses ten-fold by their punishment of the enemy. private smiley, of the gordons, describing the german attacks, speaks of the devastating effects of the british fire. "poor devils!" he writes of the german infantry. "they advanced in companies of quite men in files five deep, and our rifle has a flat trajectory up to yards. guess the result. we could steady our rifles on the trench and take deliberate aim. the first company were mown down by a volley at yards, and in their insane formation every bullet was almost sure to find two billets. the other companies kept advancing very slowly, using their dead comrades as cover, but they had absolutely no chance.... yet what a pitiful handful we were against such a host!" the fighting went on all through the night and again next morning, and the british force was compelled to retreat. in the dark, private smiley, who was wounded, lost his regiment, and was picked up by a battery of the royal field artillery who gave him a lift. but he didn't rest long, he says, for "i'm damned if they didn't go into action ten minutes afterwards with me on one of the guns." some fine exploits are also given to the credit of the black watch. they, too, were in the thick of it at mons--"fighting like gentlemen," as one of them puts it--and the gordons and argyll and sutherlands also suffered severely. in fact, the highland regiments appear to have been singled out by the germans as the object of their fiercest attacks, and all the way down to the aisne they have borne the brunt of the fighting. private fairweather, of the black watch, gives this account of an engagement on the aisne: "the guards went up first and then the camerons, both having to retire. although we had watched the awful slaughter in these regiments, when it was our turn we went off with a cheer across , yards of open country. the shelling was terrific and the air was full of the screams of shrapnel. only a few of us got up to yards of the germans. then with a yell we went at them. the air whistled with bullets, and it was then my shout of ' nd forever!' finished with a different kind of yell. crack! i had been presented with a souvenir in my knee. i lay helpless and our fellows retired over me. shrapnel screamed all around, and melinite shells made the earth shake. i bore a charmed life. a bullet went through the elbow of my jacket, another through my equipment, and a piece of shrapnel found a resting place in a tin of bully beef which was on my back. i was picked up eventually during the night, nearly dead from loss of blood." perhaps the most dashing and brilliant episode of the fighting is the exploit of the black watch at the battle of st. quentin, in which they went into action with their old comrades, the scots greys. not content with the ordinary pace at which a bayonet charge can be launched against the enemy these impatient highlanders clutched at the stirrup leathers of the greys, and plunged into the midst of the germans side by side with the galloping horsemen. the effect was startling, and those who saw it declare that nothing could have withstood the terrible onslaught. "only a highland regiment could have attempted such a movement," said an admiring english soldier who watched it, and the terrible gashes in the german ranks bore tragic testimony to the results of this double charge. the same desperate maneuver, it may be recalled, was carried out at waterloo and is the subject of a striking and dramatic battle picture. though all the letters from men in the highland regiments speak contemptuously of the rifle fire of the germans, they admit that in quantity, at least, it is substantial. "they just poured lead in tons into our trenches," writes one, "but, man, if we fired like yon they'd put us in jail." the german artillery, however, is described as "no canny." the shells shrieked and tore up the earth all around the highlanders, and accounted for practically all their losses. narrow escapes were numerous. an argyll and sutherland highlander got his kilt pierced eight times by shrapnel, one of the black watch had his cap shot off, and while another was handling a tin of jam a bullet went clean into the tin. jocular allusions were made to these incidents, and somebody suggested labeling the tin "made in germany." even the most grim incidents of the war are lit up by some humorous or pathetic passage which illustrates the fine spirits and even finer sympathies of the highlanders. lance-corporal edmondson, of the royal irish lancers, mentions the case of two men of the argyll and sutherlands, who were cut off from their regiment. one was badly wounded, but his comrade refused to leave him, and in a district overrun by germans, they had to exist for four days on half-a-dozen biscuits. "but how did you manage to do it?" the unwounded man was asked, when they were picked up. "oh, fine," he answered. "how about yourself, i mean?" the questioner persisted in asking. "oh, shut up," said the highlander. the truth is he had gone without food all the time in order that his comrade might not want. then there is a story from valenciennes of a poor scared woman who rushed frantically into the road as the british troops entered the town. she had two slight cuts on the arm, and was almost naked--the result of german savagery. when she saw the soldiers she shrank back in fear and confusion, whereupon one of the highlanders, quick to see her plight, tore off his kilt, ripped it in half, and wrapped a portion around her. she sobbed for gratitude at this kindly thought and tried to thank him, but before she could do so the scot, twisting the other half of the kilt about himself to the amusement of his comrades, was swinging far along the road with his regiment. this is not the only scot who has lost his kilt in the war. one of the royal engineers gives a comic picture of a highlander who appears to have lost nearly every article of clothing he left home in. when last seen by this letter writer he was resplendent in a guardsman's tunic, the red breeches of a frenchman, a pair of belgian infantry boots, and his own glengarry! "and when he wants to look particularly smart," adds the engineer, "he puts on a uhlan's cloak that he keeps handy!" as another contribution to the humor of life in the trenches and, incidentally, to the discussion of soldier songs, it is worth while quoting from a letter signed "h.l.," in _the_ _times_, this specimen verse of the sort of lyric that delights tommy atkins. it is the work of a sergeant of the gordon highlanders, and as the marching song in high favor at aldershot, must come as a shock to the ideals of would-be army laureates: "send out the army and navy, send out the rank and file, (have a banana!) send out the brave territorials, they easily can run a mile. (i don't think!) send out the boys' and the girls' brigade, they will keep old england free: send out my mother, my sister, and my brother, but for goodness sake don't send me." it is doggerel, of course, but it has a certain cleverness as a satire on the music-hall song of the day, and the gordons carried it gaily with them to their battlefields, blending it in that odd mixture of humor and tragedy that makes up the soldier's life. the bravest, it is truly said, are always the happiest, and of the happy warriors who have fallen in this campaign one must be remembered here in this little book of british heroism. he died bravely on the hill of jouarre, near la ferte, and his comrades buried him where he fell. on a little wooden cross are inscribed the simple words, "t. campbell, seaforths." vii the intrepid irish "there's been a divil av lot av talk about irish disunion," says mr. dooley somewhere, "but if there's foightin' to be done it's the bhoys that'll let nobody else thread on the union jack." that is the irish temperament all over, and in these days when history is being written in lightning flashes the rally of ireland to the old flag is inspiring, but not surprising. political cynics have always said that england's difficulty would be ireland's opportunity, but they did not reckon with the paradoxical character of the irish people. england's difficulty has indeed been ireland's opportunity--the opportunity of displaying that generous nature which has already contributed thousands of men to the expeditionary force, and is mustering tens of thousands more under the patriotic stimulus of those old political enemies, mr. john redmond and sir edward carson. the civil war is "put off," as one irish soldier expresses it; old enmities are laid aside and orange and green are fighting shoulder to shoulder, on old battlefields whose names are writ in glory upon the colors. no more cheerful regiments than the irish are to be found in the firing line. their humor in the trenches, their love of songs, and their dash in action are manifested in all their letters. an english soldier, writing home, says that even in the midst of a bayonet charge an irishman can always raise a laugh. "look at thim divils retratin' with their backs facin' us," was an irish remark about the germans that made his fellows roar. and when the fusiliers heard the story of the kaiser's lucky shamrock, one of them said: "sure, an' it'll be moighty lucky for him if he doesn't lose it"; adding to one of three comrades, "there'll be a leaf apiece for us, hinissey, when we get to berlin." in the fighting the irish have done big things and their dash and courage have filled their british and french comrades with admiration. referring to the first action in which the irish guards took part, and the smart businesslike way in which they cut up the germans, private heffernan, royal irish fusiliers, says they had a great reception as they marched back into the lines: "of course, we all gave them a cheer, but it would have done your heart good to see the frenchmen (who had a good view of the fighting) standing up in their trenches and shouting like mad as the guards passed by. the poor chaps didn't like the idea that it was their first time in action, and were shy about the fuss made of them: and there was many a row in camp that night over men saying fine things and reminding them of their brand new battle honors."[d] a fine story is told of the heroism of two irish dragoons by a trooper of that gallant regiment. "one of our men," he says, "carried a wounded comrade to a friendly farm-house under heavy fire, and when the retreat was ordered both were cut off. a patrol of a dozen uhlans found them there and ordered them to surrender, but they refused, and, tackling the germans from behind a barricade of furniture, killed or wounded half of them. the others then brought up a machine gun and threatened the destruction of the farm: but the two dragoons, remembering the kindness of the farm owners and unwilling to bring ruin and disaster upon them, rushed from the house in the wild hope of tackling the gun. the moment they crossed the doorway they fell riddled with bullets." another story of the irish dragoons is told by trooper p. ryan. one of the berkshires had been cut off from his regiment while lingering behind to bid a dying chum good-by, when he was surrounded by a patrol of uhlans. a troop of the irish dragoons asked leave of their officer to rescue the man, and sweeping down on the germans, quickly scattered them. but they were too late. the plucky berkshire man had "gone under," taking three germans with him. "we buried him with his chum by the wayside," adds trooper ryan. "partings of this kind are sad, but they are everyday occurrences in war, and you just have to get used to them." the dragoons also went to the assistance of a man of the irish rifles who, wounded himself, was yet kneeling beside a fallen comrade of the gloucester regiment, and gamely firing to keep the enemy off. the dragoons found both men thoroughly worn out, but urgency required the regiment to take up another position, and the wounded men had to be left to the chance of being picked up by the red cross corps. "they knew that," says the trooper who relates the incident, "and weren't the men to expect the general safety to be risked for them. 'never mind,' said the young irishman, 'shure the sisters 'll pick us up all right, an' if they don't--well, we've only once to die, an' it's the grand fight we've had annyhow.'" one of the most stirring exploits of the war--equaled only by the devotion and self-sacrifice of the royal engineers in the fight for the bridge--is that of the irish fusiliers in saving another regiment from annihilation. the regiment was in a distant and exposed position, and a message had to be sent ordering its retirement. this could only be accomplished by despatching a messenger, and the fusiliers were asked for volunteers. every man offered himself, though all knew what it meant to cross that stretch of open country raked with rifle fire. they tossed for the honor, and the first man to start-off with the message was an awkward shock-headed chap who, the narrator says, didn't impress by his appearance. into the blinding hail of bullets he dashed, and cleared the first hundred yards without mishap. in the second lap he fell wounded, but struggled to his feet and rushed on till he was hit a second time and collapsed. one man rushed to his assistance and another to bear the message. the first reached the wounded man and started to carry him in, but when nearing the trenches and their cheering comrades, both fell dead. the third man had by this time got well on his way, and was almost within reach of the endangered regiment when he, too, was hit. half-a-dozen men ran out to bring him in, and the whole lot of this rescuing party were shot down, but the wounded fusilier managed to crawl to the trenches and deliver the order. the regiment fell back into safety and the situation was saved, but the message arrived none too soon, and the gallant irish fusiliers certainly saved one battalion from extinction. in one fierce little fight the munster fusiliers (the "dirty shirts") had to prevent themselves from being cut off, and in a desperate effort to capture the whole regiment the germans launched cavalry, infantry and artillery upon them. "the air was thick with noises," says one of the munsters in telling the story, "men shouting, waving swords, and blazing away at us like blue murder. but our lads stood up to them without the least taste of fear, and gave them the bayonet and the bullet in fine style. they crowded upon us in tremendous numbers, but though it was hell's own work we wouldn't surrender, and they had at last to leave us. i got a sword thrust in the ribs, and then a bullet in me, and went under for a time, but when the mist cleared from my eyes i could see the boys cutting up the germans entirely." the losses were heavy, and the comment was made in camp that the germans had cleaned up the "dirty shirts" for once. "well," said an indignant fusilier, "it was a moighty expensive washin' for them annyway." how private parker of the inniskilling fusiliers escaped from four uhlans who had taken him prisoner is an example of personal daring. his captors marched him off between them till they came to a narrow lane where the horsemen could walk only in single file--three in front of him and one behind. he determined to make a bid for liberty. ducking under the rear horse he seized his rifle, shot the uhlan, and disappeared in the darkness. for days he lay concealed, and on one occasion german searchers entered the room in which he was hidden, yet failed to find him. private court, nd royal scots, pays a tribute to the gallantry of the connaught rangers, and tells how they saved six guns which had been taken by the enemy. the sight of british guns in german hands was too much for the temper of the connaughts, who came on with an irresistible charge, compelling the guns to be abandoned, and enabling the royal field artillery to dash in and drag them out of danger. another soldier relates that the connaughts were trapped by a german abuse of the white flag and suffered badly when, all unsuspecting, they went to take over their prisoners; but they left their mark on the enemy on that occasion, and "when the connaught blood is up," as one of the rangers expresses it, "it's a nasty job to be up agin it." stories of irish daring might be multiplied, but these are sufficient to show that the old regiments are still full of the fighting spirit. "now boys," one of their non-commissioned officers is reported to have said, "no surrender for us! ye've got yer rifles, and yer baynits, and yer butts, and after that, ye divils, there's yer fists." a drummer of the irish fusiliers who had lost his regiment, met another soldier on the road and begged for the loan of his rifle "just to get a last pop at the divils." sir john french is himself of irish parentage--roscommon and galway claim him--and there is no more ardent or cheerful fighter in the british army. "it beats banagher," says a jocular private in the royal irish, "how these germans always disturb us at meal times. i suppose it's just the smell of the bacon that they're after, and rafferty says we can't be too careful where we stow the mercies." from all accounts the germans taken prisoner are about as ill-fed as they are ill-informed. private harkness of the same regiment, says the captives' first need is food and then information. one of them asked him why the irish weren't fighting in their own civil war. "faith," said he, "this is the only war we know about for the time being, and there's mighty little that's _civil_ about it with the way you're behaving yourselves." the german looked gloomy, and, added harkness, "i don't think he liked a plain irishman's way of putting things." viii "a first-class fighting man" "if ever i come back, and anybody at home talks to me about the glory of war, i shall be d----d rude to him." that is an extract from the letter of an officer who has seen too much of the grim and ugly side of the campaign to find any romance in it. yet out of all the horror there emerge incidents of conspicuous bravery that strike across the imagination like sunbeams, and cast a glow even in the darkest corners of the stricken field. valor is neither a philosophy nor a calculation. the soldier does not say to himself, "look here, atkins, 'one crowded hour of glorious life is worth an age without a name.'" he goes into the business of war determined to get it over as quickly as possible,[e] and when he does something stupendous, as he does nearly ever day, it is just because the thing has to be done, and he is there to do it. tommy atkins doesn't stop to think whether he is doing a brave thing, nor does he wait for orders to do it; he just sets about it as part of the day's work, and looks very much abashed if anybody applauds him for it. for instance, there is a man in the buffs (the story is told by a driver of the royal marine artillery), who picked up a wounded comrade and carried him for more than a mile under a vicious german fire that was exterminating nearly everything. it was a fine act of heroism. "yet if anybody were to suggest the v.c. he'd break his jaw," says the writer, "and as he's a man with a . punch the men of his regiment keep very quiet about it." some fine exploits are recorded of the artillery. when the munster fusiliers were surrounded in one extended engagement a driver of the r.f.a. named pledge, who was shut up with them, was asked to "cut through" and get the assistance of the artillery. lance-corporal john mcmillan, black watch, thus describes what happened: "pledge mounted a horse and dashed through the german lines. his horse was brought to the ground, and, as we afterwards discovered, he sustained severe injuries to his legs. nothing daunted, he got his horse on its feet, and again set off at a great pace. to get to the artillery he had to pass down a narrow road, which was lined with german riflemen. he did not stop, however, but dashed through without being hit by a single bullet. he conveyed the message to the artillery, which tore off to the assistance of the munsters, and saved the situation." the saving of the guns is always an operation that calls for intrepidity, and many exploits of that kind are related. lance-corporal bignell, royal berks, tells how he saw two r.f.a. drivers bring a gun out of action at mons. shells had been flying round the position, and the gunners had been killed, whereupon the two drivers went to rescue the gun. "it was a good quarter of a mile away," says the witness, "yet they led their horses calmly through the hail of shell to where the gun stood. then one man held the horses while the other limbered up. it seemed impossible that the men could live through the german fire, and from the trenches we watched them with great anxiety. but they came through all right, and we gave them a tremendous cheer as they brought the gun in." sir john french in one of his despatches records that during the action at le cateau on august th the whole of the officers and men of one of the british batteries had been killed or wounded with the exception of one subaltern and two gunners. these continued to serve one gun, kept up a sound rate of fire, and came unhurt from the battlefield. another daring act is described by w.e. motley, r.f.a. "things became very warm for us," he says, "when the germans found the range. in fact it became so hot that an order was passed to abandon the guns temporarily. this is the time when our men don't obey orders, so they stuck to their guns. they ceased their fire for a time. the enemy, thinking our guns were out of action, advanced rapidly. then was the time our men proved their worth. they absolutely shattered the germans with their shells." some gallant stories are told of the royal engineers. one especially thrilling, is given in the words of darino, a lyrical artist of the comédie française, who joined the cuirassiers, and was a spectator of the scene he describes. a bridge had to be blown up, and the whole place was an inferno of mitrailleuse and rifle fire. "into this," he relates, "went your engineers. a party of them rushed towards the bridge, and, though dropping one by one, were able to lay the charge before all were sacrificed. for a moment we waited. then others came. down towards the bridge they crept, seeking what cover they could in their eagerness to get near enough to light the fuse. ah! it was then we frenchmen witnessed something we shall never forget. one man dashed forward to his task in the open, only to fall dead. another, and another, and another followed him, only to fall like his comrade, and not till the twelfth man had reached the fuse did the attempt succeed. as the bridge blew up with a mighty roar, we looked and saw that the brave twelfth man had also sacrificed his life." during the long retreat from mons the middlesex regiment got into an awkward plight, and a bridge--the only one left to the germans--had to be destroyed to protect them. this was done by a sergeant of the engineers, but immediately afterwards his own head was blown away by a german shell. "the brave fellow certainly saved the position," writes one of the middlesex men, "for if the germans had got across that night i'm afraid there would have been very few of us left." other daring incidents may be told briefly. one of the liveliest is that of seven men of the worcesters, who were told they could "go for a stroll." while loitering along the road they encountered a party of germans, and captured them all without firing a shot. "we just covered them with our rifles," writes private styles; "so simple!" sir john french relates a similar exploit of an officer who, while proceeding along the road in charge of a number of led horses, received information that there were some of the enemy in the neighborhood. upon seeing them he gave the order to charge, whereupon three german officers and men surrendered! on another occasion a portion of a supply column was cut off by a detachment of german cavalry and the officer in charge was summoned to surrender. he refused, and starting his motors off at full speed dashed safely through. hairbreadth escapes are related in hundreds of letters, and they have a dramatic quality that makes the ineffectual fires of imaginative fiction burn very low. sergeant e.w. turner, west kents, writes to his sweetheart: "the bullet that wounded me at mons went into one breast pocket and came out of the other, and in its course passed through your photo." private g. ryder vouches for this: "we were having what you might call a dainty afternoon tea in the trenches under shell fire. the mugs were passed round with the biscuits and the 'bully' as best they could by the mess orderlies, but it was hard work messing through without getting more than we wanted. my next-door neighbor, so to speak, got a shrapnel bullet in his tin, and another two doors off had his biscuit shot out of his hand." lieutenant a.c. johnstone, the hants county cricketer, after escaping other bullets and shells which were dancing around him, was hit over the heart by a spent bullet, which on reaching hospital he found in his left-hand breast pocket. private plant, manchester regiment, had a cigarette shot out of his mouth, and a comrade got a bullet into his tin of bully beef. "it saves the trouble of opening it," was his facetious remark. one of the royal scots fusiliers was saved by a cartridge clip. he felt the shock and thought he had been hit, but the bullet was diverted by the impact owing to a loose cartridge. had it been struck higher up all the cartridges might have exploded. another letter mentions a case where a man got two bullets; one struck his cartridge belt, and the other entered his sleeve and passed through his trousers as far as the knee, without even scratching him. drummer e. o'brien, south lancashires, had his bugle and piccolo smashed, his cap carried away by a bullet, and another bullet through his coat before he was finally struck by a piece of shrapnel which injured his ankle; and another soldier records thus his adventures under fire: ( ) shell hit and shattered my rifle; ( ) cap shot off my head; ( ) bullet in muscle of right arm. "but never mind, my dear," he comments, "i had a good run for my money." staff-sergeant j.w. butler, st lincolns, was saved by a paper pad in his pocket book; the bullet embedded itself there. sapper mckenny, royal engineers, records the unique experience of a comrade whose cap was shot off so neatly that the bullet left a groove in his hair just like a barber's parting! he thinks the german who fired the shot is probably a london hairdresser. private j. drury, rd coldstream guards, also had a narrow escape, being hit by a bullet out of a shell between the left eye and the temple. "it struck there," he relates, "but one of our men got it out with a safety pin, and now i've got it in my pocket!" the amusing escapade of "wee hecky macalister," is told by private t. mcdougall, of the highland light infantry. hecky went into a burn for a swim, and suddenly found the attentions of the germans were directed to him. "you know what a fine mark he is with his red head," says the writer to his correspondent, and so they just hailed bullets at him. hecky, however, "dooked and dooked," and emerged from his bath happy but breathless after his submarine exploit. but while the men in the trenches applaud all the brilliant exploits of their fellows, and laugh and jest over the lively escapes of the lucky ones who, in atkins's phraseology, "only get their hair parted," there are other fine deeds done in the quiet corners of hospitals and out of the glamour of battle that move the strongest to tears. such is the incident related by a member of the royal army medical corps, and it is a fitting story with which to close this chapter. one soldier, mortally wounded, was being attended by the doctor when his eye fell on a dying comrade. "see to him first, doctor," he said faintly, "that poor bloke's going home; he'll be home before me." ix officers and gentlemen "he died doing his duty like the officer and gentleman he was." could any man have a finer epitaph? it is an extract from a letter written by private j. fairclough, yorkshire light infantry, to general a. wynn, and refers to the death of the general's son, lieutenant g.o. wynn, killed in action at landrecies. the letter goes on to tell of the affection in which the young officer was held by his men, and this story of courage and unselfishness in the field is the simple but faithful tribute of a devoted soldier. the war has brought out in a hundred ways the admirable qualities of all ranks in the british expeditionary force; but the relations of officers and men have never been revealed to us before with such friendly candor and mutual appreciation. over and over again in these letters from the front the soldiers are found extolling the bravery and self-sacrifice of their officers. "no praise is too great for them," "our officers always pull us through," "they know their business to the finger-tips," "as cool as cucumbers under fire," "magnificent examples," "absolutely fearless in the tightest corners"--these are some of the phrases in which the men speak proudly of those in command. one officer in the st hampshire regiment read _marmion_ aloud in the trenches, under a fierce maxim fire, to keep up the spirits of his men; and they "play cards and sing popular songs to cheer us up," adds another genial soldier. not that the men suffer much from depression. on the contrary, the commanders agree that their spirits have been splendid. "our men are simply wonderful," writes an officer in the cavalry division; "they will go through anything." the most surprising thing in the soldiers' letters is that they should show such an extraordinary sense of the dramatic. they throb with emotion. take this account of the death of captain berners as written by corporal s. haley, of the brigade of guards, in a letter published by the _star_: "captain berners, of the irish, was the life and soul of our lot. when shells were bursting over our heads he would buck us up with his humor about brock's displays at the palace. but when we got into close quarters it was he who was in the thick of it. and didn't he fight! i don't know how he got knocked over, but one of our fellows told me he died a game 'un. he was one of the best of officers, and there is not a tommy who would not have gone under for him." among those who fell at cambrai was captain clutterbuck, of the king's own (lancaster) regiment. he was killed while leading a bayonet charge. "just like clutterbuck," wrote a wounded sergeant, describing the officer's valor, and adding, "lieutenant steele-perkins also died one of the grandest deaths a british officer could wish for. he was lifted out of the trenches wounded four times, but protested and crawled back again till he was mortally wounded." a sergeant of the coldstream guards, in an account given to the _evening news_, speaks of the death of captain windsor clive. "we were sorry to lose captain clive, who," he says, "was a real gentleman and a soldier. he was knocked over by the bursting of a shell, which maddened our fellows i can tell you." the utmost anger was also aroused in the men of the lancaster regiment by the death of colonel dykes. "good-by, boys," he exclaimed as he fell; and "by god, we avenged him," said one of the "boys" in describing the fight. many instances are given of the devotion shown by the soldiers in saving their officers. private j. ferrie, of the royal scots fusiliers, wounded while defending a bridge at landrecies, tells in the _glasgow herald_ how sergeant crop rescued lieutenant stephens, who had been badly hit and must otherwise have fallen into the enemy's hands: "the sergeant took the wounded lieutenant on his back, but as he could not crawl across the bridge so encumbered he entered the water, swam the canal, carried the wounded man out of line of fire, and consigned him to the care of four men of his own company. of a platoon of fifty-eight which was set to guard the bridge only twenty-six afterwards answered to the roll call." on the other hand, there are many records of the tremendous risks taken by officers to rescue wounded men. private j. williams, royal field artillery, had two horses shot under him and was badly injured "when the major rushed up and saved me." "i was lying wounded when an artillery major picked me up and took me into camp, or i would never have seen england again," writes lance-corporal j. preston, inniskilling fusiliers. lieutenant sir alfred hickman was wounded in the shoulder while rescuing a wounded sergeant under heavy fire. how another disabled man was brought in by lieutenant amos, is told by private george pringle, king's own scottish borderers. "several of us volunteered to do it," he says, "but the lieutenant wouldn't hear of anybody else taking the risk." captain mclean, argyll and sutherland highlanders, saved one of his men under similar circumstances. all the letters are full of praise of the officers who, in the words of private james allan, gordon highlanders, "seem to be mainly concerned about the safety of their men, and indifferent to the risks they take upon themselves." every tommy knows he is being finely led. the officers are a constant source of inspiration and encouragement. private campbell, irish fusiliers, writes: "lieutenant o'donovan led us all the time, and was himself just where the battle was hottest. i shall never forget his heroism. i can see him now, revolver in one hand and sword in the other. he certainly accounted for six germans on his own, and inspired us to the effort of our lives. he has only been six months in the service, is little more than a boy, but the british army doesn't possess a more courageous officer." the scottish borderers speak proudly of major leigh, who was hit during a bayonet charge, and when some of his men turned to help him, shouted "go on, boys; don't mind me." a lieutenant of a company, st cheshires: "i only know his nickname," says private d. schofield--though wounded in two places, rushed to help a man in distress, brought him in, and then went back to pick up his fallen sword. captain robert bruce, heir of lord balfour of burleigh, distinguished himself in the fighting at mons. one of the argyll and sutherland highlanders relates that, in spite of wounds, captain bruce took command of about thirty highlanders who had been cut off, and throwing away his sword, seized a rifle from one of the killed, and fought side by side with his men. how the guns were saved at soissons is told in a letter, published in _the times_, from sergeant c. meades, of the berkshire regiment. "we had the order to abandon our guns," he writes, "but our young lieutenant said, 'no, boys; we'll never let the germans take a british gun,' and with a cheer we fought on.... the staffords came up and reinforced us. then i got hit, and retired.... but the guns were saved. when the last of the six got through every one cheered like mad." one of the west kents also described the daring action of an officer. in the midst of terrific fire, he walked calmly down the artillery line, putting our lost guns out of action so that they would be useless to the germans. even into the letters describing these gallant incidents there creep frequent evidences of atkins's unconquerable spirit and sense of humor. private r. toomey, royal army medical corps, tells of an officer of the royal irish shouting at the top of his voice, "give 'em hell, boys, give 'em hell!" he had been wounded in the back by a lump of shrapnel, but, says toomey, "it was a treat to hear him shouting." most of these accounts refer to the weary days of the retirement from mons to compiègne, a test of endurance that brought out the splendid fighting qualities of officers and men alike. that retirement is certainly one of the most masterly achievements of a war already glorious for the exploits of british arms. day after day our men had to fall back, tired and hungry, exhausted from want of sleep, yet fighting magnificently, and only impatient to begin the attack. this eagerness for battle is in marked contrast to the spirit of the german troops, of whom there is abundant evidence that the men have often to be driven into action by the threatening swords and revolvers of their officers. francis ryan, northumberland fusiliers, tells in the _scotsman_ how young lieutenant smith-dorrien pleaded to be allowed to remain with his men in the trenches after a retirement had been ordered. the south staffordshires thought they were "getting along splendidly," says one of the men, "until the general came and told us we must retreat or we would be surrounded." the officer spoke very encouragingly, and praised his men; but they were all so unwilling to yield ground that one of them, expressing impatience, made a comment he would never have thought of doing in peace time. the general only smiled. this impatience pervaded all arms of the service. some of the highland regiments began to grow grim and sullen, in spite of their play with the bayonet; and the irish corps became "unaisy." it was then that the officers' fine spirit brought reassurance. this is how the king's royal rifles were cheered up, according to private harman: "the officers knew we were disappointed, because on the fifth day of retirement our commanding officer came round and spoke to us. 'stick it, boys, stick it,' he said; 'to-morrow we shall go the other way and advance--biff, biff!' the way he said 'biff, biff,' delighted the men, and after that we frequently heard men shouting, 'biff, biff!'" general sir john french, who is a great favorite with all ranks, and spoken of with affection by every tommy, makes frequent tours of the lines and has a cheery word for every regiment. driver w. cryer, royal field artillery, relates in the _manchester guardian_ that, at st. quentin, sir john french visited the troops, "smiling all over his face," and explained the meaning of the repeated retirements. up to then, says cryer, the men had almost to be pulled away by the officers, but after the general's visit they fell in with the general scheme with great cheerfulness. summing up his impressions of the nerve-strain of these weary rearguard actions, a famous cavalry officer writing home, says: "we had a hell of a time.... but the men were splendid. i don't believe any other troops in the world could have stood it." x brothers in arms there is a fine fraternity between the british and the french soldiers. they don't understand very much of each other's speech, but they "muddle through," as atkins puts it, with "any old lingo." the french call out, "bravo, tommee!" and share cigarettes with him: and atkins, not very sure of his new comrades' military christian name, replies with a cheery "right, oh!" then turning to his own fellows he shouts, "are we downhearted?" and the clamorous "no!" always brings forth a rousing french cheer. having seen each other in action since they first met on the way to battle they have grown to respect each other more and more. there is not much interchange of compliments in the letters from the trenches, but such as there is clearly establishes the belief of atkins that he is fighting side by side with a brave and generous ally. "we always knew," writes one soldier, "that the french were swift and dangerous in attack, but we know now that they can fight on the stubbornly defensive." one of the south lancashires is loud in his praise of their behavior under fire. "especially the artillery," sergeant j. baker adds; "the french seem to like the noise, and aren't happy unless it's there." one of _the times_ correspondents mentions that the german guns have a heavy sound "boum," and the french a sharper one, "bing"; but neither of them is very pleasant to the ear, and it requires a cultured military taste like that of the french to enjoy the full harmony of the music when the british "bang" is added to the general cannonading. the french artillery is admitted to be fine, the deadly accuracy of the gunners being highly praised by all who have watched the havoc wrought in the german lines. for the french soldier, however, the path of greatest glory lies in the charge. dash and fire are what he possesses in the highest degree. his highly-strung temperament chafes under delays and disappointments. he hasn't the solid, bull-dog courage that enables the british soldier to take hard knocks, even severe punishment, and come up smiling again to renew the battle that he will only allow to end in one way, and that way victory. in the advance, as one writer describes it, the french dash forward in spasmodic movements, making immediately for cover. after a brief breathing space they bound into the open again, and again seek any available shelter. and so they proceed till the charge is sounded, when with gleaming bayonets and a cry of "_pour la gloire_" upon their lips they sweep down upon the enemy at a tremendous pace. the whole thing is exhilarating to watch, and to the men engaged it is almost intoxicating. they see red and the only thing that can stop them is the sheer dead weight of the columns in front. to the french the exploit of the th lancers, already described in this volume, is the greatest thing in the war. they would have died to have accomplished it themselves. the fine heroics of such an exploit gives them a crazy delight. then there are the forlorn hopes, the bearing of messages across a zone of withering fire, the fights for the colors. one incident which closely resembles the exploit of the royal irish fusiliers is recorded. a message had to be borne to another regiment and volunteers sprang forward eagerly to the call. the enemy's fire was particularly deadly at this point, and it seemed impossible for a messenger to get through, but no man hesitated. the first fell dead before he had traveled many yards, the second had a leg shot off, the third by amazing luck got through without a scratch. deeds of this kind have endeared the french soldier to tommy atkins more than all his extravagant acts of kindness, and the sympathetic bond of valor has linked them together in the close companionship of brothers-in-arms. having shown what the british soldier thinks of the french as fighting men, it is pleasant to turn to our ally's opinion of tommy atkins. here the letters deal in superlatives. m. duchene, french master at archbishop holgate's school, york, who was wounded with his regiment at verdun, writes in glowing terms of his comrades' praise. "ah, those english soldiers!" he says. "in my regiment you only hear such expressions as _'ils sont magnifiques,' 'ils sont superbs,' 'quels soldats!'_ no better tribute could be given." another frenchman with the army of the republic is stirred into this eulogy in a letter to a friend in england: "how fine they are, how splendidly they behave, these english soldiers! in their discipline and their respect for their officers they are magnificent, and you will never know how much we have applauded them." another frenchman, acting as interpreter with a scottish regiment, relates with amazement how the highlanders go into action, "as if they were going to a picnic, with laughing eyes and, whenever possible, with a cigarette between their lips. their courage is a mixture of imperturbability and tenacity. one must have seen their immovable calm, their heroic sang-froid, under the rain of bullets to do it justice." then he goes on to describe how a handful of scots were selected to hold back a large body of germans in a village to enable the main body of the british to retire in good order. they took up a position in the first house they came to and fired away at the invaders, who rained bullets on the building. some of the gallant little party fell, but the others kept up the fight. then there came a pause in the attack, the german fire ceased, the enemy was seeking a more sheltered position. during this brief respite the sergeant in command of the scots surveyed the building they had entered. it was a small grocer's shop, and on an upper shelf he found a few packets of chocolate. "here, lads," he shouted, "whoever kills his man gets a bit o' this." the firing began again, and as each marksman succeeded, the imperturbable scot shouted "got him," and handed over the prize amid roars of laughter. "alas," comments the narrator, "there were few prize-winners who lived to taste their reward." the same eulogist, whose narrative was obtained by reuter's correspondent, also speaks of the fastidious scot's preoccupations. he has two--to be able to shave and to have tea. "no danger," the frenchman declares, "deters them from their allegiance to the razor and the teapot. at ----, in the department of the nord, i heard a british officer of high rank declare with delicious calm between two attacks on the town: 'gentlemen, it was nothing. let's go and have tea.' meanwhile his men took advantage of the brief respite to crowd round the pump, where, producing soap and strop, they proceeded to shave minutely and conscientiously with little bits of broken glass serving as mirrors." the same sense of order and method also struck another frenchman, who speaks of the "amazing englishmen," who carry everything with them, and are never in want of anything, not even of sleep! certainly there is much truth in these tributes to the british military organization, but that is another story and for another chapter. the opinion of an english cavalry officer, however, may be quoted as to the relative merits of the french and english horses. "the french horses," he writes, "are awful. they look after them so badly. they all say, 'what lovely horses you have,' to us, and they do look fine beside theirs, but we look after ours so well. we always dismount and feed them on all occasions with hay and wheat found on the farms and in stacks in the fields, also clover. the french never do." as a result of these observations the french appear to have been applying themselves to the study of the british fighting force. "i know for a fact," says trooper g. douglas, "that french officers have been moving amongst us studying our methods. the french tommies try to copy us a lot, and they like, when they have time, to stroll into our lines for a chat or a game; but it's precious little time there is for that now." but it is in character and temperament that the chief differences of the allies lie. "brigadier" mary murray, who went to the front with other members of the salvation army, records a conversation she had with a french soldier over a cup of coffee. "ah," he said, "we lose heavily, we french. we haven't the patience of the english. they are fine and can wait: we must rush!" and yet tommy atkins can do a bit of rushing too. private r. duffy, of the rifle brigade, sends home a lively account of the defense of the marne in which a mixed force of british and french was engaged. the object to be achieved was to drive back the germans who were attempting to cross the river. "about half a mile from the banks," writes duffy, "we came out from a wood to find a french infantry battalion going across in the same direction. we didn't want to be behind, so we put our best foot forward, and one of the most exciting races you ever saw followed. we got in first by a head, as you might say, and we were just in time to tackle a mob of germans heading for the crossing in disorder. we went at them with the bayonet, but they didn't seem to have the least heart for fighting. some of them flung themselves in the stream and tried to swim to safety, but they were heavily accoutered and worn out so they didn't go very far. of about three hundred men who tried this not more than half a dozen succeeded in reaching the other bank." in spite of all the hatreds the war has engendered--and one of the royal lancasters declares that the sign manual of friendship between the french and the english soldier is "a cross on the throat indicating their wish to the kaiser"--there is still room for passages of fine sympathy and chivalry. one young french lieutenant distinguished himself by carrying a wounded uhlan to a place of safety under a heavy german fire, english soldiers have shown equal generosity and kindness to injured captives, and the tributes to heroic and patient nurses shine forth in letters of gold upon the dark pages of this tragic history. here is a touching letter from one of the king's own royal lancasters. "in one hospital, which was a church," he writes, "there was a young french girl helping to bandage us up. how she stood it i don't know. there were some awful sights, but she never quailed--just a sad sweet smile for every one. if ever any one deserved a front seat in heaven this young angel did. god bless her! she has the prayers and all the love the remnants of the fourth division can give her." and another pretty little tribute is paid to the kindness of a french lady to four english soldiers billeted at her house. "she was wondrous kind," writes one of the grateful soldiers, "and when we left for the front madame and her mother sobbed and wept as if we had been their own sons." xi atkins and the enemy in one of his fine messages from the front, sir john french, whom the _new york world_ has described as the "best of war correspondents," referred to the british soldier as "a difficult person to impress or depress." he meant, of course, that it was no use trying to terrify tommy atkins. nothing will do that. his stupendous sense of humor carries him, smiling, through every emergency. but atkins is a keen observer, and he takes on very clear and vivid impressions of men and affairs. he hates compromises and qualifications, and just lets you have his opinion--"biff!" as one officer expresses it. "bill and i have been thinking it over," says one letter from the trenches, "and we've come to the conclusion that the german army system is rotten." there you have the concentrated wisdom of hundreds of soldier critics who talk of the kaiser's great military machine as they know it from intimate contact with the fighting force it propels. they admit its mechanical perfection; it is the human factor that breaks down. nothing has impressed tommy atkins more than the lack of _morale_ in the german soldiers. "oh, they are brave enough, poor devils; but they've got no heart in the fighting," he says. that is absolutely true. hundreds of thousands of them have no notion of what they are fighting for. some of the prisoners declared that when they left the garrisons they were "simply told they were going to maneuvers"; "others," says a royal artilleryman, "had no idea they were fighting the english"; according to a highland officer, surrendering germans said their fellows had been assured that "america and japan were fighting on their side, and that another boer war was going on"; and a final illusion was dispelled when those captured by the royal irish were told that the civil war in ireland had been "put off!" it is not only that the men lack this moral preparation for war. their system of fighting is demoralizing. "they come on in close formation, thousands of them, just like sheep being driven to the slaughter," is the description that nine soldiers out of every ten give of the germans going into action. "we just mow them down in heaps," says an artilleryman. "lord, even a woman couldn't miss hitting them," is the comment from the infantry. and as for the cavalry: "well, we just makes holes in them," adds one of the dragoons. at first they didn't take cover at all, but just marched into action with their drums beating and bands playing, "like a blooming parade," as atkins puts it. after the first slaughter, however, they shrank from the attack, and there is ample evidence of eyewitnesses that the german infantry often had to be lashed into battle by their officers. "i saw a colonel striking his own men with his sword to prevent them running away," is one of the many statements. revolvers, too, were freely used for the same purpose. but, generally speaking, there is iron discipline in the kaiser's army. the men obey their officers implicitly. trooper e. tugwell, of the berwicks, tells this little story of a cavalry charge from which a german infantry regiment bolted--all but one company, whose officers ordered them to stand: "they faced round without attempting to fire a shot, and stood there like statues to meet the onslaught of our men. our chaps couldn't help admiring their fine discipline, but there's not much room for sentiment in war, and we rode at them with the lance, and swept them away." "they are big fellows, and, in a way, brave," writes private p. case of the king's (liverpool) regiment, describing one of their attacks; "they must be brave, or they would not have kept advancing when they saw their dead so thick that they were practically standing up." "their officers simply won't let them surrender," says another writer, "and so long as there's an officer about they'll stand like sheep and be slaughtered by the thousand." the essential difference between the german soldiers and our own is in the officering and training, and it is admirably expressed by private burrell, northumberland fusiliers. "_we_ are led; _they_ are driven,"[f] is burrell's epigram. according to other letter writers, the german soldiers are absolutely tyrannized over by their officers. they are horribly ill-used, badly fed,[g] overworked, constantly under the lash. "they hate their officers like poison, and fear them ten times more than they fear death," says private martin king. "most of the prisoners that i've seen are only fit for the hospital, and many of them will never be fit for anything else this side of the grave. their officers don't seem to have any consideration for the men at all, and we have a suspicion that the heavy losses of german officers aren't all due to our fire. there was one brought in who had certainly been hit by one of their own bullets, and in the back too." other soldiers say the same, and add that if it weren't for dread of their officers the germans would surrender wholesale. "take the officers away, and their regiments fall to pieces," is the dictum of one of the somerset light infantry, "and that's why we always pick off the german officers first." there is not the slightest divergence of opinion in the british ranks as to the german infantry fire. "their shooting is laughable," "they couldn't hit a haystack in an entry," and "asses with the rifle," are how our men dispose of it. the germans fire recklessly with their rifles planted against their hips, while tommy atkins takes cool and steady aim, and lets them have it from the shoulder. "we just knocked them over like nine-pins," a highlander explained. as to the german cavalry, one tommy expressed the prevailing opinion to nicety. "i don't want to be nasty," he said, "but what we all pray for is just half-an-hour each way with three times our number of uhlans." when it comes to artillery, however, atkins has nothing but praise for the enemy. their aeroplanes flutter over the british positions and give the gunners the exact range, and then they let go. "i can only figure it out as being something worse than the mouth of hell," declares private john stiles, st gloucesters, and it may be here left at that, as the devastating effects of artillery have already been dealt with in a previous chapter. one thing which has puzzled and sometimes baffled our men is the way the germans conceal their guns. they display extraordinary ingenuity in this direction, hiding them inside haystacks, in leaf-covered trenches, and sometimes, unhappily, in red cross wagons. stories of german treachery are abundant, and official reports have dealt with such shameful practises as driving prisoners and refugees in front of them when attacking, abusing the protection of the white flag, and wearing red cross brassards in action. the men have their own stories to tell. an irish guardsman records a white flag incident during the fighting on the aisne: "coldstreamers, connaughts, grenadiers, and irish guards were all in this affair, and the fight was going on well. suddenly the germans in front of us raised the white flag, and we ceased firing and went up to take our prisoners. the moment we got into the open, fierce fire from concealed artillery was turned on us, and the surrendered germans picked up their rifles and pelted us with their fire. it was horrible. they trapped us completely, and very few escaped." the german defense of these white flag incidents was given to trooper g. douglas by a prisoner who declared that the men were quite innocent of intention to deceive, but that whenever their officers saw the white flag they hauled it down, and compelled them to fight. many british soldiers suffered from the treachery of the germans in wearing english and french uniforms, and their letters home are full of indignation at the practises of the enemy. it was in the fighting following such a ruse at landrecies that the honorable archer-windsor-clive, of the coldstream guards, met his death. "another time," an artillery officer relates, "they ran into one of our regiments with some of their officers dressed in french uniforms. they said 'ne tirez-pas, nous sommes français,' and asked for the c.o. he came up, and then they calmly blew his brains out!" a similar act of treachery is recorded by lieutenant oswald anne, r.a., in a letter published in the _leeds mercury_: "at one place where the berkshire regiment was on guard a german force arrived attired in french uniforms. to keep up the illusion, a german called out in french from the wire entanglements that they wanted to interview the commanding officer. a major of the berkshires who spoke french, went forward, and was immediately shot down. this sort of thing is of daily occurrence." lieutenant edgcumbe, son of sir robert edgcumbe, newquay, tells of another instance of treachery in which british uniforms were used, and declares, in common with many other officers, that he "will never again respect the germans; they have no code of honor!" they strip the uniforms from the dead, come on in night attacks shouting "vive, l'angleterre!" and sound the british bugle-call "cease fire" in the thickest of the fight. twice in one engagement the germans stopped the british fire by the mean device of the bugle, and twice they charged desperately upon the silent ranks. but in nearly every case their punishment for these violations of the laws of civilized warfare has been swift and terrible, and no mercy has been shown them. charges of barbarity are also common in letters from the battlefields. one officer, who says he "never before realized what an awful thing war is," writes: "we have with us in the trenches three girls who came to us for protection. one had no clothes on, having been outraged by the germans. i have given her my shirt and divided my rations among them. in consequence i feel rather hungry, having had nothing for thirty-two hours, except some milk chocolate. another poor girl has just come in, having had both her breasts cut off. luckily i caught the uhlan officer in the act, and with a rifle at yards killed him. and now she is with us, but, poor girl, i am afraid she will die. she is very pretty and only about nineteen."[h] captain roffey, lancashire fusiliers, tells how he was found wounded, and handed over his revolver to the germans, whereupon his captor used it to shoot him again, and left him for dead. there is no end to the stories of this kind, and one of the wounded vehemently declared that the "devilry of the germans cannot be exaggerated." there are others amongst the wounded however, who have received nothing but kindness from the enemy. lieutenant h.g.w. irwin, south lancashire regiment, pays a tribute to the treatment he met with in the german lines; captain j.b. george, royal irish, "could not have been better treated had he been the crown prince;" and one of the officer's special reserve says the stories of "brutality are only exceptions, and there are exceptions in every army." and here it is worth quoting a happy example of german chivalry. it is taken from one of sir john french's messages. a small party of french under a non-commissioned officer was cut off and surrounded. after a desperate resistance it was decided to go on fighting to the end. finally, the n.c.o. and one man only were left, both being wounded. the germans came up and shouted to them to lay down their arms. the german commander, however, signed to them to keep their arms, and then asked for permission to shake hands with the wounded non-commissioned officer, who was carried off on his stretcher with his rifle by his side. after this account of what british soldiers think of the enemy, it is interesting to read what is the german opinion of tommy atkins. evidently the fighting men do not share the kaiser's estimate of "french's contemptible little army." three very interesting letters, written by german officers, and found in the possession of the captives, were published in an official despatch from general headquarters. here are extracts from each: ( ) "with the english troops we have great difficulties. they have a queer way of causing losses to the enemy. they make good trenches, in which they wait patiently. they carefully measure the ranges for their rifle fire, and then they open a truly hellish fire on the unsuspecting cavalry. this was the reason that we had such heavy losses." ( ) "the english are very brave and fight to the last.... one of our companies has lost men out of ." ( ) "we are fighting with the english guards, highlanders and zouaves. the losses on both sides have been enormous. the english are marvelously trained in making use of the ground. one never sees them, and one is constantly under fire. two days ago, early in the morning, we were attacked by immensely superior english forces (one brigade and two battalions) and were turned out of our positions. the fellows took five guns from us. it was a tremendous hand-to-hand fight. how i escaped myself i am not clear.... if we first beat the english, the french resistance will soon be broken." the admissions of prisoners that the germans were amazed at the fighting qualities of the british soldier, and had acquired a wholesome dread of meeting him at close quarters, may have been colored by a trifling disposition to be amiable in their captivity; but letters such as those just quoted are honest statements for private reading in germany, and were never intended to fall into british hands. although tommy atkins makes occasional jocular allusions to the enemy as "sausages" there is no doubt that he considers the german army a very substantial fighting force. "the german is not a toy terrier, but a bloodhound thirsting for blood," is one description of him; "getting to berlin isn't going to be a cheap excursion," says another; and, to quote a third, "in spite of all we say about the teuton, he is taking his punishment well, and we've got a big job on our hands." xii the war in the air mr. h.g. wells did not long anticipate the sensations of an aerial conflict between the nations. six years after the publication of his _war in the air_ the thing has become an accomplished fact, and for the first time in history the great nations are fighting for the mastery not only upon land but in the air and under the sea. fine as have been the adventures of airmen in times of peace, and startling as spectators have found the acrobatic performance of "looping the loop," these tricks of the air appear feeble exploits compared with the new sensation of an actual battle in the clouds. soldiers, scribbling their letters in the trenches, have been fascinated by the sudden appearance at dusk of a hostile aeroplane, and have gazed with pleasurable agitation as out of the dim, mysterious distance a british aviator shot up in pursuit. "it is thrilling and magnificent," says one officer, "and i was filled with rapture at the spectacle of the first fight in the clouds. the german maneuvered for position and prepared to attack, but our fellow was too quick for him, and darted into a higher plane. the german tried to circle round and follow, and so in short spurts they fought for mastery, firing at each other all the time, the machines swaying and oscillating violently. the british airman, however, well maintained his ascendency. then suddenly there was a pause, the german machine began to reel, the wounded pilot had lost control, and with a dive the aeroplane came to earth half a mile away. our man hovered about for a time, and then calmly glided away over the german lines to reconnoiter." nothing could excel the skill and daring shown by the men of the royal flying corps. they stop at nothing. some of their machines have been so badly damaged by rifle and shell fire that on descending they have had to be destroyed. "fired at constantly both by friend and foe," sir john french writes, "and not hesitating to fly in every kind of weather, they have remained undaunted throughout." the highest praise is bestowed upon brigadier-general sir david henderson, in command of the corps, for the high state of efficiency this young branch of the service has attained. it has been on its trial, and has already covered itself with glory. general joffre, the french commander-in-chief, has sent a special message singling out the british flying corps "most particularly" for his highest eulogies. several english airmen have already been made chevaliers of the legion of honor. that the nervous strain of aerial warfare is severe is shown by expression in several airmen's letters. not only have they to fight their man, but they have to manage their machines at the same time. this means that if an airman ascends alone he is unable to use a rifle and must depend for attack on revolver fire only. this is illustrated by a passage in one of the official reports: "unfortunately one of our aviators, who has been particularly active in annoying the enemy by dropping bombs, was wounded in a duel in the air. being alone on a single-seated monoplane, he was not able to use a rifle, and whilst circling above a german two-seater in an endeavor to get within pistol shot was hit by the observer of the latter, who was armed with a rifle. he managed to fly back over our lines, and by great good luck descended close to a motor ambulance, which at once conveyed him to hospital." this appears to be only the second instance recorded during the first two months of the war in which our airmen have suffered mishap, yet half-a-dozen german machines have been brought down and their navigators either killed or wounded. private harman, king's royal rifles, describes an exciting pursuit in which a german aeroplane was captured. the british aviator, who had the advantage in speed and was a good revolver shot, evidently greatly distressed the fugitive, for, surrendered, he planed down in good order, and on landing was found to be dead. according to an officer in the royal flying corps the worst aerial experience in war is to go up as a passenger. "it is 'loathly,'" he says, "to sit still helplessly and be fired at." in one flight as a spectator his machine was "shelled and shot at about a hundred times, but luckily only thirteen shots went through the planes and neither of us was hit." an interesting account of a battle seen from the clouds is given in a letter published by _the times_. "i was up with ---- for an evening reconnaissance over this huge battle. i bet it will ever be remembered as the biggest in history. it extends from compiègne right away east to belfort. can you imagine such a sight? we flew at p.m. over the line, and at that time the british army guns (artillery, heavy and field) all opened fire together. we flew at , feet and saw a sight which i hope it will never be my lot to see again. the woods and hills were literally cut to ribbons all along the south of laon. it was marvelous watching hundreds of shells bursting below one to right and left for miles, and then to see the germans replying." another officer of the flying corps describes his impression of the battle of mons, seen from a height of , feet. british shells were bursting like little bits of cotton wool over the german batteries. a german attack developed, and the airman likens the enemy's advance formation to a "large human tadpole"--a long dense column with the head spread out in front. evidently the anti-aircraft guns, though rather terrifying, do very little damage. airmen have had shells burst all round them for a long time without being hurt. of course they are careful to fly at a high altitude. when struck by shrapnel, however, an aeroplane (one witness says) "just crumples up like a broken egg." on the other hand, bombs dropped from aeroplanes do great damage, if properly directed. a petrol bomb was dropped by an english airman at night into a german bivouac with alarming results, and another thrown at a cavalry column struck an ammunition wagon and killed fifteen men. a french airman wiped out a cavalry troop with a bomb, and the effect of the steel arrows used by french aviators is known to be damaging. the german bombs thrown by zeppelins and taube aeroplanes on antwerp and paris do not appear to have much disturbed either the property or equanimity of the inhabitants. so far as aerial excursions are concerned the most brilliant exploit is undoubtedly that of flight-lieutenant c.h. collet, of the naval wing of the british flying corps, who, with a fleet of five aeroplanes swept across the german frontier and, hovering over düsseldorf, dropped three bombs with unerring effect upon the zeppelin sheds. bomb-dropping, however, has not been indulged in to any great extent by either of the combatants, and the chief use to which air machines have been put is that of scouting. the germans use them largely for range finding, and they seem to prove a very accurate guide to the gunners. "we were advancing on the german right and doing splendidly," writes private boardman (bradford) "when we saw an aeroplane hover right over our heads, and by some signaling give the german artillery the range. the aviator had hardly gone when we were riddled with shot and shell." a sergeant of the st lancers says the signaling is done by dropping a kind of silver ball or disc from the aeroplanes, and the germans watch for this and locate our position to a nicety at once. as scouts--and that, meantime, is the real practical purpose of aeroplanes in war--the british aviators have done wonders. their machines are lighter and faster than those of the germans, and as they make a daily average of nine reconnaissance flights of over miles each it will be understood that they keep the intelligence department well supplied with accurate information of the enemy's movements. french airmen are particularly daring both in reconnaissance and in flight, and the well-known m. védrines, whose achievements are familiar to english people, has already brought down three german aeroplanes. in one encounter he fought in a blériot machine carrying a mitrailleuse, and the enemy dropped, riddled with bullets. so completely have some of the aeroplanes been perforated, without mishap, says the _daily telegraph's_ war correspondent, that the pilots have found a new game. each evening after their flights they count the number of bullet holes in their machine, marking each with a circle in red chalk, so that none may be included in the next day's total. the record appears to be thirty-seven holes in one day, and the pilot in question claims to be the "record man du monde." zeppelins have not maintained their reputation in this war. one sailed over sir john french's headquarters and indicated the position to the enemy, but they are no match for the swift and agile aeroplanes. a wounded dispatch carrier saw one english and two french machines attack a zeppelin and bring it down instantly. a half hour's fight with another is recorded; among the captured passengers in this, according to a soldier's letter, was a boy of nine. private drury, coldstream guards, saw one huge german aeroplane brought to earth, three of its officers being killed by rifle fire and one badly injured. there is something strange, mysterious, and insubstantial about the war in the air that the soldiers do not yet feel or comprehend. often the feverish activity of aircraft at a high altitude is known only to a very few practised observers. a gentle purring in the air and the scarcely audible ping-pong of distant revolver shots may represent a fierce duel in the clouds, and often the soldiers are unaware of the presence of a hostile airman until the projectiles aimed at them burst in the trenches. one evening, a graphic official message states, the atmosphere was so still and clear that only those specially on the lookout detected the enemy's aeroplanes, and when the bombs burst "the puffs of smoke from the detonating shell hung in the air for minutes on end like balls of fleecy cottonwool before they slowly expanded and were dissipated." of course, the tactics adopted for dealing with hostile aircraft are to attack them instantly with one or more british machines, and as in this respect the british flying corps has established an individual ascendency, sir john french proudly declares that "something in the direction of the mastery of the air has already been gained." xiii tommy and his rations a medical officer at the front declares that the british expeditionary force is, without doubt, the "best fed army that has ever taken the field." that is a sweeping statement, but it is true. it is confirmed over and over again in the letters of tommy atkins. it is acknowledged by the french. even the most sullen german prisoners agree with it. there has been universal praise for the quality and abundance of the food, and the general arrangements for the comfort of the british soldier. one french description of the feeding says that the english troops "live like fighting cocks," another marvels at "the stupendous pieces of meat, and bread heavy with butter and jam," a third speaks of the "amazing tommees" who "carry everything in their pockets and forget nothing at all." and so on. but the most remarkable tribute of all to the perfect working of the transport and supply service is that given by the british officers and men themselves. captain guy edwards, coldstream guards, says: "they have fed our troops wonderfully regularly and well up to the present; we have had no sickness at all, and every one is in splendid spirits." in another letter an officer refers to the generosity of the rations. "in addition to meat and bread (or biscuit)," he says, "we get / lb. jam, / lb. bacon, oz. cheese, tea, etc., while the horses have had a good supply of oats and hay." during the whole of the long retreat from mons, says an officer of the berkshires, "there was only one day when we missed our jam rations!" and it is the same with the men. here are some brief extracts from their letters: private ----, th field ambulance: "our food supply is magnificent. we have everything we want and food to spare. bacon and tomatoes is a common breakfast for us." driver finch: "i am in the best of health, with the feeding and the open-air life. the stars have been our covering for the last few weeks." sergeant, infantry regiment: "the arrangements are very good--no worry or hitch anywhere; it is all wonderful." cavalryman: "we live splendidly, being even able to supplement our generous rations with eggs, milk and vegetables as we go through the villages." gunner: "having the time of my life." of course, the exigencies of war may not always permit of the perfect working of the supply machine. already there have been many hardships to be endured. incessant fighting does not give the men time for proper meals, sleep is either cut out altogether or reduced to an occasional couple of hours, heavy rains bring wet clothing and wetter resting places, boots wear out with prolonged marching, and men have to go for days and even weeks unwashed, unshaven, and without even a chance of getting out of their clothes for a single hour. the officers suffer just as much as the men. after a fortnight or three weeks at the front one cavalry officer wrote that he "had not taken his clothes off since he left the curragh." "for five days," another says, "i never took off my boots, even to sleep, and for two days i did not even wash my hands or face. for three days and nights i got just four hours' sleep. the want of sleep was the one thing we felt." sleep, indeed, is just the last thing the officers get. brigadier-general sir philip chetwode outlines his daily program as "work from a.m. to p.m., then writing and preparations until a.m. again." to make matters worse just at the start of the famous cavalry charge which brought sir philip such distinction, his pack-horse bolted into the german lines carrying all his luggage, and leaving him nothing but a toothbrush! one of the dorsets' officers reports that "owing to the continuous fighting the 'evening meal' has become conspicuous by its absence," but in spite of having carried a lb. tin of compressed beef and a few biscuits about with them for several days they are all "most beastly fit on it." "no one seems any the worse, and i feel all the fitter," writes an officer of a highland regiment, "after long marches in the rain going to bed as wet as a scotch mist." the men are just as cheerful as their officers. "you can't expect a blooming ritz hotel in the firing line," is how a jocular cockney puts it. an artilleryman says they would fare sumptuously if it weren't for the german shells at meal times: "one shell, for instance, shattered our old porridge pot before we'd had a spoonful out of it!" lieutenant jardine, a son of sir john jardine, m.p., relates this same incident. gunner prince, r.f.a., has a little joke about the sleeping quarters: "just going to bed. did i say bed? i mean under the gun with an overcoat for a blanket." there is no sort of grumbling at all. as lieutenant stringer, of the th lancers, expresses it, the a.s.c. "manage things very well, and our motto is 'always merry and bright.'" occasionally, when there is a lull in the operations, the men dine gloriously. stories are told of gargantuan feeds--of majestic stews that can be scented even in the german lines. occasionally, too, there is the capture of a banquet prepared for the enemy's officers as the following message from the _standard_ illustrates: "a small party of our cavalry were out on reconnaissance work, scouring woods and searching the countryside. just about dusk a hail of bullets came upon our party from a small spinney of fir trees on the side of a hill. we instantly wheeled off as if we were retreating, but, in fact, we merely pretended to retire and galloped round across plowed land to the other side of the spinney, fired on the men, and they mounted their horses and flew like lightning out of their 'supper room.' they left a finely cooked repast of beef-steaks, onions and fried potatoes all ready and done to a turn, with about fifty bottles of pilsner lager beer, which was an acceptable relish to our meal. ten of our men gave chase and returned for an excellent feed." another amusing capture is that of an enterprising tommy who possessed himself of a german officer's bearskin, a cap, helmet, and jaeger sleeping bag. he is now regarded as the "toff of the regiment." the luxury of a bath was indulged in by a company of berkshires at one encampment. forty wine barrels nearly full of water were discovered here, and the thirsty men were about to drink it when their officer stopped them. "well," said one, "if it's not good enough to drink it'll do to wash in," and with one accord they stripped and jumped into the barrels! nothing has been more notable than tommy's desire for cleanliness and tidiness. it is something fine and healthy about the british soldier. one wounded man, driven up to a hospital, limped with difficulty to a barber's shop for a shave before he would enter the building. "i couldn't face the doctors and nurses looking like i was," he told the ambulance attendant. of all the soldiers' wants the most imperative appears to be the harmless necessary cigarette. all their letters clamor for tobacco in that form. "we can't get a decent smoke here," says one writer. an army airman "simply craves for cigarettes and matches." from a cavalryman comes the appeal that a few boxes of cigarettes and some thick chocolate would be luxuries. "just fancy," to quote from another letter, "one cigarette among ten of us--hardly one puff a-piece." in the french hospitals the wounded men are being treated with the greatest kindness, and during convalescence are being loaded with luxuries. "spoilt darlings," one scottish nurse in paris says about them, "but who could help spoiling them?" they are so happy and cheerful, so grateful for every little service, so eager to return to the firing line in order to "get the war over and done with." "we've promised to be home by christmas," they say, "and that turkey and plum-pudding will be spoilt if we don't turn up." home by christmas! that is tommy atkins' idea of a "non-stop run to berlin"--the facetious notice he printed in chalk on the troop trains at boulogne as, singing "it's a long way to tipperary," he rolled away to the greatest battles that have ever seared the face of europe. footnotes: [footnote a: extract from _the times_ report of the german emperor's army orders, dated headquarters, aix-la-chapelle, august th, .] [footnote b: copyright chappell & co., ltd., east th st., new york.] [footnote c: _daily express_, sept. th, .] [footnote d: the irish guards were created entirely on the initiative of queen victoria, and as a recognition of the fine achievements of "her brave irish" in the south african war.] [footnote e: gunner batey, royal garrison artillery, writes of a comrade, gunner spencer mann: "he seems in his glory during the fighting. he fears nothing, and is always shouting, 'into them, lads: the sooner we get through, the sooner we'll get home.'"] [footnote f: "the german officers are a rum lot," writes sergeant w. holmes; "they lead from the rear all the time."] [footnote g: "when they are working hardest their rations would not do for a tom-tit," says sergeant j. baker.] [footnote h: this letter was written to the son of a london vicar, and published in _the times_, sept. th, .] vail-ballou co., binghamton and new york note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h.zip) +--------------------------------------------------------------+ | transcriber's note: | | | | while the author of this work uses unusual spelling, a | | number of obvious typographical errors have been corrected. | | a complete list will be found at the end of the book. | | | +--------------------------------------------------------------+ before the war by viscount haldane secretary of state for war from december, to june, ; lord high chancellor from june, to may, .] [illustration: _london stereoscopic co_. funk & wagnalls company new york and london copyright, , by funk & wagnalls company [printed in the united states of america] published in february, copyright under the articles of the copyright convention of the pan-american republics of the united states, august , prefatory note the chapters of which this little volume consists were constructed with a definite purpose. it was to render clear the line of thought and action followed by the government of this country before the war, between january, , and august, . the endeavor made was directed in the first place to averting war, and in the second place to preparing for it as well as was practicable if it should come. in reviewing what happened i have made use of the substance of various papers recently contributed to the _westminster gazette_, the _atlantic monthly_, _land and water_, and the _sunday times_. the gist of these, which were written with their inclusion in this book in view, has been incorporated in the text together with other material. i have to thank the editors of these journals for their courtesy in agreeing that the substance of what they published should be made use of here as part of a connected whole. contents page introduction diplomacy before the war the german attitude before the war the military preparations epilog index list of illustrations viscount haldane _frontispiece_ count metternich facing page m. paul cambon viscount grey (sir edward grey) chancellor von bethmann-hollweg admiral von tirpitz count berchtold count ottokar czernin before the war chapter i introduction the purpose of the pages which follow is, as i have said in the prefatory note, to explain the policy pursued toward germany by great britain through the eight years which immediately preceded the great war of . it was a policy which had two branches, as inseparable as they were distinct. the preservation of peace, by removing difficulties and getting rid of misinterpretations, was the object of the first branch. the second branch was concerned with what might happen if we failed in our effort to avert war. against any outbreak by which such failure might be followed we had to insure. the form of the insurance had to be one which, in our circumstances, was practicable, and care had to be taken that it was not of a character that would frustrate the main purpose by provoking, and possibly accelerating, the very calamity against which it was designed to provide. the situation was delicate and difficult. the public most properly expected of british ministers that they should spare no effort for peace and for security. it was too sensible to ask for every detail of the steps taken for the attainment of this end. there are matters on which it is mischievous to encourage discussion, even in parliament. members of parliament know this well, and are sensible about it. the wisest among them do not press for open statements which if made to the world would imperil the very object which parliament and the public have directed those responsible to them to seek to attain. what is objected to in secret diplomacy hardly includes that which from its very nature must be negotiated in the first instance between individuals. the policy actually followed was in principle satisfactory to the great majority of our people. to them it was familiar in its general outlines. but for the minority, which included both our pacifists and our chauvinists, it was either too much or too little. for, on the one hand, its foundation was the theory that, amid the circumstances of europe in which it had to be built up, human nature could not be safely relied on unswervingly to resist warlike impulses. on the other hand, this peril notwithstanding, it was the considered view of those responsible that war neither ought to be regarded as being inevitable, nor was so in fact. it was quite true that the development of military preparations had been so great as to make europe resemble an armed camp; but, if actual conflict could be averted, the burden this state of things implied ought finally to render its continuance no longer tolerable. what was really required was that unbroken peace should be preserved, and the hand of time left to operate. in the course of history it has rarely been the case that any war that has broken out was really inevitable, and there does not appear to be any sufficient reason for thinking that the war of was an exception to the general rule. it seems clear that, if germany had resolved to do so, she could quite safely have abstained from entering upon it and from encouraging austria in a mad adventure. the reason why the war came appears to have been that at some period in the year the german government finally laid the reins on the necks of men whom up to then it had held in restraint. the decision appears to have been allowed at this point to pass from civilians to soldiers. i do not believe that even then the german government as a whole intended deliberately to invoke the frightful consequences of actual war, even if it seemed likely to be victorious. but i do believe that it elected to take the risk of what it thought improbable, a general resistance by the entente powers if germany were to threaten to use her great strength. in thus departing in from the appearance of self-restraint which in the main they had displayed up to then, the emperor and his ministers misjudged the situation. they did not foresee the crisis to which their policy was conducting, and when that crisis arrived they lost their heads and blundered in trying to deal with it. they did not perceive the whirlpool toward which they were heading. they thought that they could safely expose what was precarious to a strain, and secure the substance of a real victory without having to overcome actual resistance. had they put an extreme ambition for their country aside, and been careful in their language to others, they might have attained a considerable success without a shot being fired. but they were over ambitious and in their language they were far from careful. a few unlucky words made all the difference in the concluding days of july, : "ten lines, a statesman's life in each." we here had done the best we could, according to our lights, to keep germany from misjudging us. it was not always easy to do this. the genius of our people was not well adapted for the particular task. if the only question to-day were whether we always rendered ourselves intelligible to her, she might say with some show of reason that we did not. she might have grumbled, as bismarck used to do, over our apparent indefiniteness. but that indefiniteness in policy was only apparent. its form was due to the habit of mind which was, what it always has been and probably always will be, the habit of mind of the people of these islands. it was the defect of her qualities that prevented germany from understanding what this habit of mind truly imported, and we have never fully taken in at any period of our history how little she has ever understood it. let anyone who doubts this read the german memoirs which have appeared since the war. but it remains not the less true and obvious that the purpose of the british government which fashioned the policy in question was to leave no stone unturned in the endeavor to find a way of keeping the peace between germany and the entente powers. now success in that endeavor was not a certainty, and it was necessary to insure against the risk of failure. the second branch of british policy related to the provision for defense rendered imperative by the element of uncertainty which was unavoidable. the duty of the government of this country was to make sure that, if their endeavor to preserve peace failed, the country should be prepared, in the best way of those that were practicable, to face the situation that might emerge. impetuous persons ask why, if there was even a chance of a great european war in which we might be involved, we did not appreciate the magnitude of what was at stake, and, laying everything else aside, concentrate our efforts on the immediate fashioning of such vast military forces as we possessed toward the end of the war? the answer will be found in the fourth chapter. we were aware of the risk, and we took what we thought the best means to meet it. had we tried to do what we are reproached for not having done, we must have become weaker before we could have become stronger. for this statement i have given the military reasons. in a time of peace, even if the country had assented to the attempt being made, it is certain that we could not have accomplished such a purpose without long delay. it is probable that the result would have been failure, and it is almost certain that we should have provoked a "preventive war" on the part of germany, a war not only with a very fair prospect, as things then stood, of a german success, but with something else that would have looked like the justification of a german effort to prevent that country from being encircled. such a war would, with equal likelihood, have been the outcome even of the proclamation at such a time of a military alliance between the entente powers. other critics, belonging to a wholly different school of political thought, ask why we moved at all, and why we did not adhere to the good old policy of holding aloof from interference in continental affairs. the answer is simple. the days when "splendid isolation" was possible were gone. our sea power, even as an instrument of self-defense, was in danger of becoming inadequate in the absence of friendships which should insure that other navies would remain neutral if they did not actively co-operate with ours. it was only through the medium of such friendships that ultimate naval preponderance could be secured. the consciousness of that fact pervaded the entente. with those responsible for the conduct of tremendous affairs probability has to be the guide of life. the question is always not what ought to happen but what is most likely to happen. on the details of the diplomatic aspect of our endeavor, and on the spirit in which it was sought to carry it out, the second and third chapters of the book may serve to throw some light. the fourth chapter relates to the strategical plan, worked out after much consideration, for the possible event of failure. the plan was throughout based on the maintenance of superior sea power as the paramount instrument. as is indicated, the conservation of sufficient sea power implied as essential close and friendly relations with france, and also with russia. had there been no initial reason for the entente policy, to be found in the desire to get rid of all causes of friction with these two great nations, the preservation of the prospect of continuing able to command the sea in war would in itself have necessitated the entente. this conclusion was the result of the stocktaking of their assets for self-defense which the entente powers had to make when confronted with the growing organization for war of the central powers. to set up the balancing of powers as a principle was what we in this country would have been glad to have avoided had it been practicable to do so. we should have preferred the freedom of our old position of "splendid isolation." but the growing preparations of the central powers compelled great britain, france, and russia to think of safety for each of them severally as to be secured only by treating such safety as a common interest. in the face of a new and growing danger we dared not leave ourselves to the risk of being dealt with in detail. the first thing to be done was, if possible, to convince the central powers that it would be to their own advantage to come to a complete agreement with us, an agreement of a business character, analogous to that which lord lansdowne had so satisfactorily concluded with france, and accompanied by cessation of the reasons which had led them to pile up armaments. there were highly influential persons in germany who were far from averse to the suggested business arrangement. the armament question presented greater difficulty in that country, largely because of its tradition. but its solution was vital, for there were also those in germany whose aim was to dispute with great britain the possession of the trident. now for us, who constituted the island center of a scattered empire, and who depended for food and raw materials on freedom to sail our ships, the question of sea power adequate for security was one of life or death. we could not sit still and allow germany so to increase her navy in comparison with ours that she could make other powers believe that their safest course was to throw in their lot and join their fleets with hers. we were bound to seek to make and maintain friendships, and to this end not only to preserve our margin of strength at sea, but to make ourselves able, if it became essential, to help our friends in case of aggression, thereby securing ourselves. that was the new situation which in the final result the old military spirit in germany had created. the balance of power is a dangerous principle; a general friendship between all great powers, or, better still, a league of the nations, is by far preferable. but that consideration does not touch the actual point, which is that we did not seek to set up the principle of balancing that has given rise to so many questions. it was forced on us and was a sheer necessity of the situation. we did all we could to avoid it by negotiations with germany, which, had they succeeded in the end, would have relieved france and russia as much as ourselves and would have prevented the war. our efforts to preserve the peace ended in failure. the cause of that failure was nothing that we failed to do or that france did. it was proximately austrian recklessness and indirectly, but just as strongly, german ambition. a real desire in july, , on the part of the central powers to avoid war would have averted it. that serbia may have been a provocative neighbor is no answer to the reproaches made to-day against the old governments in vienna and berlin. they failed to take the steps requisite if peace were to be preserved. people ask why the british government between and did not discuss in public a situation which it understood well, and appeal to the nation. the answer is that to have done so would have been greatly to increase the difficulty of averting war. up to the middle of the indications were that it was far from unlikely that war might in the result be averted. that was the view of some, both here and on the continent, who were most competent to judge, men who had real opportunities for close observation from day to day. it is a view which is not in material conflict with anything we have since learned. the question whether war is inevitable has always been, as bismarck more than once insisted, one for the statesmen of the countries concerned, and not for the soldiers and sailors who have a restricted field to work in, and for whom it is in consequence difficult to see things as a whole. nor does great importance attach to-day to the triumphant declarations of those who, having chanced to guess aright, take pride in the cheap title to wisdom which has become theirs after the event. still less does respect attach to the small but noisy minority in each of the countries concerned who in the years before were continuously contributing to bringing war on our heads by expressions of dislike to neighboring nations, and by prophecies that war with them must come. in the main germany was worse in this feature than ourselves. but there were those here whose language made them useful propagandists for the german military party, to whom they were of much service. few wars are really inevitable. if we knew better how we should be careful to comport ourselves it may be that none are so. but extremists, whether chauvinist or pacifist, are not helpful in avoiding wars. that is because human nature is what it is. those who had to make the effort to keep the peace failed. but that neither shows that they ought not to have tried with all the strength they possessed in the way they did, nor that they would have done better had they discussed delicate details in public. there are topics and conjunctures in the almost daily changing relations between governments as to which silence is golden. for however proper it may be in point of broad principle that the people should be fully informed of what concerns them vitally, the most important thing is those to whom they have confided their concerns should be given the best chance of success in averting danger to their interests. to have said more in parliament and on the platform in the years in question, or to have said it otherwise, would have been to run grave risks of more than one sort. it is my strong impression that lord grey of fallodon took the only course that was practicable, and that, had the danger of the catastrophe to be faced again and for the first time, the course he took would, even in the light of all we know to-day, again afford the best chance of avoiding it. he succeeded in improving greatly for the time the relations between this country and germany, and but for the outbreak in the near east he would probably have succeeded in navigating the dangerous waters successfully. the chance was far from being a hopeless one, and subsequent study of the facts has strengthened my impression that down to at least about the middle of the year the chances were substantially in his favor. a sufficiency at least of the leaders in other countries were co-operating with him, not all the leaders, but those who were in reality most important. the war when it came was due, not only to the failure of certain of the prominent men in the capitals of the central powers to adhere to principles to which for a long time they had held fast, but to the accident of untoward circumstances and the contingency that is inseparable from human affairs. such are some of the reasons which have led me to say what i have tried to express in the pages which follow. i have never been able to bring myself to believe that there are vast differences between the ways of thinking and habits of mind of the great and most highly civilized peoples of europe. i have seen something of the germans, and what i have learned of them and of their history has led me to the conclusion that, certain traditions of theirs notwithstanding, they resemble us more than they differ from us. if this be so, the sooner we take advantage of our present victory by seeking to turn our eyes from the past as far as can be, and to look steadily toward a future in which the misery and sin which that past saw shall be dwelt on to the least extent that is practicable, the better it will be for ourselves as well as for the rest of the world. that world has been reminded of a great truth which had been partly forgotten by those whose faith lay in militarism. it is that to set up might as the foundation of right may in the end be to inspire those around with a passionate desire to hold such might in check and to overcome it. democracy is not a system that lends itself easily to scientific preparation for war, but when democratic nations are really aroused their staying power, just because it rests on a true general will, is without rival. the latent force in humanity which has its foundation in ethical idealism is the greatest of all forces for the vindication of right. german militarism managed to fail to understand this. let us take pains to show our late enemies that if they make it clear that they have extinguished such militarism in a lasting fashion, the quarrel with them is at an end. i am far from thinking that we here are perfect in our habits as a nation. we are apt not to keep in view how what we do is likely to look to others. we are somewhat deficient in the faculty of self-examination and self-criticism. want of clarity of ground-principle in higher ideals is apt to prove a hindrance to more than the individual only. it generally brings with it want of clarity in the sense of social obligation. and this sometimes extends even to our relations to other countries. it leads to our being misinterpreted as a nation. we have suffered a good deal in the past from having attributed to us motives which were not ours. the reason was the assumption that the apparent absence of definiteness in national purpose must have been designed as a cover for hidden and selfish ends. it is not true. we are indeed very insular, and what has been called the international mind is not common among the people of these islands. but we are kindly at heart, and when we have seemed self-regarding it has been simply because we were not conscious of our own limitations and had not much appreciation of the modes of thought of other people. we have paid the penalty for this defect at periods in our history. at one time france suspected us, i think in the main unjustly. later on germany suspected us, i think of a certainty unjustly. now these things arise in part at least from our reputation for a particular kind of disposition, our supposed habitual and deliberately adopted desire to wait until the particular international situation of the moment should show how we could profit, before we gave any assurance as to the way in which we should act. what has given rise to this misunderstanding of our attitude in our relations to other countries is simply an exemplification of what has prevented us from fully understanding ourselves. it is our gift to be able to apply ourselves in emergencies, at home and abroad, with immense energy, and our success in promptly pulling ourselves together and coping with the unexpected has often suggested to outsiders that we had long ago looked ahead. this has been said of us on the continent. it is not so. we do not study the art of fishing in troubled waters. the waiting habit in our transactions, domestic as well as foreign, arises from our inveterate preference for thinking in images rather than in concepts. we put off decisions until the whole of the facts can be visualized. this carries with it that we often do not act until it is very late. our gifts enable us to move with energy, if not always with precision. to predict what we will do in a given case is not easy for a foreigner. it is not easy even for ourselves. we have few abstract principles, and reliable induction from our past is not easy. we are often guided by what mr. justice wendell holmes has called "the intuition more subtle than any particular major premise." nor is help to be derived from any study of our general outlook on life, for that outlook is hard to formulate even to ourselves. now all this, our peculiar gift, if kept under control, may well have its practical advantage, but, as the case stands, it is apt to bring in its train a good deal of disadvantage. in periods when nations are trying to render firm the basis of peace by remolding and giving precision to their aims, so that these can be made common aims, lack of definiteness in national ideals is a sure source of embarrassment. at a time when democracy is more and more claiming in terms to occupy the whole field it becomes increasingly desirable that the higher purposes of democracy should become clear to the people themselves. for the practise of a country can never be wholly divorced from its theory of life. the tendencies of the national will are bound up with the nation's science, with its literature, with its art, and with its religion. these tendencies are affected by the capacity of the nation to understand and express its own soul. beyond science, literature, art and religion there lies something that may be called the national philosophy, a disposition rather than a definite creed. this sort of philosophy is different in france from what it is in germany, and in germany from what it is in the english-speaking countries. the philosophy of a people takes shape in the attitude its leaders adopt in their estimation of values and of the order in which they should be placed. and this turns on the conceptions and ideas which are current in the various departments of mental activity. it is thus that a philosophy of life has to be given some sort of place in his professions even by the statesman who has to address parliament and the public. he is driven to make speeches in which a good many conceptions and ideas have to be brought together. and it gives rise to a great difference of quality in such utterances if the general outlook of the speaker be a large one. but this requires that he should know himself and be aware of the conceptions and ideas which dominate his mind, and should have examined their scope before employing them. how some of those who were deeply responsible for the conduct of affairs tried to think in the anxious years before the war, and how they endeavored to apply their conclusions, is what i have endeavored to state in the course of what follows. they doubtless made mistakes and fell short of accomplishment in what they were aiming at. it is human so to do. but they tried what seemed to them the wisest course, and i have yet to learn that it was practicable to have followed any different course without a failure worse than any that occurred. after all, in the end the british empire won, however hard it had to fight. chapter ii diplomacy before the war if in this chapter i speak frequently in the first person and of my own part in the negotiations which it records, it is not from any desire to make prominent either my own personality or the part it fell to me to play. the reason is that i have endeavored to write of what i myself heard and saw, and that in consequence most of what follows is, for the sake of accuracy, largely transcribed from my personal diaries and records made at the time when the events to which they related took place. so frequent an employment of the personal pronoun as has been made in these pages would ordinarily be a blemish in taste, if not in style also, but in this case it seemed safer not to try to avoid it. many things that happened in the years just before , as well as the events of the great war itself, are still too close to permit of our studying them in their full context. but before much time has passed the historians will have accumulated material that will overflow their libraries, and their hands will remain occupied for generations to come. at this moment all that safely can be attempted is that actual observers should set down what they have themselves observed. for there has rarely been a time when the juridical maxim that "hearsay is not evidence" ought to be more sternly insisted on. if i now venture to set down what follows in these pages, it is because i had certain opportunities for forming a judgment at first hand for myself. i am not referring to the circumstance that for a brief period i once, long ago, lived the life of a student at a german university, or that i was frequently in germany in the years that followed. nor do i mean that i have tried to explore german habits of reflection, as they may be studied in the literature of germany. other people have done all these things more thoroughly and more extensively than i have. what i do mean is that from the end of to the summer of i had special chances for direct observation of quite another kind. during that period i was secretary of state for war in great britain, and from the latter year to april, , i was the holder of another office and a member of the british cabinet. during the first of the above periods it fell to me to work out the military organization that would be required to insure, as far as was practicable, against risk, should those strenuous efforts fail into which sir edward grey, as he then was, had thrown his strength. he was endeavoring with all his might to guard the peace of europe from danger. as he and i had for many years been on terms of close intimacy, it was not unnatural that he should ask me to do what i could by helping in some of the diplomatic work which was his, as well as by engaging in my own special task. indeed, the two phases of activity could hardly be separable. i was not in germany after may, , for the duties of lord chancellor, on which office i then entered, made it unconstitutional for me to leave the united kingdom, save under such exceptional conditions as were conceded by the king and the cabinet when, in the autumn of , i made a brief yet memorable visit to the united states and canada. but in , while war minister, i paid, on the invitation of the german emperor, a visit to him at berlin, to which city i went on after previously staying with king edward at marienbad, where he and the then prime minister, sir henry campbell-bannerman, were resting. while at berlin i saw much of the emperor, and i also saw certain of his ministers, notably prince von bülow, herr von tschirsky and general von einem, the first being at that time chancellor, and the last two being respectively the foreign and war ministers. i was invited to examine for myself the organization of the german war office, which i wished to study for purposes of reform at home; and this i did in some detail, in company with an expert adviser from my personal staff, colonel ellison, my military private secretary, who accompanied me on this journey.[ ] there the authorities explained to us the general nature of the organization for rapid mobilization which had been developed under the great von moltke, and subsequently carried farther. the character of this organization was, in its general features, no secret in germany, altho it was somewhat unfamiliar in anglo-saxon countries; and it interested my adviser and myself intensely. at that time there was an active militarist party in germany, which, of course, was not wholly pleased at the friendly reception with which we met from the emperor and from crowds in the streets of berlin. we were well aware of the activity of this party. but it stood then unmistakably for a minority, and i formed the opinion that those who wanted germany to remain at peace, quite as much as to be strong, had at least an excellent chance of keeping their feet. i realized, and had done so for years past, that it was not merely because of the _beaux yeux_ of foreign peoples that germany desired to maintain good relations all round. she had become fully conscious of a growing superiority in the application to industry of scientific knowledge and in power to organize her resources founded on it; and her rulers hoped, and not without good ground, to succeed by these means in the peaceful penetration of the world. i had personally for some time been busy in pressing the then somewhat coldly received claims for a better system of education, higher and technical as well as elementary, among my own countrymen, and had met with some success in asking for the establishment of teaching universities and of technical colleges, such as the new imperial college of science and technology at south kensington. of these we had very substantially increased the number during the eight years which preceded my visit to berlin; but i had learned from visits of inspection to germany that much more remained to be done before we could secure our commercial and industrial position against the unhasting but unresting efforts of our formidable competitor. as to the german people outside official circles and the universities, i thought of them then what i think of them now. they were very much like our own people, except in one thing. this was that they were trained simply to obey, and to carry out whatever they were told by their rulers. i used, during numerous unofficial tours in germany, to wander about incognito, and to smoke and drink beer with the peasants and the people whenever i could get the chance. what impressed me was the little part they had in directing their own government, and the little they knew about what it was doing. there was a general disposition to accept, as a definition of duty which must not be questioned, whatever they were told to do by the _vorstand_. it is this habit of mind, dating back to the days of frederick the great, with only occasional and brief interruptions, which has led many people to think that the german people at large have in them "a double dose of original sin." even when their soldiers have been exceptionally brutal in methods of warfare, i do not think that this is so. the habit of mind which prevails is that of always looking to the rulers for orders, and the brutality has been that enjoined--in accordance with its own military policy of shortening war by making it terrible to the enemy--by the general staff of germany, a body before whose injunctions even the emperor, so far as my observation goes, always has bowed. but i must now return to my formal visit to berlin in the autumn of . i was, as i have already said, everywhere cordially welcomed, and at the end the heads of the german army entertained me at a dinner in the war office, at which the war minister presided, and there was present, among others, the chief of the german general staff. they were all friendly. i do not think that my impression was wrong that even the responsible heads of the army were then looking almost entirely to "peaceful penetration," with only moral assistance from the prestige attaching to the possession of great armed forces in reserve. our business in the united kingdom was therefore to see that we were prepared for perils that might unexpectedly arise out of this policy, and not less, by developing our educational and industrial organization, to make ourselves fit to meet the greater likelihood of a coming keen competition in the peaceful arts. one thing that seemed to me essential for the preservation of good relations was that cordial and frequent intercourse between the people of the two countries should be encouraged and developed. i set myself in my speeches to avoid all expressions which might be construed as suggesting a critical attitude on our part, or a failure to recognize the existence of peaceful ideas among what was then, as i still think, a large majority of the people of germany. the attitude of some newspapers in england, and still more that of the chauvinist minority in germany itself, did not render this quite an easy task. but there were good people in these days in germany as well as in england, and the united states might be counted on as likely to co-operate in discouraging friction. meanwhile there was the chance that the course of this policy might be interrupted by some event which we could not control. a conversation with the then chief of the german general staff, general von moltke, the nephew of the great man of that name, satisfied me that he did not really look with any pleasurable military expectation to the results of a war with the united kingdom alone. it would, he observed to me, be in his opinion a long and possibly indecisive war, and must result in much of the overseas trade of both countries passing to a _tertius gaudens_, by which he meant the united states. i had little doubt that what he said to me on this occasion represented his real opinion. but i had in my mind the apprehension of an emergency of a different nature. germany was more likely to attack france than ourselves. the german emperor had told me that, altho he was trying to develop good relations with france, he was finding it difficult. this seemed to me ominous. the paradox presented itself that a war with germany in which we were alone would be easier to meet than a war in which france was attacked along with us; for if germany succeeded in over-running france she might establish naval bases on the northern channel ports of that country, quite close to our shores, and so, with the possible aid of the submarines, long-range guns and air-machines of the future, interfere materially with our naval position in the channel and our fleet defenses against invasion. i knew, too, that the french government was apprehensive. in the historical speech which sir edward grey made on august , , the day before the british government directed sir edward goschen, our ambassador in berlin, to ask for his passports, he informed the house of commons that so early as january, , the french government, after the morocco difficulty, had drawn his attention to the international situation. it had informed him that it considered the danger of an attack on france by germany to be a real one, and had inquired whether, in the event of an unprovoked attack, great britain would think that she had so much at stake as to make her willing to join in resisting it. if this were to be even a possible attitude for great britain, the french government had intimated to him that it was in its opinion desirable that conversation should take place between the general staff of france and the newly created general staff of great britain, as to the form which military co-operation in resisting invasion of the northern portions of france might best assume. we had a great navy, and the french had a great army. but our navy could not operate on land, and the french army, altho large, was not so large as that which germany, with her superior resources in population, commanded. could we, then, reconsider our military organization, so that we might be able rapidly to dispatch, if we ever thought it necessary in our own interests, say, , men in a well-formed army, not to invade belgium, which no one thought of doing, but to guard the french frontier of belgium in case the german army should seek to enter france in that way. if the german attack were made farther south, where the french chain of modern fortresses had rendered their defensive positions strong, the french army would then be able, set free from the difficulty of mustering in full strength opposite the belgian boundary, to guard the southern frontier. sir edward grey consulted the prime minister, sir henry campbell-bannerman, the chancellor of the exchequer, mr. asquith, and myself as war minister, and i was instructed, in january, , a month after assuming office, to take the examination of the question in hand. this occurred in the middle of the general election which was then in progress. i went at once to london and summoned the heads of the british general staff and saw the french military attaché, colonel huguet, a man of sense and ability. i became aware at once that there was a new army problem. it was, how to mobilize and concentrate at a place of assembly to be opposite the belgian frontier, a force calculated as adequate (with the assistance of russian pressure in the east) to make up for the inadequacy of the french armies for their great task of defending the entire french frontier from dunkirk down to belfort, or even farther south, if italy should join the triple alliance in an attack. but an investigation of a searching character presently revealed great deficiencies in the british military organization of these days. we had never contemplated the preparation of armies for warfare of the continental type. the older generals had not been trained for this problem. we had, it was true, excellent troops in india and elsewhere. these were required as outposts for imperial defense. as they had to serve for long periods and to be thoroughly disciplined, they had to be professional soldiers, engaged to serve in most cases for seven years with the colors and afterwards for five in the reserve. they were highly trained men, and there was a good reserve of them at home. but that reserve was not organized in the great self-contained divisions which would be required for fighting against armies organized for rapid action on modern continental principles. its formations in peace time were not those which would be required in such a war. there was in addition a serious defect in the artillery organization which would have prevented more than a comparatively small number of batteries (about forty-two only in point of fact) from being quickly placed on a war footing. the transport and supply and the medical services were as deficient as the artillery. in short, the close investigation made at that time disclosed that it was not possible, under the then existing circumstances, to put in the field more than about , men, and even these only after an interval of over two months, which would be required for conversion of our isolated units into the new war formations of an army fit to take the field against the german first line of active corps. the french naturally thought that a machine so slow moving would be of little use to them. they might have been destroyed before it could begin to operate effectively. both they and the germans had organized on the basis that modern continental warfare had become a high science. hitherto we had not, and it was only our younger generals who had even studied this science. there was, therefore, nothing for it but to attempt a complete revolution in the organization of the british army at home. the nascent general staff was finally organized in september, , and its organization was shortly afterwards developed so as to extend to the entire empire, as soon as a conference had taken place with the ministers of the dominions early in the following year. the outcome was a complete recasting, which, after three years' work, made it practicable rapidly to mobilize, not only , , but , men; to transport them, with the aid of the navy, to a place of concentration which had been settled between the staffs of france and britain; and to have them at their appointed place within twelve days, an interval based on what the german army required on its side for a corresponding concentration. all the arrangements for this were worked out by the end of . both sir john french and sir douglas haig took an active part in the work. behind the first-line army so organized, a second-line army of larger size, tho far less trained, and so designed that it could be expanded, was organized. this was the citizen or "territorial" army, consisting in time of peace of fourteen divisions of infantry and artillery and fourteen brigades of cavalry, with the appropriate medical, sanitary, transport and other auxiliary services. those serving in this second-line army were civilians, and, of course, much less disciplined than the officers and men of the first line. its primary function was home defense, but its members were encouraged to undertake for service abroad, if necessary; and a large part of this army, in point of fact, fought in france, flanders and in the east soon after the beginning of the war, in great measure making up by intelligence for shortness of training. to say, therefore, that we were caught unprepared is not accurate. compulsory service in a period of peace was out of the question for us. moreover, it would have taken at least two generations to organize, and meanwhile we should have been weaker than without it. we had studied the situation and had done the only thing we thought we could do, after full deliberation. our main strength was in our navy and its tradition. our secondary contribution was a small army fashioned to fulfil a scientifically measured function. it was, of course, a very small army, but it had a scientific organization on the basis of which a great expansion was possible. after all, what we set ourselves to accomplish we did accomplish. if the margin by which a just sufficient success was attained in the early days of the war seems to-day narrow, the reason of the narrow margin lay largely in the unprepared condition of the armies of russia, on which we and france had reckoned for rapid co-operation. anyhow, we fulfilled our contract, for at eleven o'clock on monday morning, august , , we mobilized without a hitch the whole of the expeditionary force, amounting to six divisions and nearly two cavalry divisions, and began its transport over the channel when war was declared thirty-six hours later. we also at the same time successfully mobilized the territorial force and other units, the whole amounting to over half a million men. the navy was already in its war stations, and there was no delay at all in putting what we had prepared into operation. i speak of this with direct knowledge, for as the prime minister, who was holding temporarily the seals of the war secretary, was overwhelmed with business, he asked me, tho i had then become lord chancellor, to go to the war office and give directions for the mobilization of the machinery with which i was so familiar, and i did this on the morning of monday, august , and a day later handed it over, in working order, to lord kitchener. i now return to what was the main object of british foreign policy between and , the prevention of the danger of any outbreak with germany. sir edward grey worked strenuously with this well-defined object. if france were overrun, our island security would be at least diminished, and he had, therefore, in addition to his anxiety to avert a general war, a direct national interest to strive for, in the preservation of peace between germany and france. ever since the mutilation which the latter country had suffered, as the outcome of the war of , she had felt sore, and her relations with germany were not easy. but she did not seek a war of revenge. it would have been too full of risk even if she had not desired peace, the franco-russian dual alliance notwithstanding. the notion of an encirclement of germany, excepting in defense against aggression by germany herself, existed only in the minds of nervous germans. still, there was suspicion, and the question was, how to get rid of it. i have already referred to the visit i paid to the emperor at berlin in the autumn of . he invited me to a review which he held of his troops there, and in the course of it rode up to the carriage in which i was seated and said, "a splendid machine i have in this army, mr. haldane; now isn't it so? and what could i do without it, situated as i am between the russians and the french? but the french are your allies--are they not? so i beg pardon." i shook my head and smiled deprecatingly, and replied that, were i in his majesty's place, i should in any case feel safe from attack with the possession of this machine, and that for my own part i enjoyed being behind it much more than if i had to be in front of it. next day, when at the schloss, he talked to me fully and cordially. what follows i extract from the record i made after the conversation in my diaries, which were kept by desire of king edward, and which were printed by the government on my return to london. he spoke of the anglo-french entente. he said that it would be wrong to infer that he had any critical thought about our entente with france. on the contrary he believed that it might even facilitate good relations between france and germany. he wished for these good relations, and was taking steps through gentlemen of high position in france to obtain them. not one inch more of french territory would he ever covet. alsace and lorraine originally had been german, and now even the least german of the two, lorraine, because it preferred a monarchy to a republic, was welcoming him enthusiastically whenever he went there. that he should have gone to tangier, where both english and french welcomed him, was quite natural. he desired no quarrel, and the whole fault was delcassé's, who had wanted to pick a quarrel and bring england into it. i told the emperor that, if he would allow me to speak my mind freely, i would do so. he assented, and i said to him that his attitude had caused great uneasiness in england, and that this, and not any notion of forming a tripartite alliance of france, russia, and england against him, was the reason of the feeling there had been. we were bound by no military alliance. as for our entente, some time since we had difficulties with france over newfoundland and egypt, and we had made a good business arrangement (_gutes geschäft_) about these complicated matters of detail, and had simply carried out our word to france. he said that he had no criticism to make on this, except that if we had told him so early there would have been no misunderstanding. things were better now, but we had not always been pleasant to him and ready to meet him. his army was for defense, not for offense. as to russia, he had no himalayas between him and russia, more was the pity. now what about our two-power standard. all this was said with earnestness, but in a friendly way, the emperor laying his finger on my shoulder as he spoke. sometimes the conversation was in german, but often in english. i said that our fleet was like his majesty's army. it was of the _wesen_ of the nation, and the two-power standard, while it might be rigid and so awkward, was a way of maintaining a deep-seated national tradition, and a liberal government must hold to it as firmly as a conservative. both countries were increasing in wealth--ours, like germany, very rapidly--and if germany built we must build. but, i added, there was an excellent opportunity for co-operation in other things. i instanced international free trade developments which would smooth other relations. the emperor agreed. he was convinced that free trade was the true policy for germany also, but germany could not go so quickly here as england had gone. i referred to friedrich list's great book as illustrating how military and geographical considerations had affected matters for germany in this connection. the emperor then spoke of chamberlain's policy of tariff reform, and said that it had caused him anxiety. i replied that with care we might avoid any real bad feeling over trade. the undeveloped markets of the world were enormous, and we wanted no more of the surface of the globe than we had got. the emperor's reply was that what he sought after was not territory but trade expansion. he quoted goethe to the effect that if a nation wanted anything it must concentrate and act from within the sphere of its concentration. we then spoke of the fifty millions sterling per annum of chemical trade which germany had got away from us. i said that this was thoroughly justified as the result of the practical application of high german science. "that," said he, "i delight to think, because it is legitimate and to the credit of my people." i agreed, and said that similarly we had got the best of the world's shipbuilding. each nation had something to learn. the emperor then passed to the topic of the hague conference, trusting that disarmament would not be proposed. if so, he could not go in. i observed that the word "disarmament" was perhaps unfortunately chosen. "the best testimony," said the emperor, "to my earnest desire for peace is that i have had no war, tho i should have had war if i had not earnestly striven to avoid it." throughout the conversation, which was as animated as it was long, the emperor was cordial and agreeable. he expressed the wish that more english ministers would visit berlin, and that he might see more of our royal family. i left the palace at . p.m., having gone there at . . on another day during this visit prince von bülow, who was then chancellor, called on me. i was out, but found him later at the schloss, and had a conversation with him. he said to me that both the emperor and himself were thoroughly aware of the desire of king edward and his government to maintain the new relations with france in their integrity, and that, in the best german opinion, this was no obstacle to building up close relations with germany also. i said that this was the view held on our side too, and that the only danger lay in trying to force everything at once. too great haste was to be deprecated. he said that he entirely agreed, and quoted prince bismarck, who had laid it down that you can not make a flower grow any sooner by putting fire to heat it. [illustration: count paul wolff metternich german ambassador to great britain from to .] i said that, none the less, frequent and cordial interchanges of view were very important, and that not even the smallest matters should be neglected. he alluded with satisfaction to my personal relations with the german ambassador in london, count metternich. i begged him, if there were any small matters which were too minute to take up officially, but which seemed unsatisfactory, to let me know of them in a private capacity through count metternich. this i did because i had discovered some soreness at restrictions which had been placed on the attendance of german military officers at maneuvers in england, and i had found that there had been some reprisals. i did not refer to these, but said that i had the authority of the sovereign to give assistance to german officers who were sent over to the maneuvers to study them. i added that while our army was small, compared with theirs, it had had great experience in the conduct of small expeditions, and that there were in consequence some things worth seeing. he then spoke of the navy. it was natural that with the increase of german commerce germany should wish to increase her fleet--from a sea-police point of view--but that they had neither the wish, nor, having regard to the strain their great army put on their resources, the power to build against great britain. i said that the best opinion in england fully understood this attitude, and that we did not in the least misinterpret their recent progress, nor would he misinterpret our resolve to maintain, for purely defensive purposes, our navy at a two-power standard. some day, i said, there might be rivalry, but i thought we might assume that, if it ever happened, it would not be for many years, and that our policy for the present was strongly for free trade, so that the more germany exported to great britain and british possessions, the more we should export in exchange to them. he expressed himself pleased that i should say this, and added that he was confident that a couple of years' interchange of friendly communications in this spirit would produce a great development, and perhaps lead for both of us to pleasant relations with other powers also. there were during this visit in other conversations of which a record was preserved, but i have referred to the most important, and i will only mention, in concluding my account of these days in berlin in september, , the talk i had with the foreign minister, herr von tschirsky, afterward the german ambassador at vienna before the war, and reported as having been a fomenter of the austrian outbreak against serbia. he may have been anti-slav and anti-russian, but i did not find him, in the long conversation we had in , otherwise than sensible as regards france. i explained that my business in berlin was merely with war office matters, and, even as regards these, quite unofficial. he said that there had been much tendency to misinterpret in both countries, but that things were now better. i might take it that our precision about the entente with france, and our desire to rest firmly on the arrangement we had made, were understood in germany, and that it was realized that we were not likely to be able to build up anything with his own country which did not rest on this basis. but he thought, and the emperor agreed, that the entente was no hindrance to all that was necessary between germany and england, which was not an alliance but a thoroughly good business understanding. some day we might come into conflict, if care were not taken; but if care was taken, there was no need of apprehension. i said that i believed this to be sir edward grey's view also, and that he was anxious to communicate with the german government beforehand whenever there was a chance of german interests being touched. he went on to speak of the approaching hague conference, and of the difficulty germany would have if asked to alter the proportion of her army to her population--a proportion which rested on a fundamental law. for germany alone to object to disarmament would be to put herself in a hole, and it would be a friendly act if we could devise some way out of a definite vote on reduction. germany might well enter a conference to record and emphasize the improvement all round in international relations, the desirability of further developing this improvement, and the hope that with it the growth of armaments would cease. but he was afraid of the kind of initiative which might come from america. the united states had no sympathy with european military and naval difficulties. i said that i thought that we, as a government, were pledged to try to bring about something more definite than what he suggested as a limit, but that i would report what he had told me. he then passed to general topics. he was emphatic in his assurance that what germany wanted was increase of commercial development. let the nations avoid inflicting pin-pricks, and leave each other free to breathe the air. he said that he thought we might have opportunities of helping them to get the french into an easier mood. they were difficult and suspicious, he observed, and it was hard to transact business with them, for they made trouble over small points. on my return to london i sent to herr von tschirsky some english newspapers containing articles with a friendly tone, so far as the preservation of good relations was concerned. he replied in a letter from which i translate the material portion: "i see with pleasure from the articles which your excellency has sent me for his majesty, and from other expressions of public opinion in english newspapers, that in the leading liberal papers of england a more friendly tone toward germany is making itself apparent. you would have been able to derive the same impression from reading our newspapers, with the exception of a few pan-german prints. alas! papers like _the times_, _morning post_ and _standard_ can not bring themselves to refrain from their attitude of dislike, and are always rejoicing in being suspicious of every action of the imperial government. they contribute in this fashion appreciably to render weak the new tone of diminishing misunderstanding which has arisen between the two countries. if i fear that under these circumstances it will be a long time before mutual understanding has grown up to the point at which it stood more than a century ago, and as you and i desire it in the well-understood interests of england and germany, still i hope and am persuaded that the relations of the two governments will remain good." a year after the visit i had paid to berlin the emperor came over to stay with king edward at windsor. this was in november, . the visit lasted several days, and i was present most of the time. the emperor was accompanied by baron von schoen, who had become foreign minister of prussia, after having been ambassador to the court of russia, and by general von einem, the war minister, whose inclusion in the invitation i had ventured to suggest to the king, as an acknowledgment of his civility to myself as war minister when in berlin. there were also at windsor count metternich and several high military officers of the emperor's personal staff and military cabinet. to these officers and to the war minister i showed all the hospitality i could in london, and i received them officially at the war office. but the really interesting incident of this visit, so far as i was concerned, took place at windsor. the first evening of my visit there, just after his arrival in november, the emperor took me aside and said he was sorry that there was a good deal of friction over the bagdad railway, and that he did not know what we wanted as a basis for co-operation. i said that i could not answer for the foreign office, but that, speaking as war minister, one thing i knew we wanted was a "gate" to protect india from troops coming down the new railway. he asked me what i meant by a "gate," and i said that meant the control of the section which would come near to the persian gulf. "i will give you the 'gate,'" replied the emperor. i had no opportunity at the moment, which was just before dinner, for pursuing the conversation further, but i thought the answer too important not to be followed up. there were private theatricals after dinner, which lasted till nearly one o'clock in the morning. i was seated in the theater of the castle just behind the emperor, and, as the company broke up, i went forward and asked him whether he really meant seriously that he was willing to give us the "gate," because, if he did mean it, i would go to london early and see sir edward grey at the foreign office. next morning, about . o'clock, a helmeted guardsman, one of those whom the emperor had brought over with him from berlin, knocked loudly at the door and came into my bedroom, and said that he had a message from the emperor. it was that he did mean what he had said the night before. i at once got up and caught a train for london. there i saw the foreign secretary, who, after taking time to think things over, gave me a memorandum he had drawn up. the substance of it was that the british government would be very glad to discuss the emperor's suggestion, but that it would be necessary, before making a settlement, to bring into the discussion france and russia, whose interests also were involved. i was requested to sound the emperor further. after telling king edward of what was happening, i had another conversation in windsor castle with the emperor, who said that he feared that the bringing in of russia particularly, not to speak of france, would cause difficulty; but he asked me to come that night, after a performance that was to take place in the castle theater had ended, to his apartments, to a meeting to which he would summon the ministers he had brought with him. he took the memorandum which i had brought from london, a copy of which i had made for him in my own handwriting, so as to present it as the informal document it was intended to be. just before dinner baron von schoen spoke to me, and told me that he had heard from the emperor what had happened, and that the emperor was wrong in thinking that the attempt to bring in russia would lead to difficulty, because he, baron von schoen, when he was ambassador to russia, had already discussed the general question with its government, and had virtually come to an understanding. at the meeting that night we could therefore go on to negotiate. i attended the emperor in his state rooms at the castle at one o'clock in the morning, and sat smoking with him and his ministers for over two hours. his foreign minister and count metternich and the war minister, von einem, were present. i said that i felt myself an intruder, because it was very much like being present at a sitting of his cabinet. he replied, "be a member of my cabinet for the evening." i said that i was quite agreeable. they then engaged in a very animated conversation, some of them challenging the proposal of the emperor to accept the british suggestions, with an outspokenness which would have astonished the outside world, with its notions of teutonic autocracy. count metternich did not like what i suggested, that there should be a conference in berlin on the subject of the bagdad railway between england, france, russia, and germany. in the end, but not until after much keen argument, the idea was accepted, and the emperor directed von schoen to go next morning to london and make an official proposal to sir edward grey, this was carried out, and the preliminary details were discussed between von schoen and sir edward at the foreign office. some weeks afterward difficulties were raised from berlin. germany said that she was ready to discuss with the british government the question of the terminal portion of the railway, but she did not desire to bring the other two powers into that discussion, because the conference would probably fail and accentuate the differences between her and the other powers. the matter thus came to an end. it was, i think, a great pity, because i have reason to believe that the french view was that, if the bagdad railway question could have been settled, one great obstacle in the way of reconciling german with french and english interests would have disappeared. i came to the conclusion afterward that it was probably owing to the views of prince von bülow that the proposal had come to an untimely end. whether he did not wish for an expanded entente; whether the feeling was strong in germany that the bagdad railway had become a specially german concern and should not be shared; or what other reason he may have had, i do not know; but it was from berlin, after the emperor's return there at the end of november, , that the negotiations were finally blocked. altho these negotiations had no definite result, they assisted in promoting increasing frankness between the two foreign offices, and other things went with more smoothness. sir edward grey kept france and russia informed of all we did, and he was also very open with the germans. until well on in all went satisfactorily. in the early part of that year the emperor came to london to visit the present king, who had by that time succeeded to the throne. i had ventured to propose to the king that during the emperor's visit i should, as war minister, give a luncheon to the generals who were on his staff. but when the emperor heard of this he sent a message that he would like to come and lunch with me himself, and to meet people whom otherwise he might not see. i acted on my own discretion, and when he came to luncheon at my house in queen anne's gate there was a somewhat widely selected party of about a dozen to meet him. for it included not only lord morley, lord kitchener, and lord curzon, whom he was sure to meet elsewhere, but mr. ramsay macdonald, who was then leading the labor party, admiral sir arthur wilson, our great naval commander, lord moulton, mr. edmund gosse, mr. sargent, mr. spender, the editor of the _westminster gazette_, and others representing various types of british opinion. the emperor engaged in conversation with everyone, and all went with smoothness. he had a great reception in london. but enthusiasm about him was somewhat damped when, in july, , not long after his return to germany, he sent the afterwards famous warship _panther_ to agadir. the french were naturally alarmed, and the situation which had become so promising was overcast. our naval arrangements and our new military organization were ready, and our mobilization plans were fairly complete, as the german general staff knew from their military attaché. but the point was, how to avoid an outbreak, and to get rid of the feeling and friction to which the agadir crisis was giving rise. our growing good relations were temporarily clouded. the sending of the _panther_ to agadir was not a prudent act. it imported either too much or too little. it is said to have been the plan of herr von kiderlen-waechter, at that time the foreign secretary and generally a sensible statesman, and to have been done in spite of misgivings expressed by the emperor about its danger. the circumstances of the moment were such that one can not but feel a certain sympathy with the german perturbation at the time. the march of the french army to fez had come on them suddenly, and it at least suggested a development of french claims going beyond what germany had agreed to at the algeciras conference nearly six years previously. those who wish to inform themselves about the commotion the expedition of the french stirred up in germany, and of the efforts the emperor and bethmann hollweg had to make to restrain it, will do well to read the latter's account of what happened there in the second chapter of his recent book. but to think that the sending of a german warship could make things better was to repeat the error of judgment which had characterized "the ally in shining armor" speech of the german emperor to austria when she formally annexed bosnia and herzegovina three years before. instead of using diplomatic methods something that looked like a threat was allowed to appear, and the answer was mr. lloyd george's well-known declaration of july , , in the city of london. the sending of the _panther_, if intelligible, was certainly unfortunate. in the winter, after the actual crisis had been got over, there was evidence of continuing ill-feeling in germany, and the suspicion in london did not diminish. in january, , an informal message was given by the emperor to sir ernest cassel for transmission through one of my colleagues to the foreign office.[ ] i knew nothing of this at the time, but learned shortly afterward that it was to the effect that the emperor was concerned at the state of feeling that had arisen in both countries, and thought that the most hopeful method of improving matters would be that the cabinet of st. james's should exchange views directly with the cabinet of berlin. for this course there was a good deal to be said. the peace had indeed been preserved, but, as herr von bethmann hollweg told me later on, not without effort. the attitude of germany toward france had seemed ominous. the british government had done all it could to avert a breach, but its sympathy was opposed to language used in germany, the spirit of which seemed to us to have in it an aggressive element. we did not hesitate to say what we thought about this. even after the agadir incident was quite closed, the tension between germany and england had not passed away. the military party in the former country began to talk of a "preventive" war pretty loudly. even so moderate an organ in berlin as the _post_ wrote of german opinion that "we all know that blood is assuredly about to be shed, and the longer we wait the more there will be. few, however, have the courage to imitate frederick the great, and not one dares the deed." the emperor therefore sent his message in the beginning of , to the effect that feeling had become so much excited that it was not enough to rely on the ordinary diplomatic intercourse for softening it, and that he was anxious for an exchange of views between the cabinets of berlin and london, of a personal and direct kind. as the result of this intimation, the british cabinet decided to send one of its members to berlin to hold "conversations," with a view to exploring and, if practicable, softening the causes of tension, and i was requested by the prime minister and sir edward grey and my other colleagues to go to berlin and undertake the task. our ambassador there came over to london specially to discuss arrangements, and he returned to berlin to make them before i started. i arrived in the german capital on february , , and spent some days in interviews with the emperor, the imperial chancellor, the naval minister (admiral von tirpitz), and others of the emperor's ministry. the narrative of my conversations i have extracted from the records i made after each interview, for the preservation so far as possible of the actual expressions used during it. my first interview was one with herr von bethmann hollweg, the imperial chancellor. we met in the british embassy, and the conversation, which was quite informal, was a full and agreeable one. my impression, and i still retain it, was that bethmann hollweg was then as sincerely desirous of avoiding war as i was myself. i told him of certain dangers quite frankly, and he listened and replied with what seemed to me to be a full understanding of our position. i said that the increasing action of germany in piling up magnificent armaments was, of course, within the unfettered rights of the german people. but the policy had an inevitable consequence in the drawing together of other nations in the interests of their own security. this was what was happening. i told him frankly that we had made naval and military preparations, but only such as defense required, and as would be considered in germany matter of routine. i went on to observe that our faces were set against aggression by any nation, and i told him, what seemed to relieve his mind, that we had no secret military treaties. but, i added, if france were attacked and an attempt made to occupy her territory, our neutrality must not be reckoned on by germany. for one thing, it was obvious that our position as an island protected by the sea would be affected seriously if germany had possession of the channel ports on the northern shores of france. again, we were under treaty obligation to come to the aid of belgium in case of invasion, just as we were bound to defend portugal and japan in certain eventualities. in the third place, owing to our dependence on freedom of sea-communications for food and raw materials, we could not sit still if germany elected to develop her fleet to such an extent as to imperil our naval protection. she might build more ships, but we should in that case lay down two keels for each one she laid down. the chancellor said that he did not take my observations at all in bad part, but i must understand that his admirals and generals were pretty difficult. i replied that the difficulty would be felt at least as much with the admirals and generals in my own country. the chancellor, in the course of our talk, proposed a formula of neutrality to which i will refer later on. i left the chancellor with the sense that i had been talking with an honest man struggling somewhat with adversity. however, next day i was summoned to luncheon with the emperor and empress at the schloss, and afterward had a long interview, which lasted nearly three hours, with the emperor and admiral von tirpitz in the emperor's cabinet room. the conversation was mainly in german, and was confined to naval questions. my reception by the emperor was very agreeable; that by tirpitz seemed to me a little strained. the question was, whether germany must not continue her program for expanding her fleet. what that program really amounted to we had not known in london, except that it included an increase in battleships; but the emperor handed me at this meeting a confidential copy of the draft of the proposed new fleet law, with an intimation that he had no objection to my communicating it privately to my colleagues. i was careful to abstain even from looking at it then, for i saw that, from its complexity and bulk, it would require careful study. so i simply put it in my pocket. but i repeated what i had said to the chancellor, that the necessity for secure sea-communications rendered it vital for us to be able to protect ourselves on the seas. germany was quite free to do as she pleased, but so were we, and we should probably lay down two keels for every one which she added to her program. the initiative in slackening competition was really not with us, but with germany. any agreement for settling our differences and introducing a new spirit into the relations of the two nations would be bones without flesh if germany began by fresh shipbuilding, and so forced us to do twice as much. indeed, the world would laugh at such an agreement, and our people would think that we had been fooled. i did not myself take that view, because i thought that the mere fact of an agreement was valuable. but the emperor would see that the public would attach very little importance to his action unless the agreement largely modified what it believed to be his shipbuilding program. we then discussed the proposal of the german admiralty for the new program. admiral von tirpitz struggled for it. i insisted that fundamental modification was essential if better relations were to ensue. the tone was friendly, but i felt that i was up against the crucial part of my task. the admiral wanted us to enter into some understanding about our own shipbuilding. he thought the two-power standard a hard one for germany, and, indeed, germany could not make any admission about it. i said it was not matter for admission. they were free and so were we, and we must for the sake of our safety remain so. the idea then occurred to us that, as we should never agree about it, we should avoid trying to define a standard proportion in any general agreement that we might come to, and, indeed, say nothing in it about shipbuilding; but that the emperor should announce to the german public that the agreement on general questions, if we should have concluded one, had entirely modified his wish for the new fleet law, as originally conceived, and that it should be delayed, and future shipbuilding should at least be spread over a longer period. the emperor thought such an agreement would certainly make a great difference, and he informed me that his chancellor would propose to me a formula as a basis for it. i said that i would see the chancellor and discuss a possible formula, as well as territorial and other questions with him, and would then return to london and report to the king (from whom i had brought him a special and friendly message) and to my colleagues the good disposition i had found, and leave the difficulties about shipbuilding and indeed all other matters to their judgment. for i had come to berlin, not to make an actual agreement, but only to explore the ground for one with the emperor and his ministers. i had been struck with the friendly disposition in berlin, and a not less friendly disposition would be found in london. the evening after my interview with the emperor i dined with the chancellor. i met there and talked with several prominent politicians, soldiers, and men of letters, including kiderlen-waechter (the then foreign secretary), the afterward famous general von hindenburg, zimmermann of the foreign office, and professor harnack. later on, after dinner, i went off to meet the french ambassador, m. jules cambon, at the british embassy, for i wished to keep him informed of our object, which was simply to improve the state of feeling between london and berlin, but on the basis, and only on the basis, of complete loyalty to our entente with france. it was, to use a phrase which he himself suggested in our conversation, a _détente_ rather than an _entente_ that i had in view, with possible developments to follow it which might assume a form which would be advantageous to france and russia, as well as to ourselves and germany. he showed me next day the report of our talk which he had prepared in order to telegraph it to paris. i had other interviews the next day, but the only one which is important for the purposes of the present narrative is that at my final meeting with the german chancellor on the saturday (february ). i pressed on him how important it was for public opinion and the peace of the world that germany should not force us into a shipbuilding competition with her, a competition in which it was certain that we should have to spare no effort to preserve our margin of safety by greater increases. [illustration: m. paul cambon french ambassador to great britain since .] he did not controvert my suggestion. i could see that personally he was of the same mind. but he said that the forces he had to contend with were almost insuperable. the question of a retardation of building under the proposed fleet law was not susceptible of being treated apart from that of the formula of which he and the emperor had both spoken. he suggested that we might agree on the following formula: . the high contracting powers assure each other mutually of their desire for peace and friendship. . they will not, either of them, make any combination, or join in any combination, which is directed against the other. they expressly declare that they are not bound by any such combination. . if either of the high contracting parties become entangled in a war with one or more other powers, the other of the high contracting parties will at least observe toward the power so entangled a benevolent neutrality, and use its utmost endeavor for the localization of the conflict. . the duty of neutrality which arises from the preceding article has no application in so far as it may not be reconcilable with existing agreements which the high contracting parties have already made. the making of new agreements which make it impossible for either of the contracting parties to observe neutrality toward the other beyond what is provided by the preceding limitations is excluded in conformity with the provisions contained in article . anxious as i was to agree with the chancellor, who seemed as keen as i was to meet me with expressions which i might take back to england for friendly consideration, i was unable to hold out to him the least prospect that we could accept the draft formula which he had just proposed. under article , for example, we should find ourselves, were it accepted, precluded from coming to the assistance of france should germany attack her and aim at getting possession of such ports as dunkirk, calais, and boulogne, a friendly occupation of which was so important for our island security. difficulties might also arise which would hamper us in the discharge of our existing treaty obligations to belgium, portugal, and japan. the most hopeful way out was to revise the draft fundamentally by confining its terms to an undertaking by each power not to make any unprovoked attack upon the other, or join in any combination or design against the other for purposes of aggression, or become party to any plan or naval or military combination, alone or in conjunction with any other power, directed to such an end. he and i then sat down and redrafted what he had prepared, on this basis, but without his committing himself to the view that it would be sufficient. we also had a satisfactory conversation about the bagdad railway and other things in turkey connected with the persian gulf, and we discussed possibilities of the rearrangement of certain interests of both powers in africa. he said to me that he was not there to make any immediate bargain, but that we should look at the african question on both sides from a high point of view, and that if we had any difficulties we should tell him, and he would see whether he could get round them for us. i replied that i also was not there to make a bargain, but only to explore the ground, and that i much appreciated the tone of his conversation with me, and the good feeling he had shown. i should go back to london and without delay report to my colleagues all that had passed. i entertain no doubt that the german chancellor was sincerely in earnest in what he said to me on these occasions, and in his desire to improve relations with us and keep the peace. so i think was the emperor; but he was pulled at by his naval and military advisers, and by the powerful, if then small, chauvinist party in germany. in , when the conversations recorded took place, this party was less potent, i think a good deal less, than it appears to have become a year and a half later, when germany had increased her army still further. but i formed the opinion even then that the power of the emperor in germany was a good deal misinterpreted and overestimated. my impression was that the really decisive influence was that of the minister who had managed to secure the strongest following throughout germany; and it was obvious to me that admiral von tirpitz had a powerful and growing following from many directions, due to the backing of the naval party. moreover, sensible as a large number of germans were, there was a certain tendency to swelled-headedness in the nation. it had had an extraordinarily rapid development, based on principles of organization in every sphere of activity--principles derived from the lesson of the necessity of thinking before acting enjoined by the great teachers of the beginning of the nineteenth century. the period down to about seems to me to correspond, in the intellectual prodigies it produced, to our elizabethan period. it came no doubt to an end in its old and distinctive aspect. but its spirit assumed, later on, a new form, that of organization for material ends based on careful reflection and calculation. in industry, in commerce, in the army, and in the navy, the work of mind was everywhere apparent. "_aus einem lernvolk wollen wir ein thatvolk werden_" was the new watchword. no doubt there was much that was defective. when it came to actual war in , it turned out that germany had not adequately thought out her military problems. if she had done so, she would have used her fleet at the very outset, and particularly her destroyers and submarines, to try to hinder the transport of the british expeditionary force to france, and, having secured the absence of this force, she would have sought to seize the northern ports of france. small as the expeditionary force was, it was enough, when added to the french armies, to make them so formidable as to render the success of von kluck uncertain if the troops could be concentrated to resist him swiftly enough. again, germany never really grasped the implications of our command of the sea. had she done so, i do not think she would have adventured war. she may have counted on england not coming in, owing to entanglements in irish difficulties. if so, this was just another instance of her bad judgment about the internal affairs of other nations. in fine, germany had not adequately thought out or prepared for the perils which she undertook when she assumed the risks of the war of . no doubt she knew more about the shortcomings of the russian army than did the french or the british. on these, pretty exact knowledge of the russian shortages enabled her to reckon. there we miscalculated more than she did. but she was not strong enough to make sure work of a brief but conclusive campaign in the west, which was all she could afford while russia was organizing. then, later on, she ought to have seen that, if the submarine campaign which she undertook should bring the united states into the war, her ultimate fate would be sealed by blockade. in the end she no doubt fought magnificently. but she made these mistakes, which were mainly due to that swelled-headedness which deflected her reasoning and prevented her from calculating consequences aright. there was a good deal of this apparent even in . it had led to the agadir business in the previous summer, and the absence of wise prevision was still apparent. i believed that this phase of militarism would pass when imperial germany became a more mature nation. indeed, it was passing under the growing influence of social democracy, which was greatly increased by the elections which took place while i was in berlin in .[ ] but still there was the possibility of an explosion; and when i returned to london, altho i was full of hope that relations between the two countries were going to be improved, and told my colleagues so, i also reported that there were three matters about which i was uneasy. the first was my strong impression that the new fleet law would be insisted on. the second was the possibility that tirpitz might be made chancellor of the empire in place of bethmann hollweg. this was being talked of as possible when i was in berlin. the third was the want of continuity in the supreme direction of german policy. foreign policy especially was under divided control. von tschirsky observed to me in that what he had been saying about a question we were discussing represented his view as foreign minister of prussia, but that next door was the chancellor, who might express quite a different view to me if i asked him; and that if, later on, i went to the end of the wilhelmstrasse and turned down unter den linden i would come to the schloss, where i might derive from the emperor's lips an impression quite different from that given by either himself or the chancellor. this made me feel that, desirous as bethmann hollweg had shown himself to establish and preserve good relations, we could not count on his influence being maintained or prevailing. as an eminent foreign diplomatist observed, "in this highly organized nation, when you have ascended to the very top story you find not only confusion but chaos." however, after i had reported fully on all the details and the foreign office had received my written report, matters were taken in hand by sir edward grey, and by him i was kept informed. presently it became apparent that there were those in berlin who were interfering with the chancellor in his efforts for good relations. a dispatch came which was inconsistent with the line he had pursued with me, and it became evident that the german government was likely to insist on proceeding with the new fleet law. when we looked closely into the copy of the draft which the emperor had given to me, we found very large increases contemplated, of which we had no notion earlier, not only in the battleships, about which we did know before, but in small craft and submarines and personnel. as these increases were to proceed further, discussion about the terms of a formula became rather futile, and we had only one course left open to us--to respond by quietly increasing our navy and concentrating its strength in northern seas. this was done with great energy by mr. churchill, the result being that, as the outcome of the successive administrations of the fleet by mr. mckenna and himself, the estimates were raised by over twenty millions sterling to fifty-one millions. [illustration: _international_ viscount grey of fallodon secretary of state for foreign affairs from to .] in the summer of i became lord chancellor, and the engrossing duties, judicial as well as administrative, of that office cut me off from any direct participation in the carrying on of our efforts for better relations with germany. but these relations continued to be extended in the various ways practicable and left open to sir edward grey and the german chancellor. the discussions which had been begun when i was in berlin, about africa and the bagdad railway, were continued between them through the ambassadors; and just before the war the draft of an extensive treaty had been agreed on. then, after an interval of two years, came a time of extreme anxiety. no one had better opportunities than i of watching sir edward's concentration of effort to avoid the calamity which threatened. for he was living with me in my house in queen anne's gate through the whole of these weeks, and he was devoting himself, with passionate earnestness of purpose, to inducing the german government to use its influence with austria for a peaceful settlement. but it presently became evident that the emperor and his ministers had made up their minds that they were going to make use of an opportunity that appeared to have come. as i have already said, i think their calculations were framed on a wholly erroneous basis. it is clear that their military advisers had failed to take account, in their estimates of probabilities, of the tremendous moral forces that might be brought into action against them. the ultimate result we all know. may the lesson taught to the world by the determined entry of the united states into the conflict between right and wrong never be forgotten by the world! why germany acted as she did then is a matter that still requires careful investigation. my own feeling is that she has demonstrated the extreme risk of confiding great political decisions to military advisers. it is not their business to have the last word in deciding between peace and war. the problem is too far-reaching for their training. bismarck knew this well, and often said it, as students of his life and reflections are aware. had he been at the helm i do not believe that he would have allowed his country to drift into a disastrous course. he was far from perfect in his ethical standards, but he had something of that quality which mommsen, in his history, attributes to julius cæsar. him the historian describes as one of those "mighty ones who has preserved to the end of his career the statesman's tact of discriminating between the possible and the impossible, and has not broken down in the task which for greatly gifted natures is the most difficult of all--the task of recognizing, when on the pinnacle of success, its natural limits. what was possible he performed, and never left the possible good undone for the sake of the impossible better; never disdained at least to mitigate by palliatives evils that were incurable. but where he recognized that fate had spoken, he always obeyed. alexander on the hypanis, napoleon at moscow, turned back because they were compelled to do so, and were indignant at destiny for bestowing even on its favorites merely limited successes. cæsar turned back voluntarily on the thames and on the rhine, and thought of carrying into effect even at the danube and the euphrates, not unbounded plans of world-conquest, but merely well-considered frontier regulations." if only germany, whose great historian thus explained these things, had remembered them, how different might have been her position to-day. but it may be that she had carried her policy too far to be left free. with her certainly rests the main responsibility for what has happened; for apart from her, austria would not have acted as she did, nor would turkey, nor bulgaria. the fascinating glitter of her armies, and the assurances given by her general staff, were too much for the minor nations whom she had induced to accept her guidance, and too much i think also for her own people. no doubt the ignorance of these about the ways of their own government counted for a great deal. there has never been such a justification of the principle of democratic control as this war affords. but a nation must be held responsible for the action of its own rulers, however much it has simply submitted itself to them. i have the impression that even to-day in its misery the german public does not fully understand, and still believes that germany was the victim of a plot to entrap and encircle her, and that with this in view russia mobilized on a great scale for war. it is difficult for us to understand how real the slav peril appeared to germany and to austria, and there is little doubt that to the latter serbia was an unquiet neighbor. but these considerations must be taken in their context--a context of which the german public ought to have made itself fully aware. the leaders of its opinion were bent on domination to the near east. no wonder that the slavs in the balkan peninsula became progressively alarmed, and looked to russia more and more for protection. for it had become plain that moral considerations would not be allowed by the authorities at berlin to weigh in the balance against material advantages to be gained by power of domination. if there is room for reproach to us anglo-saxons, it is reproach of a very different kind. germany was quite intelligent enough to listen to reason, and, besides, she had the prospect of becoming the dominating industrial and commercial power in the world by dint merely of peaceful penetration. it is possible that, if her relations with her western neighbors, including great britain, had been more intimate than they actually were, she might have been saved from a great blunder, and might have come to understand that the english-speaking races were not really so inferior to herself as she took them to be. her _hubris_ was in part, at all events, the result of ignorance. speaking for my own countrymen, i think that neither did we know enough about the germans nor did the germans know enough about us. they were ignorant of the innate capacity for fighting, in industrial and military conflicts alike, which our history shows we have always hitherto brought to light in great emergencies. and they little realized how tremendously moral issues could stir and unite democracies. we, on the other hand, knew little of their tradition, their literature, or their philosophy. our statesmen did not read their newspapers, and rarely visited their country. we were deficient in that quality which president murray butler has spoken of as the "international mind." i do not know whether, had it been otherwise, we could have brought about the better state of things in europe for which i tried to express the hope, altho not without misgiving, in the address on "higher nationality" which i was privileged to deliver before distinguished representatives of the united states and of canada at montreal on september , . i spoke then of the possibility of a larger entente, an entente which might become a real concert of the great powers of the world; and i quoted the great prayer with which grotius concludes his book on "war and peace." there was at least the chance, if we strove hard enough, that we might find a response from the best in other countries, and in the end attain to a new and real _sittlichkeit_ which should provide a firmer basis for international law and reverence for international obligations. but for the realization of this dream a sustained and strenuous search after fuller mutual knowledge was required. after this address had been published, i received a letter from the german chancellor, bethmann hollweg, in which--writing in german and so late as september , --he expressed himself to me as follows: "if i had the happiness of finding myself in one mind with you in these thoughts in february, , it has been to me a still greater satisfaction that our two countries have since then had a number of opportunities of working together in this spirit. like you, i hold the optimistic view that the great nations will be able to progress further on this path, and will do so. anyhow, i shall, in so far as it is within my power, devote my energies to this cause, and i am happy in the certainty of finding in you an openly declared fellow-worker." but events swept him from a course which, so far as i know, he at least individually desired to follow. the great increase of armaments took place that year in germany, and, when events were too strong for him, he elected, not to resign, but to throw in his lot with his country. his position was one of great difficulty. he took a course for which many would applaud him. but inherently a wrong course, surely. what he said when belgium was invaded in breach of solemn treaty shows that he felt this. he let himself be swept into devoting his energies to bolstering up his country's cause, instead of resigning. his career only proves that, given the political conditions that obtained in germany shortly before the war, it was almost impossible for a german statesman to keep his feet or to avoid being untrue to himself. and yet there were many others there in the same frame of mind, and one asks oneself whether, had they had more material to work with, they might not have been able to present a more attractive alternative than the notion of military domination which in the end took possession of all, from the emperor downward. it is, however, useless to speculate at present on these things. we know too little of the facts. the historians of another generation will know more. but of one thing i feel sure. the germans think that great britain declared war of pre-conceived purpose and her own initiative. there is a sense in which she did. the opinion of mr. asquith, sir edward grey, and of those of us who were by their side, was unhesitating. she could not have taken any other course than she did without the prospect of ruin and failure to enter on the only path of honor. for honor and safety alike necessitated that she should take, without the delay which would have been fatal, the step she did take without delay and unswervingly. the responsibility for her entry comes back wholly to germany herself, who would not have brought it about had she not plunged into war. and to-day germany lies prostrate. but she is not dead. i do not think that for generations to come she will dream of building again on military foundations. her people have had a lesson in the overwhelming forces which are inevitably called into action where there is brutal indifference to the moral rights of others. what remains to her is that which she has inherited and preserved of the results of the great advancement in knowledge which began under the inspiration of lessing and kant, and culminated in the teaching of goethe and schiller and of the thinkers who were their contemporaries. that movement only came to a partial end in . no doubt its character changed after that. the idealists in poetry, music, and philosophy gave place to great men of science, to figures such as those of ludwig and liebig, of gauss, riemann, and helmholtz. there came also historians like ranke and mommsen, musicians like wagner, philosophers like schopenhauer and lotze, a statesman like bismarck. to-day there are few men of great stature in germany; there are, indeed, few men of genius anywhere in the world. but germany still has a high general level in science, and of recent years she has produced great captains of industry. the gift for organization founded on principle, and for applying science to practical uses, was there before the war, and it is very unsafe to assume that it is not there in a latent form to-day. if it is, germany will be heard of again with a field of activity that probably will not include devotion to military affairs in the old way. against her competition of this other kind, formidable as soon as she has recovered from her misery, we must prepare ourselves in the only way that can succeed in the long run. we, too, must study and organize on the basis of widely diffused exact knowledge, and not less of high ethical standards. i think, if i read the signs of the times aright, that people are coming to realize this, both in the united states and throughout the british empire. [illustration: _press illustrating service_ chancellor theobald von bethmann-hollweg chancellor of the german empire and minister of state for foreign affairs from to .] * * * * * footnotes: [footnote : of course i neither tried to obtain nor did obtain from the authorities in germany any information that was not available to the general public there. i went simply to see the system of administration and how it was worked. not even count reventlow, in his highly critical accounts of my visits in the book "deutschlands auswartige politik," imagines that i had access to information which i was not free to use. the german government had ascertained for itself that a new organization of the british army was on foot, but it neither told its own secrets nor asked for ours.] [footnote : this message was the response to a memorandum which sir ernest cassel had brought to berlin from some influential members of the cabinet in london, and it contained suggestions for the improvement of the relations between the two countries. an account of sir ernest cassel's visit, and of what passed when he delivered his message from london, is given in herr von bethmann hollweg's recent book.] [footnote : an anecdote illustrating the change that was coming over political opinion in germany in , may be worth relating. i was present at a supper party, given by one of the professors in a well-known german university town, in may of that year. i asked him whether the old conservative member who had for long represented the town had been again returned. "returned! no," he replied. "it was impossible to return a man of moderate opinions. we only escaped a social democrat by a few votes. we managed to get enough of the popular vote to return a fairly sensible railway servant for this university town." i inquired what party he belonged to. "no old party," was his answer, and it will interest you to know that his program was an english one: "_lloyd georgianismus_." i then inquired what was his text book. "_die reden von lloyd george_," was the answer. did it contain anything about a place called limehouse? "_limhaus, ach ja; das war eine vortreffliche rede!_"] chapter iii the german attitude before the war we now have before us the considered opinions of herr von bethmann hollweg, the late imperial chancellor, and of admiral von tirpitz, the minister who did much to develop the naval power of germany, about the origin and significance of the war. both have written books on the subject.[ ] it is to be desired that in the case of each of these authors his book should be studied in english-speaking countries as well as on the continent. for it is important that the anglo-saxon world should understand the divergences in policy which the two books disclose, not less than the points of agreement. that world has suffered in the past from failure to understand germany, while the german world has displayed a total inability to interpret aright the anglo-saxon disposition. when i speak of two worlds i mean the governing classes of these worlds. the nations themselves, taken as aggregates of individual citizens, by a probable majority in each case, desired the continuance of peace and of the prosperity of which it is the condition. so, of course, did the rulers, those in germany as much as those in london. but the german rulers had a theory of how to secure peace which was the outcome of the abstract mind that was their inheritance. it was the theory that was wrong, a theory of which anglo-saxondom knew little, and which it would have rejected decisively had it realized its tendency. this theory is described in admiral tirpitz's book, with an account of the efforts made to indoctrinate with it the people of germany. the two volumes are profoundly interesting. for in that of admiral tirpitz we have the doctrine set forth that in the end led to the war. in that written by the late imperial chancellor we have quite another principle laid down as the one which he was endeavoring to apply in his direction of german policy. but in this endeavor he failed. the school of tirpitz in the main prevailed, and this was the more easy, inasmuch as it was simply continuing the policy which had been advocated by a noisy section of germans, nearly without a break, since the days of frederick the great. it was a policy which had in reality outlived the days in which it was practicable. the world had become too crowded and too small to permit of any one power asserting its right to jostle its way where it pleased without regard to its neighbors. an affair of police on a colossal scale had begun to look as if it would ensue, and ensue it ultimately did. no doubt had we all been cleverer we might have been able to explain to germany whither she was heading. but we did not understand her, least of all our chauvinists, nor did she understand us. in the main what she really wanted was to develop herself by the application of her talent for commerce and industry. to her success in attaining this end we had no objection, provided her procedure was decent and in order. but she chose a means to her end which was becoming progressively more and more inadmissible. tirpitz describes the illegitimate _means_. bethmann hollweg describes the legitimate _end_. tirpitz thinks bethmann hollweg was a weakling because he would not back up the means. bethmann hollweg, firm in his faith that the end was legitimate and thinking of this alone, dwells on it with little reference to what his colleague was about. his accusation against the entente powers is that, at the instigation of russia primarily, and in a less degree of france, they set themselves to ring round and crush germany. it was really, he believes, a war of aggression, and england was ultimately responsible for it. without her co-operation it was impossible, and altho she did not enter into any formal military alliance for the purpose, she began in the time of edward vii. a policy of close friendship which enabled russia and france in the end to reckon on her as morally bound to help. it was easy for these powers to represent as a defensive war what was really a war of aggression. such was truly its nature, and england decided to join in it, actually because she was jealous of germany's growing success in the world, and was desirous of setting a check to it. such is herr von bethmann hollweg's explanation. he is, i have no doubt, sincerely convinced of its truth, and he explains the grounds of his conviction in detail and with much ability. but there is a fallacy in his reasoning which becomes transparent when one reads along with his book that of his colleague. if we put out of sight the deep feeling awakened here by the brutality of the invasion of belgium, to which violation of treaty obligations the former declares that germany was compelled by military considerations that were unanswerable, and look at the history of anglo-german relations before the war, the inference is irresistible that it was not the object of developing in a peaceful atmosphere german commerce and industry that england objected to. such a development might have been formidable for us. it would have compelled great efforts on our part to improve the education of our people and our organization for peaceful enterprises. but it would have been legitimate. the objection of this country was directed against quite other things that were being done by germany in order to attain her purpose. the essence of these was the attempt to get her way by creating armaments which should in effect place her neighbors at her mercy. we who live on islands, and are dependent for our food and our raw materials on our being able to protect their transport and with it ourselves from invasion, could not permit the sea-protection which had been recognized from generation to generation as a necessity for our preservation to be threatened by the creation of naval forces intended to make it precarious. as the navies of europe were growing, not only those of france and russia, but the navy of italy also, we had to look, in the interests of our security, to friendly relations with these countries. we aimed at establishing such friendly relations, and our method was to get rid of all causes of friction, in newfoundland, in egypt, in the east, and in the mediterranean. that was the policy which was implied in our ententes. we were not willing to enter into military alliances and we did not do so. our policy was purely a business policy, and everything else was consequential on this, including the growing sense of common interests and of the desire for the maintenance of peace. i do not think that admiral tirpitz wanted actual war. but he did want power to enforce submission to the expansion of germany at her will. and this power was his means to the end which was what less prussianized minds in germany contemplated as attainable in less objectionable ways. such a means he could not fashion in the form of strength in sea power which would have placed us at his mercy, without arousing our instinct for self-preservation. all this the late imperial chancellor in substance ignores. the fact is that he can only defend his theory on the hypothesis that no such policy as that of his colleague was on foot, and that the truth was that france, russia, and england had come to a decision to take the initiative in a policy embracing, for france revenge for the loss of alsace and lorraine, for russia the acquisition of constantinople with domination over the balkans and the bosporus, and for england the destruction of german commerce. if this hypothesis be not true, and the real explanation of the alarm of the entente powers was the policy exemplified by tirpitz and the other exponents of german militarism, then the whole of the reasoning in herr von bethmann hollweg's book falls to the ground. it may be asked how it was possible that two members of the imperial government should have been pursuing in the same period two policies wholly inconsistent with each other. the answer is not difficult. the direction of affairs in germany was admirably organized for some purposes and very badly for others. her autocratic system lent itself to efficiency in the preparation of armaments. but it was not really a system under which her emperor was left free to guide policy. there is no greater mistake made than that under which it is popularly supposed that the emperor was absolute master. the development in recent years of the influence of the general and admiral staffs, which was a necessity from the point of view of modern organization for war but required keeping in careful check from other points of view, had produced forces which the emperor was powerless to hold in. even in bismarck's time readers of his "reflections and recollections" will remember how he felt the embarrassment of his foreign policy caused by the growing and deflecting influences of moltke, and even of his friend roon. and there was no bismarck to hold the staffs in check for reasons of expediency in the years before . the military mind when it is highly developed is dangerous. it sees only its own bit, but this it sees with great clearness, and in consequence becomes very powerful. there is only one way of holding it to its legitimate function, and that is by the supremacy of public opinion in a parliament as its final exponent. parliaments may be clumsy and at times ignorant. but they do express, it may be vaguely, but yet sufficiently, the sense of the people at large. now, notwithstanding all that had been done to educate them up to it, i do not think that the people at large in germany had ever endorsed the implications of the policy of german militarism. the social democrats certainly had not. they ought, i think, to be judged even now by what they said before the war, and not by what some, tho not all of them, said when it was pressed on them in that germany had to fight for her life. had she possessed a true parliamentary system for a generation before the war there would probably have been no war. what has happened to her is a vindication of democracy as the best political system despite certain drawbacks which attach to it. the great defect of the german imperial system was that, unless the emperor was strong enough to impose his will on his advisers, he was largely at their mercy. had they been chosen by the people, the people and not the emperor would have borne the responsibility, if the views of these advisers diverged from their own. but they were chosen by the emperor, and chosen in varying moods as to policy. the result was that, excellent as were the departments at their special work in most cases, on general policy there was no guarantee for unity of mind. the emperor lived amid a sea of conflicting opinions. the chancellor might have one idea, the foreign secretary, a prussian and not imperial minister, a different one, the chief of the general staff a third, the war minister a fourth, and the head of the admiralty a fifth. thus the kaiser was constantly being pulled at from different sides, and whichever minister had the most powerful combination at his back generally got the best of the argument. were the kaiser in an impulsive mood he might side now with one and again with another, and the result would necessarily be confusion. moreover, he had constantly to fix one eye on public opinion in germany, and another on public opinion abroad. it is therefore not surprising that germany seemed to foreigners a strange and unintelligible country, and that sudden manifestations of policy were made which shocked us here, accustomed as we were to something quite different. neither our pacifists nor our chauvinists really succeeded in diagnosing germany. on the other hand, we ourselves were a standing puzzle to the germans. they could not understand how government could be conducted in the absence of abstract principles exactly laid down. and because our democratic system was one of choosing our rulers and trusting them with a large discretion within limits, the germans always suspected that this system, with which they were unfamiliar, covered a device for concealing hidden policies. i wrote in some detail about this in an address delivered at oxford in the autumn of , and afterward published in a little volume called "universities and national life." the war has not altered the views to which i had then come. but it was not really so on either side, and it is deplorable that the two nations knew so little of each other. for i believe that the german system, wholly unadapted as it was to the modern spirit, was bound to become modified before long, and had we shown more skill and more zeal in explaining ourselves, we should probably have accelerated the process of german acceptance of the true tendencies of the age. but our statesmen took little trouble to get first-hand knowledge of the genesis of what appeared to them to be the german double dose of original sin, and, on the other hand, our chauvinists were studied in germany out of all proportion to their small number and influence. thus the berlin politicians got the wrong notions to which their tradition predisposed them. i believe that herr von bethmann hollweg was himself really more enlightened, but he could not control the admirals and generals, or the economists or historians or professors whom the admirals and generals were always trying to enlist on the side of the doctrine of _weltmacht oder niedergang_. under these circumstances all that seemed possible was to try to influence german opinion, and at the same time to insure against the real risk of failure to accomplish this before it was too late. in order to make this view of german conditions intelligible, it will be convenient in the first place to give some account of herr von bethmann hollweg's opinions as expressed in his book, and afterward to contrast them with the views of his powerful colleague, admiral von tirpitz. the ex-imperial chancellor commences his "_betrachtungen zum weltkriege_" by going back to the day when he assumed office. when prince bülow handed over the reins to him in july, , the prince gave him his views on what, in the attitude of england, had been causing the former much concern. we are not told what he actually said, but we can guess it, for bethmann hollweg goes on to indicate the origin of the cause of anxiety. it was king edward's "encirclement" policy. it might well be that the late king had no desire for war. but the result of the policy for which he and the ministers behind him stood was, so he believes, that, in all differences of opinion as to external policy, germany found england, france, and russia solidly against her, and was conscious of a continuous attempt to lead italy away from the triple alliance. "people may call this '_einkreisung_,' or policy of the balance of power, or whatever they like. the object and the achievement resulted in the founding of a group of nations of great power, whose purpose was to hinder germany at least by diplomatic means in the free development of her growing strength." sir edward grey, when taking over the conduct of foreign policy in , had declared that he would continue the policy of the late government. he hoped for improved relations with russia, and even for more satisfactory relations with germany, provided always that in the latter case these did not interfere with the friendship between england and france. this, says bethmann hollweg, had been the theme of english policy since the end of the days of "splendid isolation," and it remained so until the war broke out. he says nothing of the rapid advances which were proceeding from stage to stage in the organization of german battle-fleets to be added to her formidable army, or of the risk these advances made for england if she were to find herself without any friends outside. as regards russia, isvolsky, who had never forgiven the austrian foreign minister, count d'aerenthal, for his diplomatic victory in getting the annexation to austria of bosnia and herzegovina in , was very hostile to austria, and consequently to her ally. in the case of france, again, it was indeed true that m. jules cambon had repeatedly emphasized to the ex-chancellor the desire for more intimate relations between france and germany. but the french had never forgiven the driving of delcassé out of office, and the result of the algeciras conference had not healed the wound. besides this, there was the undying question of alsace-lorraine. the outcome of the precarious situation, says the ex-chancellor, was that england, following her traditional policy of balancing the powers of europe, was taking a firm position on the side of france and russia, while germany was increasing her naval power and giving a very definite direction to her policy in the east. the commercial rivalry between england and germany was being rendered acute politically by the growth of the german fleet. in this state of things bethmann hollweg formed the opinion that there was only one thing that could be done, to aim at withdrawing from the dual alliance the backing of england for its anti-german policy. the emperor entirely agreed with him, and it was resolved to attempt to attain this purpose by coming to an understanding with england. reading between the lines, it is pretty obvious that the ex-chancellor was at times embarrassed by the public utterances of his imperial master. him he defends throughout the book with conspicuous loyalty, and is emphatic about his desire to keep the peace, a desire founded in religious conviction. but the emperor's way was to see only one thing at the moment. i translate[ ] a passage from his chancellor's book: "if from time to time he indulged in passionate expressions about the strong position in the world of germany, his desire was that the nation, whose development beyond all expectation was filling him with conscious pride, should be spurred on to a fresh heightening of its energies. he sought to give it a continuous impulse with the energy of his enthusiastic nature. he wished his people to be strong and powerful in capacity to arm for their defense, but the german mission, which was for him a consuming faith, was yet to be a mission of work and of peace. that this work and this peace should not be destroyed by the dangers that surrounded us, was his increasing anxiety. again and again has the kaiser told me that his journey to tangier in , as to which he was quite unaware that it would lead to dangerous complications, was undertaken much against his own will, and only under pressure from his political advisers. moreover, his personal influence was strongly exerted for a settlement of the morocco crisis of . and the same sense of the need of peace gave rise to his attitude during the boer war and also during the russo-japanese war. to a ruler who really wanted war, opportunities for military intervention in the affairs of the world were truly not lacking. "critics in germany had in that period frequently pressed the point that a too frequent insistence in public on our readiness for peace was less likely to further it than, on the contrary, to strengthen the entente in its policy of altering the _status quo_. in a period of imperialism in which the talk about material power was loud, and in which the preservation of the peace of the world was considered only accidentally, like the ten years before the war, considerations such as these are undoubtedly full of significance, and perhaps the same sort of thing explains a good deal of strong language on the part of the kaiser about germany's capacity in case of war. it is certain that such utterances did not lessen the feeling of nervousness that filled the international atmosphere. but the true ground of such nervousness was the policy of the balance of power, which had split europe into two armed camps full of distrust of each other. the ambassadors of the great powers knew the kaiser intimately enough to realize what his intentions, in spite of everything, were, and it required an untruthfulness only explicable by the psychological effect of war to permit the suggestion of a hateful and distorted picture of him as a tyrant seeking for the domination of the world and for war and bloodshed." i have translated this passage from the book because i think it is instructive in its disclosure of uneasy self-consciousness on the part of the author. obviously, the emperor made his quiet-loving minister at times uncomfortable. i do not doubt that the emperor really desired peace, just as herr von bethmann hollweg tells us. yet he not only indulged himself in warlike talk, but was surrounded by a group of military and naval advisers who were preaching openly that war was inevitable, and were instructing many of the prominent intellectual leaders in their doctrine. the emperor may well have been in a difficult situation. but he was playing with fire when he made such speeches to the world as he frequently did. i believe him to have most genuinely desired to keep the peace. but i doubt whether he was willing to pay the price for entry on the only path along which it could have been made secure. he was a man of many sides, with a genius for speaking winged words as part of his equipment. he was a dangerous leader for germany under conditions which had already caused even a bismarck concern. the result was that the world took him to be the ally, not of bethmann hollweg, but of tirpitz, and what that meant we shall see when we come to the latter's book. i can not say that i think the judgment of the world was other than, to put the matter at its lowest, the natural and probable result of his language, and i find nothing in the ex-chancellor's volume to lead me to a different conclusion. the argument of that volume is that england should never have entered the entente, for that by doing so she strengthened france and russia so as to enable them to indulge the will for war. he assumes that there was this will as beyond doubt. but suppose england had not entered the entente, what then? on herr von bethmann hollweg's own showing france and russia would have remained too weak to entertain the hope of success in a conflict with the triple alliance. germany could, under these circumstances, have herself compelled these powers to an entente or even an alliance. england would have been in such a case left in isolation in days in which isolation had ceased to be "splendid." for great as was her navy, it could not have been relied upon as sufficient to protect her adequately against the combined navies of germany, france, russia, and austria, with that of italy possibly added. it was the apprehension occasioned by germany's warlike policy that made it an unavoidable act of prudence to enter into the entente. it was our only means of making our sea power secure and able to protect us against threats of invasions by great continental armies. the emperor and his chancellor should therefore have thought of some other way of securing the peace than that of trying to detach us from the entente. the alternative was obvious. germany should have offered to cease to pile up armaments, if our desire for friendly relations all round could be so extended as to bring all the powers belonging to both groups into them, along with england. but the german policy of relying on superior strength in armaments as the true guarantee of peace did not admit of this. i am no admirer of the principle of the balance of power. i should like to say good-bye to it. i prefer the principle of a league of nations, if that be practicable, or, at the very least, of an entente comprising all the powers. but if neither of these alternatives be possible there remains, for the people who desire to be secure, only the method of the balance of power. now germany drove us to this by her indisposition to change her traditional policy and to be content to rely on the settlement of specific differences for the good feeling that always tends to result. she had, it is true, the misfortune for so strong a nation to have been born a hundred years too late. she had got less in africa than she might have had. we were ready to help her to a place in the sun there and elsewhere in the world, and to give up something for this end, if only we could secure peace and contentment on her part. but she would not have it so, and she chose to follow the principle of relying on the "mailed fist." of this policy, when pursued recklessly, bismarck well understood the danger. "prestige politics," as he called them, he hated. in february, , he laid down in a well-known speech what he held to be the true principle. "every great power which seeks to exert pressure on the politics of other countries, and to direct affairs outside the sphere of interest which god has assigned to it, carries on politics of power, and not of interest; it works for prestige." but that principle was not consistently followed by william the second. into the detailed story of his departure from it i have not space to enter. but those who wish to follow this will do well to read the narrative contained in an admirable and open-minded book by mr. harbutt dawson, "the german empire from to ," in the second volume of which the story is told in detail. instead of trying to alter the traditional attitude of germany to her neighbors, herr von bethmann hollweg let it continue. that he did not want it to continue i am pretty sure. at page of his book he appeals to me, personally, to recall the words he used in a conversation we had one evening in february, , words in which he sought to show me that "a proper understanding between our two nations would guarantee the peace of the world, and would lead the powers by degrees from the phantom of armed imperialism to the opposite pole of peaceful work together in the world." i remember his words, and with them i would remind him that i wholly agreed. i had myself used similar language in anticipation, and had begged him not to insist on our accepting an obligation of absolute neutrality under all conditions which might prove inconsistent with our duty of loyalty to france, now a friendly neighbor, a duty which rested on no military obligation, but on kindly feeling and regard. it was such friendship and mutual regard that i was striving, with the assent of the british cabinet, to bring about with germany also, and by the same means through which it had been accomplished in the case of france. not by any secret military convention, for we had entered into no communications which bound us to do more than study conceivable possibilities in a fashion which the german general staff would look on as mere matter of routine for a country the shores of which lay so near to those of france, but by removing all material causes of friction. and when herr von bethmann hollweg adds of my reply that "even he preferred the power of english dreadnoughts and the friendship of france," i must remind him of the words sanctioned beforehand when submitted by me to sir edward grey, with which i began our conversation. i reproduce them from the record i made immediately after the conversation to which i have already referred in the preceding chapter, on which i again draw for further minor details. and i wish to say, in passing, that both herr von bethmann hollweg and admiral von tirpitz have given in their books accounts of what passed in my conversations with them which tally substantially, so far as the words used are concerned, with my own notes and recollections. it is mainly as to the inferences they now draw from my then attitude that i have any controversy with them, and, in the case of admiral von tirpitz, to some slight inaccuracies which have arisen from misconstruction. the ex-imperial chancellor asked the question whether i was to talk to him officially, the difficulty being that he could not divest himself of his official position, and that it would be awkward to speak with me in a purely private capacity. i said i had come officially, so far as the approval of the king and the cabinet was concerned, but merely to talk over the ground, and not to commit either himself or my own government at this stage to definite propositions. at the first interview, which took place in the british embassy, on thursday, february , , and lasted for more than an hour and a half, i began by giving him a message of good wishes for the conversations and for the future of anglo-german relations, with which the king had entrusted me at the audience i had before leaving london. i proceeded to ask whether he wished to make the first observations himself, or desired that i should begin. he wished me to begin, and i went on at once to speak to him in the sense arranged in the discussions i had with sir edward grey before leaving london. i told him that i felt there had been a great deal of drifting away between germany and england, and that it was important to ask what was the cause. to ascertain this, events of recent history had to be taken into account. germany had built up, and was building up, magnificent armaments, and, with the aid of the triple alliance, she had become the center of a tremendous group. the natural consequence was that other powers had tended to approximate. i was not questioning for a moment germany's right to her policy, but this was the natural and inevitable consequence in the interests of security. we used to have much the same situation with france, when she was very powerful on the seas, that we had with germany now. while the fact to which i had referred created a difficulty, the difficulty was not insuperable; for two groups of powers might be on very friendly relations if there was only an increasing sense of mutual understanding and confidence. the present seemed to me to be a favorable moment for a new departure. the morocco question was now out of the way, and we had no agreements with france or russia except those that were in writing and published to the world. the chancellor here interrupted me, and asked me whether this was really so. i said it was so, and that, in the situation which now existed, i saw no reason why it should not be possible for us to enter into a new and cordial friendship carrying the two old ones into it, perhaps to the profit of russia and france, as well as of germany herself. he replied that he had no reason to differ from this view. he and i both referred to the war scare of the autumn of , and he observed that we had made military preparations. i was aware that the german military attaché in london had reported at that time to berlin that we had so reorganized our army as to be in a position, if we desired to do so, to send six of our new infantry divisions and at least one cavalry division swiftly to france. the chancellor obviously had this in his mind, and i told him that the preparations made were only those required to bring the capacity of our small british army, in point of mobilization for eventualities which must be clear to him, to something approaching the standard of that celerity in its operations which moltke had long ago accomplished for germany and which was with her now a matter of routine. for this purpose we had studied our deficiencies and modes of operation. this, however, concerned our own direct interests, and was a purely departmental matter concerning the war office, and the minister who had the most to do with it was the one who was now talking to him and who was not wanting in friendly feeling toward germany. we could not run the risk of being caught unprepared. as both herr von bethmann hollweg and admiral von tirpitz have devoted a good deal of attention to these and other conversations in their books, i have felt at liberty here and in the last chapter to state what, i am bound to observe, had better not, as it seems to me personally, have been held back for so long--the exact nature of that which actually passed when i was sent to berlin in february, . accordingly, it is only necessary that i should add here a few words more about what indeed appears in most of its detail from the versions given by the two german ministers concerned themselves. i refused, not only because i had been instructed to do so, but because in my own opinion it was vital that i should refuse, to negotiate excepting on the basis of absolute loyalty to the entente with france and russia. the german government asked for a covenant of absolute neutrality. this i could not look at. i had the same feeling about such an agreement for unconditional neutrality as caprivi had when he was asked to renew the reinsurance treaty which bismarck made with russia at skiernevice in , and under which, notwithstanding that germany might come to owe a duty to austria to support her as her military ally, he bound germany to observe neutrality in case russia were attacked by her. so far as appeared this reinsurance treaty probably had suggested the wording of the analogous formula which the chancellor was proposing to myself. but altho we were not under the obligation to france which germany was under to austria in , i felt, to use the words of caprivi himself, when he succeeded bismarck, and was asked to renew the engagement with russia, that the arrangement was "too complicated" for my comprehension. it would have been not only wrong to expose a friendly france to the risk of being dismembered by an unjustifiable invasion, while her friend england merely stood looking on, but it would also have been prejudicial to our safety. for to have allowed germany to take possession of the northern ports of france would have been to imperil our island security. the chancellor was entitled to make the request he did, but i was bound to refuse it. i also, at the same time, told him that if germany went on increasing her navy, any agreement with us meant to lead to better relations would be little more than "bones without flesh." germany might, indeed, as he had said, need a third training squadron, in addition to the two she had already in the north sea. this we could easily meet by moving more of our ships to northern waters, without having to increase the number we were building independently. but if she had the idea of adding to her fleet on a considerable scale we should be bound to lay down two keels to every one of her new ships, and the inevitable result would be, no proportionate increase in her strength relatively to ours, but of a certainty a good deal of bad feeling. i may observe that at the date of this conversation the new german fleet bill had not been made public, and we knew nothing of its contents in london, excepting that a third squadron for training was to be added to the two which were already there. for this purpose it had been said that a few ships and a moderate increase in personnel would be all that was required. before i left berlin the emperor, as i mentioned in the preceding chapter, handed to me, with friendly frankness and with permission to show it to my colleagues, an advance copy of the new bill. it looked to me as if, when scrutinized, its proposals might prove more formidable than we had anticipated. but i asked his permission to abstain from trying to form any judgment on this question without the aid of the british admiralty, and i put it in my pocket and handed it to the first lord of the admiralty at a cabinet held on monday, february , in the afternoon of the day on which i returned to london. i was not very sure as to what might prove to be contained in this bill, and my misgivings were confirmed by our admiralty experts, who found in it a program of destroyers, submarines, and personnel far in excess of anything indicated in the only rumors that had reached us. after we had to abandon the idea of getting germany to accept the carefully guarded formula of neutrality which was all that we could entertain, the cabinet sanctioned without delay the additions to our navy which were required to counter these increases. our policy was to avoid conflagration by every effort possible, and at the same time to insure the house in case of failure. i felt throughout these conversations that the chancellor was sincerely desirous of meeting me in the effort to establish good relations between the two countries. but he was hampered by the difficulty of changing the existing policy of building up armaments which was imposed on him. in only one way could he manage this, and that was by getting me to agree to a formula of absolute neutrality under all circumstances. the other, the better, and the only way that was admissible for us, the way in which we had surmounted all difficulties with france and russia, he was not free to enter on, tho i believe that he really wished to. hence the attempt at a complete agreement failed. but, as he says himself, much good came of these initial conversations, and still more of the subsequent conversations which followed on them in london between sir edward grey and the german ambassador. candor became the order of the day, minor difficulties were smoothed over, and a treaty for territorial rearrangements, of the general character discussed in berlin, was finally agreed on, and was likely to have been signed had the war not intervened. as to the rest of the narrative in the ex-chancellor's book, this is not the place to deal with it. his view that germany was doing her best to moderate the rash action in vienna which resulted in the declaration of war on serbia, while england was doing much less to restrain the course of events at st. petersburg, is not one which it is easy to bring into harmony with the documents published. this is a part of the history of events before the war which has already been exhaustively dealt with by others, and it is no part of the purpose of these pages to write of matters about which i have no first-hand knowledge. for i had little opportunity of taking any direct part in our affairs with germany after my final visit to that country, which was in . my duties as lord chancellor were too engrossing. there are, however, in this connection just two topics toward the end of the book which are of such interest that i will refer to them before passing away from it. the first is the story that there was a crown council at potsdam on july , , at which the emperor determined on war. this herr von bethmann hollweg denies. he explains that in the morning of that day the austrian ambassador lunched with the emperor, presumably at potsdam, and took the opportunity of handing to him a letter written by the emperor of austria personally, together with a memorandum on policy drawn up in vienna. this memorandum contained a detailed plan for opposing russian enterprise in the balkan peninsula by energetic diplomatic pressure. against a hostile serbia and an unreliable roumania resort was to be had to bulgaria and turkey, with a view to the establishment of a balkan league, excluding serbia, to be formed under the ægis of the central powers. the serajevo murder was declared to have demonstrated the aggressive and irreconcilable character of serbian policy. the austrian emperor's letter endorsed the views contained in the memorandum, and added that, if the agitation in belgrade continued, the pacific views of the powers were in danger. the german emperor said that he must consult his chancellor before answering, and sent for bethmann hollweg and the under-secretary, zimmermann. he saw them in the afternoon in the park of the neues palais at potsdam. the chancellor thinks that no one else was present. it was agreed that the situation was very serious. the ex-chancellor says that he had already learned the tenor of these austrian documents, altho he did not see the text of the subsequent ultimatum to serbia until july . it was determined that it was no part of the duty of germany to give advice to her ally as to how she should deal with the serajevo murder. but every effort was to be made to prevent the controversy between austria and serbia from developing into an international conflict. it was useful to try to bring in bulgaria, but roumania had better be left out of account. these conclusions were in accordance with the chancellor's own opinion, and when he returned to berlin he communicated them to the austrian ambassador. germany would do what she could to make roumania friendly, and austria was told that in any case she might rely on her ally, germany, to stand firmly by her side. the next day the emperor set off in his yacht for the northern seas. the chancellor says he advised him to do this because the expedition was one which the emperor had been in the habit of making every year at that season, and it would cause talk if this usual journey were to be abandoned. the other point relates to the date on which the german chancellor saw the text of the austrian ultimatum to serbia. he tells us that it was brought to him for the first time on the evening of july by herr von jagow, the foreign secretary, who had just received it from the austrian ambassador. the chancellor says that von jagow thought the ultimatum too strongly worded, and wished for some delay. but when he told the ambassador this the answer was that the document had already been dispatched, and it was published in the vienna _telegraph_ the next morning. the conclusion of the chancellor is that the stories of the crown council at potsdam on july , and of the co-operation of the german government in preparing the ultimatum, are mere legends. the question of substance as regards the first may be left for interpretation by posterity. as to the controversy about the second, it would be interesting to know whether herr von tschirsky, the german ambassador at vienna, knew of the ultimatum before it assumed the form in which it reached berlin on july . i shall have more to say about these incidents later on when i come to admiral von tirpitz's account of them. my criticism of herr von bethmann hollweg is in no case founded on any doubt at all as to his veracity. i formed, in the course of my dealings with him, a high opinion of his integrity. but in his reasoning he is apt to let circumstances escape his notice which are in a large degree material for forming a judgment. this does not seem to me to arise from any deliberate intention to be otherwise than candid. i am sure that he believes that he is telling the full truth at all times. but he became a convinced partizan, quite intelligibly. this fact, however creditable to his patriotism, seems to me not only to explain why he thought it right to continue in office and stand by his country as long as he could through the war, but also to detract somewhat from the weight that would otherwise attach to the opinions of an honorable and well-meaning man. i pass to the examination of the concurrent policy against which he could not prevail, and the existence of which takes the edge off his reasoning. that policy is expounded fully and clearly by admiral von tirpitz, a german of the traditional military school, a man of great ability, and one who rarely if ever allowed himself to be deflected from pursuing a concentrated purpose to the utmost of his power. of the general character of this purpose his colleague, bethmann hollweg, was conscious, as appears from passages in the book just discussed, of which i have selected one for translation. "the fleet was the favorite child of germany, for in it the onward-pressing energies of the nation seemed to be most vividly illustrated. the application of the most modern technical skill, and the organization that had been worked out with so much care, were admired, and rightly so. to the doubts of those versed in affairs whether we were pursuing our true path by building great battleships, there was opposed a fanatical public opinion which was not disciplined in the interest of those responsible for the direction of affairs. reflections about the difficult international troubles to which our naval policy was giving rise were held in check by a robust agitation. in the navy itself the consciousness was by no means everywhere present that the navy must be only an instrument of policy and not its determining factor. the conduct of naval policy had for many years rested in the hands of a man who claimed to exercise _political_ authority over his department, and who influenced unbrokenly the political opinion of wider circles. where differences arose between the admiralty and the civilian leadership, public opinion was almost without exception on the side of the admiralty. any attempt to take into consideration relative proportions in the strength of other nations was treated as being the outcome of a weak-minded apprehension of the foreigner." when i was in berlin in , the last year in which, as i have already said, i visited germany, there were those who thought that bethmann hollweg would shortly be superseded as chancellor by his powerful rival, admiral von tirpitz. but in these days the peace party in that country was pretty strong, and the then chancellor was regarded as a cautious and safe man. it was later on, in , when the new military law, with £ , , of fresh expenditure, was passed, that the situation became much more doubtful. but the hesitation that existed in government circles in berlin earlier was never shared by the author of the "_erinnerungen_," to which i now pass. one has only to look at the portrait at the beginning of that volume to see what sort of a man the author is. a strong man certainly, a descendant of the class which clustered round the great moltke, and gave much anxiety at times to bismarck himself. [illustration: admiral alfred p. von tirpitz lord high admiral of the german imperial navy from to .] the admiral possesses a "general staff" mind of a high order. a mind of this type has never been given a chance of systematic development in the english navy, where the distinction between strategy and tactics, on the one hand, and administration on the other, has never been so sharply laid down as it has been, following the great moltke, in germany. even moltke himself was not satisfied with what had been accomplished in germany in this direction by the army. he is said to have complained that the general staff building, which was put in the thiergarten, while the war office was in berlin itself, near the corner of the wilhelmstrasse, was only one mile distant from the war office, when it should have been two. for he held that the exactness of demarcation of function, which was only to be attained if strategy and tactics were studied continuously by a specially chosen body of experts, could not be made complete if the war office could get too easily at the general staff. but what he accomplished at least gave rise to a school of exact military thought far in advance of any that had preceded it. the fruits of this were reaped in the war with austria in , and still more in that with france in . and when the navy was first organized this principle was introduced into its organization, first by stosch and then by caprivi. both of these had been trained in the great moltke's ideas, and it was because of this that, altho soldiers, they were chosen to model the organization of the german navy. it is true that we have beaten the german navy. that was because, as tirpitz himself admits, we possessed, not only superior numbers, but a tradition of long standing and a spirit in our fleet which germany had not built up. but we shall do well not to overlook what he has to say about the procedure of basing strategy and tactics on exact knowledge, and careful study, especially when such ideas as that of landing small expeditionary forces on enemy territory by means of a naval expedition, are being considered, nor what he says of his efforts to make this procedure real. numbers are not always sufficient. they are not likely to be large for a long time to come, and the study of all possibilities and of modern conditions is therefore more important than ever. the british army knows this. it is not so clear that the british navy is equally informed about the necessity of bearing the principle in mind. tirpitz never served in the army, but he was brought up under the influence of these great soldiers. his first experience was indeed mainly in technical matters of construction. but he never let go the true principle of an admiral or war staff, and the result was that he considered, and not wholly without reason, that he was leading the german navy on lines which were in the end likely to make it, when fully developed, a more powerful instrument than the british navy. instead of studying merely the lessons of the past, as we here seek them in, for instance, the history of the seven years' war of more than a century and a half ago, or in the operations of nelson carried out a hundred years since, he insisted that the german navy should study systematically modern problems, and in particular combined naval and military operations. in england we had no war staff for the navy until , and our senior admirals disliked the idea. consequently such staff study of military problems has never been properly developed, the wishes of our junior naval officers notwithstanding. in germany the idea was regarded as a vital one throughout by tirpitz. the first chapter of tirpitz's book describes the beginnings of the german navy. the second deals with the stosch period. the third is devoted to the administration of caprivi during the time when he was head of the admiralty, and extends to the period when he became chancellor. the fourth is devoted to construction. the fifth describes the disastrous breaking up of the naval administration into boards, to which the author says the emperor william ii. allowed himself to be persuaded. the sixth chapter is directed to tactical developments, a subject in which admiral tirpitz himself did much. the seventh deals with naval plans. the eighth contains a very interesting description of how he was sent to find a naval base in chinese waters, and how he selected and developed, with german thoroughness, tsingtau (kiaochow). the ninth chapter begins the story of the difficulties he experienced when refused sufficient money and freedom while he was minister of marine. the tenth gives a vividly written account of his visits to bismarck. the next five chapters are devoted to the development of the german navy and its relation to foreign policy. the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth chapters are concerned with the author's views of the reasons for the outbreak of the war of , and its history. the nineteenth is a chapter devoted to the submarine war, and to a farewell apostrophe to a germany lost by bad leading and vagueness in objectives. there is also a supplement, containing letters written by him from time to time during the war, and his observations on what ought to have been the consistent policy of germany in construction of battleships and submarines. the great thesis of the book is that the only way to preserve the peace was to make europe fear german strength, and that this imported such battle-fleets as would attract allies to germany for protection, and would thus in the end weaken the entente. england was the real enemy, and england could not be dislodged from her powerful position in the world so long as she was allowed to continue in command of the ocean. for bethmann hollweg's alternative policy of a peaceful _rapprochement_ with england he has no words but those of contempt. he, too, he says, had ideas as to how to keep the peace, but they were diametrically different from those of his colleague the chancellor. on him he pours scorn for his attempts at departure from the policy of frederick the great and bismarck. tirpitz had been deeply impressed by the writings of admiral mahan. he himself drew from them the lesson that in ultimate analysis world-power for germany depended on the sea-power which she had not got, and he set himself to build it up. he endeavored to educate on this subject, not only the reichstag, where he says he had much opposition, but the public. under prince bülow this was less difficult than he subsequently found it. his account of how the minister of education and the university professors helped him, and of how he contrived to enlist the press, is as interesting as it is significant. but his great difficulty was obviously with william the second. the emperor had done much for fleet construction, and was so interested in it that he meddled at every turn in technical and strategical matters alike. the ministry of marine was not allowed to carry out the admiral's own plans and conceptions. and when bethmann came on the scene the situation became, according to the former, even worse. he moans over the apparent limitlessness of the money and authority with which the english admiralty was provided by parliament and the nation. at last he carried with his colleagues and in the reichstag the policy of fleet laws, under which the reichstag passed measures which took construction, in part at least, from off the annual navy vote, and he got through the succession of acts that laid down programs extending over several years. richter and other distinguished public men fought tirpitz over these, but, in part at least, he got his way, and secured the nearest approach to continuity that his ever-supervising sovereign would permit to him. what tirpitz says he asked for above everything was a definite policy for war, and this he could not get the leave of bethmann to lay down, nor could he get the volatile emperor to stick to definite conceptions of it. for coast defense he had a supreme contempt. the great german army would take care of this, so far as invasion was concerned, and an adequate battle-fleet would do the rest. it is noticeable that apparently he never even dreamed of trying to invade england with her fleet protection. it was in quite another way that he intended, if necessary, to harass this country. he wanted to threaten our commerce and to be able to break any blockade of germany. german sea-power was to be made strong enough to attract allies by its ability to rally all free nations without any curatorship by the anglo-saxons. this is what he says his war objectives were. he bitterly complains of the opposition to them and to himself which he met with from such papers as the _frankfurter zeitung_, and from the influence of certain of his colleagues. constitutionalism he appears to have hated. the democracy of germany was not suited to such leading as lloyd george, during the war, gave to england, and clemenceau to france. in germany, he declares, a strong hand is always required, and a revolution is inevitable in case the hand is weak, and defeat follows. for germany needed "the prussian-german state." the tradition of frederick the great and bismarck was its protecting spirit. can we wonder, if the narrative of this capable man is accurate, that bethmann struggled for his rival policy of conciliation in the face of almost insuperable difficulties? tirpitz had a strong party at his back, both in prussia and elsewhere. what made it strong was largely that its members shared his view of england and of the situation. "they looked to us," he says, "it was the last chance of international freedom." i thought in that bethmann might in the end win, for in the main at that time the emperor was with him, and so were ballin and many others of great influence. the social democrats, too, were gaining influence rapidly. but the presence of a powerful school of thought at the back of tirpitz, a school which, had it succeeded, would have secured the place it desired by reducing to a precarious state the life of my own country, made me feel that, while we must do all we could to extend our friendships so as to convert and bring in germany, the chances of success did not preponderate sufficiently to justify relaxation of either vigilance in preparation or resolution in policy. my feeling remained what i had tried to express in the address delivered at oxford in august of . "i wish," i said then, "all our politicians who concern themselves with anglo-german relations, those who are pro-german as well as those who are not, could go to berlin and learn something, not only of the language and intellectual history of prussia, but of the standpoint of her people--and of the disadvantages as well as the advantages of an excessive lucidity of conception. nowhere else in germany that i know of is this to be studied so advantageously and so easily as in berlin, the seat of government, the headquarters of _real-politik_, and it seems to me most apparent among the highly educated classes there." bismarck does not appear to have known much while in office about tirpitz, and when the latter desired later on to enlist his outside support he did not find it at first easy. but, having with some difficulty got the assent of the emperor to a new ship being named after bismarck, he in the end got from the latter permission to visit him at friedrichsruh in . there tirpitz arrived at noon. the family were at luncheon. he tells us how the prince sat at the head of the table, and how he rose, cool but polite, and remained standing till tirpitz was seated. the prince assumed the air of one suffering from sharp neuralgic pain, and he kept pressing the side of his head with a small indiarubber hot-water bottle. it was only with an appearance of difficulty that he uttered, and his food was minced meat. however, when he had drunk a bottle and a half of german champagne (_sect_) he became animated. after the dishes were removed, countess wilhelm bismarck lit his great pipe for him, and with the other ladies quitted the room. the atmosphere was one of gloomy silence. but the great man suddenly broke it by raising his formidable eyebrows, and directing a grim look at tirpitz, whom he appears next to have asked whether he himself was a tomcat that needed only to be stroked in order to procure sparks to be emitted. tirpitz then timidly unfolded his plans and his policy of building big battleships. bismarck was critical, and turned his criticism to other matters also. he denounced as disastrous the abrogation by caprivi and william the second of the treaty he (bismarck) had made with russia for reinsurance. bismarck declared that, in case of an anglo-russian war, our policy was contained in the simple words: neutrality as regards russia. the modest tirpitz ventured to suggest that only a fleet strong enough to be respected could make germany worthy of an alliance in the eyes of russia and other powers. bismarck rejected this almost angrily. the english he thought little of. if they tried to invade germany the landwehr would knock them down with the butt-ends of their rifles. that a close blockade might knock germany down never seemed to occur to him. however, in the end tirpitz says that the prince became mollified and expressed agreement with the view that an increased fleet was necessary. bismarck then invited the admiral to go with him for a drive in the forest. despite the neuralgia, this drive, which took place amid showers of rain, lasted for two hours. the carriage, moreover, was open. there were two bottles of beer, one on the right and the other on the left of the prince, which they drank on the way, and he smoked his pipe continuously. "it was not easy to keep pace with his giant constitution." for the details of the conversation, which was conducted in english so that the coachman might not understand it, i must refer the reader to the chapter in which it is described. the old warrior spoke with affection of the emperor frederick, but as regarded his son william, he appears to have let himself go. tirpitz was to tell the latter that he, bismarck, only wanted to be let alone, and die in peace. his task was ended. he had "no future and no hopes." tirpitz saw bismarck twice subsequently. the last time was on the occasion of a surprize visit to him by the emperor. this visit was not wholly a success. the conversation got on to unfortunate lines. bismarck began to speak of politics, and the emperor ignored what he said and did not reply. the younger moltke, who was present, whispered to tirpitz, "it is terrible," alluding to the emperor's want of reverence. when the emperor left, his minister, von lucanus, who was with him, held out his hand to the old prince. but lucanus had formerly intrigued against him. consequently he "sat like a statue, not a muscle moved. he gazed into the air, and before him lucanus made gestures in vain." all this notwithstanding, tirpitz seems to have made a good impression. for after these visits the bismarck press began to speak favorably of him. but i must not linger over side issues. the book is so full of interesting material that in writing about it one has to resolve not to be led away from the vital points by its digressions. one of these points is that to which i have already made reference in giving the chancellor's views about it, the responsibility for what happened in july, , and in particular for the decision taken on the th of that month at potsdam. it is interesting to compare tirpitz's account of the meeting that took place then, on the invitation of the emperor, with that of bethmann, altho the former was not present, and bases his judgment only on what was reported to him as minister. he gives an account of what happened which makes the meeting seem a more important one than the ex-chancellor takes it to have been. the admiral's view is that at this date what was urgently wanted was "prompt and frank" action. austria should not have been allowed to rush upon serbia, however just her causes for anger. on the other hand the german emperor should have at once and directly appealed to the czar to co-operate with him in endeavoring to secure such a response to reason and expression of contrition on the part of serbia as would have eased off the situation, which was full of danger. for, with an unfriendly entente interesting itself, no war which broke out was likely to be capable of being kept localized. tirpitz was not in berlin on july , but he received reports from there of what was happening. neither he nor von moltke, the chief of the general staff, was consulted, but tirpitz declares that the emperor saw at potsdam the minister of war, von falkenhayn, and also the minister of the military cabinet, von lyncker. if so, whether or not the conference was technically a crown council, the meeting was a very important one. tirpitz confirms bethmann in saying that, prompted by chivalrous feeling, the german emperor responded to the emperor of austria by promising support and fidelity. he declares that the emperor william did not consider the intervention of russia to protect serbia as probable, because he thought that the czar would never support regicides, and that, besides, russia was not prepared for war, either in a military or financial sense. moreover, the emperor somewhat optimistically presumed that france would hold russia back on account of her own disadvantageous state of finance and her lack of heavy artillery. the emperor did not refer to england; complications with that country were not thought of. the emperor's view thus was that a further extension of dangerous complications was unlikely. his hope was that serbia would give in, but he considered it desirable that germany should be prepared in case of a different issue of the austro-serbian dispute. it was for that reason that he had on the th commanded the chancellor, bethmann hollweg; the minister of war, von falkenhayn; the under-secretary of state for foreign affairs, zimmermann; and the minister of the war cabinet, von lyncker, to potsdam. it was then decided that all steps should be avoided which would attract political attention or involve much expense. after this decision the emperor, on the advice of the chancellor, started on his journey to the north cape, for which arrangements had already been made. the duty of the chancellor under the circumstances was to consider any promise to be given to austria from the standpoint of german interests, and to keep watch on the method of its fulfilment. the chancellor, says his critic, did not hesitate to accept the decision of the emperor, apparently imagining that austria's position as a great power was already shaken and would collapse unless she could insist on being compensated at the expense of the greedy serbians. he probably had in his mind the success obtained in the earlier balkan crisis over bosnia and herzegovina. he goes on to tell us that he was not informed as to what the emperor was thinking of during his tour in northern waters, but that he had reason to believe that he did not anticipate serious danger to the peace of the world. and he observes, as a characteristic of the emperor, that when he was not apprehensive of danger he would express himself without restraint about the traditions of his illustrious predecessors, but the moment matters began to look critical his became a hesitating mood. the admiral thinks that if the emperor had not left berlin, and if the full government machinery had been at work, means might have been found by the emperor and the ministry of averting the danger of war. as, however, the chief of the general staff, the head of the admiralty staff, and tirpitz himself were kept away from berlin during the following weeks, the matter was handled solely by the chancellor, who, being in truth not sufficiently experienced in great european affairs, was not able to estimate the reliability of those who were advising him in the foreign office. [illustration: count leopold berchtold minister of foreign affairs of austria-hungary from feb. to jan. .] von tirpitz goes on to say that by july the berlin foreign office had heard that the entente had advised yielding at belgrade. the chancellor, he declares, could now have brought about a peaceful solution, but, convinced as he was that the entente did not mean war, he drew the shortsighted conclusion that austria, without considering the entente, might force a march into serbia and yet not endanger the world's peace. his optimism was disastrous. on july he (the chancellor) was, according to tirpitz, informed of the essential points in the proposed austrian ultimatum. bethmann, as already stated, says that he did not see the ultimatum itself until the nd, when it had already been dispatched. but he does not say that he had been given no forecast of its contents from the german ambassador at vienna. tirpitz quotes, but without giving its exact date, a memorandum sent to him at tarasp apparently just after the th. it was forwarded from the admiralty, and was in these terms: "our ambassador in vienna, herr von tschirsky, has ascertained privately, as well as from count berchtold, that the ultimatum to be sent by austria to serbia will contain the following demands: i. a proclamation of king peter to his people in which he will command them to abstain from greater serbian agitation. ii. participation of a higher austrian official in the investigation of the assassination. iii. dismissal and punishment of all officers and officials proved to be accomplices." tirpitz says that his first impression, when he received this document in tarasp, was that serbia could not possibly accept the terms of such an ultimatum. and he adds that he believed neither in the possibility of localizing the war nor in the neutrality of england. in his view the greatest care was required to reassure the russian government, especially as england would wish "to let war break out in order to establish the balance of power on the continent as she understood it." but the chancellor expressed the wish that he should not return to berlin, for his doing so might give rise to remarks. if this be so, it seems to have been a very unfortunate step. the emperor and his most important ministers should all have been in berlin at such a time. bethmann's advice appears intelligible only if he thought, as is quite possible, that he could himself handle the negotiations best if the emperor and tirpitz were both out of the way. if so, he was not successful. he did not in the end respond to sir edward grey's wish for a conference, and earlier he had failed to bridle the impulsive ally who was dashing wildly about. it looks as tho, however good his intentions may have been, he was taking terrible risks. now this was the crucial period. grey was doing his very utmost to avert war, and was even pressing serbia to accept the bulk of what was in the ultimatum. as to his real intentions, i may, without presumption, claim to be better informed than admiral von tirpitz. sir edward grey and i had been intimate friends for over a quarter of a century before the period in which the admiral, who, so far as i know, never saw him, diagnoses the state of his intentions. during the eight years previous to july, , we had been closely associated and were working as colleagues in the cabinets of sir henry campbell-bannerman and mr. asquith. and in that july, throughout the weeks in question, sir edward was staying with me in my house in london, and considering with me the telegrams and incidents, great or small. it is a pure myth that he had, at the back of his mind, any such intentions as the admiral imagines. he was working with every fiber put in action for the keeping of the peace. he was pressing for that in st. petersburg, in paris, in berlin, in vienna, and in belgrade. he was not in the least influenced either by jealousy of germany's growth or by fear of a naval engagement with her, as tirpitz infers. all he wanted was to fulfil what, for him, was the sacred trust that had been committed to him, the duty of throwing the whole weight of england's influence on the side of peace. and that was not less the view of mr. asquith, whom i knew equally intimately, and it was the view of all my colleagues in the cabinet. germany was going ahead with giant strides in commerce and industry, but we had not the slightest title to be jealous or to complain when she was only reaping the fruits of her own science and concentration on peaceful arts. i had said this myself emphatically to the emperor at berlin in in a conversation the record of which has already been given. there was no responsible person in this country who dreamt, either in or in the years before then, of interfering with germany's fleet development merely because it could protect her growing commerce. what responsible people did object to was the method of those who belonged to the tirpitz school. the peace was to be preserved; i give that school full credit for this desire; but preserved on what terms? on the terms that the german was to be so strong by land and sea that he could swagger down the high street of the world, making his will prevail at every turn. but this was not the worst, so far as england was concerned. the school of von tirpitz would not be content unless they could control england's sea power. they would have accepted a two-to-three keel standard because it would have been enough to enable them to secure allies and to break up the entente. now it was vital to us that germany should not succeed in attaining this end. for if she did succeed in attaining it, not only our security from invasion, but our transport of food and raw materials, would be endangered. with a really friendly germany or with a league of nations the situation would have mattered much less. it was the policy of the school to which tirpitz and the emperor himself belonged which made the situation one of growing danger and the entente a necessity, for these were days when other nations near us were beginning to organize great battle-fleets. if bethmann hollweg's policy had prevailed there would have been no necessity for any such entente as was the only way of safety for us. but he could not carry his policy through, earnestly tho he desired to do so, and thus provide the true way to permanent peaceful relations. i think he believed that the only use britain ever contemplated making of her navy, should peace continue, was that of a policeman who co-operates with others in watching lest anyone should jostle his neighbor on the maritime highway. he believed in the _sittlichkeit_, which we here mean when we speak of "good form." but that was not the faith of his critics in berlin. they wanted to have russia, and if possible france also, along with their navies, on the side of germany. peace, yes, but peace compelled by fear--a very unwholesome and unstable kind of peace, and deadly for the interests of an island nation. hence the entente! what we had to do was to prevent, if we could, the tirpitz school from getting its way, and we tried this not without some measure of success. even to-day our pacifists now join with chauvinist critics of a policy which was pursued steadily for many years, and was that of campbell-bannerman as well as of asquith. they reproach us for having entered on our path without having adequately increased our naval and military resources. the reproach is not a just one. it is founded on a complete misconception of the true military situation. it is only necessary to read carefully through admiral von tirpitz's very instructive volume to see that he took precisely the same view as we did, and as was held to unswervingly by our committee of imperial defense. england's might lay in final analysis in her sea power. she needed also a small but very perfect army, capable of high rapidity in concentration by the side of the great french army, in order to prevent the coasts of france close to our own from being occupied by an enemy invading french territory. in his book the admiral refers to a letter i wrote to _the times_ on december , , pointing this out and the grounds on which the strategical conception was based. the admiral expresses his agreement, and says that it was a fatal blunder of the german highest command not to use their submarine power at the very outbreak of the war to prevent our expeditionary force from crossing the channel and co-operating in resisting the german advance towards calais. from there germany could have commanded the channel and bombarded london. so he says, and we were quite aware all along that he might well think so. the other thing that he makes plain by implication is that the direct invasion of england was never contemplated by germany in the face of our command of the sea. i had long ago satisfied myself that this was the german view, by a study of their military textbooks and from conversations with high german officers. but, what was more important than what i personally thought, the committee of imperial defense, on which i sat regularly during eight years, was clear about it, and this after close study, and after hearing what the most eminent exponents in this country of a different view had to urge before them. consequently our military policy was not doubtful. no doubt it would have been a nice thing could we have possessed in a great army fashioned and trained, not for firing rifles on the seashore, but for a struggle on french and belgian soil. but such an army would have taken two generations at least to raise and train in peace time, and if we had laid out our money on it after instead of on ships, we should not have had the sea power which tirpitz says gave us "bulldog" strength. in strategy and in military organization you can not successfully bestride two horses at once. he who would accomplish anything has to limit himself. possibly it was because this was not clearly kept in view even in germany that the volume before us is an exposition of a thesis which is novel in these islands, that it was not england that was unprepared, but germany herself. for the confusion of objectives that led to this tirpitz blames bethmann's peace policy, the parsimony of the reichstag, and the emperor's failure to attain to clear notions about war aims. he criticizes me for saying that there was in germany before a war party alongside of a peace party. it was really only the bethmann group, he declares, that believed in peace being built on anything else than preponderance in armed power. the tradition of the german nation and the view of all sensible statesmen in germany, _e.g._, prince bülow and the emperor himself as a rule, was that the foundation of a lasting peace could only be laid with armaments. now if this is so it is plain how the war came about. the "shining armor" oration in austria, some years before war broke out, was simply one among many illustrations which so alarmed civilized nations that they huddled together for protection against this school of statesmen. bethmann's was the true policy had he been allowed to carry it out. it is possible that he thought he had a better chance of carrying it out than could have been the case were they to be present, when he got the emperor and tirpitz to keep away from berlin after the meeting at potsdam on july . unfortunately he underestimated the tendencies of berchtold, conrad von hoetzendorf, forgasch, and others in vienna, who, with no misgivings such as those of tirpitz as to the outcome, had determined on "_losgehen_." the proximate cause of the war was austrian policy. a secondary cause was the absence of any effective attempt at control from berlin. the third and principal cause was the tirpitz theory of how to keep the peace, the theory that had come down from frederick the great and his father, and was barely a safe one in the hands of even a bismarck. the only circumstances that could have justified germany in her tacit encouragement to austria to take a highly dangerous step--a step which was almost certain to bring russia, france, and england into sharp conflict with the central powers--would have been clear proof that the three entente nations were preparing to seize a chance and to encircle and attack germany or austria or both. now for this there is no foundation whatever. russia, whatever isvolsky and other russian statesmen may have said in moments of irritation over the affair of bosnia and herzegovina, did not want to plunge into war; france did not desire anything of the kind; and, as for england, nothing was more remote from her wishes. it was only in order to preserve the general peace that we had entered the entente, and the method of the entente policy, the getting rid of all specific causes of difference, was one which had nothing objectionable in it. we urged germany also to enter upon this path with us. we offered to help her in her progress toward the attainment of a "place in the sun." the negotiations which took place with sir edward grey in london after my return from berlin in are evidence of our sincerity in this, for they culminated in agreement on the terms of a detailed treaty, under which a vast number of territorial questions were settled to mutual satisfaction. we did not either in , as admiral von tirpitz appears to imagine, in the conversation at the schloss, or later on, offer territory that was not our own but belonged to portugal, or belgium, or france. the contrary is evident from the fact that the british government pressed germany to consent to the immediate publication of the draft treaty, agreed early in , when signed. all we did on both occasions was to propose exchanges with germany of territory that was ours for territory that was hers, to undertake not to compete for the purchase of certain other territory that might come into the market, in consideration of a corresponding undertaking on her part, and to agree about zones within which each nation should distribute its industrial energies and give financial assistance to undertakings. the gallant admiral gives an account of the meeting which took place on february , , in the emperor's cabinet room in the schloss between himself, the emperor and myself. he represents me as making a "generous offer of colonial territories which the english neither possessed nor of which they had the least right of disposal, in order to flatter the kaiser's desires." now in this impression the admiral was wholly wrong. what i spoke of was what i have just referred to, exchanges of parts of our own territory for parts belonging to germany, and undertakings such as i have just referred to. these things i had considered the previous day with the chancellor, and i do not think the emperor was in the least under the impression which von tirpitz entertained. the matter was indeed not one with which the department of the minister of marine was likely to be familiar. my suggestions were made in accordance with my instructions, and were, of course, _bona fide_ in all respects. what i was pressing for was the means for making possible a slackening in naval construction on both sides, and for acceptance of the entente and of our position in it. what i desired was to extend its friendly relations so as to bring germany and austria and italy within them and get rid of anxiety about the balance of power and the growth of armaments. i think the emperor throughout understood this, and certainly the chancellor did. tirpitz appears to have suspected, in an attitude in which i was only aiming at being friendly and even cordial, concealment of an encircling and aggressive purpose. after studying his book i do not wonder! when one rises from reading it one understands the fixity of an idea, which amounted to an obsession, and compelled him to believe in the necessity for what would have amounted to the overthrow of britain as a great power. from the emperor, on this as on other occasions, i met with nothing but the kindliest of receptions. admiral von tirpitz describes the luncheon party which preceded the conference in the cabinet room. he speaks of a certain "_spanning_" or tension which prevailed during the luncheon which the emperor and empress gave to the berlin cabinet and myself, and of restraint in the conversation. i can not say that i perceived any of these things, but then, of course, i was a foreigner. what i do remember was the general kindly feeling and the evident satisfaction produced by the production of the famous red champagne and great cigars with which the emperor regaled his guests. for myself, special distinction was reserved. for, before proceeding to business, the emperor read to me goethe's poem, _ilmenau_, of which he thought i might like to be reminded before we sat down to our task. he then observed that, out of consideration for tirpitz, we must confer in german, while on the other hand this would be the harder on me because the naval matters with which we had to deal were not in my department, as they were in that of the admiral. this was, of course, true. and then, in compensation for disadvantages which, as he said, would otherwise be unfair, he smilingly remarked that he had a plan for adjusting the balance of power on this occasion. he insisted on my occupying the imperial chair, which stood at the head of the narrow cabinet table, while his majesty himself should sit on an ordinary chair on my left hand and the admiral on another on my right. i thought that these arrangements suggested the possibility of a tough controversy, and as far as the admiral was concerned it proved to be so. for the discussion lasted for two and three-quarter hours, and was fairly close. i said throughout that, while i came here to explore the ground with the authority of my sovereign and his cabinet, i had come, not to make a treaty at that stage, but on a preliminary voyage of discovery with a view to taking back materials with which the cabinet of st. james's might be able to construct one, and that i had been delighted with the graciousness of my reception. i mention this because the admiral appears not to have quite understood my position. i have no doubt that the emperor understood it. at the end of the conversation i felt for once a little tired, and was glad when the emperor asked von tirpitz to drive me back to the hotel bristol. i thought the manner of the latter during the journey highly polite and correct, but not wholly sympathetic. i can only say that on my part i had endeavored to put every card i had upon the table. i have now touched on what seem to me the salient points in both of the volumes by these two famous statesmen. i have, i hope, brought out sufficiently the fact that on their own showing they were pursuing contradictory policies, and that it was the consequent failure to follow a policy that was consistent and continuous that in the end led germany to the slippery slope down which she glided into war. the circumstances of the world before and in were so difficult, the piling up of armaments had been so great, that nothing but the utmost caution could secure a safe path. i believe the emperor and bethmann to have desired wholeheartedly the preservation of the peace. but to that end they took inadequate means, and the result was a disastrous failure to accomplish it. the disturbing presence of the policy of relying on a preponderance in power over england, to be gained by a great navy, to the side of which the smaller navies would be attracted, imposed on england the necessity of guarding against what was menacing the national life. as the outcome of this situation she was compelled, so long as germany insisted on developing her naval policy, to sit down and take thought. the result of her deliberations may be summed up in eight propositions: . it was necessary, if the safety of england by sea was not to be put in jeopardy that she should enter into real and close friendships with other nations. . the great attraction to these other nations would lie in the maintenance of british sea power. . while the power of the british navy was of the first importance to france, she might also, through no fault of her own, be placed in such peril as made it desirable that we should be able to render her help by land also. . but the military forces of france and her ally, russia, were great enough to make it reasonable to estimate that a small army from england would be a sufficient addition to enable france to break the shock of an aggressive attack on her. . even on purely military grounds it was impossible for great britain to raise in time of peace a great army for use on the continent. the necessity of recruiting and educating the necessary corps of professional officers required to train and command such an army would have occupied at least two generations if the task were to be taken in hand in peace time. but it was possible to organize and prepare a small but highly trained expeditionary force, provided we discarded some of our old military traditions, and studied modern requirements and objectives in consultation with those who were best able to throw light on them. . altho more than modern and scientific military organization on a comparatively small scale was not in our power, we could in carrying out even this much lay foundations which would enable expansion in time of war to take place. . in the result, as was believed here, and as admiral von tirpitz himself seems to have anticipated, sea power and capacity for blockade would decide the issue of the war. in this respect germany seemed less well prepared than great britain. . the last thing wished for was war, and if we had to enter upon it we should do so only in defense of our own vital interests, as well as those of the other entente powers. our entry, if it was to come, must be immediate and unhesitating. for if we delayed germany might succeed in occupying the northern coast of france, and in impairing our security by sea. i will conclude this chapter by appending an estimate of the emperor william ii, which is worth comparing with that of his german ministers already referred to. [illustration: count ottokar czernin minister of foreign affairs of austria-hungary from dec. to april, .] in the chapter on william ii in count czernin's book on "the world war" there is a passage which may, i think, turn out to be pretty near the truth about the late emperor's mood: "altho the emperor was always very powerful in speech and gesture, still, during the war he was much less independent in his actions than is usually assumed, and, in my opinion, this is one of the principal reasons that gave rise to a mistaken understanding of all the emperor's administrative activities. far more than the public imagine, he was a driven rather than a driving factor, and if the entente to-day claims the right of being prosecutor and judge in one person in order to bring the emperor to his trial, it is unjust and an error, as, both preceding and during the war, the emperor william never played the part attributed to him by the entente: "the unfortunate man has gone through much, and more is, perhaps, in store for him. "he has been carried too high, and can not escape a terrible fall. fate seems to have chosen him to expiate a sin which, if it exists at all, is not so much his as that of his country and his times. the byzantine atmosphere in germany was the ruin of emperor william; it enveloped him and clung to him like a creeper to a tree; a vast crowd of flatterers and fortune-seekers who deserted him in the hour of trial. the emperor william was merely a particularly distinctive representative of his class. all modern monarchs suffer from the disease; but it was more highly developed in the emperor william, and therefore more obvious than in others. accustomed from his youth to the subtle poison of flattery, at the head of one of the greatest and mightiest states in the world, possessing almost unlimited power, he succumbed to the fatal lot that awaits men who feel the earth recede from under their feet, and who begin to believe in their divine semblance. "he is expiating a crime which was not of his making. he can take with him in his solitude the consolation that his only desire was for the best. "it has already been mentioned that all the warlike speeches flung into the world by the emperor were due to a mistaken understanding of their effect. i allow that the emperor wished to create a sensation, even to terrify people, but he also wished to act on the principle of _si vis pacem, para bellum_, and by emphasizing the military power of germany he endeavored to prevent the many envious enemies of his empire from declaring war on him. "it can not be denied that this attitude was often both unfortunate and mistaken, and that it contributed to the outbreak of war; but it is asserted that the emperor was devoid of the _dolus_ of making war, that he said and did things by which he unintentionally stirred up war. "had there been men in germany ready to point out to the emperor the injurious effects of his behavior and to make him feel the growing mistrust of him throughout the world, had there been not one or two but dozens of such men, it would assuredly have made an impression on the emperor. it is equally true that of all the inhabitants of the earth the german is the one least capable of adapting himself to the mentality of other people, and, as a matter of fact, there were perhaps but few in the immediate entourage of the emperor who recognized the growing anxiety of the world. perhaps many of them who so continuously extolled the emperor were really honestly of opinion that his behavior was quite correct. it is, nevertheless, impossible not to believe that among the many clever politicians of the last decade there were some who had a clear grasp of the situation, and the fact remains that in order to spare the emperor and themselves they had not the courage to be harsh with him and tell him the truth to his face. these are not reproaches, but reminiscences which should not be superfluous at a time when the emperor is to be made the scapegoat of the whole world." footnotes: [footnote : "betrachtungen zum weltkriege," th. von bethmann hollweg. "erinnerungen," alfred von tirpitz. both translated into english under the titles: "reflections on the world war," and "my memoirs."] [footnote : in both cases i am writing with the books before me in the original.] chapter iv the military preparations when more time has passed and heads have become cooler the critics will have to decide whether great britain was as fully prepared as she ought to have been for the possibility of the great struggle into which she had to enter in august, . hundreds of speeches have been made, and still more articles have been written, to demonstrate that she was caught wholly unready. on the other hand authoritative writers in germany have made the counter-assertion that she had prepared copiously, not merely to defend herself, but to join in encircling and crushing germany. i shall venture to submit some reasons for saying that neither of these views is the true one. during the whole of the period between the commencement of and the autumn of i sat on the committee of imperial defense and took an active part in its deliberations. for over six of these eight years i was minister for war, and i was in continuous co-operation with the colleagues who were, like myself, engaged in carrying into execution the methods which we had gradually worked out. such as the plans were, the preparations which they required were completed before the war. as to the bulk of these preparations i speak from direct knowledge. the expeditionary force, the territorial force, and the special reserve had been organized under my own eye, by soldiers who had studied modern war upon what was in this country a wholly new principle. before they took matters in hand not only was there no divisional organization, but hardly a brigade could have been sent to the continent without being recast. for there used to be a peace organization that was different from the organization that was required for war, and to convert the former into the latter meant a delay that would have been deadly. swift mobilization, like that of the germans even in , was in these older days impracticable. all this had been changed for the regular army at home by the end of , and it was after that year easy to mobilize. other changes, also of a sweeping character, had been made to complete the new structure. on august , , lord kitchener took delivery of an army in being, small, but not inferior in quality to the best that the enemy possessed. with the creation of the new armies, for which the expeditionary force was the pattern--and, indeed, with the general management of the war--i had very little to do. but i saw a good deal of lord kitchener, enough to impress me from the day when he became war minister with his extraordinary individuality and his remarkable courage and energy, and to make me feel what an invaluable asset his personality was for putting heart into the british nation. i have referred to my own and earlier part in the matter only to make plain that i do not speak about it from mere hearsay. and to say this has been necessary, because i shall have to submit some observations which, if true, do not harmonize with assertions made by some of the critics of the successive governments which were at work on the business of preparation for possible contingencies between and . i will, however, begin by making these critics a present of a definite admission. we never intended to create an army capable of invading or encircling germany, and we should, in our own view, have found ourselves unable to do so even had we desired any such thing. our purpose was quite a different one. it was purely defensive. we knew how high a level of military organization had been attained in france. she had a large army, an army not so large as that of germany, but comparable with it in quality. her ally, russia, also had a large army on the other side of germany, altho one not so perfectly organized as that of france. by adding to the french military defensive forces a comparatively small british expeditionary force of very high quality, organized as far as possible on the principle about which von der goltz, in the introduction to his famous book, "the nation in arms," had written, we could provide what that eminent writer had suggested would be formidable, could it be properly organized, even against the german masses of troops. in the introduction to his "nation in arms" he had declared that, "looking forward into the future we seem to feel the coming of a time when the armed millions of the present will have played out their part. a new alexander will arise who, with a small body of well-equipped and skilled warriors, will drive the impotent hordes before him, when, in their eagerness to multiply, they shall have overstepped all proper bounds, have lost internal cohesion, and, like the green-banner army of china, have become transformed into a numberless but effete host of philistines." this, of course, did not mean that the little expeditionary force could by itself cope with the admirably organized and enormous german army, but it did point to the growing importance in these times of high morale and quality, and to the value that even a small force, if sufficiently long and closely trained, might prove to have, if placed in a proper position alongside the excellent soldiers of france. a careful study had made us think that the addition of even a small force of such quality to those of france and russia would provide the combined armies with a good chance of defeating any german attempt at the invasion and dismemberment of france. but in addition to and apart from all this, the british navy had been raised before to a strength unexampled in its history, and mr. churchill had for the first time introduced in the autumn of the valuable principle of a war staff, fashioned with a view to the systematic study of modern naval war in co-operation with the forces on land. these naval reforms had helped to confer the fresh power which took shape in the blockade which was in the end to prove decisive in the struggle. the heads of the newly organized military general staff met the representatives of the admiralty war staff at systematically held meetings of the committee of imperial defense, under the presidency of the successive prime ministers--first of sir henry campbell-bannerman and then of mr. asquith. not only were the ministers at the head of the admiralty and the war office present to listen to what their experts had to say and to assist in arriving at conclusions on the questions discussed at these meetings, but other ministers (including lord crewe, sir edward grey, lord morley, mr. lloyd george, and lord harcourt) attended regularly. the function of this committee was to consider strategical difficulties with which the nation might conceivably find itself confronted, and to work out the solutions. it was a committee the members of which were selected and summoned by the prime minister, to whom it was advisory. he determined the subjects to be investigated. secrecy was of course essential, excepting so far as the cabinet was concerned. the presence of the non-military ministers to whom i have referred was a proper guarantee that from the cabinet there was no desire to withhold information. possible operations on the continent of our army occupied much of the time of the committee. about the propriety of the conversations which took place between members of the general staffs of france and england questions have been raised. but these conversations were concerned with purely technical matters, and doubts as to their justification will hardly arise in the minds of people who are aware what modern war implies in the way of preliminary inquiries as to its conditions. we were not engaging in any secret undertaking. we were merely providing what modern military requirements had rendered essential. without study beforehand by a general staff military operations in these days are bound to fail. if at any time we had, by any chance whatever, to operate in france it was essential that our generals should possess long in advance the knowledge that was requisite, and this could only be obtained with the assistance of the general staff of france itself. we committed ourselves to no undertaking of any kind, and it was from the first put in writing that we could not do so. the conversations were just the natural and informal outcome of our close friendship with france. the french had said that if it was to be regarded as even possible that we should come to their assistance in resisting an attack, which might, moreover, result if successful in great prejudice to our own security in the channel, we should find this study vital. our general staff took the same view, and at the request of sir edward grey, who had written to him, i saw sir henry campbell-bannerman at his house in london in january, . he was a very cautious man, but he was also an old war minister. he at once saw the point, and he gave me authority for directing the staff at the war office to take the necessary steps. he naturally laid down that the study proposed was to be carefully guarded, so far as any possible claim of commitment was concerned, that it was not to go beyond the limits of purely general staff work, and further that it should not be talked about. the inquiry into conditions thus set on foot was conducted by the three successive generals who occupied the position of director of military operations--the late general grierson, general ewart, and general wilson. each of these distinguished soldiers from time to time explained the progress made in working out conceivable plans for using the expeditionary force in france and in more distant regions, to the full committee of imperial defense, and obtained its provisional approval. i should like to say how much the committee of imperial defense, which was originally a very valuable contribution made by mr. balfour, when prime minister, to the organization of our preparedness for war, owed to its secretaries. to such men as admiral sir charles ottley and, after his time, to colonel sir maurice hankey, the nation is under a great debt, and it was the least that could be done to include the latter in the thanks of parliament to the sailors and soldiers to whom our actual success was due. it was he who, assisted by a brilliant staff on which the late colonel grant duff was prominent, planned and prepared that remarkable war book, which was completed in excellent time before the outbreak of hostilities, and which contained full instructions for every department of government which could be called on to assist if war broke out. not only the drafts of the necessary orders, but those of the necessary telegrams, were written out in advance under sir maurice hankey's instructions. he and sir charles ottley, themselves sailors, formed real links between the navy and the army, and did an enormous amount of work in co-ordinating war objectives. of the navy i need say nothing, for its preparations are well understood. nor need i say much of the details in the reorganization of the army. the general principle of this was to complete the cardwell system by shaping the home battalions into six great divisions, and so providing them with transport, munitions, stores, and medical and other equipment, as to make them instantly ready for war. the characteristic of the old british army, as it was up to , was, as i have already observed, that it lived in peace formations only, in small and detached units which would have to be refashioned into quite different formations before they could be ready to be sent to fight. this state of things involved much delay in mobilization. a careful inquiry made in disclosed that in order to put even , men on the continent, a period which might be well over two months was the minimum required. besides this great difficulty, the other items to which i have referred as required for the six divisions were not there in any shape even approaching sufficiency. the artillery too was deficient. there is no more amusing myth than the one according to which the horse and field artillery were reduced. the batteries which could be made instantly effective for war were, in fact, raised from forty-two to eighty-one. the personnel of this artillery was increased by a third for mobilization. for the first time the horse and field artillery was given the modern organization which cardwell had not been able to give it. the establishments had been merely peace establishments. there were ninety-nine batteries which could parade about on ceremonial occasions, but if war had broken out they would have had to be rolled up, and the personnel of fifty-seven of them taken to produce the mobilized forty-two which were all that could be put into the field. the difficulty was got over by the organization of eighteen of the ninety-nine into training brigades, and the additional men needed for the mobilization of eighty-one fighting batteries were thus obtained. no doubt some of the artillery officers did not like being set to training work, and complained that they were being reduced. but it was a reduction from unreal work of parade in order to double fighting efficiency. not a man or a gun of the regular horse and field artillery was ever reduced in any shape or form, and not only were the effective batteries largely increased, but over serviceable batteries were created and made part of the second line, or territorial, army. this was a force which could be used either for home defense or for expansion of an expeditionary force of regulars. the militia, which was not under obligation to serve abroad, was abolished, and its substance was converted into third regular battalions, organized for the purpose of training and providing drafts to meet the wastage of war in the first and second regular battalions of their regiments. some of those third battalions are said to have trained and sent out as many as twelve thousand men apiece in the course of the war. all these things were done under the direction of such young and modern soldiers as sir douglas haig on the general staff side, and as sir john cowans on the administrative side. both of these officers were brought home from india for the purpose. sir herbert miles, as quartermaster-general, and sir stanley von donop, as master-general of the ordnance also rendered much help. the newly organized general staff thought the plans out under the direction, first of sir neville lyttelton, and then of sir william nicholson, its successive chiefs. the latter and sir douglas haig in addition worked out, in consultation with the representatives of the dominions, the organization of their troops in units and with staffs and weapons corresponding as nearly as was practicable to our own. systematic conferences between the british and dominion war and other ministers prepared the ground for this. sir wilfrid laurier and general botha and others of the dominion ministers came to london and co-operated. it is sometimes said that all these things were very well, but that we should have at once raised a much larger army, as in the course of the war we ultimately had to do. the answer is that in a time of peace we could not possibly have raised a large army on the continental scale. if we had tried to we should have made a miserable and possibly disastrous failure. the utmost we could do toward it was to provide the organization in which the comparatively small force which was all we could create might be expanded after a war broke out. how this nucleus organization, on the basis of which the later expansions took place, was fashioned so as to afford a general pattern, anyone may see who chooses to expend a shilling on the purchase of the little volume called "field service regulations, part ii." this piece of work took nearly three years to prepare. with the organization of which i have spoken, which was made in accordance with its principles, the whole of the task of recasting the british army was performed by . what we had by that time attained was the power to send an army of, not , men, which was all that had originally been suggested, but of , , to a place of concentration opposite the belgian frontier, and to have it concentrated there within a time which was fifteen days in , but was a little later reduced to twelve. no german army could mobilize and concentrate at such a distance more rapidly. so far as i know none of the necessary details were overlooked, and the timetables and arrangements for the concentration worked out, when the moment for their use came, without a hitch. what had been done was to take the old-fashioned british army and to rid it of superfluous fat, to develop muscle in place of mere flesh, and to put the whole force into proper training. if the warrior looked slender he was at least as well prepared for the ring as science could make him. it is said that this army ought to have been provided from the first with more heavy artillery. but the reason why its artillery, and that of the french armies also, were of a comparatively light pattern was not due to any notion of economy or to civilian interference. we had enough money, even in those difficult days, for every necessary purpose. the real reason was that the general staffs of both the french and the british armies had advised that the campaign would probably be one in which swiftness in moving troops would prove the determining factor. heavy artillery, and even any large number of the ponderous machine-guns of that period (the lewis gun had not yet appeared), would have been a serious impediment to such mobility. what was anticipated was a series of great battles. "it was supposed by certain soldiers," says a well-informed military critic (colonel a'court repington, at page of his "vestigia"), "that the war against germany would be decided by the fighting of some seven great battles _en rase campagne_, where heavies would be a positive encumbrance." so far the staffs proved to be right, for in the early period of the war mobility did count for a very great deal, and it was not until later that trench warfare became the dominant factor, a stage for which even the germans themselves, as we now know, from the memoirs of admiral tirpitz and other books, were not adequately prepared in point of guns, or of shells and powder, either. it is said that we in great britain ought, before entering on the entente, to have provided an army, not of , , but of , , men. and it is remarked that this is what we had to do in the end. this suggestion does not, however, bear scrutiny. no doubt it would have been a great advantage if, in addition to our tremendous navy, we could have produced, at the outbreak of the war, , , men, so trained as to be the equals in this respect of german troops, and properly fashioned into the great divisions that were necessary, with full equipment and auxiliary services. but to train the recruits, and to command such an army when fashioned, would have required a very great corps of professional officers of high military education, many times as large as we had actually raised. how were these to have been got? i sometimes read speeches, made even by officers who have served with distinction at the head of their men in the field, which express regret that the british nation was so shortsighted as not to have provided such an army before the war. they point to the effort it made later on with such success during the war. but to raise armies under the stress of war, when the people submit cheerfully to compulsion, and when highly intelligent civilian men of business readily quit their occupations to be trained as rapidly as possible for the work of every kind of officer, is one thing. to do it in peace time is quite another. i doubt whether more was possible in this direction than, in the days prior to the war, to organize the officers' training corps, which contained over twenty thousand partially prepared young men, and began at once to expand to yet larger dimensions from the day when war broke out. for the corps of matured officers, required to train recruits and to command them in war when organized in their units, would have had to consist of soldiers, themselves highly trained in military organization, who had devoted their lives to this work as a profession. it takes many years in peace time to train such officers. because they must be professional, they can only be recruited under a voluntary system. now, before the war it was difficult enough to recruit even so many as the number we then had got, a number totally inadequate for any army larger than the small one we actually put into shape at home. every source had been tried in my time by the able administrative generals who were working under me at the war office. i say "administrative generals," for here comes in the source of the confusion which at times leads not a few--including some whose military training has been exclusively in the leading of troops and in strategy and tactics--to miss the point. under the modern military principle, which is the secret of rapidity and efficiency in mobilization, duties are carefully defined and divided. the general staff does not administer, and is not trained in the business of administration. this kind of military business is entrusted to the administrative side of the army, the officers of which receive a different kind of training. the general staff says what is necessary. the administrative side provides it as far as it can. and among the exclusive functions of the administrative side of the war office is the recruiting of personnel by the adjutant-general and the military secretary. it is true that the director of military training, who supervises the training of the young officer when obtained, belongs to the general staff. that is because his work is educational. with obtaining the young officer it is only accidentally that he is at all concerned. when, therefore, even distinguished commanders in the field express regret at the want of foresight of the british nation in not having prepared a much larger army before , i would respectfully ask them how they imagine it could have been done. to raise a great corps of officers who have voluntarily selected the career of an officer as an exclusive and absorbing profession has been possible in germany and in france. but it has only become possible there after generations of effort and under pressure of a long-standing tradition, extending from decade to decade, under which a nation, armed for the defense of its land frontiers, has expended its money and its spirit in creating such an officer caste. now, the british nation has put its money and its fighting spirit primarily into its navy and its oversea forces. why? because, just as the continental tradition had its genesis in the necessity for instant readiness to defend land frontiers, so our tradition has had its genesis in the vital necessity of always commanding the sea. possibly if, just after the war of , we had endeavored to enter on a new tradition, and to develop a great army, we might have succeeded in doing so. with forty years' time devoted to the task and a very large expenditure we might conceivably have succeeded. but i think that had we done so we should have been very foolish. our navy would inevitably have been diminished and deteriorated. you can not ride two horses at once, and no more can you possess in their integrity two great conflicting military traditions. but what i am saying does not rest on my own conclusions alone. in the year the then chief of the general staff told me that he and the general staff would like to investigate, as a purely military problem, the question whether we could or could not raise a great army. i thought this a reasonable inquiry and sanctioned and found money for it, only stipulating that they should consult with the administrative staffs when assembling the materials for the investigation. the outcome was embodied in a report made to me by lord nicholson, himself a soldier who had a strong desire for compulsory service and a large army. he reported, as the result of a prolonged and careful investigation, that, alike as regarded officers and as regarded buildings and equipment, the conclusion of the general staff was that it would be in a high degree unwise to try, during a period of unrest on the continent, to commence a new military system. it could not be built up excepting after much unavoidable delay. we might at once experience a falling off in voluntary recruiting, and so become seriously weaker before we had a chance of becoming stronger. and the temptation to a foreign general staff to make an early end of what it might insist on interpreting as preparation for aggression on our part would be too strong to be risked. what we should get might prove to be a mob in place of an army. i quite agreed, and not the less because it was highly improbable that the country would have looked at anything of the sort. what we actually could produce in the form of an army had to be estimated, not as if we were standing alone, but as being an adjunct to what was possessed by france and russia. they had large armies and small navies. we had a large navy and a small army. when these were considered in conjunction, i do not think that the hope of some of our best military authorities, that an aggressive attempt by the central powers could be made abortive, was an over-sanguine one. much of what we did owe for the excellence of the expeditionary force, such as it was in point of size, and much of what we have since owed for the excellence of the great armies that we subsequently raised, was due to the unbroken work of the fine administrative staff, developed in those days, to which i have already referred. i often regret that when the nation gave its thanks through parliament to the army, the splendid contribution made by those who prepared the administrative services was not adequately recognized. but this arose from the old british tradition under which fighting and administration were not distinguished as being quite separate and yet equally essential for fighting. the public had not got into its head the reality of the process of defining the two different functions with precision, and of confiding them to different sets of officers differently trained. the principle was a novel one in the army itself, and why one set of officers should be trained at the staff college and another at the london school of economics was not a question the answer to which was quite familiar, even to all soldiers. it is, i think, certain that for purely military reasons, even if, in view of political (including diplomatic) difficulties any party in the state had felt itself able to undertake the task of raising a great army under compulsory service, and to set itself to accomplish it, say, within the ten years before the war, the fulfilment of the undertaking could not have been accomplished, and failure in it would have made us much weaker than we were when the war broke out. the only course really open was to make use of the existing voluntary system, and bring its organization for war up to the modern requirements, of which they were in far short. it is true that the voluntary system could not give us a substantially larger army, or more than a better one in point of quality. the stream of voluntary recruits was limited. when the battalions of the line which existed on paper in were in that year nominally reduced to , there was no real reduction, altho some money was saved which was required for some other essential military purposes. for the remaining battalions were short of their proper strength, and it took all the recruits set free by the so-called reductions to bring the --some of which were badly short of officers and men alike--to the proper establishment required for the six new divisions of the expeditionary force. i remember well the then adjutant-general, sir charles douglas, one of the ablest men of business who ever filled that position in this country, informing me at that time that he could not raise a single further division to be added to the six at home. but if the voluntary system had disadvantages, it also presented us with advantages. the professional and therefore voluntary nature of our army, which, because it was professional, was always ready for sending overseas on expeditions, was in reality made necessary by our position as the island center of a great and scattered empire. we had increased that empire enormously by the possession of a voluntarily serving army. whether this vast increase of the empire has been always defensible i am not discussing. what i am saying is that we owe the actual increases largely to this, that we were the only power in the world that was ready to step in at short notice and occupy vacant territory. we always had a much larger expeditionary force available for this special purpose than germany or any other country. that has been our tradition, as contrasted with the tradition of other nations who have been limited in this kind of capacity by the necessity of putting their military forces on a compulsory basis and keeping them at home for the protection of their land frontiers. ours was the method in which we had been schooled by experience. it is for such reasons as i have now submitted that i am wholly unable to assent to the suggestion that we did not look ahead, or considered within the years just before the war whether we were preparing to make the sort of contribution that our own interests and our friendships alike required. sea power was for us then, as always before in our history, the dominant element in military policy. i have little doubt that we made mistakes over details. that is inherent in human and therefore finite effort. but i believe that we did in the main the best we could for the fulfilment of our only purpose, which was to preserve the peace of the world and avoid contributing to its disturbance, and also to prepare to defend ourselves and our friends against aggression. talk to the public we could not, for it would have hindered and not helped us to do so. a "preventive war," which the entente powers would not have been so ready to meet as they became later on, might well have been the result. rhetorical declarations on platforms would have been wholly out of place. but we could think, and to the best of such abilities as we and our expert advisers possessed, we did try to think. a curious legend which had its origin in berlin, in october, , has obtained such currency that it is worth while to make an end of it. the legend is that the british military attaché at brussels, the late general barnardiston, had informed the chief of the belgian general staff of secret plans, prepared at the war office in london, to invade belgium, and if necessary to violate her neutrality, in order to make an expedition, the purpose of which was to attack germany through that country. the story appears to have emanated from baron greindl, who was the belgian minister at berlin in . he had been completely misinformed, no doubt in that capital, and there is no truth whatever in what he had been told about what he called the "perfidious and naïf revelations" of the british military attaché at brussels. him the story represents as having said that his minister (by whom i presume myself, as the then secretary of state for war, to have been intended) and the british general staff were the only persons in the secret. i have to observe, in the first place, that i never during my tenure of office, either suggested any such plan, or heard of anyone else suggesting it. when the story was brought to my knowledge, which was not until november, , i inquired at once of general barnardiston and of his successor, colonel bridges, whether there was any foundation for it. the reply from each of these distinguished officers was that there was none. we were among the guarantors of belgian neutrality, and it was of course conceivable that, if she called on us to do so, we might have had to defend her. it would be part of the duty of our military attaché to remember this, and, if opportunity offered, to ascertain in informal conversation the view of the belgian general staff as to what form of help they would be likely to ask us for. this he doubtless did, and indeed it appears from what the chief of the belgian general staff wrote to the belgian war minister that the former had discussed the contingency of belgium desiring our help with general barnardiston, and had done so gladly. but even so the conversation must have been very informal, for in the account of it by the chief of the belgian general staff there are errors about the composition of the possible british force which indicate that either he took no notes, or else that colonel barnardiston had not thought it an occasion which required him to obtain details from london. at all events, such talk as there was appears to have had relation only to what we ought to do, if requested by belgium to help, in case of her being invaded by another power. the documents will be found in the volume of collected diplomatic documents relating to the outbreak of the war, presented to parliament in may, (cd. ). this volume includes a vigorous denial by sir edward grey of the insinuation. chapter v epilog the great war is over, and the powers of the west have conquered. in the earlier pages i have given my own view of why they won in the tremendous struggle that now belongs to history. they had on their side moral forces which were lacking to their adversaries. germany went into the war with a conviction that had been carefully instilled into her people. it was that she was being ringed round with the intention that she should be crushed, and that presently it would be too late for her to deliver herself. the lesson so taught to her was not a true one. she might easily have obtained guarantees of peace which ought to have satisfied her, without undertaking a risk which in the end was to prove disastrous. no one here wanted to ruin her, no one who counted seriously in this country. and if we did not want to, no more in reality did france or russia. she brought her fate on her head by the unwisdom of her methods. but her people hardly desired the dangers of unnecessary war, and her rulers dared not have ventured these dangers had they not first of all preached a wrong doctrine to those over whom they ruled. they had their way in the end, and disaster to sixty-eight millions of germans was the consequence. the calculations of their chiefs were bad from the beginning. it is almost certain that the best and most eminent among even these really desired peace. they blundered in method. it was not by continually flashing the saber that peace was to be secured. it is scarcely likely that the conditions under which this war became possible will recur. it is more than unlikely that they will recur in our time. but it is none the less worth while to consider how the unlikelihood can be made to approach most nearly to a certainty. not, i think, by causing the millions of german-speaking people to feel that they are in chains without possibility of freedom. more certainly, surely, by leading them to the faith that if they will play a part in the great world effort for permanent peace and for reconstruction they will be welcomed to the brotherhood of nations. the individual german citizen is more like the individual anglo-saxon than he is different from him. the same hopes and the same fears animate him, and he is sober and industrious quite as much as we are. he has similar problems and similar interests. time must pass before the angry feeling that a great struggle produces can die down. but there are already indications that this feeling is not as intense with us as it was even a short time ago. germany made a colossal and unjustifiable blunder. she is responsible for the action of her late government. we think so, and we are not likely to change our opinion on this point. the grief of our people over their dead, over the lives that were laid down for the nation from the highest kind of inspiration, will keep the public mind fixed on this conclusion. and so will the waste and misery to the whole world which an unnecessary war has brought in its train. but presently we shall ask ourselves, in moments of reflection, whether this ought to be our final word, and also, perhaps, whether some want of care on our own part, and certain deficiencies of which we are now more conscious than we used to be, may not have had something to do with the failure of other people to divine our real mood and intentions. i am not sure that in days that are to come we shall give ourselves the whole benefit of the doubt. however this may be, we are in no case a vindictive people. but in any view something serious is at stake. it will be a bad thing for us, and it will be a bad thing for the world, if the people of the vanquished nations are left to feel that they have no hope of being restored to decent conditions of existence. at present despair is threatening them. their estimate is that the crushing burden of the terms of peace, if carried out to their full possibilities, bars them from the prospect of a better future. their only way of deliverance may well come to seem to them to lie in the grouping of the discontented nationalities, and the faith that by this means, at some time which may come hereafter, a new balance of power may begin to be set up. now this is not a good prospect, and the sooner we succeed in softening the sense of real hardship out of which it arises the better. germany and austria must pay the penalty they have incurred before the tribunal of international justice. but that penalty ought to be tempered by something that depends on even more than mercy. it is intended to be inflicted for the good of the world, and if it assumes a form which threatens the future safety of the world it is not wise to press it to its extreme consequences. we have to work toward a better state of things than that which is promised to-day. we have never hitherto kept up old animosities unduly long, and that has been one of the secrets of our strength in the world. the lessons of history point to the expediency of trying to heal instead of to keep open the wound which exists. those who know the growth in the past of literature, of music, of science, of philosophy, of industry and of commerce, do not wish the german people to die out. it is only the ignorant that can desire this, and, hitherto in the course of our history, the ignorant have neither proved to be safe guides nor have they prevailed. to-day, as before, we must think of generations other than our own if we would preserve our strength. i hope that a time is near in which we shall no longer proclaim old grievances, but instead cease to dwell on the past in this case, just as we have ceased in the cases of the french, the spanish, the russians, and the boers. it is best in every way that it should come to be so. it is not with any hope that these pages will satisfy the extremists of to-day that they have been written. they are intended for those who try to be dispassionate, and for them only, as a contribution to a vast heap of material that is being gathered together for consideration. it is well that those who were in any way directly connected with the story to which they relate should place on record what they saw. but the whole story in its fulness is beyond the knowledge of anyone of our time. the history of the world is, as has been said, the judgment of the world. it is therefore only after an interval that it can be sufficiently written. the ultimate and real origin of this war, the greatest humanity has ever had to endure, was a set of colossal suspicions of each other by the nations concerned. i do not mean that none of them were in the right or that some of them were not deeply in the wrong. what i do mean is that if there had been insight sufficient all round the nations concerned would not have misinterpreted each other. to us it looks as tho germany had been inspired throughout by a bad tradition, a spirit older than even the days of frederick the great. had she been wise we think that she would have changed her national policy after bismarck had brought it to unexampled success in things material. there are not wanting indications that he himself had the sense of the necessity of great caution in pursuing this policy farther, and felt that it could not be safely continued without modification. it was no policy that was safe for any but the strongest and sanest of minds, and even for those it had ceased to be safe. the potential resistance to it was becoming too serious. but we do not need to doubt that there were many in germany itself who saw this and did not desire to rely merely on blood and iron. the men and women in every country resemble those in other countries more than they differ from them. germany was no exception to the rule. it is a great mistake to judge her as she was merely from a few newspapers and by the reports from berlin of their special correspondents. sixty-eight millions of people could not be estimated in their opinions by the attitude of a handful, however eminent and prominent, in the home of "_real politik_." it is, of course, true that the germans were taught to believe that they were a very great nation which had not got its full share of the good things of this world, a share of which they were more worthy and for which they were better organized than any other. but it is also true that we here thought that we ourselves were entitled to a great deal to which other people did not admit our moral title. it was not only germany that was lacking in imagination. no doubt many germans had the idea that we wished to hem them in and that we did not like them. our failure to make ourselves understood left them not without reason for this belief. but dislike of germany was not the attitude of the great mass of sober and god-fearing englishmen, and i do not believe that the counter-attitude was that of the bulk of sober and god-fearing germans. they and we alike mutually misjudged each other from what was written in newspapers and said in speeches by people who were not responsible exponents of opinion, and neither nation took sufficient trouble to make clear that what was thus written and said was not sufficient material on which to judge it. it is very difficult to diagnose general opinion in a foreign nation, and one of the reasons of the difficulty is that people at home do not pay sufficient attention to the fact that their unfriendly utterances about their neighbors are likely to receive more publicity and attention than the utterances that are friendly. it makes little difference that the latter may greatly preponderate in number. they are read in the main only in the country in which they are made. neither germans nor englishmen were careful before the war always to be pleasant to each other, and the same used to be true of frenchmen and englishmen. but just as we are coming to understand why and how france and england misinterpreted each other systematically a century and a half ago, so we may yet learn how we came to present, more than a hundred years later, difficulties to the germans not wholly unlike those which they presented to us. no mere record of the dry facts will be enough to render this intelligible in its full significance. the historian who is to carry conviction must do more than present photographs. he must create a picture inspired by his own study and from the depth of his own mind, and presented in its real proportions with its proper lights and shadows, as a true artist alone can present it. browning has told us something worth remembering. it is at the end of "the ring and the book": art may tell a truth obliquely, do the thing shall breed the thought, nor wrong the thought, missing the mediate word. so may you paint your picture, twice show truth, beyond mere imagery on the wall,-- so, note by note, bring music from your mind, deeper than ever e'en beethoven dived,-- so write a book shall mean beyond the facts, suffice the eye and save the soul beside. the truth in its fulness and completeness can not be compassed in any single narrative of events. it is, of course, the case that history depends for its value on scientific accuracy, but that is not the only kind of truth on which it depends. no man, even the most careful and exacting, can rely on having the whole of the materials before his eye, and if he had them there they would not only be presented in tints depending on his outlook, but would be too vast to admit of his using more than isolated fragments to work into his picture of the whole. selection is a necessity, and when to the fact that there must be selection there is added the other fact that every historian has his personal equation, the notion of a history constructed by a single man on the methods of the physicist is a delusion. the best that the great historian can do is to present the details in the light of the spirit of the period of which he is writing, and in order that he may present his narrative aright, as his mind has reconstructed it, he must estimate his details in the order in importance that was actually theirs. now for this the balance and the measuring rod do not suffice. quality counts as much as does quantity in determining importance. what is merely inert and mechanical is the subject neither of the artist nor the historian. it is, of course, necessary that by close and exact research the materials should first of all be collected and assembled. but that is only the first step, and it always has to be followed by a process of grouping and fashioning. the result may have to be the leaving out (or the leaving over for presentation by other artists) of aspects which are not dealt with. we see this when we compare even the best portraits. they do not wholly agree; it is enough if they correspond. for portraits may vary in expression, and yet each may be true. the characteristic of what is alive and is intelligent and spiritual is that it may have many expressions, every one of which really harmonizes with every other. it is because they can bring out expression in this fashion that we continue to set high store on the work of a gibbon or a mommsen. the moral of this is twofold. we must, to begin with, be content for the present to remain in the stage at which all that can be done is to collect and assemble facts and personal impressions with as great care as we can. the whole truth we can not bring out or estimate until the later period, altho we may be sure enough of what we have before us to make us feel capable of doing justice of a rough kind, so far as necessary action is concerned. and there is yet another deduction to be drawn. it is at all events possible that the wider view of a generation later than this may be one in which germany will be judged more gently than the allies can judge her to-day. we do not now look on the french revolution as our forefathers looked on it. we see, because recent historians have impressed it on us, that it was a violent uprising against, not louis xvi., but a louis xiv. what france really made her great revolution to bring about was the establishment of a constitution. horrible deeds were perpetrated in the name of liberty, but it was not due to any horrible national spirit that they were perpetrated. france was responsible no doubt for the deeds of the men who acted in her name. but she could hardly have controlled them even had she passionately desired to do so. and she did not passionately desire to do so because, however little the mass of the people outside paris may have wished to massacre the adherents of the old regime, the people as a whole welcomed deliverance from calamity, even at the price of violent action. we judge the french nation wholly differently to-day from the way we judged it then, and it judges us differently. yet it would have been well had we not in the end of the eighteenth century taken an exaggerated view of the french state of mind. we now realize that even so great a man as burke mistook a fragment for the whole. much blood and treasure might have been spared, and napoleon might never have come into existence, had we and others been less hasty. it is therefore a good thing to keep before us that it is at least possible that the verdict of mankind will be hereafter that when the victory was theirs the allies judged the people of germany in a hurry and reflected this judgment in the spirit in which certain of the terms of peace were declared. the war had its proximate origin in the near east. it arose out of a supposed menace to teuton by slav. the slavs were not easy people to deal with, and the teutons were not easy people either. it was easy to drift into war. it may well prove true that no one really desired this, and that it was miscalculation about the likelihood of securing peace by a determined attitude that led to disaster. it is certain that the german government was deeply responsible for the consequences. in the face of its traditional policy and of utterances that came from berlin the members of that government can not plead a mere blunder. none the less, a great deal may have been due to sheer ineptitude in estimating human nature. how much this was so, or how much an immoral tradition had its natural results, we can not as yet fully tell, for we have not the whole of the records before us. no one disputes that we were bound to impose heavy terms on the central powers. the allies have won the war and they were entitled to reparation. this the germans do not appear to controvert. they are a people with whom logic is held in high esteem. but we have to do something more than define the mere consequences of victory. we have also to make plain on what footing we shall be willing to live with the german nation in days that lie ahead. and here some enlargement of the spirit seems to be desirable in our own interests. we do not want to fall again into the mistake that burke made. the spirit is at least as important as the letter in the doctrine of a league of nations. such a league has for its main purpose the supersession of the old principle of balancing the powers. in the absence of a league of nations, or--what is the same thing in a less organized form--of an entente or concert of powers so general that none are left shut out from it, the principle of balancing may have to be relied on. i believe this to have been unavoidable when the entente between france, russia and great britain was found to be required for safety if the tendency to dominate of the triple alliance was to be held in check. but in that case, and probably in every other case, reliance on the principle could only be admissible for self-protection and never for the mere exhibition of the power of the sword. if the principle is resorted to with the latter object the group that is suspected of aggressive intentions will by degrees find itself confronted with another group of nations that have huddled together for self-protection and may become very strong just because they have a moral justification for their action. it was this that happened before the war which broke out in , and it was the state of tension which ensued that led up to that war. had there been no counter-grouping to that of the central powers there would probably have been war all the same, but with this difference, that defeat and not victory would have been the lot of the entente powers. now the german-speaking peoples in the world amount to an enormous number, at least to a hundred millions if those outside germany and austria, and in the new world, as well as the old, are taken into account. it may be difficult for them to organize themselves for war, but it will be less difficult for them to develop a common spirit which may penetrate all over the world. it is just this development that statesmen ought to watch carefully, for, given an interval long enough, it is impossible to predict what influence these hundred millions of people may not acquire and come to exercise. we do not want to have a prolonged period of growing anxiety and unrest, such as obtained in our relations with the french, notwithstanding the peace established by the treaty of vienna. of the anxiety and unrest which were ours for more than one generation, the history of the channel fortifications, of the volunteer force and of several other great and often costly institutions, bears witness. let us therefore take thought while there is time to do so. we do not wish to see repeated anything analogous to our former experience. the one thing that can avert it is the spirit in which a league of nations has been brought to birth. that spirit alone can preclude the gradual nascence of desire to call into existence a new balance of power. it is not enough to tell germany and austria that if they behave well they will be admitted to the league of nations. what really matters is the feeling and manner in which the invitation is given, and an obvious sincerity in the desire that they should work with us as equals in a common endeavor to make the best of a world which contains us both. one is quite conscious of the difficulties that must attend the attempt to approach the question in the frame of mind that is requisite. we may have to discipline ourselves considerably. but the people of this country are capable of reflection, and so are the people of the american continent. the problem to be solved is one that presses on our great allies in the united states, where the german-speaking population is very large, quite as much as it does on us. france and belgium have more to forgive, and france has a hard past from which to avert her eyes. but she is a country of great intelligence, and it is for the sake of everybody, and not merely in the interest of our recent enemies, that enlargement of the spirit is requisite. how the present situation is to be softened, how the people of the central powers are to be brought to feel that they are not to remain divided from us by an impassable gulf, this is not the occasion to suggest. it is enough to repeat that the question is not one simply of the letter of a treaty but is one of the spirit in which it is made. conditions change in this world with a rapidity that is often startling. the fashion of the day passes before we know that what is novel and was unexpected has come upon us. the foundations of a peace that is to be enduring must therefore be sought in what is highest and most abiding in human nature. index agadir incident, the, algeciras conference, the, , alsace-lorraine, question of, the kaiser on, , america, tschirsky on, anglo-french entente, bülow on, tschirsky, views of german emperor on, armaments, difficulty of question of, germany's, , army, british, advantages of voluntary system in, question of compulsory service, asquith, mr., consulted by sir edward grey, premier and war secretary, presides at imperial defense committee, austria annexes bosnia and herzegovina, , ultimatum to serbia, bagdad railway, the, william ii. and, _et seq._ balance of power, and the league of nations, principle of, , , balfour, a.j., and imperial defense, ballin, herr, and tirpitz, barnardiston, general, an unfounded charge against, berchtold, count, and the ultimatum to serbia, berlin, a curious legend originating in, and the bagdad railway question, author's visit to, bethmann-hollweg, and the agadir crisis, , at potsdam conference, author's interview with, and the formula of neutrality, , , , , desires preservation of peace, his accusation against entente powers, informed of austrian ultimatum, letter to author after the montreal address, loyalty to the kaiser, succeeds prince bülow as chancellor, bismarck, countess wilhelm, bismarck, prince, a dictum of, and britain's indefinite policy, and the inevitability of war, and the military party in germany, and tirpitz, - denounces abrogation of reinsurance treaty, his affection for emperor frederick, his hatred of "prestige politics," reinsurance treaty with russia, boer war, the, attitude of the kaiser during, bosnia, annexation of, , botha, general, co-operates in military preparations, bridges, colonel, british military attaché at brussels, britain's command of the sea, british army, the reorganization of, british expeditionary force, the, mobilization of, organization of, unrecognized work of, british government, the, paramount duty of, british navy, a war staff introduced into, , (_see_ also navy, british) bülow, prince von, author's meeting with, on the anglo-french entente, opposes bagdad railway proposal, succeeded by bethmann-hollweg as chancellor, cambon, m. jules, and relations between france and germany, informed of berlin "conversations," campbell-bannerman, sir henry, and imperial defense, , at marienbad, caprivi and the organization of german navy, and the reinsurance treaty, , cassel, sir ernest, visits berlin, (and note) central powers, the, preparations for war, their responsibility for the world war, chamberlain, rt. hon. j., tariff reform policy of, churchill, winston, naval policy of, , committee of imperial defense, the, and its functions, , , , compulsory service, author's views on, cowans, sir john, and the military preparations, crewe, lord, attends meetings of committee of imperial defense, curzon, lord, meets german emperor, czernin, count, on william ii., d'aerenthal, count, diplomatic victory of, dawson, harbutt, "german empire" of, democracy and war, vindicated by the war, (_see_ also social democracy) diplomacy before the war, _et seq._ disarmament, german objections to, , donop, sir stanley von, master general of the ordnance, douglas, sir charles, and the voluntary system, education, author's activities for, edward vii., king, at marienbad, "encirclement" policy of: bethmann-hollweg on, entertains the german emperor, einem, general von, at windsor, author's interview with, ellison, colonel, at berlin, england, a war staff for the navy in, , commercial rivalry with germany, conservation of sea power and what it implied, , efforts to preserve peace end in failure, her alleged plans to violate belgian neutrality, propagandists for german military party in, reorganization of army in, voluntary military system of, and its advantages, (_see_ also great britain) england's precautions against germany's war designs, - englishmen, defects and failings of, psychology of, entente, the, england's entry into--and the alternative, , , policy of, ewart, general, and the committee of imperial defense, expeditionary force (_see_ british expeditionary force) falkenhayn, von, commanded to potsdam, , france, apprehensive of germany's intentions, army of, _frankfurter zeitung_ opposes tirpitz's war objectives, free trade, prince von bülow's views on, william ii. on, french revolution, the, french, sir john, and reorganization of british army, george v., king, entertains german emperor, george, lloyd, and the agadir crisis, at meetings of committee of imperial defense, german desire of commercial development, , , foreign policy: divided control of, germans, psychology of, germany, and the agadir incident, and the hague conference, attitude of, before the war, _et seq._ cause of her downfall, chauvinist party in, commercial rivalry with england, decides upon war, defect of imperial system in, desire for commercial expansion, fleet laws passed in the reichstag, her responsibility for the world war, increases her armaments, , , influence of general staff, , militarist party of, , , miscalculations at outbreak of war, , naval program of, , new military law passed, organization of her navy, over-ambition of, peaceful penetration policy of, , politics in: an anecdote of, (note) result of military spirit in, , scaremongers in, shipbuilding program of, the new fleet law, , , , the press and tirpitz, two inconsistent policies in, why she entered the war, goltz, von der, his "nation in arms," goschen, sir edward, demands his passports, gosse, edmund, meets the emperor, grant duff, colonel, great britain and belgian neutrality, ante-war policy of, , deficiencies in military organization of, enters the war, her sea power before the war, indefinite policy of, , , question of her preparedness for war, , the educational problem in, great war, the, and germany's responsibility, causes of, greindl, baron, and a curious legend, grey, sir edward (lord grey of fallodon), an historical speech by, and the bagdad railway question, at meetings of imperial defense committee, bethmann-hollweg on, denies an insinuation originating in berlin, his efforts for peace, , , negotiates with germany, presses serbia to accept ultimatum, proposes a conference, grierson, general, and the committee of imperial defense, hague conference, the, germany's difficulty, haig, sir douglas, and military preparations for war, and the reorganization of british army, haldane, lord, a luncheon to the german emperor, a visit to the united states and canada, addresses at montreal and oxford, , advocates improved system of education, and expeditionary and territorial forces, , , and the bagdad railway question, _et seq._ becomes lord chancellor, , "conversations" at berlin, , criticizes bethmann-hollweg's book, _et seq._ dines with the chancellor, entertained by general staff, examines organization of german war office, frank conversation with william ii., _et seq._ lunches with emperor and empress, on military preparations, _et seq._ post-war problems and how they should be met, _et seq._ rebuts a statement by tirpitz, secretary of state for war, studies in germany, visits german emperor, witnesses review of german troops, hankey, sir maurice, his work recognized by parliament, harcourt, lord, at imperial defense committee meetings, harnack, professor, author's meeting with, herzegovina, annexation of, , hindenburg, general von, author's meeting with, huguet, colonel, interviewed by author, imperial defense committee, the, , , , isvolsky, m., , jagow, herr von, and the ultimatum to serbia, kiaochow (_see_ tsingtau) kiderlen-waechter, herr von, a talk with, and the agadir incident, kitchener, lord, meets the emperor, personality of, kitchener's army, , lansdowne, lord, and the agreement with france, laurier, sir wilfrid, co-operates in military preparations, league of nations, the, , lucanus, von, snubbed by bismarck, lyncker, von, commanded to potsdam, , lyttelton, sir neville, macdonald, ramsay, lunches with german emperor, mahan, admiral, his works studied by tirpitz, mckenna, mr., and the navy, metternich, count, and bagdad railway question, at windsor, author's relations with, miles, sir herbert, assists in military preparations, military preparations, the, _et seq._ moltke, count von, his scheme for rapid mobilization, moltke, general von, a chat with, present at meeting of bismarck and kaiser, morley, lord, at luncheon to the emperor, attends meetings of committee of imperial defense, morocco difficulty, the, france's request to england, moulton, lord, meets german emperor, national philosophy, german, navy, british, mobilization of, sea power the dominant element in military policy, why strengthened and increased, , , navy, german, bülow on, william ii. and, nicholson, lord, and a new military system, chief of general staff, officers' training corps, organization of, ottley, admiral sir charles, secretary of committee of imperial defense, _panther_ sent to agadir, peace terms, the, burden of, post-war problems, and how they should be met, potsdam, a reported crown council at, and tirpitz's version of, , reinsurance treaty of , , repington, col. a'court, reventlow, count, (note) richter opposes tirpitz on the naval program, russia, army of, her hostility to austria, not wishful for war, russo-japanese war, william ii. and, sargent, j.s., lunches with the emperor, schoen, baron von, accompanies william ii. to england, and the bagdad railway question, serbia as "provocative neighbor," ultimatum to, skiernevice (_see_ reinsurance treaty) social democracy, and militarism, in germany, , special reserve, the, organization of, spender, j.a., meets the emperor, stosch, and the german navy, tangier, william ii. at, , tariff reform, the kaiser on, teaching universities, author and, technical colleges in england, territorial force, the, its part in the world war, mobilization of, organization of, , tirpitz, admiral von, an admission by, an interview with, and bethmann-hollweg's policy, criticizes author, demands a definite policy for war, his "erinnerungen" discussed, _et seq._ his influence in germany, informed of austria's demands to serbia, mentality of, outstanding thesis of his book, tribute to british sea power, visits bismarck, , trench warfare, unpreparedness for, tschirsky, herr von, and the ultimatum to serbia, author's interview with, on anglo-french entente, on the english press, tsingtau as german naval base, two-power standard, discussed with german emperor and prince bülow, , tirpitz and, united states (_see_ america) voluntary system, the, advantages of, william ii., emperor, an ominous admission by, and the agadir crisis, , and the anglo-french entente, bismarck's message to, consults bethmann-hollweg and zimmermann, count czernin on, desires exchange of views between berlin and london, , emperor of austria's letter to, and memorandum on policy, frank speech with author, _et seq_. his proposal on bagdad railway question, his reception in london, incautious speeches of, , , pays surprise visit to bismarck, promises support to austria, reads a poem to author, reviews his troops, tirpitz and, visits king edward and king george, , wilson, admiral sir arthur, meets the emperor, wilson, general, and the committee of imperial defense, windsor, the german emperor's visit to, zimmermann, herr, at potsdam conference, meets author, * * * * * +--------------------------------------------------------------+ | typographical errors corrected in text: | | | | page : landsdowne replaced by lansdowne | | | | unusual spellings left in the text: | | | | maneuvers | | altho | | tho | | bethmann hollweg versus bethmann-hollweg | +--------------------------------------------------------------+ [transcriber's note: obvious printer's errors have been corrected. the original spelling has been retained. page : "some with faces turned upwards," the word "turned" was crossed page : added a round bracket. (a bullet whistles by on the right of bill's head.)] the red horizon by the same author children of the dead end. the autobiography of a navvy. ten thousand printed within ten days of publication. the rat-pit. _third edition._ the amateur army. the experiences of a soldier in the making. the great push. the red horizon by patrick macgill with a foreword by viscount esher g. c. b. toronto mcclelland, goodchild & stewart, limited london herbert jenkins, limited the anchor press, ltd., tiptree, essex. to the london irish to the spirit of those who fight and to the memory of those who have passed away this book is dedicated foreword _to_ patrick macgill, rifleman no. , london irish. dear patrick macgill, there is open in france a wonderful exhibition of the work of the many gallant artists who have been serving in the french trenches through the long months of the war. there is not a young writer, painter, or sculptor of french blood, who is not risking his life for his country. can we make the same proud boast? when i recruited you into the london irish--one of those splendid regiments that london has sent to sir john french, himself an irishman--it was with gratitude and pride. you had much to give us. the rare experiences of your boyhood, your talents, your brilliant hopes for the future. upon all these the western hills and loughs of your native donegal seemed to have a prior claim. but you gave them to london and to our london territorials. it was an example and a symbol. the london irish will be proud of their young artist in words, and he will for ever be proud of the london irish regiment, its deeds and valour, to which he has dedicated such great gifts. may god preserve you. yours sincerely, esher. _president_ county of london callander. territorial association. _ th september, ._ contents chapter page i. the passing of the regiment ii. somewhere in france iii. our french billets iv. the night before the trenches v. first blood vi. in the trenches vii. blood and iron--and death viii. terrors of the night ix. the dug-out banquet x. a nocturnal adventure xi. the man with the rosary xii. the shelling of the keep xiii. a night of horror xiv. a field of battle xv. the reaction xvi. peace and war xvii. everyday life at the front xviii. the covering party xix. souvenir hunters xx. the women of france xxi. in the watches of the night xxii. romance the red horizon (p. ) chapter the passing of the regiment i wish the sea were not so wide that parts me from my love; i wish the things men do below were known to god above. i wish that i were back again in the glens of donegal; they'll call me coward if i return, but a hero if i fall. "is it better to be a living coward, or thrice a hero dead?" "it's better to go to sleep, my lad," the colour sergeant said. night, a grey troubled sky without moon or stars. the shadows lay on the surface of the sea, and the waves moaned beneath the keel of the troopship that was bearing us away on the most momentous journey of our lives. the hour was about ten. southampton lay astern; by dawn we should be in france, and a day nearer the war for which we had trained so long in the cathedral city of st. albans. i had never realized my mission as a rifleman so acutely before. (p. ) "to the war! to the war!" i said under my breath. "out to france and the fighting!" the thought raised a certain expectancy in my mind. "did i think three years ago that i should ever be a soldier?" i asked myself. "now that i am, can i kill a man; run a bayonet through his body; right through, so that the point, blood red and cruelly keen, comes out at the back? i'll not think of it." but the thoughts could not be chased away. the month was march, and the night was bitterly cold on deck. a sharp penetrating wind swept across the sea and sung eerily about the dun-coloured funnel. with my overcoat buttoned well up about my neck and my balaclava helmet pulled down over my ears i paced along the deck for quite an hour; then, shivering with cold, i made my way down to the cabin where my mates had taken up their quarters. the cabin was low-roofed and lit with two electric lamps. the corners receded into darkness where the shadows clustered thickly. the floor was covered with sawdust, packs and haversacks hung from pegs in the walls; a gun-rack stood in the centre of the apartment; butts down and muzzles in line, the rifles (p. ) stretched in a straight row from stern to cabin stairs. on the benches along the sides the men took their seats, each man under his equipment, and by right of equipment holding the place for the length of the voyage. my mates were smoking, and the whole place was dim with tobacco smoke. in the thick haze a man three yards away was invisible. "yes," said a red-haired sergeant, with a thick blunt nose, and a broken row of tobacco-stained teeth; "we're off for the doin's now." "blurry near time too," said a cockney named spud higgles. "i thought we weren't goin' out at all." "you'll be there soon enough, my boy," said the sergeant. "it's not all fun, i'm tellin' you, out yonder. i have a brother----" "the same bruvver?" asked spud higgles. "what d'ye mean?" inquired the sergeant. "ye're always speakin' about that bruvver of yours," said spud. "'e's only in ally sloper's cavalry; no man's ever killed in that mob." "h'm!" snorted the sergeant. "the a.s.c. runs twice as much risk as a line regiment." "that's why ye didn't join it then, is it?" asked the cockney. (p. ) "hold yer beastly tongue!" said the sergeant. "well, it's like this," said spud---- "hold your tongue," snapped the sergeant, and spud relapsed into silence. after a moment he turned to me where i sat. "it's not only germans that i'll look for in the trenches," he said, "when i have my rifle loaded and get close to that sergeant----" "you'll put a bullet through him"; i said, "just as you vowed you'd do to me some time ago. you were going to put a bullet through the sergeant-major, the company cook, the sanitary inspector, the army tailor and every single man in the regiment. are you going to destroy the london irish root and branch?" i asked. "well, there's some in it as wants a talking to at times," said spud. "'ave yer got a fag to spare?" somebody sung a ragtime song, and the cabin took up the chorus. the boys bound for the fields of war were light-hearted and gay. a journey from the bank to charing cross might be undertaken with a more serious air: it looked for all the world as if they were merely out on (p. ) some night frolic, determined to throw the whole mad vitality of youth into the escapade. "what will it be like out there?" i asked myself. the war seemed very near now. "what will it be like, but above all, how shall i conduct myself in the trenches? maybe i shall be afraid--cowardly. but no! if i can't bear the discomforts and terrors which thousands endure daily i'm not much good. but i'll be all right. vanity will carry me through where courage fails. it would be such a grand thing to become conspicuous by personal daring. suppose the men were wavering in an attack, and then i rushed out in front and shouted: 'boys, we've got to get this job through'--but, i'm a fool. anyhow i'll lie on the floor and have a sleep." most of the men were now in a deep slumber. despite an order against smoking, given a quarter of an hour before, a few of my mates had the "fags" lit, and as the lamps had been turned off the cigarettes glowed red through the gloom. the sleepers lay in every conceivable position, some with faces turned upwards, jaws hanging loosely and tongues stretching over the lower lips; some with knees curled up and (p. ) heads bent, frozen stiff in the midst of a grotesque movement, some with hands clasped tightly over their breasts and others with their fingers bent as if trying to clutch at something beyond their reach. a few slumbered with their heads on their rifles, more had their heads on the sawdust-covered floor, and these sent the sawdust fluttering whenever they breathed. the atmosphere of the place was close and almost suffocating. now and again someone coughed and spluttered as if he were going to choke. perspiration stood out in little beads on the temples of the sleepers, and they turned round from time to time to raise their balaclava helmets higher over their eyes. and so the night wore on. what did they dream of lying there? i wondered. of their journey and the perils that lay before them? of the glory or the horror of the war? of their friends whom, perhaps, they would never see again? it was impossible to tell. for myself i tried not to think too clearly of what i might see to-morrow or the day after. the hour was now past midnight and a new day had come. what did it hold for us all? nobody knew--i fell asleep. chapter ii (p. ) somewhere in france when i come back to england, and times of peace come round, i'll surely have a shilling, and may be have a pound; i'll walk the whole town over, and who shall say me nay, for i'm a british soldier with a british soldier's pay. the rest camp a city of innumerable bell-tents, stood on the summit of a hill overlooking the town and the sea beyond. we marched up from the quay in the early morning, followed the winding road paved with treacherous cobbles that glory in tripping unwary feet, and sweated to the summit of the hill. here a new world opened to our eyes: a canvas city, the mushroom growth of our warring times lay before us; tent after tent, large and small, bell-tent and marquee in accurate alignment. it took us two hours to march to our places; we grounded arms at the word of command and sank on our packs wearily happy. true, a few (p. ) had fallen out; they came in as we rested and awkwardly fell into position. they were men who had been sea-sick the night before. we were too excited to rest for long; like dogs in a new locality we were presently nosing round looking for food. two hours march in full marching order makes men hungry, and hungry men are ardent explorers. the dry and wet canteens faced one another, and each was capable of accommodating a hundred men. never were canteens crowded so quickly, never have hundreds of the hungry and drouthy clamoured so eagerly for admission as on that day. but time worked marvels; at the end of an hour we fell in again outside a vast amount of victuals, and the sea-sickness of the previous night, and the strain of the morning's march were things over which now we could be humorously reminiscent. sheepskin jackets, the winter uniform of the trenches, were served out to us, and all were tried on. they smelt of something chemical and unpleasant, but were very warm and quite polar in appearance. "wish my mother could see me now," bill the cockney remarked. "my, she wouldn't think me 'alf a cove. it's a balmy. i discovered the (p. ) south pole, i'm thinkin'." "more like you're up the pole!" some one cut in, then continued, "if they saw us at st. albans[ ] now! bet yer they wouldn't say as we're for home service." [footnote : it was at st. albans that we underwent most of our training.] that night we slept in bell-tents, fourteen men in each, packed tight as herrings in a barrel, our feet festooning the base of the central pole, our heads against the lower rim of the canvas covering. movement was almost an impossibility; a leg drawn tight in a cramp disturbed the whole fabric of slumbering humanity; the man who turned round came in for a shower of maledictions. in short, fourteen men lying down in a bell-tent cannot agree for very long, and a bell-tent is not a paradise of sympathy and mutual agreement. we rose early, washed and shaved, and found our way to the canteen, a big marquee under the control of the expeditionary force, where bread and butter, bacon and tea were served out for breakfast. soldiers recovering from wounds worked as waiters, and told, when they had a moment to spare, of hair-breadth adventures in the trenches. they (p. ) found us willing listeners; they had lived for long in the locality for which we were bound, and the whole raw regiment had a personal interest in the narratives of the wounded men. bayonet-charges were discussed. "i've been in three of 'em," remarked a quiet, inoffensive-looking youth who was sweeping the floor of the room. "they were a bit 'ot, but nothin' much to write 'ome about. not like a picture in the papers, none of them wasn't. not much stickin' of men. you just ops out of your trench and rush and roar, like 'ell. the germans fire and then run off, and it's all over." after breakfast feet were inspected by the medical officer. we sat down on our packs in the parade ground, took off our boots, and shivered with cold. the day was raw, the wind sharp and penetrating; we forgot that our sheepskins smelt vilely, and snuggled into them, glad of their warmth. the m.o. asked questions: "do your boots pinch?" "any blisters?" "do you wear two pairs of socks?" &c., &c. two thousand feet passed muster, and boots were put on again. the quartermaster's stores claimed our attention afterwards, and (p. ) the attendants there were almost uncannily kind. "are you sure you've got everything you want?" they asked us. "there mayn't be a chance to get fitted up after this." socks, pull-throughs, overcoats, regimental buttons, badges, hats, tunics, oil-bottles, gloves, puttees, and laces littered the floor and were piled on the benches. we took what we required; no one superintended our selection. at st. albans, where we had been turned into soldiers, we often stood for hours waiting until the quartermaster chose to give us a few inches of rifle-rag; here a full uniform could be obtained by picking it up. and our men were wise in selecting only necessities; they still remembered the march of the day before. all took sparingly and chose wisely. fancy socks were passed by in silence, the homely woollen article, however, was in great demand. bond street was forgotten. the "nut" was a being of a past age, or, if he still existed, he was undergoing a complete transformation. also he knew what socks were best for the trenches. at noon we were again ready to set out on our journey. a tin of bully-beef and six biscuits, hard as rocks, were given to each man (p. ) prior to departure. sheepskins were rolled into shape and fastened on the tops of our packs, and with this additional burden on the shoulder we set out from the rest-camp and took our course down the hill. on the way we met another regiment coming up to fill our place, to sleep in our bell-tents, pick from the socks which we had left behind, and to meet for once, the first and last time perhaps, a quartermaster who is really kind in the discharge of his professional duties. we marched off, and sang our way into the town and station. our trucks were already waiting, an endless number they seemed lined up in the siding with an engine in front and rear, and the notice "hommes chevaux " in white letters on every door. the night before i had slept in a bell-tent where a man's head pointed to each seam in the canvas, to-night it seemed as if i should sleep, if that were possible, in a still more crowded place, where we had now barely standing room, and where it was difficult to move about. but a much-desired relief came before the train started, spare waggons were shunted on, and a number of men were taken from each compartment and given room elsewhere. (p. ) in fact, when we moved off we had only twenty-two soldiers in our place, quite enough though when our equipment, pack, rifle, bayonet, haversack, overcoat, and sheepskin tunic were taken into account. a bale of hay bound with wire was given to us for bedding, and bully-beef, slightly flavoured, and biscuits were doled out for rations. some of us bought oranges, which were very dear, and paid three halfpence apiece for them; chocolate was also obtained, and one or two adventurous spirits stole out to the street, contrary to orders, and bought _café au lait_ and _pain et beurre_, drank the first in the _estaminet_, and came back to their trucks munching the latter. at noon we started out on the journey to the trenches, a gay party that found expression for its young vitality in song. the sliding-doors and the windows were open; those of us who were not looking out of the one were looking out of the other. to most it was a new country, a place far away in peace and a favourite resort of the wealthy; but now a country that called for any man, no matter how poor, if he were strong in person and willing to give his life away when called upon to do so. in fact, the poor man was having his first holiday on the continent, and alas!--perhaps his last; and like (p. ) cattle new to the pasture fields in spring, we were surging full of life and animal gaiety. we were out on a great adventure, full of thrill and excitement; the curtain which surrounded our private life was being lifted; we stood on the threshold of momentous events. the cottagers who laboured by their humble homes stood for a moment and watched our train go by; now and again a woman shouted out a blessing on our mission, and ancient men seated by their doorsteps pointed in the direction our train was going, and drew lean, skinny hands across their throats, and yelled advice and imprecations in hoarse voices. we understood. the ancient warriors ordered us to cut the kaiser's throat and envied us the job. the day wore on, the evening fell dark and stormy. a cold wind from somewhere swept in through chinks in windows and door, and chilled the compartment. the favourite song, _uncle joe_, with its catching chorus, when uncle joe plays a rag upon his old banjo, eberybody starts aswayin to and fro, mummy waddles all around the cabin floor, yellin' "uncle joe, give us more! give us more!" died away into a melancholy whimper. sometimes one of the men would rise, open the window and look out at a passing hamlet, where (p. ) lights glimmered in the houses and heavy waggons lumbered along the uneven streets, whistle an air into the darkness and close the window again. my mate had an electric torch--by its light we opened the biscuit box handed in when we left the station, and biscuits and bully-beef served to make a rather comfortless supper. at ten o'clock, when the torch refused to burn, and when we found ourselves short of matches, we undid the bale, spread out the hay on the floor of the truck and lay down, wearing our sheepskin tunics and placing our overcoats over our legs. we must have been asleep for some time. we were awakened by the stopping of the train and the sound of many voices outside. the door was opened and we looked out. an officer was hurrying by, shouting loudly, calling on us to come out. on a level space bordering the line a dozen or more fires were blazing merrily, and dixies with some boiling liquid were being carried backwards and forwards. a sergeant with a lantern, one of our own men, came to our truck and clambered inside. "every man get his mess tin," he shouted. "hurry up, the train's not stopping for long, and there's coffee and rum for us all." (p. ) "i wish they'd let us sleep," someone who was fumbling in his pack remarked in a sleepy voice. "i'm not wantin' no rum and cawfee. last night almost choked in the bell-tent, the night before sea-sick, and now wakened up for rum and cawfee. blast it, i say!" we lined up two deep on the six-foot way, shivering in the bitter cold, our mess-tins in our hands. the fires by the railway threw a dim light on the scene, officers paraded up and down issuing orders, everybody seemed very excited, and nearly all were grumbling at being awakened from their beds in the horse-trucks. many of our mates were now coming back with mess-tins steaming hot, and some would come to a halt for a moment and sip from their rum and coffee. chilled to the bone we drew nearer to the coffee dixies. what a warm drink it would be! i counted the men in front--there were no more than twelve or thirteen before me. ah! how cold! and hot coffee--suddenly a whistle was blown, then another. "back to your places!" the order came, and never did a more unwilling party go back to bed. we did not learn the reason for the order; (p. ) in the army few explanations are made. we shivered and slumbered till dawn, and rose to greet a cheerless day that offered us biscuits and bully-beef for breakfast and bully-beef and biscuits for dinner. at half-past four in the afternoon we came to a village and formed into column of route outside the railway station. two hours march lay before us we learned, but we did not know where we were bound. as we waited ready to move off a sound, ominous and threatening, rumbled in from the distance and quivered by our ears. we were hearing the sound of guns! chapter iii (p. ) our french billets the fog is white on glenties moors, the road is grey from glenties town, oh! lone grey road and ghost-white fog, and ah! the homely moors of brown. the farmhouse where we were billeted reminded me strongly of my home in donegal with its fields and dusky evenings and its spirit of brooding quiet. nothing will persuade me, except perhaps the censor, that it is not the home of marie claire, it so fits in with the description in her book. the farmhouse stands about a hundred yards away from the main road, with a cart track, slushy and muddy running across the fields to the very door. the whole aspect of the place is forbidding, it looks squalid and dilapidated, and smells of decaying vegetable matter, of manure and every other filth that can find a resting place in the vicinity of an unclean dwelling-place. but it is not dirty; its home-made bread and beer are excellent, the new-laid eggs are delightful for breakfast, the milk and butter, fresh and pure, are dainties that an epicure might rave (p. ) about. we easily became accustomed to the discomforts of the place, to the midden in the centre of the yard, to the lean long-eared pigs that try to gobble up everything that comes within their reach, to the hens that flutter over our beds and shake the dust of ages from the barn-roof at dawn, to the noisy little children with the dirty faces and meddling fingers, who poke their hands into our haversacks, to the farm servants who inspect all our belongings when we are out on parade, and even now we have become accustomed to the very rats that scurry through the barn at midnight and gnaw at our equipment and devour our rations when they get hold of them. one night a rat bit a man's nose--but the tale is a long one and i will tell it at some other time. we came to the farm forty of us in all, at the heel of a cold march day. we had marched far in full pack with rifle and bayonet. a additional load had now been heaped on our shoulders in the shape of the sheepskin jackets, the uniform of the trenches, indispensable to the firing line, but the last straw on the backs of overburdened soldiers. the march to the barn billet was a miracle of endurance, (p. ) but all lived it through and thanked heaven heartily when it was over. that night we slept in the barn, curled up in the straw, our waterproof sheets under us and our blankets and sheepskins round our bodies. it was very comfortable, a night, indeed, when one might wish to remain awake to feel how very glorious the rest of a weary man can be. awaking with dawn was another pleasure; the barn was full of the scent of corn and hay and of the cow-shed beneath. the hens had already flown to the yard and the dovecot was voluble. somewhere near a girl was milking, and we could hear the lilt of her song as she worked; a cart rumbled off into the distance, a bell was chiming, and the dogs of many farms were exchanging greetings. the morning was one to be remembered. but mixed with all these medley of sounds came one that was almost new; we heard it for the first time the day previous and it had been in our ears ever since; it was with us still and will be for many a day to come. most of us had never heard the sound before, never heard its summons, its murmur or its menace. all night long it was in the air, and sweeping round the barn where we lay, telling all who chanced (p. ) to listen that out there, where the searchlights quivered across the face of heaven, men were fighting and killing one another: soldiers of many lands, of england, ireland and scotland, of australia, and germany; of canada, south africa, and new zealand; saxon, gurkha, and prussian, englishman, irishman, and scotchman were engaged in deadly combat. the sound was the sound of guns--our farmhouse was within the range of the big artillery. we were billeted a platoon to a barn, a section to a granary, and despite the presence of rats and, incidentally, pigs, we were happy. on one farm there were two pigs, intelligent looking animals with roguish eyes and queer rakish ears. they were terribly lean, almost as lean as some i have seen in spain where the swine are as skinny as granada beggars. they were very hungry and one ate a man's food-wallet and all it contained, comprising bread, army biscuits, canned beef, including can and other sundries. "i wish the animal had choked itself," my mate said when he discovered his loss. personally i had a profound respect for any pig who voluntarily eats army (p. ) biscuit. we got up about six o'clock every morning and proceeded to wash and shave. all used the one pump, sometimes five or six heads were stuck under it at the same moment, and an eager hand worked the handle, and poured a plentiful supply of very cold water on the close cropped pates. the panes of the farmhouse window made excellent shaving mirrors and, incidentally, i may mention that rifle-slings generally serve the purpose of razor strops. breakfast followed toilet; most of the men bought _café-au-lait_, at a penny a basin, and home-made bread, buttered lavishly, at a penny a slice. a similar repast would cost sixpence in london. parade then followed. in england we had cherished the illusion that life abroad would be an easy business, merely consisting of firing practices in the trenches, followed by intervals of idleness in rest-camps, where cigarettes could be obtained for the asking, and tots of rum would be served out _ad infinitum_. this rum would have a certain charm of its own, make everybody merry, and banish all discomforts due to frost and cold for ever. thus the men thought, though most of our fellows are teetotallers. we get rum now, few (p. ) drink it; we are sated with cigarettes, and smoke them as if in duty bound; the stolen delight of the last "fag-end" is a dream of the past. parades are endless, we have never worked so hard since we joined the army; the minor offences of the cathedral city are full-grown crimes under long artillery range; a dirty rifle was only a matter for words of censure a month ago, a dirty rifle now will cause its owner to meditate in the guard-room. dinner consists of bully beef and biscuits; now and again we fry the bully beef on the farmhouse stove, and when cash is plentiful cook an egg with it. the afternoon is generally given up to practising bayonet-fighting, and our day's work comes to an end about six o'clock. in the evening we go into the nearest village and discuss matters of interest in some _café_. here we meet all manner of men, gurkhas fresh from the firing line; bus-drivers, exiles from london; men of the army service corps; engineers, kilted highlanders, men recovering from wounds, who are almost fit to go to the trenches again; french soldiers, canadian soldiers, and all sorts of people, helpers in some way or another of the allies in the great war. we have to get back to our billets by eight o'clock, to stop out (p. ) after that hour is a serious crime here. a soldier out of doors at midnight in the cathedral city was merely a minor offender. but under the range of long artillery fire all things are different for the soldier. st. patrick's day was an event. we had a half holiday, and at night, with the aid of beer, we made merry as men can on st. patrick's day. we sang irish songs, told stories, mostly cockney, and laughed without restraint as merry men will, for to all st. patrick was an admirable excuse for having a good and rousing time. there is, however, one little backwater of rest and quiet into which we men of blood and iron drift at all too infrequent intervals--that is when we become what is known officially as "barn orderly." a barn orderly is the company unit who looks after the billets of the men out on parade. in due course my turn arrived, and the battalion marched away leaving me to the quiet of farmyard. having heaped up the straw, our bedding, in one corner of the barn, swept the concrete floor, rolled the blankets, explained to the gossipy farm servant that i did not "compree" her gibberish, and (p. ) watched her waddle across the midden towards the house, my duties were ended. i was at liberty until the return of the battalion. it was all very quiet, little was to be heard save the gnawing of the rats in the corner of the barn and the muffled booming of guns from "out there"--"out there" is the oft repeated phrase that denotes the locality of the firing line. there was sunlight and shade in the farmyard, the sun lit up the pump on the top of which a little bird with salmon-pink breast, white-tipped tail, and crimson head preened its feathers; in the shade where our barn and the stables form an angle an old lady in snowy sunbonnet and striped apron was sitting knitting. it was good to be there lying prone upon the barn straw near the door above the crazy ladder, writing letters. i had learned to love this place and these people whom i seem to know so very well from having read rené bazin, daudet, maupassant, balzac and marie claire. high up and far away to the west a zeppelin was to be seen travelling in a westerly direction; the farmer's wife, our landlady, had just rescued a tin of bully beef from one of her all-devouring pigs; at the barn door lay my recently cleaned rifle and ordered equipment--how incongruous it all was (p. ) with the home of marie claire. suddenly i was brought back to realities by the recollection that the battalion was to have a bath that afternoon and towels and soap must be ready to take out on the next parade. the next morning was beautifully clear; the sun rising over the firing line lit up wood and field, river and pond. the hens were noisy in the farmyard, the horse lines to the rear were full of movement, horses strained at their tethers eager to break away and get free from the captivity of the rope; the grooms were busy brushing the animals' legs and flanks, and a slight dust arose into the air as the work was carried on. over the red-brick houses of the village the church stood high, its spire clearly defined against the blue of the sky. the door of the _café_ across the road opened, and the proprietress, a merry-faced, elderly woman, came across to the farmhouse. she purchased some newly laid eggs for breakfast, and entered into conversation with our men, some of whom knew a little of her language. they asked about her son in the trenches; she had heard from him the day before and he was (p. ) quite well and hoped to have a holiday very soon. he would come home then and spend a fortnight with the family. she looked forward to his coming, he had been away from her ever since the war started; she had not seen him for eight whole months. what happiness would be hers when he returned! she waved her hand to us as she went off, tripping lightly across the roadway and disappearing into the _café_. she was going to church presently; it was holy week when the virgin listened to special intercessors, and the good matron of the _café_ prayed hourly for the safety of her soldier boy. at ten o'clock we went to chapel, our pipers playing _the wearing of the green_ as we marched along the crooked village streets, our rifles on our shoulders and our bandoliers heavy with the ball cartridge which we carried. the rifle is with us always now, on parade, on march, in _café_, billet, and church; our "best friend" is our eternal companion. we carried it into the church and fastened the sling to the chair as we knelt in prayer before the altar. we occupied the larger part of the building, only three able-bodied men in civilian clothing were in attendance. the youth of the country were out in the trenches, and even here (p. ) in the quiet little chapel with its crucifixes, images, and pictures, there was the suggestion of war in the collection boxes for wounded soldiers, in the crêpe worn by so many women; one in every ten was in mourning, and above all in the general air of resignation which showed on all the faces of the native worshippers. the whole place breathed war, not in the splendid whirlwind rush of men mad in the wild enthusiasm of battle, but in silent yearning, heartfelt sorrow, and great bravery, the bravery of women who remain at home. opposite us sat the lady of the _café_, her head low down on her breast, and the rosary slipping bead by bead through her fingers. now and again she would stir slightly, raise her eyes to the virgin on the right of the high altar, and move her lips in prayer, then she would lower her head again and continue her rosary. as far as i could ascertain singing in church was the sole privilege of the choir, none of the congregation joined in the hymns. but to-day the church had a new congregation--the soldiers from england, the men who sing in the trenches, in the billet, and on the march; the men who glory in song on the last lap of a long, killing journey in full (p. ) marching order. to-day they sang a hymn well-known and loved, the clarion call of their faith was started by the choir. as one man the soldiers joined in the singing, and their voices filled the building. the other members of the congregation looked on for a moment in surprise, then one after another they started to sing, and in a moment nearly all in the place were aiding the choir. one was silent, however, the lady of the _café_; still deep in prayer she scarcely glanced at the singers, her mind was full of another matter. only a mother thinking about a loved son can so wholly lose herself from the world. and as i looked at her i thought i detected tears in her eyes. the priest, a pleasant faced young man, who spoke very quickly (i have never heard anybody speak like him), thanked the soldiers, and through them their nation for all that was being done to help in the war; prayers were said for the men at the front, those who were still alive, as well as those who had given up their lives for their country's sake, and before leaving we sang the national anthem, our's, _god save the king_. with the pipers playing at our front, and an admiring crowd of (p. ) boys following, we took our way back to our billets. on the march a mate was speaking, one who had been late coming on parade in the morning. "saw the woman of the _café_ in church?" he asked me. "saw her crying?" "i thought she looked unhappy." "just after you got off parade the news came," my mate told me. "her son had been killed. she is awfully upset about it and no wonder. she was always talking about her _petit garçon_, and he was to be home on holidays shortly." somewhere "out there" where the guns are incessantly booming, a nameless grave holds the "_petit garçon_," the _café_ lady's son; next sunday another mourner will join with the many in the village church and pray to the virgin mother for the soul of her beloved boy. chapter iv (p. ) the night before the trenches four by four in column of route, by roads that the poplars sentinel, clank of rifle and crunch of boot-- all are marching and all is well. white, so white is the distant moon, salmon-pink is the furnace glare, and we hum, as we march, a ragtime tune, khaki boys in the long platoon, going and going--anywhere. "the battalion will move to-morrow," said the jersey youth, repeating the orders read out in the early part of the day, and removing a clot of farmyard muck from the foresight guard of his rifle as he spoke. it was seven o'clock in the evening, the hour when candles were stuck in their cheese sconces and lighted. cakes of soap and lumps of cheese are easily scooped out with clasp-knives and make excellent sconces; we often use them for that purpose in our barn billet. we had been quite a long time in the place and had grown to like it. but to-morrow we were leaving. "oh, dash the rifle!" said the jersey boy, getting to his feet and kicking a bundle of straw across the floor of the barn. "to-morrow (p. ) night we'll be in the trenches up in the firing line." "the slaughter line," somebody remarked in the corner where the darkness hung heavy. a match was lighted disclosing the speaker's face and the pipe which he held between his teeth. "no smoking," yelled a corporal, who had just entered. "you'll burn the damned place down and get yourself as well as all of us into trouble." "oh blast the barn!" muttered bill sykes, a narrow chested cockney with a good-humoured face that belied his nickname. "it's only fit for rats and there's 'nuff of 'em 'ere. i'm goin' to 'ave a fag anyway. got me?" the corporal asked bill for a cigarette and lit it. "we're all mates now and we'll make a night of it," he cried. "damn the barn, there'll be barns when we're all washed out with jack johnsons. what are you doin', feelan?" feelan, an irishman with a brogue that could be cut with a knife, laid down the sword which he was burnishing and glanced at the non-com. "the germans don't fire at men with stripes, i hear," he remarked, "they only shoot rale good soldiers. a livin' corp'ral's hardly as (p. ) good as a dead rifleman." six foot three of cumberland bone and muscle detached itself from the straw and looked round the barn. we call it goliath on account of its size. "who's to sing the first song," asked goliath. "a good hearty song!" "one with whiskers on it!" said the corporal. "i'll slash the game up and give a rale ould song, whiskers to the toes of it," said feelan, shoving his sword in its scabbard and throwin' himself flat back on the straw. "its a song about the time irelan' was fightin' for freedom and it's called _the rising of the moon_! a great song entirely it is, and i cannot do it justice." feelan stood up, his legs wide apart and both his thumbs stuck in the upper pockets of his tunic. behind him the barn stretched out into the gloom that our solitary candle could not pierce. on either side rifles hung from the wall, and packs and haversacks stood high from the straw in which most of the men had buried themselves, leaving nothing but their faces, fringed with the rims of balaclava helmets, exposed to view. the night was bitterly cold, outside where the sky stood high splashed with countless stars and where the earth gripped tight on (p. ) itself, the frost fiend was busy; in the barn, with its medley of men, roosting hens and prowling rats all was cosy and warm. feelan cleared his throat and commenced the song, his voice strong and clear filled the barn:-- "arrah! tell me shan o'farrel; tell me why you hurry so?" "hush, my bouchal, hush and listen," and his cheeks were all aglow-- "i've got orders from the captain to get ready quick and soon for the pikes must be together at the risin' of the moon, at the risin' of the moon! at the risin' of the moon! and the pikes must be together at the risin' of the moon!" "that's some song," said the corporal. "it has got guts in it. i'm sick of these ragtime rotters!" "the old songs are always the best ones," said feelan, clearing his throat preparatory to commencing a second verse. "what about _uncle joe_?" asked goliath, and was off with a regimental favourite. when uncle joe plays a rag upon his old banjo-- ("oh!" the occupants of the barn yelled.) ev'rybody starts a swayin' to and fro-- ("ha!" exclaimed the barn.) mummy waddles all around the cabin floor!-- ("what!" we chorused.) crying, "uncle joe, give us more, give us more!" "give us no more of that muck!" exclaimed feelan, burrowing into (p. ) the straw, no doubt a little annoyed at being interrupted in his song. "damn ragtime!" "there's ginger in it!" said goliath. "your old song is as flat as french beer!" "some decent music is what you want," said bill sykes, and forthwith began strumming an invisible banjo and humming _way down upon the swanee ribber_. the candle, the only one in our possession, burned closer to the cheese sconce, a daring rat slipped into the light, stopped still for a moment on top of a sheaf of straw, then scampered off again, shadows danced on the roof, over the joists where the hens were roosting, an unsheathed sword glittered brightly as the light caught it, and feelan lifted the weapon and glanced at it. "burnished like a lady's nail," he muttered. "thumb nail?" interrogated goliath. "ragnail, p'raps," said the cockney. "i wonder whether we'll have much bayonet-fightin' or not?" remarked the jersey boy, looking at each of us in turn and addressing no one in particular. "we'll get some now and again to keep us warm!" said the corporal. (p. ) "it'll be 'ot when it comes along." "'ot's not the word," said bill; "i never was much drawn to soldierin' 'fore the war started, but when it came along i felt i'd like to 'ave a 'and in the gime. there, that candle's goin' out!" "bunk!" roared the corporal, putting his pipe in his pocket and seizing a blanket, the first to hand. almost immediately he was under the straw with the blanket wrapped round him. we were not backward in following, and all were in bed when the flame which followed the wax so greedily died for lack of sustenance. to-morrow night we should be in the trenches. chapter v (p. ) first blood the nations like kilkenny cats, full of hate that never dies out, tied tail to tail, hung o'er a rope, still strive to tear each other's eyes out. the company came to a halt in the village; we marched for three miles, and the morning being a hot one we were glad to fall out and lie down on the pavement, packs well up under our shoulders and our legs stretched out at full length over the kerbstone into the gutter. the sweat stood out in beads on the men's foreheads and trickled down their cheeks on to their tunics. the white dust of the roadway settled on boots, trousers, and putties, and rested in fine layers on haversack folds and cartridge pouches. rifles and bayonets, spotless in the morning's inspection, had lost all their polished lustre and were gritty to the touch. we carried a heavy load, two hundred rounds of ball cartridge, a loaded rifle with five rounds in magazine, a pack stocked with overcoat, spare underclothing, and other field (p. ) necessaries, a haversack containing twenty-four hours rations, and sword and entrenching tool per man. we were equipped for battle and were on our way towards the firing line. a low-set man with massive shoulders, bull-neck and heavy jowl had just come out of an _estaminet_, a mess-tin of beer in his hand, and knife and fork stuck in his putties. "going up to the slaughter line, mateys?" he enquired, an amused smile hovering about his eyes, which took us all in with one penetrating glance. "yes," i replied. "have you been long out here?" "about a matter of nine months." "you've been lucky," said mervin, my mate. "i haven't gone west yet, if that's what you mean," was the answer. "'oo are you?" "the london irish." "territorials?" "that's us," someone said. "first time up this way?" "first time." "i knew that by the size of your packs," said the man, the smile reaching his lips. "bloomin' pack-horses you look like. if you want a word of advice, sling your packs over a hedge, keep a tight grip (p. ) of your mess-tin, and ram your spoon and fork into your putties. my pack went west at mons." "you were there then?" "blimey, yes." was the answer. "how did you like it?" "not so bad," said the man. "'ave a drink and pass the mess-tin round. there is only one bad shell, that's the one that 'its you, and if you're unlucky it'll come your way. the same about the bullet with your number on it; it can't miss you if it's made for you. and if ever you go into a charge--think of your pals, matey!" he roared at the man who was greedily gulping down the contents of the mess-tin, "you're swigging all the stuff yourself. for myself i don't care much for this beer, it has no guts in it, one good english pint is worth an ocean of this dashed muck. good-bye"--we were moving off, "and good luck to you!" mervin, perspiring profusely, marched by my side. he and i have been great comrades, we have worked, eaten, and slept together, and committed sin in common against regimental regulations. mervin has been a great traveller, he has dug for gold in the yukon, grown oranges in los angeles, tapped for rubber in camerango (i don't (p. ) know where the place is, but i love the name), and he can eat a tin of bully beef, and relish the meal. he is the only man in our section who can enjoy it, one of us cares only for cheese, and few grind biscuits when they can beg bread. a battalion is divided into four companies, a company contains four platoons made up of sections of unequal strength; our section consisted of thirteen--there are only four boys left now, mervin has been killed, five have been wounded, two have become stretcher bearers, and one has left us to join another company in which one of his mates is placed. poor mervin! how sad it was to lose him, and much sadder is it for his sweetheart in england. he was engaged; often he told me of his dreams of a farm, a quiet cottage and a garden at home when the war came to an end. somewhere in a soldier's grave he sleeps. i know not where he lies, but one day, if the fates spare me, i will pay a visit to the resting-place of a true comrade and a staunch friend. outside the village we formed into single file. it was reported that the enemy shelled the road daily, and only three days before the royal engineers lost thirty-seven men when going up to the trenches on the same route. in the village all was quiet, the _cafés_ were open, (p. ) and old men, women, and boys were about their daily work as usual. there were very few young men of military age in the place; all were engaged in the business of war. a file marched on each side of the road. mervin was in front of me; stoner, a slender youth, tall as a lance and lithe as a poplar, marched behind, smoking a cigarette and humming a tune. he worked as a clerk in a large london club whose members were both influential and wealthy. when he joined the army all his pay was stopped, and up to the present he has received from his employers six bars of chocolate and four old magazines. his age is nineteen, and his job is being kept open for him. he is one of the cheeriest souls alive, a great worker, and he loves to listen to the stories which now and again i tell to the section. when at st. albans he spent six weeks in hospital suffering from tonsilitis. the doctor advised him to stay at home and get his discharge; he is still with us, and once, during our heaviest bombardment, he slept for a whole eight hours in his dug-out. all the rest of us remained awake, feeling certain that our last hour had come. teak and kore, two bosom chums, marched on the other side of the (p. ) road. both are children almost; they may be nineteen, but neither look it; kore laughs deep down in his throat, and laughs heartiest when his own jokes amuse the listeners. he is not fashioned in a strong mould, but is an elegant marcher, and light of limb; he may be a clerk in business, but as he is naturally secretive we know nothing of his profession. kore is also a punster who makes abominable puns; these amuse nobody except, perhaps, himself. teak, a good fellow, is known to us as bill sykes. he has a very pale complexion, and has the most delightful nose in all the world; it is like a little white potato. bill is a good-humored cockney, and is eternally involved in argument. he carries a jew's harp and a mouth-organ, and when not fingering one he is blowing music-hall tunes out of the other. goliath, six foot three of bone and muscle, is a magnificent animal. the gods forgot little of their old-time cunning in the making of him, in the forging of his shoulders, massive as a bull's withers, in the shaping of his limbs, sturdy as pillars of granite and supple as willows, in the setting of his well-poised head, his heavy jaw, (p. ) and muscled neck. but the gods seem to have grown weary of a momentous masterpiece when they came to the man's eyes, and goliath wears glasses. for all that he is a good marksman and, strange to say, he delights in the trivialities of verse, and carries an earmarked tennyson about with him. pryor is a pessimist, an artist, a poet, a writer of stories; he drifted into our little world on the march and is with us still. he did not like his previous section and applied for a transfer into ours. he gloats over sunsets, colours, unconventional doings, hopes that he will never marry a girl with thick ankles, and is certain that he will never live to see the end of the war. pryor, teak, kore, and stoner have never used a razor; they are as beardless as babes. we were coming near the trenches. in front, the two lines of men stretched on as far as the eye could see; we were near the rear and singing _macnamara's band_, a favourite song with our regiment. suddenly a halt was called. a heap of stones bounded the roadway, and we sat down, laying our rifles on the fine gravel. the crash came from the distance, probably five hundred yards in front, and it sounded like a waggon-load of rubble being emptied on a (p. ) landing and clattering down a flight of stairs. "what's that?" asked stoner, flicking the ash from the tip of his cigarette with the little finger. "some transport has broken down." "perhaps it's a shell," i ventured, not believing what i said. "oh! your grandmother." whistling over our head it came with a swish similar to that made by a wet sheet shaken in the wind, and burst in the field on the other side of the road. a ball of white smoke poised for a moment in mid-air, curled slowly upwards, and gradually faded away. i looked at my mates. stoner was deadly pale; it seemed as if all the blood had rushed away from his face. teak's mouth was a little open, his cigarette, sticking to his upper lip, hung down quivering, and the ash was falling on his tunic; a smile almost of contempt played on pryor's face, and goliath yawned. at the time i wondered if he were posing. he spoke:-- "there's only one bad shell, you know," he said. "it hasn't come this way yet. see that woman?" he pointed at the field where the shell (p. ) had exploded. at the far end a woman was working with a hoe, her head bowed over her work, and her back bent almost double. two children, a boy and a girl, came along the road hand in hand, and deep in a childish discussion. the world, the fighting men, and the bursting shells were lost to them. they were intent on their own little affairs. for ourselves we felt more than anything else a sensation of surprise--surprise because we were not more afraid of the bursting shrapnel. "quick march!" we got to our feet and resumed our journey. we were now passing through a village where several houses had been shattered, and one was almost levelled to the ground. but beside it, almost intact, although not a pane of glass remained in the windows, stood a _café_. a pale stick of a woman in a white apron, with arms akimbo, stood on the threshold with a toddling infant tugging at her petticoats. several french soldiers were inside, seated round a table, drinking beer and smoking. one man, a tall, angular fellow with a heavy beard, seemed to be telling a funny story; all his mates were laughing heartily. a horseman came up at this moment, one of our soldiers, (p. ) and his horse was bleeding at the rump, where a red, ugly gash showed on the flesh. "just a splinter of shell," he said, in answer to our queries. "the one that burst there," he pointed with his whip towards the field where the shrapnel had exploded: "'twas only a whistler." "what did you think of it," i called to stoner. "i didn't know what to think first," was the answer, "then when i came to myself i thought it might have done for me, and i got a kind of shock just like i'd get when i have a narrow shave with a 'bus in london." "and you, pryor?" "i went cold all over for a minute." "bill?" "oh! blast them is what i say!" was his answer. "if it's going to do you in 'twill do you in, and that's about the end of it. well, sing a song to cheer us up," and without another word he began to bellow out one of our popular rhymes. oh! the irish boys they are the boys to drive the kaiser balmy. and _we'll_ smash up that fool von kluck and all his bloomin' army! we came to a halt again, this time alongside a red cross motor (p. ) ambulance. in front, with the driver, one of our boys was seated; his coat sleeve ripped from the shoulder, and blood trickling down his arm on to his clothes; inside, on the seat, was another with his right leg bare and a red gash showing above the knee. he looked dazed, but was smoking a cigarette. "stopped a packet, matey?" stoner enquired. "got a scratch, but it's not worth while talking about," was the answer. "i'll remember you to your english friends when i get back." "you're all right, matey," said a regular soldier who stood on the pavement, addressing the wounded man. "i'd give five pounds for a wound like that. you're damned lucky, and its your first journey!" "have you been long out here?" asked teak. "only about nine months," replied the regular. "there are seven of the old regiment left, and it makes me wish this damned business was over and done with." "ye don't like war, then." "like it! who likes it? only them that's miles away from the stinks, and cold, and heat, and everything connected with the ---- work." (p. ) "but this is a holy war," said pryor, an inscrutable smile playing round his lips. "god's with us, you know." "we're placing more reliance on gunpowder than on god," i remarked. "blimey! talk about god!" said the regular. "there's more of the damned devil in this than there is of anything else. they take us out of the trenches for a rest, send us to church, and tell us to love our neighbours. blimey! next day they send you up to the trenches again and tell you to kill like 'ell." "have you ever been in a bayonet charge?" asked stoner. "four of them," we were told, "and i don't like the blasted work, never could stomach it." the ambulance waggon whirred off, and the march was resumed. we were now about a mile from the enemy's lines, and well into the province of death and desolation. we passed the last ploughman. he was a mute, impotent figure, a being in rags, guiding his share, and turning up little strips of earth on his furrowed world. the old home, now a jumble of old bricks getting gradually hidden by the green grasses, the old farm holed by a thousand shells, the old plough, (p. ) and the old horses held him in bondage. there was no other world for the man; he was a dumb worker, crawling along at the rear of the destructive demon war, repairing, as far as he was able, the damage which had been done. we came to a village, literally buried. holes dug by high explosive shells in the roadway were filled up with fallen masonry. this was a point at which the transports stopped. beyond this, man was the beast of burden--the thing that with scissors-like precision cut off, pace by pace, the distance between him and the trenches. there is something pathetic in the forward crawl, in the automatic motion of boots rising and falling at the same moment; the gleaming sword handles waving backwards and forwards over the hip, and, above all, in the stretcher-bearers with stretchers slung over their shoulders marching along in rear. the march to battle breathes of something of an inevitable event, of forces moving towards a destined end. all individuality is lost, the thinking ego is effaced, the men are spokes in a mighty wheel, one moving because the other must, all fearing death as hearty men fear it, and all bent towards the same goal. we were marched to a red brick building with a shrapnel-shivered (p. ) roof, and picks and shovels were handed out to us. "you've got to help to widen the communication trench to-day!" we were told by an r.e. officer who had taken charge of our platoon. as we were about to start a sound made quite familiar to me what time i was in england as a marker at our rifle butts, cut through the air, and at the same moment one of the stray dogs which haunt their old and now unfamiliar localities like ghosts, yelled in anguish as he was sniffing the gutter, and dropped limply to the pavement. a french soldier who stood in a near doorway pulled the cigarette from his bearded lips, pointed it at the dead animal, and laughed. a comrade who was with him shrugged his shoulders deprecatingly. "that dashed sniper again!" said the r.e. officer. "where is he?" somebody asked innocently. "i wish we knew," said the officer. "he's behind our lines somewhere, and has been at this game for weeks. keep clear of the roadway!" he cried, as another bullet swept through the air, and struck the wall over the head of the laughing frenchman, who was busily rolling (p. ) a fresh cigarette. four of our men stopped behind to bury the dog, the rest of us found our way into the communication trench. a signboard at the entrance, with the words "to berlin," stated in trenchant words underneath, "this way to the war." the communication trench, sloping down from the roadway, was a narrow cutting dug into the cold, glutinous earth, and at every fifty paces in alternate sides a manhole, capable of holding a soldier with full equipment, was hollowed out in the clay. in front shells were exploding, and now and again shrapnel bullets and casing splinters sung over our heads, for the most part delving into the field on either side, but sometimes they struck the parapets and dislodged a pile of earth and dust, which fell on the floor of the trench. the floor was paved with bricks, swept clean, and almost free from dirt; there was a general air of cleanliness about the place, the level floor, the smooth sides, and the well-formed parapets. an engineer walking along the top, and well back from the side, counted us as we walked along in line with him. he had taken charge of our section as a working party, and when he turned to me in making up his tally i saw that he wore a ribbon (p. ) on his breast. "he has got the distinguished conduct medal," mervin whispered. "how did you get it?" he called up to the man. "just the luck of war," was the modest answer. "eleven, twelve, thirteen, that will be quite sufficient for me. are you just new out?" he asked. "oh, we've been a few weeks in training here." we met another engineer coming out, his face was dripping with blood, and he had a khaki handkerchief tied round his hand. "how did it happen?" i asked. "oh, a damned pip-squeak (a light shrapnel shell) caught me on the parapet," he laughed, squeezing into a manhole. "two of your boys have copped it bad along there. no, i don't think it was your fellows. who are you?" "the london irish." "oh! 'twasn't you, 'twas the ----," he said, rubbing a miry hand across the jaw, dripping with blood, "i think the two poor devils are done in. oh, this isn't much," he continued, taking out a spare handkerchief and wiping his face, "'twon't bring me back to england, worse (p. ) luck! are you from chelsea?" "yes." "what about the chances for the cup final?" he asked, and somebody took up the thread of conversation as i edged on to the spot where the two men lay. they were side by side, face upwards, in a disused trench that branched off from ours; the hand of one lay across the arm of the other, and the legs of both were curled up to their knees, almost touching their chests. they were mere boys, clean of lip and chin and smooth of forehead, no wrinkles had ever traced a furrow there. one's hat was off, it lay on the floor under his head. a slight red spot showed on his throat, there was no trace of a wound. his mate's clothes were cut away across the belly, the shrapnel had entered there under the navel, and a little blood was oozing out on to the trouser's waist, and giving a darkish tint to the brown of the khaki. two stretcher-bearers were standing by, feeling, if one could judge by the dejected look on their faces, impotent in the face of such a calamity. two first field dressings, one open and the contents trod on the ground, the other fresh as when it left the hands of the makers, (p. ) lay idle beside the dead man. a little distance to the rear a youngster was looking vacantly across the parapet, his eyes fixed on the ruined church in front, but his mind seemed to be deep in something else, a problem which he failed to solve. one of the stretcher-bearers pointed at the youth, then at the hatless body in the trench. "brothers," he said. for a moment a selfish feeling of satisfaction welled up in our lungs. teak gave it expression, his teeth chattering even as he spoke, "it might be two of us, but it isn't," and somehow with the thought came a sensation of fear. it might be our turn next, as we might go under to-day or to-morrow; who could tell when the turn of the next would come? and all that day i was haunted by the figure of the youth who was staring so vacantly over the rim of the trench, heedless of the bursting shells and indifferent to his own safety. the enemy shelled persistently. their objective was the ruined church, but most of their shells flew wide or went over their mark, and made matters lively in harley street, which ran behind the house of god. "why do they keep shellin' the church?" bill asked the engineer, (p. ) who never left the parapet even when the shells were bursting barely a hundred yards away. like the rest of us, bill took the precaution to duck when he heard the sound of the explosion. "that's what they always do," said stoner, "i never believed it even when i read it in the papers at home, but now--" "they think that we've ammunition stored there," said the engineer, "and they always keep potting at the place." "but have we?" "i dunno." "we wouldn't do it," said kore, who was of a rather religious turn of mind. "but they, the bounders, would do anything. are they the brutes the papers make them out to be? do they use dum-dum bullets?" "this is war, and men do things that they'd not do in the ordinary way," was the noncommittal answer of the engineer. "have you seen many killed?" asked mervin. "killed!" said the man on the parapet. "i think i have! you don't go through this and not see sights. i never even saw a dead man before this war. now!" he paused. "that what we saw just now," he (p. ) continued, alluding to the death of the two soldiers in the trench, "never moves me. _you'll_ feel it a bit being just new out, but when you're a while in the trenches you'll get used to it." in front a concussion shell blew in a part of the trench, filling it up to the parapet. that afternoon we cleared up the mess and put down a flooring of bricks in a newly opened corner. when night came we went back to the village in the rear. "the town of the last woman" our men called it. slept in cellars and cooked our food, our bully stew, our potatoes, and tea in the open. shells came our way continually, but for four days we followed up our work and none of our battalion "stopped a packet." chapter vi (p. ) in the trenches up for days in the trenches, working and working away; eight days up in the trenches and back again to-day. working with pick and shovel, on traverse, banquette, and slope, and now we are back and working with tooth-brush, razor, and soap. we had been at work since five o'clock in the morning, digging away at the new communication trench. it was nearly noon now, and rations had not come; the cook's waggons were delayed on the road. stoner, brisk as a bell all the morning, suddenly flung down his shovel. "i'm as hungry as ninety-seven pigs," he said, and pulled a biscuit from his haversack. "now i've got 'dog,' who has 'maggot'?" "dog and maggot" means biscuit and cheese, but none of us had the latter; cheese was generally flung into the incinerator, where it wasted away in smoke and smell. this happened of course when we were new to the grind of war. "i've found out something," said mervin, rubbing the sweat from (p. ) his forehead and looking over the parapet towards the firing line. a shell whizzed by, and he ducked quickly. we all laughed, the trenches have got a humour peculiarly their own. "there's a house in front," said mervin, "where they sell _café noir_ and _pain et beurre_." "git," muttered bill. "blimey, there's no one 'ere but fools like ourselves." "i've just been in the house," said mervin, who had really been absent for quite half an hour previously. "there are two women there, a mother and daughter. a good-looking girl, bill." the eyes of the cockney brightened. "twopence a cup for black coffee, and the same for bread and butter." "no civilians are allowed here," pryor remarked. "it's their own home," said mervin. "they've never left the place, and the roof is broken and half the walls blown away." "i'm for coffee," stoner cried, jumping over the parapet and stopping a shower of muck which a bursting shell flung in his face. we were with him immediately, and presently found ourselves at the door (p. ) of a red brick cottage with all the windows smashed, roof riddled with shot, and walls broken, just as mervin had described. a number of our men were already inside feeding. an elderly, well-dressed woman, with close-set eyes, rather thick lips, and a short nose, was grinding coffee near a flaming stove, on which an urn of boiling water was bubbling merrily. a young girl, not at all good-looking but very sweet in manner, said "bonjour, messieurs," as we entered, and approached each of us in turn to enquire into our needs. mervin knew the language, and we placed the business in his hands, and sat down on the floor paved with red bricks; the few chairs in the house were already occupied. the house was more or less in a state of disorder; the few pictures on the wall, the portrait of the woman herself, _the holy family journeying to egypt_, a print of millet's _angelus_, and a rude etching of a dog hung anyhow, the frames smashed and the glass broken. a dutch clock, with figures of nymphs on the face, and the timing piece of a shell dangling from the weights, looked idly down, its pendulum gone and the glass broken. bill, naughty rascal that he is, wanted a kiss with his coffee, (p. ) and finding that mervin refused to explain this to the girl, he undertook the matter himself. "madham mosselle," he said, lingering over every syllable, "i get no milk with cawfee, compree?" the girl shook her head, but seemed to be amused. "not compree," he continued, "and me learnin' the lingo. i don't like french, you spell it one way and speak it the other. nark (confound) it, i say, mad-ham-moss-elle, voo (what's "give," mervin?) dunno, that's it. voo dunno me a kiss with the cawfee, compree, it's better'n milk." "don't be a pig, bill," stoner cut in. "it's not fair to carry on like that." "nark you, stoner!" bill answered. "it mayn't be fair, but it'd be nice if i got one." "kiss a face like yours," muttered mervin, "she'd have a taste for queer things if she did." "there's no accountin' for tastes, you know," said bill. "oh, blimey, that's done it," he cried, stooping low as a shell exploded overhead, and drove a number of bullets into the roof. the old woman raised her head for a moment and crossed herself, then she continued her (p. ) work; the daughter looked at bill, laughed, and punched him on the shoulder. in the action there was a certain contempt, and bill forthwith relapsed into silence and troubled the girl no further. when we got out to our work again he spoke. "she was a fine hefty wench," he said, "i'm tip over toes in love with her." "she's not one that i'd fancy," said stoner. "her finger nails are so blunt," mumbled pryor, "i never could stand a woman with blunt finger nails." "what is your ideal of a perfect woman, pryor?" i asked. "there is no perfect woman," was his answer, "none that comes up to my ideal of beauty. has she a fair brow? it's merely a space for wrinkles. are her eyes bright? what years of horror when you watch them grow watery and weak with age. are her teeth pearly white? the toothache grips them and wears them down to black and yellow stumps. is her body graceful, her waist slender, her figure upright. she becomes a mother, and every line of her person is distorted, she becomes a nightmare to you. ah, perfect woman! they could not (p. ) fashion you in eden! when i think of a woman washing herself! ugh! your divinity washes the dust from her hair and particles of boiled beef from between her teeth! think of it, horatio!" "nark it, you fool," said bill, lifting a fag end from the bottom of the trench and lighting it at mine. "blimey, you're balmy as nineteen maggots!" it was a few days after this incident that, in the course of a talk with stoner, the subject of trenches cropped up. "there are trenches and trenches," he remarked, as we were cutting poppies from the parapet and flinging the flowers to the superior slope. "there are some as i almost like, some as i don't like, and some so bad that i almost ran away from them." for myself i dislike the narrow trench, the one in which the left side keeps fraying the cloth of your sleeve, and the right side strives to open furrows in your hand. you get a surfeit of damp, earthy smell in your nostrils, a choking sensation in your throat, for the place is suffocating. the narrow trench is the safest, and most of the english communication trenches are narrow--so narrow, indeed, that a man with a pack often gets held, and sticks there until his comrades pull (p. ) him clear. the communication trenches serve, however, for more purposes than for the passage of troops; during an attack the reserves wait there, packed tight as sardines in a tin. when a man lies down he lies on his mate, when he stands up, if he dare to do such a thing, he runs the risk of being blown to eternity by a shell. rifles, packs, haversacks, bayonets, and men are all messed up in an intricate jumble, the reserves lie down like rats in a trap, with their noses to the damp earth, which always reminds me of the grave. for them there is not the mad exhilaration of the bayonet charge, and the relief of striking back at the aggressor. they lie in wait, helpless, unable to move backward or forward, ears greedy for the latest rumours from the active front, and hearts prone to feelings of depression and despair. the man who is seized with cramp groans feebly, but no one can help him. to rise is to court death, as well as to displace a dozen grumbling mates who have inevitably become part of the human carpet that covers the floor of the trench. a leg moved disturbs the whole pattern; the sufferer can merely groan, suffer, and wait. when an (p. ) attack is on the communication trenches are persistently shelled by the enemy with a view to stop the advance of reinforcements. once our company lay in a trench as reserves for fourteen hours, and during that time upwards of two thousand shells were hurled in our direction, our trench being half filled with rubble and clay. two mates, one on my right and one on my left, were wounded. i did not receive a scratch, and stoner slept for eight whole hours during the cannonade; but this is another story. before coming out here i formed an imaginary picture of the trenches, ours and the enemy's, running parallel from the vosges in the south to the sea in the north. but what a difference i find in the reality. where i write the trenches run in a strange, eccentric manner. at one point the lines are barely eighty yards apart; the ground there is under water in the wet season; the trench is built of sandbags; all rifle fire is done from loop-holes, for to look over the parapet is to court certain death. a mountain of coal-slack lies between the lines a little further along, which are in "dead" ground that cannot be covered by rifle fire, and are , yards apart. it is here that the sniper plies his trade. he hides somewhere in the slack, and pots (p. ) at our men from dawn to dusk and from dusk to dawn. he knows the range of every yard of our communication trenches. as we come in we find a warning board stuck up where the parapet is crumbling away. "stoop low, sniper," and we crouch along head bent until the danger zone is past. little mercy is shown to a captured sniper; a short shrift and swift shot is considered meet penalty for the man who coolly and coldly singles out men for destruction day by day. there was one, however, who was saved by irish hospitality. an irish guardsman, cleaning his telescopic-rifle as he sat on the trench banquette, and smoking one of my cigarettes told me the story. "the coal slack is festooned with devils of snipers, smart fellows that can shoot round a corner and blast your eye-tooth out at five hundred yards," he said. "they're not all their ones, neither; there's a good sprinkling of our own boys as well. i was doing a wee bit of pot-shot-and-be-damned-to-you work in the other side of the slack, and my eyes open all the time for an enemy's back. there was one near me, but i'm beggared if i could find him. 'i'll not lave this place (p. ) till i do,' i says to meself, and spent half the nights i was there prowlin' round like a dog at a fair with my eyes open for the sniper. i came on his post wan night. i smelt him out because he didn't bury his sausage skins as we do, and they stunk like the hole of hell when an ould greasy sinner is a-fryin'. in i went to his sandbagged castle, with me gun on the cock and me finger on the trigger, but he wasn't there; there was nothin' in the place but a few rounds of ball an' a half empty bottle. i was dhry as a bone, and i had a sup without winkin'. 'mother of heaven,' i says, when i put down the bottle, 'its little ye know of hospitality, stranger, leaving a bottle with nothin' in it but water. i'll wait for ye, me bucko,' and i lay down in the corner and waited for him to come in. "but sorrow the fut of him came, and me waiting there till the colour of day was in the sky. then i goes back to me own place, and there was he waiting for me. he only made one mistake, he had fallen to sleep, and he just sprung up as i came in be the door. "immediately i had him by the big toe. 'hands up, hans'! i said, and he didn't argue, all that he did was to swear like one of ourselves and flop down. 'why don't ye bury yer sausages, hans?' i asked (p. ) him. 'i smelt yer, me bucko, by what ye couldn't eat. why didn't ye have something better than water in yer bottle?' i says to him. dang a christian word would he answer, only swear, an swear with nothin' bar the pull of me finger betwixt him and his maker. but, ye know, i had a kind of likin' for him when i thought of him comin' in to my house without as much as yer leave, and going to sleep just as if he was in his own home. i didn't swear back at him but just said, 'this is only a house for wan, but our king has a big residence for ye, so come along before it gets any clearer,' and i took him over to our trenches as stand-to was coming to an end." referring again to our trenches there is one portion known to me where the lines are barely fifty yards apart, and at the present time the grass is hiding the enemy's trenches; to peep over the parapet gives one the impression of looking on a beautiful meadow splashed with daisy, buttercup, and poppy flower; the whole is a riot of colour--crimson, heliotrope, mauve, and green. what a change from some weeks ago! then the place was littered with dead bodies, and limp, (p. ) lifeless figures hung on to the barbed wire where they had been caught in a mad rush to the trenches which they never took. a breeze blows across the meadow as i write, carrying with it the odour of death and perfumed flowers, of aromatic herbs and summer, of desolation and decay. it is good that nature does her best to blot out all traces of the tragedy between the trenches. there is a vacant spot in our lines, where there is no trench and none being constructed; why this should be i do not know. but all this ground is under machine-gun fire and within rifle range. no foe would dare to cross the open, and the foe who dared would never live to get through. further to the right, is a pond with a dead german stuck there, head down, and legs up in air. they tell me that a concussion shell has struck him since and part of his body was blown over to our lines. at present the pond is hidden and the light and shade plays over the kindly grasses that circle round it. on the extreme right there is a graveyard. the trench is deep in dead men's bones and is considered unhealthy. a church almost razed to the ground, with the spire blown off and buried point down in the earth, moulders in (p. ) ruins at the back. it is said that the ghosts of dead monks pray nightly at the shattered altar, and some of our men state that they often hear the organ playing when they stand as sentries on the banquette. "the fire trench to-night," said stoner that evening, a nervous light in his soft brown eyes, as he fumbled with the money on the card table. his luck had been good, and he had won over six francs; he generally loses. "perhaps we're in for the high jump when we get up there." "the high jump?" i queried, "what's that?" "a bayonet charge," he replied, dealing a final hand and inviting us to double the stakes as the deal was the last. a few wanted to play for another quarter of an hour, but he would not prolong the game. turning up an ace he shoved the money in his pocket and rose to his feet. in an hour we were ready to move. we carried much weight in addition to our ordinary load, firewood, cooking utensils, and extra loaves. we bought the latter at a neighbouring _boulangerie_, one that still plied its usual trade in dangerous proximity to the firing-line. the loaves cost - / _d._ each, and we prefer them to the english (p. ) bread which we get now and again, and place them far above the tooth-destroying army biscuits. fires were permitted in the trenches, we were told, and our officers advised us to carry our own wood with us. so it came about that the enemy's firing served as a useful purpose; we pulled down the shrapnel shattered rafters of our billets, broke them up into splinters with our entrenching tools, and tied them up into handy portable bundles which we tied on our packs. at midnight we entered harley street, and squeezed our way through the narrow trench. the distance to the firing-line was a long one; traverse and turning, turning and traverse, we thought we should never come to the end of them. there was no shelling, but the questing bullet was busy, it sung over our heads or snapped at the sandbags on the parapet, ever busy on the errand of death and keen on its mission. but deep down in the trench we regarded it with indifference. our way was one of safety. here the bullet was foiled, and pick and shovel reigned masters in the zone of death. we were relieving the scots guards (many of my irish friends (p. ) belong to this regiment). awaiting our coming, they stood in the full marching order of the regulations, packs light, forks and spoons in their putties, and all little luxuries which we still dared to carry flung away. they had been holding the place for seven days, and were now going back somewhere for a rest. "is this the firing-line?" asked stoner. "yes, sonny," came the answer in a voice which seemed to be full of weariness. "quiet here?" mervin enquired, a note of awe in his voice. "naethin' doin'," said a fresh voice that reminded me forcibly of glasgow and the cowcaddens. "it's a gey soft job here." "no casualties?" "yin or twa stuck their heads o'er the parapet when they shouldn't and they copped it," said glasgow, "but barrin' that 'twas quiet." in the traverse where i was planted i dropped into ireland; heaps of it. there was the brogue that could be cut with a knife, and the humour that survived mons and the marne, and the kindliness that sprang from the cabins of corrymeela and the moors of derrynane. "irish?" i asked. (p. ) "sure," was the answer. "we're everywhere. ye'll find us in a gurkha regiment if you scratch the beggars' skins. ye're not irish!" "i am," i answered. "then you've lost your brogue on the boat that took ye over," somebody said. "are ye dry?" i wiped the sweat from my forehead as i sat down on the banquette. "is there something to drink?" i queried. "there's a drop of cold tay, me boy," the man near me replied. "where's yer mess-tin, mike?" a tin was handed to me, and i drank greedily of the cold black tea. the man mike gave some useful hints on trench work. "it's the saxons that's across the road," he said, pointing to the enemy's lines which were very silent. i had not heard a bullet whistle over since i entered the trench. on the left was an interesting rifle and machine gun fire all the time. "they're quiet fellows, the saxons, they don't want to fight any more than we do, so there's a kind of understanding between us. don't fire at us and we'll not fire at you. there's a good dug-out there," he continued, pointing to a dark (p. ) hole in the parados (the rear wall of the trench), "and ye'll find a pot of jam and half a loaf in the corner. there's also a water jar half full." "where do you get water?" "nearly a mile away the pump is," he answered. "ye've to cross the fields to get it." "a safe road?" asked stoner. "not so bad, ye know," was the answer. "this place smells 'orrid," muttered bill, lighting a cigarette and flinging on his pack. "what is it?" "some poor devils between the trenches; they've been lyin' there since last christmas." "blimey, what a stink," muttered bill, "why don't ye bury them up?" "because nobody dare go out there, me boy," was the answer. "anyway, it's germans they are. they made a charge and didn't get as far as here. they went out of step so to speak." "woo-oo-oo!" bill suddenly yelled and kicked a tin pail on to the floor of the trench. a shower of sparks flew up into the air and fluttered over the rim of the parapet. "i put my 'and on it, 'twas like a (p. ) red 'ot poker, it burned me to the bone!" "it's the brazier ye were foolin' about with," said mike, who was buckling his pack-straps preparatory to moving, "see, and don't put yer head over the top, and don't light a fire at night. ye can put up as much flare as you like by day. good-bye, boys, and good luck t'ye." "any donegal men in the battalion?" i called after him as he was moving off. "none that i know of," he shouted back, "but there are two other battalions that are not here, maybe there are donegal men there. good luck, boys, good luck!" we were alone and lonely, nearly every man of us. for myself i felt isolated from the whole world, alone in front of the little line of sand bags with my rifle in my hand. who were we? why were we there? goliath, the junior clerk, who loved tennyson; pryor, the draughtsman, who doted on omar; kore, who read fanny eden's penny stories, and never disclosed his profession; mervin, the traveller, educated for the church but schooled in romance; stoner, the clerk, who reads my books and says he never read better; and bill, newsboy, street-arab, and lord knows what, who reads _the police news_, plays (p. ) innumerable tricks with cards, and gambles and never wins. why were we here holding a line of trench, and ready to take a life or give one as occasion required? who shall give an answer to the question? chapter vii (p. ) blood and iron--and death at night the stars are shining bright, the old-world voice is whispering near, we've heard it when the moon was light, and london's streets were verydear; but dearer now they are, sweetheart, the 'buses running to the strand, but we're so far, so far apart, each lonely in a different land. the night was murky and the air was splashed with rain. following the line of trench i could dimly discern the figures of my mates pulling off their packs and fixing their bayonets. these glittered brightly as the dying fires from the trench braziers caught them, and the long array of polished blades shone into their place along the dark brown sandbags. looking over the parados i could see the country in rear, dim in the hazy night. a white, nebulous fog lay on the ground and enveloped the lone trees that stood up behind. here and there i could discern houses where no light shone, and where no people dwelt. all the inhabitants were gone, and in the village away to the right (p. ) there was absolute silence, the stillness of the desert. to my mind came words i once read or heard spoken, "the conqueror turns the country into a desert, and calls it peace." i clamped my bayonet into its standard and rested the cold steel on the parapet, the point showing over; and standing up i looked across to the enemy's ground. "they're about three hundred yards away," somebody whispered taking his place at my side. "i think i can see their trenches." an indistinct line which might have been a parapet of sandbags, became visible as i stared through the darkness; it looked very near, and my heart thrilled as i watched. suddenly a stream of red sparks swooped upwards into the air and circled towards us. involuntarily i stooped under cover, then raised my head again. high up in the air a bright flame stood motionless lighting up the ground in front, the space between the lines. every object was visible: a tree stripped of all its branches stood bare, outlined in black; at its foot i could see the barbed wire entanglements, the wire sparkling as if burnished; further back was a ruined cottage, the bare beams and rafters giving it the appearance of a skeleton. a year ago a humble farmer might (p. ) have lived there; his children perhaps played where dead were lying. i could see the german trench, the row of sandbags, the country to rear, a ruined village on a hill, the flashes of rifles on the left ... the flare died out in mid-air and darkness cloaked the whole scene again. "what do you think of it, stoner?" i asked the figure by my side. "my god, it's great," he answered. "to think that they're over there, and the poor fellows lying out on the field!" "they're their own bloomin' tombstones, anyway," said bill, cropping up from somewhere. "i feel sorry for the poor beggars," i said. "they'll feel sorry for themselves, the beggars," said bill. "there, what's that?" it crept up like a long white arm from behind the german lines, and felt nervously at the clouds as if with a hand. moving slowly from north to south it touched all the sky, seeking for something. suddenly it flashed upon us, almost dazzling our eyes. in a flash bill was upon the banquette. "nark the doin's, nark it," he cried and fired his rifle. the (p. ) report died away in a hundred echoes as he slipped the empty cartridge from its breech. "that's one for them," he muttered. "what did you fire at?" i asked. "the blasted searchlight," he replied, rubbing his little potato of a nose. "that's one for 'em, another shot nearer the end of the war!" "did you hit it?" asked our corporal. "i must 'ave 'it it, i fired straight at it." "splendid, splendid," said the corporal. "its only about three miles away though." "oh, blimey!..." sentries were posted for the night, one hour on and two off for each man until dawn. i was sentry for the first hour. i had to keep a sharp look out if an enemy's working party showed itself when the rockets went up. i was to fire at it and kill as many men as possible. one thinks of things on sentry-go. "how can i reconcile myself to this," i asked, shifting my rifle to get nearer the parapet. "who are those men behind the line of sandbags that i should want to kill them, to disembowel them with my sword, blow their faces to pieces at three hundred yards, bomb them into (p. ) eternity at a word of command. who am i that i should do it; what have they done to me to incur my wrath? i am not angry with them; i know little of the race; they are utter strangers to me; what am i to think, why should i think? "bill," i called to the cockney, who came by whistling, "what are you doing?" "i'm havin' a bit of rooty (food) 'fore goin' to kip (sleep)." "hungry? "'ungry as an 'awk," he answered. "give me a shake when your turn's up; i'm sentry after you." there was a pause. "bill!" "pat?" "do you believe in god?" "well, i do and i don't," was the answer. "what do you mean?" "i don't 'old with the christian business," he replied, "but i believe in god." "do you think that god can allow men to go killing one another like this?" "maybe 'e can't help it." "and the war started because it had to be? "it just came--like a war-baby." (p. ) another pause. "yer write songs, don't yer?" bill suddenly asked. "sometimes." "would yer write me one, just a little one?" he continued. "there was a bird (girl) where i used to be billeted at st. albans, and i would like to send 'er a bit of poetry." "you've fallen in love?" i ventured. "no, not so bad as that--" "you've not fallen in love." "well its like this," said my mate, "i used to be in 'er 'ouse and she made 'ome-made torfee." "made it well?" "blimey, yes; 'twas some stuff, and i used to get 'eaps of it. she used to slide down the banisters, too. yer should 'ave seen it, pat. it almost made me write poetry myself." "i'll try and do something for you," i said. "have you been in the dug-out yet?" "yes, it's not such a bad place, but there's seven of us in it," said bill, "it's 'ot as 'ell. but we wouldn't be so bad if z---- was out of it. i don't like the feller." "why?" i asked, z---- was one of our thirteen, but he couldn't (p. ) pull with us. for some reason or other we did not like him. "oh, i don't like 'im, that's all," was the answer. "z---- tries to get the best of everything. give ye a drink from 'is water bottle when your own's empty; 'e wouldn't. i wouldn't trust 'im that much." he clicked his thumb and middle finger together as he spoke, and without another word he vanished into the dug-out. on the whole the members of our section, divergent as the poles in civil life, agree very well. but the same does not hold good in the whole regiment; the public school clique and the board school clique live each in a separate world, and the line of demarcation between them is sharply drawn. we all live in similar dug-outs, but we bring a new atmosphere into them. in one, full of the odour of turkish cigarettes, the spoken english is above suspicion; in another, stinking of regimental shag, slang plays skittles with our language. only in no. is there two worlds blent in one; our platoon officer says that we are a most remarkable section, consisting of literary men and babies. "stand-to!" (p. ) i rose to my feet, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and promptly hit my head a resounding blow on the roof. the impact caused me to take a pace forward, and my boot rested on stoner's face. "get out of it, you clumsy irish beggar!" he yelled, jumping up and stumbling over mervin, who was presently afoot and marching over another prostrate form. "stand-to! stand-to!" we shuffled out into the open, and took up our posts on the banquette, each in fighting array, equipped with rounds of ball cartridge and entrenching tool handle on hip. in the trenches we always sleep in our equipment, by day we wear our bayonets in scabbard, at night the bayonets are always fixed. "where's z----?" asked stoner, as we stood to our rifles. "in the dug-out," i told him, "he's asleep." "'e is, is 'e?" yelled bill, rushing to the door. "come out of it lazybones," he called. "show a leg at once, and grease to your gun. the germans are on the top of us. come out and get shot in the open." z---- stumbled from his bed and blinked at us as he came out. (p. ) "is it true, bill, are they 'ere?" he asked. "if they were 'ere you'd be a lot of good, you would," said bill. "get on with the work." in the dusk and dawning we stand-to in the trenches ready to receive the enemy if he attempt to charge. probably on the other side he waits for our coming. each stand-to lasts for an hour, but once in a fog we stood for half a day. the dawn crept slowly up the sky, the firing on the left redoubled in intensity, but we could not now see the flashes from the rifles. the last star-rocket rose from the enemy's trench, hung bright in mid-air for a space, and faded away. the stretch of ground between the trenches opened up to our eyes. the ruined cottage, cold and shattered, standing mid-way, looked lonely and forbidding. here and there on the field i could see grey, inert objects sinking down, as it were, on the grass. "i suppose that's the dead, the things lying on the ground," said stoner. "they must be cold poor devils, i almost feel sorry for them." the birds were singing, a blackbird hopped on to the parapet, looked enquiringly in, his yellow bill moving from side to side, and (p. ) fluttered away; a lark rose into the heavens warbling for some minutes, a black little spot on the grey clouds; he sang, then sank to earth again, finding a resting place amongst the dead. we could see the german trenches distinctly now, and could almost count the sandbags on the parapet. presently on my right a rifle spoke. bill was firing again. "nark the doin's, bill, nark it," goliath shouted, mimicking the cockney accent. "you'll annoy those good people across the way." "an if i do!" "they may fire at you!" said monumental goliath with fine irony. "then 'ere's another," bill replied, and fired again. "don't expose yourself over the parapet," said our officer, going his rounds. "fire through the loop-holes if you see anything to fire at, but don't waste ammunition." the loop-holes, drilled in steel plates wedged in the sandbags, opened on the enemy's lines; a hundred yards of this front was covered by each rifle; we had one loop-hole in every six yards, and by day every sixth man was posted as sentry. stoner, diligent worker that he is, set about preparing breakfast (p. ) when stand-to was over. in an open space at the rear of the dug-out he fixed his brazier, chopped some wood, and soon had the regimental issue of coke ablaze. "i'll cut the bacon," i said, producing the meat which i had carried with me. "put the stuff down here," said stoner, "and clear out of it." stoner, busy on a job, brooks no argument, he always wants to do the work himself. i stood aside and watched. suddenly an object, about the size of a fat sausage, spun like a big, lazy bee through the air, and fifty paces to rear, behind a little knoll, it dropped quietly, as if selecting a spot to rest on. "it's a bird," said stoner, "one without wings." it exploded with terrific force, and blew the top of the knoll into the air; a shower of dust swept over our heads, and part of it dropped into stoner's fire. "that's done it," he exclaimed, "what the devil was it?" no explanation was forthcoming, but later we discovered that it was a bomb, one of the morning greetings that now and again come to us (p. ) from the german trench mortars. this was the first we had seen; some of our fellows have since been killed by them; and the blue-eyed jersey youth who was my friend at st. albans, and who has been often spoken of in my little volume _the amateur army_, came face to face with one in the trenches one afternoon. it had just been flung in, and, accompanied by a mate, my friend rounded a traverse in a deserted trench and saw it lying peacefully on the floor. "what is it?" he asked, coming to a halt. "i don't know, it looks like a bomb!" was the sudden answering yell. "run." a dug-out was near, and both shoved in, the jersey boy last. but the bomb was too quick for him. half an hour later the stretcher-bearers carried him out, wounded in seventeen places. stoner's breakfast was a grand success. the tea was admirable and the bacon, fried in the mess-tin lids, was done to a turn. in the matter of food we generally fare well, for our boys get a great amount of eatables from home, also they have money to spend, and buy most of their food whenever that is possible. in the forenoon pryor and i took up two earthen jars, a number of which are supplied to the trenches, and went out with the intention of (p. ) getting water. we had a long distance to go, and part of the way we had to move through the trenches, then we had to take the road branching off to the rear. the journey was by no means a cheery one; added to the sense of suffocation, which i find peculiar to the narrow trench, were the eternal soldiers' graves. at every turn where the parados opened to the rear they stared you in the face, the damp, clammy, black mounds of clay with white crosses over them. always the story was the same; the rude inscription told of the same tragedy: a soldier had been killed in action on a certain date. he might have been an officer, otherwise he was a private, a being with a name and number; now lying cold and silent by the trench in which he died fighting. his mates had placed little bunches of flowers on his grave. then his regiment moved off and the flowers faded. in some cases the man's cap was left on the black earth, where the little blades of kindly grass were now covering it up. most of the trench-dwellers were up and about, a few were cooking late breakfasts, and some were washing. contrary to orders, they had stripped to the waist as they bent over their little mess-tins of soapy (p. ) water; all the boys seemed familiar with trench routine. they were deep in argument at the door of one dug-out, and almost came to blows. the row was about rations. a light-limbed youth, with sloping shoulders, had thrown a loaf away when coming up to the trenches. he said his pack was heavy enough without the bread. his mates were very angry with him. "throwin' the grub away!" one of them said. "blimey, to do a thing like that! get out, spud 'iggles!" "why didn't yer carry the rooty yourself?" "would one of us not carry it?" "would yer! why didn't ye take it then?" "why didn't ye give it to us?" "blimey, listen to yer jor!" said spud higgles, the youth with the sloping shoulders. "clear out of it, nuff said, ye brainless twisters!" "i've more brains than you have," said one of the accusers who, stripped to the waist, was washing himself. "'ave yer? so 'ave i," was the answer of the boy who lost the loaf, as he raised a mess tin of tea from the brazier. "leave down that mess-tin for a minute and i'll show yer who has (p. ) the most brains," said the man who was washing, sweeping the soapsuds from his eyes and bouncing into an aggressive attitude, with clenched fists before him, in true fighting manner. "leave down my mess-tin then!" was the answer. "catch me! i've lost things that way before, i'ave." spud higgles came off victor through his apt sarcasm. the sarcastic remark tickled the listeners, and they laughed the aggressive soldier into silence. a number of men were asleep, the dug-outs were crowded, and a few lay on the banquette, their legs stretched out on the sandbag platforms, their arms hanging loosely over the side, and their heads shrouded in balaclava helmets. at every loop-hole a sentry stood in silent watch, his eyes rivetted on the sandbags ahead. now and again a shot was fired, and sometimes, a soldier enthusiastic in a novel position, fired several rounds rapid across noman's land into the enemy's lines, but much to the man's discomfiture no reply came from the other side. "firin' at beastly sandbags!" one of the men said to me, "blimey, (p. ) that's no game. yer 'ere and the sandbags is there, you never see anything, and you've to fire at nothin'. they call this war. strike me ginger if it's like the pictures in _the daily ----_; them papers is great liars!" "do you want to kill men?" i asked. "what am i here for?" was the rejoinder, "if i don't kill them they'll kill me." no trench is straight at any place; the straight line is done away with in the makeup of a trench. the traverse, jutting out in a sharp angle to the rear, gives way in turn to the fire position, curving towards the enemy, and there is never more than twelve yards liable to be covered by enfilade fire. the traverse is the home of spare ammunition, of ball cartridge, bombs, and hand-grenades. these are stored in depots dug into the wall of the trench. there are two things which find a place anywhere and everywhere, the biscuit and the bully beef. tins of both are heaped in the trenches; sometimes they are used for building dug-outs and filling revêtements. bully beef and biscuits are seldom eaten; goodness knows why we are supplied with them. we came into the territory of another battalion, and were met by (p. ) an officer. "where are you going?" he asked. "for water, sir," said pryor. "have you got permission from your captain?" "no, sir." "then you cannot get by here without it. it's a brigade order," said the officer. "one of our men got shot through the head yesterday when going for water." "killed, sir," i enquired. "killed on the spot," was the answer. on our way back we encountered our captain superintending some digging operation. "have you got the water already?" he asked. "no, sir." "how is that?" "an officer of the ---- wouldn't let us go by without a written permission." "why?" "he said it was a brigade order," was pryor's naïve reply. he wanted to go up that perilous road. the captain sat down on a sandbag, took out a slip of paper (or borrowed one from pryor), placed his hat on his knee and the paper on his hat, and wrote us out the pass. (p. ) for twenty yards from the trench the road was sheltered by our parapet, past that lay the beaten zone, the ground under the enemy's rifle fire. he occupied a knoll on the left, the spot where the fighting was heavy on the night before, and from there he had a good view of the road. we hurried along, the jars striking against our legs at every step. the water was obtained from a pump at the back of a ruined villa in a desolate village. the shrapnel shivered house was named dead cow cottage. the dead cow still lay in the open garden, its belly swollen and its left legs sticking up in the air like props in an upturned barrel. it smelt abominably, but nobody dared go out into the open to bury it. the pump was known as cock robin pump. a pencilled notice told that a robin was killed by a jack johnson near the spot on a certain date. having filled our jars, pryor and i made a tour of inspection of the place. in a green field to the rear we discovered a graveyard, fenced in except at our end, where a newly open grave yawned up at us as if aweary of waiting for its prey. "room for extension here," said pryor. "i suppose they'll not (p. ) close in this until the graves reach the edge of the roadway. let's read the epitaphs." how peaceful the place was. on the right i could see through a space between the walls of the cottage the wide winding street of the village, the houses, cornstacks, and the waving bushes, and my soul felt strangely quieted. in its peace, in its cessation from labour, there was neither anxiety nor sadness, there remained rest, placid and sad. it seemed as if the houses, all intact at this particular spot, held something sacred and restful, that with them and in them all was good. they knew no evil or sorrow. there was peace, the desired consummation of all things--peace brought about by war, the peace of the desert, and death. i looked at the first grave, its cross, and the rude lettering. this was the epitaph; this and nothing more:-- "an unknown british soldier." on a grave adjoining was a cheap gilt vase with flowers, english flowers, faded and dying. i looked at the cross. one of the coldstream guards lay there killed in action six weeks before. i turned up the black-edged envelope on the vase, and read the badly spelt message, "from his (p. ) broken-hearted wife and loving little son tommy." we gazed at it for a moment in silence. then pryor spoke. "i think we'll go back," he said, and there was a strained note in his voice; it seemed as if he wanted to hide something. on our way out to the road we stopped for a moment and gazed through the shattered window of dead cow cottage. the room into which we looked was neatly furnished. a round table with a flower vase on it stood on the floor, a number of chairs in their proper position were near the wall, a clock and two photos, one of an elderly man with a heavy beard, the other of a frail, delicate woman, were on the mantlepiece. the pendulum of the clock hung idle; it must have ceased going for quite a long time. as if to heighten a picture of absolute comfort a cat sat on the floor washing itself. "where will the people be?" i asked. "i don't know," answered pryor. "those chairs will be useful in our dug-out. shall we take them?" we took one apiece, and with chair on our head and jar in hand we (p. ) walked towards the trenches. the sun was out, and it was now very hot. we sweated. my face became like a wet sponge squeezed in the hand; pryor's face was very red. "we'll have a rest," he said, and laying down the jar he placed his chair in the road and sat on it. i did the same. "you know omar?" he asked. "in my calf-age i doated on him," i answered. "what's the calf-age?" "the sentimental period that most young fellows go through," i said. "they then make sonnets to the moon, become pessimistic, criticise everything, and feel certain that they will become the hub of the universe one day. they prefer vegetable food to pork, and read omar." "have you come through the calf-age?" "years ago! you'll come through, too, pryor--" a bullet struck the leg of my chair and carried away a splinter of wood. i got to my feet hurriedly. "those trenches seem quite a distance away," i said, hoisting my chair and gripping the jar as i moved off, "and we'll be safer when we're there." all the way along we were sniped at, but we managed to get back (p. ) safely. finding that our supply of coke ran out we used the chairs for firewood. chapter viii (p. ) terrors of the night buzz fly and gad fly, dragon fly and blue, when you're in the trenches come and visit you, they revel in your butter-dish and riot on your ham, drill upon the army cheese and loot the army jam. they're with you in the dusk and the dawning and the noon, they come in close formation, in column and platoon. there's never zest like tommy's zest when these have got to die: for tommy takes his puttees off and straffs the blooming fly. "some are afraid of one thing, and some are afraid of another," said stoner, perching himself on the banquette and looking through the periscope at the enemy's lines. "for myself i don't like shells--especially when in the open, even if they are bursting half a mile away." "is that what you fear most?" i asked. "no, the rifle bullet is a thing i dread; the saucy little beggar is always on the go." "what do you fear most, goliath?" i asked the massive soldier who was cleaning his bayonet with a strip of emery cloth. "bombs," said the giant, "especially the one i met in the trench (p. ) when i was going round the traverse. it lay on the floor in front of me. i hardly knew what it was at first, but a kind of instinct told me to stand and gaze at it. the germans had just flung it into the trench and there it lay, the bounder, making up its mind to explode. it was looking at me, i could see its eyes--" "git out," said bill, who was one of the party. "of course, you couldn't see the thing's eyes," said goliath, "you lack imagination. but i saw its eyes, and the left one was winking at me. i almost turned to jelly with fear, and lord knows how i got back round the corner. i did, however, and then the bomb went bang! 'twas some bang that, i often hear it in my sleep yet." "we'll never hear the end of that blurry bomb," said bill. "for my own part i am more afraid of ----" "what?" "---- the sergeant-major than anythink in this world or in the next!" i have been thrilled with fear three times since i came out here, fear that made me sick and cold. i have the healthy man's dislike of (p. ) death. i have no particular desire to be struck by a shell or a bullet, and up to now i have had only a nodding acquaintance with either. i am more or less afraid of them, but they do not strike terror into me. once, when we were in the trenches, i was sentry on the parapet about one in the morning. the night was cold, there was a breeze crooning over the meadows between the lines, and the air was full of the sharp, penetrating odour of aromatic herbs. i felt tired and was half asleep as i kept a lazy look-out on the front where the dead are lying on the grass. suddenly, away on the right, i heard a yell, a piercing, agonising scream, something uncanny and terrible. a devil from the pit below getting torn to pieces could not utter such a weird cry. it thrilled me through and through. i had never heard anything like it before, and hope i shall never hear such a cry again. i do not know what it was, no one knew, but some said that it might have been the yell of a gurkha, his battle cry, when he slits off an opponent's head. when i think of it, i find that my three thrills would be denied to a deaf man. the second occurred once when we were in reserve. the stench of the house in which the section was billeted was terrible. by (p. ) day it was bad, but at two o'clock in the morning it was devilish. i awoke at that hour and went outside to get a breath of fresh air. the place was so eerie, the church in the rear with the spire battered down, the churchyard with the bones of the dead hurled broadcast by concussion shells, the ruined houses.... as i stood there i heard a groan as if a child were in pain, then a gurgle as if some one was being strangled, and afterwards a number of short, weak, infantile cries that slowly died away into silence. perhaps the surroundings had a lot to do with it, for i felt strangely unnerved. where did the cries come from? it was impossible to say. it might have been a cat or a dog, all sounds become different in the dark. i could not wander round to seek the cause. houses were battered down, rooms blocked up, cellars filled with rubble. there was nothing to do but to go back to bed. maybe it was a child abandoned by a mother driven insane by fear. terrible things happen in war. the third fear was three cries, again in the dark, when a neighbouring battalion sent out a working party to dig a sap in front of our lines. i could hear their picks and shovels busy in front, and suddenly (p. ) somebody screamed "oh! oh! oh!" the first loud and piercing, the others weaker and lower. but the exclamation told of intense agony. afterwards i heard that a boy had been shot through the belly. "i never like the bloomin' trenches," said bill. "it almost makes me pray every time i go up." "they're not really so bad," said pryor, "some of them are quite cushy (nice)." "cushy!" exclaimed bill, flicking the ash from his cigarette with the tip of his little finger. "nark it, pryor, nark it, blimey, they are cushy if one's not caught with a shell goin' in, if one's not bombed from the sky or mined from under the ground, if a sniper doesn't snipe 'arf yer 'ead off, or gas doesn't send you to 'eaven, or flies send you to the 'orspital with disease, or rifle grenades, pipsqueaks, and whizz-bangs don't blow your brains out when you lie in the bottom of the trench with yer nose to the ground like a rat in a trap. if it wasn't for these things, and a few more, the trench wouldn't be such a bad locality." he put a finger and a thumb into my cigarette case, drew out a fag, and lit it off the stump of his old one. he blew a puff of smoke (p. ) into the air, stuck his thumbs behind his cartridge pouches, and fixed a look of pity on pryor. "what are the few more things that you did not mention, bill?" i asked. "few! blimey, i should say millions. there's the stink of the dead men as well as the stink of the cheese, there's the dug-outs with the rain comin' in and the muck fallin' into your tea, the vermin, the bloke snorin' as won't let you to sleep, the fatigues that come when ye're goin' to 'ave a snooze, the rations late arrivin' and 'arf poisonin' you when they come, the sweepin' and brushin' of the trenches, work for a 'ousemaid and not a soldier, and the ----" bill paused, sweating at every pore. "strike me ginger, balmy, and stony," bill concluded, "if it were not for these few things the life in the trenches would be one of the cushiest in the world." chapter ix (p. ) the dug-out banquet you ask me if the trench is safe? as safe as home, i say; dug-outs are safest things on land, and 'buses running to the strand are not as safe as they. you ask me if the trench is deep? quite deep enough for me, and men can walk where fools would creep, and men can eat and write and sleep and hale and happy be. the dug-out is the trench villa, the soldiers' home, and is considered to be proof against shrapnel bullets and rifle fire. personally, i do not think much of our dug-outs, they are jerry-built things, loose in construction, and fashioned in haste. we have kept on improving them, remedying old defects, when we should have taken the whole thing to pieces and started afresh. the french excel us in fashioning dug-outs; they dig out, we build. they begin to burrow from the trench downwards, and the roof of their shelter is on a line with the floor of the trench; thus they have a cover over them seven or eight feet in (p. ) thickness; a mass of earth which the heaviest shell can hardly pierce through. we have been told that the german trenches are even more secure, and are roofed with bricks, which cause a concussion shell to burst immediately it strikes, thus making the projectile lose most of its burrowing power. one of our heaviest shells struck an enemy's dug-out fashioned on this pattern, with the result that two of the residents were merely scratched. the place was packed at the time. as i write i am sitting in a dug-out built in the open by the french. it is a log construction, built of pit-props from a neighbouring coal-mine. short blocks of wood laid criss-cross form walls four feet in thickness; the roof is quite as thick, and the logs are much longer. yesterday morning, while we were still asleep, a four-inch shell landed on the top, displaced several logs, but did us no harm. the same shell (pipsqueaks we call them) striking the roof of one of our trench dug-outs would blow us all to atoms. the dug-out is not peculiar to the trench. for miles back from the firing-line the country is a world of dug-outs; they are everywhere, by the roadsides, the canals, and farmhouses, in the fields, the (p. ) streets, and the gardens. cellars serve for the same purpose. a fortnight ago my section was billeted in a house in a mining town, and the enemy began to shell the place about midnight. bootless, half-naked, and half-asleep, we hurried into the cellar. the place was a regular black hole of calcutta. it was very small, damp, and smelt of queer things, and there were six soldiers, the man of the house, his wife, and seven children, one a sucking babe two months old, cooped up in the place. i did not like the place--in fact, i seldom like any dug-out, it reminds me of the grave, the covering earth, and worms, and always there is a feeling of suffocation. but i have enjoyed my stay in one or two. there was a delightful little one, made for a single soldier, in which i stayed. at night when off sentry, and when i did not feel like sleeping, i read. over my head i cut a niche in the mud, placed my candle there, pulled down over the door my curtain, a real good curtain, taken from some neighbouring chateau, spent a few moments watching the play of light and shadows on the roof, and listening to the sound of guns outside, then lit a cigarette and read. old (p. ) montaigne in a dug-out is a true friend and a fine companion. across the ages we held conversation as we have often done. time and again i have read his books; there was a time when for a whole year i read a chapter nightly: in a glasgow doss-house, in a king's castle, in my irish home, and now in montaigne's own country, in a little earthy dug-out, i made the acquaintance of the man again. the dawn broke to the clatter of bayonets on the fire position when i put the book aside and buckled my equipment for the stand-to hour. the french trench dug-outs are not leaky, ours generally are, and the slightest shower sometimes finds its way inside. i have often awakened during the night to find myself soaked through on a floor covered with slush. when the weather is hot we sleep outside. in some cases the dug-out is handsomely furnished with real beds, tables, chairs, mirrors, and candlesticks of burnished brass. often there are stoves built into the clayey wall and used for cooking purposes. in "the savoy" dug-out, which was furnished after this fashion, section once sat down to a memorable dinner which took a whole day long to prepare; and eatables and wine were procured at great risk to life. incidentally, bill, (p. ) who went out of the trenches and walked four kilometres to procure a bottle of _vin rouge_ was rewarded by seven days' second field punishment for his pains. mervin originated the idea in the early morning as he was dressing a finger which he had cut when opening a tin of bully beef. he held up the bleeding digit and gazed at it with serious eyes. "all for this tin of muck!" he exclaimed. "suppose we have a good square meal. i think we could get up one if we set to work." stoner's brown eyes sparkled eagerly. "i know where there are potatoes and carrots and onions," he said. "out in a field behind dead cow villa; i'm off; coming pat?" "certainly, what are the others doing, bill?" "we must have fizz," said my friend, and money was forthwith collected for wine. bill hurried away, his bandolier round his shoulder and his rifle at the slope; and mervin undertook to set the place in order and arrange the dug-out for the banquet. goliath dragged his massive weight over the parados and busied himself pulling flowers. kore cleaned (p. ) the mess-tins, and pryor, artistic even in matters of food, set about preparing a menu-card. when we returned from a search which was very successful, stoner divested himself of tunic and hat, rolled up his shirt sleeves, and got on with the cooking. i took his turn at sentry-go, and z----, sleeping on the banquette, roused his stout body, became interested for a moment, and fell asleep again. bill returned with a bottle of wine and seven eggs. "where did you get them?" i asked. "'twas the 'en as 'ad laid one," he replied. "and it began to brag so much about it that i couldn't stand it, so i took the egg, and it looked so lonely all by itself in my 'and that i took the others to keep it company." at six o'clock we sat down to dine. our brightly burnished mess-tin lids were laid on the table, a neatly folded khaki handkerchief in front of each for serviette. clean towels served for tablecloths, flowers--tiger-lilies, snapdragons, pinks, poppies, roses, and cornflowers rioted in colour over the rim of a looted vase. in solitary state a bottle of wine stood beside the flowers, and a box of cigars, the gift of a girl friend, with the lid open (p. ) disclosed the dusky beauties within. the menu, pryor's masterpiece, stood on a wire stand, the work of mervin. goliath seated at the table, was smiles all over, in fact, he was one massive good humoured smile, geniality personified. "anything fresh from the seat of war?" he asked, as he waited for the soup. "according to the latest reports," pryor answered, "we've gained an inch in the dardanelles and captured three trenches in flanders. we were forced to evacuate two of these afterwards." "we miscalculated the enemy's strength, of course," said mervin. "that's it," pryor cut in. "but the trenches we lost were of no strategic importance." "they never are," said kore. "i suppose that's why we lose thousands to take 'em, and the enemy lose as many to regain them." "soup, gentlemen," stoner interrupted, bringing a steaming tureen to the table. "help yourselves." "mulligatawny?" said pryor sipping the stuff which he had emptied into his mess-tin, "i don't like this." [illustration: menu of the dug-out banquet] (p. ) "wot," muttered bill, "wot's wrong with it?" (p. ) "as soup its above reproach, but the name," said pryor. "it's beastly." "wot's wrong with it?" "everything," said the artistic youth, "and besides i was fed as a child on mulligatawny, fed on it until i grew up and revolted. to meet it again here in a dug-out. oh! ye gods!" "i'll take it," i said, for i had already finished mine. "will you?" exclaimed pryor, employing his spoon with gargantuan zeal. "it's not quite etiquette." as he spoke a bullet whistled through the door and struck a tin of condensed milk which hung by a string from the rafter. the bullet went right through and the milk oozed out and fell on the table. "waiter," said goliath in a sharp voice, fixing one eye on the cook, and another on the falling milk. "sir," answered stoner, raising his head from his mess-tin. "what beastly stuff is this trickling down? you shouldn't allow this you know." "i'm sorry," said stoner, "you'd better lick it up." "'ad 'e," cried bill. "wot will we do for tea?" the cockney held (p. ) a spare mess-tin under the milk and caught it as it fell. this was considered very unseemly behaviour for a gentleman, and we suggested that he should go and feed in the servants' kitchen. a stew, made of beef, carrots, and potatoes came next, and this in turn was followed by an omelette. then followed a small portion of beef to each man, we called this chicken in our glorious game of make-believe. kore asserted that he had caught the chicken singing _the watch on the rhine_ on the top of a neighbouring chateau and took it as lawful booty of war. "chicken, my big toe!" muttered bill, using his clasp-knife for a tooth-pick. "it's as tough as a rifle sling. yer must have got hold of the bloomin' weathercock." the confiture was stoner's greatest feat. the sweet was made from biscuits ground to powder, boiled and then mixed with jam. never was anything like it. we lingered over the dish loud in our praise of the energetic stoner. "by god, i'll give you a job as head-cook in my establishment at your own salary," said pryor. "strike me ginger, pink, and crimson if ever i ate anything like it," exclaimed bill. (p. ) "we must 'ave a bit of this at every meal from now till the end of the war." coffee, wine, and cigars came in due course, then section clamoured for an address. "ool give it?" asked bill. "pat," said mervin. "come on pat," chorused section . i never made a speech in my life, but i felt that this was the moment to do something. i got to my feet. "boys," i said, "it is a pleasure to rise and address you, although you haven't shaved for days, and your faces remind me every time i look at them of our rather sooty mess-tins." (bill: "wot of yer own phiz.") "be quiet, bill," i said, and continued. "of course, none of you are to blame for the adhesive qualities of mud, it must stick somewhere, and doubtless it preferred your faces; but you should have shaved; the two hairs on pryor's upper lip are becoming very prominent." "under a microscope," said mervin. "hold your tongue," i shouted, and mervin made a mock apology. "to-night's dinner was a grand success," i said, "all did their work (p. ) admirably." "all but you," muttered bill, "yer spent 'arf the time writin' when yer should have been peelin' taters or pullin' onions." "i resent the imputation of the gentleman at the rear," i said, "if i wasn't peeling potatoes and grinding biscuits i was engaged in chronicling the doings of section . i can't make you fat and famous at the same time, much though i'd like to do both. you are an estimable body of men; goliath, the big elephant-- (goliath: "just a baby elephant, pat.") "mervin, who has travelled far and who loves bully stew; pryor who dislikes girls with thick ankles, kore who makes wash-out puns, bill who has an insatiable desire for fresh eggs, and stoner--i see a blush on his cheeks and a sparkle in his brown eyes already--i repeat the name stoner with reverence. i look on the mess-tins which held the confiture and almost weep--because it's all eaten. there's only one thing to be done. gentlemen, are your glasses charged?" "there's nothin' now but water," said bill. "water shame," remarked the punster. "hold your tongues," i said, "fill them with water, fill them with (p. ) anything. ready? to the section cook, stoner, long life and ability to cook our sweets evermore." we drank. just as we had finished, our company stretcher-bearers came by the door, a pre-occupied look on their faces and dark clots of blood on their trousers and tunics. "what has happened?" i asked. "the cooks have copped it," one of the bearers answered. "they were cooking grub in a shed at the rear near dead cow villa, and a pip-squeak came plunk into the place. the head cook copped it in the legs, both were broken, and erney, you know erney?" "yes?" we chorused. "dead," said the stretcher-bearer. "poor fellow he was struck unconscious. we carried him to the dressing station, and he came to at the door. 'mother!' he said, trying to sit up on the stretcher. that was his last word. he fell back and died." there was a long silence. the glory of the flowers seemed to have faded away and the lighted cigars went out on the table. dead! poor fellow. he was such a clean, hearty boy, very obliging and kind. how often had he given me hot water, contrary to regulations, to pour on my tea. (p. ) "to think of it," said stoner. "it might have been any of us! we must put these flowers on his grave." that night we took the little vase with its poppies, cornflowers, pinks, and roses, and placed them on the black, cold earth which covered erney, the clean-limbed, good-hearted boy. may he rest in peace. chapter x (p. ) a nocturnal adventure our old battalion billets still, parades as usual go on. we buckle in with right good will, and daily our equipment don as if we meant to fight, but no! the guns are booming through the air, the trenches call us on, but oh! we don't go there, we don't go there! i have come to the conclusion that war is rather a dull game, not that blood-curdling, dashing, mad, sabre-clashing thing that is seen in pictures, and which makes one fearful for the soldier's safety. there is so much of the "everlastin' waitin' on an everlastin' road." the road to the war is a journey of many stages, and there is much of what appears to the unit as loitering by the wayside. we longed for action, for some adventure with which to relieve the period of "everlastin' waitin'." nine o'clock was striking in the room downstairs and the old man and woman who live in the house were pottering about, locking doors, and putting the place into order. lying on the straw in the loft we (p. ) could hear them moving chairs and washing dishes; they have seven sons in the army, two are wounded and one is a prisoner in germany. they are very old and are unable to do much hard work; all day long they listen to the sound of the guns "out there." in the evening they wash the dishes, the man helping the woman, and at night lock the doors and say a prayer for their sons. now and again they speak of their troubles and narrate stories of the war and the time when the prussians passed by their door on the journey to paris. "but they'll never pass here again," the old man says, smoking the pipe of tobacco which our boys have given him. "they'll get smashed out there." as he speaks he points with a long lean finger towards the firing line, and lifts his stick to his shoulder in imitation of a man firing a rifle. ten o'clock struck. we were deep in our straw and lights had been out for a long time. i couldn't sleep, and as i lay awake i could hear corpulent z---- snoring in the corner. outside a wind was whistling mournfully and sweeping through the joists of the roof where the red tiles had been shattered by shrapnel. there was something (p. ) melancholy and superbly grand in the night; the heaven was splashed with stars, and the glow of rockets from the firing line lit up the whole scene, and at intervals blotted out the lights of the sky. here in the loft all was so peaceful, so quiet; the pair downstairs had gone to bed, they were now perhaps asleep and dreaming of their loved ones. but i could not rest; i longed to get up again and go out into the night. suddenly a hand tugged at my blanket, a form rose from the floor by my side and a face peered into mine. "it's me--bill," a low voice whispered in my ear. "well?" i interrogated, raising myself on my elbow. "not sleepin'?" mumbled bill, lighting a cigarette as he flopped down on my blanket, half crushing my toes as he did so. "i'm not sleeping neither," he continued. "did you see the wild ducks to-day?" "on the marshes? yes." "could we pot one?" "rubbish. we might as well shoot at the stars." "i never tried that game," said bill, with mock seriousness. "but (p. ) i'm goin' to nab a duck. strike me balmy if i ain't." "it'll be the guard-room if we're caught." "if _we_ are caught. then you're comin'? i thought you'd be game." i slipped into my boots, tied on my puttees, slung a bandolier with ten rounds of ball cartridge over my shoulder, and groped for my rifle on the rack beneath the shrapnel-shivered joists. bill and i crept downstairs and stole out into the open. "gawd! that puts the cawbwebs out of one's froat," whispered my mate as he gulped down mighty mouthfuls of cold night air. "this is great. i couldn't sleep." "but we'll never hit a duck to-night," i whispered, my mind reverting to the white-breasted fowl which we had seen in an adjoining marsh that morning when coming back from the firing line. "its madness to dream of hitting one with a bullet." "maybe yes and maybe no," said my mate, stumbling across the midden and floundering into the field on the other side. we came to the edge of the marsh and halted for a moment. in front of us lay a dark pool, still as death and fringed with long grass and osier beds. a mournful breeze blew across the place, raising a (p. ) plaintive croon, half of resignation and half of protest from the osiers and grasses as it passed. a little distance away the skeleton of a house stood up naked against the sky, the cold stars shining through its shattered rafters. "'twas shelled like 'ell, that 'ouse," whispered bill, leaning on his rifle and fixing his eyes on the ruined homestead. "the old man at our billet was tellin' some of us about it. the first shell went plunk through the roof and two children and the mother were bowled over." "killed?" "i should say so," mumbled my mate; then, "there's one comin' our way." out over the line of trenches it sped towards us, whistling in its flight, and we could almost trace by its sound the line it followed in the air. it fell on the pool in front, bursting as it touched the water, and we were drenched with spray. "'urt?" asked bill. "just wet a little." "a little!" he exclaimed, gazing at the spot where the shell exploded. "i'm soaked to the pelt. damn it, 'twill frighten the ducks." "have you ever shot any living thing?" i asked my mate as i tried (p. ) to wipe the water from my face with the sleeve of my coat. "me! never in my nat'ral," bill explained. "but when i saw them ducks this mornin' i thought i'd like to pot one o' em." "its impossible to see anything now," i told him. "and there's another shell!" it yelled over our heads and burst near our billet on the soft mossy field which we had just crossed. another followed, flew over the roof of the dwelling and shattered the wall of an outhouse to pieces. somewhere near a dog barked loudly when the echo of the explosion died away, and a steed neighed in the horse-lines on the other side of the marsh. then, drowning all other noises, an english gun spoke and a projectile wheeled through the air and towards the enemy. the monster of the thicket awake from a twelve hour sleep was speaking. bill and i knew where he was hidden; the great gun that the enemy had been trying to locate for months and which he never discovered. he, the monster of the thicket, was working havoc in the foeman's trenches, and day after day great searching shells sped up past our billet warm from the german guns, but always they went far wide of their mark. never could they discover the locality of the terrifying ninety-pounder, he (p. ) who slept all day in his thicket home, awoke at midnight and worked until dawn. "that's some shootin'," said my mate as the shells shrieked overhead. "blimey, they'll shake the country to pieces--and scare the ducks." along a road made of bound sapling-bundles we took our way into the centre of the marsh. here all was quiet and sombre; the marsh-world seemed to be lamenting over some ancient wrong. at times a rat would sneak out of the grass, slink across our path and disappear in the water, again; a lonely bird would rise into the air and cry piteously as it flew away, and ever, loud and insistent, threatening and terrible, the shells would fly over our heads, yelling out their menace of pain, of sorrow and death as they flew along. we killed no birds, we saw none, although we stopped out till the colour of dawn splashed the sky with streaks of early light. as we went in by the door of our billet the monster of the thicket was still at work, although no answering shells sped up from the enemy's lines. up in the loft z---- was snoring loudly as he lay asleep on the straw, the blanket tight round his body, his jaw hanging loosely, and (p. ) an unlighted pipe on the floor by his side. placing our rifles on the rack, bill and i took off our bandoliers and lay down on our blankets. presently we were asleep. that was how bill and i shot wild duck in the marshes near the village of--somewhere in france. chapter xi (p. ) the man with the rosary there's a tramp o' feet in the mornin', there's an oath from an n.c.o., as up the road to the trenches the brown battalions go: guns and rifles and waggons, transports and horses and men, up with the flush of the dawnin', and back with the night again. sometimes when our spell in the trenches comes to an end we go back for a rest in some village or town. here the _estaminet_ or _débitant_ (french as far as i am aware for a beer shop), is open to the british soldier for three hours daily, from twelve to one and from six to eight o'clock. for some strange reason we often find ourselves busy on parade at these hours, and when not on parade we generally find ourselves without money. i have been here for four months; looking at my pay book i find that i've been paid fr. (or in plain english, one pound) since i have come to france, a country where the weather grows hotter daily, where the water is seldom drinkable, and where (p. ) wine and beer is so cheap. once we were paid five francs at five o'clock in the afternoon after five penniless days of rest in a village, and ordered as we were paid, to pack up our all and get ready to set off at six o'clock for the trenches. from noon we had been playing cards, and some of the boys gambled all their pay in advance and lost it. bill's five francs had to be distributed amongst several members of the platoon. "it's only five francs, anyway," he said. "wot matter whether i spend it on cards, wine, or women. i don't care for soldierin' as a profession?" "what is your profession, bill?" pryor asked; we never really knew what bill's civil occupation was, he seemed to know a little of many crafts, but was master of none. "i've been everything," he replied, employing his little finger in the removal of cigarette ash. "my ole man apprenticed me to a marker of 'ot cross buns, but i 'ad a 'abit of makin' the long end of the cross on the short side, an' got chucked out. then i learned 'ow to jump through tin plates in order to make them nutmeg graters, but left that job after sticking plump in the middle of a plate. i had to stop (p. ) there for three days without food or drink. they were thinnin' me out, see! then i was a draughts manager at a bank, and shut the ventilators; after that i was an electric mechanic; i switched the lights on and off at night and mornin'; now i'm a professional gambler, i lose all my tin." "you're also a soldier," i said. "course, i am," bill replied. "i can present hipes by numbers, and knock the guts out of sandbags at five hundred yards." we did not leave the village until eight o'clock. it was now very dark and had begun to rain, not real rain, but a thin drizzle which mixed up with the flashes of guns, the glow of star-shells and the long tremulous glimmer of flashlights. the blood-red blaze of haystacks afire near givenchy, threw a sombre haze over our line of march. even through the haze, star-shells showed brilliant in their many different colours, red, green, and electric white. the french send up a beautiful light which bursts into four different flames that burn standing high in mid-air for three minutes; another, a parachute star, holds the sky for four minutes, and almost blots its more remote sisters from the heavens. the english and the germans are content to fling rockets (p. ) across and observe one another's lines while these flare out their brief meteoric life. the firing-line was about five miles away; the starlights seemed to rise and fall just beyond an adjacent spinney, so deceptive are they. part of our journey ran along the bank of a canal; there had been some heavy fighting the night previous, and the wounded were still coming down by barges, only those who are badly hurt come this way, the less serious cases go by motor ambulance from dressing station to hospital--those who are damaged slightly in arm or head generally walk. here we encountered a party of men marching in single file with rifles, skeleton equipment, picks and shovels. in the dark it was impossible to distinguish the regimental badge. "oo are yer?" asked bill, who, like a good many more of us, was smoking a cigarette contrary to orders. "the camberwell gurkhas," came the answer. "oo are yer?" "the chelsea cherubs," said bill. "up workin'!" "doin' a bit between the lines," answered one of the working party. "got bombed out and were sent back." "lucky dogs, goin' back for a kip (sleep)." (p. ) "'ad two killed and seven wounded." "blimey!" "good luck, boys," said the disappearing file as the darkness swallowed up the working party. the pace was a sharp one. half a mile back from the firing-line we turned off to the left and took our way by a road running parallel to the trenches. we had put on our waterproof capes, our khaki overcoats had been given up a week before. the rain dripped down our clothes, our faces and our necks, each successive star-light showed the water trickling down our rifle butts and dripping to the roadway. stoner slept as he marched, his hand in kore's. we often move along in this way, it is quite easy, there is lullaby in the monotonous step, and the slumbrous crunching of nailed boots on gravel. we turned off the road where it runs through the rubble and scattered bricks, all that remains of the village of givenchy, and took our way across a wide field. the field was under water in the wet season, and a brick pathway had been built across it. along this path we took our way. a strong breeze had risen and was swishing our waterproofs (p. ) about our bodies; the darkness was intense, i had to strain my eyes to see the man in front, stoner. in the darkness he was a nebulous dark bulk that sprang into bold relief when the starlights flared in front. when the flare died out we stumbled forward into pitch dark nothingness. the pathway was barely two feet across, a mere tight-rope in the wide waste, and on either side nothing stood out to give relief to the desolate scene; over us the clouds hung low, shapeless and gloomy, behind was the darkness, in front when the starlights made the darkness visible they only increased the sense of solitude. we stumbled and fell, rose and fell again, our capes spreading out like wings and our rifles falling in the mud. the sight of a man or woman falling always makes me laugh. i laughed as i fell, as stoner fell, as mervin, goliath, bill, or pryor fell. sometimes we fell singly, again in pairs, often we fell together a heap of rifles, khaki, and waterproof capes. we rose grumbling, spitting mud and laughing. stoner was very unfortunate, a particle of dirt got into his eye almost blinding him. afterwards he crawled along, now and again getting to his feet, merely to fall back into his earthy position. (p. ) a rifle fire opened on us from the front, and bullets whizzed past our ears, voices mingled with the ting of searching bullets. "anybody hurt?" "no, all right so far." "stoner's down." "he's up again." "blimey, it's a balmy." "mervin's crawling on his hands and knees." "nark the doin's, ye're on my waterproof. let go!" "goliath's down." "are you struck, goliath?" "no, i wish to heaven i was," muttered the giant, bulking up in the flare of a searchlight, blood dripping from his face showed where he had been scratched as he stumbled. we got safely into the trench and relieved the highland light infantry. the place was very quiet, they assured us, it is always the same. it has become trench etiquette to tell the relieving battalion that it is taking over a cushy position. by this trench next morning we found six newly made graves, telling how six highlanders had met their death, killed in action. next morning as i was looking through a periscope at the enemy's (p. ) trenches, and wondering what was happening behind their sandbag line, a man from the sanitary squad came along sprinkling the trench with creosote and chloride of lime. "seein' anything?" he asked. "not much," i answered, "the grass is so high in front that i can see nothing but the tips of the enemy's parapets. there's some work for you here," i said. "where?" "under your feet," i told him. "the floor is soft as putty and smells vilely. perhaps there is a dead man there. last night i slept by the spot and it turned me sick." "have you an entrenchin' tool?" i handed him the implement, he dug into the ground and presently unearthed a particle of clothing, five minutes later a boot came to view, then a second; fifteen minutes assiduous labour revealed an evil-smelling bundle of clothing and decaying flesh. i still remained an onlooker, but changed my position on the banquette. "he must have been dead a long time," said the sanitary man, as he (p. ) flung handfuls of lime on the body, "see his face." he turned the thing on its back, its face up to the sky. the features were wonderfully well-preserved; the man might have fallen the day before. the nose pinched and thin, turned up a little at the point, the lips were drawn tight round the gums, the teeth showed dog-like and vicious; the eyes were open and raised towards the forehead, and the whole face was splashed with clotted blood. a wound could be seen on the left temple, the fatal bullet had gone through there. "he was killed in the winter," said the sanitary man, pointing at the gloves on the dead soldier's hands. "these trenches were the 'allemands' then, and the boys charged 'em. i suppose this feller copped a packet and dropped into the mud and was tramped down." "who is he?" i asked. the man with the chloride of lime opened the tunic and shirt of the dead man and brought out an identity disc. "irish," he said, "munster fusiliers." "what's this?" he asked, taking a string of beads with a little shiny crucifix on the end of it, from the dead man's neck. "it's his rosary," i said, and my mind saw in a vivid picture a (p. ) barefooted boy going over the hills of corrymeela to morning mass, with his beads in his hand. on either side rose the thatched cabins of the peasantry, the peat smoke curling from the chimneys, the little boreens running through the bushes, the brown irish bogs, the heather in blossom, the turf stacks, the laughing colleens.... "here's a letter," said the sanitary man, "it was posted last christmas. it's from a girl, too." he commenced reading:-- "my dear patrick,--i got your letter yesterday, and whenever i was my lone the day i was always reading it. i wish the black war was over and you back again--we all at home wish that, and i suppose yourself wishes it as well; i was up at your house last night; there's not much fun in it now. i read the papers to your mother, and me and her was looking at a map. but we didn't know where you were so we could only make guesses. your mother and me is making the rounds of the cross for you, and i am always thinking of you in my prayers. you'll be having the parcel i sent before you get this letter. i hope it's not broken or lost. the socks i sent were knitted by myself, three pairs of (p. ) them, and i've put the holy water on them. don't forget to put them on when your feet get wet, at home you never used to bother about anything like that; just tear about the same in wet as dry. but you'll take care of yourself now, won't you: and not get killed? it'll be a grand day when you come back, and god send the day to come soon! send a letter as often as you can, i myself will write you one every day, and i'll pray to the holy mother to take care of you." we buried him behind the parados, and placed the rosary round the arms of the cross which was erected over him. on the following day one of our men went out to see the grave, and while stooping to place some flowers on it he got shot through the head. that evening he was buried beside the munster fusilier. chapter xii (p. ) the shelling of the keep a brazier fire at twilight, and glow-worm fires ashine, a searchlight sweeping heaven, above the firing-line. the rifle bullet whistles the message that it brings of death and desolation to common folk and kings. we went back from the trenches as reserves to the keep. broken down though the place was when we entered it there was something restful in the brown bricks, hidden in ivy, in the well-paved yard, and the glorious riot of flowers. most of the original furniture remained--the beds, the chairs, and the pictures. all were delighted with the place, mervin particularly. "i'll make my country residence here after the war," he said. on the left was a church. contrary to orders i spent an hour in the dusk of the first evening in the ruined pile. the place had been shelled for seven months, not a day had passed when it was not (p. ) struck in some part. the sacristy was a jumble of prayer books, vestments, broken rosaries, crucifixes, and pictures. an ink pot and pen lay on a broken table beside a blotting pad. a lamp which once hung from the roof was beside them, smashed to atoms. in the church the altar railing was twisted into shapeless bars of iron, bricks littered the altar steps, the altar itself even, and bricks, tiles, and beams were piled high in the body of the church. outside in the graveyard the graves lay open and the bones of the dead were scattered broadcast over the green grass. crosses were smashed or wrenched out of the ground and flung to earth; near the keep was the soldiers' cemetery, the resting place of french, english, indian, and german soldiers. many of the french had bottles of holy water placed on their graves under the crosses. the english epitaphs were short and concise, always the same in manner: "private j. smith, th london battalion, killed in action st march, ." and under it stamped on a bronze plate was the information, "erected by the mobile unit (b.r.c.s.) to preserve the record found on the spot." often the dead man's regiment left a token of remembrance, a bunch of flowers, the dead man's cap or bayonet and rifle (these two latter only if (p. ) they had been badly damaged when the man died). many crosses had been taken from the churchyard and placed over these men. one of them read, "a notre dévote fille," and another, "to my beloved mother." several indians, men of the bengal mountain battery, were buried here. a woman it was stated, had disclosed their location to the enemy, and the billet in which they were staying was struck fair by a high explosive shell. thirty-one were killed. they were now at rest--anaytullah, lakhasingh, and other strange men with queer names under the crosses fashioned from biscuit boxes. on the back of anaytullah's cross was the wording in black: "biscuits, lbs." thus the environment of the keep: the enemy's trenches were about eight hundred yards away. no fighting took place here, the men's rifles stood loaded, but no shot was fired; only when the front line was broken, if that ever took place, would the defenders of the keep come into play and hold the enemy back as long as that were possible. then when they could no longer hold out, when the foe pressed in (p. ) on all sides, there was something still to do, something vitally important which would cost the enemy many lives, and, if a miracle did not happen, something which would wipe out the defenders for ever. this was the keep. the evening was very quiet; a few shells flew wide overhead, and now and again stray bullets pattered against the masonry. we cooked our food in the yard, and, sitting down amidst the flowers, we drank our tea and ate our bread and jam. the first flies were busy, they flew amidst the flower-beds and settled on our jam. mervin told a story of a country where he had been in, and where the flies were legion and ate the eyes out of horses. the natives there wore corks hung by strings from their caps, and these kept the flies away. "how?" asked bill. "the corks kept swinging backwards and forwards as the men walked," said mervin. "whenever a cork struck a fly it dashed the insect's brains out." "blimey!" cried bill, then asked, "what was the most wonderful thing you ever seen, mervin?" "the most wonderful thing," repeated mervin. "oh, i'll tell you. it was the way they buried the dead out in klondike. the snow lies (p. ) there for six months and it's impossible to dig, so when a man died they sharpened his toes and drove him into the earth with a mallet." "i saw a more wonderful thing than that, and it was when we lay in the barn at richebourg," said bill, who was referring to a comfortless billet and a cold night which were ours a month earlier. "i woke up about midnight 'arf asleep. i 'ad my boots off and i couldn't 'ardly feel them i was so cold. 'blimey!' i said, 'on goes my understandin's, and i 'ad a devil of a job lacing my boots up. when i thought i 'ad them on i could 'ear someone stirrin' on the left. it was my cotmate. 'wot's yer gime?' he says. 'wot gime?' i asks. 'yer foolin' about with my tootsies,' he says. then after a minute 'e shouts, 'damn it ye've put on my boots,' so i 'ad, put on his blessed boots and laced them mistaking 'is feet for my own." "we never heard of this before," i said. "no, cos 'twas ole jersey as was lying aside me that night, next day 'e was almost done in with the bomb." "it's jolly quiet here," said goliath, sitting back in an armchair and lighting a cigarette. "this will be a jolly holiday." "i heard an artillery man i met outside, say that this place was (p. ) hot," stoner remarked. "the irish guards were here, and they said they preferred the trenches to the keep." "it will be a poor country house," said mervin, "if it's going to be as bad as you say." on the following evening i was standing guard in a niche in the building. darkness was falling and the shadows sat at the base of the walls east of the courtyard. my niche looked out on the road, along which the wounded are carried from the trenches by night and sometimes by day. the way is by no means safe. as i stood there four men came down the road carrying a limp form on a stretcher. a waterproof ground-sheet lay over the wounded soldier, his head was uncovered, and it wobbled from side to side, a streak of blood ran down his face and formed into clots on the ear and chin. there was something uncannily helpless in the soldier, his shaking head, his boots caked brown with mud, the heels close together, the toes pointing upwards and outwards and swaying a little. every quiver of the body betokened abject helplessness. the limp, swaying figure, clinging weakly to life, was a pathetic sight. the bearers walked slowly, carefully, stepping over every (p. ) shell-hole and stone on the road. the sweat rolled down their faces and arms, their coats were off and their shirt sleeves rolled up almost to the shoulders. down the road towards the village they pursued their sober way, and my eyes followed them. suddenly they came to a pause, lowered the stretcher to the ground, and two of them bent over the prostrate form. i could see them feel the soldier's pulse, open his tunic, and listen for the beating of the man's heart, when they raised the stretcher again there was something cruelly careless in the action, they brought it up with a jolt and set off hurriedly, stumbling over shell-hole and boulder. there was no doubt the man was dead now; it was unwise to delay on the road, and the soldiers' cemetery was in the village. in the evening we stood to arms in the keep; all our men were now out in the open, and the officers were inspecting their rifles barely four yards away from me. at that moment i saw the moon, a crescent of pale smoke standing on end near the west. i felt in my pocket for money, but found i had none to turn. "have you a ha'penny?" i asked mervin who was passing. "what for?" (p. ) "i want to turn it, you know the old custom." "oh, yes," answered mervin, handing me a coin. "long ago i used to turn my money, but i found the oftener i saw the moon the less i had to turn. however, i'll try it again for luck." so saying he turned a penny. "do any of you fellows know marie redoubt?" an officer asked at that moment. "i know the place," said mervin, "it's just behind the keep." "will you lead me to the place?" said the officer. "right," said mervin, and the two men went off. they had just gone when a shell hit the building on my left barely three yards away from my head. the explosion almost deafened me, a pain shot through my ears and eyes, and a shower of fine lime and crumpled bricks whizzed by my face. my first thought was, "why did i not put my hands over my eyes, i might have been struck blind." i had a clear view of the scene in front, my mates were rushing hither and thither in a shower of white flying lime; i could see dark forms falling, clambering to their feet and falling again. one figure detached itself from the rest and came rushing towards me, by my (p. ) side it tripped and fell, then rose again. i could now see it was stoner. he put his hands up as if in protest, looked at me vacantly, and rushed round the corner of the building. i followed him and found him once more on the ground. "much hurt?" i asked, touching him on the shoulder. "yes," he muttered, rising slowly, "i got it there," he raised a finger to his face which was bleeding, "and there," he put his hand across his chest. "well, get into the dug-out," i said, and we hurried round the front of the building. a pile of fallen masonry lay there and half a dozen rifles, all the men were gone. we found them in the dug-out, a hole under the floor heavily beamed, and strong enough to withstand a fair sized shell. one or two were unconscious and all were bleeding more or less severely. i found i was the only person who was not struck. goliath and bill got little particles of grit in the face, and they looked black as chimney sweeps. bill was cut across the hand, kore's arm was bleeding. "where's mervin?" "he had just gone out," i said, "i was speaking to him, he went (p. ) with lieut. ---- to marie redoubt." i suddenly recollected that i should not have left my place outside, so i went into my niche again. had mervin got clear, i wondered? the courtyard was deserted, and it was rapidly growing darker, a drizzle had begun, and the wet ran down my rifle. "any word of mervin?" i called to stoner when he came out from the dug-out, and moved cautiously across the yard. there was a certain unsteadiness in his gait, but he was regaining his nerve; he had really been more surprised than hurt. he disappeared without answering my question, probably he had not heard me. "stretcher-bearers at the double." the cry, that call of broken life which i have so often heard, faltered across the yard. from somewhere two men rushed out carrying a stretcher, and hurried off in the direction taken by stoner. who had been struck? somebody had been wounded, maybe killed! was it mervin? stoner came round the corner, a sad look in his brown eyes. "mervin's copped it," he said, "in the head. it must have been (p. ) that shell that done it; a splinter, perhaps." "where is he?" "he's gone away on the stretcher unconscious. the officer has been wounded as well in the leg, the neck, and the face." "badly?" "no, he's able to speak." fifteen minutes later i saw mervin again. he was lying on the stretcher and the bearers were just going off to the dressing station with it. he was breathing heavily, round his head was a white bandage, and his hands stretched out stiffly by his sides. he was borne into the trench and carried round the first traverse. i never saw him again; he died two days later without regaining consciousness. on the following day two more men went: one got hit by a concussion shell that ripped his stomach open, another, who was on sentry-go got messed up in a bomb explosion that blew half of his side away. the charm of the courtyard, with the flower-beds and floral designs, died away; we were now pleased to keep indoors and allow the chairs outside to stand idle. all day long the enemy shelled us, most of the shells dropped outside and played havoc with the church; but the figure (p. ) on the crucifix still remained, a symbol of something great and tragical, overlooking the area of destruction and death. now and again a shell dropped on the flower-beds and scattered splinters and showers of earth against buildings and dug-outs. in the evening an orderly came to the keep. "i want two volunteers," he said. "for what?" i asked him. "i don't know," was the answer, "they've got to report immediately to headquarters." stoner and i volunteered. the headquarters, a large dug-out roofed with many sandbags piled high over heavy wooden beams, was situated on the fringe of the communication trench five hundred yards away from the keep. we took up our post in an adjacent dug-out and waited for orders. over our roof the german shells whizzed incessantly and tore up the brick path. suddenly we heard a crash, an ear-splitting explosion from the fire line. "what's that?" asked stoner. "will it be a mine blown up?" "perhaps it is," i ventured. "i wish they'd stop the shelling, suppose one of these shells hit our dug-out." "it would be all u.p. with us," said stoner, trying to roll a (p. ) cigarette and failing hopelessly. "confound it," he said, "i'm all a bunch of nerves, i didn't sleep last night and very little the night before." his eyebrows were drawn tight together and wrinkles were forming between his eyes; the old sparkle was almost entirely gone from them. "mervin," he said, "and the other two, the bloke with his side blown away. it's terrible." "try and have a sleep," i said, "nobody seems to need us yet." he lay down on the empty sandbags which littered the floor, and presently he was asleep. i tried to read montaigne, but could not, the words seemed to be running up and down over the page; the firing seemed to have doubled in intensity, and the shells swept low almost touching the roof of the dug-out. "orderly!" i stumbled out into the open, and a sharp penetrating rain, and made my way to the headquarters. the adjutant was inside at the telephone speaking to the firing line. "hello! that the irish?" he said. "anything to report? the mine has done no damage? no, fifteen yards back, lucky! only three casualties (p. ) so far." the adjutant turned to an orderly officer: "the mine exploded fifteen yards in front, three wounded. are you the orderly?" he asked, turning to me. "yes, sir." "find out where the sergeant-major is and ask him if to-morrow's rations have come in yet." "where is the sergeant-major?" i asked. "i'm not sure where he stays," said the adjutant. "enquire at the keep." the trench was wet and slobbery, every hole was a pitfall to trap the unwary; boulders and sandbags which had fallen in waited to trip the careless foot. i met a party of soldiers, a corporal at their head. "this the way to the firing line?" he asked. "you're coming from it!" i told him. "that's done it!" he muttered. "we've gone astray, there's some fun up there!" "a mine blown up?" i asked. "'twas a blow up," was the answer. "it almost deafened us, someone must have copped it. what's the way back?" "go past gunner siding and marie redoubt, then touch left and (p. ) you'll get through." "god! it's some rain," he said. "ta, ta." "ta, ta, old man." i turned into the trench leading to the keep. the rain was pelting with a merciless vigour, and loose earth was falling from the sides to the floor of the trench. a star-light flared up and threw a brilliant light on the entrance of the keep as i came up. the place bristled with brilliant steel, half a dozen men stood there with fixed bayonets, the water dripping from their caps on to their equipment. "halt! who goes there!" pryor yelled out, raising his bayonet to the "on guard" position. "a friend," i replied. "what's wrong here?" "oh, it's pat," pryor answered. "did you not hear it?" he continued, "the germans have broken through and there'll be fun. the whole keep is manned ready." "is the pantomime parapet manned?" i asked. i alluded to the flat roof of the stable in which our section slept. it had been damaged by shell fire, and was holed in several places, a sandbag parapet with (p. ) loop-holes opened out on the enemy's front. "kore, bill, goliath, they're all up there," said pryor, "and the place is getting shelled too, in the last five minutes twenty shells have missed the place, just missed it." "where does the sergeant-major stick?" i asked. "oh, i don't know, not here i think." the courtyard was tense with excitement. half a dozen new soldiers were called to take up posts on the parapet, and they were rushing to the crazy stairs which led to the roof. on their way they overturned a brazier and showers of fine sparks rioted into the air. by the flare it was possible to see the rain falling slanting to the ground in fine lines that glistened in the flickering light. shells were bursting overhead, flashing out into spiteful red and white stars of flame, and hurling their bullets to the ground beneath. shell splinters flew over the courtyard humming like bees and seeming to fall everywhere. what a miracle that anybody could escape them! i met our platoon sergeant at the foot of the stairs. "where does the sergeant-major hold out?" "down at givenchy somewhere," he told me. "the germans have broken (p. ) through," he said. "it looks as if we're in for a rough night." "it will be interesting," i replied, "i haven't seen a german yet." over the parapet a round head, black amidst a line of bayonets appeared, and a voice called down, "sergeant!" "right oh!" said the sergeant, and rushed upstairs. at that moment a shell struck a wall at the back somewhere, and pieces of brick whizzed into the courtyard and clattered down the stair. when the row subsided kore was helped down, his face bleeding and an ugly gash showing above his left eye. "much hurt, old man?" i asked. "not a blighty, i'm afraid," he answered. a "blighty" is a much desired wound; one that sends a soldier back to england. a man with a "blighty" is a much envied person. kore was followed by another fellow struck in the leg, and drawing himself wearily along. he assured us that he wasn't hurt much, but now and again he groaned with pain. "get into the dug-outs," the sergeant told them. "in the morning you can go to the village, to-night it's too dangerous." about midnight i went out on the brick pathway, the way we had (p. ) come up a few nights earlier. i should have taken stoner with me, but he slept and i did not like to waken him. the enemy's shells were flying overhead, one following fast on another, all bursting in the brick path and the village. i could see the bright hard light of shrapnel shells exploding in the air, and the signal-red flash of concussion shells bursting ahead. splinters flew back buzzing like angry bees about my ears. i would have given a lot to be back with stoner in the dug-out; it was a good strong structure, shrapnel and bullet proof, only a concussion shell falling on top would work him any harm. the rain still fell and the moon--there was a bit of it somewhere--never showed itself through the close-packed clouds. for a while i struggled bravely to keep to the tight-rope path, but it was useless, i fell over first one side, then the other. eventually i kept clear of it, and walked in the slush of the field. half way along a newly dug trench, some three feet in depth, ran across my road; an attack was feared at dawn, and a first line of reserves were in occupation. i stumbled upon the men. they were sitting well down, their heads lower than the parapet, and all seemed to be smoking if i could form (p. ) judgment by the line of little glow-worm fires, the lighted cigarette ends that extended out on either hand. somebody was humming a music-hall song, while two or three of his mates helped him with the chorus. "halt! who goes there?" the challenge was almost a whisper, and a bayonet slid out from the trench and paused irresolutely near my stomach. "a london irish orderly going down to the village," i answered. a voice other than that which challenged me spoke: "why are you alone, there should be two." "i wasn't aware of that." "pass on," said the second voice, "and be careful, it's not altogether healthy about here." somewhere in the proximity of the village i lost the brick path and could not find it again. for a full hour i wandered over the sodden fields under shell fire, discovering the village, a bulk of shadows thinning into a jagged line of chimneys against the black sky when the shells exploded, and losing it again when the darkness settled down around me. eventually i stumbled across the road and breathed freely for a second. but the enemy's fire would not allow me a very long breathing (p. ) space, it seemed bent on battering the village to pieces. in front of me ran a broken-down wall, behind it were a number of houses and not a light showing. the road was deserted. a shell exploded in mid-air straight above, and bullets sang down and shot into the ground round me. following it came the casing splinters humming like bees, then a second explosion, the whizzing bullets and the bees, another explosion.... "come along and get out of it," i whispered to myself, and looked along the road; a little distance off i fancied i saw a block of buildings. "run!" i ran, "stampeded!" is a better word, and presently found myself opposite an open door. i flung myself in, tripped, and went prostrate to the floor. boom! i almost chuckled, thinking myself secure from the shells that burst overhead. it was only when the bees bounced on the floor that i looked up to discover that the house was roofless. i made certain that the next building had a roof before i entered. it also had a door, this i shoved open and found myself amongst a (p. ) number of horses and warm penetrating odour of dung. "now, , you may smoke," i said, addressing myself, and drew out my cigarette case. my matches were quite dry; i lit one and was just putting it to my cigarette when one of the horses began prancing at the other end of the building. i just had a view of the animal coming towards me when the match went out and left me in the total darkness. i did not like the look of the horse, and i wished that it had been better bound when its master left it. it was coming nearer and now pawing the floor with its hoof. i edged closer to the door; if it were not for the shells i would go outside. why was that horse allowed to remain loose in the stable? i tried to light another match, but it snapped in my fingers. the horse was very near me now; i could feel its presence, it made no noise, it seemed to be shod with velvet. the moment was tense, i shouted: "whoa there, whoa!" it shot out its hind legs and a pair of hoofs clattered on the wall beside me. "whoa, there! whoa there! confound you!" i growled, and was outside in a twinkling and into the arms of a transport sergeant. "what the devil--'oo are yer?" he blurted out. (p. ) "did you think i was a shell?" i couldn't help asking. "i'm sorry," i continued, "i came in here out of that beastly shelling." "very wise," said the sergeant, getting quickly into the stable. "one of your horses is loose," i said. "do you know where the london irish is put up here?" "down the road on the right," he told me, "you come to a large gate there on the left and you cross a garden. it's a big buildin'." "thank you. good night." "good night, sonny." i went in by the wrong gate; there were so many on the left, and found myself in a dark spinney where the rain was dripping heavily from the branches of the trees. i was just on the point of turning back to the road when one of our batteries concealed in the place opened fire, and a perfect hell of flame burst out around me. i flopped to earth with graceless precipitancy, and wallowed in mud. "it's all up , you've done it now," i muttered, and wondered vaguely whether i was partly or wholly dead. the sharp smell of cordite filled the air and caused (p. ) a tickling sensation in my throat that almost choked me. when i scrambled to my feet again and found myself uninjured, a strange dexterity had entered my legs; i was outside the gate in the space of a second. ten minutes later i found the sergeant-major, who rose from a blanket on the ground-floor of a pretentious villa with a shell splintered door, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. the rations had not arrived; they would probably be in by dawn. had i seen the mine explode? i belonged to the company holding the keep, did i not? the rumour about the germans breaking through was a cock-and-bull story. had i any cigarettes? turkish! not bad for a change. good luck, sonny! take care of yourself going back. i came in line with the rear trench on my way back. "who's there?" came a voice from the line of little cigarette lights. "a london irish orderly--going home!" i answered, and a laugh rewarded my ironical humour. "jolly luck to be able to return home," i said to myself when i got past. " , you weren't very brave to-night. by jove, you did (p. ) hop into that roofless house and scamper out of that spinney! in fact, you did not shine as a soldier at all. you've not been particularly afraid of shell fire before, but to-night! was it because you were alone you felt so very frightened? you've found out you've been posing a little before. alone you're really a coward." i felt a strange delight in saying these things; the firing had ceased; it was still raining heavily. "remember the bridge at suicide corner," i said, alluding to a recent incident when i had walked upright across a bridge, exposed to the enemy's rifle fire. my mates hurried across almost bent double whilst i sauntered slowly over in front of them. "you had somebody to look at you then; 'twas vanity that did it, but to-night! you were afraid, terribly funky. if there had been somebody to look on, you'd have been defiantly careless. it's rather nerve-racking to be shelled when you're out alone at midnight and nobody looking at you!" dawn was breaking when i found myself at the keep. the place in some manner fascinated me and i wanted to know what had happened there. (p. ) i found that a few shells were still coming that way and most of the party were in their dug-outs. i peered down the one which was under my old sleeping place; at present all stayed in their dug-outs when off duty. they were ordered to do so, but none of the party were sleeping now, the night had been too exciting. "'oo's there?" bill called up out of the darkness, and when i spoke he muttered: "oh, it's ole pat! where were yer?" "i've been out for a walk," i replied. "when that shellin' was goin' on?" "yes." "you're a cool beggar, you are!" said bill. "i was warm here i tell yer!" "have the germans come this way?" i asked. "germans!" ejaculated bill. "they come 'ere and me with ten rounds in the magazine and one in the breech! they knows better!" stoner was awake when i returned to the dug-out by headquarters. "up already?" i asked. "up! i've been up almost since you went away," he answered. "my! the shells didn't half fly over here. and i thought you'd never get (p. ) back." "that's due to lack of imagination," i told him. "what's for breakfast?" chapter xiii (p. ) a night of horror 'tis only a dream in the trenches, told when the shadows creep, over the friendly sandbags when men in the dug-outs sleep. this is the tale of the trenches told when the shadows fall, by little hughie of dooran, over from donegal. on the noon following the journey to the village i was sent back to the keep; that night our company went into the firing trench again. we were all pleased to get there; any place was preferable to the block of buildings in which we had lost so many of our boys. on the night after our departure, two engineers who were working at the keep could not find sleeping place in the dug-outs, and they slept on the spot where i made my bed the first night i was there. in the early morning a shell struck the wall behind them and the poor fellows were blown to atoms. for three days we stayed in the trenches, narrow, suffocating and damp places, where parados and parapet almost touched and where it was (p. ) well-nigh impossible for two men to pass. food was not plentiful here, all the time we lived on bully beef and biscuits; our tea ran short and on the second day we had to drink water at our meals. from our banquette it was almost impossible to see the enemy's position; the growing grass well nigh hid their lines; occasionally by standing tiptoed on the banquette we could catch a glimpse of white sandbags looking for all the world like linen spread out to dry on the grass. but the germans did not forget that we were near, pipsqueaks, rifle grenades, bombs and bullets came our way with aggravating persistence. it was believed that the prussians, spiteful beggars that they are, occupied the position opposite. in these trenches the dug-outs were few and far between; we slept very little. on the second night i was standing sentry on the banquette. my watch extended from twelve to one, the hour when the air is raw and the smell of the battle line is penetrating. the night was pitch black; in ponds and stagnant streams in the vicinity frogs were chuckling. their hoarse clucking could be heard all round; when the star-shells flew up i could catch vague glimpses of the enemy's sandbags and the line (p. ) of tall shrapnel-swept trees which ran in front of his trenches. the sleep was heavy in my eyes; time and again i dozed off for a second only to wake up as a shell burst in front or swept by my head. it seemed impossible to remain awake, often i jumped down to the floor of the trench, raced along for a few yards, then back to the banquette and up to the post beside my bayonet. one moment of quiet and i dropped into a light sleep. i punched my hands against the sandbags until they bled; the whizz of the shells passed like ghosts above me; slumber sought me and strove to hold me captive. i had dreams; a village standing on a hill behind the opposite trench became peopled; it was summer and the work of haying and harvesting went on. the men went out to the meadows with long-handled scythes and mowed the grass down in great swathes. i walked along a lane leading to the field and stopped at the stile and looked in. a tall youth who seemed strangely familiar was mowing. the sweat streamed down his face and bare chest. his shirt was folded neatly back and his sleeves were thrust up almost to the shoulders. the work did not come easy to him; he always followed the first (p. ) sweep of the scythe with a second which cropped the grass very close to the ground. for an expert mower the second stroke is unnecessary; the youngster had not learned to put a keen edge on the blade. i wanted to explain to him the best way to use the sharping stone, but i felt powerless to move: i could only remain at the stile looking on. sometimes he raised his head and looked in my direction, but took no notice of me. who was he? where had i seen him before? i called out to him but he took no notice. i tried to change my position, succeeded and crossed the stile. when i came close to him, he spoke. "you were long in coming," he said, and i saw it was my brother, a youngster of eighteen. "i went to the well for a jug of water," i said, "but it's dry now and the three trout are dead at the bottom." "'twas because we didn't put a cross of green rushes over it last candlemas eve," he remarked. "you should have made one then, but you didn't. can you put an edge on the scythe?" he asked. "i used to be able before--before the--" i stopped feeling that i had forgotten some event. "i don't know why, but i feel strange," i said, "when did you come (p. ) to this village?" "village?" "that one up there." i looked in the direction where the village stood a moment before, but every red-brick house with its roof of terra-cotta tiles had vanished. i was gazing along my own glen in donegal with its quiet fields, its sunny braes, steep hills and white lime-washed cottages, snug under their neat layers of straw. the white road ran, almost parallel with the sparkling river, through a wealth of emerald green bottom lands. how came i to be here? i turned to my brother to ask him something, but i could not speak. a funeral came along the road; four men carried a black coffin shoulder high; they seemed to be in great difficulties with their burden. they stumbled and almost fell at every step. a man carrying his coat and hat in one hand walked in front, and he seemed to be exhorting those who followed to quicken their pace. i sympathised with the man in front. why did the men under the coffin walk so slowly? it was a ridiculous way to carry a coffin, on the shoulders. why did they not use a stretcher? it would be the proper thing to do. i turned (p. ) to my brother. "they should have stretchers, i told him." "stretchers?" "and stretcher-bearers." "stretcher-bearers at the double!" he snapped and vanished. i flashed back into reality again; the sentinel on the left was leaning towards me; i could see his face, white under the balaclava helmet. there was impatience in his voice when he spoke. "do you hear the message?" he called. "right!" i answered and leant towards the man on my right. i could see his dark, round head, dimly outlined above the parapet. "stretcher bearers at the double!" i called. "pass it along." from mouth to mouth it went along the living wire; that ominous call which tells of broken life and the tragedy of war. nothing is so poignant in the watches of the night as the call for stretcher-bearers; there is a thrill in the message swept from sentinel to sentinel along the line of sandbags, telling as it does, of some poor soul stricken down writhing in agony on the floor of the trenches. for a moment i remained awake; then phantoms rioted before my (p. ) eyes; the trees out by the german lines became ghouls. they held their heads together in consultation and i knew they were plotting some evil towards me. what were they going to do? they moved, long, gaunt, crooked figures dressed in black, and approached me. i felt frightened but my fright was mixed with curiosity. would they speak? what would they say? i knew i had wronged them in some way or another; when and how i did not remember. they came near. i could see they wore black masks over their faces and their figures grew in size almost reaching the stars. and as they grew, their width diminished; they became mere strands reaching form earth to heaven. i rubbed my eyes, to find myself gazing at the long, fine grasses that grew up from the reverse slope of the parapet. i leant back from the banquette across the narrow trench and rested my head on the parados. i could just rest for a moment, one moment then get up again. the ghouls took shape far out in front now, and careered along the top of the german trench, great gaunt shadows that raced as if pursued by a violent wind. why did they run so quickly? were they afraid of something? they ran in such a ridiculous way that i (p. ) could not help laughing. they were making way, that was it. they had to make way. why? "make way!" two stretcher-bearers stood on my right; in front of them a sergeant. "make way, you're asleep," he said. "i'm not," i replied, coming to an erect position. "well, you shouldn't remain like that, if you don't want to get your head blown off." my next sentry hour began at nine in the morning; i was standing on the banquette when i heard bill speaking. he was just returning with a jar of water drawn from a pump at the rear, and he stopped for a moment in front of spud higgles, one of no. 's boys. "mornin'! how's yer hoppin' it?" said spud. "top over toe!" answered bill. "ow's you?" "up to the pink. any news?" "yer 'aven't 'eard it?" "what?" "the brigadier's copped it this mornin'." "oo?" "our brigadier." (p. ) "git!" "'s truth!" "strike me pink!" said spud. "'ow?" "a stray bullet." "stone me ginger! but one would say he'd a safe job." "the bullet 'ad 'is number!" "so, he's gone west!" "he's gone west!" bill's information was quite true. our brigadier while making a tour of inspection of the trenches, turned to the orderly officer and said: "i believe i am hit, here." he put his hand on his left knee. his trousers were cut away but no wound was visible. an examination was made on his body and a little clot of blood was found over the groin on the right. a bullet had entered there and remained in the body. twenty minutes later the brigadier was dead. rations were short for breakfast, dinner did not arrive, we had no tea but all the men were quite cheerful for it was rumoured that we were going back to our billets at four o'clock in the afternoon. about that hour we were relieved by another battalion, and we marched back (p. ) through the communication trench, past marie redoubt, gunner siding, the keep and into a trench that circled along the top of the brick path. this was not the way out; why had we come here? had the officer in front taken the wrong turning? our billet there was such a musty old barn with straw littered on the floor and such a quaint old farmhouse where they sold newly laid eggs, fresh butter, fried potatoes, and delightful salad! we loved the place, the sleepy barges that glided along the canal where we loved to bathe, the children at play; the orange girls who sold fruit from large wicker baskets and begged our tunic buttons and hat-badges for souvenirs. we wanted so much to go back that evening! why had they kept us waiting? "'eard that?" bill said to me. "two london battalions are goin' to charge to-night. they're passing up the trench and we're in 'ere to let them get by." "about turn!" we stumbled back again into the communication trench and turned to the left, to go out we should have gone to the right. what was happening? were we going back again? no dinner, no tea, no rations and sleepless nights.... the barn at our billet with the cobwebs on the rafters (p. ) ... the salad and soup.... we weren't going out that night. we halted in a deep narrow trench between gunner siding and marie redoubt, two hundred yards back from the firing trench. our officer read out orders. "the ---- brigade is going to make an attack on the enemy's position at . this evening. our battalion is to take part in the attack by supporting with rifle fire." two of our companies were in the firing line; one was in support and we were reserves; we had to remain in the trench packed up like herrings, and await further instructions. the enemy knew the communication trench; they had got the range months before and at one time the trench was occupied by them. we got into the trench at the time when the attack took place; our artillery was now silent and rapid rifle fire went on in front; a life and death struggle was in progress there. in our trench it was very quiet, we were packed tight as the queue at the gallery door of a cheap music-hall on a saturday night. "blimey, a balmy this!" said bill making frantic efforts to squash my toes in his desire to find a fair resting place for his feet. (p. ) "i'm 'ungry. call this the best fed army in the world. dog and maggot all the bloomin' time. i need all the hemery paper given to clean my bayonet, to sharpen my teeth to eat the stuff. how are we goin' to sleep this night, pat?" "standing." "like a blurry 'oss. but stoner's all right," said bill. stoner was all right; somebody had dug a little burrow at the base of the traverse and he was lying there already asleep. we stood in the trench till eight o'clock almost suffocated. it was impossible for the company to spread out, on the right we were touching the supports, on the left was a communication trench leading to the point of attack, and this was occupied by part of another battalion. we were hemmed in on all sides, a compressed company in full marching order with many extra rounds of ammunition and empty stomachs. i was telling a story to the boys, one that pryor and goliath gave credence to, but which the others refused to believe. it was a tale of two trench-mortars, squat little things that loiter about the firing line and look for all the world like toads ready to hop off. i came on two of these the night before, crept on them unawares and found (p. ) them speaking to one another. "nark it, pat," muttered bill lighting a cigarette. "them talking. git out!" "of course you don't understand," i said. "the trench-mortar has a soul, a mind and great discrimination," i told him. "what's a bomb?" asked bill. "'tis the soul finding expression. last night they were speaking, as i have said. they had a wonderful plan in hand. they decided to steal away and drink a bottle of wine in givenchy." "blimey!" "they did not know the way out and at that moment up comes wee hughie gallagher of dooran; in his sea-green bonnet, his salmon-pink coat, and buff tint breeches and silver shoon and mounted one of the howitzers and off they went as fast as the wind to the wineshop at givenchy." "oo's 'ughie what dy'e call 'im of that place?" "he used to be a goat-herd in donegal once upon a time when cows were kine and eagles of the air built their nests in the beards of giants." "wot!" "i often met him there, going out to the pastures, with a herd of (p. ) goats before him and a herd of goats behind him and a salmon tied to the laces of his brogues for supper." "i wish we 'ad somethin' for supper," said bill. "hold your tongue. he has lived for many thousands of years, has wee hughie gallagher of dooran," i said, "but he hasn't reached the first year of his old age yet. long ago when there were kings galore in ireland, he went out to push his fortune about the season of michaelmas and the harvest moon. he came to tirnan-oge, the land of perpetual youth which is flowing with milk and honey." "i wish this trench was!" "bill!" "but you're balmy, chum," said the cockney, "'owitzers talkin' and then this feller. ye're pullin' my leg." "i'm afraid you're not intellectual enough to understand the psychology of a trench-howitzer or the temperament of wee hughie gallagher of dooran, bill." "'ad 'e a finance?"[ ] [footnote : fiancée.] "a what?" i asked. "wot goliath 'as, a girl at home." (p. ) "that's it, is it? why do you think of such a thing?" "i was trying to write a letter to-day to st. albans," said bill, and his voice became low and confidential. "but you're no mate," he added. "you were goin' to make some poetry and i haven't got it yet." "what kind of poetry do you want me to make?" i asked. "yer know it yerself, somethin' nice like!" "about the stars--" "star-shells if you like." "shall i begin now? we can write it out later." "righto!" i plunged into impromptu verse. i lie as still as a sandbag in my dug-out shrapnel proof, my candle shines in the corner, and the shadows dance on the roof, far from the blood-stained trenches, and far from the scenes of war, my thoughts go back to a maiden, my own little guiding star. "that's 'ot stuff," said bill. i was on the point of starting a fresh verse when the low rumble of an approaching shell was heard; a messenger of death from a great german gun out at la bassée. this gun was no stranger to us; he often (p. ) played havoc with the keep; it was he who blew in the wall a few nights before and killed the two engineers. the missile he flung moved slowly and could not keep pace with its own sound. five seconds before it arrived we could hear it coming, a slow, certain horror, sure of its mission and steady to its purpose. the big gun at la bassée was shelling the communication trench, endeavouring to stop reinforcements from getting up to the firing lines and the red field between. the shell burst about fifty yards away and threw a shower of dirt over us. there was a precipitate flop, a falling backwards and forwards and all became messed up in an intricate jumble of flesh, equipment, clothing and rifles in the bottom of the trench. a swarm of "bees" buzzed overhead, a few dropped into the trench and pryor who gripped one with his hand swore under his breath. the splinter was almost red-hot. the trench was voluble. "i'm chokin'; get off me tummy." "your boot's on my face." "nobody struck?" "nobody." (p. ) "gawd! i hope they don't send many packets like that." "spread out a little to the left," came the order from an officer. "when you hear a shell coming lie flat." we got to our feet, all except stoner, who was still asleep in his lair, and changed our positions, our ears alert for the arrival of the next shell. the last bee had scarcely ceased to buzz when we heard the second projectile coming. "another couple of steps. hurry up. down." again we threw ourselves in a heap; the shell burst and again we were covered with dust and muck. "move on a bit. quicker! the next will be here in a minute," was the cry and we stumbled along the narrow alley hurriedly as if our lives depended on the very quickness. when we came to a halt there was only a space of two feet between each man. the trench was just wide enough for the body of one, and all set about to sort themselves in the best possible manner. a dozen shells now came our way in rapid succession. some of the men went down on their knees and pressed their faces close to the ground like moslems at prayer. they looked for all the (p. ) world like moslems, as the pictures show them, prostrate in prayer. the posture reminded me of stories told of ostriches, birds i have never seen, who bury their heads in the sand and consider themselves free from danger when the world is hidden from their eyes. safety in that style did not appeal to me; i sat on the bottom of the trench, head erect. if a splinter struck me it would wound me in the shoulders or the arms or knees. i bent low so that i might protect my stomach; i had seen men struck in that part of the body, the wounds were ghastly and led to torturing deaths. when a shell came near, i put the balls of my hands over my eyes, spread my palms outwards and covered my ears with the fingers. this was some precaution against blindness; and deadened the sound of explosion. bill for a moment was unmoved, he stood upright in a niche in the wall and made jokes. "if i kick the bucket," he said, "don't put a cross with ''e died for 'is king and country' over me. a bully beef tin at my 'ead will do, and on it scrawled in chalk, ''e died doin' fatigues on an empty stomach.'" "a cig.," he called, "'oo as a cig., a fag, a dottle. if yer can't (p. ) give me a fag, light one and let me look at it burnin.' give tommy a fag an' 'e doesn't care wot 'appens. that was in the papers. blimey! it puts me in mind of a dummy teat. give it to the pore man's pianner...." "the what!" "the squalling kid, and tell the brat to be quiet, just like they tell tommy to 'old 'is tongue when they give 'im a cig. oh, blimey!" a shell burst and a dozen splinters whizzed past bill's ears. he was down immediately another prostrate moslem on the floor of the trench. in front of me pryor sat, his head bent low, moving only when a shell came near, to raise his hands and cover his eyes. the high explosive shells boomed slowly in from every quarter now, and burst all round us. would they fall into the trench? if they did! the la bassée monster, the irresistible giant, so confident of its strength was only one amongst the many. we sank down, each in his own way, closer to the floor of the trench. we were preparing to be wounded in the easiest possible way. true we might get killed; lucky if we escaped! would any of us see the dawn?... one is never aware of the shrapnel shell until it bursts. they (p. ) had been passing over our heads for a long time, making a sound like the wind in telegraph wires, before one burst above us. there was a flash and i felt the heat of the explosion on my face. for a moment i was dazed, then i vaguely wondered where i had been wounded. my nerves were on edge and a coldness swept along my spine.... no, i wasn't struck.... "all right, pryor?" i asked. "something has gone down my back, perhaps it's clay," he answered. "you're safe?" "i think so," i answered. "bill." "i've copped it," answered the cockney. "here in my back, it's burnin' 'orrid." "a minute, matey," i said, tumbling into a kneeling position and bending over him. "let me undo your equipment." i pulled his pack-straps clear, loosened his shirt front and tunic, pulled the clothes down his back. under the left shoulder i found a hot piece of shrapnel casing which had just pierced through his dress and rested on the skin. a black mark showed where it had burned in but little harm was done to bill. "you're all right, matey," i said. "put on your robes again." "stretcher-bearers at the double," came the cry up the trench and (p. ) i turned to pryor. he was attending to one of our mates, a section boy who caught a bit in his arm just over the wrist. he was in pain, but the prospect of getting out of the trench buoyed him up into great spirits. "it may be england with this," he said. "any others struck?" i asked pryor who was busy with a first field dressing on the wounded arm. "don't know," he answered. "there are others, i think." "every man down this way is struck," came a voice; "one is out." "killed?" "i think so." "who is he?" "spud higgles," came the answer; then--"no, he's not killed, just got a nasty one across the head." they crawled across us on the way to the dressing station, seven of them. none were seriously hurt, except perhaps spud higgles, who was a little groggy and vowed he'd never get well again until he had a decent drink of english beer, drawn from the tap. the shelling never slackened; and all the missiles dropped (p. ) perilously near; a circle of five hundred yards with the trench winding across it, enclosed the dumping ground of the german guns. at times the trench was filled with the acid stench of explosives mixed with fine lime flung from the fallen masonry with which the place was littered. this caused every man to cough, almost choking as the throat tried to rid itself of the foreign substance. one or two fainted and recovered only after douches of cold water on the face and chest. the suspense wore us down; we breathed the suffocating fumes of one explosion and waited, our senses tensely strung for the coming of the next shell. the sang-froid which carried us through many a tight corner with credit utterly deserted us, we were washed-out things; with noses to the cold earth, like rats in a trap we waited for the next moment which might land us into eternity. the excitement of a bayonet charge, the mad tussle with death on the blood-stained field, which for some reason is called the field of honour was denied us; we had to wait and lie in the trench, which looked so like a grave, and sink slowly into the depths of depression. everything seemed so monstrously futile, so unfinished, so (p. ) useless. would the dawn see us alive or dead? what did it matter? all that we desired was that this were past, that something, no matter what, came and relieved us of our position. all my fine safeguards against terrible wounds were neglected. what did it matter where a shell hit me now, a weak useless thing at the bottom of a trench? let it come, blow me to atoms, tear me to pieces, what did i care? i felt like one in a horrible nightmare; unable to help myself. i lay passive and waited. i believe i dozed off at intervals. visions came before my eyes, the sandbags on the parapet assumed fantastic shapes, became alive and jeered down at me. i saw wee hughie gallagher of dooran, the lively youth who is so real to all the children of donegal, look down at me from the top of the trench. he carried a long, glistening bayonet in his hand and laughed at me. i thought him a fool for ever coming near the field of war. war! ah, it amused him! he laughed at me. i was afraid; he was not; he was afraid of nothing. what would bill think of him? i turned to the cockney; but he knelt there, head to the earth, a motionless moslem. was he asleep? probably he was; any way it (p. ) did not matter. the dawn came slowly, a gradual awaking from darkness into a cheerless day, cloudy grey and pregnant with rain that did not fall. now and again we could hear bombs bursting out in front and still the artillery thundered at our communication trench. bill sat upright rubbing his chest. "what's wrong?" i asked. "what's wrong! everythink," he answered. "there are platoons of intruders on my shirt, sappin' and diggin' trenches and lord knows wot!" "verminous, bill?" "cooty as 'ell," he said. "but wait till i go back to england. i'll go inter a beershop and get a pint, a gallon, a barrel--" "a hogshead," i prompted. "i've got one, my own napper's an 'og's 'ead," said bill. "when i get the beer i'll capture a coot, a big bull coot, an' make 'im drunk," he continued. "when 'e's in a fightin' mood i'll put him inside my shirt an' cut 'im amok. there'll be ructions; 'e'll charge the others with fixed bayonets an' rout 'em. oh! blimey! will they ever stop this damned caper? nark it. fritz, nark yer doin's, (p. ) ye fool." bill cowered down as the shell burst, then sat upright again. "i'm gettin' more afraid of these things every hour," he said, "what is the war about?" "i don't know," i answered. "i'm sick of it," bill muttered. "why did you join?" "to save myself the trouble of telling people why i didn't," he answered with a laugh. "flat on yer tummy, rifleman teake, there's another shell." about noon the shelling ceased; we breathed freely again and discovered we were very hungry. no food had passed our lips since breakfast the day before. stoner was afoot, alert and active, he had slept for eight hours in his cubby-hole, and the youngster was now covered with clay and very dirty. "i'll go back to the cook's waggon at givenchy and rake up some grub," he said, and off he went. chapter xiv (p. ) a field of battle the men who stand to their rifles see all the dead on the plain rise at the hour of midnight to fight their battles again. each to his place in the combat, all to the parts they played, with bayonet brisk to its purpose, with rifle and hand-grenade. shadow races with shadow, steel comes quick on steel, swords that are deadly silent, and shadows that do not feel. and shades recoil and recover, and fade away as they fall in the space between the trenches, and the watchers see it all. i lay down in the trench and was just dropping off to sleep when a message came along the trench. "any volunteers to help to carry out wounded?" was the call. four of us volunteered and a guide conducted us along to the firing line. he was a soldier of the rd london, the regiment which had made the charge the night before; he limped a little, a dejected look (p. ) was in his face and his whole appearance betokened great weariness. "how did you get on last night?" i asked him. "my god! my god!" he muttered, and seemed to be gasping for breath. "i suppose there are some of us left yet, but they'll be very few." "did you capture the trench?" "they say we did," he answered, and it seemed as if he were speaking of an incident in which he had taken no part. "but what does it matter? there's few of us left." we entered the main communication trench, one just like the others, narrow and curving round buttresses at every two or three yards. the floor was covered with blood, not an inch of it was free from the dark reddish tint. "my god, my god," said the rd man, and he seemed to be repeating the phrase without knowing what he said. "the wounded have been going down all night, all morning and they're only beginning to come." a youth of nineteen or twenty sat in a niche in the trench, naked to the waist save where a bandaged-arm rested in a long arm-sling. "how goes it, matey?" i asked. "not at all bad, chummie," he replied bravely; then as a spasm of (p. ) pain shot through him he muttered under his breath, "oh! oh!" a little distance along we met another; he was ambling painfully down the trench, supporting himself by resting his arms on the shoulders of a comrade. "not so quick, matey," i heard him say, "go quiet like and mind the stones. when you hit one of them it's a bit thick you know. i'm sorry to trouble you." "it's all right, old man," said the soldier in front. "i'll try and be as easy as i can." we stood against the wall of the trench to let them go by. opposite us they came to a dead stop. the wounded man was stripped to the waist, and a bandage, white at one time but now red with blood, was tied round his shoulder. his face was white and drawn except over his cheek bones. there the flesh, tightly drawn, glowed crimson as poppies. "have you any water to spare, chummy?" he asked. "we've been told not to give water to wounded men," i said. "i know that," he answered. "but just a drop to rinse out my mouth! i've lain out between the lines all night. just to rinse my mouth, (p. ) chummy!" i drew the cork from my water bottle and held it to his lips, he took a mouthful, paused irresolutely for a moment and a greedy light shone in his eyes. then he spat the water on the floor of the trench. "thank you, chummy, thank you," he said, and the sorrowful journey was resumed. where the road from the village is cut through by the trench we came on a stretcher lying on the floor. on it lay a man, or rather, part of a man, for both his arms had been blown off near the shoulders. a waterproof ground sheet, covered with mud lay across him, the two stumps stuck out towards the stretcher-poles. one was swathed in bandages, the other had come bare, and a white bone protruded over a red rag which i took to be a first field dressing. two men who had been busy helping the wounded all morning and the night before carried the stretcher to here, through the tortuous cutting. one had now dropped out, utterly exhausted. he lay in the trench, covered with blood from head to foot and gasping. his mate smoked a cigarette leaning against the revêtement. "reliefs?" he asked, and we nodded assent. (p. ) "these are the devil's own trenches," he said. "the stretcher must be carried at arms length over the head all the way, even an empty stretcher cannot be carried through here." "can we go out on the road?" asked one of my mates; an irishman belonging to another section. "it'll be a damned sorry road for you if you go out. they're always shelling it." "who is he?" i asked pointing to the figure on the stretcher. he was unconscious; morphia, that gift of heaven, had temporarily relieved him of his pain. "he's an n.c.o., we found him lying out between the trenches," said the stretcher-bearer. "he never lost consciousness. when we tried to raise him, he got up to his feet and ran away, yelling. the pain must have been awful." "has the trench been captured?" "of course it has," said the stretcher-bearer, an ironical smile hovering around his eyes. "it has been a grand victory. trench taken by territorials, you'll see in the papers. and there'll be pictures too, of the gallant charge. heavens! they should see between the (p. ) trenches where the men are blown to little pieces." the cigarette which he held between his blood-stained fingers dropped to the ground; he did not seem to notice it fall. we carried the wounded man out to the road and took our way down towards givenchy. the route was very quiet; now and then a rifle bullet flew by; but apart from that there was absolute peace. we turned in on the brick pathway and had got half way down when a shell burst fifty yards behind us. there was a moment's pause, a shower of splinters flew round and above us, the stretcher sank towards the ground and almost touched. then as if all of us had become suddenly ashamed of some intended action, we straightened our backs and walked on. we placed the stretcher on a table in the dressing-room and turned back. two days later the armless man died in hospital. the wounded were still coming out; we met another party comprised of our own men. the wounded soldier who lay on the stretcher had both legs broken and held in place with a rifle splint; he also had a bayonet tourniquet round the thick of his arm. the poor fellow was (p. ) in great agony. the broken bones were touching one another at every move. now and again he spoke and his question was always the same: "are we near the dressing station yet?" that night i slept in the trench, slept heavily. i put my equipment under me, that kept the damp away from my bones. in the morning stoner told an amusing story. during the night he wanted to see bill, but did not know where the cockney slept. "where's bill?" he said. "bill," i replied, speaking though asleep. "bill, yes," said stoner. "bill," i muttered turning on my side, seeking a more comfortable position. "do you know where bill is?" shouted stoner. "bill!" i repeated again. "yes, bill!" he said, "bill. b-i-double l, bill. where is here?" "he's here," i said getting to my feet and holding out my water bottle. "in here." and i pulled out the cork. i was twitted about this all day. i remembered nothing of the incident of the water bottle although in some vague way i recollected (p. ) stoner asking me about bill. on the following day i had a chance of visiting the scene of the conflict. all the wounded were now carried away, only the dead remained, as yet unburied. the men were busy in the trench which lay on the summit of a slope; the ground dipped in the front and rear. the field i came across was practically "dead ground" as far as rifle fire was concerned. only one place, the wire front of the original german trench, was dangerous. this was "taped out" as our boys say, by some hidden sniper. already the parados was lined with newly-made firing positions, that gave the sentry view of the german trench some forty or fifty yards in front. all there was very quiet now but our men were making every preparation for a counter attack. the engineers had already placed some barbed wire down; they had been hard at it the night before; i could see the hastily driven piles, the loosely flung intricate lines of wire flung down anyhow. the whole work was part of what is known as "consolidation of our position." many long hours of labour had yet to be expended on the trench (p. ) before a soldier could sleep at ease in it. now that the fighting had ceased for a moment the men had to bend their backs to interminable fatigues. the war, as far as i have seen it is waged for the most part with big guns and picks and shovels. the history of the war is a history of sandbags and shells. chapter xv (p. ) the reaction we are marching back from the battle, where we've all left mates behind, and our officers are gloomy, and the n.c.o.'s are kind, when a jew's harp breaks the silence, purring out an old refrain; and we thunder through the village roaring "here we are again." four days later we were relieved by the canadians. they came in about nine o'clock in the evening when we stood to-arms in the trenches in full marching order under a sky where colour wrestled with colour in a blazing flare of star-shells. we went out gladly and left behind the dug-out in which we cooked our food but never slept, the old crazy sandbag construction, weather-worn and shrapnel-scarred, that stooped forward like a crone on crutches on the wooden posts that supported it. "how many casualties have we had?" i asked stoner as we passed out of the village and halted for a moment on the verge of a wood, (p. ) waiting until the men formed up at rear. "i don't know," he answered gloomily. "see the crosses there," he said pointing to the soldiers' cemetery near the trees. "seven of the boys have their graves in that spot; then the wounded and those who went dotty. did you see x. of ---- company coming out?" "no," i said. "i saw him last night when i went out to the quartermaster's stores for rations," stoner told me. "they were carrying him out on their shoulders, and he sat there very quiet like looking at the moon. "over there in the corner all by themselves they are," stoner went on, alluding to the graves towards which my eyes were directed. "you can see the crosses, white wood----" "the same as other crosses?" "just the same," said my mate. "printed in black. number something or another, rifleman so and so, london irish rifles, killed in action on a certain date. that's all." "why do you say 'chummy' when talking to a wounded man, stoner?" i asked. "speaking to a healthy pal you just say 'mate.'" "is that so?" (p. ) "that's so. why do you say it?" "i don't know." "i suppose because it's more motherly." "that may be," said stoner and laughed. quick march! the moon came out, ghostly, in a cloudy sky; a light, pale as water, slid over the shoulders of the men in front and rippled down the creases of their trousers. the bayonets wobbled wearily on the hips, those bayonets that once, burnished as we knew how to burnish them, were the glory and delight of many a long and strict general inspection at st. albans; they were now coated with mud and thick with rust, a disgrace to the battalion! when the last stray bullet ceased whistling over our heads, and we were well beyond the range of rifle fire, leave to smoke was granted. to most of us it meant permission to smoke openly. cigarettes had been burned for quite a quarter of an hour before and we had raised them at intervals to our lips, concealing the glow of their lighted ends under our curved fingers. we drew the smoke in swiftly, treasured it lovingly in our mouths for some time then exhaled it slowly and grudgingly. the sky cleared a little, but at times drifts of grey cloud swept (p. ) over the moon and blotted out the stars. on either side of the road lone poplars stood up like silent sentinels, immovable, and the soft warm breeze that touched us like a breath shook none of their branches. here and there lime-washed cottages, roofed with patches of straw where the enemy's shells had dislodged the terra-cotta tiles, showed lights in the windows. the natives had gone away and soldiers were billeted in their places. marching had made us hot; we perspired freely and the sweat ran down our arms and legs; it trickled down our temples and dropped from our eyebrows to our cheeks. "hang on to the step! quick march! as you were! about turn!" some one shouted imitating our sergeant-major's voice. we had marched in comparative silence up to now, but the mimicked order was like a match applied to a powder magazine. we had had eighteen days in the trenches, we were worn down, very weary and very sick of it all; now we were out and would be out for some days; we were glad, madly glad. all began to make noises at the same time, to sing, to shout, to yell; in the night, on the road with its lines of poplars we became madly delirious, we broke free like a confused torrent from a broken dam. everybody (p. ) had something to say or sing, senseless chatter and sentimental songs ran riot; all uttered something for the mere pleasure of utterance; we were out of the trenches and free for the time being from danger. stoner marched on my right, hanging on his knees a little, singing a music hall song and smoking. a little flutter of ash fell from his cigarette, which seemed to be stuck to his lower lip as it rose and fell with the notes of the song. when he came to the chorus he looked round as if defying somebody, then raised his right hand over his head and gripping his rifle, held the weapon there until the last word of the chorus trembled on his lips; then he brought it down with the last word and looked round as if to see that everybody was admiring his action. bill played his jew's harp, strummed countless sentimental, music-hall ditties on its sensitive tongue, his being was flooded with exuberant song, he was transported by his trumpery toy. bill lived, his whole person surged with a vitality impossible to stem. we came in line with a row of cottages, soldiers' billets for the most part, and the boys were not yet in bed. it was a place to sing something great, something in sympathy with our own mood. the song when it (p. ) came was appropriate, it came from one voice, and hundreds took it up furiously as if they intended to tear it to pieces. here we are, here we are, here we are again. the soldiers not in bed came out to look at us; it made us feel noble; but to me, with that feeling of nobility there came something pathetic, an influence of sorrow that caused my song to dissolve in a vague yearning that still had no separate existence of its own. it was as yet one with the night, with my mood and the whole spin of things. the song rolled on:-- fit and well and feeling as right as rain, now we're all together; never mind the weather, since here we are again, when there's trouble brewing; when there's something doing, are we downhearted. no! let them all come! here we are, here we are, here we are again! as the song died away i felt very lonely, a being isolated. true there was a barn with cobwebs on its rafters down the road, a snug farm where they made fresh butter and sold new laid eggs. but there was something in the night, in the ghostly moonshine, in the bushes out in the (p. ) fields nodding together as if in consultation, in the tall poplars, in the straight road, in the sound of rifle firing to rear and in the song sung by the tired boys coming back from battle, that filled me with infinite pathos and a feeling of being alone in a shelterless world. "here we are; here we are again." i thought of mervin, and six others dead, of their white crosses, and i found myself weeping silently like a child.... chapter xvi (p. ) peace and war you'll see from the la bassée road, on any summer day, the children herding nanny goats, the women making hay. you'll see the soldiers, khaki clad, in column and platoon, come swinging up la bassée road from billets in bethune. there's hay to save and corn to cut, but harder work by far awaits the soldier boys who reap the harvest fields of war. you'll see them swinging up the road where women work at hay, the long, straight road, la bassée road, on any summer day. the farmhouse stood in the centre of the village; the village rested on the banks of a sleepy canal on which the barges carried the wounded down from the slaughter line to the hospital at bethune. the village was shelled daily. when shelling began a whistle was blown warning all soldiers to seek cover immediately in the dug-outs roofed with sandbags, which were constructed by the military authorities in nearly every garden in the place. when the housewifes heard the shells bursting they ran out and brought in their washing from the lines where it was hung out to dry; then they sat down and knitted stockings or sewed garments (p. ) to send to their menfolk at the war. in the village they said: "when the shells come the men run in for their lives, and the women run out for their washing." the village was not badly battered by shell fire. our barn got touched once and a large splinter of a concussion shell which fell there was used as a weight for a wag-of-the-wall clock in the farmhouse. the village was crowded with troops, new men, who wore clean shirts, neat puttees and creased trousers. they had not been in the trenches yet, but were going up presently. bill and i were sitting in an _estaminet_ when two of these youngsters came in and sat opposite. "new 'ere?" asked bill. "came to boulogne six days ago and marched all the way here," said one of them, a red-haired youth with bushy eyebrows. "long over?" he asked. "just about nine months," said bill. "you've been through it then." "through it," said bill, lying splendidly, "i think we 'ave. at mons we went in eight 'undred strong. we're the only two as is left." "gracious! and you never got a scratch?" "never a pin prick," said bill, "and i saw the shells so thick (p. ) comin' over us that you couldn't see the sky. they was like crows up above." "they were?" "we were in the trenches then," bill said. "the orficer comes up and sez: 'things are getting despirate! we've got to charge. 'ool foller me?' 'i'm with you!' i sez, and up i jumps on the parapet pulling a machine gun with me." "a machine gun!" said the red-haired man. "a machine gun," bill went on. "when one is risen 'e can do anything. i could 'ave lifted a 'ole battery on my shoulders because i was mad. i 'ad a look to my front to get the position then i goes forward. 'come back, cried the orficer as 'e fell----" "fell!" "'e got a bullet through his bread basket and 'e flopped. but there was no 'oldin' o' me. 'twas death or glory, neck 'an nothin', 'ell for leather at that moment. the london irish blood was up; one of the chelsea cherubs was out for red blood 'olesale and retail. i slung the machine gun on my shoulder, sharpened my bayonet with a piece of sand-paper, took the first line o' barbed wire entanglements at (p. ) a jump and got caught on the second. it gored me like a bull. i got six days c.b. for 'avin' the rear of my trousers torn when we came out o' the trenches." "tell me something i can believe," said the red-haired youth. "am i not tellin' you something," asked bill. "nark it, matey, nark it. i tell gospel-stories and you'll not believe me." "but it's all tommy rot." "is it? the germans did'nt think so when i charged plunk into the middle of 'em. yer should 'ave been there to see it. they were all round me and two taubes over 'ead watching my movements. swish! and my bayonet went through the man in front and stabbed the identity disc of another. when i drew the bayonet out the butt of my 'ipe[ ] would 'it a man behind me in the tummy. ugh! 'e would say and flop bringing a mate down with 'im may be. the dead was all round me and i built a parapet of their bodies, puttin' the legs criss-cross and makin' loop 'oles. then they began to bomb me from the other side. 'twas gettin' 'ot i tell you and i began to think of my 'ome; the dug-out in (p. ) the trench. what was i to do? if i crossed the open they'd bring me down with a bullet. there was only one thing to be done. i had my boots on me for three 'ole weeks of 'ot weather, 'otter than this and beer not so near as it is now----" [footnote : rifle.] "have another drink, bill?" i asked. "glad yer took the 'int," said my mate. "story tellin's a dry fatigue. well as i was sayin' my socks 'ad been on for a 'ole month----" "three weeks," i corrected. "three weeks," bill repeated and continued. "i took orf my boots. 'respirators!' the germans yelled the minute my socks were bare, and off they went leavin' me there with my 'ome-made trench. when i came back i got a dose of c.b. as i've told you before." we went back to our billet. in the farmyard the pigs were busy on the midden, and they looked at us with curious expressive eyes that peered roguishly out from under their heavy hanging cabbage-leaves of ears. in one corner was the field-cooker. the cooks were busy making dixies of bully beef stew. their clothes were dirty and greasy, so were their arms, bare from the shoulders almost, and taut with muscles. (p. ) through a path that wound amongst a medley of agricultural instruments, ploughs harrows and grubbers, the farmer's daughter came striding like a ploughman, two children hanging on to her apron strings. a stretcher leant against our water-cart, and dried clots of blood were on its shafts. the farmer's dog lay panting on the midden, his red tongue hanging out and saliva dropping on the dung, overhead the swallows were swooping and flying in under the eaves where now and again they nested for a moment before getting up to resume their exhilirating flight. a dirty barefooted boy came in through the large entrance-gate leading a pair of sleepy cows with heavy udders which shook backwards and forwards as they walked. the horns of one cow were twisted, the end of one pointed up, the end of the other pointed down. one of section 's boys was looking at the cow. "the ole geeser's 'andlebars is twisted," said bill, addressing nobody in particular and alluding to the cow. "it's 'orns, yer fool!" said section . "yer fool, yerself!" said bill. "i'm not as big a fool as i look----" "git! your no more brains than a 'en." (p. ) "nor 'ave you either," said bill. "i've twice as many brains, as you," said section . "so 'ave i," was the answer made by bill; then getting pugilistic he thundered out: "i'll give yer one on the moosh." "will yer?" said section . "straight i will. give you one across your ugly phiz! it looks as if it had been out all night and some one dancing on it." bill took off his cap and flung it on the ground as if it were the gauntlet of a knight of old. his hair, short and wiry, stood up on end. section looked at it. "your hair looks like furze in a fit," said section . "you're lookin' for one on the jor," said bill closing and opening his fist. "and i'll give yer one." "will yer? two can play at that gyme!" goliath massive and monumental came along at that moment. he looked at bill. "looking for trouble, mate?" he asked. "section 's shouting the odds, as usual," bill replied. "come along to the canal and have a bath; it will cool your (p. ) temper." "will it?" said bill as he came along with us somewhat reluctantly towards the canal banks. "what does shouting the odds mean?" i asked him. "chewin' the rag," he answered. "and that means----" "kicking up a row and lettin' every one round you know," said bill. "that's what shoutin' the blurry odds means." "what's the difference between shouting the odds and shouting the blurry odds?" i asked. "it's like this, pat," bill began to explain, a blush rising on his cheeks. bill often blushed. "shoutin' the odds isn't strong enough, but shoutin' the blurry odds has ginger in it. it makes a bloke listen to you." stoner was sitting on the bank of la bassée canal, his bare feet touching the water, his body deep in a cluster of wild iris. i sat down beside him and took off my boots. i pulled a wild iris and explained to stoner how in donegal we made boats from the iris and placed them by the brookside at night. when we went to bed the fairies crossed the streams on the boats which (p. ) we made. "did they cross on the boats?" asked stoner. "of course they did," i answered. "we never found a boat left in the morning." "the stream washed them away," said stoner. "you civilised abomination," i said and proceeded to fashion a boat, when it was made i placed it on the stream and watched it circle round on an eddy near the bank. "here's something," said stoner, getting hold of a little frog with his hand and placing it on the boat. for a moment the iris bark swayed unsteadily, the frog's little glistening eyes wobbled in its head then it dived in to the water, overturning the boat as it hopped off it. an impudent-looking little boy with keen, inquisitive eyes, came along the canal side wheeling a very big barrow on which was heaped a number of large loaves. his coat a torn, ragged fringe, hung over the hips, he wore a balaclava helmet (thousands of which have been flung away by our boys in the hot weather) and khaki puttees. the boy came to a stop opposite, laid down his barrow and wiped (p. ) the sweat from his brow with a dirty hand. "bonjour!" said the boy. "bonjour, petit garçon," stoner replied, proud of his french which is limited to some twenty words. the boy asked for a cigarette; a souvenir. we told him to proceed on his journey, we were weary of souvenir hunters. the barrow moved on, the wheel creaking rustily and the boy whistled a light-hearted tune. that his request had not been granted did not seem to trouble him. two barges, coupled and laden with coal rounded a corner of the canal. they were drawn by five persons, a woman with a very white sunbonnet in front. she was followed by a barefooted youth in khaki tunic, a hunch-backed man with heavy projecting jowl and a hare-lipped youth of seventeen or eighteen. last on the tug rope was an oldish man with a long white beard parted in the middle and rusty coloured at the tips. a graceful slip of a girl, lithe as a marsh sapling, worked the tiller of the rear barge and she took no notice of the soldiers on the shore or in the water. "going to bathe, stoner?" i asked. (p. ) "when the barges go by," he answered and i twitted him on his modesty. goliath, six foot three of magnificent bone and muscle was in the canal. swanking his trudgeon stroke he surged through the dirty water like an excited whale, puffing and blowing. bill, losing in every stroke, tried to race him, but retired beaten and very happy. the cold water rectified his temper, he was now in a most amiable humour. pryor was away down the canal on the barge, when he came to the bridge he would dive off and race some of section boys back to the spot where i was sitting. there is an eternal and friendly rivalry between sections and . "stoner, going in?" i asked my comrade, who was standing stark on the bank. "in a minute," he answered. "now," i said. "get in yourself ----" "presently," i replied, "but you go in now, unless you want to get shoved in." he dived gracefully and came up near the other bank spluttering and shaking the water off his hair. bill challenged him to a race and both struck off down the stream, as they swam passing jokes with their (p. ) comrades on the bank. in the course of ten minutes they returned, perched proudly on the stern of a barge and making ready to dive. at that moment i undressed and went in. my swim was a very short one; shorter than usual, and i am not much of a swimmer. a searching shell sped over from the german lines hit the ground a few hundred yards to rear of the canal and whirled a shower of dust into the water, which speedily delivered several hundred nude fighters to the clothes-littered bank. a second and third shell dropping nearer drove all modest thoughts from our minds for the moment (unclothed, a man feels helplessly defenceless), and we hurried into our warrens through throngs of women rushing out to take in their washing. one of the shells hit the artillery horse lines on the left of the village and seven horses were killed. chapter xvii (p. ) everyday life at the front there's the butter, gad, and horse-fly, the blow-fly and the blue, the fine fly and the coarse fly, but never flew a worse fly of all the flies that flew than the little sneaky black fly that gobbles up our ham, the beggar's not a slack fly, he really is a crack fly, and wolfs the soldiers jam. so strafe that fly! our motto is "strafe him when you can." he'll die because he ought to, he'll go because he's got to, so at him every man! what time we have not been in the trenches we have spent marching out or marching back to them, or sleeping in billets at the rear and going out as working parties, always ready to move at two hours' notice by day and one hour's notice by night. i got two days c.b. at la beuvriere; because i did not come out on parade one morning. i really got out of bed very early, and went for a walk. coming to a pond where a number of frogs were hopping from (p. ) the bank into the water, i sat down and amused myself by watching them staring at me out of the pond; their big, intelligent eyes full of some wonderful secret. they interested and amused me, probably i interested and amused them, one never knows. then i read a little and time flew by. on coming back i was told to report at the company orderly room. two days c.b. i got into trouble at another time. i was on sentry go at a dingy place, a village where the people make their living by selling bad beer and weak wine to one another. nearly every house in the place is an _estaminet_. i slept in the guard-room and as my cartridge pouches had an unholy knack of prodding a stomach which rebelled against digesting bully and biscuit, i unloosed my equipment buckles. the visiting rounds found me imperfectly dressed, my shoulder flaps wobbled, my haversack hung with a slant and the cartridge pouches leant out as if trying to spring on my feet. the next evening i was up before the c.o. my hair was rather long, and as it was well-brushed it looked imposing. so i thought in the morning when i looked in the platoon mirror--the platoon mirror was an inch square glass with a jagged edge. my (p. ) imposing hair caught the c.o.'s eye the moment i entered the orderly room. "don't let me see you with hair like that again," he began and read out the charge. i forget the words which hinted that i was a wrong-doer in the eyes of the law military; the officers were there, every officer in the battalion, they all looked serious and resigned. it seemed as if their minds had been made up on something relating to me. the orderly officer who apprehended me in the act told how he did it, speaking as if from a book but consulting neither notes nor papers. "what have you to say?" asked the c.o. looking at me. i had nothing particular to say, my thoughts were busy on an enigma that might not interest him, namely, why a young officer near him kept rubbing a meditative chin with a fugitive finger, and why that finger came down so swiftly when the c.o.'s eyes were turned towards the young man. i replied to the question by saying "guilty." "we know you are guilty," said the c.o. and gave me a little lecture. i had a reputation, the young men of the regiment looked up to me, an older man; and by setting a good example i could do a great deal (p. ) of good, &c., &c. the lecture was very trying, but the rest of the proceedings were interesting. i was awarded three extra guards. i only did one of them. we hung on the fringe of the richebourge _mêlée_, but were not called into play. "what was it like?" we asked the men marching back from battle in the darkness and the rain. there was no answer, they were too weary even to speak. "how did you get along in the fight?" i called to one who straggled along in the rear, his head sunk forward on his breast, his knees bending towards the ground. "tsch! tsch!" he answered, his voice barely rising above a whisper as his boots paced out in a rhythm of despair to some village at the rear. there in the same place a night later, we saw soldiers' equipments piled on top of one another and stretching for yards on either side of the road: packs, haversacks, belts, bayonets, rifles, and cartridge pouches. the equipments were taken in from the field of battle, the war-harness of men now wounded and dead was out of use for the moment, other soldiers would wear them presently and make great fight in them. once at cuinchy, section went out for a wash in a dead stream (p. ) that once flowed through our lines and those of the germans. the water was dirty and it was a miracle that the frogs which frisked in it were so clean. "it's too dirty to wash there," said pryor. "a change of dirt is 'olesome," said bill, placing his soap on the bank and dipping his mess tin in the water. as he bent down the body of a dead soldier inflated by its own rottenness bubbled up to the surface. we gave up all idea of washing. stoner who was on the opposite bank tried to jump across at that moment. miscalculating the distance, he fell short and into the water. we dragged him out spluttering and i regret to say we laughed, almost heartily. that night when we stood to arms in the trenches, waiting for an attack that did not come off, stoner stood to with his rifle, an overcoat, a pair of boots and a pair of socks as his sole uniform. how many nights have we marched under the light of moon and stars, sleepy and dog-weary, in song or in silence, as the mood prompted us or the orders compelled us, up to the trenches and back again! we have slept in the same old barns with cobwebs in the roof and straw (p. ) deep on the floor. we have sung songs, old songs that float on the ocean of time like corks and find a cradle on every wave; new songs that make a momentary ripple on the surface and die as their circle extends outwards, songs of love and lust, of murder and great adventure. we have gambled, won one another's money and lost to one another again, we have had our disputes, but were firm in support of any member of our party who was flouted by any one who was not one of we. "section , right or wrong" was and is our motto. and the section dwindles, the bullet and shell has been busy in lessening our strength, for that is the way of war. when in the trenches bill and kore amuse themselves by potting all day long at the german lines. a conversation like the following may be often heard. bill:--"blimey, i see a 'ead." kore:--"fire then." (bill fires a shot.) "got him?" bill:--"no blurry fear. the 'ead was a sandbag. i'll bet yer the shot they send back will come nearer me than you. bet yer a copper." kore:--"done." (a bullet whistles by on the right of bill's head.) (p. ) "i think they're firing at you." bill:--"not me, matey, but you. it's their aiming that's bad. 'and over the coin." (enter an officer.) officer:--"don't keep your heads over the parapet, you'll get sniped. keep under cover as much as possible." bill:--"orl right, sir." kore:--"yes, sir." (exit officer.) bill:--"they say there's a war 'ere." kore:--"it's only a rumour." at cuinchy where the german trenches are hardly a hundred yards away from ours, the firing from the opposite trenches ceased for a moment and a voice called across. "what about the cup final?" it was then the finish of the english football season. "chelsea lost," said bill, who was a staunch supporter of that team. "hard luck!" came the answer from the german trench and firing was resumed. but bill used his rifle no more until we changed into a new locality. "a blurry supporter of blurry chelsea," he said. "'e must be a damned good sort of sausage-eater, that feller. if ever i meet 'im in lunnon after the war, i'm goin' to make 'im as drunk as a (p. ) public-'ouse fly." "what are you going to do after the war?" i asked. he rubbed his eyes which many sleepless nights in a shell-harried trench had made red and watery. "what will i do?" he repeated. "i'll get two beds," he said, "and have a six months' snooze, and i'll sleep in one bed while the other's being made, matey." in trench life many new friends are made and many old friendships renewed. we were nursing a contingent of camerons, men new to the grind of trench work, and most of them hailing from glasgow and the west of scotland. on the morning of the second day one of them said to me, "big jock macgregor wants to see you." "who's big jock?" i asked. "he used to work on the railway at greenock," i was told, and off i went to seek the man. i found him eating bully beef and biscuit on the parapet. he was spotlessly clean, he had not yet stuck his spoon down the rim of his stocking where his skein should have been, he had a table knife (p. ) and fork (things that we, old soldiers, had dispensed with ages ago), in short, he was a hat-box fellow, togged up to the nines, and as yet, green to the grind of war. his age might be forty, he looked fifty, a fatherly sort of man, a real block of caledonian railway thrown, tartanised, into a trench. "how are you, jock?" i said. i had never met him before. "are you pat macgill?" i nodded assent. "man, i've often heard of you, pat," he went on, "i worked on the sou' west, and my brother's an engine driver on the caly. he reads your songs a'most every night. he says there are only two poets he'd give a fling for--that's you and anderson, the man who wrote _cuddle doon_." "how do you like the trenches, jock?" "not so bad, man, not so bad," he said. "killed any one yet?" i asked. "not yet," he answered in all seriousness. "but there's a sniper over there," and he pointed a clean finger, quite untrenchy it was, towards the enemy's lines, "and he's fired three at me." "at you?" i asked. "ay, and i sent him five back ----" (p. ) "and didn't do him in?" i asked. "not yet, but if i get another two or three at him, i'll not give much for his chance." "have you seen him?" i asked, marvelling that big jock had already seen a sniper. "no, but i heard the shots go off." a rifle shot is the most deceptive thing in the world, so, like an old soldier wise in the work, i smiled under my hand. i don't believe that big jock has killed his sniper yet, but it has been good to see him. when we meet he says, "what about the caly, pat?" and i answer, "what about the sou' west, jock?" on the first sunday after trinity we marched out from another small village in the hot afternoon. this one was a model village, snug in the fields, and dwindling daily. the german shells are dropping there every day. in the course of another six months if the fronts of the contending armies do not change, that village will be a litter of red bricks and unpeopled ruins. as it is the women, children and old men still remain in the place and carry on their usual labours with the greatest fortitude and patience. the village children sell percussion caps of german shells for half a franc each, but if the shell (p. ) has killed any of the natives when it exploded, the cap will not be sold for less than thirty sous. but the sum is not too dear for a nose-cap with a history. there are a number of soldiers buried in the graveyard of this place. at one corner four different crosses bear the following names: anatole séries, private o'shea, corporal smith and under the symbol of the christian religion lies one who came from sunny heathen climes to help the christian in his wars. his name is jaighandthakur, a soldier of the bengal mountain battery. it was while here that bill complained of the scanty allowance of his rations to an officer, when plum pudding was served at dinner. "me and stoner 'as got 'ardly nuffink," bill said. "how much have you got?" asked the officer. "you could 'ardly see it, it's so small," said bill. "but now it's all gone." "gone?" "a fly flew away with my portion, and stoner's 'as fallen through the neck of 'is waterbottle," said bill. the officer ordered both men (p. ) to be served out with a second portion. we left the village in the morning and marched for the best part of the day. we were going to hold a trench five kilometres north of souchez and the hills of lorette. the trenches to which we were going had recently been held by the french but now that portion of the line is british; our soldiers fight side by side with the french on the hills of lorette at present. the day was exceedingly hot, a day when men sweat and grumble as they march, when they fall down like dead things on the roadside at every halt and when they rise again they wonder how under heaven they are going to drag their limbs and burdens along for the next forty minutes. we passed les brebes, like men in a dream, pursued a tortuous path across a wide field, in the middle of which are several shell-shattered huts and some acres of shell-scooped ground. the place was once held by a french battery and a spy gave the position away to the enemy. early one morning the shells began to sweep in, carrying the message of death from guns miles away. never have i seen such a memento of splendid gunnery, as that written large in shell-holes on that field. the bomb-proof shelters are on a level with the (p. ) ground, the vicinity is pitted as if with smallpox, but two hundred yards out on any side there is not a trace of a shell, every shot went true to the mark. a man with a rifle two hundred yards away could not be much more certain than the german gunners of a target as large. but their work went for nothing: the battery had changed its position the night previous to the attack. had it remained there neither man nor gun would have escaped. the communication trench we found to be one of the widest we had ever seen; a handbarrow could have been wheeled along the floor. at several points the trench was roofed with heavy pit-props and sandbags proof against any shrapnel fire. it was an easy trench to march in, and we needed all the ease possible. the sweat poured from every pore, down our faces, our arms and legs, our packs seemed filled with lead, our haversacks rubbing against our hips felt like sand paper; the whole march was a nightmare. the water we carried got hot in our bottles and became almost undrinkable. in the reserve trench we got some tea, a godsend to us all. we had just stepped into a long, dark, pit-prop-roofed tunnel and (p. ) the light of the outer world made us blind. i shuffled up against a man who was sitting on one side, righted myself and stumbled against the knees of another who sat on a seat opposite. "will ye have a wee drop of tay, my man?" a voice asked, an irish voice, a voice that breathed of the north of ireland. i tried to see things, but could not. i rubbed my eyes and had a vision of an arm stretching towards me; a hand and a mess tin. i drank the tea greedily. "there's a lot of you ones comin' up," the voice said. "you ones!" how often have i said "you ones," how often do i say it still when i'm too excited to be grammatical. "ye had a' must to be too late for tay!" the voice said from the darkness. "what does he say?" asked pryor who was just ahead of me. "he says that we were almost too late for tea," i replied and stared hard into the darkness on my left. figures of men in khaki took form in the gloom, a bayonet sparkled; some one was putting a lid on a mess-tin and i could see the man doing it.... "inniskillings?" i asked. "that's us." (p. ) "quiet?" i asked, alluding to their life in the trench. "not bad at all," was the answer. "a shell came this road an hour agone, and two of us got hit." "killed?" "boys, oh! boys, aye," was the answer; "and seven got wounded. nine of the best, man, nine of the best. have another drop of tay?" at the exit of the tunnel the floor was covered with blood and the flies were buzzing over it; the sated insects rose lazily as we came up, settled down in front, rose again and flew back over our heads. what a feast they were having on the blood of men! the trenches into which we had come were not so clean as many we had been in before; although the dug-outs were much better constructed than those in the british lines, they smelt vilely of something sickening and nauseous. a week passed away and we were still in the trenches. sometimes it rained, but for the most part the sky was clear and the sun very hot. the trenches were dug out of the chalk, the world in which we lived was a world of white and green, white parapet and parados with a (p. ) fringe of grass on the superior slope of each. the place was very quiet, not more than two dozen shells came our way daily, and it was there that i saw a shell in air, the only shell in flight i have ever seen. it was dropping to earth behind the parados and i had a distinct view of the missile before ducking to avoid the splinters flung out by the explosion. hundreds of shells have passed through the sky near me every day, i could almost see them by their sound and felt i could trace the line made by them in their flight, but this was the only time i ever saw one. the hill land of lorette stood up sullen on our right; in a basin scooped out on its face, a hollow not more than five hundred yards square we could see, night and day, an eternal artillery conflict in progress, in the daylight by the smoke and in the dark by the flashes of bursting shells. it was an awe-inspiring and wonderful picture this titanic struggle; when i looked on it, i felt that it was not good to see--it was the face of a god. the mortal who gazed on it must die. but by night and day i spent most of my spare time in watching the smoke of bursting shells and the flash of innumerable explosions. one morning, after six days in the trenches, i was seated on the (p. ) parados blowing up an air pillow which had been sent to me by an english friend and watching the fight up at souchez when bill came up to me. "wot's that yer've got?" he asked. "an air pillow," i answered. "'ow much were yer rushed for it?" "somebody sent it to me," i said. "to rest yer weary 'ead on?" i nodded. "i like a fresh piller every night," said bill. "a fresh what?" "a fresh brick." "how do you like these trenches?" i asked after a short silence. "not much," he answered. "they're all blurry flies and chalk." he gazed ruefully at the white sandbags and an army ration of cheese rolled up in a paper on which blow-flies were congregating. chalk was all over the place, the dug-outs were dug out of chalk, the sandbags were filled with chalk, every bullet, bomb and shell whirled showers of fine powdery chalk into the air, chalk frittered away from the parapets fell down into our mess-tins as we drank our tea, the rain-wet chalk melted to milk and whitened the barrels and actions (p. ) of our rifles where they stood on the banquette, bayonets up to the sky. looking northward when one dared to raise his head over the parapet for a moment, could be seen white lines of chalk winding across a sea of green meadows splashed with daisies and scarlet poppies. butterflies flitted from flower to flower and sometimes found their way into our trench where they rested for a moment on the chalk bags, only to rise again and vanish over the fringes of green that verged the limits of our world. three miles away rising lonely over the beaten zone of emerald stood a red brick village, conspicuous by the spire of its church and an impudent chimney, with part of its side blown away, that stood stiff in the air. a miracle that it had not fallen to pieces. over the latrine at the back the flies were busy, their buzzing reminded me of the sound made by shell splinters whizzing through the air. the space between the trenches looked like a beautiful garden, green leaves hid all shrapnel scars on the shivered trees, thistles with magnificent blooms rose in line along the parapet, grasses hung over the sandbags of the parapet and seemed to be peering in at us asking if we would allow them to enter. the garden of death was a riot (p. ) of colour, green, crimson, heliotrope and poppy-red. even from amidst the chalk bags, a daring little flower could be seen showing its face; and a primrose came to blossom under the eaves of our dug-out. nature was hard at work blotting out the disfigurement caused by man to the face of the country. at noon i sat in the dug-out where bill was busy repairing a defect in his mouth organ. the sun blazed overhead, and it was almost impossible to write, eat or even to sleep. the dug-out was close and suffocating; the air stank of something putrid, of decaying flesh, of wasting bodies of french soldiers who had fallen in a charge and were now rotting in the midst of the fair poppy flowers. they lay as they fell, stricken headlong in the great frenzy of battle, their fingers wasted to the bone, still clasping their rifles or clenching the earth which they pulled from the ground in the mad agony of violent death. now and again, mingled with the stench of death and decay, the breeze wafted into our dug-out an odour of flowers. the order came like a bomb flung into the trench and woke us up like an electric thrill. true we did not believe it at first, there (p. ) are so many practical jokers in our ranks. such an insane order! had the head of affairs gone suddenly mad that such an order was issued. "all men get ready for a bath. towels and soap are to be carried!!!" "where are we going to bathe?" i asked the platoon sergeant. "in the village at the rear," he answered. "there's nobody there, nothing but battered houses," i answered. "and the place gets shelled daily." "that doesn't matter," said the platoon sergeant. "there's going to be a bath and a jolly good one for all. hot water." we went out to the village at the rear, the village of shattered homes, which were bunched together under the wall of a rather pretentious villa that had so far suffered very little from the effects of the german artillery. as yet the roof and windows were all that were damaged, the roof was blown in and the window glass was smashed to pieces. we got a good bath, a cold spray whizzed from the nozzle of a serpentine hose, and a share of underclothing. the last we needed badly for the chalk trenches were very verminous. we went back (p. ) clean and wholesome, the bath put new life into us. that same evening, what time the star-shells began to flare and the flashes of the guns could be seen on the hills of lorette, two of our men got done to death in their dug-out. a shell hit the roof and smashed the pit-props down on top of the two soldiers. death was instantaneous in both cases. chapter xviii (p. ) the covering party along the road in the evening the brown battalions wind, with the trenches threat of death before, the peaceful homes behind; and luck is with you or luck is not, as the ticket of fate is drawn, the boys go up to the trench at dusk, but who will come back at dawn? the darkness clung close to the ground, the spinney between our lines was a bulk of shadow thinning out near the stars. a light breeze scampered along the floor of the trench and seemed to be chasing something. the night was raw and making for rain; at midnight when my hour of guard came to an end i went to my dug-out, the spacious construction, roofed with long wooden beams heaped with sandbags, which was built by the french in the winter season, what time men were apt to erect substantial shelters, and know their worth. the platoon sergeant stopped me at the door. "going to have a kip, pat?" he asked. "if i'm lucky," i answered. "your luck's dead out," said the sergeant. "you're to be one of a (p. ) covering party for the engineers. they're out to-night repairing the wire entanglements." "any more of the section going out?" i asked. "bill's on the job," i was told. the sergeant alluded to my mate, the vivacious cockney, the spark who so often makes section in its dullest mood, explode with laughter. ten minutes later bill and i, accompanied by a corporal and four other riflemen, clambered over the parapet out on to the open field. we came to the wire entanglements which ran along in front of the trench ten to fifteen yards away from the reverse slope of the parapet. the german artillery had played havoc with the wires some days prior to our occupation of the trench, the stakes had been battered down and most of the defence had been smashed to smithereens. bombarding wire entanglements seems to be an artillery pastime; when we smash those of the germans they reply by smashing ours, then both sides repair the damage only to start the game of demolition over again. the line of entanglements does not run parallel with the trench (p. ) it covers, although when seen from the parapet its inner stakes seem always to be about the same distance away from the nearest sandbags. but taken in relation to the trench opposite the entanglements are laid with occasional v-shaped openings narrowing towards our trench. the enemy plan an attack. at dusk or dawn their infantry will make a charge over the open ground, raked with machine gun, howitzer, and rifle fire. between the trenches is the beaten zone, the field of death. the moment the attacking party pull down the sandbags from the parapet, its sole aim is to get to the other side. the men become creatures of instinct, mad animals with only one desire, that is to get to the other side where there is comparative safety. they dash up to a jumble of trip wires scattered broadcast over the field and thinning out to a point, the nearest point which they reach in the enemy's direction. trip wires are the quicksands of the beaten zone, a man floundering amidst them gets lost. the attackers realize this and the instinct which tells them of a certain amount of safety in the vicinity of an unfriendly trench urges them pell mell into the v-shaped recess that narrows towards our lines. here the attackers (p. ) are heaped up, a target of wriggling humanity; ready prey for the concentrated fire of the rifles from the british trench. the narrow part of the v becomes a welter of concentrated horror, the attackers tear at the wires with their hands and get ripped flesh from bone, mutilated on the barbs in the frensied efforts to get through. the tragedy of an advance is painted red on the barbed wire entanglements. in one point our wires had been cut clean through by a concussion shell and the entanglement looked as if it had been frozen into immobility in the midst of a riot of broken wires and shattered posts. we passed through the lane made by the shell and flopped flat to earth on the other side when a german star-shell came across to inspect us. the world between the trenches was lit up for a moment. the wires stood out clear in one glittering distortion, the spinney, full of dark racing shadows, wailed mournfully to the breeze that passed through its shrapnel-scarred branches, white as bone where their bark had been peeled away. in the mysteries of light and shade, in the threat that hangs forever over men in the trenches there was a wild fascination. i was for a moment tempted to rise up and shout (p. ) across to the german trenches, i am here! no defiance would be in the shout. it was merely a momentary impulse born of adventure that intoxicates. bill sprung to his feet suddenly, rubbing his face with a violent hand; this in full view of the enemy's trench in a light that illumined the place like a sun. "bill, bill!" we muttered hoarsely. "well, blimey, that's a go," he said coughing and spitting. "what 'ave i done, splunk on a dead 'un i flopped, a stinking corpse. 'e was 'uggin' me, kissin' me. oh! nark the game, ole stiff 'un," said bill, addressing the ground where i could perceive a bundle of dark clothes, striped with red and deep in the grass. "talk about rotten eggs burstin' on your jor; they're not in it." the light of the star-shell waned and died away; the corporal spoke to bill. "next time a light goes up you be flat; you're giving the whole damned show away," the corporal said. "if you're spotted it's all up with us." we fixed swords clamping them into the bayonet standards and lay flat on the ground in the midst of dead bodies of french soldiers. months before the french endeavoured to take the german trenches and got (p. ) about half way across the field. there they stopped, mown down by rifle and machine gun fire and they lie there still, little bundles of wasting flesh in the midst of the poppies. when the star-shells went up i could see a face near me, a young face clean-shaven and very pale under a wealth of curly hair. it was the face of a mere boy, the eyes were closed as if the youth were only asleep. it looked as if the effacing finger of decay had forborne from working its will on the helpless thing. his hand still gripped the rifle, and the long bayonet on the standard shone when the light played upon it. it seemed as if he fell quietly to the ground, dead. others, i could see, had died a death of agony; they lay there in distorted postures, some with faces battered out of recognition, others with their hands full of grass and clay as if they had torn up the earth in their mad, final frenzy. not a nice bed to lie in during a night out on listening patrol.[ ] [footnote : the london irish charged over this ground later, and entered loos on saturday, th september, .] the engineers were now at work just behind us, i could see their dark forms flitting amongst the posts, straightening the old ones, (p. ) driving in fresh supports and pulling the wires taut. they worked as quietly as possible, but to our ears, tensely strained, the noise of labour came like the rumble of artillery. the enemy must surely hear the sound. doubtless he did, but probably his own working parties were busy just as ours were. in front when one of our star-shells went across i fancied that i could see dark forms standing motionless by the german trench. perhaps my eyes played me false, the objects might be tree-trunks trimmed down by shell fire.... the message came out from our trench and the corporal passed it along his party. "on the right a party of the --th london are working." this was to prevent us mistaking them for germans. all night long operations are carried on between the lines, if daylight suddenly shot out about one in the morning what a scene would unfold itself in no man's land; listening patrols marching along, engineers busy with the wires, sanitary squads burying the dead and covering parties keeping watch over all the workers. "halt! who goes there?" the order loud and distinct came from the vicinity of the german (p. ) trench, then followed a mumbled reply and afterwards a scuffle, a sound as of steel clashing in steel, and then subdued laughter. what had happened? next day we heard that a sergeant and three men of the --th were out on patrol and went too near the enemy's lines. suddenly they were confronted by several dark forms with fixed bayonets and the usual sentry's challenge was yelled out in english. believing that he had fallen across one of his own outposts, the unsuspecting sergeant gave the password for the night, approached those who challenged him and was immediately made prisoner. two others met with the same fate, but one who had been lagging at the rear got away and managed to get back to his own lines. many strange things happen between the lines at night; working parties have no love for the place and hundreds get killed there. the slightest tinge of dawn was in the sky when our party slipped back over the parapet and stood to arms on the banquette and yawned out the conventional hour when soldiers await the attacks which so often begin at dawn. we go out often as working parties or listening patrols. from souchez to ypres the firing line runs through a land of (p. ) stinking drains, level fields, and shattered villages. we know those villages, we have lived in them, we have been sniped at in their streets and shelled in the houses. we have had men killed in them, blown to atoms or buried in masonry, done to death by some damnable instrument of war. in our trenches near souchez you can see the eternal artillery fighting on the hills of lorette, up there men are flicked out of existence like flies in a hailstorm. the big straight road out of a village runs through our lines into the german trenches and beyond. the road is lined with poplars and green with grass; by day you can see the german sandbags from our trenches, by night you can hear the wind in the trees that bend towards one another as if in conversation. there is no whole house in the place; chimneys have been blown down and roofs are battered by shrapnel. but few of the people have gone away, they have become schooled in the process of accommodation, and accommodate themselves to a woeful change. they live with one foot on the top step of the cellar stairs, a shell sends them scampering down; they sleep there, they eat there, in their underground home they (p. ) wait for the war to end. the men who are too old to fight labour in a neighbouring mine, which still does some work although its chimney is shattered and its coal waggons are scraps of wood and iron on broken rails. there are many graves by the church, graves of our boys, civilians' graves, children's graves, all victims of war. children are there still, merry little kids with red lips and laughing eyes. one day, when staying in the village, i met one, a dainty little dot, with golden hair and laughing eyes, a pink ribbon round a tress that hung roguishly over her left cheek. she smiled at me as she passed where i sat on the roadside under the poplars, her face was an angel's set in a disarray of gold. in her hand she carried an empty jug, almost as big as herself and she was going to her home, one of the inhabited houses nearest the fighting line. the day had been a very quiet one and the village took an opportunity to bask in the sun. i watched her go up the road tripping lightly on the grass, swinging her big jug. life was a garland of flowers for her, it was good to watch her to see her trip along; the sight made me happy. what caused the german gunner, a simple woodman and a father himself perhaps, (p. ) to fire at that moment? what demon guided the shell? who can say? the shell dropped on the roadway just where the child was; i saw the explosion and dropped flat to avoid the splinters, when i looked again there was no child, no jug, where she had been was a heap of stones on the grass and dark curls of smoke rising up from it. i hastened indoors; the enemy were shelling the village again. our billet is a village with shell-scarred trees lining its streets, and grass peeping over its fallen masonry, a few inn signs still swing and look like corpses hanging; at night they creak as if in agony. this place was taken from the germans by the french, from the french by the germans and changed hands several times afterwards. the streets saw many desperate hand to hand encounters; they are clean now but the village stinks, men were buried there by cannon, they lie in the cellars with the wine barrels, bones, skulls, fleshless hands sticking up over the bricks; the grass has been busy in its endeavour to cloak up the horror, but it will take nature many years to hide the ravages of war. in another small village three kilometres from the firing line i have seen the street so thick with flies that it was impossible to see (p. ) the cobbles underneath. there we could get english papers the morning after publication: for penny papers we paid three halfpence, for halfpenny papers twopence! in a restaurant in the place we got a dinner consisting of vegetable soup, fried potatoes, and egg omelette, salad, bread, beer, a sweet and a cup of _café au lait_ for fifteen sous per man. there too on a memorable occasion we were paid the sum of ten francs on pay day. in a third village not far off six of us soldiers slept one night in a cellar with a man, his wife and seven children, one a sucking babe. that night the roof of the house was blown in by a shell. in the same place my mate and i went out to a restaurant for dinner, and a young frenchman, a gunner, sat at our table. he came from the south, a shepherd boy from the foot hills of the pyrenees. he shook hands with us, giving the left hand, the one next the heart, as a proof of comradeship when leaving. a shrapnel bullet caught him inside the door and he fell dead on the pavement. every stone standing or fallen in the villages by the firing line has got a history, and a tragedy connected with it. in some places the enemy's bullets search the main street by night (p. ) and day; a journey from the rear to the trenches is made across the open, and the eternal german bullet never leaves off searching for our boys coming in to the firing line. you can rely on sandbagged safety in the villages, but on the way from there to the trenches you merely trust your luck; for the moment your life has gone out of your keeping. no civilian is allowed to enter one place, but i have seen a woman there. we were coming in, a working party, from the trenches when the colour of dawn was in the sky. we met her on the street opposite the pile of bricks that once was a little church: the spire of the church was blown off months ago and it sticks point downwards in a grave. the woman was taken prisoner. who was she? where did she come from? none of us knew, but we concluded she was a spy. afterwards we heard that she was a native who had returned to have a look at her home. we were billeted at the rear of the village on the ground floor of a cottage. behind our billet was the open country where nature, the great mother, was busy; the butterflies flitted over the soldiers' (p. ) graves, the grass grew over unburied dead men, who seemed to be sinking into the ground, apple trees threw out a wealth of blossom which the breezes flung broadcast to earth like young lives in the whirlwind of war. we first came to the place at midnight; in the morning when we got up we found outside our door, in the midst of a jumble of broken pump handles and biscuit tins, fragments of chairs, holy pictures, crucifixes and barbed wire entanglements, a dead dog dwindling to dust, the hair falling from its skin and the white bones showing. as we looked on the thing it moved, its belly heaved as if the animal had gulped in a mouthful of air. we stared aghast and our laughter was not hearty when a rat scurried out of the carcase and sought safety in a hole of the adjoining wall. the dog was buried by the section . four simple lines serve as its epitaph:-- here lies a dog as dead as dead, a sniper's bullet through its head, untroubled now by shots and shells, it rots and can do nothing else. the village where i write this is shelled daily, yesterday three men, two women and two children, all civilians, were killed. the (p. ) natives have become almost indifferent to shell-fire. in the villages in the line of war between souchez and ypres strange things happen and wonderful sights can be seen. chapter xix (p. ) souvenir hunters i have a big french rifle, its stock is riddled clean, and shrapnel smashed its barrel, likewise its magazine; i've carried it from a to x and back to a again, i've found it on the battlefield amidst the soldiers slain. a souvenir for blighty away across the foam, that's if the french authorities will let me take it home. most people are souvenir hunters, but the craze for souvenirs has never affected me until now; at present i have a decent collection of curios, consisting amongst other things of a french rifle, which i took from the hands of a dead soldier on the field near souchez; a little nickel boot, which was taken from the pack of a breton piou-piou who was found dead by a trench in vermelles--one of our men who obtained this relic carried it about with him for many weeks until he was killed by a shell and then the boot fell into my hands. i have two percussion caps, one from a shell that came through the roof of a dug-out and killed two of our boys, the other was gotten beside a dead lieutenant in a deserted house in festubert. in addition to these (p. ) i have many shell splinters that fell into the trench and landed at my feet, rings made from aluminium timing-pieces of shells and several other odds and ends picked up from the field of battle. once i found a splendid english revolver--but that is a story. we were billeted in a model mining-village of red brick houses and terra cotta tiles, where every door is just like the one next to it and the whole place gives the impression of monotonous sameness relieved here and there by a shell-shattered roof, a symbol of sorrow and wanton destruction. in this place of an evening children may be seen out of doors listening for the coming of the german shells and counting the number that fall in the village. from our billets we went out to the trenches by vermelles daily, and cut the grass from the trenches with reaping hooks. in the morning a white mist lay on the meadows and dry dung and dust rose from the roadway as we marched out to our labour. we halted by the last house in the village, one that stood almost intact, although the adjoining buildings were well nigh levelled to the ground. my mate, pryor, fixed his eyes on the villa. "i'm going in there," he said pointing at the doors. (p. ) "souvenirs?" i asked. "souvenirs," he replied. the two of us slipped away from the platoon and entered the building. on the ground floor stood a table on which a dinner was laid; an active service dinner of soup made from soup tablets ( _d._ each) the wrappers of which lay on the tiled floor, some tins of bully beef, opened, a loaf, half a dozen apples and an unopened tin of _café au lait_. the dinner was laid for four, although there were only three forks, two spoons and two clasp knives, the latter were undoubtedly used to replace table knives. pryor looked under the table, then turned round and fixed a pair of scared eyes on me, and beckoned to me to approach. i came to his side and saw under the table on the floor a human hand, severed from the arm at the wrist. beside it lay a web-equipment, torn to shreds, a broken range-finder and a webley revolver, long of barrel and heavy of magazine. "a souvenir," said pryor. "it must have been some time since that dinner was made; the bully smells like anything." "the shell came in there," i said pointing at the window, the side (p. ) of which was broken a little, "and it hit one poor beggar anyway. nobody seems to have come in here since then." "we'll hide the revolver," pryor remarked, "and we'll come here for it to-night." we hid the revolver behind the door in a little cupboard in the wall; we came back for it two days later, but the weapon was gone though the hand still lay on the floor. what was the history of that house and of the officers who sat down to dinner? will the tragedy ever be told? i had an interesting experience near souchez when our regiment was holding part of the line in that locality. on the way in was a single house, a red brick villa, standing by the side of the communication trench which i used to pass daily when i went out to get water from the carts at the rear. one afternoon i climbed over the side and entered the house by a side door that looked over the german lines. the building was a conspicuous target for the enemy, but strange to say, it had never been touched by shell fire; now and again bullets peppered the walls, chipped the bricks and smashed the window-panes. on the ground floor was a large living-room with a big-bodied stove in the centre of the floor, religious pictures hung on the wall, (p. ) a grandfather's clock stood in the niche near the door, the blinds were drawn across the shattered windows, and several chairs were placed round a big table near the stove. upstairs in the bedrooms the beds were made and in one apartment a large perambulator, with a doll flung carelessly on its coverlet, stood near the wall, the paper of which was designed in little circles and in each circle were figures of little boys and girls, hundreds of them, frivolous mites, absurd and gay. another stair led up to the garret, a gloomy place bare under the red tiles, some of which were broken. looking out through the aperture in the roof i could see the british and german trenches drawn as if in chalk on a slate of green by an erratic hand, the hand of an idle child. behind the german trenches stood the red brick village of ----, with an impudent chimney standing smokeless in the air, and a burning mine that vomited clouds of thick black smoke over meadow-fields splashed with poppies. shells were bursting everywhere over the grass and the white lines; the greenish grey fumes of lyddite, the white smoke of shrapnel rose into mid-air, curled away and died. on the left of the village a road ran back into the enemy's land, and from (p. ) it a cloud of dust was rising over the tree-tops; no doubt vehicles of war which i could not see were moving about in that direction. i stayed up in that garret for quite an hour full of the romance of my watch and when i left i took my souvenir with me, a picture of the blessed virgin in a cedar frame. that night we placed it outside our dug-out over the door. in the morning we found it smashed to pieces by a bullet. daily i spent some time in the garret on my way out to the water-cart; and one day i found it occupied. five soldiers and an officer were standing at my peephole when i got up, with a large telescope fixed on a tripod and trained on the enemy's lines. the war intelligence department had taken over the house for an observation post. "what do you want here?" asked the officer. soldiers are ordered to keep to the trenches on the way out and in, none of the houses that line the way are to be visited. it was a case for a slight prevarication. my water jar was out in the trench: i carried my rifle and a bandolier. "i'm looking for a sniping position," i said. (p. ) "you cannot stop here," said the officer. "we've taken this place over. try some of the houses on the left." i cleared out. three days later when on my usual errand i saw that the roof of my observation villa had been blown in. nobody would be in there now i concluded and ventured inside. the door which stood at the bottom of the garret stair was closed. i caught hold of the latch and pulled it towards me. the door held tight. as i struggled with it i had a sense of pulling against a detaining hand that strove to hide a mystery, something fearful, from my eye. it swung towards me slowly and a pile of bricks fell on my feet as it opened. something dark and liquid oozed out under my boots. i felt myself slip on it and knew that i stood on blood. all the way up the rubble-covered stairs there was blood, it had splashed red on the railings and walls. laths, plaster, tiles and beams lay on the floor above and in the midst of the jumble was a shattered telescope still moist with the blood of men. had all been killed and were all those i had met a few days before in the garret when the shell landed on the roof? it was impossible to tell. i returned to the dug-out meditating on the strange things that (p. ) can be seen by him who goes souvenir-hunting between souchez and ypres. as i entered i found bill gazing mutely at some black liquid in a sooty mess-tin. "some milk, bill," i said handing him the tin of nestle's which had just come to me in a gargantuan parcel from an english friend. "no milk, matey," he answered, "i'm feelin' done up proper, i am. cannot eat a bite. tummy out of order, my 'ead spinnin' like a top. when's sick parade?" he asked. "seven o'clock," i said, "is it as bad as that?" "worse than that," he answered with a smile, "'ave yer a cigarette to spare?" "yes," i answered, fumbling in my pocket. "well, give it to somebody as 'asn't got none," said bill, "i'm off the smokin' a bit." the case was really serious since bill could not smoke, a smokeless hour was for him a purgatorial period, his favourite friend was his fag. after tea i went with him to the dressing station, and ted vittle of section accompanied us. ted's tummy was also out of order and his head was spinning like a top. the men's equipment was carried (p. ) out, men going sick from the trenches to the dressing-station at the rear carry their rifles and all portable property in case they are sent off to hospital. the sick soldier's stuff always goes to hospital with him. i stood outside the door of the dressing-station while the two men were in with the m.o. "what's wrong, bill?" i asked when he came out. "my tempratoor's an 'undred and nine," said my comrade. "a hundred and what?" i ejaculated. "'undred point nine 'is was," said ted vittle. "mine's a 'undred point eight. the twentieth 'as 'ad lots of men gone off to 'orsp to-day sufferin' from the same thing. pyraxis the m.o. calls it. trench fever is the right name." "right?" interrogated bill. "well it's a name we can understand," said ted. "are you going back to the trenches again?" i asked. "we're to sleep 'ere to-night in the cellar under the dressin'-station," they told me. "in the mornin' we're to report to the doctor again. 'e's a bloke 'e is, that doctor. 'e says we're to take nothing (p. ) but heggs and milk and the milk must be boiled." "is the army going to supply it?" "no blurry fear," said bill. "even if we 'ad the brass and the appetite we can't buy any milk or heggs 'ere." i went back to the firing trench alone. bill and ted vittle did not return the next day or the day after. three weeks later bill came back. we were sitting in our dug-out at a village the bawl of a donkey from souchez, when a jew's harp, playing ragtime was heard outside. "bill," we exclaimed in a voice, and sure enough it was bill back to us again, trig and tidy from hospital, in a new uniform, new boots and with that air of importance which can only be the privilege of a man who has seen strange sights in strange regions. "what's your temperature?" asked stoner. "blimey, it's the correct thing now, but it didn't arf go up and down," said bill sitting down on the dug-out chair, our only one since a shell dropped through the roof. some days before b company had held the dug-out and two of the boys were killed. "it's no fun the 'orspital i can tell yer." "what sort of disease is pyraxis?" asked goliath. (p. ) "it's not 'arf bad, if you've got it bad, and it's not good when you've it only 'arf bad," said bill, adding, "i mean that if i 'ad it bad i would get off to blighty, but my case was only a light one, not so bad as ted vittle. 'e's not back yet, maybe it's a trip across the channel for 'im. 'e was real bad when 'e walked down with me to mazingarbe. i was rotten too, couldn't smoke. it was sit down and rest for fifteen minutes then walk for five. mazingarbe is only a mile and an 'arf from the dressing-station and it took us three hours to get down; from there we took the motor-ambulance to the clearing hospital. there was a 'ot bath there and we were put to bed in a big 'ouse, blankets, plenty of them and a good bed. 'twas a grand place to kip in. bad as i was, i noticed that." "no stand-to at dawn?" i said. "two 'ours before dawn we 'ad to stand-to in our blankets, matey," said bill. "the germans began to shell the blurry place and 'twas up to us to 'op it. we went dozens of us to the rear in a 'bus. shook us! we were rattled about like tins on cats' tails and dumped down at another 'orsp about breakfast time. my tempratoor was up more (p. ) than ever there; i almost burst the thremometur. and ted! blimey, yer should 'ave seen ted! lost to the wide, 'e was. 'e could 'ardly speak; but 'e managed to give me his mother's address and i was to write 'ome a long letter to 'er when 'e went west." "allowed to 'ave peace in that place! no fear; the boches began to shell us, and they sent over fifty shells in 'arf an 'our. all troops were ordered to leave the town and we went with the rest to a 'orsp under canvas in x----. "a nice quiet place x---- was, me and ted was along with two others in a bell-tent and 'ere we began to get better. our clothes were taken from us, all my stuff and two packets of fags and put into a locker. i don't know what i was thinking of when i let the fags go. there was one feller as had two francs in his trousers' pocket when 'e gave 'is trousers in and 'e got the wrong trousers back. 'e discovered that one day when 'e was goin' to send the r.a.m.c. orderly out for beer for all 'ands. "'twas a 'ungry place x. we were eight days in bed and all we got was milk and once or twice a hegg. damned little heggs they were; (p. ) they must 'ave been laid by tomtits in a 'urry. i got into trouble once; i climbed up the tent-pole one night just to 'ave a song on my own, and when i was on the top down comes the whole thing and i landed on ted vittle's bread basket. 'is tempratoor was up to a 'undred and one point five next mornin'. the doctor didn't 'arf give me a look when 'e 'eard about me bein' up the pole." "was he a nice fellow, the doctor?" i asked. "not 'arf, 'e wasn't," said bill. "when i got into my old uniform 'e looked 'ard at my cap. you remember it boys; 'twas more like a ragman's than a soldier of the king's. then 'e arst me: ''ave yer seen much war?' 'not 'arf, i 'avent,' i told him. 'i thought so,' 'e said, 'judgin' by yer cap.' and 'e told the orderly to indent me for a brand new uniform. and 'e gave me two francs to get a drink when i was leavin'." "soft-hearted fellow," said goliath. "was he!" remarked bill. "yer should be there when 'e came in one mornin'." "'ow d'ye feel?" he asked ted vittle. "not fit at all, sir," says ted. "well carry on," said the doctor. i looked at ted, ted looked at me and 'e tipped me the wink. (p. ) "'ow d'ye feel," said the doctor to me. "not fit at all," i answers. "back to duties," 'e said and my jaw dropped with a click like a rifle bolt. 'twas ten minutes after that when 'e gave me the two francs." "i saw spud 'iggles, 'im that was wounded at givenchy;" bill informed us after he had lit a fresh cigarette. "'ole spud!" "'ows spud?" "not so bad, yer know," said bill, answering our last question. "'e's got a job." "a good one?" i queried. "not 'arf," bill said. "'e goes round with the motor car that goes to places where soldiers are billeted and gathers up all the ammunition, bully beef tins, tins of biscuits and everything worth anything that's left behind--" "bill teake. is bill teake there?" asked a corporal at the door of the dug-out. "i'm 'ere, old sawbones," said bill, "wot d'ye want me for?" "it's your turn on sentry," said the corporal. "oh! blimey, that's done it!" grumbled bill. "i feel my tempratoor (p. ) goin' up again. it's always some damn fatigue or another in this cursed place. i wonder when will i 'ave the luck to go sick again." chapter xx (p. ) the women of france lonely and still the village lies, the houses asleep and the blinds all drawn. the road is straight as the bullet flies, and the east is touched with the tinge of dawn. shadowy forms creep through the night, where the coal-stacks loom in their ghostly lair; a sentry's challenge, a spurt of light, a scream as a woman's soul takes flight through the quivering morning air. we had been working all morning in a cornfield near an _estaminet_ on the la bassée road. the morning was very hot, and pryor and i felt very dry; in fact, when our corporal stole off on the heels of a sergeant who stole off, we stole off to sin with our superiors by drinking white wine in an _estaminet_ by the la bassée road. "this is not the place to dig trenches," said the sergeant when we entered. "we're just going to draw out the plans of the new traverse," pryor explained. "it is to be made on a new principle, and a rifleman on sentry-go can sleep there and get wind of the approach of a (p. ) sergeant by the vibration of stripes rubbing against the walls of the trench." "every man in the battalion must not be in here," said the sergeant looking at the khaki crowd and the full glasses. "i can't allow it and the back room empty." pryor and i took the hint and went to the low roofed room in the rear, where we found two persons, a woman and a man. the woman was sweating over a stove, frying cutlets and the man was sitting on the floor peeling potatoes into a large bucket. he was a thickset lump of a fellow, with long, hairy arms, dark heavy eyebrows set firm over sharp, inquisitive eyes, a snub nose, and a long scar stretching from the butt of the left ear up to the cheekbone. he wore a nondescript pair of loose baggy trousers, a fragment of a shirt and a pair of bedroom slippers. he peeled the potatoes with a knife, a long rapier-like instrument which he handled with marvellous dexterity. "digging trenches?" he asked, hurling a potato into the bucket. i understand french spoken slowly, pryor, who was educated in paris, speaks french and he told the potato-peeler that we had been at work since five o'clock that morning. "the germans will never get back here again unless as prisoners." (p. ) "they might thrust us back; one never knows," said pryor. "thrust us back! never!" the potato swept into the bucket with a whizz like a spent bullet. "their day has come! why? because they're beaten, our has beaten them. that's it: the , the little love. pip! pip! pip! pip! four little imps in the air one behind the other. nothing can stand them. bomb! one lands in the german trench. _plusieurs morts, plusieurs blessés._ run! some go right, some left. the second shot lands on the right, the third on the left, the fourth finishes the job. the dead are many; other guns are good, but none so good as the ." "what about the gun that sent this over?" pryor, as he spoke, pointed at the percussion cap of one of the gigantic shells with which the germans raked la bassée road in the early stages of the war, what time the enemy's enthusiasm for destruction had not the nice discrimination that permeates it now. a light shrapnel shell is more deadly to a marching platoon than the biggest "jack johnson." the shell relic before us, the remnant of a mammoth krupp design, (p. ) was cast on by a shell in the field heavy with ripening corn and rye, opposite the doorway. when peace breaks out, and holidays to the scene of the great war become fashionable, the woman of the _estaminet_ is going to sell the percussion cap to the highest bidder. there are many mementos of the great fight awaiting the tourists who come this way with a long purse, "après la guerre." at present a needy urchin will sell the nose-cap of a shell, which has killed multitudes of men and horses, for a few sous. officers, going home on leave, deal largely with needy french urchins who live near the firing line. "a great gun, the one that sent that," said the frenchman, digging the clay from the eye of a potato and looking at the percussion-cap which lay on the mantelpiece under a picture of the virgin and child. "but compared with the , it is nothing; no good. the big shell comes boom! it's in no hurry. you hear it and you're into your dug-out before it arrives. it is like thunder, which you hear and you're in shelter when the rain comes. but the , it is lightning. it comes silently, it's quicker than its own sound." "do you work here?" asked pryor. (p. ) "i work here," said the potato-peeler. "in a coal-mine?" "not in a coal-mine," was the answer. "i peel potatoes." "always?" "sometimes," said the man. "i'm out from the trenches on leave for seven days. first time since last august. got back from souchez to-day." "oh!" i ejaculated. "oh!" said pryor. "seen some fighting?" "not much," said the man, "not too much." his eyes lit up as with fire and he sent a potato stripped clean of its jacket up to the roof but with such precision that it dropped down straight into the bucket. "first we went south and the germans came across up north. 'twas turn about and up like mad; perched on taxis, limbers, ambulance waggons, anything. we got into battle near paris. the boches came in clusters, they covered the ground like flies on the dead at souchez. the 's came into work there. 'twas wonderful. pip! pip! pip! pip! men were cut down, wiped out in hundreds. when the gun was useless--guns had short lives and glorious lives there--a new one came into play (p. ) and killed, killed, until it could stand the strain no longer." "much hand-to-hand fighting?" asked pryor. "the bayonet! yes!" the potato-peeler thrust his knife through a potato and slit it in two. "the germans said 'eugh! eugh! eugh!' when we went for them like this." he made several vicious prods at an imaginary enemy. "and we cut them down." he paused as if at a loss for words, and sent his knife whirling into the air where it spun at an alarming rate. i edged my chair nearer the door, but the potato-peeler, suddenly standing upright, caught the weapon by the haft as it circled and bent to lift a fresh potato. "what is that for?" asked pryor, pointing to a sword wreathed in a garland of flowers, tattooed on the man's arm. "the rapier," said the potato-peeler. "i'm a fencer, a master-fencer; fenced in paris and several places." the woman of the house, the man's wife, had been buzzing round like a bee, droning out in an incoherent voice as she served the customers. now she came up to the master-fencer, looked at him in the face for a second, and then looked at the bucket. the sweat oozed from her (p. ) face like water from a sponge. "hurry, and get the work done," she said to her husband, then she turned to us. "you're keeping him from work," she stuttered, "you two, chattering like parrots. allez-vous en! allez-vous en!" we left the house of the potato-peeler and returned to our digging. the women of france are indeed wonderful. that evening bill came up to me as i was sitting on the banquette. in his hand was an english paper that i had just been reading and in his eye was wrath. "the 'ole geeser's fyce is in this 'ere thing again," he said scornfully. "blimy! it's like the bad weather, it's everywhere." "whose face do you refer to?" i asked my friend. "this jimace," was the answer and bill pointed to the photo of a well-known society lady who was shown in the act of escorting a wounded soldier along a broad avenue of trees that tapered away to a point where an english country mansion showed like a doll's house in the distance. "every pyper i open she's in it; if she's not makin' socks for poor tommies at the front, she's tyin' bandages on (p. ) wounded tommies at 'ome." "there's nothing wrong in that," i said, noting the sarcasm in bill's voice. "s'pose its natural for 'er to let everybody know what she does, like a 'en that lays a negg," my mate answered. "she's on this pyper or that pyper every day. she's learnin' nursin' one day, learnin' to drive an ambulance the next day, she doesn't carry a powder puff in 'er vanity bag at present----" "who said so?" i asked. "it's 'ere in black and white," said bill. "'er vanity bag 'as given place to a respirator, an' instead of a powder puff she now carries an antiskeptic bandage. it makes me sick; it's all the same with women in england. 'ere's another picture called 'bathin' as usual.' a dozen of girls out in the sea (jolly good legs some of 'em 'as, too) 'avin' a bit of a frisky. listen what it says: 'despite the trying times the english girls are keepin' a brave 'eart----' oh! 'ang it, pat, they're nothin' to the french girls, them birds at 'ome." "what about that girl you knew at st. albans?" i asked. "you remember how she slid down the banisters and made toffee." "she wasn't no class, you know," said bill. (p. ) "she never answered the verse you sent from givenchy, i suppose," i remarked. "it's not that----" "did she answer your letter saying she reciprocated your sentiments?" i asked. "reshiperate your grandmother, pat!" roared bill. "nark that language, i say. speak that i can understand you. wait a minute till i reshiperate that," he suddenly exclaimed pressing a charge into his rifle magazine and curving over the parapet. he sent five shots in the direction from which he supposed the sniper who had been potting at us all day, was firing. then he returned to his argument. "you've seen that bird at the farm in mazingarbe?" he asked. "yes," i replied. "pryor said that her ankles were abnormally thick." "pryor's a fool," bill exclaimed. "but they really looked thick----" "you're a bigger fool than 'im!" "i didn't know you had fallen in love with the girl," i said "how did it happen?" "blimey, i'm not in love," said my mate, "but i like a girl with a good 'eart. twas out in the horchard in the farm i first met 'er. (p. ) i was out pullin' apples, pinchin' them if you like to say so, and i was shakin' the apples from the branches. i had to keep my eyes on the farm to see that nobody seen me while i shook. it takes a devil of a lot of strength to rumble apples off a tree when you're shakin' a trunk that's stouter than the bread basket of a bow butcher. all at once i saw the girl of the farm comin' runnin' at me with a stick. round to the other side of the tree i ran like lightnin', and after me she comes. then round to the other side went i----" "which side?" i asked. "the side she wasn't on," said bill. "after me she came and round to her side i 'opped----" "who was on the other side now?" i inquired. "i took good care that she was always on the other side until i saw what she was up to with the stick," said bill. "but d'yer know what the stick was for? 'twas to help me to bring down the apples. savve. they're great women, the women of france," concluded my mate. the women of france! what heroism and fortitude animates them in every shell-shattered village from souchez to the sea! what labours (p. ) they do in the fields between the foothills of the pyrenees and the church of ----, where the woman nearest the german lines sells rum under the ruined altar! the plough and sickle are symbols of peace and power in the hands of the women of france in a land where men destroy and women build. the young girls of the hundred and one villages which fringe the line of destruction, proceed with their day's work under shell fire, calm as if death did not wait ready to pounce on them at every corner. i have seen a woman in one place take her white horse from the pasture when shells were falling in the field and lead the animal out again when the row was over; two of her neighbours were killed in the same field the day before. one of our men spoke to her and pointed out that the action was fraught with danger. "i am convinced of that," she replied. "it is madness to remain here," she was told, and she asked "where can i go to?" during the winter the french occupied the trenches nearer her home; her husband fought there, but the french have gone further south now and our men occupy their place in dug-out and trench but not in the woman's heart. "the english soldiers have come and (p. ) my husband had to go away," she says. "he went south beyond souchez, and now he's dead." the woman, we learned, used to visit her husband in his dug-out and bring him coffee for breakfast and soup for dinner; this in winter when the slush in the trenches reached the waist and when soldiers were carried out daily suffering from frostbite. a woman sells _café noir_ near cuinchy brewery in a jumble of bricks that was once her home. once it was _café au lait_ and it cost four sous a cup, she only charges three sous now since her cow got shot in the stomach outside her ramshackle _estaminet_. along with a few mates i was in the place two months ago and a bullet entered the door and smashed the coffee pot; the woman now makes coffee in a biscuit tin. the road from our billet to the firing line is as uncomfortable as a road under shell fire can be, but what time we went that way nightly as working parties, we met scores of women carrying furniture away from a deserted village behind the trenches. the french military authorities forbade civilians to live there and drove them back to villages that were free from danger. but nightly they came back, contrary to orders, and carried away property to their temporary (p. ) homes. sometimes, i suppose they took goods that were not entirely their own, but at what risk! one or two got killed nightly and many were wounded. however, they still persisted in coming back and carrying away beds, tables, mirrors and chairs in all sorts of queer conveyances, barrows, perambulators and light spring-carts drawn by strong intelligent dogs. "they are great women, the women of france," as bill teake remarks. chapter xxi (p. ) in the watches of the night "what do you do with your rifle, son?" i clean it every day, and rub it with an oily rag to keep the rust away; i slope, present and port the thing when sweating on parade. i strop my razor on the sling; the bayonet stand is made for me to hang my mirror on. i often use it, too, as handle for the dixie, sir, and lug around the stew. "but did you ever fire it, son?" just once, but never more. i fired it at a german trench, and when my work was o'er the sergeant down the barrel glanced, and looked at me and said, "your hipe is dirty, sloppy jim; an extra hour's parade!" the hour was midnight. over me and about me was the wonderful french summer night; the darkness, blue and transparent, splashed with star-shells, hung around me and gathered itself into a dark streak on the floor of the trench beneath the banquette on which i stood. away on my right were the hills of lorette, souchez, and the labyrinth where big guns eternally spoke, and where the searchlights now touched the heights with long tremulous white arms. to my left the star-shells rose and fell in brilliant riot above the battle-line that (p. ) disfigured the green meadows between my trench and ypres, and out on my front a thousand yards away were the german trenches with the dead wasting to clay amid the poppy-flowers in the spaces between. the dug-out, in which my mates rested and dreamt, lay silent in the dun shadows of the parados. suddenly a candle was lit inside the door, and i could see our corporal throw aside the overcoat that served as blanket and place the tip of a cigarette against the spluttering flame. bill slept beside the corporal's bed, his head on a bully beef tin, and one naked arm, sunned and soiled to a khaki tint, lying slack along the earthen floor. the corporal came out puffing little curls of smoke into the night air. "quiet?" he asked. "dull enough, here," i answered. "but there's no peace up by souchez." "so i can hear," he answered, flicking the ash from his cigarette and gazing towards the hills where the artillery duel was raging. "have the working parties come up yet?" he asked. "not yet," i answered, "but i think i hear men coming now." they came along the trench, about two hundred strong, engineers (p. ) and infantry, men carrying rifles, spades, coils of barbed wire, wooden supports, &c. they were going out digging on a new sap and putting up fresh wire entanglements. this work, when finished, would bring our fire trench three hundred yards nearer the enemy. needless to say, the germans were engaged on similar work, and they were digging out towards our lines. the working party came to a halt; and one of them sat down on the banquette at my feet, asked for a match and lit a cigarette. "you're in the village at the rear?" i said. "we're reserves there," he answered. "it's always working-parties; at night and at day. sweeping gutters and picking papers and bits of stew from the street. is it quiet here?" "very quiet," i answered. "we've only had five killed and nine wounded in six days. how is your regiment getting along?" "oh, not so bad," said the man; "some go west at times, but it's what one has to expect out here." the working party were edging off, and some of the men were clambering over the parapet. "hi! ginger!" someone said in a loud whisper, "ginger weeson; (p. ) come along at once!" the man on the banquette got to his feet, put out his cigarette and placed the fag-end in his cartridge pouch. he would smoke this when he returned, on the neutral ground between the lines a lighted cigarette would mean death to the smoker. i gave ginger weeson a leg over the parapet and handed him his spade when he got to the other side. my hour on sentry-go was now up and i went into my dug-out and was immediately asleep. i was called again at one, three-quarters of an hour later. "what's up?" i asked the corporal who wakened me. "oh, there's a party going down to the rear for rations," i was told. "so you've got to take up sentry-go till stand-to; that'll be for an hour or so. you're better out in the air now for its beginning to stink everywhere, but the dug-out is the worst place of all." so saying, the corporal entered the dug-out and stretched himself on the floor; he was going to have a sleep despite his mean opinion of the shelter. the stench gathers itself in the early morning, in that chill (p. ) hour which precedes the dawn one can almost see the smell ooze from the earth of the firing line. it is penetrating, sharp, and well-nigh tangible, the odour of herbs, flowers, and the dawn mixed with the stench of rotting meat and of the dead. you can taste it as it enters your mouth and nostrils, it comes in slowly, you feel it crawl up your nose and sink with a nauseous slowness down the back of the throat through the windpipe and into the stomach. i leant my arms on the sandbags and looked across the field; i fancied i could see men moving in the darkness, but when the star-shells went up there was no sign of movement out by the web of barbed-wire entanglements. the new sap with its bags of earth stretched out chalky white towards the enemy; the sap was not more than three feet deep yet, it afforded very little protection from fire. suddenly rising eerie from the space between the lines, i heard a cry. a harrowing "oh!" wrung from a tortured soul, then a second "oh!" ear-splitting, deafening. something must have happened, one of the working party was hit i knew. a third "oh!" followed, weak it was and infantile, then intense silence wrapped up everything as in a cloak. but only for (p. ) a moment. the enemy must have heard the cry for a dozen star-shells shot towards us and frittered away in sparks by our barbed-wire entanglements. there followed a second of darkness and then an explosion right over the sap. the enemy were firing shrapnel shells on the working party. three, four shells exploded simultaneously out in front. i saw dark forms rise up and come rushing into shelter. there was a crunching, a stumbling and a gasping as if for air. boots struck against the barbed entanglements, and like trodden mice, the wires squeaked in protest. i saw a man, outlined in black against the glow of a star-shell, struggling madly as he endeavoured to loose his clothing from the barbs on which it caught. there was a ripping and tearing of tunics and trousers.... a shell burst over the men again and i saw two fall; one got up and clung to the arm of a mate, the other man crawled on his belly towards the parapet. in their haste they fell over the parapet into the trench, several of them. many had gone back by the sap, i could see them racing along crouching as they ran. out in front several forms were bending over the ground attending to the wounded. from my left the message (p. ) came "stretcher-bearers at the double." and i passed it along. two men who had scrambled over the parapet were sitting on my banquette, one with a scratched forehead, the other with a bleeding finger. their mates were attending to them binding up the wounds. "many hurt?" i asked. "a lot 'ave copped a packet," said the man with the bleeding finger. "we never 'eard the blurry things come, did we?" he asked his mates. "never 'eard nothin', we didn't till the thing burst over us," said a voice from the trench. "i was busy with ginger----" "ginger weeson?" i enquired. "that's 'im," was the reply. "did yer 'ear 'im yell? course yer did; ye'd 'ave 'eard 'im over at la bassée." "what happened to him?" i asked. "a bullet through 'is belly," said the voice. "when 'e roared i put my 'and on 'is mouth and 'e gave me such a punch. i was nearly angry, and 'im in orful pain. pore ginger! not many get better from a wound like his one." their wounds dressed, the men went away; others came by carrying (p. ) out the stricken; many had fractured limbs, one was struck on the shoulder, another in the leg and one i noticed had several teeth knocked away. the working-party had one killed and fifty-nine wounded in the morning's work; some of the wounded, amongst them, ginger weeson, died in hospital. the ration-party came back at two o'clock jubilant. the post arrived when the men were in the village and many bulky parcels came in for us. meals are a treat when parcels are bulky. we would have a fine breakfast. chapter xxii (p. ) romance the young recruit is apt to think of war as a romance; but he'll find its boots and bayonets when he's somewhere out in france. when the young soldier takes the long, poplar-lined road from ---- his heart is stirred with the romance of his mission. it is morning and he is bound for the trenches; the early sunshine is tangled in the branches, and silvery gossamer, beaded with iridescent jewels of dew, hang fairylike from the green leaves. birds are singing, crickets are thridding in the grass and the air is full of the minute clamouring, murmuring and infinitesimal shouting of little living things. cool, mysterious shadows are cast like intricate black lace upon the roadway, light is reflected from the cobbles in the open spaces, and on, on, ever so far on, the white road runs straight as an arrow into the land of mystery, the unknown. in front is the fighting line, where trench after trench, wayward (p. ) as rivers, wind discreetly through meadow and village. by day you can mark it by whirling lyddite fumes rising from the ground, and puffs of smoke curling in the air; at night it is a flare of star-shells and lurid flamed explosions colouring the sky line with the lights of death. under the moon and stars, the line of battle, seen from a distance, is a red horizon, ominous and threatening, fringing a land of broken homes, ruined villages, and blazing funeral pyres. there the mirth of yesteryear lives only in a soldier's dreams, and the harvest of last autumn rots with withering men on the field of death and decay. nature is busy through it all, the grasses grow green over the dead, and poppies fringe the parapets where the bayonets glisten, the skylarks sing their songs at dawn between the lines, the frogs chuckle in the ponds at dusk, the grasshoppers chirrup in the dells where the wild iris, jewel-starred, bends mournfully to the breezes of night. in it all, the watching, the waiting, and the warring, is the mystery, the enchantment, and the glamour of romance; and romance is dear to the heart of the young soldier. i have looked towards the horizon when the sky was red-rimmed with (p. ) the lingering sunset of midsummer and seen the artillery rip the heavens with spears of flame, seen the star-shells burst into fire and drop showers of slittering sparks to earth, seen the pale mists of evening rise over black, mysterious villages, woods, houses, gun-emplacements, and flat meadows, blue in the evening haze. aeroplanes flew in the air, little brown specks, heeling at times and catching the sheen of the setting sun, when they glimmered like flame. above, about, and beneath them were the white and dun wreathes of smoke curling and streaming across the face of heaven, the smoke of bursting explosives sent from earth to cripple the fliers in mid-air. gazing on the battle struggle with all its empty passion and deadly hatred, i thought of the worshipper of old who looked on the face of god, and, seeing his face, died. and the scene before me, like the countenance of the creator, was not good for mortal eye. he who has known and felt the romance of the long night marches can never forget it. the departure from barn billets when the blue evening sky fades into palest saffron, and the drowsy ringing of church (p. ) bells in the neighbouring village calling the worshippers to evensong; the singing of the men who swing away, accoutred in the harness of war; the lights of little white houses beaming into the darkness; the stars stealing silently out in the hazy bowl of the sky; the trees by the roadside standing stiff and stark in the twilight as if listening and waiting for something to take place; the soft, warm night, half moonlight and half mist, settling over mining villages with their chimneys, railways, signal lights, slag-heaps, rattling engines and dusty trucks. there is a quicker throbbing of the heart when the men arrive at the crest of the hill, well known to all, but presenting fresh aspects every time the soldier reaches its summit, that overlooks the firing line. ahead, the star-shells, constellations of green, electric white, and blue, light the scenes of war. from the ridge of the hill, downwards towards an illimitable plain, the road takes its way through a ghost-world of ruined homes where dark and ragged masses of broken roof and wall stand out in blurred outlines against indistinct and formless backgrounds. a gun is belching forth murder and sudden death from an (p. ) emplacement on the right; in a spinney on the left a battery is noisy and the flashes from there light up the cluster of trees that stand huddled together as if for warmth. vehicles of war lumber along the road, field-kitchens, gun-limbers, water-carts, motor-ambulances, and red cross waggons. men march towards us, men in brown, bearing rifles and swords, and pass us in the night. a shell bursts near, and there is a sound as of a handful of peas being violently flung to the ground. for the night we stop in a village where the branches of the trees are shrapnelled clean of their leaves, and where all the rafters of the houses are bared of their covering of red tiles. a wind may rise when you're dropping off to sleep on the stone flags of a cellar, and then you can hear the door of the house and of nearly every house in the place creaking on its hinges. the breeze catches the telephone wires which run from the artillery at rear to their observation stations, and the wires sing like light shells travelling through space. at dawn you waken to the sound of anti-aircraft guns firing at aeroplanes which they never bring down. the bullets, falling back from exploding shells, swish to the earth with a sound like burning (p. ) magnesium wires and split a tile if any is left, or crack a skull, if any is in the way, with the neatest dispatch. it is wise to remain in shelter until the row is over. outside, the birds are merry on the roofs; you can hear them sing defiantly at the lone cat that watches them from the grassy spot which was once a street. spiders' webs hang over the doorways, many flies have come to an untimely end in the glistening snares, poor little black, helpless things. here and there lies a broken crucifix and a torn picture of the holy family, the shrines that once stood at the street corners are shapeless heaps of dust and weeds and the village church is in ruins. no man is allowed to walk in the open by day; a german observation balloon, a big banana of a thing, with ends pointing downwards stands high over the earth ten kilometres away and sees all that takes place in the streets. there is a soldiers' cemetery to rear of the last block of buildings where the dead have been shovelled out of earth by shell fire. in this village the dead are out in the open whilst the quick are underground. how fine it is to leave the trenches at night after days of (p. ) innumerable fatigues and make for a hamlet, well back, where beer is good and where soups and salads are excellent. when the feet are sore and swollen, and when the pack-straps cut the shoulder like a knife, the journey may be tiring, but the glorious rest in a musty old barn, with creaking stairs and cobwebbed rafters, amply compensates for all the strain of getting there. lazily we drop into the straw, loosen our puttees and shoes and light a soothing cigarette from our little candles. the whole barn is a chamber of mysterious light and shade and strange rustlings. the flames of the candles dance on the walls, the stars peep through the roof. eyes, strangely brilliant under the shadow of the brows, meet one another inquiringly. "is this not a night?" they seem to ask. "the night of all the world?" apart from that, everybody is quiet, we lie still resting, resting. probably we shall fall asleep as we drop down, only to wake again when the cigarettes burn to the fingers. we can take full advantage of a rest, as a rest is known to the gloriously weary. there is romance, there is joy in the life of a soldier. the end. fix bay'nets, by george manville fenn. chapter one. on the march. trrt--trrt--trrt. just that little sound, as the sticks flirted with the drumheads to keep the men in step; for her majesty's th fusiliers were marching "easy." so it was called; and it meant with the men smoking, and carrying their rifles as they pleased--shouldered, at the trail, slung muzzle up or muzzle down. but, all the same, it was a miserable fiction to call it marching easy, for it was impossible to make that march anything but hard. why? because of the road. no; that is a fiction, too. it is absurd to call that stony shelf of rock, encumbered with stones of all sizes, full of cracks and holes, a road. it was almost in its natural state, with a smooth place here and there where it had been polished in bygone ages by avalanches of ice or stones. but the sun shone brightly; the scenery was glorious, and grew in places awe-inspiring, as the regiment wound up and up the pass, and glimpses of snow-capped mountain and glowing valley were obtained. to any one perched on high, as were a few scattered goats, the regiment, with its two mounted officers, its long train of mules, ambulance, and baggage-guard, and the native attendants, must have looked like a colony of marauding ants on their march, so wonderfully was everything dwarfed; even the grand deodar cedars growing far down the precipitous slopes below the track, which were stately trees, springing up to a hundred and a hundred and fifty feet, looking like groups of shrubs in the clear, pure air. it was as much climbing as marching, and, as bill gedge said, "all agin the collar;" but the men did not seem to mind, as they mounted higher and higher in the expectation of finding that the next turn of the zigzag was the top of the pass. "here, i say," cried the owner of the just-mentioned name, a thin, wiry-looking fellow, whom so far drill and six months in the north-west territory of her majesty's indian dominions had not made muscular-looking; though, for the matter of that, he did not differ much from his companions, who in appearance were of the thorough east-end cockney type--that rather degenerate class of lads who look fifteen or sixteen at most when twenty. stamina seemed to be wanting, chests looked narrow, and their tunics covered gaunt and angular bodies, while their spiked white helmets, though they fitted their heads, had rather an extinguisher-like effect over the thin, hollow-cheeked, beardless faces. defects, all these, that would naturally die out; but at the time now under consideration any newspaper writer would have been justified in calling them a regiment of boys. but, boy-like, it did not trouble them, for, apparently as fresh as when they had started hours before, they seemed to be revelling in the wonderful air of the mountain region, and to be as full of antics as a party of schoolfellows out for a day. songs had been sung, each with a roaring chorus; tricks had been surreptitiously played on the "pass it on" principle--a lad in the rear tilting the helmet of the file in front over his eyes, or giving him a sounding spank on the shoulder with the above admonition, when it was taken with a grin and passed on right away to the foremost rank; while the commissioned officers seemed to be peculiarly blind and deaf so long as their lads marched well, and there was no falling-out of done-up fellows waiting for the ambulance to overtake them for the rest of the march. "here, i say," cried private gedge, "i ain't a-going to drop no coppers in no blessed hats when that there band comes round. they don't 'arf play." "don't keep _on_," said the file on his left. "play? yah! why, we might jest as well have a dozen of them tom-tomming niggers in front saying `shallabala' as they taps the skins with their brown fingers." "you are a chap, bill," said another. "talk about yer syety for cruelty to hanimals! why, yer orter be fined. it's all i can do to keep wind enough to climb up here, let alone having to blow a brass traction-engine, or even a fife." "gahn! they're used to it. they don't half play. pass the word on for `brish grannydiers.'" bang--bang--bang--bang! four distinct beats of the big drum, which were taken up by the echoes and repeated till they died away in the distance, in company with volleys of notes in a spirited crash from the brass instruments far in front, as the band struck up a rattling march, whose effect was to make breasts swell, heads perk up, and the lads pull themselves together and march on, many of them beginning to hum the familiar melody which had brightened many a long, up-country tramp. "talk about telly-phoning, billy; they heered you without." "yes, that's your style," cried the first speaker, bursting out with a very good imitation of punch in one of his vocal efforts, and supplementing it with a touch of the terpsichorean, tripping along in step with a suggestion of a nigger minstrel's jig. marching easy does not mean free and easy: and this was too much for one of the sergeants of the company, a tall, gaunt, particularly bony-faced fellow, frowning and full of importance, but almost as boyish of aspect as those who bore no chevrons on their sleeves. he came up at the double, unnoticed by the dancer, and tried to range up alongside; but the rocky shelf was for some minutes not wide enough. consequently he had time to grow redder in the face and more angry. at last, though, he was in a position to speak. "here, you, sir," he shouted; "drop that. you're not on a cellar flap now. recollect where you are." private gedge gave a start, and squinted horribly for the benefit of his comrades right and left, as he pulled himself together, jerked his rifle over from one shoulder to the other, and marched on with his body stiff as a rifle-barrel. "you're too full of these monkey-tricks, sir; and if there's any more of them i shall report you." private gedge squinted more horribly than ever, as he marched on now as stiffly as if being drilled--too stiffly to satisfy the sergeant, who kept close behind. "march easy, sir! march easy!" he cried importantly, and the offender dropped his rigidity, the result being that the sergeant returned to his place in the rear of the company, while private gedge relieved his feelings in a whisper. "yah! gee up! gee! who wouldn't be a sergeant? bless his heart! i love him 'most as much as my mother dear--my mother dear--my gee-yentle mother deear." he sang the last words, but in a suppressed voice, to the great amusement of his fellows. "oh, i say, i wish i warn't a swaddy," he whispered. "why?" asked the lad on his left. "so as to give old gee one on the nose, and then have it out with him. i'd make him warm. it's this sort o' thing as makes me hate it all. the orficers don't mind us having a bit of a lark to make the march go light. they takes no notice so long as we're ready for 'tention and 'll fight. it's on'y chaps like tommy gee as has got his stripes that comes down upon you. why, i was singing and doing that plantation song on'y yesterday, and mr bracy and cap'en roberts come along, and they both laughed. bet sixpence the colonel would have looked t'other way.--oh, i say, ain't i hungry! is it much farther?" "i dunno," said another; "but ain't the wind cold up here?" "band's done again," said gedge. "that was a short un. i s'pose if i was to cry `hongcore' old gee 'd be down upon me again." ten minutes later the men had something more substantial to think about than music, for the shelf-like track came to an end in a great natural amphitheatre, whose walls were dwarfed mountains streaked with rifts and ravines which glistened white and sparkling as they scored the green grassy slopes, while the floor of the great hollow was a beautiful mead through which a fairly rapid torrent ran. the halt was called upon a tolerably smooth level, arms were piled, and with the celerity displayed in a regiment on the march, the camp kitchens were formed, the smoke of fires rose, and videttes being thrown out after the fashion observed in an enemy's country, the men were free for a couple of hours' halt for rest and refreshment, to their great delight. pending the efforts of the regimental and camp follower cooks, some of the men began to roam about within bounds; and the group to which private gedge was joined made for one of the little ravines which glistened white in the sunshine, and the joker of the company soon made his voice heard. "oh, i say," he cried. "only look! here yer are, then. here's yer hoky-poky. here's yer real 'apenny ices laid on free gratis for nothing. here yer are, sir; which 'll yer 'ave, strorbry or rarsbry? the real oridgenal 'stablishment, kep' by billi sneakino pianni organni. who says hoky-poky?" "why, 'tis real ice, bill," said one of the men. "snow," said another. "gahn!" cried private gedge, scooping up a couple of handfuls. "it's hailstones, that's what it is. you on'y get snow atop o' the high mountains." "but it is snow, my lad," said a voice from behind, and the party started round, to see that a couple of their officers had followed to look at the glittering rift which ran right up hundreds of feet. "we're pretty high now." "how high, sir?" said gedge, saluting. "we're at the top of the pass now," said the young officer who had spoken; "ten thousand feet above the sea." "why, that's higher than the top of saint paul's, sir," said one of the men. "top o' saint paul's," cried gedge scornfully. "why, it's higher than the monniment atop o' that. higher than 'amstead, ain't it, sir?" "yes," said the young officer, smiling.--"don't straggle away, my lads. keep close in." the speaker strolled away back with his companion towards where the native servants were busily preparing the mess meal, and their men looked after them. "ain't them two chummy?" said one. "they jest are," said gedge. "that captain roberts aren't a bad sort; but mr bracy's the chap for my money. he looks as if he could fight, too, if we had a row with the niggers." "oh, i don't know," said another superciliously; "you can't never tell. some o' them nice-looking dossy chaps ain't up to much. they can talk, but they talk too fast. how could he know we were ten thousand foot high? why, that must be miles, and that's all stuff." "what do you know about it, stoopid?" cried gedge fiercely. "miles. why, of course it is. ain't we come miles this morning?" "longwise, but not uppards." "not uppards? why, it's been sich a gettin' upstairs ever since we started this morning. don't you be so jolly ready to kick again' your orficers. mr bracy's a reg'lar good sort; and if we comes to a set-to with the niggers he'll let some of yer see. i say, though, think we shall have a row?" "you bet! i heered sergeant gee say we should be at it 'fore long, and that these here--what do they call 'em?" "dwats," said one of the men. "yes, that's it," cried gedge. "that's right. i remember, because i said to myself if we did we'd jolly soon give 'em dwat for." just then a bugle rang out, and the men doubled back for the lines, where, thanks to the clever native cooks, a hastily prepared meal was ready and made short work of, the keen mountain air and the long march having given the men a ravenous appetite. chapter two. the colonel. "well, colonel," said dr morton as the officers sat enjoying their lunch, breathing in the crisp mountain air and feasting their eyes at the same time upon the grand mountain scenery, "i must confess to being a bit lazy. you may be all athirst for glory, but after our ride this morning pale ale's good enough for me. i'm not a fighting man, and i hope when we get to the station we shall find that the what you may call 'em--dwats--have dissolved into thin air like the cloud yonder fading away on that snow-peak. if, however, it does come to a set-to, here i am, my dear boys, at your service, and i'll do the best i can." "thank ye, doctor," came in chorus from the officers; "but the less the better." "we shall have something to do, for certain," said the colonel, a keen-looking, deeply bronzed man of fifty, "for these hill-tribes will never believe in england's strength till they have been well thrashed; but a fight does not mean for certain that we shall want the doctor's help afterwards." "so much the better," said that gentleman, laughing. "but, as i said, here i am if you want me, and i've got as well-arranged an ambulance as--" "oh, i say, doctor, don't talk shop," cried the young officer spoken of as captain roberts, a handsome, carefully dressed young fellow of seven or eight and twenty. "they're regular curs, are they not, sir--these dwats?" he added, turning to the colonel. "certainly not," replied the latter gravely. "they are decidedly a brave, bold, fighting race. tall, dark, big-bearded, just such fellows as hill-tribes are; restless, pugnacious fighting-men, always engaged in petty warfare with the neighbouring chiefs, and making plundering expeditions." "i see, sir," said the captain; "like our old border chieftains used to be at home." "exactly," said the colonel; "and each chief thinks he is one of the greatest monarchs under the sun. england is to them, in their ignorance, only a similar nation to their own, and the empress a lady-chief." "we shall have to teach them better," said the major, a gentleman with an eyeglass and a disposition to become stout. "we shall soon do it. a good sharp lesson is all that's wanted. the only difficulty is that, though they are as a rule always busy cutting one another's throats, as soon as one of the tribes is attacked they all become friends and help one another." "save us trouble." "what's that, bracy?" said the colonel. "save us trouble, sir," said the young man, laughing; "we can thrash half-a-dozen of the tribes together." "with a regiment of raw boys?" said the major, frowning so fiercely that he shot his glass out of his eye and replaced it angrily. "look here, graham, you and i are going to quarrel." "what about, sir?" "your bad habit of depreciating our lads." "yes," said the doctor, nodding his head sharply. "you do, major, and it isn't good form to cry bad fish." "but it's true," said the major sharply. "the war office ought to be ashamed of itself for sending such a regiment of boys upon so arduous a task." "the boys are right enough," said the colonel. "what do you say, bracy?" "i say of course they are, sir." "yes, because you're a boy yourself," said the major in a tone which made the young man flush. "i wish i had some more boys like you, bracy, my lad," said the colonel warmly. "graham's a bit touched in the liver with the change from warm weather to cold. he doesn't mean what he says--eh, morton?" "that's right, colonel," said the doctor. "i have my eye upon him. he'll be asking for an interview with me to-morrow, _re_, as the lawyers say, b.p. and b.d." "hang your b.p.s and b.d.s!" said the major hotly. "i mean what i say, colonel. these boys ought to have had three or four years in england before they were sent out here." "but they are sent up into the hills here where the climate is glorious, sir," cried the doctor, "and i'll answer for it that in a year's time they will have put on muscle in a wonderful way, while in a couple of years you'll be proud of them." "i'm proud of the lads now," said the colonel quietly. "i'm not," said the major. "i feel like old jack falstaff sometimes, ready to say, `if i be not ashamed of my soldiers, i'm a soused gurnet.' they're boys, and nothing else." "nonsense," said the colonel good-humouredly. "i've seen some service, and i never had men under me who marched better or more cheerfully than these lads have to-day." "and not one fell out or came to me with sore feet," said the doctor stoutly. "boys? well, hang it all! they're not such boys as there were in the old th." "what do you mean?" said the major, shooting his eyeglass again. "in the peninsular war, sir," said the doctor; "a regiment of boys, whose ages were from fourteen to sixteen, and they behaved splendidly." "that's right," said the colonel, nodding his head. "oh yes," cried the major superciliously; "but they had only the french to fight against. any english boy could thrash a frenchman." "don't despise the french, graham," said the colonel quietly. "they are a very brave and gallant nation; and as to our lads, i certainly agree that they are very young; but when, as the doctor says, they have been out here a bit, and put on more muscle--" "but, hang it all, sir!" cried the major, "they didn't come out here to put on muscle, but to fight. and as to your th, our fellows haven't got to fight frenchmen, but these big hill-tribes. the boys are right enough in their place, and we shall make soldiers of them in time; but suppose to-morrow or next day we come plump upon the enemy--what then?" "our boys will make them run, sir," cried bracy, flushing up. "you mean they'll make our lads run," growled the major. "no, i don't, sir. i'll answer for our company. what do you say, roberts?" "same as you do, old man. go on; you can put it stronger than i can." "no," said bracy: "perhaps i've said too much, as the youngest officer in the regiment." "not a bit, my lad," cried the colonel warmly. "i endorse all you say. they are terribly young-looking, but, take them all together, as bright and plucky a set of fellows as any officer could wish to command." "yes," said the major through his teeth; "but look at them to-day. hang me if they didn't at times seem like a pack of schoolboys out for a holiday--larking and shouting at one another, so that i got out of patience with them." "better like that than limping along, discontented and footsore," said the colonel gravely. "the boys are as smart over their drill as they can be, and a note on the bugle would have brought every one into his place. i don't want to see the life and buoyancy crushed out of lads by discipline and the reins held too tightly at the wrong time. by the way, graham, you dropped the curb-rein on your horse's neck coming up the rough pass, and thoroughly gave him his head." "yes," said the major; "but we were talking about men, not horses." "bah! don't listen to him," cried the doctor, laughing. "he's a bit yellow in the eyes, and he'll be singing quite a different song soon. the boys are right enough, colonel, and all the better for being young-- they'll mould more easily into your ways." "humph!" growled the major, frowning at the doctor, who responded by raising his glass, nodding, and drinking to him. it did not seem long before the bugle sounded, and the men fell in, every lad drawing himself well up, trying to look his best and as proud as a peacock, when the colonel rode along the ranks, noting everything and ready to give boy after boy a look of recognition and a word of praise about something which had been improved; for colonel graves had one of those memories which seem never to forget, and it had long been borne in upon the lads in the ranks that their leader noted and remembered everything, ready for blame or praise. in this case he drew rein opposite one very thin-looking fellow, making his sallow face turn red. "felt any more of that sprain, smith?" "no, sir; right as can be now. ain't felt it a bit." "that's right. fall out, my lad, if it turns weak in the least, and get a ride." "yes, sir; thanky, sir. i will, sir." a little farther on there was another halt. "those boots right, judkins?" "yes, sir; fit splendid, sir." "good. take care for the future; you and all of you. a man can't march well unless he has a comfortable boot, and a chafe once begun and neglected has sent many a good soldier into hospital." "these are fust-rate, sir," said the man quickly. "easy as a glove." and so on as the colonel rode along the ranks, making every man feel that his officer had a real interest in his welfare. the inspection over, the advance-guard set off, then the order, "band to the front," was given, and the regiment filed off past the colonel's horse, making for a narrow opening between two hills which seemed to overlap, and sent back the strains of the musical instruments in a wonderful series of echoes which went rolling among the mountains, to die away in the distance. half-an-hour later the only signs left of the occupation of the pass were a few birds hovering about and stooping from time to time after some fragment of food. but all at once the birds took flight, as if in alarm, and the cause was not far to seek; for there was a flash in the afternoon sunshine among the rugged masses of half-frozen rocks on one side of the amphitheatre; then another flash, and a looker-on would have seen that it came from the long barrel of a gun. directly after appeared a tall, swarthy man in white which looked dingy by comparison with the beds of snow lying on the northern side of the mountains. the man stole cautiously from stone to stone, and after making sure that the last soldier forming the baggage and rear-guard had disappeared, he ran quickly back to one of the snow-filled ravines and made a signal by holding his gun on high. this he did three times, and then turned and ran steadily across the meadow-like bottom of the halting-ground, till he was near the narrow gap through which the regiment had passed, to recommence his furtive movements, seeking the shelter of stone after stone till he disappeared between the folding rocks, while in his track came in a straggling body quite a hundred active-looking men of the same type--strongly built, fierce-looking, bearded fellows, each carrying a long jezail, powder-horn, and bullet-bag, while a particularly ugly curved knife was thrust through the band which held his cotton robe tightly about his waist. by this time the last of the rear-guard was well on its way, and the hill-men followed like so many shadows of evil that had been waiting till the little english force had passed, and were now about to seek an opportunity for mischief, whether to fall upon the rear or cut up stragglers remained to be seen. possibly they were but one of many similar parties which would drop down from the rugged eminences and valleys which overlooked the track, completely cutting off the retreat of colonel graves's regiment of boys, of whose coming the tribes had evidently been warned, and so were gathering to give them a warm reception when the right time came. chapter three. first troubles. "steady, my lads! steady!" said lieutenant bracy. "not too fast, or we shall leave the baggage behind." warnings like this had to be given again and again; for, though the track was as bad as ever, it was for the most part downhill, and the patches of snow lying in the jagged hollows on either side of the pass were less frequent, while the sheltered slopes and hollows were greener with groves of stunted fir and grass, and, far below, glimpses were obtained of deep valleys branching off from the lower part of the pass, whose sides were glorious in the sunshine with what seemed to be tiny shrubs. for the men required checking. they were growing weary, in spite of their midday halt, and longing to get to the ground below the snow-line, where they were to camp for the night. colonel graves was no less eager; for, though his little force was safe enough on the right, where the side of the pass sloped precipitately down, the track lay along a continuation of the shelf which ran upon the steep mountain-side, the slope being impossible of ascent, save here and there where a stream tumbled foaming down a crack-like gully and the rocks above them rose like battlements continued with wonderful regularity, forming a dangerous set of strongholds ready to conceal an enemy who could destroy them by setting loose stones in motion, or, perfectly safe themselves, pick the men off at their leisure. "i shall be heartily glad to get on to open ground again, graham," said the colonel. "my heart has been in my mouth for the last two hours," was the reply. "we can do nothing but press on." "and trust to the rocks up there being impassable to the enemy, if there is one on the stir." "yes; i don't think he could get up there," replied the major; "but there is an enemy astir, you may be sure." "i suppose so. the fact of a force like ours being at their mercy would set all the marauding scoundrels longing. well, we have done everything possible. we're safe front and rear, and we can laugh up here at any attack from below on the right." just about the same time bracy and his friend roberts were tripping and stumbling along with their company, the slowness of the baggage giving them time to halt now and then to gaze in awe and wonder at the stupendous precipices around and the towering snow-mountains which came more and more into sight at every turn of the zigzag track. "i suppose the colonel knows what he's about," said bracy during one of these halts. "i suppose so," replied roberts. "why?" "because we seem to me to be getting more and more into difficulties, and where we must be polished off if the enemy lies in wait for us in force. why in the world doesn't he try another way to ghittah?" "for the simple reason, my boy, that there is no other way from the south. there's one from the north, and one from the east." "that settles the question, then, as to route; but oughtn't we to have flankers out?" "light cavalry?" said the captain grimly. "bosh! don't talk to me as if i were a fool. i mean skirmishers out right and left." "look here, young fellow, we have all we can do to get along by the regular track." "irregular track," said bracy, laughing. "right. how, then, do you think our lads could get along below there?" "yes; impossible," said bracy, with a sigh; and then glancing upward at the towering perpendicular rocks, he added, "and no one could get along there even with ropes and scaling-ladders. well, i shall be precious glad to be out of it." "there, don't fret. i expect we shall find any amount of this sort of country." "then i don't see how any manoeuvring's to be done. we shall be quite at the mercy of the enemy." "oh! one never knows." "well, i know this," said bracy; "if i were in command i should devote my attention to avoiding traps. hallo! what's amiss?" the conversation had been cut short by the sharp crack of a rifle, which set the echoes rolling, and the two young officers hurried forward past their halted men, who, according to instructions, had dropped down, seeking every scrap of shelter afforded by the rocks. "what is it?" asked bracy as he reached the men who were in front, the advance-guard being well ahead and a couple of hundred feet below. half-a-dozen voices replied, loud above all being that of private gedge: "some one up there, sir, chucking stones down at us." "no," replied bracy confidently as he shaded his eyes and gazed up; "a stone or two set rolling by a mountain sheep or two. no one could be up there." "what!" cried the lad excitedly. "why, i see a chap in a white nightgown, sir, right up there, shove a stone over the edge of the parrypit, and it come down with a roosh." "was it you who fired?" "yes, sir; i loosed off at him at once, but i 'spect it was a rickershay." "keep down in front there, my lads," said captain roberts. "did any one else see the enemy?" a little chorus of "no" arose. "well, i dunno where yer eyes must ha' been, pardners," cried gedge in a tone full of disgust; and then, before a word of reproof or order for silence could be uttered, he was standing right up, shaking his fist fiercely and shouting, "hi, there! you shy that, and i'll come up and smash yer." the words were still leaving his lips when bracy had a glimpse of a man's head, then of his arms and chest, as he seemed to grasp a great stone, out of a crack five hundred feet above them, and as it fell he disappeared, the sharp cracks of half-a-dozen rifles ringing out almost together, and the stone striking a sharp edge of the precipitous face, shivering into a dozen fragments, which came roaring down, striking and splintering again and again, and glancing off to pass the shelf with a whirring, rushing sound, and strike again in a scattering volley far below. "any one touched?" cried the captain. "no, sir; no, sir." "i think that chap were, sir," whispered gedge, who was reloading close to bracy's side. "i didn't have much time to aim, sir, and the smoke got a bit before my eyes, but he dropped back precious sudden. but oh, dear me, no!" he went on muttering, and grinning the while at his comrades, "i didn't see no one up there. i'd got gooseb'ries in my head 'stead of eyes. now then, look out, lads; it's shooting for nuts, and forty in the bull's-eye." "hold yer row; here's the colonel coming," whispered the man next him. "keep well under cover, my lads," said bracy as the clattering of hoofs was heard. "right, sir," said one of the men. "why don't you, then?" muttered gedge. "silence, sir!" snarled sergeant gee, who was close behind. "all right," said gedge softly; "but i don't want to see my orficer go down." for, regardless of danger, while his men were pretty well in shelter, bracy was standing right out, using a field-glass. "cover, cover, mr bracy," cried the colonel sharply, and as he reined up he was put quickly in possession of the facts. "shall we have to go back, sergeant?" whispered gedge. "you will--under arrest, sir, if you don't keep that tongue between your teeth." "all right, sergeant," muttered gedge. "i only wanted to know." he knew directly after, for the colonel cried sharply: "that's right, my lads; keep close, and fire the moment you see a movement. you six men go over the side there, and fire from the edge of the road." the section spoken to rose and changed their positions rapidly, and as they did so a couple more blocks of stone were set in motion from above, and struck as the others had done, but did not break, glancing off, and passing over the men's heads with a fierce _whir_. "cover the advance with your company, and change places with the rear-guard when they have passed. steady, there, my lads," continued the colonel to the next company of the halted regiment; "forward!" he took his place at their head, and advanced at a walk as coolly as if on parade; and the first movement seemed like a signal for stone after stone to be sent bounding down, and to be passed on their way by the long, thin, bolt-like bullets from the covering company's rifles, which spattered on the rocks above and kept the enemy from showing themselves, till, finding that every stone touched in the same place and glanced off the projecting shoulder half-way up, they became more bold, irritated without doubt by seeing the soldiers continue their course steadily along the track in spite of their efforts to stop their progress. "that's got him," cried bracy excitedly as he watched a man, who at the great height looked a mere dwarf, step into full view, carrying a block upon his shoulder. this he heaved up with both hands above his head, and was in the act of casting it down when three rifles cracked, and he sprang out into space, diving down head first and still grasping the stone, to pass close over the marching men, strike the stony edge of the shelf, and shoot off into the deep valley below. the horrible fall seemed to impress the covering party strangely, and for a brief space nothing was heard but the irregular tramp of the passing men. "that's put a stop to their little game," whispered gedge. "look out! fire!" growled the sergeant; and a couple more of the enemy fell back, after exposing themselves for a few seconds to hurl down stones. "serve 'em right, the cowards," said gedge, reloading. "if they want to fight, why don't they come down and have it out like men?" "i say," whispered his neighbour on the left, "you hit one of them." "nay, not me," replied gedge. "you did." "don't think so. fancy i hit that beggar who pitched down, stone and all. i felt like hitting him. but don't talk about it, pardner. one's got to do it, but i don't want to know." "no," said bracy, who overheard the words and turned to the lad, "it's not pleasant to think about, but it's to save your comrades' lives." "yes, sir, that's it, ain't it?" said the lad eagerly. "of course," replied bracy. "and i ought to shoot as straight as i can, oughtn't i?" "certainly." "hah!" ejaculated gedge, and then to his nearest comrade, "i feel a deal better after that." the stony bombardment continued, and bracy watched every dislodged block as it fell, feeling a strange contraction about the heart, as it seemed certain that either it or the fragments into which it splintered must sweep some of the brave lads steadily marching along the shelf, horribly mutilated, into the gulf below. but it was not so; either the stones were a little too soon or too late, or they struck the side and glanced off to fly whirring over the line of men and raise echoes from far below. for, after certainly losing four, the enemy grew more cautious about exposing themselves; and as the minutes glided by it began to appear as if the regiment would get past the dangerous spot without loss, for the baggage mules and heavily-laden camels were now creeping along, and the covering party at a word from captain roberts became, if possible, more watchful. it was about this time that bill gedge, who tired seldom, but with the effect of keeping the stones from one special gap from doing mischief, drew the sergeant's attention to that particular spot, and, hearing his remarks, bracy lay back and brought his field-glass to bear upon it. "it ain't no good firing at a pair o' hands coming and going," said gedge. "i want to ketch the chap as is doing that there bit o' brick laying." "bit of what!" cried bracy. "well, i calls it bricklaying, sir. you see, i've watched him ever so long, sticking stones one above another, ready to shove down all together. i think he means to send 'em down on the squelchy-welchies." "the what?" cried bracy, laughing. "he means the camels, sir." "oh. yes, i can see," continued bracy. "looks more like a breastwork." even as he spoke there was a puff of smoke, a dull report, and a sharp spat on the rock close to the young officer's hand, and he started up, looking a little white, while sergeant gee picked up a flattened-out piece of lead. "right, sir," he said; "it is a breastwork, and there's a couple o' long barrels sticking out." "let them have it there," cried captain roberts. "they're opening fire with their jezails." "yes, sir," said gedge in a whisper; "we've just found that out for ourselves." he drew trigger as he spoke, and as the smoke rose and he looked up, loading mechanically the while, he caught sight of a long gun dropping swiftly down, barrel first, to fall close by one of the camels, grunting and moaning as it bore its balanced load along the shelf. "mine," cried gedge. "i hit the chap as he was looking down. i wants that there long gas-pipe to take home." "thank you, gedge," said bracy in a low voice. "i believe you've saved my life." "not me, sir; he shot first, but it did look near." "horribly, my lad, and he'd have had me next time." "think so, sir?" said the lad, taking aim again. "well, there's another on 'em shooting, and i want to get him if i can. stop him from committing murder, too." gedge took a long aim, and his finger trembled about the trigger for nearly a minute, but he did not fire; and all the while, evidently set in motion by a good strong party of the enemy, the stones came crashing and thundering down, in spite of the firing kept up by the covering sections, whose rifle-bullets spattered and splashed upon the rocks, and often started tiny avalanches of weathered debris. then all at once gedge fired, and the long barrel, which had been thrust out from the little breastwork and sent down dangerous shots time after time, was suddenly snatched back, and the lad reloaded, looking smilingly at the lieutenant the while. "good shot," said sergeant gee importantly. "you didn't do your firing-practice for nothing, my man." "did you hit him, gedge?" cried bracy eagerly. "yes, sir; he had it that time. i could ha' done it afore if he'd ha' showed hisself." "but he did at last." "that he didn't, sir, on'y his shadder on the stone, and i aimed at that." "nonsense!" cried the sergeant. "ah, well, you'll see," said gedge, and he turned with a grin to his officer. "i foun' as i should never hit him strite forrard, sir, so i thinked it out a bit, and then aimed at his shadder, and it was like taking him off the cushion--fired at the stone where i could see the shadder of his head." "ah! a ricochet," cried bracy. "that's it, sir; a rickyshay." the stones continued to fall without effect; but no one above attempted to expose himself again to the deadly fire from below. suddenly bracy started from his place. "up with you, my lads; forward!" waving his sword, he made a rush, leading his men along the deadly-looking piece of road swept by the stones from above, for the rear-guard had passed in safety; and, with his breath coming thick and fast, he dashed forward, knowing full well that their first movement would be the signal for the stones to come down thick and fast. he was quite right; for, as the men cheered and dashed after their two officers, block after block came whirring down, crashing, bounding, shivering, and seeming to fill the air with fragments so thickly that it was quite impossible to believe the passage of that hundred exposed yards could be accomplished in safety. but they got across untouched, and the men cheered again as they clustered about their officers, the precipitous spot where they now stood being sheltered from the danger, apparently inaccessible even to the enemy. "bravo, my lads!" cried the captain. "splendidly done," said bracy, breathless, "and not a man hurt." "all here?" said captain roberts. "yes, sir;" "yes, sir," came in a scattered volley of words. "no--stop!" said bracy excitedly. "where's gedge?" there was a dead silence, the men looking at one another and then back along the stone-strewed track, only a third of which was visible. but there was no sign of the missing man, and after a word or two with his brother officer bracy doubled back, followed by sergeant gee, till they had rounded a bend of the track and could command the whole distance. as they halted to examine the road, another stone fell from above, struck the road, and then bounded off into the valley. "there he is," cried bracy excitedly, thrusting his sword back in its scabbard. "just beyond where that stone fell." "yes, sir; i see him now. it's all over with the poor lad. here, sir; don't, sir. what are you going to do?" "do? fetch him in," said bracy sharply. "no, sir; don't, sir. it's like going to a 'orrid death," faltered the sergeant, whose face was of a clayey hue. "you mustn't go, sir. you ought to order me to fetch him in, and i will if you tell me." "i'm not going to tell our lads to do what i daren't do myself," said bracy coldly. "they can't see us here--can they?" the sergeant glanced upward, but the view in that direction was cut off by projecting masses of stone. "no, sir; they can't see us here." "then here goes," cried the young officer, drawing a deep breath and pressing his helmet down upon his head. "no, sir; don't--" began the sergeant in tones of expostulation; but he did not finish, for before the second word had left his lips bracy was bounding along as if running in an impediment race, leaping masses of stone, avoiding others, and making for where he could see the motionless figure; of gedge still grasping his rifle and lying face downward among the stones. a yell arose from above as bracy bounded into view, and stones began to fall again; while, upon reaching the fallen man, the young officer, completely ignoring the terrible peril in which he stood, bent down, passed his arms about the waist, raised him, and with a big effort threw him over his shoulder; and then turned and started back, carrying the poor fellow's rifle in his right hand. the yells from above increased, and before bracy had gone half-a-dozen yards of the return journey there was a loud _whish_, and he stopped short, for a block of stone struck the path not a yard before him, and then bounded off. for a moment or two bracy felt mentally stunned by the close approach of a horrible death; then, recovering himself, he strode on again, feeling strongly that it was more perilous to stand still than to go on, with every step taking him nearer to safety. there was an intense desire burning within him to try and run, but the rugged path forbade that, and he tramped slowly on with his load, with the air seeming to his heated imagination to be thick with the falling missiles which came hurtling around. "the next must do it," he found himself muttering, as he went on with what, though only a matter of minutes, seemed to be a long journey, before, coming confusedly as it were out of a dream, he heard the cheering of his men, and sergeant gee and three more relieved him of his load, while the crash and rattle of the falling stones seemed to be far behind. "hooray!" a tremendously hearty british cheer--only that of a company, but as loud it seemed as if given by the whole regiment; and the next thing out of the confused dream was the feeling of his hand being grasped, and the hearing of his brother officer's voice. "splendid, old man!" he whispered. "talk about pluck! but what's the matter? don't say you're hurt?" "no--no, i think not. only feel a bit stunned." "then you're hit by a stone?" "no, no. there, i'm better now. here! that poor fellow gedge! i hope he isn't killed." they turned to the little group of men who surrounded poor gedge, now lying on his back, with gee upon one knee bending over him, and trying to give him some water from his canteen. "dead?" cried bracy excitedly. "'fraid so, sir," replied the sergeant. "stone hit him on the 'elmet, and i expect his head's caved in." "bathe his face with a handful of the water," said bracy sadly. "poor lad! this was horribly sudden." both he and roberts looked down sadly at the stony face so lately full of mischievous animation, and in view of the perilous position in which they stood and the duty he had to do, the captain was about to order the men to make an extempore stretcher of their rifles and the sergeant's strong netted sash, so that the retreat could be continued, when gee dashed some water in the prostrate lad's face. the effect was marvellous. in an instant a spasm ran through the stony features. there was a fit of coughing and choking, and as the men around, always ready for a laugh, broke out, the supposed dead opened his eyes, stared blankly, and gasped out: "stow that! here, who did it? here, i'll just wipe some one's eye for that, here, i know--i--here--i s'y--i--er--mr bracy, sir! you wouldn't play tricks with a fellow like that? ah, i recklect now!" the poor fellow's hand went to his bare head, and he winced at the acute pain the touch gave him. "i say, sir," he said, "ketched me a spank right there.--is my 'elmet spoiled?" "never mind your helmet, gedge, my lad," cried bracy, who was bending over him. "there, you must lie still till we get something ready to carry you to the ambulance." "kerry me, sir! what for? ain't going to croak, am i? not me. here, i'm all right, sir. give's a drink outer my bottle.--hah! that's good.--drop more, please, sergeant,--thanky.--hah! that is good. feel as if i could drink like a squelchy-welchy.--here, i s'y, where's my rifle?" "i've got it, pardner," said one of the lads. "oh, that's right. ain't got the stock skretched, hev it?" "no, no; that's all right, bill." "glad o' that. here, i s'y; i went down, didn't i?" "yes, my lad; just in the middle of the worst bit where the stones were falling." "that was it--was it? well, i did wonder they never hit nobody, sir, but i didn't expect they'd hit me." "what are you going to do, my lad?" said the captain sharply. "get up, sir.--can't lie here. 'tain't soft enough. i'm all right. only feel silly, as if i'd been heving my fust pipe.--thanky, sergeant.--here, it's all right; i can stand. who's got my 'elmet?" the poor fellow tottered a little, but the british pluck of his nature made him master the dizzy feeling, and the old familiar boyish grin broke out over his twitching white face as he took hold of the helmet handed to him and tried to put it on. "here, i s'y," he cried, "no larks now; this ain't in me." "yes, that's yours, gedge," said the sergeant. "got such a dint in it, then, that it won't go on." "no, my lad," said bracy. "here, sergeant, tie my handkerchief round his head." "yes, sir; thank ye, sir. here, hold still, gedge," cried the sergeant. "well, i'm blest!" muttered the poor fellow; "there's all one side puffed out like arf a bushel basket. here, i've often heard of chaps having the swelled head when they've got on a bit; but i won't show it, mateys. i won't cut your company.--thank ye, sergeant." "fall in," cried the captain. "gedge, you'll have to be carried. two men. sergeant, and change often." "i can walk, sir, please," cried gedge. "let me try. if i can't some un can carry me then." "very well, try.--forward." the march was resumed, but after a few steps the injured lad was glad to grasp the arm offered him by gee. "thanky, sergeant," he said. "just a bit dizzy now, and i don't want to go over the side. better soon; but, i say, did you fetch me in?" "no: it was mr bracy," said gee gruffly. "oh, him!" said the lad quietly, and with a curious look in his eyes as he gazed in the young lieutenant's direction. "well, thank ye, sir; much obliged," he said in an undertone. "i'll say so to you some time. but i say, sergeant, talk about having a head on; i've got it now." "yes; but don't talk. hullo! they're up above us again yonder." "what, the dwat you may call 'ems?" "i s'pose so," said the sergeant gruffly, as a stone crashed down close to the foremost man. "and me not able to shoot!" muttered gedge. "well, of all the hard luck! but i owe some on 'em something for that shy at my coco-nut; and oh! i s'y, sergeant, it's just as if some one was at work at it with a pick." chapter four. wounded men. the sergeant was right, for, after turning a rib-like mass of stone forming an angle in the path, it was to find that either a fresh party of the enemy were waiting for them, or the others had by taking a short cut reached an eminence commanding the path; and as soon as the company came in sight they were saluted with an avalanche of stones, on a spot where they were terribly exposed, there being no shelter that could be seized upon by a few picked marksmen to hold the stone-throwers in check while the rest got by. matters looked bad, for the whole; of the baggage with the guard had disappeared, and, to make matters worse, shot after shot came whistling by from behind, indicating that the hill-men had come down to the track, and were closely following them in the rear. "we must make a rush for it, bracy," said captain roberts, as he gazed up at the heights from which the invisible enemy were bombarding the path. "we'll hold them back for a few minutes, and then you take half the company and dash across to yonder rocks. as soon as you are in shelter open fire and cover, as i fancy you can get a sight of them from there. it's waste of ammunition to fire from here, and--who's that down?" for there was a sharp cry from one of the men, who staggered forward a few yards, fell, and sprang up again minus his helmet, which had been struck by a bullet from behind. "all right; not much hurt, sir," cried the sufferer, rejoining his companions, after picking up his helmet, the back of which had been scored by a nearly spent rugged missile, whose track was marked in a long jagged cut across the man's right cheek-bone, from which the blood was trickling down. the rear men were on the alert, watching for a chance to retaliate upon their troublesome enemy, but holding their fire, for not a man was visible, and it seemed useless to fire at the rocks they had just left. "the sooner we are out of this the better," said the captain quietly. "you know your work.--wait a minute, and then at the word rush across to the rocks." the minute had nearly passed, the time filled up by the rattle and roar of falling stones, and bracy's half-company, though at rest, were panting hard with excitement like greyhounds held by a leash. then, just as the falling stones were beginning to slacken as if the throwers grasped the fact that they were wasting their strength, and were reserving their discharge till the half-company made its rush, there was a sudden quick movement among the rocks they were to try and reach, and bracy's blood ran cold as, puff, puff, puff, and then crack, crack, fire was opened. "hah!" ejaculated roberts excitedly; "they've got down somehow to cut us off. we're between two fires, bracy, man. there's nothing for it now but to dash forward. you must clear them out of that. don't stop to pick up your men who go down. we shall be close behind, and will see to them. get across, and then turn and cover us if you can." bracy nodded, and drew his revolver, just giving one glance upward at the heights from whence the stones came, and then fixing his eyes upon the rocks on the other side of the curve of the track, from which fresh puffs of smoke arose, making their position look desperate with the enemy in front and rear, supplemented by those hidden among the rugged natural battlements of their stronghold. "how many men shall i lose?" thought the young officer; and then, "shall i get across alive?" the next moment all was changed. "why, roberts," he cried, "it's our own men yonder, firing up instead of at us, to cover our advance." "forward, then," cried roberts. "we shall be close behind." bracy dashed ahead, waving his sword, and his half-company of boys cheered as they followed him; while as soon as they started there was a tremendous crashing of dislodged masses of rock, which came thundering down, fortunately sent too soon to injure the charging soldiery, who were saved from a second discharge by a sharp crackling fire from the rocks which they were to have occupied, the rapid repetitions telling that a strong company of their friends were at work, and the bullets spattering and flicking among the enemy, driving them at once into cover. there was a hearty cheer to greet bracy and his half-company as they successfully crossed the stone-swept track and reached the shelter of the rocks, ready to turn on the instant and help to keep down the stone-throwing as roberts and his men came along at the double. but bracy's lads did not fire a shot aloft, for a glance at the second half of the company revealed a new danger, and his men dropped into position, ready to repel that with a volley. for no sooner had the second half started than the track, a quarter of a mile in their rear, suddenly seemed to become alive with white-garbed hill-men, who came bounding along in a little crowd. "steady, steady! make every shot tell, boys," cried bracy. "fire!" a ragged volley was the result; the hill-men stopped suddenly as if petrified, and were hesitating still as to what they should do, when a second volley sent them to the right-about, leaving several of their number on the track, while half-a-dozen more were seen to drop before their comrades were out of sight. there was another burst of cheering as the second half-company pressed on without the loss of a man, gedge having so far recovered that he was able to double with one of his comrades, who came steadily on with him, arm-in-arm. as the young officers stood breathless and panting with their exertions, the stern, keen face of colonel graves suddenly loomed above the smoke, and his horse bore him into their midst. "how many men down?" was his first eager question. "two slightly wounded; that's all, sir," was the reply. "forward, then," he said, and he signed to roberts and bracy to come to his side. "you've done well," he said. "retain your places as rear-guard. i'll keep in touch with you.--hark!" "firing, sir," said captain roberts. "yes; the major must be clearing the way for us. we must get off this shelf and on to open ground before dark." he turned his horse's head and made his way towards the front as rapidly as the nature of the wretched rock-strewn shelf would allow; and the two young officers tramped on at a fair distance from the rear of the baggage-guard, keeping a sharp lookout for enemies in pursuit, feeling little anxiety about the rugged eminences up to their left, knowing as they did that they would have ample warning of danger by an attack being made somewhere along the line whose extreme rear they were protecting. their task was comparatively easy now, for their two wounded men had been passed on to the baggage-train, so that they could be in charge of the ambulance men and have the benefit of the doctor's help. a shot came now and then from behind, showing that the enemy were in pursuit; but no mischief was done, a return shot or two from the rear files, who retired in skirmishing order, silencing the firing at every outbreak. every step taken, too, now was more and more downward, and the keen winds, sharpened by the ice and snow, which had cut down the ravines at the higher part of the pass, were now tempered by the warm afternoon sunshine, which bathed the tops of the shrubs they had looked down upon from above, the said shrubs having developed into magnificent groves of cedars, grand in form and towering in height. these last were for the most part on the farther side of the now verdant valley--verdant, for its rocky harshness was rapidly becoming softened; even the shelf along which they tramped began to be dotted with alpine flowers, which gave the march the appearance of having lasted for months, for the morning; had been in part among mountains whose atmosphere was that of a sunny day in february. now they were in may, and according to appearances they were descending into an evening that would be like june. matters were going on so quietly now that the two officers found time for a chat at intervals, one of which was as they passed a formidable-looking spot where the thickly scattered stones and marks of lead upon the rocks showed that it must have been the scene of one of the attacks made by the enemy from the rocks above. but there was no sign of them now, the only suggestion of danger being the presence of a score of their men left to keep any fresh attack in check, and who retired as soon as the rear-guard came in sight. "this must be where the major had to clear the way," said roberts as he scanned the heights with his glass. "yes," replied bracy; "and i hope he was as well satisfied with the boys as we were." "shame if he wasn't," cried roberts. "pooh! don't take any notice of what he said. you know his way." "yes; he must have something to grumble at," replied bracy. "if he were with a regiment of veterans--" "yes, of course; he'd be snarling because they were what he'd call worn-out, useless cripples, only fit for chelsea hospital. the doctor was right: it's his liver." "yes," said bracy; "and when we are in camp to-night and at dinner he'll be in the highest of glee, and do nothing but brag about how he made the enemy run." "well, yes; a bit of work always does him good. it isn't brag, though, for i believe the major to be a splendid officer, and if we have much to do he'll begin showing us greenhorns what a soldier ought to be. but, i say, don't talk about dinner. i didn't think of it before; now i feel famished. my word! i shall punish it to-night." "if we get safely into camp," cried bracy excitedly. "down with you, my lads, and look out. it came from across the valley there, from among those trees." even as he spoke, pat, pat, pat came as many bullets, to strike against the bare face of the rock over their heads and fall among the stones at their feet, while the reports of the pieces fired were multiplied by the echoes till they died away. "nothing to mind," said roberts coolly. "they're trying to pick us off! we can laugh at any attack if they try to cross the depths below there." "nothing to mind so long as we are not hit," replied bracy; "but i object to being made a mark for their practice. what have you got there, jones?" "one of their bullets, sir," said the man, who had picked up a messenger which had come whizzing across the valley. "bullet--eh? look here, roberts," and bracy handed his brother officer a ragged piece of iron which looked as if it had been cut off the end of a red-hot iron rod. "humph! nice tackle to fire at us. lead must be scarce. now, that's the sort of thing that would make a wound that wouldn't heal, and delight old morton." pat, pat, again overhead, and the missiles fell among the stones. "we must stop this," said roberts.--"hold your fire, my lads, till you have a good chance. one telling shot is worth a hundred bad ones." "ah! look out," cried bracy, who was scanning the distant grove of large trees across the valley a quarter of a mile away. "there they go, breaking cover to take up ground more forward, to have at us again." for, all at once, some fifty white-coats became visible, as their owners dashed out of one of the patches of cedars and ran for another a furlong ahead. the lads were looking out, and rifle after rifle cracked. then there was quite a volley to teach the enemy that a quarter of a mile was a dangerous distance to stand at when british soldiers were kneeling behind rocks which formed steady rests for the rifles they had carefully sighted. five or six men, whose white-coats stood out plainly in the clear mountain air against the green, were seen to drop and not rise again; while the rest, instead of racing on to the cover in front, turned off at right-angles and made for a woody ravine higher up the right face of the valley; but they did not all reach it in safety. the firing brought back the colonel, who nodded thoughtfully on hearing roberts's report. "hurry on," he said; "the shelf descends to quite an opening of the valley a quarter of a mile farther on, and there is a patch of wood well out of reach of the hills, where i shall camp to-night. the advance-guard have cleared it of a similar party to that you describe." "it was getting time," said bracy to roberts as the colonel rode on. "i shouldn't have liked for us to pass the night on this shelf. think they'll attack us after dark?" "can't say, my son. if they do--" "well, what?" asked bracy. "we shall have to fight; but not, i hope, till we have had a comfortable meal." "i hope the same; but i suppose there'll be no rest till we've had a good set-to and thrashed the ruffians. why, the country seems to be up in arms against us." "yes," said roberts; "it's a way these genial hill-men have." "fortunately for us it is very thinly peopled," observed bracy as they tramped along, seemingly as fresh as when they started. "don't be too sure. we've been up among the mountains. wait till we see the vales." but the troubles of the day ceased at sunset, one which was made wonderful with the hues which dyed the mountains of the vast karakoram range; and when the cooking-fires were out in the cedar grove and the watches were set, officers and men slept well in the aromatic air; even the mules did not squeal and kick so very much in their lines, while the weary camels groaned and sighed and sobbed in half-tones, as if bemoaning their fate as being rather better than usual, for none had been riddled by bullets, fallen, or been beaten overmuch, and their leaders had taken care that they were not overloaded, and that they had plenty to eat and drink. the only men who slept badly were gedge and symons, the man whose cheek-bone had been furrowed by a bullet. but even they were cheerful as they talked together in the shelter of a canvas tent, and passed the time comparing notes about their ill-luck in being the first down, and calculating how long it would be before they were back in the ranks. "hurt much, matey?" said gedge. "pretty tidy, pardner. how's your nut?" "been easier since the doctor put the wet rag on it soaked with some stuff or another. oh, i shouldn't care a bit, only it keeps on swelling up like a balloon, and it'll make a fellow look such a guy." "hist!" said the other; "some one coming. the doctor." "are you asleep in there?" said a low voice. "mr bracy, sir," cried gedge eagerly. "no, sir; we're wido." "how are you, my lads--in much pain?" "oh no, sir; we're all right." "i came just to see how you are. good-night. try and get to sleep." "yes, sir; thank ye, sir. good-night, sir." "good-night." there was a faint rustle as of feet passing over cedar needle, and then a faint choky sound as if some one in the dark were trying to swallow something. "i like that," said symons at last in a whisper; "makes yer feel as if yer orficers do think o' something else besides making yer be smart." "like it?" said gedge huskily. "i should just think you do. oh, i say, though, what a guy i shall look in the morning! wish we'd got a box o' dominoes and a bit o' candle." chapter five. boys in action. "look at those boys," said bracy the next morning on meeting his brother officers at their attractive-looking mess breakfast, spread by the native servants beneath a magnificent cedar. "yes, they look cheery and larky enough, in spite of yesterday's experience." "as full of fun as if this were a holiday," said another. "ah," said roberts, "no one would think that we were surrounded by the enemy." "are we?" asked bracy. "are we?--just, hark at him.--where have you been?" "having a glorious bath in that torrent. the water was as clear as crystal." "and cold as ice," said the major, with a shudder. "i tried it in my gutta-percha wash-basin." "oh yes, it was cold," said bracy; "but it was like a shower-bath squared and cubed. it came down on my head in tubfuls, sent an electric thrill through one's muscles, and a good rub sent every trace of stiffness out of my legs. feel as if i could walk any distance to-day." "well, be patient, old man," said roberts, laughing. "i dare say you'll have a chance." "but what's that you were saying about the enemy?" "why, every hill's covered with them, and they evidently mean to attack." "oh, very well," said bracy, beginning upon his breakfast; "then i suppose we must fight." there was a laugh behind him, a hand was laid upon his shoulder, and the young man looked up sharply, to see that the colonel had come up silently over the thick carpet of cedar needles. "good-morning, sir." "good-morning--all," said the colonel quietly. "all well?" a chorus of assent ran round the group, and the colonel continued: "that's the spirit to take it in, bracy. of course we must fight; and the sooner the scoundrels give us the chance the better--eh, graham?" "yes; we've come to give them a lesson, and they'll get it. we ought to reach the station by evening. the poor fellows there must be anxiously looking out for us." "yes; i've sent three different messengers to say that we shall be there by night, and i hope one out of the three will get there with the news." "then you mean to go on at once?" "of course. did you think i meant to stay here?" "i only thought it possible that, as this was a strong place, and we have plenty of provisions and good water, you might hold on and let them attack us." "oh no," replied the colonel, taking his seat on the ground with the rest. "if we do that the enemy will take it for granted that we fear him. it must be forward, and plenty of dash." "yes; but while our lads are raw they would be more steady behind such a breastwork, or zareba, as we could soon make round us." "i thought the boys were steady enough yesterday," said the colonel quietly; "and we shall be far better off in the open than drawn out in a line on that narrow shelf." "oh, then we shall have a better road to-day?" "yes," said the colonel, going on calmly enough with his meal. "as far as i can gather from our guides, who all agree as to the character of the road, we have wide, open valleys, with forest till within a couple of miles of ghittah; then the mountains close in again, and we have a narrow shelf to traverse high above the bottom of a gorge." "with plenty of places for stone-throwers?" said the major. "plenty," replied the colonel; "so you know what you have to expect, gentlemen. but i hope and believe that unless they are too closely beleaguered the little garrison at the station will make a sally to meet us, and help to clear the way." "what a jolly old humbug graham is!" whispered roberts. "it's all to belittle our lads. he knew that as well as the colonel." "i suppose so," replied bracy. "ah, here's the doctor." for that gentleman came bustling up, smiling and nodding to all in turn. "morning, doctor," said the colonel. "what do you think of your patients this morning?" "my patients? seen them?" "yes," said the colonel quietly. "bracy and i had a look at them as soon as it was light." "getting on splendidly," said the doctor, rubbing his hands. "narrow escape for that boy whose cheek is scratched; an inch or two more to the left, and--" "ah! bah! the old story, doctor," said the major contemptuously. "yes, sir," replied the doctor tartly, as he fixed his eyes on the portly, middle-aged officer on the opposite side of the cloth. "you didn't take those pills, then?" "how do you know?" "by the way you talk," said the doctor, chuckling, and screwing up one eye and glancing round at the rest. "no, sir, i did not take the rubbish," said the major angrily, as he saw every one smiling. "was it likely that i should take them at a time like this?" "no, i suppose not," said the doctor coolly; "but i should. but, as i was going to say, colonel, it's wonderful what a deal the human skull can bear. now, for instance, that boy gedge: a great stone comes down many hundred feet, increasing in velocity with the earth's attraction, strikes him on the head, and down he goes, insensible, with his skull crushed in, you would expect; but no: it is the old story of the strength of the arch and the difficulty in cracking an egg-shell from outside, though the beak of a tiny chicken can do it from within." "then there's no fracture?" said bracy eagerly. "not so much as a faint crack, sir. fellow was too thick-headed." the colonel sprang to his feet the next minute, for one of the officers appeared to announce the appearance of three several bodies of men descending from the distant heights. "how near?" asked the colonel. "the nearest about a mile and a half, sir." "another live minutes for you to finish your breakfast, gentlemen, and then we march." the bugles were sounding directly after, and in less time than their leader had given out, the officers were with their companies, the native servants had replaced the camp equipage, and at the end of the quarter of an hour the march was resumed in the most orderly way, the baggage-train being strongly guarded, and the men well rested, flushed, and eager for the coming fray. it was like a glorious late spring morning in england, and the wide valley the regiment was traversing presented a lovely series of landscapes, backed up in front and to right and left with mighty snow-capped mountains, whose peaks looked dazzling in the early morning sun. but though every breast breathed in the crisp air with a strange sense of exhilaration, no one had eyes for anything but the two bodies of white-robed men approaching them from right and left, the third being hidden by the forest patch where the troops had bivouacked, and for which the enemy had made as soon as it was evacuated, evidently to cover their movements prior to a rush upon the rear. the colonel, upon seeing this, made a slight alteration in his plans, halting captain roberts's company with orders to close in and follow the rear of the column, thus bringing the impedimenta and servants more into the centre, the movement being performed without the slightest check to the advance, though the appearance of the bodies several hundred strong, to right and left, was very suggestive of an immediate attack. this was delivered, evidently by an agreed-upon signal; for suddenly a tremendous burst of yelling arose, and the two unorganised crowds came rushing down upon the column, which halted, faced outward, and the next moment, while the enemy on either hand was about a couple of hundred yards off, there was a rolling volley nearly all along the line, and the white smoke began to rise, showing the two bodies of the enemy scattering and every man running for his life back towards the hills, but leaving the flowery grass dotted with patches of white, others dropping fast as they grew more distant and the wounds received began to take effect. there was a little disorder in the centre among the servants, and mules and camels were restive as the shouting hill-men came rushing on, with their swords flashing in the sunshine, and the rattle of the musketry threatened to produce a panic; but the native servants behaved well, and were quieting their animals, when there was another suggestion of panic, as captain roberts suddenly exclaimed: "here they come, bracy!" for the sergeants and men thrown out in the rear a couple of hundred yards suddenly turned and fired and came running in to take their places, as the two rear companies were halted, swung out right and left in line, fixed bayonets, with the peculiar ringing, tinkling sound of metal against metal, and waited the coming of the third body of the enemy, as strong as the two which had attacked in front. they came out from the shelter of the cedar forest with a rush, yelling furiously, each man waving his long jezail in his left hand, while a long curved tulwar, keen as a razor, flashed in his right--big, stalwart, long-bearded, dark-eyed men, with gleaming teeth and a fierce look of determination to slay painted in every feature. it was enough to cow the stoutest-hearted, for in numbers they were enough to envelop and wipe out of existence the handful of slight-looking lads ranged shoulder to shoulder across their way. but not a boy amongst them flinched; he only drew his breath hard as if trying to inflate his chest to the utmost with courage, and then at the word every other lad fired low, sending a hail of bullets to meet the rushing force when it was about a couple of hundred yards distant. the men were staggered for the moment, but for the moment only, and they dashed on again, leaping over or darting aside to avoid those of their companions who staggered and fell. then, as they reduced the distance by about one-half, the yelling grew fiercer, and the enemy came running and leaping on with increased speed. "fire!" some fifty rifles delivered their deadly contents with a roar as if only one had been discharged. the effect was magical. the yelling ceased, and as the cloud of soft grey smoke arose it was to show the crowded-together enemy halted in front, while those behind were pushing and struggling to get within reach to strike at the hedge of glittering bayonets, from which a third volley flashed out. that was enough. as the smoke rose and the lads stood in double line now, ready to receive the charge upon their glittering points, the enemy was seen to be in full flight. "stand fast!" roared roberts. "back, back!" shouted bracy; and, sword in hand, the officers rushed along in front of their men, literally driving some of the most eager back, to re-form the line; for the sight of the flying enemy was too much for some of the younger, least-trained lads, who were in the very act of dashing forward with levelled bayonet in pursuit. "well done; very well done, my lads!" cried a familiar voice as the colonel galloped back to them. "steady, there; steady!" he shouted as he rode right along the little line and reined up his horse, to sit gazing after the flying enemy, frowning the while as he saw how many white cotton robes dotted the soil before the uninjured disappeared again in the cedar grove, from which they had delivered their attack. "capital, gentlemen!" he said a minute or so later; "but i did not like that unsteadiness. you must keep your men well in hand." the next minute the orders were given, and the column resumed its march, for it was no time to think of prisoners or attending to the enemy's wounded. in fact, before the regiment was half a mile away their friends were back from the hills seeing to their dead and wounded, and gathering up their arms, greatly to the annoyance of the rear-guard lads, who one and all were troubled with longings for some of the keen tulwars to take back to england as trophies of their fight. but the stern order "forward!" rang in the lads' ears, and the expectation of being attacked at any time by one or other of the bodies of the enemy hovering on the hill-slopes on either side, or of a fresh dash being made upon the rear in the hope of cutting off the baggage, kept every one on the alert. chapter six. up the gorge. "yes," said colonel graves, as the morning glided by without incident and midday approached, with the men beginning to show traces of their hot, rapid march. "pass the word on, for we cannot halt yet. it will cheer the lads, and have a good effect upon the enemy." the next minute, just as many of the lads were straining their eyes forward in search of the place likely to be chosen for their midday halt, and making frequent use of their water-bottles, there were the preliminary taps on the big bass, a few vigorous rolls on the kettledrums, and the fifes began to shrill out their sharp notes in a merry air, which brightened every face at once. some of the lads began to whistle the tune as they stepped out more briskly, and judkins, of captain roberts's rear company, burst out with: "poor old bill; that 'll do him good. pity he ain't with us. wonder how he is." "getting on, my lad," said bracy, who overheard the remark; "and i don't think he'll be many days before he's back in the ranks." just then a cheer was given right in front, to be taken up and run right along the column, sounding as if it had been started by the men in thankfulness for bracy's good news about gedge, though it was only the effect produced by the band; while as soon as the air came to an end, and there was silence for a minute, another hearty cheer was given for that which was to come, the men knowing well the meaning of the silence, which was broken directly after by half-a-dozen beats of the drum, and then with a sonorous clash the brass instruments of the excellent band burst forth in a grand march, the clarion-like triumphant notes echoing softly from the hills on their right, where clusters of the enemy could be seen staring at them as if in wonder. "hear that, you black-muzzled old women? you in white night-gowns?" shouted judkins. "that's better than your wheezy old squealing pipes, made to imitate our highlanders'. i say, lads, how come they to have pipes like our fellows? wish some one would ask mr bracy. i dessay he knows." "why don't you ask me yourself, judkins?" said bracy, who was close; at hand. "oh! beg pardon, sir. i didn't know you could hear me." "don't be a sham, judkins. you know i was just behind you." the lad coloured like a girl, and his comrades laughed; but bracy took no notice, and said quietly: "i don't profess to understand these things; but the use of bagpipes for music seems to be a custom with the ancient tribes that migrated from the north of asia and spread right away through europe till they were stopped by the sea." "hullo, bracy!" said roberts, coming up. "giving the men a lecture? you don't mean that the scotch and irish pipes had their origin out here?" "i have read so. these hill-men have theirs right away east, and you pick up tribes of people with them at intervals till you get to italy, where the mountaineers play them. then it is not a very long jump to the highlands and ireland, where they use bellows instead of blowing into the bag." "a discourse on wind," said roberts quietly. "i want something more solid. how soon are we going to halt for a feed and rest?" the bugle rang out soon after, for they readied a broad stream of bright clear water, and in a loop of this, which offered itself as a capital protection for two-thirds of the distance round their temporary camp, the regiment was halted, and with strong videttes thrown out along the unprotected portion, the men fell out, when a hasty meal was eaten, and the men ordered to lie down for half-an-hour, with their arms ready, so that they could spring to their places at the first alarm. when the bugle rang out it was at the end of the hour's rest, and, thoroughly refreshed, the march was recommenced, the men stepping out to the merry strains of a favourite song, which was repeated in chorus as the band ceased playing; and the birds that had been hovering near were the only objects visible when the halting-place was vacated, though the thick woods on the hill-slopes on either side were felt to be lull of the enemy. "haven't given them all they wanted, have we?" said roberts as they tramped towards where through the clear air the sides of the valley could be seen closing in and growing higher and more jagged of outline. "no," said bracy thoughtfully. "it will take something more than a brush like that to beat them off. we shall have our work ready for us yonder where the colonel said the track rose again to continue like a shelf right away to ghittah." "i suppose so. well, good luck to us, and may we have no more casualties." "amen," said bracy. "i wish, though, if we are to have a sharp encounter, we could have it now we're fresh, instead of just at the end of a heavy day's march." "soldiers have to fight when the time comes, and they can't pick and choose, i suppose. but never mind; the lads won't be done up, for this is easy marching. it is not too hot, and we have plenty of good water. i say, i suppose we shall follow this stream right away now?" "no doubt. it must come down from the snow-mountains, and through that gorge yonder." "yes, the one that seems so near, and does not get a bit nearer. it's capital, our having this river on our right flank, for it would be a nice job for the enemy if they tried to ford it." roberts was right, for every mile of their forward journey made the river a greater protection, the torrent growing fiercer and the banks rocky in the extreme, and for the most part nearly perpendicular, till at last it was a good fifty feet down to the water's level, so that it ceased to be of use for refreshment to the men. at last the sides of the valley began to close in more rapidly, and their track became steeper, till all at once they were brought up short by what seemed to be the mighty gates of the gorge, up which they could see but a short distance, for it turned off to the right. but there, plainly enough in the western sunshine, crossing the end in a steep slope, was a part of the terrace-like path they were to follow, while on their left was its commencement, one heavy stone-strewn track, which in places rose like a series of gigantic steps. here a halt was called, and the men lay down for a brief rest, while the perilous-looking path in front was reconnoitred first by the officers with their glasses, the eminence above the track being carefully searched for hidden bodies of the enemy ready to commence their attack as before by thrusting off the stones which hung aloft ready to fall, almost at a touch. but there was no sign of danger apparent. a great eagle was gliding here and there in the mouth of the wild ravine, out of which came the deep roar of the river in a series of foaming cascades; while no sign was visible of the enemy in the rear, and the officers soon came to the conclusion that there was nothing to fear from their left unless there was some pass known to their foes by which the mountains high above the shelf-like track could be reached. "we're to form the rear-guard again, lads," said roberts, who had just received his orders. "did it so well before, the colonel says," he added a little bitterly. "well, if we want more fighting we ought to have been sent in advance," replied bracy, "for i feel convinced that there's something unpleasant waiting for us as soon as we enter that black rift." "most likely," said roberts. "the major leads again, but they're going to send half a company on first scouting. yes," he said impatiently, "there must be something bad ready for us. the enemy would never be such fools as to let us go through there. why, bracy, give us our company, and twenty-four hours to prepare, and we could hold that place against a thousand." "yes, i suppose we could." "well, what are we waiting for?" cried roberts impatiently. "it doesn't want above two hours to sunset, and to be caught there with the night coming on--ugh!" "there they go!" cried bracy excitedly, as the active lads selected as scouts began to ascend the track in the lightest order; and their progress was watched with the keenest anxiety as they rose more and more into the full view of the regiment, apparently meeting with no obstacles to their progress, and showing the track to be followed by the waiting party below. just then the colonel rode back to where the young officers were standing. "this track is so narrow, roberts," he said, "that your company will be ample to protect the rear; so i shall trust entirely to you. if we are to be attacked it will be in front; of that i am convinced, though probably the attacking will be on our part, for sooner or later we shall find a rough hill-fort, strongly held." "hope we shan't fall into some trap, sir," said roberts earnestly. "i hope not," said the colonel, turning his horse and moving forward, but only to turn his head again. "it will be stiff work for the train," he said; "but they must do it. you will help to keep the baggage-men well up to their work, for i mean to get through this pass to-night." "nice job," said roberts bitterly. "we shall have the enemy behind us, stirring us up, and we shan't be able to get on without pricking up the mules and camels." "no firing yet," said bracy, without heeding the foreboding remarks of his companion. "they're getting well on. ah! there goes the advance." for a bugle rang out, its notes being repeated again and again with wondrous clearness from the faces of the black-looking barren rocks on high, and the scene became an animated picture to the men of the rear-guard, who lay on their arms, resting, while the regiment filed up the track, two abreast, giving life to the gloomy gorge, which grew and grew till the baggage animals added their quota to the scene. "at last!" cried roberts, as their own turn came, and after a long and careful search backward from a point of vantage with his glass, he gave the word, and his rested lads began to mount eagerly, but with every one keeping an eye aloft for the blocks of stone they expected to come crashing down, but which never came any more than did the sharp echoing rifle-fire announcing the attack upon some rough breastwork across the shelf. it was a toilsome, incessant climb for an hour, and then the highest point was gained, the men cheering loudly as they clustered on the shelf, nowhere more than a dozen feet wide, while the rock fell perpendicularly below them for over a thousand feet to where the river foamed and roared, one terrible race of leaping cascades. there had not been a single casualty with the mules, and the track, in spite of its roughness, was better for the camels in its freedom from loose stones than the former one they had traversed. and now their way was fairly level for a time, and the descent of the path gentle when it did begin going down towards the river, which from the slope seemed to rise. but they could see only a little way forward, from the winding nature of the gorge, which now grew more and more narrow. "not so far to fall," said bracy coolly, "if we do come to a fight." "deep enough to break our necks," grumbled roberts. "here, i say, it will be dark soon; look how black it looks below. i wish those fellows had not cheered; it was like telling the enemy we were coming on, for they must be round the corner yonder. there--look!" as he spoke one of the men in front suddenly turned and pointed to where the gorge was at its narrowest. "yes, we can see them, my lad. keep a sharp lookout to the rear," he shouted to the men behind. "we shall be hearing from them now, bracy, for, take my word for it, they're flocking along the path. well, we shall have to fight in the dark, old man, like rats, in this confounded trap." "very well," said bracy between his teeth, as he took out and examined the chambers of his revolver, before he replaced it in its leather holster; "if the dogs do come on i mean to bite." chapter seven. boots for booty. "well, you needn't bite this time, old fellow," cried roberts, with a sigh of relief, as a burst of cheers arose faintly from the front once more, to be taken up and run down the column, even the native mule and camel drivers joining in, till it reached the company which formed the rear-guard. "what does this mean?" cried bracy excitedly. "that we're too far back to know what is going on in the front. those are not enemies, but friends." "what! people from the station come to meet us?" "that's the right nail, struck well on the head, old chap; and i'm jolly glad of it, for i feel more like feeding than fighting, i can tell you." "roberts, old fellow, this seems too good to be true," cried bracy joyfully. "but for once in a way it is true. push on, my lads; there'll be something better than bullets for a welcome to-night." roberts was right, for upon the last of the weary beasts bearing the baggage reaching the end of the defile, the young officers found themselves face to face with a couple of companies of their fellow-countrymen, bronzed, toil-worn looking men, many of them bearing the marks of hardly-healed sword-cuts, and looking overstrained and thin as if from anxiety and overwork, but one and all with their faces lit up by the warmth of the welcome they were ready to give the regiment which had come to their help. the bandsmen played their best as they led the way across the lovely amphitheatre into which the gorge had opened out, towards where, high up along the northern side, and upon the rocky bank, stood the station and town of ghittah. the river, which here flowed smooth and deep, seemed as if of ruddy golden metal, as it glistened in the rays of the sun dipping down behind the snow-mountains which shut them in. and every now and then the cheery echoing strains of the band were pretty well drowned by the cheers and counter-cheers of the relievers and the relieved. bracy felt his breast swell with pleasure at the warmth of the welcome, for the fraternisation was complete, the war-worn veterans seeming as if they could not make enough of the raw striplings marching by their sides towards where the british colours could be seen floating over the grim castle-like place that had been the home of one of the old hill-chiefs till the district was added to the british dominions. but look which way he would, the young officer could see no trace of the enemy. birds of a feather flock together naturally, and before half a mile had been covered a tall, thin, boyish-looking officer, with a star of merit in the shape of a series of strips of diachylon upon his brow, gravitated towards the rear-guard and suddenly joined their ranks, holding out and shaking hands with the new-comers. "how are you?" he cried. "how are you? i say, don't look at a fellow like that. i'm an awful scarecrow, i know; but i'm drummond--tom drummond of ours." "oh, you look right enough," cried bracy merrily. "only a bit of the polish rubbed off." "and a bit chipped," said roberts, laughing. "eh? oh, this!" cried their new friend. "getting better, though, now. doesn't improve a fellow." "doesn't it?" cried bracy. "i should be proud of such an order." "it's very good of you to say so," said the young subaltern, with his eyes glistening. "how did you get it?" asked roberts. "oh, in a scrimmage with those treacherous beasts. they'd got me and about a dozen of the lads in a corner among the rocks, and it was either stand still and be cut up or make a dash with the bayonet. there were about fifty of 'em." "so you made a dash?" "yes, but only six of us got through, and all damaged. one big fellow was nourishing a sharp tulwar, and he was in the act of cutting down one of my fellows, and i went at him to try and save the poor lad, but i was too late. the great brute cut him down and rushed at me." "well?" said bracy, for the thin, boyish-looking officer stopped, and looked red. "oh, i gave point, and got well home. i put all my strength into it, and it brought me so close that instead of having my head split by his blade i had the hilt on my forehead here. it struck in a nasty place, but being, as my old latin coach said, awfully thick-skulled, the pommel of the tulwar didn't break through. i say, though--never mind that-- have either of you fellows a spare pair of boots? i can swap a lot of loot with you--fancy swords and guns and a chief's helmet--for them. look; i've come down to this." he laughed and held up one leg, the lower part of which was bound in puttees, while the foot was covered with a bandaged raw-hide sandal. "not smart on parade," said bracy, laughing, "but good to keep off corns." "yes," said the subaltern; "but i'm blest if they keep out chilblains. oh, crumpets, how my feet do itch of a night by the fire." "well, i should say my boots are about your size. roberts's wouldn't lit. he has such big, ugly feet." "come, i like that, bracy. hang it all! my trotters look liliputian beside his." "now," said bracy mockingly; "but wait till you can see drummond's feet. look here," he added, turning to the subaltern; "you have a pair of roberts's too; they'll do for goloshes." "i don't care how old they are, so long as they are boots." "all right, old fellow; we'll set you up with anything we've got," said bracy. "bless you, my children!" cried the young officer. "bless you! never mind the dramatic business. oh, i say, we are all glad you've come." "you've been in a tight corner, then?" "tight? we've lost a third of our number, and were beginning to think the government was going to let us be quite wiped off the slate. here, i feel like a schoolboy again, and want to cheer." "all right; cheer, then," cried bracy, smiling, and clapping the speaker on the shoulder as if he had known him for years. "no; hoarse as a crow now, and i want my breath to talk. i say, we have been sharp set. we began to feel like the talking parrot who was plucked by the monkey, ready to say, `oh, we have been having such a time!' those dwats are beggars to fight." "we've found that out--that is, when they can take you at a disadvantage," said roberts. "ah, that's their idea of manoeuvring," said drummond. "they can tight, though. we must have killed hundreds, but they come on all the same. there were thousands of them all about the hills here yesterday." "but where are they now?" asked bracy. "they melted away like snow last night and this morning, just when we were expecting an assault on the old fort yonder, which we thought would be final." "final?" "yes; we were getting dead beat. that's what makes us all so fond of you." "i see," said bracy, who noticed a hysterical vibration in the youth's voice. "that was the first inkling we got of your coming." "what! didn't you hear from our messengers?" said roberts. "didn't they get through?" cried bracy. "get through? no. they wouldn't let any messengers get through. never mind. you've all come, and if we don't have a jollification to-night my name's something else." "then you're all right for provisions?" "oh yes, for some time to come. ammunition was his weak point. we've blazed away till the men's barrels have been hot." "it seems as if the men of your regiment are beggars to fight too," said bracy dryly, "judging by the appearance of some of you." "fight? obliged to," said the subaltern, laughing. "talk about practising the art of war; we ought to pass any examination. but, joking apart, it has been an awful time for the poor women and children." "ah!" cried bracy. "you have women and children yonder?" "yes, any number, bless 'em! the ladies and the men's wives have worked like slaves--hospital work, you know. as to our doctor, he'll be mad with joy to meet yours to share the work with him. ah! there they go." for just then a burst of cheering came from the grim walls of the old fort, which were lined by its occupants; and mingled with the enthusiastic cries came the strains of music. "you have your band, then?" said roberts. "bits of it," said the subaltern dryly. "the brass instruments are battered horribly; and as for the wood, they are all cracked and bandaged like wounded men; while the drums are nearly all as tubby as tom-toms, through the men having mended them with badly-cured goat-skins. i say, though, talk about goat-skins, i ought to have added sheep." "why?" said bracy. "are you fellows fond of shooting?" "yes," said bracy eagerly. "is it good up here?" "grand, when there's a chance of the shooting being all on your side." "the beggars try to stalk you, then, sometimes?" said roberts. "sometimes? nearly always." "but what have you got here--tiger?" "never saw one. plenty of bear." "all! that will do." "chamois-like deer, goats, and splendid mountain sheep. pheasants too. ah! i can give you some glorious pheasant shooting. here they come. oh, i say, what a pity for the old man to march our poor ragged jacks out to see you! they'll look--" "glorious," cried bracy. "i should be proud of being one of your regiment. by george; what shrimps our lads seem beside them!" "your lads look perfection," cried the subaltern enthusiastically. "don't you run them down. if you'd been looking despairingly for help for a whole month you'd feel as i do. here, i must trot back to my chiefs. just fancy; my captain and lieutenant are both down, _non com_, and i'm in command of my company. isn't it disgusting for the poor fellows? but they behave very well. so glad to have met you, dear boys. ta-ta for the present. we've got a splendid feed ready for you all, and we shall meet then.--don't forget about the boots, old chap. you shall have these to present to the british museum. label 'em `officer's foot-gear. end of nineteenth century. rare.'" the subaltern trotted off, and with the regiment going half-mad and cheering wildly in response to the cries of welcome which greeted them, the boyish ranks marched on, solid and stiff, for a time, their rifles sloped regularly, and step kept in a way which made even sergeant gee smile with satisfaction. but directly after, as caps and helmets, mingled with women's handkerchiefs, began to wave from the walls, the strong discipline of the corps was quite forgotten, helmets came out of their proper places and were mounted on the ends of rifles, to be carried steadily at the slope, to be held up on high at arm's-length, and even danced up and down, in the wild joy felt by the whole body, from the colonel down to the meanest bugle-boy, that they had arrived in time to succour the brave and devoted men, marched out of the dark gateway and formed up in two lines for their friends to pass in between them. hardly a dark face, lined, stern, and careworn, was without something to show in the shape of injury; while nearer the gate there was a body of about two-score badly wounded and bandaged men who had hobbled or been carried out, ready to add their faint share of cheering to that of their comrades. as roberts and bracy led their company towards the gate, and the young officers caught sight of the ladies standing in a group ready to greet them with outstretched hands, one of them--never mind which--perhaps it was bracy--felt half-suffocated, while the thin, careworn faces, many of them wet with the coursing tears, looked dim and distorted as if seen through bad spectacles on a wet day; and when, after having his hand shaken a score of times and listening to fervent greetings and blessings, he got through the gateway to the great inner court, where the baggage and pack-mules, camels, and the rest were packed together in company with the native servants, the said one--as aforesaid, never mind which--said to himself: "thank goodness that's over! if it had lasted much longer i should have made a fool of myself. i never felt anything like it in my life." "bracy, old chap," said roberts just then, "we mustn't forget about that fellow's boots. i've a pair, too, as soon as i can get at my traps. i say, i know you've got a mother, but have you any sisters?" "yes; two." "i've three. now, can you explain to me why it was that as soon as i was marching by those poor women yonder i could think of nothing but my people at home?" "for the same reason that i did," replied bracy rather huskily. "human nature; but thank heaven, old man, that they're not here." "oh, i don't know," said roberts thoughtfully. "it would be very nice to see them, and i know my dear old mother would have been very proud to see us march in. my word, this has been a day!" "yes, and here we are. shall we ever get away?" "of course we shall. but, hullo! what does that mean?" bracy turned at the same moment, for rather faintly, but in a pleasant tenor voice, there came out of a long box-like ambulance gharry, borne on two mules in long shafts at either end: "when johnny comes marching home again--hurrah!" and from another voice a repetition of the cheer: "hurrah! hurrah! when johnny comes marching home again, hurrah! hurrah!" "ah, mr bracy, sir, just having a bit of a sing-song together." "why, gedge, my lad, how are you--how are you getting on?" "i don't look in, sir, and i'll tell yer. doctor says it's all right, but my blessed head keeps on swelling still. i don't believe i shall ever get my 'elmet on agen. my mate here, though, is getting on swimming." "that's right. you'll lie up in hospital for a hit and soon be well." "orspital, sir? yes; but it's longing to be back in barracks, tents, or the ranks as worries me. but never say die, sir. we've got here.--how do, captain? thank ye for asking. yes, sir; getting on, sir. we've got here with on'y us two knocked over. now then, sir, what next?" "yes, gedge," said the young officer thoughtfully; "what next?" "i'll tell you," said roberts cheerily; "find our traps and that fellow's hoots." chapter eight. in quarters. there was rest and refreshment in the old fort of ghittah that night such as the regiment had not enjoyed since their march up-country; and to have seen the occupants of the stronghold, no one could have imagined that a few hours before the beleaguered were in a state of despair. but they had cause for rejoicing, since, after a month's brave resistance, with heavy losses, they were now strengthened by the presence of nearly a thousand light, active young fellows, perfectly new to warfare, but well officered, in a high state of discipline, and eager to prove themselves against the enemy, whatever the odds. there was plenty of room for the new-comers, for the stronghold was a little town in itself, and the regiment shook itself down into its new quarters as quickly as it would have formed camp out in the upon, so that the men paraded the next morning fresh and ready for anything; the senior colonel inspecting the grand addition to his force, while his own men, after busy efforts, showed up in very different guise to that of the previous day, the thin and gaunt seeming to have plumped out during the night, while the officers' ladies showed that they had not quite forgotten how to dress. over the mess breakfast, which was had in common with the officers of the garrison, the new-comers had been made well acquainted with the enemy's tactics, and warned of the suddenness of the attacks made and attempts at surprise, so that they might be well prepared. they had already heard the result of the council of war held by the seniors of the two regiments, and were prepared to take over nearly all the duty, so as to give the harassed, worn-out regiment a rest. then the parade was held in due form, the lads of the new regiment mounted guard, and their officers made a tour of inspection afterwards with their new friends, who pointed out the strength and feebleness of the old fort. the latter predominated, especially on the side of the river, and there were plenty of weak spots where colonel graves saw at a glance how easily an active body of mountaineers might scale the lower rocks of the mighty clump upon which the fort was built and mount to the ramparts, and unless the defence was strong there the place must fall. "it tells well for the brave efforts you have made," said colonel graves to his brother in rank. "i should propose throwing up an additional wall at two of these spots--walls well loopholed for musketry." "i have proposed it, and intended to do it," said colonel wrayford; "but it has been impossible. the enemy has kept us too thoroughly upon the _qui vive_." "well, there will be an opportunity now," said colonel graves as he stepped up on to an open place on the wall and began to sweep the mountain-slopes with his glass. "see anything of them?" asked colonel wrayford. "nothing. are they well in hiding?" "possibly. i do not understand our not having had a visit from them before now. we generally have their white-coats streaming down those ravines in two parties. it looks as if your coming had scared them away." "that's too good to expect," said colonel graves, laughing. "they'll come, sure enough, and when least expected, no doubt. so much the better, so that we can give them a good lesson to teach them to behave with respect towards her majesty's forces, for this place is to be held at all hazard." "yes; of course," said colonel wrayford rather bitterly. "well, it has been held." "and bravely," said colonel graves, bowing, with a show of deference, towards his senior. "thank you," said the latter simply. "we have done our best." he turned away, to begin using his glass, sweeping the different ravines--dark, savage-looking gorges which disembogued upon the smiling, garden-like expanse on both sides of the river, and seeming strangely in contrast, with their stony sides, to the tree-besprinkled verdure and lovely groves of the little plain not more than a mile long by half that space wide. "hah! i thought the visit would not be long deferred," said colonel wrayford, lowering the glass and pointing to a thin line of white figures slowly coming into sight and winding down a zigzag path on one side of the gorge, through which the river came down from the mountains beyond. "i see," said colonel graves; "but i was watching those ravines to right and left." "yes; the enemy is changing his tactics to-day. you see, he does not mean us to have much rest." the bugles rang out at the first appearance of the enemy, and the walls were manned with a strength to which they had been foreign; and as the two colonels walked round and supervised the arrangements, the senior asked whether the new-comers could shoot. "admirably," said colonel graves, and then, with a smile--"at the target; they have to prove what they can really do now." "they will have every opportunity, and from behind strong walls." meanwhile the white-robed enemy came streaming down to the plain in the most fearless manner, till they were well within shot, and still they came on. "this seems strange," said colonel wrayford; "they have generally begun firing before this." "they look more like friends than enemies," observed colonel graves. "they may look so," replied the other as he scanned the advancing force, "but we have no friends among these tribes. they are all deeply imbued with the mussulman's deadly hatred of the christian, and only when firmly held down by force do they submit to the stronger power. unfortunately they have broken out, and we have had enough to do to hold our own, while the very fact of one tribe boldly shutting us in has made half-a-dozen others forget their own enmity among themselves and come to their aid." meanwhile captain roberts's company occupied a strong position along a curtain defending the great gate, and the lads were all in a state of eager expectation of the order to fire. "it's our turn now, sergeant," said one of the youngest-looking. "i could pick off that chap in front before he knew where he was." "silence, sir!" said the sergeant shortly; and then looking to right and left, he gave a general admonition: "less talking in the ranks." "yah!" whispered the lad who had been snubbed. "why don't they make him curnel?" "see drummond just now?" said bracy, where he and his companion stood together. "just a glance," replied roberts. "why, he came close by you." "yes; but my attention was taken up by his boots--yours, i mean. i never saw a fellow look so conscious and proud of being well shod before." "hullo! what does this mean?" said bracy. "not an attack, surely? my word! that's brave; one, three--six of them. why, roberts, the cheek of it! they're coming to order us to surrender." "well, it will be exercise for them, for we shan't. we'll let them give up if they like." "i say, look!" continued bracy, as half-a-dozen of the well-built fellows came on alone, making for the gates. the officers scanned them with their glasses, and noted that their thickly-quilted cotton robes were of the whitest, and of line texture, while each wore about his waist a fine cashmere shawl stuck full of knives and supporting a curved tulwar in a handsome scabbard. "i say," cried bracy, "what dandies! these must be chiefs." whatever they were, they made straight for the gates, and the two colonels walked down to meet them. "keep a sharp lookout up there, captain roberts. you command the approach. are these men quite alone?" "quite, sir, as far as i can see." "can you make out any strong body stealthily approaching, mr bracy?" "no, sir; they seem to be quite alone." "be on the alert for a rush, and fire at once if you see anything.--you will have the gates opened, i presume?" continued colonel graves. "oh yes; it is an embassage, and they will expect to enter the place. send for the two interpreters." a couple of lithe-looking, dark-eyed hill-men came forward at once, the gates were thrown open, and the party of six stepped in, looking smiling and proud, ready to salute the two officers, who stood forward a little in advance of half a company of men with fixed bayonets. salutes were exchanged, and in a brief colloquy the eldest of the party, a smiling fellow with an enormous black beard, announced through one of the interpreters that he was the chief of the red dwats, come with his men to meet the english captain and tell him that he and his people wore the most staunch friends the famous white queen had, from there to the sources of the great river, the indus. colonel wrayford replied that he was glad to hear it, and if the chief and his people were faithful to her majesty's sway they would always be protected. the chief said that he was and always would be faithful, and that he hoped the great white queen would remember that and send them plenty of the guns which loaded at the bottoms instead of the tops, and boxes of powder and bullets to load them with. then he would be able to fight for her majesty against the other chiefs who hated her, because they were all dogs and sons of shaitan. "roberts, old fellow," whispered bracy, high up on the wall, "i could swear i saw one of those fellows leading the attack made upon us from the cedar grove." "shouldn't be a bit surprised, dear boy. perhaps he has repented and has come to say he is good now and will never do so any more. can you understand any of his lingo?" "not a word. it doesn't seem a bit like hindustani. what's that?" "the colonel asked what was the meaning of the attack made upon us yesterday." "ah, then he knows that fellow?" whispered bracy. "no doubt. the old man's pretty keen, and if that chap means treachery, i'm afraid he didn't get up early enough this morning if he has come to take in old graves." "i'm sure that's one of them. i had him at the end of my binocular, and i know him by that scar on his cheek." "they all seem to have a good deal of cheek," said roberts coolly. "look here; i'd better warn the colonel." "no need, old fellow. he knows what he's about. these niggers are precious cunning, but it's generally little child's deceit, and that's as transparent as a bit of glass. don't be alarmed. old graves can see through any tricks of that kind, and wrayford hasn't been on this station a twelvemonth without picking up a few native wrinkles." "pst! listen to what they're saying." "can't: it's rude," said roberts. "not at a time like this, when perhaps men's and women's lives are at stake." "all right; let's listen, then. what's the boss saying?" "i don't like it, wrayford. these are part of the tribe that tried to destroy us as we came up yesterday, and now they find we have escaped them they want to make friends." "well, we want the tribes to be friendly." "yes, but not with sham friendliness, to lull us into security, and then, after waiting their time, to join their fellows in a general massacre." "i am afraid you are misjudging our visitors here," said colonel wrayford quietly. "i am sure i am not. i swear i saw that dark fellow with the cut on his cheek leading a charge." "there; what did i tell you?" whispered bracy. "and what did i tell you about the old man seeing as far into a millstone as is necessary for being on the safe side?" "yes; and i am glad his observation was so keen." "he's all right, old fellow; but hist! what is it? ah, that's right. wrayford is glad to hear that the chief of the red dwats is so friendly to the queen, and his request for arms and ammunition shall be sent to the proper quarter. now, then, what does he say to that?" one of the interpreters spoke to say that the great chief of the red dwats would camp in the valley above, so as to be close at hand if any of the sons of shaitan who had been molesting the fort before should dare to approach again. they were all gone back now to their own valleys in fear, through his approach, and now the two great english generals and their men might sleep in peace. "thank you. bravo! encore, sambo!" said roberts softly. "going? pray remember me to all at home." "ugh!" raged out bracy below his breath; "if ever treachery was plainly marked upon a smiling, handsome face, it is there in that scoundrel's. roberts, we must never trust these men within our guard." "most certainly not, old fellow; but i suppose we must let them go back in safety, like the noble ambassadors they are." "what is going on now?" said bracy. "why, they're shaking hands with colonel wrayford, english fashion. surely he is not going to trust them?" "seems as if he is," replied roberts softly as the young men stood gazing down at the party below. "perhaps he knows the native character better than we do, and thinks it's all right." "well, i don't," said bracy shortly, "young as i am. those fellows have come as spies, and i'm more and more convinced that they are the set who harassed us as we came." "i begin to think you are right, old man," said roberts. "well, of all--that scoundrel is going to offer to shake hands with graves!" "no, he isn't," replied roberts softly. "doesn't like the look of the old man's eyes. made a sort of shy at him. now they're off, after picking up all that they could about our strength and position. well, it isn't right, perhaps, for us to pull our superior's actions to pieces; but i don't think wrayford is right." "and graves seems to think as you do," said bracy thoughtfully as he watched the departure of the chiefs. "look! those fellows are not missing much with their rolling eyes. i wonder what they think of our lads. the poor fellows don't show up very well against these stout hill-men." "they showed up well enough yesterday," said roberts tartly. "pooh! what has size got to do with it? well, i'm glad they've gone; but i should like to know what they are saying to one another." "talking about the strength of the gates, you may depend, and whether this would be a good place to make their first attack when they come to put the garrison to the sword," said bracy slowly. "well, you are a cheerful sort of a fellow for a companion," said roberts, laughing. "that's what they came for, cheerful or not." "perhaps so; but coming to do a thing and doing it are two different matters. well, the show is over, and we may come down. let's go and see about getting our new quarters a little more ship-shape. i want to see what the men are doing." "not yet," said bracy. "i want to watch these fellows back to their own men, to see what they are about." "you can't tell from this distance." "not much; but my glass is very powerful, and i want to try and judge from their actions what is going on yonder." "all right; i'll stop with you." two-thirds of the guards mounted were dismissed, and soon after, the walls and towers were pretty well deserted. the two young officers remained, however, captain roberts dreamily watching the wondrous panorama of snowy mountains spreading out to the north as far as the eye could reach, while bracy sat with his double glass carefully focussed and resting upon the stone parapet, watching the departing chiefs, who strode away looking proud and haughty, and apparently without holding any communication with one another till they were well on their way, when bracy noted that they suddenly began to talk with a good deal of animation. bracy kept up his watch till they reached their followers, who closed round them in a very excited way. it was just then that roberts roused himself from his reverie. "hullo, there!" he cried; "'most done? can't make out anything, can you?" "yes; there's a regular mob of fighting-men crowding round those fellows, and they're holding a regular meeting." "good little glass. i say, old man, i'll swop with you. mine's a bigger and better-looking binoc. than yours. anything else?" "one of the party--i think it's the one with the scar on his face, but i can't be sure--" "can't you tell him?" "not at this distance." "then i won't swop. it's not such a good glass as i thought. well, what next?" "he's telling his experiences, and the beggars are lancing about, roaring with laughter." "can you see that?" "yes, quite plainly." "then i think i will swop, after all. can't hear what they say, i suppose?" "hardly." "humph! not so good a glass, then, as pat's, that brought the church so near that he could hear the singing. go on." "he's gesticulating. now he's marching up and down stiffly like graves did while the conference was going on." "well, of all the impudence! but no flam: can you really make out all that?" "perfectly. now he is taking off his puggree and pretending to take a handkerchief out and mopping his bald head." "like wrayford does. why, the scoundrel stood as stiff as a poker when he was here and let the others do the talking." "yes, while he was studying his part. now they're laughing again and stamping about and holding their sides. he is going through everything he noted for their amusement, and telling them what absurd-looking people the english are." "oh yes," said roberts; "we're a very humorous lot, we british--very amusing indeed, but best at a distance, for we're rather prickly, and easily induced to make use of our knives. what next?" "the show's over; and look--you can see that?" "what! that flashing in the sunshine?" "yes; every man has drawn his sword and is waving it in the air. he must have said something which excited them." "made 'em all draw and swear that they'd cut us to pieces and fling us in the river, i dare say." "oh, there you are!" cried a familiar voice, and the tall, thin subaltern hurried to their side. "i say, what do you think of that for a fit?" he cried, stopping, and then holding out one foot. "just as if they had been made for me." "if you say any more about them i'll take them away again," said bracy, smiling. "then mum it is, for i wouldn't be so cruel to my poor plantigrades. they haven't been so happy and comfortable for months. watching those dwats?" "i've been doing so," said bracy, closing his glass and returning it to its case. "what do you think of them?" "think they're a set of humbugs. they've come here hunting for information and pretending to be friends; and the worst of it is, old wrayford believes in them." "nonsense! he couldn't be so weak," cried roberts. "oh, couldn't he? but he could. he hasn't been the same man since he was cut down about a month ago. poor old man! he's as brave as a lion still, but he has done several weak things lately which none of us like. what do you think that thick-lipped, black-bearded ruffian proposed?" "i don't know," said bracy eagerly. "to send on a couple of hundred of his cut-throats to help to defend the fort against the enemy." "he proposed that?" cried roberts. "to be sure he did." "but colonel wrayford," said bracy, "he declined, of course--at once?" "no, he didn't. he hesitated, and told your old man that an ally would be so valuable, and that it would not do, hemmed in as we are, to offend a powerful chief who desired to be friendly." "but that's absurd," cried roberts. "of course it is," replied drummond. "the only way to deal with these fellows is to make 'em afraid of you, for they're as treacherous as they are proud. but there, it's all right." "all right, when the senior colonel here temporises with the enemy!" "it was only one of his weak moments. he won't do anything of that kind. he'll talk it over with your old man and think better of it. besides, we shouldn't let him." "oh, come, that's a comfort," said roberts, glancing at bracy, with a twinkle in his eye. "yes, i see," said drummond, "you're chaffing because i bounced a bit; but i'm blessed if you don't have to bounce up here in the mountains if you want to hold your own. i should be nowhere amongst these hill-niggers if i didn't act as if i thought i was the biggest pot under the sun. that's one reason why i was so anxious about my boots. why, if it hadn't been for you two i couldn't have shown my face before that party this morning. i wouldn't have had them see me with my feet bandaged up like they were for anything. it would have been lowering the dignity of her majesty's service in the eyes of the heathen." "of course," said bracy, smiling; "but never mind that. you don't believe in these fellows, then?" "oh yes, i do." "but just now you said--" "what i say now, that they're a set of impostors, pretending to be friendly so as to see what your regiment was like and how the defences looked." "there, roberts!" "all right, dear boy. well, when they come again we must show them our boy-regiment, and how they've improved with the excellent practice we can make in firing." "that's the way," said drummond cheerily. "they'll soon come again with two or three other tribes, for they've all made up their minds to have us out of this old fort, palace, or whatever they call it." "and we shan't go--eh?" said bracy, with a quaint look in his eyes. "most decidedly not," replied drummond. "now then, you're not on duty. come and have a look round. hullo! this is your doctor, isn't it?" "yes," said bracy. "don't like the cut of him," said drummond. "he's doing it again." "doing what?" "same as he did first time we met--last night at the mess--looking me up and down as if thinking about the time when he'll have me to cut up and mend." "well, my dear boys," said the doctor, coming up, rubbing his hands. "ah! mr drummond, i think? met you last night. glad to know you. come, all of you, and have a look at my hospital quarters. splendid place for the lads. light, airy, and cool. they can't help getting well." "but i thought you had no patients, sir," said drummond. "oh yes, two that we brought with us; and if colonel wrayford is willing, i propose that your wounded should be brought across, for it's a far better place than where they are. come on, and i'll show you." "thanks, doctor; i'm just going to see the colonel," said roberts. "that's a pity. you must come without him, then, bracy." "i really can't, doctor; not now. i am going with roberts." "humph! that's unfortunate. mr drummond would like to see, perhaps, how we arrange for our men who are down?" "most happy, doctor--" "hah!" "but i am going with my friends here." "standing on ceremony--eh, gentlemen?" said the doctor, smiling quickly and taking a pinch of snuff. "well, we'll wait a bit. i dare say you will neither of you be so much occupied when you are once brought in to me. i thought perhaps you would like to go over the place first." bracy turned and took hold of the doctor's arm. "all right, doctor," he said, laughing. "you had us there on the hip. i'll come." "what, and keep the colonel waiting?" "we can go there afterwards," said bracy quietly. "come, roberts, you can't hold back now." "not going to, old fellow. there, doctor, i beg your pardon. i'll come." "granted, my dear boy," said the doctor quietly. "there, mr drummond, you'll have to go alone." "not i," said the subaltern, smiling. "i'll come and take my dose with them." "good boy!" said the doctor, smiling. "i suppose you have not had your two patients taken to the hospital yet?" said bracy. "then you supposed wrongly, sir. there they are, and as comfortable as can be." "that's capital," cried bracy, "for i wanted to come and see that poor fellow gedge." "that fits," said the doctor, "for he was asking if you were likely to come to the hospital; but i told him no, for you would be on duty. this way, gentlemen, to my drawing-room, where i am at home night and day, ready to receive my visitors. now, which of you, i wonder, will be the first to give me a call?" "look here, doctor," said roberts, "if you're going to keep on in this strain i'm off." "no, no; don't go. you must see the place. i've a long room, with a small one close by, which i mean to reserve for my better-class patients.--here, you two," he said to the injured privates lying upon a couple of charpoys, "i've brought you some visitors." sergeant gee's wife, whose services had been enlisted as first nurse, rose from her chair, where she was busy with her needle, to curtsey to the visitors; and gedge uttered a low groan as he caught up the light cotton coverlet and threw it over his head. "look at him," said the doctor merrily, and he snatched the coverlet back. "why, you vain peacock of a fellow, who do you think is going to notice the size of your head?" "i, for one," said bracy, smiling. "why, gedge, it is nothing like so big as it was." the lad looked at him as if he doubted his words. "ain't it, sir? ain't it really?" "certainly not." "hoo-roar, then! who cares? if it isn't so big now it's getting better, 'cos it was getting bigger and bigger last night--warn't it, sir?" "yes," said the doctor; "but the night's rest and the long sleep gave the swelling time to subside." "the which, please, sir." "the long sleep," said the doctor tartly. "please, sir, i didn't get no long sleep." "nonsense, man!" "well, you ask him, sir. i never went to sleep--did i, pardner?" "no," said his wounded companion. "we was talking all night when we wasn't saying _hff_! or _oh_! or _oh dear_! or _that's a stinger_!-- wasn't we, gedge, mate?" "that's right, pardner. but it don't matter, sir--do it?--not a bit, as the swelling's going down?" "not a bit," said bracy, to whom this question was addressed. "there, we are not going to stay. make haste, my lad, and get well. i'm glad you are in such good quarters." "thank ye, sir, thank ye. quarters is all right, sir; but i'd rather be in the ranks. so would he--wouldn't you, pardner?" his fellow-sufferer, who looked doubtful at gedge's free-and-easy way of talking, glancing the while at the doctor to see how he would take it, nodded his head and delivered himself of a grunt, as the little party filed out of the long, whitewashed, barn-like room. "a couple of wonderful escapes," said the doctor, "and quite a treat. i've had nothing to see to but cases of fever, and lads sick through eating or drinking what they ought not to. but i dare say i shall be busy now." "thanks, doctor," said roberts as they returned to the great court of the large building. "glad you've got such good quarters for your patients." "thanks to you for coming," replied the doctor; and the parties separated, drummond leading his new friends off to introduce them to some of the anxious, careworn ladies who had accompanied their husbands in the regiment, and of the civil service, who had come up to ghittah at a time when a rising of the hill-tribes was not for a moment expected. on his way he turned with a look of disgust to bracy. "i say," he said, "does your doctor always talk shop like that?" "well, not quite, but pretty frequently--eh, roberts?" the latter smiled grimly. "he's a bit of an enthusiast in his profession, drummond," he said. "very clever man." "oh, is he? well, i should like him better if he wasn't quite so much so. did you see how he looked at me?" "no." "i did. just as if he was turning me inside out, and i felt as if he were going all over me with one of those penny trumpet things doctors use to listen to you with. i know he came to the conclusion that i was too thin, and that he ought to put me through a course of medicine." "nonsense." "oh, but he did. thank goodness, though, i don't belong to your regiment." the young men were very warmly welcomed in the officers' quarters; and it seemed that morning as if their coming had brought sunshine into the dreary place, every worn face beginning to take a more hopeful look. drummond took this view at once, as he led the way back into the great court. "glad i took you in there," he said; "they don't look the same as they did yesterday. just fancy, you know, the poor things sitting in there all day so as to be out of the reach of flying shots, and wondering whether their husbands will escape unhurt for another day, and whether that will be the last they'll ever see." "terrible!" said bracy. "yes, isn't it? don't think i shall ever get married, as i'm a soldier; for it doesn't seem right to bring a poor, tender lady out to such places as this. it gives me the shivers sometimes; but these poor things, they don't know what it will all be when they marry and come out." "and if they did they would come all the same," said roberts bluffly. "well, it's quite right," said bracy thoughtfully. "it's splendidly english and plucky for a girl to be willing to share all the troubles her husband goes through." "so it is," said drummond. "i've always admired it when i've read of such things; and it makes you feel that heroines are much greater than heroes." "it doesn't seem as if heroes were made nowadays," said bracy, laughing. "hullo! where are you taking us?" "right up to the top of the highest tower to pay your respects to the british raj. i helped the colour-sergeant to fix it up there. we put up a new pole twice as high as the old one, so as to make the enemy waxy, and show him that we meant to stay." "all right; we may as well see every place while we're about it." "you can get a splendid lookout over the enemy's camping-ground, too, from up here." "then you still think that these are enemies?" "certain," said drummond; and words were spared for breathing purposes till the flag-pole was reached, and the young subaltern passed his arm round it and stood waiting while his companions took a good long panoramic look. "there you are," he then said. "see that green patch with the snow-pyramid rising out of it?" "yes; not big, is it?" "awful, and steep. that mountain's as big as mont blanc; and from that deodar forest right up the slope is the place to go for bear." "where are the pheasants?" asked roberts, taking out his glass. "oh, in the woods down behind the hills there," said drummond, pointing. "splendid fellows; some of reddish-brown with white spots, and bare heads all blue and with sort of horns. then you come upon some great fellows, the young ones and the hens about coloured like ours, but with short, broad tails. but you should see the cock-birds. splendid. they have grand, greeny-gold crests, ruby-and-purple necks, a white patch on their back and the feathers all about it steely-blue and green, while their broad, short tails are cinnamon-colour." "you seem to know all about them," said bracy, laughing. "shot lots. they're thumpers, and a treat for the poor ladies, when i get any; but it has been getting worse and worse lately. couldn't have a day's shooting without the beggars taking pop-shots at you from the hills. i don't know where we should have been if their guns shot straight." "well, we shall have to drive the scoundrels farther off," said roberts, "for i want some shooting." "bring your gun?" cried drummond, eagerly. "regular battery. so did he; didn't you, bracy?" there was no reply. "bracy, are you deaf?" "no, no," said the young man hurriedly, as he stood in one corner of the square tower, resting his binocular upon the parapet, and gazing through it intently. "see a bear on one of the hills?" said drummond sharply. "no; i was watching that fir-wood right away there in the hollow. are they patches of snow i can see in there among the trees?" "where--where?" cried drummond excitedly. "come and look. the glass is set right, and you can see the exact spot without touching it." bracy made way, and roberts stepped to the other side of the tower and looked over the wide interval to where their visitors of the morning were forming a kind of camp, as if they meant to stay. "phee-ew!" drummond gave a long, low whistle. "snow?" said bracy. "no snow there; at this time of year. that's where some of the enemy are, then--some of those who disappeared so suddenly yesterday. those are their white gowns you can see, and there's a tremendous nest of them." "enemies of our visitors this morning?" "they said so," replied drummond, with a mocking laugh; "but it seems rather rum for them to come and camp so near one another, and neither party to know. doesn't it to you?" "exactly," cried bracy. "they would be sure to be aware, of course." "yes, of course. what idiots they must think us! i'd bet a penny that if we sent out scouts they'd find some more of the beauties creeping down the valleys. well, it's a great comfort to know that this lot on the slope here are friends." "which you mean to be sarcastic?" said bracy. "which i just do. i say, i'm glad i brought you up here, and that you spied out that party yonder. come away down, and let's tell the colonel. he'll alter his opinion then." "and send out a few scouts?" said bracy. drummond shook his head. "doesn't do to send out scouts here." "why?" "they don't come back again." "get picked off?" "yes--by the beggars who lie about among the stones. we have to make sallies in force when we go from behind these walls. but, i say, you two haven't had much fighting, i suppose?" "none, till the bit of a brush as we came here." "like it?" "don't know," said bracy. "it's very exciting." "oh, yes, it's exciting enough. we've had it pretty warm here, i can tell you. i begin to like it now." "you do?" "yes; when i get warm. not at first, because one's always thinking about whether the next bullet will hit you--'specially when the poor fellows get dropping about you; but you soon get warm. it makes you savage to see men you know going down without being able to get a shot in return. then you're all right. you like it then." "humph!" ejaculated bracy, and his brow wrinkled. "but had we not better go down and give the alarm?" "plenty of time. no need to hurry. they're not going to attack; only lying up waiting to see if those beggars who came this morning can do anything by scheming. i fancy they're getting a bit short of lead, for we've had all kinds of rubbish shot into the fort here--bits of iron, nails, stones, and broken bits of pot. we've seen them, too, hunting about among the rocks for our spent bullets. you'll find them very nice sort of fellows, ready to shoot at you with something from a distance to give you a wound that won't heal, and cut at you when they can come to close quarters with tulwars and knives that are sharp as razors. they will heal, for, as our doctor says, they are beautiful clean cuts that close well. never saw the beauty of them, though. he's almost as bad as your old chap for that." "but we had better go down and give the alarm," said bracy anxiously. "none to give," said drummond coolly. "it's only a bit of news, and that's how it will be taken. nothing to be done, but perhaps double the sentries in the weak places. not that they're very weak, or we shouldn't have been hen; when you came." "well, i shall feel more comfortable when my colonel knows--eh, roberts?" "yes," said the latter, who had stood frowning and listening; "and i don't think he will be for sitting down so quietly as your old man." "not yet. be for turning some of them out." "of course." "very spirited and nice; but it means losing men, and the beggars come back again. we used to do a lot of that sort of thing, but of late the policy has been to do nothing unless they attacked, and then to give them all we knew. pays best." "i don't know," said roberts as they were descending fast; "it can't make any impression upon the enemy." "shows them that the english have come to stay," interposed bracy. "yes, perhaps; but they may read it that we are afraid of them on seeing us keep behind walls." a minute or two later the news was borne to headquarters, where the two colonels were in eager conference, and upon hearing it colonel graves leaped up and turned to his senior as if expecting immediate orders for action; but his colleague's face wrinkled a little more, and he said quietly: "then that visit was a mere _ruse_ to put us off our guard and give them an opportunity for meeting the fresh odds with which they have to contend." "of course it was," said colonel graves firmly. "well, there is nothing to be alarmed about; they will do nothing till they have waited to see whether we accept the offer of admitting as friends a couple of hundred ghazees within the gates.--thank you, gentlemen, for your information. there is no cause for alarm." the young officers left their two seniors together, and as soon as they were alone drummond frowned. "poor old colonel!" he said sadly; "he has been getting weaker for days past, and your coming has finished him up. don't you see?" "no," said bracy sharply. "what do you mean?" "he has colonel graves to lean on now, and trust to save the ladies and the place. i shouldn't be surprised to see him give up altogether and put himself in the doctor's hands. well, you fellows will help us to do the work?" "yes," said bracy quickly, "come what may." "we're going to learn the art of war in earnest now, old chap," said roberts as soon as they were alone again. "seems like it." "yes. i wonder whether we shall take it as coolly as this young drummond." "i wonder," said bracy; "he's an odd fish." "but i think i like him," said roberts. "like him?" replied bracy. "i'm sure i do." chapter nine. warm corners and cold. it was a glorious day, with the air so bright, elastic, and inspiriting that the young officers of the garrison felt their position irksome in the extreme. for the colonel's orders were stringent. the limits allowed to officer or man outside the walls were very narrow, and all the time hill, mountain, forest, and valley were wooing them to come and investigate their depths. it was afternoon when roberts, bracy, and drummond, being off duty, had strolled for a short distance along the farther side of the main stream, and paused at last in a lovely spot where a side gorge came down from the hills, to end suddenly some hundred feet above their heads; and from the scarped rock the stream it brought down made a sudden leap, spread out at first into drops, which broke again into fine ruin, and reached the bottom like a thick veil of mist spanned by a lovely rainbow. the walls of rock, bedewed by the ever-falling water, were a series of the most brilliant greens supplied by the luxuriant ferns and mosses, while here and there, where their seeds had found nourishment in cleft and chasm, huge cedars, perfect in their pyramidal symmetry, rose spiring up to arrow-like points a hundred, two hundred feet in the pure air. flowers dotted the grassy bottom; birds flitted here and there, and sang. there was the delicious lemony odour emitted by the deodars, and a dreamy feeling of its being good to live there always amidst so much beauty; for other music beside that of birds added to the enhancement-- music supplied by the falling waters, sweet, silvery, tinkling, rising and falling, mingling with the deep bass of a low, humming roar. the three young men had wandered on and on along a steep track, more than once sending the half-wild, goat-like sheep bounding away, and a feeling of annoyance was strong upon them, which state of feeling found vent in words, drummond being the chief speaker. "i don't care," he said; "it's just jolly rot of your old man. wrayford was bad enough, but old graves is a tyrant. he has no business to tie us down so." "there's the enemy still in the hills," said roberts. "yes, but whacked, and all the other tribes ready to follow the example of those fellows who have come down to make peace and fight against the rest who hold out. they're not fools." "not a bit of it," said bracy. "they're as keen as men can be; but i shouldn't like to trust them." "nor i," said roberts. "they're too keen." "there you are," said drummond petulantly. "that's the englishman all over. you fellows keep the poor beggars at a distance, and that makes them wild when they want to be friends. if every one had acted in that spirit, where should we have been all through india?" "same place as we are now," said bracy, laughing. "right, old fellow," said roberts. "we've conquered the nation, and the people feel that they're a conquered race, and will never feel quite reconciled to our rule." "well, i don't know," said bracy. "i'm not very well up in these matters, but i think there are hundreds of thousands in india who do like our rule; for it is firm and just, and keeps down the constant fighting of the past." "bother!" cried drummond pettishly: "there's no arguing against you two beggars. you're so pig-headed. never mind all that. these thingamy dwats have come down to make peace--haven't they?" "you thought otherwise," said bracy, laughing. "but, by the way, if we two are pig-headed, aren't you rather hoggish--hedge-hoggish? i never met such a spiky young scot before." "scotland for ever!" cried drummond, tossing his pith helmet in the air and catching it again. "by all means," said bracy. "scotland for ever! and if the snow-peaks were out of sight wouldn't this be just like a scottish glen?" "just," said roberts, and drummond looked pleased. "here, how am i to speak if you boys keep on interrupting?" he said. "speak on, my son," said bracy. "well, i was going to say these fellows have come down like a deputation to see if we will be friends; and if we show that we will, i think now that all the rest will follow in the course of a few weeks, and there will be peace." "and plenty?" said bracy. "of course." "no, my boy; you're too sanguine, and don't understand the hill-man's character." "seen more of it than you have," said drummond. "possibly; but i think you're wrong." "oh, very well, then, we'll say i'm wrong. but never mind that. we've done the fighting; the niggers are whopped, and here we are with the streams whispering to us to come and fish, the hills to go and shoot, and the forests and mountains begging us to up and bag deer, bear, and leopard. i shouldn't be at all surprised even if we came upon a tiger. they say there is one here and there." "it is tempting," said bracy. "i long for a day or two's try at something." "even if it's only a bit of a climb up the ice and snow," put in roberts. "all in turn," said drummond. "well, then, when we go back to mess this evening, let's get some of the other fellows to back us up and petition graves to give us leave." "no good," said roberts; "i know him too well. i have asked him." "and what did he say?" cried drummond eagerly. "as soon as ever i can feel that it is safe," said bracy. "i was there." "oh!" cried drummond. "he's right," said roberts. "i don't believe that we can count upon these people yet." "then let's have a thoroughly good fight, and whack them into their senses. we're sent up here to pacify these tribes, and i want to see it done." "so do we," said bracy; "but it must take time." "don't believe that any one else thinks as you do," said drummond sulkily; and they toiled on in silence till they came near the side of the falling water, whose rush was loud enough to drown their approach; and here they all seated themselves on the edge of the mere shelf of rock, trampled by many generations of sheep, dangled their legs over the perpendicular side, and listened to the music of the waters, as they let their eyes wander over the lovely landscape of tree, rock, and fall. the scene was so peaceful that it was hard to believe that they were in the valley through whose rugged mazes the warlike tribes had streamed to besiege the fort; and bracy was just bending forward to pick a lovely alpine primula, when he sniffed softly and turned to whisper to his companions. "do you smell that?" he said. "eh? oh, yes; it's the effect of the warm sunshine on the fir-trees." "'tisn't," said drummond, laughing. "it's bad, strong tobacco. there!" he said as the loud scratch of a match on a piece of stone rose from just beneath their feet, as if to endorse his words, and the odour grew more pronounced and the smoke visible, rising from a tuft of young seedling pines some twenty feet below. "here, wake up, pardners," cried a familiar voice. "you're both asleep." "i wasn't," said a voice. "nor i," said another; "only thinking." "think with your eyes open, then. i say, any more of these niggers coming in to make peace?" "s'pose so. the colonel's going to let a lot of 'em come in and help do duty in the place--isn't he?" "ho, yus! certainly. of course! and hope you may get it. when old graves has any of these white-cotton-gowny-diers doing sentry-go in ghittah, just you come and tell me. wake me up, you know, for i shall have been asleep for about twenty years." "he will. you see if he don't." "yah! never-come-never," cried gedge. "can't yer see it's all a dodge to get in the fort. they can't do it fair fighting, so they're beginning to scheme. let 'em in? ho, yus! didn't you see the colonel put his tongue in his cheek and say, `likely'?" "no," said one of gedge's companions, "nor you neither." "can't say i did see; but he must have done." the officers had softly drawn up their legs and moved away so as not to play eavesdropper, but they could not help hearing the men's conversation thus far; and as soon as they had climbed out of earshot so as to get on a level with the top of the fall, where they meant to try and cross the stream, descend on the other side, and work their way back, after recrossing it at its exit into the river, bracy took up the conversation again. "there," he said to drummond, "you heard that?" "oh yes, i heard: but what do these fellows know about it?" "they think," said bracy, "and--i say," he whispered; "look!" he pointed upward, and his companions caught sight of that which had taken his attention. "what are those two fellows doing there?" whispered roberts. "scouting, evidently," said bracy. "i saw their arms." "so did i," replied roberts. "let's get back at once, and pick up those lads as we go. one never knows what may come next. there may be mischief afloat instead of peace." at that moment drummond gave bracy a sharp nudge, and jerked his head in another direction. "more of them," said bracy gravely; "yes, and more higher up. well, this doesn't look friendly." "no," said roberts. "look sharp; they haven't seen us. let's get back and take in the news." it was a difficult task for the three young englishmen to compete with men trained as mountaineers from childhood; but the living game of chess had to be played on the dwats' own ground; and for a short time the party of officers carefully stole from rock to rock and from patch of trees to patch of trees till roberts stopped short. "no good," he said softly. "i feel sure that the beggars are watching us." "yes," said bracy; "they have the advantage of us from being on the high ground. let's go on openly and as if in perfect ignorance of their being near." by this time the young officers were on the farther side of the stream, below the falls, with it between them and the men they wished to turn back and take with them to the fort. "what do you propose doing now?" asked drummond. "i'll show you," replied roberts, and, parting the underwood, he threaded his way till he was close to the deep gully down which the water from the falls raced; and then selecting the most open spot he could, he placed his whistle to his lips and blew. the rallying whistle rose up the mountain-slope towards the falls, like the note of some wild bird startled from its lair among the moist depths of the gully. to their great delight, the call had instant effect; for, unwittingly, they had made their way to where they halted just level with the party of their men who were not forty yards away. consequently, before the note had died away the voice of gedge was plainly heard. "i say, boys," he cried, "that's a whistle." "nobody said it was a bugle," was the laughing reply. "but it means cease firing," said gedge. "that it don't, stoopid, for no one's shooting. get out! only some kind o' foreign bird." "i don't care; it is," cried gedge. "way ho! any one there?" "yes, my lads," cried roberts; "make for the fort at once. follow the stream down to the river, and join us there. quick! danger!" there was a sharp rustling sound as of men forcing their way downward on each side of the gully, and the next minute, as the place grew lighter, consequent upon the trees being absent for a space of about, a dozen yards, there was the sharp whiz as of some great beetle darting across, followed by the report of a gun, which was magnified by echoes which died away into the distance. "forward!" cried roberts. "steady! don't make a stampede of it. keep to all the cover you can." necessary advice, for the whiz of a second roughly-made bullet, seeking but not finding its billet, was heard, followed by a smothered report. "i say, this is nice," said drummond: "and you two seem to be right. i don't like it at all." "well, it's not pleasant," said roberts, smiling. "pleasant? no. these people may not mean war, but only sport. they're beating this part of the valley." "and routing us up," said drummond, "as if we were pheasants. i say; i wonder whether pheasants feel the same as i do when they're beginning to be driven to the end of a spinney?" "don't know," said roberts shortly; "but i'm glad we came." "oh! are you?" said drummond. "well, i'm not. a little of this sniping goes a very long way with me." "ditto," said roberts shortly. then, aloud, "how are you getting on there, my lads?" "oh, fairly, sir, and--phew! that was close!" for a bullet whizzed by the speaker's ear. "keep under cover. steady!" said the captain; and then the cautious descent of the steep slope--more of a passage by hands as well as feet than a steady walk down--was kept up, and diversified in the most unpleasant way by shots, till the rocky shallow where the stream dashed into the main river was reached. here the deep gully, down which the stream ran, had grown shallower till it debouched, with the valley on either side reduced to a dead level and the banks only a foot or so above the surface of the rushing water, which only reached to the officers' knees when they stepped in. but, unfortunately, the last of the cover had been passed, and a couple of shots reminded the party of the danger they ran. "here y'are, sir," cried gedge, reaching out his hand to bracy and helping him out. "oh! why ain't i got my rifle?" "don't talk," cried bracy as his companions leaped, dripping, out of the stream. "no; open out and follow, my lads," cried roberts. "forward! double!" "ugh!" grunted gedge to his nearest comrade; "and they'll think we're running away." "so we are, mate." "yah! only our legs. i ain't running. think i'd cut away from one o' them black-looking, bed-gown biddies? yah! go back and send yer clothes to the wash." the retiring party had separated well, so as not to present too good a mark for the enemy, whose practice was far from bad. for the stones were struck close to them again and again, and leaves and twigs were cut from the low growth which here fringed the bank of the river, always in close proximity to where the party ran, and teaching them that not only were the hill-men who fired good shots, but many in number, the high, precipitous ascent to the left being evidently lined with concealed scouts. "forward there!" shouted bracy suddenly, for gedge began to slacken and hang back. "beg pardon, sir," puffed the lad; "wouldn't you rayther lead?" "forward, you scoundrel!" cried roberts angrily; and gedge darted back into the position in which he had been running before, with his two companions, the officers having kept behind. "getting pumped, pardner?" said his comrade on the left. "pumped! me pumped!" said gedge derisively. "hor, hor! why, i feel as if i'd on'y jus' begun to stretch my legs. go on like this for a week to git a happy-tight. but orsifers ought to lead." "advancing, matey," said the man on the right. "fust inter action; last out, you know." "ho, yus; i know," grumbled gedge; "but 'tain't fair: they get all the best o' everything. here, i say, look out, laddies. we're getting among the wild bees, ain't us? hear 'em buzz?" "yes; and we shall have one of 'em a-stinging on us directly. there goes another." for bullet after bullet came buzzing by the flying party's ears, but still without effect. "i say," cried gedge; "keep shying a hye back now and then to see if the gents is all right." "no need," said the man on his left. "we should know fast enough." meanwhile the three officers had settled down behind to a steady double, and kept on their conversation as if in contemptuous disregard of the enemy hidden high among the patches of wood to their left. "thought they were better shots," said bracy. "nothing has come near us yet." "quite near enough," growled roberts. "don't you holloa till you're out of the wood," said drummond; "they can make splendid practice at a mark not moving; but it's not easy work to hit a running man." "so it seems," said bracy coolly. "here, i've been thinking that we must have passed a lot of these fellows as we came along," said roberts. "not a doubt of it," said bracy; "fresh ones keep taking up the firing. we're regularly running the gauntlet. surely they'll soon hear this firing at, the fort." "hope so," said roberts. "we ought to have known that, the beggars had advanced like this." "well, we have found out now," cried drummond. "i say, you two; this means that the war has broken out in real earnest. but i say,"--he stopped suddenly. "say on," said bracy merrily; "we can't stay to listen to your speech." "what a fellow you are!" cried the subaltern. "i can't cut jokes at a time like this. i was going to say--phee-ew--that was close! i felt the wind of that bullet as it passed my face." "miss is as good as a mile," said bracy cheerily. "we shall be having men out on the opposite bank before long, ready to cover us; and they will not have running objects to aim at. they'll soon crush out this sniping." "hope so," said drummond; "but i say--" "well, let's have it this time," cried roberts. "all right," panted drummond; "if i go down, don't stop for a moment, but get on. the relief can come and pick me up. i shall creep into cover, if i can." "yes," said roberts coolly--"if you can. now, just look here, my lad; you want all your breath to keep your machinery going; you've none to spare to teach us our duty." "well said, rob," cried bracy. "just as if it's likely. but you'd better go down! i should like to see you!" crash! in the midst of some bushes, as a single shot succeeded a spattering fire, and one of the privates went down just ahead. "almost got your wish, bracy. wrong man down." as roberts spoke he and bracy dashed to where two of the privates had pulled up to aid their comrade, who had pitched head first into the clump of growth ahead of where he was running. "don't say you've got it badly, gedge," cried bracy huskily, helping the men as they raised the lad, who stared from one to the other in a half-dazed way. "_habet_," muttered roberts, with his face contracting. "eh?" panted the lad at last, as he tried to pull himself together. "here--where is it?" cried drummond excitedly. "where are you hurt?" "oh, my toe!" cried the lad. "ketched it on a stone outer sight, sir. my! i did go down a rum un." "not wounded?" cried bracy joyfully. "not me, sir! yah! they can't shoot. here, i say, mateys, where's my bay'net? there it is." gedge limped to where it lay with the hilt just visible amongst the shrubs, and he made a dart to get it, but overrated his powers. he seized the bayonet from where it had been jerked by his fall, but went down upon his face in the act, and when raised again he looked round with a painful grin upon his lips. "got a stone in my foot, p'raps, gen'lemen," he said. "carry him!" said roberts briefly; and the men were lowering their arms to take the poor fellow between them, but he protested loudly. "no, no; i can walk, sir," he cried. "one o' them just give me an arm for a bit. leg's a bit numbed, that's all. look out, mates. bees is swarming fast." for the enemy had stationary marks for their bullets now, and they were falling very closely around. "in amongst the trees there," cried roberts; and the shelter ahead was gained, gedge walking by the help of one of his comrades, and then crouching with the rest. but the shelter was too slight, and it became evident that they were seen from the shelves and niches occupied by the enemy, for the bullets began to come thickly, sending leaves and twigs pattering down upon the halting party's heads. "we must get on," said roberts after an anxious look out ahead. "all right," said bracy. "we may leave the scoundrels behind." "behind, sir? yus, sir," cried gedge, who had caught the last word. "you go on, sir, and i'll lie down here till you sends some of the lads to fetch me in." "what's left of him," thought bracy, "after the brutes have been at him with their knives." "can you walk at all?" said roberts quietly. gedge rose quickly. "yus, sir," he cried. "there, it aren't half so bad now. felt as if i hadn't got no foot at all for a time. hurts a bit, sir. here, i'm all right." roberts looked at him keenly without speaking. then he cried: "rise quickly at the word; take two paces to the right, and drop into cover again. make ready. attention!" the little manoeuvre was performed, and it had the expected result. a scattered volley of twenty or thirty shots made the twigs about them fly, the fire of the enemy being drawn--the fire of old-fashioned, long-barrelled matchlocks, which took time to reload and prime. "forward!" cried roberts again, and at a walk the retreat was continued, the captain keeping close beside gedge, who marched in step with his comrades, though with a marked limp, which he tried hard to conceal. after a brief pause the firing started again, but fortunately the growth upon the river-bank began to get thicker, hiding them from their foes; though, on the other hand, it grew unmistakably plain that more and more of the enemy were lying in wait, so that the position grew worse, for the rushing river curved in towards the occupied eminences on the retiring party's left. "beg pardon, sir," cried gedge suddenly; "i can double now." "silence, my lad! keep on steadily." "but i can, sir," cried the man. "i will." "try him," whispered bracy. "double!" cried roberts; and the retreat went on, gedge trotting with the rest, but in the most unmilitary style, for he threw his head back, doubled his fists in close to his sides, and, squaring his elbows, went on as if engaged in a race. "looks as if he were running for a wager," said drummond. "he is," said bracy coldly. "we all are--for our lives." the way they were about to go had now so markedly come towards the face of a precipice, from which puffs of smoke kept appearing, that it was evident something fresh must be done, or the end would lie very near, no mercy being expected from the foe; and as they went on bracy kept turning his eyes to the right, seeking in vain for a glimpse of the rushing river, now hidden from their sight by tree and rock, though its musical roar kept striking plainly upon their ears. "rob, old chap," he suddenly cried, "we must get down to the water, and try to cross." "yes," said roberts abruptly. "i've been thinking so. it's our only chance, and i've been waiting for an opening." "we must not wait," said bracy. "it's chance, and we must chance it." "halt! right face, forward!" as roberts spoke he sprang to the front in one of the densest parts, where a wilderness of bush and rock lay between them and the river, and led on, with his companions following in single file; while, as perforce they moved slowly, they had the opportunity to regain their breath, and listened with a feeling of satisfaction to the firing which was kept up by the enemy upon the portion of the bosky bank where they were supposed to be still running. "wish they'd use all their powder," said drummond breathlessly. "why?" said bracy. "they've no bayonets." "only tulwars and those horrible knives--eh?" said bracy harshly. "ugh!" ejaculated drummond. "you're right; but if they came to close quarters we could take it out of some of the brutes before we were done for. it's horrible to be doing nothing but run till you're shot down." "not shot down yet, old fellow. there, don't talk; we may get across." "may!" muttered drummond. "but, my word! how they are firing yonder! they're beginning to think we're hiding, and are trying to start us running again." "will you leave off talking!" cried bracy angrily. "here, gedge, how are you getting on?" "splendid, sir. i could do anything if the pavement warn't so rough." "in much pain?" "pretty tidy, sir. sort o' bad toothache like in my left ankle. beg pardon, sir; are we going to wade the river?" "going to try, my lad." "that's just what'll set me up again. had a sprained ankle once afore, and i used to sit on a high stool with my foot in the back-kitchen sink under the tap." "cold water cure--eh, my lad?" said drummond, smiling. "that's right, sir." "steady there!" came from the front, where the leaders were hidden from those behind. "steep rock-slope here." a rush and the breaking of twigs. "some one down," cried bracy excitedly. "any one hurt?" splash! and the sound of a struggle in the water. bracy dashed forward, forcing his way past the two men, his heart beating wildly as he reached the spot from whence the sound came. "all right," cried roberts from below; and, peering down through a tangle of overhanging bushes, bracy saw his leader standing breast-high in foaming water, holding on by a branch and looking up at him. "i fell. unprepared. you can all slide down. lower yourselves as far as you can, and then let go." the distance was about thirty feet, and the descent not perpendicular. "you go next," said bracy to one of the men. "you can't hurt, it's only into water." "let me, sir," cried gedge. "silence," said bracy sternly, and he watched anxiously as the man he had spoken to set his teeth, made his way to the edge of the rock, lowered himself by holding on to some of the bushes through which roberts had suddenly fallen, and then let go. hush--splash! and bracy saw him standing in the water opposite to his captain. "next, gedge," said bracy. gedge sprang forward as if his leg were uninjured, lowered himself down till his head was out of sight of those behind, and then, muttering the words of the old school game, "here comes my ship full sail, cock warning!" he let go, glided down, made his splash, and the next minute was standing beyond roberts, holding on, for the pressure of the rushing water was great. the others followed rapidly, bracy last, and feeling as if he had suddenly plunged into liquid ice, so intensely cold was the water, which reached nearly to his chin. he glanced outward to get a dim peep of the river they were about to try and cross, and another chill ran through him, for it was like standing face to face with death, the surface eastward being one race of swirling and rushing foam, dotted here and there by masses of rock. there was a few moments' anxious pause, and, above the hissing rush of the water, the echoing crack, crack, crack of the enemies' jezails reached their ears, but sounding smothered and far away. then roberts spoke: "you can swim, drummond?" "yes, in smooth water," was the reply. "i don't know about cascades." "you've got to, my lad," said roberts shortly. "what about your men? you can, i know, gedge." "yes, sir." "you others?" "i can swim a few strokes, sir," said one. "never was no water, sir, where i was," replied the other. "a few strokes!" cried roberts fiercely. "no water! shame on you, lads! no one who calls himself a man ought, to be in a position to say such a thing. well, we'll do our best. don't cling, or you'll drown us as well." "i can get one on 'em across like a shot, sir," cried gedge excitedly. "silence!" cried roberts. "but i done drowning-man resky, sir, in victory park lots o' times." "then rescue the drowning-man with the injured leg--yourself," said roberts, smiling--"if it comes to the worst. draw swords, gentlemen. i'll lead. you take hold of my sword, my lad, and take fast grip of mr drummond's hand. drummond, hold out your sword to gedge. gedge, take mr bracy's hand. bracy, you can extend your sword to the last. we may be able to wade. if not we must go with the stream, and trust to the rocks. each man who reaches a shallow can help the rest. ready? forward!" chapter ten. a nice walk. "halt!" cried roberts in a low tone of voice; for, as he gave the order to advance for the attempt to ford the river, a fresh burst of firing arose from what seemed to be nearer, and he hesitated to lead his companions out into the rushing flood and beyond the shelter of the overhanging trees. "it is like exposing ourselves to being shot down while perfectly helpless, old fellow," he said, with his lips close to bracy's ear. "but we can't stay here: they'll track us to where you fell, and see the broken branches overhead. what then?" said bracy. "right; we shall be easy marks for the brutes. now, then, forward!" without hesitation this time, and with his following linked in accordance with his orders, roberts began to wade, facing the rushing water and leaning towards it as it pressed against his breast, to divide it, forming a little wave which rushed by to right and left. step followed step taken sidewise, and at the third he and the private following him stood out clear of the overhanging growth, so that he could see plainly the task that was before him. it was enough to startle the strongest man, for there were about fifty yards of a rushing torrent to stem, as it swept icily cold along the river's rocky bed, and already the pressure seemed greater than he could bear, while he felt that if the water rose higher he would be perfectly helpless to sustain its force. but a sharp glance upward and downward showed him spots where the water foamed and leaped, and there he knew that the stream must be shallower; in fact, in two places he kept on catching sight of patches of black rock which were bared again and again. setting his teeth hard, and making the first of these his goal, he stepped on cautiously, this choice of direction, being diagonally up-stream, necessarily increasing the distance to be traversed, but lessening the pressure upon the little linked-together line of men. "we shall never do it," thought bracy as, in his turn, he waded out into the open stream, his arms well extended and his companions on either side gazing up-stream with a peculiar strained look about their eyes. but there was no sign of flinching, no hesitation; every man was full of determination, the three privates feeling strengthened by being linked with and thus sharing the danger with their officers; while roberts, as leader, felt, however oppressed by the sense of all that depended upon him, invigorated by the knowledge that he must reach that shallow place. once he had his men there, they could pause for a few minutes' rest before making the next step. on he pressed, left shoulder forward, against the rushing waters; feeling moment by moment that the slightest drag from the next man must make him lose his footing, to be swept downward, with the result that if the links of the chain were not broken asunder there would be pluck, pluck, pluck, one after the other, and they would be all swept down the torrent. had he allowed his imagination free way, he would have let it picture the result--so many ghastly figures, battered out of recognition, found somewhere, miles away perhaps, among the blocks of stone in the shallows of the defile. but the stern man within him kept the mastery; and he went on a few inches at a time, edging his way along, with the water deepening, so that he was ready to pause. but he felt that hesitation would be fatal; and, pressing on, his left foot went down lower than ever, making him withdraw it and try to take a longer stride. "it's all over," he thought, in his desperation; but even as the thought flashed through his brain he found that he reached bottom again, having passed a narrow gully, and his next and next, strides were into shallower water; while, toiling hard, he was in a minute only waist-deep, dragging his companions after him, and aiding them, so that they all stood together a third of the way across, with the rushing stream only knee-deep. "five minutes for faking breath," he cried, "and then on again for that white patch where the water is foaming." no one else spoke, but all stood panting and not gazing up-stream or at the farther shore, with its rocks, trees, and ample cover, but throwing the pressure of every nerve, as it were, into their hearing, and listening for sounds of the enemy only to be heard above the roar of the water. for the firing had ceased, and one and all felt that this meant an advance on the part of the hill-men, who would be sweeping the wooded valley right to the river-bank, ready at any moment to open fire again; while now it would be upon the unprotected group part of the way towards mid-stream. "forward!" cried roberts; and, with their grip tightening, the little party followed their captain as he once more edged off to the left, performing his former evolution, and, to his delight, finding that the stone-bestrewn polished bottom never once deepened after the first few steps, which took him waist-deep, and kept about the same level, the result being that the next halt was made where the river was roughest, tossing in waves churned up as it was by the masses of rock in its way, a group lying just below the surface, with the water deepening behind them, so that the party had once more to stand breast-high, but in an eddy, the rocks above taking off the pressure which in the shallows had threatened to sweep them away. the water was numbing, and the leader felt that their pause before recommencing their efforts must be very short; but he was face to face with the most difficult part of their transit, for it was only too plain that this last portion ran swift and deep, the bold, steady rush suggesting a power which he knew instinctively that he would not be able to stem, and he looked downward now to see what was below in the only too probable event of their being swept away. as he turned to gaze upward again he caught bracy's eyes fixed upon him inquiringly; but he paid no heed, though he did not for the moment read them aright, the idea being that his brother officer was mutely asking him if he thought he could do it. he grasped bracy's meaning the next minute, for he heard that which had reached bracy's ears. it was a shout from the woody bank they had left, as if one of the enemy had made a discovery, followed by answering cries, and all knew now that their foes were close upon their track, and that at any moment they might be discovered and fire be opened upon them. "forward!" cried roberts, and once more he set off, to be again agreeably surprised, for the water did not deepen in the least as he moved from out of the eddy, being still about breast-deep, with very little variation, the bottom being swept clear of stones and literally ground smooth by the constant passage over it of the fragments borne down from the glaciers in the north. but before many steps had been taken, and the little chain was extended to its extreme limit, roberts knew that disaster was imminent. for it was impossible to stand against the dense, heavy rush of water, bear against it as he would. he shouted back to his companions to bear against the pressure, and strove his best, but all in vain. at one and the same moment the double calamity came: there was a shot from out of the patch of forest they had left, and the leader was lifted from his feet. then pluck, pluck, pluck, as if mighty hands had seized them, the men in turn were snatched from their positions, and with a scattered fire opened upon them from among the trees, they were being swept rapidly down-stream. roberts shouted an order or two, and discipline prevailed for a space, the links of the chain remaining unbroken; but even the greatest training could not hold it together for long at such a time, and the non-swimmers were the first to go under and quit their hold, rolling over with the tremendous rush of the stream, and rising again, to snatch wildly at the nearest object, and in two cases to hamper the unfortunate who was within reach. "_sauve qui peut_," muttered bracy a's he glided along, with his sword hanging from his wrist by the knot; but his actions contradicted his thoughts, for instead of trying to save himself he turned to the help of drummond, to whom one of the men was clinging desperately, and the very next minute he felt a hand clutch at his collar and grip him fast. the rattle of firing was in his ears, and then the thundering of the water, as he was forced below the surface into the darkness; but he did not lose his presence of mind. he let himself go under, and then, with a few vigorous strokes, rose to the surface, with the man clinging to him behind, and wrenched himself round in his effort to get free. he was only partially successful, though; and, panting heavily, he swam with his burden, just catching sight of drummond in a similar position to himself, many yards lower down the stream. "let go," he shouted to the man. "let go, and i'll save you." but the man's nerve was gone, and he only clung the tighter and made a drowning-man's effort to throw his legs about his officer's. "help! help!" he gasped, and a desperate struggle ensued, during which both went beneath the surface again, only to rise with bracy completely crippled, for the poor drowning wretch had been completely mastered by his intense desire for life, and arms and legs were now round his officer in the death-grip. bracy cast a wild, despairing look round as he was borne rapidly along, and all seemed over, when a head suddenly came into sight from behind them, an arm rose above the surface, and the swimmer to whom it belonged drove his fist with a dull smack right on the drowning-man's ear, and with strange effect. it was as if the whole muscular power had been instantaneously discharged like so much electricity at the touch of a rod, the horrible clinging grasp ceased, and with a feeble effort bracy shook himself free and began to swim. "a jolly idgit!" panted a voice; "a-holding on to yer orficer like that! want to drown him? can you keep up, sir?" "yes, i think so," said bracy weakly. "that's right, sir. you'll do it. i'll give yer a 'and if yer can't. it's easy enough if yer swim with the stream." "can you keep him up?" said bracy more vigorously. "oh yus, sir; i can manage to keep him on his back and his nose out o' the water. knocked him silly." "where are the others?" "there they are, sir, ever so far along. the captain's got old parry, and mr drummond's swimming to his side to help him. you'll _do_ it now, sir. slow strokes wins. feel better?" "yes. i was half-strangled." "then it's all right, sir." "but the enemy?" panted bracy, trying to look round. "never you mind them, sir. they're far enough off now, and can only get a shot now and then. river windles so. we're going ever so much faster than they can get through the woods. ain't this jolly, sir? done my ankle a sight o' good. i allus did like the water, on'y sojers' togs ain't made to swim in." "i can't see any one in pursuit," said bracy at the end of a minute. "don't you keep trying to look, sir. you've got enough to do to swim." "i'm getting right again now, gedge, and i think i can help you." "what! to keep him up, sir? i don't want no help while he's like this; but if he comes to again and begins his games you might ketch him one in the ear. chaps as thinks they're drowning is the silliest old idgits there is. 'stead o' keeping still and their pads under water, they shoves them right up to try and ketch hold o' the wind or anything else as is near. 'spose they can't help it, though. hullo! look yonder, sir. rocks and shaller water. think we could get right across now?" for a shout now reached them from fifty yards or so lower down, where their three companions in misfortune were standing knee-deep in mid-stream, and a rugged mass of rocks rose to divide the river and towered up twenty or thirty feet, forming a little rugged island about twice as long. bracy's spirits, which were very low, rose now at the sight of roberts and drummond helping the other private up into safety, and turning directly to offer them the same aid if they could manage to get within reach. "keep it up, sir," cried gedge, who was swimming hard, "or we shall be swep' one way or t'other. it'll be nigh as a touch, for the water shoots off jolly swift." bracy had needed no telling, and he exerted all his strength to keep so that they might strike the shallows where the island was worn by the fierce torrent to a sharp edge, for to swim a foot or two to the left meant being carried towards the side of the enemy, while to the right was into swifter water rushing by the island with increased force. "stick to it, sir," cried gedge. "side-stroke, sir. no fear o' not keeping afloat. that's your sort. we shall do it. ah!" gedge's last cry was one of rage and disappointment, for, in spite of their efforts, just as they seemed to be within a few feet of the point at which they aimed, they found themselves snatched as it were by the under-current, and, still holding to their half-drowned companion, they would have been carried past but for a brave effort made by roberts, who was prepared for the emergency. by stepping out as far as he dared, holding by drummond's long arm, and reaching low, he caught gedge's extended hand. the shock was sharp, and he went down upon his face in the water; but drummond held on, the little knot of struggling men swung round to the side, and in another minute they were among the rocks, where they regained their feet, and drew the insensible private up on to dry land. "that was near," said roberts, who was breathless from exertion. "hurt, drummond?" "oh no, not at, all," was the laughing reply. "i never did lie on the rack, having my arms torn out of the sockets; but it must have been something like this." "i'm very sorry," cried roberts. "oh, i'm not, old man. how are you, bracy--not hit?" "no, no; i shall be all right directly. thank you, old chaps, for saving us. never mind me; try and see to this poor fellow. i'm afraid he's drowned." "no, sir; he ain't, sir," cried gedge; "he's coming round all right. it's more that crack in the ear i give him than the water. i hit him as hard as i could. there! look, gents; his eyes is winking." it was as the lad said; the unfortunate non-swimmer's eyelids were quivering slightly, and at the end of a minute he opened them widely and stared vacantly at the sunny sky. the officers were bending over him, when they received a broad hint that their position was known, a couple of shots being fired from the farther bank, higher up-stream, one of which struck the rock above them and splintered off a few scraps, which fell pattering down. "quick!" cried roberts. "we must get those two along here for a bit. the high part will shelter us then; but as soon as possible we must have another try for the shore." the shelter was soon reached, and all crouched together in the sunshine, with the water streaming from them, the officers busily scanning the bank of the rushing river opposite, and calculating the possibility of reaching it. there was plenty of cover, and very little likelihood of the enemy crossing the river in its swollen state; but there was that mad nice some twenty yards wide to get over with two helpless men; and at last roberts spoke in a low tone to his companions. "i can't see how it's to be done, boys. i dare say we four could reach the bank somewhere; but we're heavily handicapped by those two who can't swim." "and there isn't time to teach them now," said drummond sardonically. "and we can't leave them," said bracy. "what's to be done?" gedge was eager to offer a suggestion upon the slightest encouragement, and this he obtained from roberts, who turned to him. "how's the sprain, my lad?" "bit stiff, sir; that's all," was the reply. "water done it a lot o' good." "think you could drop down with the stream and land somewhere near the fort to tell them how we're pressed?" "dessay i could, sir; but don't send me, please." "why?" asked roberts and bracy in a breath. gedge gave them a comical look, and waved his hand in the direction of his comrades. "we all come out together to have what we called a nice little walk, sir, and a look at that there waterfall, as turned out to be farther off than we reckoned on. i shouldn't like to cut off and leave 'em in the lurch, sir." "lurch? nonsense, my lad," said bracy. "you would be going on a very risky errand to try and save us all." "yes, sir; o' course, sir; but i could get one of 'em over that little bit if you three gents could manage t'other. they'll be all right in a few minutes." "i don't like sending him," said roberts. "it is very dangerous, and we must, try it together." his companions gave; a short, sharp nod, and acquiesced. "if we only knew what is below us!" said bracy as he gazed down-stream. "niggers," said drummond shortly. "there'll be a dozen or two beyond these rocks waiting to pot us as soon as we are carried into sight by the stream." "well, there'll only be our heads to aim at," said bracy; "and we must not go down in a cluster this time." "no," said roberts. "as soon as you feel ready, bracy, we must start. it is madness to stay here. you and gedge take that fellow between you; and drummond and i will go as before." "hear that?" whispered gedge to his comrade, who gave him a sulky nod. "that's right; and mind, i'm ready for yer this time. i shan't hit yer; but if yer moves hand or foot when i've turned yer over on yer back to float, we lets yer go, and yer can get across the blessed river by yerself." "all right," said the man; "but i don't believe yer, billy gedge. i never learnt to swim, but if i could i shouldn't talk about leaving a pardner to shift for hisself." "er-r-er!" growled gedge, whom these words seemed to mollify. "well, keep them 'ands o' yours in the water, for as long as you holds 'em down you helps me to keep yer afloat, and as soon as yer begins to make windmills of 'em and waves 'em, or chucks 'em about as if you was trying to ketch flies, down you goes." "all right," said the man, as they heard more bullets spattering on the rocks above them; "but, oh, how my hands does itch for a rifle and a chance to be taking shots at some of these beauties!" "yes," said gedge; "and i hope it won't be long first. i hadn't any spite partickler agen 'em before, but i have now. ha' they got any orspitals or doctors?" "i dunno," said the other; "but if we gets outer this and in the ranks again, there's going to be some of the beds filled, and a bit o' work for their doctors to do." "well, my lads," said roberts, stepping to where the three men crouched gazing at the deep, rushing water; "feel strong enough to start?" "yes, sir," came in chorus. "and we shan't get in a tangle this time, sir, i hope," said gedge. "i hope not, my lad. up with you, then." there were no preparations to make; nothing to do but for the two officers to get their man face upward between them, and stand ready while bracy and gedge followed suit with theirs. "ready?" said roberts. "count ten after we've started, and then follow." as soon as he had spoken he gave drummond a nod, and they stepped among the rocks to the swift water, bent down, and, as they lowered themselves in, the strong current seized them, as it were, their helpless companion was drawn out, and away they went as fast as a horse could have trotted, down what was a veritable water-slide. "now, my lad," cried bracy as gedge, at a signal, went on counting the ten slowly. "keep a good heart. we won't leave you." "all right, sir;" said the man, drawing a deep breath. "nine--ten!" counted gedge. "off!" cried bracy, but checked himself for a moment, startled by the noise of the ragged volley which was fired from the enemy's bank as soon as they caught sight of the three heads gliding down the stream. "if they are hit!" mentally exclaimed bracy; and then, making a sign to gedge, they followed out the precedent shown them, and the water seized and bore them along, with the private floating between them, their steady subsidence into the water and slow strokes keeping them well upon the surface. so swiftly did they pass along that only a few moments had passed before the crackling of the firing from the far bank came plainly, and bullets ricochetted from the water to strike the other bank, but without effect, the rate at which they were descending making the aim taken with the long, clumsy matchlocks of no effect. not a word was littered; and with their friends far ahead, their heads just seen, the fugitives glided along the straight course below them, free as it was from rocks. but they were evidently in full view of fresh parties of the enemy, and shot after shot splashed the water. "now for the bank, gedge," cried bracy suddenly. "yes, sir; all right, sir; but it's of no use." "it is," cried bracy angrily. "they are making for it now." "yes, sir: and they're swept by it. can't you see it's like a smooth wall, with the water running by it like a railway train?" gedge was right; and there was nothing for it but to go with the stream towards the rocks which now rose right in their way, the long race ending in a wide chaos of foaming water, which leaped and sparkled in the afternoon sun. "we shall be torn to pieces there," thought bracy; and he strained his eyes to try and make out an opening; but his attention was taken up the next moment by the cracking of matchlocks and the puffs of smoke rising to his left, as fire was opened upon their leaders, who were running the gauntlet that it would be their fate to share in another minute, when gedge suddenly uttered a hoarse cheer, and nearly lost his grip of his companion; for, quick, sharp, and loud, a genuine british volley rattled out, almost like a report from a piece of artillery, the bullets sending the leaves on the enemy's bank pattering down. then another, and at regular intervals others; while the eyes of the swimmers were gladdened by the sight of friends making their way down among the rocks, towards which they were being rushed. another volley rang out; there was a cheer, in which the two helpless privates joined; and directly after the fugitives were saved from being battered among the rocks by ready hands, whose efforts were covered by the rapid firing from the bank above. five minutes after, the dripping party were retiring with a company of their regiment, whose captain contented himself with giving the enemy a volley from time to time, as they doubled to reach their quarters, now not a quarter of a mile away, the young officers learning that the enemy was out once more and converging upon the fort, this unexpected news of the termination of the temporary peace having been brought in by scouts, and none too soon. "graves said that you must be brought in somehow," said the officer in charge of the company; "but i was not to cross the river where you did, but to come up this side, for you would turn back after crossing higher up." "yes; i remember telling the colonel so," said bracy eagerly. "well, it has turned out all right; but he needn't have told me, for we could not have crossed, as far as i can see." "we did," said drummond, laughing; "and brought in these three fellows, too." "yes; but i wouldn't holloa too soon," said the officer addressed. "we're not safe yet. look yonder; they're swarming down that gorge, and we must race for it, or they'll cut us off. forward, my lads." ten minutes later there was a halt and a clinking rattle, as the order was given to fix bayonets ready for a strong body of the hill-men, who had crossed the shallows lower down and were coming on to dispute their way. "why doesn't graves send out another company to cover us?" panted roberts. "we shall be cut off after all." the words had hardly passed his lips when--crash!--there was a tremendous volley from their right front, which checked the enemy's advance, the white-coated hill-men hesitating. the officer in command seized the opportunity, and a volley was fired by the rescue company, the men cheering as they dashed on with bristling bayonets. that was enough: the enemy turned and fled, their speed increased by another volley from the covering company; and ten minutes later the fugitives were marching along coolly, protected by the fire from the walls of the fort, where they were directly after being heartily shaken by the hand, the sally-port clanging to in their rear. "quite enough for one day," said drummond. "yes," said bracy grimly; "that's having what gedge called a nice long walk." "yes," said roberts; "with a swim thrown in." chapter eleven. which was braver? "steady, there; steady, my lads. not too fast. seize upon every bit of shelter, and have a few steady shots at them. they're beaten, and we shall soon scatter them now." the lads were as steady as the most exacting officer could desire; and though the two sides of the narrow, winding defile were lined with the enemy, who made good use of their clumsy jezails, of whose long range several of the fusiliers had had bitter experience, the deadly fire which searched out every sheltering crag was too much for the dwats, who were retiring as fast as the difficult nature of the ground would allow. bracy felt that, the enemy was beaten, and knew that the fierce tribes-men would be only too glad to escape as soon as they could: but as the tight had gone against them, their supposed to be secure hiding-places were one by one growing untenable as the fusiliers advanced; and consequently, as giving up was about the last thing they thought of doing, their action was that of rats at bay--fighting to the bitter end. the men of roberts's company knew, too, what they must do-- drive the enemy completely out of the defile, or they would return again; so, partly held back by their officers, they advanced by a series of rushes, taking possession of every bit of fallen rock for shelter, and driving their enemies on and on, farther into the mountains, fully expecting that in a short time they would completely take to flight. but disappointment followed disappointment. no sooner was one niche high up on the rocky sides cleared than there was firing from one on the other, and the work had to be gone through over again. still they advanced, and the enemy retired; while the officers knew that sooner or later, in spite of numbers, this must come to an end, for nothing could withstand the accurate fire of the young englishmen whenever they obtained a chance. men dropped from time to time; but they had to lie where they fell till the fight was at an end, some to rise no more; others, knowing as they did the nature of the enemy, managed to creep to the shelter of a rock, where they laid their cartridges ready, and sat back watching the faces of the defile in anticipation of some marksman opening fire. the company was in full pursuit, under the belief that they had completely cleared the defile as far as they had gone, when, in the midst of a rush led by roberts and bracy, both making for a rough breastwork of rocks built a hundred feet up one side and held by two or three score of the enemy, the latter uttered a sharp ejaculation, stopped short, and then dropped upon his knees, his sword, as it fell from his hand to the full extent of the knot secured by the slide to his wrist, jingling loudly on the stones. roberts was at his side in a moment, and leaned over him. "not badly hurt?" "no, no," cried bracy; "never mind me. on with you, and lead the boys; they're close up to that breastwork. on--on!" roberts turned and rushed up the rock-strewn defile, reaching his men as they crowded together for a rush, and bracy and the man hurrying to him saw them go over it as if they were engaged in an obstacle race. the next minute they disappeared round another bend in the jagged rift, in full pursuit of the late occupants of the murderous shelter. "and me not with 'em, and me not with 'em!" groaned the private who had fallen back. "but i don't care. i ain't going to leave him." before he could double back to where bracy knelt, the wounded officer sank over sidewise, with the rugged defile seeming to swim round before his eyes, and, for a few minutes, glory, the hot rage of pursuit, and the bitter disappointment of failure were as nothing. then he opened his eyes upon the lad who was bending over him, holding a water-bottle to his lips. "try and drink a drop, sir, if it's ever so little." the words seemed to come from a great distance off and to echo in bracy's head, as he made an effort and swallowed a few drops of the lukewarm fluid. "gedge," he said at last with difficulty, staring hard at the lad, whose head seemed to have gone back to its old state after the blow from the falling rock, but only to swell now to a monstrous size. "yes, sir; it's me, sir. ought to have gone on with the boys, but i couldn't leave you, sir, for fear of some of the rats coming down from the holes to cut you up." "rats? holes?" said bracy feebly. "what's the matter?" "not much, i hope, sir; on'y you've got hit. whereabouts is it? ah, needn't ask," he muttered as he saw a dark mark beginning to show on the left breast of the young officer's tunic, and spreading like a big blot on a writing-pad. "hit? nonsense--ah!" bracy uttered a low groan, and clapped his right hand across to cover the spot. "yes, sir. jus' there," said gedge; "but don't you mind. it's too high up to be dangerous, i know. now, then. amb'lance dooty. must practice; i ain't forgot that." gedge gave a sharp look round and up and down the defile, before laying down his gun and taking out a bandage and some lint. "hold still, sir," he said, drawing his breath through his teeth afterwards with a hiss, as he rapidly stripped open his officer's jacket, and then tore away the shirt, to lay bare his white breast, where, just below the collar-bone, an ugly red patch showed itself. "sponge and cold water," muttered gedge; "and i ain't got 'em." then aloud: "that hurt yer, sir?" for he was examining the wound. "never mind that; go on," said bracy faintly. "plug the wound." "right, sir. jus' going to.--one o' their ugly bits o' hiron," muttered the lad as he stopped the effusion of blood in a rough-and-ready way which must have been agonising to the sufferer, who, however, never winced. "that's done it, sir; but i must turn you over to fasten the bandage." "go on," said bracy in a faint whisper.--"hah! the firing's getting more distant." "yes, sir; they're driving 'em right out of it this time, and we not in it, and--oh, a mussy me!" whispered the speaker now, as in his manipulations he became conscious of the fact that his task was only half-done, for there was the place where the ragged missile had passed out close to the spine, and the plugging and bandaging had to be continued there. "that's good, sir," he said cheerily. "you won't have the doctor worriting you to get the bullet out, as he does with some of the lads. now, then, a drop more water, and then i'm going to get you up yonder, more out of the sun, so as you'll be more comf'table till they come back." "yes!" sighed bracy. "i can't help you, my lad. listen! they're firing still." "oh yes, sir; they're doing the job proper this time. shots is a good way off too. how they eckers, and--hullo!" gedge gave a sudden start, snatched at his rifle, and looked up the defile in the direction where his companions had passed, for there was a report from close at hand following upon the small stones close to his side being driven up, and he was watching a puff of smoke slowly rising high up the left precipitous side, finger on trigger, ready for a return shot, when-- whiz--something like a swift beetle in full flight passed close to his ear, and he ducked down, simultaneously with an echoing report from the right side of the defile. "just like 'em!" he muttered. "oh, you cowards! only just show your muzzles, and i'll let yer see what british musketry practice is like." but all gedge saw was the gleam of a ramrod a hundred yards away, where one of the hill-men who had kept to his coign of vantage was rapidly reloading. "no good to stop here," muttered gedge; "they'd be hitting him 'fore long. me too, p'raps. well, here goes." the lad rose upon his knees, took off his helmet and passed the strap of his rifle over his head and arm, slung it, replaced his helmet, and turned to bracy. "won't hurt yer more than i can 'elp, sir; but we can't stop here." "no; lie down, my lad. get into cover, and wait till you can reply." a sharp report from below them stopped gedge from answering, and the bullet flattened against the rock a yard from where the lad knelt. "well, this is pleasant," he said, showing his teeth in a grin which looked as vicious as that of a hunted dog. "urrrr!" he snarled, "if i only had you three down on the level with my bay'net fixed. draw a big breath, sir. up yer comes. now, then, you hold fast with yer right. hook it round my neck, and don't get the spike o' my 'elmet in your eye.--now, then, my lad; right-about face--quick march!" gedge strode off with his load held in his arms as a nurse would carry a baby, and at the first step--bang! bang! and echo--echo--two shots came from behind, and directly after another from the front, but from the opposite side to the spot from whence the former shot had been fired. "well, if they can't hit me now they orter," muttered gedge as he strode on with his heavy burden. "this is going to be walking the gauntlet if any more on 'em's left behind on the sneak. oh dear! oh dear! if i only had a snug shelter and plenty o' cartridges i think i could stop that little game.--hurt yer much, sir?" he continued aloud after a few dozen yards had been covered. "fainted! poor chap! better, p'raps, for he won't know what's going on.--go it!" he snarled as shot after shot was fired; while, though he managed to get out of the line of fire of the two first enemies, he had to pass closer to the two next, who fired again and again from their eyries far up the sides of the defile, these nooks, fortunately for gedge and his burden, having been reached from above--the perpendicular walls precluding all descent into the dried-up torrent-bed. the young fellow was right; he had to run the gauntlet, for to his dismay, as he tramped on with his load, he awoke to the fact that the dwats, who had retired from the upper shelves as the fusiliers rushed up the defile, were coming back to their hiding-places, and, warned by the firing of their companions, were ready to harass the retreat. "i don't care," he muttered, "if i can only get him outer fire; but they must hit one of us before long. 'tain't possible for 'em to keep on without." bang! and then bang! again, and the stones close by where the brave fellow trod were struck up, one of them giving gedge a sharp blow on the knee. "talk about hitting a 'aystack!" he snarled. "why, i could make better practice with a indyrubber cattypult and a bag o' marbles." "gedge--gedge!" came from bracy's lips in excited tones, for he had slowly revived to a knowledge of their position. "yes, sir; all right, sir. i know. i'd double, but the going is too bad." "of course, my lad; impossible. but are you mad?" "yes, sir; downright savage at the murderous brutes. this is their way o' treating the wounded." "i didn't mean that, my man, but the way you're carrying me." shot after shot came whistling and buzzing by them from behind as he spoke, but still without effect. "i'm carrying you all right, sir. can't help hurting you a bit. it's easy this way." "nonsense, man. set me down at once. i can stand. then sling your rifle in front, and take me on your back." "there they go, sir," said gedge as another shot buzzed by, telling of its rough shape. "they never did no pigeon-shooting, sir, nor practised at sparrers from the trap." "did you hear what i said, sir?" cried bracy angrily. "set me down, and get me on your back. i can hold on with one hand and leave yours free." "couldn't use 'em if they was, sir." "halt! take me on your back at once, sir," cried bracy, panting with anger and pain. "can't, sir. who's a-going to halt with them firing at us like that from behind? ain't i 'bliged to keep ree-treating?" "obey my orders, sir. i tell you i shall be easier to carry on your back." "oh yes, sir, a deal easier to carry, and a nice deal easier to hit. aintcher got it bad enough as it is?" said gedge sulkily. bracy was silent for a few moments as he felt his suspicions realised. gedge was carrying him in that awkward fashion so as to shelter him from any better-aimed bullet that might come. to make quite sure, though, he drew a deep breath and spoke again: "i am wounded, sir, but i will be obeyed." "all right, sir; soon as ever we get out o' shot." "but you are hurting me horribly; and can't you see that, carrying me like this, you may receive the next bullet?" "oh yes, sir; i can see," said gedge coolly; "but you be quiet, and i won't hurt you more'n i can help." bracy's voice had lost all its anger, and it was in no tone of command that he said: "set me down, my lad, and hold my arm. i'll try to walk beside you while you take a shot or two at those cowardly brutes." "ah, that's just what i'd like to do, sir; but it would on'y be waste o' time. they'd hit us, too, if we stood still for me to fire. it's our keeping moving that helps. 'sides, i know it would only make your wounds break out worse, and shift the bandage. you keep quiet, for i ain't got no breath for talking." bracy was silent, and slowly and steadily gedge trudged on, growing more and more exhausted, and looking to right and left for some cavernous hole in which he could take refuge so as to screen his burden and defend him so long as he had a cartridge left. "and even then," he muttered softly, "there's the bay'net. wonder how i could get on in fair fight against one of the niggers with his tullywar. too much for him, i fancy, for i am good at that game. urrrr!" he snarled again, for half-a-dozen shots were fired at them almost together, but this time from lower down the defile in front, where the enemies who had fled were gathering again in force. "that was a near un, sir," said gedge as a bullet whizzed just over his head. "well sir, i beg pardon, sir, and hope you won't report me for disobeying my sooperior orficer. i was a bit waxy and warm with a-carrying of yer; for you are a bit heavy, sir. now, sir, please, i'm a-going to set you down gently and take you up on my back." bracy paid no heed, but gazed down the narrow gorge, from whose sides more shots were fired. "d'yer hear, sir? you're most a-choking o' me with that there arm." "forward!" said bracy between his teeth. "mind, there's a great rift there. don't stumble." "i'm a-going to shift you first, sir. once you're on my back i can straddle that easy." "yes, gedge, i know," said bracy as firmly as he could; "but don't insult me any more." "insult yer, sir? i wouldn't do it. how!" "by thinking your officers want to shelter themselves behind their men. forward, my lad, unless you find a place where we can shelter till our comrades come back." "there aren't no shelter, sir, and there aren't no more mercy for them dwats if we gets clear of this, which i don't think we shall. there, sir! it's all over, i suppose. ain't hit, are yer?" "no. but that volley." "yes, sir, there's any number waiting for us. here, we must walk the gauntlet back again now. we may meet our chaps coming." the firing was going on along the sides of the gorge, but just then there was another crash, a regular volley, and gedge uttered a hoarse yell of excitement. "it's hoo-roar, sir," he panted, "on'y i can't shout. that's our reserves coming up, and firing to keep the beggars' fire down. see, they've stopped now. oh, if my rifle wasn't slung! look at 'em. one-- two--three of the cowardly beggars scuffling up yonder like great white rabbits, and on hands and feet, too." crash! again. a sharp volley from much nearer, and gedge stopped short to gaze with his companion at the three hill-men away in front, a couple or three hundred feet above the level where bracy's bearer stood forgetting his dangerous wound and his pangs as he felt horror-stricken at the terrible sight to his left. there were, as gedge said, three hill-men, crawling rapidly up a long shelf to reach a cluster of stones for shelter--a shelter they had left to get better aim at the struggling pair down below. and as the climbing dwats were watched directly after the last volley, one who was last started up into a standing position, threw up his arms, and his long jezail fell from them down into the defile, while he balanced himself for a few moments and then dropped, turning over once, and disappearing from the watchers' eyes. the next moment the top one came to a stand by a great stone, and rolled over and over till he reached the steep precipice, down which he plunged, the horrible thud with which he struck the stones coming plainly to bracy's ears. there was still another white figure crawling up the narrow shelf, but he had stopped short; and as bracy and his companion gazed, the poor wretch seemed to collapse and lie closer down to the rock. just then another shot rang out, and the body gave a jerk, but did not move again. "hah!" ejaculated gedge. "it's very horrid, sir, but it was their turn, and our lads can shoot. come on, sir. i think we shall do it now." he started off towards the body of their friends, who were coming rapidly on, but before they had gone a score of yards the firing from the enemy recommenced, and--spat! spat!--the bullets struck the stones close at hand. "oh, i say, sir, this is too bad!" groaned gedge. "i did think we should do it now. never mind. britons never shall be slaves, and i will do it after all." there was a rattling fire opened at once on the sides of the gorge, completely crushing that of the hill-men; and a few minutes after, as gedge tramped on with his load, it was to be met by a burst of cheers, and a score of his comrades came racing on to his help. it was just then that a final shot came from somewhere behind, and poor gedge started violently, staggered forward, and the next moment he would have gone down heavily with his burden but for the ready help of a dozen willing hands. directly after a distant cheering was heard. roberts and his company were coming back. chapter twelve. wounds. the enemy had been driven off with heavy loss, but the little victory had been dearly-won. several men had been wounded, and most serious to all seemed to be the fact that among them was the gallant young officer who was liked by every man in the regiment. so it was that the march back to the great fort was made in silence; and when a few of the enemy, encouraged by what they looked upon as a retreat, hung about the rear and harassed the retiring column with shots from the heights, they paid dearly for being so venturesome. for captain roberts, leaving a little party in hiding to wait till the enemy showed in their pursuit, listened with a grim smile upon his lip till there was a sudden outburst of firing, and then tramped on with the remainder of his company, keeping as much as he could by the mule ambulance which was bearing his friend back to the fort. within half-an-hour the little firing-party overtook the rear of the column, and roberts halted till they came up to him. "well, sergeant?" he said. "all right now, sir," said gee, who looked what the men called ugly. "i think we've brought 'em all down." "you're not sure, of course?" "well, pretty nigh, sir. there ain't been a shot since." "good. be on the lookout. i hate for our poor fellows to be harassed like this." "it's horrid, sir; but, begging your pardon, sir, how's mr bracy?" "bad, gee, bad. i'm afraid he is shot through the lungs." sergeant gee's brow went into a mass of puckers and frowns, and there was the peculiar sound of one grinding his teeth together, as the man tramped on behind his officer for a few minutes before speaking again. "beg pardon, sir; there's that bill gedge. is he much hurt?" "very gravely, i'm afraid. dr morton can't tell yet from the hasty examination he made, but he shook his head." "poor lad!" said the sergeant. "we were always bad friends, sir; he was so full of his cockney monkey-tricks, and he hated me, but we couldn't spare him. what a soldier he would have made!" "hah!" ejaculated roberts; "as full of pluck as a lad could be. mr bracy's been telling me how he carried him through the fire, and sheltered him with his own body. that's how it was he had his wound." there was another pause, with the silence only broken by the echoing tramp, tramp of the men. "won't die--will he, sir?" whispered sergeant gee. "i pray heaven no," said the captain. "that sounds bad, sir," said the sergeant huskily. "i should like to shake hands with him afore he goes; and if he gets better i won't be so hard on him again." "i suppose you have only done your duty by him." "i hope so, sir." "double on to the ambulance, and see how he is. corporal green, take the sergeant's place." roberts halted to let his men pass him, keenly watching every one in his company, and a man limping caught his eye. "here, bracy, what's the matter?" he said. "oh, nothing much, sir. spent shot glanced off the rock and hit me in the ankle." "give him your arm, sergeant, and get him on one of the mules." "beg pardon, sir; i can walk back." "you're making your leg worse at every step, sir," cried roberts angrily. "get on and ride." the words were spoken sharply, the young captain being in no very amiable mood, for he was cooling down after tremendous exertion and the reaction from the wild excitement of the fight. but he spoke in the man's interest and with the desire to save him from after-suffering. then the weary tramp went on almost in silence, but no one flagged, and at the end of a couple of hours they obtained a glimpse of the flag at the top of the staff. the silence in the column was broken by a hearty cheer, the men's spirits rising again after what had been a depressing march back; and when the gates were reached they were cheered by the men on the walls, and the hills around softly echoed back the replies to the hearty welcome they had received. the colonel, with the officers left behind, stood at the gate waiting, and the answer to his inquiry regarding the enemy brought forth a fresh cheer. "splendidly done!" said the colonel; and then sharply, "what casualties?" "mr bracy severely wounded. privates down and gedge had bullet-wounds. other hurts slight." the doctor hurried away to his operating-room, and his assistants went to the door to help in the three patients, who were attended to in turn. the first man who had fallen had to have a bullet extracted from his leg, half-way to the hip, where it was deeply embedded in the muscle. "now, my dear bracy," said the doctor, "let's look at you." "no, i can wait," was the reply. "my bandages is quite firm, and the bleeding has ceased." the doctor frowned, and was about to say something regarding interference; but he checked himself, glanced at the bandage, and nodded. "very well," he said; "the other man." poor gedge was very white and remarkably quiet, but his eyes were full of motion; and he watched the doctor's face and every action of his hands. "why, gedge, my lad," said the doctor cheerily after a certain amount of busy manipulation, "this isn't fair. i didn't want to have you in hospital again." "same to you, sir," said the sufferer, with a ghastly attempt at a smile, as he screwed his head round to look at the doctor. "hold still, sir. look the other way." "yes, sir," said gedge faintly. "'tain't my head this time, sir." "no, my lad; it's not your head this time." "sorry it's my back, sir; but i warn't a-running away." "bah! of course you were not; our lads don't know how." "no, sir; course not, sir." "got it carrying mr bracy out of the fire--eh?" "well, yes, sir, i s'pose so, sir. shall i--shall i--" the poor fellow stopped short. "shall you what?" said the doctor kindly; "try to move?" "no, sir," said the poor fellow feebly; "i didn't mean that. it was, shall i be a goner?" "oh, nonsense--nonsense! humph! poor fellow! he has fainted." "is his wound serious, doctor?" said bracy huskily. "never you mind. you lie still and wait. well, there. yes, the hurt is a very bad one. i don't think he'll die; but the bullet is in a dangerous place, and i dare not try to extract it to-day." a short time after poor gedge was lying in a state of stupor upon the bed he had previously occupied, and the doctor was examining the young officer's wounds. "very bad, doctor?" asked bracy. "bad enough, sir. i don't like this exit so close to the vertebrae.-- that hurt?" "no; it feels dull and cold just there." "raise that hand a little." "can't, doctor; i'm so tightly bandaged." "humph! yes, you are pretty well tied up. that poor fellow gedge did wonderfully well for you, considering. he attended to his ambulance lessons. first help's a grand thing when a man's bleeding to death." "was i bleeding to death?" said bracy rather faintly. "of course you were; or perhaps not. the bleeding might have stopped of itself, but i shouldn't have liked to trust it. there; shan't do any more to you to-day. we'll have you to bed and asleep. that's the first step towards getting well again. sorry to have you down so soon, bracy, my dear boy. there, keep a good heart, and i'll soon get you right again." the colonel was at the hospital door soon after, along with major graham, both anxious to hear about bracy's hurt. "bad," said the doctor shortly as he put on his coat. "don't ask to see the poor boy; he's just dropping off to sleep." "bad?" said the colonel anxiously. "yes, bad, sir. a young fellow can't have a hole drilled right through him by a piece of ragged iron without being in a very serious condition." "but the wound is not fatal?" "h'm! no, not fatal. he's young, strong, and healthy; but the exit of the missile was in close proximity to the spine, and there's no knowing what mischief may have been done." "what do you mean?" said the colonel anxiously. "injury to the nerve centre there. i can't say. possibly nothing may follow, but i am obliged to say the wound is bad, and there is danger of his being crippled--permanently injured in a way which would render him unfit for service." "but look here," said the major excitedly, "you have a bad habit of making the worst of things, morton. come, explain yourself. are there any symptoms suggestive of what you hint at?" "my dear graham, i never come and interfere with your work; don't you meddle with mine." "i don't want to, sir," said the major tartly. "i only want for the colonel and yours obediently not to be left in the dark." "graham is quite right," said the colonel gravely. "we should like to know a little more." "very good," said the doctor, "but i can only say this: there is a peculiar absence of sensation in the lower extremities, and especially in the poor fellow's left arm. this may be temporary, and due to the terrible shock of the wound; but it also may be consequent upon injury to the nerves in connection with the spine. i can say no more. time only will show." the two officers left the hospital-room, looking terribly depressed. "poor lad! poor lad!" the major kept on saying. "such a brave, unassuming fellow. it's wonderful how little we realise how we like our fellow-men, colonel, till they are badly hurt. hah! i am sorry--more sorry than i can express." the colonel said nothing, but turned and held out his hand, which the major took and pressed warmly. "thank you, graves," he said, taking out a showy silk handkerchief and blowing his nose very hard, making it give forth sounds like those made by a boy beginning to learn the bugle. "hah!" he said; "one never knows. here to-day and gone to-morrow, graves. may be our turn next." "yes," said the colonel quietly: "but if it is in the way of duty, i don't see that we need mind." "humph! well, i don't know about that. i should like to live to a hundred, if only for the sake of finding out what it feels like. some people do." "yes," said the colonel, smiling; "and over a hundred; but then they die." "yes, of course; but from old ago." "and other things too, as the old epitaph says." "what old epitaph?" "on the venerable lady. the lines run something like this:-- "she lived strong and well to a hundred and ten, and died by a fall from a cherry-tree then." "bah! don't talk about dying, graves. poor bracy! oh, the doctor must set him all right again. but this sort of thing does make one feel a bit serious." "it is very, very sad," said the colonel. "yes, very. by the way, though, have you noticed how splendidly our lads are behaving?" "magnificently, for such mere boys," said the colonel meaningly. "for such mere boys?" said the major sharply. "i never saw men in any regiment behave better. why, sir, it was magnificent to-day. i didn't say anything to roberts about it, because i don't want the lads to hear and get puffed up by pride. but, really, sir, i'm very proud of our regiment." "and so am i. but you have changed your ideas a little." "bah! pooh! nonsense! don't jump on a man because he spoke out a bit. you'll grant yourself that they are a very boyish-looking lot." "yes; but i do not judge them by appearances. i look at their discipline and acts." "so do i," said the major, "and i recant all i said about them before. there, sir, will that satisfy you?" "quite, graham," said the colonel. "there, we must be hopeful. i couldn't bear for poor bracy to become a wreck." chapter thirteen. a bit queer. "tell us all about it," said bracy as he lay partially dressed outside his simple charpoy bed in the small room doctor morton had annexed for his officer patients. "all about what?" said roberts, who had come in, according to his daily custom, to sit for a while and cheer up his suffering friend. "all about what? all about everything that has been going on--is going on." "and is going to go on!" said roberts, laughing. "that's a large order, old chap." "you may laugh," said bracy dolefully; "but you don't know what it is to be lying here staring at the sky." "and mountains." "pah! well, at the mountains too, day after day, in this wearisome way. i hear the bugle and the firing, and sometimes a shout or two, and then i lie wondering what everything means--whether we're driving them away or being beaten, and no one to tell me anything but that dreadful woman; for old morton thinks of nothing but sword-cuts and bullet-wounds, and will only talk of one's temperature or one's tongue. i tell you it's maddening when one wants to be up and doing something." "patience, patience, old man. you're getting better fast." "how do you know?" cried bracy petulantly. "morton ways so." "morton's an old--old--old woman," cried bracy angrily. "i'm sick of him. i'm sick of that other disagreeable woman. i'm sick of physic-- sick of everything." "poor old chap!" said roberts, laying his cool hand upon his friend's burning forehead. "come, you'll feel better after that." "don't--don't talk that way--and take away your hand. you make me feel as if i must hit you." "i wish you would, old man, if it would make you feel better." "better! pah! it's horrible. morton only talks. says i'm better when i'm worse." "oh, come now, that won't do, you know. you are stronger." "pah! how can i be stronger when i am as weak as a baby, unable to move hand or foot? there; i beg pardon for being so disagreeable." "oh, nonsense! who thinks you disagreeable?" "you do, rob; only you're such a good old chap that you won't notice my sick man's whims." "love 'em," said roberts coolly. "more you go it the better i like it, because it's all a sign of the spirit in you kicking against your weakness. i know how you feel--want to come and have another go in at the dwats?" "yes," said bracy in a sharp whisper through his closed teeth. "i do long to help give them an awful thrashing." "of course you do, my boy; and you shall soon. now, if, instead of kicking against hospital routine, you took to it in a mean, spiritless sort of way, and lay there waiting to be roused up to speak, i should feel uncomfortable about you, for i should know it was a bad sign.-- you'll be all right soon." bracy was silent for a few minutes, and lay gazing wistfully through the window at the dazzling snow-peaks flashing miles away in the bright sunshine. then he shook his head slowly from side to side. "it's of no use to be self-deceiving," he said at last. "i know as well as can be, rob, what's wrong. i'm not going to die." "die? ha, ha! i should think not. take more than a bullet-hole to kill you." bracy smiled, and looked sadly in his friend's eyes. "it's precious hard, old fellow," he said; "for as i lie here i feel that i'm almost a boy still, and it comes so soon." "what comes so soon?" "my big trouble, old fellow. morton won't say a word about it; but i know." "come now; what do you know? you lie awake imagining all sorts of things." "but i don't imagine that. you can see it for yourself. i'm strong enough in mind, but the weakness of body is terrible." "of course it is. you have had a hole right through you, made by a rough piece of iron fired from a gun; but it's healing up fast." "yes," said bracy, with a sigh, "the wound is healing up fast." "then, what more do you want?" "my old manly strength," cried the sufferer with energy. "this horrible, helpless weakness!" "dull! what an unreasonable patient you are!" cried roberts. "how can you expect the strength to come till the wound is healed?" "i don't expect it," sighed the poor fellow. "roberts, old man, it will never come back. my spine was injured by that bullet." "yes; we know that." "and it has affected the nerves so that i am going to be helpless for the rest of my life--a poor invalid, whose fate is to be carried about or wheeled everywhere." "don't believe it," said roberts shortly. "who told you that stuff?" "my own instinct. you know i cannot move hand or foot." "not yet. nature has bound you down so that your wound may not be disturbed till it is well." "there, don't talk about it," said bracy quickly. "i want to know how things are going on. i don't hear half enough." "all right, old man," cried roberts cheerfully. "you shall have it in brief. this is a hole--we're in a hole--the dwats, bless 'em! are like the sand upon the seashore, and they come sliding into the hole. then we shovel 'em out, and just like sand they come trickling down again upon us. now it's down one of the gullies, now it's down another; and the more we kill the more seem to come on." "yes--yes--yes," sighed bracy; "just as it has been from the first. we ought to have reinforcements." "that's right, and i dare say some have been sent; but the tribes south and east have all risen, and are holding them in check, so we've got to do the work here ourselves." "how are the supplies?" "tidy--tidy; and we keep on fretting a little game, only it's risky work; and i never feel as if i should get back again when i'm out shooting. had some narrow escapes." "what about ammunition?" "that's all right. enough for a couple of months yet, fire as hard as we like." "why didn't drummond come to see me yesterday? ah, i know; he has been wounded." "just scratched; that's all. i dare say he'll come in some time to-day." "poor fellow! i am sorry." "he isn't--he's delighted. goes about with his arm in a sling, showing it to everybody, and telling them about the fight he had with a big dwat. says he should have cut him down, only one of our lads was so precious handy with his bayonet and ran him through." "ah!" cried bracy, flushing slightly, as he mentally pictured the scene. "how bravely our lads do stand by their officers!" "they do. good fellows; brave boys. i like the way, too, in which that chap gedge waits on you." "yes," said bracy, with a sigh; "and the poor fellow is not fit to be about. morton owned to it; but he will wait on me hand and foot, to that horrible woman's disgust." "what! mrs gee?" bracy nodded. "well, she is a disagreeable, tyrannical sort of female jack-in-office; but she has her good points." "yes; but they're such sharp points, and they prick dreadfully." "ha, ha!" laughed roberts. "a joke; and you say you're not getting better.--i say, what were we talking about? oh, gedge. i wish he wasn't such an awful east-end cockney in his ways, for he's a splendid fellow inside. times and times he has brightened the poor fellows up out yonder, singing and telling stories and playing some of his india-rubber games, bad as his own wounds are. i believe he'd pretend to laugh even if he were dying." "i can never be grateful enough to him," sighed bracy. "oh yes, you can. we must all petition for him to get his stripes as soon as we can, only it will make old gee mad with jealousy." "yes," said bracy thoughtfully; and then: "how long have i been lying here?" "three weeks, old man." "and you are no further with the dwats?" "not a bit. that thrashing we gave them together when you went down ought to have settled 'em and made 'em sue for peace; but they began sniping at us the very next day." "it seems to be their nature to be always fighting," sighed bracy. "yes. i don't believe they could live without it. they must fight something or somebody, and regularly enjoy a good skirmish." "you haven't said anything about colonel wrayford the last day or two." "no, poor fellow! he's in a very low state. between ourselves, boy, we only came just, in time." "what, do you mean?" "to save ghittah. those fellows would have done their best; but they would have been overmatched, and without their colonel they'd have given way at last, and the people at home would have been reading of a terrible reverse in the dwat district. massacre of the british force." "not so bad as that surely." "i don't know. poor wrayford had worked till he was utterly exhausted, body and mind, and as soon as graves began to relieve him of part of the strain it was just as if something snapped, and he curled up at once. morton says it was all from overstrain after his wound, and that he'll want a twelvemonth at home to get back his strength." "i beg pardon, sir," said a hard, acid voice; "it is quite time mr bracy had his lunch." roberts turned quickly upon the stern, frowning, youngish woman who had entered silently in a pair of home-made list slippers, and stood in the doorway gazing at him fixedly. "that's right, mrs gee," said roberts; "bring it in, and feed him up well, for he wants it, poor fellow!" "mr bracy has everything, sir," said the woman coldly, "and given him to the minute when there's no one here." "oh, i'm nobody," said roberts good-humouredly. "no, sir." "eh? oh, all right; bring in his lunch.--hang the woman! i didn't mean that," he said to himself. "no, sir; not while you are here," replied the woman in the most uncompromising way. "mr bracy can't lift his arms yet, and i have to give him his meals, and it troubles him for any one to see him fed." "yes, yes, of course. i ought to have known, mrs gee. where is the lunch?" "being kept hot for him, sir." "go and fetch it, then, and i'll be off the moment you come." mrs gee said nothing, but turned silently and disappeared, while roberts rose and leaned over the bed. "the tyrant of the sickroom, old boy. never mind; she's a capital nurse, and sympathetic under her hard shell. but i say, old fellow, can you imagine it to be possible that gee fell in love with that female dragon?" "no," said bracy, smiling. "it seems impossible. one can't understand these things. i don't mind her so much now, but i do wish she wouldn't be quite so hard on poor gedge." "poor lad; no. what's that, though?--the click of crockery. only fancy the willow-pattern plate out here in the hills!" "not so far out of place," said bracy, smiling. "chinese pattern, and we are very near to china." "good-bye, old man," said roberts hastily. "here she comes. never mind about shaking hands yet. do it in a look. good-bye. see you to-morrow--if i don't get knocked over first," he added to himself; and, bonding low, as there was a short, hard cough outside, evidently meant for a signal to him to depart, he laid one hand upon bracy's shoulder, the other on his brow, and gave him a very brotherly look and smile. "you'll be all right soon, my helpless old cockalorum," he cried cheerily. "there, pitch into your corn well, and grow strong. ta, ta!" he turned quickly to cross the room, and then made a bound a yard away in his astonishment, for he received a tremendous blow across the loins, which made him turn sharply to gaze in wonder at his helpless friend, who was looking at him wildly. "what the dickens did you do that for?" he asked. "i beg pardon, sir. i thought you said--" "yes, yes, all right, mrs gee, i'm off," he cried; and he hurried away and out into the great court, where he passed one hand behind him to begin softly rubbing his spine. "is the poor fellow off his head?" he muttered in his wonderment and confusion. "helpless and weak? why, it was enough to break a fellow's back. has he got a club in the bed?" roberts stopped short, as if about, to turn back. "ought i to go and warn that woman of his antics? no; she could summon help directly, and--" "morning, sir. find mr bracy better, sir?" roberts looked up sharply, to find gedge, with his face looking very thin and more angular than ever, leaning as far as he could out of a narrow window. "yes--no--well, getting on, gedge." "oh yus, sir; he's getting on. pecks better now." "i'm glad of it. you're better too, my lad." "me, sir. oh, i'm getting a reg'lar impostor, sir. ought to be back in the ranks, only i don't want to leave mr bracy, sir." "certainly not. keep with him, and do all you can." "right, sir. do a lot more if old gee's wife wasn't there, sir." "humph!" ejaculated roberts, with his hand involuntarily busy rubbing his back. "by the way, gedge, have you noticed anything particular about mr bracy when you've been with him?" "no, sir. oh yus, sir; i know what you mean." "ha!" cried roberts. "you have noticed it?" "oh yus. you mean those fits o' the blue dumps as he has." "well--er--yes," said roberts. "yus, sir; he has them bad. gets a sort o' idee in his head as he'll never be all right again." "yes, yes; all weakness." "jest what i telled him, sir. `look ye here, sir,' i says; `see how you bled that day 'fore i could stop it. yer can't expect to be strong as you was till you gets filled up again.'" "of course not," assented roberts. "that's it, sir. and i says to him, i says, `look at me, sir. just afore i got my blue pill--leastwise it warn't a blue pill, but a bit o' iron--i was good for a five-and-twenty mile march on the level or a climb from eight hay-hem to eight pee-hem, while now four goes up and down the orspital ward and i'm used up.' he's getting on though, sir. you can see it when you cheers him up." "yes; i noticed that," said roberts. "specially if you talks about paying them roughs out for shooting at us that day as they did." "ha! cowardly in the extreme." "warn't it, sir? when we're up and at it, we lads, we're not very nice; but fire at a poor beggar carrying his wounded orficer--why, i wouldn't think one of ours 'd do such a thing--let alone believe it." "of course they would not, my lad," said roberts. "there, i'm glad to hear about how well you attend to mr bracy." he nodded, and went on to his quarters, wondering to himself over what had taken place at bracy's bedside. "it was very queer," he thought; "but it shows one thing--the poor fellow's a good deal off his head at times, or he wouldn't have hit out at me like that; and it shows, too, that all his ideas about being so weak are fancy. that crack on the back didn't come from a weak arm. but it's all due to the wound, and it would be better not to say anything to him about it." chapter fourteen. the uncomfortable symptoms. captain roberts intended to go and sit with his friend for an hour or two next day, but he was called off on duty, and drummond seized the opportunity to pay a visit. he was met at the door by mrs gee, who looked at him sourly as she passed, for she had just been summoned by one of doctor morton's ambulance men to go and attend to one of the men who had been taken worse. "how do, nurse?" said drummond. "just going in to see your patient." "then you must not stay long, sir. ten minutes will be plenty of time. mr bracy can't get well if he is so bothered with visitors." "oh, i won't bother him, nurse; only cheer him up a bit." the woman frowned and hurried away, leaving the course open, and drummond went straight on, thinking aloud. "glad my arm's not worse," he said, as he nursed it gently, "for i shouldn't like to be under her ladyship's thumb. she ought to be called to order. talk about a hen that can crow; she's nothing to my lady here. i wonder bracy stands it. hullo! what's the matter?" loud voices came from the door of bracy's room--those of the latter and gedge; and upon hurrying in the young subaltern was astounded to find, as it seemed to him, private gedge with one knee upon the edge of the charpoy, bending over the patient, holding him down by the arm, which was pressed across his chest close up to the throat. "here! hi! hullo here!" cried drummond. "what's the meaning of this, sir?" the words acted like magic. gedge slipped back, drawing bracy's arm from where it lay, and he then carefully laid it down beside him. "it's all right, sir, now, sir; ain't it, mr bracy?" "yes, yes," said the latter faintly, and looking up at his visitor in a weary, dazed way. "this fellow has not been assaulting you, has he?" cried drummond. "me? 'saulting him, sir?" cried gedge. "well, come now, i do like that!" "oh no; oh no," sighed bracy. "it was like this here," continued gedge; "i was a-hanging about waiting to see if he wanted me to give him a drink or fetch him anything." bracy's lips moved, and an anxious expression came over his face; but he said nothing, only looked wildly from one to the other. "then all at once i hears him calling, and i went in. `here, gedge, my lad,' he says--just like that, sir, all wild-like--`take this here arm away; it's trying to strangle me.' "`what! yer own arm, sir?' i says, laughing. `that won't do.'--`yes, it will,' he says, just in that squeezy, buzzy way, sir; `i can't bear it. take it off, or it'll choke me!'" "well?" said drummond anxiously; "did you?" "yes, sir, of course i did; for he spoke just as if it was so; and i got hold of it and tried to pull it away, but he wouldn't let me. he kep' it tight down close to his throat, and looked quite bad in the face." "you should have used force," said drummond. "i did, sir; lots o' force; but he'd got it crooked, and it was just as if the joint had gone fast, so that i was afraid that if i pulled too hard i might break something; and it was just while i was hanging fire like that you came, and he let it come then quite easy. didn't you, sir?" "yes, yes," said bracy hurriedly. "it had gone to sleep, i suppose, and was as heavy and as cold as marble." "oh, i see," said drummond, smiling; "been lying in an awkward position, i suppose?" bracy nodded, but there was a curious look in his eyes that his visitor did not see. "come to take a look at you and have a chat.--i say. you heard about me getting in for it?" "yes, i heard," said bracy sadly. "you were wounded." "bit of a chop from a tulwar," replied drummond, touching his bandaged arm lightly. "nothing much, but i am off duty for a bit. precious nuisance, isn't it?" bracy looked at him so piteously that the young fellow coloured. "of course," he said hurriedly; "i understand. precious stupid of me to talk like that and make a fuss about being off duty for a few days, when you're in for it for weeks. but i say, you know, you are a lot better. old morton said you only wanted time." "he told you that?" cried bracy eagerly. "yes, last night when i met him and he asked me about my scratch. said he was proud of your case, for with some surgeons you would have died. ha, ha! he looked at my arm the while, with his face screwed up as if he pitied me for not being under his hands. i say, he's a rum chap, isn't he?" "he has been very good and patient with me," sighed bracy; "and i'm afraid i have been very ungrateful." "tchah! not you, old fellow. we're all disagreeable and grumble when we're knocked over. that's only natural. children are cross when they're unwell, and i suppose we're only big children. i say, heard the news?" "news? no; i hear nothing here." "poor old man! well, the scouts have brought in news that two more tribes have been bitten with the idea that they want their ranks thinned a bit, and so they've joined the dwats; so i suppose we shall have some warm work." "and i am lying here as helpless as a lump of lead. no; i did not hear." "why, sir, i telled you all that only this morning," broke out gedge. "eh? did you, my lad?" "yes, sir; d'reckly after breakfast." "so you did. i went to sleep afterwards, and it passed out of my memory. i'm getting weaker, i suppose." "not you," cried drummond. "here, i say, as i'm a cripple too, i shall come on more. what do you say to a game or two every day? chess?" bracy shook his head. "of course not; chess is hard work. well, then, draughts?" bracy shook his head again. "right; not much of a game. what do you say to dominoes? we've got a set of double doubles; regular big ones. shall i bring 'em on?" "no," said bracy decisively; "bring your field-glass, and come and sit at that window. you can command a good deal of the valley there." "what! and tell you all the movements i can make out? to be sure, dear boy. now, i never thought of that. so i will. i'll come on this afternoon, and you and i will criticise them all and see if we could have planned the beggars' attack better. there, i promised your she-dragon of a nurse not to stay long, so off i go. bye, bye, old chap; you're beginning to look blooming. we'll do some von moltke, and--ah! would you? i say, you are getting better. larks--eh? but i was too quick for you." the young officer smiled and nodded merrily, and then went out of the room, gedge opening the door for him, and slipping out after. "well, what is it?" said drummond, as gedge stood looking at him anxiously, and as if waiting for him to speak. "thought you was going to say something to me, sir, 'bout mr bracy there. don't speak so loud, or he'll hear you." "don't matter if he does, my lad. we're not conspiring against him. what did you expect me to say?" "something about that arm of his'n, sir, and about him trying to kick you just now." "oh, pooh! nonsense! his arm had gone dead; and as for his kicking at me--well, we're getting old friends now, and it was for a bit of fun." "think so, sir?" "of course." "then you wouldn't tell the doctor about it?" "about that? absurd! here, you're not up to the mark yourself, my lad." "well, no, sir; can't quite reach it yet; but i'm a deal better." "full of fancies, that's all. what! were you thinking that your master was a bit off his head?" "something o' that sort, sir." "then don't think so any more. he's fanciful enough without you beginning." "then you don't think it's anything to mind?" "no, of course not. i'm glad to see him getting so much stronger." drummond nodded, and being in a good deal of pain, began to nurse his arm again, and tried whether whistling would soothe the sharp, gnawing ache which seemed to run from his wrist up to his shoulder. gedge waited till his footsteps died out, and then turned to go back to bracy's room. "his is only a clean cut of a tullywor," he muttered, "and'll soon grow together. different thing to a ragged bullet-wound right through the chest and back, or one like mine, right in the back. i don't like the looks o' all this, though; but he must know better than me, after seeing a lot o' poor fellows cut down and shot; but i think i ought to tell the doctor." he opened the door softly and went in, to find that bracy had been watching for him anxiously. "here, gedge!" saluted him. "yes, sir. get yer a drink, sir?" "no, no; i want to speak to you. i think i can trust you, gedge?" "yes, sir; of course, sir. what yer want me to do?" "hold your tongue, my lad." "yes, sir." "don't tell the doctor or mrs gee that i hit captain roberts on the back yesterday." "how could i, sir? did yer?" "yes, yes," said bracy hurriedly. "nor yet about my arm doing what it did." "no, sir, cert'n'y not; but i say, sir, you know, your arm didn't do nothing but go to sleep." "nor yet about my trying to kick mr drummond," said bracy, without heeding his fellow--sufferer's words. "oh no; i shan't say nothing to nobody, sir, unless you tell me to." "that's right," said bracy, with a sigh of relief. "that will do. go now; i want to sleep till mr drummond comes back." "right, sir," said gedge, and he went to the bed's head and gently raised the sufferer, while he turned the pillow. "makes yer head a bit cooler, sir." "yes, thanks, gedge," said bracy drowsily; and by the time the lad was outside he was half-asleep. "i don't like them games of the guvnor's," said gedge to himself.--"guvnor? well, why not? i'm like being orficer's servant now. there's something queer about him, as if he was a bit off his head and it made him get up to larks; for he can't be--no, no, that's impossible, even if it looks like it. he ain't the sorter chap to be playing at sham abram and make-believe because he was sick of fighting and didn't want to run no more risks." chapter fifteen. the doctor in a fantigue. drummond returned to the hospital with his glass, and, to mrs sergeant gee's disgust, installed himself in the window and sat for a couple of hours lightening the painful monotony of bracy's imprisonment by scanning the movements of the distant enemy hovering about in the hills, and making comments thereon. "ah," he said at last, "what we want here is a company of gunners, with light howitzers to throw shells a tremendous distance. if we could have that cleverly and accurately done, we could soon scatter the beggars; but as it is--" "yes, as it is," said bracy peevishly, "we have no gunners and no howitzers; and if we had, how could they be dragged about among these hills?" "it would be difficult," said drummond. "there are some fellows crawling out of that west ravine now. wait till i've focussed them, and--" "no, no; don't do any more to-day," cried bracy. "i can't bear it. you only make me fretful because i can't be about doing something again." "of course it does; but what is it, old fellow? are you in pain?" "pain? i'm in agony, drummond. i can't sit up, for i seem to have no power; and i can't lie still, because i feel as if there; was something red-hot burning through my spine." "poor old chap! i say--think the bullet is still there?" "no, no; it passed right through." "what does the doctor say?" "always the same--always the same: `you're getting better.'" "that's right; so you are," said the doctor, who had just come to the door.--"ah, mr drummond, you here?" "yes, sir. cheering poor old bracy up a bit." "that's right. how's your wound?" "horrible nuisance, sir." "hum! ha! i should like to have; a look at it, but i suppose it would not be etiquette. all the same, etiquette or no, if it does not begin to mend soon come to me." "i will, sir. good-afternoon. ta, ta, bracy, old man. keep up your spirits." "you needn't go, mr drummond," said the doctor. "i can't stay many minutes, and you can talk to him after i'm gone. well, bracy, my lad, wounds easier?" "no. worse." "that they are not, sir. you told me you felt a little numbness of the extremities." "yes, sir. arm and leg go dead." the doctor nodded. "that agonising pain in the back goes on too," continued bracy. "sometimes it is unbearable." "do you think the bullet is still there, sir?" ventured drummond. "you stick to your regimental manoeuvres, sir," said the doctor gruffly. "what do you know about such things?" "not much, sir; only one of our fellows was very bad that way before you came, and it was through the bullet remaining in the wound." the doctor nodded slowly, and made an examination of his patient, promised to send him something to lull the pain, and then, after a few cheerful words, went away, sent a draught, and the sufferer dropped into a heavy sleep. the days went on, with plenty of what shakespeare called alarums and excursions in the neighbourhood of the great fort, the enemy being constantly making desultory attacks, but only to find graves's boys and wrayford's men, as they were laughingly called, always on the alert, so that the attacking party were beaten off with more or less loss, but only to come on again from some unexpected direction. bracy had plenty of visitors, and mrs gee told him that this was the cause of his want of progress; but the visitors dropped in all the same, and the patient made no advance towards convalescence. now it would be the colonel, who was kind and fatherly, and went away feeling uneasy at the peculiarity of his young officer's symptoms, for bracy was fretful and nervous in the extreme; now an arm would jerk, then a leg, and his manner was so strange that when the colonel went away he sent for dr morton, who bustled in, to meet the colonel's eye searchingly. "doctor," said the latter, "i've just come from bracy's bedside. he does not get on." "not a bit," said the doctor gruffly. "i have been watching his symptoms carefully." "very good of you," said the doctor gruffly. "i've been watching your manoeuvres too." this was meant for a sarcastic retort, but the colonel paid no heed, and went on: "that poor fellow has the bullet still in the wound." "no, he has not," retorted the doctor. "then there is something else?" "tell me something i don't know," said the doctor gruffly. "you think there is, then?" "i know there is," replied the doctor. "do you think, sir, i don't understand my profession?" "don't be pettish, morton. i don't wish to interfere; but i am extremely anxious about poor bracy." "can't be more so than i am, sir." "tell me what you feel is wrong." "bit of iron, i expect, close up to the vertebrae. the abominable missile broke up, and part remained behind." "then, in the name of all that's sensible, why don't you extract it?" "because, in the name of all that's sensible, i don't want to see the poor fellow die of _tetanus_--lockjaw, as you call it." "you dare not extract it?" "that's it, sir. the piece--a mere scrap, i dare say--keeps his nerves in a horrible state of tension, but it is beyond my reach. are you satisfied now?" "perfectly; but can nothing be done?" "nothing but leave it to nature. she may do what i can't." "danger?" "of being a cripple; not of anything fatal." "poor fellow!" said the colonel sadly. "yes, poor fellow!" said the doctor. "i'm doing all i know, and must be off now, for you keep me very busy." roberts had been sitting with the patient that same afternoon, and towards evening the major dropped in, glass in eye, and sat talking for a bit, with bracy fighting hard to keep down his irritability, for the major was a bad visitor in his way. "you ought to be up and about, bracy," he said. "yes; i long to be." "then why don't you try to brace yourself up--be bracy by nature as well as by name--eh? ha, ha! don't you see?" "because i am so weak, sir," replied the patient grimly. "ah, that's what you think, my dear boy," said the major, yawning, and shooting his glass out of his eye. "that's what you think. now, if you were to pull yourself together and make up your mind to get well you'd soon master that weakness." "do you think i'm shamming, then, sir?" "well, no, my dear boy," said the major, stretching the string of his eyeglass as he picked it up, and then giving the latter a polish with his handkerchief before proceeding to stick it into its place; "i don't think you are shamming, but that you are in a weak state, and consequently have become hypochon--what you may call it. if you were to--" flick! and a sudden jump of the major to his feet, as he turned sharply to look down at bracy. "confound you, sir! what do you mean by that?" "mean by--mean by what?" stammered bracy, who lay perfectly motionless, with his arms by his sides. "mean by what, sir? why, by striking at my eyeglass and sending it flying." "no, major; no, i assure you i--" "don't prevaricate with me, sir. there's the string broken, and there's the glass yonder. i--i can forgive a certain amount of irritability in a sick man; but this is impish mischief, sir--the action of a demented boy. how dare you, sir? what the dickens do you mean?" "major, i assure you i wouldn't do such a thing," cried bracy wildly. "don't tell me," muttered the major, striding across to where his glass lay, and picking it up. "cracked, sir, cracked." "indeed, no, major; i am sure i am quite--" "i didn't say you were, sir: but my glass. the last i have, and not a chance of replacing it. how am i to go on duty? why, you must be mad, sir. you might have struck me." the major's words were so loud and excited that they brought mrs gee to the door, to glance in and hurry away, with the result that directly after the doctor appeared. "what's the matter?" he cried. "bracy worse?" "worse, sir?" cried the major, who was now in a towering rage, the broken glass, a part of which had come out of the frame into his hand, having completely overset his equanimity. "worse, sir? look at that." "broken your eyeglass?" said the doctor angrily, "and a good job too. you can see right enough, for we tested your eyes. only a piece of confounded puppyism, of which you ought to be ashamed." "doctor morton," cried the major, puffing out his cheeks, his red face growing mottled in his anger. "how dare you!" "how dare i, sir?" cried the doctor, who was quite as angry. "how dare you come here, disturbing my patients, and turning the place into a bear-garden just because you have dropped your idiotic eyeglass and broken it? do you know i have poor fellows in the next room in a precarious state?" "what! dropped my eyeglass, sir? i tell you, this lunatic here struck at me, sir, and knocked the glass flying." "what!" cried the doctor. "did you do that, bracy?" "no, no, doctor," stammered the young man; "i assure you i--i--" "i--i--i!" roared the major. "how dare you deny it, sir! he did, doctor. the fellow's stark staring mad, and ought to be in a strait-waistcoat. he isn't safe. he might have blinded me. i came in here quite out of sympathy, to sit with him a little while, and this is the treatment i received. suppose i had lost my sight." "look here, major," said the doctor, turning to him, after stepping to the bed and laying his hand upon bracy's forehead; "the poor fellow is as weak as a babe, and could no more have done what you say than flown out of the window and across the valley. you are exaggerating, and--oh, my gracious!" the major had just time to hop aside and avoid the doctor's head, for all at once a tremendous kick was delivered from the bed, and the receiver was propelled as if from a catapult across the room, to bring himself up against the wall. here he turned sharply, to see bracy lying perfectly still upon the bed, staring at him wildly, and the major holding his sides, his always prominent eyes threatening to start from his head, while his cheeks became purple as he choked with laughter and stamped about, trying hard to catch his breath. "ho, ho, ho! ho, ho, ho!" he laughed hoarsely. "oh doctor! you'll be the death of me. this is too rich--this is too rich--this is too rich!" "too rich? be the death of you? i wish it would," panted the doctor, turning to the bed to shake his fist at bracy, but keeping well out of reach of his leg, "you treacherous young scoundrel! how dare you play me such a trick as this?" bracy's lips moved, but no sound was heard, and his eyes looked wildly pathetic in their expression. "i didn't give you credit for such monkey-tricks; but i've done with you now. you've been imposing upon me--you're shamming--malingering, so as to keep out of going on duty again. you might have injured me for life." "don't bully the poor fellow, doctor," cried the major, wiping his eyes, and picking up one piece of his glass which he had dropped. "i don't think he's shamming, he's off his head. look how his eyes roll. poor lad! give him a dose of something to quiet him, for he's as mad as a march hare." "mad as a march hare!" snarled the doctor, rubbing himself. "i told you it's all a trick." "i--i--i--d-d-don't care what it is," stammered the major; "but i wouldn't have missed it for a hundred eyeglasses. ho, ho, ho! ho, ho, ho! i can't stop myself. i never laughed so much in my life.--ha!" he added as he sank into a chair and wiped his eyes; "i feel better now." "better!" cried the doctor. "you may as well let me give you something, or you'll be disgracing yourself before the men." that was enough. the major sprang to his feet, to look threateningly at the doctor. "disgrace myself, sir?" he cried furiously. "bah!" cried the doctor, and he bounced out of the room, and, forgetting his patients in the ward near, banged the door. "there, you've done it now, bracy!" cried the major, calming down, and going up to the bedside. "no more of those games, sir, or i shall hit out too. what's the matter with you? are you shamming, or are you off your head?" "beg pardon, sir," said gedge, entering the room; "the doctor's sent me to keep watch by mr bracy, sir; and he has given me orders that no one is to be near him till he has decided what is to be done." "what! order me to go?" said the major fiercely. "you go back to doctor morton, and tell him never to dare to send me such a message as that again." "yes, sir," said gedge, saluting. "no; stop. this is his own ground," said the major. "here, go on with your duty, my lad, and keep a sharp eye on mr bracy. he is... or--er-- not quite so well to-day. you needn't tell the doctor what i said." "no, sir; cert'n'y not, sir," replied gedge, and he held the door open, standing like a sentry till the major had passed out, closed it, and i hen stood looking down at bracy, who lay gazing at him despairingly for some moments before raising his hand cautiously and doubtingly towards his lips. chapter sixteen. low spirits. "drink o' water, sir? yus, sir--there you are." gedge gently raised bracy's head and, all the time on the watch, hit him drink with avidity: but lowered his burden quickly the next instant, for with a sudden jerk the remainder of the water in the brass cup presented was jerked over his face, and the lotah went flying with a bell-like ring. "i was on the lookout for that, sir," said gedge good-humouredly, "but you was too quick for me. i say, sir, don't you say you ain't getting better no more." "better, gedge?" said bracy pitifully. "i am horribly worse." "not you, sir, when you can play games like that." "oh, my lad--my lad, i could not help it!" gedge grinned as he looked at him, and shook his head. "you don't believe me," said bracy sadly. "well, you see, sir, i can't very well after that. i couldn't quite take it in when the doctor told me what you'd done to him, and how you'd served the major." "what did he say?" asked bracy eagerly. "said you'd broke out, sir, and was playing all kinds o' games; and that you had been cheating him and everybody else." "anything else?" "yus, sir; that it was a reg'lar case o' malingering, on'y i don't think he quite meant it. he was cross because he said you kicked him. did you, sir?" "yes--no--my leg jerked out at him, suddenly, gedge." "same thing, sir. said you'd knocked the major's eyeglass off and broke it. did you do that, sir?" "my arm jerked out and came in contact with his glass, gedge." "same thing, sir, on'y we call it hitting out." bracy made a weary gesture with his head, and then, in despairing tones, asked for more water. "all right, sir; but no larks this time." "what?" "don't get chucking it in my face, sir, unless it does you a lot o' good. if it do i won't mind, for i should like to see you full o' fun again." "fun!" groaned bracy. "give me the water. it is no fun, but a horror that is upon me, my lad." "sorry to hear that, sir," said gedge, filling the brass cup again from a tall metal bottle. "still, it do seem rather comic. what makes you do it, sir?" "i can't help it, my lad," groaned bracy, who once more drank thirstily and emptied the cup; gedge, who had been watching him sharply, ready to dodge the water if it were thrown, managing to get it away this time without receiving a drop. "now you'll be better, sir." "thank you, my lad. i wish i could think so." "well, do think so, sir. you ought to, for you must be an awful deal stronger." "no, no; i am weaker than ever." "are yer, sir?" "yes, my lad. i was a little like this the other day." "yus, sir, i know." "and it has been getting worst; and worse." "better and better, sir. it's a sign the nat'ral larkiness in yer's coming back." "no, no, my lad. the doctor noticed it when my arm twitched, and told me it was involuntary action of the nerves, caused by the injury from the bullet." "well, sir, he ought to know: and i dare say it's all right. but i say, sir--i don't, mind, and i won't say a word--you did it o' purpose." "no, gedge; indeed no." "but really, sir, do you mean to tell me that when your arm was laid acrost your chest you couldn't get it away?" "yes, of course i do." "and that you hit out and kick at people like that without being able to help it?" "yes; it is quite true, my lad, and it is horrible." "well, i dunno about being horrible, sir. things like that can't last, no more than a fellow being off his head and talking all kinds o' stuff for a bit." "you can't grasp it, gedge," sighed bracy. "no, sir; wish i could." "what!" "only wish you had my shot in the back, and i'd got yours." "you don't know what you're talking about, my lad." "oh, don't i, sir? i just do. voluntary action, don't you call it? i just seem to see myself lying in yonder with old gee coming to see me, and with a leg and a arm ready to go off as yours seem to do. my word, the times i've felt like giving old gee one, but dursen't, because it's striking your sooperior officer. just think of it, sir; knocking him right over all innercent like, and not being able to help it. why, i'd give anything to have your complaint." "nonsense, nonsense! you are talking folly." "can't help that, sir. it'd be worth months o' pain to see old gee's face, and to hear him asking yer what yer meant by that." "no, no; it's horrible--and it means, i'm afraid, becoming a hopeless cripple." "there, you're getting down in the mouth again. don't you get thinking that. but even if you did, we'd make the best of it." "the best of it, man!" groaned bracy. "o' course, sir. you could get me my discharge, i dessay, and i'd come and carry yer or push yer in one o' them pramblater things as gents sets in and steers themselves. then yer could ride o' horseback, or i could drive yer in a shay; and then there's boats as you could be rowed about in or have sails. it don't matter much about being a 'opeless cripple, so long as you're a gentleman and don't have to work for your living. then, as to them two spring limbs, i could soon get used to them, sir, and learn to dodge 'em; and if i was too late sometimes, it wouldn't matter. all be in the day's work, sir. so don't you be down." bracy was silent for a few minutes; and seeing that he wished to think, gedge moved silently about the room, sponging up the water, that had been spilled, taking down bracy's sword and giving it a polish, rearranging his clothes upon a stool, and whistling softly, though he was in a good deal of pain, till he began chuckling to himself, and bracy turned his head. "what are you laughing at?" he said. "only thinking about old gee, sir. he 'listed just at the same time as me, sir; and then, all along of his bumptiousness and liking to bully everybody, while i was always easy-going and friends with every one, he gets first his corp'ral's stripes, and then his sergeant's, and begins to play jack-in-office, till his uniform's always ready to crack at the seams. just fancy, sir, being able to give him a floorer without helping it. ho, my!" gedge had to wipe his eyes with the backs of his hands, so full of mirth seemed the thought of discomfiting the tyrant who had hectored over him so long; and bracy lay looking at him till he calmed down again. "you don't believe in all this being involuntary, gedge?" he said at last. "didn't at first, sir. i thought it was your larks, or else you were off your head. but i believe it all now, every bit, and i can't get over it. just to be able to hit your sooperior officer, and no court-martial. then the doctor. just to be able to make him feel a bit, after what he has made us squirm over." "then you do believe me now?" "of course, sir. and i tell yer it's grand to have a complaint like that. i mean for such as me. no punishment-drill, no lines, no prison, no nothing at all, for bowling your sooperior officer over like a skittle." bracy turned his head wearily. "ah, gedge, you can't realise what it all means, to be a hopeless cripple, always in pain." "wuth it, sir, every twinge; and as to being a hopeless cripple, what's that so long as there's plenty o' crutches to be had? pst! some un coming, sir." gedge was right, for directly after the doctor entered the room, signed to gedge to go, and then detained him. "how has mr bracy been?" he said sharply. "bit low-sperrited, sir." "yes; but has he exhibited any of those peculiar phenomena?" gedge passed his hand over his chin and stared. "bah! has he kicked at you, or struck you, or done anything of that kind?" "no, sir; not a bit." "that's right. well, bracy, you quite startled me, my lad; i was taken by surprise, and i looked at it from the commonplace point of view. i've had time to think of it now from the scientific side. tell me, can you control yourself when those fits come on? i mean, this involuntary nerve and muscular action!" "do you think that i should let it go on if i could, doctor?" said bracy sadly. "no, of course not, my dear fellow. pardon me for asking you." "tell me, then: can you cure it? can you stop these terrible contractions?" "yes, with nature's help, my dear boy." "ha!" sighed bracy: "then may it come. but why is it? i never heard of such a thing before." "naturally; and i never encountered such a case. it is all due to the irritation of the spinal nerves, and until we can get rid of the cause we cannot arrive at the cure." "but, doctor--" "patience, my dear boy--patience." "can you give me some?" said bracy sadly. "i hope so, for i am going to appeal to your manliness, your strength of mind. you must try to bear your sufferings, and i will help you by means of sedatives." "thanks, doctor. if you could only get me to be strong enough to act in some way." "go out with the men and help them to shoot a few of the enemy--eh!" "yes," cried bracy eagerly. "it would keep me from thinking so, and wearing myself out with dread of my helpless future." "well, listen to reason," said the doctor cheerily. "your helpless future, in which you see yourself a miserable cripple, old before your time, and utterly useless--" "yes, yes," cried bracy eagerly; "it is all that which keeps me back." "of course; and what is all that but a kind of waking ill-dream, which you invent and build up for yourself? come, you must own that." "yes," said bracy, with a sigh; "but i am very bad, doctor." "were." "i am still; but i will and can fight harder--" "no, no; not as you did this morning," said the doctor, smiling. "i say, i can fight harder if you tell me that i may recover from these terrible fits." "i tell you, then, that you may and will. there, you've talked enough. shake hands, and i'll go." he held out his hand, but there was no response, for bracy's right arm lay motionless by his side, and a look of misery crossed the poor fellow's face. "never mind," said the doctor quietly; and he took bracy's hand in his, when the fingers contracted over his in a tremendous pressure, which he had hard work to hear without wincing. but he stood smiling down at his patient till the contraction of the muscles ceased, and bracy did not know till afterwards the pain that his grip had caused. chapter seventeen. on the balance. the enemy had been very quiet for some days. the weather had been bad. heavy rains had changed the rills and streams which ran along the gullies and ravines into fierce torrents, which leaped and bounded downward, foaming and tearing at the rocks which blocked their way, till with a tremendous plunge they joined the river in the valley, which kept up one deep, thunder-like boom, echoing from the mountains round. before the rain came the sun had seemed to beat down with double force, and the valley had become intolerable during the day, the perpendicular rocks sending back the heat till the fort felt like an oven, and the poor fellows lying wounded under the doctor's care suffered terribly, panting in the great heat as they did, feeling the pangs of tantalus, for there, always glittering before their eyes in the pure air, were the mountain-peaks draped in fold upon fold of the purest ice and snow. "we should lose 'em all, poor fellows!" the doctor said, "if it were not for these glorious evenings and perfect nights. it wouldn't matter so much if we could get a few mule-loads of the ice from up yonder. can't be done, i suppose?" "no," said colonel graves sadly. "plenty of men would volunteer, but, much as every one is suffering--the ladies almost as bad as your wounded, morton--i dare not send them, for they would never get back with their loads. many of the brave fellows would straggle back, of course, but instead of bringing ice, doctor, they would be bearing their wounded and dead comrades." "yes, that's what i feel," sighed the doctor, "and, heaven knows, we don't want any more patients. must be content with what coolness we get at night." "and that's glorious," said the major, wiping his wet brow. "delightful," added captain roberts. "it's the making of poor old bracy. he seems to hang his head and droop more and more every day, till the sun goes down, and to begin to pick up again with the first breath that comes down from between the two big peaks there--what do they call them--erpah and brum?" "ha! wish it was coming now," said the doctor; "iced and pure air, to sweep right down the valley and clear away all the hot air, while it cools the sides of the precipices." "why don't you let me go, colonel!" said drummond suddenly. "i want to get some ice badly for poor old bracy. six mules, six drivers, and a dozen of our boys. oh, i could do it. let me go, sir." the colonel shook his head, and every day at the hottest time drummond proposed the same thing; till on the last day, after gradually growing weaker in his determination, urged as he was on all sides by the sufferers in hospital, the wan looks of the ladies, and the longings of the men, the colonel said: "well, mr drummond, i'll sleep on it to-night, and if i come to a determination favourable to the proposition, you shall go; but not alone. one of my officers must go with you." "glad to have him, sir," cried the subaltern eagerly. "whom will you send, sir?" "i'll volunteer, sir," said roberts quietly. "good," said the colonel; "so it will be as well for you and drummond here to quietly select your men and the mules with their drivers, plus tools for cutting out the ice-like compressed snow. if i decide against it there will be no harm done." "better make our plans, then, as to which way to go. study it all by daylight with our glasses." "needn't do that," said drummond eagerly. "i know. we'll go straight up the steep gully that i followed when i went after the bears, it's awfully rough, but it's the best way, for the niggers never camp there; it's too wet for them." "very well," said the colonel; and the two young officers went straight through the scorching sunshine, which turned the great court of the fort into an oven, to where bracy lay panting with the heat, with gedge doing his best to make life bearable by applying freshly wrung-out towels to his aching brow. "news for you, old chap," said drummond in a whisper. "but send that fellow of yours away." "there is no need," said bracy faintly. "i can't spare him, and he's better worth trusting than i am." "oh yes, we can trust gedge," said roberts in a low tone, while the lad was fetching a fresh bucket of water from the great well-like hole in the court, through which an underground duct from the river ran, always keeping it full of clear water fresh from the mountains, but in these days heated by the sun as it flamed down. the news was imparted by drummond, and bracy shook his head. "it would be glorious," he said; "but you ought not to go. graves mustn't let a dozen men run such risks for the sake of us poor fellows. it would be madness. we must wait for the cool nights." "he will let us go," said drummond; "and we can do it." "no," said bracy, speaking with more energy, and he turned his head to roberts. "i beg you will not think of such a thing, old lad," he said earnestly. "well, we shall see." "ready for another, sir?" said gedge, coming in with the bucket. "yes, yes, as soon as you can," said bracy. "this one feels boiling hot." the fresh, cool, wet cloth was laid across his forehead; and, rousing up from the disappointment he felt at bracy taking so decided a view against an expedition which the young subaltern had proposed to make almost solely in his friend's interest, and moved by the boyish spirit of mischief within him, drummond suddenly exclaimed: "look out, gedge, or he'll bowl you over!--oh, i beg your pardon, bracy, old chap. i didn't mean to hurt your feelings. knock me over, roberts. i deserve it." for bracy had winced sharply, and a look as of one suffering mental agony came into his eyes. "it does not matter," he said, smiling faintly and holding out his hand, which drummond caught in his. "ain't no fear, sir," said gedge, who was soaking the hot cloth. "the guv'nor ain't had a touch now for a week." "quiet!" whispered roberts to the man. "he is quite right, roberts, old fellow," sighed bracy; "i am certainly better. but if i could only get rid of that constant pain!" "that must go soon," said drummond cheerily. "i wish i could take your agony-duty for a few hours everyday. honour bright, i would." "i know you would, old chap," said bracy, smiling at him; "but i shall beg graves not to let you go." "nonsense! don't say a word," cried drummond. "if you do, hang me if ever i confide in you again!" bracy laughed softly. "i am pretty free from scepticism," he said; "but i can't believe that. now you fellows must go. the dragon will be here to start you if you stay any longer. serve him right, though, roberts, to let him go on this mad foray, for he'd get wounded, and be brought back and placed under dame gee's hands." "oh, hang it! no; i couldn't stand that," cried the young officer; and a few minutes later they left the room, for drummond to begin grumbling. "i don't care," he said. "if the colonel gives us leave we must go. you won't back out, will you?" "no; for it would be the saving of some of the poor fellows. but we shall see." they did that very night, for, instead of the regular cool wind coming down the upper valley, a fierce hot gust roared from the other direction like a furnaces-blast from the plains; and at midnight down came the most furious storm the most travelled of the officers had ever encountered. the lightning flashed as if it were splintering the peaks which pierced the clouds, and the peals of thunder which followed sounded like the falling together of the shattered mountains, while amidst the intense darkness the sentries on the walls could hear the hiss and seething of the rain as it tore by on the rushing winds which swept through gorge and valley. the next morning the storm broke dark and gloomy, with the rain falling heavily and the river rolling along thick and turbulent, while one of the first things the sentries had to report was the fact that one of the hostile camps--the one nearest to the fort--was being struck. by night the tribe in another of the side valleys was withdrawn, and during the days which followed one by one the little camps of white-robed tribes-men melted away like the snow upon the lower hills, till not a man of the investing forces remained, and the long-harassed defenders looked in vain from the highest tower of the fort for their foes. the falling rain had effected in a few days that which the brave; defenders had been unable; to compass in as many weeks; while the alteration from the insufferable heat to the soft, cool, moist air had a wonderful effect upon the wounded, and made doctor morton chuckle and rub his hands as he rejoiced over the change. and still the rain went, on falling; the valley seemed surrounded by cascades, the streams rushed and thundered down, and the main river swept by the walls of the fort with a sullen roar; while, as if dejected and utterly out of heart, the british flag, which had flaunted out so bravely from the flagstaff, as if bidding defiance to the whole hill-country and all its swarthy tribes, hung down and clung and wrapped itself about the flagstaff, the halyard singing a dolefully weird strain in a minor key, while the wind whistled by it on its way down towards the plains. chapter eighteen. uncooked mutton. two days passed--two of about the wettest and most dismal days imaginable. there was no sign of the enemy, and the scouts sent out came back dripping, and always with the same news--that the hill-men had given up the siege in disgust, and were right away making for their homes in the valleys at the foot of the mountain-slopes. there was no relaxation in the watchfulness of the garrison, however, the treacherous nature of the tribes being too well-known. hence it was that the sentries in their heavy greatcoats stood in such shelter as they possessed, keeping watch and ward, with the valley stretched out dark and gloomy, and the booming and roaring river dimly-seen through the gloom of the night, as it foamed and tossed itself in spray against the various obstacles it encountered on its way towards the lower gorge whence colonel graves's regiment had made its appearance when it first came to the assistance of the beleaguered in ghittah fort. the rain had ceased and given place to a thick mist, so peculiar in its appearance that one of two officers going the rounds, both nearly invisible in their long overcoats, said softly to the other: "might fancy we were at home after one of our muggy days." "yes; just like a london suburban fog, old fellow." then there was silence for a minute, as they walked on along the terraced wall, before the one who had just spoken said in a quick whisper: "i say, roberts, oughtn't there to be a sentry here?" "i was just thinking so," was the reply. "i hope to goodness he isn't asleep, for i hate having to report a man for neglect." he had hardly whispered the words when there was the click of a rifle, a voice challenged them, and they gave the customary response. "this is not your place, my man," said roberts then. "no, sir; twenty yards farther that way. but there's something down below then; that i can't quite make out. it seemed to come past and on this way." "what! up on the ramparts?" said drummond quickly. "no, no, sir; right down below the face of the wall, and i come on a bit so as to follow and look down. i didn't like to give the alarm." "why?" said roberts sharply. "because it might be a false one, sir." "better give a dozen false alarms, my lad, than miss a real danger. now, then, what did you see?" "well, sir, if we was at home i should say it was a drove o' sheep or a herd o' pigs; but these hill-niggers are so artful and ready to be down upon us that i fancied it might be men." "men haven't four legs," said drummond, laughing softly. "no, sir; but these dwats don't think anything o' going down on all-fours." "but there have been none about lately," said drummond; "the rain seemed to be too much for them." "yes, sir; but ain't they the more likely to come down on us when they think we believe we're safe?--change guard, sir." for steps were heard, and a party of men came up smartly, were challenged, and the non-commissioned officer in charge answered. "that you, gee?" said roberts. "yes, sir." "come here. the sentry thinks there are people below there. come and have a look." "the sentry i've just relieved thought the same, sir," replied gee sharply, "and i had a good look. they're sheep driven down from the hills by the bad weather. i was going to report to the colonel, sir, and ask whether he'd order a sally from the gate to drive them in. be useful, sir." "to be sure. you'd better do it. let's have a look over first." they stepped together to the embattled wall, and peered down into the darkness; but nothing was visible now, and roberts was about to give the matter up as all a mistake, when, from where the mist was most dense, there was the pattering of hoofs in the wet mud, followed by the peculiarly human cough of one of the sheep of the district. "no mistake about what they are, sir," said sergeant gee softly. "they've come down to the low grounds on account of the storm." "yes," said roberts, "and because there are none of the dwats to keep them back. why, gee, we're in luck. we must have the men out and the flock driven in." "not much room for them in the court, sir," said the sergeant. "no; but to-morrow we must have something in the way of hurdles to shut them in close under the wall, and they can be driven out to pasture every day by some of the men, with a guard to watch over them. you try and keep them under your eye now while i go and tell the colonel." the two young men peered down at where the pattering of hoofs could be heard through the mist twenty feet below them; though nothing was visible but a dimly-seen moving mass. a few minutes later they announced the find to the colonel. "this is good news, gentlemen," he said; "such a store of fresh provisions will be a treasure. order out your company, roberts, and you had better get five-and-twenty or thirty of your men, mr drummond." "yes, sir," said the subaltern, smiling. "what's that you're thinking--rather absurd to get out two companies to drive in a flock of sheep?" "well, sir, i was thinking something of the sort," said the young man, colouring. "i want them to strengthen the guard," said the colonel quietly. "a dozen of the native servants can be sent round the flock to head the sheep toward the open gates. there is nothing like being on your guard when dealing with a venturesome as well as a treacherous enemy." "you think the enemy may make a rush, sir, as soon as the gates are open?" "no, roberts," said the colonel, laying his hand on the young man's shoulder. "i think the enemy might make a rush if they were near; but, happily, i do not believe there are any of the hill-men for many miles round. the last reports are that they are heading homewards, and i begin to hope that the breaking-up of the weather has set us at liberty." the arrangements were soon made, everything being done quietly and without any display of lights. the fusiliers and the draft of colonel wrayford's regiment were stationed on either side of the gates, and about twenty of the native servants, under the guidance of a couple of the friendly hill-men, accustomed to look after the camp live-stock, were detailed with their orders to divide as soon as the gates were opened, and steal cautiously round to the far side of the flock before trying to head them in. strict orders had been given to keep the court still and dark, so that the sheep might not take fright upon reaching the gates; while the news spread very rapidly, and the men turned out of their rough quarters, seeking the walls, so as to try and see something of what was going on. at last, all being ready, the colonel gave the order for the guard occupying the two towers which commanded the gales to report the state of affairs. sergeant gee had taken his place there, and he came down to announce that the sheep were in a very large flock, apparently huddled together about a hundred yards from the gate. but they were quite invisible, and their position could only be made out by their fidgety movements. "sounds to me, sir, as if they'd got wolves hanging about them, or maybe a bear." "then they'll be all the more ready to come into shelter," said the colonel, who then gave the word. the great leaves of the entrance were drawn inward, and, each party under his leader, the native servants slipped silently out in indian file, turned to right and left, and disappeared in the darkness, the mist seeming to swallow them up after their third step. "quite a bit of sport, old fellow," whispered drummond, who had charge of the men on one side, roberts being on the other, while the regular guard manned the tower and adjacent wall in strength, so as to see the fun, as they dubbed it. all was silent now, and the only lights visible were those of the windows in the officers' quarters, so that it was hard to imagine that many hundred men, for the most part unarmed, were listening eagerly for the first approach of the unsuspecting sheep. the listeners were not kept in suspense as to whether plenty of roast mutton was to supersede the short commons of the past. there was what seemed to be a long period of silence and darkness, during which a cloud of dense mist floated in through the gateway to fill the court; and during this time of waiting the watchers, by other senses rather than sight, pictured the dark scouts playing the same part as falls to the lot of a collie dog at home, doubling round the great flock, whose restless trampling they could hear in the soft, wet soil. but at last there was the sound of many pattering feet, telling that the flock was in motion; and the suspense deepened, for the question was, "would the men be able to head the sheep in, or would they dash off to right or left, avoiding the big opening through the gates as the mouth of a trap?" "will they--won't they?" muttered drummond; and roberts, like the men in the angle hidden by the tower on the side, held his breath. the minutes seemed long drawn out now, as the pent-up excitement increased; and gedge, who was at the open window of the hospital quarters, reached out as far as he could, his heart beating hard as he listened, hearing the pattering quite plainly, and reporting progress to his officer, stretched upon his pallet. for the news had penetrated to where they were. gedge had heard it from an ambulance sergeant, and hurried in to bracy. "hoo-roar, sir!" he said excitedly, panting hard the while. "tell yer direckly. it's wonderful how soon i gets out o' breath since i had my last wound,"--the knock-down from the stone in the pass was always "my first wound."--"the boys have captured a flock o' sheep, sir, and it's going to be cuts out o' roast legs and hot mutton-chops for us every day." bracy sighed on hearing this. "ah, you go like that, sir," said gedge; "but just you wait till you smell one o' them chops, frizzled as i'll do it, and peppered and salted--wonder whether there is a bit o' pepper to be got." gedge did not get the news till the arrangements were well in progress, and a pang of disappointment shot, through him, mingled with a longing to go and join in the fun. but he kept his thoughts to himself, and set to work to make his invalid participate as much as was possible by listening and reporting all he could hear. "just you hark, sir; can't hear a whisper, and it's as black as can be," he said softly. "hope; those chaps as they've sent won't muff it and let the sheep get away to the mountains." "they most likely will," sighed bracy, who was more low-spirited than usual that night. "that's what i'm afraid on, sir. can't hear nothing, sir," he said mournfully. "yes, i can; just a soft sort o' sound as is getting louder. it's pitter-patter o' little feet in the mud. yes, that's it, sir. they're a-coming nigher and nigher. oh! don't i wish i was out behind 'em with a couple of those grey dogs without any tails the drovers uses. i'd have 'em in through the gates in no time, without losing one." "are they going to drive the flock into the courtyard?" said bracy wearily. "why, i telled him they were just now," muttered gedge; and then aloud, "yes, sir, that's it; and here they come, and--i can't see, but i can hear--they're a-getting quite near. and of course, as soon as they're all in, bing-bang our chaps'll swing them great gates to and make 'em fast, and there, you are. what a glorious grab, and won't the niggers be wild! say, mr bracy, sir." "yes." "don't you feel as if you want to shout?" "no, gedge, no." "i do, sir. i say, sir, if i was you i'd give me orders to see the butchers, and buy four o' the sheepskins. i could dress 'em, and you could have 'em made up into a rug, or let the tailor line your greatcoat with 'em. for if we're going to be shut up here all the winter, every one of them skins 'll be better for you than two ton o' coals." "buy six for me, my lad," said bracy, "and have three to line your own coat." "oh, thank ye, sir; but--" "no, no; three will do, my lad, for i shall be lying asleep under the turf before the winter comes." "mr bracy, sir!" cried gedge in a husky voice. "oh, sir, plee, sir, don't go and talk like that, sir! oh, blow the sheep, and the mutton, and the skins!" he muttered; "what do i care about 'em now?" he was turning away, when, regretting what he had said, bracy raised himself a little on one elbow, and said softly, and with his voice sounding stronger: "why don't you go on telling me, my lad! is the flock coming nearer?" gedge thrust his head out again, and then partly withdrew it. "yes, sir--close in, sir. you can hear 'em now; they must be coming in at the gates. oh, do be careful!" he whispered to nobody, once more full of excitement, and imagining everything in the darkness. "steady, steady! mind, you nigger to the left. yah! don't get waving your arms like that; you'll scare one o' them old rams. can't you see him tossing his head about? he'll bolt directly, and if he does the whole flock 'll be after him and off and away to the hills." "can you see them, gedge?" said bracy, beginning to take interest in the capture now for his lad's sake, for deep down in his breast there was a well-spring of gratitude for all the poor, rough, coarse fellow had done. "see 'em, sir? no; it's as black as the inside of a tar-barrel: but i can hear and fancy it all, and i've helped drive many a flock out whitechapel way when i was a small boy. here they come, though, patter, patter, and the chaps have done it splendid; they haven't made a sound. here they come; they must be half in by now. there's some on 'em close under the winder, sir. hear 'em puffing and breathing?" "yes, yes; i can hear them there quite plainly, gedge. i hope they will secure them now, for every one's sake." "so do i, sir; but they're not caught till they're all in and the gates is shut. our sheep in london's wild enough when they take fright, while these things is more like goats, and you know how they can run up among the rocks. oh, steady, steady, out there; look sharp and shut those gates," whispered the listener. "oh, do mind! if i sees all them legs o' mutton cutting their sticks off to the mountains i shall go mad." "what's that?" cried bracy, as in the wild flush of excitement that flashed through his brain it seemed as if he had received a galvanic shock, and he sat right up in his bed, to keep in that position, gazing wildly towards the darkened window. gedge doubtless replied, but his voice was drowned by the wild, warlike yell of triumph which rose from the court--a yell which told its own tale of the success of a _ruse_. the sheep had been driven into the court through the mist and darkness--a great flock; but with them fully a hundred tulwar and knife armed dwats in their winter sheepskin-coats, who had crept in with the quiet sheep on all-fours, the placid animals having doubtless been accustomed to the manoeuvre, thought out and practised for weeks past, with a so far perfectly successful result. the yell was answered by the colonel's voice shouting clearly the order for the gates to be shut; but the massacre had begun, the mad mussulman fanatics who had undertaken the forlorn hope being ready to do or die; and, as the rattle of the moving gates began, an answering war-cry came from not far away, the rush of a large body of men making for the opening being plainly heard. "taken by surprise!" shouted bracy wildly as he realised the horror. "gedge, it means the slaughter of the poor women and our wounded comrades in the ward. here, quick, my sword! my revolver! quick! get one yourself." "i've got yours, sir, here," cried gedge excitedly as he snatched them from where they hung. "don't--don't move, sir; you're too weak and bad, and i'll keep the window and the door, sir. they shan't come near yer while i'm alive. after that--here, ketch hold, sir--your pistol, sir-- after that you must lie still and shoot." the light had been extinguished, so that the sheep should not be scared by a glare from the window; and in the darkness, amidst the howls, yells, and shouts in the courtyard, gedge felt for the bed so as to thrust the loaded revolver into bracy's hand. but, to his astonishment, a strong hand was laid upon his shoulder, and the sword was snatched from his grasp, while bracy cried in a voice the lad hardly knew: "keep the pistol, close that door and window, and come on. gedge, lad, we must try and keep the ward, before these savages get in." chapter nineteen. ghazis and cunning. as bracy, closely followed by gedge, made for the door, the noise and confusion in the darkness were horrible. there were nearly a score of sick and wounded in the two rows of beds, some of whom were groaning and appealing for help; but the majority were making brave efforts to get on some clothes, and one man was shouting for the nurse to go to the armoury and bring as many rifles and bayonets as she could carry. but there was no answer to their appeals, as bracy, tottering at first, but growing stronger as he passed between the two rows of beds, struggled for the door at the end, and passed through into a little lobby, from which another door led at once into the court, a mere slit of a window at the side admitting a few faint rays of light. "ha!" ejaculated bracy in a tone of thankfulness. "the door's fast, gedge, lad, and we must defend it to the last. we can do no good outside." "who's this?" cried a harsh, sharp voice. "bracy, my dear boy, you here?" cried the doctor almost simultaneously. "nurse!--doctor!" panted the young officer. "yes, here we are, my boy, on duty; and bless this woman! she's as plucky as half-a-dozen men." "nonsense!" said mrs gee harshly. "you don't suppose i was going to stand still and let the wretches massycree my patients--do you, doctor?" "no, my dear, i don't think anything of the kind, and certainly i won't. have you got plenty of cartridges?" "a dozen packets, and there's four rifles with fixed bayonets behind the door." "i'll have one, my lass. i was afraid i should have to take to my surgical instruments. but, look here, bracy, my boy, you can do no good, so go back to bed and send that scoundrel gedge here. he's hiding under one of the beds. he could load for nurse, here, and me, while we fired." "if you warn't like one o' my sooperior officers," snarled gedge, "i'd say something nasty to you, doctor. give us one of them rifles, old lady; i'm better with them and a bay'net than with this popgun. you take your pistol, mr bracy, sir." "no, no--yes, yes," said the doctor hurriedly. "you may want it, my boy. now, then, go back to your bed. you'll be in the way here." "in the way of some of these yelling fiends, i hope, doctor," said bracy, thrusting the revolver into the waistband of his hurriedly dragged on trousers. "now, then, where will they try to break in?" "the first window they can reach, when they fail at this door. you, gedge, watch that window. no one can get in, but some one is sure to try." the keen point of a bayonet was held within a few inches of the opening the next moment, and then the little party, awaiting the attack, stood listening to the terrible sounds from without. it was hard work to distinguish one from the other, for the confusion was now dreadful; but, from time to time, bracy, as he stood quivering there as if a strange thrill of reserved force was running through every vein, nerve, and muscle, made out something of what was going on, and primarily he grasped the fact, from the loud clanging, that the great gates had been closed and barred against the entrance of those who were rushing forward to the support of the fanatical ghazis who had been so successful in their _ruse_. then came other sounds which sent a ray of hope through the confusion; first one or two shots rang out, then there was a ragged volley, and a more or less steady fire was being kept up from the towers and walls. but this was doubtless outward, begun by the sentries, and aided by the two companies that rapidly mounted to their side by the orders of their officers, who felt that it would be madness to begin firing in the dark upon the ghazis raging about the court, for fear of hitting their unarmed friends. it was some minutes before the colonel could reach the guard-room, which was held by the relief, and he had a couple of narrow escapes from cuts aimed at him; but he reached the place at last, in company with about a dozen unarmed men, and in a few minutes there was one nucleus here ready with fixed bayonets to follow his orders. other men made a rush for their quarters from the walls where they had flocked, unarmed, to be spectators of the capture; but to reach them and their rifles and ammunition they had to cross the court, which was now one tossing chaos of cutting and slashing fiends in human form, rushing here and there, and stumbling over the frightened sheep, which plunged and leaped wildly, adding greatly to the din by their piteous bleating, many to fall, wounded, dying, and struggling madly, beneath the sword-cuts intended for the garrison. these were flying unarmed seeking for refuge, and often finding none, but turning in their despair upon their assailants, many of whom went down, to be trampled under foot by those whom they sought to slay. the firing now began to rapidly increase, the flashings of the rifles seeming to cut through the dense mist, now growing thicker with the smoke, which, instead of rising, hung in a heavy cloud, mingling with the fog, and making the efforts of the defenders more difficult as it increased. for some time every one seemed to have lost his head, as, in spite of the efforts of the officers, the panic was on the increase, and the ghazis had everything their own way. colonel graves, as soon as he had got his little force together, gave the word for a rush with the bayonet, and led the way, his men following bravely, but the difficulties they encountered were intense. it was almost impossible to form in line, and when at last this was roughly achieved in the darkness, and the order to advance was given, it was upon a mass of struggling sheep mingled with the yelling fiends; and, to the horror of the line of sturdy men, they found that to fire, or advance with the bayonet, would be to the destruction of friend as well as foe. to add to the horror, the wild and piteous shrieks of women arose now from the portion of the fort containing the officers' quarters; and at this roberts, who was firing with his men down into the seething mass of fresh assailants swarming at the gates and striving, so far vainly, to mount the walls, gave a sharp order. "here, cease firing, my lads," he yelled. "drummond--drummond! where's mr drummond?" "gone, sir," came from one of the men. "what! down?" cried roberts. "no, sir; he said something about go on firing, and hooked it off along the ramp." an angry groan arose, and roberts muttered something about his friend before shouting again. "sergeant," he cried, "take the command of your men, and keep these dogs from mounting the gate. i am going to lead my company to the officers' quarters. ready, my lads? no firing. the bayonet. we must save those women, or die." a loud, sharp, snapping hurrah rang out, seeming to cut through the mist, and then at roberts's "forward!" they dashed after him at the double, to reach the next descent into the court, which meant right among the yelling ghazis, but at the opposite end to that where colonel graves and the major--who had reached them now with a couple of dozen men, mostly armed with the indians' tulwars--had managed to struggle into line. very few minutes elapsed before the shouting of captain roberts's men, as they dashed down, two abreast, cutting into the mass below, added to the wild confusion, and for a time it seemed as if the struggle would become hopeless, as the brave fellows' strength began to yield to exhaustion, for the power to combine seemed gone, and the _melee_ grew more a hand-to-hand fight, in which the savage ghazis had the advantage with their keen swords, their adversaries wanting room to use their bayonets after a few fierce and telling thrusts. "this is useless, graham," panted the colonel at last; "these sheep hamper every movement. we can do nothing in this horrible darkness. i am going to give the order for every man to make for the walls, where we must defend ourselves with the bayonet as the fellows attack us. we must wait for morning, and then shoot them down." "and by then they will have slaughtered every woman and non-combatant in the fort," growled the major savagely. "no; we must each lead a company or two for the quarters. you take as many as you can collect straight for the ladies' rooms." "roberts has gone ten minutes ago, and is fighting his way across." "go round by the walls on the other side and get in behind. i am going to rush for the hospital. bracy and all those poor fellows must be saved." "too late," said the major bitterly. "two of the men here left a score of the hounds fighting their way into the ward. oh, if we only had a light!" strange things occur when least expected, and there are times when, as if by a miracle, the asked-for gift is bestowed. "god bless you, graves!" whispered the major; "if we don't meet again, i'll do all that man can do." "i know it, graham. you'll save the women, i'm sure. ah! what's that?" "fire--fire!" shouted a voice, and a yell of triumph rose from the ghazis, to be echoed by the seething mob of fanatics outside the gates, who burst forth with their war-cry of "allah! allah--uh!" "we're done, graves," said the major in an awestricken, whisper. "it's the fodder-store, and it will attack our quarters soon. it's all of wood." "if it does we shall see how to die fighting," said the colonel hoarsely, as a wreath of flame and sparks rolled out of a two-story building at the far end of the court, lighting up the whole place and revealing all the horrors of the scene. chapter twenty. non-combatants. meanwhile, completely cut off by the enemy from the rest of the garrison, the occupants of the hospital made such preparations as they could to strengthen their defences. little enough they were, consisting as they did of three or four pieces of wood placed like stays from the floor to the cross-pieces of the roughly-made door; and when it was done the doctor said sadly: "it's of no use. if they come with a rush they will drive that in as if it were so much cardboard." "let them," said bracy. "they will find three bayonets and a sword-point ready for them to fall upon." "yes; and then?" said the doctor bitterly. "there will be four bodies lying in front of us between our breasts and the men who come on, and so again and again till we have made a rampart of the wretched bodies." "very well in theory, my good patient," said the doctor sadly; "but i'm afraid we shall have made part of the breastwork ourselves. these ghazis not only know how to fight, but they do fight as if there were no such thing as fear." "there's not much of that in british soldiers when they are at bay," said bracy proudly. "but it's of no use to talk, doctor; we must defend this door to the last, and then retreat into the ward, barricading that next." "and after that?" "there are my quarters: but we must carry the helpless in there first." "and lastly?" "never mind that," said bracy coldly; "let us get through firstly and secondly; a dozen things may happen before then." "hist!" whispered mrs gee. "some one is coming." all listened, and heard a swift movement like a hand being passed over the rough door as if feeling for the fastening. then there were several hard thrusts, and directly after a quick whispering, a scratching as of feet against the wall, and then a slight change in the appearance of the window, the darkness growing a little deeper. in an instant there was the loud rattle of a rifle being thrown out to the full extent of its holder's arms, the bayonet darting through the narrow slit; there was a savage yell, the dull thud of some one falling, and with a fierce shout of rage two or three of the enemy flung themselves at the door, repeating the act again and again, but without result. "can't some of us come and help, sir?" said a feeble voice. "yes; there's six of us, sir," said another; "and we've all got rifles." "back to your beds directly," cried the doctor. "what's the use of me trying to save your lives, and--well, it's very good of you, my lads," he said, breaking off suddenly. "fix bayonets, and stand outside the ward ready to help if we, the first line, are driven in." there was a sharp crackety-crack as the metal sockets of the bayonets rattled on the muzzles of the rifles, and the six invalids took their places on either side of the ward-door, where the rest of the sufferers lay in silence listening to the yelling outside and the firing now going vigorously on. there was another crash against the outer door, but still it did not yield, though it sounded as if it was being dashed from its fastenings, and then a shuffling, scraping sound told that another attempt was being made by one of the mad fanatics to get in by the slit of a window. but again there was the peculiar rattling sound of a thrust being made with a rifle thrown right forward and grazing the sides of the opening. a wild shriek followed, and gedge withdrew his piece, panting heavily and trembling from weakness. "did you get home?" whispered the doctor. "yes, sir, clean," whispered back gedge; "and oh, if that only was the chap as shot mr bracy that day!" there was a crash at the door now, as if a mass of stone had been hurled at it; a couple of boards were driven out, and a strange animal odour floated in, with a yell of triumph, heard above the piteous bleating of sheep and the sharp rattle of the rifles. "give me room, doctor; i can do it. my man taught me," said the nurse, standing with gedge, friendly for the first time in their lives; and they delivered rapidly thrust after thrust with their full strength, one of the savage ghazis going down at each. it was too dark to do much, and bracy felt his helplessness, after trying to parry a cut or two delivered by one of the enemy; so, drawing his revolver, he fired slowly shot after shot as the enemy reached in to cut at the defenders, their blows mostly falling upon the sides of the broken door. "it's of no use to try and hold this place longer, doctor," he said, bringing now to bear his military knowledge. "we have to bear the full rush of these men." "but it's like giving up to them," panted the doctor. "never mind; let's retire into the ward. you see, the door is at right-angles to this, and when they press in they can only fill this little place, and we shall have to contend with four or five instead of fifty." "that's good talk," said the doctor. "i'm not a soldier. very well, then, back in, and i'll cover you." "no; you retire with the nurse and gedge, and i will hold them at bay till you get in. make the men present their bayonets as soon as we are in. just give the word, and they will know. it will check the wretches while we try to get the door closed." "no," cried the sergeant's wife through her teeth. "bill gedge and i will keep them off till you are in and tell us to fall back." "right," said the doctor; "don't stop to parley, bracy, my lad. ah, what does that mean?" he cried sharply, for mrs gee and gedge both thrust and then thrust again. "means a roosh, gentlemen," said gedge hoarsely. "in with you; we can't hold 'em back any longer." "back in," said bracy hoarsely. "we must do it, doctor; they're mad for our blood." the doctor stepped through the inner door, and bracy followed. "right and left," he said sharply; "cover the advance as they fall back." a low hissing sound accompanied a quick movement, and then, after delivering a couple more thrusts, gedge whispered: "in with you, nurse." "you first, boy," she answered, as she thrust fiercely again, a sharp cry following her delivery. "i don't go afore a woman," said gedge bluntly, as he delivered point once more. "nor i before my patient," said mrs gee, following his example, and feeling the bayonet strike flesh. "back, you two, at once," cried bracy sternly; and as the strangely assorted couple took a step or two back and darted into the ward, a hedge of bayonets dropped down breast-high, in time to meet the rush of ghazis who dashed forward with upraised swords. then, to the surprise of all, there was the crackle of a little volley, and the faces of the fierce warriors were for a moment illumined, efforts being made to strengthen the position by dragging a charpoy across, planting a second upon the first, and heaping thereon everything that could be seized upon in the darkness. there was a fresh burst of yelling, the ghazis raging in their disappointment and at the losses that had befallen them, just, too, when they believed that an entry had been made. the doctor took advantage of the pause in the attack to order every invalid who could move by his own efforts to seek refuge in the officers' ward, and with groans and sighs they obeyed, one helping the other, and in many instances having to be helped in turn, while several by slow degrees managed to crawl. a pause in the attack did not give time for all this, the enemy coming fiercely on again before the ward was half clear; but the bristling array of bayonets presented at the narrow doorway kept them from gaining an entrance, each stroke of their tulwars being received on the rifle-barrels, and several going down as deadly thrusts were made. it was evident enough to bracy and the doctor that their defence could not last, much longer. a party of able-bodied men, dividing and taking their duty in turn, might have kept the whole body of the hill-men at bay for an indefinite time; but the efforts of gedge and mrs gee were growing weaker, and at last it was all that the invalids could do to keep their bayonets from being beaten down. "we must make for our last refuge, doctor," said bracy at last. "yes, and none too soon," was his reply; "but first of all let's have as much of the bedding as we can get taken to the other room to form a breastwork. half you men retire and carry mattresses and blankets till you are ordered to cease." this was done, and then the order was given, just as the enemy was making one of its most savage attacks, the men pressing on with all their might, till a volley was fired which made them recoil. it was only to recover themselves and pour fiercely in through the dense smoke, to begin yelling with rage as they found by degrees that the long ward was empty, and a fresh barrier of bayonets bristling ready for them at the farther door, where a couple of charpoys had been hastily thrown across one upon the other, and piled on the top was all the bedding, principally rough straw mattresses and blankets--a slight enough breastwork, but impervious to sword-cuts, while to reach over in order to make a blow was to expose whoever struck to a deadly bayonet-thrust. here the defence was gallantly maintained again, the attack as fiercely made, till the floor became wet with blood, and several of the carnage-seeking enemy slipped and fell, either to crawl or be dragged away by their companions. "it's getting to be a matter of minutes now," said the doctor in a whisper to bracy. "this is the last of it." "the window," said bracy, calmly enough now. "take mrs gee and help her out. then you and gedge climb out, and drop down; you may make your escape in the darkness. you hear, mrs gee?" "yes, sir, i hear," said the woman in her sourest tones; "but my man told me i was to stick to my patients, no matter what happened." "and i order you to escape." "yes, sir; but i'm not one of your men," said the woman, with a triumphant masterful ring in her words, "and under your orders; but you are my patient and under mine. so you go and get as many of the poor boys away with you as you can. off with you, gedge; you're as bad as any of them, in spite of your brag. then you others follow, one at a time; me and the doctor can't leave, the rest, and we're going to stay." "go!" said gedge sharply. "go and leave my comrades and my orficer as can't help theirselves. not me!" there was a low murmur at this, and then a cessation of all words in the desperate defence forced upon the little party; for, as if maddened by the long resistance, and utterly reckless of the losses they had suffered, the ghazis came on, howling and bounding to the door, leaping up and reaching in to strike downward with all their force, and generally paying the penalty of death; for even with their swords extended to the full extent of the holders' arms, not once was a damaging cut inflicted. the result of this last rush was that, horrible to relate, the breastwork was raised by the bodies of three fatally wounded ghazis, who in their dying moments sought to revenue their deaths by cutting savagely at their foes as they lay. "i can't bay'net chaps who are down," muttered gedge, shrinking back; while at the same moment mrs gee uttered a wild cry, for one of the dying men had inflicted a horrible upward cut, which, as she was leaning forward, took effect upon her chin. this movement on the part, of two of the strongest of the defenders seemed to be fatal. a weak place in their defence was displayed, and with a fierce yell the enemy crowded on in a final attack. this would have been fatal but for the bravery of the tottering invalids, who met the rush with a sharp volley from half-a-dozen pieces, and the flash and smoke were followed by a sudden burst of light, which flooded the ward, showing the enemy retiring a little, startled by the unexpected volley and wondering at the glare. this gave time for reloading, and another volley was fired as the enemy came on again. this volley was followed by the commencement of a rolling fire outside, mingled with yells of rage, imprecations, loud orders, and the hoarse commands of officers. for the light given by the burning building was the opportunity required; and minute by minute the firing increased from the walls, as the scattered soldiery, many of whom had remained unarmed, found their way into their quarters to obtain rifles and bayonets, and joined their companions on the wall, able, and willing too, to take aim down into the seething mob of savages in the court, without risking destruction to a comrade or friend. three times over colonel graves summoned the enemy to surrender, and twice over native attendants were dragged forth to yell down to the ghazis that their lives would be spared. all was in vain; the announcements were received with shouts of defiance, yells of hatred at the christian dogs, and savage rushes were made at the steps leading up to the ramparts, in each case for the venturers to be partly shot down, the residue being hurled back from the point of the bayonet. "it's of no use, graves--roberts," cried the major; "it's their lives or ours. fire, my lads, fire!" and by the increasing light of the flaming building, whose ruddy rays illumined the horrible scene of carnage, the fight went on, till the courtyard was dotted with the bodies of the wounded and slain, the survivors of the great flock of sheep cowering together close to the main gate, while others lay trampled down amongst the fallen, their thick fleeces having protected many from the cuts of the ghazis' swords. chapter twenty one. a pause. the moment the court could be crossed, a rush was made for the hospital, where the fight was still going on; but the mingled company of excited men were checked twice over by wounded and shamming ghazis springing up to foot or knee to deliver one final blow at their hated christian conquerors, and several of the soldiers were badly wounded by the deadly razor-edged tulwars before the wielder was borne to the earth by bayonets, struggling fiercely still, though riddled with wounds. then the entrance to the hospital was reached, and the wild cheer of a dozen men sent a reviving thrill of hope through the fast-falling defenders, and they held their _chevaux-de-frise_ of bayonets once more now, though with trembling, unnerved hands. a minute before it seemed to them that their last blow had been struck, and that there was nothing else to do but die with their face to the dead and living enemy. but that wild british cheer sent a thrill through them; the massacre of the wounded was after all to be stayed, and they stood firmly there in the brightly illumined room, witnesses of the bayoneting, till the last savage lay dying on the floor. roberts had headed his party, and was the first to return to try and save his friend and comrade; and it was into his arms bracy fell and was carried out, while the men crowded in now to bear out mrs gee, the doctor, gedge, and the rest, those outside cheering madly as first one and then another bloodstained, ghastly object was borne into the light; while, in the interval between two of the outbursts, poor gedge, who was being cheered by his comrades, seemed drunk with excitement, as he contrived with failing arm to wave his rifle above his head and shout: "three cheers for mr bracy; three cheers for the doctor and old mother gee! three cheers for us all!" there was a tremendous roar at this, heard loudly above the crackling fire kept up on the enemy still striving to force a way in from beyond the walls. "three more," cried gedge. "cripples, all on us, but we held our own, and hip--hip--hip--hoo--" gedge did not finish his cheer, for half-way through the last word he fell forward, utterly exhausted, fainting dead away. it was just then that an officer with blackened face and sword in hand suddenly made his appearance high up in the golden light of the fire, and the moment he appeared a howl of execration was raised, which ran through the crowd of soldiery, while the officers scowled and turned away. the tall, thin figure stopped short in front of the burning building, to gaze down wonderingly. "drummond--scotch coward!" roared a voice, and a yell of execration burst forth. just at that moment, from behind an angle of the building, four of the ghazis, who had lain hidden there and escaped the deadly fire, rushed forth yelling and waving their swords as they made for the figure standing apparently beyond the reach of help. "quick, some one--fire, fire!" shouted roberts. the figure heard the cry, and turned just in time to face his enemies, two of whom reached him together, cutting at him with all their might. but, active as a cat, the tall, lithe youth avoided one of his foes by leaping aside, ran the other man through, and swinging round, with a tremendous cut severed the wrist of the wretch he had avoided, when coming at him for a second blow. the other two did not reach him, for half-a-dozen shots rang out, and the true firing of the boy-regiment was again proved, the two ghazis leaping high in the air, and falling backward on to the bayonets of the men below. there was another cheer at this, but it was dominated directly after by a renewal of the howl of execration which had broken out before. the hearer looked for a moment or two puzzled, and hesitated to advance; but the next minute he turned half-face, doubled along the rampart to the steps, and descended to the court, passing coolly among the men where colonel graves was standing giving orders. "mr drummond," he said, "i am told that you left your men in a way that disgraces a british officer." "that i didn't," cried the young man indignantly. "i heard you say that if we only had light we could see to fire, or something of that sort." "yes, sir, i did," said the colonel sternly. "well, sir, i ran along the ramp and climbed up three times before i could get to the store, and then set fire to the fodder; but it was ever so long before i could get it to burn, and then i couldn't get out." "you did that?" cried the colonel. "to be sure i did, sir. wasn't it right? oh, i see now; the men thought i went and hid to get out of the light." "my dear boy," cried the colonel; "of course." "oh," cried drummond, "what jolly fools the lads can be! but i say, sir, who's hurt? and was old bracy safe?" a minute later the men cheered even louder than before, as they watched drummond--a hero now in their midst--place a bag of powder to blow down the burning building and save the place from risk of the fire spreading. that was soon done. it was a risky task, but bravely set about; and, as the place went up in a rush of flames and sparks, the assault from outside ceased, the enemy drawing off under cover of the mist; and an hour later silence fell upon the horrible scene of carnage, not even a bleat arising from the sheep. but the fort was safe, the dim morning light showing the british flag, wet and clinging, but still hanging in its place upon the flagstaff; while by that time all save the doubled sentries upon the walls and the suffering wounded lay plunged in a heavy sleep wherever a place could be found roomy enough for the poor fellows' aching limbs. chapter twenty two. bracy's nurse. "bracy, my dear old man!" "my dear old chap!" these were the salutations of drummond and roberts later on in the morning, when they sought him out, to find him with gedge in a portion of the soldiers' quarters which had been temporarily turned into a hospital. "ah, roberts," sighed bracy drowsily as he raised himself on one arm. "not hurt, i hope?" "not a scratch. but you--you? morton tells me you fought like a lion all through that horrible attack." "like a very weak lion," said bracy, smiling faintly. "but how are you?" "oh, so much better," said the young officer, with a sigh. "i feel so restful, and as if i could do nothing but sleep." "thank heaven! but what a change in you!" "and you, drummond? but your face--blackened. were you in that explosion i heard?" "yes; i helped to pop off the powder." "helped!" cried roberts. "why, you placed the powder-bag and fired the fuse." "well, what of that? some one had to do it. i wasn't hurt there, though, old man. it was in setting fire to the store and coaxing it into a blaze, for the blessed wood refused to burn. spoiled my lovely looks a bit--eh? but i say--it's harder work than you would think for to burn a--i say! bracy, old chap!--why, he's asleep!" "fast," said roberts, looking wonderingly at their friend, who had sunk back on his rough pillow, formed of a doubled-up greatcoat, and was breathing deeply, with his face looking peaceful and calm. "here, i say, you, bill gedge," cried drummond; "this can't be right. go and fetch the doctor." "no, sir; it's all right, sir. the doctor was here half-an-hour ago. he was fast as a top then; but he heard the doctor speaking to me, and roused up while he had his wounds looked at. what d'yer think o' that, sir?" he drew a small, ragged scrap of something from his pocket, and held it out before the two officers. "nothing," said roberts shortly; "but i don't like mr bracy's looks. this can't be right." "doctor says it is, sir, and that it's exhorschon. he's to sleep as much as he can. you see, he had a horful night of it, sir, just when he wasn't fit." "but how in the world could he fight like the doctor says he did?" "i dunno, sir," replied gedge, grinning. "doctor says it was the excitement set him going, and then he couldn't stop hisself. you know how he was a bit ago, gentlemen, when he hit out and kicked, and couldn't help it." roberts nodded. "and he did fight wonderful, and never got a scratch. that's what the doctor said it was, and when he zamined his bandages he found this here under his back." "that! what is it?" said drummond, now taking the object and examining it curiously. "his complaint, sir, that kept him bad so long. the bit of iron the doctor said he dursen't try to get out. it worked out last night in the fight. he's going to get well now." it was roberts's turn now to examine the little ragged scrap of discoloured iron. "seems wonderful," he said, "that so trifling a thing as that should cause so much agony, and bring a man so low." "oh, i dunno, sir," said gedge respectfully. "i had a horful toe once as got bigger and bigger and sorer till i couldn't get a boot on, only the sole; and when my leg got as big as a dan'l lambert's, some un says, `why don't you go to the orspital?' he says, sir; and so i did, and as soon as i got there i began to wish i hadn't gone, for there was a lot o' doctors looked at it, and they said my leg must come off half-way up my thigh, but they'd wait a day or two first, and they did; but only the next morning one of 'em has another good look, and he gets out something--just a teeny bit of a nail as had gone into my toe out of my boot." "humph!" said roberts rather contemptuously. "lor' bless yer, gentlemen, i was 'nother sort o' feller that night, and was just like mr bracy here; hadn't had no proper sleep for weeks, and there i was at it like one o'clock, going to sleep as you may say all over the place. shouldn't ha' been here if it hadn't been for that there doctor. wouldn't have had a one-legged un in the ridgiment, sir-- would yer?" "no," said roberts, who was leaning over and gazing at his sleeping comrade curiously. "yes, he is sleeping as peacefully as a child. and what about you, gedge?" "me, sir? oh, i'm all right, sir. bit stiff in the arms with all that bay'net exercise, and got the skin off one elber with ketching it agen the wall. yer see, we'd no room." "we've been there this morning," said roberts, with a slight shudder. "the woodwork is chipped and cut into splinters, and the sight is horrible." "well, yus, i s'pose so, sir. it was horrible work, but we was obliged to do it; they'd have cut us all to pieces. reg'lar butchers--that they are--and deserved it. coming on like that at a lot o' poor cripples and a woman, besides the nong-combytant. savages they are to try and cut down a doctor who's ready to 'tend to everybody, either side, and tie or sew them up." "you're right, gedge, my lad; they are savages," said drummond, patting the speaker on the shoulder. "hff! gently, please, sir," said gedge, flinching. "i beg your pardon. are you hurt there?" cried drummond hastily. "oh, all right, sir," said the lad, grinning; "but you said, `hurt there.' why, it's all over, sir. there aren't a place as i've found yet where you could put a finger on without making me squirm. doctor made me yell like a great calf. but there's nothing broke or cracked, and no fresh holes nowhere." "that's a comfort," said drummond. "yus; but it aren't very comf'table yet, sir. he says i shall soon be better, though." "yes, gedge, you must regularly lie up till the pain has gone." "i mean to, sir, all the time that i can get from tending mr bracy here. i must tend him." "you can stay with him; but someone else ought to be sent in." "no, sir, please; i can manage. it wouldn't be fair, sir, for some un else to come in now the gov'nor's getting better. doctor says i've saved his life so fur, and i wants to go on and save his life so further. see?" "yes, of course," said roberts, smiling. "it would not be fair for you to be robbed of the credit of what you have done." "thank ye, sir. that does a chap good, sir. but i beg your pardon, captain: you see, i'm noo to sojering and fighting. i thought we'd had it tidy 'ot in the coming up along o' the stone-throwing. then it was a bit warm when mr bracy was shot down and i got my bullet. but that was all like playing skretch-cradle to our set-to last night in the dark. shall we have it much worse by-and-by?" "worse? no," cried the captain sharply. "nothing could be worse than last night's work." "oh, come, i'm glad o' that, sir; for arterward, when i begun to cool down, it seemed to me that if it could be much worse i should begin to think as sojering might get to be a little bit too strong." it was just then that doctor morton came in, and for the moment he frowned; but the angry look passed off after a glance at bracy. "i was afraid you would disturb him," he said; "but there is no need to mind; he will sleep a great deal for days, till this state of exhaustion has passed off. my dear boys, what a night we had! i wonder that any of us are alive." "there were some narrow escapes, doctor," said roberts. "awful, awful; and what a morning for me! i feel as if i could do as bracy is doing--sleep for days; but here i am with a terrible load of fresh cases on my hands, and my chief nurse turned into a patient--gee's wife. what a woman! what a woman! she must have descended from the amazons of old. but there, i must go; i only wanted to see that poor bracy was all right." "and you do think he is, doctor?" said roberts. "sure of it, sir. he'll be back with his company before long." he nodded sharply, and after a word or two with gedge, who looked ten years older for his night's work, the room was left for sleep, and the young officers hurried off to their several duties. for there was ample work for every one of the defenders, whose loss had, however, been wonderfully small, the ghazis having been comparatively helpless after their successful entry, their attacks being repulsed by the bayonet, and the soldiery for the most part having the advantage of the walls, while their fanatical foes were raging about the court, repulsed at every attempt to get on close quarters with the infidels they sought to destroy. as the morning wore on, and the horrible traces of the deadly fray were rapidly removed by the fatigue-parties set to work, a soft breeze from the mountains waited away the heavy clouds of mist, the sun came out, and with it the horrors of the night faded away so rapidly that, had it not been for the blackened ruins of the fodder-store, it would have been hard to realise the fact that such a night had been passed. scouting parties went, out in different directions, and returned all with the same report--that the enemy had disappeared, not a trace of them being visible, not even one of the dead or wounded, though their losses must have been considerable. that evening a time of perfect rest seemed to have descended upon ghittah, which, by the light of the sinking sun, looked, with its magnificent surroundings of dazzling snow-peak, verdant hill, forest, and falling water, orange, golden, and sparkling in the reflections from the glorified sky. "yes, lovely, lovely," said colonel graves sadly, "if one could only feel that we might lie down and sleep in peace." "well, can't we?" said one of the younger officers. "surely, sir, this has been such a lesson as the enemy will not forget." "quite right," said the colonel; "they will not forget it, nor rest till they have had revenge." "but look at their losses last night," said the major. "i do," replied the colonel; "but men are plentiful up here in the hills, and they all belong to a fighting race. if they were not fighting with us they would be among themselves, and it is the education of their boys: being taught to fight." "then you think they'll renew their attacks, sir?" said roberts. "i feel sure of it, and they must find us more upon the _qui vive_ next time. i feel ashamed for allowing myself to be such an easy victim to their cunning _ruse_." "never mind now," said the major; "it has furnished us with a fine supply of fresh meat." "yes," said the colonel sadly; "but at a heavy cost of wounded men." chapter twenty three. after a rest. the colonel was right; there were plenty of men in the hills, and they all belonged to fighting tribes-men who, whether moslem or of the various sects which inhabited the vast tracts of mountainous countries, looked upon it as a religious duty to cut off every one who believed differently, as an infidel or a dog. many days, then, had not elapsed before there was another gathering of the fierce tribes, whose object was to secure the fort, with its wealth of arms and ammunition. but during the week of respite colonel graves and his officers were busy enough. the country round was foraged for stores; and, partly in fear, but as much for the sake of cheating good customers and making everything possible out of the people whom they might be helping to slaughter the very next day, a couple of the tribes brought in grain, fodder, and other necessaries largely. so the loss incurred by the burning of the store was soon made up, and the fort was better provisioned than ever, even to being prepared to stand the stern winter when it should leave the hills and descend to the valleys and plains. no despatches had reached the fort for some time past; but the last, in answer to the colonel's report of his having relieved the fort, where all was well, and that he had no doubt of being able to hold it as long as was necessary, bade him go on holding it at any cost, and wait for further orders. but if he found reinforcements necessary to give the tribes a severe lesson, he was to communicate with the station in the ghil valley, whence a ghoorkha regiment would be immediately despatched to his help. a little council of war was held, in which colonel wrayford managed to take part; and, after due consideration, it was decided that the help was not required, for the unanimous opinion was that the ghittah force could hold its own, and that they did not need any regiment to come in and carry off part of the laurels they wished to keep for themselves. doctor morton had probably been the busiest man at the station; for, after the repulse of the night attack, every hospital-bed had been occupied, and an additional ward provided; but he had hardly a loss, and he went about, as gedge said, "looking as proud as a two-tailed peacock in a 'logical garden." certainly he chuckled and rubbed his hands a great deal over his patients; and one evening at the mess dinner, when the topic had arisen of the number of men he had sent back to duty cured, and all were rejoicing in the fact, that bracy--looking thin and careworn, but now wonderfully well--was back in his place, the doctor, who was pleased and flattered, became exceedingly confidential, and talked more freely than was his wont. "there, dear boys," he said: "i won't be a sham. i've worked hard among my cripples, of course, and i'm proud of what i've done. if you want an example of the powers of surgery, there you are--look at bracy. he's a better man than ever now. look at his condition--hard as a nail. got rid of all that superfluous fat." "here, gently, doctor," cried bracy, flushing. "what superfluous fat?" "all that you got rid of, sir." "why, i've always been thin." "you leave me to judge best what you have always been, sir. i know. come, you'll own that you're well as ever now?" "certainly." "be satisfied, then. well, as i was saying, my dear boys, i'll be quite open with you all. i've been wonderfully successful with all my cases-- have i not?" "wonderfully," came in a chorus. "and frightfully modest," whispered drummond. "eh! what is that, mr drummond?" cried the doctor. "i heard what you said. don't you offend me, for you may come under my care some day. now, then, all of you--wonderfully successful. yes, mr drummond, and modest too, as you'll own if you'll let me finish my remarks before you stick yourself up as a judge. for i'm going to let the cat out of the bag." "let's have her, doctor," cried the younger men merrily. "here she is, then," said the doctor. "my colleague. she has done ten times as much for the wounded as i have." "he means mrs gee," said bracy quietly. "well, she is a splendid nurse." "ha! what a woman!" said the colonel. "she is quite well now, doctor-- is she not?" "always is," said the doctor. "absolutely perfect." "i don't understand you, doctor. the poor woman suffered a great deal in her daring defence of her patients." "hah! we're playing at cross purposes," said the doctor importantly. "you're talking about mrs gee." "of course. weren't you?" "pish! poo! bah! no. i meant my great help and patroness dame nature." "oh!" ran round the table, in disappointed tones. "yes, gentlemen," repeated the doctor; "dame nature. she has set all my wounded right again, and put it to my credit. why, if the poor fellows had been in stuffy barracks down in the hot plains they'd have died like flies. but up here, in this wonderfully pure mountain air, all i have to do is to see that the wounds are carefully bandaged, and cuts and bullet-holes grow up and together again in no time. as for the hill-men, their surgeon seems to be the next man, who operates with a bit of rag." "and kills or cures at once," said roberts, smiling. "exactly," said the doctor good-humouredly; "but really it's wonderful how nature does nearly all the work. well, any news, colonel?" "about the enemy?" "yes; you've been doing nothing lately, and my last bed was vacated to-day." "i am very sorry that you should be in so low a condition, doctor," said the colonel coldly; "but you must understand that i shall do my best to keep you so." "why, of course," cried the doctor. "you don't suppose i want to have the poor fellows cut or shot down to keep me busy--do you?" "you spoke as if you did?" "then i spoke clumsily," cried the doctor. "but tell me--the dwats are collecting again--are they not?" "yes; they mean to give us no rest." "so much the better for the men. keep 'em active. you boys had any sport to-day?" "yes; we got six mountain sheep," said roberts. "safe into camp?" said the doctor eagerly. "oh yes. it was hard work, though; for three of them fell right down into one of the deepest gorges from the snow-slope on which we shot them--splendid shots drummond made after our stalk, he killed with right and left barrels. my one dropped at the first shot, but sprang up and was going off again till my second barrel stopped him." "had an awful job to get them out of the gorge and home; but the hunters fetched them out, and we got all safe into quarters." "ha!" cried the doctor; "i'm glad of that. splendid gamy meat, that mountain mutton. glorious stuff for convalescents. it gives me the heartache when i hear of you leaving lost ones to the wolves and vultures." "i quite agree with the doctor about the quality of the mutton," said the colonel gravely; "but i'm getting anxious about these shooting-trips, gentlemen. your guides belong to one or other of the tribes." "yes, i suppose they do, sir," said roberts carelessly. "well, what is to prevent them from leading you some day into a trap, and, instead of the news coming into mess of there being an extra supply for the larder, i hear that i am minus two or three of my best officers?" "i don't know about best officers, sir," said roberts, laughing; "but i don't think there is anything to fear. these hill-shikarees are very genuine fellows, and their intense love of the sport will keep them honest and true to us. you cannot think how proud they are of leading us to the quarry if we are successful." "i grant all that," said the colonel, "knowing as i do what a freemasonry there is in sport, and how clever hunters have a feeling of fellowship for men of their own tastes, whatever their religion; but you must not forget that the hill-tribes are completely under the thumb of their mullahs, and that the will of these priests is the law which they must obey. supposing one of these mullahs to give them orders in the interest of their tribe, they would lead you into an ambush for a certainty." "oh, colonel graves," cried drummond, "this is spoiling the only pleasure we have!" "i hope not," said the colonel, smiling gravely. "set it down to interest in my officers' welfare. i only ask you to be careful--well on your guard--and not to do anything rash." "just as if it was likely that we should do anything rash," said drummond pettishly later on. "i'm sure i'm always as careful as can be." "always!" said roberts, laughing, and giving bracy a peculiar look. "here, i say--what does that mean? you two are chaffing me again." "oh dear, no," said bracy. "our consciences are smiting us for being so reckless, and we're making up our minds to be more careful in future." "yes, as the colonel suggests," chimed in roberts, "and take friend drummond o' that ilk for our example." "here! yes, you are chaffing me," cried drummond anxiously. "i say, old chaps, though--you don't think i am rash, do you?" "rather," said roberts. "bosh with your rather! chaff, because i'm so tall and thin. bracy, you're not half such a boy as the captain. you don't think i'm wild and harum-scarum, do you--regularly rash?" "well, to speak frankly,"--began bracy. "of course i want you to be frank," cried drummond hastily. "that's why i like you chaps." "well, then, my dear boy," said bracy, "i do think you are about the most rash fellow i ever met." "oh!" cried drummond, with a look of distrust. "you do things that no thoughtful fellow would ever think of doing." "i? come now; when?" "over those sheep, then, to-day. i felt quite sick to see you walk along that shelf of snow, when the slightest slip would have sent you down headlong a thousand feet on to the jagged rocks below." "yes, it was horrible," said roberts. drummond exploded into a tremendous burst of laughter, and sat at last wiping his eyes. "oh, i say, come. that is good. i like that. dangerous--made one of you feel sick and the other think it was horrible!" "well, it's the truth," said bracy. "and you both came along it afterwards, and we got that magnificent sport." "i came along it after you had set the example," said bracy quietly. "but you are a couple of years older than i am, and ought to know better." "i was not going to show the white feather after what you had done." "same here," said roberts sharply. "oh, that was it--eh? i was a boy to you, and you wouldn't let me think you daren't." "something of that kind," said bracy. "humph!" said drummond thoughtfully. "i suppose it was dangerous." "of course it was," replied bracy. "you saw that the guide wouldn't venture." "yes; but that made me determined to do it. we can't afford to let those chaps think we're afraid to go anywhere. come now--didn't you two think something of that kind too?" "probably," said bracy. "but it didn't seem dangerous when i was doing it," cried drummond. "i never thought about toppling down, only about getting right across and after those moufflons." "same here," said roberts. "well, i did look down once and think of what might happen," said bracy. "ah, that's where you were wrong. never do that, lad. keep perfectly cool, and you can get almost anywhere up yonder in the snow. i've got to be quite a climber since i've been here." "well, i gave myself the credit of being pretty good on ice and snow to-day," said bracy, smiling. "i mean pretty well for a cripple. i wish i had done as well over the shooting. that was a miserable show of mine. thanks for not exposing me at the mess." "rubbish!" said drummond. "who's going to tell tales out of school? i say, though, that ice-climbing in the mountains is splendid--isn't it? the more one does the easier it seems. it feels quite cool and comfortable." "which one can't help feeling on the ice," said bracy, laughing. "but seriously, we are getting pretty good at it up yonder in the snow." "regular climbers," said drummond; "and i vote that we do as much of it as we can while our shoes are good. there, don't look at a fellow like that--your shoes, then, that you gave me. but i didn't mean shoes literally. i mean before the old man puts a stop to our hunting and climbing." "he soon will, you may depend upon that," said roberts. "he's getting nervous about us all." "because we are such splendid officers," put in bracy merrily. "well, we are what he has; and, judging from the way we are shut in and left by the authorities, he is not likely to get a fresh supply if he loses us." "what about the messengers he has sent, bracy? think they get through with the despatches? i feel sure they do not. either they are killed or so scared by the dangers they run that they destroy their despatches and dare not show their faces again." "well, i hope that's not the case," said bracy. "i don't want to give the poor fellows the credit of being treacherous." "like enough it is that, treacherous as we deem it; but they are so much accustomed to the tricks and cunning amongst which they have been brought up that they look upon such a thing as being very venial--a kind of cleverness by which we, their conquerors are bested." "here, i say, don't get into a dissertation upon the moral character of the natives," cried drummond, "because there is no end to that. here, i say--" "say away," said the others. "i've been thinking about what old graves said as to the shikarees selling us to the enemy. they won't." "i hope not," said bracy, laying his hand upon his chest. "hullo! what's the matter? wound hurt?" "gives me a stab like that sometimes when the weather is going to change. we shall have rain, i think." "ha! and that means snow higher up. hoo-roar! as the lads say. a nice light coating of fresh snow, and every bear footprint showing clearly. we mustn't miss one. bear ham is good, and then there are the skins. we shall want 'em in the winter for warm rugs." "you mean to stay the winter, then?" said bracy, laughing. "we shall have to; see if we don't." "we shall get no bearskins," said roberts. "the colonel will stop our going on account of his uneasiness. i heard him say that we should be running upon some prowling body of the enemy one of these times, and never be heard of any more." "he doesn't know what he's talking about. just as if it were likely. they sneak along in the lowest valleys; they never go up among the snowfields. no one does but the hunters. it's the same as it was in switzerland; you never caught the people climbing the mountains till the english taught them, and bribed them to come as carriers. they'd never have made the ascent of any of their mountains. i tell you that in our shooting-trips up yonder we're as safe as we are here. safer, for the beggars keep away from there, while here they're lying up in every hole and corner all around." "he's about right," said roberts thoughtfully; "and, now you're strong enough again, i don't like to lose our trips. we don't get much pleasure up here. let's make our hay while the sun shines." "even if it is in the snow," said bracy. "very well; i'm glad enough to go, for the mountain air seems to send fresh vigour through me every time i climb." the result of this was that whenever the way up into the mountains was clear, and the dwats who acted as guides to the different hills came in with news, the young officers had their excursions, and generally returned with their men pretty well laden, while the three friends became masters of the district among the heights in a way that suggested years of active residence in that silver land. there were plenty of alarms, plenty of little encounters with the parties who were always on the lookout to harass the occupants of the fort; but a little extra work for the doctor and excitement for the men, to keep off the stagnation which threatened them, was all that ensued. in the interim the colonel sent off five more messengers with despatches, in the hope that they would get through the enemy and bring back letters; but they were seen no more; and the colonel's face grew more serious day by day. "thinks the tribes mean to starve us out," said roberts one evening when the colonel went away from the table looking more depressed and anxious than usual. "and they won't," said drummond. "why, there are mountain sheep enough up yonder to keep us for years." "they get more difficult to shoot, though," said bracy. "pooh! not they. a few close by are a bit shy; but, look here, when we get right up on the shoulder of that left-hand peak and look north what do we see?" "mountains," replied bracy. "and when we were right up on that farthest peak last week, and looked north, what did we see then?" "more mountains." "that's it; and you might go on and on for a month, and it would be the same--more mountains." bracy nodded and looked thoughtful. "yes," he said at last; "the world's a long way from being played out yet. we can see hundreds of peaks, and the soft blue valleys between them, which i suppose have never been traversed by man." "that's right enough, and that's where the wild sheep and goats are just as they always have been, perfectly undisturbed. thousands--perhaps millions, without counting the goats and yaks, which look as if they were a vain brood of beast who try to grow tails like a horse." "i suppose you're correct, drummond," said bracy. "of course i am; and if we shoot down all the sheep near at hand one month, more will come down from the north next month." "just the same as when you catch a big trout out of a hole at home, another is sure to come within a day or two to take his empty house." "why, they do up here, and the little seer in the river too," cried drummond. "i say, i wish this was a bigger and deeper stream, so that it held the big forty and fifty pound fish." "quite deep and swift enough for us," said bracy merrily. "ah, yes," said drummond slowly; "i haven't forgotten our going for that nice long walk." "no," said roberts; "that was a close shave for all of us. how many more times are we going to run the gauntlet and not get hit?" "hundreds, i hope," replied drummond; and bracy, who was very quiet, thought, by no means for the first time, of his escapes, and of how it would be at home if a letter reached them some day reporting that one of the lieutenants had been checked once for all in his career. chapter twenty four. peril in a poshtin. another fortnight passed, during which the officers had a day's shooting as often as they could be spared; and, though the colonel's face grew more and more serious he made no further objection to these excursions so long as they were sensibly carried out, for he had realised how thoroughly the enemy avoided the higher portions of the mountains, the snow-line being rarely crossed; and when they did break through their rule, it was only in crossing from one valley to another, and it was necessitated by the pass which linked the two being more than usually high. it was a bright, sunny morning, and glasses had been busy in the fort, for certain well-known signs suggested that the day would not pass without their hearing from the enemy, of whom glances were obtained, first in one well-known locality, then in another, which they seemed to affect as a matter of course, showing very little disposition to break out of their regular routine, while one tribe followed in the steps of another so closely that it was generally possible to prognosticate where the attack would be made, and make arrangements to foil it. the officers were chatting together; and in the group where drummond stood with his friends he started a good grumbling discourse, something after this fashion: "it's always the case. so sure as i overlook my tackle, and have a good clean up of the rifles ready for a long day amongst the muttons, some of these beggars come and plant themselves just in the way we mean to go." "mr bracy," said an orderly, coming up and saluting, "the colonel wishes to see you." "ha, ha!" laughed drummond; "it's to tell you that we are not to attempt a shoot to-day. tell him, bracy, that we had given it up." bracy nodded, and went straight to the colonel's room, to find him busily writing. he just glanced up and nodded. "sit down, bracy," he said, and he went on writing, his table being a couple of bullock-trunks, with a scarlet blanket by way of cover. "enemy are out pretty strong this morning." "yes, sir." "ha! yes." there was a pause, filled up by a good deal of scratching of the pen, before the stern-looking officer began again. "you are quite strong now, bracy?" he said at last, without looking up. "never felt better in my life, sir." "i said strong, bracy." "nor stronger, sir." "that's right," said the colonel, reading over his despatch and crossing i's and dotting i's here and there. "wound trouble you much still?" "gives me a sharp sting, sir, at times, back and front; but i always find that it is when we are going to have a change of weather." the colonel paid no heed, and bracy added: "i dare say it will soon pass off, though." "it will not," said the colonel quietly, and to the young man's dismay. "you will feel it more or less all your life. yes," he added, looking up and smiling, "a twinge to remind you that you were once a brave officer of the queen." bracy coughed, for he felt a little husky, and as if he were standing near a fire. "now, bracy, business. i cannot go on sending despatch after despatch, none of which reach their destination. either going or coming, my messengers have come to a bad end or been unfaithful." bracy made no reply, for none was expected; and the colonel now looked up, and, with his hands resting upon the table, gazed full in the young man's eyes. "i want a messenger whom i can trust," he said, "a man who will undertake the task of delivering my despatch as a duty to his country. there are plenty of good, trusty lads in the regiment. whom would you select--the best you know?" bracy was silent for a few moments before speaking. "i should be sorry to see him go upon so dangerous a mission, sir; but if i had to select a lad in whom i should have perfect confidence, i should choose private gedge." "a very good selection, bracy; but i want an officer." the young man stalled, and drew his breath hard. "there is andrews, or elder, or morrison," continued the colonel, "or drummond, of wrayford's; but he is too volatile. roberts would be a splendid fellow for the task, for, like drummond, he is strong amongst ice and snow, and my messenger will have to take to the snow nearly all the way to save being stopped." "a wise plan, sir," said bracy eagerly; "one that should succeed." "i think it will; but my messenger will be face to face with death from the hour he starts, doubly facing it--from nature as well as man. but i cannot spare roberts. do you understand me?" "yes, sir; you wish me to volunteer." "yes, bracy," said the colonel, holding out his hand, which bracy caught in both his. "god bless and protect you, my dear boy! i do." "yes, sir," said the young man firmly. "i'll go." "not alone. take that man gedge with you; he has had little to do amongst the snow, but--" "yes, sir; he'll learn anything. when am i to start?" "as soon as you can be ready. then, i will clear the way for you by making a feint, so that you can make at once for the upper ground." "not by the mountains above the gor pass, sir?" "no; the other direction entirely. you are to make for the ghil valley, and bring back the ghoorkas, bracy. it is time that we took the offensive; the enemy must be driven back before the autumn closes in. no; you are going upon an extremely dangerous mission, bracy; i tell you so frankly. i will be quite open with you. i am sending you upon this horribly risky journey; but it is as a soldier to risk your life to save ours." "to save yours, sir?" said bracy wonderingly. "surely the fort is quite safe if you act on the defensive." "it would be, my dear boy, if we had an ample supply of ammunition." bracy started, and gazed wide-eyed at his colonel, who had leaned across the table and said these last words almost in a whisper. "i am speaking quite openly to you, bracy--telling you what must be a secret between us two; and i tell you because it is just to one sent upon such a perilous enterprise that he should feel satisfied as to the urgency of the need." bracy made a gesture, but the colonel checked him. "yes; i know what you would say," he continued: "that dangerous or no, you would do your duty. i know you would. i have perfect faith in my officers; but this is a matter of conscience on my side. bracy, i find that our ammunition will not last a month. once that is gone, we are no longer the superiors of the enemy. the bayonet is a splendid weapon; but these hill-tribes are magnificent swordsmen, and when, many times outnumbering us as they do, they come on to a hand-to-hand fight, adding their reckless religious fervour to their natural bravery, they must master us in the end; and that means taking the fort, and--you know what would follow." bracy bowed his head; he could not speak. "an indiscriminate massacres a horrible death to every man and woman in the place." "horrible, sir," cried bracy excitedly. "oh, colonel graves, surely things are not so bad as you think!" the colonel smiled. "you ought to know me by this time, bracy," he said quietly. "i don't think i am a man likely to raise bugbears." "no, no, sir! i beg your pardon." "that will do," said the colonel quietly. "when you leave me, be prepared to start. you must not confide in your nearest friend; go about your work cheerfully, and as if only to bear a despatch, but conscious the while that our lives here depend upon your success. you understand?" "yes," said bracy gravely, "i understand; and if i do not bring the help, sir, it is because--" "you have died trying to do your duty to your friends. i know. there, we need no more words, bracy. look here." he took the despatch from the table and tore it up into bits. "your appearance before the ghoorka colonel will be sufficient, and you will have no alarming announcement upon you if you are taken prisoner. certainly it would be by people similar to those who are besieging us; but one never knows what soldiers of fortune may be among them, ready to be summoned by a chief to interpret the message." "i understand, sir." "once you are well on the road you must make your companion fully understand the importance of the mission, so that if you go down there may still be the chance left to us of this man carrying on the news of our urgent need." bracy nodded shortly and drew a deep breath, waiting for the colonel to speak again. "as to preparations," said colonel graves at last, "go as you are; but you will each need a _poshtin_ [long sheepskin coat] to cover your kharkee uniforms, for concealment and warmth. you will be a great deal among the snow and rocks, and nothing can be less likely to attract attention. you will take sword, revolver, rifle, and bayonet. see that gedge carries the same weapons. in addition, take as much simple provisions and ammunition as you can carry." "and rob you all at such a time of need, sir?" "the amount you two can carry away in cartridges will not be missed if it comes to the worst, bracy," said the colonel, smiling. "once more, are you quite satisfied that you have selected the right lad?" "a man who will carry his wounded officer, with the enemy firing down at him from both sides of a rocky defile, cannot be bettered, sir," said the young officer quietly. "right, bracy," cried the colonel. "he is the man. ha! here comes roberts to announce the advance of the enemy. i could hear the war-cries.--yes, roberts--the rascals worrying us again?" "yes, sir; coming down the right gully in strong numbers. will you come and look?" the colonel picked up his glass and held out his hand. "i shall lead the men to-day, bracy," he said, "for a change. major graham will be in command here. i shall tell him of your mission. within an hour i shall depend upon you making your start." "within an hour, sir," said bracy, as roberts looked on in wonder. "i have been thinking that a mule would help your journey at the first. what do you think?" "i think not, sir," said bracy quietly. "we should be better free to climb anywhere. a baggage animal would tie us down to tracks." "quite right. go as we arranged.--roberts," he continued, turning to the captain, "bracy is going to take a despatch for me. he starts directly." "directly, sir?" said roberts, looking aghast. "yes; he has his instructions. you can have half-an-hour with him before he starts; but you will ask no questions, only help him in any way you can to start without delay, while i am keeping the enemy well employed at this end of the valley." "yes, sir." "after bracy has started you can bring your company along the upper track to act as a reserve, and cover us if it is necessary when we retire. that will do." the two officers left the colonel's quarters and hurried out. "my dear boy," cried roberts excitedly, "this is horribly sudden. had you any idea of it before this morning?" "not the slightest," said bracy gravely. "glad of it, for i should have been hurt if you had not told me." "but you will not be hurt now? you heard what graves said." "i was not to question you? yes. still, you have some confidences to make?" "not one, old fellow." "but surely--it is such a risky thing. oh! it is preposterous; he ought not to have sent you. it is like sending a good man and true to his death." "the colonel thinks it best, and i agree with him. as to the risk--is it not risk enough to stay?" "but bracy, old fellow, if--" "if," said the young man calmly. "soldiers should not talk to one another about the `if.' let that be." "tell me this, though: are you satisfied to go?" "quite. help me to get off--" "i will; but--" "by being silent, and then putting everything in one good grip of the hand." "i see," he said, accompanying bracy to his quarters. "now, what can i do?" "send for gedge." "what for? surely you have not chosen him for your companion?" "i have. the colonel said he could not spare you." "ha! that's better, old fellow. i was beginning to feel horribly set aside." "i was to have one of the men for my companion. can you suggest a better?" "no," said roberts, and he hurried out to seek the lad, who was standing in line with his fellows of the company, looking gloomy and discontented, for the sally-party to follow the colonel, who was to lead them himself, did not include "roberts's lot," as they were termed. "fall out, private gedge," said roberts sharply. "didn't hear what i said, did he?" muttered the lad, with an anxious look, for he had been growling at what he called the favouritism served out to some of the companies in choosing them to go out and have the first chance of being shot; and this, he told himself, was mutinous. but he pulled himself together and stood as erect as a ramrod, waiting for the next order, which came directly: "right face; march!" and he marched after his captain, with heart beating heavily, and then sinking deeper and deeper, as he found himself led to the officers' quarters. "it's court-martial for a threep'ny-bit," he muttered. "next thing 'll be `disarm!' and all because i wanted to go and fight. oh! they are jolly 'ard on us chaps in the ranks." "come in, my lad," said roberts, stooping to enter the low door, and gedge's heart went down to its lowest point as he found himself face to face with bracy. "them two to drop on me!" he thought. "wouldn't ha' keared if it had been the major." the next moment poor gedge's heavily plumping heart jumped, as he afterwards expressed it from his boots right up to his throat. "gedge," said bracy coldly and quietly, "i am going on a very dangerous mission." "oh, sir, please don't go without me!" "i have sent for you to say that i have selected you for my companion." "hoo--beg pardon, sir," cried the lad, turning scarlet. "no cheering, no nonsense, no boy's tricks, my lad. this is desperate men's work. i have chosen you to go with me on a journey of many days, during which we shall suffer terrible hardships." "that's right, sir; used to it ever since i was--" "silence, man!" said bracy sternly. "we shall go with our lives in our hands, and probably never get to our journey's end; but we shall have to try. now then, if you feel the slightest qualm, speak out honestly, and i will choose some one else." "don't do that, sir, please; but i will speak out honest. i must, when you axes me to." "ah!" cried bracy. "i'm strong as a horse again, sir; but sometimes i do get a sorter dig in the back, just as if a red-hot iron rod were touching up my wound when the bit o' iron--" "no, no, man," cried bracy, laughing. "i mean qualm of dread, or shrinking about running the risk." "oh, that, sir? not me. ain't i just as likely to be shot if i stop quiet here? they're allus trying to do it. i gets more sniping than any chap in the company." "then you will go with me?" "i just will, sir. anywheres." "thank you, gedge. i'll say no more, for i know that you will stick to me like a man." "ha!" ejaculated gedge, exhaling an enormous amount of pent-up emotion, and drawing his arm across his thickly perspiring brow, while a pleasant, contented smile lit up his plain features, as he drew himself up more stiffly to attention, waiting for orders. "well done, gedge!" said roberts softly.--"you've picked the right lad, bracy." gedge did not move a muscle, but stood as upright as the rifle at his side, and looking as inanimate, but quite as dangerous, while his two officers said a few words in a low tone. the next moment roberts went out of the room, and bracy turned to the lad. "we have to carry everything ourselves, and we must take all we can without overloading, my lad, for we shall have to climb a great deal amongst the snow. now, mind this: we have just three-quarters of an hour for preparation. then we must pass out of the gate." gedge did not move, but stood as if carved out of a block of hardened putty by the hand of an artistic drill-sergeant; listening, though, with his ears, which looked preternaturally large from the closeness of the regimental barber's efforts, and seeming to gape. then he left his rifle in a corner, and was off. the result was that, with five minutes to spare, officer and man, strangely transformed by their thick, woolly overcoats, stood ready in that room. haversacks of provisions hung from their broad leather bands; revolvers balanced dagger-bay'nets from their belts; as much ammunition as they could carry was in their pockets, and necessary odds and ends were bestowed in satchels. "all ready?" said roberts at last. "all ready. nothing forgotten that i can think of." "then you will start at once. i have warned the men that you are to be allowed to slip out quietly, or they would have cheered you." "thanks," said bracy.--"you hear that, gedge?" "yes, sir." "you will follow me without a word." gedge's face now looked as if if had been carved in oil-stone, it was so hard, and he made no reply. but mentally he was discoursing vigorously in his wild state of excitement, for he could judge of his own appearance by that of his officer. "just like a couple o' second-hand robinson crusoes out of a pantymime, and bound for the north pole. talk about a lark. oh, don't i wish my poor old mother could see her bee-u-tiful boy!--poor old chaps! poor old pardners! won't they be waxy when they knows i'm gone! here, blessed if i can get, at my clean pocket-'ankychy, and i wants to shed a purlin' tear for poor old sergeant gee." "ready!" came to check the flow of gedge's thoughts, and, picking up his rifle, the fellow to that placed ready for bracy, he stepped out into the court, to find all the men left in the fort gathered to see them start, for the news was every one's property now; and as they marched towards the gates there was a low murmur, but no man stirred. it was different, though, with the women; though here, too, all was done in silence. officers' wives stepped forward to press bracy's hands, with the tears standing in their eyes, and many a "god-speed!" was murmured in the ears of both. "but no one shakes a hand with me," said gedge sadly to himself; and then, "well, i'm blessed!" for sergeant gee was on one side of him to lay a hand upon his shoulder. "good-bye, gedge," he said in his harsh, uncompromising way; "you'll stick to your officer like a brave lad, i know." "thank ye, sergeant; and same to you," growled gedge; and then the tears stood in his eyes, for mrs gee had hold of his unoccupied hand, to press it hard, with a grip, in fact, like a man's. "here," she said, taking a small, flat, black packet from her breast, and gedge saw that it was envelope-shaped, but home-made in oil-skin, and instead of being adhesive; there was a neat button and buttonhole. "put that in your breast-pocket, my boy," she said, "and never part with it. bandages, oiled silk, needles and thread, and a pair o' scissors. and mind this: plug a bullet-hole directly; and whatever you do, clean water, and lots of it, for all wounds." "thank ye, missus." "for you and mr bracy too. there, bill gedge, you're a brave lad, and i'll kiss you for your mother's sake, in case you don't come back; and if ever i return to england i'll write and tell the queen how her brave boys are always ready to do or die, though i know she won't get my letter if i do." the men nearly disobeyed orders when mrs gee took hold of gedge by his woolly _poshtin_ and gave him a sounding kiss first on one cheek and then on the other, but they forbore; and the brave lad's eyes very nearly brimmed over the next moment, for, leaving bracy, now on his way to the gate, the officers' ladies crowded round gedge and shook hands, two dying to thrust upon him packages of what would have been luxuries to them in nights to come; but he was obliged to shake his head, for he was already laden to the fullest extent. "now, gedge!" came from the gate, and the next minute it had been opened and closed after two bulky, stooping figures, who, with rifles at the trail, started off in indian file along the track by the river-side, making for the upper portion of the valley, but without uttering a word. their ears were listening, though, to the sounds of firing in the distance, the reports of many pieces coming reverberating out of the chasm-like rift leading south. their eyes, too, were as much upon the alert as those of some timid animal whose life depends upon its watchfulness from day to day, existing, as it does, in the midst of numberless enemies, who look upon it as their natural prey. but though their rolling eyes scanned every spot familiar, from long experience, as the lurking-place; of an enemy, there was not a glimpse of a white coat nor the gleam of a polished weapon to be seen. at the same time, careful watch was kept upon the track they traversed every time it opened out sufficiently for a forward glance of any extent, and the heavy, matter-of-fact, hill-country-looking pair had nearly reached a spot from whence a good view of the fort could be obtained before a word was spoken. then the silence was broken by bracy, who said abruptly: "don't look back, my lad." "no, sir," came promptly from the front. "our lookout is forward from this hour till the time we bring back help to those we leave behind." gedge was silent, and kept on the watch, as, with rounded shoulders and camelled back, he planted his puttee-bandaged legs in the safest parts of the rugged track. "well, don't you want to know where we're going?" "yus, sir; 'orrid." "over the mountains to bring back a ghoorka regiment, my lad." "right, sir." "and by the hardest way we can find." "something like them ways over the snow, like you goes for the bears and sheep, sir?" "yes: and harder ways still, gedge: for to meet any of the people may mean--" bracy paused, and gedge waited for him to end his sentence. but he waited in vain, till he was tired, and then finished it to himself, and in the way he liked best. "may mean," he said, and then paused--"having to put bullets through some o' these savage savages, for i'm blest if i'm going to let 'em have the first shot at us. yes," he added, "savages; that's what's about their size. i never see such beasts. yes, that's what they are--wild beasts. i don't call such things men. the best of it is, they thinks they're so precious religious, and sticks theirselves up to pray every morning and every night, i'm blest!--praying!--and often as not with their knives and swords! ugh! and phew! my word! it's warm walking in these here coats. wish i hadn't got mine." is thought electric, or magnetic, or telepathic, or scientific, some way or another, that so often it is communicated from one person to another free of cost, and without a form, or boy to leave it, and wait for an answer? certainly it was in that, clear mountain air, which blew softly among the cedars in the valley, coming off the clear ice and dazzling snow from one side, getting warmed in hot sunshine, and then rising up the mighty slopes on the other side, to grow from pure transparency, in its vast distance and extent, to be of a wonderfully delicious amethystine blue. anyhow, gedge had no sooner given himself his opinions about the heat engendered by walking in a thick, sheepskin coat than bracy said: "find the _poshtin_ hot, gedge?" "'ot ain't the word for it, sir," was the reply. "i ain't quite sure whether it's me, or whether they didn't scrape the fat off proper when they tanned the skin, sir; but something's running." "steady down, then. it is very warm here among the cedars; but they hide us from the enemy, my lad. as soon as we begin to climb we shall be getting out of summer into winter; and by the time it's dark, and we lie down to sleep, we shall think it would be pleasanter if we had two apiece." "shall us, sir? well, you know, sir; but all this caps me. here we are, as you say, in summer, and we've on'y got to climb up one o' them mountains and there we are in winter. they say it freezes there every night." "quite right, gedge." "but all the snow melts away some time in the year?" "never, my lad. up there before you, where the sun shines on those glorious peaks, it is eternal winter, only that there is so much melting in the hottest parts of the day." "to make the rivers, sir?" "of course!" "and the rain helps when they're all in the clouds up there, i suppose, sir?" "rain!" said bracy, laughing; "there is no rain there, my lad; when the clouds discharge their burden it is in the form of snow. but now, silence once more. the less we talk the better till we are among the snow, for at any moment we may be walking into a trap." "like we did, sir, when you three gentlemen come and whistled us from the side o' them falls?" "yes." "well, we don't want none o' that sort o' thing, sir, or we shall never be bringing that ridgement back." "right. now you see the necessity for taking to the snow where the hill-men rarely climb." "yus, sir, going; but what about coming back?" "the same, or a nearer way." "but with a ridgement, sir?" "oh yes; the ghoorkhas will go anywhere if they are told." "so'll us," said gedge to himself; and then, with a word or two at times from behind, he trudged on and on towards the mighty snowfields, but ever with his eyes on the lookout for the danger--keen knife, tulwar, matchlock, ball, or spear--invisible so far, but which at any moment might be so near. chapter twenty five. first checks. the last echoes of the distant firing had quite died out; the windings of the river valley had long enough hidden away the mountainous hills which surrounded the fort; and far below where they slowly toiled along the faintly-marked track, worn where there was pasture by the feet of the mountain sheep, the river rushed, torrent-like, along in a greatly narrowed bed, whose perpendicular shrub and fern decked sides hid its leaping and tearing waters from the travellers' gaze. at rare intervals the river made a plunge over some mighty rock and flashed into sight, though its position was often revealed by a cloud of spray, which rose like steam into the sunshine, to become brilliant with an iris which, rainbow-like, spanned the falls. the ascent had been gradual but marked, for, though trees were in abundance, rising in clumps of spires, their tops were well below the adventurers, while, where they trod, the forest was dwarfed and scrub-like, but thick enough to greatly hinder their advance. hardly a word had been spoken for hours, during which the watchfulness observed had been painful, especially when they had crept along under cover by three lateral valleys, familiar to both as the roads by which the enemy had approached for their attacks, one to the east being that made unenviable by the terrible adventure when they had received their wounds. the passing of the mouths of these gorges was a crucial task, from its being almost a certainty that part of one or the other of the tribes would be, stationed there. but the slow approaches and all the caution exercised, as far as bracy could judge, were waste of energy: not an enemy was seen, and when, twice over, rifles were brought to the ready, and their bearers stood prepared to fire at the foe rustling along among the low growth and tangle, it was to find, to their great relief, that the alarm was caused in the first instance by goat-like sheep, and in the other by a bear, which had been feasting upon the berries growing low down the cliff towards the hidden torrent. the sun was long past the meridian, and, in spite, of the height, their shut-in position made the breathless valley seem hotter than ever, while the thorny nature of the low growth hindered them so much that at last bracy had hard work to force his way through a tangled mass, whose thorny hooks clung to the _poshtin_ he was wearing, and kept on robbing it of its wool. this brought them to a standstill, and gedge, who had just freed himself from similar hindrances, stepped back, with his dagger-like bayonet in his hand, with which he delivered a few sharp cuts, and bracy struggled out. "ha!" he said; "that's better." "yus, sir; these are handier tools than the old-fashioned bay'nets; but what we ought to have had was a couple o' those pretty, bill-hooky blades the ghoorkha boys use. they'd make short work of briars and brambles and things. toothpicks, our lads calls 'em; and the little fellows the toothpick brigade.--tired, sir?" "terribly!" said bracy. "this is awful going; but we shall be out of the wood before many hours have passed. we might have avoided this by striking up to the left, but i felt that it was not safe. better be slow and sure. look, my lad, it is more open yonder, and seems like a way down to the torrent. we've earned a rest, and we must have one. let's get down to where we can reach water, and lighten our load by making a meal." gedge's eyes sparkled, and he led on at once, reaching at the end of some hundred paces a sharp slope, which showed traces of the moss and ferns having been trampled down, while twigs were broken here and there, some being left hanging, and others snapped sharp off! "people been along here, gedge," said bracy, taking suspicious notice of the signs around. "no, sir, i think not," said the lad, whose keen eyes were busy. "i should say it was only goats. pst!" gedge had been speaking in a low tone, but the "pst!" was sharply distinct, and had its effect. for in an instant there was a rush, and something brown came into sight, making the adventurers present their rifles in the full belief that they were about to be face to face with an enemy. but the next moment the object rose up to peer over the bushes and all around, proving to be a great brown bear, whose little, pig-like eyes flashed and glistened as it scanned the place, looking wonderfully human in its actions as it balanced itself upon its hind-legs, its fore-legs hanging half raised on either side, till it caught sight of the disturbers of its solitude, when it uttered a growling grunt, dropped down on all-fours again, and dashed up the slope towards the mountains. "might easily have shot him, sir," said gedge as the sounds of the breaking twigs died out. "easily," said bracy; "but we have as much as we can carry now, and-- hark!" gedge was already listening, for, from up in the direction taken by the bear--which, unfortunately, was the continuation of their route--the report of a gun rang out, followed by another and another. then there was a burst of exultant shouts, and the pair drew back more into shelter. "they've hit him, whoever they are, sir," whispered gedge excitedly: "and they'll be along here direckly. which way will you go, sir? we can't go that." "away towards the water, my lad," said bracy, quickly. "they're coming down to reach the fort." he led the way himself now, following the easier portions of the slope, and when close to where the now narrow river came thundering down, he plunged in amongst a chaos of creeper and fern hung rocks, down in a hollow of which they sank into a kneeling position, crouching low and waiting. "well hidden, are we not, gedge?" whispered bracy. "splendid, sir. couldn't see us 'less they was close to, and if we kept our heads down they'd take us then for sheep." "and fire at us." "they'd better not!" growled gedge. "but, say, sir, as we're resting mightn't we just as well have a bite?" "could you eat now?" whispered bracy. "could i eat now, sir?" said the lad wonderingly. "it's couldn't i eat! my! if you only knew what i've been feeling ever since dinner-time you wouldn't ask that." "go on, then," said bracy, and as he listened he saw his companion take a packet of bread and meat from his haversack and begin to munch, when the sight of the food so woke him up to the state of his own appetite that he opened his wallet, drew out some hastily-cut mutton and bread-cake sandwiches, and went on eating till there was the sound of voices close at hand, followed by the rustling of leaf and twig, with the dull tramp of soft feet telling that a large body of men were passing in indian file, talking loudly; but the hidden pair were well concealed and satisfied that they were perfectly safe, till all at once a voice was raised, and they heard the word "water" uttered in the dwat dialect. there was an eager buzz of voices at this, and instead of continuing their course the party clustered together, and, to bracy's horror, began to descend the sharp slope as if coming right upon their hiding-place, but turning off by one of the bigger rocks, and rapidly crushing through the thin shrubs and ferns so close that bracy, as he lay there, could have touched one man by stretching out the barrel of his rifle. for the next ten minutes the position was agonising, the men coming and going, and even the noise they made in drinking just below was plainly heard; while bracy, as he cowered down among the ferns, felt that it was impossible for them to escape the observation of the keen-eyed mountaineers. but still the discovery was deferred; and, as the drinking went on, a gleam or two of hope illumined the position, but only to be damped again, and bracy held his revolver ready, for there was a sudden movement on the part of one of the men, whose sword and shield seemed to be of a superior type, like his cotton clothes and the turban he wore. it was as if this man had just caught sight of them, and, his curiosity being excited, he came straight on, drawing his keen tulwar and striking with if to right and left so as to clear the way towards the rocks, his eyes seeming to be fixed upon those of bracy, who slightly raised the muzzle of his revolver, his finger resting upon the trigger. probably never was man nearer to his death, for the slightest additional pressure of the young officer's finger would have sent a bullet crashing through the man's breast, as he came on till almost within touch, when he suddenly turned round, and seated himself upon a mossy rock just in front, his broad back, in its loose while cotton garb, effectually hiding the fugitives from the men going up and down. bracy felt as if he would have given anything to have been able to utter a low "hah!" of relief, as he breathed long and heavily, instead of crouching there nearly suffocated by holding it back; for he knew that the slightest movement, the faintest sound, must result in the man, evidently the leader, turning sharply, sword in hand, to discover the pair lying so close. "i should have a bullet through him 'fore he could lift his sword," said gedge to himself; "but what's the good o' that? twenty or thirty would be upon us before we could get away, and a nice condition we're in for that! why, i feel like a fat sheep at christmas. couldn't run if i wanted to, and i don't, 'less he runs fust, and he won't, i know. know him too well." bracy's thoughts were many as he crouched there. he wanted to feel decisive; but the weary walk, heavily-laden as he was, had dulled his brain a little, and he could not come to a conclusion as to whether it would not be best to take the initiative and attack at once, trusting to their sudden appearance and the shots they could be creating a panic; for it was not likely that the enemy would imagine such an attack would be made unless by a force at least equal to their own. the idea was tempting; but, on the other hand, it seemed madness to make so wild a venture; and he was giving it up, when they were both startled by half-a-dozen of the party who were going and coming stopping short just in front of their leader, to begin taking out some blackish-looking cakes. then others beginning to join them, they looked round, and a couple of the party pointed to the rocks behind which bracy and gedge were hidden. that was fatal, and from the movement which followed it was evident that they were about to make this their resting-place. at the same moment gedge's hand stole forward and touched his leader's arm, when bracy softly turned his head, to see his follower holding his revolver in his right hand, signing as if asking should he use it. bracy did not delay his silent reply, for, quick as lightning, he had realised that in another few moments they would be forced to fight in defence, and that it was far better to take the initiative and make the enemy believe that they had fallen into an ambuscade. he gave a short nod, raised his own revolver, glanced at gedge to see that he was ready, and then roared at the top of his voice: "fire!" gedge's shot followed his sharply, and then in rapid succession they fired again and again till a dozen bullets had gone hurtling over their sheltering rock amongst the trees, and then, springing up, they fixed bayonets with a rattle, and stood ready to fire again; but not an enemy was visible to charge or be shot down. for at the word "fire!" the chief had made a sudden bound from the stone, upon which he had sat, and rushed at his men, who turned and fled at full speed away in the direction from which our adventurers had come: and for the next few minutes bracy and gedge stood listening as they recharged their revolvers, hearing the distant crackling and rustling of leaf and twig till all was still. "think they'll rally, gedge?" said bracy at last. "not them, sir: it was too much of a scare, and so sudden. it's hard work to start these beggars running, but once you do get 'em on the move it's twice as hard to stop 'em." "you are right," said bracy quietly. "they'll go on till they come upon the next lot o' their pardners, and then they'll tell 'em they were attacked by two whole ridgements, and show their wounds, if they've got any. don't think i hit one, sir. did you?" "i did not even try to," said bracy. "i only thought of firing as quickly as i could. now, then, a drink of water apiece, and forward. we can't stop to rest, but must eat as we go." they hurried down in turn to where the tribes-men had refreshed themselves, each watching while the other drank hastily, and remounted to the track; after which, food in hand, they were about to recommence their journey, when gedge started. "what is it?" said bracy quickly. "one on 'em down, sir. didn't think we had hit any of 'em, but yonder's one lying among the bushes." "yes," said bracy; "perfectly still. i saw and covered him while you were drinking, and was going to see if he is dead as we went by, in case he might be only wounded, and dangerous." "pouf!" "what is it?" said bracy wonderingly, for gedge had broken into a quiet little laugh. "it's the bear they shot, sir, and brought into camp with 'em. won't come back to fetch it--will they?" "we will not stop to see," said bracy quietly. "now, forward once more." their path took them by the dead bear, whose paws were bound together with twigs, and a freshly-cut pole was thrust through, showing how the trophy had been borne so far. the next minute the pair were steadily climbing again, and finding by degrees that, though the slope increased, the way was less cumbered with dense growth, so that the advance was easier; while as the sun sank lower a gentle breeze sprang up to refresh them, making gedge stretch out and increase the pace, in spite of the path growing more steep. "don't think they're after us--do you, sir?" said the lad at last, as they trudged on, watching the gradual ascent of a shadow on one of the hills in front. "no; i think we succeeded in our scare." "because it makes a lot o' difference, sir." "i don't understand you," said bracy. "we've a lot to do to-morrow, sir; and while it's dark i s'pose you'll bivvywack." "i shall keep on till it's too dark to see, my lad," said bracy, "and then we must sleep till it is light enough to see, and go on again. i want to get twenty-four hours' walking between us and the fort." "exactly, sir. be safer then." "perhaps," said bracy, smiling grimly. "o' course, sir," said gedge sharply; "but i was thinking about to-night. is it to be watch and watch, sir--one on dooty, t'other off." "no; our work will be too hard for that, gedge," replied bracy. "we must have as many hours' heavy sleep as we can, or we shall never get to the ghil valley. the work to-day has been play to some of the climbing we shall have." "yus, sir; i s'pose so," said gedge cheerily; "lot o' uphill, o' course." "up mountain, my lad." "yus, sir; only got in the way o' calling all these snow-pynts hills; but it'll be very fine; and after getting up one there must be some downhill on the other side. do you know, sir, i've been reg'lar longing, like, ever since we come here, to go up a mountain--a reg'lar big one; but i didn't think i should ever have the chance, and here it is come." instead of rapidly growing darker a glorious sunset lit up cloud and mountain, till the peaks literally blazed and flashed with the colours of the various precious stones, wondrously magnified, till the ever-changing scene rose higher, fading rapidly, and only a few points burned as before. then, in a minute, all was grey, and a peculiar sense of cold tempered the climbers' brows. "we shall just have time to reach that great patch of firs, gedge," said bracy; "yonder, this side of the snow." "right, sir, i see; but it's a good two mile away." "surely not," said bracy sceptically. "'tis, sir," persisted the man. "distances is precious deceiving." they kept on, with the gloom darkening rapidly now in the valleys, and the peaks in the distance standing up of a ghastly grey; while gedge shook his head and said to himself: "gov'nor ought to know; but it 'll be dark 'fore we get there." the next minute gedge was looking in wonder at the peculiar rosy glow which suddenly began to suffuse the great mountain. the chilly grey died out and the ruddy glow grew richer and brighter for a time, while the sky in the west seemed to be blazing and as if the glow were being dragged backward, to aid the weary messengers till they could reach the fir-tree forest that was to form their camp. "think there's a tremenjus fire somewhere, sir?" said gedge at last. "no; it is only what people call the alpenglow," said bracy softly, for the wondrous beauty of the scene impressed him. "it will soon die out again, but it will help us on our way: for you were right, gedge; that patch of trees was fully two miles from where we stood, and we have all our work cut out to reach it before dark. if we cannot we must shelter beneath the first wind-screen of rock we can find. what about your sheepskin coat? is it too hot?" "not a bit, sir; i'm cooling down fast; and, i say, there goes the last of the light. shall we get to the wood?" "i'm afraid not," said bracy. "look to the left, and i'll look to the right. we'll stop at the most likely spot we see." "don't, sir. i can keep my eye on that tall tree that goes up like a spike, and hit it if it gets twice as dark. wind feels cool now; by-and-by it'll be like ice up here. hadn't we better get right, into shelter?" "go on, then, my lad. i was thinking of you." "then don't, please, sir; i can keep on as long as you." the next minute--it seemed so close--the stars were shining brightly out of the deep purple sky, and it was as if their coming brought on a cooler breath of wind, which gedge suggested had a sniff of frost in it. but they had no time for conversation; and, making a final effort to overcome their weariness, they pressed on till it had grown so dark that they felt that it would be hopeless to persevere, for the forest could not be readied. the next minute the darkness was profound; they were no longer stumbling along a stony way, but passing silently over a thick carpet of fir-needles; the sky was blotted out as if by a dense black cloud; and there was a strange humming overhead as of the sea upon the shore. for they had unwittingly reached and plunged into the forest when giving it up in despair. "mind the trees, sir," said gedge warningly. "i've just ketched myself an awful rap." "feel your way with your rifle," said bracy hoarsely. "we need only go a little farther, so as to be well in shelter." so, after cautiously advancing about a hundred yards, feeling their way from trunk to trunk, they stopped short beneath one of the largest trees, and sank down amongst the fir-needles. "shall i make a fire, sir?" said gedge; "here's heaps of wood as 'll burn like hoorrah." "fire! are you mad?" cried bracy. "no, sir; but i was feared you'd be cold." "no fire, and no watch, my lad," said bracy. "it would be impossible for any one to find us here. make the best meal you can in the dark; then take out your revolver, and lie down with it in your hand, as i shall. you must sleep as hard as you like till daybreak. think you can?" gedge said something indistinctly, for he had begun eating, but ten minutes later his voice sounded clear again. "likely to be any bears, sir?" he said. "very likely," replied bracy. "if one comes supper-hunting he'll wake us by pawing us about and sniffing. use your revolver then, only make sure of his head. good-night, my lad." "good-night, sir," said gedge, snuggling himself as close as he could, and nestling among the fir-needles. "here," he muttered; "and i was grumbling because i had to carry this here coat. why, it's a patent feather-bed, wool mattress, and blankets, all in one. scrumptious!--how my trotters aches!--and if one comes supper-hunting he'll wake us by pawing us about and sniffing. `use your revolver then, only make sure of his head,' he says. just as if i was going to fire at his tail! i say, though, have bears got tails? i never see one at the 'logical gardens as had--and it don't matter now. well, this here is a change, and--and--" the next muttered word somehow stretched itself out thin, and into a long deep-sighing breath, which seemed to be the echo of another close at hand, and to have nothing to do with the cool breeze which rushed through the pines, making that soft peculiar sound as of the sea breaking upon a sandy shore; for the two adventurers, relieved of their loads, and tightly buttoned up in their _poshtins_, were sleeping the sleep of the weary through that long night, undisturbed by enemy, wild beast, or dream. chapter twenty six. human stalking. "eh? yes, sir. all right, sir? i'm awake. didn't know it was my turn to-night." "it is morning, gedge," said bracy as he bent over his companion, whose face was just visible in the faint grey light which seemed to be creeping in beneath the fir-boughs. "my word, sir, so it is! i thought i was being called for sentry-go. nights seems precious short up here in the hills." bracy laughed. "oh no," he said; "we've had a good long rest. now, then. we must have our wash at the first stream we come to. let's get on at once." "ready in a jiffy, sir. seems a pity, though, not to have our breakfast, first." "why?" said bracy sharply as he slung on his haversack. "such a nice lot o' dry wood to make a fire, sir." "to make tea or coffee, or to boil eggs, my lad?" said bracy. "think o' that, now! i forgot, sir. seemed to come nat'ral for me to get your breakfast ready, sir. think o' that." in two minutes gedge was as ready as his officer, and he finished off by shaking and beating the fir-needles off his _poshtin_, and stroking his very short hair down first with one hand and then with the other, so as to look as respectable and smart as he could when going on what he called parade. "forward!" said bracy suddenly. "we'll halt at the edge of the forest, and have a good reconnoitre, though it is not light enough for us to see far." bracy was quite right; for as they cautiously advanced to the open they could see very little but the tall pyramidal peaks here and there, one of which stood out more clearly than the others, and served as a familiar landmark by which to steer for that day's journey, another which bracy had noted on the previous evening being set down as to be somewhere about the end of their second day's march; but it was not visible yet, a pile of clouds in its direction being all that could be seen. "right. forward!" said bracy as he finished his careful look round. "two hours' good walk in this cool air, and then breakfast. to-morrow we must begin to look out for anything that will serve for our future meals, and use our rifles." "not try at any of the villages?" "villages!" said bracy, smiling. "by that time we shall be far above any villages, and up amongst the snow." "right, sir; all the same to me. i love a bit o' sport, though i never got no farther at home than rats." "talk lower," said bracy. "sound travels far when everything is so still." striking to the right now, and keeping near the deep gully along which the river ran, bracy sought for a spot where they could cross to the far side, and before long they came upon a rock-strewn part opposite to where another of the several streams joined it from the east. here, with a little careful balancing and stepping from stone to stone, they had not much difficulty in crossing to the other side; where, the minor affluent being also crossed, their course was directed up its right bank to the north and east. the side of the little ravine being surmounted, a far wider scope of view was obtained, the mountain before hidden in clouds now showing its crest in the coming sun; and, satisfied as to the course he was to take, and marking it down by the little pocket-compass he carried, bracy pointed to a sheltered spot amongst some scrub pine, and a halt was made for a short time for the promised breakfast. nothing could have been more simple, nothing more delicious. for the glorious mountain air gave a wonderful zest to everything; and in about a quarter of an hour they were ready to resume their journey, refreshed, in high spirits, and with their task in the bright morning sunshine, which glorified the wondrous panorama of snow-peaks, seeming to assume the aspect of a holiday trip. "i'll take one look round first," said bracy, "in case our friends of yesterday are anywhere upon our track;" and, before exposing himself, he drew out the little glass he had brought, and swept the sides of the valley they had ascended, then slowly turned his glass upon the ridge they had gained, following it to where it joined the main valley, and afterwards turned from the varied panorama of grassy upland forest and rock, over the boundary-line to where to his right all was snow--pure white snow, which looked deliciously soft, and sparked with a million rays. "all seems clear, gedge," he said at last. "so let us start. that is to be our resting-place to-night, or as near to it as we can get." "that mountain with a big point and a little un, sir?" "yes." "don't seem half a day's journey, sir. everything's so clear that things look close to yer. but i know better now. ready, sir?" "we'll keep a little to the left, so as to get nearer to the snow, and where it seems easy walking we'll take to it; but for the most part i shall keep to the division-line between the snow and the scrubby growth. it will be rough travelling; but we shall not have to cut our way through briars. i'll lead now. forward!" they started at once, and soon found the journeying far more rough than either could have imagined, for what had looked in the distance a pebbly track was a slope burdened with blocks of shaley rock, which yielded to their tread, and slipped and rattled to such an extent that bracy was glad to strike off higher still, towards the snow, which ran up in a beautiful curve towards one of the nearest mountains, round whose shoulder they could make a cut which would bring them out miles nearer their goal. at the end of a couple of miles the bottom of the snow-slope was reached, and the line of demarcation was boldly marked, the flattened, broken stones ending at once, so that the leader stepped directly upon the dazzling crystals, which filled in all the little rifts and hollows, and treacherously promised smooth, easy going for miles. but bracy was undeceived at the first step, for he plunged his leg to the knee in granular snow, as yielding and incoherent as so much sand. withdrawing it, he walked on a few steps and tried again, to find the frozen particles just as yielding; while gedge had the same experience. "not much chance o' sliding and skating over this stuff, sir," he cried. "no. it is impossible. we should be done up at the end of a mile. we must keep to the rocks and stones." bracy was looking wistfully at the soft, tempting-looking expanse, when a quick movement on gedge's part took his attention. "what is it?" he asked. "didn't you say we must soon be thinking of shooting something for rations?" "yes. but it is too soon yet. we don't want anything more to carry. but what can you see?" "looks like a drove o' somethings, sir--goats, i think--right across the snow yonder, where there's a dark mark like rocks. i can't quite make 'em out; for i dessay it's a couple o' miles away; but it's moving." "wait a moment," said bracy; and he got out his glass, set the butt of his rifle on a stone, and rested the glass on the muzzle, so as to get a steady look. "i see nothing," he said--"nothing but field after field of snow, with a few rocky ridges; and beyond them, rocks again, a long slope, and--yes, i see now. why, gedge, man, there must be a couple of hundred." "well, sir, we don't want 'em," said gedge, on the fox and grapes principle; "and goat's meat's awful strong, no matter how you cook it." "goats? nonsense! armed men, gedge, for i could see the flashing of the sunshine off their weapons." "phee-ew!" whistled gedge. "see us, sir?" "i hope not. but they are going in a direction which will take them right across our road just at the same time as we reach the spot." "that's awk'ard, sir. but i thought we'd been getting high up here because there'd be no people to hinder us." "so i thought, my lad; but this is an exception. these people are crossing the mountain-passes, possibly to join the tribes besieging the fort." "and what about them yonder?" said gedge, nodding to the right. "what! you don't mean to say that you can see more in that direction?" as bracy spoke he snatched out the glass he was replacing, and held it half-way to his eyes, for he did not need it. the object seen was too plain against the sky-line, where a few tiny figures could be seen, and trailing down a slope from them towards the east was a long, white, irregular line, which the glass directly after proved to be a strong body of followers. "same sort, sir?" said gedge coolly. "yes; going as if to cut us off. gedge, we must start back into the little valley, and follow it up, so as to get into another. it means miles more to tramp; but we can do nothing in this direction." "right, sir. when you're ready." "but we can't walk right away, for these last would see us. we must crawl for a few yards to those rocks below there." the next minute they were on all-fours, crawling from stone to stone--a laborious task, laden as they were; but, short as the distance was, they had not half-covered it before bracy whispered sharply: "flat down. perhaps they have not seen us." "not they, sir. they were too far off." "hush! don't you see--right in front, four or five hundred yards away-- those four men stalking us? why, gedge, they see our coats as we crawl, and are taking us for sheep." "ah-h!" ejaculated gedge, as for the first time he realised the fresh danger threatening them, in the shape of a little party, evidently coming from the direction of their last night's resting-place. as he saw that one of them had thrown himself down, and, dragging his gun after him, was making for a heap of stones, from whence he evidently intended to fire, gedge prepared to meet the shot in military fashion. "trying to stalk us, sir. you're right; that's it. give me the word, and i'll open fire. he'll think he never stalked such a sheep as me before." "it was my fancy, gedge," said bracy. "they belong to the party whom we scattered yesterday, and they've been following on our track. quick! we must have first fire." the last words had not quitted his lips when gedge's rifle cracked, and the danger was averted, for the man's long gun dropped from his hands as he sprang up, crawling though he was, into a curious position on all-fours, rolled over on to his side, and them back again, to spring to his feet, and run as hard as he could after his companions, who had already taken to their heels. "that's a bad shot, and no mistake, sir," said gedge. "the best you ever made, gedge," cried bracy; "for it has done all we required." "took him in the arm, sir, and spoiled his shooting for a month, i know. as good as killing him, i s'pose." "better," said bracy. "we don't want the poor wretch's life; only to save our own. now, what next? we'd better lie still for a bit to see if they rally and come on again." "yes, sir," said gedge, watching the retreating party, and fiddling with the sighting of his rifle--"five hundred yards--six--eight,"--and last of all "thousand. i think i could send a bullet among their legs, sir. shall i? let 'em see that they'd better keep their distance." "try and scatter the stones close to them," replied bracy. and as he lay upon his chest, with his feet raised and legs crossed, gedge took a long and careful aim, pressed the trigger gently, and the next moment the retreating party bounded apart, scattering, and running swiftly on. "another good shot," said bracy; "though i could not see where it struck; it is evident that it did strike close to their feet." the glass was in the young officer's hand, and he followed the enemy's movements with it, seeing the little party close up again, and then make for a ridge in the distance--one which threatened to conceal them as soon as it was passed; but there was something else to see, for all at once the solitude of the elevation was broken by a figure springing into sight, to be followed by a large group, who began to descend slowly to meet the retreating four; and of their movements bracy kept his companion aware with a word or two at intervals, without changing his position or removing his glass from his eye. "they're close together now--the last man has joined them--they're looking in this direction--they've turned round, and are going up the slope again. ha! the last man has passed over--gone." "would you mind having a look at the other two lots now, sir, to see what they're doing?" said gedge quietly. the little glass was slowed round on the instant, and bracy examined the party to the right, and then, turning to the left, made a long examination of the danger there, before closing the glass again. "they are keeping steadily on along those slopes, gedge, as if to converge some miles farther on." "hadn't we better play the same game, sir?" said gedge quietly. "what do you mean?" "do a bit o' converging, sir, whatever it is." "i don't set; how we can at present," replied bracy, laughing sadly. "no. it seems as if the only thing left for us to do is to lie still here till the coast is clear--i mean, the enemy out of sight; then keep on cautiously, and trust to getting beyond them in the darkness. it is terribly unfortunate, gedge." "'tis, sir, and wastes so much time. think they have seen us?" "no." "nor those chaps as was stalking us?" "the distance is too great unless they have powerful glasses." "that's good, sir. then all we've got to mind is those chaps we've been skirmishing with. they'll be like the rest of 'em, i expect--hanging after us till they can get a shot." "yes; and i'm afraid that they will descend into yon little side valley to try and get ahead of us, so as to lie in wait, farther on." "like as not, sir. just the sort of mean thing they would do, never stopping to think as we could easily have shot their chief in the back when we were in ambush, just as i could have dropped that chap in his tracks just now. i don't want to brag, sir; but i could." "it is not boasting, my lad," said bracy. "you have your marks for good shooting. but we must countermarch those fellows. we have nearly a mile the start of them, and i don't suppose those two bodies of men are likely to take any notice of such a pair of rough-looking objects as we are; so come along." "which way, sir?" "straight for our mountain yonder. what we want is a deep gully into which we could plunge, and then we could walk fast or run part of the way." "and hide again, sir? well, it'll be strange if in all this great mountainy place we can't puzzle those fellows behind." "we can, gedge," said bracy, "if once we get out of their sight." "so we are now, sir." "we don't know that. several pairs of keen eyes may be watching our movements, for i dare say as soon as we stand up our figures will show plainly against the snow. but we must risk all that. there, we must chance it now, so let's get on our way." bracy took another good look round with his glass from where he lay upon his chest among the stones; and though the enemy looked distant, the mountain he had marked down seemed to have doubled its remoteness, and the snowy passes and peaks which moved slowly across the field of his glass raised themselves up like so many terrible impediments to the mission he had set himself to carry through. only a brief inspection, but there was time enough for a rush of thoughts to sweep to his brain, all of which looked dim and confused in the cloud of doubt which arose as to the possibility of reaching the ghil valley. it was horrible, for he could see in imagination the scene at the fort, where all were gathered to see him off, and every eye was brightened with the hope its owner felt; each countenance looked full of trust in one who, they felt sure, would bring back success, and save the fort in its terrible time of need. while now a cold chill seemed to be stealing through him, and failure was staring him in the face. a quick mental and bodily effort, a blush of shame suffusing his face, and he was himself again--the young soldier ready for any emergency; and the next minute he was biting his lip with vexation at his momentary weakness. for there was gedge watching him patiently, his follower who looked up to him for help and guidance--his man ready to obey him to the death, but, on the other hand, who looked for the payment of being cared for and protected, and not having his services misused by the cowardly action of a superior. "it is just as i felt that day when i was swimming a mile from shore," he said to himself. "i felt that same chill, and thought that there was nothing for me to do but give up and drown. then the same feeling of shame at my cowardice attacked me, and i struck out quietly, and went on and on to land. the fort is my land this time, and i'm going to reach it again by being cool. oh, what a brain and power of self-control a general must possess to master all his awful responsibilities! but he does, and leads his men to victory against tremendous odds; while here i have but my one man to lead, and am staggered at a difficulty that may dissolve like a mist. gedge!" "sir?" "forward for that patch of rocks a quarter of a mile away in front, without hesitation or turning to look back." "yes, sir." "once there, i'll bring the glass to bear again on our rear. make a bee-line for it, as if you were going to take up new ground for your company. once there, we can make for another and another, and if we are pursued each clump of rocks will make us breastworks or rifle-pits. up! forward!" gedge started on the instant, talking to himself, as he felt that he ought still to maintain a soldierly silence. "quarter of a mile--eh? that's a good half, or i've failed in judging distance, after all, and turned out a reg'lar duller. cheeky, though, to think i know better than my orficer. dunno, though; i've done twice as much of it as he have.--wonder whether them beggars have begun stalking us again. dessay they have. sure to. my! how i should like to look back! that's the worst o' being a swaddy on dooty. your soul even don't seem to be your own. never mind; orders is orders, and i'm straight for them rocks; but natur's natur', even if it's in a savage nigger with a firework-spark gun and a long knife. if those chaps don't come sneaking after us for a shot as soon as they've seen us on the move, i'm a dutchman." bill gedge was not a dutchman, but east london to the backbone, and quite right; for, before he and the officer were a hundred yards on their way to take up new ground, first one and then another white-clothed figure came cautiously into the wide field of view, quite a mile away, but plainly seen in that wonderfully clear air, and came on in a half-stooping way, suggesting hungry wolves slinking steadily and surely along after their prey. chapter twenty seven. a question of helmets. bracy felt quite sure that they were being tracked, but he did not look round till they were well within the shelter of the rocks for which they aimed. then, as soon as he could feel that he was certain of being unobserved, he raised his head above one of the blocks, and took his glass to read more fully their position. for, in a long line, at intervals of some ten yards or so, the enemy was coming on, without a sign of haste, but in the quiet, determined way of those who know that they are following an absolute certainty, and that it is only a matter of time before their prey drops down at their mercy. the day was gloriously bright, and the vast landscape of rock, forest, and gleaming water to their left, and the dazzling stretch of peak, snowfield, and glacier, with its many gradations of silver and delicious blue, on their right, presented a scene which the mind might have revelled in for hours. but bracy saw nothing of nature's beauties, for his attention was centred in the long line of tribes-men coming slowly on, their movements being so full of suggestion and offering themselves for easy reading. bracy closed his glass, and turned with wrinkled brow to gedge, who took this as an invitation to give his opinion; and he went on at once, as if in answer to a few remarks from his officer. "yes, sir," he said; "it is a nice game, and no mistake. the cowards! look at 'em, sir. that's what they mean to do--come sneaking along after us, waiting for a chance to rush in and take a stroke, and then slipping off again before we can get a shot at 'em. that's what they think; but they're making the biggest mistake they over made in their lives. they don't know yet what one of our rifles can do." "you think they mean to follow us up, gedge?" "that's it, sir. they'll hang about for a chance. these niggers haven't got anything to do; so, when they see a chance of doing a bit of a job so as to get something, they give theirselves up to it and go on, spending days and weeks to get hold of what they could have got honestly in half the time. but, look here, sir." "yes," said bracy, nodding, as his companion tapped his rifle. "we could keep them off by good shooting, gedge, while it is light; but what about the darkness?" "yes; that's what bothers me, sir. they don't try the shooting then, but sets their guns on one side, and lakes to those long, sharp knives." bracy nodded again, and gedge drew back, and began to make quick points with his rifle, acting as if the bayonet were fixed. "that'll be it after dark, sir. bay'net's more than a match for any knife in the dark." "yes," said bracy; "but it means one of us to be always awake, and in such a journey as ours this will be distressing." "never mind, sir. we'll take double allowance of sleep first chance afterwards. yes; i see, sir; that patch o' stones, one of which lies over o' one side--to the left." "forward!" said bracy; and the spot indicated was reached, the short halt made, and they went on again, after noting that the enemy was slowly following on their track. that seemed a day of days to bracy, and interminably long and wearisome. they kept along as near the edge of the snow as they could, and watched the two bodies of men to right and left till they were hidden by the inequalities of the ground; but they came into sight again and again. about midday the two parties were seen to meet, and then come to a halt, about a mile from where bracy and his companion crouched, as usual, in among some loose rocks, in the unenviable position of being between two fires, the enemy in the rear halting too, and making no effort to come to close quarters after the lesson they had learned about the long, thin, pencil-like bullets sent whistling from gedge's rifle. "can you make out what they are doing, sir?" asked gedge. "sitting together, and i think eating." "that's what you said the others were doing, sir." "yes." "then wouldn't it be a good time for us to be having a refresher, sir?" "very good time indeed, gedge, if you can eat," said bracy meaningly. "if i can eat, sir?" said gedge, turning over his officer's words. "why, sir, i feel famished. don't you?" "no," said bracy sadly. "i suppose the anxiety has taken away my appetite." "but you must eat, sir. make your load lighter, too. there are times when i feel as if i should like to eat all i want, and then chuck all the rest away. one don't seem to want anything but cartridges; but then, you see, sir, one does, or else the works won't go. i'm wonderful like a watch, i am--i want winding up reg'lar, and then i go very tidy; but if i'm not wound up to time i runs down and turns faint and queer, and about the biggest coward as ever shouldered a rifle. i'm just no use at all, not even to run away, for i ain't got no strength. yes, sir, that's how it is: i must be wound up as much as a waterbury watch, and wittles is the key." "go on, then," said bracy, smiling; "wind yourself up, gedge, and i'll do the same." "thank ye, sir; that's done me no end o' good," cried the lad, brightening up. "you've give me a reg'lar good appetite now." gedge proceeded to prove this fact at once, and his words and the example set him had the effect of making his leader begin to eat a few mouthfuls, these leading to more; and at the end of a minute or two both were heartily enjoying their repast, although the prospect before them seemed to promise that this would be the last meal of which they would partake. as they watched the enemy in front and rear they could only come to the conclusion that it was as impossible to continue their journey as it was to retreat. there was the open north to the left of their intended course, but as far as they could make out it was impassable. by stern endeavour they felt that they might in time wade through the deep snow and reach the mountains; but, as far as they could judge, farther progress in the way of striking through them, and then turning round to their right, was not possible without the aid of ice-axe and rope. and again, there was the less mountainous part of the country across the side valley they had traversed, and where they might climb the ridge and make a circuit to the left; but that course would probably lead them more amongst the encampments of the enemy besieging the fort; and they had hardly begun discussing this course when gedge exclaimed: "take your spy-glass, sir. there's game or something on the move over yonder to the south." "a strong body of men, gedge," said bracy decisively. "the country's alive with the wretches, and these are evidently going to join those in our valley." "hard lines for the two colonels and our poor lads, sir," said gedge, with his face puckering up. "if it wasn't for orders i wouldn't mind them beggars behind; we'd get through them somehow, for it would be far better to go at 'em sharp and have it out, so that it might end one way or t'other, than keep creeping on here, never knowing when they may make a rush." "i feel the same, gedge," said bracy firmly; "but we have our orders, and that mountain we must reach by night." "right, sir; i'm not grumbling; we're a-going to do it; but don't it seem rum? only the other day the place was empty everywhere, and it was just as if the enemy had all been shot and buried theirselves, while when you gents went out shooting, and the colonel sent out little parties to scout and cover you coming back, in case the niggers showed, we went about over and over again, and never see a soul. and now, just because you've got to take word to the ghoorkha colonel that we want help, all of 'em have turned out so as to send us back to our quarters." bracy let his companion chatter on; but he was actively busy the while with his glass, which gave him a clear picture in miniature of every movement of their pursuers, at the same time convincing him that neither the enemy in front, nor those, perfectly plain now on the ridge across the little valley, were aware of their presence. "we must be getting on, gedge," he said at last; "the enemy behind is on the move, and they are opening out to the left." "that means getting down to the hollow yonder, sir, to come upon our flank or cut us off. oh! don't i wish you could detach a party skirmishing, ready to counter upon them and send 'em back; but the force aren't strong enough, sir. you see, you want me to form the reserve." bracy smiled, and once more they stepped out, making for patch after patch of rocks, the more boldly now that they saw the enemy in front was crossing their intended track as if to get to the ridge on the other side of the valley, and form a junction with the men there. "double!" said bracy suddenly; and they trotted now wherever the ground would allow of such a way of progressing, and in the hope of getting well forward; but, to their disgust, it was to find that their indefatigable pursuers imitated every movement, running when they ran, and settling down again to a walk as soon as they slowed. and so the afternoon wore on, with the position in the rear unchanged, but the front clearing as the sun sank lower in the west. "there's a more hopeful lookout yonder, gedge," said bracy, "but these scoundrels seem more determined than ever." "that's right, sir; and the worst of it is they won't come, within shot. they're waiting for the dark. that's their game. couldn't we steal a march on 'em somehow, sir? for this is getting a bit stupid." "we can steal the march as soon as it's dark," replied bracy. "i have been thinking of that; but then there is the difficulty of getting along in this rough place, and we may be getting out of the frying-pan into the fire." "well, i don't know as if would be any hotter, sir. don't you think we'd better lie down behind some of the stones and pick a few of 'em off as they come up?" "it might cheek them, if we could do it; but if you look through the glass you will see that they keep sending a couple of men up all the high places, who keep watch, and they'd signal to their companions that we were in ambush." "i was afraid so, sir," said gedge grimly; "that's always the way with my plans. there's always a hole in the bottom o' the tub i make 'em in, and they run out like sand." "how would this do?" said bracy. "suppose we pick out a good place just as it is getting dark, and settle ourselves down to watch." "that sounds right, sir," said gedge encouragingly. "then, as soon as they have got used to seeing us there looking over the stones, suppose we slip off our 'elmets, and leave them on the rocks, and creep away for some distance before we rise, and then go on as fast as we can so as the 'elmets may keep 'em off for a bit, sir." "yes; i see what you mean, but the trick is too old. remember how the men put their helmets or caps above the breastworks to tempt them to fire. depend upon it they would suspect." "may be, sir, may be not; but we're in a fix, and we must do something." "but the thing is what?" "if we wanted to go back, sir--to retreat," began gedge. "which we do not," said bracy coldly. "of course not right away, sir; but to make a fresh start, that dodge would do." "what do you mean?" "why, this, sir; suppose we put our 'elmets on the tops o' two stones just as it's getting dark." "well, go on," said bracy impatiently. "then we keep our eyes upon our gentlemen to see whether they come in nigh enough first so as to give us a shot, and if they don't we wait till it's dark enough." "and then go on as fast as we can, and without our helmets, to be exposed to the sun by day, the cold wind and snow by night, if we were not overtaken and finished. bah, my lad! that will not do." "no, sir; but that ain't the way my story goes," said gedge, grinning. "let's have your way, then," said bracy impatiently, as he scanned the enemy in the distance with his glass. "i mean this, sir. we puts our 'elmets as 'fore-said on the rocks, watches till it's quite dark, and then, instead o' doubling off on our journey, we just creeps away to right or left, say a hundred yards, and then lies down." "yes?" "bimeby, one by one, my gentlemen comes creeping up with their long knives, ready to cut us up in the dark, supposing that we're there on the watch. dessay dozen of 'em would come, front, right, left, and rear; and then, after they've surrounded our 'elmets, they goes right in for us, and slashes them instead of us. next minute there's a reg'lar hoo-roar, and most likely, if we're lucky, they've chopped one; another awful. but whether they have or not, they've found out we're not there, and that they've been done; and on they goes in a passion right away, hoping to catch up to us again in the morning to carry on the same game of following us and giving us no rest till we're quite done, and the job to finish us is as easy as that." he kissed his hand by way of illustrating the simplicity of the business. "yes; we should get rid of their hideous, heart-wearing pursuit," said bracy thoughtfully, "and then be able to make a fresh start, of course. but what about covering for our heads?" "oh, don't you worry about that, sir. i'm on'y a thin un, and there's plenty o' spare stuff in this skin coat to spare for a couple o' woolly busbies as 'll suit us for this journey far better than 'elmets. the niggers at a distance would take us for the real article then. now the spikes on our heads says english to every one as sees 'em." "yes," said bracy thoughtfully; "that might be done if we could make the wool hats." "don't you worry yourself about that, sir. it's on'y like cutting two big long squares to measure, and doubling 'em over sidewise, and sewing two edges together. then you sews the top edges, turns the thing inside out, and--" "well, and what?" said bracy, for the lad stopped short and grinned. "puts 'em on, sir. that's all." "and we have scissors and needles and thread and thimbles, of course," said bracy mockingly. "that's right, sir. in my pocket. didn't mother gee give me 'em all ready for sewing up bandages and seeing to wounds? i'd a deal rather make caps with 'em; wouldn't you?" "of course, of course, gedge," bracy hastened to say. "here, it's time we began to put our plan in action." "time to get on a bit farther first, sir. but do you really think that dodge would do?" "i think enough of it to make me say that we'll try it, gedge; and, if it succeeds, i tell you what, hard as it may be, we'll try the snow." "that's the place to hide in, sir, when we creep away." "of course. capital!" "might roll ourselves over in it, and it would stick to our coats, and they'd never find us. but i don't know about going on that way, sir." "we must; i see no other." "but what about footmarks afterwards, sir? it's like putting down a lot o' holes to show 'em the way we've gone." "holes that the sun would soon till in, or fresh snow fall to hide. but we need not study that. the enemy would go on and never think of coming back to make a fresh start. even if they did, they would never find the place again that they went to in the dark." "not by the 'elmets, sir?" "no; they'd make sure of them--carry them off as trophies. but i see a terrible difficulty." "do yer, sir? i'm very sorry." "suppose, while we're lying in the snow, one or two of the ruffians come and stumble right over us?" "i hope they won't, sir," said gedge, with a grim look in his eyes, as he drew his dagger-like bayonet out and touched the point with his thumb. "that's pretty sharp, sir, and we should be on the lookout, and holding 'em in our hands, as what sergeant gee calls a shiver-de-freexe. they might tumble on them." "gedge, my lad, you're full of resources," said bracy eagerly. "we'll try your plan, exactly as you propose." "thank ye, sir," said the lad uneasily; "but i don't want you to think i'm cocky and knowing, and like to be thought double cunning." "that will do," said bracy, smiling. "let's think of the task we have in hand. it is no time to discuss trifles. this is all part of fighting for our lives." chapter twenty eight. in the snow. in the tramp which followed, with the hill-men creeping on after them in the same slow, untiring way, gedge had his eyes about him, and drew forth a sharp order from his officer when he began to deviate a little from the straight course towards a dwarf clump of pines, the highest of which was not above six feet. "what are you going there for?" "want 'em, sir, for rifles," was the reply. bracy nodded; and upon reaching the clump, a few sharp strokes from the lad's bayonet cut down and trimmed what formed a couple of longish walking-sticks, one of which he handed over to his officer, who used his in the latter capacity, gedge soon following suit. "that's what i want them to think, sir," said gedge, digging his down at every second pace. "now, sir, what do you say? don't you think we might edge in more towards the snow?" "soon," said bracy, pointing. "there's just the spot we want;" and, raising his glass, he stopped to examine a group of blocks of stone some fifty yards from the edge of the snowfield, which here sent down a few sharp points, giving it the appearance at a distance of a huge, vandyked piece of white lace. "couldn't find a better place if we tried, sir," said gedge; "but we ain't left ourselves time enough. if we had thought of it sooner, i could have cut out and made the busbies." "we shall have plenty of time for that to-morrow," said bracy. "we must manage by tying on handkerchiefs for to-night, and pulling up the great collars as if they were hoods." a short time after, each with his handkerchief over his head, the pair crouched behind two stones, upon which their helmets had been placed; and beside them the two sticks were planted, so that at a short distance any one would have been deceived and made to believe that a couple of men were on the watch for danger. two men were on the watch for danger, but in a different way, both lying prone, bracy, with his glass to his eyes, carefully sweeping the distance, and keeping it fixed upon the enemy, who looked strangely quiet, as they grouped together and seemed to be feasting. "looks as if they meant to settle there, then, for the night, sir," said gedge, as bracy reported to him everything he noted. "yes; it looks so." "but we don't trust 'em, bless yer, sir. that's their artfulness; foxing--that's what they're doing. won't be able to see 'em much longer--will you, sir?" "no; it's getting dark very fast; but i can make them out, i dare say, till they begin to move." "hope you will, sir," said gedge softly, and lying with his knees bent, kicking his feet about in the air, after the fashion of a boy in a field on a sunny day, and looking quite unconscious of the fact that this night might be one of the most terrible they had ever been called upon to pass. some minutes elapsed now in perfect silence, during which a fiery look on the topmost peak of one of the mountains died out slowly into cherry red, and finally became invisible, a few stars twinkling out as the red light died. "gedge," said bracy in a quick whisper, such as he might have uttered had the enemy been close upon them, and about to spring, instead of many hundred yards away. "sir?" "they are on the move." "can't see 'em, sir." "no; and they cannot see us, but i can dimly make them out with the glass. they are separating from their centre, and coming on. ha! gone. i can see no more." he put away the glass in the darkness, which now seemed to roll down upon them like a cloud from the mountains, giving the snowfield a ghastly look which made bracy hesitate. "i'm afraid it would be better to go off to the left among the stones." "don't, sir, pray," said gedge earnestly. "but our dark bodies will show against the snow." "not they, sir. we'll roll in it, and it'll be darker in half-an-hour. they'll be all that before they get here--won't they?" "quite. they are sure to come on very slowly, and allow time for part of them to get right into our rear." "yes, sir; that's right." "now, then, are you ready?" "yes, sir." there was again silence, and, but for the ghostly glare of the snow, all was very dark. "we seem to be going into the most dangerous place," whispered bracy, with his breath coming thickly. "and that's the very place they'll never think we should hide in, sir, if they were likely to think we were going to hide. no, sir: their keen eyes 'll just make out them two 'elmets, and they'll think o' nothing else but driving their long knives into them as wears 'em, from behind. i do hope we shall hear 'em blunting the points against, the stones." "have you everything?" "yes, sir." "then, forward! go fifty paces slowly over the snow. i shall follow close behind you in your steps." the snow yielded, so that they were knee-deep, but it was still loose and so sand-like in its grains that as each foot was withdrawn the icy particles flowed together again into each freshly-made hole. five minutes later the adventurous pair lay softly down, and rolled over and over a few times, before lying prone upon their chests, each with his head towards the invisible helmets, and near enough to whisper or touch one another with the hand. their rifles lay by their sides, with the cartouche-boxes handy: and, in case of a close attack, their revolvers were in the right sides of their belts, half dragged round to the back, while each held his dagger-like bayonet in his band. "do you feel the cold, gedge?" whispered bracy. "cold, sir? why, i'm as hot as hot. this work's too warm for a fellow to feel the cold. do you, sir?" "no; my face burns as if with fever, and every nerve tingles with excitement. there, we must not even whisper again." "right, sir." "the first moment you hear a sound of any one approaching, touch my left arm." "right, sir; but hadn't i better lie t'other side of you? they'll come that way." "they'll come from all round at once, my lad. there, don't be afraid. if we are going to have trouble, i dare say you will get your full share. now, silence; and when they come you must hardly breathe." then silence ensued, and seemed to bracy the most oppressive that he had ever encountered in facing danger. for the solemnity of the night in the great mountains was brooding over them, out of which at any moment death, in the shape of a keen knife, might descend. there was not a breath of air, but an icy chill dropped down from above, making the snow crystals turn sharp and crisp, crackling softly at the slightest movement. but the frosty air had no effect upon them, save to make their blood tingle in their veins and a peculiar, pricking sensation play about their nostrils as they drew their breath, tiny needles of ice twining as they respired, and making a hoar-frost upon bracy's moustache. the time went on as if the movement of the earth had been checked by the frost; but, listen as they would, the silence was profound, and a full hour seemed to have passed, though it was not a fourth part of that time. "they will not come," thought bracy, as his eyes were turned in every direction he could force them to sweep, and the change appeared very striking from the black atmosphere in front, and right and left to the faint light suggestive of electricity or phosphorescence which made the snow dimly visible. but the enemy made no sign: and, with that horrible stillness as of death reigning and seeming to crush them into the snow, they lay waiting and longing for some sound--for the coming of the enemy; for the wild excitement of an encounter would, bracy felt, be far preferable to that maddening suspense. as he lay there and thought, his ever-active brain was full of suggestions regarding what would take place. the enemy would not dare to come, and a night's sleep would have been lost--they would come, see them with their penetrating eyes, pounce upon them, there would be a few savage unexpected strokes, and all would be over; while poor colonel graves would watch and wait, looking ever for the succour that did not come. "but he will not lose faith in his messengers," bracy thought, with a thrill of satisfaction running through him. "he will know that i strove to do my best." then his thoughts took another direction. why should not--after the careful preparations made--the _ruse_ be successful, the enemy be deceived, and go in pursuit according to their ideas, leaving the two adventurers free to make their fresh departure? but that, the most natural outcome of the plan, bracy, in his excitement, set aside as being the least likely to occur, and he lay in agony, straining every nerve to condense his faculties into the one great sense of hearing, till it seemed to him that his companion's breathing sounded preternaturally loud. "why, he's asleep! the miserable, careless scoundrel!" thought bracy. "those men have no thought beyond the present. how can one trust them? how easily we might be surprised if he were the watch!" a flush of shame made the thinker's cheeks burn the next moment, he had, in his annoyance, stretched out his left hand to reach dodge's shoulder and give him a violent shake. but half-way he checked the progress of his hand; for, sotting aside the danger of waking a sleeper and making him start and utter some ejaculation, which might betray them to a lurking enemy, he recalled the fact that a touch was to be the signal to announce the coming of the enemy. the next moment, as his hand lay upon the snow where he had let it fall, another hand was laid upon it, and his fingers were gripped by a set of fingers which held it fast and gave it a firm, steady pressure, to which he warmly responded, his heart beating fast, and a genial glow of satisfaction running through him in his penitence for misjudging his faithful companion. then the hand that grasped his was snatched away, and he lay listening and gazing in every direction that he could command for the danger just signalled to him by gedge. nothing to right or left, and he dared not stir to look back over the snow. nothing in front, not a sign of any one near; and in his excitement he began to wonder whether his companion had made a mistake in his over-eagerness, for the silence was more oppressive than ever. "what was that?" a spasm shot through the listener, making every nerve and muscle tense as steel; his breath came thick and fast, and the dull, heavy throb, throb of his heart sounded loudly in his brain--so loudly that he held his breath and would have checked the pulsations if he could. there was no doubt now: the enemy was close at hand, and bracy's fingers closed over the hilt of his bayonet with a tremendous grip, for he felt that his revolver would be useless in that terrible darkness, and he shrank from wasting a shot. he could see nothing, but there was the danger just in front in the snow of those thirty yards which lay between them and the rocks. that danger was represented to the listeners in imagination by the figure--two figures--of the white-coated enemy, crawling slowly as huge worms might, have progressed over the snow. at times they were perfectly still, but ever and again there was the extremely gentle, crackling sound of the icy grains rubbing together with a soft, rustling sound, no more than a snake would have made passing along a dusty track. bracy strained his eyes, but he could see nothing. he could not tell whether the two enemies were a yard or ten or twenty away from where he lay; but his straining ears told him that they were there, passing him from right to left, and he felt convinced that others must be moving slowly from all directions towards that one point, where the helmets were placed upon the pieces of stone. so far, then, all was right; but he felt that at any moment he might hear others coming along behind, and those might strike the very spot where they two were lying. thought after thought of this kind flashed through bracy's brain, as he tightened his hold of the bayonet, and held it point upward ready for use against his first assailant, while the strange crepitation of the frozen snow went on for what seemed like a long period, so greatly was everything magnified by the excitement through which it was mentally viewed. by degrees, though, the creeping sound, which had seemed to stop more than once, ceased entirely, and the listeners waited quite half-an-hour, fancying twice over that they heard the faint click of stone against stone; but they could not be sure, and they dared not communicate otherwise than by a pressure of the hand, for there was still the possibility of the enemy being close in front. though as the minutes crawled slowly by, and no fresh sound was heard, the feeling grew stronger and stronger that they had attributed the creeping noise to the enemy, when it was probably some inoffensive wild creature seeking for food, while the enemy had passed the spot in the dark, and were by now far away. bracy had just come to this conclusion, and had begun to think of the wisdom of crawling off the snow, which was beginning to melt beneath him from the warmth of his body, when his heart gave a leap as if some nerve had received a sudden twitch. for there came low and clear from a short distance away a peculiar sound such as might be produced by a night-bird on the wing. then all was still once more. "was that a signal?" thought bracy; "or have we been deceived?" he thought earnestly, and felt that, after all, the enemy would under the circumstances act just as they were acting. there seemed to be an excess of caution, but none too much, approaching as they would be to surprise whoever was on the watch, and going with their lives literally in their hands. "phit!" the same low, peculiar sound again, making bracy start into a wild fit of excitement. then there was a quick running as of many feet towards the central spot, followed by clink, clink, clink--the striking of steel on stone, and then a momentary silence, followed by a peculiar rumbling and a burst of voices. "gug!" bracy turned sharply, bayonet in hand, ready to strike, for the horrible thought struck him that gedge had just received a tierce thrust which pinned him to the frozen snow; but as he leaned in his direction a hand touched his wrist and gave it a grip, holding it tightly, and making him draw a deep breath full of relief. meanwhile the voices increased, their owners talking fiercely, and though the tongue was almost unintelligible, a word was caught here and there, and they grasped the fact that every man seemed to want to talk at once, and to be making suggestions. but the speakers did not keep to one place. as far as bracy could make out, they had broken up into parties, which hurried here and there, one coming so near to where the listeners lay that they felt that their time for action had come at last, and, palpitating with excitement, they prepared to meet the first attack. and now bracy heard a sound as of some one breathing hard, and turned his head sharply to whisper a word of warning to his companion; but it was not uttered, for the sound came from beyond him, and with its repetition came the sound of laborious steps being taken through the snow, he who made them panting hard with the exertion as he came on to within a couple of yards of gedge, and then suddenly turned off and made for the rocks. he made so much noise now that he knew there was no need for concealment, that gedge took advantage of the man getting more distant to reach over to his officer and whisper, with his lips close to bracy's ear: "that chap 'll never know how near he was to leaving off snoring like that, sir, for good." "hush!" whispered bracy, and a fresh burst of talking arose as if to greet the man who had returned to the rocks from making a circuit round the trap. and now it seemed as if the whole party were spreading out and coming towards where the couple lay, for the voices sounded louder and came nearer, making bracy gently raise himself ready to hurry his follower away: but the sounds came no closer, the speakers pausing at the edge of the snow, where it sounded as if their plans were; being discussed. then all at once the talking ceased, and the beat of many feet, with the rattling of loose stones, fell on the listener's ears, telling that the enemy was in motion; and the sounds they made grew fainter and fainter, and then died out entirely. "they seem to be gone," whispered bracy, with his lips close to gedge's ear. "oh yes, they're gone, sir, at last," was the reply. "we must not be too sure. a few may be left behind to keep watch." "not them, sir. i can't see as it's likely." bracy was silent for a few moments, during which he listened intently for the faintest sound; but all was still. "get up," he said briefly, and then started at his own voice, it sounded so husky and strange. gedge uttered a sigh of relief as he shook the adhering snow from his woolly coat. "stiff, gedge?" said bracy. "horrid, sir. a good fight wouldn't come amiss. hear me laugh, sir?" "when you made that sound?" "yes, sir: that bit would come out, though i'd shut my mouth with my hand." "what made you laugh at such a time?" "to hear them cuttin' and stabbin' at the rocks, sir, and blunting their knives." "oh, i see!" "wonder whether they chopped our 'elmets, sir. would you mind ordering me to see if there's any bits left?" "the task is of no good," said bracy. "but we'll walk back to the place and try if we can find them. take out your revolver. no. fix bayonets--we could use them better now." there was a faint clicking, and then, with their rifles levelled, the pair marched laboriously off the snow, and then cautiously felt their way among the stones, bracy's main object being to find out for certain that there were no sentries left. the noise they could not help making among the stones proved this directly, and they unwittingly, in spite of the darkness, went straight to the spot where they had set up the sticks and helmets, when gedge uttered a low cry full of excitement. "why, they never come across 'em, sir. i've got 'em, standing here just as we left 'em. well, i'm blessed! i know the difference by the feel. that's yours, sir, and this is mine. talk about luck! ha! i feel better now. woolly busbies is all very well, but they don't look soldierly. i could have made some right enough, but we should ha' wanted to take 'em off before we got back to the fort." "a splendid bit of luck, gedge," said bracy as he drew the strap of his helmet beneath his chin. "now for our next step. what do you think?" "wittles, sir. can't think o' nothing else just now. i should say, with what we've got to do, the next thing's to begin stoking before our fires go out." chapter twenty nine. awful moments. it was with serious feelings of compunction that bracy set this example to his eager companion, by seating himself on one of the stones and beginning to combat the weary sensation of faintness which troubled him by partaking of a portion of his fast-shrinking store of provisions. for the fact was beginning to stare him in the face that, going on as they had begun, their little store could not by any possibility last, till they reached the ghoorkha camp, and that in depending upon their rifles for a fresh supply they would be leaning upon a very rotten reed, since, surrounded as they seemed to be by enemies, it would be impossible to fire, while everything in the shape of game had so far been absent. but his spirits rose as he refreshed himself. "i will not build imaginary mountains," he said mentally; "there are plenty about us at last." "there, sir," said gedge, breaking in upon his musings suddenly; "i'm ready for anything now. i should like to lie down and have a good sleep; but i s'pose we mustn't do that." "not till we have crossed that ridge up to the north, gedge. it will be hard work, but it must be done." "and get into the valley on the other side, sir, 'fore we go on east'ard?" "yes." "s'pose there'll be a valley t'other side, sir?" "no doubt about it." "then, when you're ready, sir, i am. if we've got it to do, let's begin and get this soft bit over, for we shan't get along very fast." "no; the soft snow makes the travelling bad; but we go higher at every step, and by-and-by we may find it hard. now then, i'll lead. the ridge must be right before us, as far as i can make out." "don't ask me, sir," said gedge. "wants a cat to see in the dark; but i think you must be right. best way seems to me to keep on going uphill. that must be right, and when it's flat or going downhill it must be wrong." bracy made no reply, but, after judging the direction as well as he could, strode off, and found that his ideas were right, for at the end of a few minutes the snow was crackling under their feet. "now for it, gedge. you'll have to lift your feet high at every step, while they sink so deeply. hullo!" there was a sharp crackling as he extended his left foot, bore down upon it, and with a good deal of resistance it went through a crust of ice, but only a short way above the ankle. quickly bringing up the other foot, he stepped forward, and it crushed through the hardening surface, but only for a few inches. the next step was on the rugged surface of slippery ice, and as they progressed slowly for about a hundred yards, it was to find the surface grow firmer and less disposed to give beneath their weight. "there's one difficulty mastered," said bracy cheerily. "the surface is freezing hard, and we can get on like this till the sun beats upon it again." "i call it grand, sir; but i hope it won't get to be more uphill." "why?" "because if we makes one slip we shall go skating down to the bottom of the slope again in double-quick time. i feel a'ready as if i ought to go to the blacksmith's to get roughed." "stamp your feet down if you are disposed to slip, my lad. i do not want to do this, but if the slope grows steeper we must fix bayonets and use them to steady us." "take the edge off on 'em, sir." "yes; but we must get across the ridge. forward." they toiled on, the task growing heavier as they progressed, for the gradient became steeper, and they halted from time to time for a rest, the plan of using the bayonets being kept for a last resource. but there were compensations to make up for the severity of the toil, one of which was expressed by the travellers at one of the halts. "makes one feel jolly comf'table and warm, sir." "yes; and takes away all doubt of our going in the right direction, for we must be right." "i didn't think we was at first, sir. 'tain't so dark neither." "no: we are getting higher, and the snow and ice are all round us. now then, forward!" crunch, squeak, crunch went the snow as they tramped steadily, with the surface curving slowly upward, till all at once there was a slip, a thud, and a scramble, gedge was down, and he began to glide, but checked himself with the butt of his rifle. "i'm all right, sir; but i was on the go," he said, panting. "hurt?" replied bracy laconically. "not a bit, six. knocked some o' the wind out o' me, but i'm all right again now." "forward!" bracy led on again, to find that the curve made by the snowfield rose more and more steeply, and the inclination to slip increased. but he stamped his feet down as he kept on, with his breathing growing quicker, and had the satisfaction of hearing his follower imitate his example, till he began to find that he must soon make another halt. his spirits were rising, however, with an increasing hopeful feeling, for this was evidently the way to avoid pursuit or check. they were on the ice, and to this they must trust for the rest of their journey till they were well within reach of the ghil valley, to which they must descend. slip. in an instant bracy was down, starting on a rapid descent toward the place they had left; but at his first rush he heard beneath him a sharp blow delivered in the glazed surface, and he was suddenly brought up by the body of gedge. "hold tight, sir! all right. i've got something to anchor us." "ha!" ejaculated bracy breathlessly. "it was so sudden." "yes, sir; don't give you much time to think. you'd better do as i do." "what's that?" "keep your bay'net in your hand ready to dig down into the ice. stopped me d'reckly, and that stopped you." "yes, i'll do so. a minute's rest, and then we'll go on again." "make it two, sir. you sound as if you haven't got your wind back." "i shall be all right directly, my lad. this is grand. i hope by daylight that we shall be in safety." "that's right, sir. my! shouldn't i have liked this when i was a youngster! think we shall come back this way?" "possibly," said bracy. "be easy travelling, sir. why, we could sit down on our heels and skim along on the nails of our boots, with nothing to do but steer." "don't talk, my lad," said bracy. "now, forward once more." the journey was continued, and grew so laborious at last from the smoothness of the ice, which increased as the gradient grew heavier--the melted snow having run and made the surface more compact during the sunny noon; and at the end of another couple of hours the difficulty of getting on and up was so great that bracy changed his course a little so as to lessen the ascent by taking it diagonally. this made matters a little better, and tramp, tramp, they went on and on, rising more swiftly than they knew, and little incommoded now by the darkness, for the stars were shining out through the cloudy mist which hung over the slope, while their spirits seemed to rise with the ascent. "have we passed the rocks along which we saw that body of men moving?" said bracy at last. "i s'pose not, sir, or we must have felt 'em. they must have been a long way off when we saw 'em going along." "yes; the distances are very deceptive, and--ah! stones, rocks. here is the rough track at last." they halted again, for by walking here and there they could make out that there was a rough track to right and left, comparatively free from snow, and if this were followed to the right there would be travelling which would necessitate their waiting for daylight, since it was all in and out among huge masses of stone. "we couldn't get along here, sir, very fast," said gedge after making a few essays. "no, it is impossible now," replied bracy. "it would be a dangerous way, too, for it must, as we saw, cut the valley when; the enemy will come out." he stood looking back and around him, to see that the darkness was lightened by the strange faint glare from the ice and snow around him; then, turning, he crossed the ridge of broken rocks and tried what the slope seemed like upon the other side, to find that it was a continuation of that up which they had toiled, and apparently much the same, the gradual curve upward to the mountain being cut by this band of rocks. "forward again, gedge," he cried. "this must be right, for we are getting a trifle nearer to our journey's end, and more out of reach of our pursuers." "then it is right, sir; but i suppose we shall get a bit o' downhill some time." they tramped on for the next hour, but not without making several halts, three of which were involuntary, and caused by more or less sudden slips. these were saved from being serious by the quick action of driving dagger-like the bayonet each carried into the frozen snow; and after repetitions of this the falls seemed to lose; their risky character, the man who went down scrambling to his feet again the next instant and being ready to proceed. the still air was piercingly cold, but it only seemed to make their blood thrill in their veins, and a sense of exhilaration arose from the warm glow which pervaded them, and temptingly suggested the removal of their woollen _poshtins_. but the temptation was forced back, and the tramp continued hour after hour up what seemed to be an interminable slope, while fatigue was persistently ignored. at last, though, bracy was brought to a halt, and he stood panting. "anything wrong, sir?" whispered gedge hoarsely. "no; only that i can get no farther in this way. we must fix bayonets, and use our rifles as staves." "right, sir." "be careful not to force your barrel down too far, so as to get it plugged with the snow," said bracy; and then, as soon as the keen-pointed weapons were fixed, he started onward again, the rifles answering this new purpose admirably, and giving a steadiness to the progress that had before been wanting. consequently far better progress was made for the next half-hour, with much less exertion, and bracy made up his mind that the first patch of pines they came to on the lower ground should supply them with a couple of saplings whose poles should have the bayonets fixed or bound upon them, so as to take the place of the rifles. "i'm longing for the daylight, gedge," said bracy suddenly, for they had plunged into a mist which obscured the stars, "so that we can see better in which direction to go, for we ought to be high enough now to be safe from--ha!" then silence. "safe from what, sir?" said gedge, stopping short. there was no reply, and after waiting a few seconds, feeling alarmed, the lad spoke again. "didn't quite hear what you said, sir; safe from what?" there was no reply, and gedge suddenly turned frantic. "mr bracy, sir," he said hoarsely, and then, raising his voice, he called his officer by name again and again; but the same terrible darkness and silence reigned together, and he grew maddened now. "oh lor'!" he cried, "what's come to him?" and he went upon his hands and knees to crawl and feel about. "he's gone down in a fit, and slipped sudden right away; for he ain't here. he's half-way down the mountain by now, and i don't know which way to go and help him, and-- ah!" he shrieked wildly, and threw himself over backwards, to begin rolling and sliding swiftly back in the way he had come, his rifle escaping from his grasp. chapter thirty. a prayer for light. gedge glided rapidly down the icy slope for a good fifty yards in the darkness, with the pace increasing, before he was able to turn on his back and check himself by forcing his heels into the frozen snow. "and my rifle gone--where i shall never find it again," was his first thought, as he forced back his helmet, which had been driven over his eyes: but, just as the thought was grasped, he was conscious of a scratching, scraping noise approaching, and he had just time to fling out his hands and catch his weapon, the effort, however, sending him gliding down again, this time to check himself by bringing the point of the bayonet to bear upon the snow. and now stopped, he lay motionless for a few moments. "mustn't be in a flurry," he panted, with his heart beating violently, "or i shan't find the gov'nor, and i must find him. i will find him, pore chap. want to think it out cool like, and i'm as hot as if i'd been runnin' a mile. now then; he's gone down, and he must ha' gone strite down here, so if i lets myself slither gently i'm sure to come upon him, for i shall be pulled up same as he'd be." he lay panting, still, for a few minutes, and his thinking powers, which had been upset by the suddenness of the scare, began to settle themselves again. then he listened as he went on, putting, as he mentally termed it, that and that together. "can't hear nothing of him," he said to himself. "he must have gone down with a rush 'stead o' falling in a fit as i thought fust; but it ain't like a fall. he wouldn't smash hisself, on'y rub some skin off, and he'll be hollering to me d'reckly from somewheres below. oh dear! if it only warn't so precious dark i might see him: but there ain't no moon, and no stars now, and it's no use to light a match. i say, why don't he holler?--i could hear him a mile away--or use his whistle? he'd know that would bring me, and be safer than shouting. but i can't hear nothing on him. here: i know." gedge rose to his feet and drove his bayonet into the snow to steady himself, without turning either to the right or the left. "mustn't change front," he said, "or i may go sliding down wrong and pass him," he thought. then raising his hand, he thrust two fingers into his mouth and produced a long drawn whistle, which was a near imitation of that which would be blown by an officer to bring his men together to rally round him and form square. "that ought to wake him up," he thought. "he'd hear that if he was miles away." there was a faint reply which made his heart leap; and thrusting his fingers between his lips, he whistled again in a peculiar way, with the result that the sound came back as before, and gedge's heart sank with something akin to despair. "'tain't him," he groaned. "it's them blessed eckers. i'll make sure, though." he stood listening for some minutes, and then, with his heart feeling like lead, took off his helmet and wiped his dripping brow. "oh dear!" he groaned; "ain't it dark! reg'lar fog, and cold as cold. makes a chap shiver. i dunno how it is. when i'm along with him i feel as bold as a lion. i ain't afeared o' anything. i'd foller him anywheres, and face as many as he'd lead me agen. 'tain't braggin', for i've done it; but i'm blessed now if i don't feel a reg'lar mouse--a poor, shiverin' wet mouse with his back up, and ready to die o' fright through being caught in a trap, just as the poor little beggars do, and turns it up without being hurt a bit. i can't help it; i'm a beastly coward; and i says it out aloud for any one to bear. that's it--a cussed coward, and i can't help it, 'cause i was born so. he's gone, and i shan't never find him agen, and there's nothing left for me to do but sneak back to the fort, and tell the colonel as we did try, but luck was agen us. "nay, i won't," he muttered. "i'll never show my face there again, even if they call it desertion, unless i can get to the ghoorkha colonel and tell him to bring up his toothpick brigade. "oh, here, i say, bill, old man," he said aloud after a pause, during which he listened in vain for some signal from his officer, "this here won't do. this ain't acting like a sojer o' the queen. standin' still here till yer get yerself froze inter a pillar o' salt. you've got to fetch your orficer just as much now as if if hailed bullets and bits o' rusty ragged iron. here goes. pull yourself together, old man! yer wanted to have a slide, so now's your time." grasping his rifle, he squatted down on his heels, and laid the weapon across his knees preparatory to setting himself in motion, on the faint chance of gliding down to where bracy would have gone before him. "would you have thought it so steep that he could have slithered away like that? but there it is," he muttered. "now then, here goes." letting himself go, he began to glide slowly upon his well-nailed shoes; then the speed increased, and he would the next minute have been rushing rapidly down the slope had he not driven in his heels and stopped himself. "well, one can put on the brake when one likes," he muttered; "but he couldn't ha' gone like this or i should have heard him making just the same sort o' noise. he had no time to sit down; he must ha' gone on his side or his back, heads up or heads down, and not so very fast. if i go down like this i shall be flying by him, and p'raps never stop till i get to the end of the snow. i know--i'll lie down." throwing himself over on his side, he gave a thrust with his hands and began to glide, but very slowly, and in a few seconds the wool of his _poshtin_ adhered so firmly to the smooth surface that he was brought up and had to start himself again. this took place twice, and he slowly rose to his feet. "wants a good start," he muttered, and he was about to throw himself down when a fresh thought crossed his brain. "i don't care," he said aloud, as if addressing some one who had spoken; "think what yer like, i ain't afraid to pitch myself down and go skidding to the bottom, and get up with all the skin off! i sez he ain't down there. i never heerd him go, and there's something more than i knows on. it is a fit, and he's lying up yonder. bill gedge, lad, you're a-going wrong." he stood trying to pierce the thickening mist, looking as nearly as he could judge straight upward in the course they had taken, and was about to start: but, not satisfied, he took out his match-box, struck a light, and, holding it down, sought for the marks made by the bayonets in the climb. but there was no sign where he stood, neither was there to his left; and, taking a few paces to the right, with the rapidly-burning match close to the snow, the flame was just reaching his fingers when he uttered a sigh of satisfaction: for, as the light had to be dropped, there, one after the other, he saw two marks in the freshly-chipped snow glistening in the faint light. keeping their direction fresh in his mind, he stalled upward on his search. "how far did i come down?" he said to himself. "i reckon 'bout a hundred yards. say 'undred and twenty steps." he went on taking the hundred and twenty paces, and then he stopped short. "must be close here somewhere," he muttered; and he paused to listen, but there was not a sound. "nobody couldn't hear me up here," he thought, and he called his companion by name, to rouse up strange echoes from close at hand; and when he changed to whistling, the echoes were sudden and startling in the extreme. "it's rum," said gedge. "he was just in front of me, one minute talking to me, and then `ha!' he says, and he was gone." gedge took off his helmet, and wiped his wet brow again before replacing it. "ugh, you idjit!" he muttered. "you were right at first. he dropped down in a sort o' fit from overdoing it--one as took him all at wunst, and he's lying somewheres about fast asleep, as people goes off in the snow and never wakes again. he's lying close by here somewheres, and you ought to have done fust what you're going to do last. "mustn't forget where i left you," he muttered as he gave a dig down with his rifle, driving the bayonet into the snow, and sending some scraps flying with a curious whispering noise which startled him. "what does that mean?" he said, and he caught at the butt of his piece, now sticking upward in the snow, but dropped his hand again to his pocket and again took out his match-box. "sort o' fancy," he muttered; and, getting out a match, he struck it, after shutting the box with a snap, which again made him start, something like an echo rising from close at hand. "why, i'm as nervous as a great gal," he muttered, as the tiny match burst into a bright flame which formed a bit of a halo about itself, and, stooping to bring the tiny clear light burning so brightly close to the surface, he took two steps forward, the ground at the second giving way beneath him, and at the same moment he uttered a wild shriek of horror, dashed the match from him, and threw himself backward on to the snow. for the tiny light had in that one brief moment revealed a horror to him which was a full explanation of the trouble, and as he lay trembling in every limb, his shriek was repeated from a short distance away, and then again and again rapidly, till it took the form of a wild burst of laughter. "get up, you coward!" growled gedge the next minute, as he made a brave effort to master the terrible shock he had sustained, for he felt that he had been within an inch of following his officer to a horrible death. the self-delivered charge of cowardice brought him to himself directly, and he sprang to his feet. then, with fingers wet with a cold perspiration, and trembling as if with palsy, he dragged out his match-box, took out one of the tiny tapers, and essayed to light it, but only produced streaks of phosphorescent light, for he had taken the match out by the end, and his wet fingers had quenched its lighting powers. with the next attempt he was more successful; and, setting aside all fear of being seen, he held out the flaming light, which burned without motion in the still air, and, holding it before him, stepped towards the edge of the snow, which ended suddenly in a black gulf, over which he was in the act of leaning, when once more he sprang back and listened, for the snow where he stood had given way, and as he remained motionless for a few moments, there suddenly came up from far below, a dull thud, followed by a strange whispering series of echoes as if off the face of some rocks beyond. "oh!" he groaned. "that's it, then. it was down there he went; and he must be killed." it was one of the young soldier's weak moments; but his life of late had taught him self-concentration and the necessity for action, and he recovered himself quickly. the trembling fit passed off, and he look out another match, lit it, stepped as near as he dared to the edge of the gulf, and then pitched the burning flame gently from him, seeing it go down out of sight; but nothing more, for the place was immense. he lay down upon his breast now, and crawled in what seemed to be greater darkness, consequent upon the light he had burned having made his eyes contract, and worked himself so close that his hand was over the edge, a short distance to the left of where he had broken it away with his weight. here he gathered up a handful of the frozen snow, threw it from him, and listened till a faint pattering sound came up. his next act was to utter a shout, which came back at once, as if from a wall of rock, while other repetitions seemed to come from right and left. then, raising his fingers to his mouth, he gave vent to a long, shrill whistle, which he repeated again and again, and then, with a strange stony sensation, he worked himself slowly back, feet foremost, at first very slowly, and then with frantic haste, as it suddenly dawned upon him that he was going uphill. for the snowy mass was sinking, and it was only just in time that he reached a firmer part, and lay quivering in the darkness, while he listened to a rushing sound, for his weight had started an immense cornice-like piece of the snow, which went down with a sullen roar. "it's no use while it's like this," groaned gedge. "i can't do nothing to help him till the day comes. i should on'y be chucking my own life away. i'd do it if it was any good; but it wouldn't be no use to try, and i might p'raps find him if i could only see." he had risen to his knees now, and the position brought the words to his lips; the rough lad speaking, but with as perfect reverence as ever came from the lips of man: "oh, please, god, can't you make the light come soon, and end this dreadful night?" poor, rough, rude bill gedge had covered his eyes as he softly whispered his prayer; and when he opened them again, it was to look upon no marvel greater than that grand old miracle which we, with leaden eyes sealed up, allow to pass away unheeded, unseen. it was but the beginning of another of the many days seen in a wild mountain land; for the watchings and tramps of the two adventurers had pretty well used up the hours of darkness; and, black though the snow lay where bill gedge knelt, right beyond, straight away upon the mighty peak overhead, there was a tiny point of glowing orange light, looking like the tip of some huge spear that was heated red-hot. for the supplicant was gazing heavenward, and between the sky and his eyes there towered up one of the huge peaks of the karakoram range, receiving the first touch of the coming day. chapter thirty one. the light that came. gedge knelt there gazing upward, unable to grasp the truth of that which he saw; for all around him seemed blacker than ever; but as he looked there was another glowing speck high up in the distance, and then another and another started into sight, while the first he had seen went on increasing in brightness; and, as he still kept his eyes fixed upon it, the fact came to him at last--the belief that it was indeed the sun lighting up the glittering peaks of the vast range--and he started to his feet with a cry of exultation. "why, it is to-morrow morning!" he shouted. "ah! i can help him now." but for a time he could only wait on patiently, and watch the bright glow extending, and stealing slowly downward, in a way which suggested that it would be hours before the spot where he stood would be lit up by the full light of day; and, hardly daring to move, he listened, and twice over gave one of his long, piercing whistles, which were echoed and re-echoed in a way which made him shudder and hesitate to raise the strange sounds again. "it's o' no use," he said. "he's gone down there, and he's dead--he's dead; and i shall never see him again.--yah! yer great snivelling idjit!" he cried the next moment, in his rage against himself. "the old woman was right when i 'listed. she said i wasn't fit for a sojer--no good for nothing but to stop at home, carry back the washing, and turn the mangle. i'm ashamed o' myself. my word, though, the fog's not so thick, but ain't it cold! if i don't do something i shall freeze hard, and not be able to help him when it gets light." it was a fact; for, consequent upon standing still so long, a peculiar numbing sensation began to attack his extremities, and it was none too soon when he felt his way down the slope for a few yards, and then turned to climb again. a very short time longer, and he would have been unable to stir; as it was, he could hardly climb back to the place from which he started. cut he strove hard to restore the failing circulation, keeping his body in active motion, till, by slow degrees, his natural activity returned, and, forgetting the weariness produced by such a night of exertion, he felt ready to do anything towards finding and rescuing his officer. "there's no mistake about it," he muttered, "standing still up in these parts means hands and feet freezing hard. it's wonderful, though, how these sheepskins keep out the cold. i ought to feel worse than i do, though, at a time like this; but it's because i won't believe the gov'nor's dead. it ain't possible, like, for it's so much more sudden than being caught by a bullet through the heart. oh he ain't dead--he can't be--i won't believe it. tumbled down into the soft snow somewhere, and on'y wants me to go down and help him out." he took another turn up and down to keep up the circulation, and by this time he could move about freely, and without having to climb the ascent in dread of going too far and reaching the perilous edge, with its treachery of snow. "getting lighter fast," he said, "and i shall be able to get to work soon. and that's it. i've got to think o' that. there's no help to be got. you've got to find all the help in yourself, old man. my! ain't it beautiful how the light's coming! it's just as if the angels was pouring glory on the tops o' the mountains, and it's running more and more down the sides, till these great holes and hollows are full, and it's day once more." as the golden rays of sunshine came lower, the mountain in front grew dazzling in its beauty. minute by minute the glaciers which combed its sides leaped into sight, shining with dazzling beauty, like rivers and falls of golden water; the dark rifts and chasms became purple, lightening into vivid blue; and the reflected light kept on flashing upon hollows and points, till, saving the lower portions, the vast mass of tumbled-together ice and snow shone with a glory that filled the ignorant common lad with a strange feeling of awe. this passed off directly, however; and, as the darkness on a level with where he stood grew more and more transparent, gedge's active mind was searching everything in the most practical way, in connection with the task he had in hand. he could see now dimly that the snow to right and left of him curved over the vast gulf in front--vast in length only; for, thirty or forty yards from where he stood, there was the huge blank face of the mountain going downward, as one vast perpendicular wall of grey rock, streaked with snow where there were ledges for it to cling. in fact, the snow from above hung hen; and there as if ready to fall into the black gulf, still full of darkness, and whose depths could not be plumbed until the light displaced the gloom, and a safe coign of vantage could be found from which the adventurer could look down. in fact, the young soldier was on the edge of a stupendous _bergschrund_, as the phenomenon is termed by swiss climbers--a deep chasm formed by the ice and snow shrinking or falling away from the side of a mountain, where the latter is too steep for it to cling. and then, after a little examination to right and left, gedge, with beating heart, found the place where bracy had stepped forward and instantaneously fallen. there was no doubt about it, for the searcher found the two spots where he himself had so nearly gone down, the snow showing great irregular patches, bitten off, as it were, leaving sharp, rugged, perpendicular edges; while where bracy had fallen there were two footprints and a deep furrow, evidently formed by the rifle, to which he had clung, the furrow growing deeper as it neared the edge of the snow, through which it had been dragged. gedge's face flushed with excitement as he grasped all this and proved its truth, for, between where he stood and the footprints made through the crust of snow, there were his own marks, those made by his bayonet, and others where he had flung himself down, for the snow here was far softer than upon the slope. in spite of the darkness still clinging to the depths, gedge began at once searching for a safe place--one where he could crawl to the edge of the gulf, get his face over, and look down; but anywhere near where bracy had gone down this was in vain, for the snow curved over like some huge volute of glittering whiteness, and several times over, when he ventured, it was to feel that his weight was sufficient to make the snow yield, sending him back with a shudder. baffled again and again, he looked to right and left, in search of some slope by whose means he could descend into the gulf; but he looked in vain--everywhere the snow hung over, and as the light increased he saw that the curve was far more than he had imagined. "oh, if i only knowed what to do!" he groaned. "i can't seem to help him; and i can't leave him to go for help. i must get down somehow; but i dursen't jump." this last thought had hardly crossed his brain when a feeling of wild excitement rushed through him; for faintly heard from far away below, and to his left, there came the shrill chirruping note of an officer's whistle, and gedge snatched at the spike of his helmet, plucked it off, and waved it frantically in the air. "hoorray!" he yelled. "hoorray! and i don't care if any one hears me. hoorray! he ain't dead a bit; he's down somewhere in the soft snow, and hoorray! i'm going to get him out." at that moment the whistle chirruped faint and shrill again, the note being repeated from the vast wall. "he's this side somewhere," cried gedge. "out o' sight under this curl-over o' snow. there he goes again, and i haven't answered. of all the--" the cramming of his fingers into his mouth checked the speech, and, blowing with all his might, the young soldier sent forth a shrill imitation of the officer's whistle, to echo from the mountain face; and then, unmistakably, and no echo, came another faint, shrill whistle from far to the left. "all right, mr bracy, sir! hoorray! and good luck to you! i'm a-coming." he whistled again, and went off in the direction from which his summons seemed to have come, and again he was answered, and again and again, till, quite a quarter of a mile along the edge, the young soldier stopped, for the whistles had sounded nearer and nearer, till he felt convinced that he had reached a spot on the snow hanging just above his summoner's head. as he stopped he whistled again, and the answer sounded shrill and near. "below there! ahoy!" he yelled, and mingling with the echoes came his name, faintly heard, but in the familiar tones. "oh dear! what's a chap to do?" panted gedge. "i want to holler and shout, and dance a 'ornpipe. here, i feel as if i'm goin' as mad as a hatter. hi! oh, mr bracy--sir--ain't--half--dead--are--yer?" he shouted, as if he had punctuated his words with full stops. "not--much--hurt," came up distinctly. "then here goes!" muttered gedge. "i must try and get a look at yer, to see where yer are." the speaker threw himself on his faces once more, and began to crawl towards the edge of the cornice, to look down into the fairly-light chasm; but shrank back only just in time to save himself from going down with a great patch of snow; and he listened, shudderingly, to the dull rush it made, followed by a heavy pat and a series of whispering echoes. then faintly heard came the words: "keep back, or you'll send an avalanche down." "what's a haverlarnsh?" muttered gedge. then aloud, "all right, sir. can yer get out?" "i don't know yet. i must rest a bit. don't talk, or you'll be sending the snow down." "all right, sir; but can't yer tell me what to do?" "you can do nothing," came slowly back in distinct tones. "the snow curves over my head, and there is a tremendous depth. keep still where you are, and don't come near." "oh, i can keep still now," said gedge coolly. "it's like being another man to know that's he's all alive. oh! can't be very much hurt, or he wouldn't call like he does. poor chap! but what's he going to do? climb up the side somehow? well, i s'pose i must obey orders; but i should like to be doing something to help him out." gedge was of that type which cannot remain quiet; and, feeling irritated now by his enforced state of helplessness, he spent the time in looking down and around him for signs of danger. the sun was now above the horizon, lighting up the diversified scene at the foot of the mountain, and away along the valleys spreading to right and left; but for some time he could make out nothing save a few specks in the far distance, which might have been men, or a flock of some creatures pasturing on the green valley-side, miles beyond the termination of the snow-slope up which they had climbed. he made out, too, the continuation of the stony track leading to the head of the valley, and along which the party of tribes-men had been seen to pass; but there was apparently nothing there, and gedge drew a breath full of relief as he felt how safe they were, and beyond the reach of the enemy. then, turning to the gulf again, he went as near as he dared to the edge, and stood listening to a dull sound, which was frequently repeated, and was followed by a low rushing noise, which kept gathering in force till it was like a heavy rush, and then dying away. "what's he doing?" muttered gedge. "sounds like digging. that's it; he's been buried alive; and he's hard at work trying to dig himself out of the snow with his bayonet stuck at the end of his rifle. well, good luck to him. wonder where he'll come up first." gedge watched the cornice-like edge of the snowfield as the sounds as of some one feebly digging went on; but he could gain no further hint of what was going on, and at last his excitement proved too much for him, and he once more began to creep towards the edge of the snow, getting so far without accident this time that he could form an idea of what must be the depth from seeing far down the grey face of the wall of rock, certainly four or five hundred feet, but no bottom. "he couldn't have fallen all that way," he said to himself. "it must go down with a slope on this side." a sharp crack warned him that he was in danger, and he forced himself back on to firm snow, receiving another warning of the peril to which he had exposed himself, for a portion many feet square went down with a hissing rush, to which he stood listening till all was still once more. suddenly he jumped back farther, for from somewhere higher up there was a heavy report as of a cannon, followed by a loud echoing roar, and, gazing upward over a shoulder of the mountain, he had a good view of what seemed to be a waterfall plunging over a rock, to disappear afterwards behind a buttress-like mass of rock and ice. this was followed by another roar, and another, before all was still again. "must be ice and snow," he said to himself; "can't be water." gedge was right; for he had been gazing up at an ice-fall, whose drops were blocks and masses of ice diminished into dust by the great distance, and probably being formed of thousands of tons. "bad to have been climbing up there," he muttered, and he shrank a little farther away from the edge of the great chasm. "it's precious horrid being all among this ice and snow. it sets me thinking, as it always does when i've nothing to do.--if i could only do something to help him, instead of standing here.--oh, i say," he cried wildly, "look at that!" he had been listening to the regular dull dig, dig, dig, going on below the cornice, and to the faint rushing sound, as of snow falling, thinking deeply of his own helplessness the while, wondering too, for the twentieth time, where bracy would appear, when, to his intense astonishment, he saw a bayonet dart through the snow into daylight about twenty feet back from the edge of the great gulf. the blade disappeared again directly, and reappeared rapidly two or three times as he ran towards the spot, and then hesitated, for it was dangerous to approach the hole growing in the snow, the direction of the thrusts made being various, and the risk was that the weapon might be darted into the looker-on. gedge stood then as near as he dared go, watching the progress made by the miner, and seeing the hole rapidly increase in size as the surface crumbled in. then all at once gedge's heart seemed to leap towards his mouth, for there was a sudden eddy of the loose snow, as if some one were struggling, the bayonet, followed by the rifle, was thrust out into daylight, held by a pair of hands which sought to force it crosswise over the mouth of the hole, and the next instant the watcher saw why. for the caked snow from the opening to the edge of the gulf, and for many yards on either side, was slowly sinking; while, starting from the hole in two opposite directions, and keeping parallel with the edge; of the cornice, a couple of cracks appeared, looking like dark jagged lines. it was a matter of but a few moments. gedge had had his lessons regarding the curving-over snow, and knew the danger, which gave him the apt promptitude necessary for action in the terrible peril. dropping his own rifle on the ice, he sprang forward, stooped, and, quick as a flash, caught hold of the barrel of the rifle lying on the surface just below the hilt of the bayonet. then throwing himself back with all the force he could command, he literally jerked bracy out from where he lay buried in the loose snow and drew him several yards rapidly over the smooth surface. the long lines were opening out and gaping the while, and he had hardly drawn his officer clear before there was a soft, dull report, and a rush, tons of the cornice having been undermined where it hung to the edge of the icefield, and now went downward with a hissing sound, which was followed by a dull roar. "ah-h-h!" groaned gedge, and he dropped down upon his knees beside the prostrate snowy figure, jerked his hands towards his face, and then fell over sidewise, to lie motionless with his eyes fast closed. when he opened them again it was to see bracy kneeling by his side and bending over him, the young officer's countenance looking blue and swollen, while his voice when he spoke sounded husky and faint. "are you better now?" he said. "better!" replied gedge hoarsely as he stared confusedly at the speaker. "ain't been ill agen, have i! here, what yer been doing to make my head ache like this here? i--i--i d' know. something's buzzing, and my head's going round. some one's been giving me--oh, mr bracy, sir! i remember now. do tell me, sir; are yer all right?" "yes, nearly," replied the young officer, with a weary smile. "twisted my ankle badly, and i'm faint and sick. i can't talk." "course not, sir; but you're all right again now. you want something to eat. i say, sir, did you finish your rations?" "no; they're here in my haversack. you can take a part if you want some." "me, sir? i've got plenty. ain't had nothing since when we had our feed together. i ain't touched nothing." "eat, then; you must want food." "yes, i am a bit peckish, sir, i s'pose; but i can't eat 'less you do." bracy smiled faintly, and began to open his snow-covered haversack, taking from it a piece of hard cake, which he began to eat very slowly, looking hard and strange of manner, a fact which did not escape gedge's eyes; but the latter said nothing, opened his canvas bag with trembling hands, and began to eat in a hurried, excited way, but soon left off. "don't feel like eating no more, sir," he said huskily. "can't for thinking about how you got on. don't say nothing till you feel well enough, sir. i can see that you're reg'lar upset. ain't got froze, have you--hands or feet?" "no, no," said bracy slowly, speaking like one suffering from some terrible shock. "i did not feel the cold so much. there, i am coming round, my lad, and i can't quite grasp yet that i am sitting here alive in the sunshine. i'm stunned. it is as if i were still in that horrible dream-like time of being face to face with death. ha! how good it is to feel the sun once more!" "yes, sir; capital, sir," said gedge more cheerfully. "quite puzzling to think its all ice and snow about us. shines up quite warm; 'most as warm as it shines down." "ha!" sighed bracy; "it sends life into me again." he closed his eyes, and seemed to be drinking in the warm glow, which was increasing fast, giving colour to the magnificent view around. but after a few minutes, during which gedge sat munching slowly and gazing anxiously in the strangely swollen and discoloured face, the eyes were reopened, to meet those of gedge, who pretended to be looking another way. the sun's warmth was working wonders, and shortly after bracy's voice sounded stronger as he said quietly: "it would have been hard if i had been carried back by the snow at the last, gedge." "hard, sir? horrid." "it turned you sick afterwards--the narrow escape i had." "dreadful, sir. i was as bad as a gal. i'm a poor sort o' thing sometimes, sir. but don't you talk till you feel all right, sir." "i am beginning to feel as if talking will do me good and spur me back into being more myself." "think so, sir? well, you know best, sir." "i think so," said bracy quietly; "but i shall not be right till i have had a few hours' sleep." "look here, then, sir; you lie down in the sun here on my _poshtin_. i'll keep watch." "no! no! not till night. there, i am getting my strength back. i was completely stunned, gedge, and i have been acting like a man walking in his sleep." gedge kept glancing at his officer furtively, and there was an anxious look in his eyes as he said to himself: "he's like a fellow going to have a touch of fever. bit wandering-like, poor chap! i know what's wrong. i'll ask him." he did not ask at once, though, for he saw that bracy was eating the piece of cake with better appetite, breaking off scraps more frequently; while the food, simple as it was, seemed to have a wonderfully reviving effect, and he turned at last to his companion. "you are not eating, my lad," he said, smiling faintly. "come, you know what you have said to me." "oh, i'm all right again now, sir; i'm only keeping time with you. there. dry bread-cake ain't bad, sir, up here in the mountains, when you're hungry. hurt your head a bit--didn't you, sir?" "no, no," said bracy more firmly. "my right ankle; that is all. how horribly sudden it was!" "awful, sir; but don't you talk." "i must now; it does me good, horrible as it all was; but, as i tell you, i was stunned mentally and bodily, to a great extent. i must have dropped a great distance into the soft snow upon a slope, and i was a long time before i could get rid of the feeling of being suffocated. i was quite buried, i suppose; but at last, in a misty way, i seemed to be breathing the cold air in great draughts as i lay on the snow, holding fast to my rifle, which somehow seemed to be the one hope i had of getting back to you." "you did a lot of good with it, sir." "did i?" "course you did, sir. digging through the snow." "oh yes, i remember now," said bracy, with a sigh. "yes, i remember having some idea that the snow hung above me like some enormous wave curling right over before it broke, and then becoming frozen hard. then i remember feeling that i was like one of the rabbits in the sandhills at home, burrowing away to make a hole to get to the surface, and as fast as i got the sand down from above me i kept on kicking it out with my feet, and it slid away far below with a dull, hissing sound." "yes, sir, i heard it; but that was this morning. how did you get on in the night, after you began to breathe again? you couldn't ha' been buried long, or you'd ha' been quite smothered." "of course," said bracy rather vacantly--"in the night?" "yes; didn't you hear me hollering?" "no." "when you were gone all in a moment i thought you'd slipped and gone sliding down like them chaps do the tobogganing, sir." "you did call to me, then?" "call, sir? i expect that made me so hoarse this morning." "i did not hear you till i whistled and you answered, not long ago." "why, i whistled too, sir, lots o' times, and nigh went mad with thinking about you." "thank you, gedge," said bracy quietly, and he held out his hand and gripped his companion's warmly. "i give you a great deal of trouble." "trouble, sir? hark at you! that ain't trouble. but after you got out of the snow?" "after i got out of the snow?" "yus, sir; you was there all night." "was i? yes, i suppose so. i must have been. but i don't know much. it was all darkness and snow, and--oh yes, i remember now! i did not dare to move much, because whenever i did stir i began to glide down as if i were going on for ever." "but don't you remember, sir, any more than that?" "no," said bracy, speaking with greater animation now. "as i told you, i must have been stunned by my terrible fall, and that saved me from a time of agony that would have driven me mad. as soon as it was light i must have begun moving in a mechanical way to try and escape from that terrible death-trap: but all that has been dream-like, and--and i feel as if i were still in a kind of nightmare. i am quite faint, too, and giddy with pain. yes, i must lie down here in the sunshine for a bit. don't let me sleep long if i drop off." "no, sir; i won't, sir," replied gedge, as bracy sank to his elbow and then subsided with a restful sigh, lying prone upon the snow. "he's fainted! no, he ain't; he's going right off to sleep. not let him sleep long? yes, i will; i must, poor chap! it's knocked half the sense out of him, just when he was done up, too. not sleep? why, that's the doctor as'll pull him round. all right, sir; you're going to have my sheepskin too, and you ain't going to be called till the sun's going down, and after that we shall see." ten minutes later bracy was sleeping, carefully wrapped in gedge's _poshtin_, while the latter was eating heartily of the remains of his rations. "and he might ha' been dead, and me left alone!" said gedge, speaking to himself. "my! how soon things change! shall i have a bit more, or shan't i! yes; i can't put my greatcoat on outside, so i must put some extra lining in." chapter thirty two. only human. as the sun gathered force in rising higher, a thin veil of snow was melted from off a broad patch of rock, which dried rapidly; and, after a little consideration, gedge went to bracy's shoulders, took fast hold of his _poshtin_, and drew him softly and quickly off the icy surface right on to the warm, dry rock, the young officer's eyes opening widely in transit, and then closing again without their owner becoming conscious, but, as his head was gently lowered down again upon its sheepskin pillow, the deep sleep of exhaustion went on. "needn't ha' been 'fraid o' waking you," said gedge softly, and looking down at the sleeper as if proud of his work.--"there, you'll be dry and warm as a toast, and won't wake up lying in a pond o' water.--now i'll just have a look round, and then sit down and wait till he wakes." gedge took his good look round, making use of bracy's glass, and in two places made out bodies of white-coated men whose weapons glinted in the sun shine; but they were far away, and in hollows among the hills. "that's all i can make out," said gedge, closing the glass and replacing it softly in the case slung from bracy's shoulders; "but there's holes and cracks and all sorts o' places where any number more may be. blest if i don't think all the country must have heard that we're going for help, and turned out to stop us. my! how easy it all looked when we started! just a long walk and a little dodging the niggers, and the job done. one never thought o' climbing up here and skating down, and have a launching in the snow." gedge yawned tremendously, and being now in excellent spirits and contentment with himself, he chuckled softly. "that was a good one," he said. "what a mouth i've got! i say, though, my lad, mouths have to be filled, and there ain't much left. we were going, i thought, to shoot pheasants, and kill a sheep now and then, to make a fire and have roast bird one day, leg o' mutton the next, and cold meat when we was obliged; but seems to me that it was all cooking your roast chickens before they was hatched. fancy lighting a fire anywhere! why, it would bring a swarm of the beauties round to carve us up instead of the wittles; and as to prog, why, i ain't seen nothing but that one bear. don't seem to hanker after bear," continued gedge after a few minutes' musing, during which he made sure that bracy was sleeping comfortably. "bears outer the 'logical gardens, nicely fatted up on buns, might be nice, and there'd be plenty o' nice fresh bear's grease for one's 'air; but these here wild bears in the mountains must feed theirselves on young niggers and their mothers, and it'd be like being a sort o' second-hand cannibal to cook and eat one of the hairy brutes. no, thanky; not this time, sir. i'll wait for the pudden." human nature is human nature, which nobody can deny; and, uncultivated save in military matters, and rough as he was, bill gedge was as human as he could be. he had just had a tremendous tramp for a whole day, a sleepless night of terrible excitement and care, a sudden respite from anxiety, a meal, and the glow of a hot sun upon a patch of rock which sent a genial thrill of comfort through his whole frame. these were the difficulties which were weighing hard in one of the scales of the young private's constitution, while he was doing his best to weigh down the other scale with duty, principle, and a manly, honest feeling of liking for the officer whom he had set up from the first moment of being attached to the company as the model of what a soldier should be. it was hard work. those yawns came again and again, increasing in violence. "well done, boa-constructor," he said. "little more practice, and you'll be able to swallow something as big as yourself; but my! don't it stretch the corners of your mouth! i want a bit o' bear's grease ready to rub in, for they're safe to crack. "my! how sleepy i am!" he muttered a little later. "i ain't been put on sentry-go, but it's just the same, and a chap as goes to sleep in the face of the enemy ought to be shot. sarve him right, too, for not keeping a good lookout. might mean all his mates being cut up. oh! i say, this here won't do," he cried, springing up. "let's have a hoky-poky penny ice, free, grashus, for nothing." he went off on tiptoe, glancing at bracy as he passed, and then stooped down over a patch of glittering snow, scraping up a handful and straightening himself in the sunshine, as he amused himself by addressing an imaginary personage. "say, gov'nor," he cried, "you've got a bigger stock than you'll get shut of to-day.--eh? you don't expect to? right you are, old man. break yer barrer if yer tried to carry it away. say; looks cleaner and nicer to-day without any o' that red or yeller paint mixed up with it. i like it best when it's white. looks more icy.--what say? spoon? no, thank ye. your customers is too fond o' sucking the spoons, and i never see you wash 'em after.--ha! this is prime. beats whitechapel all to fits; and it's real cold, too. i don't care about it when it's beginning to melt and got so much juist.--but i say! come! fair play's a jewel. one likes a man to make his profit and be 'conimycal with the sugar, but you ain't put none in this. "never mind," he added after a pause, during which the italian ice-vendor faded out of his imagination; "it's reg'lar 'freshing when you're so sleepy. wonder what made them italians come to london and start selling that stuff o' theirs. seems rum; ours don't seem a country for that sort o' thing. baked taters seems so much more english, and does a chap so much more good." he walked back to the warm patch of rock, looked at bracy, and then placed both rifles and bayonets ready, sat down cross-legged, and after withdrawing the cartridges, set to work with an oily rag to remove all traces of rust, and gave each in turn a good polish, ending by carefully wiping the bayonets after unfixing them, and returning them to their sheaths, handling bracy's most carefully, for fear of disturbing the sleeper. this done, he began to yawn again, and, as he expressed it, took another penny ice and nodding at vacancy, which he filled with a peripatetic vendor, he said: "all right, gov'nor; got no small change. pay next time i come this way." then he marked out a beat, and began marching up and down. "bah!" he cried; "that ice only makes you feel dry and thirsty.--my! how sleepy i am!--here, steady!" he cried, as he yawned horribly; "you'll have your head right off, old man, if you do that.--never was so sleepy in my life." he marched up and down a little faster--ten paces and turn--ten paces and turn--up and down, up and down, in the warm sunshine; but it was as if some deadly stupor enveloped him, and as he kept up the steady regulation march, walking and turning like an automaton, he was suddenly fast asleep and dreaming for quite a minute, when he gave a violent start, waking himself, protesting loudly against a charge made against him, and all strangely mixed up the imaginary and the real. "swear i wasn't, sergeant!" he cried angrily. "look for yerself.-- didn't yer see, pardners? i was walking up and down like a clockwork himidge.--sleep at my post? me sleep at my post? wish i may die if i do such a thing. it's the old game. yer allus 'ated me, sergeant, from the very first, and--phew! here! what's the matter? i've caught something, and it's got me in the nut. i'm going off my chump." poor gedge stood with his hands clasped to his forehead, staring wildly before him. "blest if i wasn't dreaming!" he said wonderingly. "ain't took bad, am i? thought old gee come and pounced upon me, and said i was sleepin' on duty. and it's a fack. it's as true as true; i was fast asleep; leastwise i was up'ards. legs couldn't ha' been, because they'd ha' laid down. oh! this here won't do. it was being on dooty without arms." drawing himself up, he snatched his bayonet from its scabbard, and resumed his march, going off last asleep again; but this time the cessation of consciousness descended as it were right below the waist-belt and began to steal down his legs, whose movements became slower and slower, hips, then knees, stiffening; and then, as the drowsy god's work attacked his ankles, his whole body became rigid, and he stood as if he had been gradually frozen stiff for quite a minute, when it seemed as if something touched him, and he sprang into wakefulness again, and went on with his march up and down. "oh, it's horrid!" he said piteously. "of course. that'll do it." he sheathed his bayonet, and catching up his rifle, went through the regular forms as if receiving orders: he grounded arms; then drew and fixed bayonet, shouldered arms, and began the march again. "that's done it," he said. "reg'larly woke up now. s'pose a fellow can't quite do without sleep, unless he got used to it, like the chap's 'oss, only he died when he'd got used to living upon one eat a day. rum thing, sleep, though. i allus was a good un to sleep. sleep anywhere; but i didn't know i was so clever as to sleep standing up. wonder whether i could sleep on one leg. might do it on my head. often said i could do anything on my head. there, it's a-coming on again." he stepped to the nearest snow and rubbed his temples with it before resuming his march; but the relief was merely temporary. he went to bracy's side, to see that he was sleeping heavily, and an intense feeling of envy and longing to follow his officer's example and lie down and sleep for hours nearly mastered him. "but i won't--i won't sleep," he said, grinding his teeth. "i'll die first. i'm going to keep awake and do my dooty like a soldier by my orficer. i'd do it for any orficer in the ridgement, so of course i would for the gov'nor, poor chap! he's watched over me before now.-- yes, i'm going to keep on. i shall be better soon. ten minutes would set me right, and if there was a mate here to take my post i'd have a nap; but there ain't a pardner to share it, and i've got to do it on my head. wonder whether i should feel better if i did stand on my head for a minute. anyhow, i ain't goin' to try." gedge spent the next ten minutes in carefully examining his rifle; then he turned to bracy, and soon after he took out the latter's glass and swept the country round, to find more groups of men in motion. "why, the place is getting alive with the beggars," he growled. "we shall be having some of 'em cocking an eye up and seeing us here. don't know, though; they couldn't make us out, and even if they did we look like a couple o' sheep. i've got to look out sharp, though, to see as we're not surprised. almost wish three or four would come now, so as i could have a set-to with 'em. that would wake me up, and no mistake.-- ah! it's wonderful what one can see with a bit or two o' glass set in a brown thing like this.--ah! there it is again." gedge lowered the glass and started violently, for the feeling of sleep was now overmastering. "nearly dropped and smashed his glass," he said petulantly, and, laying down his rifle, he closed the little lorgnette slowly and carefully with half-numbed fingers, which fumbled about the instrument feebly. "he'd ha'--he'd ha'--fine--tongue-thrashing when he woke--foun' glass-- smashed." gedge sank upon his knees and bent over the sleeper, fumbling for the strap and case to replace the glass. "where ha' you got to?" he muttered. "what yer swinging about half a mile away for? ah! that's got yer," he went on, aiming at the case with a strange fixity of expression. "now then--the lid--the lid--and the strap through the buckle, and the buckle--done it--me go to sleep--on dooty, sergeant? not me!--i--i--ha-h-h!" poor gedge was only human, and his drowsy head sank across bracy's breast, so wrapped in sleep that the firing of a rifle by his ear would hardly have roused him up. chapter thirty three. like a dying dog. the sun was rapidly going down towards the western peaks, which stood out dark and clear against the golden orange sky, when gedge opened his eyes and began to stare in a vacant way at a little peculiarly shaded brown leather case which rose and fell in regular motion a few inches from his nose. he watched it for some minutes, feeling very comfortable the while, for his pillow was warm; though it seemed strange to him that it should move gently up and down. but he grew more wakeful a minute later, and told himself that he knew why it was. he and two london companions had made up their minds to tramp down into kent for a holiday, and to go hop-picking, and they slept under haystacks, in barns, or in the shade of trees; and at such times as the nights were cool and they had no covering they huddled together to get warm, taking in turns that one of the party should lie crosswise and play pillow for the benefit of his two companions. it was one of his comrades that time, and the sun was rising, so they ought to be stirring to see about, something for breakfast. but in his drowsy state he could not make out that this was six years ago, nor yet what this brown leather thing was which kept going up and down. then all at once he could. it was not six years ago, neither was it early morning, but close upon sunset; that movement was caused by bracy's respirations, and the brown leather case contained the little field-glass; while the well-drilled soldier, and one of the smartest lads in captain roberts's company, had shamefully disgraced himself by going to sleep at his post. before he had half-thought this he was upon his feet, to stoop again and pick up his rifle, and then begin stamping up and down with rage. "oh!" he groaned; "i ought to be shot--i ought to be shot! why, the niggers might ha' come and knifed mr bracy as he lay there helpless as a kid, and all through me. slep'? why, i must ha' slep' hours upon hours. what's the good o' saying you couldn't help it, sir? you ought to have helped it. call yourself a soldier, and go to sleep at your post in the face of the enemy! that's what the colonel will say. i can't never face no one agen. i shall desert; that's what i shall do-- cut right away and jyne the rebels if they'll have me. better go and jump down into that hole and bury myself in the snow; but i can't. "how am i to go and leave the gov'nor when he wants me as he does? oh dear, oh dear! this is the worst of all. and i was hoping that i should have my stripes when i got back to the fort. yes, that's it-- stripes. i shall get 'em, o' course, but on my back instead of my sleeve. there, i'm a marked man now, and it's about all over." gedge grew calmer as he went, on pacing up and down, for he stopped twice over by bracy, to find that he was sleeping as quietly as a child, and he evidently had not stirred. the young soldier's next act was to get possession of the little field-glass again, and, to his dismay, he made out no less than three bodies of men in the valley far below, one of which was streaming along as if marching quickly, while the other two were stationary, close up to a little clump of pines or cedars, he could not make out which. "t'others are going to ketch up to 'em and camp for the night, i bet. yes, that they are," he added as a tiny cloud of grey smoke began to rise. "they're going to cook, so they must have something to roast, and i'm--oh, how hungry i do feel! better not hold up this rifle, or they may see it in the sunshine, and come and cook us." he had a good long look, swept the valley as far as he could see, and then laid down his rifle, to go down on one knee by bracy and begin replacing the glass in its leather case. "it's all right, sir; on'y me," cried gedge, for, awakened by the light touch, bracy seized one hand and made an effort to pull out his revolver. "ha!" he cried. "you startled me, gedge. want the glass?" "had it, sir, thank ye." "see anything?" "yes, sir. there's three lots o' them dwats down low there--six or seven hundred of 'em, i should say." "ah!" cried bracy, rising quickly into a sitting position, but yielding to an agonising pain and letting himself sink back with a groan. "hurt yer, sir?" said gedge commiseratingly. "horribly. but tell me; have i been asleep?" "hours and hours, sir. it's just sundown. i was in hopes you'd be better, sir." "i am, gedge. i was in a horrible state before. my brain seemed numbed." "no wonder, sir, lying in the snow all night; but you talk quite straight now." "did i seem incoherent before?" said bracy excitedly. "well, sir, i don't say you was ink-o--what you call it: but you was a bit touched in the upper story; and that was only nat'ral, sir." "tell me about the enemy down below. have they made us out?" "i think not, sir; but i must out with it, sir." "ah! there is danger?" "oh no, sir, i don't think so; but i can't give much of a report, for i had to do sentry-go while you slep', sir." "did you? well, you're a good fellow, gedge." "not a bit of it, sir. there, it must come to the top. i'd rather tell you than you should find it out, sir. i held up as long as i could, and kep' going to sleep walking or standing still; and at last, after getting out your glass, i knelt down to put it back, and down i went right off to sleep, just as if some one had hit me on the head with the butt of his piece." "i'm glad of it, gedge," said bracy, smiling. "glad of it, sir?" said the lad, staring. "heartily. it was the only thing you could do after what you had gone through." "beg pardon, sir, but as a soldier--" began gedge. "soldiers cannot do impossibilities, my lad. i have all the will and spirit to get on to the ghil valley, and yet here i am with my urgent message undelivered, and lying sleeping the greater part of a day." "oh, that's different, sir. you're sorter like being in hospital and wounded." "if not wounded, gedge," said bracy sadly, "i am crippled." "don't say that, sir," cried the lad excitedly. "i thought you said there was nothing broke." "i did not think so then, my lad, but there is something wrong with my right leg." "amb'lance dooty--first help," said gedge quickly. "let's look, sir." bracy bowed his head, and the young soldier ran his hand down the puttee bandage about his officer's leg, and drew in his breath sharply. "well," said bracy faintly, "what do you make out?" "leg's not broke, sir, but there's something awfully wrong with the ankle. it's all puffed up as big as my 'elmet." "i was afraid so. here, help me to stand up." "better not, sir," protested gedge. "obey orders, my lad," said bracy softly, and with a smile at his attendant. "you're not the doctor." "no, sir, but--" "your hands." gedge extended his hands, and by their help bracy rose, to stand on one leg, the other hanging perfectly helpless, with the toes touching the rock. "help--me--" said bracy faintly, and he made a snatch at gedge, who was on the alert and caught him round the waist, just in time to save him from a fall. the next moment he had fainted dead away, to come-to in a few minutes and find his companion laying snow upon his temples. "ah!" he sighed; "that's refreshing, gedge." "have a bit to suck, sir?" "yes." bracy lay for a few minutes letting the snow melt in his mouth; then calmly enough he went on: "i've got a bad wrench, my lad. my ankle must have doubled under me when i fell. there's no help for it; we have had nothing but misfortunes from the start, but this is the culmination--the worst of all." "is it, sir? i'm glad o' that." "glad?" "yes, sir; 'cause, you see, when things comes to the worst they begins to mend. so will your leg if you let me get the puttee and boot off. if you don't i shall be 'bliged to cut it off before long." "go on; you're quite right, my lad," said bracy calmly; and as the young soldier eagerly busied himself over the frightfully swollen place, unwinding the bandages, which cut down into the flesh, and unlacing the boot, he went on talking calmly: "about this boot, sir; i've unlaced it as far as i can, and it's quite fast on. shall i cut it or will you try and bear a wrench?" "don't cut it, my lad. give a quiet, firm drag. i'll bear the pain as well as i can." the next moment the boot was off, and bracy lay with his eyes closed. "like some more ice, sir?" said gedge eagerly. "no, my lad; i'm not going to faint this time. got some snow, and take my handkerchief to bind some round the ankle. but look first whether you can make out any movement amongst the enemy." "it's getting dark down there, sir, though it's so bright up here, and the great long shadders of the mountain seems to have swallered 'em up. but they've got a whacking great fire, sir, so they must be going to camp there for the night." "i don't think they could have made us out, gedge.--ha! that feels comforting. but now listen to me." "yus, sir. i may go on doing up your leg, though?" "oh yes; only attend." "of course, sir." "you can tell the ghoorkha colonel--" "yes, sir?" said gedge, for bracy stopped short.--"he's going off his head again." "and colonel graves, if you get back--" "yus, sir." "that i did everything that man could do to reach the ghil valley." "that i'll swear, sir." "and that he must lose no time in hurrying to the fort. if he likes to detach half a company to try and pick me up, he will do so; but the fort is to be the first consideration. do you hear?" "yus, sir.--oh yus, i hears," said gedge through his teeth as, with the help of mrs gee's pocket-book packet, he put some oil-silk over the snow, and then applied the broadest bandage he could find cleverly enough. "that's right. i'm a bit of a coward, gedge," continued the poor fellow, with a smile. "yes, sir, you are, sir," said gedge; "an out-and-outer." "and i want to have as little pain to bear as i can while you're gone." "course you do, sir. that's why i'm doing this." "make haste, while the light lasts. i want you then to take the rest of the food and put it in your own haversack." "yes, sir; not inside?" "to use as sparingly as you can, so as to make it last till you reach the ghil valley. i have broken down, gedge, but you must get there. do you hear?--must." "yes, sir, i hear--must." "it means salvation for the poor creatures yonder, holding out their hands to us for help." "yes, sir.--but a deal you can see that," muttered gedge. "and it means a sergeant's stripes for the brave lad who took the message in the terrible emergency." "sergeant, sir? as big a man as old gee?" "yes; and as good a non-commissioned officer, and i hope a more popular man." "rigid, sir. that sounds good," cried gedge cheerily. "but about you, sir? if you get the ridgement o' little chaps and saves the fort, it means your company, don't it--captain?" bracy groaned. "i was not striving for promotion, gedge, but to save our fellow-countrymen and women yonder. but listen: in case i faint again-- give me a scrap or two more snow, my lad." he took and sucked the icy particles handed to him, and felt refreshed. "now, then," he said; "listen once more, and be quick. just tie that bandage, and then put the food together. i am not going to load you with instructions which you may not be able to carry out, but look yonder--there is the top of the mountain you have to skirt, shining bright and hopefully in the distance." "i can see it, sir." "that is your guide. once you compass that the way will be easier." "yes, sir. when ought i to start?" "to-night, man, as soon as the sun is down; therefore, mark well where the bright peak lies, so as to take your bearings. the enemy's fire will enable you to avoid that danger. quick; there is no time to spare; and remember--you must get there." "yes, sir; i won't forget." "leave me some cartridges to defend myself, if i can. it would be more like a soldier to die like that." "yes, sir, o' course; more english and plucky," said gedge, giving the last bandage its final knot, and then opening his haversack to take out what it contained and divide it. "what are you doing?" said bracy sharply. "getting your supper ready, sir, and mine," said the lad coldly. bracy tried to raise himself up in the fit of anger which attacked him, but fell back with a groan. fighting back the sensation of weakness, though, he spoke as firmly as he could. "i want no food," he said quietly, "and you are wasting time. a good twenty-four hours have been lost. go at once." "but you must eat something, sir," said gedge stubbornly. "there's the cold coming on awful now the sun's down, and it will keep it out." "those poor creatures at the fort are waiting and praying for help to come, while the hungry wolves of dwats are crowding closer and closer in ready for the massacre." "yes, sir--the beasts!--it's precious hard, but let's hope--" "there is no hope, gedge. it was the last card the colonel had to play in sending us, and we must not fail. you must go at once." "but i aren't had nothing to-day, sir," pleaded gedge, "and my inside's going mad. wolves? why, i feel just as if one was tearing me." "take all the provisions left, and eat as you go." "and what about you, sir?" "never mind me. go at once." "but it'll be dark as pitch in 'alf-a-hour, sir. how am i to see my way?" "i told you. the descent will be easy. you can almost slide down all the way, for the snow is getting glassy again, and you must guide yourself by leaving the enemy's fire on the right. look! it is glowing brightly now." "that's right, sir, till i get to the bottom. but what then?" "gedge, are you going to fail me in this terrible emergency?" "not me, sir," cried the lad excitedly. "i'll stick to you till we both goes under fighting to the last, for they don't want to make prisoners of us; their knives are too sharp." "then go." "but i'm sure i couldn't find the way, sir. i should be taking the first turning to the left, or else to the right, or tumbling into another hole like this, or doing some stoopid thing. i'm no use, sir, without my orficer to tell me what to do." bracy drew a deep breath and pressed his lips together, as he fought hard to keep down his anger against his follower. "i have told you what to do," he said at last quite calmly. "you must use your brains." "never had much, sir," replied gedge bitterly; "and now they're about froze up with cold and hungriness and trouble. i ain't fit to send on such a job as this, sir. i'm sure to muff it." "do you want to find out some day, my lad, that those poor comrades of ours have been massacred to a man through your hanging back from doing what might have saved them?" "i wish i may die if i do, sir!" cried gedge passionately. "then go." "but i'm cold and hungry, sir, and it's getting dark, and i don't know my way." "crush those feelings down like a hero, and go." "hero, sir? me a hero!" cried gedge bitterly. "oh? there's none of that stuff in me." there was just enough light reflected from the upper peaks to enable the couple to see each other's faces--the one frowning and angry, and belying the calm, stern fixedness into which it had been forced; the other wild, anxious, and with the nerves twitching sharply at the corners of the eyes and mouth, as if its owner were grimacing in mockery of the young officer's helplessness and suffering. "gedge," said bracy suddenly, after making an effort as if to swallow down the rage and despair from which he suffered. "yes, sir, i know what you're going to say; but you're awful bad. now, you have a bit to eat, and then go to sleep, and when you wake up let's see if i can't manage to get you on one of those flat bits o' slaty stone, and then i'll get a strap to it, and pull you down the slope-- you'll quite slide like--and when we're off the snow i'll pig-a-back you to the first wood, and we'll hide there, and i'll keep helping you on a bit till we get to this here jack-and-jill valley. you see, the job can't be done without you." "this is all shuffling and scheming, gedge, to escape doing your duty," said bracy sternly. "is it, sir?" said the lad, with an assumption of innocence. "you know it is, sir. you don't want to go?" "well, sir, i suppose that is about the size of it." "do you want me to look upon you as a contemptible cur?" said bracy, flashing out into anger now. "no, sir; o' course not." "i see how it is. i've been believing you to be all that is manly and true, while all the time i've been labouring under a gross mistake, for now you are put to the test you are only base metal. go; leave me. gedge, you are a miserable, contemptible coward after all." "yes, sir; that's it, sir," said the lad bitterly; "bit o' common brass as got into the service, and you orficers and old gee and the rest of you drilled up and polished and dressed up and put some gilt on; but when yer comes to rub it off, i'm on'y a bit o' brass after all." "yes, you know exactly--coward!--dog!" "don't, sir!" cried the poor fellow in a choking voice; "don't! it's like laying it on to a chap with a wire whip." "then do your duty. go." "i can't, sir; i can't," cried the lad, literally writhing, as if the blows were falling upon his back and sides. "i dessay i am a coward, but i'd follow you anywheres, sir, if the bullets was whistling round us, and them devils were waiting for us with their knives; but i can't go and leave you now, sir. you ain't fit to leave. it'd be like killing you--murdering of you, sir, with the cold and starvation." "it is your duty to go." "but you don't know how bad you are, sir," pleaded the lad, with the great sobs struggling to escape from his breast. "you don't know, sir; but i do, sir. you'd be frozen stiff before it was light again." "perhaps; but i should die knowing that an effort was being made to save those we have left behind." "you've done all you can do, sir," pleaded gedge passionately. "we can't do no more." "i can't, but you can. i call upon you once more to go and do this thing. if you have any manhood in you, go." "i can't, sir," groaned gedge. "you coward!--it's your duty to go." "it ain't, sir; it can't be, to leave my orficer to die like this. i know it can't. why, if i did, and got the help, and took the men back, and the colonel got to know how, he'd think it warn't worth getting it at such a price. he'd call me a cowardly dog and a hound, and the lads would groan and spit at me. why, they'd cob me when they got me alone, and i couldn't say a word, because i should feel, as i always should to the last day i lived, that i'd been a miserable sneak." "i tell you it is your duty, my man," cried bracy again. "don't send me, sir! i ain't afraid," pleaded gedge once more. "it's leaving you to die in the cold and dark. i can't go!--i can't go!" bracy struggled up at this, supporting himself with his left hand, moved now as he was by his companion's devotion; but he choked down all he longed to say in the one supreme effort he was making to fulfil the mission he had failed in by another hand. "i am your officer, sir. you are a soldier, sworn to serve your country and your queen." gedge looked down at the speaker through the gloom, and saw him fumbling beneath his sheepskin coat with his right hand. the next minute he had drawn his revolver, and gedge heard it click. "you hear me, sir?" cried bracy sternly. "yes, sir, i hear." "then obey your officer's orders." "you ain't an officer now, sir; you're a patient waiting to be carried to the rear, after going down in front." "how dare you!" cried bracy fiercely. "obey my orders." "they ain't your orders, and it ain't my dooty to obey a poor fellow as has gone stick stark raving mad." "obey my orders, dog, or--" "i won't!" cried gedge passionately. "i'll be drummed out if i do." "you dog!" roared bracy, and the pistol clicked. "shoot me, then, for a dog," cried gedge passionately, "and if i can i'll try to lick yer hand, but i won't leave you now." the pistol fell with a dull sound as bracy sank back, and in that terrible darkness and silence, amid the icy snow, a hoarse groan seemed to tear its way from the young officer's breast. chapter thirty four. a wild idea. how long that silence lasted neither could have afterwards said, but after a time bracy felt a couple of hands busy drawing the spare _poshtin_ more about him. then a face was placed close to his, and a hand touched his forehead softly. "i'm not asleep, gedge," he said. "ha!" sighed the lad, with a long drawn breath: "getting afraid, sir; you lay so still." "it's all over, my man," said bracy wearily. "no, no; don't say that, sir," cried gedge. "i was obliged to--" "hush! i don't mean that. i only feel now that i can sleep." "yes, sir; do, sir. have a good try." "i cannot while i know that i have your coat." "oh, i don't mind, sir; and i've got to be sentry." "we want no sentry here, my lad. take the coat from under me." "but--" "come, obey me now," said bracy quietly. "get close to me, then, and cover it over us both." "you mean that, sir?" "yes.--there, my lad, all men are equal at a time like this. i have striven to the last, but fate has been against me from the first. i give up now." "i didn't want to run against you, sir; but i was obliged." "yes, i suppose so." "you wouldn't have gone and left me, sir?" "i don't know," said bracy slowly. "i do, sir; i know you wouldn't." "let it rest, my lad, and we'll wait for day. god help the poor creatures at the fort, and god help us too!" "amen!" said gedge to himself; and as the warmth began to steal through his half-frozen limbs he lay gazing at the distant glow of the enemy's fire far away below, till it grew more and more faint, and then seemed to die right out--seemed, for it was well replenished again and again through the night, and sent up flames and sparks as if to give a signal far away, for the supply of fir-branches was abundant, and the fire rose in spirals up into the frosty sky. bracy too lay watching the distant blaze till it grew dim to his half-closed eyes. a calmer feeling of despair had come over him, and the feeling that he had done all that man could do softened the mental agony from which he had suffered. this was to be the end, he felt; and, if ever their remains were found, those who knew them would deal gently with their memory. for the inevitable future stared him blankly in the face. gedge would strive his utmost to obtain help, but he felt that the poor fellow's efforts would be in vain, and that, if they lived through the night, many hours would not elapse before they perished from hunger and the cold. the feeling of weary mental confusion that stole over him then was welcome; and, weak from the agony he had suffered, he made an effort to rouse himself from the torpor that, nature-sent, was lulling the pangs in his injured limb, but let his eyelids droop lower and lower till the distant light was shut out, and then cold, misery, and despair passed away, for all was blank. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ the specks of golden light were beginning to show on the high peaks, and gradually grew brighter till it was sunny morning far up on the icy eminences, chilly dawn where the two sheepskin-covered figures lay prone, and night still where the fire was blazing by the pine-forest, and the great body of the enemy had bivouacked. the two motionless figures were covered by a thick rime frost, which looked grey in the dim light, not a crystal as yet sending off a scintillation; and tiny spicules of ice had matted the moustache and beard of bracy where his breath had condensed during the night, sealing them to the woolly coverlet he had drawn up close; while a strange tingling sensation attacked his eyes as he opened them suddenly, waking from a morning dream of defending the fort and giving orders to his men, who fired volley after volley, which, dream-like, sounded far away. he was still half-asleep, but involuntarily he raised a warm hand to apply to his eyes. in a very few minutes they were clear, and he began breaking and picking off bit by bit the little icicles from his moustache. it was strange how it mingled still with his dreams--that firing of volleys; and the half-drowsy thoughts turned to wonder that there should be firing, for he must be awake. directly after he knew he was, for there was a sharp rattle in the distance, which came rolling and echoing from the face of the great cliff across the gulf, and gedge jerked himself and said sleepily: "that's right, boys; let 'em have it." "gedge!" cried bracy hoarsely. "right, sir; i'm here," was the answer; and the young soldier rolled over from beneath the _poshtin_, rose to his feet, staggered, and sat down again. "oh, murder!" he cried. "my poor feet ain't froze hard, are they?" "i pray not," said bracy excitedly. "'cause i can't stand. but, hallo! sir; what game's this? they're a-firing at us, and coming up over the snow." "no, no, it can't be!" cried bracy wildly. "no tribes-men could fire volleys like that." "course not, sir. hoorray! then the colonel's sent a couple o' comp'nies to help us." "impossible!" cried bracy. "hark! there is the reply to the firing. yes; and another volley. i almost thought i could see a flash." "did yer, sir? oh, don't talk; do listen, sir. there they go. there must be a big fight going on down there." "then friends have attacked the enemy in camp--advanced upon them so as to catch them before daylight." "oh! they might ha' waited till it was light enough for us to see, sir. mr bracy, sir, don't, pray don't say it's reg'lars, because if it ain't i couldn't stand it now. i should go down and blubber like a great gal." "it is a force of regulars, my lad," cried bracy, whose voice sounded as if he were choking. "friends are there below in the valley. i know: the colonel must have been badly beaten at the fort." "oh, don't say that, sir." "it must be. they have been too much for him, and he is retreating with our lads trying to make for the ghil pass. that is the meaning of the gathering last night to bar their way." "oh lor'! oh lor'! and us not able to fire a shot to help 'em. be any use to begin, sir, like for signals to show we're here?" "no," said bracy sadly; "our single shots could not be heard." "not if we fired both together, sir?" cried gedge wildly. "i'll load for you." "how could they distinguish between our shots and those of the enemy you can hear crackling?" "course not, sir. i'm a poor idjit sometimes. but oh! why does it keep dark down there so long when it's getting quite light up here? we can't see what's going on a bit." "no; but my ears tell me pretty plainly," said bracy excitedly. "mr bracy, sir." "yes?" "we aren't worse, are we, and all this a sort o' nightmare before we loses ourselves altogether?" "no, man, no. listen. they must be getting the worst of it." "our lads, sir? oh, don't say that! there must be a lot of them, by the volley-firing. don't say they're being cut up." "the enemy, man. can't you hear how steady the firing is?--splendid. i can almost see them. the enemy must be retiring stubbornly, and they're following them up." "yes, sir; that's it," cried gedge wildly. "go on, sir; go on." "their officers are holding the men well in hand, so as not to come to a charge in that broken country, and withering the crowd with their fire to make them scatter." "right, sir, right. that's it. oh, if we was only there!" there was a pause--the two men listening. "the enemy's firing sounds more broken up, and is getting feebler." "yes, sir; i can make out that," panted gedge. "oh! i say, don't let the lads get out of hand and follow the beggars where they can get hold of the bay'nets and use their long knives." for another half-hour the pair lay listening to the engagement going on, till it seemed as if the daylight below would never come. then the darkness gave way, to display far below a cold grey mist, through which clouds of smoke were softly rising; and bracy brought his glass to bear upon the fight still raging furiously, and looked in silence till gedge turned to him: "oh, do say something, sir! our lads--they ain't being cut up, sir, are they?" "no, no, i think not, my lad; but i can hardly make out what is going on at present. ha! it's gradually growing lighter there. the enemy are not where they were last night, and the troops are there." "then they've took the beggars' camp, sir?" "that does not follow," said bracy, whose eyes were glued to his glass.--"i can make out the white-coats now. they have divided, and are upon the rising ground all round. our poor fellows must have fallen into a trap." "no, sir; no, sir, they couldn't, sir," cried gedge; "they'd have seen that fire and known there was an enemy." "yes, i forgot the fire," said bracy. "oh, if the sun would only shine down upon them now!" "but he won't, sir; he never will when he's wanted to. he won't shine there for an hour yet." "yes--no--yes--no," panted bracy at slow intervals; and gedge wrung his hands, like a woman in trouble, whimpering out: "oh! who's to know what that means, with his `yes--no--yes--no'? mr bracy, sir, do--do say that our lads are whipping the beggars back." "yes," cried bracy excitedly; "i can see now; the hill-men are scattered and running towards the mountains." "hoorray!" yelled gedge. "hoorray! hoorray! hark at the steady volleys still, sir! hoorray! who wouldn't be a soldier of the queen?" "ha! who indeed?" sighed bracy. "and it don't matter, sir, now?" said gedge. "no; not so much, my lad; but they'll be harassed like this all the way to the ghil pass." "and drive the beggars back, sir. but don't you think we ought to make one try to get down to them, sir? same as i said last night?" bracy was silent as he kept on using his glass, with the valley below growing clearer--so light now that, the young soldier could begin to see something of the fight with the naked eye, and he joined in the eager watch downward for a time before repeating his question. "i fear not, my lad," said bracy, with a sigh. "the enemy are cut in two; one body is retreating down the valley in the direction of the fort; the other, widely scattered, is making for the snow-slope." "not coming this way, sir?" cried gedge. "yes, as far as i can see; and our men are steadily in pursuit, firing wherever a crowd collects." "that's the way to do it, sir; but that's cutting off our retreat." "yes." "well, then, sir, we must lie low till the enemy is cleared off. they won't come up here." "no; they must be making for the track we crossed--the one below there, where we saw the men going towards the valley-bend." "that's it, sir, and they've got their work cut out; but our lads won't follow 'em right up there." "no; they will only follow till they have scattered them as far as possible." "and then go back, sir, and leave us where we are." "yes," said bracy sadly. gedge was silent for a few minutes, during which they still watched the scene below. then he broke out with: "it's all downhill, sir." "yes, gedge," said bracy drearily; "it is all downhill now to the end." "you ain't listening to me, sir," cried the lad. "do put that glass away, sir, and we'll have a try." "a try? what! to get down below? you try, my lad; but there is the terrible risk of being cut to pieces by the enemy if they see you." "don't begin that again, sir, please. you know i won't leave you, but let's have a try." "i am helpless, my lad--as helpless as a figure half of lead." "but i ain't, sir," cried gedge. "the sight of our lads below there seems to ha' woke me up. i'm ready to die game; but i want to make one spurt for life first." "why, gedge," cried bracy excitedly as he lowered the glass from his eyes, "they're not our fellows after all." "what, sir!" "no; and there's a detachment down yonder coming from the east. i can almost see that they're doubling to get up in time." "from the east, sir? then the colonel ain't retreating?" "no.--hurrah!" "hoorray!" roared gedge, joining in. "they're the ghoorkhas, gedge. they must be a thousand strong." "then one o' the messengers must ha' got to them after all." "yes; that must be it, gedge; and they surprised the enemy's camp at dawn." "that's it, sir!" yelled gedge. "hoorray! hoorray again! then there is life in a mussel after all." "they've scattered this force, gedge, and the fort will be relieved, for the bravo little fellows will cut their way through all." "yes, sir. now then, sir, you needn't hardly move. there's a bit o' slaty stone yonder as'll do, and all i want of you, sir, is for yer to sit still upon it, and nuss the rifles while i steer you down to the truck." "right in among the enemy, my lad?" "right through 'em, sir. they're on the run, and won't dare to stop to go at us. i never heard of a nigger as'd stand a moment when a ghoorkha was coming after him with his crooked knife." "let's try," said bracy, setting his teeth. "life is sweet, my lad." "even without sugar, sir. why, bless your 'eart! there's a lot of it in us both yet, sir. this here's nothing to what we've been and done." wild with excitement now, gedge fetched the heavy slab of stone, almost as much as he could lift, drew it close up behind bracy, and placed his arms under the young officer's shoulders. "now, sir," he said, "you set your teeth just as if the doctor was going to use his knife." "what are you going to do?" "draw you right back on to this stone, sir. i must hurt you a bit, but i can't help that." "go on," said bracy; and the next moment he was drawn back upon the stone, with no worse suffering than a fit of faintness, for his leg was numb with the cold. "right, sir. now your rifle and mine across your legs. stop; my _poshtin_ first. may want it again. got the cartridges handy?" "yes." "then i sits here between your legs, sir. just room, and i can steer and put on the break with my heels. ready, sir?" "yes." "then off." the surface of the snow was like glass with the night's frost, and the stone began to glide at once, just as the first gleams of the rising sun lit up the spot where such terrible hours had been spent; and the next minute, with a strange, metallic, hissing sound, the pair were gliding down the slope at a steady rate, which gedge felt it in his power to increase to a wild rush by raising his heels from the surface upon which they ran. "all right, sir?" "yes, all right. go on." "ain't it wonderful, sir? why, we can get down to the track long before any of them can get up to it." "stop, then, to let them reach it and retreat." "if you order me to, sir, i will; but they'll never try to stop us; they'll scatter to see us coming down like this. why, in less than an hour, sir, we shall be all among the ghoorkha lads, and then hoorray for the fort!" "go on, then. i trust to you." "right, sir," cried gedge excitedly; and in spite of several risks of overturning, he steered the novel toboggan sledge down the gigantic slide, with the wild, metallic, hissing sound rising and falling on the keen wind that fanned their cheeks, and a glistening prismatic, icy dust rising behind them like a snaky cloud. chapter thirty five. the idea tamed. onward, swifter or slower, they moved as the undulations of the mighty snow-slope ruled with the rough track crossing at right-angles far below and gradually growing plainer, the white-coats of the fleeing enemy, the kharkee jackets of the advancing line of ghoorkhas, and the pulls of smoke from each discharge coming nearer as if in a dream. the excitement of the wild rush seemed to madden gedge, who, as he found out that he could easily control his rough chariot of stone, let it glide faster and faster, his eyes sparkling, and the various phases of the fight below sending a wild longing to be amongst it thrilling through his nerves. "oh," he shouted, "if there was only a hundred of us coming down like this to take the enemy front and rear! are you all right, sir?" "yes, yes; but beware of the rocks down below there by the track." "right, sir. wish they weren't there, though, and we could go right on; charge through 'em in no time." he had to speak without turning his head, and bracy did not catch half his words. but it was no time for speaking; and, forgetting for the time being his injuries and partial helplessness, bracy began to share in his driver's excitement, and watched the movements going on below. the height to which they had climbed had been great, and some memory of the labour they had gone through in the ascent came back as they swept rapidly down, till in an incredibly short space of time they neared the rocky track, with its rugged pinnacles and masses standing right up out of the snow. gedge saw that the enemy was still far below the track; and as he checked the way on the stone by gradually driving in his well-nailed boot heels, he looked to right or left for a spot where there would be a clear crossing of the track, free from projecting rocks, so that a stoppage would not be necessary. there it was, lying well to the right, narrow but perfectly practicable. for, plainly enough, he could see that there had been a snow-slide burying a portion of the track, and if he could steer between a couple of rocks, not ten yards apart, the glide down could be continued without a pause. "it's all right, sir," he cried. "signals is clear, and we don't stop at that station. hoorray! her majesty's mails. fast express." it was on bracy's lips to cry, "take care," but he nipped them together and sat fast, feeling their pace slacken as if, to carry out gedge's simile, they were easing down to run through a station. nearer, nearer, with rough crags half-buried in the snow on both sides and seeming to close in upon them as they glided down, with the narrow pass between the two rocks unaccountably growing for the moment closer together. but directly after, by clever steering, gedge made a curve in their descent, brought the stone opposite the opening, and then let it go. their way rose a little as they approached the track where it was buried in the snow, but directly after the descent was steeper; and as soon as gedge felt sure of his course they dashed through the opening at a greatly increased speed. then he shouted in his wild excitement as they tore down towards the enemy, who were toiling upward, slipping, and even crawling on all-fours in places, while their active little pursuers were striving their best to overtake them, but pausing at times to fire. pursued and pursuers were still far below, but bracy saw that it was only a matter of a short time before they would be amongst them; and now, for the first time, it was evident that their descent had caught the attention of the hill-men striving to reach the track, some of whom stopped short to stare, while a party of about twenty immediately bore off to their left as if meaning to intercept them. "what's it to be, sir!" panted gedge. "charge through 'em, or stop and let 'em have it? they'll be `twix' two fives." "stop!" shouted bracy. "they'll try to check us, and slash as we come; and if we strike against even one we shall be upset." "that's right, sir. be ready with the rifles. mine's charged, i think. 'nother five hundred yards right for that lot o' twenty, and then slide off and open fire--eh?" "you don't want your orders, gedge," said bracy dryly. "quite right." gedge did not hear him, for, as they rushed down over the icy snow, he had his work cut out to check his awkward car, as it nearly mastered him, his heels gliding over the smooth surface and refusing to cut in. forcing them down, though, the speed began to slacken, till they neared the ascending group of savage faces of those who had borne off to intercept them; and as the car was brought to a stand a couple of shots were fired, and the missiles sent whistled by their heads. "can yer roll off, sir, and lie on yer face?" cried gedge as he snatched his rifle, threw himself down behind the stone, and opened his cartridge-pouch. "yes. look to yourself. fire sharply, or they'll be upon us." "or our bay'nets," said gedge through his teeth. the next moment he fired as he rested upon his elbows, and a shot from bracy rang out, with the result that two of the group below them dropped, and a yell came from the remainder as they made a rush to reach them. but their running powers were exhausted, and at the end of twenty yards they resumed their heavy climb, with their feet breaking through the crust of frozen snow. crack, crack! from the english rifles, and one more dropped in his track, while another sprang wildly in advance for a few yards, before pitching forward upon his face and lying still. "fire steadily," said bracy hoarsely, "and we may cheek them." "right, sir. quick, too, for the beggars on the left are closing in to help." a couple more shots were fired, and another man went down, and then there was a yell of rage and an order from one of the party, with the result that all dropped upon their faces, checked, and began to fire at the pair crouching behind the stone, made to look bigger by gedge's _poshtin_ lying in a little heap on the top. "it's all right, sir; they couldn't hit a haystack. their hands are all of a tremble with climbing. we're right enough. i hit that chap." proof was given, for one of the enemy started up, dropped his long jezail, and fell backwards. "keep on firing steadily, gedge," said bracy huskily. "i must open upon that group on our flank. they're coming on." "then we're done, for, sir," said the young soldier. "but mind this, sir; i die game, though you did call me a coward last night." "i did, gedge, and it was a cruel lie, my lad. fire away. i wish i had your pluck. look here." "yes, sir.--one for you," growled gedge as he fired again.--"i'm listening, but i can't look. hit him, sir?" "yes," said bracy. "look here." "can't, sir." "then listen. when it comes to the worst--one grip of the hand, my lad, before we go." crack--crack! two more shots in answer to the scattered fire of the enemy, whose bullets whistled over their heads, seeking billets in the snow around. "won't be long, sir, i'm afraid," said gedge. "no, i ain't afraid--not a bit. but those chaps are coming on faster. 'tain't climbing, sir, now." "no; they'll be upon us before five minutes have passed. turn your rifle upon them, my lad, for two or three shots, and we may check them too." before gedge could change his position a scattered volley from below somewhere rattled out, and the flanking-party coming on needed no checking, some of them falling dying or wounded, while the remainder threw themselves down and began firing, some at their pursuers below, the rest at bracy and gedge. "hoorray, sir! didn't i say there was life in a mussel? the ghoorkhas are at 'em. look, sir, there's about a dozen of 'em lying down to cover the advance, and another dozen coming on with their knives. let's show 'em how to shoot, sir. it 'll help the little chaps, too, when they charge." it was as gedge said; and as shot after shot was sent with good aim, the party of tribes-men in front was lessened by half-a-dozen before the little ghoorkha party came up within charging distance and made their rush. "fix bayonets!" cried bracy. "the enemy may come at us;" and the little, dagger-like weapons clicked and clicked as they flashed in the sunshine. but bracy and gedge got in a couple more shots before their foes sprang up to charge them. then a couple more dropped as they came on, while a volley from below rattled out and made their attack feeble and aimless, though they reached their goal, one to make a slash at gedge as he was pinned by the lad's bayonet, while two more struck at bracy. then the ghoorkhas were upon them, racing over the snow, their crooked knives flashing, and the remaining enemy were fleeing for their lives, scattering far and wide, with their pursuers overtaking man after man, whose white-coats made blots on the glistening snow, and many a terrible stain. then a whistle rang out as an officer came up to the stone at the double, sword in hand. "hullo, here!" he cried; "who, in the name of wonder, are you? i couldn't get up in time. my boys didn't do that?" bracy's lips parted, but no sound came. "no, sir," panted gedge; "it was the straight knives did it, not them pretty little blades." "i'm glad of that. i was afraid my boys had made a mistake. but who are you?" "private willyum gedge, in the th fusiliers; and here's my lieutenant, mr bracy, sir. we was coming from the fort to fetch you." "ah!" cried the officer. "how is it with them there?" "all right, sir; but hard pushed when we come away. ain't got such a thing as a doctor about yer, have you?" "yes, yes. my boys shall carry you down. all right," he cried as a bugle rang out from below with the recall; and by that time the little group were surrounded by some twenty of the active ghoorkhas, for the most part with a begonia-leaved kukri in hand, laughing, chattering, and ready to dance with delight around the two british soldiers they had saved. meanwhile their officer was down on one knee rendering first aid to the wounded, the knife of one of the enemy having slashed bracy's thigh, which was bleeding profusely; and a havildar of the ghoorkhas was cleverly bandaging gedge's left arm, chattering to him merrily in broken english the while. "try and swallow a drop more," said the officer to bracy, who was reviving a little, and smiled his thanks, his eyes wandering round directly after in search of something, till a movement on the part of their rescuers enabled him to see gedge, to whom he feebly held out his hand. "much hurt?" he said faintly. "tidy, sir. smarts a lot; but i don't mind, sir. say you've not got it bad." "bad enough, my lad; but we've won." gedge turned to the officer with a wild, questioning look in his eyes, for bracy sank back, half-fainting. "a bad, clean cut; that's all," said the officer, smiling encouragement. "but it ain't all, sir," cried gedge passionately. "he's badly hurt besides. crippled in the leg." "ah! and you fought like that! well, we must get him down to the doctor; he is not far below. ambulance party here." "beg pardon, sir; why not lay him on the stone again, and let him slide down easy? i can ride, too, and steer." "i don't understand you, my lad," said the officer, looking at gedge as if he thought him wandering. he soon did comprehend, though; and the little ghoorkhas cheered with delight as, with bracy lying upon the sheepskin-coats, the stony sledge went gliding slowly down the slope, half-a-dozen of the little fellows forming its escort, and ready to check it from breaking away, till the end of the snowfield was reached, and the two sufferers were soon after being well tended by the doctor in the temporary camp. this was near the fir-wood hold by the enemy the night before--the enemy, after heavy loss, having been scattered far and wide. chapter thirty six. how the fort was saved. it was on the third morning after bracy and gedge had been with the ghoorkhas, who were in camp in a natural stronghold of the upper valley, resting before making their final advance to the fort. gedge, with his arm in a sling, and a frost-bitten foot, which made him limp about the little tent they shared by the doctor's orders, was looking anxiously down at his officer, who lay perfectly helpless, appearing terribly thin and worn, but with a bright look in his eyes, which augured well for his recovery. "yes, sir; you look a deal better," said gedge in answer to a question: "and, of course, the doctor ought to know; but i don't think you ought to be so weak." "wasn't it enough to make me weak, my lad?" said bracy in a faint voice. "why, i have hardly a drop of blood left in my body." "course not, sir; and you do eat and sleep well." "yes, my lad; and if we can only cut our way through these swarming wretches, and relieve the fort before it is too late, i shall soon begin to mend. it is horrible, this delay, and no news." "no news, sir?" said gedge, staring. "didn't the doctor tell you?" "the doctor? i have not seen him this morning." "but he's been here, sir. he said you were in such a beautiful sleep that you warn't to be woke up, for it was doing you no end of good." "but he said something?" said bracy anxiously. "have we had news?" "tip-top, sir. one of the little ghoorkha chaps got back soon after daylight--one of the three that was sent different ways." "but the news?" "he got into the fort, sir, and brought a despatch from the colonel." "yes, yes," said bracy breathlessly. "they was all well, but hard up for everything, 'speshly ammynition; but they could hold out for three days; and as soon as we come up he's going to make a sally and attack the dwats in the rear.--oh, sir, it is hard, and no mistake!" "thank heaven!" cried bracy softly. "there, my lad, i can lie and rest now." "yes, sir, that's the worst of it." "it is hard--the worst of it?" said bracy wonderingly. "what do you mean?" "you and me, sir, having to lie up and be out of all the fun." "oh, i see," said bracy, smiling, and with the careworn look seeming to die out of his thin face. "well, i think we have done our share." "did you hear the firing last night?" "i? no. was there an attack?" "a big un, sir; but the enemy was driven back everywhere, and left a lot of dead behind. i never see such fellows as these little ghoorkha chaps is to fight." "if they can only cut their way through to the fort, gedge, there will be nothing then to fear, for colonel graves will hold the place, against any number that can be brought against it." "and they will, sir," cried gedge proudly; "nothing can stop 'em. they've got so much dash and go in 'em. there's going to be a big fight to-day, for the hills seem dotted with white-coats as far as you can see; and in an hour's time i hear we're to advance, so as to get the job done before it's dark." gedge's news was correct: and in an hour the column was in motion, the order coming to advance in skirmishing order, with ample supports, and no following up of the enemy was to be attempted, the sole object, being to reach the fort before night, and trust to the future for giving adequate punishment for all that had been done. the orders of the officers were splendidly carried out, and the gallant regiment advanced along the right bank of the river as fast as the front was cleared, but at a severe cost, for the hills and patches of forest and rock swarmed with the enemy, and but for the abundance of cover the attempt must have failed. but by a series of rushes and their deadly fire the brave little fellows won their way on till well into the afternoon, when farther progress seemed impossible, the enemy's leader holding a patch of cedar forest most determinedly with a dense body of men. all this bracy knew, for gedge, in spite of his wound, was active enough, and kept his officer well furnished with accounts of their progress; but his face looked grave as, in obedience to bracy's question, he told him all. "yes, sir," he said, "we're in a very tight place; and the colonel here is looking a bit down in the mouth. the little chaps are raging about being kept back, and if he'd let 'em go they'd kill till they couldn't lift those head-choppers of theirs; but as soon as one's shot or cut down a dozen seems to spring up, and the place swarms with white-gownds, as if they'd quite made up their minds to kill us to a man before we can get to the fort. there, sir--hear that?" "yes, i hear," said bracy, breathing hard. "it means an attack on the rear." "that's it, sir. we're surrounded; and if it weren't for that rushing river being so full they'd come swarming over, and we should be done." further conversation was put an end to by the order to advance, after a brief halt to rest and refresh the men, the ghoorkha colonel seeing that the enemy must be dislodged from the forest in front at any cost. it was a desperate business, and could only be achieved at a terrible loss, for the river and precipitous rocks on either side put a stop to all idea of turning the enemy's flank. a bold dash was the only chance, and this was about to be attempted, while the rear of the regiment was being terribly harassed by the enemy closing in. the last arrangements had been made, and the swarthy little fellows, so long held in by the tight rein, were trembling with excitement as they stood together in shelter, with fixed bayonets and kukris, waiting to make the rush. the bugle was being raised to the holder's lips to sound the advance, when a thrill of joy surged through the british leaders' breasts, for the help they needed came in the nick of time. a sharp volley was fired from behind the dense patch the enemy was holding, and the ghoorkhas cheered wildly as the bugle rang out; and then as volley after volley followed from beyond the trees they literally flew over the broken ground, not a man stopping to fire, but raced into the wood, hewing with their terrible knives, and driving the enemy out like a flock of sheep right on to the fire, and soon after upon the bayonets of colonel graves's men. it was only a matter of ten minutes, and then, fleeing to right and left, the enemy was springing up among the rocks or plunging into the river to escape the tierce little regiment they had sought to destroy. ill news flies swiftly, and the sight of their fellows streaming scattered up among the hills disheartened those who were making a savage attack upon the rear. a couple of volleys from the two companies who formed the rear-guard turned their hesitation into flight, and amidst tremendous cheering the advance was continued, with colonel graves's men clearing the way; and, merely harassed by a few distant shots, the column readied the fort whose walls were lined by non-combatants, women, and the weak garrison left behind. the men marched in cheering and counter-cheering, intoxicated as they were with success, while even the wounded carried on litters and mules, and the brave fellows who persisted in tramping on in spite of injuries terrible to bear, added their feeble cries to swell the jubilation of the scene. but the wildest, most exciting moments were when, in the bright evening glow, the rear-guard of the little ghoorkhas marched in, proud of two burdens they carried shoulder-high in litters, singing and cheering and waving their caps, as if they bore the greatest triumph of the relief. one of those they carried lay prone and helpless, his sallow face quivering slightly from time to time with the emotion which attacked him as he was borne into the court--most painfully perhaps when his face was recognised by those at the windows of the buildings and on the walls. it was then that his name was shouted, first by shrill women's voices, and then thundered out and half-drowned by the cheers. the other burden carried by the brave little ghoorkhas would not lie, but insisted upon sitting; and somehow, in the midst of the wild excitement of their reception as the heroes who had brought back the help, gedge seemed to go quite mad with boy-like joy. for as soon as he appeared, bandaged and damaged as he was, mrs gee called out his name. a burst of fresh cheering arose then from the men of his company who were near, and as their shouts arose and were echoed by those around, "bill gedge! bill gedge!" the poor fellow sat up as high as he could upon the little ghoorkas' shoulders, threw himself into one of his favourite nigger minstrel attitudes, with left arm outstretched and right hand seeming to thump with all his poor strength upon the imaginary banjo held against his breast. "welcome, welcome back!" cried colonel graves a few minutes later, as he forced himself through the crowd to where doctor morton was excitedly superintending the carrying in of his two old patients to the officers' ward. "thanks, thanks, colonel," said bracy in a feeble voice. "i did my best, sir, but i only failed." "failed!" cried the colonel proudly. "why, the fort is saved." chapter thirty seven. "for valour." there is little more to tell, for, after this last repulse and the strengthening of the but by doubling its garrison, the enemy's ranks melted away once more, the white-coats, terribly lessened, vanishing like snow from the hills. two days later long processions of unarmed villagers were bringing in stores for sale; and before twenty-four more hours had elapsed a deputation of chiefs from different tribes were suing for peace, the empress queen's authority being acknowledged, and the fort and its approaches became safe, so that it seemed hard to realise the truth of the great change. but change there was, the various hill-tribes round apparently accepting the position of being under the stronger power, and devoting themselves to the arts of peace. it was while getting slowly over his injuries that bracy's quarters became the favourite resort of many of the officers, even colonel wrayford, once more himself, often coming in company with major graham and the doctor. but the chief visitors were roberts and drummond, the three young officers exchanging notes as to what had taken place during their separation. "i never knew such a lucky chap as you are, bracy," said drummond on one occasion. "you seem to get most of the titbits and all the fat." bracy's face assumed such a peculiar aspect of perplexed wonder as he carefully shifted his injured leg so as not to jar his wound while moving, and he directed such a questioning look at roberts that the latter burst into a roar of laughter. "what is it?" said drummond. "have i said something stupid--a bull?" "more like the bleat of an innocent calf," said roberts--"eh, bracy?" "oh, all right; chaff away, old chaps. but, i say, i hear that there are a lot of supplies coming up the pass--mule-loads and loads. there's sure to be a bullock-trunk for me, and i shall be able to get out of you fellows' debt." "our debt?" said bracy. "you don't owe me anything." "oh, don't i? what about those boots?" one morning, when bracy was getting on towards convalescence, gedge, who was acting as invalid servant, entered the homely room holding out one arm. "why, gedge!" cried bracy; "the sergeant's chevrons?" "that's right, sir," cried their owner proudly. "youngest sergeant in the ridgement, colonel says, and that he was proud to give me my promotion." the young soldier held out his arm, upon which the regimental tailor had sewn a patch of very shabby cloth, bearing the three stripes of the sergeant's rank, the thing itself being a weather-stained rag. "i congratulate you, my lad, with all my heart." "i knew you would, sir. ain't much to look at, sir, to some people. we shall get fresh togs served out some day; but i don't believe the noo stripes 'll shine out half so bright as these here do, sir, to me." bracy sighed. "can't help feeling as proud as a dog with two tails--ought to say three, sir, because that's the number of the stripes. but somehow i don't feel as i thought i should." "i suppose not," said bracy sadly. "i feel the same, gedge. we did not fetch the ghoorkhas." "no, sir," said gedge, grinning; "but we brought 'em back, and i don't see how any two could ha' done more than we did. but i didn't mean that, sir. i meant about sergeant gee. i thought it would make him as waxy as could be; but as soon as parade was over, and the boys had done cheering me for my promotion, i got showing off, for old gee was coming up to me, and i was getting ready to give him back as good as he give me. but what d'yer think, sir?" "i don't know, gedge," said bracy, smiling. "knocks the wind outer me at once." "what do you mean?" "comes up to me and offers me one hand, and claps t'other on my shoulder. `glad to welcome so brave a brother,' he says, `to the sergeants' mess.' my! i was took aback, sir, and couldn't say a word; and if next minute his missus wasn't shaking hands too with the tears in her eyes, sir--real uns, for i counted four as tumbled out and fell spat on the front of her dress. `willyum gedge,' she says, and then she stops short with her lower lip dithering, and she couldn't say another word, only stood shaking her head, while the boys cheered again. think sergeant gee meant it, sir, or was it only showing off?" "he meant it, my lad. gee has a great deal of harsh tyranny in his ways of dealing with those under him; but a braver and more honest man never joined the regiment." "i'm glad o' that, sir," said gedge. "then, as he did mean it, why, of course we're going to be friends." "ah, sergeant, you here?" said colonel graves, entering bracy's quarters. "one moment before you go. i have mentioned you in my despatch for displaying signal bravery in protecting your officer upon two occasions." "me, sir? oh, thanky, sir, but i--" "silence!--bracy, my dear boy, i came to tell you that i have spoken so of you that if they do not give you the victoria cross i shall say there is something wrong." "for me, sir?" cried bracy, with his pale, thin face flushing faintly. "impossible, sir. oh, i have not deserved all this!" the colonel's eyes did not look quite so bright as usual as he warmly shook his young officer's hand. "let me be the best judge of that," he said. "you have always been one of my smartest officers, and in this last dangerous expedition you showed the will and did your utmost. it was fate that helped you in the last extremity to perfect the deed." the day came when the simple little much-prized decoration was pinned on captain bracy's breast, and the motto never shone upon a truer heart. "for valour," he said softly as he looked down upon his breast. "was it really well deserved?" distributed proofreading canada team (http://www.pgdpcanada.net) note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustration. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h.zip) brandon of the engineers * * * * * by the same author alton of somasco lorimer of the northwest thurston of orchard valley winston of the prairie the gold trail sydney carteret, rancher a prairie courtship vane of the timberlands the long portage ranching for sylvia prescott of saskatchewan the dust of conflict the greater power masters of the wheatlands delilah of the snows by right of purchase the cattle baron's daughter thrice armed for jacinta the intriguers the league of the leopard for the allison honor the secret of the reef harding of allenwood the coast of adventure johnstons of the border brandon of the engineers * * * * * brandon of the engineers by harold bindloss author of "johnstone of the border," "prescott of saskatchewan," "winston of the prairie," etc. [illustration: "'you must come. i can't let you live among those plotters and gamblers.'"--page .] new york frederick a. stokes company publishers copyright, , by frederick a. stokes company published in england under the title "his one talent" all rights reserved contents chapter page i a promising officer ii dick's troubles begin iii the punishment iv adversity v the concrete truck vi a step up vii dick undertakes a responsibility viii an informal court ix jake fuller x la mignonne xi clare gets a shock xii dick keeps his promise xiii the return from the fiesta xiv complications xv the missing coal xvi jake gets into difficulties xvii the black-funnel boat xviii dick gets a warning xix jake explains matters xx don sebastian xxi dick makes a bold venture xxii the official mind xxiii the clamp xxiv the altered sailing list xxv the water-pipe xxvi the liner's fate xxvii the silver clasp xxviii rough water xxix kenwardine takes a risk xxx the last encounter xxxi richter's message xxxii ida interferes brandon of the engineers chapter i a promising officer the lengthening shadows lay blue and cool beneath the alders by the waterside, though the cornfields that rolled back up the hill glowed a coppery yellow in the light of the setting sun. it was hot and, for the most part, strangely quiet in the bottom of the valley since the hammers had stopped, but now and then an order was followed by a tramp of feet and the rattle of chain-tackle. along one bank of the river the reflections of the trees quivered in dark-green masses; the rest of the water was dazzlingly bright. a pontoon bridge, dotted with figures in khaki, crossed a deep pool. at its head, where a white road ran down the hill, a detachment of engineers lounged in the shade. their faces were grimed with sweat and dust, and some, with coats unbuttoned, sprawled in the grass. they had toiled hard through the heat of the day, and now were enjoying an "easy," until they should be called to attention when their work was put to the test. as lieutenant richard brandon stood where the curve was boldest at the middle of the bridge, he had no misgivings about the result so far as the section for which he was responsible was concerned. he was young, but there was some ground for his confidence; for he not only had studied all that text-books could teach him but he had the constructor's eye, which sees half-instinctively where strength or weakness lies. brandon began his military career as a prize cadet and after getting his commission he was quickly promoted from subaltern rank. his advancement, however, caused no jealousy, for dick brandon was liked. he was, perhaps, a trifle priggish about his work--cock-sure, his comrades called it--but about other matters he was naïvely ingenuous. indeed, acquaintances who knew him only when he was off duty thought him something of a boy. in person, he was tall and strongly made, with a frank, sunburned face. his jaw was square and when he was thoughtful his lips set firmly; his light-gray eyes were clear and steady. he was genial with his comrades, but usually diffident in the company of women and older men. presently the adjutant came up and, stopping near, glanced along the rippling line that marked the curve of the bridge. "these center pontoons look rather prominent, as if they'd been pushed upstream a foot or two," he remarked. "was that done by captain maitland's order?" "no, sir," dick answered with some awkwardness. "for one thing, i found they'd lie steadier out of the eddy." "they do, but i don't know that it's much of an advantage. had you any other reason for modifying the construction plans?" dick felt embarrassed. he gave the adjutant a quick glance; but the man's face was inscrutable. captain hallam was a disciplinarian where discipline was needed, but he knew the value of what he called initiative. "well," dick tried to explain, "if you notice how the wash of the head-rapid sweeps down the middle of the pool----" "i have noticed it," said the adjutant dryly. "that's why the bridge makes a slight sweep. but go on." "we found a heavy drag on the center that flattened the curve. of course, if we could have pushed it up farther, we'd have got a stronger form." "why?" "it's obvious, sir. if we disregard the moorings, a straight bridge would tend to curve downstream and open out under a shearing strain. as we get nearer the arch form it naturally gets stiffer, because the strain becomes compressive. after making the bridge strong enough for traffic, the problem is to resist the pressure of the current." "true," the adjutant agreed with a smile. "well, we'll let the pontoons stand. the traditions of the british army are changing fast, but while we don't demand the old mechanical obedience, it might be better not to introduce too marked innovations. anyhow, it's not desirable that they should, so to speak, strike a commanding officer in the eye. some officers are conservative and don't like that kind of thing." he moved on and dick wondered whether he had said too much. he was apt to forget his rank and comparative unimportance when technical matters were discussed. in fact, it was sometimes difficult not to appear presumptuous; but when one knew that one was right---- in the meantime, the adjutant met the colonel, and they stopped together at the bridge-head. "i think we have made a good job, but the brigade's transport is pretty heavy," the colonel remarked. "i'm satisfied with the bridge, sir; very creditable work for beginners. if the other branches of the new armies are as good----" "the men are in earnest. things, of course, are changing, and i suppose old-fashioned prejudices must go overboard. personally, i liked the type we had before the war, but we'll let that go. young brandon strikes me as particularly keen." "keen as mustard," the adjutant agreed. "in other ways, perhaps, he's more of the kind you have been used to." "now i wonder what you mean by that! you're something of what they're pleased to call a progressive, aren't you? however, i like the lad. his work is good." "he _knows_, sir." "ah," said the colonel, "i think i understand. but what about the drawings of the new pontoons? they must be sent to-night." "they're ready. to tell the truth, i showed them to brandon and he made a good suggestion about the rounding of the waterline." the colonel looked thoughtful. "well, the idea of a combined pontoon and light boat that would carry troops is by no means new; but these are rather an unusual type and if it were known that we were building them, it might give the enemy a hint. i suppose you told brandon the thing's to be kept quiet." "yes; i made it plain," the adjutant said, and they walked on. dick had been sitting on the bridge, but he jumped up as a rhythmic tramp of feet came down the hillside. dust rose among the cornfields and hung in a white streak along the edge of a wood, and then with a twinkling flash of steel, small, ocher-colored figures swung out of the shadow. they came on in loose fours, in an unending line that wound down the steep slopes and reached the bridge-head. then orders rolled across the stream, the line narrowed, and the measured tramp changed to a sharp uneven patter. the leading platoon were breaking step as they crossed the bridge. dick frowned impatiently. this was a needless precaution. the engineers' work was good; it would stand the percussive shock of marching feet. he stood at attention, with a sparkle in his eyes, as the hot and dusty men went by. they were, for the most part, young men, newly raised infantry, now being hardened and tempered until they were fit to be used as the army's spear-head in some desperate thrust for which engineers and artillery had cleared the way. it was some time before the first battalion crossed, but the long yellow line still ran back up the hillside to the spot at which it emerged from the deepening shade, and the next platoon took the bridge with unbroken step. it swayed and shook with a curious regular tremble as the feet came down; but there was no giving way of tie and stringer-beam, and dick forgot the men who were passing, and thought of fastenings and stressed material. he was young and the pomp of war had its effect on him, but the human element began to take second place. although an officer of the new army, he was first of all an engineer; his business was to handle wood and iron rather than men. the throb of the planks and the swing of the pontoons as the load passed over them fascinated him; and his interest deepened when the transport began to cross. sweating, spume-flecked horses trod the quivering timber with iron-shod hoofs; grinding wheels jarred the structure as the wagons passed. he could feel it yield and bend, but it stood, and dick was conscious of a strange, emotional thrill. this, in a sense, was his triumph; the first big task in which he had taken a man's part; and his work had passed the test. taste, inclination, and interest had suddenly deepened into an absorbing love for his profession. after a time, the adjutant sent for him and held out a large, sealed envelope. "these are the plans i showed you," he said. "colonel farquhar is driving to newcastle, and will stop at storeton grange for supper at midnight. the plans must be delivered to him there. you have a motorcycle, i think?" "yes." "very well; it is not a long ride, but i'll release you from duty now. don't be late at storeton, take care of the papers, and get colonel farquhar's receipt." there was a manufacturing town not far off, and dick decided to go there and spend the evening with a cousin of his. they might go to a theater, or if not, lance would find some means of amusing him. as a rule, dick did not need amusing, but he felt that he must celebrate the building of the bridge. lance brandon was becoming known as an architect, and he had a good deal of constructive talent. the physical likeness between him and dick was rather marked, but he was older and they differed in other respects. lance knew how to handle men as well as material, and perhaps he owed as much to this as to his artistic skill. his plans for a new church and the remodeling of some public buildings had gained him recognition; but he already was popular at country houses in the neighborhood and was courted by the leading inhabitants of the town. dick and he dined at the best hotel and lance listened sympathetically to the description of the bridge. he was not robust enough for the army, but he hinted that he envied dick; and dick felt flattered. he sometimes bantered lance about his social gifts and ambitions, but he had never resented the favors his father had shown his cousin. lance had been left an orphan at an early age and the elder brandon--a man of means and standing--had brought him up with his son. they had been good friends and dick was pleased when his father undertook to give lance a fair start at the profession he chose. he imagined that now lance was beginning to make his mark, his allowance had stopped, but this was not his business. lance was a very good sort, although he was clever in ways that dick was not and indeed rather despised. "what shall we do next?" dick asked when they had lounged for a time in the smoking-room. lance made a gesture of resignation as he stretched himself in a big chair. he was dressed with quiet taste, his face was handsome but rather colorless, and his movements were languid. "you're such an energetic beggar," he complained. "the only theater where they put on plays worth seeing is closed just now, but there's a new dancer at the nearest hall and we might look in. i hope my churchwarden patrons won't disapprove if they hear of it, because they talk about building an ornamental mission room." dick laughed. "they wouldn't find fault with you. somehow, nobody does." "there's some truth in that; the secret is that i know when to stop. one can enjoy life without making the pace too hot. people aren't really censorious, and even the narrow-minded sort allow you certain limits; in fact, i imagine they rather admire you if you can play with fire and not get singed. women do, anyhow; and, in a sense, their judgment's logical. the thing that doesn't hurt you can't be injurious, and it shows moderation and self-control if you don't pass the danger line." "how do you know when you have come to the line?" "well," smiled lance, "experience helps; but i think it's an instinct. of course, if you do show signs of damage, you're done for, because then the people who envied you throw the biggest stones." "let's start," said dick. "i'm not much of a philosopher. building bridges and digging saps is good enough for me." "they're healthy occupations, so long as you don't get shot; but, considering everything, it's strange that they still monopolize your interest." dick colored. he knew what his cousin meant. he had been attracted by a girl of whom his father approved and who was well-bred, pretty, and rich. dick imagined that his father's views were agreeable to helen's relatives and that she was not ignorant of this. still, nothing had been actually arranged, and although he admired helen, it would be time enough to think of marriage when he was a captain, for instance. "pontoons and excavations have their charm for men with constructive tastes," lance went on; "but you may find later that they don't satisfy all your needs." "get your hat!" dick returned with a smile, jumping up as he spoke. the music-hall was badly filled. the audience seemed listless and the performance dragged. even the much-praised dancer was disappointing, and there was an unusual number of shabby loungers in the bar. dick had come prepared to enjoy himself after a day of arduous work, and by way of doing so, he ordered a drink or two that he did not really want. as a rule, he was abstemious, but the hall was very hot. it struck him as glaring and tawdry after the quiet dale where the water sparkled among the stones; and the pallid loungers with their stamp of indulgence differed unpleasantly from the hard, brown-faced men he led. "let's clear out," he said at last. "is there anywhere else to go?" "my rooms," lance suggested. "oh, i want something fresh to-night," dick replied with a smile. lance pondered. "well, i can show you some keen card-play and perhaps a clever game of billiards, besides a girl who's a great deal prettier than the dancer. but it's four miles out of town." dick glanced at his watch. "i can take you on the carrier," he said. "i've plenty of time yet." they set off, and presently stopped at a tall iron gate on the edge of a firwood. a glimmer of lights indicated that a house stood at the end of the drive. "kenwardine will be glad to receive you as a friend of mine," lance said; "and you needn't play unless you like. he's fond of company and generally has a number of young men about the place." "a private gambling club?" "oh, no. you're very far from the mark. kenwardine certainly likes a bet and sometimes runs a bank, but all he wins wouldn't do much to keep up a place like this. however, you can see for yourself." dick was not a gambler and did not play many games, but he wanted a little excitement, and he looked forward to it as he followed his cousin up the drive. chapter ii dick's troubles begin it was with mixed feelings that clare kenwardine got down from the stopping train at a quiet station and waited for the trap to take her home. the trap was not in sight, but this did not surprise her, for nobody in her father's household was punctual. clare sometimes wondered why the elderly groom-gardener, whose wages were very irregularly paid, stayed on, unless it was because his weakness for liquor prevented his getting a better post; but the servants liked her father, for he seldom found fault with them. kenwardine had a curious charm, which his daughter felt as strongly as anybody else, though she was beginning to see his failings and had, indeed, been somewhat shocked when she came home to live with him not long before. now she knitted her level brows as she sat down and looked up the straight, white road. it ran through pastures, and yellow cornfields where harvesters were at work, to a moor on which the ling glowed red in the fading light. near the station a dark firwood stretched back among the fields and a row of beeches rose in dense masses of foliage beside the road. there was no sound except the soft splash of a stream. everything was peaceful; but clare was young, and tranquillity was not what she desired. she had, indeed, had too much of it in the sleepy cathedral town she had left. her difficulty was that she felt drawn in two different ways; for she had inherited something of her father's recklessness and love of pleasure, though her mother, who died when clare was young, had been a shy puritan. clare was kept at school much longer than usual; and when she insisted on coming home she found herself puzzled by her father's way of living. young men, and particularly army officers, frequented the house; stylish women came down from town, often without their husbands; and there was generally some exciting amusement going on. this had its attraction for clare; but her delicate refinement was sometimes offended, and once she was even alarmed. one of the young men had shown his admiration for her in a way that jarred, and soon afterward there had been a brawl over a game of cards. kenwardine had then suggested that she make a long visit to her aunts, in the cathedral town. they had received her gladly but she soon found her stay there irksome. the aunts were austere, religious women, who moved in a narrow groove and ordered all their doings by a worn-out social code. still, they were kind and gave clare to understand that she was to stay with them always and have no more to do with kenwardine than duty demanded. the girl rebelled. she shrank with innate dislike from license and dissipation, but the life her aunts led was dreary, and she could not give up her father. though inexperienced, she was intelligent and she saw that her path would not be altogether smooth now that she was going home for good. while she thought about it, the trap arrived and the shabby groom drove her up the hill with confused apologies. an hour or two after clare reached home, lance and dick brandon entered the house and were met by kenwardine in the hall. he wore a velvet jacket over his evening clothes and dick noticed a wine-stain on the breast. he was thin, but his figure was athletic, although his hair was turning gray and there were wrinkles about his eyes. "very glad to see your cousin," he said to lance, and turned to dick with a smile. "soldiers have a particular claim on our hospitality, but my house is open to anybody of cheerful frame of mind. one must relax now and then in times like these." "that's why i brought dick," lance replied. "he believes in tension. but i wonder whether your notion of relaxing is getting lax?" "there's a difference, though it's sometimes rather fine," kenwardine answered with a twinkle. "but come in and amuse yourselves as you like. if you want a drink, you know where to find it." they played a game of billiards and then went into another room, where dick lost a sovereign to kenwardine. after that, he sat in a corner, smoking and languidly looking about, for he had been hard at work since early morning. two or three subaltern officers from a neighboring camp stood by the table, besides several other men whose sunburned faces indicated a country life. the carpets and furniture were getting shabby, but the room was large and handsome, with well-molded cornices and paneled ceiling. the play was not high and the men were quiet, but the room was filled with cigar smoke and there was a smell of liquor. dick did not object to drink and gambling in moderation, though it was seldom that he indulged in either. he found no satisfaction in that sort of thing, and he now felt that some of kenwardine's friends would do better to join the new armies than to waste their time as they were doing. at last kenwardine threw down the cards. "i think we have had enough for a time," he said. "shall we go into the music-room, for a change?" dick followed the others, and looked up with surprise when clare came in. lance had spoken of a pretty girl, but she was not the type dick had expected. she wore a very plain white dress, with touches of blue that emphasized her delicate coloring. her hair was a warm yellow with deeper tones, her features were regular and well-defined, and dick liked the level glance of her clear, blue eyes. he thought they rested on him curiously for a moment. she had kenwardine's slender, well-balanced figure, and her movements were graceful, but dick's strongest impression was that she was out of place. though perfectly at ease, she did not fit into her environment: she had a freshness that did not harmonize with cigar smoke and the smell of drink. clare gave him a pleasant smile when he was presented, and after speaking to one or two of the others she went to the piano when kenwardine asked her to sing. dick, who was sitting nearest the instrument, stooped to take a bundle of music from a cabinet she opened. "no," she said; "you may put those down. i'm afraid we have nothing quite so good, and perhaps it's silly, but i've fallen back on our own composers since the fourth of august." dick spread out the music, to display the titles. "these fellows have been dead some time," he argued humorously. "they'd probably disown their descendants if they'd survived until now. but here's a frenchman's work. they're on our side, and his stuff is pretty good, isn't it?" clare smiled. "yes," she said, "it's certainly good; but i'd rather sing something english to-night." she began a patriotic ballad dick knew and liked. he was not much of a musician, but his taste was good. the song rang true; it was poetry and not warlike jingle, but he had not heard it sung so well before. clare's voice had been carefully trained and she used it well, but he knew that she had grasped the spirit of the song. one or two of the men who had been sitting got up, two young subalterns stood very stiff and straight, but dick noted that kenwardine did not change his lounging attitude. he was smiling, and lance, glancing at him, looked amused. dick remembered this afterward, but he now felt that lance was not quite showing his usual good form. when the song was finished, dick turned to clare. he wanted to begin talking to her before anybody else came up. "it was very fine. i don't understand the technique of music, but one felt that you got the song just right. and then, the way you brought out the idea!" "that is what the mechanical part is for," she answered with a smile and a touch of color. "as it happens, i saw an infantry brigade on the march to-day, and watched the long line of men go by in the dust and sun. perhaps that helps one to understand." "did you see them cross the bridge?" dick asked eagerly. "no," she answered; and he felt absurdly disappointed. he would have liked to think that his work had helped her to sing. "have you another like the first?" he asked. "i never sing more than once," she smiled. then as lance and another man came toward them, she added, glancing at an open french window: "besides, the room is very hot. it would be cooler in the garden." dick was not a man of affairs, but he was not a fool. he knew that clare kenwardine was not the girl to attempt his captivation merely because he had shown himself susceptible. she wanted him to keep the others off, and he thought he understood this as he glanced at lance's companion. the fellow had a coarse, red face and looked dissipated, and even lance's well-bred air was somehow not so marked as usual. well, he was willing that she should make any use of him that she liked. they passed the others, and after stopping to tell kenwardine that she was going out, clare drew back a curtain that covered part of the window. dick stepped across the ledge and, seeing that the stairs below were iron and rather slippery, held out his hand to clare. the curtain swung back and cut off the light, and when they were near the bottom the girl tripped and clutched him. her hand swept downward from his shoulder across his chest and caught the outside pocket of his coat, while he grasped her waist to steady her. "thank you," she said. "i was clumsy, but the steps are awkward and my shoes are smooth." dick was glad it was dark, for he felt confused. the girl had rested upon him for a moment and it had given him a thrill. they crossed the broad lawn. half of it lay in shadow, for a wood that rolled up a neighboring hillside cut off the light of the low, half moon. the air was still, it was too warm for dew, and there was a smell of flowers--stocks, dick thought, and he remembered their pungent sweetness afterward when he recalled that night. clare kept in the moonlight, and he noted the elusive glimmer of her white dress. she wore no hat or wrap, and the pale illumination emphasized the slenderness of her figure and lent her an ethereal grace. they stopped at a bench beneath a copper-beech, where the shadow of the leaves checkered with dark blotches the girl's white draperies and dick's uniform. some of the others had come out, for there were voices in the gloom. "perhaps you wonder why i brought you here," clare said frankly. "no," dick answered. "if you had any reason, i'm not curious. and i'd rather be outside." "well," she said, "the light was rather glaring and the room very hot." she paused and added: "mr. brandon's your cousin?" "he is, and a very good sort. he brought me to-night, but i felt that it was, perhaps, something of an intrusion when you came in." "you didn't feel that before?" dick knew that he was on dangerous ground. he must not admit that he suspected kenwardine's motive for receiving promiscuous guests. "well, not to the same extent. you see, lance knows everybody and everybody likes him. i thought i might be welcome for his sake." "it's plain that you are fond of your cousin. but why did you imagine that i should think your visit an intrusion?" dick was glad he sat in the shadow, for his face was getting hot. he could not hint that he had expected to find a rather daring coquette--the kind of girl, in fact, one would imagine a semi-professional gambler's daughter to be. it now seemed possible that he had misjudged kenwardine; and he had certainly misjudged clare. the girl's surroundings were powerless to smirch her: dick was sure of that. "oh, well," he answered awkwardly, "although lance obviously knows your father pretty well, it doesn't follow that he's a friend of yours." "it does not," she said in a curious tone. "but do you know the man he was with?" "i never saw him before, and somehow i don't feel anxious to improve his acquaintance." clare laughed. "that's a quick decision, isn't it? are you a judge of character?" she asked. "i have been badly mistaken," dick admitted with a smile. "still, i know the people i'm going to like. how is it i haven't seen you about? we're not very far off and most of the people in the neighborhood have driven over to our camp." "i only came home to-night, after being away for some time." dick was relieved to learn this. he did not like to think of her living at kenwardine's house and meeting his friends. it was scarcely half an hour since he met clare kenwardine, but she had, quite unconsciously he thought, strongly impressed him. in fact, he felt rather guilty about it. since he was, in a manner, expected to marry some one else, he had no business to enjoy yielding to this stranger's charm and to thrill at her touch. they sat in silence for a few moments, and then lance strolled up with his companion. "don't forget the time, dick," he remarked as he passed. "you mustn't let him keep you too long, miss kenwardine. he has an important errand to do for his colonel." "if you don't mind, i won't go just yet," dick said to clare; and understood from her silence that she did not want to dismiss him. for the first time since they were boys, he was angry with his cousin. it looked as if lance had meant to take him away when miss kenwardine needed him. he was flattered to think she preferred his society to the red-faced man's, and had used him to keep the other at a distance. well, he would stay to the last minute and protect her from the fellow, or from anybody else. a little later kenwardine joined them, and dick knew that he must go. clare gave him her hand with a quick, grateful look that made his heart beat, and lance met him as he went into the house. "you're cutting it very fine," he said. "come along; here's your cap." "in a moment! there's an infantry man i asked over to our camp." "you haven't time to look for him," lance answered, and good-humoredly pushed dick into the hall. "get off at once! a fellow i know will give me a lift home." dick ran down the drive and a few moments later his motorcycle was humming up the road. he sped through a dark firwood, where the cool air was filled with resinous scent, and out across a hillside down which the stocked sheaves stood in silvery rows, but he noticed nothing except that the white strip of road was clear in front. his thoughts were back in the garden with clare kenwardine, and he could smell the clogging sweetness of the stocks. this was folly, and he changed the gear on moderate hills and altered the control when the engine did not need it, to occupy his mind; but the picture of the girl he carried away with him would not be banished. for all that, he reached storeton grange in time and, running up the drive, saw lights in the windows and a car waiting at the door. getting down and stating his business, he was shown into a room where a stern-faced man in uniform sat talking to another in evening clothes. "i understand you come from captain hallam," said the colonel. "yes, sir. he sent me with some papers." "you know what they are?" "plans of pontoons, sir." "very well," said the colonel, taking out a fountain pen. "let me have them." dick put his hand into his breastpocket, which was on the outside of his coat. the pocket was unbuttoned, and the big envelope had gone. he hurriedly felt the other pockets, but they too were empty, and his face got red. the colonel looked hard at him, and then made a sign to the other man, who quietly went out. "you haven't got the plans! did you leave them behind?" "no, sir," dick said awkwardly. "i felt to see if they were in my pocket when i left the camp." the colonel's face hardened. "did you come straight here?" "no, sir. i had an hour or two's leave." "and spent it with your friends? had you anything to drink?" "yes, sir." "as much as, or more than, usual?" "perhaps a little more," dick said in confusion. the colonel studied him with searching eyes; and then took some paper from a case on the table and began to write. he put the note in an envelope and gave it to dick. "it's your commanding officer's business to investigate the matter and you'll take him this. report yourself to him or to the adjutant when you reach camp. i'll telegraph to see if you have done so." he raised his hand in sign of dismissal and dick went out, crushed with shame, and feeling that he was already under arrest. if he were not in camp when the telegram came, he would be treated as a deserter. chapter iii the punishment on reaching camp and reporting himself, dick was sent to his tent, where he slept until he was aroused by the bustle at reveille. he had not expected to sleep; but he was young and physically tired, and the shock of trouble had, as sometimes happens, a numbing effect. he awoke refreshed and composed, though his heart was heavy as he dressed, because he feared it was the last time that he would wear his country's uniform. the suspense was trying as he waited until the morning parade was over; then he was summoned to a tent where the colonel and the adjutant sat. "i have a telegram asking if you have arrived," the colonel said in a curious, dry tone. "you must understand that you have laid yourself open to grave suspicion." "yes," dick answered, wondering whether the colonel meant that it might have been better if he had run away. "very well. you admitted having received the plans. what did you do with them?" "buttoned them into the left pocket of my coat. when i got to storeton, the envelope was gone." "how do you account for that?" "i can't account for it, sir." the colonel was silent for a few moments, and then he looked fixedly at dick. "your statements were very unsatisfactory last night, and now that you have had time to think over the matter, i advise you to be frank. it's plain that you have been guilty of gross negligence, but that is not the worst. the drawings are of no direct use to the enemy, but if they fell into their hands they might supply a valuable hint of the use to which we mean to put the pontoons. you see what this implies?" "i don't know how we mean to use them, sir, and i don't want to hide anything." "that's a wise resolve," the colonel answered meaningly; and dick colored. after all, there was something he meant to hide. "you took the plans with you when you left the camp, three or four hours before you were due at storeton," said the adjutant. "where did you go?" "to my cousin's rooms in the town." "mr. lance brandon's," said the adjutant thoughtfully. "did you stay there?" "no; we dined at the george." "a well-conducted house," the adjutant remarked. "you took some wine at dinner?" "two glasses of light claret." "then where did you go next?" "to the new music-hall." "and ordered drinks in the bar! who suggested this?" "i can't remember," dick replied with an angry flush. "of course, i see where you're leading, but i was quite sober when i left the hall." the adjutant's expression puzzled him. he had felt that the man was not unfriendly, and now he looked disappointed. "i'm not sure your statement makes things better," the colonel observed with some dryness. "did you go straight to storeton from the hall?" "no, sir. i spent an hour at a friend's house." "whose house was it?" dick pondered for a few moments, and then looked up resolutely. "i must decline to answer, sir. i've lost the plans and must take the consequences; but i don't see why my private friends, who have nothing to do with it, should be involved in the trouble." the adjutant leaned forward across the table and said something quietly to the colonel, and neither of them spoke for the next minute or two. dick was sensible of physical as well as mental strain as he stood stiffly in the middle of the tent. his knees felt weak, little quivers ran through his limbs, and a ray of hot sunshine struck through the hooked-back flap into his face, but he dared not relax his rigid pose. the two officers looked puzzled but grave. "go back to your tent and stay there until i send for you," the colonel said at last. dick saluted and went out, and when he sat down on his camp-bed he moodily lighted a cigarette and tried to think. his military career was ended and he was ruined; but this was not what occupied him most. he was wondering whether clare kenwardine had taken the plans. if so, it was his duty to accuse her; but, actuated by some mysterious impulse, he had refused. the longer he thought about it, the clearer her guilt became. he was a stranger and yet she had suggested a stroll through the garden and had slipped and clutched him as they went down the steps. her hand had rested on the pocket in which the envelope was. she was the daughter of a man who kept a private gaming house; it was not surprising that she was an adventuress and had deceived him by her clever acting. for all that, he could not condemn her; there was a shadow of doubt; and even if she were guilty, she had yielded to some strong pressure from her father. his feelings, however, were puzzling. he had spent less than an hour in her society and she had ruined him, but he knew that he would remember her as long as he lived. dick's common sense led him to smile bitterly. he was behaving like a sentimental fool. on the whole, it was a relief when the adjutant came in. "you must have known what the colonel's decision would be," he said with a hint of regret. "you're to be court-martialed. if you take my advice, you'll keep nothing back." * * * * * the court-martial was over and dick could not question the justice of its sentence--he was dismissed from the army. indeed, it was better than he had expected. somewhat to his surprise, the adjutant afterward saw him alone. "i'm thankful our official duty's done," he said. "of course, i'm taking an irregular line, and if you prefer not to talk--" "you made me feel that you wanted to be my friend," dick replied awkwardly. "then i may, perhaps, remark that you made a bad defense. in the army, it's better to tell a plausible tale and stick to it; we like an obvious explanation. now if you had admitted being slightly drunk." "but i was sober!" the adjutant smiled impatiently. "so much the worse for you! if you had been drunk, you'd have been turned out all the same, but the reason would have been, so to speak, satisfactory. now you're tainted by a worse suspicion. personally, i don't think the lost plans have any value, but if they had, it might have gone very hard with you." he paused and gave dick a friendly glance. "well, in parting, i'll give you a bit of advice. stick to engineering, which you have a talent for." he went out and not long afterward dick left the camp in civilian's clothes, but stopped his motorcycle on the hill and stood looking back with a pain at his heart. he saw the rows of tents stretched across the smooth pasture, the flag he had been proud to serve languidly flapping on the gentle breeze, and the water sparkling about the bridge. along the riverside, bare-armed men in shirts and trousers were throwing up banks of soil with shovels that flashed in the strong light. he could see their cheerful brown faces and a smart young subaltern taking out a measuring line. dick liked the boy, who now no doubt would pass him without a look, and he envied him with the keenest envy he had ever felt. he had loved his profession; and he was turned out of it in disgrace. it was evening when he stood in the spacious library at home, glad that the light was fading, as he confronted his father, who sat with grim face in a big leather chair. dick had no brothers and sisters, and his mother had died long before. he had not lived much at home, and had been on good, more than affectionate, terms with his father. indeed, their relations were marked by mutual indulgence, for dick had no interest outside his profession, while mr. brandon occupied himself with politics and enjoyed his prominent place in local society. he was conventional and his manners were formal and dignified, but dick thought him very much like lance, although he had not lance's genial humor. "well," he said when dick had finished, "you have made a very bad mess of things and it is, of course, impossible that you should remain here. in fact, you have rendered it difficult for me to meet my neighbors and take my usual part in public affairs." this was the line dick had expected him to take. it was his father's pride he had wounded and not his heart. he did not know what to say and, turning his head, he looked moodily out of the open window. the lawn outside was beautifully kept and the flower-borders were a blaze of tastefully assorted colors, but there was something artificial and conventional about the garden that was as marked in the house. somehow dick had never really thought of the place as home. "i mean to go away," he said awkwardly. "the puzzling thing is that you should deny having drunk too much," brandon resumed. "but i hadn't done so! you look at it as the others did. why should it make matters better if i'd owned to being drunk?" "drunkenness," his father answered, "is now an offense against good taste, but not long ago it was thought a rather gentlemanly vice, and a certain toleration is still extended to the man who does wrong in liquor. perhaps this isn't logical, but you must take the world as you find it. i had expected you to learn more in the army than you seem to have picked up. did you imagine that your promotion depended altogether upon your planning trenches and gun-pits well?" "that kind of thing is going to count in the new armies," dick replied. "being popular on guest-night at the mess won't help a man to hold his trench or work his gun under heavy fire." brandon frowned. "you won't have an opportunity for showing what you can do. i don't know where you got your utilitarian, radical views; but we'll keep to the point. where do you think of going?" "to new york, to begin with." "why not montreal or cape town?" "well," dick said awkwardly, "after what has happened, i'd rather not live on british soil." "then why not try hamburg?" dick flushed. "you might have spared me that, sir! i lost the plans; i didn't sell them." "very well. this interview is naturally painful to us both and we'll cut it short, but i have something to say. it will not be forgotten that you were turned out of the army, and if you succeeded me, the ugly story would be whispered when you took any public post. i cannot have our name tainted and will therefore leave the house and part of my property to your cousin. whether you inherit the rest or not will depend upon yourself. in the meantime, i am prepared to make you an allowance, on the understanding that you stay abroad until you are sent for." dick faced his father, standing very straight, with knitted brows. "thank you, sir, but i will take nothing." "may i ask why?" "if you'd looked at the thing differently and shown a little kindness, it would have cut me to the quick," dick said hoarsely. "i'm not a thief and a traitor, though i've been a fool, and it hurts to know what you think. i'm going away to-morrow and i'll get on, somehow, without your help. i don't know that i'll come back if you do send for me." "you don't seem to understand your position, but you may come to realize it before very long," brandon replied. he got up and dick left the library; but he did not sleep that night. it had been hard to meet his father and what he said had left a wound that would take long to heal. now he must say good-by to helen. this would need courage, but dick meant to see her. it was the girl's right that she should hear his story, and he would not steal away like a cur. he did not think helen was really fond of him, though he imagined that she would have acquiesced in her relatives' plans for them both had things been different. now, of course, that was done with, but he must say good-by and she might show some regret or sympathy. he did not want her to suffer, but he did not think she would feel the parting much; and she would not treat him as his father had done. when he called the next morning at an old country house, he was told that miss massie was in the garden, and going there, he stopped abruptly at a gap in a shrubbery. beyond the opening there was a stretch of smooth grass, checkered by moving shadow, and at one side a row of gladioli glowed against the paler bloom of yellow dahlias. helen massie held a bunch of the tall crimson spikes, and dick thought as he watched her with a beating heart that she was like the flowers. they were splendid in form and color, but there was nothing soft or delicate in their aggressive beauty. helen's hair was dark and her color high, her black eyes were bright, and her yellow dress showed a finely outlined form. dick knew that she was proud, resolute, and self-confident. then she turned her head and saw him, and he knew that she had heard of his disgrace, for her color deepened and her glance was rather hard than sympathetic. the hand that held the flowers dropped to her side, but she waited until he came up. "i see you know, and it doesn't matter who told you," he said. "i felt i had to come before i went away." "yes," she answered calmly, "i heard. you have courage, dick; but perhaps a note would have been enough, and more considerate." dick wondered gloomily whether she meant that he might have saved her pain by staying away, or that he had involved her in his disgrace by coming, since his visit would be talked about. he reflected bitterly that the latter was more probable. "well," he said, "we have been pretty good friends and i'm leaving the country. i don't suppose i shall come back again." "when do you go?" "now," said dick. "i must catch the train at noon." helen's manner did not encourage any indulgence in sentiment and he half resented this, although it made things easier. he could not say he had come to give her up, because there had been no formal engagement. still he had expected some sign of pity or regret. "you don't defend yourself," she remarked thoughtfully. "couldn't you have fought it out?" "there was nothing to fight for. i lost the papers i was trusted with; one can't get over that." "but people may imagine you did something worse." she paused for a moment and added: "don't you care what i might think?" dick looked at her steadily. "you ought to know. do you believe it's possible i stole and meant to sell the plans?" "no," she said with a touch of color. "but i would have liked you, for your friends' sake, to try to clear yourself. if you had lost the papers, they would have been found and sent back; as they were not, it looks as if you had been robbed." that she could reason this out calmly struck dick as curious, although he had long known that helen was ruled by her brain and not her heart. "i've been careless and there's nothing to be done but take my punishment." she gave him a keen glance. "are you hiding something, dick? it's your duty to tell all that you suspect." dick winced. helen was right; it was his duty, but he was not going to carry it out. he began to see what this meant, but his resolution did not falter. "if i knew i'd been robbed, it would be different, but i don't, and if i blamed people who were found to be innocent, i'd only make matters worse for myself." "i suppose that's true," she agreed coldly. "however, you have made your choice and it's too late now. where are you going, dick?" "to new york by the first boat from liverpool." he waited, watching her and wondering whether she would ask him to stop, but she said quietly: "well, i shall, no doubt, hear how you get on." "it's unlikely," he answered in a hard voice. "i've lost my friends with my character. the best thing i can do is to leave them alone." then he looked at his watch, and she gave him her hand. "for all that, i wish you good luck, dick." she let him go, and as he went back to the gate he reflected that helen had taken the proper and tactful line by dismissing him as if he were nothing more than an acquaintance. he could be nothing more now, and to yield to sentiment would have been painful and foolish; but it hurt him that she had realized this. when he wheeled his bicycle away from the gate he saw a boy who helped his father's gardener running along the road, and waited until he came up, hot and panting. the boy held out a small envelope. "it came after you left, mr. dick," he gasped. "then you have been very quick." the lad smiled, for dick was a favorite with his father's servants. "i thought you'd like to have the note," he answered, and added awkwardly: "besides, i didn't see you when you went." it was the first hint of kindness dick had received since his disgrace and he took the lad's hand before he gave him half a crown, though he knew that he must practise stern economy. "thank you and good-by, jim. you must have taken some trouble to catch me," he said. then he opened the envelope and his look softened. "i heard of your misfortune and am very sorry, but something tells me that you are not to blame," the note ran, and was signed "clare kenwardine." for a moment or two dick was sensible of keen relief and satisfaction; and then his mood changed. this was the girl who had robbed and ruined him; she must think him a fool! tearing up the note, he mounted his bicycle and rode off to the station in a very bitter frame of mind. chapter iv adversity when he had sold his motorcycle at liverpool, dick found it would be prudent to take a third-class passage, but regretted this as soon as the liner left the st. george's channel. the food, though badly served, was good of its kind, and his berth was comfortable enough for a man who had lived under canvas, but when the hatches were closed on account of bad weather the foul air of the steerage sickened him and the habits of his companions left much to be desired. it was difficult to take refuge in the open air, because the steerage deck was swept by bitter spray and often flooded as the big ship lurched across the atlantic against a western gale. a spray-cloud veiled her forward when the bows plunged into a comber's hollow side, and then as they swung up until her forefoot was clear, foam and green water poured aft in cataracts. sometimes much of her hull before the bridge sank into the crest of a half-mile sea and lower decks and alleyways looked like rivers. the gale held all the way across, and dick felt jaded and gloomy when they steamed into new york, a day late. he had some trouble with the immigration officers, who asked awkward questions about his occupation and his reason for giving it up, but he satisfied them at length and was allowed to land. the first few days he spent in new york helped him to realize the change in his fortunes and the difficulties he must face. until the night he lost the plans, he had scarcely known a care; life had been made easy, and his future had looked safe. he had seldom denied himself anything; he had started well on a career he liked, and all his thoughts were centered on fitting himself for it. extravagance was not a failing of his, but he had always had more money than would satisfy his somewhat simple needs. now, however, there was an alarming difference. to begin with, it was obvious that he could only stay for a very limited time at the cheap hotel he went to, and his efforts to find employment brought him sharp rebuffs. business men who needed assistance asked him curt questions about his training and experience, and when he could not answer satisfactorily promptly got rid of him. then he tried manual labor and found employment almost as hard to get. the few dollars he earned at casual jobs did not pay his board at the hotel where he lived in squalid discomfort, but matters got worse when he was forced to leave it and take refuge in a big tenement house, overcrowded with unsavory foreigners from eastern europe. new york was then sweltering under a heat wave, and he came home, tired by heavy toil or sickened by disappointment, to pass nights of torment in a stifling, foul-smelling room. he bore it for some weeks and then, when his small stock of money was melting fast, set off to try his fortune in the manufacturing towns of pennsylvania and ohio. here he found work was to be had, but the best paid kind was barred to untrained men by trade-union rules, and the rest was done by poles and ruthenians, who led a squalid semi-communistic life in surroundings that revolted him. still, he could not be fastidious and took such work as he could get, until one rainy evening when he walked home dejectedly after several days of enforced idleness. a labor agent's window caught his eye and he stopped amidst the crowd that jostled him on the wet sidewalk to read the notices displayed. one ticket stated that white men, and particularly live mechanics, were wanted for a job down south, but dick hesitated for a few minutes, fingering a dollar in his pocket. carefully spent, it would buy him his supper and leave something towards his meals next day, and he had been walking about since morning without food. if he went without his supper, the agent, in exchange for the dollar, would give him the address of the man who wanted help, but dick knew from experience that it did not follow that he would be engaged. still, one must risk something and the situation was getting desperate. he entered the office and a clerk handed him a card. "it's right across the town, but you'd better get there quick," he said. "the job's a snap and i've sent a lot of men along." dick boarded a street-car that took him part of the way, but he had to walk the rest, and was tired and wet when he reached an office in a side street. a smart clerk took the card and gave him a critical glance. "it looks as if we were going to be full up, but i'll put down your name and you can come back in the morning," he remarked. "what do you call yourself?" "a civil engineer," said dick. "but where is the job and what's the pay?" "i guess central america is near enough; mighty fine country, where rum's good and cheap. pay'll pan out about two-fifty, or perhaps three dollars if you're extra smart." "you can get as much here," dick objected, thinking it unwise to seem eager. "then why don't you get it?" the clerk inquired. "anyhow, you won't be charged for board and all you'll have to do is to drive breeds and niggers. it's a soft thing, sure, but you can light out now and come back if you feel it's good enough for you to take your chance." dick went away, and had reached the landing when a man who wore loose, gray clothes and a big, soft hat, met him. "what do you want?" he asked. "i've been applying for the job in the south." the other gave him a searching glance and dick thought he noted his anxious look and wet and shabby clothes. "what can you do?" he resumed. "to begin with, i can measure cubic quantities, plan out excavating work, and use the level. if this kind of thing's not wanted, i can handle a spade." "where have you done your digging?" "in this city. laying sewers for a contractor, who, the boys said, had to squeeze us to make good the graft he put up to get the job." the other nodded. "that's so; i know the man. you can use a spade all right if you satisfied him. but the sewer's not finished yet; why did you quit?" "the foreman fired three or four of us to make room for friends that a saloon-keeper who commands some votes sent along." "well," said the other, smiling, "you seem to understand how our city bosses fix these things. but my job will mean pretty tough work. are you sure you want it?" "i can't find another," dick answered frankly. "very well, i'll put you on. look round to-morrow and get your orders. i've a notion that you're up against it; here's a dollar on account." dick took the money. he rather liked the man, whose abruptness was disarmed by his twinkling smile. for the first time, with one exception, during his search for employment, he had been treated as a human being instead of an instrument for doing a certain amount of work. it was raining hard when he reached the street, and supper would be over before he arrived at his cheap hotel, where one must eat at fixed times or wait for the next meal. there was, however, a small restaurant with an italian name outside a few blocks further on, and going in he was served with well-cooked food and afterwards sat in a corner smoking and thinking hard. he now felt more cheerful; but the future was dark and he realized the difficulties in his path. american industry was highly organized. the man who hoped for advancement must specialize and make himself master of some particular branch. dick had specialized in england, and thought he knew his subject, but could not use his knowledge. the americans to whom he tried to sell it would have none of him, and dick owned that he could not blame them; since it was natural to suppose that the man who was unfaithful to his country would not be loyal to his employer. when he looked for other openings, he found capital and labor arrayed in hostile camps. there was mechanical work he was able to do, but this was not allowed, because the organized workers, who had fought stubbornly for a certain standard of comfort, refused to let untrained outsiders share the benefits they had won. business was left; but it needed money, and if he tried to enter it as a clerk, he must first obtain smart clothes and find somebody to certify his ability and character, which was impossible. it looked as if he must be content with manual labor. the wages it commanded were not low and he was physically strong, but he shrank from the lives the lower ranks of toilers led when their work was done. the crowded bunk-house and squalid tenement revolted him. still, he was young and optimistic; his luck might change when he went south and chance give him an opportunity of breaking through the barriers that shut him in. he sat in the corner, pondering, until it got late and the tired italian politely turned him out. next morning he joined a group of waiting men at the railroad station. they had a dejected look as they sat upon their bundles outside the agent's office, except for three or four who were cheerfully drunk. their clothes were shabby and of different kinds, for some wore cheap store-suits and some work-stained overalls. it was obvious that adversity had brought them together, and dick did not think they would make amiable companions. about half appeared to be americans, but he could not determine the nationality of the rest, who grumbled in uncouth english with different accents. by and by the clerk whom dick had met came out of the office with a bundle of tickets, which he distributed, and soon afterwards the train rolled into the depot. dick was not pleased to find that a car had been reserved for the party, since he would sooner have traveled with the ordinary passengers. indeed, when a dispute began as the train moved slowly through the wet street, he left the car. in passing through the next, he met the conductor, who asked for his ticket, and after tearing off a section of the long paper, gave him a card, which he gruffly ordered him to stick in his hat. then he put his hand on dick's shoulder, and pushed him back through the vestibule. "that's your car behind and you'll stop right there," he said. "next time you come out we'll put you off the train." dick resigned himself, but stopped on the front platform and looked back as the train jolted across a rattling bridge. a wide, yellow river ran beneath it, and the tall factories and rows of dingy houses were fading in the rain and smoke on the other side. dick watched them until they grew indistinct, and then his heart felt lighter. he had endured much in the grimy town; but all that was over. after confronting, with instinctive shrinking, industry's grimmest aspect, he was traveling toward the light and glamour of the south. entering the smoking compartment, he found the disturbance had subsided, and presently fell into talk with a man on the opposite seat who asked for some tobacco. he told dick he was a locomotive fireman, but had got into trouble, the nature of which he did not disclose. dick never learned much more about his past than this, but their acquaintance ripened and kemp proved a useful friend. it was getting dark when they reached an atlantic port and were lined up on the terminal platform by a man who read out a list of their names. he expressed his opinion of them with sarcastic vigor when it was discovered that three of the party had left the train on the way; and then packed the rest into waiting automobiles, which conveyed them to the wharf as fast as the machines would go. "guess you won't quit this journey. the man who jumps off will sure get hurt," he remarked as they started. in spite of his precautions, another of the gang was missing when they alighted, and kemp, the fireman, grinned at dick. "that fellow's not so smart as he allows," he said. "he'd have gone in the last car, where he could see in front, if he'd known his job." they were hustled up a steamer's gangway and taken to the after end of the deck, where their conductor turned his back on them for a few minutes while he spoke to a mate. "now's your time," said kemp, "if you feel you want to quit." dick looked about. the spar-deck, on which the boats were stowed, covered the spot where he stood, and the passage beneath the stanchions was dark. there was nobody at the top of the gangway under the big cargo-lamp, and its illumination did not carry far across the wharf. if he could reach the latter, he would soon be lost in the gloom, and he was sensible of a curious impulse that urged him to flight. it almost amounted to panic, and he imagined that the other men's desertion must have daunted him. for a few moments he struggled with the feeling and then conquered it. "no," he said firmly; "i'll see the thing through." kemp nodded. "well, i guess it's too late now." two seamen, sent by the mate, went to the top of the gangway, and the fellow who had brought the party from the station stood on guard near. dick afterward realized that much depended on the choice he swiftly made and wondered whether it was quite by chance he did so. "you were pretty near going," his companion resumed. "yes," said dick, thoughtfully; "i believe i was. as a matter of fact, i don't know why i stopped." the other smiled. "i've felt like that about risky jobs i took. sometimes i lit out, and sometimes i didn't, but found out afterward i was right either way. if you feel you have to go, the best thing you can do is to get a move on." dick agreed with this. he did not understand it, but knew that while he had still had time to escape down the gangway and felt strongly tempted to do so, it was impressed upon him that he must remain. a few minutes later their conductor left them with a sarcastic farewell, the ropes were cast off, and the steamer swung out from the wharf. when, with engines throbbing steadily, she headed down the bay, dick went to his berth, and on getting up next morning found the american coast had sunk to a low, gray streak to starboard. a fresh southwest breeze was blowing under a cloudy sky and the vessel, rolling viciously, lurched across the white-topped combers of the warm gulf stream. after breakfast, some of his companions gathered into listless, grumbling groups, and some brought out packs of greasy cards, but dick sat by himself, wondering with more buoyant feelings what lay before him. he had known trouble and somehow weathered it, and now he was bound to a country where the sun was shining. it was pleasant to feel the soft air on his face and the swing of the spray-veiled bows. after all, good fortune might await him down south. chapter v the concrete truck it was very hot in the deep hollow that pierced the mountain range behind santa brigida on the caribbean sea. the black peaks cut against a glaring sky and the steep slopes of red soil and volcanic cinders on one side of the ravine were dazzlingly bright. the other was steeped in blue shadow that scarcely seemed to temper the heat, and the dark-skinned men who languidly packed the ballast among the ties of a narrow-gage railroad that wound up the hill panted as they swung their shovels. at its lower end, the ravine opened on to a valley that got greener as it ran down to the glittering sea, on the edge of which feathery palms clustered round santa brigida. the old city, dominated by its twin, cathedral towers, shone ethereally white in the distance, with a narrow fringe of flashing surf between it and the vivid blue of the caribbean. it was a thriving place, as the black dots of steamers in the roadstead showed, for of late years american enterprise had broken in upon its lethargic calm. the population was, for the most part, of spanish stock that had been weakened by infusions of indian and negro blood, but there were a number of chinamen, and french creoles. besides these, americans, britons, and european adventurers had established themselves, and the town was a hotbed of commercial and political intrigue. the newcomers were frankly there for what they could get and fought cunningly for trading and agricultural concessions. the leading citizens of comparatively pure spanish strain despised the grasping foreigners in their hearts, but as a rule took their money and helped them in their plots. moreover, they opened a handsome casino and less reputable gambling houses with the object of collecting further toll. such wealth as the country enjoyed was largely derived from the fertile soil, but the district about santa brigida was less productive than the rest and had been long neglected. there was rain enough all round, but much of the moisture condensed on the opposite side of the range and left the slopes behind the town comparatively arid. to remedy this an irrigation scheme was being carried out by american capitalists, and the narrow-gage railroad formed part of the undertaking. a man dressed in rather baggy, gray clothes and a big, soft hat sat in the shadow of the rock. his thin face had been recently browned by the sun, for the paler color where his hat shaded it showed that he was used to a northern climate. though his pose was relaxed and he had a cigar in his mouth, there was a hint of energy about him and he was following the curves of the railroad with keenly observant eyes. a girl in white dress of fashionable cut sat near him, holding a green-lined sunshade, for although they were in the shadow the light was strong. the likeness between them indicated they were father and daughter. "i expect you're feeling it pretty hot," fuller remarked. "it is not oppressive and i rather like the brightness," the girl replied. "besides, it's cool enough about the tent after the sun goes behind the range. of course, you are used to the climate." "i was, but that was twenty-four years ago and before you were born. got my first lift with the ten thousand dollars i made in the next state down this coast, besides the ague and shivers that have never quite left me. however, it's pretty healthy up here, and i guess it ought to suit jake all right." ida fuller looked thoughtful, and her pensive expression added to the charm of her attractive face. she had her father's keen eyes, but they were, like her hair, a soft dark-brown; and the molding of brows and nose and mouth was rather firm than delicate. while her features hinted at decision of character, there was nothing aggressive in her look, which, indeed, was marked by a gracious calm. though she was tall, her figure was slender. "yes," she agreed, "if he would stay up here!" fuller nodded. "i'd have to fix him up with work enough to keep him busy, and ask for a full-length report once a week. that would show me what he was doing and he'd have to stick right to his job to find out what was going on." "unless he got somebody to tell him, or perhaps write the report. jake, you know, is smart." "you're fond of your brother, but i sometimes think you're a bit hard on him. i admit i was badly riled when they turned him down from yale, but it was a harmless fool-trick he played, and when he owned up squarely i had to let it go." "that's jake's way. you can't be angry with him. still, perhaps, it's a dangerous gift. it might be better for him if he got hurt now and then." fuller, who did not answer, watched her, as she pondered. her mother had died long ago, and fuller, who was largely occupied by his business, knew that jake might have got into worse trouble but for the care ida had exercised. he admitted that his daughter, rather than himself, had brought up the lad, and her influence had been wholly for good. by and by she glanced at santa brigida. "it's the casino and other attractions down there i'm afraid of. if you had some older man you could trust to look after jake, one would feel more satisfied." "well," said fuller with a twinkle, "there's nobody i know who could fill the bill, and i'm not sure the older men are much steadier than the rest." he stopped as a puff of smoke rose at the lower end of the ravine and moved up the hill. then a flash of twinkling metal broke out among the rocks, and ida saw that a small locomotive was climbing the steep track. "she's bringing up concrete blocks for the dam," fuller resumed. "we use them large in the lower courses, and i had the bogie car they're loaded on specially built for the job; but i'm afraid we'll have to put down some pieces of the line again. the grade's pretty stiff and the curves are sharp." ida was not bored by these details. she liked her father to talk to her about his business, and her interest was quickly roused. fuller, who was proud of her keen intelligence, told her much, and she knew the importance of the irrigation scheme he had embarked upon. land in the arid belt could be obtained on favorable terms and, fuller thought, be made as productive as that watered by the natural rainfall. it was, however, mainly because he had talked about finding her scapegrace brother employment on the work that ida had made him take her south. as she glanced at the track she noted that room for it had been dug out of the hillside, which was seamed by gullies that the rails twisted round. the loose soil, consisting largely of volcanic cinders, appeared to offer a very unsafe support. it had slipped away here and there, leaving gaps between the ties, which were unevenly laid and at the sharper bends overhung the steep slope below. in the meantime, the small locomotive came nearer, panting loudly and throwing up showers of sparks, and ida remarked how the rails bent and then sprang up again as the truck, which carried two ponderous blocks of stone, rolled over them. the engine rocked, sparks flashed among the wheels as their flanges bit the curves, and she wondered what the driver felt or if he had got used to his rather dangerous work. as a matter of fact, dick brandon, who drove the engine, felt some nervous strain. he had applied for the post at kemp's suggestion, after the latter had given him a few lessons in locomotive work, and had since been sorry that he had obtained it. still he had now a room to himself at the shed where the engine was kept, and a half-breed fireman to help him with the heavier part of his task. he preferred this to living in a hot bunk-house and carrying bags of cement in the grinding mill, though he knew there was a certain risk of his plunging down the ravine with his engine. the boiler primed when he started and was not steaming well. the pistons banged alarmingly as they compressed the water that spurted from the drain-cocks, and his progress was marked by violent jerks that jarred the couplings of the bogie truck. though dick only wore a greasy shirt and overall trousers, he felt the oppressive heat, and his eyes ached with the glare as he gazed up the climbing track. the dust that rolled about the engine dimmed the glasses, the footplate rattled, and it looked as if his fireman was performing a clumsy dance. by and by he rather doubtfully opened the throttle to its widest. if the boiler primed again, he might knock out the cylinder-heads, but there was a steep pitch in front that was difficult to climb. the short locomotive rocked and hammered, the wheels skidded and gripped again, and dick took his hand from the lever to dash the sweat from his eyes. they were going up, and he would be past the worst if he could get his load round the curve ahead. they were half way round when there was a clang behind him and the engine seemed to leap forward. glancing over his shoulder as he shut off steam, dick saw the fireman gazing back, and a wide gap between the concrete blocks and his load of coal. the couplings had snapped as they strained round the bend and the truck would run down the incline until it smashed through the sheds that held the grinding and mixing plant at the bottom. he saw that prompt action was needed, and reversing the machinery, gave the fireman an order in uncouth castilian. the fellow looked at him stupidly, as if his nerve had failed, or he thought the order too risky to obey. there was only one thing to be done, and since it must be done at once, dick must undertake it himself. the engine was now running down the line after the truck, which had not gathered much speed yet, and he climbed across the coal and dropped upon the rear buffer-frame. balancing himself upon it, he waited until the gap between him and the truck got narrower, and then put his hand on top of the concrete and swung himself across. he got his foot upon the side of the car and made his way along, holding the top of the block, while the dust rolled about him and he thought he would be jolted off. indeed, there was only an inch-wide ledge of smooth iron to support his foot, which slipped once or twice; but he reached the brake-gear and screwed it down. then, crawling back, he hooked on the spare coupling and returned, breathless and shaky, to his engine. a minute or two later he brought it to a stop and had got down upon the line when somebody called him. looking round, he saw fuller standing near, and knew him as the man who had given him the dollar in the american town. he had heard that his employer had come out to see what progress was being made, but had not yet encountered him. he did not notice ida, who was sitting in the shadow of the rock. "you were smart," said fuller. "there'd have been an ugly smash if the blocks had got away down the grade. but why didn't you stick to the throttle and send your fireman?" "i don't think he understood what he ought to do, and there was no time to explain." fuller nodded. "so you did it yourself! but why didn't you push the car? you could have held her up better then." "i couldn't get behind it. the loop-track down at the switches has caved in." "i see. but it's a stiff grade and you didn't seem to be hustling your engine much." "the boiler was priming and i was afraid of the cylinders." "just so. you pumped up the water pretty high?" "no; it was at the usual working level," said dick, who paused and resumed thoughtfully: "i can't account for the thing. why does a boiler prime?" there are one or two obvious reasons for a boiler's priming; that is to say, throwing water as well as steam into the engine, but this sometimes happens when no cause can be assigned, and fuller saw that dick did not expect an answer to his question. it was rather an exclamation, prompted by his failure to solve a fascinating problem, and as such indicated that his interest in his task was not confined to the earning of a living. fuller recognized the mind of the engineer. "well," he replied, "there's a good deal we don't know yet about the action of fluids under pressure. but do you find the grade awkward when she's steaming properly?" "i can get up. still, i think it will soon cost you as much in extra fuel as it would to relay this bit of line. two hundred cubic yards cut out at the bend would make things much easier." "two hundred yards?" said fuller, studying the spot. "two hundred and fifty at the outside," dick answered confidently, and then felt embarrassed as he saw miss fuller for the first time. his clothes were few and dirty and he was awkwardly conscious that his hands and face were black. but his employer claimed his attention. "what would you reckon the weight of the stuff?" dick told him after a short silence, and fuller asked: "two-thousand-pound tons?" "yes; i turned it into american weight." "well," said fuller, "you must get on with your job now, but come up to my tent after supper." dick started his locomotive, and when it panted away up the incline fuller looked at his daughter with a smile. "what do you think of that young man?" "he has a nice face. of course he's not the type one would expect to find driving a locomotive." "pshaw!" said fuller. "i'm not talking about his looks." "nor am i, in the way you mean," ida rejoined. "i thought he looked honest, though perhaps reliable is nearest what i felt. then he was very professional." fuller nodded. "that's what i like. the man who puts his job before what he gets for it naturally makes the best work. what do you think of his manner?" "it was good; confident, but not assertive, with just the right note of deference," ida answered, and then laughed. "it rather broke down after he saw me." "that's not surprising, anyhow. i expect he's used to wearing different clothes and more of them when he meets stylish young women. it doesn't follow that the young fellow isn't human because he's professional. however, i want to see what the boys are doing farther on." chapter vi a step up dusk was falling when dick went to keep his appointment with his employer. fireflies glimmered in the brush beside the path, and the lights of santa brigida flashed in a brilliant cluster on the edge of the shadowy sea. high above, rugged peaks cut black against the sky, and the land breeze that swept their lower slopes brought with it instead of coolness a warm, spicy smell. there was more foliage when dick reached the foot of a projecting spur, for a dark belt of forest rolled down the hill; and by and by he saw a big tent, that gleamed with a softened radiance like a paper lantern, among a clump of palms. it seemed to be well lighted inside, and dick remembered having heard orders for electric wires to be connected with the power-house at the dam. fuller obviously meant to give his daughter all the civilized comfort possible, and dick was glad he had been able to find a clean duck suit, though he was not sure he had succeeded in removing all the oily grime from his face. nothing could be done with his hands. the knuckles were scarred, the nails broken, and the black grease from the engine had worked into his skin. still, this did not matter much, because he had gradually overcome his fastidiousness and it was not likely that miss fuller would notice him. she was, however, sitting outside the tent, from which an awning extended so as to convert its front into a covered veranda, and dick was half surprised when she gave him a smile of recognition that warranted his taking off his hat. then fuller, beckoning him to come forward, switched on another lamp and the light fell on a table covered with plans. dick stopped when he reached it and waited, not knowing how his employer meant to receive him. "sit down," said fuller, indicating a chair, and then gave him one of the plans, some paper, and a fountain pen. "study that piece of digging and let me know the weight of stuff to be moved, the number of men you'd use, and what you think the job would cost." dick set to work, and at once became absorbed. twenty minutes passed and he did not move or speak, nor did he see the smile with which ida answered fuller's look. in another ten minutes he put down the pen and gave fuller his calculations. "i think that's near it, sir. i'm reckoning on the use of colored peons." fuller nodded. "you haven't left much margin for what we call contingencies. but they're going to bring us some coffee. will you take a cigar?" a chinaman brought out a silver coffee-pot on a tray, which he placed on a folding table in front of ida, and since it was two or three yards from the other, dick got up when she filled the cups. she gave him two, which he carried back, but remained where she was, within hearing but far enough away not to obtrude her society upon the others. dick, who lighted his cigar, felt grateful to fuller. it was some time since he had met people of any refinement on friendly terms, and until he took up his quarters in the locomotive shed had been living in squalor and dirt. there was not much furniture outside the tent, but the neat folding tables, comfortable canvas chairs, delicate china, and silver coffee-pot gave the place a luxurious look, and though miss fuller was, so to speak, outside the circle, the presence of a well-dressed, attractive girl had its charm. indeed, dick felt half embarrassed by the pleasantness of his surroundings. they were unusual and reminded him poignantly of the privileges he had enjoyed in england. "where did you learn to make these calculations?" fuller asked after a time. "in the british army, royal engineers," dick answered with a flush. "were you an officer?" dick had dreaded the question. it looked as if truthfulness would cost him much; but he determined that his new friends should know the worst. "yes." "then why did you quit?" dick glanced at ida, and imagined that she was interested, though she did not look up. "i was turned out, sir." "ah!" said fuller, without surprise. "may i ask why? it's not impertinent curiosity." "i was sent with some important papers, which i lost. this was bad enough, but there was some ground for suspecting that i had stolen them." "do you know how they were lost?" dick was grateful for the way the question was put, since it hinted that fuller did not doubt his honesty. "no," he said. "that is, i have a notion, but i'm afraid i'll never quite find out." fuller did not reply for a minute or two, and dick, whose face was rather hot, glanced back at ida. her eyes were now fixed on him with quiet interest, and something in her expression indicated approval. "well," said fuller, "i'm going to give you a chance of making good, because if you had done anything crooked, you wouldn't have told me that tale. you'll quit driving the locomotive and superintend on a section of the dam. i'm not satisfied with the fellow who's now in charge. he's friendly with the dago sub-contractors and i suspect i'm being robbed." dick's eyes sparkled. his foot was on the ladder that led to success; and he did not mean to stay at the bottom. moreover, it caused him an exhilarating thrill to feel that he was trusted again. "i'll do my best, sir," he said gratefully. "very well; you'll begin to-morrow, and can use the rooms behind the iron office shack. but there's something you have forgotten." dick looked at him with a puzzled air; and fuller laughed. "you haven't asked what i'm going to pay you yet." "no," said dick. "to tell the truth, it didn't seem to matter." "profession comes first?" fuller suggested. "well, that's right, but i've hired professional men, engineering and medical experts, who charged pretty high. anyhow, here's my offer--" dick was satisfied, as was fuller. the latter was often generous and would not have taken unfair advantage of dick's necessity, but he did not object to engaging a talented young man at something below the market rate. "while i'm here you'll come over twice a week to report," he resumed. "and now if there's anything you'd like to ask." "first of all, i owe you a dollar," dick remarked, putting the money on the table. "the pay-clerk wouldn't take it, because he said it would mix up his accounts. i'm glad to pay you back, but this doesn't cancel the debt." "it wasn't a big risk. i thought you looked played out." "i was played out and hungry. in fact, it took me five minutes to make up my mind whether i'd pay the agent who gave me your address his fee, because it meant going without a meal." fuller nodded. "did you hesitate again, after you knew you'd got the job?" "i did. when we were hustled on board the steamer, there was nobody at the gangway for a few moments and i felt i wanted to run away. there didn't seem to be any reason for this, but i very nearly went." "that kind of thing's not quite unusual," fuller answered with a smile. "in my early days, when every dollar was of consequence, i often had a bad time after i'd made a risky deal. used to think i'd been a fool, and i'd be glad to pay a smart fine if the other party would let me out. yet if he'd made the proposition, i wouldn't have clinched with it." "such vacillation doesn't seem logical, in a man," ida interposed. "don't you practical people rather pride yourselves on being free from our complexities? still i suppose there is an explanation." "i'm not a philosopher," fuller replied. "if you have the constructive faculty, it's your business to make things and not examine your feelings; but my explanation's something like this--when you take a big risk you have a kind of unconscious judgment that tells you if you're right, but human nature's weak, and scares you really don't believe in begin to grip. then it depends on your nerve whether you make good or not." "don't they call it sub-conscious?" ida asked. "and how does that judgment come?" "i guess it's built up on past experience, on things you've learned long since and stored away. in a sense, they're done with, you don't call them up and argue from them; but all the same, they're the driving force when you set your teeth and go ahead." ida looked at dick. "that can't apply to us, who have no long experience to fall back upon." "i've only made one venture of the kind, but i've just discovered that it turned out right." fuller smiled. "that's neat." then he turned to ida. "but i wasn't talking about women. they don't need experience." "sometimes you're merely smart, and sometimes you're rather deep, but i can't decide which you are just now," ida rejoined. "however, i expect you're longing to get back to the plans." "no," said fuller. "they have to be thought of, but life isn't all a matter of building dams. now i'm getting old, i've found that out." "and you? have you any opinion on the subject?" ida asked dick. dick hesitated, wondering whether she meant to put him at his ease or was amused by his seriousness. "i don't imagine my views are worth much and they're not very clear. in a way, of course, it's plain that mr. fuller's right--" "but after all, building dams and removing rocks may very well come first?" dick pondered this. so far, his profession had certainly come first. he was not a prig or a recluse, but he found engineering more interesting than people. now he came to think of it, he had been proud of helen's beauty, but she had not stirred him much or occupied all his thoughts. indeed, he had only once been overwhelmingly conscious of a woman's charm, and that was in kenwardine's garden. he had lost his senses then, but did not mean to let anything of the kind happen again. "well," he said diffidently, "so long as you're content with your occupation, it doesn't seem necessary to make experiments and look for adventures. i expect it saves you trouble to stick to what you like and know." he noted ida's smile, and was silent afterwards while she argued with her father. he did not want to obtrude himself, and since they seemed to expect him to stay, it was pleasant enough to sit and listen. the air was getting cooler and the moon had risen and cast a silver track across the sea. the distant rumble of the surf came up the hillside in a faint, rhythmic beat, and the peaks above the camp had grown in distinctness. a smell of spice drifted out of the jungle, and dick, who was tired, was sensible of a delightful languor. the future had suddenly grown bright and besides this, ida's gracious friendliness had given him back his confidence and self-respect. he was no longer an outcast; he had his chance of making good and regaining the amenities of life that he had learned to value by their loss. he was very grateful to the girl and fuller, but at length took his leave and returned to the locomotive shed with a light heart and a springy step. next morning he began his new work with keen energy. it absorbed him, and as the dam slowly rose in a symmetrical curve of molded stone, its austere beauty commanded his attention. hitherto he had given utility the leading place, but a change had begun the night he sat beneath the copper-beech with clare kenwardine. the design of the structure was good, but dick determined that the work should be better, and sometimes stopped in the midst of his eager activity to note the fine, sweeping lines and silvery-gray luster of the concrete blocks. there were soft lights at dawn and when the sun sank in which the long embankment glimmered as if carved in mother-of-pearl. in the meantime, he went to fuller's tent twice a week and generally met ida there. once or twice, he pleaded with his employer for extra labor and cement to add some grace of outline to the dam, and, although this was unproductive expenditure, fuller agreed. "i like a good job, but it's going to cost high if you mean to turn out a work of art," he said. "however, if bethune thinks the notion all right, i suppose i'll have to consent." dick colored, and wondered whether he had been given a hint, for bethune was his superior and a man of ability. "he doesn't object, sir." "that's good," fuller replied with a twinkle. "still, if you hustle him too much, you'll make him tired." dick did not smile, because he did not know how far it was wise to go, but he suspected that bethune had been tired before he came to the dam. the latter was generally marked by an air of languid indifference, and while his work was well done he seldom exceeded his duty. next evening dick went to see bethune and found him lying in a hammock hung between the posts of the veranda of his galvanized iron hut. a syphon and a tall glass filled with wine in which a lump of ice floated, stood on a table within his reach, and an open book lay upside down upon the floor. he wore white duck trousers, a green shirt of fine material, and a red sash very neatly wound round his waist. his face was sunburned, but the features were delicately cut and his hands, which hung over the edge of the hammock, were well cared for. "mix yourself a drink," he said to dick. "there's a glass and some ice in the bureau inside. anyhow my steward boy put some there." dick, who went into the hut, came back with a grin. "there's a bit of wet blanket, but the ice has gone. it seems to have run into your papers." "they'll dry," bethune said tranquilly. "you had better put some of the _gaseosa_ in the wine; it's sour spanish _tinto_. then if you like to pick up the book, i'll read you some françois villon. there was red blood in that fellow and it's a pity he's dead. you get into touch with him better beside the spanish main than you can in new york." "i never heard of him, and perhaps i ought to explain----" "what you came for? then go ahead and ease your mind. it's business first with you." "it occurred to me that i had perhaps taken too much upon myself now and then. you are my chief, of course, and i don't want to look pushing." "that shows good taste," bethune remarked. "but how are you going to get over the difficulty that you _are_ what you call pushing? anyhow, i'm surprised it did occur to you." "to tell the truth, it was something fuller said----" "so i imagined! well, when you go too far i'll pull you up, but we needn't bother about it in the meantime. you were obviously born a hustler, but you have an ingenuousness that disarms resentment. in fact, you quite upset our views of the british character." "then the feeling's mutual," dick rejoined with a grin. "you don't harmonize with what i've seen of americans." "ours is a big country and we've room for different types; but i come from georgia and we haven't all learned to hustle yet in the south. that's probably why i'm here, when i could have had a much better paid job." dick did not doubt this, because he had seen something of the other's mathematical powers. he was not a fool at figures himself, but bethune could solve by a flash of genius problems that cost him laborious calculation. it was strange that such a man should be content to make a very modest use of his talents. "i suppose you have met miss fuller," bethune resumed. "yes," said dick. "she made things pleasant for me when i first went to the tent. i like her very much." "miss fuller has most of the new england virtues, including a stern sense of her responsibility. i expect you don't know if she shares her father's good opinion of yourself." "i don't know what fuller's opinion is," dick replied awkwardly. bethune laughed. "well, he's given you a good job. but why i asked was this: if miss fuller's quite satisfied about you, she'll probably put her maverick brother in your charge. she came here not long ago with the object of finding out if i was suited for the post, and i imagined learned something about me in a quiet way. it was a relief when she obviously decided that i wasn't the proper man. the girl has intelligence. if she had asked me, i could have recommended you." "do you know much about her brother?" "i've learned something. the lad's a breakaway from the sober fuller type; and i think his views of life rather agree with mine. however, perhaps we had better let miss fuller tell you what she thinks fit. and now would you like some françois villon?" "no," said dick firmly. "i want to see that moran turns out his gang at sunrise and must get back." "pick me up the book, anyhow," bethune replied, and laughed good-humoredly when dick left him. chapter vii dick undertakes a responsibility the glare of the big arc-lights flooded the broad, white plaza when dick crossed it on his way to the hotel magellan. the inhabitants of santa brigida had finished their evening meal and, as was their custom, were taking the air and listening to the military band. they were of many shades of color and different styles of dress, for dark-skinned peons in plain white cotton, chattering negroes, and grave, blue-clad chinamen mingled with the citizens who claimed to spring from european stock. these, however, for the most part, were by no means white, and though some derived their sallow skin from andalusian and catalan ancestors, others showed traces of carib origin. the men were marked by southern grace; the younger women had a dark, languorous beauty, and although their dress was, as a rule, an out of date copy of parisian modes, their color taste was good, and the creamy white and soft yellow became them well. a number of the men wore white duck, with black or red sashes and panama hats, but some had spanish cloaks and mexican sombreros. flat-topped houses, colored white and pink and lemon, with almost unbroken fronts, ran round the square. a few had green lattices and handsome iron gates to the arched entrances that ran like a tunnel through the house, but many showed no opening except a narrow slit of barred window. santa brigida was old, and the part near the plaza had been built four hundred years ago. dick glanced carelessly at the crowd as he crossed the square. he liked the music, and there was something interesting and exotic in the play of moving color, but his mind was on his work and he wondered whether he would find a man he wanted at the hotel. one could enter it by a moorish arch that harmonized with the eastern style of its front; but this had been added, and he went in by the older tunnel and across the patio to the open-fronted american bar that occupied a space between the balcony pillars. he did not find his man, and after ordering some wine, lighted a cigarette and looked about while he waited to see if the fellow would come in. one or two steamship officers occupied a table close by, a frenchman was talking excitedly to a handsome spanish half-breed, and a fat, red-faced german with spectacles sat opposite a big glass of pale-colored beer. dick was not interested in these, but his glance grew keener as it rested on a spaniard, who had a contract at the irrigation works, sitting with one of fuller's storekeepers at the other end of the room. though there was no reason the spaniard should not meet the man in town, dick wondered what they were talking about, particularly since they had chosen a table away from everybody else. the man he wanted did not come, and by and by he determined to look for him in the hotel. he went up an outside staircase from the patio, round which the building ran, and had reached a balcony when he met ida fuller coming down. she stopped with a smile. "i am rather glad to see you," she said. "my father, who went on board the american boat, has not come back as he promised, and the french lady he left me with has gone." "i'm going off to a cargo vessel to ask when they'll land our cement, and we might find out what is keeping mr. fuller, if you don't mind walking to the mole." they left the hotel and shortly afterwards reached the mole, which sheltered the shallow harbor where the cargo lighters were unloaded. the long, smooth swell broke in flashes of green and gold phosphorescence against the concrete wall, and the moon threw a broad, glittering track across the sea. there was a rattle of cranes and winches and a noisy tug was towing a row of barges towards the land. the measured thud of her engines broke through the splash of water flung off the lighters' bows as they lurched across the swell, and somebody on board was singing a spanish song. farther out, a mailboat's gently swaying hull blazed with electric light, and astern of her the reflection of a tramp steamer's cargo lamp quivered upon the sea. by and by, dick, who ascertained that fuller had not landed, hailed a steam launch, which came panting towards some steps. "i can put you on board the american boat, and bring you back if mr. fuller isn't there," he said, and when ida agreed, helped her into the launch. then he took the helm while the fireman started the engine, and the craft went noisily down the harbor. as they passed the end of the mole, dick changed his course, and the white town rose clear to view in the moonlight behind the sparkling fringe of surf. the flat-topped houses rose in tiers up a gentle slope, interspersed with feathery tufts of green and draped here and there with masses of creepers. narrow gaps of shadow opened between them, and the slender square towers of the cathedral dominated all, but in places a steep, red roof struck a picturesque but foreign note. "santa brigida has a romantic look at night," dick remarked. "somehow it reminds me of pictures of the east." "that is not very strange," ida answered with a smile. "the flat roof and straight, unbroken wall is the oldest type of architecture. man naturally adopted it when he gave up the tent and began to build." "yes," said dick. "two uprights and a beam across! you couldn't get anything much simpler. but how did it come here?" "the arabs found it in palestine and took it to northern africa as the moslem conquest spread. the cube, however, isn't beautiful, and the moors elaborated it, as the greeks had done, but in a different way. the latter broke the square from the cornices and pillars; the moors with the saracenic arch, minarets, and fretted stone, and then forced their model upon spain. still the primitive type survives longest and the spaniards brought that to the new world." "no doubt, it's the explanation. but the high, red roofs yonder aren't moorish. the flat top would suit the dry east, but these indicate a country where they need a pitch that will shed the rain and snow. in fact one would imagine that the original model came from germany." "it really did. spain was overrun by the visigoths, who were teutons." "well," said dick, "this is interesting. i'm not an architect, but construction's my business, as well as my hobby." "then don't you think you are a fortunate man?" "in a sense, perhaps," dick answered. "still, that's no reason you should be bored for my entertainment." he paused and resumed: "i'm grateful because you mean to be kind, as you were the night i met you first at the tent. although you had heard my story, i saw you wanted to make me feel i was being given a fresh start." ida studied him with a thoughtful calm that he found embarrassing. "perhaps i did, but suppose we talk about something else." "very well. if it's not bad form, i wasn't in the least astonished by your lecture about the roofs, because one finds your people have a breadth of knowledge that's remarkable. i once showed an old abbey near our place at home to some american tourists, and soon saw they knew more about its history than i did. there was a girl of seventeen who corrected me once or twice, and when i went to the library i found that she was right. the curious thing is that you're, so to speak, rather parochial with it all. one of my american employers treated me pretty well until he had to make some changes in his business. took me to his house now and then, and i found his wife and daughters knew the old french and italian cities. yet they thought them far behind marlin bluff, which is really a horribly ugly place." "i know it," said ida, laughing. "still, the physical attractiveness of a town isn't it's only charm. besides, are you sure you don't mean patriotic when you say parochial? you ought to sympathize with the former feeling." "i don't know. patriotism is difficult when your country has no use for you." ida did not reply, and it was a few minutes later when she said: "i'm glad i met you to-night, because we go home soon and there's a favor i want to ask. my brother is coming out to take a post on the irrigation work and i want you to look after him." "but he mayn't like being looked after, and it's very possible he knows more about the work than i do. i've only had a military training." "jake has had no training at all, and is three or four years younger than i think you are." "then, of course, i'll be glad to teach him all i can." "that isn't exactly what i mean, although we want him to learn as much as possible about engineering." "i don't see what else i could teach him." ida smiled. "then i must explain. jake is rash and fond of excitement and gay society. he makes friends easily and trusts those he likes, but this has some drawbacks because his confidence is often misplaced. now i don't think you would find it difficult to gain some influence over him." "and what would you expect me to do afterwards?" "you might begin by trying to make him see how interesting his new occupation is." "that might be harder than you think," dick replied. "molding concrete and digging irrigation ditches have a fascination for me, but i dare say it's an unusual taste. your brother mightn't like weighing cement in the hot mixing sheds or dragging a measuring chain about in the sun." "it's very possible," ida agreed with a hint of dryness. "i want you to show him what it means; make him feel the sense of power over material. jake's rather boyish, and a boy loves to fire a gun because something startling happens in obedience to his will when he pulls the trigger. isn't it much the same when one gives the orders that shatter massive rocks and move ponderous stones? however, that's not all. i want you to keep him at the dam and prevent his making undesirable friends." "though it's not the thing i'm cut out for, i'll try," said dick, with some hesitation. "i'm surprised that you should put your brother in my charge, after what you know about me." "you were unfortunate, negligent, perhaps, for once." "the trouble is that my friends and relations seemed to think me dishonest. at least, they believed that my getting into disgrace was quite as bad." "i don't," said ida calmly. "what i ask will need some tact, but if you'll promise to look after jake, i shall feel satisfied." dick was silent for the next few moments, watching the phosphorescent foam stream back from the launch's bows. then he said: "thank you, miss fuller. in a way, it's embarrassing to feel you trust me; but i'll do what i can to deserve it." three or four minutes afterwards the launch steamed round the liner's stern and ran into the gloom beneath her tall side. there was a blaze of light above that fell upon the farthest off of the row of boats, past which the launch ran with her engine stopped, and the dark water broke into a fiery sparkle as the swell lapped the steamer's plates. a man came down the ladder when the launch jarred against its foot, and ida, finding that fuller was still on board, went up while dick steamed across to the cargo-boat that lay with winches hammering not far off. after talking to her mate, he returned to the harbor, and when he landed, lighted a cigarette and studied some alterations that were being made at the landward end of the mole. he had noticed the work as he passed with ida, but was now able to examine it. a number of concrete blocks and cement bags were lying about. beckoning a peon who seemed to be the watchman, dick gave him a cigarette and asked: "how far are they going to re-face the mole?" "as far as the post yonder, señor." it was obvious that a large quantity of cement would be required and dick resumed: "who is doing the work?" "don ramon oliva." dick hid his interest. ramon oliva was the man he had seen talking to fuller's storekeeper at the hotel. "where does one buy cement in this town?" "señor vaz, the merchant, sells it now and then." dick let the peon go, and leaving the mole, found vaz in a café. sitting down at his table he asked: "do you keep cement in your warehouse?" "sometimes," said the other; "when work it is required for is going on. but i sold the last i had two or three months ago." "i believe we run short now and then, but we have a big lot being landed now. as our sheds will be pretty full, i could let you have a quantity if you like." "thanks, but no," said the merchant. "i do not think anybody would buy it from me for some time, and it is bad to keep when one's store is damp." dick, who drank a glass of wine with him, went away in a thoughtful mood. he wondered where don ramon got his cement, and meant to find out, though he saw that caution would be needed. he owed much to fuller and had made his master's business his. now it looked as if fuller were being robbed and although he had, no doubt, cunning rogues to deal with, dick determined that the thing must be stopped. when he returned to the dam he went to bethune's hut and found him lying in his hammock. "whose duty is it to check the storekeeper's lists?" he asked. "i suppose you strike a balance between the goods delivered him and the stuff he hands out for use on the works." "it's done, of course," said bethune. "i haven't examined the books myself; françois, the creole clerk, is responsible. however, one would imagine you had duties enough without taking up another, but if you mean to do so, you had better begin soon. your energy won't stand this climate long." "i don't know what i may do yet," dick replied. "still, it struck me that our stores might be sold in the town." "i expect they are, to some extent," bethune carelessly agreed. "that kind of thing is hard to stop anywhere, and these folks are very smart at petty pilfering. anyway, you might get yourself into trouble by interfering and any small theft you stopped probably wouldn't pay for the time you'd have to spend on the job. leave it alone, and take matters as you find them, is my advice." dick talked about something else, but when he went back to his shack he knew what he meant to do. chapter viii an informal court one morning, soon after fuller and his daughter had gone home, dick stood at a table in the testing house behind the mixing sheds. the small, galvanized iron building shook with the throb of engines and rattle of machinery, and now and then a shower of cinders pattered upon the roof; for the big mill that ground up the concrete was working across the road. the lattice shutters were closed, for the sake of privacy, and kept out the glare, though they could not keep out the heat, which soaked through the thin, iron walls, and dick's face was wet with perspiration as he arranged a number of small concrete blocks. some of these were broken, and some partly crushed. delicate scales and glass measures occupied a neighboring shelf, and a big steel apparatus that looked rather like a lever weighing machine stood in the shadow. where the draught that came through the lattices flowed across the room, bethune lounged in a canvas chair, and another man, with a quiet, sunburned face, sat behind him. this was stuyvesant, whose authority was only second to fuller's. "brandon seems to have taken a good deal of trouble, but this kind of investigation needs the strictest accuracy, and we haven't the best of testing apparatus," bethune remarked. "i expect he'll allow that the results he has got may be to some extent misleading, and i doubt if it's worth while to go on with the matter. are you sure you have made no mistakes, dick?" dick pondered for a few moments. if he were right, as he thought he was, the statements he had to make would lead to the discharge of the sub-contractor. remembering his own disgrace, he shrank from condemning another. he knew what he had suffered, and the man might be innocent although his guilt seemed plain. it was a hateful situation, but his duty was to protect his master's interests and he could not see him robbed. "you can check my calculations," he answered quietly. "that's so," agreed stuyvesant, who added with a dry smile as he noted bethune's disapproving look: "we can decide about going on with the thing when we have heard brandon." "very well," said dick, giving him some papers, and then indicated two different rows of the small concrete blocks. "these marked a were made from cement in our store; the lot b from some i took from oliva's stock on the mole. they were subjected to the same compressive, shearing, and absorbent tests, and you'll see that there's very little difference in the results. the quality of standard makes of cement is, no doubt, much alike, but you wouldn't expect to find that of two different brands identical. my contention is that the blocks were made from the same stuff." stuyvesant crossed the floor and measured the blocks with a micrometer gage, after which he filled two of the graduated glass measures and then weighed the water. "well?" he said to bethune, who had picked up dick's calculations. "the figures are right; he's only out in a small decimal." stuyvesant took the papers and compared them with a printed form he produced from his pocket. "they correspond with the tests the maker claims his stuff will stand, and we can take it that they're accurate. still, this doesn't prove that oliva stole the cement from us. the particular make is popular on this coast, and he may have bought a quantity from somebody else. did you examine the bags on the mole, brandon?" "no," said dick, "i had to get my samples in the dark. if oliva bought the cement, he must have kept it for some time, because the only man in the town who stocks it sold the last he had three months ago. the next thing is our storekeeper's tally showing the number of bags delivered to him. i sat up half the night trying to balance this against what he handed out and could make nothing of the entries." "let me see," said bethune, and lighted a cigarette when dick handed him a book, and a bundle of small, numbered forms. "you can talk, if you like," he added as he sharpened a pencil. dick moved restlessly up and down the floor, examining the testing apparatus, but he said nothing, and stuyvesant did not speak. he was a reserved and thoughtful man. after a time, bethune threw the papers on the table. "françois isn't much of a bookkeeper," he remarked. "one or two of the delivery slips have been entered twice, and at first i suspected he might have conspired with oliva. still, that's against my notion of his character, and i find he's missed booking stuff that had been given out, which, of course, wouldn't have suited the other's plans." "you can generally count on a frenchman's honesty," stuyvesant observed. "but do you make the deliveries ex-store tally with what went in?" "i don't," said bethune dryly. "here's the balance i struck. it shows the storekeeper is a good many bags short." he passed the paper across, and dick examined it with surprise. "you have worked this out already from the muddled and blotted entries! do you think you've got it right?" "i'm sure," said bethune, smiling. "i'll prove it if you like. we know how much cement went into stock. how many molded blocks of the top course have we put down at the dam?" dick told him, and after a few minutes' calculation bethune looked up. "then here you are! our concrete's a standard density; we know the weight of water and sand and what to allow for evaporation. you see my figures agree very closely with the total delivery ex-store." they did so, and dick no longer wondered how bethune, who ostentatiously declined to let his work interfere with his comfort, held his post. the man thought in numbers, using the figures, as one used words, to express his knowledge rather than as a means of obtaining it by calculation. dick imagined this was genius. "well," said stuyvesant, "i guess we had better send for the storekeeper next." "get it over," agreed bethune. "it's an unpleasant job." dick sent a half-naked peon to look for the man, and was sensible of some nervous strain as he waited for his return. he hated the task he had undertaken, but it must be carried out. bethune, who had at first tried to discourage him, now looked interested, and dick saw that stuyvesant was resolute. in the meanwhile, the shed had grown suffocatingly hot, his face and hands were wet with perspiration, and the rumble of machinery made his head ache. he lighted a cigarette, but the tobacco tasted bitter and he threw it away. then there were footsteps outside and stuyvesant turned to him. "we leave you to put the thing through. you're prosecutor." dick braced himself as a man came in and stood by the table, looking at the others suspiciously. he was an american, but his face was heavy and rather sullen, and his white clothes were smeared with dust. "we have been examining your stock-book," said dick. "it's badly kept." the fellow gave him a quick glance. "mr. fuller knows i'm not smart at figuring, and if you want the books neat, you'll have to get me a better clerk. anyhow, i've my own tally and allow i can tell you what stuff i get and where it goes." "that is satisfactory. look at this list and tell me where the cement you're short of has gone." "into the mixing shed, i guess," said the other with a half-defiant frown. "then it didn't come out. we haven't got the concrete at the dam. are there any full bags not accounted for in the shed?" "no, sir. you ought to know the bags are skipped right into the tank as the mill grinds up the mush." "very well. perhaps you'd better consult your private tally and see if it throws any light upon the matter." the man took out a note-book and while he studied it bethune asked, "will you let me have the book?" "i guess not," said the other, who shut the book with a snap, and then turned and confronted dick. "i want to know why you're getting after me!" "it's fairly plain. you're responsible for the stores and can't tell us what has become of a quantity of the goods." "suppose i own up that my tally's got mixed?" "then you'd show yourself unfit for your job; but that is not the worst. if you had made a mistake the bags wouldn't vanish. you had the cement, it isn't in the store and hasn't reached us in the form of concrete. it must have gone somewhere." "where do you reckon it went, if it wasn't into the mixing shed?" "to the santa brigida mole," dick answered quietly, and noting the man's abrupt movement, went on: "what were you talking to ramon oliva about at the hotel magellan?" the storekeeper did not reply, but the anger and confusion in his face were plain, and dick turned to the others. "i think we'll send for oliva," said stuyvesant. "keep this fellow here until he comes." oliva entered tranquilly, though his black eyes got very keen when he glanced at his sullen accomplice. he was picturesquely dressed, with a black silk sash round his waist and a big mexican sombrero. taking out a cigarette, he remarked that it was unusually hot. "you are doing some work on the town mole," dick said to him. "where did you get the cement?" "i bought it," oliva answered, with a surprised look. "from whom?" "a merchant at anagas, down the coast. but, señores, my contract on the mole is a matter for the port officials. i do not see the object of these questions." "you had better answer them," stuyvesant remarked, and signed dick to go on. dick paused for a moment or two, remembering how he had confronted his judges in a tent in an english valley. the scene came back with poignant distinctness. he could hear the river brawling among the stones, and feel his colonel's stern, condemning gaze fixed upon his face. for all that, his tone was resolute as he asked: "what was the brand of the cement you bought?" "the _tenax_, señor," oliva answered with a defiant smile. then dick turned to the others with a gesture which implied that there was no more to be said, and quietly sat down. _tenax_ was not the brand that fuller used, and its different properties would have appeared in the tests. the sub-contractor had betrayed himself by the lie, and his accomplice looked at him with disgust. "you've given the thing away," he growled. "think they don't know what cement is? now they have you fixed!" there was silence for the next minute while stuyvesant studied some figures in his pocket-book. then he wrote upon a leaf, which he tore out and told dick to give it to oliva. "here's a rough statement of your account up to the end of last month, don ramon," he said. "you can check it and afterwards hand the pay-clerk a formal bill, brought up to date, but you'll notice i have charged you with a quantity of cement that's missing from our store. your engagement with mr. fuller ends to-day." oliva spread out his hands with a dramatic gesture. "señores, this is a scandal, a grand injustice! you understand it will ruin me? it is impossible that i submit." "very well. we'll put the matter into the hands of the _justicia_." "it is equal," oliva declared with passion. "you have me marked as a thief. the port officials give me no more work and my friends talk. at the _justicia_ all the world hears my defense." "as you like," said stuyvesant, but the storekeeper turned to oliva with a contemptuous grin. "i allow you're not such a blamed fool," he remarked. "take the chance they've given you and get from under before the roof falls in." oliva pondered for a few moments, his eyes fixed on stuyvesant's unmoved face, and then shrugged with an air of injured resignation. "it is a grand scandal, but i make my bill." he moved slowly to the door, but paused as he reached it, and gave dick a quick, malignant glance. then he went out and the storekeeper asked stuyvesant: "what are you going to do with me?" "fire you right now. go along to the pay-clerk and give him your time. i don't know if that's all we ought to do; but we'll be satisfied if you and your partner get off this camp." "i'll quit," said the storekeeper, who turned to dick. "you're a smart kid, but we'd have bluffed you all right if the fool had allowed he used the same cement." then he followed oliva, and stuyvesant got up. "that was oliva's mistake," he remarked. "i saw where you were leading him and you put the questions well. now, however, you'll have to take on his duties until we get another man." they left the testing-house, and as bethune and dick walked up the valley the former said: "it's my opinion that you were imprudent in one respect. you showed the fellows that it was you who found them out. it might have been better if you had, so to speak, divided the responsibility." "they've gone, and that's the most important thing," dick rejoined. "from the works. it doesn't follow that they'll quit santa brigida. payne, the storekeeper, is of course an american tough, but i don't think he'll make trouble. he'd have robbed us cheerfully, but i expect he'll take his being found out as a risk of the game; besides, stuyvesant will have to ship him home if he asks for his passage. but i didn't like the look oliva gave you. these dago half-breeds are a revengeful lot." "i'm not in the town often and i'll be careful if i go there after dark. to tell the truth, i didn't want to interfere, but i couldn't let the rogues go on with their stealing." "i suppose not," bethune agreed. "the trouble about doing your duty is that it often costs you something." chapter ix jake fuller a month after fuller sailed his son arrived at santa brigida, and dick, who met him on the mole, got something of a surprise when a handsome youth landed and came straight towards him. jake fuller was obviously very young, but had an ease of manner and a calm self-confidence that would have done credit to an elderly man of the world. his clothes showed nice taste, and there was nothing about him to indicate the reckless scapegrace dick had expected. "you're brandon, of course," he said as he shook hands. "glad to meet you. knew you a quarter of a mile off." "how's that?" dick asked. "you haven't seen me before." "for one thing, you're stamped britisher; then you had a kind of determined look, as if you'd come down to yank me right off to the irrigation ditches before i'd time to run loose in the city. matter of duty to you, and you were going to put it through." dick said nothing, and jake laughed. "well, that's all right; i guess we'll hit it! and now we'll put out when you like. i laid in a pretty good breakfast on the boat; i like smart service and a well-chosen menu, and don't suppose you have either at the camp." "they might be better," dick agreed, feeling that he had promised miss fuller more than he might be able to perform. then he told a peon to take jake's luggage and led the way to a mule carriage at the end of the mole. "i didn't expect to ride in a transfer-wagon," jake remarked. "haven't you any autos yet? if not, i'll indent for one when the next stock order goes home." "perhaps you had better wait until you see the roads." "you're surely british," jake replied. "if you'd been an american, you'd get the car first and make the roads fit in. however, you might tell the ancient dago to get a move on." dick was silent for the next few minutes. on the whole, he thought he would like fuller, and made some allowance for the excitement he, no doubt, felt at beginning his career in a foreign country, but none for any wish to impress his companion. it was unlikely that the self-possessed lad would care what dick thought of him, although it looked as if he meant to be friendly. then as the sweating mules slowly climbed the rutted track out of the town dick began to point out the changing level of the land, the ravines, or barrancos, that formed natural drainage channels from the high watershed, and the influence of drought and moisture on the cultivation. jake showed a polite interest, but inquired what amusements were to be had in santa brigida, about which dick gave him as little information as possible. if he had understood miss fuller's hints, the spanish city was no place for her brother. jake spent the day following dick about the works and made no complaint about the heat and dust, though he frowned when a shower of cement or a splash of oil fell upon his clothes. it was obvious that he knew nothing about engineering, but the questions he asked indicated keen intelligence and dick was satisfied. a room adjoining the latter's quarters had been prepared for the newcomer, and they sat, smoking, on the veranda after the evening meal. "do you think you'll like your work?" dick asked. "i've got to like it, and it might be worse. since i'm not allowed to draw or model things, i can make them, and i guess that's another form of the same talent, though it's considerably less interesting than the first." "but perhaps more useful," dick suggested. "well, i don't know. our taste is pretty barbarous, as a rule, and you can't claim that yours is more advanced, but i allow that the spaniards who built santa brigida had an eye for line and color. these dagos have a gift we lack; you can see it in the way they wear their clothes. my notion is that it's some use to teach your countrymen to admire beauty and grace. we're great at making things, but there's no particular need to make them ugly." "then you're a bit of an artist?" "i meant to be a whole one and might have made good, although the old man has not much use for art. unfortunately, however, i felt i had to kick against the conventionality of the life i led and the protest i put up was a little too vigorous. it made trouble, and in consequence, my folks decided i'd better be an engineer. i couldn't follow their arguments, but had to acquiesce." "it's curious how you artists claim to be exempt from the usual rules, as if you were different from the rest of us." "we _are_ different," jake rejoined with a twinkle. "it's our business to see the truth of things, while you try to make it fit your formulas about what you think is most useful to yourself or society. a formula's like bad spectacles; it distorts the sight, and yours is plainly out of focus. for example, i guess you're satisfied with the white clothes you're wearing." "i don't know that it's important, but what's the matter with them?" "well," said jake, with a critical glance, "they're all wrong. now you've got good shoulders, your figure's well balanced, and i like the way you hold your head, but your tailor has spoiled every prominent line. i'll show you some time when i model you in clay." he paused and grinned. "i guess the roman sentinel pose would suit you best, as i noted it when you stood on the mole waiting for me, determined to do your duty at any cost. besides, there is something of the soldier about you." "i wish you'd stop rotting," said dick with a touch of awkwardness, though he saw that jake knew nothing about his leaving the army. "was it your father's notion that you should be an engineer?" "he thinks so," jake answered, grinning. "my opinion is that you have to thank my sister ida for the job of looking after me. she made this her business until i went to yale, when, of course, she lost control. ida has a weakness for managing people, for their good, but you ought to take it as a delicate compliment that she passed me on to you." "after all, miss fuller's age must be nearly the same as mine," dick remarked. "i see what you mean, but in some respects she's much older. in fact, i guess i could give you a year or two myself. but it seems to me you've kind of wilted since we began to talk. you've gone slack and your eyes look heavy. say, i'm sorry if i've made you tired." "i don't think you had much to do with it," said dick. "my head aches and i've a shivery feeling that came on about this time last night. a touch of malarial fever, perhaps; they get it now and then in the town, though we ought to be free from it on the hill. anyhow, if you don't mind, i'll get off to bed." he went away, and jake looked about the veranda and the room that opened on to it. there was a canvas chair or two, a folding table, a large drawing board on a trestle frame, and two cheap, tin lamps. it was obvious that dick thought of nothing much except his work and had a spartan disregard for comfort. "a good sort, but it's concrete first and last with him," jake remarked. "guess i've got to start by making this shack fit for a white man to live in." dick passed a restless night, but felt better when he began his work on the dam next morning, though he did not touch the small hard roll and black coffee his colored steward had put ready for him. the air was fresh, the jungle that rolled down the hill glittered with dew, and the rays of the red sun had, so far, only a pleasant warmth. cranes were rattling, locomotives snorted as they moved the ponderous concrete blocks and hauled away loads of earth, and a crowd of picturesque figures were busy about the dam. some wore dirty white cotton and ragged crimson sashes; the dark limbs of others projected from garments of vivid color. dick drove the men as hard as he was able. they worked well, chattering and laughing, in the early morning, and there was much to be done, because oliva's dismissal had made a difference. the men flagged, as the sun got higher, and at length dick sat down in the thin shade of a tree. the light was now intense, the curving dam gleamed a dazzling pearly-gray through a quivering radiance, and the water that had gathered behind it shone like molten silver. one could imagine that the pools reflected heat as well as light. dick's eyes ached, and for a few minutes he let them rest upon the glossy, green jungle, and the belts of cultivation down the hill. then he roused himself, because he must watch what was going on. the great blocks must be properly fitted into place, and one could not trust the dusky laborers to use the care that was needed; besides, they were getting slack, and the fresh blocks the locomotives brought would soon begin to accumulate. since this would mean extra handling and consequent expense, the track must be kept clear. still, dick wished noon would come, for his head ached badly and he felt the heat as he had not felt it before. it was hard to force himself to begin again after the short mid-day rest, but he became a little more vigorous as the sun sank and the shadow of the black cordillera lengthened across the valley. after dinner, when he lounged on the veranda, the headache and lassitude returned, and he listened to jake's talk vacantly and soon went to bed. he knew he was not well, but while malarial fever was not unusual in the neighborhood people seldom took it in a virulent form, and as there was a good doctor at santa brigida he determined to consult him when he had occasion to visit the town. as it happened, a crane broke next day, and when evening came he set off to inquire if new castings could be made for it in the spanish foundry. while he waited for an engine to take him down the line, jake announced his intention of coming. "i've never been round a spanish town," he said. "you're not going round a spanish town now, if i can prevent it," dick rejoined. "however, i suppose i can't order you off your father's locomotive." jake smiled. "you can resent my taking the line you hint at when i've done so, but i guess one must make allowances. you're getting the fever badly, partner." "it's the heat," dick answered in an apologetic tone. "anyhow, santa brigida's a dirty, uninteresting place." "i expect your ideas of what's interesting are different from mine. concrete's all right in the daytime, though you can have too much of it then, but you want to please your eye and relax your brain at night." "i was afraid of something of the kind. but here's the locomotive. get up, if you're coming." dick was silent as the engine jolted down the track, for he was feverish and his companion's talk irritated him. besides, he had promised ida fuller to take care of the lad and knew something of the license that ruled in the city. jake seemed to claim the supposititious privileges of the artistic temperament, and there were wine-shops, gamblers, pretty creole girls with easy manners, and ragged desperados who carried knives, in santa brigida. in fact, it offered too many opportunities for romantic adventures. in consequence, dick went to the hotel magellan, which they reached after walking from the end of the line, and took jake into the bar. "you had better stop here; i won't be longer than i can help," he said. "they'll make you a rather nice iced drink of canary _tinto_." "just so," jake replied. "_tinto's_ a thin, sour claret, isn't it? in new york not long ago you could get iced buttermilk. can't say i was fond of it, but i reckon it's as exhilarating as the other stuff." dick left him with some misgivings and went about his business. it was eight o'clock in the evening and the foundry would be closed, but he knew where the manager lived and went to his house, which was situated in the older part of the city. he had not taken jake because he had to pass some of the less reputable cafés and gambling dens and thought it undesirable that the lad should know where they were. the foundry manager was not at home, but a languishing young woman with a thickly powdered face, who called her mother before she conferred with dick, told him where don tomas had gone, and dick set off again in search of the café she named. a half moon hung low in the clear sky, but, for the most part, its light only reached a short distance down the white and yellow fronts of the flat-topped houses. these got light and air from the central courtyard, or patio, and the outer walls were only pierced by one or two very narrow windows at some height from the ground. the openings were marked here and there by a faint glow from within, which was often broken by a shadowy female form leaning against the bars and speaking softly to another figure on the pavement below. there were few street lamps, and in places the houses crowded in upon the narrow strip of gloom through which dick picked his way with echoing steps. most of the citizens were in the plaza, and the streets were quiet except for the measured beat of the surf and the distant music of the band. a smell of rancid oil and garlic, mingled with the strong perfumes spanish women use, hung about the buildings, but now and then a puff of cooler air flowed through a dark opening and brought with it the keen freshness of the sea. once the melancholy note of a guitar came down from a roof and somebody began to sing in a voice that quivered with fantastic tremolos. dick went carefully, keeping as far as possible away from the walls. in santa brigida, all white men were supposed to be rich, and the honesty of the darker part of its mixed population was open to doubt. besides, he had learned that the fair-skinned northerners were disliked. they brought money, which was needed, into the country, but they also brought machines and business methods that threatened to disturb the tranquillity the latin half-breed enjoyed. the latter must be beaten in industrial strife and, exchanging independence for higher wages, become subject to a more vigorous, mercantile race. the half-breeds seemed to know this, and regarded the foreigners with jealous eyes. for all that, dick carried no weapons. a pistol large enough to be of use was an awkward thing to hide, and he agreed with bethune that to wear it ostentatiously was more likely to provoke than avoid attack. once he thought he was followed, but when he stopped to look round, the shadowy figure behind turned into a side street, and he presently found the man he was in search of in a quiet café. he spent some time explaining the drawings of the patterns that would be required before don tomas undertook to make the castings, and then languidly leaned back in his chair. his head had begun to ache again and he felt strangely limp and tired. the fever was returning, as it did at night, but he roused himself by and by and set off to visit the doctor. on his way he passed the casino and, to his surprise, saw jake coming down the steps. dick frowned when they met. "how did you get in?" he asked. "it's the rule for somebody to put your name down on your first visit." "so it seemed," said jake. "there are, however, ways of getting over such difficulties, and a dollar goes some distance in this country; much farther, in fact, than it does in ours." "it's some consolation to think you've had to pay for your amusement," dick answered sourly. jake smiled. "on the contrary, i found it profitable. you make a mistake that's common with serious folks, by taking it for granted that a cheerful character marks a fool." he put his hand in his pocket and brought it out filled with silver coin. "say, what do you think of this?" "put the money back," dick said sharply, for there was a second-rate wine-shop not far off and a group of untidy half-breeds lounged about its front. jake, however, took out another handful of silver. "my luck was pretty good; i reckon it says something for me that i knew when to stop." he jingled the money as he passed the wine-shop, and dick, looking back, thought one of the men inside got up, but nobody seemed to be following them when they turned into another street. this was the nearest way to the doctor's, but it was dark and narrow, and dick did not like its look. "keep in the middle," he warned jake. they were near the end of the street when two men came out of an arch and waited for them. "have you a match, señor?" one who held a cigarette in his hand asked. "no," said dick suspiciously. "keep back!" "but it is only a match we want," said the other, and jake stopped. "what's the matter with giving him one? wait till i get my box." he gave it to the fellow, who struck a match, and after lighting his cigarette held it so that the faint illumination touched dick's face. "thanks, señor," said the half-breed, who turned to his companion as he added softly in castilian: "the other." dick understood. it was not jake but himself who was threatened; and he thought he knew why. "look out for that fellow, jake!" he cried. "get back to the wall!" jake, to dick's relief, did as he was told, but next moment another man ran out of the arch, and somebody in the darkness called out in castilian. dick thought he knew the voice; but the men were behind him now, and he turned to face them. the nearest had his hand at his ragged sash, and dick saw that he must act before the long spanish knife came out. he struck hard, leaning forward as he did so, and the man reeled back; but the other two closed with him, and although his knuckles jarred as a second blow got home, he felt a stinging pain high up in his side. his breathing suddenly got difficult, but as he staggered towards the wall he saw jake dash his soft hat in the face of another antagonist and spring upon the fellow. there seemed to be four men round them and one was like oliva, the contractor; but dick's sight was going and he had a fit of coughing that was horribly painful. he heard jake shout and footsteps farther up the street, and tried to lean against the house for support, but slipped and fell upon the pavement. he could neither see nor hear well, but made out that his assailants had slunk away and men were running towards jake, who stood, calling for help, in the middle of the street. shortly afterwards a group of dark figures gathered round and he heard confused voices. he thought jake knelt down and tried to lift him, but this brought on a stab of burning pain and he knew nothing more. chapter x la mignonne a cool sea breeze blew through the half-opened lattice, and a ray of sunshine quivered upon the ocher-colored wall, when dick awoke from a refreshing sleep. he felt helplessly weak, and his side, which was covered by a stiff bandage, hurt him when he moved, but his head was clear at last and he languidly looked about. the room was spacious, but rather bare. there was no carpet, but a rug made a blotch of cool green on the smooth, dark floor. two or three religious pictures hung upon the wall and he noted how the soft blue of the virgin's dress harmonized with the yellow background. an arch at one end was covered by a leather curtain like those in old spanish churches, but it had been partly drawn back to let the air circulate. outside the hooked-back lattice he saw the rails of a balcony, and across the narrow patio a purple creeper spread about a dazzling white wall. all this was vaguely familiar, because it was some days since dick had recovered partial consciousness, though he had been too feeble to notice his surroundings much or find out where he was. now he studied the room with languid interest as he tried to remember what had led to his being brought there. the scanty furniture was dark and old; and he knew the wrinkled, brown-faced woman in black who sat by the window with a dark shawl wound round her head. she had a place in his confused memories; as had another woman with a curious lifeless face and an unusual dress, who had once or twice lifted him and done something to his bandages. still, it was not of her dick was thinking. there had been somebody else, brighter and fresher than either, who sat beside him when he lay in fevered pain and sometimes stole in and vanished after a pitiful glance. a bunch of flowers stood upon the table; and their scent mingled with the faint smell of decay that hung about the room. lying still, dick heard the leather curtain rustle softly in the draught, muffled sounds of traffic, and the drowsy murmur of the surf. its rhythmic beat was soothing and he thought he could smell the sea. by and by he made an abrupt move that hurt him as a voice floated into the room. it was singularly clear and sweet, and he thought he knew it, as he seemed to know the song, but could not catch the words and the singing stopped. then light footsteps passed the arch and there was silence again. "who's that?" he asked with an energy he had not been capable of until then. "_la mignonne_," said the old woman with a smile that showed her thick, red lips and firm white teeth. "and who's mignonne?" "_la, la!_" said the woman soothingly. "_c'est ma mignonne._ but you jess go to sleep again." "how can i go to sleep when i'm not sleepy and you won't tell me what i want to know?" dick grumbled, but the woman raised her hand and began to sing an old plantation song. "i'm not a child," he protested weakly. "but that's rather nice." closing his eyes, he tried to think. his nurse was not a spanish mulatto, as her dark dress suggested. it was more likely that she came from louisiana, where the old french stock had not died out; but dick felt puzzled. she had spoken, obviously with affection, of _ma mignonne_; but he was sure the singer was no child of hers. there was no creole accent in that clear voice, and the steps he heard were light. the feet that had passed his door were small and arched; not flat like a negro's. he had seen feet of the former kind slip on an iron staircase and brush, in pretty satin shoes, across a lawn on which the moonlight fell. besides, a girl whose skin was fair and whose movements were strangely graceful had flitted about his room. while he puzzled over this he went to sleep and on waking saw with a start of pleasure jake sitting near his bed. his nurse had gone. "hullo!" he said. "i'm glad you've come. there are a lot of things i want to know." "the trouble is i've been ordered not to tell you much. it's a comfort to see you looking brighter." "i feel pretty well. but can you tell me where i am and how i got there?" "certainly. we'll take the last question first. somebody tore off a shutter and we carried you on it. i guess you know you got a dago's knife between your ribs." "i seem to remember something like that," said dick; who added with awkward gratitude: "i believe the brutes would have killed me if you hadn't been there." "it was a pretty near thing. does it strike you as curious that while you made yourself responsible for me i had to take care of you?" "you did so, anyhow," dick remarked with feeling. "but go on." "somebody brought a spanish doctor, who said you couldn't be moved much and must be taken into the nearest house, so we brought you here." "where is 'here'? that's what i want to know?" "my orders are not to let you talk. we've changed our positions now; you've got to listen. for all that, you ought to be thankful you're not in the santa brigida hospital, which was too far away. it's three hundred years old and smells older. felt as if you could bake bricks in it, and no air gets in." "but what were you doing at the hospital?" "i went to see a fellow who told me he'd been fired out of our camp. he came up just after the dago knifed you, and knocked out the man i was grappling with, but got an ugly stab from one of the gang. we didn't find this out until we had disposed of you. however, he's nearly all right and they'll let him out soon." "ah!" said dick. "that must be payne, the storekeeper. but, you see, i fired him. why did he interfere?" "i don't know. he said something about your being a white man and it was three to one." dick pondered this and then his thoughts resumed their former groove. "who's the mulatto woman in black?" "she's called lucille. a nice old thing, and seems to have looked after you well. when i came in she was singing you to sleep. voice all gone, of course, but i'd like to write down the song. it sounded like the genuine article." "what do you mean by the 'genuine article'?" "well, i think it was one of the plantation lullabies they used to sing before the war; not the imitation trash fourth-rate composers turned out in floods some years ago. that, of course, has no meaning, but the other expressed the spirit of the race. words quaint coon-english with a touch of real feeling; air something after the style of a camp-meeting hymn, and yet somehow african. in fact, it's unique music, but it's good." "hadn't i another nurse?" dick asked. jake laughed. "i ought to have remembered that you're not musical. there was a nursing sister of some religious order." "i don't mean a nun," dick persisted. "a girl came in now and then." "it's quite possible. some of them are sympathetic and some are curious. no doubt, you were an interesting patient; anyhow, you gave the spanish doctor plenty trouble. he was rather anxious for a time; the fever you had before the dago stabbed you complicated things." jake paused and looked at his watch. "now i've got to quit. i had orders not to stay long, but i'll come back soon to see how you're getting on." dick let him go and lay still, thinking drowsily. jake had apparently not meant to answer his questions. he wanted to know where he was and had not been told. it looked as if his comrade had been warned not to enlighten him; but there was no reason for this. above all, he wanted to know who was the girl with the sweet voice and light step. jake, who had admitted that she might have been in his room, had, no doubt, seen her, and dick could not understand why he should refuse to speak of her. while he puzzled about it he went to sleep again. it was dark when he awoke, and perhaps he was feverish or his brain was weakened by illness, for it reproduced past scenes that were mysteriously connected with the present. he was in a strange house in santa brigida, for he remarked the shadowy creeper on the wall and a pool of moonlight on the dark floor of his room. yet the cornfields in an english valley, through which he drove his motor bicycle, seemed more real, and he could see the rows of stocked sheaves stretch back from the hedgerows he sped past. something sinister and threatening awaited him at the end of the journey, but he could not tell what it was. then the cornfields vanished and he was crossing a quiet, walled garden with a girl at his side. he remembered how the moonlight shone through the branches of a tree and fell in silver, splashes on her white dress. her face was in the shadow, but he knew it well. after a time he felt thirsty, and moving his head looked feebly about the room. a slender, white figure sat near the wall, and he started, because this must be the girl he had heard singing. "i wonder if you could get me something to drink?" he said. the girl rose and he watched her intently as she came towards him with a glass. when she entered the moonlight his heart gave a sudden throb. "clare, miss kenwardine!" he said, and awkwardly raised himself on his arm. "yes," she said, "i am clare kenwardine. but drink this; then i'll put the pillows straight and you must keep still." dick drained the glass and lay down again, for he was weaker than he thought. "thanks! don't go back into the dark. you have been here all the time? i mean, since i came." "as you were seldom quite conscious until this morning, how did you know?" "i didn't know, in a way, and yet i did. there was somebody about who made me think of england, and then, you see, i heard you sing." "still," she said, smiling, "i don't quite understand." "don't you?" said dick, who felt he must make things plain. "well, you stole in and out and sat here sometimes when lucille was tired. i didn't exactly notice you--perhaps i was too ill--but i felt you were there, and that was comforting." "and yet you are surprised to see me now!" "i can't have explained it properly. i didn't know you were miss kenwardine; but i felt i knew you and kept trying to remember, but i was feverish and my mind wouldn't take your image in. for all that, something told me it was really there already, and i'd be able to recognize it if i waited. it was like a photograph that wasn't developed." "you're feverish now," clare answered quietly. "i mustn't let you talk so much." "you're as bad as jake; he wouldn't answer my questions," dick grumbled. "then, you see, i want to talk." clare laughed, as if she found it a relief to do so. "that doesn't matter if it will do you harm." "i'll be very quiet," dick pleaded. "i'll only speak a word or two now and then. but don't go away!" clare sat down, and after a few minutes dick resumed: "you passed my door to-day, and it's curious that i knew your step, though, if you can understand, without actually recognizing it. it was as if i was dreaming something that was real. the worst of being ill is that your brain gets working independently, bringing things up on its own account, without your telling it. anyhow, i remembered the iron steps with the glow of the window through the curtain, and how you slipped--you wore little white shoes, and the moonlight shone through the branches on your dress." he broke off and frowned, for a vague, unpleasant memory obtruded itself. something that had had disastrous consequences had happened in the quiet garden, but he could not remember what it was. "why did lucille call you _ma mignonne_?" he asked. "doesn't it mean a petted child?" "not always. she was my nurse when i was young." "then you have lived here before?" "not here, but in a country where there are people like lucille, though it's long ago. but you mustn't speak another word. go to sleep at once!" "then stay where i can see you and i'll try," dick answered; and although he did not mean to do so, presently closed his eyes. clare waited until his quiet breathing showed that he was asleep, and then crossed the floor softly and stood looking down on him. there was light enough to see his face and it was worn and thin. his weakness moved her to pity, but there was something else. he had remembered that night in england, he knew her step and voice, and his rambling talk had caused her a thrill, for she remembered the night in england well. brandon had shielded her from a man whom she had good ground for wishing to avoid. he had, no doubt, not quite understood the situation, but had seen that she needed help and chivalrously offered it. she knew he could be trusted and had without much hesitation made her unconventional request. he had then been marked by strong vitality and cheerful confidence, but he was ill and helpless now, and his weakness appealed to her as his vigor had not done. he was, in a way, dependent on her, and clare felt glad this was so. she blushed as she smoothed the coverlet across his shoulders and then quietly stole away. there was no sea breeze next morning and the sun shone through a yellow haze that seemed to intensify the heat. the white walls reflected a curious subdued light that was more trying to the eyes than the usual glare, and the beat of the surf was slow and languid. the air was still and heavy, and dick's fever, which had been abating, recovered force. he was hot and irritable, and his restlessness did not vanish until clare came in at noon. "i've been watching for you since daybreak, and you might have come before," he said. "lucille means well, but she's clumsy. she doesn't help one to be quiet as you do." "you're not quiet," clare answered in a reproving tone. "lucille is a very good nurse; better than i am." "well," said dick in a thoughtful tone, "perhaps she is, in a way. she never upsets the medicine on my pillow, as you did the last time. the nasty stuff got into my hair----" clare raised her hand in remonstrance. "you really mustn't talk." "i'm going to talk," dick answered defiantly. "it's bad for me to keep puzzling over things, and i mean to get them straight. lucille's very patient, but she isn't soothing as you are. it rests one's eyes to look at you, but that's not altogether why i like you about. i expect it's because you knew i hadn't stolen those plans when everybody else thought i had. but then why did i tear your letter up?" clare made an abrupt movement. she knew he must be kept quiet and his brain was not working normally, but his statement was disturbing. "you tore it up?" she asked, with some color in her face. "yes," said dick in a puzzled voice, "i tore it all to bits. there was a reason, though i can't remember it. in fact, i can't remember anything to-day. but don't go off if i shut my eyes for a minute: it wouldn't be fair." clare turned her head, but except for this she did not move, and it was a relief when after a few disjointed remarks his voice died away. she was moved to pity, but for a few moments she had quivered in the grasp of another emotion. it was obvious that dick did not altogether know what he was saying, but he had shown her plainly the place she had in his mind, and she knew she would not like to lose it. half an hour later lucille came in quietly and clare went away. chapter xi clare gets a shock for a week the stagnant heat brooded over santa brigida, sucking up the citizens' energy and leaving limp depression. steaming showers that broke at intervals filled the air with an enervating damp, and the nights were worse than the days. no draught crept through the slits of windows into the darkened houses, and the musty smell that characterizes old spanish cities gathered in the patios and sweltering rooms. this reacted upon dick, who had a bad relapse, and for some days caused his nurses grave anxiety. there was sickness in the town and the doctor could spare but little time to him, the nursing sister was occupied, and dick was, for the most part, left to clare and lucille. they did what they could; the girl with pitiful tenderness, the mulatto woman with patience and some skill, but dick did not know until afterwards that, in a measure, he owed his life to them. youth, however, was on his side, the delirium left him, and after lying for a day or two in half-conscious stupor, he came back to his senses, weak but with unclouded mind. he knew he was getting better and his recovery would not be long, but his satisfaction was marred by keen bitterness. clare had stolen his papers and ruined him. point by point he recalled his visit to kenwardine's house, trying to find something that could be urged in the girl's defense and when he failed seeking excuses for her; but her guilt was obvious. he hated to own it, but the proof was overwhelming. she knew the power of her beauty and had treated him as a confiding fool. he was not revengeful and had been a fool, but it hurt him badly to realize that she was not what he had thought. he hardly spoke to lucille, who came in now and then, and did not ask for clare, as he had hitherto done. the girl did not know this because she was taking the rest she needed after a week of strain. jake was his first visitor next morning and dick asked for a cigarette. "i'm well enough to do what i like again," he said. "i expect you came here now and then." "i did, but they would only let me see you once. i suppose you know you were very ill?" "yes; i feel like that. but i dare say you saw kenwardine. it looks as if this is his house." "it is. we brought you here because it's near the street where you got stabbed." dick said nothing for a minute, and then asked: "what's kenwardine doing in santa brigida?" "it's hard to say. like other foreigners in the town, he's probably here for what he can get; looking for concessions or a trading monopoly of some kind." "ah!" said dick. "i'm not sure. but do you like him?" "yes. he strikes me as a bit of an adventurer, but so are the rest of them, and he's none the worse for that. trying to get ahead of dago politicians is a risky job." "is he running this place as a gambling house?" "no," said jake warmly; "that's much too strong. there is some card play evenings, and i've lost a few dollars myself, but the stakes are moderate and anything he makes on the bank wouldn't be worth while. he enjoys a game, that's all. so do other people; we're not all like you." "did you see miss kenwardine when you came for a game?" "i did, but i want to point out that i came to see you. she walked through the patio, where we generally sat, and spoke to us pleasantly, but seldom stopped more than a minute. a matter of politeness, i imagine, and no doubt she'd sooner have stayed away." "kenwardine ought to keep her away. one wonders why he brought the girl to a place like this." jake frowned thoughtfully. "perhaps your remark is justified, in a sense, but you mustn't carry the idea too far. he's not using his daughter as an attraction; it's unthinkable." "that is so," agreed dick. "well," said jake, "i allow that our talking about it is in pretty bad taste, but my view is this: somehow, i don't think kenwardine has much money and he may feel he has to give the girl a chance." "to marry some gambling rake?" "no," said jake sharply. "it doesn't follow that a man is trash because he stakes a dollar or two now and then, and there are some pretty straight fellows in santa brigida." then he paused and grinned. "take yourself, for example; you've talent enough to carry you some way, and i'm open to allow you're about as sober as a man could be." "as it happens, i'm not eligible," dick rejoined with a touch of grimness. "kenwardine wouldn't think me worth powder and shot, and i've a disadvantage you don't know of yet." "anyhow, it strikes me you're taking a rather strange line. kenwardine let us bring you here when you were badly hurt, and miss kenwardine has given herself a good deal of trouble about you. in fact, i guess you owe it to her that you're recovering." "that's true, i think," said dick. "i can't remember much about my illness, but i've a notion that she took very good care of me. still, there's no reason i should give her further trouble when i'm getting better, and i want you to make arrangements for carrying me back to the dam. perhaps a hammock would be the best plan." "you're not fit to be moved yet." "i'm going, anyhow," dick replied with quiet resolution. after trying in vain to persuade him, jake went away, and soon afterwards kenwardine came in. the light was strong and dick noted the touches of gray in his short, dark hair, but except for this he looked young and athletic. his figure was graceful, his dress picturesque, for he wore white duck with a colored silk shirt and red sash, and he had an easy, good-humored manner. sitting down close by, he gave dick a friendly smile. "i'm glad to find you looking better, but am surprised to hear you think of leaving us," he said. "my work must be falling behind and stuyvesant has nobody to put in my place." "he sent word that they were getting on all right," kenwardine remarked. "i'm afraid he was overstating it with a good motive. then, you see, i have given you and miss kenwardine a good deal of trouble and can't take advantage of your kindness any longer. it would be an unfair advantage, because i'm getting well. of course i'm very grateful, particularly as i have no claim on you." "that is a point you can hardly urge. you are a countryman, and your cousin is a friend of mine. i think on that ground we are justified in regarding you as an acquaintance." dick was silent for a few moments. he felt that had things been different he would have liked kenwardine. the man had charm and had placed him under a heavy obligation. dick admitted this frankly, but could not stay any longer in his house. he had, however, a better reason for going than his dislike to accepting kenwardine's hospitality. clare had robbed him and he must get away before he thought of her too much. it was an awkward situation and he feared he had not tact enough to deal with it. "the truth is, i've no wish to renew my acquaintance with people i met in england, and i went to america in order to avoid doing so," he said. "you know what happened before i left." "yes; but i think you are exaggerating its importance. after all, you're not the only man who has, through nothing worse than carelessness, had a black mark put against his name. you may have a chance yet of showing that the thing was a mistake." "then i must wait until the chance comes," dick answered firmly. "very well," said kenwardine. "since this means you're determined to go, we must try to make it as easy as possible for you. i'll see the doctor and mr. fuller." he went out, and by and by clare came in and noted a difference in dick. he had generally greeted her as eagerly as his weakness allowed, and showed his dependence on her, but now his face was hard and resolute. the change was puzzling and disturbing. "my father tells me you want to go away," she remarked. "i don't want to, but i must," dick answered with a candor he had not meant to show. "you see, things i ought to be looking after will all go wrong at the dam." "isn't that rather egotistical?" clare asked with a forced smile. "i have seen mr. bethune, who doesn't look overworked and probably doesn't mind the extra duty. in fact, he said so." "people sometimes say such things, but when they have to do a good deal more than usual they mind very much. anyhow, it isn't fair to ask them, and that's one reason for my going away." clare colored and her eyes began to sparkle. "do you think we mind?" "i don't," dick answered awkwardly, feeling that he was not getting on very well. "i know how kind you are and that you wouldn't shirk any trouble. but still----" "suppose we don't think it a trouble?" dick knitted his brows. it was hard to believe that the girl who sat watching him with a puzzled look was an adventuress. he had made her blush, and had come near to making her angry, while an adventuress would not have shown her feelings so easily. the light that shone through the window touched her face, and he noted its delicate modeling, the purity of her skin, and the softness of her eyes. the sparkle had gone, and they were pitiful. clare had forgiven his ingratitude because he was ill. "well," he said, "what you think doesn't alter the fact that i have given you trouble and kept you awake looking after me at night. i wasn't always quite sensible, but i remember how often you sat here and brought me cool things to drink. indeed, i expect you helped to save my life." he paused and resumed in a voice that thrilled with feeling: "this wasn't all you did. when i was having a very bad time before i left england and everybody believed the worst, you sent me a letter saying that you knew i was innocent." "you told me you tore up the letter," clare remarked quietly. dick's face got red. he had not taken the line he meant to take and was obviously making a mess of things. "are you sure i wasn't delirious?" "i don't think so. did you tear up the letter?" he gave her a steady look, for he saw that he must nerve himself to face the situation. it was unfortunate that he was too ill to deal with it properly, but he must do the best he could. "i'll answer that if you'll tell me how you knew i was innocent." clare looked puzzled, as if his manner had jarred; and dick saw that she was not acting. her surprise was real. he could not understand this, but felt ashamed of himself. "in a sense, of course, i didn't know," she answered with a touch of embarrassment. "still, i felt you didn't steal the plans. it seemed impossible." "thank you," said dick, who was silent for the next few moments. he thought candor was needed and had meant to be frank, but he could not wound the girl who had taken care of him. "anyhow, i lost the papers and that was almost as bad," he resumed feebly. "when you get into trouble people don't care much whether you're a rogue or a fool. you're in disgrace and that's all that matters. however, i mustn't bore you with my grumbling. i'm getting better and they want me at the dam." "then i suppose you must go as soon as you are able," clare agreed, and began to talk about something else. she left him soon and dick lay still, frowning. it had been a trying interview and he doubted if he had come through it well, but hoped clare would make allowances for his being ill. he did not want her to think him ungrateful, and had certainly no wish to punish her for what had happened in the past. but she had stolen his papers and he must get away. he was taken away next morning, with the consent of the doctor, who agreed that the air would be more invigorating on the hill. clare did not come down to see him off and dick felt strangely disappointed, although she had wished him a quick recovery on the previous evening. kenwardine, however, helped him into his hammock and after the carriers started went back to the room where clare sat. he noted that although the sun was hot the shutter was not drawn across the window, which commanded the street. "well," he said, "mr. brandon has gone and on the whole that's a relief." "do you know why he went so soon?" clare asked. kenwardine sat down and looked at her thoughtfully. he was fond of clare, though he found her something of an embarrassment now and then. he was not rich and ran certain risks that made his ability to provide for her doubtful, while she had no marked talents to fall back upon if things went against him. there was, however, the possibility that her beauty might enable her to make a good marriage, and although kenwardine could not do much at present to forward this plan he must try to prevent any undesirable entanglement. brandon, for example, was not to be thought of, but he suspected clare of some liking for the young man. "yes," he said, "i know and sympathize with him. in fact, i quite see why he found it difficult to stay. the situation was only tolerable while he was very ill." "why?" kenwardine meant to tell her. it was better that she should smart a little now than suffer worse afterwards. "as soon as he began to get better brandon remembered that we were the cause of his misfortunes. you can see how this complicated things." "but we had nothing to do with them," clare said sharply. "what made him think we had?" "it's not an illogical conclusion when he imagines that he lost his papers in our house." clare got up with a red flush in her face and her eyes sparkling. "it's absurd!" she exclaimed. "he must have been delirious when he said so." "he didn't say so in as many words; brandon has some taste. but he was perfectly sensible and intended me to see what he meant." the girl stood still, trembling with anger and confusion, and kenwardine felt sorry for her. she was worse hurt than he had expected, but she would rally. "but he couldn't have been robbed while he was with us," she said with an effort, trying to understand dick's point of view. "he hadn't an overcoat, so the plans must have been in the pocket of his uniform, and nobody except myself was near him." she stopped with a gasp as she remembered how she had slipped and seized dick. in doing so her hand had caught his pocket. everything was plain now, and for a few moments she felt overwhelmed. her face blanched, but her eyes were hard and very bright. kenwardine left her, feeling that brandon would have cause to regret his rashness if he ever attempted to renew her acquaintance, and clare sat down and tried to conquer her anger. this was difficult, because she had received an intolerable insult. brandon thought her a thief! it was plain that he did so, because the change in his manner bore out all her father had said, and there was no other explanation. then she blushed with shame as she realized that from his point of view her unconventional behavior warranted his suspicions. she had asked him to come into the garden and had written him a note! this was horribly foolish and she must pay for it, but she had been mistaken about his character. she had, as a rule, avoided the men she met at her father's house and had shrunk with frank repugnance from one or two, but brandon had seemed different. then he had watched for her when he was ill and she had seen his heavy eyes get brighter when she came into the room. now, however, she understood him better. she had some beauty and he had been satisfied with her physical attractiveness, although he thought her a thief. this was worse than the coarse admiration of the men she had feared. it was unthinkably humiliating, but her anger helped her to bear the blow. after all, she was fortunate in finding out what brandon was, since it might have been worse had the knowledge come later. there was a sting in this that rankled, but she could banish him from her thoughts now. chapter xii dick keeps his promise twinkling points of light that pierced the darkness lower down the hill marked the colored laborers' camp, and voices came up faintly through the still air. the range cut off the land breeze, though now and then a wandering draught flickered down the hollow spanned by the dam, and a smell of hot earth and damp jungle hung about the veranda of dick's iron shack. he sat near a lamp, with a drawing-board on his knee, while jake lounged in a canvas chair, smoking and occasionally glancing at the sheet of figures in his hand. his expression was gloomily resigned. "i suppose you'll have things ready for us in the morning," dick said presently. "françois' accounts are checked and i'm surprised to find them right, but i imagine the other calculations will not be finished. anyhow, it won't make much difference whether they are or not. i guess you know that!" "well, of course, if you can't manage to do the lot----" "i don't say it's impossible," jake rejoined. "but beginning work before breakfast is bad enough, without going on after dinner. understand that i don't question your authority to find me a job at night; it's your object that makes me kick." "we want the calculations made before we set the boys to dig." "then why didn't you give me them when i was doing nothing this afternoon?" jake inquired. "i hadn't got the plans ready." "just so. you haven't had things ready for me until after dinner all this week. as you're a methodical fellow that's rather strange. still, if you really want the job finished, i'll have to do my best, but i'm going out first for a quarter of an hour." "you needn't," dick said dryly. "if you mean to tell the engineer not to wait, he's gone. i sent him off some time since." "of course you had a right to send him off," jake replied in an injured tone. "but i don't quite think----" "you know what your father pays for coal. have you reckoned what it costs to keep a locomotive two or three hours for the purpose of taking you to santa brigida and back?" "i haven't, but i expect the old man wouldn't stand for my running a private car," jake admitted. "however, it's the only way of getting into town." "you were there three nights last week. what's more, you tried to draw your next month's wages. that struck me as significant, though i'd fortunately provided against it." "so i found out. i suppose i ought to be grateful for your thoughtfulness but can't say i am. i wanted the money because i had a run of wretched luck." "at the casino?" "no," said jake, shortly. "then you were at kenwardine's; i'll own that's what i wanted to prevent. he's a dangerous man and his house is no place for you." "one would hardly expect you to speak against him. considering everything, it's perhaps not quite in good taste." dick put down the drawing-board and looked at him steadily. "it's very bad taste. in fact, i find myself in a very awkward situation. your father gave me a fresh start when i needed it badly, and agreed when your sister put you in my charge." "ida's sometimes a bit officious," jake remarked. "well," dick continued, "i promised to look after you, and although i didn't know what i was undertaking, the promise must be kept. it's true that kenwardine afterwards did me a great service; but his placing me under an obligation doesn't relieve me from the other, which i'd incurred first." somewhat to his surprise, jake nodded agreement. "no, not from your point of view. but what makes you think kenwardine _is_ dangerous?" "i can't answer. you had better take it for granted that i know what i'm talking about, and keep away from him." "as a matter of fact, it was miss kenwardine to whom you owed most," jake said meaningly. "do you suggest that she's dangerous, too?" dick frowned and his face got red, but he said nothing, and jake resumed: "there's a mystery about the matter and you know more than you intend to tell; but if you blame the girl for anything, you're absolutely wrong. if you'll wait a minute, i'll show you what i mean." he went into the shack and came back with a drawing-block which he stood upon the table under the lamp, and dick saw that it was a water-color portrait of clare kenwardine. he did not know much about pictures, but it was obvious that jake had talent. the girl stood in the patio, with a pale-yellow wall behind her, over which a vivid purple creeper trailed. her lilac dress showed the graceful lines of her slender figure against the harmonious background, and matched the soft blue of her eyes and the delicate white and pink of her skin. the patio was flooded with strong sunlight, but the girl looked strangely fresh and cool. "i didn't mean to show you this, but it's the best way of explaining what i think," jake said with some diffidence. "i'm weak in technique, because i haven't been taught, but i imagine i've got sensibility. it's plain that when you paint a portrait you must study form and color, but there's something else that you can only feel. i don't mean the character that's expressed by the mouth and eyes; it's something vague and elusive that psychologists give you a hint of when they talk about the _aura_. of course you can't paint it, but unless it, so to speak, glimmers through the work, your portrait's dead." "i don't quite understand; but sometimes things do give you an impression you can't analyze," dick replied. "well, allowing for poor workmanship, all you see here's harmonious. the blues and purples and yellows tone, and yet, if i've got the hot glare of the sun right, you feel that the figure's exotic and doesn't belong to the scene. the latter really needs an olive-skinned daughter of the passionate south; but the girl i've painted ought to walk in the moonlight through cool forest glades." dick studied the picture silently, for he remembered with disturbing emotion that he had felt what jake suggested when he first met clare kenwardine. she was frank, but somehow remote and aloof; marked by a strange refinement he could find no name for. he was glad that jake did not seem to expect him to speak, but after a few moments the latter wrapped up the portrait and took it away. when he came back he lighted a cigarette. "now," he said, "do you think it's sensible to distrust a girl like that? admitting that her father makes a few dollars by gambling, can you believe that living with him throws any taint on her?" dick hesitated. clare had stolen his papers. this seemed impossible, but it was true. yet when he looked up he answered as his heart urged him: "no. it sounds absurd." "it is absurd," jake said firmly. neither spoke for the next minute, and then dick frowned at a disturbing thought. could the lad understand clare so well unless he loved her? "that picture must have taken some time to paint. did miss kenwardine often pose for you?" "no," said jake, rather dryly; "in fact, she didn't really pose at all. i had trouble to get permission to make one or two quick sketches, and worked up the rest from memory." "yet she let you sketch her. it was something of a privilege." jake smiled in a curious way. "i think i see what you mean. miss kenwardine likes me, but although i've some artistic taste, i'm frankly flesh and blood; and that's not quite her style. she finds me a little more in harmony with her than the rest, but this is all. still, it's something to me. now you understand matters, perhaps you won't take so much trouble to keep me out of santa brigida." "i'll do my best to keep you away from kenwardine," dick declared. "very well," jake answered with a grin. "you're quite a good sort, though you're not always very smart, and i can't blame you for doing what you think is your duty." then he set to work on his calculations and there was silence on the veranda. dick kept him occupied for the next week, and then prudently decided not to press the lad too hard by finding him work that obviously need not be done. if he was to preserve his power, it must be used with caution. the first evening jake was free he started for santa brigida, though as there was no longer a locomotive available, he got two laborers to take him down the line on a hand-car. after that he had some distance to walk and arrived at kenwardine's powdered with dust. it was a hot night and he found kenwardine and three or four others in the patio. a small, shaded lamp stood upon the table they had gathered round, and the light sparkled on delicate green glasses and a carafe of wine. it touched the men's white clothes, and then, cut off by the shade, left their faces in shadow and fell upon the tiles. a colored paper lantern, however, hung from a wire near an outside staircase and jake saw clare a short distance away. it looked as if she had stopped in crossing the patio, but as he came forward kenwardine got up. "it's some time since we have seen you," he remarked. "yes," said jake. "i meant to come before, but couldn't get away." "then you have begun to take your business seriously?" "my guardian does." "ah!" said kenwardine, speaking rather louder, "if you mean mr. brandon, i certainly thought him a serious person. but what has this to do with your coming here?" "he found me work that kept me busy evenings." "with the object of keeping you out of mischief?" "i imagine he meant something of the kind," jake admitted with a chuckle. he glanced round, and felt he had been too frank, as his eyes rested on clare. he could not see her face, but thought she was listening. "then it looks as if he believed we were dangerous people for you to associate with," kenwardine remarked, with a smile. "well, i suppose we're not remarkable for the conventional virtues." jake, remembering dick had insisted that kenwardine was dangerous, felt embarrassed as he noted that clare was now looking at him. to make things worse, he thought kenwardine had meant her to hear. "i expect he really was afraid of my going to the casino," he answered as carelessly as he could. "though he would not be much relieved to find you had come to my house instead? well, i suppose one must make allowances for the puritan character." "brandon isn't much of a puritan, and he's certainly not a prig," jake objected. kenwardine laughed. "i'm not sure this explanation makes things much better, but we'll let it go. we were talking about the new water supply. it's a harmless subject and you ought to be interested." jake sat down and stole a glance at clare as he drank a glass of wine. there was nothing to be learned from her face, but he was vexed with kenwardine, who had intentionally involved him in an awkward situation. jake admitted that he had not dealt with it very well. for all that, he began to talk about the irrigation works and the plans for bringing water to the town, and was relieved to see that clare had gone when he next looked round. as a matter of fact, clare had quietly stolen away and was sitting on a balcony in the dark, tingling with anger and humiliation. she imagined that she had banished brandon from her thoughts and was alarmed to find that he had still power to wound her. it had been a shock to learn he believed that she had stolen his papers; but he had now warned his companion against her father and no doubt herself. jake's manner when questioned had seemed to indicate this. by and by she tried, not to make excuses for brandon, but to understand his point of view, and was forced to admit that it was not unreasonable. her father now and then allowed, or perhaps encouraged, his guests to play for high stakes, and she had hated to see the evening gatherings of extravagant young men at their house in england. indeed, she had eagerly welcomed the change when he had offered to take her abroad because business necessitated his leaving the country. things had been better at santa brigida, but after a time the card playing had begun again. the men who now came to their house were, however, of a different type from the rather dissipated youths she had previously met. they were quieter and more reserved; men of experience who had known adventure. still, she disliked their coming and had sometimes felt she must escape from a life that filled her with repugnance. the trouble was that she did not know where to find a refuge and could not force herself to leave her father, who had treated her with good-humored indulgence. then she began to wonder what was the business that had brought him to santa brigida. he did not talk about it, but she was sure it was not gambling, as brandon thought. no doubt he won some money from his friends, but it could not be much and he must lose at times. she must look for another explanation and it was hard to find. men who did not play cards came to the house in the daytime and occasionally late at night, and kenwardine, who wrote a good many letters, now and then went away down the coast. there was a mystery about his occupation that puzzled and vaguely alarmed her, and she could turn to nobody for advice. she had refused her aunt's offer of a home and knew it would not be renewed. they had cast her off and done with her. getting up presently with a troubled sigh, she went to her room. in the meantime, jake stayed in the patio with the others. a thin, dark spaniard, who spoke english well, and two americans occupied the other side of the table; a fat german sat nearly opposite the spaniard and next to jake. the heat made them languid and nobody wanted to play cards, although there was a pack on the table. this happened oftener than brandon thought. "it's a depressing night and an enervating country," kenwardine remarked. "i wonder why we stay here as we do, since we're apt to leave it as poor as when we came. the people are an unstable lot, and when you've spent your time and energy developing what you hope is a profitable scheme, some change of policy or leaders suddenly cuts it short." "i guess that explains why we _are_ here," one of the americans replied. "the south is the home of the dramatic surprise and this appeals to us. in the north, they act by rule and one knows, more or less, what will happen; but this gives one no chances to bet upon." the fat german nodded. "it is the gambler's point of view. you people take with pleasure steep chances, as they say, but mine act not so. the system is better. one calculates beforehand what may happen and it is provided for. if things do not go as one expects, one labors to change them, and when this is not possible adopts an alternative plan." "but there always is a plan, señor richter!" the spaniard remarked. richter smiled. "with us, i think that is true. luck is more fickle than a woman and we like not the surprise. but our effort is to be prepared for it." "you're a pretty hard crowd to run up against," said the other american. jake, who had taken no part in the recent talk, and leaned languidly back in his chair, turned his head as he heard footsteps in the patio. they were quick and decided, as if somebody was coming straight towards the table, but they stopped suddenly. this seemed strange and jake, who had caught a glimpse of a man in white clothes, looked round to see if kenwardine had made him a sign. the latter, however, was lighting his pipe, but the spaniard leaned forward a little, as if trying to see across the patio. jake thought he would find this difficult with the light of the lamp in his eyes, but richter, who sat opposite, got up and reached across the table. "with excuses, don sebastian, but the wine is on your side," he said, and filled his glass from the decanter before he sat down. in the meantime the man who had come in was waiting, but seemed to have moved, because jake could only see an indistinct figure in the gloom. "is that you, enrique?" kenwardine asked when he had lighted his pipe. "_sí, señor_," a voice answered, and kenwardine made a sign of dismissal. "_bueno!_ you can tell me about it to-morrow. i am engaged now." the footsteps began again and when they died away kenwardine picked up the cards. "shall we play for half an hour?" he asked. the others agreed, but the stakes were moderate and nobody took much interest in the game; and jake presently left the house without seeing anything more of clare. he felt he had wasted the evening, but as he walked back to the line he thought about the man whom kenwardine had sent away. he did not think the fellow was one of the servants, and it seemed strange that richter should have got up and stood in front of don sebastian when the latter was trying to see across the patio. still, there was no apparent reason why the spaniard should want to see who had come in, and jake dismissed the matter. chapter xiii the return from the fiesta the sure-footed mules, braced hard against the weight of the carriage, slid down a steep descent across slippery stones when clare, who wondered what would happen if the worn-out harness broke, rode into adexe. gleaming white houses rose one above another among feathery palms, with a broad streak of darker green in their midst to mark the shady alameda. behind, the dark range towered against the sky; in front lay a foam-fringed beach and the vast blue sweep of dazzling sea. music came up through the languid murmur of the surf, and the steep streets were filled with people whose clothes made patches of brilliant color. the carriage jolted safely down the hill, and clare looked about with interest as they turned into the central plaza, where the driver stopped. "it's a picturesque little town and i'm glad you brought me," she said. "but what does the fiesta they're holding celebrate?" "i don't know; the first landing of the spaniards, perhaps," kenwardine replied. "anyhow, it's a popular function, and as everybody in the neighborhood takes part in it, i came with the object of meeting some people i do business with. in fact, i may have to leave you for a time with the wife of a spaniard whom i know." when coming down the hillside clare had noticed a sugar mill and an ugly coaling wharf that ran out into the bay. two steamers lay not far off, rolling gently on the glittering swell, and several lighters were moored against the wharf. since she had never heard him speak of coal, she imagined her father's business was with the sugar mill, but he seldom talked to her about such matters and she did not ask. he took her to an old, yellow house, with tarnished brass rails barring its lower windows and a marble fountain in the patio, where brilliant creepers hung from the balconies. the soft splash of falling water was soothing and the spray cooled the air. "it is very pretty," clare said while they waited. "i wish we could make our patio like this." "we may be able to do so when brandon and his friends bring us the water," kenwardine replied with a quick glance at the girl. "have you seen him recently?" "not for three or four weeks," said clare. there was nothing to be learned from her face, but kenwardine noted a hint of coldness in her voice. next moment, however, a stout lady in a black dress, and a thin, brown-faced spaniard came down to meet them. kenwardine presented clare, and for a time they sat on a balcony, talking in a mixture of french and castilian. then a man came up the outside staircase and took off his hat as he turned to kenwardine. he had a swarthy skin, but clare carelessly remarked that the hollows about his eyes were darker than the rest of his face, as if they had been overlooked in a hurried wash, and his bare feet were covered with fine, black dust. "don martin waits you, señor," he said. kenwardine excused himself to his hostess, and after promising to return before long went away with the man. "who is don martin, and does he own the coaling wharf?" clare asked. "no," said the spaniard. "what makes you imagine so?" "there was some coal-dust on his messenger." the spaniard laughed. "your eyes are as keen as they are bright, señorita, but your father spoke of business and he does not deal in coal. they use it for the engine at the sugar mill." "could i follow him to the mill? i would like to see how they extract the sugar from the cane." "it is not a good day for that; the machinery will not be running," said the spaniard, who looked at his wife. "i meant to take you to the cathedral. everybody goes on the fiesta," the lady broke in. clare agreed. she suspected that her father had not gone to the sugar mill, but this did not matter, and she presently left the house with her hostess. the small and rather dark cathedral was crowded, and clare, who understood very little of what went on, was impressed by the close rows of kneeling figures, while the candles glimmering through the incense, and the music, had their effect. she came out in a thoughtful mood, partly dazzled by the change of light, and it was with something of a shock she stopped to avoid collision with a man at the bottom of the steps. it was brandon, and she noted that he looked well again, but although they were face to face and he waited with his eyes fixed on her, she turned away and spoke to her companion. dick crossed the street with his hand clenched and his face hot, but felt that he had deserved his rebuff. he could not expect miss kenwardine to meet him as a friend. an hour or two later, kenwardine returned to the house with richter, the german, and said he found he must drive to a village some distance off to meet an official whom he had expected to see in the town. he doubted if he could get back that night, but a sailing barquillo would take passengers to santa brigida, and clare could go home by her. the girl made no objection when she heard that two french ladies, whom she knew, were returning by the boat, and stayed with her hostess when kenwardine and richter left. towards evening the spaniard came in and stated that the barquillo had sailed earlier than had been announced, but a steam launch was going to santa brigida with some friends of his on board and he could get clare a passage if she would sooner go. señor kenwardine, he added, might drive home by another road without calling there again. half an hour later clare went with him to the coaling wharf, where a launch lay at some steps. a few people were already on board, and her host left after putting her in charge of a spanish lady. the girl imagined that he was glad to get rid of her, and thought there was something mysterious about her father's movements. something he had not expected must have happened, because he would not have brought her if he had known he could not take her home. it was, however, not a long run to santa brigida, by sea, and the launch, which had a powerful engine, looked fast. in another few minutes a man came down the steps and threw off a rope before he jumped on board. taking off his hat to the passengers, he started the engine and sat down at the helm. clare did not see his face until the launch was gliding away from the wharf, and then hid her annoyance and surprise, for it was brandon. his eyes rested on her for a moment as he glanced about the boat, but she saw he did not expect recognition. perhaps she had been wrong when she passed him outside the cathedral, but it was now too late to change her attitude. the water was smooth, the sun had sunk behind the range, and a warm breeze that ruffled the shining surface with silky ripples blew off the shore. the rumble of the surf came in a deep undertone through the throb of the engine, and the launch sped on with a frothy wave curling at her bows. now and then clare glanced quickly at the helmsman, who sat with his arm thrown round the tiller. she thought he looked disturbed, and felt sorry, though she told herself that she had done the proper thing. after a time the launch swung in towards the beach and stopped at a rude landing behind a reef. houses showed among the trees not far off and clare thought this was the pueblo of arenas. then she was disturbed to see that all her companions were going to land. when the spanish lady said good-by she got up, with the idea of following the rest, but dick stopped her. "do you expect mr. kenwardine to meet you?" he asked. "no. i was told the launch was going to santa brigida, but didn't know that she was yours." dick eyes twinkled. "i am going to santa brigida and the boat is one we use, but my colored fireman refused to leave the fiesta. now you can't stay at arenas, and i doubt if you can get a mule to take you home, because they'll all have gone to adexe. but, if you like, we'll go ashore and try." "you don't think i could find a carriage?" clare asked irresolutely, seeing that if she now showed herself determined to avoid him, it would be humiliating to be forced to fall back upon his help. "i don't. besides, it's some distance to santa brigida over a rough, steep road that you'd find very awkward in the dark, while as i can land you in an hour, it seems unnecessary for you to leave the boat here." "yes," said clare, "perhaps it is." dick threw some coal into the furnace, and restarted the launch. the throb of the engine was quicker than before, and when a jet of steam blew away from the escape-pipe clare imagined that he meant to lose no time. she glanced at him as he sat at the helm with a moody face; and then away at the black hills that slid past. the silence was embarrassing and she wondered whether he would break it. on the whole, she wanted him to do so, but would give him no help. "of course," he said at length, "you needn't talk if you'd sooner not. but you gave me the cut direct in adexe, and although i may have deserved it, it hurt." "i don't see why it should hurt," clare answered coldly. "don't you?" he asked. "well, you have the right to choose your acquaintances; but i once thought we were pretty good friends and i mightn't have got better if you hadn't taken care of me. that ought to count for something." clare blushed, but her eyes sparkled and her glance was steady. "if we are to have an explanation, it must be complete and without reserve. very well! why did you change when you were getting better? and why did you hint that i must know you hadn't stolen the plans?" dick studied her with some surprise. he had thought her gentle and trustful, but saw that she burned with imperious anger. it certainly was not acting and contradicted the supposition of her guilt. "if i did hint anything of the kind, i must have been a bit light-headed," he answered awkwardly. "you get morbid fancies when you have fever." "the fever had nearly gone. you were braver then than you seem to be now." "i suppose that's true. sometimes a shock gives you pluck and i got a nasty one as i began to remember things." both were silent for the next few moments. clare's pose was tense and her look strained, but her anger had vanished. dick thought she was calmer than himself, but after all, she was, so to speak, on her defense and her part was easier than his. he had forgiven her for robbing him; kenwardine had forced her to do so, and dick regretted he had not hidden his knowledge of the deed she must have hated. it was bodily weakness that had led him to show his suspicion, but he knew that if they were to be friends again no reserve was possible. as clare had said, the explanation must be complete. it was strange, after what had happened, that he should want her friendship, but he did want it, more than anything else. yet she must be told plainly what he had thought her. he shrank from the task. "what did you remember?" clare asked, forcing herself to look at him. "that i had the plans in the left, top pocket of my uniform when i reached your house; i felt to see if they were there as i came up the drive," he answered doggedly. "soon afterward, you slipped as we went down the steps into the garden and in clutching me your hand caught and pulled the pocket open. it was a deep pocket and the papers could not have fallen out." "so you concluded that i had stolen them!" clare said in a cold, strained voice, though her face flushed crimson. "what else could i think?" then, though she tried to hide the breakdown, clare's nerve gave way. she had forced the crisis in order to clear herself, but saw that she could not do so. dick's statement was convincing; the papers had been stolen while he was in their house, and she had a horrible suspicion that her father was the thief. it came with a shock, though she had already been tormented by a vague fear of the truth that she had resolutely refused to face. she remembered the men who were at the house on the eventful night. they were somewhat dissipated young sportsmen and not remarkable for intelligence. none of them was likely to take part in such a plot. "you must understand what a serious thing you are saying," she faltered, trying to doubt him and finding that she could not. "i do," he said, regarding her with gravely pitiful eyes. "still, you rather forced it out of me. perhaps this is a weak excuse, because i had meant to forget the matter." "but didn't you want to clear yourself and get taken back?" "no; i knew it was too late. i'd shown i couldn't be trusted with an important job; and i'd made a fresh start here." his answer touched the girl, and after a quick half-ashamed glance, she thought she had misjudged him. it was not her physical charm that had made him willing to condone her offense, for he showed none of the bold admiration she had shrunk from in other men. instead, he was compassionate and, she imagined, anxious to save her pain. she did not answer and turning her head, vacantly watched the shore slide past. the mountains were growing blacker, trails of mist that looked like gauze gathered in the ravines, and specks of light began to pierce the gloom ahead. they marked santa brigida, and something must still be said before the launch reached port. it was painful that brandon should take her guilt for granted, but she feared to declare her innocence. "you were hurt when i passed you at adexe," she remarked, without looking at him. "you must, however, see that friendship between us is impossible while you think me a thief." "i must try to explain," dick said slowly. "when i recovered my senses at your house after being ill, i felt i must get away as soon as possible, though i ought to have remembered only that you had taken care of me. still, you see, my mind was weak just then. afterwards i realized how ungratefully i had behaved. the plans didn't matter; they weren't really of much importance, and i knew if you had taken them, it was because you were forced. that made all the difference; in a way, you were not to blame. i'm afraid," he concluded lamely, "i haven't made it very clear." clare was moved by his naïve honesty, which seemed to be guarded by something finer than common sense. after all, he had made things clear. he owned that he believed she had taken the plans, and yet he did not think her a thief. on the surface, this was rather involved, but she saw what he meant. still, it did not carry them very far. "it is not long since you warned mr. fuller against us," she resumed. "not against you; that would have been absurd. however, jake's something of a gambler and your father's friends play for high stakes. the lad was put in my hands by people who trusted me to look after him. i had to justify their confidence." "of course. but you must understand that my father and i stand together. what touches him, touches me." dick glanced ahead. the lights of santa brigida had drawn out in a broken line, and those near the beach were large and bright. a hundred yards away, two twinkling, yellow tracks stretched across the water from the shadowy bulk of a big cargo boat. farther on, he could see the black end of the mole washed by frothy surf. there was little time for further talk and no excuse for stopping the launch. "that's true in a sense," he agreed with forced quietness. "i've done you an injustice, miss kenwardine; so much is obvious, but i can't understand the rest just yet. i suppose i mustn't ask you to forget the line i took?" "we can't be friends as if nothing had happened." dick made a gesture of moody acquiescence. "well, perhaps something will clear up the matter by and by. i must wait, because while it's difficult now, i feel it will come right." a minute or two later he ran the launch alongside a flight of steps on the mole, and helping clare to land went with her to her house. they said nothing on the way, but she gave him her hand when he left her at the door. chapter xiv complications it was dark outside the feeble lamplight, and very hot, when dick sat on his veranda after a day of keen activity in the burning sun. he felt slack and jaded, for he had had difficult work to do and his dusky laborers had flagged under the unusual heat. there was now no touch of coolness in the stagnant air, and although the camp down the valley was very quiet a confused hum of insects came out of the jungle. it rose and fell with a monotonous regularity that jarred upon dick's nerves as he forced himself to think. he was in danger of falling in love with clare kenwardine; indeed, he suspected that it would be better to face the truth and admit that he had already done so. the prudent course would be to fight against and overcome his infatuation; but suppose he found this impossible, as he feared? it seemed certain that she had stolen his papers; but after all he did not hold her accountable. some day he would learn more about the matter and find that she was blameless. he had been a fool to think harshly of her, but he knew now that his first judgment was right. clare, who could not have done anything base and treacherous, was much too good for him. this, however, was not the subject with which he meant to occupy himself, because if he admitted that he hoped to marry clare, there were serious obstacles in his way. to begin with, he had made it difficult, if not impossible, for the girl to treat him with the friendliness she had previously shown; besides which, kenwardine would, no doubt, try to prevent his meeting her, and his opposition would be troublesome. then it was plainly desirable that she should be separated from her father, who might involve her in his intrigues, because there was ground for believing that he was a dangerous man. in the next place, dick was far from being able to support a wife accustomed to the extravagance that kenwardine practised. it might be long before he could offer her the lowest standard of comfort necessary for an englishwoman in a hot, foreign country. he felt daunted, but not altogether hopeless, and while he pondered the matter bethune came in. on the whole, dick found his visit a relief. "i expect you'll be glad to hear we can keep the machinery running," bethune said as he sat down. dick nodded. their fuel was nearly exhausted, for owing to strikes and shortage of shipping fuller had been unable to keep them supplied. "then you have got some coal? as there's none at santa brigida just now, where's it coming from?" "adexe. four big lighter loads. stuyvesant has given orders to have them towed round." "i understood the adexe people didn't keep a big stock. the wharf is small." "so did i, but it seems that kenwardine came to stuyvesant and offered him as much as he wanted." "kenwardine!" dick exclaimed. bethune lighted his pipe. "yes, kenwardine. as the wharf's supposed to be owned by spaniards, i don't see what he has to do with it, unless he's recently bought them out. anyhow, it's high-grade navigation coal." "better stuff than we need, but the difference in price won't matter if we can keep the concrete mill going," dick remarked thoughtfully. "still, it's puzzling. if kenwardine has bought the wharf, why's he sending the coal away, instead of using it in the regular bunkering trade?" "there's a hint of mystery about the matter. i expect you heard about the collier tramp that was consigned to the french company at arucas? owing to some dispute, they wouldn't take the cargo and the shippers put it on the market. fuller tried to buy some, but found that another party had got the lot. well, stuyvesant believes it was the german, richter, who bought it up." "jake tells me that richter's a friend of kenwardine's." "i didn't know about that," said bethune. "they may have bought the cargo for some particular purpose, for which they afterwards found it wouldn't be required, and now want to sell some off." "then kenwardine must have more money than i thought." "the money may be richter's," bethune replied. "however, since we'll now have coal enough to last until fuller sends some out, i don't know that we have any further interest in the matter." he glanced keenly at dick's thoughtful face; and then, as the latter did not answer, talked about something else until he got up to go. after he had gone, dick leaned back in his chair with a puzzled frown. he had met richter and rather liked him, but the fellow was a german, and it was strange that he should choose an english partner for his speculations, as he seemed to have done. but while kenwardine was english, dick's papers had been stolen at his house, and his distrust of the man grew stronger. there was something suspicious about this coal deal, but he could not tell exactly what his suspicions pointed to, and by and by he took up the plan of a culvert they were to begin next morning. a few days later, jake and he sat, one night, in the stern of the launch, which lay head to sea about half a mile from the adexe wharf. the promised coal had not arrived, and, as fuel was running very short at the concrete mill, dick had gone to see that a supply was sent. it was late when he reached adexe, and found nobody in authority about, but three loaded lighters were moored at the wharf, and a gang of peons were trimming the coal that was being thrown on board another. ahead of the craft lay a small tug with steam up. as the half-breed foreman declared that he did not know whether the coal was going to santa brigida or not, dick boarded the tug and found her spanish captain drinking caña with his engineer. dick thought one looked at the other meaningly as he entered the small, hot cabin. "i suppose it's señor fuller's coal in the barges, and we're badly in want of it," he said. "as you have steam up, you'll start soon." "we start, yes," answered the skipper, who spoke some english, and then paused and shrugged. "i do not know if we get to santa brigida to-night." "why?" dick asked. "there's not very much wind, and it's partly off the land." the half-breed engineer described in uncouth castilian the difficulties he had had with a defective pump and leaking glands, and dick, who did not understand much of it, went back to his launch. stopping the craft a short distance from the harbor, he said to jake: "we'll wait until they start. somehow i don't think they meant to leave to-night if i hadn't turned them out." jake looked to windward. there was a moon in the sky, which was, however, partly obscured by driving clouds. the breeze was strong, but, blowing obliquely off the land did not ruffle the sea much near the beach. a long swell, however, worked in, and farther out the white tops of the combers glistened in the moonlight. now and then a fresher gust swept off the shadowy coast and the water frothed in angry ripples about the launch. "they ought to make santa brigida, though they'll find some sea running when they reach off-shore to go round the tajada reef," he remarked. "there's water enough through the inside channel." "that's so," jake agreed. "still, it's narrow and bad to find in the dark, and i expect the skipper would sooner go outside." then he glanced astern and said, "they're coming out." two white lights, one close above the other, with a pale red glimmer below, moved away from the wharf. behind them three or four more twinkling red spots appeared, and dick told the fireman to start the engine half-speed. steering for the beach, he followed the fringe of surf, but kept abreast of the tug, which held to a course that would take her round the end of the reef. when the moon shone through he could see her plunge over the steep swell and the white wash at the lighters' bows as they followed in her wake; then as a cloud drove past, their dark hulls faded and left nothing but a row of tossing lights. by and by the launch reached a bend in the coastline and the breeze freshened and drew more ahead. the swell began to break and showers of spray blew on board, while the sea got white off-shore. "we'll get it worse when we open up the arenas bight," said jake as he glanced at the lurching tug. "it looks as if the skipper meant to give the reef a wide berth. he's swinging off to starboard. watch his smoke." "you have done some yachting, then?" "i have," said jake. "i used to sail a shoal-draught sloop on long island sound. anyway, if i'd been towing those coal-scows, i'd have edged in near the beach, for the sake of smoother water, and wouldn't have headed out until i saw the reef. it will be pretty wet on board the scows now, and they'll have had to put a man on each to steer." dick nodded agreement and signed the fireman to turn on more steam as he followed the tug outshore. the swell got steadily higher and broke in angry surges. the launch plunged, and rattled as she swung her screw out of the sea, but dick kept his course abreast of the tug, which he could only distinguish at intervals between the clouds of spray. her masthead lights reeled wildly to and fro, but the low red gleam from the barges was hidden and he began to wonder why her captain was steering out so far. it was prudent not to skirt the reef, but the fellow seemed to be giving it unnecessary room. the lighters would tow badly through the white, curling sea, and there was a risk of the hawsers breaking. besides, the engineer had complained that his machinery was not running well. a quarter of an hour later, a belt of foam between them and the land marked the reef, and the wind brought off the roar of breaking surf. soon afterwards, the white surge faded, and only the tug's lights were left as a long cloud-bank drove across the moon. jake stood up, shielding his eyes from the spray. "he's broken his rope; the coal's adrift!" he cried. dick saw the tug's lights vanish, which meant that she had turned with her stern towards the launch; and then two or three twinkling specks some distance off. "he'd tow the first craft with a double rope, a bridle from his quarters," he said. "it's strange that both parts broke, and, so far as i can make out, the tail barge has parted her hawser, too." a whistle rang out, and dick called for full-speed as the tug's green light showed. "we'll help him to pick up the barges," he remarked. the moon shone out as they approached the nearest, and a bright beam swept across the sea until it touched the lurching craft. her wet side glistened about a foot above the water and then vanished as a white surge lapped over it and washed across her deck. a rope trailed from her bow and her long tiller jerked to and fro. it was obvious that she was adrift with nobody on board, and dick cautiously steered the launch towards her. "that's curious, but perhaps the rest drove foul of her and the helmsman lost his nerve and jumped," he said. "i'll put maccario on board to give us the hawser." "then i'll go with him," jake offered. "he can't handle the big rope alone." dick hesitated. it was important that they should not lose the coal, but he did not want to give the lad a dangerous task. the barge was rolling wildly and he durst not run alongside, while some risk would attend a jump across the three or four feet of water between the craft. "i think you'd better stop here," he objected. "i don't," jake answered with a laugh. "guess you've got to be logical. you want the coal, and it will take us both to save it." he followed the fireman, who stood, balancing himself for a spring, on the forward deck, while dick let the launch swing in as close as he thought safe. the man leapt and dick watched jake with keen anxiety as the launch rose with the next comber, but the lad sprang off as the bows went up, and came down with a splash in the water that flowed across the lighter's deck. then dick caught the line thrown him and with some trouble dragged the end of the hawser on board. he was surprised to find that it was not broken, but he waved his hand to the others as he drove the launch ahead, steering for the beach, near which he expected to find a passage through the reef. before he had gone far the tug steamed towards him with the other barges in tow, apparently bound for adexe. "it is not possible to go on," the skipper hailed. "give me a rope; we take the lighter." "you shan't take her to adexe," dick shouted. "we want the coal." though there was danger in getting too close, the captain let the tug drift nearer. "we bring you the lot when the wind drops." "no," said dick, "i'll stick to what i've got." he could not catch the captain's reply as the tug forged past, but it sounded like an exclamation of anger or surprise, and he looked anxiously for the foam upon the reef. it was some time before he distinguished a glimmer in the dark, for the moon was hidden and his progress was slow. the lighter was big and heavily laden, and every now and then her weight, putting a sudden strain on the hawser, jerked the launch to a standstill. it was worse when, lifting with the swell, she sheered off at an angle to her course, and dick was forced to maneuver with helm and engine to bring her in line again, at some risk of fouling the hawser with the screw. he knew little about towing, but he had handled small sailing boats before he learned to use the launch. the coal was badly needed and must be taken to santa brigida, though an error of judgment might lead to the loss of the barge and perhaps of his comrade's life. the phosphorescent gleam of the surf got plainer and the water smoother, for the reef was now to windward and broke the sea, but the moon was still covered, and dick felt some tension as he skirted the barrier. he did not know if he could find the opening or tow the lighter through the narrow channel. the surf, however, was of help, for it flashed into sheets of spangled radiance as it washed across the reef, leaving dark patches among the lambent foam. the patches had a solid look, and dick knew that they were rocks. at length he saw a wider break in the belt of foam, and the sharper plunging of the launch showed that the swell worked through. this was the mouth of the channel, and there was water enough to float the craft if he could keep off the rocks. snatching the engine-lamp from its socket, he waved it and blew the whistle. a shout reached him and showed that the others understood. dick felt his nerves tingle when he put the helm over and the hawser tightened as the lighter began to swing. if she took too wide a sweep, he might be unable to check her before she struck the reef, and there seemed to be a current flowing through the gap. glancing astern for a moment, he saw her dark hull swing through a wide curve while the strain on the hawser dragged the launch's stern down, but she came round and the tension slackened as he steered up the channel. for a time he had less trouble than he expected; but the channel turned at its outer end and wind and swell would strike at him at an awkward angle, when he took the bend. as he entered it, the moon shone out, and he saw the black top of a rock dangerously close to leeward. he waved the lantern, but the lighter, with sea and current on her weather bow, forged almost straight ahead, and the straining hawser dragged the launch back. reaching forward, dick opened the throttle valve to its limit, and then sat grim and still while the throb of the screw shook the trembling hull. something would happen in the next half minute unless he could get the lighter round. glancing back, he saw her low, wet side shine in the moonlight. two dark figures stood aft by the tiller, and he thought the foam about the rock was only a fathom or two away. the launch was hove down on her side. though the screw thudded furiously, she seemed to gain no ground, and then the strain on the hawser suddenly slackened. dick wondered whether it had broken, but he would know in the next few seconds; there was a sharp jerk, the launch was dragged to leeward, but recovered and forged ahead. she plunged her bows into a broken swell and the spray filled dick's eyes, but when he could see again the foam was sliding past and a gap widened between the lighter's hull and the white wash on the rock. the water was deep ahead, and since he could skirt the beach and the wind came strongly off the land, the worst of his difficulties seemed to be past. still, it would be a long tow to santa brigida, and bracing himself for the work, he lit his pipe. chapter xv the missing coal early next morning dick stood in front of the hotel magellan, where he had slept for a few hours after his return, and was somewhat surprised to see that jake had got up before him and was talking to a pretty, dark-skinned girl. she carried a large bunch of flowers and a basket of fruit stood close by, while jake seemed to be persuading her to part with some. dick stopped and watched them, for the glow of color held his eye. jake's white duck caught the strong sunlight, while the girl's dark hair and eyes were relieved by the brilliant lemon-tinted wall and the mass of crimson bloom. her attitude was coquettish, and jake regarded her with an ingratiating smile. after a few moments, however, dick went down the street and presently heard his comrade following him. when the lad came up, he saw that he had a basket of dark green fruit and a bunch of the red flowers. "i thought you were asleep. early rising is not a weakness of yours," he said. "as it happens, i didn't sleep at all," jake replied. "steering that unhandy coal-scow rather got upon my nerves and when she took the awkward sheer as we came through the reef the tiller knocked maccario down and nearly broke my ribs. i had to stop the helm going the wrong way somehow." dick nodded. it was obvious that the lad had been quick and cool at a critical time, but his twinkling smile showed that he was now in a different mood. "you seem to have recovered. but why couldn't you leave the girl alone?" "i'm not sure she'd have liked that," jake replied. "it's a pity you have no artistic taste, or you might have seen what a picture she made." "as a matter of fact, i did see it, but she has, no doubt, a half-breed lover who'd seriously misunderstand your admiration, which might lead to your getting stabbed some night. anyhow, why did you buy the flowers?" "for one thing, she was taking them to the magellan, and i couldn't stand for seeing that blaze of color wasted on the guzzling crowd you generally find in a hotel dining-room." "that doesn't apply to the fruit. you can't eat those things. they preserve them." "eat them!" jake exclaimed with a pitying look. "well, i suppose it's the only use you have for fruit." he took a stalk fringed with rich red bloom and laid it across the dark green fruit, which was packed among glossy leaves. "now, perhaps, you'll see why i bought it. i rather think it makes a dainty offering." "ah!" said dick. "to whom do you propose to offer it?" "miss kenwardine," jake replied with a twinkle; "though of course her proper color's madonna blue." dick said nothing, but walked on, and when jake asked where he was going, answered shortly: "to the telephone." "well," said jake, "knowing you as i do, i suspected something of the kind. with the romance of the south all round you, you can't rise above concrete and coal." he followed dick to the public telephone office and sat down in the box with the flowers in his hands. a line had recently been run along the coast, and although the service was bad, dick, after some trouble, got connected with a port official at arenas. "did a tug and three coal barges put into your harbor last night?" he asked. "no, señor," was the answer, and dick asked for the coal wharf at adexe. "why didn't you call them first?" jake inquired. "i had a reason. the tug was standing to leeward when she left us, but if her skipper meant to come back to santa brigida, he'd have to put into arenas, where he'd find shelter." "then you're not sure he meant to come back?" "i've some doubts," dick answered dryly, and was told that he was connected with the adexe wharf. "what about the coal for the fuller irrigation works?" he asked. "the tug and four lighters left last night," somebody answered in castilian, and dick imagined from the harshness of the voice that one of the wharf-hands was speaking. "that is so," he said. "has she returned yet?" "no, señor," said the man. "the tug----" he broke off, and there was silence for some moments, after which a different voice took up the conversation in english. "sorry it may be a day or two before we can send more of your coal. the tug's engines----" "has she got back?" dick demanded sharply. "speak louder; i cannot hear." dick did so, but the other did not seem to understand. "in two or three days. you have one lighter." "we have. i want to know if the tug----" "the damage is not serious," the other broke in. "then i'm to understand she's back in port?" a broken murmur answered, but by and by dick caught the words, "not longer than two days." then he rang off, and pushing jake's chair out of the way, shut the door. "it's plain that they don't mean to tell me what i want to know," he remarked. "the first man might have told the truth, if they had let him, but somebody pulled him away. my opinion is that the tug's not at adexe and didn't go there." they went back to the hotel, and dick sat down on a bench in the patio and lighted his pipe. "there's something very curious about the matter," he said. "when the tug left us she seemed to be heading farther off shore than was necessary," jake agreed. "still, the broken water wouldn't matter so much when she had the wind astern." "her skipper wouldn't run off his course and lengthen the distance because the wind was fair." "no, i don't suppose he would." "well," said dick, "my impression is that he didn't mean to start at all, and wouldn't have done so if i hadn't turned him out." jake laughed. "after all, there's no use in making a mystery out of nothing. the people offered us the coal, and you don't suspect a dark plot to stop the works. what would they gain by that?" "nothing that i can see. i don't think they meant to stop the works; but they wanted the coal. it's not at adexe, and there's no other port the tug could reach. where has it gone?" "it doesn't seem to matter, so long as we get a supply before our stock runs out." "try to look at the thing as i do," dick insisted with a frown. "i forced the skipper to go to sea, and as soon as he had a good excuse his tow-rope parted, besides which the last barge went adrift from the rest. her hawser, however, wasn't broken. it was slipped from the craft she was made fast to. then, though the tug's engines were out of order, she steamed to leeward very fast and, i firmly believe, hasn't gone back to adexe." "i expect there's a very simple explanation," jake replied. "the truth is you have a rather senseless suspicion of kenwardine." "i'll own i don't trust him," dick answered quietly. jake made an impatient gesture. "let's see if we can get breakfast, because i'm going to his house afterwards." "they won't have got up yet." "it's curious that you don't know more about their habits after living there. miss kenwardine goes out with lucille before the sun gets hot, and her father's about as early as you are." "what does he do in the morning?" "i haven't inquired, but i've found him in the room he calls his office. you're misled by the idea that his occupation is gambling." dick did not reply, and was silent during breakfast. he understood jake's liking for kenwardine because there was no doubt the man had charm. his careless, genial air set one at one's ease; he had a pleasant smile, and a surface frankness that inspired confidence. dick admitted that if he had not lost the plans at his house, he would have found it difficult to suspect him. but jake was right on one point; kenwardine might play for high stakes, but gambling was not his main occupation. he had some more important business. the theft of the plans, however, offered no clue to this. kenwardine was an adventurer and might have thought he could sell the drawings, but since he had left england shortly afterwards, it was evident that he was not a regular foreign spy. it was some relief to think so, and although there was a mystery about the coal, which dick meant to fathom if he could, nothing indicated that kenwardine's trickery had any political aim. dick dismissed the matter and remembered with half-jealous uneasiness that jake seemed to know a good deal about kenwardine's household. the lad, of course, had gone to make inquiries when he was ill, and had probably been well received. he was very little younger than clare, and fuller was known to be rich. it would suit kenwardine if jake fell in love with the girl, and if not, his extravagance might be exploited. for all that, dick determined that his comrade should not be victimized. when breakfast was over they left the hotel and presently met clare, who was followed by lucille carrying a basket. she looked very fresh and cool in her white dress. on the whole, dick would sooner have avoided the meeting, but jake stopped and clare included dick in her smile of greeting. "i have been to the market with lucille," she said. "the fruit and the curious things they have upon the stalls are worth seeing. but you seem to have been there, though i did not notice you." "no," said jake, indicating the flowers and fruit he carried. "i got these at the hotel. the colors matched so well that i felt i couldn't let them go, and then it struck me that you might like them. dick warned me that the things are not eatable in their present state, which is a pretty good example of his utilitarian point of view." clare laughed as she thanked him, and he resumed: "lucille has enough to carry, and i'd better bring the basket along." "very well," said clare. "my father was getting up when i left." dick said nothing, and stood a yard or two away. the girl had met him without embarrassment, but it was jake she had addressed. he felt that he was, so to speak, being left out. "then i'll come and talk to him for a while," said jake. "i don't know a nicer place on a hot morning than your patio." "but what about your work? are you not needed at the dam?" "my work can wait. i find from experience that it will keep for quite a long time without shriveling away, though often it gets very stale. anyhow, after being engaged on the company's business for the most part of last night, i'm entitled to a rest. my partner, of course, doesn't look at things like that. he's going back as fast as he can." dick hid his annoyance at the hint. it was impossible to prevent the lad from going to kenwardine's when clare was there to hear his objections, and he had no doubt that jake enjoyed his embarrassment. turning away, he tried to forget the matter by thinking about the coal. since kenwardine was at home, it was improbable that he had been at adexe during the night. if clare had a part in her father's plots, she might, of course, have made the statement about his getting up with an object, but dick would not admit this. she had helped the man once, but this was an exception, and she must have yielded to some very strong pressure. for all that, dick hoped his comrade would not tell kenwardine much about their trip in the launch. as a matter of fact, jake handled the subject with some judgment when kenwardine, who had just finished his breakfast, gave him coffee in the patio. they sat beneath the purple creeper while the sunshine crept down the opposite wall. the air was fresh and the murmur of the surf came languidly across the flat roofs. "aren't you in town unusually early?" kenwardine asked. "well," said jake with a twinkle, "you see we got here late." "then brandon was with you. this makes it obvious that you spent a perfectly sober night." jake laughed. he liked kenwardine and meant to stick to him, but although rash and extravagant, he was sometimes shrewd, and admitted that there might perhaps be some ground for dick's suspicions. he was entitled to lose his own money, but he must run no risk of injuring his father's business. however, since kenwardine had a share in the coaling wharf, he would learn that they had been to adexe, and to try to hide this would show that they distrusted him. "our occupation was innocent but rather arduous," he said. "we went to adexe in the launch to see when our coal was coming." "did you get it? the manager told me something about the tug's engines needing repairs." "we got one scow that broke adrift off the tajada reef. they had to turn back with the others." "then perhaps i'd better telephone to find out what they mean to do," kenwardine suggested. jake wondered whether he wished to learn if they had already made inquiries, and thought frankness was best. "brandon called up the wharf as soon as the office was open, but didn't get much information. something seemed to be wrong with the wire." "i suppose he wanted to know when the coal would leave?" "yes," said jake. "but he began by asking if the tug had come back safe, and got no further, because the other fellow couldn't hear." "why was he anxious about the tug?" kenwardine's manner was careless, but jake imagined he felt more interest than he showed. "it was blowing pretty fresh when she left us, and if the scows had broken adrift again, there'd have been some risk of losing them. this would delay the delivery of the coal, and we're getting very short of fuel." "i see," said kenwardine. "well, if anything of the kind had happened, i would have heard of it. you needn't be afraid of not getting a supply." jake waited. he thought it might look significant if he showed any eagerness to change the subject, but when kenwardine began to talk about something else he followed his lead. half an hour later he left the house, feeling that he had used commendable tact, but determined not to tell brandon about the interview. dick had a habit of exaggerating the importance of things, and since he already distrusted kenwardine, jake thought it better not to give him fresh ground for suspicion. there was no use in supplying his comrade with another reason for preventing his going to the house. chapter xvi jake gets into difficulties day was breaking, though it was still dark at the foot of the range, when dick returned wearily to his iron shack after a night's work at the dam. there had been a local subsidence of the foundations on the previous afternoon, and he could not leave the spot until precautions had been taken to prevent the danger spreading. bethune came with him to look at some plans, and on entering the veranda they were surprised to find the house well lighted and smears of mud and water upon the floor. "looks as if a bathing party had been walking round the shack, and your boy had tried to clean up when he was half-asleep," bethune said. dick called his colored servant and asked him: "why are all the lights burning, and what's this mess?" "señor fuller say he no could see the chairs." "why did he want to see them?" "he fall on one, señor; t'row it wit' mucha force and fall on it again. say dozenas of _malditos sillas_. if he fall other time, he kill my head." "ah!" said dick sharply. "where is he now?" "he go in your bed, señor." "what has happened is pretty obvious," bethune remarked. "fuller came home with a big jag on and scared this fellow. we'd better see if he's all right." dick took him into his bedroom and the negro followed. the room was very hot and filled with a rank smell of kerosene, for the lamp was smoking and the negro explained that jake had threatened him with violence if he turned it down. the lad lay with a flushed face on dick's bed; his muddy boots sticking out from under the crumpled coverlet. he seemed to be fully dressed and his wet clothes were smeared with foul green slime. there was a big red lump on his forehead. "why didn't you put him into his own bed?" dick asked the negro. "he go in, señor, and come out quick. say no possible he stop. _maldito_ bed is damp." bethune smiled. "there'll be a big washbasket for the _lavenderas_ to-morrow, but we must take his wet clothes off." he shook jake. "you've got to wake up!" after a time jake opened his eyes and blinked at bethune. "all right! you're not as fat as salvador, and you can catch that chair. the fool thing follows me and keeps getting in my way." "come out," bethune ordered him, and turned to the negro. "where's his pyjamas?" salvador brought a suit, and dick, who dragged jake out of bed, asked: "how did you get into this mess?" "fell into pond behind the dam; not safe that pond. put a shingle up to-morrow, 'keep off the grass.' no, that'sh not right. let'sh try again. 'twenty dollars fine if you spit on the sidewalk.'" bethune grinned at dick. "it's not an unusual notice in some of our smaller towns, and one must admit it's necessary. however, we want to get him into dry clothes." jake gave them some trouble, but they put him in a re-made bed and went back to the verandah, where bethune sat down. "fuller has his good points, but i guess you find him something of a responsibility," he remarked. "i do," said dick, with feeling. "still, this is the first time he has come home the worse for liquor. i'm rather worried about it, because it's a new trouble." "and you had enough already?" bethune suggested. "well, though you're not very old yet, i think miss fuller did well to make you his guardian, and perhaps i'm to blame for his relapse, because i sent him to santa brigida. françois was busy and there were a number of bills to pay for stores we bought in the town. i hope fuller hasn't lost the money!" dick felt disturbed, but he said, "i don't think so. jake's erratic, but he's surprised me by his prudence now and then." bethune left soon afterwards, and dick went to bed, but got up again after an hour or two and began his work without seeing jake. they did not meet during the day, and dick went home to his evening meal uncertain what line to take. he had no real authority, and finding jake languid and silent, decided to say nothing about his escapade. when the meal was finished, they left the hot room, as usual, for the verandah, and jake dropped listlessly into a canvas chair. "i allow you're more tactful than i thought," he remarked with a feeble smile. "guess i was pretty drunk last night." "it looked rather like it from your clothes and the upset in the house," dick agreed. jake looked thoughtful. "well," he said ingenuously, "i _have_ been on a jag before, but i really don't often indulge in that kind of thing, and don't remember drinking enough to knock me out. you see, kenwardine's a fastidious fellow and sticks to wine. the sort he keeps is light." "then you got drunk at his house? i'd sooner have heard you were at the casino, where the spaniards would have turned you out." "you don't know the worst yet," jake replied hesitatingly. "as i'm in a very tight place, i'd better 'fess up. françois doesn't seem to have told you that i tried to draw my pay for some months ahead." "ah!" said dick, remembering with uneasiness what he had learned from bethune. "that sounds ominous. did you----" "let me get it over," jake interrupted. "richter was there, besides a spanish fellow, and a man called black. we'd been playing cards, and i'd won a small pile when my luck began to turn. it wasn't long before i was cleaned out and heavily in debt. kenwardine said i'd had enough and had better quit. i sometimes think you don't quite do the fellow justice." "never mind that," said dick. "i suppose you didn't stop?" "no; i took a drink that braced me up and soon afterwards thought i saw my chance. the cards looked pretty good, and i put up a big bluff and piled on all i had." "but you had nothing; you'd lost what you began with." jake colored. "bethune had given me a check to bearer." "i was afraid of that," dick said gravely. "but go on." "i thought i'd bluff them, but black and the spaniard told me to play, though kenwardine held back at first. said they didn't want to take advantage of my rashness and i couldn't make good. well, i saw how i could put it over, and it looked as if they couldn't stop me, until black brought out a trump i didn't think he ought to have. after that i don't remember much, but imagine i turned on the fellow and made some trouble." "can you remember how the cards went?" "no," said dick awkwardly, "not now, and i may have been mistaken about the thing. i believe i fell over the table and they put me on a couch. after a time, i saw there was nobody in the room, and thought i'd better get out." he paused and added with a flush: "i was afraid miss kenwardine might find me in the morning." "you can't pay back the money you lost?" "i can't. the check will show in the works' accounts and there'll sure be trouble if the old man hears of it." dick was silent for a few moments. it was curious that jake had tried to defend kenwardine; but this did not matter. the lad's anxiety and distress were plain. "if you'll leave the thing entirely in my hands, i'll see what can be done," he said. "i'll have to tell bethune." "i'll do whatever you want, if you'll help me out," jake answered eagerly, and after asking some questions about his losses, dick went to bethune's shack. bethune listened thoughtfully to what he had to say, and then remarked: "we'll take it for granted that you mean to see him through. have you enough money?" "no; that's why i came." "you must get the check back, anyhow," said bethune, who opened a drawer and took out a roll of paper currency. "here's my pile, and it's at your service, but it won't go far enough." "i think it will, with what i can add," said dick, after counting the bills. "you see, i don't mean to pay the full amount." bethune looked at him and smiled. "well, that's rather unusual, but if they made him drunk and the game was not quite straight! have you got his promise not to play again?" "i haven't. what i'm going to do will make it awkward, if not impossible. besides, he'll have no money. i'll stop what he owes out of his pay." "a good plan! however, i won't lend you the money; i'll lend it jake, which makes him responsible. but your pay's less than mine, and you'll have to economize for the next few months." "that won't matter," dick answered quietly. "i owe fuller something, and i like the lad." he went back to his shack and said to jake, "we'll be able to clear off the debt, but you must ask no questions and agree to any arrangement i think it best to make." "you're a good sort," jake said with feeling; but dick cut short his thanks and went off to bed. next morning he started for santa brigida, and when he reached kenwardine's house met clare on a balcony at the top of the outside stairs. somewhat to his surprise, she stopped him with a sign, and then stood silent for a moment, looking disturbed. "mr. brandon," she said hesitatingly, "i resented your trying to prevent mr. fuller coming here, but i now think it better that he should keep away. he's young and extravagant, and perhaps----" "yes," said dick, who felt sympathetic, knowing what her admission must have cost. "i'm afraid he's also rather unsteady." clare looked at him with some color in her face. "i must be frank. something happened recently that showed me he oughtn't to come. i don't think i realized this before." "then you know what happened?" "not altogether," clare replied. "but i learned enough to alarm and surprise me. you must understand that i didn't suspect----" she paused with signs of confusion and then resumed: "of course, people of different kinds visit my father on business, and sometimes stay an hour or two afterwards, and he really can't be held responsible for them. the customs of the country force him to be friendly; you know in santa brigida one's office is something like an english club. well, a man who doesn't come often began a game of cards and when mr. fuller----" "just so," said dick as quietly as he could. "jake's rash and not to be trusted when there are cards about; indeed, i expect he's a good deal to blame, but i'm now going to ask your father not to encourage his visits. i've no doubt he'll see the reason for this." "i'm sure he'll help you when he understands," clare replied, and after giving dick a grateful look moved away. dick went along the balcony, thinking hard. it was obvious that clare had found the interview painful, though he had tried to make it easier for her. she had been alarmed, but he wondered whether she had given him the warning out of tenderness for jake. it was probable that she really thought kenwardine was not to blame, but it must have been hard to acknowledge that his house was a dangerous place for an extravagant lad. still, a girl might venture much when fighting for her lover. dick frowned as he admitted this. jake was a good fellow in spite of certain faults, but it was disturbing to think that clare might be in love with him. it was something of a relief when kenwardine met him at the door of his room and took him in. dick felt that tact was not so needful now, because the hospitality shown him was counterbalanced by the theft of the plans, and he held kenwardine, not clare, accountable for this. kenwardine indicated a chair, and then sat down. "as you haven't been here since you got better, i imagine there's some particular reason for this call," he said, with a smile. "that is so," dick agreed. "i've come on fuller's behalf. he gave you a check the other night. have you cashed it yet?" "no. i imagined he might want to redeem it." "he does; but, to begin with, i'd like to know how much he lost before he staked the check. i understand he increased the original stakes during the game." "i dare say i could tell you, but i don't see your object." "i'll explain it soon. we can't get on until i know the sum." kenwardine took a small, card-scoring book from a drawer, and after a few moments stated the amount jake had lost. "thank you," said dick. "i'll pay you the money now in exchange for the check." "but he lost the check as well." dick hesitated. he had a repugnant part to play, since he must accuse the man who had taken him into his house when he was wounded of conspiring to rob a drunken lad. for all that, his benefactor's son should not be ruined, and he meant to separate him from kenwardine. "i think not," he answered coolly. "but suppose we let that go? the check is worthless, because payment can be stopped, but i'm willing to give you what fuller had already lost." kenwardine raised his eyebrows in ironical surprise. "this is a somewhat extraordinary course. is mr. fuller in the habit of disowning his debts? you know the rule about a loss at cards." "fuller has left the thing in my hands, and you must hold me responsible. i mean to stick to the line i've taken." "then perhaps you won't mind explaining on what grounds you take it." "since you insist! fuller was drunk when he made the bet. as you were his host, it was your duty to stop the game." "the exact point when an excited young man ceases to be sober is remarkably hard to fix," kenwardine answered dryly. "it would be awkward for the host if he fixed it too soon, and insulting to the guest." "that's a risk you should have taken. for another thing, fuller states that a trump was played by a man who ought not to have had it." kenwardine smiled. "doesn't it strike you that you're urging conflicting reasons? first you declare that fuller was drunk, and then that he was able to detect clever players at cheating. your argument contradicts itself and is plainly absurd." "anyhow, i mean to urge it," dick said doggedly. "well," said kenwardine with a steady look, "i've no doubt you see what this implies. you charge me with a plot to intoxicate your friend and take a mean advantage of his condition." "no; i don't go so far. i think you should have stopped the game, but fuller accuses a man called black of playing the wrong card. in fact, i admit that you don't mean to harm him, by taking it for granted that you'll let me have the check, because if you kept it, you'd have some hold on him." "a firm hold," kenwardine remarked. dick had partly expected this, and had his answer ready. "not so firm as you think. if there was no other way, it would force me to stop payment and inform my employer. it would be much better that jake should have to deal with his father than with your friends." "you seem to have thought over the matter carefully," kenwardine rejoined. "well, personally, i'm willing to accept your offer and give up the check; but i must consult the others, since their loss is as much as mine. will you wait while i go to the telephone?" dick waited for some time, after which kenwardine came back and gave him the check. as soon as he got it dick left the house, satisfied because he had done what he had meant to do, and yet feeling doubtful. kenwardine had given way too easily. it looked as if he was not convinced that he must leave fuller alone. on reaching the dam dick gave jake the check and told him how he had got it. the lad flushed angrily, but was silent for a moment, and then gave dick a curious look. "i can't deny your generosity, and i'll pay you back; but you see the kind of fellow you make me out." "i told kenwardine you left me to deal with the matter, and the plan was mine," said dick. jake signified by a gesture that the subject must be dropped. "as i did agree to leave it to you, i can't object. after all, i expect you meant well." chapter xvii the black-funnel boat the breeze had fallen and the shining sea was smooth as glass when the launch passed adexe. dick, who lounged at the helm, was not going there. some alterations to a mole along the coast had just been finished, and stuyvesant had sent him to engage the contractor who had done the concrete work. jake, who occasionally found his duties irksome, had insisted on coming. as they crossed the mouth of the inlet, dick glanced shorewards through his glasses. the whitewashed coal-sheds glistened dazzlingly, and a fringe of snowy surf marked the curve of beach, but outside this a belt of cool, blue water extended to the wharf. the swell surged to and fro among the piles, checkered with purple shadows and laced with threads of foam, but it was the signs of human activity that occupied dick's attention. he noticed the cloud of dust that rolled about the mounds of coal upon the wharf and blurred the figures of the toiling peons, and the way the tubs swung up and down from the hatches of an american collier until the rattle of her winches suddenly broke off. "they seem to be doing a big business," he remarked. "it looks as if that boat had stopped discharging, but she must have landed a large quantity of coal." "there's pretty good shelter at adexe," jake replied. "in ordinary weather, steamers can come up to the wharf, instead of lying a quarter of a mile off, as they do at santa brigida. however, there's not much cargo shipped, and a captain who wanted his bunkers filled would have to make a special call with little chance of picking up any freight. that must tell against the place." they were not steaming fast, and just before a projecting point shut in the inlet the deep blast of a whistle rang across the water and the collier's dark hull swung out from the wharf. a streak of foam, cut sharply between her black side and the shadowed blue of the sea, marked her load-line, and she floated high, but not as if she were empty. "going on somewhere else to finish, i guess," said jake. "how much do you reckon she has discharged?" "fifteen hundred tons, if she was full when she came in, and i imagine they hadn't much room in the sheds before. i wonder where kenwardine gets the money, unless his friend, richter, is rich." "richter has nothing to do with the business," jake replied. "he was to have had a share, but they couldn't come to a satisfactory agreement." dick looked at him sharply. "how do you know?" "i really don't know much. kenwardine said something about it one night when i was at his house." "did somebody ask him?" "no," said jake, "i don't think so. the subject, so to speak, cropped up and he offered us the information." then he talked of something else and soon afterwards the coast receded as they crossed a wide bay. it was about four o'clock in the afternoon when they reached the farthest point from land. there was no wind, and in the foreground the sea ran in long undulations whose backs blazed with light. farther off, the gentle swell was smoothed out and became an oily expanse that faded into the glitter on the horizon, but at one point the latter was faintly blurred. a passing vessel, dick thought, and occupied himself with the engine, for he had not brought the fireman. looking round some time afterwards, he saw that the ship had got more distinct and picked up his glasses. she was a two-masted steamer and, cut off by the play of reflected light, floated like a mirage between sky and sea. after studying her for a minute, dick gave jake the glasses. "it's a curious effect, but not uncommon on a day like this," he said. "she's like the big spanish boats and has their tall black funnel." "she's very like them," jake agreed. "there's no smoke, and no wash about her. it looks as if they'd had some trouble in the engine-room and she'd stopped." dick nodded and glanced across the dazzling water towards the high, blue coast. he did not think the steamer could be seen from the land, and the launch would, no doubt, be invisible from her deck, but this was not important and he began to calculate how long it would take them to reach a point ahead. some time later, he looked round again. the steamer was fading in the distance, but no smoke trailed behind her and he did not think she had started yet. his attention, however, was occupied by the headland he was steering for, because he thought it marked the neighborhood of their port. he spent an hour in the place before he finished his business and started home, and when they were about half-way across the bay the light began to fade. the sun had sunk and the high land cut, harshly blue, against a saffron glow; the sea was shadowy and colorless in the east. presently jake, who sat facing aft, called out: "there's a steamer's masthead light coming up astern of us. now i see her side lights, and by the distance between them she's a big boat." dick changed his course, because the steamer's three lights would not have been visible unless she was directly following him and the launch's small yellow funnel and dingy white topsides would be hard to distinguish. when he had shut out one of the colored side lights and knew he was safe, he stopped the engine to wait until the vessel passed. there was no reason why he should do so, but somehow he felt interested in the ship. lighting his pipe, he studied her through the glasses, which he gave to jake. "she's the boat we saw before," he said. "that's so," jake agreed. "her engines are all right now because she's steaming fast." dick nodded, for he had marked the mass of foam that curled and broke away beneath the vessel's bow, but jake resumed: "it looks as if her dynamo had stopped. there's nothing to be seen but her navigation lights and she's certainly a passenger boat. they generally glitter like a gin-saloon." the ship was getting close now and dick, who asked for the glasses, examined her carefully as she came up, foreshortened, on their quarter. her dark bow looked very tall and her funnel loomed, huge and shadowy, against the sky. above its top the masthead light shed a yellow glimmer, and far below, the sea leapt and frothed about the line of hull. this drew out and lengthened as she came abreast of them, but now he could see the tiers of passenger decks, one above the other, there was something mysterious in the gloom that reigned on board. no ring of light pierced her long dark side and the gangways behind the rails and rows of stanchions looked like shadowy caves. in the open spaces, forward and aft, however, bodies of men were gathered, their clothes showing faintly white, but they stood still in a compact mass until a whistle blew and the indistinct figures scattered across the deck. "a big crew," jake remarked. "guess they've been putting them through a boat or fire drill." dick did not answer, but when the vessel faded into a hazy mass ahead he started the engine and steered into her eddying wake, which ran far back into the dark. then after a glance at the compass, he beckoned jake. "look how she's heading." jake told him and he nodded. "i made it half a point more to port, but this compass swivels rather wildly. where do you think she's bound?" "to santa brigida; but, as you can see, not direct. i expect her skipper wants to take a bearing from the adexe lights. you are going there and her course is the same as ours." "no," said dick; "i'm edging in towards the land rather short of adexe. as we have the current on our bow, i want to get hold of the beach as soon as i can, for the sake of slacker water. anyway, a big boat would keep well clear of the shore until she passed the tajada reef." "then she may be going into adexe for coal." "that vessel wouldn't float alongside the wharf, and her skipper would sooner fill his bunkers where he'd get passengers and freight." "well, i expect we'll find her at santa brigida when we arrive." they looked round, but the sea was now dark and empty and they let the matter drop. when they crossed the adexe bight no steamer was anchored near, but a cluster of lights on the dusky beach marked the coaling wharf. "they're working late," dick said. "can you see the tug?" "you'd have to run close in before you could do so," jake replied. "i expect they're trimming the coal the collier landed into the sheds." "it's possible," dick agreed, and after hesitating for a few moments held on his course. he remembered that one can hear a launch's engines and the splash of torn-up water for some distance on a calm night. after a time, the lights of santa brigida twinkled ahead, and when they steamed up to the harbor both looked about. the american collier and a big cargo-boat lay with the reflections of their anchor-lights quivering on the swell, but there was no passenger liner to be seen. a man came to moor the launch when they landed, and jake asked if the vessel he described had called. "no, señor," said the man. "the only boats i know like that are the cadiz liners, and the next is not due for a fortnight." "her model's a pretty common one for big passenger craft," jake remarked to dick as they went up the mole. "still, the thing's curious. she wasn't at adexe and she hasn't been here. she certainly passed us, steering for the land, and i don't see where she could have gone." dick began to talk about something else, but next morning asked stuyvesant for a day's leave. stuyvesant granted it and dick resumed: "do you mind giving me a blank order form? i'm going to adexe, and the storekeeper wants a few things we can't get in santa brigida." stuyvesant signed the form. "there it is. the new coaling people seem an enterprising crowd, and you can order anything they can supply." dick hired a mule and took the steep inland road; but on reaching adexe went first to the sugar mill and spent an hour with the american engineer, whose acquaintance he had made. then, having, as he thought, accounted for his visit, he went to the wharf and carefully looked about as he made his way to the manager's office. a few grimy peons were brushing coal-dust off the planks, their thinly-clad forms silhouetted against the shining sea. their movements were languid, and dick wondered whether this was due to the heat or if it was accounted for by forced activity on the previous night. a neatly built stack of coal stood beside the whitewashed sheds, but nothing suggested that it had been recently broken into. passing it carelessly dick glanced into the nearest shed, which was almost full, though its proximity to deep water indicated that supplies would be drawn from it before the other. feeling rather puzzled, he stopped in front of the next shed and noted that there was much less coal in this. moreover, a large number of empty bags lay near the entrance, as if they had been used recently and the storekeeper had not had time to put them away. two men were folding up the bags, but, by contrast with the glitter outside, the shed was dark, and dick's eyes were not accustomed to the gloom. still he thought one of the men was oliva, the contractor whom stuyvesant had dismissed. next moment the fellow turned and threw a folded bag aside, after which he walked towards the other end of the shed. his movements were leisurely, but he kept his back to dick and the latter thought this significant, although he was not sure the man had seen him. as he did not want to be seen loitering about the sheds, he walked on, feeling puzzled. since he did not know what stock the company had held, it was difficult to tell if coal had recently been shipped, but he imagined that some must have left the wharf after the collier had unloaded. he was used to calculating weights and cubic quantities, and the sheds were not large. taking it for granted that the vessel had landed one thousand five hundred tons, he thought there ought to be more about than he could see. still, if some had been shipped, he could not understand why it had been taken, at a greater cost for labor, from the last shed, where one would expect the company to keep their reserve supply. he might, perhaps, find out something from the manager, but this would need tact. entering the small, hot office, he found a suave spanish gentleman whom he had already met. the latter greeted him politely and gave him a cigar. "it is not often you leave the works, but a change is good," he said. "we're not quite so busy and i promised to pay allen at the sugar mill a visit," dick replied. "besides, i had an excuse for the trip. we're short of some engine stores that i dare say you can let us have." he gave the manager a list, and the spaniard nodded as he marked the items. "we can send you most of the things. it pays us to stock goods that the engineers of the ships we coal often want; but there are some we have not got." "very well," said dick. "i'll fill up our form for what you have and you can put the things on board the tug the first time she goes to santa brigida." "she will go in three or four days." dick decided that as the launch had probably been seen, he had better mention his voyage. "that will be soon enough. if our storekeeper had told me earlier, i would have called here yesterday. i passed close by on my way to orava." "one of the peons saw your boat. it is some distance to orava." "the sea was very smooth," said dick. "i went to engage a contractor who had been at work upon the mole." so far, conversation had been easy, and he had satisfactorily accounted for his passing the wharf, without, he hoped, appearing anxious to do so; but he had learned nothing yet, although he thought the spaniard was more interested in his doings than he looked. "the collier was leaving as we went by," he resumed. "trade must be good, because she seemed to have unloaded a large quantity of coal." "sixteen hundred tons," said the manager. "in war time, when freights advance, it is wise to keep a good stock." as this was very nearly the quantity dick had guessed, he noted the man's frankness, but somehow imagined it was meant to hide something. "so long as you can sell the stock," he agreed. "war, however, interferes with trade, and the french line have reduced their sailings, while i expect the small british tramps won't be so numerous." "they have nothing to fear in these waters." "i suppose they haven't, and vessels belonging to neutral countries ought to be safe," said dick. "still, the spanish company seem to have changed their sailings, because i thought i saw one of their boats yesterday; but she was a long way off on the horizon." he thought the other gave him a keen glance, but as the shutters were partly closed the light was not good, and the man answered carelessly: "they do not deal with us. adexe is off their course and no boats so large can come up to the wharf." "well," said dick, who believed he had admitted enough to disarm any suspicion the other might have entertained, "doesn't coal that's kept exposed to the air lose some of its heating properties?" "it does not suffer much damage. but we will drink a glass of wine, and then i will show you how we keep our coal." "thanks. these things interest me, but i looked into the sheds as i passed," dick answered as he drank his wine. they went out and when they entered the first shed the spaniard called a peon and gave him an order dick did not catch. then he showed dick the cranes, and the trucks that ran along the wharf on rails, and how they weighed the bags of coal. after a time they went into a shed that was nearly empty and dick carefully looked about. several peons were at work upon the bags, but oliva was not there. dick wondered whether he had been warned to keep out of sight. as they went back to the office, his companion looked over the edge of the wharf and spoke to a seaman on the tug below. her fires were out and the hammering that came up through the open skylights indicated that work was being done in her engine-room. then one of the workmen seemed to object to something another said, for dick heard "no; it must be tightened. it knocked last night." he knew enough castilian to feel sure he had not been mistaken, and the meaning of what he had heard was plain. a shaft-journal knocks when the bearings it revolves in have worn or shaken loose, and the machinery must have been running when the engineer heard the noise. dick thought it better to light a cigarette, and was occupied shielding the match with his hands when the manager turned round. a few minutes later he stated that as it was a long way to santa brigida he must start soon and after some spanish compliments the other let him go. he followed the hill road slowly in a thoughtful mood. the manager had been frank, but dick suspected him of trying to show that he had nothing to hide. then he imagined that a quantity of coal had been shipped since the previous day, and if the tug had been at sea at night, she must have been used for towing lighters. the large vessel he had seen was obviously a passenger boat, but fast liners could be converted into auxiliary cruisers. there were, however, so far as he knew, no enemy cruisers in the neighborhood; indeed, it was supposed that they had been chased off the seas. still, there was something mysterious about the matter, and he meant to watch the coaling company and kenwardine. chapter xviii dick gets a warning on the evening of one pay-day, dick took a short cut through the half-breed quarter of santa brigida. as not infrequently happens in old spanish cities, this unsavory neighborhood surrounded the cathedral and corresponded in character with the localities known in western america as "across the track." indeed, a castilian proverb bluntly plays upon the juxtaposition of vice and bells. ancient houses rose above the dark and narrow street. flakes of plaster had fallen from their blank walls, the archways that pierced them were foul and strewn with refuse, and a sour smell of decay and garbage tainted the stagnant air. here and there a grossly fat, slatternly woman leaned upon the rails of an outside balcony; negroes, chinamen, and half-breeds passed along the broken pavements; and the dirty, open-fronted wine-shops, where swarms of flies hovered about the tables, were filled with loungers of different shades of color. by and by dick noticed a man in clean white duck on the opposite side of the street. he was a short distance in front, but his carriage and the fit of his clothes indicated that he was a white man and probably an american, and dick slackened his pace. he imagined that the other would sooner not be found in that neighborhood if he happened to be an acquaintance. the fellow, however, presently crossed the street, and when he stopped and looked about, dick, meeting him face to face, saw with some surprise that it was kemp, the fireman, who had shown him an opportunity of escaping from the steamer that took them south. kemp had turned out a steady, sober man, and dick, who had got him promoted, wondered what he was doing there, though he reflected that his own presence in the disreputable locality was liable to be misunderstood. kemp, however, looked at him with a twinkle. "i guess you're making for the harbor, mr. brandon?" dick said he was, and kemp studied the surrounding houses. "well," he resumed, "i'm certainly up against it now. i don't know much spanish, and these fool dagos can't talk american, while they're packed so tight in their blamed tenements that it's curious they don't fall out of the windows. it's a tough proposition to locate a man here." "then you're looking for somebody?" "yes. i've tracked payne to this _calle_, but i guess there's some trailing down to be done yet." "ah!" said dick; for payne was the dismissed storekeeper. "why do you want him?" "i met him a while back and he'd struck bad luck, hurt his arm, for one thing. he'd been working among the breeds on the mole and living in their tenements, and couldn't strike another job. i reckoned he might want a few dollars, and i don't spend all my pay." dick nodded, because he understood the unfortunate position of the white man who loses caste in a tropical country. an englishman or american may engage in manual labor where skill is required and the pay is high, but he must live up to the standards of his countrymen. if forced to work with natives and adopt their mode of life, he risks being distrusted and avoided by men of his color. remembering that payne had interfered when he was stabbed, dick had made some inquiries about him, but getting no information decided that he had left the town. "then he's lodging in this street," he said. "that's what they told me at the wine-shop. he had to quit the last place because he couldn't pay." "wasn't he with oliva?" dick inquired. "he was, but oliva turned him down. i allow it was all right to fire him, but he's surely up against it now." dick put his hand in his pocket. "if you find him, you might let me know. in the meantime, here's five dollars----" "hold on!" said kemp. "don't take out your wallet here. i'll fix the thing, and ask for the money when i get back." dick left him, and when he had transacted his business returned to the dam. an hour or two later kemp arrived and stated that he had not succeeded in finding payne. the man had left the squalid room he occupied and nobody knew where he had gone. during the next week dick had again occasion to visit the harbor, and while he waited on the mole for a boat watched a gang of peons unloading some fertilizer from a barge. it was hard and unpleasant work, for the stuff, which had a rank smell, escaped from the bags and covered the perspiring men. the dust stuck to their hot faces, almost hiding their color; but one, though equally dirty, looked different from the rest, and dick, noting that he only used his left arm, drew nearer. as he did so, the man walked up the steep plank from the lighter with a bag upon his back and staggering across the mole dropped it with a gasp. his heaving chest and set face showed what the effort had cost, and the smell of the fertilizer hung about his ragged clothes. dick saw that it was payne and that the fellow knew him. "you have got a rough job," he remarked. "can't you find something better?" "nope," said the man grimly. "do you reckon i'd pack dirt with a crowd like this if i could help it?" dick, who glanced at the lighter, where half-naked negroes and mulattos were at work amid a cloud of nauseating dust, understood the social degradation the other felt. "what's the matter with your arm?" he asked. payne pulled up his torn sleeve and showed an inflamed and half-healed wound. "that! got it nipped in a crane-wheel and it doesn't get much better. guess this dirt is poisonous. anyway, it keeps me here. i've been trying to make enough to buy a ticket to jamaica, but can't work steady. as soon as i've put up two or three dollars, i have to quit." dick could understand this. the man looked gaunt and ill and must have been heavily handicapped by his injured arm. he did not seem anxious to excite dick's pity, though the latter did not think he cherished much resentment. "i tried to find you when i got better after being stabbed," he said. "i don't quite see why you came to my help." payne grinned sourly. "you certainly hadn't much of a claim; but you were a white man and that dago meant to kill. now if i'd held my job with fuller and you hadn't dropped on to oliva's game, i'd have made my little pile; but i allow you had to fire us when something put you wise." "i see," said dick, with a smile at the fellow's candor. "well, i couldn't trust you with the cement again, but we're short of a man to superintend a peon gang and i'll talk to mr. stuyvesant about it if you'll tell me your address." payne gave him a fixed, eager look. "you get me the job and take me out of this and you won't be sorry. i'll make it good to you--and i reckon i can." dick, who thought the other's anxiety to escape from his degrading occupation had prompted his last statement, turned away, saying he would see what could be done, and in the evening visited stuyvesant. bethune was already with him, and dick told them how he had found payne. "you felt you had to promise the fellow a job because he butted in when the dagos got after you?" stuyvesant suggested. "no," said dick with some embarrassment, "it wasn't altogether that. he certainly did help me, but i can't pass my obligations on to my employer. if you think he can't be trusted, i'll pay his passage to another port." "well, i don't know that if i had the option i'd take the fellow out of jail, so long as he was shut up decently out of sight; but this is worse, in a way. what do you think, bethune?" bethune smiled. "you ought to know. i'm a bit of a philosopher, but when you stir my racial feelings i'm an american first. the mean white's a troublesome proposition at home, but we can't afford to exhibit him to the dagos here." he turned to dick. "that's our attitude, brandon, and though you were not long in our country, you seem to sympathize with it. i don't claim it's quite logical, but there it is! we're white and _different_." "do you want me to hire the man?" stuyvesant asked with an impatient gesture. "yes," said dick. "then put him on. if he steals anything, i'll hold you responsible and ship him out on the next cement boat, whether he wants to go or not." next morning dick sent word to payne, who arrived at the dam soon afterwards and did his work satisfactorily. on the evening of the first pay-day he went to santa brigida, but dick, who watched him in the morning, noted somewhat to his surprise, that he showed no signs of dissipation. when work stopped at noon he heard a few pistol shots, but was told on inquiring that it was only one or two of the men shooting at a mark. a few days afterwards he found it necessary to visit santa brigida. since bethune confined his talents to constructional problems and languidly protested that he had no aptitude for commerce, much of the company's minor business gradually fell into dick's hands. as a rule, he went to the town in the evening, after he had finished at the dam. while a hand-car was being got ready to take him down the line, payne came up to the veranda, where dick sat with jake. "you're going down town, mr. brandon," he said. "have you got a gun?" "i have not," said dick. payne pulled out an automatic pistol. "then you'd better take mine. i bought her, second-hand, with my first pay, but she's pretty good. i reckon you can shoot?" "a little," said dick, who had practised with the british army revolver. "still i don't carry a pistol." "you ought," payne answered meaningly, and walking to the other end of the veranda stuck a scrap of white paper on a post. "say, suppose you try her? i want to see you put a pill through that." dick was surprised by the fellow's persistence, but there is a fascination in shooting at a target, and when jake urged him he took the pistol. steadying it with stiffened wrist and forearm, he fired but hit the post a foot below the paper. "you haven't allowed for the pull-off, and you're slow," payne remarked. "you want to sight high, with a squeeze on the trigger, and then catch her on the drop." he took the pistol and fixed his eyes on the paper before he moved. then his arm went up suddenly and the glistening barrel pointed above the mark. there was a flash as his wrist dropped and a black spot appeared near the middle of the paper. "use her like that! you'd want a mighty steady hand to hold her dead on the mark while you pull off." "sit down and tell us why you think mr. brandon ought to have the pistol," jake remarked. "i go to santa brigida now and then, but you haven't offered to lend it me." payne sat down on the steps and looked at him with a smile. "you're all right, mr. fuller. they're not after you." "then you reckon it wasn't me they wanted the night my partner was stabbed? i had the money." "nope," said payne firmly. "i allow they'd have corralled the dollars if they could, but it was mr. brandon they meant to knock out." he paused and added in a significant tone: "they're after him yet." "hadn't you better tell us whom you mean by 'they'?" dick asked. "oliva's gang. there are toughs in the city who'd kill you for fifty cents." "does that account for your buying the pistol when you came here?" "it does," payne admitted dryly. "i didn't mean to take any chances when it looked as if i was going back on my dago partner." "he turned you down first, and i don't see how you could harm him by working for us." payne did not answer, and dick, who thought he was pondering something, resumed: "these half-breeds are a revengeful lot, but after all, oliva wouldn't run a serious risk without a stronger motive than he seems to have." "well," said payne, "if i talked spanish, i could tell you more; but i was taking my siesta one day in a dark wine-shop when two or three hard-looking peons came in. they mayn't have seen me, because there were some casks in the way, and anyhow, they'd reckon i couldn't understand them. i didn't very well, but i heard your name and caught a word or two. their _patron_ had given them some orders and one called him don ramon. you were to be watched, because _mirar_ came in; but i didn't get the rest and they went out soon. i lay as if i was asleep, but i'd know the crowd again." payne got up as he concluded: "anyway, you take my gun, and keep in the main _calles_, where the lights are." when he had gone jake remarked: "i guess his advice is good and i'm coming along." "no," said dick, smiling as he put the pistol in his pocket. "the trouble is that if i took you down there i mightn't get you back. besides, there are some calculations i want you to make." lighting his pipe, he took his seat on the hand-car and knitted his brows as two colored laborers drove him down the hill. below, the lights of santa brigida gleamed in a cluster against the dusky sea, and he knew something of the intrigues that went on in the town. commercial and political jealousies were very keen, and citizens of all ranks fought and schemed against their neighbors. the place was rank with plots, but it was hard to see how he could be involved. yet it certainly began to look as if he had been stabbed by oliva's order, and oliva was now employed at the adexe coaling wharf. this seemed to throw a light upon the matter. something mysterious was going on at adexe, and perhaps he had been incautious and had shown his suspicions; the spaniards were subtle. the manager might have imagined he knew more than he did; but if it was worth defending by the means payne had hinted at, the secret must be very important, and the plotters would hesitate about betraying themselves by another attempt upon his life so long as there was any possibility of failure. besides, it was dangerous to attack a foreigner, since if he were killed, the representative of his country would demand an exhaustive inquiry. while dick pondered the matter the hand-car stopped and he alighted and walked briskly to santa brigida, keeping in the middle of the road. when he reached the town, he chose the wide, well-lighted streets but saw nothing suspicious. after transacting his business he ventured, by way of experiment, across a small dark square and returned to the main street by a narrow lane, but although he kept a keen watch nothing indicated that he was followed. reaching the hand-car without being molested, he determined to be cautious in future, though it was possible that payne had been deceived. chapter xix jake explains matters the sun had sunk behind the range when clare kenwardine stood, musing, on a balcony of the house. voices and footsteps reached her across the roofs, for santa brigida was wakening from its afternoon sleep and the traffic had begun again in the cooling streets. the girl listened vacantly, as she grappled with questions that had grown more troublesome of late. the life she led often jarred, and yet she could find no escape. she hoped she was not unnecessarily censorious and tried to argue that after all there was no great harm in gambling, but rarely succeeded in convincing herself. then she had deliberately thrown in her lot with her father's. when she first insisted on joining him in england, he had, for her sake, as she now realized, discouraged the plan, but had since come to depend upon her in many ways, and she could not leave him. besides, it was too late. she had made her choice and must stick to it. yet she rebelled against the feeling that she had brought a taint or stigma upon herself. she had no women friends except the wives of one or two spanish officials whose reputation for honesty was not of the best; the english and american women left her alone. most of the men she met she frankly disliked, and imagined that the formal respect they showed her was due to her father's hints. kenwardine's moral code was not severe, but he saw that his guests preserved their manners. clare had heard the spaniards call him _muy caballero_, and they knew the outward points of a gentleman. while she pondered, he came out on the balcony. "brooding?" he said with a smile. "well, it has been very dull lately and we need cheering up. suppose you send mr. fuller a note and ask him to dinner to-morrow? he's sometimes amusing and i think you like him." clare braced herself for a struggle, for it was seldom she refused her father's request. "yes," she said, "i like him, but it would be better if he didn't come." kenwardine gave her a keen glance, but although he felt some surprise did not try to hide his understanding of what she meant. "it looks as if you knew something about what happened on his last visit." "i do," clare answered. "it was rather a shock." "one mustn't exaggerate the importance of these things," kenwardine remarked in an indulgent tone. "it's difficult to avoid getting a jar now and then, though i've tried to shield you as much as possible. fuller's young and high-spirited, and you really mustn't judge his youthful extravagance too severely." "but don't you see you are admitting that he shouldn't come?" clare asked, with some color in her face. "he _is_ young and inexperienced, and your friends are men of the world. what is safe for them may be dangerous for him." kenwardine pondered. fuller was an attractive lad, and he would not have been displeased to think that clare's wish to protect him might spring from sentimental tenderness. but if this were so, she would hardly have been so frank and have admitted that he was weak. moreover, if she found his society congenial, she would not insist on keeping him away. "you are afraid some of the others might take advantage of his rashness?" he suggested. "can't you trust me to see this doesn't happen?" "it did happen, not long ago. and you can't go very far; one can't be rude to one's guests." "well," said kenwardine, smiling, "it's kind of you to make an excuse for me. on the whole, of course, i like you to be fastidious in your choice of friends, but one should temper severity with sense. i don't want you to get as exacting as brandon, for example." "i'm afraid he was right when he tried to keep fuller away." "right in thinking my house was unsafe for the lad, and in warning him that you and i were unfit for him to associate with?" kenwardine studied the girl. she looked distressed, and he thought this significant, but after a moment or two she answered steadily: "after all, brandon had some grounds for thinking so. i would much sooner you didn't urge me to ask jake fuller." "very well," said kenwardine. "i don't want you to do anything that's repugnant; but, of course, if he comes to see me, i can't send him off. it isn't a matter of much importance, anyhow." he left her, but she was not deceived by his careless tone. she thought he meant to bring fuller back and did not see how she could prevent this, although she had refused to help. then she thought about the plans that brandon had lost at their house in england. they had certainly been stolen, for she could not doubt what he had told her, but it was painful to admit that her father had taken them. she felt dejected and lonely, and while she struggled against the depression lucille came to say that jake was waiting below. "tell him i am not at home," clare replied. lucille went away and clare left the balcony, but a few minutes later, when she thought jake had gone, she went down the stairs and met him coming up. he stopped with a twinkle of amusement. "i sent word that i was not at home," she said haughtily. "you did," jake agreed in an apologetic tone. "it's your privilege, but although i felt rather hurt, i don't see why that should prevent my asking if your father was in." clare's indignation vanished. she liked jake and was moved by his reproachful look. she determined to try an appeal. "mr. fuller," she said, "i would sooner you didn't come to see us. it would be better, in several ways." he gave her a curious, intent look, in which she read sympathy. "i can't pretend i don't understand, and you're very brave. still, i'm not sure you're quite just, to me among others. i'm a bit of a fool, but i'm not so rash as some people think. anyhow, if i were, i'd still be safe enough in your house. sorry, but i can't promise to stop away." "it would really be much better," clare insisted. "would it make things any easier for you?" "no," said clare. "in a sense, it could make no difference to me." "very well. i intend to call on your father now and then. of course, you needn't see me unless you like, though since i am coming, your keeping out of the way wouldn't do much good." clare made a gesture of helpless protest. "why won't you be warned? can't you understand? do you think it is easy for me to try----" "i don't," said jake. "i know it's very hard. i think you're mistaken about the necessity for interfering; that's all." then he paused and resumed in a different tone: "you see, i imagine that you must feel lonely at times, and that you might need a friend. i dare say you'd find me better than none, and i'd like to know that i'll have an opportunity of being around if i'm wanted." he gave her a quiet, respectful glance, and clare knew she had never liked him so much. he looked trustworthy, and it was a relief to note that there was no hint of anything but sympathy in his eyes and voice. he asked nothing but permission to protect her if there was need. moreover, since they had been forced to tread on dangerous ground, he had handled the situation with courage. she might require a friend, and his honest sympathy was refreshing by contrast with the attitude of her father's companions. some were hard and cynical and some were dissipated, but all were stamped by a repugnant greediness. they sought something: money, the gratification of base desires, success in dark intrigue. jake with his chivalrous generosity stood far apart from them; but he must be saved from becoming like them. "if i knew how i could keep you away, i would do so, but i can, at least, see you as seldom as possible," she said and left him. jake knitted his brows as he went on to kenwardine's room. he understood clare's motive, and admitted that she meant well, but he was not going to stop away because she thought this better for him. there was, however, another matter that demanded his attention and he felt awkward when kenwardine opened the door. "it's some time since you have been to see us," the latter remarked. "it is," said jake. "perhaps you can understand that i felt rather shy about coming after the way my partner arranged the matter of the check." "he arranged it to your advantage, and you ought to be satisfied. mr. brandon is obviously a business man." jack resented the polished sneer. "he's a very good sort and i'm grateful to him; but it doesn't follow that i adopt his point of view." "you mean his views about the payment of one's debts?" "yes," said jake. "i don't consider the debt wiped out; in fact, that's why i came. i want to make good, but it will take time. if you will ask your friends to wait----" kenwardine looked at him with an ironical smile. "isn't this a change of attitude? i understood you claimed that you were under a disadvantage through being drunk and suspected that the game was not quite straight." "i was drunk and still suspect black of crooked play." "it's rather a grave statement." "i quite see that," said jake. "however, i deserved to lose for being drunk when i was betting high, and don't hold you accountable for black. you'd take steep chances if you guaranteed all guests." kenwardine laughed. "you're remarkably frank; but there's some truth in what you say, although the convention is that i do guarantee them and their honor's mine." "we'll keep to business," jake replied. "will you tell your friends i'll pay them out in full as soon as i can?" "certainly. since they thought the matter closed, it will be a pleasant surprise, but we'll let that go. mr. brandon obviously didn't consult your wishes, but have you any idea what his object was in taking his very unusual line?" "yes," said jake; "if you press me, i have." "he thought he would make it awkward for you to come here, in fact?" "something like that." "then you mean to run the risk?" "i'm coming, if you'll allow it," jake answered with a twinkle. "the risk isn't very great, because if i lose any more money in the next few months, the winners will not get paid. the old man certainly won't stand for it if i get into debt." kenwardine pushed a box of cigarettes across. "i congratulate you on your way of making things clear, and now we understand each other you can come when you like. have a smoke." jake took a cigarette, but left soon afterwards to do an errand of bethune's that had given him an excuse for visiting the town. then he went back to the dam, and after dinner sat outside dick's shack, pondering what clare had said. she had, of course, had some ground for warning him, but he did not believe yet that kenwardine meant to exploit his recklessness. it would not be worth while, for one thing, since he had never had much money to lose and now had none. besides, kenwardine was not the man to take a mean advantage of his guest, though jake could not say as much for some of his friends. anyhow, he meant to go to the house because he felt that clare might need his help. he did not see how that might be, but he had a half-formed suspicion that she might have to suffer on her father's account, and if anything of the kind happened, he meant to be about. yet he was not in love with her. she attracted him strongly, and he admitted that it would be remarkably easy to become infatuated, but did not mean to let this happen. though often rash, he had more sense and self-control than his friends believed, and realized that clare was not for him. he could not tell how he had arrived at this conclusion, but there it was, and he knew he was not mistaken. sometimes he wondered with a twinge of jealousy what she thought of brandon. by and by he roused himself from his reflections and looked about. there was no moon and a thin mist that had stolen out of the jungle drifted past the shack. a coffee-pot and two cups stood upon a table near his chair, and one cup was half empty, as dick had left it when he was unexpectedly summoned to the dam, where work was going on. the veranda lamp had been put out, because jake did not want to read and a bright light would have attracted moths and beetles, but dick had left a lamp burning in his room, and a faint illumination came through the curtain on the open window. everything was very quiet except when the ringing of hammers and the rattle of a crane rose from the dam. looking farther round, jake thought he distinguished the blurred outline of a human figure in the mist, but was not surprised. some ironwork that made a comfortable seat lay near the shack and the figure had been there before. for all that, he imagined the man was wasting his time and keeping an unnecessary watch. then his thoughts again centered on clare and kenwardine and some time had passed when he looked up. something had disturbed him, but he could not tell what it was, and on glancing at the spot where he had seen the figure he found it had gone. next moment a board in the house creaked softly, as if it had been trodden on; but the boards often did so after a change of temperature, and jake sat still. their colored servant had asked leave to go down to the camp and was perhaps now coming back. one had to be careful not to give one's imagination too much rein in these hot countries. payne seemed to have done so and had got an attack of nerves, which was curious, because indulgence in native caña generally led to that kind of thing, and payne was sober. moreover, he was of the type that is commonly called hard. jake took out a cigarette and was lighting it when he heard a swift, stealthy step close behind him. he dropped the match as he swung round, pushing back his canvas chair, and found his eyes dazzled by the sudden darkness. still he thought he saw a shadow flit across the veranda and vanish into the mist. next moment there were heavier footsteps, and a crash as a man fell over the projecting legs of the chair. the fellow rolled down the shallow stairs, dropping a pistol and then hurriedly got up. "stop right there, pepe!" he shouted. "what were you doing in that room?" nobody answered and jake turned to the man, who was rubbing his leg. "what's the trouble, payne?" he asked. "he's lit out, but i reckon i'd have got him if you'd been more careful how you pushed your chair around." "whom did you expect to get?" "well," said payne, "it wasn't pepe." "then why did you call him?" "i wanted the fellow i was after to think i'd made a mistake." jake could understand this, though the rest was dark. pepe was an indian boy who brought water and domestic stores to the shack, but would have no excuse for entering it at night. "i allow he meant to dope the coffee," payne resumed. this was alarming, and jake abruptly glanced at the table. the intruder must have been close to it and behind him when he heard the step, and might have accomplished his purpose and stolen away had he not struck the match. "he hadn't time," he answered. "we had better see what he was doing in the house." payne put away his pistol and they entered dick's room. nothing seemed to have been touched, until jake placed the lamp on a writing-table where dick sometimes worked at night. the drawers beneath it were locked, but payne indicated a greasy finger-print on the writing-pad. "i guess that's a dago's mark. mr. brandon would wash his hands before he began to write." jake agreed, and picking up the pad thought the top sheet had been hurriedly removed, because a torn fragment projected from the leather clip. the sheet left was covered with faint impressions, but it rather looked as if these had been made by the ink running through than by direct contact. jake wrote a few words on a scrap of paper and pressing it on the pad noted the difference. "this is strange," he said. "i don't get the drift of it." payne looked at him with a dry smile. "if you'll come out and let me talk, i'll try to put you wise." jake nodded and they went back to the veranda. chapter xx don sebastian when they returned to the veranda payne sat down on the steps. jake picked up his chair and looked at him thoughtfully. "now," he said, "i want to know why you have been prowling about the shack at night. you had better begin at the beginning." "very well. i guess you know i was put off this camp soon before you came?" "i heard something about it," jake admitted. payne grinned as if he appreciated his tact, and then resumed: "in the settlement where i was raised, the old fellow who kept the store had a cheat-ledger. when somebody traded stale eggs and garden-truck for good groceries, and the storekeeper saw he couldn't make trouble about it without losing a customer, he said nothing but scored it down against the man. sometimes he had to wait a long while, but sooner or later he squared the account. now that's my plan with don ramon oliva." "i see," said jake. "what have you against him?" "to begin with, he got me fired. it was a thing i took my chances of and wouldn't have blamed him for; but i reckon now your father's cement wasn't all he was after. he wanted a pull on me." "why?" "i haven't got that quite clear, but i'm an american and could do things he couldn't, without being suspected." "go on," said jake, in a thoughtful tone. "well, for a clever man, he made a very poor defense when your partner spotted his game; seemed to say if they reckoned he'd been stealing, he'd let it go at that. then, when he'd got me and found i wasn't the man he wanted, he turned me down. left me to live with breeds and niggers!" "what do you mean by your not being the man he wanted?" payne smiled in a deprecatory way. "i allow that i was willing to make a few dollars on the cement, but working against white men in a dago plot is a different thing." "then there is a plot?" "well," said payne quietly, "i don't know much about it, but something's going on." jake lighted a cigarette while he pondered. he was not surprised that payne should talk to him with confidential familiarity, because the situation warranted it, and the american workman is not, as a rule, deferential to his employer. the fellow might be mistaken, but he believed that oliva had schemed to get him into his power and work upon his wish for revenge. jake could understand oliva's error. payne's moral code was rudimentary, but he had some racial pride and would not act like a treacherous renegade. "i begin to see how your account against oliva stands," he remarked. "but is that the only entry in your book?" "i guess not," payne replied. "mr. brandon's name is there, but the entry is against myself. it was a straight fight when he had me fired, and he took me back when he found i was down and out." jake nodded. "you have already warned brandon that he might be in some danger in the town." "that's so. since then, i reckoned that they were getting after him _here_, but we were more likely to hold them up if they didn't know we knew. that's why i called out to show i thought it was pepe who was in the shack." "very well," said jake. "there's nothing more to be done in the meantime, but you'd better tell me if you find out anything else." payne went away and when dick came in jake took him into his room and indicated the blotter. "have you torn off the top sheet in the last few days?" "i don't remember doing so, but now i come to look, it has been torn off." "what have you been writing lately?" "orders for small supplies, specifications of material, and such things." "concrete, in short?" jake remarked. "well, it's not an interesting subject to outsiders and sometimes gets very stale to those who have to handle it. are you quite sure you haven't been writing about anything else?" "i am sure. why do you ask?" "because, as you see, somebody thought it worth while to steal the top sheet of your blotter," jake replied. "now perhaps i'd better tell you something i've just learned." he related what payne had told him and concluded: "i'm puzzled about oliva's motive. after all, it could hardly be revenge." "no," said dick, with a thoughtful frown, "i don't imagine it is." "then what does he expect to gain?" dick was silent for a few moments with knitted brows, and then asked: "you have a monroe doctrine, haven't you?" "we certainly have," jake agreed, smiling. "we reaffirmed it not long ago." "roughly speaking, the doctrine states that no european power can be allowed to set up a naval base or make warlike preparations in any part of america. in fact, you warn all foreigners to keep their hands off?" "that's its general purport; but while i support it patriotically, i can't tell you exactly what it says. anyhow, i don't see what this has to do with the matter." "nor do i, but it seems to promise a clue," dick answered dryly. he frowned at the blotter and then added: "we'll leave it at that. i've some vague suspicions, but nothing to act upon. if the thing gets any plainer, i'll let you know." "but what about payne? is he to hang around here nights with his gun?" "no," said dick, "it isn't necessary. but there'd be no harm in our taking a few precautions." he stretched his arms wearily when jake left him, for he had had a tiring day and had now been given ground for anxious thought. he had not troubled much about oliva while he imagined that the fellow was actuated by a personal grudge, but his antagonism began to look more dangerous. suppose the adexe coaling station was intended to be something of the nature of a naval base? munitions and other contraband of war might be quietly sent off with fuel to fighting ships. richter, the german, had certainly been associated with kenwardine, who had made an opportunity for telling jake that they had disagreed. then suppose the owners of the station had learned that they were being spied upon? dick admitted that he might not have been as tactful as he thought; and he was employed by an influential american. the americans might be disposed to insist upon a strict observance of the monroe doctrine. granting all this, if he was to be dealt with, it would be safer to make use of a half-breed who was known to have some ground for hating him. dick, however, reflected that he was taking much for granted and his suppositions might well be wrong. it was unwise to attach too much importance to a plausible theory. then he could not expose kenwardine without involving clare, and saw no means of separating them. besides, kenwardine's position was strong. the officials were given to graft, and he had, no doubt, made a skilful use of bribes. warnings about him would not be listened to, particularly as he was carrying on a thriving business and paying large sums in wages in a country that depended on foreign capital. then dick got up with a frown. his head ached and he was tired after working since sunrise in enervating heat. the puzzle could not be solved now, and he must wait until he found out something more. for the next two or three evenings he was kept busy at the dam, where work was carried on after dark, and jake, taking advantage of this, went to santa brigida one night when he knew the locomotive would be coming back up the line. nothing of importance happened at kenwardine's, where he did not see clare, and on his return he took a short cut through a badly-lighted part of the town. there was perhaps some risk in this, but jake seldom avoided an adventure. nothing unusual happened as he made his way through the narrow streets, until he reached a corner where a noisy group hung about the end house. as the men did not look sober, he took the other side of the street, where the light of a lamp fell upon him. his close-fitting white clothes distinguished him from the picturesque untidiness of the rest, and when somebody shouted, "_un gringo!_" one or two moved across as if to stop him. jake walked on quickly, looking straight in front without seeming to notice the others, in the hope of getting past before they got in his way, but a man dressed like a respectable citizen came round the corner and the peons ran off. since the appearance of a single stranger did not seem to account for this, jake wondered what had alarmed them, until he saw a rural guard in white uniform behind the other. when the man came up the _rurale_ stopped and raised his hand as if he meant to salute, but let it fall again, and jake imagined that the first had given him a warning glance. he knew the thin, dark-faced spaniard, whom he had met at kenwardine's. the man touched jake's shoulder and drew him away, and the lad thought it strange that the _rurale_ went on without asking a question. "i don't know that the peons meant to make trouble, but i'm glad you came along, don sebastian," he said. "it is an honor to have been of some service, but it looks as if you were as rash in other matters as you are at cards," the spaniard answered. "these dark _calles_ are unsafe for foreigners." "so it seems, but i'm afraid it will be a long time before i'm worth robbing," jake replied, and then remembered with embarrassment that the other was one of the party whose winnings he had not yet paid. don sebastian smiled, but said suavely: "for all that, you should not take an unnecessary risk. you have been attacked once already, i think?" "yes, but it was my partner who got hurt." "that is one of the ironies of luck. señor brandon is sober and cautious, but he gets injured when he comes to protect you, who are rash." "he's what you say, but i didn't know you had met him," jake replied. "i have heard of him; you foreigners are talked about in the cafés. they talk much in santa brigida; many have nothing else to do. but have you and señor brandon only been molested once?" jake hesitated for a moment. he liked the man and on the whole thought he could be trusted, while he imagined that he was not prompted by idle curiosity but knew something. besides, jake was often impulsive and ready, as he said, to back his judgment. "we were only once actually attacked, but something rather curious happened not long ago." "ah!" said don sebastian, "this is interesting, and as i know something of the intrigues that go on in the city it might be to your advantage to tell me about it. there is a quiet wine-shop not far off." "would it be safe to go in?" jake asked. "i think so," his companion answered, smiling. jake presently followed him into a small, dimly lighted room, and noted that the landlord came to wait on them with obsequious attention. two peons were drinking in a corner, but they went out when the landlord made a sign. jake thought this curious, but don sebastian filled his glass and gave him a cigarette. "now," he said, "we have the place to ourselves and you can tell your story." jake related how a stranger had stolen into their shack a few days ago, and don sebastian listened attentively. "you do not think it was one of the peons employed at the dam?" he suggested. "no," said jake. "anyhow, payne seemed satisfied it wasn't." "he would probably know them better than you. do you keep money in the house?" "very little. we lock up the money for wages in the pay-office safe. anyhow, i'm not sure the fellow came to steal." "if he did so, one would not imagine that he would be satisfied with blotting-paper," don sebastian agreed. "you said there was some coffee on the table." "there was. payne reckoned the fellow meant to dope it. what do you think?" "it is possible, if he had ground for being revengeful. some of the indians from the mountains are expert poisoners. but why should anybody wish to injure your comrade?" "i didn't suggest that he wished to injure brandon. he might have meant to dope me." don sebastian smiled. "that is so, but on the whole i do not think it probable. do you know of anybody whom your friend has harmed?" jake decided to tell him about oliva. he was now convinced that don sebastian knew more than he admitted and that his interest was not unfriendly. besides, there was somehow a hint of authority in the fellow's thin, dark face. he showed polite attention as jake narrated the events that had led to oliva's dismissal, but the lad imagined that he was telling him nothing he had not already heard. "the motive may have been revenge, but as señor brandon was stabbed that ought to satisfy his enemy. besides, these people are unstable; they do not even indulge in hatred long. do you know if your comrade has taken any part in political intrigue?" "it's most unlikely; he would make a very poor conspirator," jake replied. "then have you heard of any señorita, or perhaps a half-breed girl who has taken his fancy?" "no," said jake. "dick is not that kind." he thought don sebastian had been clearing the ground, eliminating possibilities to which he did not attach much weight, and waited with interest for his remarks. "well," said the spaniard, "i think you and the man, payne, should watch over your friend, but it might be better if you did not tell him you are doing so or ask him any questions, and i would sooner you did not mention this interview. if, however, anything suspicious happens again, it might be an advantage if you let me know. you can send word to me at the hotel." "not at kenwardine's?" don sebastian gave him a quiet glance, but jake thought it was keenly observant and remembered how, one night when a messenger entered kenwardine's patio, richter, the german, had stood where he obstructed the spaniard's view. "no," he said, "i should prefer the hotel. will you promise?" "i will," jake answered impulsively. "however, you seem to suggest that i should leave my partner to grapple with this thing himself and i don't like that. if he's up against any danger, i want to butt in. dick's no fool, but there are respects in which he's not very keen. his mind's fixed on concrete, and when he gets off it his imagination's sometimes rather weak----" he stopped, feeling that he must not seem to censure his friend, and don sebastian nodded with a twinkle of amusement. "i think i understand. there are, however, men of simple character and no cunning who are capable of going far and sometimes surprise the friends who do not know them very well. i cannot tell if señor brandon is one of these, but it is not impossible. after all, it is often the clever man who makes the worst mistakes; and on the whole i imagine it would be wiser to leave your comrade alone." he got up and laid his hand on jake's arm with a friendly gesture. "now i will put you on your way, and if you feel puzzled or alarmed in future, you can come to me." chapter xxi dick makes a bold venture some delicate and important work was being done, and stuyvesant had had his lunch sent up to the dam. bethune and dick joined him afterwards, and sat in the shade of a big traveling crane. stuyvesant and dick were hot and dirty, for it was not their custom to be content with giving orders when urgent work was going on. bethune looked languid and immaculately neat. his speciality was mathematics, and he said he did not see why the man with mental talents should dissipate his energy by using his hands. "it's curious about that french liner," stuyvesant presently remarked. "i understand her passengers have been waiting since yesterday and she hasn't arrived." "the last boat cut out santa brigida without notice," bethune replied. "my opinion of the french is that they're a pretty casual lot." "on the surface. they smile and shrug where we set our teeth, but when you get down to bed-rock you don't find much difference. i thought as you do, until i went over there and saw a people that run us close for steady, intensive industry. their small cultivators are simply great. i'd like to put them on our poorer land in the middle west, where we're content with sixteen bushels of wheat that's most fit for chicken feed to the acre. then what they don't know about civil engineering isn't worth learning." bethune made a gesture of agreement. "they're certainly fine engineers and they're putting up a pretty good fight just now, but these latins puzzle me. take the iberian branch of the race, for example. we have spanish peons here who'll stand for as much work and hardship as any anglo-saxon i've met. then an educated spaniard's hard to beat for intellectual subtlety. chess is a game that's suited to my turn of mind, but i've been badly whipped in santa brigida. they've brains and application, and yet they don't progress. what's the matter with them, anyway?" "i expect they can't formulate a continuous policy and stick to it, and they keep brains and labor too far apart; the two should coordinate. but i wonder what's holding up the mail boat." "do they know when she left the last port?" dick, who had listened impatiently, asked with concealed interest. "they do. it's a short run and she ought to have arrived yesterday morning." "the germans can't have got her. they have no commerce-destroyers in these waters," bethune remarked, with a glance at dick. "your navy corralled the lot, i think." dick wondered why bethune looked at him, but he answered carelessly: "so one understands. but it's strange the french company cut out the last call. there was a big quantity of freight on the mole." "it looks as if the agent had suspected something," stuyvesant replied. "however, that's not our affair, and you want to get busy and have your specifications and cost-sheets straight when fuller comes." "then fuller is coming back!" dick exclaimed. "he'll be here to-morrow night. i imagined bethune had told you about the cablegram he sent." "he didn't; i expect he thought his getting a scratch lunch more important," dick replied, looking at his watch. "well, i must see everything's ready before the boys make a start." he went away with swift, decided steps through the scorching heat, and stuyvesant smiled. "there you have a specimen of the useful anglo-saxon type. i don't claim that he's a smart man all round, but he can concentrate on his work and put over what he takes in hand. you wouldn't go to him for a brilliant plan, but give him an awkward job and he'll make good. i expect he'll get a lift up when fuller has taken a look round." "he deserves it," bethune agreed. though the heat was intense and the glare from the white dam dazzling, dick found work something of a relief. it was his habit to fix his mind upon the task in which he was engaged; but of late his thoughts had been occupied by clare and conjectures about the adexe coaling station and the strange black-funnel boat. the delay in the french liner's arrival had made the matter look more urgent, but he had now an excuse for putting off its consideration. his duty to his employer came first. there were detailed plans that must be worked out before fuller came and things he would want to know, and dick sat up late at night in order to have the answers ready. fuller arrived, and after spending a few days at the works came to dick's shack one evening. for an hour he examined drawings and calculations, asking jake a sharp question now and then, and afterwards sent him away. "you can put up the papers now," he said. "we'll go out on the veranda. it's cooler there." he dropped into a canvas chair, for the air was stagnant and enervating, and looked down at the clustering lights beside the sea for a time. then he said abruptly: "jake seems to know his business. you have taught him well." "he learned most himself," dick answered modestly. "well," said fuller with some dryness, "that's the best plan, but you put him on the right track and kept him there; i guess i know my son. has he made trouble for you in other ways?" "none worth mentioning." fuller gave him a keen glance and then indicated the lights of the town. "that's the danger-spot. does he go down there often?" "no. i make it as difficult as possible, but can't stop him altogether." fuller nodded. "i guess you used some tact, because he likes you and you'd certainly have had trouble if you'd snubbed him up too hard. anyway, i'm glad to acknowledge that you have put me in your debt. you can see how i was fixed. bethune's not the man to guide a headstrong lad, and stuyvesant's his boss. if he'd used any official pressure, jake would have kicked. that's why i wanted a steady partner for him who had no actual authority." "in a sense, you ran some risk in choosing me." "i don't know that i chose you, to begin with," fuller answered with a twinkle. "i imagine my daughter made me think as i did, but i'm willing to state that her judgment was good. we'll let that go. you have seen jake at his work; do you think he'll make an engineer?" "yes," said dick, and then recognizing friendship's claim, added bluntly: "but he'll make a better artist. he has the gift." "well," said fuller, in a thoughtful tone, "we'll talk of it again. in the meantime, he's learning how big jobs are done and dollars are earned, and that's a liberal education. however, i've a proposition here i'd like your opinion of." dick's heart beat as he read the document his employer handed him. it was a formal agreement by which he engaged his services to fuller until the irrigation work was completed, in return for a salary that he thought remarkably good. "it's much more than i had any reason to expect," he said with some awkwardness. "in fact, although i don't know that i have been of much help to jake, i'd sooner you didn't take this way of repaying me. one would prefer not to mix friendship with business." "yours is not a very common view," fuller replied, smiling. "however, i'm merely offering to buy your professional skill, and want to know if you're satisfied with my terms." "they're generous," said dick with emotion, for he saw what the change in his position might enable him to do. "there's only one thing: the agreement is to stand until the completion of the dam. what will happen afterwards?" "then if i have no more use for you here, i think i can promise to find you as good or better job. is that enough?" dick gave him a grateful look. "it's difficult to tell you how i feel about it, but i'll do my best to make good and show that you have not been mistaken." "that's all right," said fuller, getting up. "sign the document when you can get a witness and let me have it." he went away and dick sat down and studied the agreement with a beating heart. he found his work engrossing, he liked the men he was associated with, and saw his way to making his mark in his profession, but there was another cause for the triumphant thrill he felt. clare must be separated from kenwardine before she was entangled in his dangerous plots, and he had brooded over his inability to come to her rescue. now, however, one obstacle was removed. he could offer her some degree of comfort if she could be persuaded to marry him. it was obvious that she must be taken out of her father's hands as soon as possible, and he determined to try to gain her consent next morning, though he was very doubtful of his success. when he reached the house, clare was sitting at a table in the patio with some work in her hand. close by, the purple creeper spread across the wall, and the girl's blue eyes and thin lilac dress harmonized with its deeper color. her face and half-covered arms showed pure white against the background, but the delicate pink that had once relieved the former was now less distinct. the hot, humid climate had begun to set its mark on her, and dick thought she looked anxious and perplexed. she glanced up when she heard his step, and moving quietly forward he stopped on the opposite side of the table with his hand on a chair. he knew there was much against him and feared a rebuff, but delay might be dangerous and he could not wait. standing quietly resolute, he fixed his eyes on the girl's face. "is your father at home, miss kenwardine?" he asked. "no," said clare. "he went out some time ago, and i cannot tell when he will come back. do you want to see him?" "i don't know yet. it depends." he thought she was surprised and curious, but she said nothing, and nerving himself for the plunge, he resumed: "i came to see you in the first place. i'm afraid you'll be astonished, clare, but i want to know if you will marry me." she moved abruptly, turned her head for a moment, and then looked up at him while the color gathered in her face. her expression puzzled dick, but he imagined that she was angry. "i am astonished. isn't it a rather extraordinary request, after what you said on board the launch?" "no," said dick, "it's very natural from my point of view. you see, i fell in love with you the first time we met; but i got into disgrace soon afterwards and have had a bad time since. this made it impossible for me to tell you what i felt; but things are beginning to improve----" he stopped, seeing no encouragement in her expression, for clare was fighting a hard battle. his blunt simplicity made a strong appeal. she had liked and trusted him when he had with callow but honest chivalry offered her his protection one night in england and he had developed fast since then. hardship had strengthened and in a sense refined him. he looked resolute and soldierlike as he waited. still, for his sake as well as hers, she must refuse. "then you must be easily moved," she said. "you knew nothing about me." "i'd seen you; that was quite enough," dick declared and stopped. her look was gentler and he might do better if he could lessen the distance between them and take her hand; he feared he had been painfully matter-of-fact. perhaps he was right, but the table stood in the way, and if he moved round it, she would take alarm. it was exasperating to be baulked by a piece of furniture. "besides," he resumed, "when everybody doubted me, you showed your confidence. you wrote and said----" "but you told me you tore up the letter," clare interrupted. dick got confused. "i did; i was a fool, but the way things had been going was too much for me. you ought to understand and try to make allowances." "i cannot understand why you want to marry a girl you think a thief." pulling himself together, dick gave her a steady look. "i can't let that pass, though if i begin to argue i'm lost. in a way, i'm at your mercy, because my defense can only make matters worse. but i tried to explain on board the launch." "the explanation wasn't very convincing," clare remarked, turning her head. "do you still believe i took your papers?" "the plans were in my pocket when i reached your house," said dick, who saw he must be frank. "i don't know that you took them, and if you did, i wouldn't hold you responsible; but they were taken." "you mean that you blame my father for their loss?" dick hesitated. he felt that she was giving him a last opportunity, but he could not seize it. "if i pretended i didn't blame him, you would find me out and it would stand between us. i wish i could say i'd dropped the papers somewhere or find some other way; but the truth is best." clare turned to him with a hot flush and an angry sparkle in her eyes. "then it's unthinkable that you should marry the daughter of the man whom you believe ruined you. don't you see that you can't separate me from my father? we must stand together." "no," said dick doggedly, knowing that he was beaten, "i don't see that. i want you; i want to take you away from surroundings and associations that must jar. perhaps it was foolish to think you would come, but you helped to save my life when i was ill, and i believe i was then something more to you than a patient. why have you changed?" she looked at him with a forced and rather bitter smile. "need you ask? can't you, or won't you, understand? could i marry my victim, which is what you are if your suspicions are justified? if they are not, you have offered me an insult i cannot forgive. it is unbearable to be thought the daughter of a thief." dick nerved himself for a last effort. "what does your father's character matter? i want you. you will be safe from everything that could hurt you if you come to me." he hesitated and then went on in a hoarse, determined voice: "you must come. i can't let you live among those plotters and gamblers. it's impossible. clare, when i was ill and you thought me asleep, i watched you sitting in the moonlight. your face was wonderfully gentle and i thought----" she rose and stopped him with a gesture. "there is no more to be said, mr. brandon. i cannot marry you, and if you are generous, you will go." dick, who had been gripping the chair hard, let his hand fall slackly and turned away. clare watched him cross the patio, and stood tensely still, fighting against an impulse to call him back as he neared the door. then as he vanished into the shadow of the arch she sat down with sudden limpness and buried her hot face in her hands. chapter xxii the official mind on the evening after clare's refusal, dick entered the principal café at santa brigida. the large, open-fronted room was crowded, for, owing to the duty, newspapers were not generally bought by the citizens, who preferred to read them at the cafés, and the _diario_ had just come in. the eagerness to secure a copy indicated that something important had happened, and after listening to the readers' remarks, dick gathered that the french liner had sunk and a number of her passengers were drowned. this, however, did not seem to account for the angry excitement some of the men showed, and dick waited until a polite half-breed handed him the newspaper. a ship's lifeboat, filled with exhausted passengers, had reached a bay some distance along the coast, and it appeared from their stories that the liner was steaming across a smooth sea in the dark when a large vessel, which carried no lights, emerged from a belt of haze and came towards her. the french captain steered for the land, hoping to reach territorial waters, where he would be safe, but the stranger was faster and opened fire with a heavy gun. the liner held on, although she was twice hit, but after a time there was an explosion below and her colored firemen ran up on deck. then the ship stopped, boats were hoisted out, and it was believed that several got safely away, though only one had so far reached the coast. this boat was forced to pass the attacking vessel rather close, and an officer declared that she looked like one of the spanish liners and her funnel was black. dick gave the newspaper to the next man and sat still with knitted brows, for his suspicions were suddenly confirmed. the raider had a black funnel, and was no doubt the ship he had seen steering for adexe. an enemy commerce-destroyer was lurking about the coast, and she could not be allowed to continue her deadly work, which her resemblance to the spanish vessels would make easier. for all that, dick saw that anything he might do would cost him much, since clare had said that she and kenwardine must stand together. this was true, in a sense, because if kenwardine got into trouble, she would share his disgrace and perhaps his punishment. moreover, she might think he had been unjustly treated and blame dick for helping to persecute him. things were getting badly entangled, and dick, leaning back in his chair, vacantly looked about. the men had gathered in groups round the tables, their dark faces showing keen excitement as they argued with dramatic gestures about international law. for the most part, they looked indignant, but dick understood that they did not expect much from their government. one said the english would send a cruiser and something might be done by the americans; another explained the monroe doctrine in a high-pitched voice. dick, however, tried not to listen, because difficulties he had for some time seen approaching must now be faced. he had been forced to leave england in disgrace, and his offense would be remembered if he returned. indeed, he had come to regard america as his home, but patriotic feelings he had thought dead had awakened and would not be denied. he might still be able to serve his country and meant to do so, though it was plain that this would demand a sacrifice. love and duty clashed, but he must do his best and leave the rest to luck. getting up with sudden resolution, he left the café and went to the british consulate. when he stopped outside the building, to which the royal arms were fixed, he remarked that two peons were lounging near, but, without troubling about them, knocked at the door. there was only a vice-consul at santa brigida, and the post, as sometimes happens, was held by a merchant, who had, so a clerk stated, already gone home. dick, however, knew where he lived and determined to seek him at his house. he looked round once or twice on his way there, without seeing anybody who seemed to be following him, but when he reached the iron gate he thought a dark figure stopped in the gloom across the street. still, it might only be a citizen going into his house, and dick rang the bell. he was shown on to a balcony where the vice-consul sat with his spanish wife and daughter at a table laid with wine and fruit. he did not look pleased at being disturbed, but told dick to sit down when the ladies withdrew. "now," he said, "you can state your business, but i have an appointment in a quarter of an hour." dick related his suspicions about the coaling company, and described what he had seen at adexe and the visit of the black-funnel boat, but before he had gone far, realized that he was wasting his time. the vice-consul's attitude was politely indulgent. "this is a rather extraordinary tale," he remarked when dick stopped. "i have told you what i saw and what i think it implies," dick answered with some heat. "just so. i do not doubt your honesty, but it is difficult to follow your arguments." "it oughtn't to be difficult. you have heard that the french liner was sunk by a black-funnel boat." "black funnels are common. why do you imagine the vessel you saw was an auxiliary cruiser?" "because her crew looked like navy men. they were unusually numerous and were busy at drill." "boat or fire drill probably. they often exercise them at it on board passenger ships. besides, i think you stated that it was dark." dick pondered for a few moments. he had heard that government officials were hard to move, and knew that, in hot countries, englishmen who marry native wives sometimes grow apathetic and succumb to the climatic lethargy. but this was not all: he had to contend against the official dislike of anything informal and unusual. had he been in the navy, his warning would have received attention, but as he was a humble civilian he had, so to speak, no business to know anything about such matters. "well," he said, "you can make inquiries and see if my conclusions are right." the vice-consul smiled. "that is not so. you can pry into the coaling company's affairs and, if you are caught, it would be looked upon as an individual impertinence. if i did anything of the kind, it would reflect upon the foreign office and compromise our relations with a friendly state. the adexe wharf is registered according to the laws of this country as being owned by a native company." "then go to the authorities and tell them what you know." "the difficulty is that i know nothing except that you have told me a somewhat improbable tale." "but you surely don't mean to let the raider do what she likes? her next victim may be a british vessel." "i imagine the british admiralty will attend to that, and i have already sent a cablegram announcing the loss of the french boat." dick saw that he was doubted and feared that argument would be useless, but he would not give in. "a raider must have coal and it's not easy to get upon this coast," he resumed. "you could render her harmless by cutting off supplies." "do you know much about international law and how far it prohibits a neutral country from selling coal to a belligerent?" "i don't know anything about it; but if our foreign office is any good, they ought to be able to stop the thing," dick answered doggedly. "then let me try to show you how matters stand. we will suppose that your suspicions were correct and i thought fit to make representations to the government of this country. what do you think would happen?" "they'd be forced to investigate your statements." "exactly. the head of a department would be asked to report. you probably know that every official whose business brings him into touch with it is in the coaling company's pay; i imagine there is not a foreign trader here who does not get small favors in return for bribes. bearing this in mind, it is easy to understand what the report would be. i should have shown that we suspected the good faith of a friendly country, and there would be nothing gained." "still, you can't let the matter drop," dick insisted. "although you have given me no proof of your statements, which seem to be founded on conjectures, i have not said that i intend to let it drop. in the meantime i am entitled to ask for some information about yourself. you look like an englishman and have not been here long. did you leave home after the war broke out?" "yes," said dick, who saw where he was leading, "very shortly afterwards." "why? men like you are needed for the army." dick colored, but looked his questioner steadily in the face. "i was in the army. they turned me out." the vice-consul made a gesture. "i have nothing to do with the reason for this; but you can see my difficulty. you urge me to meddle with things that require very delicate handling and with which my interference would have to be justified. no doubt, you can imagine the feelings of my superiors when i admitted that i acted upon hints given me by a stranger in the employ of americans, who owned to having been dismissed from the british army." dick got up, with his face firmly set. "very well. there's no more to be said. i won't trouble you again." leaving the house, he walked moodily back to the end of the line. the vice-consul was a merchant and thought first of his business, which might suffer if he gained the ill-will of corrupt officials. he would, no doubt, move if he were forced, but he would demand incontestable proof, which dick feared he could not find. well, he had done his best and been rebuffed, and now the temptation to let the matter drop was strong. to go on would bring him into conflict with kenwardine, and perhaps end in his losing clare, but he must go on. for all that, he would leave the vice-consul alone and trust to getting some help from his employer's countrymen. if it could be shown that the enemy was establishing a secret base for naval operations at adexe, he thought the americans would protest. the vice-consul, however, had been of some service by teaching him the weakness of his position. he must strengthen it by carefully watching what went on, and not interfere until he could do so with effect. finding the locomotive waiting, he returned to his shack and with an effort fixed his mind upon the plans of some work that he must superintend in the morning. for the next few days he was busily occupied. a drum of the traveling crane broke and as it could not be replaced for a time, dick put up an iron derrick of bethune's design to lower the concrete blocks into place. they were forced to use such material as they could find, and the gang of peons who handled the chain-tackle made a poor substitute for a steam engine. in consequence, the work progressed slowly and stuyvesant ordered it to be carried on into the night. jake and bethune grumbled, but dick found the longer hours and extra strain something of a relief. he had now no leisure to indulge in painful thoughts; besides, while he was busy at the dam he could not watch kenwardine, and his duty to his employer justified his putting off an unpleasant task. one hot night he stood, soaked with perspiration and dressed in soiled duck clothes, some distance beneath the top of the dam, which broke down to a lower level at the spot. there was no moon, but a row of blast-lamps that grew dimmer as they receded picked out the tall embankment with jets of pulsating flame. glimmering silvery gray in the light, it cut against the gloom in long sweeping lines, with a molded rib that added a touch of grace where the slope got steeper towards its top. this was dick's innovation. he had fought hard for it and when jake supported him stuyvesant had written to fuller, who sanctioned the extra cost. the rib marked the fine contour of the structure and fixed its bold curve upon the eye. where the upper surface broke off, two gangs of men stood beside the tackles that trailed away from the foot of the derrick. the flame that leaped with a roar from a lamp on a tripod picked out some of the figures with harsh distinctness, but left the rest dim and blurred. dick stood eight or nine feet below, with the end of the line, along which the blocks were brought, directly above his head. a piece of rail had been clamped across the metals to prevent the truck running over the edge. jake stood close by on the downward slope of the dam. everything was ready for the lowering of the next block, but they had a few minutes to wait. "that rib's a great idea," jake remarked. "tones up the whole work; it's curious what you can do with a flowing line, but it must be run just right. make it the least too flat and you get harshness, too full and the effect's vulgarly pretty or voluptuous. beauty's severely chaste and i allow, as far as form goes, this dam's a looker." he paused and indicated the indigo sky, flaring lights, and sweep of pearly stone. "then if you want color, you can revel in silver, orange, and blue." dick, who nodded, shared jake's admiration. he had helped to build the dam and, in a sense, had come to love it. any defacement or injury to it would hurt him. just then a bright, blinking spot emerged from the dark at the other end of the line and increased in radiance as it came forward, flickering along the slope of stone. it was the head-lamp of the locomotive that pushed the massive concrete block they waited for. the block cut off the light immediately in front of and below it, and when the engine, snorting harshly, approached the edge of the gap somebody shouted and steam was cut off. the truck stopped just short of the rail fastened across the line, and dick looked up. the blast-lamp flung its glare upon the engine and the rays of the powerful head-light drove horizontally into the dark, but the space beyond the broken end of the dam was kept in shadow by the block, and the glitter above dazzled his eyes. "swing the derrick-boom and tell the engineer to come on a yard or two," he said. there was a patter of feet, a rattle of chains, and somebody called: "_adelante locomotura!_" the engine snorted, the wheels ground through the fragments of concrete scattered about the line, and the big dark mass rolled slowly forward. it seemed to dick to be going farther than it ought, but he had ascertained that the guard-rail was securely fastened. as he watched the front of the truck, jake, who stood a few feet to one side, leaned out and seized his shoulder. "jump!" he cried, pulling him forward. dick made an awkward leap, and alighting on the steep front of the dam, fell heavily on his side. as he clutched the stones to save himself from sliding down, a black mass plunged from the line above and there was a deafening crash as it struck the spot he had left. then a shower of fragments fell upon him and he choked amidst a cloud of dust. hoarse shouts broke out above, and he heard men running about the dam as he got up, half dazed. "are you all right, jake?" he asked. "not a scratch," was the answer; and dick, scrambling up the bank, called for a lamp. it was brought by a big mulatto, and dick held up the light. the last-fitted block of the ribbed course was split in two, and the one that had fallen was scattered about in massive broken lumps. amidst these lay the guard-rail, and the front wheels of the truck hung across the gap above. there was other damage, and dick frowned as he looked about. "we'll be lucky if we get the broken molding out in a day, and i expect we'll have to replace two of the lower blocks," he said. "it's going to be an awkward and expensive job now that the cement has set." "is that all?" jake asked with a forced grin. "it's enough," said dick. "however, we'll be better able to judge in the daylight." then he turned to the engineer, who was standing beside the truck, surrounded by excited peons. "how did it happen?" "i had my hand on the throttle when i got the order to go ahead, and let her make a stroke or two, reckoning the guard-rail would snub up the car. i heard the wheels clip and slammed the link-gear over, because it looked as if she wasn't going to stop. when she reversed, the couplings held the car and the block slipped off." "are you sure you didn't give her too much steam?" "no, sir. i've been doing this job quite a while, and know just how smart a push she wants. it was the guard-rail slipping that made the trouble." "i can't understand why it did slip. the fastening clamps were firm when i looked at them." "well," remarked the engineer, "the guard's certainly in the pit, and i felt her give as soon as the car-wheels bit." dick looked hard at him and thought he spoke the truth. he was a steady fellow and a good driver. "put your engine in the house and take down the feed-pump you were complaining about. we won't want her to-morrow," he said, and dismissing the men, returned to his shack, where he sat down rather limply on the veranda. "i don't understand the thing," he said to jake. "the guard-rail's heavy and i watched the smith make the clamps we fixed it with. one claw went over the rail, the other under the flange of the metal that formed the track, and sudden pressure would jamb the guard down. then, not long before the accident, i hardened up the clamp." "you hit it on the back?" "of course. i'd have loosened the thing by hitting the front." "that's so," jake agreed, somewhat dryly. "we'll look for the clamps in the morning. but you didn't seem very anxious to get out of the way." "i expect i forgot to thank you for warning me. anyhow, you know----" "yes, i know," said jake. "you didn't think about it; your mind was on your job. still, i suppose you see that if you'd been a moment later you'd have been smashed pretty flat?" dick gave him a quick glance. there was something curious about jake's tone, but dick knew he did not mean to emphasize the value of his warning. it was plain that he had had a very narrow escape, but since one must be prepared for accidents in heavy engineering work, he did not see why this should jar his nerves. yet they were jarred. the danger he had scarcely heeded had now a disturbing effect. he could imagine what would have happened had he delayed his leap. however, he was tired, and perhaps rather highly strung, and he got up. "it's late, and we had better go to bed," he said. chapter xxiii the clamp when work began next morning, jake asked dick if he should order the peons to search for the clamps that had held the guard-rail. "i think not," said dick. "it would be better if you looked for the things yourself." "very well. perhaps you're right." dick wondered how much jake suspected, particularly as he did not appear to be searching for anything when he moved up and down among the broken concrete. half an hour later, when none of the peons were immediately about, he came up with his hand in his pocket and indicated a corner beside a block where there was a little shade and they were not likely to be overlooked. "i've got one," he remarked. when they sat down jake took out a piece of thick iron about six inches long, forged into something like the shape of a u, though the curve was different and one arm was shorter than the other. much depended on the curve, for the thing was made on the model of an old-fashioned but efficient clamp that carpenters sometimes use for fastening work to a bench. a blow or pressure on one part wedged it fast, but a sharp tap on the other enabled it to be lifted off. this was convenient, because as the work progressed, the track along the dam had to be lengthened and the guard fixed across a fresh pair of rails. taking the object from jake, dick examined it carefully. he thought he recognized the dint where he had struck the iron, and then, turning it over, noted another mark. this had been made recently, because the surface of the iron was bright where the hammer had fallen, and a blow there would loosen the clamp. he glanced at jake, who nodded. "it looks very suspicious, but that's all. you can't tell how long the mark would take to get dull. besides, we have moved the guard two or three times in the last few days." "that's true," said dick. "still, i wedged the thing up shortly before the accident. it has stood a number of shocks; in fact, it can't be loosened by pressure on the back. when do you _think_ the last blow was struck?" "after yours," jake answered meaningly. "then the probability is that somebody wanted the truck to fall into the hole and smash the block." "yes," said jake, who paused and looked hard at dick. "but i'm not sure that was all he wanted. you were standing right under the block, and if i hadn't been a little to one side, where the lights didn't dazzle me, the smashing of a lot of concrete wouldn't have been the worst damage." dick said nothing, but his face set hard as he braced himself against the unnerving feeling that had troubled him on the previous night. the great block had not fallen by accident; it looked as if somebody had meant to take his life. the cunning of the attempt daunted him. the blow had been struck in a manner that left him a very slight chance of escape; and his subtle antagonist might strike again. "what are you going to do about it?" jake resumed. "nothing," said dick. jake looked at him in surprise. "don't you see what you're up against?" "it's pretty obvious; but if i ask questions, i'll find out nothing and show that i'm suspicious. if we let the thing go as an accident, we may catch the fellow off his guard." "my notion is that you know more than you mean to tell. now you began by taking care of me, but it looks as if the matter would end in my taking care of you. seems to me you need it and i don't like to see you playing a lone hand." dick gave him a grateful smile. "if i see how you can help, i'll let you know. in the meantime, you'll say nothing to imply that i'm on the watch." "well," said jake, grinning, "if you can bluff stuyvesant, you'll be smarter than i thought. you're a rather obvious person and he's not a fool." he went away, but dick lighted a cigarette and sat still in the shade. he was frankly daunted, but did not mean to stop, for he saw that he was following the right clue. his reason for visiting the adexe wharf had been guessed. he had been watched when he went to the vice-consul, and it was plain that his enemies thought he knew enough to be dangerous. the difficulty was that he did not know who they were. he hated to think that kenwardine was a party to the plot, but this, while possible, was by no means certain. at santa brigida, a man's life was not thought of much account, and it would, no doubt, have been enough if kenwardine had intimated that dick might cause trouble; but then kenwardine must have known what was likely to follow his hint. after all, however, this was not very important. he must be careful, but do nothing to suggest that he understood the risk he ran. if his antagonists thought him stupid, so much the better. he saw the difficulty of playing what jake called a lone hand against men skilled in the intricate game; but he could not ask for help until he was sure of his ground. besides, he must find a way of stopping kenwardine without involving clare. in the meantime he had a duty to fuller, and throwing away his cigarette, resumed his work. two or three days later he met kenwardine in a café where he was waiting for a man who supplied some stores to the camp. when kenwardine saw dick he crossed the floor and sat down at his table. his spanish dress became him, he looked polished and well-bred, and it was hard to think him a confederate of half-breed ruffians who would not hesitate about murder. but dick wondered whether clare had told him about his proposal. "i suppose i may congratulate you on your recent promotion? you certainly deserve it," kenwardine remarked with an ironical smile. "i imagine your conscientiousness and energy are unusual, but perhaps at times rather inconvenient." "thanks!" said dick. "how did you hear about the matter?" "in santa brigida, one hears everything that goes on. we have nothing much to do but talk about our neighbors' affairs." dick wondered whether kenwardine meant to hint that as his time was largely unoccupied he had only a small part in managing the coaling business, but he said: "we are hardly your neighbors at the camp." "i suppose that's true. we certainly don't see you often." this seemed to indicate that kenwardine did not know about dick's recent visit. he could have no reason for hiding his knowledge, and it looked as if clare did not tell her father everything. "you have succeeded in keeping your young friend out of our way," kenwardine resumed. "still, as he hasn't your love of work and sober character, there's some risk of a reaction if you hold him in too hard. jake's at an age when it's difficult to be satisfied with cement." dick laughed. "i really did try to keep him, but was helped by luck. we have been unusually busy at the dam and although i don't know that his love for cement is strong he doesn't often leave a half-finished job." "if you work upon his feelings in that way, i expect you'll beat me; but after all, i'm not scheming to entangle the lad. he's a bright and amusing youngster, but there wouldn't be much profit in exploiting him. however, you have had some accidents at the dam, haven't you?" dick was immediately on his guard, but he answered carelessly: "we broke a crane-drum, which delayed us." "and didn't a truck fall down the embankment and do some damage?" "it did," said dick. "we had a big molded block, which cost a good deal to make, smashed to pieces, and some others split. i had something of an escape, too, because i was standing under the block." he was watching kenwardine and thought his expression changed and his easy pose stiffened. his self-control was good, but dick imagined he was keenly interested and surprised. "then you ran a risk of being killed?" "yes. jake, however, saw the danger and warned me just before the block fell." "that was lucky. but you have a curious temperament. when we began to talk of the accidents, you remembered the damage to fuller's property before the risk to your life." "well," said dick, "you see i wasn't hurt, but the damage still keeps us back." "how did the truck run off the line? i should have thought you'd have taken precautions against anything of the kind." dick pondered. he believed kenwardine really was surprised to hear he had nearly been crushed by the block; but the fellow was clever and had begun to talk about the accidents. he must do nothing to rouse his suspicions, and began a painstaking account of the matter, explaining that the guard-rail had got loose, but saying nothing about the clamps being tampered with. indeed, the trouble he took about the explanation was in harmony with his character and his interest in his work, and presently kenwardine looked bored. "i quite understand the thing," he said, and got up as the man dick was waiting for came towards the table. the merchant did not keep dick long, and he left the café feeling satisfied. kenwardine had probably had him watched and had had something to do with the theft of the sheet from his blotting pad, but knew nothing about the attempt upon his life. after hearing about it, he understood why the accident happened, but had no cause to think that dick knew, and some of his fellow conspirators were responsible for this part of the plot. dick wondered whether he would try to check them now he did know, because if they tried again, they would do so with kenwardine's tacit consent. a few days later, he was sitting with bethune and jake one evening when stuyvesant came in and threw a card, printed with the flag of a british steamship company, on the table. "i'm not going, but you might like to do so," he said. dick, who was nearest, picked up the card. it was an invitation to a dinner given to celebrate the first call of a large new steamship at santa brigida, and he imagined it had been sent to the leading citizens and merchants who imported goods by the company's vessels. after glancing at it, he passed it on. "i'll go," bethune remarked. "after the spartan simplicity we practise at the camp, it will be a refreshing change to eat a well-served dinner in a mailboat's saloon, though i've no great admiration for british cookery." "it can't be worse than the dago kind we're used to," jake broke in. "what's the matter with it, anyhow?" "it's like the british character, heavy and unchanging," bethune replied. "a london hotel menu, with english beer and whisky, in the tropics! only people without imagination would offer it to their guests; and then they've printed a list of the ports she's going to at the bottom. would any other folk except perhaps the germans, couple an invitation with a hint that they were ready to trade? if a spaniard comes to see you on business, he talks for half an hour about politics or your health, and apologizes for mentioning such a thing as commerce when he comes to the point." "the british plan has advantages," said stuyvesant. "you know what you're doing when you deal with them." "that's so. we know, for example, when this boat will arrive at any particular place and when she'll sail; while you can reckon on a french liner's being three or four days late and on the probability of a spaniard's not turning up at all. but whether you have revolutions, wars, or tidal waves, the britisher sails on schedule." "there's some risk in that just now," stuyvesant observed. bethune turned to jake. "you had better come. the card states there'll be music, and the agent will hire vallejo's band, which is pretty good. guitars, mandolins, and fiddles on the poop, and señoritas in gauzy dresses flitting through graceful dances in the after well! the entertainment ought to appeal to your artistic taste." "i'm going," jake replied. "so am i," said dick. jake grinned. "that's rather sudden, isn't it? however, you may be needed to look after bethune." an evening or two later, they boarded the launch at the town mole. the sea was smooth and glimmered with phosphorescence in the shadow of the land, for the moon had not risen far above the mountains. outside the harbor mouth, the liner's long, black hull cut against the dusky blue, the flowing curve of her sheer picked out by a row of lights. over this rose three white tiers of passenger decks, pierced by innumerable bright points, with larger lights in constellations outside, while masts and funnels ran up, faintly indicated, into the gloom above. she scarcely moved to the lift of the languid swell, but as the undulations passed there was a pale-green shimmer about her waterline that magnified the height to her topmost deck. she looked unsubstantial, rather like a floating fairy palace than a ship, and as the noisy launch drew nearer jake gave his imagination rein. "she was made, just right, by magic; a ship of dreams," he said. "look how she glimmers, splashed with cadmium radiance, on velvety blue; and her formlessness outside the lights wraps her in mystery. yet you get a hint of swiftness." "you know she has power and speed," bethune interrupted. "no," said jake firmly, "it's not a matter of knowledge; she appeals to your imagination. you feel that airy fabric must travel like the wind." then he turned to dick, who was steering. "there's a boat ahead with a freight of señoritas in white and orange gossamer; they know something about grace of line in this country. are you going to rush past them, like a dull barbarian, in this kicking, snorting launch?" "i'll make for the other side of the ship, if you like." "you needn't go so far," jake answered with a chuckle. "but you might muzzle your rackety engine." dick, who had seen the boat, gave her room enough, but let the engine run. he imagined that jake's motive for slowing down might be misunderstood by the señoritas' guardian, since a touch of moorish influence still colors the spaniard's care of his women. as the launch swung to starboard her red light shone into the boat, and dick recognized don sebastian sitting next a stout lady in a black dress. there were three or four girls beside them, and then dick's grasp on the tiller stiffened, for the ruby beam picked out clare's face. he thought it wore a tired look, but she turned her head, as if dazzled, and the light passed on, and dick's heart beat as the boat dropped back into the gloom. since kenwardine had sent clare with don sebastian, he could not be going, and dick might find an opportunity for speaking to her alone. he meant to do so, although the interview would not be free from embarrassment. then he avoided another boat, and stopping the engine, steered for the steamer's ladder. chapter xxiv the altered sailing list when dinner was over, dick sat by himself in a quiet spot on the liner's quarter-deck. there was a tall, iron bulwark beside him, but close by this was replaced by netted rails, through which he caught the pale shimmer of the sea. the warm land-breeze had freshened and ripples splashed against the vessel's side, while every now and then a languid gurgle rose from about her waterline and the foam her plates threw off was filled with phosphorescent flame. a string band was playing on the poop, and passengers and guests moved through the intricate figures of a spanish dance on the broad deck below. their poses were graceful and their dress was picturesque, but dick watched them listlessly. he was not in a mood for dancing, for he had been working hard at the dam and his thoughts were disturbed. clare had refused him, and although he did not accept her decision as final, he could see no way of taking her out of her father's hands, while he had made no progress towards unraveling the latter's plots. kenwardine was not on board, but dick had only seen clare at some distance off across the table in the saloon. moreover, he thought she must have taken some trouble to avoid meeting him. then he remembered the speeches made by the visitors at dinner, and the steamship officers' replies. the former, colored by french and spanish politeness and american wit, eulogized the power of the british navy and the courage of her merchant captains. there was war, they said, but british commerce went on without a check; goods shipped beneath the red ensign would be delivered safe in spite of storm and strife; britannia, with trident poised, guarded the seas. for this the boldly-announced sailing list served as text, but dick, who made allowances for exuberant latin sentiment, noted the captain's response with some surprise. his speech was flamboyant, and did not harmonize with the character of the man, who had called at the port before in command of another ship. he was gray-haired and generally reserved. dick had not expected him to indulge in cheap patriotism, but he called the british ensign the meteor flag, defied its enemies, and declared that no hostile fleets could prevent his employers carrying their engagements out. since the man was obviously sober, dick supposed he was touting for business and wanted to assure the merchants that the sailings of the company's steamers could be relied upon. still, this kind of thing was not good british form. by and by don sebastian came down a ladder from the saloon deck with clare behind him. dick felt tempted to retire but conquered the impulse and the spaniard came up. "i have some business with the purser, who is waiting for me, but cannot find my señora," he explained, and dick, knowing that local conventions forbade his leaving clare alone, understood it as a request that he should take care of her until the other's return. "i should be glad to stay with miss kenwardine," he answered with a bow, and when don sebastian went off opened a deck-chair and turned to the girl. "you see how i was situated!" he said awkwardly. clare smiled as she sat down. "yes; you are not to blame. indeed, i do not see why you should apologize." "well," said dick, "i hoped that i might meet you, though i feared you would sooner i did not. when i saw you on the ladder, i felt i ought to steal away, but must confess that i was glad when i found it was too late. somehow, things seem to bring us into opposition. they have done so from the beginning." "you're unnecessarily frank," clare answered with a blush. "since you couldn't steal away, wouldn't it have been better not to hint that i was anxious to avoid you? after all, i could have done so if i had really wanted." "i expect that's true. of course what happened when we last met couldn't trouble you as it troubled me." "are you trying to be tactful now?" clare asked, smiling. "no; it's my misfortune that i haven't much tact. if i had, i might be able to straighten matters out." "don't you understand that they can't be straightened out?" "i don't," dick answered stubbornly. "for all that, i won't trouble you again until i find a way out of the tangle." clare gave him a quick, disturbed look. "it would be much better if you took it for granted that we must, to some extent, be enemies." "no. i'm afraid your father and i are enemies, but that's not the same." "it is; you can see that it must be," clare insisted; and then, as if anxious to change the subject, went on: "he was too busy to bring me to-night so i came with don sebastian and his wife. it is not very gay in santa brigida and one gets tired of being alone." her voice fell a little as she concluded, and dick, who understood something of her isolation from friends of her race, longed to take her in his arms and comfort her. indeed, had the quarter-deck been deserted he might have tried, for he felt that her refusal had sprung from wounded pride and a sense of duty. there was something in her manner that hinted that it had not been easy to send him away. yet he saw she could be firm and thought it wise to follow her lead. "then your father has been occupied lately," he remarked. "yes; he is often away. he goes to adexe and is generally busy in the evenings. people come to see him and keep him talking in his room. our friends no longer spend the evening in the patio." dick understood her. she wanted to convince him that kenwardine was a business man and only gambled when he had nothing else to do. indeed, her motive was rather pitifully obvious, and dick knew that he had not been mistaken about her character. clare had, no doubt, once yielded to her father's influence, but it was impossible that she took any part in his plots. she was transparently honest; he knew this as he watched her color come and go. "after all, i don't think you liked many of the people who came," he said. "i liked jake," she answered and stopped with a blush, while dick felt half ashamed, because he had deprived her of the one companion she could trust. "well," he said, "it isn't altogether my fault that jake doesn't come to see you. we have had some accidents that delayed the work and he has not been able to leave the dam." he was silent for the next few minutes. since clare was eager to defend kenwardine, she might be led to tell something about his doings from which a useful hint could be gathered, and dick greatly wished to know who visited his house on business. still, it was impossible that he should make the girl betray her father. the fight was between him and kenwardine, and clare must be kept outside it. with this resolve, he began to talk about the dancing, and soon afterward jake came up and asked clare for the next waltz. she smiled and gave dick a challenging glance. "certainly," he said with a bow, and then turned to jake. "as miss kenwardine has been put in my charge, you must bring her back." jake grinned as he promised and remarked as they went away: "makes a good dueña, doesn't he? you can trust dick to guard anything he's told to take care of. in fact, if i'd a sister i wanted to leave in safe hands----" he paused and laughed. "but that's the trouble. it was my sister who told him to take care of me." dick did not hear clare's reply, but watched her dance until don sebastian's wife came up. after that he went away, and presently strolled along the highest deck. this was narrower than the others, but was extended as far as the side of the ship by beams on which the boats were stowed. there were no rails, for passengers were not allowed up there; but dick, who was preoccupied and moody, wanted to be alone. the moon had now risen above the mountains and the sea glittered between the shore and the ship. looking down, he saw a row of boats rise and fall with the languid swell near her tall side, and the flash of the surf that washed the end of the mole. then, taking out a cigarette, he strolled towards the captain's room, which stood behind the bridge, and stopped near it in the shadow of a big lifeboat. the room was lighted, and the door and windows were half open because the night was hot. carelessly glancing in, dick saw don sebastian sitting at the table with the captain and engineer. this somewhat surprised him, for the purser transacted the ship's business and, so far as he knew, none of the other guests had been taken to the captain's room. he felt puzzled about don sebastian, whom he had met once or twice. the fellow had an air of authority and the smaller officials treated him with respect. something in the men's attitude indicated that they were talking confidentially, and dick thought he had better go away without attracting their attention; but just then the captain turned in his chair and looked out. dick decided to wait until he looked round again, and next moment don sebastian asked: "have you plenty coal?" "i think so," the engineer replied. "the after-bunkers are full, but i'd have taken a few extra barge-loads here only i didn't want any of the shore peons to see how much i'd already got." dick did not understand this, because coal was somewhat cheaper and the facilities for shipping it were better at the boat's next port of call, to which it was only a two-days' run. then the captain, who turned to don sebastian, remarked: "making the sailing list prominent was a happy thought, and it was lucky your friends backed us up well by their speeches. you saw how i took advantage of the lead they gave me, but i hope we haven't overdone the thing." "no," said don sebastian thoughtfully; "i imagine nobody suspects anything yet." "perhaps you had better clear the ship soon, sir," said the engineer. "steam's nearly up and it takes some coal----" the room door slipped off its hook and swung wide open as the vessel rolled, and dick, who could not withdraw unnoticed, decided to light his cigarette in order that the others might see that they were not alone. as he struck the match the captain got up. "who's that?" he asked. "one of the foreign passengers, i expect; the mates can't keep them off this deck," the engineer replied. "i don't suppose the fellow knows english, but shall i send him down?" "i think not. it might look as if we were afraid of being overheard." dick held the match to his cigarette for a moment or two before he threw it away, and as he walked past noted that don sebastian had come out on deck. indeed, he thought the man had seen his face and was satisfied, because he turned back into the room. dick went down a ladder to the deck below, where he stopped and thought over what he had heard. it was plain that some precautions had been taken against the risk of capture, but he could not understand why don sebastian had been told about them. by and by he thought he would speak to the purser, whom he knew, and went down the alleyway that led to his office. the door was hooked back, but the passage was narrow and a fat spanish lady blocked the entrance. she was talking to the purser and dick saw that he must wait until she had finished. a man stood a few yards behind her, unscrewing a flute, and as a folded paper that looked like music stuck out of his pocket he appeared to belong to the band. "but it is tuesday you arrive at palomas!" the lady exclaimed. "about then," the purser answered in awkward castilian. "we may be a little late." "but how much late?" "i cannot tell. perhaps a day or two." "at dinner the captain said----" "just so. but he was speaking generally without knowing all the arrangements." dick could not see into the office, but heard the purser open a drawer and shuffle some papers, as if he wanted to get rid of his questioner. "it is necessary that i know when we arrive," the lady resumed. "if it is not tuesday, i must send a telegram." the purser shut the drawer noisily, but just then a bell rang overhead and the whistle blew to warn the visitors that they must go ashore. "then you must be quick," said the purser. "write your message here and give it to me. you need not be disturbed. we will land you at palomas." the lady entered the office, but dick thought her telegram would not be sent, and a moment later the captain's plan dawned on him. the ship would call at the ports named, but not in the order stated, and this was why she needed so much coal. she would probably steam first to the port farthest off and then work backward, and the sailing list was meant to put the raider off the track. the latter's commander, warned by spies who would send him the list, would think he knew where to find the vessel at any particular date, when, however, she would be somewhere else. then dick wondered why the musician was hanging about, and went up to him. "the sobrecargo's busy," he said in english. "you'll be taken to sea unless you get up on deck." "i no wanta el sobrecargo," the man replied in a thick, stupid voice. "the music is thirsty; i wanta drink." the second-class bar was farther down the alleyway, and dick, indicating it, turned back and made his way to the poop as fast as he could, for he did not think the man was as drunk as he looked. he found the musicians collecting their stands, and went up to the bandmaster. "there's one of your men below who has been drinking too much caña," he said. "you had better look after him." "but they are all here," the bandmaster answered, glancing round the poop. "the man had a flute." "but we have no flute-player." "then he must have been a passenger," said dick, who hurried to the gangway. after hailing his fireman to bring the launch alongside, he threw a quick glance about. the shore boatmen were pushing their craft abreast of the ladder and shouting as they got in each other's way, but one boat had already left the ship and was pulling fast towards the harbor. there seemed to be only one man on board besides her crew, and dick had no doubt that he was the flute-player. he must be followed, since it was important to find out whom he met and if, as dick suspected, he meant to send off a telegram. but the liner's captain must be warned, and dick turned hastily around. the windlass was rattling and the bridge, on which he could see the captain's burly figure, was some distance off, while the passage between the gangway and deckhouse was blocked by the departing guests. the anchor would probably be up before he could push his way through the crowd, and if he was not carried off to sea, he would certainly lose sight of the spy. writing a line or two on the leaf of his pocket-book, he tore it out and held it near a creole steward boy. "take that to the sobrecargo at once," he cried, and seeing the boy stoop to pick up the note, which fell to the deck, ran down the ladder. he had, however, to wait a minute while the fireman brought the launch alongside between the other boats, and when they pushed off don sebastian, scrambling across one of the craft, jumped on board. he smiled when dick looked at him with annoyed surprise. "i think my business is yours, but there is no time for explanations," he said. "tell your man to go full speed." the launch quivered and leaped ahead with the foam curling at her bows, and dick did not look round when he heard an expostulating shout. jake and bethune must get ashore as they could; his errand was too important to stop for them, particularly as he could no longer see the boat in front. she had crossed the glittering belt of moonlight and vanished into the shadow near the mole. her occupant had had some minutes' start and had probably landed, but it might be possible to find out where he had gone. "screw the valve wide open," dick told the fireman. the rattle of the engine quickened a little, the launch lifted her bows, and her stern sank into the hollow of a following wave. when she steamed up the harbor a boat lay near some steps, and as the launch slackened speed dick asked her crew which way their passenger had gone. "up the mole, señor," one answered breathlessly. "it is all you will learn from them," don sebastian remarked. "i think we will try the _telegrafia_ first." there was no time for questions and dick jumped out as the launch ran alongside the steps. don sebastian stopped him when he reached the top. "in santa brigida, nobody runs unless there is an earthquake or a revolution. we do not want people to follow us." dick saw the force of this and started for the telegraph office, walking as fast as possible. when he looked round, his companion had vanished, but he rejoined him on the steps of the building. they went in together and found nobody except a languid clerk leaning on a table. don sebastian turned to dick and said in english, "it will be better if you leave this matter to me." dick noted that the clerk suddenly became alert when he saw his companion, but he waited at a few yards' distance and don sebastian said: "a man came in not long since with a telegram. he was short and very dark and probably signed the form vinoles." "he did, señor," said the clerk. "very well. i want to see the message before it is sent." "it has gone, señor, three or four minutes ago." don sebastian made a gesture of resignation, spreading out his hands. "then bring me the form." dick thought it significant that the clerk at once obeyed, but don sebastian, who stood still for a moment, turned to him. "it is as i thought," he said in english, and ordered the clerk: "take us into the manager's room." the other did so, and after shutting the door withdrew. don sebastian threw the form on the table. "it seems we are too late," he said. chapter xxv the water-pipe dick sat down and knitted his brows as he studied his companion. don sebastian was a peninsular spaniard and in consequence of a finer type than the majority of the inhabitants of santa brigida. dick, who thought he could confide in him, needed help, but the matter was delicate. in the meantime, the other waited with a smile that implied that he guessed his thoughts, until dick, leaning forward with sudden resolution, picked up the telegram, which was written in cipher. "this is probably a warning to somebody that the vessel will not call at the ports in the advertised order," he said. "i imagine so. you guessed the captain's plan from what you heard outside the room?" "not altogether, but it gave me a hint. it looks as if you recognized me when i was standing near the lifeboat." "i did," said don sebastian meaningly. "i think i showed my confidence in you." dick nodded, because it was plain that the other had enabled him to go away without being questioned. "very well; i'll tell you what i know," he said, and related how he had found the man with the flute loitering about the purser's door. as he finished, don sebastian got up. "you made one mistake; you should have given your note to an englishman and not a young creole lad. however, we must see if the steamer can be stopped." he led the way up a staircase to the flat roof, where dick ran to the parapet. looking across the town, he saw in the distance a dim white light and a long smear of smoke that trailed across the glittering sea. he frowned as he watched it, for the ship was english and he felt himself responsible for the safety of all on board her. he had done his best, when there was no time to pause and think, but perhaps he had blundered. suppose the creole boy had lost his note or sent it to somebody ashore? "we are too late again," don sebastian remarked as he sat down on the parapet. "well, one must be philosophical. things do not always go as one would wish." "why didn't you warn the captain that his plan was found out, instead of jumping into the launch?" dick asked angrily. don sebastian smiled. "because i did not know. i saw a man steal down the ladder and thought he might be a spy, but could not tell how much he had learned. if he had learned nothing, it would have been dangerous for the captain to change his plan again and keep to the sailing list." "that's true," dick agreed shortly. his chin was thrust forward and his head slightly tilted back. he looked very english and aggressive as he resumed: "but i want to know what your interest in the matter is." "then i must tell you. to begin with, i am employed by the government and am in the president's confidence. the country is poor and depends for its development on foreign capital, while it is important that we should have the support and friendship of great britain and the united states. perhaps you know the latter's jealousy about european interference in american affairs?" dick nodded. "you feel you have to be careful. but how far can a country go in harboring a belligerent's agents and supplying her fighting ships, without losing its neutrality?" "that is a difficult question," don sebastian replied. "i imagine the answer depends upon the temper of the interested country's diplomatic representatives; but the president means to run no risks. we cannot, for example, have it claimed that we allowed a foreign power to buy a coaling station and use it as a base for raids on merchant ships." "have the germans bought the adexe wharf?" don sebastian shrugged. "_quién sabe?_ the principal has not a german name." "isn't richter german?" "richter has gone. it is possible that he has done his work. his friend, however, is the head of the coaling company." "do you think kenwardine was his partner? if so, it's hard to understand why he let you come to his house. he's not a fool." the spaniard's dark eyes twinkled. "señor kenwardine is a clever man, and it is not always safer to keep your antagonist in the dark when you play an intricate game. señor kenwardine knew it would have been a mistake to show he thought i suspected him and that he had something to conceal. we were both very frank, to a point, and now and then talked about the complications that might spring from the coaling business. because we value our trade with england and wish to attract british capital, he knew we would not interfere with him unless we had urgent grounds, and wished to learn how far we would let him go. it must be owned that in this country official suspicion can often be disarmed." "by a bribe? i don't think kenwardine is rich," dick objected. "then it is curious that he is able to spend so much at adexe." dick frowned, for he saw what the other implied. if kenwardine had to be supplied with money, where did it come from? it was not his business to defend the man and he must do what he could to protect british shipping, but kenwardine was clare's father, and he was not going to expose him until he was sure of his guilt. "but if he was plotting anything that would get your president into trouble, he must have known he would be found out." "certainly. but suppose he imagined he might not be found out until he had done what he came to do? it would not matter then." dick said nothing. he knew he was no match for the spaniard in subtlety, but he would not be forced into helping him. he set his lips, and don sebastian watched him with amusement. "well," said the latter, "you have my sympathy. the señorita's eyes are bright." "i cannot have miss kenwardine mentioned," dick rejoined. "she has nothing to do with the matter." "that is agreed," don sebastian answered, and leaned forward as he added in a meaning tone: "you are english and your life has been threatened by men who plot against your country. i might urge that they may try again and i could protect you; but you must see what their thinking you dangerous means. now i want your help." dick's face was very resolute as he looked at him. "if any harm comes to the liner, i'll do all i can. but i'll do nothing until i know. in the meantime, can you warn the captain?" don sebastian bowed. "i must be satisfied with your promise. we may find the key to the telegram, and must try to get into communication with the steamer." they went down stairs together, but the spaniard did not leave the office with dick, who went out alone and found bethune and jake waiting at the end of the line. they bantered him about his leaving them on board the ship, but although he thought jake looked at him curiously, he told them nothing. when work stopped on the saturday evening, jake and dick went to dine with bethune. it was getting dark when they reached a break in the dam, where a gap had been left open while a sluice was being built. a half-finished tower rose on the other side and a rope ladder hung down for the convenience of anybody who wished to cross. a large iron pipe that carried water to a turbine, however, spanned the chasm, and the sure-footed peons often used it as a bridge. this required some agility and nerve, but it saved an awkward scramble across the sluice and up the concrete. "there's just light enough," jake remarked, and balancing himself carefully, walked out upon the pipe. dick followed and getting across safely, stopped at the foot of the tower and looked down at the rough blocks and unfinished ironwork in the bottom of the gap. "the men have been told to use the ladder, but as they seldom do so, it would be safer to run a wire across for a hand-rail," he said. "anybody who slipped would get a dangerous fall." they went on to bethune's iron shack, where stuyvesant joined them, and after dinner sat outside, talking and smoking. a carafe of spanish wine and some glasses stood on a table close by. "i've fired jose's and pancho's gangs; they've been asking for it for some time," stuyvesant remarked. "in fact, i'd clear out most of the shovel boys if i could replace them. they've been saving money and are getting slack." the others agreed that it might be advisable. the half-breeds from the hills, attracted by good wages, worked well when first engaged, but generally found steady labor irksome and got discontented when they had earned a sum that would enable them to enjoy a change. "i don't think you'd get boys enough in this neighborhood," bethune said. "that's so. anyhow, i'd rather hire a less sophisticated crowd; the half-civilized _meztiso_ is worse than the other sort, but i don't see why we shouldn't look for some further along the coast. do you feel like taking the launch, brandon, and trying what you can do?" "i'd enjoy the trip," dick answered with some hesitation. "but i'd probably have to go beyond coronal, and it might take a week." "that won't matter; stay as long as it's necessary," stuyvesant said, for he had noticed a slackness in dick's movements and his tired look. "things are going pretty well just now, and you have stuck close to your work. the change will brace you up. anyhow, i want fresh boys and bethune's needed here, but you can take jake along if you want company." jake declared that he would go, but dick agreed with reluctance. he felt jaded and depressed, for the double strain he had borne was beginning to tell. his work, carried on in scorching heat, demanded continuous effort, and when it stopped at night he had private troubles to grapple with. though he had been half-prepared for clare's refusal, it had hit him hard, and he could find no means of exposing kenwardine's plots without involving her in his ruin. it would be a relief to get away, but he might be needed at santa brigida. bethune began to talk about the alterations a contractor wished to make, and by and by there was a patter of feet and a hum of voices in the dark. the voices grew louder and sounded angry as the steps approached the house, and stuyvesant pushed back his chair. "it's jose's or pancho's breeds come to claim that their time is wrong. i suppose one couldn't expect that kind of crowd to understand figures, but although françois' accounts are seldom very plain, he's not a grafter." then a native servant entered hurriedly. "they all come, señor," he announced. "pig tief say fransoy rob him and he go casser office window." he turned and waved his hand threateningly as a big man in ragged white clothes came into the light. "_fuera, puerco ladron!_" the man took off a large palm-leaf hat and flourished it with ironical courtesy. "here is gran escandolo, señores. _la belle chose, verdad!_ me i have trent' dollar; the grand tief me pay----" stuyvesant signed to the servant. "take them round to the back corral; we can't have them on the veranda." then he turned to dick. "you and bethune must convince them that the time-sheets are right; you know more about the thing than i do. haven't you been helping françois, fuller?" "i'm not a linguist," jake answered with a grin. "when they talk french and spanish at once it knocks me right off my height, as françois sometimes declares." they all went round to the back of the house, where bethune and dick argued with the men. the latter had been dismissed and while ready to go wanted a grievance, though some honestly failed to understand the deductions from their wages. they had drawn small sums in advance, taken goods out of store, and laid off now and then on an unusually hot day, but the amount charged against them was larger than they thought. for all that, bethune using patience and firmness pacified them, and after a time they went away satisfied while the others returned to the veranda. "arguing in languages you don't know well is thirsty work, and we'd better have a drink," bethune remarked. he pushed the carafe across the table, but dick picked up his glass, which he had left about half full. he was hot and it was a light spanish wine that one could drink freely, but when he had tasted it he emptied what was left over the veranda rails. bethune looked surprised, but laughed. "the wine isn't very good, but the others seem able to stand for it. i once laid out a mine ditch in a neighborhood where you'd have wanted some courage to throw away a drink the boys had given you." "it was very bad manners," dick answered awkwardly. "still, i didn't like the taste----" he stopped, noticing that jake gave him a keen glance, but stuyvesant filled his glass and drank. "what's the matter with the wine?" he asked. dick hesitated. he wanted to let the matter drop, but he had treated bethune rudely and saw that the others were curious. "it didn't taste as it did when i left it. of course this may have been imagination." "but you don't think so?" stuyvesant rejoined. "in fact, you suspect the wine was doped after we went out?" "no," said dick with a puzzled frown; "i imagine any doping stuff would make it sour. the curious thing is that it tasted better than usual but stronger." stuyvesant picked up the glass and smelt it, for a little of the liquor remained in the bottom. "it's a pity you threw it out, because there's a scent mine hasn't got. like bad brandy or what the spaniards call _madre de vino_ and use for bringing light wine up to strength." then bethune took the glass from him and drained the last drops. "i think it _is madre de vino_. pretty heady stuff and that glass would hold a lot." stuyvesant nodded, for it was not a wineglass but a small tumbler. "doping's not an unusual trick, but i can't see why anybody should want to make brandon _drunk_." "it isn't very plain and i may have made a fuss about nothing," dick replied, and began to talk about something else with jake's support. the others indulged them, and after a time the party broke up. the moon had risen when dick and jake walked back along the dam, but the latter stopped when they reached the gap. "we'll climb down and cross by the sluice instead of the pipe," he said. "why?" dick asked. "the light is better than when we came." jake gave him a curious look. "your nerve's pretty good, but do you want to defy your enemies and show them you have found out their trick?" "but i haven't found it out; that is, i don't know the object of it yet." "well," said jake rather grimly, "what do you think would happen if a drunken man tried to walk along that pipe?" then a light dawned on dick and he sat down, feeling limp. he was abstemious, and a large dose of strong spirit would, no doubt, have unsteadied him. his companions would notice this, but with the obstinacy that often marks a half-drunk man he would probably have insisted on trying to cross the pipe. then a slip or hesitation would have precipitated him upon the unfinished ironwork below, and since an obvious explanation of his fall had been supplied, nobody's suspicions would have been aroused. the subtlety of the plot was unnerving. somebody who knew all about him had chosen the moment well. "it's so devilishly clever!" he said with hoarse anger after a moment or two. jake nodded. "they're smart. they knew the boys were coming to make a row and stuyvesant wouldn't have them on the veranda. then the wine was on the table, and anybody who'd noticed where we sat could tell your glass. it would have been easy to creep up to the shack before the moon rose." "who are _they_?" "if i knew, i could tell you what to do about it, but i don't. it's possible there was only one man, but if so, he's dangerous. anyhow, it's obvious that kenwardine has no part in the matter." "he's not in this," dick agreed. "have you a cigarette? i think i'd like a smoke. it doesn't follow that i'd have been killed, if i had fallen." "then you'd certainly have got hurt enough to keep you quiet for some time, which would probably satisfy the other fellow. but i don't think we'll stop here talking; there may be somebody about." they climbed down by the foot of the tower and crossing the sluice went up the ladder. when they reached their shack dick sat down and lighted the cigarette jake had given him, but he said nothing and his face was sternly set. soon afterwards he went to bed. chapter xxvi the liner's fate next morning dick reviewed the situation as he ate his breakfast in the fresh coolness before the sun got up. he had got a shock, but he was young and soon recovered. his anger against the unknown plotter remained fierce, but this was, in a sense, a private grievance, by which he must not be unduly influenced. it was plain that he was thought dangerous, which showed that he was following the right clue, and he had determined that the raiding of ships belonging to britain or her allies must be stopped. since he had gone to the representative of british authority and had been rebuffed, he meant to get fuller to see if american suspicions could be easier aroused, but he must first make sure of his ground. in the meantime, don sebastian had asked his help and he had given a conditional promise. dick decided that he had taken the proper course. don sebastian held kenwardine accountable and meant to expose him. this was painful to contemplate for clare's sake, but dick admitted that he could not shield kenwardine at his country's expense. still, the matter was horribly complicated. if kenwardine was ruined or imprisoned, a serious obstacle in dick's way would be removed, but it was unthinkable that this should be allowed to count when clare must suffer. besides, she might come to hate him if she learned that he was responsible for her father's troubles. but he would make the liner's fate a test. if the vessel arrived safe, kenwardine should go free until his guilt was certain; if she were sunk or chased, he would help don sebastian in every way he could. for three or four days he heard nothing about her, and then, one hot morning, when stuyvesant and bethune stood at the foot of the tower by the sluice examining some plans, jake crossed the pipe with a newspaper in his hand. "the _diario_ has just arrived," he said. "i haven't tried to read it yet, but the liner has been attacked." dick, who was superintending the building of the sluice, hastily scrambled up the bank, and stuyvesant, taking the newspaper, sat down in the shade of the tower. he knew more castilian than the others, who gathered round him as he translated. the liner, the account stated, had the coast in sight shortly before dark and was steaming along it when a large, black funnel steamer appeared from behind a point. the captain at once swung his vessel round and the stranger fired a shot, of which he took no notice. it was blowing fresh, the light would soon fade, and there was a group of reefs, which he knew well, not far away. the raider gained a little during the next hour and fired several shots. two of the shells burst on board, killing a seaman and wounding some passengers, but the captain held on. when it was getting dark the reefs lay close ahead, with the sea breaking heavily on their outer edge, but he steamed boldly for an intricate, unmarked channel between them and the land. in altering his course, he exposed the vessel's broadside to the enemy and a shot smashed the pilot-house, but they steered her in with the hand-gear. the pursuer then sheered off, but it got very dark and the vessel grounded in a position where the reef gave some shelter. nothing could be done until morning, but as day broke the raider reappeared and had fired a shot across the reef when a gunboat belonging to the state in whose territorial waters the steamer lay came upon the scene. she steamed towards the raider, which made off at full speed. then the gunboat took the liner's passengers on board, and it was hoped that the vessel could be re-floated. "a clear story, told by a french or spanish sailor who'd taken a passage on the ship," bethune remarked. "it certainly didn't come from one of the british crew." "why?" jake asked. bethune smiled. "a seaman who tells the truth about anything startling that happens on board a passenger boat gets fired. the convention is to wrap the thing in mystery, if it can't be denied. besides, the ability to take what you might call a quick, bird's-eye view isn't a british gift; an englishman would have concentrated on some particular point. anyhow, i can't see how the boat came to be where she was at the time mentioned." he turned to dick and asked: "do you know, brandon?" "no," said dick, shortly, "not altogether." "well," resumed bethune, "i've seen the antiquated gunboat that came to the rescue, and it's amusing to think of her steaming up to the big auxiliary cruiser. it's doubtful if they've got ammunition that would go off in their footy little guns, though i expect the gang of half-breed cut-throats would put up a good fight. they have pluck enough, and the country they belong to can stand upon her dignity." "she knows where to look for support," stuyvesant remarked. "if the other party goes much farther, she'll get a sharp snub up. what's your idea of the situation?" "something like yours. we can't allow the black eagle to find an eyrie in this part of the world, but just now our western bird's talons are blunt. she hasn't been rending the innocents like the other, but one or two of our former leaders are anxious to put her into fighting trim, and i dare say something of the kind will be done. however, brandon hasn't taken much part in this conversation. i guess he's thinking about his work!" dick, who had been sitting quiet with a thoughtful face, got up. "i'd like to talk to you for a few minutes, stuyvesant." "very well," said the other, who turned to bethune and jake. "i don't want to play the domineering boss, but we're not paid to sit here and fix up international politics." they went away and stuyvesant looked at dick who said, "i ought to start in the launch to-morrow to get the laborers you want, but i can't go." "why?" dick hesitated. "the fact is i've something else to do." "ah!" said stuyvesant. "i think the understanding was that fuller bought all your time." "he did. i'm sorry, but----" "but if i insist on your going down the coast, you'll break your agreement." "yes," said dick with embarrassment. "it comes to that." stuyvesant looked hard at him. "you must recognize that this is a pretty good job, and you're not likely to get another without fuller's recommendation. then i understand you were up against it badly when he first got hold of you. you're young and ought to be ambitious, and you have your chance to make your mark right here." "it's all true," dick answered doggedly. "still, i can't go." "then it must be something very important that makes you willing to throw up your job." dick did not answer and, to his surprise, stuyvesant smiled as he resumed: "it's england first, with you?" "how did you guess? how much do you know?" dick asked sharply. "i don't know very much. your throwing out the wine gave me a hint, because it was obvious that somebody had been getting after you before, and there were other matters. but you're rather young and i suspect you're up against a big thing." "i'm afraid i can't tell you about it yet, if that is what you mean." "very well. stay here, as usual, if you like, or if you want a week off, take it. i'll find a suitable reason for not sending you in the launch." "thanks!" said dick, with keen gratitude, and stuyvesant, who nodded pleasantly, went away. dick sent a note to don sebastian by a messenger he could trust, and soon after dark met him, as he appointed, at a wine-shop on the outskirts of the town, where they were shown into a small back room. "i imagine you are now satisfied," the spaniard said. "the liner has been chased and people on board her have been killed." "i'm ready to do anything that will prevent another raid. to some extent, perhaps, i'm responsible for what has happened; i might have stopped and seen the mate or captain, but then i'd have lost the man i was after. what do you think became of my note?" don sebastian looked thoughtful. "the boy may have lost it or shown it to his comrades; they carry a few spanish stewards for the sake of the foreign passengers, and we both carelessly took too much for granted. we followed the spy we saw without reflecting that there might be another on board. however, this is not important now." "it isn't. but what do you mean to do with kenwardine?" "you have no cause for troubling yourself on his account." "that's true, in a way," dick answered, coloring, though his tone was resolute. "he once did me a serious injury, but i don't want him hurt. i mean to stop his plotting if i can, but i'm going no further, whether it's my duty or not." the spaniard made a sign of comprehension. "then we need not quarrel about kenwardine. in fact, the president does not want to arrest him; our policy is to avoid complications and it would satisfy us if he could be forced to leave the country and give up the coaling station." "how will you force him?" "he has been getting letters from kingston; ordinary, friendly letters from a gentleman whose business seems to be coaling ships. for all that, there is more in them than meets the uninstructed eye." "have you read his replies?" don sebastian shrugged. "what do you expect? they do not tell us much, but it looks as if señor kenwardine means to visit kingston soon." "but it's in jamaica; british territory." "just so," said the spaniard, smiling. "señor kenwardine is a bold and clever man. his going to kingston would have thrown us off the scent if we had not known as much as we do; but it would have been dangerous had he tried to hide it and we had found it out. you see how luck favors us?" "what is your plan?" "we will follow kenwardine. he will be more or less at our mercy on british soil, and, if it seems needful, there is a charge you can bring against him. he stole some army papers." dick started. "how did you hear of that?" "clever men are sometimes incautious, and he once spoke about it to his daughter," don sebastian answered with a shrug. "our antagonists are not the only people who have capable spies." the intrigue and trickery he had become entangled in inspired dick with disgust, but he admitted that one could not be fastidious in a fight with a man like his antagonist. "very well," he said, frowning, "i'll go; but it must be understood that when he's beaten you won't decide what's to be done with the man without consulting me." don sebastian bowed. "it is agreed. one can trust you to do nothing that would injure your country. but we have some arrangements to make." shortly afterwards dick left the wine-shop, and returning to the camp went to see stuyvesant. "i want to go away in a few days, perhaps for a fortnight, but i'd like it understood that i'd been sent down the coast in the launch," he said. "as a matter of fact, i mean to start in her." "certainly. arrange the thing as you like," stuyvesant agreed. then he looked at dick with a twinkle. "you deserve a lay-off and i hope you'll enjoy it." dick thanked him and went back to his shack, where he found jake on the verandah. "i may go with the launch, after all, but not to coronal," he remarked. "ah!" said jake, with some dryness. "then you had better take me; anyhow, i'm coming." "i'd much sooner you didn't." "that doesn't count," jake replied. "you're getting after somebody, and if you leave me behind, i'll give the plot away. it's easy to send a rumor round the camp." dick reflected. he saw that jake meant to come and knew he could be obstinate. besides, the lad was something of a seaman and would be useful on board the launch, because dick did not mean to join the steamer kenwardine traveled by, but to catch another at a port some distance off. "well," he said, "i suppose i must give in." "you've got to," jake rejoined, and added in a meaning tone: "you may need a witness if you're after kenwardine, and i want to be about to see fair play." "then you trust the fellow yet?" "i don't know," jake answered thoughtfully. "at first, i thought kenwardine great, and i like him now. he certainly has charm and you can't believe much against him when he's with you; but it's somehow different at a distance. still, he knew nothing about the attacks on you. i saw that when i told him about them." "you told him!" dick exclaimed. "i did. perhaps it might have been wise----" jake stopped, for he heard a faint rustle, as if a bush had been shaken, and dick looked up. the moon had not yet risen, thin mist drifted out of the jungle, and it was very dark. there was some brush in front of the building and a belt of tall grass and reeds grew farther back. without moving the upper part of his body, he put his foot under the table at which they sat and kicked jake's leg. "what was that about adexe?" he asked in a clear voice, and listened hard. he heard nothing then, for jake took the hint and began to talk about the coaling station, but when the lad stopped there was another rustle, very faint but nearer. next moment a pistol shot rang out and a puff of acrid smoke drifted into the veranda. then the brushwood crackled, as if a man had violently plunged through it, and jake sprang to his feet. "come on and bring the lamp!" he shouted, running down the steps. dick followed, but left the lamp alone. he did not know who had fired the shot and it might be imprudent to make himself conspicuous. jake, who was a few yards in front, boldly took a narrow path through the brush, which rose to their shoulders. the darkness was thickened by the mist, but after a moment or two they heard somebody coming to meet them. it could hardly be an enemy, because the man wore boots and his tread was quick and firm. dick noted this with some relief, but thought it wise to take precautions. "hold on, jake," he said and raised his voice: "who's that?" "payne," answered the other, and they waited until he came up. "now," said jake rather sharply, "what was the shooting about?" "there was a breed hanging round in the bushes and when he tried to creep up to the veranda i plugged him." "then where is he?" "that's what i don't know," payne answered apologetically. "i hit him sure, but it looks as if he'd got away." "it looks as if you'd missed. where did you shoot from?" payne beckoned them to follow and presently stopped beside the heap of ironwork a little to one side of the shack. the lighted veranda was in full view of the spot, but there was tall brushwood close by and behind this the grass. "i was here," payne explained. "heard something move once or twice, and at last the fellow showed between me and the light. when i saw he was making for the veranda i put up my gun. knew i had the bead on him when i pulled her off." "then show us where he was." payne led them forward until they reached a spot where the brush was broken and bent, and jake, stooping down, struck a match. "i guess he's right. look at this," he said with shrinking in his voice. the others saw a red stain on the back of his hand and crimson splashes on the grass. then dick took the match and put it out. "the fellow must be found. i'll get two or three of the boys i think we can trust and we'll begin the search at once." he left them and returned presently with the men and two lanterns, but before they set off he asked payne: "could you hear what we said on the veranda?" "no. i could tell you were talking, but that was all. once you kind of raised your voice and i guess the fellow in front heard something, for it was then he got up and tried to crawl close in." "just so," dick agreed and looked at jake as one of the men lighted a lantern. "he was nearer us than payne. i thought adexe would draw him." they searched the belt of grass and the edge of the jungle, since, as there were venomous snakes about, it did not seem likely that the fugitive would venture far into the thick, steamy gloom. then they made a circuit of the camp, stopping wherever a mound of rubbish offered a hiding-place, but the search proved useless until they reached the head of the track. then an explanation of the man's escape was supplied, for the hand-car, which had stood there an hour ago, had gone. a few strokes of the crank would start it, after which it would run down the incline. "i guess that's how he went," said payne. dick nodded. the car would travel smoothly if its speed was controlled, but it would make some noise and he could not remember having heard anything. the peons, however, frequently used the car when they visited their comrades at the mixing sheds, and he supposed the rattle of wheels had grown so familiar that he had not noticed it. "send the boys away; there's nothing more to be done," he said. they turned back towards the shack, and after a few minutes jake remarked: "it will be a relief when this business is over. my nerves are getting ragged." chapter xxvii the silver clasp it was about eleven o'clock on a hot morning and kenwardine, who had adopted native customs, was leisurely getting his breakfast in the patio. two or three letters lay among the fruit and wine, but he did not mean to open them yet. he was something of a sybarite and the letters might blunt his enjoyment of the well-served meal. clare, who had not eaten much, sat opposite, watching him. his pose as he leaned back with a wineglass in his hand was negligently graceful, and his white clothes, drawn in at the waist by a black silk sash, showed his well-knit figure. there were touches of gray in his hair and wrinkles round his eyes, but in spite of this he had a look of careless youth. clare, however, thought she noticed a hint of preoccupation that she knew and disliked. presently kenwardine picked out an envelope with a british stamp from among the rest and turned it over before inserting a knife behind the flap, which yielded easily, as if the gum had lost its strength. then he took out the letter and smiled with ironical amusement. if it had been read by any unauthorized person before it reached him, the reader would have been much misled, but it told him what he wanted to know. there was one word an englishman or american would not have used, though a teuton might have done so, but kenwardine thought a spaniard would not notice this, even if he knew english well. the other letters were not important, and he glanced at his daughter. clare was not wearing well. she had lost her color and got thin. the climate was enervating, and englishwomen who stayed in the country long felt it more than men, but this did not quite account for her jaded look. "i am afraid you are feeling the hot weather, and perhaps you have been indoors too much," he said. "i must try to take you about more when i come back." "then you are going away! where to?" kenwardine would have preferred to hide his destination, but since this would be difficult it seemed safer not to try and there was no reason why his household should not know. "to jamaica. i have some business in kingston, but it won't keep me long." "can you take me?" "i think not," said kenwardine, who knew his visit would be attended by some risk. "for one thing, i'll be occupied all the time, and as i must get back as soon as possible, may have to travel by uncomfortable boats. you will be safe with lucille." "oh, yes," clare agreed with languid resignation. "still, i would have liked a change." kenwardine showed no sign of yielding and she said nothing more. she had chosen to live with him, and although she had not known all that the choice implied, must obey his wishes. for all that, she longed to get away. it had cost her more than she thought to refuse dick, and she felt that something mysterious and disturbing was going on. kenwardine's carelessness had not deceived her; she had watched him when he was off his guard and knew that he was anxious. "you don't like santa brigida?" he suggested. "well, if things go as i hope, i may soon be able to sell out my business interests and leave the country. would that please you?" clare's eyes sparkled with satisfaction. now there was a prospect of its ending, she could allow herself to admit how repugnant the life she led had grown. she had hated the gambling, and although this had stopped, the mystery and hidden intrigue that followed it were worse. if her father gave it all up, they need no longer be outcasts, and she could live as an english girl ought to do. besides, it would be easier to forget dick brandon when she went away. "would we go back to england?" she asked eagerly. "i hardly think that would be possible," kenwardine replied. "we might, however, fix upon one of the quieter cities near the atlantic coast of america. i know two or three that are not too big and are rather old-fashioned, with something of the charm of the colonial days, where i think you might find friends that would suit your fastidious taste." clare tried to look content. of late, she had longed for the peaceful, well-ordered life of the english country towns, but it seemed there was some reason they could not go home. "any place would be better than santa brigida," she said. "but i must leave you to your letters. i am going out to buy some things." the sun was hot when she left the patio, but there was a strip of shade on one side of the street and she kept close to the wall, until turning a corner, she entered a blaze of light. the glare from the pavement and white houses was dazzling and she stopped awkwardly, just in time to avoid collision with a man. he stood still and she looked down as she saw that it was dick and noted the satisfaction in his eyes. "i'm afraid i wasn't keeping a very good lookout," he said. "you seemed to be in a hurry," clare rejoined, half hoping he would go on; but as he did not, she resumed: "however, you generally give one the impression of having something important to do." dick laughed. "that's wrong just now, because i'm killing time. i've an hour to wait before the launch is ready to go to sea." "then you are sailing somewhere along the coast," said clare, who moved forward, and dick taking her permission for granted, turned and walked by her side. "yes. i left jake at the mole, putting provisions on board." "it looks as if you would be away some time," clare remarked carelessly. dick thought she was not interested and felt relieved. it had been announced at the irrigation camp that he was going to coronal to engage workmen, in order that the report might reach kenwardine. he had now an opportunity of sending the latter misleading news, but he could not make use of clare in this way. "i expect so, but can't tell yet when we will be back," he said. "well," said clare, "i shall feel that i am left alone. my father is going to kingston and doesn't know when he will return. then you and mr. fuller----" she stopped with a touch of embarrassment, wondering whether she had said too much, but dick looked at her gravely. "then you will miss us?" "yes," she admitted with a blush. "i suppose i shall, in a sense. after all, i really know nobody in santa brigida; that is, nobody i like. of course, we haven't seen either of you often, but then----" "you liked to feel we were within call if we were wanted? well, i wish i could put off our trip, but i'm afraid it's impossible now." "that would be absurd," clare answered, smiling, and they went on in silence for the next few minutes. she felt that she had shown her feelings with raw candor, and the worst was that dick was right. though he thought she had robbed him, and was somehow her father's enemy, she did like to know he was near. then there had been something curious in his tone and he had asked her nothing about her father's voyage. indeed, it looked as if he meant to avoid the subject, although politeness demanded some remark. "i am going shopping at the almacen morales," she said by and by, giving him an excuse to leave her if he wished. "then, if you don't mind, i'll come too. it will be out of this blazing sun, and there are a few things jake told me to get." it was a relief to enter the big, cool, general store, but when clare went to the dry-goods counter dick turned aside to make his purchases. after this, he strolled about, examining specimens of native feather-work, and was presently seized by an inspiration as he stopped beside some spanish lace. clare ought to wear fine lace. the intricate, gauzy web would harmonize with her delicate beauty, but the trouble was that he was no judge of the material. a little farther on, a case of silver filigree caught his eye and he turned over some of the articles. this was work he knew more about, and it was almost as light and fine as the lace. the design was good and marked by a fantastic eastern grace, for it had come from the canaries and the moors had taught the spaniards how to make it long ago. after some deliberation, dick chose a belt-clasp in a box by itself, and the girl who had been waiting on him called a clerk. "you have a good eye, señor," the man remarked. "the clasp was meant for a sample and not for sale." "making things is my business and i know when they're made well," dick answered modestly. "anyhow, i want the clasp." the clerk said they would let him have it because he sometimes bought supplies for the camp, and dick put the case in his pocket. then he waited until clare was ready and left the store with her. he had bought the clasp on an impulse, but now feared that she might not accept his gift. after a time, he took it out. "this caught my eye and i thought you might wear it," he said with diffidence. clare took the open case, for at first the beauty of the pattern seized her attention. then she hesitated and turned to him with some color in her face. "it is very pretty, but why do you want to give it to me?" "to begin with, the thing has an airy lightness that ought to suit you. then you took care of me and we were very good friends when i was ill. i'd like to feel i'd given you something that might remind you of this. besides, you see, i'm going away----" "but you are coming back." "yes; but things might happen in the meantime." "what kind of things?" clare asked in vague alarm. "i don't know," dick said awkwardly. "still, disturbing things do happen. anyhow won't you take the clasp?" clare stood irresolute with the case in her hand. it was strange, and to some extent embarrassing that dick should insist upon making her the present. he had humiliated her and it was impossible that she could marry him, but there was an appeal in his eyes that was hard to deny. besides, the clasp was beautiful and he had shown nice taste in choosing it for her. "very well," she said gently. "i will keep it and wear it now and then." dick made a sign of gratitude and they went on, but clare stopped at the next corner and held out her hand. "i must not take you any farther," she said firmly. "i wish you a good voyage." she went into a shop and dick turned back to the harbor where he boarded the launch. the boat was loaded deep with coal, the fireman was busy, and soon after the provisions dick had bought arrived, steam was up. he took the helm, the engine began to throb, and they glided through the cool shadow along the mole. when they met the smooth swell at the harbor mouth the sea blazed with reflected light, and dick was glad to fix his eyes upon the little compass in the shade of the awning astern. the boat lurched away across the long undulations, with the foam curling up about her bow and rising aft in a white following wave. "i thought of leaving the last few bags of coal," jake remarked. "there's not much life in her and we take some chances of being washed off if she meets a breaking sea." "it's a long run and we'll soon burn down the coal, particularly as we'll have to drive her hard to catch the danish boat," dick replied. "if we can do that, we'll get kenwardine's steamer at her last port of call. it's lucky she isn't going direct to kingston." "you have cut things rather fine, but i suppose you worked it out from the sailing lists. the worst is that following the coast like this takes us off our course." dick nodded. after making some calculations with don sebastian's help, he had found it would be possible to catch a small danish steamer that would take them to a port at which kenwardine's boat would arrive shortly afterwards. but since it had been given out that he was going to coronal, he must keep near the coast until he passed adexe. this was necessary, because kenwardine would not risk a visit to jamaica, which was british territory, if he thought he was being followed. "we'll make it all right if the weather keeps fine," he answered. they passed adexe in the afternoon and boldly turned seawards across a wide bay. at sunset the coast showed faintly in the distance, obscured by the evening mist, and the land breeze began to blow. it was hot and filled with strange, sour and spicy smells, and stirred the sea into short, white ripples that rapidly got larger. they washed across the boat's half-immersed stern and now and then splashed on board at her waist; but dick kept the engine going full speed and sat at the tiller with his eyes fixed upon the compass. it was not easy to steer by, because the lurching boat was short and the card span in erratic jerks when she began to yaw about, swerving off her course as she rose with the seas. the night got very dark, for the land-breeze brought off a haze, but the engine lamp and glow from the furnace door threw an elusive glimmer about the craft. white sea-crests chased and caught her up, and rolling forward broke between the funnel and the bows. water splashed on board, the engine hissed as the spray fell on it, and the floorings got wet. one could see the foam on deck wash about the headledge forward as the bows went up with a sluggishness that was the consequence of carrying an extra load of coal. the fireman could not steer by compass, and after a time jake took the helm from his tired companion. dick lay down under the side deck, from which showers of brine poured close beside his head, but did not go to sleep. he was thinking of clare and what he must do when he met her father. it was important that they should catch kenwardine's boat, since he must not be allowed to land and finish his business before they arrived. in the meanwhile, he listened to the measured clank of the engine, which quickened when the top blade of the screw swung out. so long as she did not lift the others she would travel well, but by and by he heard a splash in the crank-pit and called to the fireman, who started the pump. day broke in a blaze of fiery splendor, and the dripping launch dried. the coast was near, the sea got smooth, and the tired men were glad of the heat of the red sun. by and by the breeze died away, and the long swell heaved in a glassy calm, glittering with silver and vivid blue. when their clothes were dry they loosed and spread the awning, and a pungent smell of olive oil and coffee floated about the boat as the fireman cooked breakfast. after they had eaten, dick moved a bag or two of coal to trim the craft and sounded the tank, because a high-pressure engine uses a large quantity of fresh water. then he unrolled a chart and measured the distance to their port while jake looked over his shoulder. "we ought to be in time," he said. "the advertisement merely stated that the boat would sail to-day, but as she didn't leave the last port until yesterday and she'd have some cargo to ship, it's unlikely that she'll clear before noon." "it might have been safer to telegraph, booking two berths. these little boats don't often miss a chance of picking up a few dollars, and the skipper would have waited." "i thought about that; but the telegram would have shown what we were after if kenwardine has bribed somebody in the office, which is possible." "you seem convinced he has had an important part in these attacks on merchant ships," jake said thoughtfully. "it's hard to doubt." "the man's by way of being a friend of mine and took you into his house when you were in some danger of bleeding to death. i'm not sure that he's guilty, and now i've come with you, am going to see he gets fair play; but if you can prove your charge, you may do what you like with him. i think we'll let it go at that." dick nodded. "in the first place, we must make our port, and it's lucky we'll have smooth water until the sea breeze gets up." telling the fireman he could go to sleep, he moved about the engine with an oilcan and afterwards cleaned the fire. then he lay on the counter with his hand on the helm while the launch sped across the glassy sea, leaving a long wake astern. the high coast ahead got clearer, but after a time dark-blue lines began to streak the glistening water and puffs of wind fanned the men's faces. the puffs were gratefully fresh and the heat felt intolerable when they passed, but by and by they settled into a steady draught and the dark lines joined, until the sea was all a glowing ultramarine. then small ripples splashed about the launch and dick glanced ahead. "she's steaming well," he said as he listened to the steady snort of the exhaust and humming of the cranks. "it's lucky, because there's some weight in the wind." some hours later, when the sea was flecked with white, they closed with a strip of gray-green forest that seemed to run out into the water. the launch rolled and lurched as the foam-tipped combers hove her up and the awning flapped savagely in the whistling breeze. away on the horizon, there was a dingy trail of smoke. presently jake stood up on deck, and watched the masts that rose above the fringe of trees. "there's a black-top funnel like the danish boat's, and a flag with red and white on it, but it's hanging limp. they don't feel the breeze inside." he jumped down as dick changed his course, and they passed a spit of surf-washed sand, rounded the last clump of trees, and opened up the harbor mouth. the sunshine fell upon a glaring white and yellow town, and oily water glittered between the wharf and the dark hulls of anchored vessels, but dick suddenly set his lips. he knew the danish boat, and she was not there. "she's gone," said jake with a hint of relief in his voice. "that was her smoke on the skyline." chapter xxviii rough water as soon as they entered port, dick and jake went to the office of a spanish shipbroker, who offered them his polite sympathy. "we had very little cargo here, and when he heard there was some dyewood at san ignacio the captain steamed off again," he explained. "what sort of a port is san ignacio, and how far is it?" dick asked. "it is an _aldea_ on the shore of a lagoon, with a wharf that small boats can reach, about forty miles from here." "then they take the dyewood off in boats? if there is much of the stuff, it would be a long job." "that is so, señor. the boats can only reach the wharf when the tide is high. at other times, the cargo must be carried down through the mud." "have you a large chart of this coast?" the broker brought a chart and dick studied it for some minutes, making notes in his pocket-book. then he looked up. "where can i get fresh water?" the broker asked how much he wanted and after taking some paper money gave him a ticket. "there is a pipe on the wharf and when the peon sees the receipt he will fill your tanks." dick thanked him and going out with jake found their fireman asleep in a wine-shop. they had some trouble in wakening the man and after sending him off to get the water, ordered some wine. the room was dirty and filled with flies, but the lattice shutters kept out the heat and they found the shadow pleasant after the glare outside. jake dropped into a cane chair with a sigh of content. he felt cramped and stiff after the long journey in the narrow cockpit of the plunging launch, and was sensible of an enjoyable lassitude. it would be delightful to lounge about in the shade after refreshing himself with two or three cool drinks, but he had misgivings that this was not what dick meant to do. when he had drained a large glass of light, sweet wine, he felt peacefully at ease, and resting his head on the chair-back closed his eyes. after this he was conscious of nothing until dick said: "it's not worth while to go to sleep." "not worth while?" jake grumbled drowsily. "i was awake all last night. it's quiet and cool here and i can't stand for being broiled outside." "i'm afraid you'll have to. we start as soon as maccario has filled the tank." jake roused himself with a jerk. dick leaned forward wearily with his elbow on the table, but he looked resolute. "then you haven't let up yet? you're going on to the lagoon?" "certainly," said dick. "the danish boat has an hour's start, but she only steams eight or nine knots and it will take some time to load her cargo." "but we can't drive the launch hard. the breeze is knocking up the sea." "we'll try," dick answered, and jake growled in protest. his dream of rest and sleep, and perhaps some mildly exciting adventure when the citizens came out in the cool of the evening, had been rudely banished. moreover, he had had another reason for being philosophical when he thought his comrade baulked. "it's a fool trick. she won't make it if the sea gets bad." dick smiled dryly. "we can turn back if we find her getting swamped. it looks as if you were not very anxious to overtake kenwardine." "i'm not," jake admitted. "if you're determined to go, i'm coming, but i'd be glad of a good excuse for letting the matter drop." somewhat to his surprise, dick gave him a sympathetic nod. "i know; i've felt like that, but the thing can't be dropped. it's a hateful job, but it must be finished now." "very well," jake answered, getting up. "if we must go, the sooner we start the better." the launch looked very small and dirty when they looked down on her from the wharf, and jake noted how the surf broke upon the end of the sheltering point. its deep throbbing roar warned him what they might expect when they reached open water, but he went down the steps and helped dick to tighten some bearing brasses, after which a peon threw down their ropes and the screw began to rattle. with a few puffs of steam from her funnel the launch moved away and presently met the broken swell at the harbor mouth. then her easy motion changed to a drunken lurch and jake gazed with misgivings at the white-topped seas ahead. she went through the first comber's crest with her forefoot in the air and the foam washing deep along the tilted deck, while the counter vanished in a white upheaval. then it swung up in turn, and frames and planking shook as the engine ran away. this happened at short intervals as she fought her way to windward in erratic jerks, while showers of spray and cinders blew aft into the face of her crew. dick drove her out until the sea got longer and more regular, when he turned and followed the coast, but the flashing blue and white rollers were now on her beam and flung her to lee as they passed. sometimes one washed across her low counter, and sometimes her forward half was buried in a tumultuous rush of foam. the pump was soon started and they kept it going, but the water gathered in the crank-pit, where it was churned into lather, and jake and maccario relieved each other at helping the pump with a bucket. they were drenched and half blinded by the spray, but it was obvious that their labor was needed and they persevered. stopping for breath now and then, with his back to the wind, jake glanced at the coast as the boat swung up with a sea. it made a hazy blur against the brilliant sky, but his eyes were smarting and dazzled. there was a confusing glitter all around him, and even the blue hollows they plunged into were filled with a luminous glow. still he thought they made progress, though the launch was drifting to leeward fast, and he told dick, who headed her out a point or two. "this is not the usual sea breeze; it's blowing really fresh," he said. "do you think it will drop at sundown?" "i'm not sure," dick replied, shading his eyes as he glanced at the windward horizon. "then suppose it doesn't drop?" "if the sea gets dangerous, we'll put the helm up and run for shelter." "where do you expect to find it?" "i don't know," dick admitted. "there are reefs and shoals along the coast that we might get in behind." jake laughed. "well, i guess this is a pretty rash adventure. you won't turn back while you can see, and there are safer things than running for a shoal you don't know, in the dark. however, there's a point one might get a bearing from abeam and i'll try to fix our position. it might be useful later." stooping beside the compass, he gazed at the hazy land across its card, and then crept under the narrow foredeck with a chart. he felt the bows sweep upwards, pause for a moment, and suddenly lurch down, but now the sea was long and regular, the motion was rhythmic. besides, the thud and gurgle of water outside the boat's thin planks were soothing and harmonized with the measured beat of the screw. jake got drowsy and although he had meant to take another bearing when he thought he could double the angle, presently fell asleep. it was getting dark when he awoke and crept into the cockpit. there was a change in the motion, for the launch did not roll so much and the combers no longer broke in showers of spray against her side. she swung up with a swift but easy lift, the foam boiling high about her rail, and then gently slid down into the trough. it was plain that she was running before the wind, but jake felt that he must pull himself together when he looked aft, for there is something strangely daunting in a big following sea. a high, white-topped ridge rolled up behind the craft, roaring as it chased her, while a stream of spray blew from its curling crest. it hid the rollers that came behind; there was nothing to be seen but a hill of water, and jake found it a relief to fix his eyes ahead. the backs of the seas were smoother and less disturbing to watch as they faded into the gathering dark. when the comber passed, he turned to dick, who stood, alert and highly strung, at the helm. "you're heading for the land," he said. "what are you steering by?" "i got the bearing of a point i thought i recognized on the chart before i lost sight of the coast. there's a long reef outshore of it, with a break near the point. if we can get through, we might find shelter." "suppose there's something wrong with your bearing, or you can't make good your course?" "then there'll be trouble," dick answered grimly. "we'll have the reef to lee and she won't steam out again." jake put a kettle on the cylinder-top and took some provisions from a locker. he was hungry and thought he might need all the strength he had, while he did not want to look at the sea. the pump was clanking hard, but he could hear the water wash about under the floorings, and the launch was very wet. darkness fell as he prepared a meal with the fireman's help, and they ate by the dim light of the engine-lamp, while dick, to whom they handed portions, crouched at the helm, gazing close into the illuminated compass. sometimes he missed the food they held out and it dropped and was washed into the pump-well, but he ate what he could without moving his eyes. since he must find the opening in the reef, much depended on his steering an accurate course, but this was difficult, because he had to bear away before the largest combers. moreover, the erratic motion of a short boat in broken water keeps the compass-card rocking to and fro, and long practise is needed to hit the mean of its oscillations. as a matter of fact, dick knew he was leaving much to luck. after a time, they heard a hoarse roar. since the sound would not carry far to windward, they knew the reef was close ahead, but where the opening lay was another matter. dick had no guide except the compass, and as the launch would probably swamp if he tried to bring her round head to sea, he must run on and take the risk. by and by, jake, straining his eyes to pierce the gloom, called out as he saw a ghostly white glimmer to starboard. this was the surf spouting on the reef and if it marked the edge of the channel, they would be safe in going to port; if not, the launch would very shortly be hurled upon the barrier. dick stood up and gazed ahead. the white patch was getting plainer, but he could see nothing else. there was, however, a difference in the motion, and the sea was confused. he ordered the engine to be slowed, and they ran on until the belt of foam bore abeam. they must be almost upon the reef now, or else in the channel, and for the next minute or two nobody spoke. if they had missed the gap, the first warning would be a shock, and then the combers that rolled up behind them would destroy the stranded craft. she did not strike; the surf was level with her quarter, and jake, thrusting down a long boathook, found no bottom. in another minute or two the water suddenly got smooth, and he threw down the boathook. "we're through," he said in a strained voice. "the reef's astern." "try the hand-lead," dick ordered him, as he changed his course, since he was apparently heading for the beach. jake got four fathoms and soon afterwards eighteen feet, when dick stopped the engine and the launch rolled upon the broken swell. a dark streak that looked like forest indicated the land, and a line of foam that glimmered with phosphorescent light ran outshore of them. now they were to lee of the reef, the hoarse clamor of the surf rang about the boat. unfolding the chart, they studied it by the engine-lamp. it was on too small a scale to give many details, but they saw that the reef ran roughly level with the coast and ended in a nest of shoals near a point. "we could ride out a gale here," jake remarked. "we could, if we wanted," dick replied. jake looked at him rather hard and then made a sign of resignation. "well, i guess i've had enough, but if you're going on---- how do you reckon you'll get through the shoals ahead?" "i imagine some of them are mangrove islands, and if so, there'll be a channel of a sort between them. in fact, the chart the broker showed me indicated something of the kind. with good luck we may find it." "very well," said jake. "i'm glad to think it will be a soft bottom if we run aground." they went on, keeping, so far as they could judge, midway between reef and beach, but after a time the lead showed shoaling water and jake used the boathook instead. then the sky cleared and a half-moon came out, and they saw haze and the loom of trees outshore of them. slowing the engine, they moved on cautiously while the water gradually got shallower, until glistening banks of mud began to break the surface. then they stopped the engine, but found the launch still moved forward. "i imagine it's about four hours' flood," dick remarked. "that means the water will rise for some time yet, and although the current's with us now i think we can't be far off the meeting of the tides." jake nodded. in places of the kind, the stream often runs in from both ends until it joins and flows in one direction from the shoalest spot. "then we ought to find a channel leading out on the other side." they let the engine run for a few minutes until the boat touched bottom and stuck fast in the mud. the wind seemed to be falling and the roar of the surf had got fainter. thin haze dimmed the moonlight and there were strange splashings in the water that gently lapped about the belts of mud. the stream stopped running, but seeing no passage they waited and smoked. "if we can get out on the other side, we oughtn't to be very far from the lagoon," jake suggested. presently there was a faint rippling against the bows and the launch began to swing round. "the tide's coming through from the other end," said dick. "we may find a channel if we can push her across the mud." for half an hour they laboriously poled her with a long oar and the boathook between the banks of mire. sometimes she touched and stuck until the rising water floated her off, and sometimes she scraped along the bottom, but still made progress. they were breathless and soaked with perspiration, while the foul scum that ran off the oar stained their damp clothes. then jake's boathook sank a foot or two deeper and finding the depth as good after a few vigorous pushes, they started the engine. sour exhalations rose from the wake of the churning screw and there was a curious dragging feel in the boat's motion, as if she were pulling a body of water after her, but this was less marked when jake found three or four feet, and by and by he threw down the pole and they went half-speed ahead. after a time, the mangroves outshore got farther off, the air smelt fresher, and small ripples broke the surface of the widening channel. they went full-speed, the trees faded, and a swell that set her rocking met the boat, although there still seemed to be a barrier of sand or mud between her and open sea. giving jake the helm, dick crawled under the foredeck, where the floorings were drier than anywhere else, and lay smoking and thinking until day broke. the light, which grew brighter rapidly, showed a glistening line of surf to seaward and mangrove forest on a point ahead. beyond this there seemed to be an inlet, and then the shore curved out again. as they passed the point dick stood up on deck and presently saw two tall spars rise above the mist. a few minutes later, the top of a funnel appeared, and then a sharp metallic rattle rang through the haze. "we're in the lagoon," he said. "that's the danish boat and she hasn't finished heaving cargo on board." chapter xxix kenwardine takes a risk shortly after the launch entered the lagoon, the danish boat hove her anchor and steamed out to sea. dick, who had engaged a half-breed pilot to take the launch home, lounged in a canvas chair under the poop awning. his eyes were half closed, for the white boats and deckhouses flashed dazzlingly in the strong light as the steamer lurched across the vivid swell of the caribbean. the cigarette he languidly held had gone out, and his pose was slack. he was physically tired and his brain was dull, but he was conscious of lethargic satisfaction. for a long time he had been torn between his love for clare and his duty to his country. his difficulties were further complicated by doubts of kenwardine's guilt, but recent events had cleared these up. it was, on the whole, a relief to feel that he must now go forward and there need be no more hesitation and balancing of probabilities. the time for that had gone and his course was plain. he must confront kenwardine with a concise statement of his share in the plot and force from him an undertaking that he would abandon his traitorous work. this might be difficult, but dick did not think he would fail. don sebastian, who perhaps knew more than he did, was to meet him at a cuban port, and the spaniard could be trusted to handle the matter with skill. there was no direct communication between santa brigida and kingston, but steamers touched at the latter place when making a round of other ports, which would enable dick and his ally to join kenwardine's boat at her last call. if either of them had gone on board at santa brigida, kenwardine would have left the ship at the next port. since he had sailed on an english steamer, bound for british territory, he would be subject to british law when they met, and they could, if needful, have him arrested. dick admitted that this ought to be done to begin with, but had not decided about it yet. he would wait and be guided by events. the british officials might doubt his story and decline to interfere, but kenwardine could not count on that, because don sebastian was armed with credentials from the president of a friendly state. dick, however, dismissed the matter. he was tired in mind and body, and did not mean to think of anything important until he met kenwardine. by and by his head grew heavy, and resting it on the back of his chair, he closed his eyes. when jake came up, followed by a steward carrying two tall glasses of frothing liquor, he saw that his comrade was fast asleep. "you can put them down," he told the steward. "i'm thirsty enough to empty both, but you can bring some more along when my partner wakes." after this he took a black seaman, who was making some noise as he swept the poop, by the arm and firmly led him to the other side of the deck. then he drained the glasses with a sigh of satisfaction, and lighting a cigarette, sat down near dick's feet. he did not mean to sleep, but when he got up with a jerk as the lunch bell rang he saw dick smiling. "have i been sitting there all this time?" he asked. "no," said dick. "you were lying flat on deck when i woke up an hour ago." then he indicated the two glasses, which had rolled into the scupper channel. "i shouldn't be surprised if those accounted for it." "perhaps they did," jake owned, grinning. "anyhow, we'll have some more, with a lump of ice in it, before we go down to lunch." the danish boat met fine weather as she leisurely made her way across the caribbean, and after an uneventful voyage, dick and jake landed at a port in cuba. the british steamer from santa brigida had not arrived, but the agent expected her in the evening, and they found don sebastian waiting them at a hotel he had named. when it was getting dark they walked to the end of the harbor mole and sat down to watch for the vessel. rows of the lights began to twinkle, one behind the other, at the head of the bay, and music drifted across the water. a bright glow marked the plaza, where a band was playing, but the harbor was dark except for the glimmer of anchor-lights on the oily swell. the occasional rattle of a winch, jarring harshly on the music, told that the danish boat was working cargo. a faint, warm breeze blew off the land, and there was a flicker of green and blue phosphorescence as the sea washed about the end of the mole. "i wonder how you'll feel if kenwardine doesn't come," jake said presently, looking at dick, who did not answer. "he will come," don sebastian rejoined with quiet confidence. "well, i guess he must know he's doing a dangerous thing." "señor kenwardine does know, but he plays for high stakes and takes the risks of the game. if it had not been necessary, he would not have ventured on british soil, but since he was forced to go, he thought the boldest plan the safest. this is what one would expect, because the man is brave. he could not tell how far my suspicions went and how much señor brandon knew, but saw that he was watched and if he tried to hide his movements he would betray himself. it was wiser to act as if he had nothing to fear." "as he was forced to go, his business must be important," dick said thoughtfully. "this means he must be dealt with before he lands at kingston. if we allowed him to meet his confederates there, the mischief would be done, and it might be too late afterwards to stop them carrying out their plans." don sebastian gave him a quiet smile. "one might learn who his confederates are if he met them. it looks as if you would sooner deal with our friend on board." "i would," dick said steadily. "his plotting must be stopped, but i'm inclined to think i'd be content with that." "and you?" the spaniard asked, turning to jake. "i don't know that kenwardine is in the worst of the plot. he was a friend of mine and it's your business to prove him guilty. i mean to reserve my opinion until you make your charges good." "very well," said don sebastian. "we'll be guided by what happens when we see him." they let the matter drop, and half an hour later a white light and a green light crept out of the dark to seawards, and a faint throbbing grew into the measured beat of a steamer's screw. then a low, shadowy hull, outlined by a glimmer of phosphorescence, came on towards the harbor mouth, and a rocket swept up in a fiery curve and burst, dropping colored lights. a harsh rattle of running chain broke out, the screw splashed noisily for a few moments and stopped, and a launch came swiftly down the harbor. "the port doctor!" said dick. "there's some cargo ready, and she won't sail for three or four hours. we had better wait until near the last moment before we go on board. if our man saw us, he'd take alarm and land." don sebastian agreed, and they went back to the hotel, and stayed there until word was sent that the last boat was ready to leave the mole. they took their places with one or two more passengers, and as they drew near the steamer dick looked carefully about. several shore boats were hanging on to the warp alongside and a cargo barge lay beside her quarter. it was obvious that she would not sail immediately, and if kenwardine saw them come on board, he would have no trouble in leaving the vessel. if he landed, he would be in neutral territory, and their hold on him would be gone. to make things worse, a big electric lamp had been hung over the gangway so as to light the ladder. dick could not see kenwardine among the passengers on deck, and getting on board as quietly as possible, they went down the nearest companion stairs and along an alleyway to the purser's office. a number of rooms opened on to the passage, and dick had an uncomfortable feeling that chance might bring him face to face with kenwardine. nobody met them, however, and they found the purser disengaged. "if you have a passenger list handy, you might let me see it," dick said as he took the tickets. the purser gave him a list, and he noted kenwardine's name near the bottom. "we may as well be comfortable, although we're not going far," he resumed. "what berths have you left?" "you can pick your place," said the purser. "we haven't many passengers this trip, and there's nobody on the starboard alleyway. however, if you want a hot bath in the morning, you had better sleep to port. they've broken a pipe on the other side." a bath is a luxury in the caribbean, but white men who have lived any time in the tropics prefer it warm, and dick saw why the passengers had chosen the port alleyway. he decided to take the other, since kenwardine would then be on the opposite side of the ship. "we'll have the starboard rooms," he said. "one can go without a bath for once, and you'll no doubt reach kingston to-morrow night." "i expect so," agreed the purser. "still, we mayn't be allowed to steam in until the next morning. they're taking rather troublesome precautions in the british ports since the commerce-raider got to work." dick signed to the others and crossed the after well towards the poop in a curiously grim mood. he hated the subterfuge he had practised, and there was something very repugnant in this stealthy tracking down of his man, but the chase was nearly over and he meant to finish it. defenseless merchant seamen could not be allowed to suffer for his squeamishness. "don sebastian and i will wait in the second-class smoking-room until she starts," he said to jake. "i want you to lounge about the poop deck and watch the gangway. let us know at once if you see kenwardine and it looks as if he means to go ashore." he disappeared with his companion, and jake went up a ladder and sat down on the poop, where he was some distance from the saloon passengers. kenwardine was less likely to be alarmed at seeing him, but he did not like his part. the man had welcomed him to his house, and although he had lost some money there, jake did not believe his host had meant to plunder him. after all, dick and don sebastian might be mistaken, and he felt mean as he watched the gangway. a hint from him would enable kenwardine to escape, and it was galling to feel that it must not be given. indeed, as time went on, jake began to wish that kenwardine would learn that they were on board and take alarm. he was not sure he would warn dick if the fellow tried to steal away. in the meanwhile, the pumps on board a water-boat had stopped clanking and she was towed towards the harbor. the steamer's winches rattled as they hove up cargo from the barge, but jake had seen that there was not much left and she would sail as soon as the last load was hoisted in. lighting a cigarette, he ran his eye along the saloon-deck. a few passengers in white clothes walked up and down, and he studied their faces as they passed the lights, but kenwardine was not among them. a group leaned upon the rails in the shadow of a boat, and jake felt angry because he could not see them well. the suspense was getting keen, and he wished kenwardine would steal down the ladder and jump into a boat before he could give the alarm. there was, however, no suspicious movement on the saloon-deck, and jake, walking to the rail, saw the peons putting the last of the barge's cargo into the sling. it came up with a rattle of chain, and the barge sheered off. somebody gave an order, and there was a bustle on deck. in another few minutes kenwardine's last chance of escape would be gone, because a british ship is british territory, and her captain can enforce his country's laws. jake threw away his cigarette and took out another when the whistle blew and the windlass began to clank. although the anchor was coming up, two boats hung on to the foot of the ladder, and he could not be expected to see what was going on while he lighted his cigarette. kenwardine was clever, and might have waited until the last moment before making his escape, with the object of leaving his pursuers on board, but if he did not go now it would be too late. the clank of the windlass stopped, and jake, dropping the match when the flame touched his fingers, looked up. a group of dark figures were busy on the forecastle, and he saw the captain on the bridge. "all clear forward, sir!" a hoarse voice cried, and somebody shouted: "cast off the boats!" then there was a rattle of blocks as the ladder was hoisted in, and the deck quivered as the engines began to throb. jake heard the screw slowly flounder round and the wash beneath the poop as the steamer moved out to sea, but there was nobody except their colored crews on board the boats that dropped astern. kenwardine had had his chance and lost it. he had been too bold and now must confront his enemies. jake went down the ladder and found dick waiting at the door of the second-class saloon. "he's on board," he said. "i'm sorry he is. in fact, i'm not sure i'd have told you if he'd tried to light out at the last moment." dick gave him a dry smile. "i suspect that don sebastian didn't trust you altogether. he left me, and i shouldn't be surprised to learn that he had found a place where he could watch the gangway without being seen." a few minutes later, the spaniard crossed the after well. "now," he said, "we must decide when we ought to have our interview with señor kenwardine, and i think we should put it off until just before we land." "why?" jake asked. "it would be much pleasanter to get it over and have done with it." "i think not," don sebastian answered quietly. "we do not know how señor kenwardine will meet the situation. he is a bold man, and it is possible that he will defy us." "how can he defy you when he knows you can hand him over to the british authorities?" "that might be necessary; but i am not sure it is the british authorities he fears the most." "then who is he afraid of?" "his employers, i imagine," don sebastian answered with a curious smile. "it is understood that they trust nobody and are not very gentle to those who do not serve them well. señor kenwardine knows enough about their plans to be dangerous, and it looks as if he might fail to carry their orders out. if we give him too long a warning, he may escape us after all." "i don't see how he could escape. you have him corralled when he's under the british flag." don sebastian shrugged as he indicated the steamer's low iron rail and the glimmer of foam in the dark below. "there is one way! if he takes it, we shall learn no more than we know now." he left them, and jake looked at dick. "it's unthinkable! i can't stand for it!" "no," said dick very quietly; "he mustn't be pushed too far. for all that, his friends can't be allowed to go on sinking british ships." chapter xxx the last encounter dick awoke next morning with a feeling of nervous strain that got worse as the day wore on. by going down to the saloon immediately the breakfast-bell rang and making a hurried meal, he and his companions avoided meeting kenwardine, and, after bribing a steward, were given lunch with the second-class passengers. two difficulties were thus got over, but the time passed heavily while they kept out of sight in quiet corners of the after well, and dick found it a relief when a friendly engineer invited him below. here he spent some hours, smoking and watching the machinery, while the fingers of the clock on the bulkhead crawled with painful slowness round the dial. when he went up on deck the bold ridge of the blue mountains rose above the dazzling sea, but the lower slopes were veiled in haze and he could not tell how far the land was off. a mate informed him that they would have the coast close aboard at dusk, but did not think anybody would be allowed to land until the morning. struck by a thought, dick asked if any passenger boats were likely to be in port, and the mate replied that a spanish liner would leave for brazil soon after they arrived, but he knew of no vessel going north for the next few days. then, after giving dick some advice about the choice of a hotel, he went away. towards sunset the sea-breeze dropped and the mist gathered thicker about the hills. faint puffs of hot wind began to blow off the land, which faded suddenly as darkness rolled down. a thin haze drifted out across the water and the speed slackened as the vessel closed with the shore. then dim lights blinked out ahead, the engines stopped, and a detonating rocket burst high up in the sky. soon afterwards a steam launch came off, and the purser stopped near dick on his way to his room. "we are going in, but will have to wait until the agent gets formal permission from the guardship's commander, who must see our papers first," he said. "as this may take some time, perhaps you had better dine on board." when the bell rang dick and his companions went to the saloon. there were not many passengers, and the room was nearly empty, but as they entered dick saw kenwardine at the bottom of a table. he glanced up as he heard their footsteps, and with an abrupt movement turned his revolving chair partly round. next moment, however, he looked at dick coolly, and after a nod of recognition went on with his dinner. don sebastian indicated a table between kenwardine and the door, and they sat down. jake played with his food, and dick had not much appetite, although he partook of the dishes set before him, because he wanted an excuse for occupying the table until kenwardine had finished. the latter showed no anxiety to get away and now and then kept the steward waiting while he studied the menu. dick, who envied his coolness, thought it indicated one of two things: kenwardine knew he was beaten and was philosophically resigned, or had some plan by which he hoped to baffle his pursuers. now and then dick looked at don sebastian inquiringly, but the spaniard answered with an enigmatic smile. in the meantime, the passengers went away to pack or get ready for a run ashore, and at last the saloon was empty except for dick's party and kenwardine. then don sebastian crossed the floor and bowed to the latter. "it would be a favor if you will take a glass of wine with us," he said. "certainly," said kenwardine, getting up, and don sebastian, who gave an order to a steward, led the way to a corner table where they would not be disturbed. "you were, perhaps, surprised to see us, señor," he resumed, when the others joined them. "i was," kenwardine admitted. "still, i suppose i ought to have been prepared for something of the kind." don sebastian bowed. "one may understand that as a compliment?" "perhaps it is, in a sense. but i certainly did not expect to meet mr. fuller. we are told that his people mean to preserve a strict neutrality." jake colored. "i'd have stood out if you had kept your dago friends off my partner. that's what brought me in; but i'm still trying to be as neutral as i can." "señor fuller has informed us that he means to see you get fair play," don sebastian interposed. "well, he has my thanks for that, and my sympathy, which i think he needs," kenwardine rejoined with a twinkle. "there's no doubt that he owes mr. brandon something, and i flatter myself that he rather liked me. it must have been embarrassing to find that he couldn't be friends with both. however, you had better tell me what you want. my clothes are not packed, and i must land as soon as possible, because i have some business to transact to-night." "i am afraid you will be unable to do so," don sebastian said politely. "why?" "the explanation is rather long, but, to begin with, you no doubt know i was ordered to watch you." "i must admit that i suspected something very like it." "the president imagined you might become dangerous to the neutrality of the state, and i learned enough to show that he was right." "what did you learn?" don sebastian smiled. "i will be frank and put down my cards. i would not do so, señor, if i thought you could beat them." he began a concise account of the discoveries he had made; showing kenwardine's association with the german, richter, and giving particulars about the purchase of the adexe coaling wharf. jake leaned forward with his elbows on the table, listening eagerly, while dick sat motionless. part of what he heard was new to him, but the spaniard's statements could not be doubted, and he envied kenwardine's nerve. the latter's face was, for the most part, inscrutable, but now and then he made a sign of languid agreement, as if to admit that his antagonist had scored a point. "well," he said when the other finished, "it is a story that might do me harm, and there are parts i cannot deny; but it is not complete. one finds awkward breaks in it. for example, you do not show how the raider got coal and information from the adexe company." "i think señor brandon can do so," said don sebastian, who turned to dick. taking his cue from the spaniard, dick related what he had noted at the coaling wharf and learned about the movements of the tug when the auxiliary cruiser was in the neighborhood. his account to some extent filled the gaps that don sebastian's narrative had left, but now he came to put the different points together and consider them as a whole, their significance seemed less. he began to see how a hostile critic would look at the thing. much of his evidence was based upon conjecture that might be denied. yet, while it was not convincing, it carried weight. there was a pause when he finished, and jake was conscious of a strong revulsion of feeling as he studied his companions. in a way, the thin, dark-faced spaniard and tranquil englishman were alike. both wore the stamp of breeding and were generally marked by an easy good humor and polished wit that won men's confidence and made them pleasant companions. but this was on the surface; beneath lay a character as hard and cold as a diamond. they were cunning, unscrupulous intriguers, who would stick at nothing that promised to serve their ends. jake knew kenwardine now, and felt angry as he remembered the infatuation that had prevented his understanding the man. then he glanced at dick, who sat waiting with a quietly resolute look. dick was different from the others; he rang true. one could not doubt his rather naïve honesty, but in spite of this there was something about him that made him a match for his scheming opponent. kenwardine, of course, had courage, but dick was armed with a stern tenacity that made him careless of the hurt he received. now, though he had nothing to gain and much to lose, he would hold on because duty demanded it. the contrast between them threw a lurid light upon kenwardine's treachery. then the latter said: "you have stated things clearly, brandon, but, after all, what you offer is rather plausible argument than proof. in fact, you must see that your evidence isn't strong enough." "it's enough to justify our handing you to the military officers in kingston, who would, no doubt, detain you while they made inquiries." "which you don't want to do?" "no," said dick shortly. "but i may be forced." "very well. this brings us back to the point we started from," kenwardine replied and turned to don sebastian. "what is it you want?" "to know where richter is, and who supplied him with the money he paid for the coaling business." "then i'm sorry i cannot tell you, and you certainly wouldn't get the information by having me locked up, but perhaps i can meet you in another way. now it's obvious that you know enough to make it awkward for me to carry on the adexe wharf, and my help is necessary for the part of the business you object to. if i retire from it altogether, you ought to be satisfied." the spaniard did not answer, and while he pondered, the beat of a launch's engine came in through the open ports. kenwardine lighted a cigarette, spending some time over it, and as he finished the launch ran alongside. there were footsteps on deck, and a few moments later a steward entered the saloon. "we are going in," he announced. "will you have your luggage put on deck?" "you can take ours up," said don sebastian, who indicated kenwardine. "leave this gentleman's for the present." kenwardine did not object, but jake, who was watching him, thought he saw, for the first time, a hint of uneasiness in his look. then don sebastian got up. "i must think over señor kenwardine's suggestion, and you may want to talk to him," he said, and went out. when he had gone, kenwardine turned to dick. "there's a matter i would like to clear up; i had nothing to do with the attempts that seem to have been made upon your life. in fact, i suspected nothing of the kind until you told me about the accident at the dam, but fuller afterwards showed me that it was time to interfere." "that's true," said jake. "anyhow, i gave him a plain hint, but as he didn't seem able to stop the accidents, i put don sebastian on the track." "you can't with any fairness make me accountable for the actions of half-breeds who hold life very cheap and meant to keep a paying job," kenwardine resumed, addressing dick. "you knew what kind of men you had to deal with and took the risk." "it's hard to see how a white man could make use of such poisonous colored trash," jake remarked. "but i expect you don't want me, and i'll see what don sebastian is doing." he left them, and there was silence for a few moments until the screw began to throb and they heard the wash of water along the steamer's side. then kenwardine said quietly, "fuller has tact. there's a matter that concerns us both that has not been mentioned yet. i'll clear the ground by stating that although our spanish friend has not decided what he means to do, i shall not go back to santa brigida. i imagine this will remove an obstacle from your way." "thanks for the lead," dick answered. "i resolved, some time ago, to marry clare if she would have me, though i saw that it would mean separating her from you." "and yet you believed she stole your papers!" "i thought she did," dick answered doggedly. "still, i didn't blame her." "you blamed me? but you ought to be satisfied, in one respect, because clare and i are separated, and i'll own that i'm anxious about her future. had things gone well, i would have tried to keep her away from you; in fact, i did try, because i frankly think she might have made a better marriage. for all that, if you are determined and she is willing, you have my consent. you will probably never be very rich, but i could trust clare to you." "i am determined." "very well. i can tell you something you may be glad to hear. clare did not rob you, nor did i." dick looked at him with keen relief. "then who took the plans?" "your cousin. the pocket they were in was unbuttoned when he took hold of you and hurried you out of the house. he brought them to me afterwards, but i saw they were not valuable and destroyed them." it was impossible to doubt the statement, and dick flushed with shame and anger as he realized that his absurd and unjust suspicion of clare had prevented his seeing who the real culprit was. clare had accidentally torn his pocket loose, the bulky envelope must have been sticking out, and lance had noticed it as he hustled him across the hall. "yes; lance took the plans!" he exclaimed hoarsely. "but why?" "it looks as if you hadn't heard from home. your cousin has stepped into your place. i imagine he had always envied it, and didn't hesitate when he saw an opportunity of getting rid of you." dick was silent for a few moments and his face was very hard. he heard the crew hurrying about the deck, and a winch rattle as the hatches were lifted. the vessel would soon be in port, and kenwardine's fate must be decided before they went ashore; but the man looked very cool as he leaned back in his chair, languidly waiting. "why didn't you tell me this earlier?" dick asked sternly. "i should have thought my object was plain enough," kenwardine replied. "i didn't want clare to marry a badly paid engineer. things are different now and i admit that you have stood a rather severe test. i'll give you two letters; one to clare, advising her to marry you, and the other stating how your cousin stole the plans, which you can use in any way you like. before writing them, i'd like to see fuller for a minute or two. you needn't hesitate about it, because i don't mean to victimize him in any way. in fact, i want to tell him something to his advantage." dick went out, and when he had sent jake down, leaned upon the steamer's rail lost in thought. it had been a shock to learn of his cousin's treachery, but this was balanced by the relief of knowing that clare was innocent. indeed, he grew hot with shame as he wondered how he had suspected her. he felt angry with kenwardine for keeping him in the dark so long, but his indignation was tempered by a touch of grim amusement. since the fellow was ambitious for clare, he must have regretted having destroyed the plans when he learned that dick's father was rich, but after conniving at the theft he could not put matters right. now, when his career was ended, he was willing, for his daughter's sake, to clear dick's name and help him to regain the station he had lost. but dick was not sure he wished to regain it just yet. he had been turned out of the army; his father, who had never shown much love for him, had been quick to believe the worst; and he was bound for a time to a man who had befriended him. presently he looked about. lights were opening out in twinkling lines as the steamer moved shoreward, and a splash of oars came out of the gloom. dick vacantly noted that several boats were approaching, and then a winch rattled and don sebastian, who had come up quietly, touched his arm. a chain sling swung past beneath a moving derrick, and as they crossed the deck to get out of the way he saw a steamer close by. her windlass was clanking as she shortened her cable and he supposed she was the spanish boat the mate had spoken of, but he followed his companion and listened to what he had to say. then as the anchor was let go he thought jake ought to have come back and went to look for him. he found the lad leaning against the deckhouse, smoking a cigarette. "where's kenwardine?" he asked. "i left him in the saloon. he gave me two letters for you and a useful hint about some debts of mine." "never mind that! how long is it since you left him?" "quite five minutes," jake answered coolly. struck by something in his tone, dick ran below and found no luggage in kenwardine's room. none of the stewards whom he asked had seen him for some time, and a hasty search showed that he was not on deck. dick went back to jake. "do you know where the fellow is?" he asked sharply as don sebastian came up. "if you insist, i imagine he's on board the spanish boat," jake answered with a chuckle. "as she seems to have her anchor up, i guess it's too late for us to interfere." a sharp rattle of chain that had rung across the water suddenly stopped and dick saw one of the steamer's colored side-lights slowly move. it was plain that she was going to sea. "since we had been passed by the doctor, there was nothing to prevent the shore boats coming alongside, and i believe one or two did so before we quite stopped," jake resumed. "they were, no doubt, looking for a job, and the ladder was already lowered." "then you knew kenwardine meant to steal away?" "i didn't know, but thought it likely," jake replied with some dryness. "on the whole, it was perhaps the best thing he could do. what's your opinion, don sebastian?" the spaniard smiled. "i think the president will be satisfied that it was the simplest way out of the difficulty." "well," said jake, "here are your letters, dick. perhaps we had better see about getting ashore." they moved towards the gangway, past the hatch where some heavy cases were being hoisted up, and dick carefully put the letters in his pocket. this distracted his attention from what was going on, and when he heard a warning shout he stepped back a moment too late. a big case swung forward beneath a derrick-boom and struck his shoulder. staggering with the blow, he lost his balance and plunged down the hatch. he was conscious of a heavy shock, a sudden, stinging pain, and then remembered nothing more. chapter xxxi richter's message it was a hot evening and clare sat at a table in the patio, trying to read. the light was bad, for buzzing insects hovered about the lamp, but the house had not cooled down yet and she wanted to distract her troubled thoughts. footsteps and voices rose from the street outside, where the citizens were passing on their way to the plaza, but the sounds were faint and muffled by the high walls. the house had been built in times when women were jealously guarded and a dwelling was something of a fort. now, with the iron gate in the narrow, arched entrance barred, the girl was securely cut off from the exotic life of the city. this isolation was sometimes a comfort, but it sometimes jarred. clare was young, and fond of cheerful society, and the iron gate had its counterpart in another barrier, invisible but strong, that shut her out from much she would have enjoyed. she often stood, so to speak, gazing wistfully between the bars at innocent pleasures in which she could not join. kenwardine, in spite of his polished manners, was tactfully avoided by english and americans of the better class, and their wives and daughters openly showed their disapproval. at length clare gave up the attempt to read. she felt lonely and depressed. nobody had been to the house since kenwardine left, and dick and jake were away. she did not see dick often and he was, of course, nothing to her; for one thing, he was in some mysterious way her father's enemy. still, she missed him; he was honest, and perhaps, if things had been different---- then she turned her head sharply as she heard the click of a bolt. this was strange, because lucille had locked the gate. she could not see it in the gloom of the arch, but it had certainly opened. then as she waited with somewhat excited curiosity a dark figure appeared on the edge of the light, and she put down her book as richter came forward. he made very little noise and stopped near the table. "how did you get in?" she asked. richter smiled. "you have forgotten that herr kenwardine gave me a key." "i didn't know he had," clare answered. "but won't you sit down?" he moved a chair to a spot where his white clothes were less conspicuous, though clare noted that he did so carelessly and not as if he wished to hide himself. then he put a small linen bag on the table. "this is some money that belongs to herr kenwardine; you may find it useful. it is not good to be without money in a foreign town." clare looked at him with alarm. he was fat and generally placid, but his philosophical good humor was not so marked as usual. "then you have heard from my father?" "yes. i have a cablegram. it was sent in a roundabout way through other people's hands and took some time to reach me. herr kenwardine left kingston last night." "but there is no boat yet." richter nodded. "he is not coming to santa brigida. i do not think that he will come back at all." for a moment or two clare felt unnerved, but she pulled herself together. she realized now that she had long had a vague fear that something of this kind would happen. "then where has he gone? why didn't he write to me?" she asked. "he has gone to brazil and will, no doubt, write when he arrives. in the meantime, you must wait and tell people he is away on business. this is important. you have some money, and the house is yours for a month or two." "but why has he gone? will you show me the cablegram?" "you could not understand it, and it might be better that you should not know," richter answered. then he paused and his manner, which had been friendly and sympathetic, changed. his short hair seemed to bristle and his eyes sparkled under his shaggy brows as he resumed: "herr kenwardine was forced to go at the moment he was needed most. your father, fräulein, is a bold and clever man, but he was beaten by a blundering fool. we had confidence in him, but the luck was with his enemies." "who are his enemies?" "the englishman, brandon, is the worst," richter answered with keen bitterness. "we knew he was against us, but thought this something of a joke. well, it seems we were mistaken. these english are obstinate; often without imagination or forethought, they blunder on, and chance, that favors simpletons, is sometimes with them. but remember, that if your father meets with misfortunes, you have brandon to thank." the color left clare's face, but she tried to brace herself. "what misfortunes has my father to fear?" richter hesitated, and then said deprecatingly: "i cannot be as frank as i wish. herr kenwardine's work was most important, but he failed in it. i know this was not his fault and would trust him again, but there are others, of higher rank, who may take a different view. besides, it will be remembered that he is an englishman. if he stays in brazil, i think he will be left alone, but he will get no money and some he has earned will not be sent. indeed, if it were known, fräulein, i might be blamed for paying you this small sum, but i expect you will need it." he got up, as if to go, but clare stopped him. "you will come back as soon as you know something more and tell me what to do." richter made an apologetic gesture. "that will be impossible. i ran some risk in coming now and leave santa brigida to-night in a fishing boat. you will stay in this house, as if you expect your father back, until you hear from him. he will send you instructions when he lands." then the kitchen door across the patio opened and a bucket clinked. richter stepped back into the shadow and clare looked round as an indistinct figure crossed the tiles. when she looked back richter had gone and she heard the splash of water. she sat still until the servant went away and then sank down limply in her chair. she was left alone and unprotected except for old lucille, in a foreign town where morals were lax and license was the rule. the few english and americans whose help she might have asked regarded her with suspicion, and it looked as if her father would be unable to send for her. this was daunting but it was not the worst. richter had vaguely hinted at kenwardine's business, which was obviously mysterious. she saw where his hints led, but she would not follow up the clue. her father had been ruined by brandon, and her heart was filled with anger, in which she found it some relief to indulge. dick had long been their enemy and thought her a thief, while the possibility that he was justified in the line he had taken made matters worse. if she was the daughter of a man dishonored by some treason against his country, she could not marry dick. she had already refused to do so, but she did not want to be logical. it was simpler to hate him as the cause of her father's downfall. the latter had always indulged her, and now she understood that he would land in brazil penniless, or at least impoverished. since he was accustomed to extravagance, it was painful to think of what he might suffer. then she began to speculate about richter's visit. he had come at some risk and seemed sorry for her, but he had urged her to stay in the house, as if she expected her father to return. this could be of no advantage to the latter, and she wondered whether the man had meant to make use of her to divert suspicion from himself and his friends. it seemed uncharitable to think so, but she was very bitter and could trust nobody. after a time she got calm, and remembering that she had her own situation to consider, counted the money in the bag. it was not a large sum, but with economy might last for a few weeks, after which she must make some plans. she was incapable of grappling with any fresh difficulty yet, but she must brace her courage and not break down, and getting up with a resolute movement she went into the house. on the morning after his fall, dick came to his senses in a shaded room. he heard a shutter rattle as the warm breeze flowed in, and noted a flickering patch of light on the wall, but found with some annoyance that he could not see it well. his head was throbbing and a bandage covered part of his face. his side was painful too, and he groaned when he tried to move. "where am i?" he asked a strange man, who appeared beside his bed, and added in an injured tone: "it looks as if i'd got into trouble again." "you had a narrow escape," the other answered soothingly. "you cut your head badly and broke two of your ribs when you fell down the steamer's hold. now you're in hospital, but you're not to talk." "i'll get worse if you keep me quiet," dick grumbled. "how can you find out things that bother you, unless you talk?" "don't bother about them," said the doctor. "have a drink instead." dick looked at the glass with dull suspicion. "i don't know, though i'm thirsty. you see, i've been in a doctor's hands before. in fact, i seem to have a gift for getting hurt." "it's cool and tastes nice," the other urged. "you didn't rest much last night and if you go to sleep now we'll try to satisfy your curiosity afterwards." dick hesitated, but took the glass and went to sleep soon after he drained it. when he awoke the light had vanished from the wall and the room was shadowy, but he saw jake sitting by the bed. a nurse, who put a thermometer in his mouth and felt his pulse, nodded to the lad as if satisfied before she went away. dick's head was clearer, and although the movement hurt him he resolutely fixed his uncovered eye on his companion. "now," he said, "don't tell me not to talk. do you know why they've fixed this bandage so that it half blinds me?" jake looked embarrassed. "there's a pretty deep cut on your forehead." "do you suppose i can't feel it? but i want to know why they're not satisfied with tying my forehead up? you may as well tell me, because i'm not going to sleep again. it looks as if i'd slept all day." "the cut runs through your eyelid and the doctor thinks it wiser to be careful." "about my eye?" "it's just a precaution," jake declared. "there's really nothing the matter, but he thought it would be better to keep out the strong light." "ah!" said dick, who was not deceived, and was silent for the next few moments. then he resumed in a rather strained voice: "well, let's talk about something else. where's don sebastian?" "i haven't seen him since lunch, but he spent the morning interviewing the british authorities." "do you think he told them to send after kenwardine?" "no," said jake with a twinkle, "i rather think he's put them off the track, and although he had to give them a hint out of politeness, doesn't want them to know too much. then there's only an old-fashioned cruiser here and i understand she has to stop for a guardship. in fact, don sebastian seems to imagine that kenwardine is safe so long as he keeps off british soil. however, an official gentleman with a refined taste in clothes and charming manners called at our hotel and is coming to see you as soon as the doctor will let him." next morning dick saw the gentleman, who stated his rank and then asked a number of questions, which dick did not answer clearly. he was glad that his bandaged head gave him an excuse for seeming stupid. he had done his part, and now kenwardine could do no further harm, it would be better for everybody if he got away. after a time, his visitor observed: "well, you seem to have rendered your country a service, and i expect you will find things made smooth for you at home after our report upon the matter has been received." "ah!" said dick. "it looks as if you knew why i left." the gentleman made a sign of assent. "your spanish friend was discreet, but he told us something. besides, there are army lists and _london gazettes_ in kingston." dick was silent for a few moments, and then said: "as a matter of fact, i am not anxious to go home just yet." "are you not?" the other asked with a hint of polite surprise. "i do not think there would be much difficulty about a new commission, and officers are wanted." "they're not likely to want a man with one eye, and i expect it will come to that," dick said grimly. his visitor was sympathetic, but left soon afterwards, and dick thought he was not much wiser about kenwardine's escape than when he came. two or three weeks later he was allowed to get up, although he was tightly strapped with bandages and made to wear a shade over his eyes. when he lay in the open air one morning, jake joined him. "we must get back to santa brigida as soon as we can," he said. "they're planning an extension of the irrigation scheme, and the old man and ida are coming out. the doctor seems to think you might go by the next boat if we take care of you. but i'd better give you kenwardine's letters. we took them out of your pocket the night you got hurt, and i've been wondering why you haven't asked for them." "thanks," dick answered dully. "i don't know that i'll use them now. i'll be glad to get back and dare say i can do my work with one eye." "you'll soon have both," jake declared. "it's doubtful," said dick. "i don't think the doctor's very sanguine." on the whole, he was relieved when jake left, because he found it an effort to talk, but the thoughts he afterwards indulged in were gloomy. his broken ribs did not trouble him much, but there was some risk of his losing his eye. he had helped to expose and banish kenwardine, and could not ask clare to marry him after that, even if he were not half blind and disfigured. besides, it was doubtful if he would be able to resume his profession or do any useful work again. the sight of the uninjured eye might go. as a matter of fact, the strain he had borne for some time had told upon his health and the shock of the accident had made things worse. he had sunk into a dejected, lethargic mood, from which he had not the vigor to rouse himself. a week later he was helped on board a small french boat and sailed for santa brigida. he did not improve with the sea air, as jake had hoped, and for the most part avoided the few passengers and sat alone in the darkest corner he could find. now and then he moodily read kenwardine's letters. he had at first expected much from them. they might have removed the stain upon his name and the greatest obstacle between himself and clare; but he no longer cared much about the former and the letters were useless now. for all that, he put them carefully away in a leather case which he carried in an inside pocket. chapter xxxii ida interferes on his return to santa brigida, dick went to see a spanish oculist, who took a more hopeful view than the kingston doctor, although he admitted that there was some danger of the injury proving permanent. dick felt slightly comforted when he learned that the oculist was a clever man who had been well known in barcelona until he was forced to leave the city after taking part in some revolutionary plot. he was, however, unable to resume his work, and while he brooded over his misfortunes a touch of the malaria he had already suffered from hindered his recovery. one of the effects of malaria is a feeling of black depression. he was feebly struggling against the weakness and despondence when fuller arrived and soon afterwards came to see him. dick, who was sitting in the darkest corner of the veranda, had got rid of his bandage; but an ugly, livid mark crossed his forehead to the shade above his eyes and his face looked worn. fuller talked about the dam for a time, and then stopped and looked hard at his silent companion. "i imagined all this would interest you, but you don't say much." "no," said dick. "you see, it's galling to listen to plans you can't take part in. in fact, i feel i ought to resign." "why?" "it looks as if it may be a long time before i can get to work and i may never be of much use again." "well, i suppose it's natural that you should feel badly humped, but you don't know that you'll lose your eye, and if you did, you'd do your work all right with the other. however, since you started the subject, i've something to say about our contract. if the new scheme we're negotiating goes through, as i think it will, i'll have to increase my staff. should i do so, you'll get a move up and, of course, better pay for a more important job." dick, who was touched by this mark of confidence, thanked him awkwardly, and although he felt bound to object that he might be unable to fill the new post, fuller stopped him. "all you have to do is to lie off and take it easy until you get well. i know a useful man when i see him and it won't pay me to let you go. when i've fixed things with the president i'll make you an offer. now stuyvesant's waiting for me and i understand my daughter is coming to see you." he went away and soon afterwards ida fuller came in. dick rather awkwardly got her a chair, for his shade, which was closely pulled down, embarrassed him, but she noticed this, and his clumsiness made a strong appeal. she liked dick and had some ground for being grateful to him. for half an hour she talked in a cheerful strain and dick did his best to respond, but she saw what the effort cost and went away in a thoughtful mood. ida fuller had both sympathy and self-confidence, and when things went wrong with her friends seldom felt diffident about trying to put them right. in consequence, she took jake away from the others, whom her father had asked to dinner that evening. "what's the matter with dick brandon?" she asked. "it's pretty obvious. his trouble began with broken ribs and may end with the loss of his eye; but if you want a list of his symptoms----" "i don't," said ida. "does his trouble end with the injury to his eye?" jake gave her a sharp glance. "if you insist on knowing, i admit that i have my doubts. but you must remember that dick has a touch of malaria, which makes one morbid." "but this doesn't account for everything?" "no," said jake, who lighted a cigarette, "i don't think it does. in fact, as i know your capabilities and begin to see what you're getting after, there's not much use in my trying to put you off the track." ida sat down in a canvas chair and pondered for a minute or two. "you know miss kenwardine; if i recollect, you were rather enthusiastic about her. what is she like?" jake's eyes twinkled. "you mean--is she good enough for dick? he'll be a lucky man if he gets her, and i don't mind confessing that i thought of marrying her myself only she made it clear that she had no use for me. she was quite right; i'd have made a very poor match for a girl like that." ida was not deceived by his half-humorous manner, for she remarked something that it was meant to hide. still, jake had had numerous love affairs that seldom lasted long. "have you been to see her since you came back?" she asked. "yes," said jake. "after helping to drive her father out of the country, i knew it would be an awkward meeting, but i felt i ought to go because she might be in difficulties, and i went twice. on the whole, it was a relief when i was told she was not at home." "i wonder whether she would see me?" "you're pretty smart, but i suspect this is too delicate a matter for you to meddle with." "i'll be better able to judge if you tell me what you know about it." jake did so with some hesitation. he knew his sister's talents and that her object was good, but he shrank from betraying his comrade's secrets. "i think i've put you wise, but i feel rather mean," he concluded. "what you feel is not important. but you really think he hasn't sent her kenwardine's letter?" jake made a sign of agreement and ida resumed: "the other letter stating that his cousin stole the plans is equally valuable and his making no use of it is significant. your partner's a white man, jake, but he's foolish and needs the help of a judicious friend. i want both letters." "i've warned you that it's a dangerous game. you may muss up things." "then i'll be responsible. can you get the letters?" "i think so," jake replied with an embarrassed grin. "in a way, it's a shabby trick, but if he will keep papers in his pocket after getting one lot stolen, he must take the consequences." "very well," said ida calmly. "now we had better go in before the others wonder why we left them." next morning clare sat in the patio in very low spirits. no word had come from kenwardine, and her money was nearly exhausted. she had heard of dick's return, but not that he was injured, and he had kept away. this was not surprising and she did not want to meet him; but it was strange that he had not come to see her and make some excuse for what he had done. he could, of course, make none that would appease her, but he ought to have tried, and it looked as if he did not care what she thought of his treachery. then she glanced up as ida came in. clare had seen ida in the street and knew who she was, but she studied her with keen curiosity as she advanced. her dress was tasteful, she was pretty, and had a certain stamp of refinement and composure that clare knew came from social training; but she felt antagonistic. for all that, she indicated a chair and waited until her visitor sat down. then she asked with a level glance: "why have you come to see me?" "i expect you mean--why did i come without getting your servant to announce me?" ida rejoined with a disarming smile. "well, the gate was open, and i wanted to see you very much, but was half afraid you wouldn't let me in. i owe you some apology, but understand that my brother is a friend of yours." "he was," clare said coldly. "then he has lost your friendship by taking dick brandon's part?" clare colored, but her voice was firm as she answered: "to some extent that is true. mr. brandon has cruelly injured us." "he was forced. dick brandon is not the man to shirk his duty because it was painful and clashed with his wishes." "was it his duty to ruin my father?" "he must have thought so; but we are getting on dangerous ground. i don't know much about the matter. do you?" clare lowered her eyes. since richter's visit, she had had disturbing doubts about the nature of kenwardine's business; but after a few moments she asked in a hard, suspicious voice: "how do you know so much about mr. brandon?" "well," said ida calmly, "it's plain that i'm not in love with him, because if i were, i should not have tried to make his peace with you. as a matter of fact, i'm going to marry somebody else before very long. however, now i think i've cleared away a possible mistake, i'll own that i like dick brandon very much and am grateful to him for the care he has taken of my brother." "he stopped jake from coming here," clare rejoined with a blush. "that is so," ida agreed. "he has done a number of other things that got him into difficulties, because he thought it right. that's the kind of man he is. then i understand he was out of work and feeling desperate when my father engaged him, he got promotion in his employment, and i asked him to see that jake came to no harm. i don't know if he kept his promise too conscientiously, and you can judge better than me. but i think you ought to read the letters your father gave him." she first put down kenwardine's statement about the theft of the plans, and clare was conscious of overwhelming relief as she read it. dick knew now that she was not the thief. then ida said: "if you will read the next, you will see that your father doesn't feel much of a grievance against brandon." the note was short, but kenwardine stated clearly that if clare wished to marry brandon he would be satisfied and advised her to do so. the girl's face flushed as she read and her hands trembled. kenwardine certainly seemed to bear dick no ill will. but since the latter had his formal consent, why had he not used it? "did mr. brandon send you with these letters?" she asked as calmly as she could. "no, i brought them without telling him, because it seemed the best thing to do." "you knew what they said?" "i did," ida admitted. "they were open." clare noted her confession; but she must deal with matters of much greater importance. "then do you know why he kept the letters back?" ida hesitated. if clare were not the girl she thought, she might, by appealing to her compassion, supply her with a reason for giving dick up, but if this happened, it would be to his advantage in the end. still she did not think she was mistaken and she must take the risk. "yes," she said. "i feel that you ought to understand his reasons; that is really why i came. it looks as if you had not heard that shortly after he met your father dick fell down the steamer's hold." clare made an abrupt movement and her face got anxious. "was he hurt?" "very badly. he broke two ribs and the fever he got soon afterwards stopped his getting better; but that is not the worst. one of his eyes was injured, and there is some danger that he may lose his sight." it was plain that clare had got a shock, for she sat in a tense attitude and the color left her face; but ida saw that she had read her character right and taken the proper course. indeed, she wondered whether she had not unnecessarily harrowed the girl's feelings. "now," she resumed, "you understand why dick brandon kept back the letters. it is obvious that he loves you, but he is disfigured and may have to give up his profession----" she stopped, for clare's face changed and her eyes shone with a gentle light. "but what does that matter?" she exclaimed. "he can't think it would daunt me." ida rose, for she saw that she had said enough. "then perhaps you had better show him that you are not afraid. if you will dine with us this evening at the dam, you will see him. jake will come for you and bring you back." when she left a few minutes later she had arranged for the visit, and clare sat still, overwhelmed with compassionate gentleness and relief. her father did not blame dick and there was no reason she should harden her heart against him. he knew that she was innocent, but he was tied by honorable scruples. well, since he would not come to her, she must go to him, but she would do so with pride and not false shame. it was clear that he loved her unselfishly. by and by, however, she roused herself. as she was going to him, there were matters to think about, and entering the house she spent some time studying her wardrobe and wondering what she would wear. that evening dick sat on the veranda of his shack, with a shaded lamp, which he had turned low, on the table close by. his comrades were dining at fuller's tent and he had been asked, but had made excuses although he was well enough to go. for one thing, it hurt him to sit in a strong light, though the oculist, whom he had seen in the morning, spoke encouragingly about his eye. indeed, dick had begun to think that there was now no real danger of its having received a permanent injury. for all that, he was listless and depressed, because he had not got rid of the fever and malaria is generally worse at night. he had been cautioned not to read and his cigarette had a bitter taste. there was nothing to do but wait until jake came home. now he thought of it, jake had accepted his excuses rather easily. by and by, he heard the lad's voice and footsteps on the path. jake was returning early and there was somebody with him, but dick wished they had left him alone. he rose, however, as ida came up the steps and into the light, which did not carry far. dick imagined there was another person as well as jake in the shadow behind. "jake brought me over to see his last sketches and i'm going in to criticize them," she said. "as you couldn't come to us, i've brought you a visitor, whom you know." dick felt his heart beat as he saw clare. she was dressed in white, and the silver clasp gleamed against a lavender band at her waist. it was significant that she wore it, but he could not see her face clearly. then ida beckoned jake. "come along; i want to look at the drawings." they went into the house, and dick made an effort to preserve his self-control. clare moved into the light and he saw her color rise, though her eyes were very soft. "why didn't you tell me you were ill?" she asked with gentle reproach. he hesitated, trying to strengthen his resolution, which he knew was breaking down, and clare resumed: "besides, i don't think you should have kept that letter back." dick instinctively pulled out the leather case, and started as he saw there was nothing inside. "it's gone. you have seen it?" he stammered. "i've seen them both," clare answered with a smile. "doesn't this remind you of something? i'm afraid you're careless, dick." the color rushed into his face. "if you have seen those letters, you know what a suspicious fool i've been." "that doesn't matter. you're convinced at last?" clare rejoined with a hint of pride. "in a sense, i always was convinced. if i'd seen you take the wretched plans, i wouldn't have held you accountable. because you took them, it couldn't have been wrong." clare blushed, but looked at him with shining eyes. "i wanted to hear you say it again. but it wasn't that letter--i mean the one about the plans--that brought me." then the last of dick's self-control vanished and with a half conscious movement he held out his hands. clare came forward and next moment she was in his arms. some time later he felt he must be practical and said in a deprecatory tone: "but you must try to understand what you are doing, dear, and the sacrifices you must make. things aren't quite as bad as they looked, but i can't go home just yet and may always be a poor engineer." he indicated the galvanized-iron shack. "you will have to live in a place like this, and though i think my eye will get better, there's the scar on my face----" clare gave him a quiet smiling glance. "that doesn't matter, dick, and i never really had a home." she paused and added gently: "but i shall have one now." [transcriber's note: obvious printer's errors have been corrected. hyphenation and accentuation have been standardised, all other inconsistencies are as in the original. the author's spelling has been maintained.] the autobiography of sergeant william lawrence, _a hero of the peninsular and waterloo campaigns_; edited by george nugent bankes, author of "a day of my life at eton," etc., etc. london sampson low, marston, searle, & rivington crown buildings, , fleet street [_all rights reserved_] by the same author. _square mo, cloth extra, s. d. each._ a day of my life at eton. about some fellows; or, odds and ends from my note-book. cambridge trifles; or, splutterings from an undergraduate's pen. a cambridge staircase. _crown vo, cloth, s._ written to order: being some account of the journeyings of an irresponsible egotist, and of how he enjoyed himself thereon. london: sampson low & co., , fleet street, e.c. preface. sergeant william lawrence died at studland in dorsetshire in the year , bequeathing the manuscript of the accompanying autobiography to the family one of whose members now submits it to the notice of the public. circumstances, which perhaps may be too often interpreted as really meaning an unfortunate tendency to procrastination, have hitherto prevented it being put into shape with a view to publication: one thing after another has intervened, and the work has been passed on from hand to hand, until after these long years a final effort has been made, and the self-imposed task completed. the book is simply sent forth on its own merits in the hope that there are yet some, if not indeed many whose hearts are never weary of the tales of england's glory in the past, and seek to find in them reason why that glory should be perpetuated. many an account have we already had of the victories of the peninsula and waterloo, and this but adds one more to the list: though perhaps it may be regarded in somewhat of a supplementary light, as treating of the campaigns neither from an entirely outside and _soi-disant_ unprejudiced standpoint, nor with the advantages possessed by one who may have had access to the councils of the authorities, but as they were seen by one who came and went and did as he was told, and was as it were nothing more than a single factor in the great military machine that won our country those battles of which she has so much right to be proud. what criticisms of the conduct of the war our veteran occasionally does indulge in are of course chiefly founded on the camp gossip current at the time, and in reading them it must always be borne in mind that events at the moment of their happening often do not present the same appearance as when viewed from the calmer security of after years, and they must be judged accordingly. as to the style. lawrence, though he never betrayed the fact to the authorities during his whole military career, being possessed of a wonderful aptitude for mental calculation, and always contriving to get some assistance in concealing his deficiency when his official duties necessitated his doing so, and though he has carefully avoided all direct allusion to it in this work itself, never learnt to write, and the first form in which his history was committed to paper was from dictation. the person who took down the words as he spoke them, one of his fellow-servants, was but imperfectly educated himself, so that it may be imagined that the result of the narrative of one illiterate person being written down by another was that the style was not likely to aspire to any very high degree of literary merit. still, to preserve the peculiar character of the book, it has been thought better to leave it as far as possible in its original shape: some emendations have perforce had to be made to render it actually intelligible--for instance, in the original manuscript there is scarcely any punctuation from beginning to end, with the exception of at those places where the amanuensis evidently left off his day's work; but the language, with its occasional half-flights into a poetry of about the standard of an eton boy's verses, its crude moralizings, and imperfect applications of old proverbs and fables, has not been altered, nor, so far as there can be said to be one, has the method. it is trusted, therefore, that, remembering that the main object in the editor's mind has been to let the venerable hero tell his story in exactly his own words so far as his meaning can be thereby made out, no one will take any unnecessary pains to count up how often the words "likewise" and "proceed" are repeated in these pages, or to point out that the general style of the book combines those of tacitus, caesar's commentaries, and the journeyings of the israelites. nor, it is to be hoped, will any one be too severe in his comments on the fact that to the mind of a man in lawrence's position the obtaining of a pair of boots was apparently quite as important an event as the storming of badajoz, or the finding of a sack with a ham and a couple of fowls in it as the winning of the battle of waterloo. interesting perhaps the book will prove as giving some of the details of what our soldiers had to undergo in those old times of war. hardships they now have to endure, and endure them they do well, but all must be thankful to know that they are far better off than their forefathers; who, unsuitably clad, half starved, and with their commissariat such even as it was disgracefully mismanaged, and yet forbidden very often under pain of death to pick up what they could for themselves, submitted on the shortest notice to punishments which would nowadays call forth the indignant protests of hosts of newspaper correspondents; and still in spite of all fought stubbornly through every obstacle till they had gained the objects for which they had been sent out. what wonder can there be that under all these circumstances we should find our hero somewhat hardened in his estimate of human sympathies, and not altogether disinclined to view everything, whether it concerned life or death, or marriage, or parting or meeting, all in one phlegmatic way, as occurring as a matter of course? what ought to strike us as more curious is that he was only reduced to that level of intellect where he thought even that much of anything at all besides his actual eating, drinking, and sleeping. but to go on further would be to depart from the original intention of letting the book speak for itself. to conclude therefore: there is much to wade through, though it is all more or less relevant to the progress of the story: some readers may like one part and some may prefer another; and if the pruning-hook had once been introduced it would have been difficult to decide what to leave and what to take, or whether it would not be better to publish another volume of the things pruned, since it had been determined to publish at all. but if the reader will accomplish the wading to the end, there will he find summed up in one simple paragraph the autobiographer's own ideas about the merits of his work. may it be received in the same spirit as it is sent forth! contents. chapter i. page starting in life chapter ii. enlisted and ordered abroad chapter iii. the river plate expedition--monte video chapter iv. the river plate expedition, continued--colonia chapter v. the river plate expedition, concluded--buenos ayres chapter vi. the peninsula, --vimeira--lisbon chapter vii. talavera chapter viii. --busaco chapter ix. torres vedras chapter x. --pombal, redinha, &c. chapter xi. siege of badajoz--albuera chapter xii. --ciudad rodrigo chapter xiii. badajoz chapter xiv. invalided--promotion chapter xv. --vittoria chapter xvi. the pyrenees--villebar chapter xvii. the nive--further promotion chapter xviii. san sebastian--nivelle chapter xix. --orthes--the adour--toulouse chapter xx. end of the war chapter xxi. to america and back--napoleon's escape from elba chapter xxii. waterloo chapter xxiii. paris--matrimony chapter xxiv. return to great britain chapter xxv. family matters chapter xxvi. pensioned and discharged the autobiography of sergeant william lawrence. chapter i. lawrence's parentage -- birth and early training -- apprenticed -- he falls out with his master -- is beaten and resolves to leave -- a few words to masters in general -- finds a companion -- precautions against being forgotten too soon -- to poole _viâ_ wareham -- engages for a voyage to newfoundland -- recaptured and sent back, but escapes again on the way -- receives some good advice, and starts to dorchester, picking up some fresh company on the way. as i have been asked to furnish as complete an account as i am able of my own life, and it is usual when people undertake to do so to start at as early a period as possible, i will begin with my parentage. my father and mother were of humble means, living in the village of bryant's piddle, in the county of dorset. my father had been formerly a small farmer on his own account in the same village, but having a large and hungry family to provide for, he became reduced in circumstances, and was obliged to give up his farm, and work as a labourer. i was born in , and, being one of seven children, found myself compelled at a very early age to seek my own livelihood as best i could, so that i had not much opportunity for education, though i cannot say that i thought that much hardship at the time, being fonder of an open-air life. i was employed for some time in frightening the birds off the corn, for which i received the sum of twopence a day; after which i was advanced to sixpence a day as ploughboy, in which situation i remained until i was fourteen years of age. my father then obtained twenty pounds from a friend, with which he apprenticed me to henry bush, a builder living at studland, a village in the same county, for seven years, the agreement being that my master was to find me in food, lodging, and clothes, and i was to receive no wages. i had not been with him very long before i found that he did not suit me as a master at all well. things went on pretty smoothly for the first month or so, that is, while the money for my apprenticeship lasted; but after that he became rather difficult to please, and besides took to allowancing me in food, which was a much more serious matter both to my mind and palate. however, i rubbed on for about nine months, until one sunday, when i had gone out to church in the morning and had happened to stay in the village all day, on my return home at last after dark i found the house locked up. i accordingly proceeded to swanage, the nearest town, and called on my master's sister, who lived there, who took me in and was giving me some supper, when my master chanced to come in himself, and was very angry with me and told me to come along with him, declaring that he would pay me out in the morning. when we got home he ordered me to see if the garden gate was closed, which i thought rather strange, as it was a thing i had never had to do before; but meanwhile he slipped upstairs with a horsewhip, which he produced suddenly in the morning, and gave me a good thrashing before i had well got my clothes on. i bundled downstairs pretty much as i was, and out of the house as quick as i could, saying to myself, "this is the last thrashing i will ever receive at your hands;" and sure enough it was, for that same week i planned with another apprentice near the same place, who was under very similar circumstances to myself, to take our departure on the following sunday; so that was the end of my apprenticeship. and i should like here to warn any master whose eye may fall on this story not to treat any lad who is put under his care too harshly, as it is very often the means of discouraging him in the occupation he is intended to follow, and of driving him from his home, and even from his country, and to his ruin. thus even in my case it will be seen that it was all my master's want of kindness that forced me into a very different sort of life to that which my parents intended for me; into one which, though it was not altogether so ruinous, was perhaps more perilous than many others, and on which i can only now look back in wonder that i have been spared to tell my story at all. but i must go back to the day on which myself and my companion had resolved to leave our homes, which as i have before stated was a sunday, no better opportunity appearing by which we might get a few hours' start unbeknown to our employers. we met early in the morning, but finding that neither of us had either money or food, and i likewise wanting to get hold of my indentures, we waited until the family had left the house as usual to go to swanage to chapel, when i made my entry into the house by the back door, which was only fastened by a piece of rope-yarn. i could not find my indentures, but in the search for them i came upon a seven-shilling piece, which i put into my pocket, as i thought it might be useful. i also cut about three or four pounds off a flitch of bacon that hung in the chimney corner, nicely marked to prevent any being lost on account of my late allowanced state. i did not study that much at the time, however, but took what i thought we should require, and when i had put it into a bag with the necessary amount of bread, we marched off together up to a place near called king's wood, where we put a little of our bread and raw bacon out of sight, for we were both hungry. then we went on to wareham, a distance of about ten miles, where we changed our seven-shilling piece, and had a pint of small beer to help us in again lightening our bundle; and, after about an hour's rest, proceeded on for poole, about nine miles from wareham. we felt very tired, but still walked on, and gained our destination at a very late hour, owing to which we had some trouble in obtaining a lodging for the remaining part of the night; but at last we found one in a public house, where we finished our bread and bacon, together with some more beer, the best day's allowance we had had for some time past. we slept very soundly, and in the morning went round to inquire for service on board the newfoundland packets. we soon found a merchant of the name of slade, who engaged us for two summers and a winter, myself for _l._ and my companion for _l._ for the whole time, and our food and lodging till the ship left the harbour. but we were not long in finding that our destination was not to be newfoundland, for on the very next day my companion's master came to poole in search of us, and meeting his own boy wandering about the market, soon wished to know what business he had there, and took him into custody. he likewise asked him if he had seen anything of me, and the boy told him i was in poole, but he did not know where. i at the time was at work on board the ship, but in the evening, having fallen in with the mate, he asked me where i was going. when i said to my lodgings, beginning rather to shake, for i thought by his manner that there was something up, he told me that i had better come with him. i did so, and presently found myself with my companion's master, who finished up for the night by having me put into gaol. next day we were both taken on board the swanage market-boat to go back, but when we had got as far as south deep, near brownsea castle, we had to anchor, as the wind was contrary. a number of stone-boats were lying there at the time, and one of the boatmen, named reuben masters, took charge of me to convey me back to my master's house, as he was going by it; so we landed, and proceeded towards home. when we were about half a mile off it, however, we met my mistress, who, after inquiring where i had been, told me that her husband would have nothing more to do with me, but would send me to prison. i could have told her i did not want to trouble him any more, but i thought i would leave that for them to find out; so i went on with the man to the next gate, when, seeing an opportunity to bolt; i took it and popped over to the other side; and all i heard the man say was, "well, you may go, and your master may run after you for himself if he likes;" so i knew there was not much to fear from him. i ran down into the common, to a place called agglestone, which i knew had once been a great place for foxes, and there i crawled into a hole and remained till dusk. then i came out of my den, and again made my way to wareham. i called this time at the "horse and groom," where, having related my story to the landlady, she kindly gave me food and lodging for the night, advising me to go back to my parents and state my master's behaviour. so next morning, after she had provided me with breakfast, and some bread and cheese to eat on the way, i set off for dorchester. on the road i met with two boys who were going to poole to try and get a ship bound for newfoundland. i wanted some companions on my journey, so i told them not to go to poole, as the press-gang was about, and, when i had been there myself a few days before, had fired a blunderbuss at me, but i happened to pop round the corner and so had escaped. the boys did not seem fit for soldiers, or sailors either, for they looked as if they had lain in the sun for some time, and one of them was warped. when they heard my story, they turned back and kept with me. they soon began to complain of hunger, but when i asked them if they had got any money, they said they had only one shilling and a farthing, with a hundred miles to travel before they reached their home again; so i took out my bread and cheese and divided it amongst us. we were very tired and hungry when we arrived at dorchester, and i tried to persuade them to change the shilling, but they would not. however, they gave me the farthing; it was not much certainly for a hungry boy, but it served to purchase a cake for me to devour; and then i and my companions parted, and what became of them afterwards i do not know. chapter ii. lawrence's forlorn state of mind in dorchester -- he meets with a friend in need, who takes him to enlist -- is discovered and recovered by his parents, and ordered back sharp to his master -- his military spirit proves too strong for him on the way, and carries him, through the agency of a friendly soldier, first to bridport, and then to taunton -- various further attempts at enlisting, slightly influenced by the disinterestedness of his friend, and ending in his joining the fortieth regiment -- subsequent changes of quarters, and final orders for foreign service. dorchester was only about eight miles from my parents' house, but i had never really had one serious thought of going to them. i seemed to myself to be completely friendless, and wandered through and through the town, watching the preparations for the fair, which was to take place the next day, not being able to make up my mind what to do or where to go. at length, more by instinct than aim, i wandered into the stable-yard of one of the principal inns, where i was brought nearer to my senses by hearing the ostler sing out sharply, "hullo, my man, what is your business?" i told him i was a friendless boy in search of some employment by which i might get a livelihood, as i was very hungry and had no money, or something to that effect; to which he replied that if i would brush about a bit, and help him rub over the horses, he would find me plenty to eat. i soon went to work, and finished the task he gave me; and sure enough he fulfilled his share of the bargain by bringing the requisite article in the shape of a lump of bread and beef enough for two or three meals. after eating as much as i wanted, as i felt very tired, i made up a bed for myself with some straw, and putting the remainder of my meal into my handkerchief to serve as a pillow, laid myself down, and the ostler having given me a rug to pull over me, i slept soundly there the whole night. in the morning, after i had done a little more in the stable, i walked out with my new friend into the street, where seeing some soldiers, i told him i should like to become one. he said he knew where he could enlist me, and took me straight to the rendezvous, which was in a public-house, where we met a sergeant of artillery, who gave him two guineas for bringing me and myself five for coming, and when my measurement had been taken, a proceeding which was accompanied with no small amount of joking, i was put into an old soldier's coat, and with three or four yards of ribbon hanging from my cap, paraded the town with other recruits, entering and treating some one or other in almost every public-house. it almost seemed, however, as if my hopes were again to be blighted, for in the very first house i entered, there sat a farmer from my home who knew me very well, and exclaimed on seeing me, "hullo, young fellow, as you make your bed so you must lie on it." i entreated him not to tell my father and mother where and how he had seen me, and made my exit as quickly as possible; but later in the day i encountered another man, my father's next-door neighbour, who also recognized me immediately. i offered him the price of a gallon of ale not to say anything, and he promised, taking the money, but as soon as he got home he went to my father and acquainted him with what i was up to. how i was spending the rest of the night meanwhile can better be conceived than described; but next morning, as i was going up to the town hall with an officer to be sworn in, who should meet us but my father and mother. on their telling the officer that i was an apprentice, he gave me up to them without any further trouble, except that he asked me what had become of my bounty money, and on finding that i had only seventeen shillings and sixpence left out of my whole five guineas, kindly took the care of even that off my hands. then we marched off home, and my father went to find out what was to be done in the matter from a magistrate, who advised him to take me back to dorchester to be tried at the next sittings; which advice being acted on, i was severely reprimanded by the bench, and given my choice of serving my time or else going to prison. of course i chose the former, and they gave me a letter to take with me to my master. when i got downstairs i met the officer who had enlisted me, who told me that if my master was unwilling to take me back, he would enlist me again; and finding on asking me if i had any money that he had taken all i possessed, he gave me a shilling and wished me well. my father sent me off at once with strict orders to get back to studland as quickly as i could, and that was all i received from him either in the way of blessing or anything: so with a heavy heart i set out on my retreat from dorchester. i had not gone very far when i was overtaken by a dairyman's cart, in which the owner gave me a lift, asking me where i was bound for. i told him a little of my story, and showed him the letter, that he might open it and see what was inside: which, when he had done, he said i could go back quite safely, for my master would not be able to hurt me. that put me into rather better spirits, though i did not intend to go back all the same. i rode along with the man as far as he went, and then continued on foot to a village called winfrith, where i went into a public-house, and feeling hungry, ordered some bread and cheese. a soldier happened to be in there, who was on furlough, bound for bridport, and the very sight of him again revived my old spirit and made me long to be like him. i got into conversation with him, and said how much i wished to be a soldier, to which he straightway answered that he could enlist me for the fortieth regiment foot, which gave sixteen guineas bounty. i thought that was a great deal, and that if i got it i should not want for money for some time, so i quickly accepted his proposal: i soon found out, though, that i was very mistaken in my views about the money lasting. i was rather afraid of finding myself in dorchester again, so tried to persuade him to go round another way, but we at last slipped through at night, and got to winterborne, where we put up, going on next morning in the coach to bridport. i was again baffled for a time on arriving there, for the coachman knew all about me, and remarked in a way that was no doubt meant well, that it was but yesterday that my father had got me out of the artillery. the soldier then asked me if i was an apprentice, and i thought there seemed nothing to do but to tell him i was: on which he promptly made me get down, and taking me across some fields to his home, kept me there quietly for three days. it seemed best after that to go on to taunton in somersetshire, where we went to the barracks and saw the colonel, who on the soldier telling him that he had brought me up as a recruit, asked me of what trade i was. i replied that i was a labourer, which he said was all right, for labourers made the best soldiers: but he could only give me two and a half guineas bounty: at which point we parted from him, and went to try the recruiting sergeant of the marines, who promised us sixteen guineas bounty when i arrived at the plymouth headquarters. this did not suit my conductor, however, as there was nothing for him after paying my coach expenses, so he asked me what i intended to do, and for his part advised me to go back to my master, saying he would not mind the expenses he had gone to for me. but as i had by this time destroyed the letter, i preferred going back to the fortieth regiment, so we went and again saw the colonel, who gave my companion two guineas, and sent me into barracks. next day i received my clothes, and in about a week more was sworn in before a magistrate, receiving my bounty at the same time. very shortly afterwards orders came for the regiment to march to winchester, where we remained for about a month without anything of any note occurring. i began to drill twice a day directly i joined, and soon learnt the foot drill, after which i was put on to musketry drill. from winchester we removed to portsmouth, where we lay for a week, and were then ordered to bexhill barracks in sussex, where our first battalion was lying, and on our arrival a number of men were drafted out of our battalion, which was the second, into the first, to make it a thousand strong, myself being one of the number. then orders came for us to proceed to portsmouth to embark on foreign service, our country being at the time at war with france and spain. chapter iii. embarkation of the regiment at portsmouth -- lawrence's feelings at the time beginning to be rather mixed -- heartrending partings witnessed and somewhat moralized upon by him -- a few more words of advice, this time intended for apprentices -- ample opportunity for self-introspection afforded during the first week of the voyage -- incidents while becalmed -- arrival at rio, and entertainment of the troops by the queen of portugal -- monte video -- disembarkation and first brushes with the enemy -- barbarity of the spaniards -- lawrence's feelings at last definitely uncomfortable -- sir samuel auchmuty's dislike to finery in soldiers -- the town invested and subsequently stormed -- lawrence in the forlorn hope -- surrender of the citadel. we passed the night before our embarkation in the town: a night to many perhaps the bitterest they had ever experienced, but to myself, on the other hand, one mainly of joy, for i felt that i had at last outwitted my pursuers. but though i cannot say that i was yet at all repentant, it must not be thought that i felt altogether comfortable on leaving my country with all my friends and relations in it, so young as i was at the time: more especially when i considered the errand we were on, and thought that i might never return to see them again, knowing that they had not the slightest idea of where i was. i naturally felt rather timid, as all young recruits must feel on entering so soon on foreign service as i then found myself obliged to do. but the worst and most disheartening spectacle of all was in the morning when the bugle sounded for the assembly of the regiment; for only about six women to a company of a hundred men being allowed to go with us, many who were married had to leave wives and children behind, with the thought that it might never be their lot to see them again. when the order was given to embark, the scene was quite heartrending: i could not see a dry eye in portsmouth, and if the tears could have been collected, they might have stocked a hospital in eye-water for some months. husband and wife, father and child, young man and sweetheart, all had to part, and perhaps none were more affected than the last, though with least cause: it indeed was dreadful to view. i myself was much affected, but it was at the woes of others, for i had not one to throw so much as a parting glance at myself; and thus, amid the cheers of the crowd, and with the band playing the tune of "the girl i left behind me," we embarked. then i felt quite freed from my pursuers; but in getting out of the frying-pan i soon found myself into the fire, for as it afterwards proved i had many men to deal with more difficult than even my old master had been. thus it is that many are apt to dislike and leave their employment through trifles, and in the search for a better often only get a worse one, much to their disappointment. the next day we drew out of portsmouth harbour on our route to south america, and sea-sickness soon commencing on board, i was, the worse luck for myself, one of the number that succumbed to it. this lasted for nearly a week, during the whole of which time we scarcely ate anything; but when we got better, i think our appetites were such that we could have readily finished a donkey with a hamper of greens. we had good weather until we reached the tropics, when a dead calm followed for a fortnight. as we were nearly upon the equinoctial line, the usual ceremony of shaving took place, which was no doubt very amusing to those who escaped by treating the sailors to a bottle of rum, or those who had crossed the line before; but to us on whom the barber, who was the sailor who had crossed the line most often, operated, it was not so pleasant. for the satisfaction of some who may not quite understand the method of that interesting custom, i will give the routine, at least as it happened on board our ship, though i cannot altogether say whether the same is pursued universally, a large tub of water was placed on deck, and each one who was to be performed on, sat in turn on the edge; then the barber stepped forward and lathered his face all over with tar and grease, and with a piece of iron hoop as a razor scraped it off again; after which he pushed him backwards into the tub, leaving him to crawl out anyhow and sneak off to clean himself. all passed off very well, however, as there was plenty of rum provided to drink from those officers and men who were more disposed to join in the pay than the play. during the calms, we amused ourselves fishing for dolphins, and practising for the first time with ball-cartridge, a bottle being corked and flung overboard as far as possible to serve as a target, and a dollar being offered to the first man who could break it, each one firing once. no one broke it, but i got a glass of grog from the major for being the nearest; so near that i made the bottle spin round. the major remarked that if i went so close as that to a spaniard i should make him shake; and he likewise asked me what trade i was in before i joined the army. as i knew i was too far from england now to be sent back, i told him that i was a builder's apprentice; and he only said, "well done, my boy, so you prefer knocking down houses in the enemy's country to putting them up in your own?" certainly at this moment we were having an easy place, but there was many a time afterwards when i should like to have been given the choice of laying bricks again. after spending about a fortnight in this way, a fair wind blew up, and we proceeded on our voyage. we called in at rio janeiro, the capital of the brazilian empire, lying upon the western side of the entrance to a fine bay which forms the harbour. our chief object for putting in there was to take in water and provisions; and whilst we were anchored there we went on shore, and the queen of portugal reviewed us. next day she sent a quantity of onions and pumpkins on board as a present, which we found very acceptable. we stayed there about a fortnight, sailing on next further south to maldonado, the rendezvous of the fleet, whence after being joined by five thousand troops under sir samuel auchmuty, the whole fleet moved on to monte video and anchored. we lost no time on our arrival there, but early the next morning boats were ordered alongside the troopships to convey us on shore, which movement, as the enemy was on the banks about fifteen thousand strong to receive us, put rather a nasty taste into our mouths, there seeming nothing but death or glory before us. the signal was hoisted from the admiral's ship, and we started for the shore amid the fire of the enemy's artillery. they killed and wounded a few of our men, and sank some of the boats, but as soon as we struck the shore, we jumped out, and forming line in the water, fired a volley and charged, soon driving them from their position on the bank. we found even as early as then that spaniards were not very difficult to encounter. in case of a retreat, our boats were still within our reach, but having gained the victory, we had no need of them, stopping where we were on the banks all night. some field-pieces were next sent on shore, and likewise a number of sailors with drag-ropes to work them, as we had no horses with us, and up to this time no artillery. the country was rather favourable for the sailors, being very level and mostly green pasture, so that they kept along pretty easily, seeming just in their glory, all this being new work to them. after some little firing from the cannon the enemy retreated into the town, which was well fortified. we placed an outlying picket of some three hundred men to watch the enemy's manoeuvres, while the body of our army encamped in the rear in a line stretching from sea to sea, so that the town standing upon a projecting piece of land, all communication from the mainland was cut off. the country around meanwhile abounded with ducks, geese, turkeys, fowls, and plenty of sheep and bullocks, which it may be made sure our men found oftentimes very providential. on the third day of our encampment the spaniards sallied out of the town to surprise our picket, which being overpowered was obliged to retreat, leaving two grenadiers wounded on the field, whom the spaniards much to our horror deliberately cut into pieces. but on the body of our army coming up and charging them, a terrible slaughter ensued on their retreat to the town, which amply repaid us for our two grenadiers; as far as i am able to state, there could not have been less than three thousand killed and wounded, for the next day we had actually to bury two thousand of them. our loss was a mere nothing. i remember that i happened to be placed that night on sentry at the road leading to the town, and not far from a hole where we had buried five or six hundred of the enemy. it was the most uncomfortable two hours' sentry i had ever spent as yet, and i kept my eyes more on the place where the dead were than on the road i was placed to watch, not having altogether forgotten the absurd ghost stories of my own country. i in a way began to think, too, that i had done a good many things i should have liked not to, and to regret for the first time leaving my apprenticeship, my father, mother, and friends, to follow a life so dangerous as i now found this to be, with nothing to expect, as i thought, but to be myself numbered with the slain. i soon became more hardened, however, as i was more and more mixed up in similar or worse affairs than these slight brushes with a weak enemy had proved to be. however, at this juncture i took the opportunity to send my first letter home, so as to satisfy the folks there of my whereabouts, though i kept from them the more perilous part of my story. we reported to the general the circumstances of the spaniards' barbarity to our wounded comrades, and the answer he gave was that we were to repay them in their own coin. i may mention here that we all thought sir samuel a most excellent commander. he always delighted most in a good rough-looking soldier with a long beard and greasy haversack, who he thought was the sort of man most fit to meet the enemy. it was chiefly owing to his dislike to dandyism that wearing long hair with powder, which was the fashion then for the smart soldier, was done away with soon after we landed in the enemy's country; of course also partly because it was so difficult to get the powder. we never found the spaniards sally out of the town after this to engage us, as i expect they did not much like the warm reception they had received. we set to work building up batteries and breastworks, some three hundred of us being sent to cut down a copse of peach-trees that was near to make gabions and fascines to form them with. when our fortifications were completed, which was in a very few days, we began bombarding the town, for which purpose we had brought up our twenty-four pounders from the men-of-war. after about four days' play we made a breach by knocking down the gate and part of the wall, which was six feet thick, and though the enemy repaired it at night with a quantity of bullocks' hides filled with earth, next morning as early as two o'clock we advanced to storm the town. captain renny of ours commanded the forlorn hope. the ladders were placed against the hides of earth, and we scaled them under a heavy fire from the spaniards. we found the earth better stuff to encounter than stone, and though our poor captain fell in the breach whilst nobly leading on his men, we succeeded in forcing our way into the town, which was soon filled with the reinforcements that followed us. we drove the enemy from the batteries, and massacred with sword and bayonet all whom we found carrying arms: the general's orders being not to plunder or enter any house, or injure any woman, child, or man not carrying arms, or fire a shot until daylight. on our approach to the gunwharf of the town, we found some twenty or thirty negroes chained to the guns, whom we spared and afterwards found very useful, chiefly in burying the dead. when the heat of the fighting was subsided, the drums beat to assembly in the square, and orders were then given for the massacre to be stayed, but that all the prisoners were to be taken that we could lay our hands on. our troops were accordingly despatched to the forts and batteries, and nearly three thousand prisoners were taken; the governor of the town giving himself up with all the forts except the citadel, where there was a separate general in command. the governor said he had nothing to do with this, so sir samuel sent a flag of truce to know if the commander would give the place up. the answer being "no," three or four riflemen were placed on a tower sufficiently high and near to the citadel for the purpose of, if possible, picking out the general and shooting him. this was soon effected, for on his appearing for a walk on the ramparts in his full uniform, one of the men shot him dead: and when the spaniards found that they had lost their commander, they soon became disheartened, and lowering the drawbridge, came out of the citadel and gave themselves up. part of our troops immediately took possession, pulling down the spanish colours and hoisting the english flag from the town and citadel in their stead. we took about four thousand prisoners in all, who were sent on board ship; but where they were taken to afterwards i am not able to state. chapter iv. incidents during the stay at monte video -- the beguiling of goodfellow -- a man hanged and then condemned to be transported -- matrimonial designs of a spanish father frustrated -- advance to and occupation of colonia -- heroic conduct of a tallow chandler -- he proves of service in more ways than one -- expedition to san pedro -- a battle with a hot breakfast at the end -- narrow escape of lawrence from being shot -- unfortunate results of a combination of booty. now that we had got possession of a fine town, we could lie up comfortably, only having to put out three or four hundred men on picket round the walls and see that the gates of the town were closed every night at sunset and not opened till daylight in the morning, and then feeling that we could make ourselves quite at home. the inhabitants were meanwhile not altogether deprived of their livelihood, as our general issued a proclamation that they should open their shops and carry on their business as usual: and if any declined to open, he was kind enough to send parties to do it for them. during the time that we lay there, which i should think was at least five months, the only things that occurred that could be called out of the way were, i am sorry to say, of rather an unpleasant nature. one thing was that a sergeant and corporal of the spanish army came in disguise and tried to enlist any of our men who would join their service; and unfortunately a sergeant named goodfellow, one of my own regiment, accepted their proposals, tempted by the heavy bounty they offered. but while passing out of the town in disguise with the spaniards, he was met and recognized by the general himself and his staff: a most unlucky encounter for the three runaways, for they were brought back again and put under charge immediately, and a court-martial ordered on them next day. our colonel, however, implored so hard for our sergeant's life on account of the regiment's late good conduct in the field, that the general granted it, and changed his sentence to one of transportation for life: but the spaniards were not quite so leniently dealt with, for they were tried and hanged, to make sure that they could not repeat their mischievous practices. we also found among the prisoners an irishman who had somehow got away from us over on to the wrong side, and had been fighting against us. he was tried and sentenced to be hanged, and we all had to march up next day to witness his execution and take example from it. but his life was not destined to end here, for the rope was not altogether a strong one, and he was fortunate enough when he fell to break it. directly his feet touched ground, he begged hard for mercy: and the rope had made such a terrible mark on his neck that i suppose the general thought he had been hanged enough: so he was sent into hospital, and when he recovered, transported for the rest of the life that had thus been given back to him. while he was on his way down the town to go on board the vessel, i should think that if he had one dollar given him, he had at least half a peck, though i do not expect they would be much use to him where he was going to. i never heard any more of him, but i don't suppose many men could say that they had been hanged and then transported afterwards. another case of desertion was that of an officer's servant, who went away with the greater part of his master's clothes, taking with him likewise a spanish lady; he was lucky enough to get off safe, and nothing was heard of him afterwards. this was not at all a rare temptation, though, that was put in our soldiers' way; for i was myself offered a fortune by a spanish gentleman, together with his daughter, if i would desert and remain in the country. whenever he met me about he would treat me to anything i liked to name, which i sometimes found very acceptable, and he would often give me money as well, in hopes of gaining me over in time. he had more chances of making up to me, for i forgot to mention that i had received a slight wound in the left leg in storming the town, which kept me limping about and partially disabled from duty for nearly a fortnight; but i don't think he would have minded his daughter not marrying me in particular, so long as he could persuade some one. but he happened one day to leave his horse tied up close to our main guard while he went into a kind of public-house, and occupied himself treating some of our men; and the fact being discovered by those outside that his stirrups were of solid gold, when he came out again one of them was missing. it must have weighed at least a pound, so naturally he thought it worth while reporting the circumstance to the colonel, and a search was made; but no clue could be found to the missing stirrup, so he had to ride away as best he could with only the other one; so he only came off a loser in the end, and he never got his daughter married after all. after staying in the town for the time stated, a thousand of us were despatched up the river rio de la plata to a small place called colonia, where an army of spaniards about four or five thousand strong was lying. we landed with ease, and the enemy retreated out of the place after firing a few shots, leaving it in our hands, so that we again found ourselves for a time in comfortable quarters. we placed pickets of two or three hundred men round the place, and fixed a _chevaux de frise_ in the gate, formed of very sharp and pointed swords stuck very thickly into a beam which was made to turn on its axis: rather an awkward instrument to face if one is not used to it. duty at this place was rather hard, owing to there being so few of us, and such a number on picket or at work building some batteries for our better protection. at the picket-house, which was some distance from the town, there lived a soap-boiler and tallow-chandler, who was very kind to us while we were there on duty, killing a bullock almost every night for our use, as he only required the skin and tallow, and any one may suppose that two hundred hungry men knew what to do with the rest of it. an incident took place during our stay at his house which will show how well disposed he was towards us. we had passed a very quiet week there, when one night the spaniards passed our picket secretly in the darkness, fired a volley into the town, and then immediately retreated. our picket only just managed to get through safely into the town, leaving one of our men asleep in the picket-house, and he must certainly have met his death if he had been caught there singly; but the tallow-chandler, though himself a spaniard, concealed him under a quantity of dry hides while the enemy were scouring the place in search of stragglers, and so saved his life. in consequence of this surprise, still heavier duty was afterwards put upon us, the picket having to be augmented to prevent further annoyance. two or three days after this had occurred the tallow-chandler was sent for to join the spanish army, no doubt because their general suspected him of favouring the english; but he would not go until he had obtained our colonel's advice, which was that he should go by all means, and if he could conveniently come back with full particulars of the enemy's strength he should be rewarded. as far as i can remember, he had been away about ten days, when he again made his appearance with the requisite information. what reward he got i cannot say, but as the result of his tidings, about two or three days afterwards we were called under arms at midnight and supplied with half a pound of beef for each man; the order then being given to return to our lodgings for two hours, and at the end of that time to fall in again. meanwhile a number of sailors came from on board our ships to take charge of the town during our absence, we being now bound for some place as yet unknown to us. a little after two in the morning we left the town with an indian for our guide. we asked in the best manner that we could where we were going to, but all we could understand from him was that we were on the way to fight some spaniards, which of course we had pretty well guessed before, and that we should have some four or five thousand of them to encounter. this last bit of news made us think that we were going to have hard nuts to crack, but we found them a very cowardly sort of folk to deal with, for after marching some five or six miles, we despatched skirmishing parties, who fell in with their picket and took a few prisoners, and soon made the others retreat without doing anything further than to send up some rockets to alarm the body of the enemy. we marched on still further till we came nearly up to them, when we found a river in our way; fortunately it was not very deep, so we waded through it under a fire from the spanish cannon, which killed two of our men while in the act of crossing; and as soon as we were over we formed line and advanced towards the enemy, who lay on some fine rising ground in our front. they had some few pieces of cannon with them, and opened the first fire with both cannon and musketry, but every shot seemed to rise over our heads, and i don't think that volley killed a man. we were up and at them like dragons, wounding and taking their general with about a hundred and fifty other prisoners; likewise a stand of colours, three pieces of cannon, and their baggage. moreover, we found a nice breakfast cooking for us in the shape of fowls, geese, turkeys, beef, rice, and _calavancos_, (though the latter were rather too warm with cayenne pepper and garlic,) all of which the enemy had had to leave in his hurry, and which came in very acceptably at the end of a long march. the colonel ordered everything to be taken from the prisoners we had made, as that was how he had been served himself when he had been taken prisoner at buenos ayres, so we set to clearing them of all they possessed, their money, which amounted to about two thousand dollars, their clothes, and even their boots. i had a very narrow escape while the plunder was going on. i entered one of the enemy's storehouses, at one end of which a quantity of bullocks' hides were lying, at a sufficient distance from the wall to allow a man to pass or hide behind them; and there beside the heap stood a spaniard whom i knew well, as he had sold cakes to us while we were at colonia, and who now offered me a pot of honey to eat. i had my misgivings, however, so made motion for him to eat first, for fear of poison; and at the same time, casting my eye to the left, i saw a spaniard emerge from between the hides and the wall with a pistol, which he levelled at me. i became pretty active, as may be supposed under the circumstances, and managed to guard it off; but the shot whizzed very close to my head nevertheless, which made me very much enraged with the man, and determined he should not escape. unfortunately for him, one of our dismounted cavalry, an irishman, came in, and on my telling him there was a spaniard behind the hides, who had just fired a pistol at me, "tare an' 'ounds," says he, "i'll fetch him out; you stand at one end to stop him with your bayonet while i drive him out." so paddy went round with his sword, and after a little exercise behind, "look out comrade," he sang out, "he's coming;" and sure enough i skewered him to the wall by driving my bayonet right through his body, while paddy came out and finished him by splitting his head nearly in two with his heavy sword, remarking as he did it, "bad luck to ye, i don't think ye'll ever shoot another englishman, or irishman either." the other man had meanwhile made off. we had taken amongst other things about twenty barrels of gunpowder and a quantity of cigars, which latter, owing to the carelessness of one man, proved to be more plague than profit; for whilst most of us were smoking, one of the company, going near the powder, happened to let a spark fall from his cigar, which resulted in twelve men being blown into the air: and though none were killed on the spot, they were so frightfully burnt that several died on reaching colonia. i believe all that we lost actually killed by the enemy's hand were the two men who fell in crossing the river. we gave ten dollars to each of the widows of the men killed, and the rest of the prize-money was divided. chapter v. return to colonia -- general whitelock assumes the command of the army in the plate, and a movement is made on buenos ayres -- studied insolence on the part of certain indian natives -- remarkable value attached by them to a british head -- their eventual punishment -- the troops effect an easy entrance into buenos ayres, but, for reasons unknown to the narrator, retreat almost immediately and not very creditably -- return to monte video and final departure from the plate -- terrific storm on the way home -- inconvenient mishap to a soldier -- christmas in cork cove. as we had effected all that was wanted at san pedro, which was the name of the place where we had been carrying on these operations, we returned to colonia, dragging back the guns laden with our wounded, and taking with us the prisoners, who had to walk along barefooted, as we had availed ourselves of their boots. on our arrival at colonia our sailors saluted us when they saw the number of our prisoners and the three pieces of cannon we had taken, giving "three cheers for the brave soldiers." the prisoners were then sent on board a ship that was lying in the river, and an outlying picket having been posted as usual, the rest of us remained comfortably in the town. next day the colonel gave orders for everything belonging to the prisoners, such as clothes, &c., to be brought out, offering a fair price for them to be returned to their proper owners, which showed of what a good disposition he really was: only he had allowed us to take the things before as an example. we remained here about a month this time, when general whitelock came out with a reinforcement and took the command from sir samuel auchmuty, and soon afterwards, some troops being left in charge of monte video, the rest proceeded to buenos ayres, calling at colonia on the way to pick up our little squad. we landed some miles before coming to buenos ayres, intending, if possible, to storm the back of the town, as it was strongly fortified on the side towards the coast. we were thus obliged to march inland and form encampments, the first of which was situated a little way from where we landed. an incident took place here, which was attended by the death of two men, a corporal and a private, and likewise the very narrow escape of a second private. they were engaged in plundering one of the indian huts, when the inhabitants fell on them armed, and, catching the corporal round the neck with a lasso, soon dragged him away, at the same time knocking the private down and stabbing him; the other private only escaped back to the regiment after receiving a sabre-wound which carried the skin and hair off the back of his head. this was a great glory to the natives; they stuck the corporal's head on a pole and carried it in front of their little band when on the march. they also made use of the rifle and ammunition they had taken from him to fire at times into our camp, but fortunately it was a very harmless sort of practice. next day we again resumed our march, encamping again at night. i remember that night was very foggy, and an officer and some men having gone out in search of bullocks for the supply of the army, the officer was very nearly lassoed by an indian who came on him suddenly in the darkness. fortunately he had the presence of mind to ride after him, which saved his life, for so the indian could not pull him over; and then he managed to cut the lasso with his sword. as we marched along on our next day's journey, about two hundred indians kept following us, the foremost of them wearing our dead corporal's jacket, and carrying his head--i do not exactly know for what reason, but perhaps they thought a good deal more of a dead man's head than we should feel disposed to do. we went on for some distance through a great many orange-gardens, till we came to a lane thickly hedged in on both sides, which was entered by a gate, and there, after the body of our army had passed through, some few men, including myself, waited in ambush for the indians, having a reserve placed a short distance down the lane in case of a combat. the indians soon approached, but seemed to have some misgivings, though we could not exactly understand what they said. there being only a few of us, not quite twenty in all, i rather shook in my shoes on seeing their number; but we soon found there was very little occasion for this, for on our firing directly the front party had passed the gate, killing two of them and wounding and capturing their chief, who was the one who was so proud of his head, the rest fled for their lives, not liking the smell and much less the taste of our gunpowder. we picked up the wounded man and carried him, and left him, more dead than alive, in a neighbouring village. on nearing buenos ayres the light brigade was ordered on in front, under the command of colonel pack, who soon succeeded in taking the bull ring battery; for buenos ayres was much more easy to take than monte video, as it was very slightly fortified towards the country. there were some cannons placed at the end of each street, but they proved a very small difficulty to be overcome, as there seemed nobody efficient to work them, and after passing these, our soldiers were soon in possession of the city. then they hoisted the king's flag on a convent and waited, expecting every minute that the body of our army would come up; but instead of this, general whitelock encamped about a mile out of the town and remained there. if he had attended properly to his business he would have followed up and relieved the brigade; but as it was, the spaniards rallied and overpowered it. i was with the main body, and so was not able to enter the city to see what was going on. we all fell under arms when we heard the muskets at work, waiting for the general's orders to advance: but there we lay the whole night, not doing a stroke, and next day we re-embarked for monte video, having come to some terms, though we were ignorant of that at the time. we remained at monte video some two months longer, during which interval the ships taken in the harbour were offered for sale, but the inhabitants refusing to buy them, we loaded some ourselves with hides, tallow, and cocoa, and the rest, which were not worth bringing home, were towed out to the mouth of the harbour and set on fire. the spaniards had previously blown up a very fine frigate to prevent it falling into our hands. part of our army was then embarked for the east indies and the cape of good hope, whilst we others went on an expedition about a hundred miles up the rio de la plata to get fresh water, and when we returned proceeded on our way homewards from that part of the world. the first part of our voyage was very pleasant, the troops in general keeping very healthy; but when we had sailed some distance, we had a dead calm for a considerable time, which made us much longer on our voyage than we had thought for, and consequently our water supply ran very short, and had to be served out in allowances of half a pint a day. a small supply, however, fortunately came before long. our captain, seeing a cloud in the distance, foretold that we were going to have a thunderstorm, and ordered the scupper-holes to be stopped, and all except the watch to remain below. i happened to be one of the watch at the time, and well i remember how it very shortly after began to thunder and lighten, the rain falling in torrents for two or three hours; it was the heaviest thunderstorm i had ever witnessed. we baled up some twenty or more casks of water, which was none the better, perhaps, for there being pigs, fowls, geese, and turkeys all over the deck, but still was very acceptable to us in our parched state, as till that we had had to cook our food and wash ourselves in salt water only. during the storm our mainmast was struck by the lightning, which split a piece off it from top to bottom, but fortunately did not disable it; but a sad mishap befell one of our men while sitting at mess at the time, for he was struck dead, his shirt being burnt in places like tinder, and his mess-tin being likewise turned black, while the top of a bayonet that was standing close to the unfortunate man was melted like lead. the blow had shaken our little bark so terribly that the captain ordered the pumps to be tried; fortunately there was no leakage to be found, but the lightning must have got well down below, for on opening the main hatchway the sulphur came up enough to suffocate any one. after the storm, the calm still continued, and we had to amuse ourselves as best we could with fishing; a few days after a breeze sprang up, but it was foul for england, and we had to knock about till a more favourable one blew up, which finally landed us in the cove of cork. we spent the christmas of on board, sending on shore for raisins, flour, fat, and beer, and so being enabled to enjoy ourselves very comfortably. chapter vi. the troops kept in ireland -- ordered to spain to fight new opponents in behalf of their late ones -- land in mondego bay and advance to vimeira -- a light repast interrupted by a heavy battle -- battle of vimeira -- preliminary skirmishing -- lawrence's first experience in fighting the french -- a good front-rank man -- defeat of the french and advance on lisbon -- the french evacuate the city -- lawrence's impressions of lisbon -- sir arthur wellesley made commander-in-chief -- the regiment invalided for a time -- attempt to join sir john moore frustrated -- seville -- lawrence's first offence -- he is court-martialled for it and flogged -- moral reflections on the same. we had already laid in our sea stock in preparation to start for england, when we found ourselves disappointed of our hopes, for orders came for us to land in ireland; and we had to march to cork and thence to various other places for six months, nothing of any particular note happening during the while; and at the end of it, orders again came for us to embark for portugal, to drive the french from there, and from the spanish dominions. thus after we had been in open war against the spaniards, who for the time had been in alliance with the french, or rather had been forced to be so, now that buonaparte had overrun their own country and kindled hatred against himself, these same spaniards had made peace with us, and sent to us for assistance to drive him out of their country: so that we had to go and fight for the very nation we had been a few months before opposing in monte video, buenos ayres, and colonia. after we had all embarked we had still to lie in cork harbour, waiting for the english fleet, and then we sailed from the irish coast, about twelve thousand strong, under sir arthur wellesley, on the th of july, . we first touched at corunna to make arrangements with the spaniards, and their advice being to land in portugal, we went to mondego bay, near the town of figueras, where we landed, leaving our baggage on board. after about five days' march we were joined by general spencer, and next day our advanced guard had a slight engagement with the enemy at rorica. thence we marched on to vimeira, and were joined by generals anstruther and acland with more reinforcements, and sir hugh dalrymple took the head command from sir arthur wellesley. the village of vimeira stood in a valley with a fine range of hills to the westward, and a ridge of heights to the east. our brigades were stationed on the mountains to the west, whilst our cavalry was posted in the valley, and general anstruther's brigade lay to the east. on the first night of our encampment there, two of my comrades and myself were strolling over the hills together, when we fell in with a hive of bees, weighing i should think at least a hundredweight, which we carried back into the camp: not without difficulty, however, for we found them very uncivil passengers to carry, and our faces and hands were fearfully stung; but our honey and grapes, for we had profited too from being encamped in some very fine vineyards, paid us for this a little. next morning we proceeded to make our breakfast off the same materials, but we were not destined to finish very quietly, for in the midst of our meal we were disturbed by the near approach of the enemy, and were immediately ordered under arms. the right of our line was engaged at least two hours before a general engagement took place on our side, which was the left, but we were skirmishing with the enemy the whole time. i remember this well, on account of a frenchman and myself being occupied in firing at each other for at least half an hour without doing anyone any injury; but he took a pretty straight aim at me once, and if it had not been for a tough front-rank man that i had, in the shape of a cork-tree, his shot must have proved fatal, for i happened to be straight behind the tree when the bullet embedded itself in it. i recollect saying at the time, "well done, front-rank man, thee doesn't fall at that stroke," and unfortunately for the frenchman, a fellow-comrade, who was lefthanded, came up to me very soon afterwards, and asked me how i was getting on. i said badly, and told him there was a frenchman in front, and we had been trying to knock each other over for some time, without either of us having been able to succeed; on which he asked me where he was, that he might have a try at him. i pointed out the thicket behind which the frenchman was, and he prepared his rifle so as to catch him out in his peeping manoeuvres, but not without himself, as well as i, being well covered by my old front-rank man. by-and-by mr. frenchman again made his peep round the bush, but it was his last, for my comrade, putting his rifle to his left shoulder, killed him at the first shot. after we had been thus employed in skirmishing for some time, a large body of french made their appearance in our front. our artillery greeted them pretty sharply, ploughing furrows through them with ball and throwing them into a confused state, after which our columns advanced under general spencer, our cannon still playing over our heads, until we got within a short distance of the enemy, when we fired and charged them, driving them from the position they had occupied after some very severe fighting well kept up for some time on both sides, and capturing about seven pieces of cannon, with ammunition waggons. the loss of the french at this place could not have been much less than two thousand, though some have reported it less and some more; but it is very hard to arrive at a just calculation. our loss was reported to have been about seven hundred. after the battle was ended we marched on towards lisbon, passing on our way about a hundred and fifty carts laden with the enemy's wounded. when we arrived at lisbon we encamped, so that the french had no means of communication with the city; as, our fleet lying in or near the mouth of the harbour, and our army stopping all approach from the land, the french in the city were blocked in. on the first night of our encampment the inhabitants illuminated the part where we lay. we were not destined, however, to be outside the city long, for on the leaders of our army and the french coming to some terms, the french left with the honours of war, and gladly embarked from the harbour in september. these were the very troops with whom at a later period we had to contend. when the enemy had left lisbon we took up our quarters in the city, amid the joy and enthusiasm of the inhabitants, who shouted in triumph as the french left, and held illuminations even on the vessels in the harbour for several successive nights afterwards. lisbon then on every side still exhibited marks of that terrible earthquake which almost completely destroyed it in the year . it was situated on the right bank of the tagus, near its mouth, which forms a very fine harbour; and it stood chiefly on very precipitous hills, of which the highest was occupied by the fine castle of saint george, which was indeed the principal object that attracted the eye anywhere from the city. the great squares contained some magnificent edifices, noteworthy for the fineness of their pillars. the streets were narrow and winding and dirty, and indeed after the french had left the whole city was in a most desolate state; but the general view of the city and its environs from the harbour at a distance was very beautiful, the sides of the hills being clothed with plantations and numberless vineyards, and the buildings extending for a mile and a half or two miles along the coast. sir hugh dalrymple, sir arthur wellesley, and some other of the chief leaders of our army were then recalled to england to communicate the circumstances of the terms that had been arrived at in portugal between the two armies: as the rulers, and indeed all classes in england received the first reports of them with indignation. this was the reason that the inquiry was made, of which the fruits were that sir arthur wellesley was decided on as the proper person to take the head command of our troops in the peninsula. during our stay in lisbon our regiment fell ill and was obliged to be returned unfit for service, which state of things lasted about two months. but as soon as sir arthur wellesley returned as commander-in-chief, we were ordered into spain, in company with five thousand spaniards, to join sir john moore's army. we had a long and tedious march until we reached a place called seville, where we encamped for several weeks, on account of sir john moore having been obliged to retreat; and the french cutting off our communication, we had to proceed to cadiz and there embark again for lisbon. i must here relate a circumstance which took place before i proceeded from seville, which, although not very creditable to myself, is of too great importance as an event in my life to be omitted. i absented myself without leave from guard for twenty-four hours, and when i returned i found i had jumped into a fine scrape, for i was immediately put into the guard-room, and a drum-head court-martial was ordered on me. it was the first offence to cause one to be held on me, but that did not screen me much, and i was sentenced to four hundred lashes. i felt ten times worse on hearing this sentence than i ever did on entering any battlefield; in fact, if i had been sentenced to be shot, i could not have been more in despair, for my life at that time seemed of very little consequence to me. my home and my apprenticeship days again ran in my head, but even these thoughts soon lost themselves as i neared the spot where my sentence was to be carried out. i found the regiment assembled all ready to witness my punishment: the place chosen for it was the square of a convent. as soon as i had been brought in by the guard, the court-martial was read over me by the colonel, and then i was ordered to strip, which i did firmly and without using any of the help that was offered me, as i had by that time got hardened to my lot. i was then lashed to the halberds, and the colonel gave the order for the drummers to commence, each one having to give me twenty-five lashes in turn. i bore it very well until i had received a hundred and seventy-five, when i became so enraged with the pain that i pushed the halberds, which did not stand at all firm, on account of their being planted on stones, right across the square, amid the laughter of the regiment. the colonel, i suppose, thinking then that i had had sufficient, ordered, in the very words, "the sulky rascal down," and perhaps a more true word could not have been spoken, as indeed i was sulky, for i did not give vent to a single sound the whole time, though the blood ran down my trousers from top to bottom. i was unbound and the corporal hove my shirt and jacket over my shoulders and conveyed me to the hospital, presenting about as miserable a picture as i possibly could. perhaps it was as good a thing for me as could then have occurred, as it prevented me from committing any greater crimes which might have gained me other severer punishments and at last brought me to my ruin; but for all that it was a great trial for me, and i think that a good deal of that kind of punishment might have been abandoned with great credit to those who ruled our army; for it is amazing to think of four hundred lashes being ordered on a man young as i was, and undergoing all the privations of a most sanguinary war, just for an offence, and that the first, which might have been overlooked, or at any rate treated with less punishment and a severe reprimand. chapter vii. lawrence transferred into the grenadier company -- the regiment embarks at cadiz for lisbon again in consequence of sir john moore's defeat at corunna -- hospitality of an english merchant -- march to join sir arthur wellesley at castello branco -- the spanish troops reviewed -- lawrence's opinion of them -- battle of talavera -- lawrence's opinion of the spaniards justified -- severe fighting on the second day of the battle -- friendliness between the wounded -- final attack and repulse of the french -- horrible fate of some of the wounded -- advance to oropesa -- the spanish general cuesta deserts the wounded at talavera -- march towards badajoz -- privations on the road -- fresh supply of clothes at badajoz -- lawrence invalided to elvas -- is cured chiefly by reflecting on his manner of burial -- returns to badajoz -- sir arthur wellesley made viscount wellington -- end of . i remained in hospital about three weeks, and on coming out i was transferred from the light into the grenadier company. as i before said, on leaving seville, which i did in a pretty well marked state, of which i bear the remembrances on my back to this day upwards of fifty years since, we marched to cadiz and encamped there, intending to embark for lisbon, sir john moore's army having been by that time repulsed by sheer force of numbers, and himself killed at corunna. on that night an english wine-merchant asked permission to give each man in our regiment a pint of wine and each woman half that quantity, with a pound of bread apiece; and accordingly we were all drawn up in line, and marched into a tremendous cellar, big enough, had they been so disposed, to have admitted the whole regiment, with two doors one at each end, at one of which we entered to receive our share, and went out by the other. he likewise invited the officers to dine with him; and so that night, after drinking the merchant's little kindness, as we most of us did to pretty quick time, we slept a good deal sounder. next day we embarked for lisbon, and after landing there we proceeded some miles up the country to join sir arthur's army in castello branco, making up altogether about twenty thousand english and sixty or eighty thousand allies. we then advanced across a fine plain, which i should think was more famed for hares than anything else, for i never saw any place that swarmed so with that kind of game. they were running in all directions, and often even right into our lines, for they are stupid animals when frightened, as they then were by the noise our men made; and i managed to kill one with the muzzle of my musket, and sold it to the captain of my company for a dollar. the bands played each before its own regiment as we crossed the plain, and sir arthur wellesley took the opportunity of reviewing the spanish troops as they passed. they looked a fine enough set of men, but they were fit for scarcely anything except to fall into disorder and confusion, as we had already found when we had taken the field against some of them at monte video, colonia, and buenos ayres, the smell of powder often seeming to cause them to be missing when wanted, either from not having been properly disciplined, or else because they had not good officers to command them; this, of course, now bringing the brunt of most of the battles on us. we often passed marks of the enemy's encampments, and even encamped at or near the same places ourselves, as close as possible to some river or large supply of water, a small quantity being of little use for the purposes of a large body of men like our army, accompanied as it was, too, by horses and wagons and such things. we never caught sight of the enemy, however, till we got to talavera, where we came to an engagement with the french on the th and th of july, . the whole of our line there extended for about two miles, and at times the whole of it was joining in the general engagement, which came more hot upon us for the reason before described; a great number of the spaniards even throwing down their arms and fleeing, for which conduct their general, cuesta, ordered them to be decimated; but eventually, on the entreaty of sir arthur wellesley, only about forty of them were killed. general cuesta, however, really wanted quite as much leading on as his men, as he was often very obstinate, and refused to fight when called upon by sir arthur wellesley. after the first day's battle we encamped on the ground we then occupied, but the french made another and unexpected attack on us at night, and at one time had almost gained the heights; but we repulsed them at last, though after that we had to lie on our arms, expecting every minute to be again attacked. some little altercation occurred with the spaniards very early in the morning, but it only lasted a short time; however, about five or six o'clock the french columns were seen in motion towards our left, and very soon afterwards they ascended the height to attack us, and were only driven back by the heavy fire of our musketry, leaving the ground strewn with their dead. at eleven or twelve o'clock in the day the firing ceased, and a period of truce was allowed for both armies to collect their wounded, and convey them to the rear, where, as they lay often intermixed, a friendly intercourse sprang up between them, the allies and french often going so far as to shake hands with each other. at one or two o'clock the enemy again advanced and recommenced with a heavy cannonade and an attack on the whole british lines, but after some very brisk fighting on both sides we repulsed them for the third time, and obliged them to retreat with a loss of some thousands and a few pieces of cannon, the british loss being about a thousand killed and three or four thousand wounded. a very dreadful occurrence happened after the battle, for the long dry grass in which many of the wounded were lying caught fire, and many were scorched to death before assistance could be brought to convey them to hospital in talavera. we lay that night in much the same state as on that previous, expecting to see our noble enemy again, but we were mistaken, for most of them took themselves off during the night, and in the morning only their rear-guard could be seen. next month commenced by sir arthur wellesley leaving the spanish general cuesta in charge of talavera and the wounded, while on the rd he proceeded to oropesa, where he expected to come up with and engage soult's army. but he had not been there long before he found the obstinate cuesta, upon hearing that the enemy was on his flank, had abandoned talavera, thus leaving nearly the whole of the british wounded unprotected. the conduct of cuesta in thus retreating and abandoning the position and the charge entrusted to him, was almost too much for sir arthur to bear, particularly as it was afterwards found that there was no need for it, as the enemy was at some distance off, and not in the least interfering with the spanish army's movements. so in this case we would have been much better without his services altogether. from oropesa we advanced through a country abounding with difficulties, the army suffering much during this march from the heat of the weather, the long exposure, insufficient food, and bad roads, and illness being very prevalent. our provisions rarely exceeded two pounds of meat a day; and sometimes a pint of wheat took the place of one of the pounds of meat, with occasionally, but very rarely, a little flour. our way of cooking the wheat was to boil it like rice, or sometimes, if convenient, we would crack the kernel between two flat stones and then boil it, making a kind of thick paste out of it. this having so little bread or other vegetable substance to eat with our meat was one of the great causes of illness. we halted at or near val de la casa as our next stage for oropesa, and two days after that at deleitosa; and from there we were marched to xaracego, whence, through lack of provisions, we were obliged to proceed to badajoz, arriving there after being about a fortnight on the road. on leaving talavera our clothes had been completely threadbare, and now, through having no change for so long we were smothered with vermin. when we had been a little while in badajoz, however, we were supplied with new clothes, linen, blankets, and great coats, our old ones being burnt; and more live stock was destroyed in the process than there were troops in the country at the time. whilst we were staying at badajoz, numbers of us fell sick daily, and amongst them was unfortunately myself. we were conveyed to a portuguese town some four leagues from badajoz, called elvas, which was the strongest fortified town in portugal, being very little more than two leagues from the frontier of spain. it was situated at the summit of a lofty hill, and at the other side of a valley was a still higher hill, on the top of which was built another strong fort, the two together being called elvas. we invalids occupied the convents of the town. our loss here through the sickness, which was some kind of fever, and was increased through the want of doctors and medicine, was very great, cartloads of the dead being carried out of the town every day for interment in the ground kept for the purpose outside the fortifications. i recovered sufficiently after about six weeks to be able to get out a little on the ramparts, and there a fearful spectacle often met my gaze, for the dead were brought out of the convents completely naked, and after they had been pitched into carts like so many pieces of wood, were carried out and put into holes scarcely large enough to admit of such a number. this unpleasant office of burying the dead fell chiefly on the portuguese convicts, and it was surprising to see with what readiness these men went to work. they carried one body at a time, having the legs over their shoulders, and the head dangling down behind them, and when they came to the graves, on account of the piece of ground appropriated for the burials being so small, they had to pack their burdens with the greatest nicety. this sight soon cured me, as i thought what a narrow escape i had had of being handled by these same men; and i was glad to get back to my regiment at badajoz as soon as possible. thus ended the proceedings of . sir arthur wellesley was, after the battle of talavera, raised to the rank of viscount wellington. chapter viii. the regiment billeted at olivencia -- curious astronomical conjunction -- lawrence exemplifies the truth of an old proverb at the expense of his hosts, and draws down the wrath of the church on himself -- succeeds more satisfactorily in the case of his comrade -- the army shifted to the valley of the mondego -- lord wellington's hopes in almeida and ciudad rodrigo being disappointed, it falls back still further to busaco -- battle of busaco -- lawrence makes a capture, which may be regarded by some readers as emblematic. at the beginning of we proceeded from badajoz to olivencia, and were there billeted on the inhabitants, two or more in a house, as the circumstances would permit. i remember one very curious thing which occurred at this time, which was that the names of the drum-majors of the three regiments that were collected in this place were sun, moon, and star, our regiment having the moon, the fifty-third the sun, and the ninth the star, so that if having the sun, moon, and star fighting for us was any help, they were there all ready. i happened to be billeted with a comrade of the name of lewis phillips, a welshman, in a house occupied by a respectable but poor man and his wife, whom we found on the whole very kindly meaning towards us. their occupation was that of labourers, and at this particular season of the year they were employed in picking olive-berries. before going out to their work in the morning they would prepare their supper; which, as it was then lent, and they were not allowed to eat meat, consisted, as far as i was able to observe, of a mixture of greens, oil, cayenne pepper, and salt, which they would leave on the embers in an earthenware jar to be cooked by the time they came back; and as generally either myself or my comrade was in the way, they would ask us to occasionally give it a stir. one day after i had been there some little time, i was left as cook, and feeling in rather a mischievous mood, i cut some of my meat up very small--not much indeed, as may be supposed, out of the pound, which was all that we then received--and put it into the jar; and by nighttime it was so boiled and stirred that even i, who knew it was there, could scarcely recognize it. on their return they were very hungry and soon partook of their _caldo_, as they called it, pronouncing it to be very good, and praising me as the best cook they had had for some time, little suspecting what that same best cook had put into it. i was foolish enough, though indeed i did not expect what a bother i should throw up, to ask them then what they thought was in their _caldo_, and when i told them there was meat in it, they exclaimed they had eaten the devil, or words to that effect in their language, which we were beginning to understand pretty well by that time after being so long in the country. when they had been and got rid of all they had eaten for supper, they reported me to their priest for making them eat meat in lent contrary to the laws of their religion; and on the priest coming to the house he condemned me for ever, and prayed to them telling them not to take any notice, as it was done against their will and by an ignorant protestant. they never liked me much afterwards, nor set me to watch their _caldo_, and, as they were obliged to have me there still, managed to make me rather uncomfortable; but this did not altogether debar me from continuing my jokes, and more as i thought it was pretty well time for lewis to have his turn of it. it happened that lewis particularly disliked olive oil, and i was myself very fond of it, and as we were very seldom on duty together, it used to fall to the one off to cook and bring the other his meals to the guard. so one day i pitched upon a plan by which to take mr. taffy in, he being on guard and i the cook that day. i asked him what he would have for his dinner, and he said some potatoes fried in butter, a piece of bread, and his usual pint of wine: so i got some olive oil, and fried the potatoes in that instead of in butter; and when his turn came for him to be relieved for a time off sentry, took his meal to him, which, coming as it did when he was very hungry, he was not long in lapping up. i then asked him how he had enjoyed it; and he answered he had never had a better meal in his life. i said, "lewis, i thought you did not like oil." "no, no more i do; there was no oil there." i told him i had fried the potatoes in oil, but i could not make him believe it, so at last i said if he was agreeable i would make another mess in the same manner when we were both together at liberty. he consented, so the first time we were both together to dinner i commenced my frying, he being witness to the whole operation, and i found that i succeeded better in my experiment with lewis than with the worthy people of the house, for after that he could eat as much oil as i could. after we had stayed at olivencia for some weeks, chiefly in order to refresh ourselves after the long and tedious marches, warfare, and illness to which for the last two years we had been subjected, lord wellington removed his headquarters to visen, and the army went for the most part into cantonments on the valley of the mondego. lord wellington knew that his troops were then only strong enough for defensive operations, and was therefore determined, unless strongly reinforced, not to take rash measures; but on the enemy's fresh invasion of portugal he again shifted his headquarters to celorico. after that we moved on to another small place, called, as far as i am able to remember, guarda, near almeida, about eight or ten leagues from ciudad rodrigo. almeida was at that time garrisoned by some portuguese troops commanded by an english officer. the french had invested it, but lord wellington expected that it would have been able to baffle the enemy until the commencement of the rainy season, and would thus retard the enemy's movements. almeida was a town of very great strength, but massena opened fire on it about the rd of august, and it was obliged to capitulate as soon afterwards as the th, a magazine containing most of the ammunition having blown up, taking with it great part of the town and the fortifications; the governor being thus disappointed of his desire to detain the french any longer. in this sad accident hundreds of the inhabitants and the soldiery, with many of the enemy, who were assembled outside to watch the effect, were launched into eternity either by the explosion itself or by the huge falling masses. and not only did this misfortune occur, but ciudad rodrigo meanwhile had fallen into the enemy's hands, and thus a way was opened for a fourfold contest. owing to these repeated disappointments of lord wellington's plans, we were again obliged to fall back into the valley of the mondego, crossing that river and taking up our position on the heights of busaco, situate about six leagues north-east of coimbra. our march was one of great difficulty, owing to the heavy rains and bad roads; but lord wellington did his best to provide against these as much as possible by taking the best road; while, on the other hand, massena, who was following us up on his way to lisbon, had taken the very worst; and what was more, owing to ignorance of the country, had little expected to meet a range of heights with, above all, us on the top of them, ready to retard his progress as much as possible. we arrived at busaco about the centre of september, and on the th our line was formed. our division, under general cole, occupied the extreme left of the line, looking down on a flat country, where the british cavalry were drawn up in reserve. the divisions of generals hill, leith, and picton occupied the right of our line, with the first division, commanded by sir bryant spencer, in the centre. in the meantime the french had taken up their position in front, and a splendid view we had of their encampment from busaco heights for a time; but it was not destined to be for long that we were to witness this fine sight, without mingling some of their best blood with ours, for early on the morning of the th they were in active stir, evidently in the full intention of storming our heights. we were immediately ordered under arms, and ready, if necessary, to go into action. early in the morning the french made their appearance. the action commenced on our right and centre, the heaviest fire keeping there the whole time that the battle lasted, as the division i was in had but slight brushes with them. the french must have lost in this engagement some four or five thousand men, while we lost little more than a thousand: but it must be borne in mind what an immense advantage we had over them, as, being situated as we were on the heights, we could witness their every movement. that night they retreated to their old position, disheartened at the little success they had gained, or rather at the actual defeat they had suffered, and not feeling inclined to renew the contest next day: and some very slight engagements were all that ensued, chiefly on the left where the light infantry were. whilst strolling about one day on these heights i caught a fine cock, which i tamed by tying him to my knapsack by the leg and carrying him about with me, much to the amusement of my comrades; for after i had had him about a fortnight, he became so tame that he would sit on my knapsack quite quietly, without even the string to his leg. we named him tom, and i took to carrying him about everywhere, even on to the battlefield; wherever my knapsack went, tom went too, and when the balls were whizzing about, which he did not seem altogether to like, he would make that curious noise which many may have observed as such which a bird like this would make when pursued or frightened. he served, however, to while away many a long and dreary hour pleasantly by his peculiar little ways, and we all became very fond of him: and he grew quite fat on the many tit-bits he received from my comrades and myself during our mess, it being quite marvellous to see how regularly he went to each in turn for his contribution. and it was still more curious to see how tom was always ready for action on any move of the knapsacks, and not only that, but how very seldom he made any mistake as to which was the right one. however, certain it was that after he had inhabited my knapsack for a little time he had made sufficient marks on it that i could never mistake it for any other, so perhaps he went by them as well as myself. chapter ix. march to leiria -- liberation of nuns -- retreat before the french to within the lines of torres vedras -- general flitting on the part of the population -- pitiful scenes on the road -- lawrence and his comrades cantoned in a cellar at patamara -- they find a treasure -- the owner doesn't, and makes a disturbance -- lawrence as an interpreter -- a game of cunning between officers and men, ending in a victory for the latter -- massena compelled to retreat to santarem for want of supplies -- the regiment receives its south american prize money, and is promptly put in the way to spend it. on lord wellington finding that the french intended to alter their route, and so escape this formidable height, he retreated towards lisbon himself, passing coimbra, at which place the portuguese took some thousands of the french sick and wounded, together with some few effective troops, who had been left to protect the hospital. from coimbra we proceeded farther south, having again to cross the mondego, which we did in the latter end of september, reaching leiria on the nd of october. on the march we passed a nunnery, where we halted for about a quarter of an hour. a great many of the nuns were crowding the balconies to watch us, and as the french were following us up pretty close, the colonel ordered the doors to be broken open by a body of grenadiers, which was soon done, myself being among the number told off for the purpose. this was not carried out, however, without an accident, for one of the women meanwhile fell from a balcony, owing to the crowded state in which they were packed on it. the poor women seemed very glad to get their liberty, for they came out as thick as a flock of sheep, and a great many of them soon passed us bound for lisbon, being fearful of consequences if they took any other direction: as the french were after us so near as to skirmish with our rear-guard, which chiefly consisted of cavalry. lord wellington had indeed issued a proclamation ordering all the inhabitants to fall back on the approach of the enemy, and destroy any articles that they might possess and were not able to carry with them, that were at all likely to be of any use to the enemy; and so thousands of the population of the country that seemed about to fall within the bounds of the enemy's marches were to be seen flying from their dwellings, and our army during its retreat was accompanied by crowds of miserable men, women, and children, all eager to reach the capital, as they knew that if they fell in with the french, they would be treated as some had been before, with all the barbarities of an atrocious enemy. i have often heard talk of "moving" in england, and have seen a cart or wagon with a man driving a load of furniture, at the rate of three miles an hour, with a woman and perhaps several children sitting on the top, or at the back; but i never before or since saw such a wholesale move as this was, for every one seemed anxious to carry as many of his effects as he could find room for. the farther we proceeded the more confused our retreat appeared, for multitudes were obliged to rest weary and exhausted by the roadside, and often, though made eager in their endeavours as they heard of the enemy's approach to again renew their tedious journey, were found dying or even dead from their hard exertions, and the road was everywhere strewn with pieces of all kinds of furniture, which the poor fugitives had vainly attempted to get forward. from leiria we went on further to torres vedras, which we gained after a long, tedious, and impressive march; and there we took up our position at some fine breastworks which lord wellington had for some time previous ordered to be thrown up by the portuguese peasantry in case of the retreat of our army. now we found how much we needed them, for on the th of october the french came in sight of our strong position, where we had drawn up, determined that they should not proceed one step farther towards lisbon. massena was rather surprised at our strength, which was quite unexpected by him. he had thought of driving the english into the sea, but he now found his mistake, so encamped about a mile and a half from our position. on the th, however, he attacked our lines near sobral, but was repulsed; and on another occasion a slight skirmish took place on the right of the line, in which the french general, st. croix, was killed by the fire from our gunboats; but on account of our strong position, the french did not come to a general engagement. the cold and rainy weather having now set in, lord wellington had provided as well as possible for the best reception of his troops, who were mostly now in cantonments, whilst those of massena's army were subject to hardships of the worst description, owing to the cold, wet, and above all insufficient food and raiment, for they were far away from all supplies from their own country, and there were guerillas or mountain rebels always on the watch to intercept such as were sent, while our army was so near lisbon that it could always get abundance. our regiment was situated in a village called patamara, in the front of our works, where we lay as comfortably as if we had been living in peaceful times; though we were so near the enemy that we very often wandered into the same vineyards, and exchanged compliments by shaking hands. we were cantoned in a large cellar, but it was unfortunately empty, or at least there was no wine in it, and though there was a quantity of wheat in a vat, we had no need of that, as we had plenty of our own supplies. the owner of our cellar generally visited us every day, and we could not help thinking after a time that he seemed to take particular notice of a large box or bin that two of our men were using to sleep in, so we moved it one morning, and found that the ground underneath had been disturbed. of course we thought that there must be some treasure concealed there, so we went to work with our bayonets, having no other tools at hand, and soon we came across a large jar, which we found contained bags of dollars, about two hundred and fifty in each bag; which treasure we distributed privately among the cellar company, carefully breaking the jar and returning the earth to its proper place, with the chest on the top of it, so that a minute eye could not have told that it had been disturbed. next morning as usual the owner came, bringing with him two labourers, who set to work filling the chest with wheat from the vat, evidently with the intention of making it weighty, he little suspecting that his treasure, which he supposed was underneath, had been divided amongst his tenants. after that we thought we were pretty right from detection, but we were mistaken, for in the morning our restless owner again made his appearance with the two labourers. i should think that that night he must have dreamt of our manoeuvre, for he now shifted the wheat back again into its place, moved the chest, and raised the earth and the broken jar, but found the bird had flown. i shall never forget the rage the man was in. i thought he would have torn the hair off his head; in fact, he did tear some up by the roots, but he must have found that a poor way of showing his spite. he cried, "_ladrone! ladrone!_" which was his way of expressing "thief! thief!" but finding that we did not take much notice of him, he reported his loss to the colonel, or rather went off to him with that intention; but as the colonel did not understand his language, i was sent for, as by that time i was pretty well acquainted with it; and on my replying to the question as to what the portuguese wanted, that he required a corporal and three privates to guard a stack of wood, the colonel told me to let him know that he had nothing to do with it. i told the portuguese that it was no use his making a noise about the money, as it must have been only a little change that he could not conveniently recover, unless he could bring proper witnesses to prove he had put the money there. that only appeased him for the night, however, for he came bothering the colonel again next morning. the colonel again sent for me and asked me what on earth this man wanted now, so i was then obliged to admit the truth. i asked him if he would forgive me for telling him an untruth overnight, and on his consenting, i told him the portuguese had lost a quantity of money, which he put down at seven thousand dollars. the portuguese's answer to the question who had placed the money there was that he had himself, but he could bring no witnesses to show that he had really done it, so the colonel said he could have nothing to do with the affair. however, the following morning the plague again appeared, so the colonel to quiet him told him that the grenadiers had some prize money which was expected in a few days, and which he should receive in lieu of what he had lost, which sent the old man off seemingly as satisfied as if he had already got the money in his possession, shaking hands with us all round, and bowing and scraping as if we had been so many kings. the matter did not altogether rest here, however, for the colonel suspecting that we were implicated, next day we were ordered as if for marching, just as if we were going to leave the place that very day, but the men being quite up to that trick, knowing that the french were still in front, concealed their shares of the money in and around the cellar. i remember well the manner in which my own and one of my fellow-comrades' shares were hidden: there was a heap of pumpkins in the cellar, and in one of these we enclosed our money, cutting a piece out of it of sufficient size to admit the dollars, and after closing it up with the top of the original piece, mixing it again with the remainder of the heap. the company was then marched out into a field, and all our knapsacks and pockets were searched, but even the little money that some must have had before was missing. the colonel did not mind being baffled so much as the major did, who told the colonel that if he left it in his hands he would endeavour to find the money, to which the colonel replied that he was just the man the portuguese wanted. the manner in which this cunning major went to work might have succeeded with men less artful than he found us to be, but every one in the cellar had part in it, so it was to the interest of all to keep the affair secret, and not only that, but every man's share in the prize happened to amount to more than the sum which the major offered to any one who would reveal it. he came to one of the sergeants of the grenadiers and told him to pick out ten of the men who would be most likely to inform, but instead of doing so, i think the sergeant must have chosen the ten worst rogues in the company. these were then all marched off to the major's quarters, and had in one by one to see him, as he sat with five guineas lying on his table, which he offered to the first who should reveal the mystery: but finding, after he had interviewed about three of them, that he was being duped, for they all told the same tale, that was that they knew nothing about the money, he was so enraged that he told them all to go about their business, saying that they were all a set of thieves, and next time he saw the colonel he had to own, much to the amusement both of the latter and of the whole regiment, that he had been beaten in his knowing undertaking. massena remained a little more than a month in his position in front of torres vedras, when, owing to want of food and ammunition, he was compelled to retrace his steps, not being able to get supplies through spain, as the guerillas--who were the most warlike and independent race of the spaniards, being chiefly offenders who had escaped to the mountains and there formed themselves into one strong body amounting to some thousands--were always on the watch for any supplies that they might catch hold of, more especially from the enemy, and appropriate to their own use. much credit is due to lord wellington for thus drawing the enemy to a place such as torres vedras, where they could get no supplies, and further, could gain no advantage, but on the other hand must have lost some thousands through want, cold and wet. from torres vedras massena's army proceeded to santarem, about ten leagues from torres vedras, and there took up his position on the tagus, whence foraging parties were sent out to scour the country for provisions, who committed horrible excesses on the inhabitants, carrying away their cattle, or any provisions they could lay their hands on. it was this that chiefly infuriated the inhabitants against the french, and caused them to retaliate on any of their stragglers or wounded whom they came across butchering and using them in a most awful manner; and even then, after all this work, this method of gathering provisions for so large an army as massena's was soon exhausted. when the french had retreated from torres vedras, lord wellington left some troops in charge of his lines there, and followed to santarem, but no general battle took place, only small engagements. the enemy seemed pretty firm to their ground, so lord wellington moved his army into cantonments again. our detachment was lying some distance from santarem on the tagus; the actual name of the place is blotted from my memory by lapse of years. it was rather curious that while there we received our south american prize money; money taken from the very people we were now allied with, so that a great part of it was spent amongst them again. each private received eight dollars, and i believe the serjeants sixteen. the lisbon traders must have got scent of this, for a quantity of boats laden with little requisites and luxuries ascended the river from lisbon to trade amongst the soldiers, and so we were soon enabled to rid ourselves of our little spare cash. our colonel was very considerate to these people, and being determined as far as possible to prevent all plunder, had their boats or stalls guarded by sentries. this, however, did not altogether hinder some of the more daring from getting things on the cheap now and then, but they were so trifling that they are hardly worthy of mention. chapter x. opening of the year -- surrender of olivencia and badajoz to the french under soult -- the french followed up in their retreat from santarem -- engagements on the route -- pombal -- redinha -- condexo -- casal nova -- fatal results of having too large a head -- miranda de corno -- poz de aroce -- halt at moira while the french take refuge in celorico -- the fourth division ordered to badajoz -- halt at portalegre -- shameful instance of plunder and sacrilege by lawrence and his comrades -- campo mayor -- outrageous theft from an unprotected female -- a stolen bird turns evidence against its purloiner. the remainder of the year was spent in these cantonments, the french still lying in their position at santarem. but the beginning of brought on us more and fatal work, for soult's army had invested olivencia and badajoz, and obliged them, not being garrisoned by the british, but only by the spaniards, to surrender. the way was thus paved for one of the worst engagements in the whole peninsular war; i mean the storming of badajoz. the french did not move from santarem till the beginning of march, which we discovered on the th, and lord wellington, having received fresh reinforcements from england, determined on following them up. they had taken three routes, and consequently our army had to be divided too. our division, which was the fourth, with the first and sixth divisions, commanded by marshal beresford, was to follow by way of thomar, and the main body of the army by way of leiria and pombal, and so again to unite. on our route we came up with the french at thomar, but on our appearance they retreated to espinal, a short distance off pombal, and took up a strong position between these two latter places. we followed them up and combined ourselves again into one body. at pombal the french had tried, but in vain, to retain the old castle situated there, and some slight skirmishing had taken place between them and some of our light troops. at redinha the third, fourth, and light divisions attacked the enemy's left, and after a stout engagement we compelled them to retire upon their main body, and being likewise attacked on the right, their whole body was thrown into retreat on condexo. on our appearance there, they set fire to the place, and again retreated; their object in burning such a little town being probably to prevent our cavalry, cannon, and ammunition from following them up too closely. we were, however, delayed but a very short time, for we marched through the burning town, certainly not letting the grass grow under our feet, as the ground was much too hot. it appeared once to have been a beautiful town, but after this it was one sad mass of ruin. the french proceeded from this place to casal nova, but were so quickly followed up that picton's division overtook them and nearly captured their leader. next day we came up with the enemy, posted in a strong position at casal nova, and on the th of march the light division attacked them and obliged them to retreat to a neighbouring height, whence after another attack they again found it best to retire on miranda de corno. part of our division was in this engagement, and i never saw cannon play with better or more deadly effect on any body of men than ours did on the enemy, situated as they were on the heights of casal nova. yet they left very few dead or wounded on the field; i think they must have carried most of them away, as the ground was strewn with muskets and swords. the thing i noticed most particularly in this fight was the singular death of a man in our regiment, who was named william halfhead, but considering the size of his head, which must have gone a very great way towards filling half a bushel measure, it was wrongly so, and he was the sport of the whole regiment, who named him bushelhead. his head was indeed so large that he had to have two caps to make him one. this poor fellow was standing within five yards of me when a shot from the enemy's cannon took this same head clean off. i heard one of the men exclaim, "hullo, there goes poor bushelhead," and that was all the sympathy he got. one division, under general cole, proceeded after the enemy to panella, where it was joined by another, under general nightingale, and on the enemy seeing how closely they were followed they retreated from miranda de corno, setting fire to that town also. we again fell in with them on the banks of a river near the village of poz de aroce, where a brisk attack was made on them by the british, and they were driven from the river in great confusion with a loss of some four hundred men or more. it has been reported that numbers were even killed by their own side, through the darkness of the night and the confusion arising from their not having expected an attack then. we encamped there one day, and then again pursued the enemy, coming up with them where they were posted behind the river alva. there they had sent out four or five hundred foragers in search of provisions: and indeed they must have wanted them badly, for even we that had come from the land of plenty at torres vedras were at that time in great want. we did not, however, let them stay there long enough for the suppliers to return, for we opened fire on them, and forced them to retreat to moira, leaving their foraging parties to the mercy of the english and portuguese, most of them sooner or later falling into our hands. we crossed the alva on a floating bridge and halted near moira, as the enemy had now retreated to celorico; but here lord wellington was obliged to stay the pursuit through want of provisions. on hearing of the state of badajoz he had already determined to send reinforcements to that place, so our division and one of the portuguese under general hamilton, with a brigade of cavalry, were directed to march southward again and invest badajoz before that place's defences could be repaired by the enemy. accordingly, on the th of march, our divisions crossed the tagus at tancos, whence we advanced to portalegre, halting there for about two days. here i think i ought to relate an incident just to show that the english often committed depredations on the inhabitants almost as bad as the enemy. we are often too prone to see other people's and nations' faults, whilst if our own had but the light thrown on them, they would often come up to, if not exceed, those of our adversaries. we, at least my company, were billeted in a chapel, at night lying on straw, which in the morning had to be rolled up neatly in our blankets so as to make the place look comfortable during the day, a separate lot of straw being allowed for every two men. very close to this chapel there was situated a farmyard, inhabited by a quantity of pigs: and pork being a thing which the company had not tasted for some time, we made up our minds to have a treat. so one of our number was chosen to steal a pig, being, i suppose, one whose fingers were thought well adapted to the purpose. he pitched on a very novel plan of proceeding, for, taking a sergeant's pike, he stuck the pig with it, and then escaped till the poor animal had died; on which, not being long afterwards, we conveyed it to the chapel. we thought that we had done this all unobserved, but the farmer had either watched our movements, or must have seen the blood and gone to count, and so missed the pig, and we soon saw that all was not to pass off so nicely as we expected, for presently he put in an appearance at the chapel too. finding, however, that we were too strong for him, and seeing nothing of the missing pig, he went off and reported the circumstance to our colonel. meanwhile we lost no time in making our plans for a place of security for our prize. at first we thought of our straw beds, that is, of wrapping the pig in the blanket, but our afterthoughts told us that that would not be safe. at one end of the chapel, however, there was a large statue of the virgin mary, having on a robe with a long train, and it was under this train that we concealed our prize in the best possible manner, so as to baffle any chance of detection by the appearance of the train being altered. and sure enough, it proved to be the safest place we could have hit upon for our desired end, for very soon in came the farmer with a priest, and the first thing they did was to make their obedience to the monument, whilst we were all the time laughing in our sleeves to think how they were likewise honouring the pig. something more serious was soon to happen, however, for a very few minutes afterwards the captain and colonel both came in and ordered every berth to be examined; but they searched in vain, and pronounced it to be some mistake on the farmer's part, as in that short time we could not have cooked, eaten, or otherwise got rid of the pig. the farmer, however, still felt certain that we had it, but it could not be found anywhere in the chapel, so he was obliged to retire without any compensation for his unfortunate pig. then we breathed a little more freely at last, for if we had been found out, we most likely should have had our grog stopped for some time, and that goes in such times very much against the heart of a soldier. early next morning our kettles were at work in the usual way, cooking our breakfasts, but that particular morning every man of the chapel company had a small extra portion in the pot, being his allowance of the pig, not much certainly, when it came to be divided amongst so many, about one pound for each man; but even that, and the more especially as it was pork, was thought no little of in such times of short diet, for we were not over abundantly stocked with provisions. in fact it was chiefly for that reason, and to refresh ourselves from the long continued marches, that we were now delaying on our southward route. on again resuming our march, we arrived in four or five days at a place called campo mayor, where we caught sight of the enemy, but only in marching order towards badajoz. here i have again to relate another shameful instance of plunder which happened on the same march. we were encamped near a village of no particular note, and of which therefore i did not arrive at the exact name: and a party of men, perhaps to the number of about twenty, including myself, were out on the forage, when we arrived at the house of a poor woman, who evidently kept a kind of general shop, though we could not see any other houses near. four or five with myself went into the shop and asked the woman if she had any bread for sale, to which she replied that there was some baking which would be done in about an hour, if we could wait, which we consented to do; but meanwhile a signal was given to the remaining part of our company, who, observing that the oven was built out from the house, immediately set to work to make a hole with their bayonets so as to be able to get the bread out. while this operation was going on out at the back we were amusing the woman with some of our peninsular tales in front until the hour had passed; when, on her going to draw the bread she found much to her amazement that every loaf was missing, and daylight gleaming in on her through a hole in the back of the oven. the poor woman was then in a terrible stew, and we did all we could to reconcile her to her loss, making out that we knew nothing of the sad business; but this pity did not detain us long, for we pretty quickly made for the camp and made a first rate meal off the bread, which was to us then a greater luxury than meat, as we were very seldom supplied with bread, more especially so fresh as this, which was smoking hot, though not very well done; but if it had been dough we could have eaten it at that time. on another occasion, on the same march, i caught another cock, or rather took it from a farmyard; but not feeling inclined to be troubled with a second live one, as i had still got tom campaigning with me, i gave it three swings by the head, which i thought broke its neck, and put it away out of sight in my high cap. on my return to camp, the company had just fallen in on parade, and no sooner had the captain passed close to me, than my cap-tenant crew, or made a terrible noise of some sort, much to the astonishment both of myself and the captain, who said, "hullo, lawrence, what have you got there?" i told him a cock, which i had bought when out foraging. "yes," he said, "you offered four, but took it with five," meaning, i suppose, my fingers. he was perfectly right, but i did not think it would have passed off quite so smoothly, as many in the peninsula were hanged for plunder; all we were allowed to forage for at this place being provisions for the horses and mules. chapter xi. commencement of the siege of badajoz -- sortie by the garrison repulsed -- lawrence takes a prisoner, who proves difficult of persuasion -- lawrence poses as champion of the regimental grog, and is indulged in return with an uncomfortable spell of sentry -- he eventually triumphs -- move to, and capture of olivencia -- separates from a faithful friend -- return towards badajoz -- battle of albuera. from campo mayor we went on towards badajoz, some slight skirmishing with the enemy's rear-guard taking place on the way, but with very little success on either side. we made a stay at elvas until preparations had been made for crossing the guadiana, and then we proceeded to badajoz, the town that so pestered the allies during the peninsular war. our brigade took up its position on the north side of the town and river, and commenced throwing up batteries. during our operations the french sallied out of the town, crossed the river, and attempted to destroy a part of our work, thus actively engaging about three hundred of our covering party, together with a small reinforcement of grenadiers, which latter, however, soon made them beat a retreat into the town again. i succeeded in capturing a straggler here, but was not able to get him into our lines by myself, on account of his lying down and refusing to come; so i broke his musket, but not feeling inclined even then to leave him, i knelt down to protect myself a little from the enemy's shot, and waited for some assistance. this was not long in coming, for the colonel, seeing my position, allowed a man, towser by name, who had volunteered, to come and lend me a hand, and thus we were enabled to get my captive safe at last to the lines: not, however, without some risk to our own lives, as the enemy were firing at us all the time from a fort situated a short distance from the river. the man was not at all willing at first to walk, so we dragged him by the leg along the ground for some way; but owing to the roughness of the road, he soon found that he preferred walking. we searched him and found a doubloon and a half on his person, which towser and i divided equally between us. the colonel reprimanded me for running such a risk for one prisoner, but he was satisfied with my answer, which was that perhaps the man had been on the alert to fire at some of us, which might have terminated in the colonel's own death, or maybe in mine. the colonel had already been slightly wounded in the leg, which obliged him afterwards to go into the hospital at elvas, and some thirty-eight of my comrades unfortunately met their deaths in this affray. the colonel sent a quantity of rum from elvas to be divided amongst those men who were in action at the time he received his wound, but the officer then in charge of us, whom nobody in the regiment liked, only served out the half of it, which only came to about half a pint for each man, much to the discontent of all. i spoke out and said that we ought to have it all, as the colonel had sent it, and we had had to fight hard for it; which so put out the officer that he said i should not have any at all. the sergeant, however, gave me a half a pint with the rest, unbeknown to the officer, and immediately went and asked him if i was to have any. the officer then told him to "let the rascals have the lot, and then they would be satisfied," so thus i came in for another half pint, which i put into my canteen with some water to drink when i might next be on sentry. this came to my turn on the very night following, and as it chanced, i was commanded by the same officer that i have been alluding to. it was not often that the major went round with the picket, but that night, having taken the colonel's command, he did so, and saw me placed on sentry. i was placed as outlying sentry, and ought to have been relieved in three hours, instead of which, out of spite for the rum job, the officer never came near me all night; in fact, i never saw a man from the time i was put on till i came off myself in the morning. i will give some details of the coincidences of that night, which was dark but starlight, so that i could just catch a dim glimpse of the enemy's before mentioned fort, and, owing to the heights, was able to see the town very well. the place where i was on sentry was in a field of standing wheat in ear, amongst which i sat down and was fairly comfortable for about an hour; after which the enemy seemed to have made out my position, and kept dabbing at me with their muskets for a long time. i could not make out how it was they had caught sight of me, but after they had continued firing for some time, i at last found out the cause. on my cap there was a large bright brass plate, which no doubt made a slight reflection either from the stars or the light from the town, and so drew their attention to me. so much for bright dress and brass plates, thought i, though fortunately they had done me no harm; and now for the remedy that i proposed. i took the loading-rod from my musket, and stuck it fast into the ground, and placing my cap upon it, i proceeded about ten yards to the right and sat down; and it was fortunate that i did so, for during the night they put two shots through my cap, and that would have been awkward if my head had been inside. it is not to be supposed, however, that i sat there bareheaded all night, for i put on my slop or foraging cap, and then sat hearkening to the sound of chimes and bells pronouncing the hours of eleven, twelve, one, two, three, and four, and the occasional whizzing of shells and shot over my head. at length, after hearing the bells strike the last-named hour, and seeing the dawn, too, beginning to peep over the distant horizon, knowing that my turn to be relieved had long since passed, i put back my loading rod into its place and my cap on my head, and decamped to the body picket. there i met the major, who seeing me return, and knowing that it was my turn for rest, asked me where i had been. i said, "were you not with the officer when he placed me on sentry last night?" he replied; "yes, has he not relieved you since?" on which i told him no, and that i thought it was time to relieve myself, likewise showing him my cap for him to judge what a hot night i had had of it. i also gave the reason that i thought for the officer's spite, which put him out terribly, so much so that he immediately called up the officer, who had retired to rest some hours, and told him that if they had not been so near the enemy, he would have had him tried by court-martial for his neglect: which might have ended by his being cashiered out of the service. that was the first and last time that he ever left me on sentry all night. our stay here, however, was of short duration for we proceeded further towards olivencia, which was garrisoned by about four hundred of the enemy. we crossed the guadiana near that place on a bridge constructed of empty casks and planks, and sat down before the town about the th of april. in a few days our batteries were all ready for action, and on the garrison refusing to surrender, we commenced firing, and soon made a breach; but at that point the governor, fearing an assault, immediately surrendered, and he and his garrison were all taken prisoners. it was at this place that i parted with tom. for being bothered by the colonel's servant to let him have my pet, i foolishly consented, though my comrades did their best to persuade me to keep him. he told me he wanted to take him to england, and gave me a dollar for him, but i afterwards found out that he had killed him for his master's dinner. i think i felt as sorry for that as i ever did for anything, for i dearly liked tom. from olivencia we marched again towards badajoz, but owing to soult's army being on its way to relieve that town, beresford had occupied the heights of albuera, about thirteen miles southeast of badajoz, in order to check the enemy if possible in their intended object. general cole therefore advanced to albuera as well, and the action had just commenced when he arrived. the allies had taken up their position on a fine ridge of heights, and the french under marshal soult made their appearance on the th of may. on the following morning they made an attack on the right, which was occupied by the spaniards, who soon gave way in great disorder, again leaving the brunt of the battle to the british; and not only that, but also thus allowing the french to gain part of the heights. a noble attack, however, was made by the second division, the first brigade of which in trying to gain the ridge was met by the fierce polish lancers, who slaughtered a tremendous number of them; in fact, the battle was at one time thought to have been gained by the french, and most likely would have been, had not colonel harding hurled part of our division and a reserve portuguese brigade against the enemy, and so renewed the fight. general cole himself led our fusiliers up the hill. six british guns and some colours were then already in the enemy's possession, but cole's troops soon dispersed the lancers, and, recapturing the guns and colours, drove the french down again in confusion. it is useless for me to give any further details of this celebrated battle, for it has been already depicted so many times and so much more ably than i could do; but the allies could not have lost less than seven thousand killed, wounded and missing, while the french loss was stated to be nine thousand. it was seldom, however, that we arrived at the correct estimate of the enemy's loss, it being generally the custom to state it as greater than ours, and my opinion is that in this battle the allies lost quite an equal number to the french. the spaniards especially must have sustained a great loss in their confusion. it was always a bother to get them to stir forward during a battle, but retreating was what they were best at, and then it was always in confusion; at the battle of albuera indeed whilst they were in this state they even fired at random, and several shots went amongst the english. general cole was himself wounded in this engagement, which resulted so sadly for both parties; for it could hardly be termed a victory for either side, and if so it was a very dearly bought one. still it was we who remained on the field in the end. chapter xii. the siege of badajoz converted into a blockade -- move to guinaldo -- lord wellington as a general -- a slight digression on the horrors of war -- instances of cruelty by both the french and the inhabitants -- the english not wholly blameless -- private depredations of lawrence and his comrades -- siege of ciudad rodrigo -- capture of a troublesome convent -- a successful assault made -- scenes in the town afterwards -- incidents during the cantonments -- putting it out of sight proves not to be the best way of keeping grog -- being too sparing to one's beast not always advantageous. for the remaining part of the year both armies were inactive. the batteries had been at work at badajoz and breaches had been made, but these had proved impracticable, twelve forlorn hopes and storming parties having advanced into them with no better result than that many met their deaths and the remainder had to withdraw owing to obstacles. the siege was therefore converted into a blockade, and lord wellington, who after taking almeida and driving the french out of portugal, had come southward with two divisions to reinforce beresford's army, moved the general south army into cantonments and encampments near the river caza, a tributary of the guadiana. there we remained till july, when we were marched northward again across the tagus, and took up our position at guinaldo. while there no particular engagement ensued; the enemy indeed falling on another part of our line, but no success being obtained on either side. although lord wellington had now driven the french clean out of portugal, he had still other work to do; work that praised him more than he had been before, work that raised him to higher honours than he yet possessed, but likewise work that sacrificed more thousands of human beings than had been through the whole three years. there can be no doubt that if he had had as many troops as the french, he would long before this have driven them out of portugal and perhaps spain as well; he seemed to understand their every movement, and was thus always ready waiting to receive them; and they on their part seemed to think they had more than found their match in him, and had become very cautious in contending with him. but he actually had only half their number, or even less, that he could depend on, and these were sometimes not fit for service from want or other privations, as these tales of the hospitals or rather deadly convents go to prove, where so many of my comrades passed the end of their lives, and their remains were carried out with no more ceremony than i described as at elvas. the portuguese themselves were mostly exempt from the actual slaughter, but their country had already been left by the enemy in about as bad a state as it could; for if it had been infested with swarms of locusts, the devastation could not have been paralleled. the war could not have left one family quite untouched by its destructiveness or by misery and grief irrecoverable for many years; and indeed, in some cases, for ever, for many a child was deprived of its father or mother, or even of both parents, and many were the parents who had lost their children; and if any had accumulated a little fortune then it must have been lost, being ever liable to be plundered by the soldiery. it must be said, however, that certainly the spaniards and likewise the portuguese behaved on their part very cruelly to the enemy's wounded, prisoners, or stragglers. i myself was witness to one of their barbarous acts. they had laid a ring of straw round a wounded frenchman and set fire to it, and when the poor man tried to crawl out, he was only received with a pitchfork which sent him again into the centre. we soon made the portuguese fly by firing in amongst them; but when we came up to the poor man, his hair, fingers, and face were fearfully burnt already. he implored us not to leave him, but we were obliged to, and no doubt either the portuguese returned and killed him, or else he died of the injuries he had sustained at their hands, or from the wounds that had before disabled him. these barbarities, however, the enemy brought on themselves by dealing out the same coin, for they would go on foraging parties, and perhaps find a whole family or more together trying to protect their very subsistences, when they would kill the males, serve the females not much better, and carry off everything they could lay their hands on if of any value. sometimes, however, they were overpowered in these freaks, and then they suffered just as bad a fate as i showed just now; which, after all, is not much to be wondered at. i am sorry to say, however, that we ourselves were not quite free from the charge of depredations, though we did not carry them on to the extent of bloodshed. an instance of this in which i was myself mixed up happened during our stay at this very place guinaldo. we were quartered nearly twenty in number in two upper rooms of a house, of which the family inhabited the lower part. our beds, as usual, consisted chiefly of straw. an irish comrade of ours, by name harding, whom we named pig harding, owing to his always being on the look out for any cheap pieces he could lay hands on, was quartered in the same house, and we had not been there many days before he found about thirty pounds of sausages curled round the bottom of a large earthen jar that contained at least ten or twelve gallons of olive oil, the sausages having evidently been placed there either to keep, or to be out of our sight. pig, however, who was up to many of the spanish movements, was not long in finding them; he soon had tried the bottom with his bayonet, and found a prize worth fishing for; and he came running into our room carrying the sausages, which owing to their oily state did not fail to leave a trace of their whereabouts. we soon repaired this defect so as not to be noticeable on the floor, which was not kept so clean as it might be, and which our stay there had not improved much, and then we had a fine meal off our sausages, which, to use pig's own words, "blood and 'ounds, _were_ good, very," and soon there were very few left. after all in the house had eaten sufficient, the rest were given to some of our comrades in another house, our policy being always to get rid of any plunder as quickly as possible so as to bar detection if it was found out. there were always plenty to help eat it, and in this case every one of the sausages were gone before the woman found out her loss, which was not till next day about dinnertime, when no doubt she expected to cook the family meal off them. the sausages in that country were generally made of cooked meat flavoured with garlic and cayenne pepper, so that they were fit for eating at all times without cooking. when the poor woman found them missing, she soon thought of the right parties as the thieves; and with her fingers all dripping with oil, for she had evidently been feeling for them in the jar, she rushed in crying, "_ladrone, ladrone_ (you thieves, you thieves), the french are bad enough, but you are worse!" we only laughed at her, so she reported us to our major, who immediately came to our room and said, "then you are up to your prigging tricks again," and asked the woman how much the sausages were worth. she did not fail to ask enough, for she said sixteen dollars, which he paid at once, saying he would deduct it from our pay. the major never did as he said he would, however, and we heard no more either of the sausages or of our money; but still we did not know that at the time, and the threat only had the effect of sending pig off again in search of something that would at least give us the worth of our money. he waited till just before we were going to shift from these quarters, and then he found out a trap-door, through which he got himself hoisted up, and found eight sides of bacon there, with one of which he descended, thinking that would be as much as we could conveniently eat at that place, and so at any rate we had the worth of the sixteen dollars, for this last affair was not found out before we started. on another occasion, whilst we were at the same place, some spaniards came into our camp with wine for sale, contained in pigskins carried across mules' backs, one on each side, and whilst the spaniard was measuring it out of one skin, a hole had been made in the other with a penknife, which lightened both burdens at once considerably, much to the discontent of the spaniard on finding it out. but i think that all such lesser manoeuvres as this, though bad in themselves, can be perhaps looked over in considering the frequent hungry state that so large a body of men were in during this war. we remained in this neighbourhood till the latter end of . the beginning of opened with the siege of ciudad rodrigo, where we arrived and began to break ground on the th of february. we had to commence throwing up our batteries and breastworks under a particular annoyance from three guns, situated on a fortified convent a little distance from the town, near where our brigade's operations were in progress, so our colonel for one volunteered to storm the convent, which offer was accepted. several companies, therefore, including my own, advanced under him unobserved by the enemy in the darkness of the night, and succeeded in effecting an entrance into the convent, the garrison being taken by surprise, but managing to decamp. i then volunteered with a few men to march on up to the tower where the guns were situated, a priest being made to show us the way, as the path which we had to tread was so winding. when we arrived at the top, which must have taken us at least ten minutes, we found no french there, but the three shattered cannon still remained, which we were ordered to pitch down, not much improving their condition thereby, and so we gained the object for which we had come. all the french that were left in the convent, or at least all i saw there, were two of their wounded, but they were good enough to leave us a room full of cabbages, which came in very handy. after this affair we took up our quarters in the convent, but still continued our ground work. once the enemy sallied out of the town and attacked us during these operations, and a smart brush ensued, but they were soon obliged to retire again. now and then the garrison would greet us with a cannon-ball, which often did some little mischief; a sergeant was killed by one, which at the same time took another's arm off, and i myself had a narrow escape one day whilst in the breastworks, from a six-pounder which having struck the convent, rebounded and caught me in the chest. luckily it was nearly spent, but as it was it knocked me down, and it was some time before i could recover my breath, and that not until my comrades had poured some rum and water down my throat. my chest was much discoloured and swollen, through which i was ill for nearly a week. by the th of january two practicable breaches were made in the walls of the town, and an attack was ordered. our colonel volunteered for the forlorn hope, but it was put under other commanders, being chiefly composed of the rifles. the main breach was committed to general picton's division, and the brigades of general vandeleur and colonel barnet were ordered to attack the smaller breach, headed by a storming-party of three hundred men and a forlorn hope, under major george napier of the fifty-second regiment. the forlorn hope assembled between seven and eight o'clock under the walls of the convent we were then occupying, which protected them a little from the enemy's shot. all was deathly silent amongst those men, who perhaps could not help thinking that it might be their last undertaking: in fact, this is much the worst business a soldier can enter upon, as scarcely anything but death looks him in the face. there they were watching with intense anxiety for the to many fatal signal; and at length the order was given to advance. the assault was to be conducted on all sides at once, and in double quick time the troops were at the breach, although the ladders, which were being carried by the portuguese, when wanted had disappeared. our troops nevertheless pushed onwards and gained the breach, when either through accident or the neglect of the train-man, a mine was sprung before the french were clearly off it, and both french and english were suddenly blown into the air and buried together in the ruin. after the smother had fairly cleared away, our troops met with very little difficulty in mounting the breach and scouring the ramparts, the french throwing down their arms and retiring into the town itself, where after a brief contest in the streets, the whole surviving garrison surrendered; but it was not without the loss of many of the bravest men on our side in the first assault. this successful achievement was attended with all the horrors of the soldiery, excesses, riot, and drunkenness taking place on every side. houses were plundered of their contents, cellars broken open and emptied, and many houses were even set on fire, amid the yells of the dissipated soldiers and the screams of the wounded. thus the night passed, but in the morning order was a little restored, and those men who were sensible enough returned to their own regiments. about forty-one pieces of cannon, some stands of arms, and a quantity of provisions were taken, besides which the enemy must have lost quite a thousand men, besides the prisoners. amongst these latter were six or seven deserters belonging to the allied army, who were sent to their respective regiments and probably shot: fortunately there were none belonging to our division. the allies' loss was very considerable, being upwards of a thousand also. after the reduction of ciudad rodrigo, lord wellington put it under garrison and ordered the breaches to be repaired. then he marched south to watch the proceedings at badajoz, whilst we again went into cantonments near rodrigo. some muleteers halted under the protection of our troops at this place, laden with rum and biscuits for the supply of the army, over which sentries were placed on guard, but instead of guarding, they took so much rum, which being there generally carried in pigs' skins was easily got at, that they died in consequence next morning. likewise one of our cavalry men was here flogged for making away with his horse's corn to selfishly buy himself grog; and well deserving of punishment he was, for the poor horse was miserably thin. in fact, the horses in general were the same, and it was thought that many were served the same; but this man being the first that was caught, was tried by court-martial and sentenced to fifty lashes as an example. the man asked the colonel to look over it as it was his first offence, but the colonel said, "the horse's looks tell a different tale from that; he has long had the bitters, and you the sweet, and now it is time things should be the other way round." certainly the horses' forage could not at all times be procured, and especially in the winter, but for that very reason they had more need of it when it could be. the best horses i saw during the whole peninsular campaign were the german hussars': those men were not so fond of drink as ours, which might perhaps account for the condition of their animals, as they had no more chance of gaining forage than our men had. chapter xiii. lawrence's division marched south to invest badajoz -- small choice allowed by the fortunes of war -- in the trenches -- a fort taken -- the town walls breached -- refusal of the garrison to surrender -- an assault ordered -- lawrence in the forlorn hope -- a somewhat premature assignation -- fighting in the breach -- lawrence wounded -- fearful scenes on his way to the rear -- he reports on the state of affairs to lord wellington -- the story of filer -- the castle carried after severe fighting, and the english enter the town -- dreadful excesses on the part of the victorious troops -- great losses on both sides in the assault -- the end of lawrence's assignation. our stay at rodrigo was of short duration, for we were soon ordered south to invest badajoz, which gave us another long and tedious march of a hundred and fifty miles or more. we arrived there at the beginning of march, and the third, ours, that is the fourth, and the light divisions, under the command of marshal beresford and general picton, invested the town. we soon broke ground before the town by commencing to throw up breastworks and batteries. very heavy rains had just lately set in, but our troops still pursued their undertaking and persevered in the trenches. a cannonade was kept up from the town, which fortunately, however, did not do much damage; but on the th of march the garrison attacked us, and were only driven back with a loss on our side of a hundred men killed and wounded, and a still greater loss on their part. i killed a french sergeant myself with my bayonet in this action. i was at the time in the trenches when he came on the top and made a dart at me with his bayonet, having, like myself, exhausted his fire; and while in the act of thrusting he overbalanced himself and fell. i very soon pinioned him to the ground with my bayonet, and the poor fellow soon expired. i was sorry afterwards that i had not tried to take him prisoner instead of killing him, but at the time we were all busily engaged in the thickest of the fight, and there was not much time to think about things. and besides that, he was a powerful-looking man, being tall and stout, with a beard and moustache completely covering his face, as fine a soldier as i have seen in the french army, and if i had allowed him to gain his feet, i might have suffered for it; so perhaps in such times my plan was the best--kill or be killed. about eight hundred of us were every night busily engaged in the trenches, whilst a large number, who were called the covering party, were on the look out in case of an attack from the enemy. the rain poured down so fast that balers were obliged to be employed in places, and at times the trenches were in such a state of mud that it was over our shoes. we were chiefly employed during the day in finishing off what we had done in the night, as very little else could be done then owing to the enemy's fire. we had not been to work many days before we got within musket shot of a fine fort situated a little distance from the town, and garrisoned with four or five hundred of the enemy, who annoyed us rather during our operations. one night as i was working in the trenches near this place, and just as the guard was about to be relieved, a shell from the town fell amongst them and exploded, killing and wounding about thirty. i never saw a worse sight of its kind, for some had their arms and legs, and some even their heads, which was worse, completely severed from their bodies. i remember my comrade, pig harding, who was working near me at the time, and had, like myself, become hardened to the worst of sights during our sojourn in the peninsula, saying as a joke, "lawrence, if any one is in want of an arm or a leg he can have a good choice there;" little thinking, poor fellow, that soon he would himself be carried out, numbered with the slain. on the morning after this explosion a terrific scene of our mangled comrades presented itself, for their remains strewed the ground in all directions. of course our next thought was how to clear ourselves of this troublesome fort. some suspicions were entertained that it was undermined, so in the dead of night some engineers were sent between it and the town to search for a train, and finding that the earth had been moved, they dug down and found the train and cut it off. then, on the next night, the eighty-seventh and eighty-eighth regiments were ordered up to storm the fort, and succeeded after a brisk action in gaining the place, the most of the garrison escaping into the town. next morning i entered the fort with the rest, where we found the wounded frenchmen lying. we relieved their pain a little by giving them some of our rum and water, and then conveyed them to the rear; most of their wounds being bad, evidently from the bayonet, but not mortal. owing to the success of taking this fort we were enabled to carry on our works much nearer to the town, and by the beginning of april two batteries were formed within three or four hundred yards of the place: and in about five days, through the effects of our twenty-four pounders, three practicable breaches were made in the walls. lord wellington then ordered the town to be attacked on the night of the th, having previously sent to know if it would surrender: and the answer being "no," he asked for the inhabitants to be allowed to quit, as he intended to take the town by assault. in consequence of this some thousands of the inhabitants quitted the city. a storming-party was selected from each regiment, and each of the third, fourth, and light divisions was told off to a breach. i joined the forlorn hope myself. before, however, that i proceed further in my account of this sanguinary affair, i will relate an engagement that myself, pig harding, and another of my comrades, george bowden by name, entered into before we even started on our way, of which the result showed what a blind one it was. through being quartered at badajoz after the battle of talavera, all three of us knew the town perfectly well, and so understood the position of most of the valuable shops: and hearing a report likewise that if we succeeded in taking the place, there was to be three hours' plunder, we had planned to meet at a silversmith's shop that we knew about, poor pig even providing himself with a piece of wax candle to light us if needed. but all this was doomed to disappointment. we were supplied with ladders and grass bags, and having received and eaten our rations, and each man carrying his canteen of water, we fell in at half-past eight or thereabouts to wait for the requisite signal for all to advance. during the interval our men were particularly silent: but at length the deadly signal was given, and we rushed on towards the breach. i was one of the ladder party, for we did not feel inclined to trust to the portuguese, as we did at ciudad rodrigo. on our arriving at the breach, the french sentry on the wall cried out, "who comes there?" three times, or words to that effect in his own language, but on no answer being given, a shower of shot, canister and grape, together with fire-balls, was hurled at random amongst us. poor pig received his death wound immediately, and my other accomplice, bowden, became missing, while i myself received two small slug shots in my left knee, and a musket shot in my side, which must have been mortal had it not been for my canteen: for the ball penetrated that and passed out, making two holes in it, and then entered my side slightly. still i stuck to my ladder, and got into the entrenchment. numbers had by this time fallen: but the cry from our commanders being, "come on, my lads!" we hastened to the breach; but there, to our great surprise and discouragement, we found a _chevaux de frise_ had been fixed and a deep entrenchment made, from behind which the garrison opened a deadly fire on us. vain attempts were made to remove this fearful obstacle, during which my left hand was dreadfully cut by one of the blades of the _chevaux de frise_, but finding no success in that quarter, we were forced to retire for a time. we remained, however, in the breach until we were quite weary with our efforts to pass it. my wounds were still bleeding, and i began to feel very weak; my comrades persuaded me to go to the rear; but this proved a task of great difficulty, for on arriving at the ladders, i found them filled with the dead and wounded, hanging some by their feet just as they had fallen and got fixed in the rounds. i hove down three lots of them, hearing the implorings of the wounded all the time; but on coming to the fourth, i found it completely smothered with dead bodies, so i had to draw myself up over them as best i could. when i arrived at the top i almost wished myself back again, for there of the two i think was the worse sight, nothing but the dead and wounded lying around, and the cries of the latter, mingled with the incessant firing from the enemy, being quite deafening. i was so weak myself that i could scarcely walk, so i crawled on my hands and knees till i got out of reach of the enemy's musketry. after proceeding for some way i fell in with lord wellington and his staff, who seeing me wounded, asked me what regiment i belonged to. i told him the fortieth, and that i had been one of the forlorn hope. he inquired as to the extent of my wounds, and if any of our troops had got into the town, and i said "no," and i did not think they ever would, as there was a _chevaux de frise_, a deep entrenchment, and in the rear of them a constant and murderous fire being kept up by the enemy. one of his staff then bound up my leg with a silk handkerchief, and told me to go behind a hill which he pointed out, where i would find a doctor to dress my wounds; so i proceeded on, and found that it was the doctor of my own regiment. next after me lieutenant elland was brought in by a man of the name of charles filer, who had seen him lying wounded at the breach with a ball in the thigh, and on his asking him to convey him from the breach, had raised him on his shoulders for that object. but during his march a cannon-ball had taken the officer's head clean off without filer finding it out on account of the darkness of the night, and the clamour of cannon and musketry mingled with the cries of the wounded. much it was to filer's astonishment, then, when the surgeon asked him what he had brought in a headless trunk for; he declared that the lieutenant had a head on when he took him up, for he had himself asked him to take him from the breach, and that he did not know when the head was severed, which must have been done by one of the bullets of which there were so many whizzing about in all directions. some may doubt the correctness of this story, but i, being myself both a hearer and an eyewitness to the scene at the surgeon's, can vouch for the accuracy of it. certainly filer's appearance was not altogether that of composure, for he was not only rather frightened at the fearful exposure of his own body at the breach and across the plain, but he was evidently knocked up, or rather bowed down, by the weight of his lifeless burden, which he must, if he came from the breach, have carried for upwards of half a mile, so that, under these disadvantages, the mistake might easily have been made even by any one of harder temperament than his. but the tale did not fail to spread through the camp, and caused great laughter over filer, sentences being thrown at him such as "who carried the man without a head to the doctor?" &c. after lord wellington had found it useless to attempt to face the breach with the _chevaux de frise_, he altered his plans of attack. more success had fortunately been achieved in the other breaches, so he withdrew the men from our fatal breach to reinforce the others, but not till at least two thousand had been killed or wounded in this single assault. he had ordered the castle to be attacked, and a quantity of troops had been supplied for the purpose with long ladders, which had been raised against the walls and filled with men: but the enemy showered down a mass of heavy substances, such as trees and large stones, and amongst all a number of deadly bursting shells, and thus broke the ladders and tumbled the men down from top to bottom, crushing still more underneath. yet more men were found ready to push on to the sanguinary scene. more ladders had indeed to be procured, which caused another great delay, but as soon as they arrived they were quickly hoisted, and the precaution was taken this time to fix them farther apart, so that if more beams were waiting to be rolled over, they might not take such a deadly sweep. the second attempt was more successful, for the ramparts were gained and the french driven back: and a single piece of ground being thus gained, a footing was soon established for many more, who succeeded in turning round some guns and firing them along the ramparts, soon sweeping the enemy off them. fresh reinforcements on both sides shortly arrived at this for us successful spot, but the garrison was soon forced back into the town. the ramparts were then scoured, the breaches cleared, and the _chevaux de frise_ pulled down, and the main body of the english entered the town. some opposition had to be overcome in the streets, but that was soon cleared away, and the french escaped to fort san cristoval. our troops found the city illuminated to welcome them, but nevertheless then began all the horrors that generally attended a capture by assault--plunder, waste, destruction of property, drunkenness, and debauchery. i was myself exempt from all this, owing to my wounds, which kept me in camp at the time the town was taken; but though i was at least a mile off, i could distinctly hear the clamour of the rabble, as the guns and musketry had ceased; and next morning i hobbled as well as i could into the town with the help of the handle of a sergeant's pike chopped up so as to form a stick, and there sure enough i found a pretty state of affairs. pipes of wine had been rolled into the streets and tapped by driving the heads in, for any one to drink of them who liked, and when the officers tried to keep order by throwing all of these over that they could, the men that were in a state of drunkenness lay down to drink out of the gutters, which were thus running with all sorts of liquors; doors were blown open all through the city, both upstairs and down, by placing muskets at the keyhole and so removing the locks. i myself saw that morning a naked priest launched into the street and flogged down it by some of our men who had a grudge against him for the treatment they had met at a convent, when staying in the town before. i happened to meet one of my company, and asked him how he was getting on, to which he replied that he was wounded in the arm, but that he had got hold of something that compensated for that a little, showing me a bag of about a hundred dollars that he had succeeded in obtaining, and saying that i should not want whilst he had got it. but whilst all this debauchery was going on amongst some of our soldiers, i will give a word of credit to a great many of the more respectable, who were trying as much as lay in their power to stop the ferociousness of the same. that morning i met many about, who said they were sorry to think that the soldiers could not carry it on without going to such excesses as they did, respectable houses being ransacked from top to bottom, with no regard to the entreaties of the few inhabitants who remained within the walls. things that could not be taken were often destroyed, and men were threatened if they did not produce their money, and the women sometimes the same. comparatively few murders were, i believe, committed, but some no doubt occurred. it was not till the drunken rabble had dropped into a sound slumber or had died in consequence of their excesses, that the unhappy city became at all composed; but in the morning some fresh troops were placed on guard, and a few gallows were erected, but not much used. two or three officers had been killed in the act of keeping order, and i have been given to understand that some of the fifth division, having arrived after most places had been ransacked, plundered their drunken fellow-comrades, and it was likewise reported that a few were even murdered. lord wellington punished all offenders by stopping their grog for some time; but in these times such scenes as these were generally found to occur after a place had had to be so hardly fought for. no doubt in the present day, at least half a century later, more discipline is observed in similar circumstances, which must be owned as a great improvement. this same morning the garrison surrendered. before the assault it had numbered about five thousand, but we found that some twelve hundred of these had been slain, and now the rest were prisoners; while upwards of one hundred and fifty guns, eighty thousand shots, and a great quantity of muskets and ammunition were taken in the place. ours was a much severer loss, for nearly five thousand of our men, including three or four hundred officers, were either killed or wounded. but it must be observed that with the circumstances under which our troops had to fight it was a wonder that they entered the town at all that night, every obstacle that a cunning enemy could devise being there to be overcome. every kind of combustible deadly in its action was thrown amongst the men; placed in readiness along the ramparts were trees, stones, and beams; and the worst of all was the fearful _chevaux de frise_; in fact nothing had been wanting to discourage the men, who, however, pushed on, being as anxious as lord wellington himself to get into the town. all being now over, thoughts of pig harding, george bowden, and our engagement, ran in my head, and how it had all failed, poor pig having received seven shots in his body, and george bowden having had both thighs blown off. both must have met with instant death, and i myself had four wounds and was disabled for some time from getting about. i resolved then that i would never make any more engagements under the same fearful circumstances. we missed poor pig more than any man of the regiment, for he passed many an hour away pleasantly with his jokes, being a thoroughbred irishman, and not only that, but he supplied us with many an extra piece of tommy by his roguish tricks. chapter xiv. six weeks in hospital at estremoz -- a new way to keep up the spirits -- lawrence allowed to go on to salamanca at his own risk -- he catches the fever there, and has to go into hospital again at ciudad rodrigo -- at last rejoins his regiment -- cessation of hostilities on both sides, and the british army goes into cantonments -- lawrence made a corporal -- the cat's paw comes in for its share of the booty, and gets the chestnuts into the bargain -- a romantic episode to relieve the monotony of war. a day or two after these events, the wounded were all conveyed to hospital, some to elvas and some to estremoz. i was amongst the latter, as was likewise my comrade whom i mentioned as meeting me in the streets of badajoz, as we were considered better able to stand the longer journey, the distance on from elvas to estremoz being about six leagues the other side from badajoz. on our arrival at hospital, we were allowed to take in no spirits or wine, which, as we had lately had so much of them, seemed to be more of a hardship to us than our wounds: but we were not long in working a system by which we were enabled to procure something to drink. the window of our ward looked out into one of the streets, on the opposite side of which was a wine shop, which for some time tormented us horribly: it was something like the fable of the fox and the grapes, sour because it was out of reach. the man of the house was often at his door on the look out, the natives there seeming to suffer from that general complaint as much as in our own country villages, where if there is anything fresh in the streets, perhaps only a strange man, or even one of the inhabitants in a new coat or hat, the whole place works itself into an uproar. we soon devised a plan to gain our desired end. there was in the ward a tin kettle, holding nearly two gallons, and having procured a long string we put our money into this, and lowered it to the portuguese, who soon getting used to our plan would put the money's value in the shape of wine into the kettle and again tie it to the string, so that we could hoist it up to the window again. after that we arranged for our ward to be pretty well supplied with grog too in the same way. some suspicions being entertained by the doctor on the inflamed appearance of our wounds, he told us two or three times that he knew we had been drinking something we ought not, and blew the sergeant of the guard up for not being more strict in his search at the door, little dreaming how we had contrived another way to get this aggravator of our wounds in. but the appearance of our wounds did not stop us from lowering the kettle, which soon went down twice and sometimes three times a day, for the neighbouring wards got scent of the affair, and sent money to be lowered as well. thus i passed about six weeks before i recovered sufficiently to get out of the hospital; but many were in a much worse state than myself, some losing their arms, some their legs, and some even dying of their wounds. one of the slug shots, however, could never be extricated from my knee, having settled into the bone. i felt it for some time, but in the end it ceased to trouble me, the bone having probably grown over it. i was let out of the hospital as a convalescent, and billeted in the place at a house occupied by a widow and her daughter, who were very kind to me during my stay there, which was for about a fortnight. then i received intelligence that a hundred and fifty others were well enough to rejoin the army, so i asked the doctor if i might accompany them. he told me that my wounds were not yet sufficiently set for me to undertake the journey; but i was by this time sick of hospitals, physics, estremoz, and the lot of it, and was mad to get back to my regiment, so i went to the captain, who was still lying wounded in the hospital, and asked him to speak to the doctor to let me go. the result was that next morning i again saw the doctor, who said i could go, but i must abide by the consequences myself, as he would not be answerable for my safety; so about three days after that our little group started on the way to the army, which had meanwhile moved northward from badajoz to salamanca, about two hundred miles distant, which we found rather a tedious march in our then condition. i had not been many days at salamanca before a fever broke out, which i caught very badly, and so was ordered back into hospital at ciudad rodrigo, along with a number of fellow troops who were troubled with a like malady with myself. on my arrival at the hospital, my hair was cut off by order of the doctor, and my head blistered; and i had not been there many hours before i became quite insensible, in which state i remained more or less for three months, which brought on great weakness. i received kind treatment, however, from the doctor and our attendants, and was allowed to eat anything my fancy craved, and amongst other things, without having to resort to any contrivance as at estremoz, i could get wine. after being in hospital nearly two months longer, my strength had come back enough to allow me to be removed out of the town to a convent, the very one before mentioned which i had helped to storm when we were throwing up batteries for the assault of the town. there i found a number like myself who had lately recovered, and amongst them some of my own comrades of my own regiment, which made the time pass more lively than if we had been all strangers. by the time my strength was sufficiently recruited to again permit me to go on active service, november had again come round, so that from the time of receiving my wound at badajoz, at least seven months had passed away before i was free from sickness and in a proper condition to again join my regiment. the army, including my regiment, had been all this time actively employed at salamanca, madrid, and burgos, and after going through many long marches and retreats, had again formed at salamanca, up to which place the enemy had closely followed them. but owing to the season being too bad now to carry on the war, both sides felt more disposed to remain inactive for the remainder of , so lord wellington determined on putting his army in cantonments; and in proceeding to carry out that design, for the enemy had now abandoned following up his retreat, he touched at ciudad rodrigo, which afforded a fine opportunity, which i willingly took, of rejoining my regiment. i found that our regiment had taken at the famous battle of salamanca a splendid drum-major's staff from the enemy, which was stated to be worth at least £ , and it must have come in very useful, for ours was terribly worn and knocked about, being very old, having been itself taken from the french in holland, during the commandership of the duke of york. soon after i rejoined, we crossed the agueda into portugal again, to take up our winter quarters in that country. although it was not many leagues from ciudad rodrigo to where our cantonments were to be, yet that small march seemed to be almost going to knock me up, for my leg did not seem altogether strong enough to bear much marching, both of the slug shots having entered the sinew under the knee, and while we were engaged in this march it was kept constantly on the move. however, after we had settled down for about three weeks, i began to feel more like myself, and was therefore enabled to take my regular amount of duty. but after we had been in cantonments some four or five weeks, i was on sentry one day, when to my great surprise, a comrade came to relieve me some time before my usual time had expired, which made me think something must be wrong: so, of course, wishing to know something of the matter before i felt disposed to leave guard, i asked the man what it was all about, and he told me that i had been made a corporal in the seventh company. i would at the time have much rather remained a private in my own company than be made a corporal and be transferred to the seventh; it was certainly better as far as pay went, for i received seventeen pence, whilst before i had received only thirteen pence per day; but i was far from feeling at home in this company, as i lost all my old companions; and not only that, but i then stood six feet one inch high, whilst not one man in that company stood more than five feet seven inches. i made my complaint to the captain, who promised that as soon as there was a vacancy, i should go back to my old company, and that cheered me up a little, but made me look with intense anxiety for the change back again. until it occurred, however, i had to change my abode, and live with four privates of the same seventh company in a private house, the landlady of which kept as nice a pig in her sty as i had ever seen in the peninsula. close by our quarters was the officers' mess-room, the sergeant of which had offered our landlady sixteen dollars for her pig; but the old woman would not take less than eighteen; so instead of giving that he offered the four men billeted with me the sixteen dollars to steal it for him, in return for the old lady's craftiness, as he had offered quite the fair value. the deed was done that very night, the pig being conveyed out of sight to the mess room; and in the morning, when the old lady had as usual warmed the pig's breakfast, she found to her surprise the sty empty. she soon made a terrible noise over the affair, and immediately suspected the man who had offered to buy it; which soon got to his ears, and obliged him to make away with it for a time, for fear of being searched; so he got some of the men to heave it over a wall at the back of the mess-room. the four men who had stolen it soon got scent of this, and wishing to serve the sergeant out for his meanness, and likewise have some of the pig, they went, unbeknown of course to him, and cut off about a quarter of it, which they appropriated to our own use, and brought back to be cooked in the old woman's house; so that the sergeant had better have given the two more dollars, and come by the whole pig honestly after all. some difficulty was experienced by my fellow-lodgers in cooking their portion, as the landlady had generally before got their food ready; but this was at length accomplished in our own private room, with a kettle that we had borrowed from the old lady herself. i likewise had a taste of the poor woman's missing pig, which we found to be very good and acceptable. fortunately, she never suspected us at all, but often talked to us during our stay there, of her sad loss; and indeed she was in general very kind to us, often going so far as to give us some dried chestnuts, of which she had an abundance, for a treat. after about three months' stay in this place, during which time my captain to my great satisfaction found an opportunity of putting me back to my own company, we marched to other quarters about three leagues off, in a village which had been for the most part deserted, and there we were cantoned, chiefly in empty houses. whilst we were here, a very interesting piece of excitement took place, in which one of the officers of our company, a lieutenant, was the chief actor. he was an irishman, and being likewise a catholic, had been in the habit whilst staying at our late quarters of visiting a catholic chapel; and there he had seen and fallen in love with a portuguese general's daughter. correspondence and meetings had followed, unbeknown to the girl's parents, but owing to our shifting our cantonments, some difficulty had arisen in the way of their engagements, and so i suppose they thought it best to arrange one final one, or at any rate one of which the memory was to last some time. one night, therefore, he proceeded with two of our company to the lady's house, where all arrangements had been previously made for conveying her from her private window into her lover's arms, ready to elope with him. these arrangements consisted of a ladder to be placed at a window, and the goods that she intended taking to be ready on the back of a horse, and were all carried out by two of the domestic men-servants who had been bribed, and who also undertook to keep a good look-out until the eloping party had got quite clear. but, as it proved, a worse set of people could not have been entrusted with the matter, for no sooner had they received their money, and the little company had set out from the house on their way to the officer's quarters, than the two foolish portuguese servants immediately raised an alarm, and a party of six, including these very servants, was sent in pursuit. they soon overtook the travelling party, which was obliged to walk slowly owing to the horse laden with the goods; and the pursuers being armed with sticks, an altercation consequently took place, in which the portuguese succeeded in capturing the horse and baggage; but the officer fought bravely for his spouse and was well backed up by his men, so that he succeeded in carrying her off at any rate. one of the portuguese, however, lost two fingers in the affray, which was an unfortunate circumstance, and after things had come to this crisis, they left off their pursuit and went home contented in having captured the horse and baggage. the lieutenant then succeeded in getting the lady to the cantonments without any further molesting, and on the following morning he took her to a neighbouring chapel and married her. but the matter was not to rest here; for next morning the old general wrote to our colonel on the subject, and said he intended to take proceedings against the lieutenant for stealing his daughter, as he called it. our colonel informed the lieutenant that he was to consider himself a prisoner, as in such times as these he ought to be thinking of something else but marriage; but after a fortnight's consideration the general gave in, and made it all up with his new son-in-law, who was released and likewise had his wife's horse and baggage given back to him. in return for his good luck he treated the whole of his company to a pint of wine, which was drunk in toasts to the happy couple. chapter xv. breaking up of the cantonments and march into spain -- battle of vittoria -- lawrence's private performances in the fight -- rout of the french -- fatal blunder on the part of the officers -- lawrence refits himself with boots -- buonaparte's carriage with its contents captured -- a fine take of mutton -- a good meal and night's rest after the battle -- paddy's new ingredient for dough-boys. we lay quite inactive in our cantonments until may, when preparations for the ensuing campaign commenced in good earnest; and about the middle of that month we left portugal, bidding adieu to that kingdom for ever, for we now hoped that the enemy would very soon be compelled to quit the two shattered countries of the peninsula, where we had done so much, and of late done it with such success. much more yet, however, we found had to be accomplished before that hope could be fulfilled, as i am now about to relate to the best of my ability. we first commenced our march in a northerly direction, crossing the river douro in portugal; and after about a fortnight's procedure through almost insurmountable difficulties we arrived at zamora, a town in spain, situated not more than twenty miles from the portuguese frontier on the north bank of the said river. the enemy had been occupying it lately, but had abandoned it on our approach, so from zamora we followed them to a place called valladolid, about seventy to eighty miles off, and thence to vittoria, a still longer march of at least a hundred and sixty miles, during which some slight skirmishing took place between the retreating and pursuing armies. on nearing vittoria we came up with the main body of the french posted on some admirable heights, which they had made great use of to prepare for a stubborn resistance: they not only having the advantage of the heights, but we the attacking party having to cross a river below by means of only narrow bridges, which was a great impediment to our progress. we arrived and encamped here on the th of june. on reconnoitring the enemy's strong position much doubt was entertained as to our success, our army being much fatigued after its tedious march and likewise being very short of provisions. this latter circumstance caused many to set off that night in search of something to eat; but the only thing i with several comrades could find was some broad beans, and those we had to gather for ourselves: we got a good many, but we were certainly not out for them more than an hour altogether, as nearly the whole of my party had to go on duty that night, and as it happened at the general's own quarters, which were in a house which had been deserted by its inhabitants. we occupied a kind of outhouse adjoining, and having lit a fire in the centre and found a kettle belonging to the house, we set to work and cooked a quantity of wheat that we found stowed away there, and on that made a very good night's meal. i likewise preserved a quantity and put it into my knapsack for a favourite comrade who had been left in camp in charge of our beans; but when i returned i found i need not have done that, for he had had just as good a meal off the greater part of the beans as we had off the wheat. next morning orders came to fall in under arms ready to advance and attack the enemy's strong position. our division, together with the third and seventh, was ordered to advance against the centre of their lines, so we had to bundle the remainder of our beans into our knapsacks, for to use my comrade's expression, "it went hard to have to leave any tommy behind in such times as these." before we could get at the enemy we had to cross a narrow bridge, which gave us some trouble owing to the enemy's cannon, which played pretty sharply on us: and a shell pitching into one of our ammunition waggons, it immediately blew up, carrying with it two horses and the unfortunate driver. but once on the other side of the river and formed into line we were up and at them in spite of a murderous fire which they kept up from their cannon. we soon neared them, fired, and then charged, and succeeded in driving the centre over the hill. a column of their body still appeared on our right, and we immediately received orders to wheel in that direction; but the sight of us, together with the play of our artillery on them, was quite sufficient to make them follow their centre over the hill, whither we pursued them, but were unable to come up with them. i came across a poor wounded frenchman crying to us english not to leave him, as he was afraid of the bloodthirsty spaniards: the poor fellow could not at most live more than two hours, as a cannon-ball had completely carried off both thighs. he entreated me to stay with him, but i only did so as long as i found it convenient: i saw, too, that he could not last long, and very little sympathy could be expected from me then; so i ransacked his pockets and knapsack, and found a piece of pork ready cooked and three or four pounds of bread, which i thought would be very acceptable. the poor fellow asked me to leave him a portion, so i cut off a piece of bread and meat and emptied the beans out of my haversack, which with the bread and meat i left by his side. i then asked him if he had any money, to which he replied no, but not feeling quite satisfied at that, i again went through his pockets. i found ten rounds of ball cartridge which i threw away, and likewise a clothes-brush and a roll of gold and silver lace, but those i would not give carriage to. however, i found his purse at last, which contained seven spanish dollars and seven shillings, all of which i put into my pocket except one shilling, which i returned to the poor dying man, and continued on my way up the hill. there i saw a french officer come out of a low copse close by, and instantly fired at him, but without doing him any mischief. he made his way up the hill as quickly as possible, using his sword as a walking-stick, but a german rifleman who had been on the look-out cut off his communication and succeeded in taking him prisoner. i did not take any further notice of him, therefore, but proceeded along with my company still in pursuit of the french, who were retreating in all directions in a very disorderly state. we might have taken hundreds of them prisoners had it not been for our officers, who in their flurry had mistaken them for spaniards; for lord wellington had previously ordered the spaniards to wear a piece of white substance round their left arm to make some distinction between the french dress and theirs, which was very similar; but the french had got knowledge of this, and a great number of them, who were obliged in their hurried retreat and on account of the difficulties of the road to pass near our lines, had adopted the spanish white band. still we fired at them both with muskets and artillery; but when the officers perceived the white on their arms, without bestowing any more consideration as to whether they were the enemy or the spaniards, they immediately stopped us from doing so. as soon as the french in passing observed this, they sunk into the valley and piled arms as if they were allies; and directly an opportunity afforded itself, they again took up their muskets and fired right into our lines, doing terrible mischief. i never in all the days of the campaign saw men in such a rage as ours were with the officers. i really thought that some serious consequences would ensue, but as it was, all fortunately passed off as well as could be expected after such a mistake. for if this trick had before been observed, we might have taken the whole body prisoners by a direct movement of our right flank, as no other way lay open to their retreat without their encountering great difficulties; but the chance was now thrown away, and repairs could not be made of the damage done; many in our line having lost their irrecoverable lives, and others being more or less injured. we had only to make what consolation we could from beholding the almost express pace of the party as it retreated from where lay our comrades, either as groaning, wounded, or shattered corpses. after their signal defeat at vittoria, scarcely anything was left open to the french but to cross the pyrenees into their own territory on the other side. numberless quantities of warlike instruments were captured, such as cannons, muskets, cartridges, and all kinds of ammunition, besides supplies for the army, food, clothing, and the like, which were considering our need at the time of great benefit to the allies. i myself had my feet new rigged after this affair, and it was certainly not before i wanted a covering for them; there was certainly a part of the upper leathers of my old pair of boots left, but the chief part of the sole was my own natural one belonging to my foot. i had some little difficulty in procuring them, however; i happened to see a shoe-wagon that had been captured from the enemy and was being fast emptied by a number of our men, so i asked the captain to let me fall out, as my shoes wanted replenishing. he only answered, "no, not until the enemy is fairly away, and then you may do as you please;" so i had to disobey orders again, and on the next halt step off to the wagon to see what i could find. there were, however, such a number on the same errand that i began to despair of getting any boots, but at length i succeeded in getting into the wagon, and i hove out a hundred pairs or so to the mob, while i took up six or seven pairs for myself, or rather some likewise for some of my comrades, in hopes of making off with them quietly. my hopes, however, were far from being fulfilled, for no sooner was i off the wagon, than i was completely smothered with parties that wanted and craved for boots equally with myself; so i had to let all my lot go, finding that i could not get clear, and got back into the wagon. then i threw out another stock to the barefooted mob, and replenished my own lot, this time, however, only getting five pairs, and of these i did not succeed in getting off with more than three after all. i made back to my company thinking to be unobserved, but in that i was again mistaken, for the captain himself seeing me called out, "you will disobey orders then, will you? and what are you going to do with all those shoes?" i told him i was going to put on a pair as soon as possible, to which he replied, "very well, sir, mind you give the rest to your comrades;" which i did, as that had been my intention from the first; if not, i should not have troubled to get more than one pair, as on such marches as ours it was not likely that any man would care to carry a change in boots, or of anything else but food, which, though seldom denied to us, was more seldom obtained. at vittoria, too, buonaparte's carriage was captured with some ladies in it. the french army had retreated to pampeluna, so lord wellington sent a sergeant and twelve men under a flag of truce to escort these ladies into the french camp at that place, in return for which buonaparte behaved very well, for he gave the sergeant a doubloon and each of the men one-half of that sum, and had them escorted out of his lines by a french officer. our army meanwhile pursued the enemy until night put an end to our proceedings, when we encamped two or three miles west of vittoria, there remaining two nights and one day busily engaged on the forage for ourselves. happily thousands of sheep were found, that the enemy had been obliged to abandon on their retreat. i had been fortunate enough to get one and bring it into camp, and was proceeding to kill it by putting my bayonet through the neck, when lieutenant kelly of our company happening to pass, "hullo, lawrence," he said, "you seem a capital butcher." i said, "would you like a piece of it?" "i certainly should very much," he answered, "for i am devilish hungry;" so i took out my knife and cut off one of the quarters just as it was, without even skinning it, and gave it to him, saying, "there, sir, you must skin it yourself." he thanked me and said, "never mind the skin, i will manage that." not only myself, but several of my comrades had likewise managed to get a share of these sheep, so that night a general cooking ceremony commenced: our first movement being to go round and gather all the odd sticks we could lay our hands upon, including gates, doors, chairs, tables, even some of the window-frames being knocked out of the many deserted houses and gathered together in one heap for this great purpose; and in a very short time both roast and boiled mutton were seen cutting about in all directions. nor had we altogether forgotten our former experience of the beans which were growing plentifully at that time and place, and we found that night's meal as good a one as we had tasted for some weeks past. after it was over we lay down for the night,--a body picket having previously been sent out to guard against any surprise from the enemy; but we lay very comfortable without being disturbed the whole night, and as our fires did not cease burning we kept very warm as well. next day was likewise chiefly spent by those off duty in search of food, some returning with one or more of such articles as wheat flour, cabbages, turnips, carrots, and beans. a fellow-corporal of mine seeing this, and neither of us having been out, said, "lawrence, i'll go and try my luck too, and if the drums should beat for orders, you go and get them for me, and then we can share the profits of my search." i consented, and he soon went, and was gone for at least two hours before he returned loaded with his findings, having taken his shirt off and tied the sleeves and collar up, and then filled his impromptu sack quite full. he had evidently carried his burden no small distance, for on his return the perspiration was running down as big as peas. "tare an' 'ounds," poor paddy said, for he was an irishman, "i've got a fine lot of flour, but am as tired as a dog, and as hungry as a hunter." "well done, burke," said i, for that was his name, "we will soon have a blow out of dough-boys and mutton." i accordingly got a tin dish which i took from a frenchman at vittoria, and having filled it with our supposed flour, i poured some water on it, intending to make some balls of dough for the pot; when i suddenly found paddy had been making a great mistake and that it was nothing more or less than lime that he had brought instead of flour. i said, "i'll be bothered if you haven't brought home lime for flour;" but paddy would not believe it, saying it was the best white flour, till i told him to come and see it boiling and smoking in the pot, which quite confounded him, and taking up the remainder in his shirt he hove it out, saying, "well i'm blessed, comrade, if i ain't off again, and i'll take good care not to come back again this time till i have some good flour." he had been gone about an hour when he returned with at least half his shirt full, for he had got on the same scent as a great many who had been before him and were now fast returning already loaded. i then commenced making the dough-boys by mixing a little salt and water with the flour, and put them into a kettle swung over a fire on two sticks placed perpendicularly on each side with a cross-bar on the top, gipsy fashion, and by night our supper was hot and well done. as is perhaps well known, dough-boys cannot be very greasy without fat or suet of any kind, but they were quite passable in the hungry state we were then in, and as we had no bread, we used some more of the mutton to help them down. our fires were then made up the same as the night before, and at the proper time we again retired to rest comfortably and were soon lost in a profound slumber. chapter xvi. advance to the pyrenees -- capture and destruction of a provision train -- unpleasant episode during sunday service -- the regiment takes up its position on the heights of villebar -- the enemy's attempts to dislodge them all successfully repulsed -- sad death of a straggler -- lawrence goes to get a watch-chain and has a narrow escape -- exchange of wounded prisoners -- the french finally driven off the mountains -- the captain of the regiment presented with a testimonial at the french expense. on the day after the adventure of the dough-boys we were again ordered to march, and advanced towards pampeluna; but that town being garrisoned by the french, we passed it on our left, and proceeding for some distance further west, encamped near some hills with strong fortifications on their summit. there we lay a few days, and thence arrived on the heights of villebar in the pyrenees in the latter part of july, where we took up our position. lord wellington had extended his army in a line along the pyrenees which must have exceeded thirty miles from the extreme left to the extreme right, and which would owing to the difficulties of the mountain barriers have made it very hard to combine in case of an attack in force by the enemy on any particular part of our line. thus in warfare such as has now to be described we ran more risk than the french, who being able to form in their own country and drive their body on any part of our line, had a considerable advantage over us. our division, with a brigade of the second and another division of the spanish, occupied the extreme right, covering pampeluna. very shortly after our arrival the action commenced on our left; and meanwhile suspicions were entertained that soult intended to attack, so as to reinforce and throw supplies into pampeluna, which was being blockaded by the allies and in danger of capitulating owing to shortness of provisions. lord wellington accordingly sent our division to a particular pass of the mountains in search of the said supplies, and after marching over hills, mountains, and valleys for at least thirty miles, we at length fell in with about three hundred carts laden with provisions and ammunition. they were guarded, however, by a strong body of the enemy, who soon attacked us; but they met with a strong reception, and after a severe altercation on both sides we succeeded in capturing the booty. owing, however, to the difficulty of the country, and our not having proper means of transportation, we were obliged to set fire to the bread, of which there was a great quantity, although it was the very substance of which we were so much in need. it went very much against our will, but that being the order it had to be attended to; not, however, before some of our men had stocked themselves with a portion that could reasonably be moved. then having placed the ammunition together and extended a long train so that at any time it might be easily blown up, we retired some distance and waited for the reappearance of the enemy, who, most likely thinking we had abandoned some of the carts, were not long before they came back in strong force; and on their nearing the fatal machine the train was fired and a great number of them were soon launched into the air. we retreated after that as quickly as possible to pampeluna out of reach of the enemy, falling back that day at least twenty miles; a hard day's work indeed, but not thought much of in those times, when equally hard days were so often passed through, especially in a hasty retreat or on a well-fought battlefield. we again encamped for nearly a week, during which time we amused ourselves in throwing up huts for officers' quarters, cooking-houses, and the like; and we had settled down so nicely that we had almost begun to think we were to be stationed there for at least six months. but on the very next sunday we found that we were mistaken and that our hopes were to be disappointed. a square had been formed into which a parson entered to read prayers and preach, and a drum being placed for his books and a knapsack for him to kneel on, he had proceeded with the service for some little time, when all of a sudden up he jumped with his traps and made a bolt, before any one had hardly time to see the cause, amid the applause and laughter of the whole of the troops at his running, which was as fast as his legs could carry him, and looked then as if the poor man might be going on even till now. they used to say that the three scarcest things to be seen in an army were a dead parson, drum-major, or a woman: the explanation of this was to be found in the fact that they were none of them often to be seen on a battlefield; and i think in this case our parson must have told and frightened all the others in the kingdom, for never after that did we have any service in the field. but the cause of the sudden flight on the part of the parson proved not to be one entirely of enjoyment, for a large body of the enemy appearing, we likewise found ourselves running about pretty smartly and preparing for immediate action. the affair lasted hotly till dusk, our division losing some four or five hundred men. when night fell we were obliged to retreat still further towards pampeluna, leaving the wounded, with the exception of two grenadiers who had been shot in the thighs, and whom we took turns to carry in two blankets, in the enemy's hands. we had to get through a very thick wood of quite three or four miles in extent, which took us the whole night to accomplish; and in the morning when we were finally through, we lay down like so many loaded donkeys; still obliged, however, to remain in readiness, as we expected to be pursued. and soon enough we found we were, for we had not lain down very long before the enemy came up and charged us hotly, again forcing us to follow up our retreat, without even thinking this time of our two wounded burdens, who were left to the mercy of the enemy. in a few hours, however, we again joined the main army, or rather got into its line; and pleased enough we all were to get back. we were then posted in a strong position on the heights of villebar with the spanish troops on our right. the french soon made their appearance and attacked the spanish corps, who fired at them long before they came within bounds of shot, not having proper officers to guide them; those that ought to have been leading them on having instead placed themselves out of the way, leaving their men to do the dirty work; and of course these latter soon decamped too. our regiment, however, was soon on the scene; and hastening in that direction, we managed to get there before the enemy had gained the summit of this important ridge. orders had been issued by our officers not to fire till we could do good work; but this soon came to pass, for the french quickly sallied up and fired first, and we returned it in less than a minute. i never saw a single volley do so much execution in all my campaigning days, almost every man of their two first ranks falling; and then we instantly charged and chased them down the mountain, doing still further and more fearful havoc. when we had done we returned to our old summit again, where the captain cheered and praised us for our gallantry, saying that he had never seen a braver set of men, and that he hoped we would always succeed in preserving our ground equally well. our likewise brave enemy tried again two hours later to shift us and take possession of our ground; but they were again received as before and again sent down the hill. we were again praised by our commander, who said, "i think they have got enough of it by this time, and won't make a third attack in a hurry;" but we were mistaken, for four hours had not passed before they were up again with fresh reinforcements. some of our men then seemed to despair, for i heard them even say to the officers who were so bravely leading us on, "we shall have to be off this time." "never mind," replied the officers, "keep your ground if possible, and don't let yourselves be beaten;" which we did like bricks, for on their arrival and trying to outflank us, so that we were obliged to wheel round to the left, the right flank opened fire as they were close upon us, and instantly charged right into them with the bayonet, forcing them to retreat. they again fell up to support their other companies, who were attacking our other flank; but we reloaded and were then ready to meet them, again pouring another of our deadly volleys into their ranks and then going at them again with our bayonets like enraged bulldogs. the fight that ensued was most sanguinary, but we succeeded again in driving them down the mountain at last. i should think they must have numbered five to our one; in fact the whole of our fourth division was attacked, but all assisted equally bravely in retaining our position on the heights and earned great praise from our commanders. i do not myself think, however, that we could ever have routed so large a number of the french had it not been for our advantageous ground. some portuguese troops likewise behaved very well, but as for the spaniards, i can safely affirm that after their first retreat i did not see any more of them again that day. we encamped that night on the same ground that we had so well defended. our captain, who was as nice a man as ever commanded in the peninsula, always seeming to share everything with the men and bear the blunt as well as the smooth, and the losses as well as the profits, now said, "come, my brave men, turn to and cook yourselves something to eat, for you have earned it well;" an order which we soon set about to obey. a quantity of rum had been sent up for us, so we were able to sit down tired as we were and enjoy ourselves as if nothing extraordinary had occurred that day. we then sent out a picket and prepared to take our rest for the night, the french not seeming inclined to sally up any more to engage us on those heights. when the returns were called off the list, we found our killed and wounded amounted to seventy-four, but one more of our number was soon to be added to the sum total. a comrade of my own company went in search of sticks to liven up our fire: i told him to be careful and not get in sight of the enemy's picket, or they might have a pop at him, and he replied never fear, he would be careful; but the foolish fellow had been gone but a few minutes, when he was shot through the neck. instead of keeping his own side of the hill, he had diverged on to the other close enough to be observed by one of the enemy's riflemen, who shot him as i have described. i happened to hear the shot, and found that it had been at him, so i went and dragged him back, pretty quickly as may be supposed, for i was fearful lest i should be shot likewise myself. the poor fellow was not dead, but exclaimed, "o corporal, i am a dead man!" when i had got him out of the enemy's reach and near our own lines, i took his stock from off his neck and he expired directly; so i had to leave him and rejoin our company with the news that another of us was gone, making seventy-five in all. on the following morning i happened to observe an officer of the french army moving at some distance in front of our lines, having hanging from his pocket a fine watch-guard, which particularly took my attention and which i thought at the time would look very well on me; and being more daring than wise, i crawled towards him with my musket loaded, and when near enough as i thought to him, i fired; but it did him no mischief and only made him take himself off at once. i nearly got into a scrape through it, however, for i was fired at myself in return, the bullet fortunately only taking the butt end off my musket. i turned to run off, and another shot hit the knapsack on my back, but i soon got out of reach of their shot again, luckily, as it happened, without any injury; but it must have been a near thing, for when i next opened my knapsack, i found the ball had gone through the leather and my thickly-folded blanket and had at last been stopped by the sole of a shoe, and was lying there as flat as a halfpenny and about the same size. the same day we were joined by the fifty-third regiment lord wellington having sent it on to relieve us in case of another attack from the enemy. they offered to occupy our heights, so that we might fall back to the rear, but our captain would not consent to that; "for," as he said, "my men have fought well to defend their position, and i think they will be strong enough to keep it." he proposed, however, that they should keep out an outlying picket, so that we could take our rest, which would be the best way of relieving us, and their commander readily agreed to do so. thus we passed two or three days, both armies remaining inactive. then one day a french officer was seen coming up the mountain, having laid down his sword, so our captain sent a lieutenant who could talk good french to meet him and see what he wanted. he found that he wished to know if we would allow him to send for their wounded, so an agreement was entered into that we should take all their killed and wounded halfway down the mountain, and that they should meet us there with ours in return. this plan was soon carried out; and when we had buried our dead, the wounded were conveyed to hospitals appropriated to them at the nearest convenient place. all was still quiet on the following morning, but later in the day the whole body of our line appeared in motion, and we were ordered in company with the fifty-third regiment to attack the enemy's post near us, acting in conjunction with the other front of our line; and this being done, we soon drove them right off the mountains. the portuguese troops in our division fought well in this action. we followed up the retreating french to a village situated in a valley of the pyrenees, where they were delayed owing to having to cross a river. general cole immediately ordered our regiment up to stop them if possible; so off we went in quick time to the river, and on their seeing they were so quickly pursued and that there was no hope of escaping, they threw down their arms and gave themselves up prisoners to the number of about seven hundred. we took a gold-mounted sword from their commander, and a gold plate out of his cap with an eagle engraved on it, which were given to our captain by the regiment as a present, as he was a universal favourite for his behaviour to the men in general. the prisoners were then sent to st. jean de luz to be put on board ship, and so conveyed to england. chapter xvii. continued retreat of the french -- narrow escape of lord wellington -- lawrence volunteers to remove the danger -- is successful, and earns the praise of lord wellington -- repeated engagements with the enemy -- lawrence, like most people who try to hedge, nearly comes to grief -- capture of a bridge and village -- lawrence, becoming lame, is left on guard over a portuguese cottage -- surprises and discomfits a french intruder -- sad end of a hungry corporal -- lawrence made sergeant. we marched slowly on, following up the enemy as closely as possible, often even having them in sight: and both armies were sometimes encamped for a week at a time, and employed meanwhile in skirmishing with each other. at one of these halts the enemy by some means or other got three pieces of cannon on to the top of a steep mountain, probably by men dragging them up with ropes, as it was impossible for horses to have done it; and on our entering the valley, lord wellington happening to be with us, a shot from one of these carried his cocked hat completely off. our colonel remarked to him, "that was a near miss, my lord;" to which he replied, "yes, and i wish you would try to stop them, for they seem determined to annoy us." our colonel immediately said he would send some of the grenadiers up for that purpose, so i, being a corporal and right-hand man of the company, volunteered with a section to undertake the job. six men were accordingly chosen besides myself; rather a small storming-party for the object in hand, as they numbered twenty-one artillerymen and an officer, according to my own counting. i led my little band along the valley and approached the mountain whence they were tormenting us. the artillerymen kept up a fire at us from the cannon, which consisted of light six-pounders, but owing to our movement they could not get the elevation. we slowly scaled the hill zigzag fashion to baffle their aim, until we got so close that the cannon could not possibly touch us, owing to a slight mound on the hill. we were then within a hundred yards of them, and i took their number, and found at the same time that they had no firearms with them but the cannon, which were of not much use at close quarters for such a few men. i should say we lay there on the ground for at least ten minutes, contemplating which would be the best mode of attack, while they were anxiously watching for our reappearance. at last when ready i said, "now my men, examine your flints and priming, so that all things may go right." they did so, saying, "all right, corporal, we will follow you;" so i too sang out, "now for a gold chain or a wooden leg!" and having told them what to do and to act together, we jumped up, and giving them a volley, we charged them before they had any time to take an aim at us, and succeeded in gaining the cannon and driving the men down the mountain to a body of their infantry that was stationed at the foot. i immediately made a signal with my cap for our brigade to come up, for they were all ready and on the watch, but we found that the enemy's infantry was likewise on the move for our height. fortunately, our brigade was the first to arrive, and reinforced us on the mountain, and on seeing this the enemy decamped. by great luck not one of my men was injured, whilst our volley killed or badly wounded five of the artillerymen. after the enemy's retreat, the colonel came up to me and said, "well done, lawrence; i did not think you were half so brave, but no man could have managed it better." he likewise praised my six fellow-stormers, and a short time afterwards lord wellington himself came up and asked me my name, and on my telling him, said, "i shall think of you another day." these three cannon, which were composed of brass, were now the only ones we possessed, as owing to the difficult nature of our route our own had been obliged to be left behind; even the cavalry being of very little use in this mountain warfare. soon after this daring feat of ours, the enemy again commenced their retreat, we still following close up to them; but after proceeding some two miles, we found they had again halted and were occupying another mountain; so we sank into the valley, and made ourselves as comfortable for the time as we could under the circumstances. we had no tents, and even if we had, we could not have pitched them so close to the enemy, so at night we curled ourselves well into our blankets and retired to rest on the ground. finding next morning that they apparently did not mean to renew their retreat without being made to do so, we tried the experiment; but that day we were defeated in our object, for again, like the fatal fox and grapes, we could very well look at them but could not get them down. we accordingly brought up by the mountain again that night, and those who were not amongst the number told off for picket, which was large as we were so near the enemy, again retired to rest in their blankets. but next morning, not feeling contented with their prolonged stay, or with our attack of the day before, which had only failed to move them, we again assailed them; this time with success, for we drove them from that mountain and pursued them till they again halted. we followed their example, and then we lay again for several days, getting good and undisturbed rest every night, and only having to send out a picket so as to guard against any surprise from the enemy, this duty, of course, falling equally on all in their turn. i think it was about the third day that we were put into advancing order and were again led on to the attack. when we got within a few paces, we gave them our usual volley, and made our charges, which they did not long stand against before they again started on a slow retreat, we always keeping pretty close to their heels and being very often occupied in skirmishing with them. i was engaged myself in one of these affairs that happened during a short stay that we made. a small body of us were out under a sergeant, an irishman named ryan, and observing a large force with some of the enemy lurking around the premises, we made towards it and drove these few off the place, after which four or five more came out of the house on our approach and decamped. we entered and found a pig there just killed; but the butchers had evidently not had time to open it, so we set about taking our turn to do so, but were not allowed time to finish the job, for we now perceived a large body of french fast coming up, and we in our turn were obliged to retreat. sharp enough work it was for us, too, for they had got within bounds of shot, and certainly did not fail to make use of it, following us up and firing at us across a meadow, which i can well remember was surrounded by a very thick thorn hedge, which delayed us very much, as we had to jump over it; and i not being much of a jumper myself, managed to find myself in the middle of it. it was a very prickly berth, and became more so when our sergeant, who had got clear himself, came to my assistance to pull me through. i got scratched all over, but that was not so bad as the thought of the bullets that were peppering through the hedge on all sides of me; however, i was extricated at last, though i left most of the back part of my uniform behind, and we proceeded at full speed on our way. we had not gone far, however, when our poor sergeant was shot down. he appeared quite dead, but i did not stop, for they kept on stoutly pursuing us until they began to be afraid of getting too close to our line, which by this time had made a forward move, both our army and the enemy likewise being still on the march, and we skirmishing with their rear. at one time we came on about two hundred of their stragglers, and we fortunately numbering very strongly, were enabled to engage them and drive them back. soon after this i had another very narrow escape. one of the enemy had lain in ambush in a thicket at the top of a mountain where i myself was straggling. i had no one near me at the time, and this fellow in the bush fired at me. the shot first took the ground and then bounded up against my brass breastplate, which was fixed on my cross-belt, and probably served on this occasion to save my life. the frenchman, as soon as he had spent his shot, bolted; i had my own musket loaded at the time, but i did not think of firing, but proceeded after him with all my speed till i came up with him. i did not think i could run so fast. i have made frenchmen run before, but it was generally after me. when he saw he was outdone he showed very poor pluck, for he immediately threw down his arms and gave himself up to me. if he had had any spirit he would not have done that so easily; though certainly i was loaded, while he was not, having, as i before said, exhausted his shot, owing to my plate, however, i am happy to say, without doing me the slightest injury. i then began to strip him of his accoutrements and ransacked his knapsack, but i was sadly disappointed in finding nothing about him; so i took his musket and broke the stock, and left him, not feeling inclined to be troubled with a prisoner, or to hurt the man in unfair play. and i likewise felt quite pleased at my narrow escape, as those sort of things often served as topics of conversation during our night lounges when we were in pretty quiet quarters. the man himself seemed very grateful that i did not hurt him after his offence; and the more so when i returned him his not-fit-for-much kit in his knapsack, nothing of his, in fact, being damaged except his musket; and he walked away with an air of assurance, without appearing to be in any hurry or afraid of being overtaken by any other of our men. i then went on in search of my comrades, who had by this time left the mountain for the neighbouring valley, and after running down the slope, i found them posted in a house situated at the bottom. they had been in search of provisions, but all they found was a cask of sweet cyder, the french having evidently been there before us and the place having been ransacked of everything but this. we drank as much as we wanted and put the rest into our canteen, but we were greatly disappointed in not finding anything to eat, for we were dreadfully hungry and very short of provisions. however, after we had refreshed ourselves with the cyder, at which our officer helped us, he ordered us to be getting on, or rather led us on himself to a small village about half a mile off, which we knew was occupied by some french. we found that a river intervened between us and this village, with a bridge over it guarded by about two hundred of the enemy; and a long lane had likewise to be traversed before we got up to them, in passing through which several of our men were wounded either by some of the enemy lying in ambush or by stragglers. still we did not take long altogether in arriving at the bridge, and when there, having our firelocks all ready, we opened fire and then charged; but our attack was in vain, for we were met and overpowered and obliged to retreat behind a large hill at a short distance from the bridge. in the course of this short action i saw the french officer's horse shot from under him, but whether he was injured himself i cannot say. we rested a short time behind this hill, and came to a determination to make another attack on the bridge. this time we met with more success, for though we only effected it after a long and severe brush, we made them retreat, leaving the hard fought for but really insignificant bridge in our possession. we found nearly thirty of the enemy lying there killed and wounded, while we only lost about fifteen in all. but we did not delay over our captured bridge, for the blood of victory once in our veins, we pressed on for more and traced them down, continually firing as we passed through the village. unfortunately i sprained my foot here, which disabled me from following, and a portuguese inhabitant having asked our officer to let one of our men stay in his house to guard it from plunder whilst we remained in or near the village, the officer said to me, "corporal lawrence, you may as well stay with the man as you are so lame, and it will do to give you a rest." the company was to go back to the house where the cyder had been found, so i was rather glad of this occurrence, as i calculated i should get more attention paid me than if i had been with my comrades. i accordingly seated myself near the door of the man's house, and he soon brought me about a pint of wine with a piece of bread, for which i was very grateful, as i was very hungry and the wine proved to be much more to my taste than my previous ration of cyder. i had not been sitting there long, however, before i heard a heavy footstep descending the staircase of the house, and on looking up, found it belonged to a frenchman who had been up there for the purpose of plunder, and was now coming away with a good-sized bundle of clean linen under his arm. when he saw me he immediately bolted out of a back door which led into a field. i made a desperate plunge at him with my bayonet, but owing to my bad foot i could not get near enough to him to hurt him; still i managed to stop his burden, for he had forced that against the bayonet to shield himself from it. as soon as i could extricate my musket, i hobbled as quickly as i could to the back door and sent a bullet after him; but he had got some distance away, and i cannot say exactly whether i hit him; though i think it broke his arm, for i saw it drop immediately, and his motion became more slackened as he passed out of sight, which contented me as much as if i had killed him. i then went back into the house and blew the portuguese up for not keeping a better watch than to let a frenchman find his way upstairs, as he might have killed us both. the portuguese said he did not know how he got up there, neither did he very much care so long as he was gone now. i told him i thought he was a very easy-going customer, and pointed out that i had saved his linen for him, and his wife took it upstairs again as if nothing had happened, he likewise remarked that there was no fear of the frenchman having taken any money, for he had none. he then gave me some more bread and wine, and when i had stopped two or three hours longer, during which time i drank the wine and stowed the bread into my haversack till i should feel more inclined to eat it, i left them, not feeling altogether safe there, as the enemy might very likely fall back. i returned over our well-deserved bridge to the cyder-house, as we had named it after the barrel we had found there. on my arrival my comrades seemed to smell out my bread, and they came and hovered round me like bees while i divided it as well as i could, for i was not hungry myself, and it was soon devoured. we only stayed about two or three hours longer at this house until the army came up, and we again joined our different regiments. we halted near this place for the night, and our butchers commenced work killing bullocks for our supply. i think scarcely a drop of blood was wasted, for even that was caught in our kettles and boiled and eaten, and was found to be very good. each sergeant had to send in his return for the meat required for his company, at the rate of two pounds for each man; and when he had received it, the cooking immediately commenced. this was the last cooking that my fellow-corporal burke, whom i have referred to before, ever took part in. but before relating how that happened i may as well mention that the butchers were entitled as a sort of perquisite to the bullocks' heels, which they sometimes sold. burke bought two of these at this place for fifteenpence, and began cooking them in a somewhat peculiar manner, being either too hungry or too impatient to cook them properly by boiling. what he did was to put them on the fire to fizzle just as they came from the butcher, not even cleaning them, or taking any of the hair off; and every now and then he would gnaw the portion off that he thought was done, in order to get the underdone part closer to the fire. in this way he finished both the hocks, and for a time seemed satisfied, evidently thinking he had had a good supper. but he had not counted on his digestion, for having eaten so much on an empty stomach, and that too almost raw and mixed with a fair amount of soot, for the fire was not altogether clear, it was not long before he felt it begin to disagree with him, and he commenced to writhe about and was in fearful agonies all night. the doctor of the regiment was sent for, but he could do nothing for the man, and in the morning he was no better. we were then ordered to follow up the enemy, so that he had either to march on in this state or be left behind. he chose the former, so i got him along by helping him for about a mile, when he suddenly without saying a word to any one fell out of the ranks, lay down on a bank by the roadside, and expired in a few minutes. i was very much hurt at this, for he was one of my best comrades, but there was no help for it, and we had to leave him and march on. we did not come in contact with the enemy at all that day, and encamped for the night, as we thought, but it afterwards proved to be for nearly a fortnight. towards the end of that time, our captain, who was my best friend in the whole regiment, rejoined us, having been left behind owing to a slight wound which he had received while on the march three or four weeks previously, but of which he had now quite recovered. our company was at that time very short of sergeants, for which i shall afterwards account, so he recommended my promotion to fill one of the vacancies to the colonel, who gave him a written order for the purpose, and i was put into the place of poor ryan. i of course was very proud of my new title, and not only that, but i received one shilling and elevenpence pay per day, being an additional sixpence on what i had formerly. chapter xviii. the regiment refitted with clothing and provisions at st. jean de luz -- comments by lawrence on the shameful behaviour of certain sergeants of his regiment -- marches and countermarches in the mountain passes -- lawrence temporizes as cook in behalf of his officers, and is rewarded with an extra allowance of rum -- a wet night -- fall of san sebastian -- lawrence acts as medical adviser to his captain and gets more rum -- battle of the nivelle and the french driven well into their own country. very shortly after my promotion we were ordered to st. jean de luz, where we received new clothes, and high time it was that we did so too, for our old ones were scarcely worth owning as rags and fearfully dirty, the red of them having turned almost to black. i ought to have received a sergeant's suit, but owing probably to the quartermaster's obstinacy i only got a private's, the same sort as i had had before. here we likewise received a good supply of bread and rum, which seemed to us like a new and even a luxurious diet. i may as well here give the details about the sergeants of our regiment. i was the only one in my company where there ought to have been six when i was promoted, so the whole duty fell heavily on me. the rest had been wounded at some time or other before, and then never pushed on much to get back to their regiment; many when recovered preferring to skulk in the hospitals in paltry situations such as doorkeepers or ward-masters, so getting a little extra pay, and then, as i shall again have occasion to show, being too ready to make their appearance when the war was over. fortunately, however, they then met with no great encouragement. they had really plenty of opportunity to follow up the regiment if they had chosen, but i suppose they thought they were best off out of the smell of powder, and probably they were, but still that does not throw a very creditable light on them. after we had received our clothes and provisions, we did not lie long at st. jean de luz, but again started on our marches, cruising about in the pyrenees. for some time nothing of any particular note occurred until we again fell in with the enemy, who were stationed in huts which they had erected in the various valleys. we attacked them, and some sharp work ensued, for they did not seem to like the idea of abandoning their houses, which were much more comfortable than the open winter air, but we at last drove them off and took possession of their habitations, which a part of our army occupied. as for our regiment itself, we marched up the side of a mountain and encamped there. we again found ourselves very short of provisions there, and besides that the rain was falling in torrents all night. we had nothing over our heads at first to cover them, so we set to and gathered a quantity of grass, sticks, stubble, and like things, and made a kind of wall to keep off a little of the wind and beating rain; and then we tried to make up our fires with anything we could get together, but owing to the wetness of the substances, they were not very lively, and it was a long time before we could get them to burn at all. our captain asked me if i could boil him a piece of beef, so i told him i would try and see what i could do to make the best of the bad circumstances, and accordingly i and a corporal of my company at once set to work, first placing our hanger over the fire and then swinging the kettle on it with the beef. the beef nearly filled the kettle, and though it was pouring with rain, it was a very awkward place to get water, as there were no springs near and no tanks to catch the rain in; consequently we had only about a quart of water in the pot, which had all boiled away before the beef was done. however, the captain was impatient for his supper, so it was taken up to him as it was, the pot-cover serving as a dish and a wooden canteen as a plate. i put it before him with salt on the edge of the canteen, and i likewise got him a piece of bread, which by the time he had it was nicely soaked by the rain--indeed we had not a dry thread on us by this time. the next bother was for a fork: i had a knife myself, but had lost the fork, so i got a stick and sharpened it at one end and gave him that as a substitute, and was rewarded by his praising me for my good contrivance. colonel thornton coming up meanwhile, he was invited by the captain to partake of some of the beef, and he gladly accepted, as he said he was very hungry; so another plate, knife, and fork were wanted. i borrowed my comrade the corporal's canteen and knife, and manufactured another fork like the former to serve for the colonel, and they both said the beef was very good, but not very well done, which it certainly was not, for though it went down sweet like most things in those times, the inside was certainly hardly warm. the colonel sent me to the quartermaster for a canteen of rum, which was equivalent to three pints, for which purpose another canteen had to be borrowed, but when i returned to him with it he said, "that's right; now go and drink it." i took it off to my comrade, and we both sat down under our artificial wall close by our fire to try and enjoy ourselves as best the inclemency of the weather would allow us, keeping, however, near our officers' green-carpeted nature's dining-room, so that if we were wanted we could hear them call. but when they did so, which was in a short time, it was for us to clear away, with orders at the same time to keep the remainder of the beef for ourselves; so we removed our dinner traps, passing a good many remarks in a jocular spirit on our green pasture, wet cloth, and our scientific dishes, plates, knives, and forks, much to the amusement of the colonel and captain who were looking on, and then sat down to our own supper, which we very much needed. i remember remarking to my comrade that we had not done so badly over our cooking after all, but perhaps it was only the hunger that made us think so. after finishing our supper and drinking the greater part of our rum, which no doubt got to a certain extent into our heads and served to keep out the cold and wet and make us generally comfortable, we curled ourselves into our blankets and lay down on the wet ground to rest. the rain descended in torrents all night and completely soaked us, but the morning broke out clear, and after we had disposed of the rest of our beef and rum, we joined all hands at work in wringing and shaking the water out of our blankets before putting them up into our knapsacks. we were obliged to do this while they were damp for fear of an attack from the enemy, it being a general rule to keep all in readiness; and, indeed, on this occasion it was not more than an hour after these preparations that the french assailed us. not being willing to show fight, we retreated on that occasion, having nothing to attend to but ourselves and our kit, for we were without baggage and cannon. after a ten miles' journey or so we again halted expecting to be attacked again very soon, for which emergency we hastily prepared, needlessly, as it proved, however, for we eventually stopped here quietly for a month. during this time that i have been speaking of the siege of san sebastian had been going on, the town having up to this time been already attacked twice, but without success. lord wellington now ordered twenty men out of each regiment of our division to act in conjunction with the besiegers, and soon after they arrived, the order being given to attack, after about two hours' fighting they succeeded in capturing the town and driving the garrison into the castle, which was likewise obliged to surrender in about a week. though there were many deaths occasioned in this siege, strange to say the whole twenty men of our regiment returned unhurt. i remember during our stay here, our captain was fearfully troubled with the toothache. at last one night, after trying in vain to endure the pain, he came to me and said, "o sergeant, i am still troubled with the pain! what can you advise me for it?" i recommended him just to take a pipe of my tobacco, for i knew that would be a good thing for him, but he never could bear tobacco, so that it wanted a good deal of persuasion to at last make him consent to prefer the remedy to the pain. as he had no pipe of his own, i supplied him with the implement and some tobacco, and he began to smoke. but he had not been at it long before he said, "why, sergeant, this will never do! the place seems whirling round. here, take the pipe, for i feel precious queer; but my tooth is much better, and after all you are not such a bad doctor." he gave me half a pint of rum, and for a long time i heard nothing more of his toothache. we stayed here, as i said before, about a month, and then again moved on after our enemy, our cavalry, pontoon bridges, and artillery coming on by the most convenient passes of the mountains. while on the march we often had slight skirmishes with the enemy, but no regular pitched battle until we came to the nivelle, where soult had taken up a strong position. there our army halted in line, determined to attack and proceed if possible into france, as nothing more remained to be done in the peninsula, pampeluna having been obliged, owing to shortness of provisions, to surrender on the last day of october. the third, fourth, and seventh divisions, under marshal beresford and their respective generals, occupied the right centres of the line. we commenced the attack early on the th of november on a village which was defended by two redoubts. one of these our division took under general cole, driving the enemy to some heights in the rear, where we again attacked them and drove them over the nivelle. after this we went into cantonments for a few weeks, but owing to the unsettled state of the french army who had attacked our left, and then, having failed, had proceeded against our right which was commanded by sir rowland hill, lord wellington ordered the sixth and our division to reinforce the right. we only arrived there, however, just in time to hear that the action was all over, the defeat of the enemy and their enforced retreat still further into their own country having been accomplished without our assistance. chapter xix. advance to orthes -- lawrence moralizes again on the vicissitudes of war -- losses of his own regiment during the campaign -- proclamation by lord wellington against plunder -- passage of the adour -- battle of toulouse -- casualties in lawrence's company -- sad death of a frenchman in sight of his home -- the french evacuate toulouse -- news arrives of the fall of napoleon -- lawrence on ambition -- the army ordered to bordeaux to ship for england. after remaining inactive for the most part during the rest of and until the february of the next year, we again made an attack on the french, who were lying near a village of which i do not remember the name, and drove them behind a river. there they took up a fresh position, but retained it only two or three days, again shifting and opening a way for us to proceed on our way to orthes. and so after nearly six years of deadly fighting, we had got clear out of spain and portugal and carried the war into our enemy's very kingdom. portugal and spain had long had to contain the deadly destroyers, but now the tide was changed, and it was the inhabitants of the south of france who were for a time to be subjected to the hateful inconveniences of war. they had little expected this turn in their fortunes: napoleon had even at one time had the ambitious idea of driving us out of the peninsula, but he now found us forcing his own army into its own country: he had at one time thought that he would subdue europe, but had while labouring under that error been subdued himself. and all this was very much to our gratification, for we had long been looking forward to this result, being entirely sick of spain. as for those places which had become so famous through us, we could not help thinking and referring back to the many comrades we had left there in their cold graves. since our regiment had left for ireland on this expedition nine hundred strong, fifty-one hundred men had joined us from our depôt, but at the time of our march to orthes we did not in spite of this number more than seven hundred. i do not mean to say that we lost all these in battle, though i can safely say we did the greater part, either killed or badly wounded: but of course many must be reckoned who fell by disease, or as some did from their own drunkenness or gluttony, assisted by the inclemency of the climate; nor must those skulkers, of whom there must have been so many through the whole campaign, be forgotten. lord wellington had watched with hatred the many excesses committed by the enemy on the portuguese and spanish inhabitants during the late campaign, and had determined, now he had carried the war into france, to set them for the future a better example; and accordingly he issued a proclamation that no plundering was to be carried on, on pain of death, which was much to the credit of our noble commander. we arrived in france at a wrong time of the year to see its beauties, but from what i could then judge it abounded in elegancies and varieties of taste, such as vineyards, oranges, pomegranates, figs, and olive-trees to any extent, not altogether unlike the productions of spain. on nearing orthes, we found the french had taken up a very strong position on a range of fine heights stretching from orthes to st. boes, and we were ordered in conjunction with the seventh division to cross a river and attack the latter place, which had one of the heights occupied by the enemy at the back of it, giving them a commanding view of the place. some delay was occasioned at the river, for there being no bridge, a pontoon was obliged to be thrown across; but this being accomplished, our divisions were soon over it, and being joined by a brigade of cavalry and artillery, we formed line and marched on st. boes. the village was stoutly defended by the enemy, who on our nearing them fired briskly at us, for a long time standing their ground and trying hard to retain their charge; but they soon found they had sharp taskmasters to deal with, for our troops of the fourth division under general cole poured in on them like lions, and forced them after a violent resistance to start out of the place and take refuge on their strong heights. we followed them up, but found that there they were for a long time more than a match for us, as they had such an advantage in the ground. we rushed up the formidable heights, but were again and again driven back by the fearful play of the enemy's artillery, the position being only accessible in a few places, and those so narrow that only a small body could move on them at once. but even with these disadvantages and the enemy's cannon playing on them our men, after receiving fresh and strong reinforcements, carried the heights; and not only this, but the whole of the army having been similarly engaged on the right, had meanwhile succeeded in driving the enemy from their lines there, capturing a great number of prisoners in their retreat, the cavalry pursuing them closely; and some field-pieces were likewise taken. the enemy then fell back on the river adour, the allied army soon following and engaging them in slight attacks in various parts of the line, till at last the french again took up a position on the heights near the town of tarbes, on the said river; but they did not stay long there, being soon driven away by the allies and retreating towards st. gaudens. thence they were again driven with great loss to themselves and a very trifling one to the allies, this time to toulouse on the garonne, where they stood on the defensive on some more heights on the right bank of the river with every assailable part strongly fortified. some difficulty was met with in our march, owing to the chief of the bridges being destroyed and having to be replaced by pontoons, and those that were not destroyed being strongly fortified. one of these was guarded by some french cavalry, whom we annoyed very considerably by our fire as we approached them, having in case of their making an attack on us a fine artificial ditch to fall back into where it was next to impossible that they could get at us; our fire was made more daring by our knowing there was a body of hussars waiting out of their sight, ready to fall on them if they moved on us. we soon enticed out a body of about three hundred, who crossed the bridge under our retreating and destructive fire, and on their near approach we fell into our ditch, while at the same time our cavalry came up, and some close shaving ensued, a large quantity of spare heads, arms, legs, as well as many horses being soon strewn about the ground. but this was not the worst part of our day's work, for after they had been tumbled back over the bridge, our division came up and we followed them right up towards their heights, keeping toulouse some distance to our right. before we reached the heights, however, we had to attack and carry a small village they were occupying. this was the commencement of the action of that bloody day which cost the armies on both sides numbers of their best men. it was fought on the easter sunday of . from the village we proceeded over some difficult ground to attack their right under a brisk fire from their artillery, so brisk, indeed, that one of general cole's orderlies had his horse shot under him; and then we formed line and dashed up the hill, which was defended by some thousands of the french, nearly half of whom were cavalry. we soon returned their fire, which at that time was a perfect storm of grape and canister, and directly we got near we charged them, but in vain, as owing to the sudden appearance of some of their cavalry we had to halt and form square: and indeed we must have been routed altogether by their combined infantry and cavalry, had not our rocket brigade stepped forward and played fearful havoc among their cavalry, driving them back. i had never before seen this rocket charge and have never either since; by all appearance it was most successful in this case, for it soon turned them to the right-about, and made them retreat. the spaniards were chiefly engaged on our right, and i never saw them fight better, for they seemed on this occasion as determined as the british: and indeed of the two they suffered most, as the french, knowing them to be cowards, thought they would be certain of some success in that quarter, but they stood their ground well, only a few of their number getting into confusion. when once we had gained this advantage and taken a part of their heights, our artillery joined us, and their play together with our action soon made the french fall back on their works at toulouse, whilst we remained on our newly won height overlooking toulouse and there encamped. i remember well the loss of a man in my company in this action, who had entered the army during the war for a period of seven years at first, and this period having expired for some time, he was mad to be out of these constant scenes of bloodshed and conflicts, but owing to the continuation of the war he had not been allowed to depart. he was not the only one in this plight, for there were thousands of others like him in the army, and several in my own company alone. sixteen guineas had been offered to each for their services for life, and many had accepted, while many had refused, and of course amongst the latter was the man of whom i am speaking. his name was william marsh, and he was a native of bath in somerset. he was by trade a tailor, and earned many a shilling at his trade in the army from various of his comrades who employed him. as i said, the poor man was sick of war, and before entering this very action had been wishing he could have both his legs shot off, so that he might be out of the affair altogether; little expecting that it might really be the case, or nearly as bad, for he had not been in action long before his wish was accomplished, as he was shot through the calves of both his legs by a musket-ball which took him sideways and pierced right through. poor marsh did begin to sing out most heartily, and i couldn't help saying, "hullo there, marsh, you are satisfied now your wish is fulfilled, i hope." he begged and prayed me to move him out of the thick of the fight, so i dragged him under a bank and there left him, and from that time till now i never saw or heard anything more of him. he was far, however, from being mortally wounded, though perhaps from neglect it may have turned to something fatal. another of our comrades in the front of our line had his foot completely smashed by a cannon-ball pitching right on to it, yet he managed to hobble to the rear in that state on his heel. i felt quite hurt for this poor fellow, who was a brave soldier, and seemed to be enduring great agonies. night having drawn in, all firing ceased, and the men set to examine the ground they had gained, chiefly to find firewood. i happened to be about when i came across a frenchman who had been badly wounded and had crawled under a bank: i went up to him and asked him if i could do anything for him. he had been shot in the stomach, and when he asked for water and i gave him some out of my canteen, which was nearly full, of which he drank heartily, in a very short time it only fell out again through his wound. but the most astonishing thing was that he pointed me out his father's house, which was as far as i could judge about half a mile off, and said that he had not seen his parents for six years, for since he had come back to this place, he had not been able to fall out to go and see them. he begged me to take him so that he might die there in the presence of his parents, but i told him i could not do that, as there were a quantity of french there. however, i got an old blanket and wrapped it round him, making him as comfortable as i could under the circumstances, and seemingly much better resigned to his fearful fate, and then i left him and returned to my own place of repose, and after eating my supper and drinking my allowance of grog, i wrapped my own blanket round me, lay down, and was soon unconscious in sleep. i woke early in the morning, and having nothing particular to do, i crept out of my blanket and put all things straight; and then, more out of curiosity than from any other motive, proceeded to the poor frenchman to ascertain if he was yet living; but his death must have taken place some hours before, as he was quite cold and stiff. the loss of the allies in this conflict was over four thousand in killed and wounded, more than two thousand being of the british, whilst that of the enemy was upwards of three thousand. but then there must be considered the advantageous ground they fought on, and the fearful havoc they made in our ranks before we were able to return a shot. lord wellington now finding that toulouse would not surrender, ordered fortifications to be thrown up for the reduction of that place, but they proved to be unneeded, for in the dead of the night the french disappeared from the place and retreated in a south-easterly direction towards villefranche. we were soon following them up, and part of our army had slight skirmishes with them, but we never again saw their main body in that part of their country, for a day or two after our move from toulouse the news came of buonaparte's overthrow and the proclamation of peace, buonaparte himself having been sent to the island of elba. this was indeed good news for most of our troops: certainly for the young officers it took away many chances of promotion, though it made death less likely as well; but ambition sometimes leads a man a long way out of his course, and very often adds tenfold to his sorrow. after the arrival of this welcome news, we encamped for three or four days longer to give our commander time to form his next plans. we were then ordered to bordeaux to ship for our isles, the spaniards and portuguese being sent to their own country. chapter xx. general delight at the end of the war -- march to bordeaux -- kind reception of the troops by the inhabitants of the country on the way -- particular good fortune of lawrence -- great attention on the part of his host -- a magnificent dinner -- singular effects of a campaign on lawrence's taste for feather-beds -- he tells of moving accidents, &c., &c., and excites the pity of his hostess -- two men sentenced to be flogged, but begged off by the inhabitants of the town -- arrival at bordeaux -- encampment on the garonne -- fraternizing of the natives and the troops -- good times in camp -- sudden influx of skulkers, who, however, receive but as poor a welcome as they deserve. things now seemed to assume an entirely different aspect, indeed to take a new birth altogether. all were in a most joyous state, and none more so than the spaniards, who were always only too ready to give up fighting. the portuguese had always shown themselves the better race in the field of action, but they likewise now enjoyed the thought of returning to their own country, although it had been so pillaged. i had many a long conversation with stragglers of both these nations before we started on our long march, and so i had an opportunity of studying their thoughts on the subject. we did not seem to be in any hurry to quit the country before everything was thoroughly arranged, and having no enemy pushing on our rear, we were often billeted at towns and villages longer than we need have been, which caused our march to take more time to accomplish, but made it much more comfortable. we were generally billeted on the inhabitants during our halts, the best billets being of course chosen for the officers, then for the sergeants, and then for the corporals and privates, the numbers being suited to the accommodation of the places; but i very seldom had more than one with me besides myself. the inhabitants could not have behaved better to us if they had been our own countrymen; and i well remember how at the last stage where we put up before coming to bordeaux two of us, myself and a private of the same company, were billeted at quite a gentleman's house, the owners of which were unusually kind to us. we found we had completely jumped into clover, and fortunately it happened to be saturday night, so that our halt was till monday morning; not that sunday in those times had been used to make much difference to us, for two of our bloodiest conflicts had happened on that day, but in this case, our haste not being urgent, it gave us a kind of sweet repose. as soon as we arrived at our house we were shown into our room, which was a very nice one and beautifully furnished; and when we had taken off our accoutrements, we went downstairs to a sort of bath-room, where we had a good wash in tubs of water that were placed in readiness for us. then the gentleman had some clean stockings brought up to us, and when we had made ourselves comfortable he sent up to our room a loaf of bread and a large bottle of wine holding about three pints, which we found most acceptable; and it not being long before the family's dinner was ready, our hostess would insist on our dining with them. for my own part, not being used to such pomp, and never having before even seen it, being more accustomed to the kind of dinners and suppers in which i have described our own colonel and captain as taking part, i would sooner have crept out of the invitation; but being pressed we consented, and having been shown into the dining-room, we sat down to an excellent repast with nobody else but the lady and gentleman. the table was laid out most gorgeously with glittering silver, which came very awkward to our clumsy hands, as we had been more accustomed to using our fingers for some years; to set off which gorgeousness our waiter, who was evidently the family footman, wore an out-of-the-way fine and ugly dress, with his hair plastered up with white powder, of which i had such an aversion during the first part of my stay in the army. a most palatable dinner was served of which i freely partook, though i had very little idea of what it consisted, and some good wine was likewise often handed round with which our glasses were constantly kept filled. after dinner was over, the white-headed gentleman entered with coffee, a fashion which then surprised us very much; but nevertheless, more out of compliment than because we needed it, we took a cup each with some sugar-candy which was also handed round to sweeten it. when that was finished, just to keep us still going, the gentleman asked us if we smoked, and on our saying we both did, the bell was rung, and the footman entering with tobacco, we took a pipe with the gentleman, the lady having previously retired into the drawing-room. then getting more used to the distinguished style, and the wine no doubt having made us more chatty, we for a time thoroughly enjoyed ourselves with our pipes, and began to feel new men with all our grandeur. we were next invited to partake of tea in the drawing-room, but being very tired, we begged to be excused; and this being granted, the bed-candles being rung for, and having wished him good-night, we went to our room and there had a hearty laugh over the evening's business; though we had not been able to understand half what the gentleman had said, not being used to the french so well as to the spanish language. we retired to rest in a fine feather bed, which being a luxury we had not seen for years, was consequently too soft for our hard bones, and we found we could not sleep owing to the change. my comrade soon jumped out of bed, saying, "i'll be bothered, sergeant, i can't sleep here!" "no," said i, "no more can i;" so we prepared our usual bed by wrapping ourselves into a blanket, and then with a knapsack as a pillow we lay on the floor and soon sank into a profound slumber. late in the morning, for we had overslept ourselves, the servant knocked at the door and said breakfast was waiting; and in a very short time the master himself came up and knocked, and on our calling to him to come in he opened the door, and looking in, found we had been sleeping on the floor. on his wanting to know if there were fleas in the bed, or what was the cause of our lying on the floor, we made him understand as well as we could, but it must have been very imperfectly at the best. he then went down again, and we soon following him, found an excellent breakfast ready, of which we made a first-rate meal, and after they had left us, for they had finished long before us, my comrade and i agreed that we had fallen on luck now, and no mistake. very soon after we had finished our breakfast, the servant entered to conduct us to the drawing-room, which was splendidly furnished, though for my own part i would rather have been down in the kitchen. we went in, however, and our hostess took down a book describing the french and english languages, so that they might understand some of our words better, and again asked us the reason why we did not sleep on our bed. i told her we had not slept on a feather bed for six years, and answered her other questions, giving her a slight description of the trials of a soldier in the time of war. she was very much touched, and could not forbear from crying, more especially when i added that two privates were to be whipped that very morning for having got drunk overnight and making a disturbance in the town, to serve as an example to the regiment. they had been tried by court-martial and sentenced to a hundred lashes, to be administered in the town and witnessed by the inhabitants. although it was sunday, the drums beat for the regiment to assemble, and the men were brought into our square; and their sentence having been read in the presence of all, the first man was led to the halberds, and the drummers got ready to begin. but five or six gentlemen of the town made their way into our square and begged the colonel so hard to let them off, as that was the general wish of the inhabitants, that at last he dismissed the victims with a reprimand. the two then thanked the colonel, but he told them not to do so, for had it not been for the timely interference of the gentlemen, he would have given them every lash. all were then ordered to disperse, and i returned to my excellent quarters, where we again received for the rest of the day no end of kindnesses in the way of luxurious meals, luncheons, dinner, and coffee, together with plenty of wine, and before we went to bed, brandy was introduced as a finish: and having taken a hot glass of that with water, we retired and slept in a similar way to the night before. on the following morning we had to assemble by seven o'clock, so no time was allowed us for breakfast; but our host had ordered our canteens to be filled with their best wine, and a parcel of sandwiches to be made up for each of us. we shook hands with the gentleman, duly thanking him for his kindness, and, rejoining our regiment, were soon on the march again for bordeaux, which being not more than a day's march distant we reached the same night. we encamped at a place two miles off the city on the banks of the river garonne, to which even large ships were able to ascend. here we lay for five or six weeks, during which time the inhabitants made many excursions from the city especially on sundays, to inspect our army, swarms of costermongers likewise visiting us every day with wine, spirits, bread, meat, fish, and fruit of every description for sale. every sunday afternoon the bands of all the regiments played, while the french amused themselves with dancing, many of them, both male and female, on stilts, which entertained us more than anything, and besides this there were all kinds of other jollities in which our soldiers freely joined. and now i will take the opportunity of saying a few more words as regards the skulkers. as soon as the peace was declared no less than seven sergeants of my own company alone had either at this place or on the march thither made their appearance from the snug dens where they had been lying, most of whom had been occupying themselves with some trivial employment in the pay of the spaniards or portuguese, but had now at this crisis abandoned whatever they had been doing, for fear of being left in the country, or perhaps because they thought that they might still come in for a share of the praise and pay. before they appeared i was the only sergeant in our company, while if the proper number had been there, there would have been six. i do not mean to say that there had been no cause at first for their staying behind, for there were some laid up like myself at elvas and estremoz, but it was their duty to follow up the regiment when they were able, as i had done myself. the captain of my company, who had been like myself through the whole campaign excepting when actually in hospital, pretended not to know them when he saw them, and asked them, "where on earth do you come from? you certainly don't belong to my company, by your appearance." he then called me to say if i knew them. i remarked, "they seem to have been in luck's way about their clothes, at any rate;" and so they did, for whilst ours were as ragged as sheep and as black as rooks, theirs were as red and new as if they had never been on, and their shoes were to match, whilst ours were completely worn out by our continual marches, the captain's being quite as bad as any private's. we found that two of these men had left the regiment for hospital on our retreat from talavera, and had never shown themselves since, the others having been away in like manner for rather shorter periods. now the whole had returned we were overstocked with sergeants, having two more than our complement, so our captain sent the two who had been longest absent to the colonel with a written request that they should be transferred somewhere else; the other five he allowed to remain, but only for as short a time as possible till he could get rid of them also, as he told them his company should not be disgraced by them longer than he could help. he likewise told them that many of his privates deserved the stripes more than they did; and indeed it was not long before he got them transferred, and their places filled up by some of the braver heroes from among such of the privates as had at all distinguished themselves in any conflict. chapter xxi. embarkation of the troops -- lawrence's regiment sent to ireland -- he receives his pay for the war and promptly spends it -- ordered on foreign service again to the west indies -- terrific storm which compels the fleet to put back into cork -- arrival at barbadoes -- death of a young captain from fever -- jamaica -- discovery of a female stowaway -- lawrence told off to deposit her on shore -- the regiment proceeds to new orleans -- a new kind of fortification to be stormed -- doings in camp on dolphin isle -- return to england -- news arriving of napoleon's escape from elba, the regiment is sent on at once to flanders -- ghent -- march to brussels. after remaining at bordeaux for five or six weeks the army embarked on board ships bound for various parts of the british isles. our regiment was again despatched to ireland, most of us being irish. we were conveyed thither by the _sultan_, a fine man-of-war with seventy-four guns. we had a very good passage, and amused ourselves very much with the sailors on board, who on their part had many a good laugh at our general ragged appearance. we landed in ireland at monkstown, near cork, and marched thence to fermoy, whence after lying two three days in the barracks there, we proceeded to athlone in west meath, where we were stationed for about two months. the regiment had never been settled with during the whole of our peninsular trip of six years, though money had been advanced to us at various places, so now while we were waiting at this place the accounts were made up, and some of our sergeants found they had as much as _l._ or _l._ to receive. my own lot amounted to _l._, i being one of the younger sergeants. when our pay had been given us a week's furlough was granted to the whole regiment, and no doubt most of the money melted away in that period--at least, i know mine did, for not having been in the british isles for so long, we were all resolved to have a spree. i never went away from athlone, however, the whole time, but slept in barracks every night, though there was no duty to be done as the militia were ordered out for that. i knew that it would be useless to cross the channel in that short time to see my parents, though i should have liked to have done so, but i did not altogether forget them, and wrote to them to ease their minds about my whereabouts; as i had written to them during my stay in the peninsula, and i thought they might have been anxious about my safety when they heard or read about the scenes that were taking place there, as parents naturally are about their children, be they ever so rackety. but we were not allowed to stay here even in peace long, for at the end of the two months we were again ordered on foreign service, and marched to a place called mallow in cork, whence, having been joined there by our second battalion, and having had all the men fit for service drafted out of that into ours, we proceeded to cork itself. this was a fine place for our captain to get rid of the remaining skulkers, and he left them behind, much to their annoyance, in the second battalion. from cork we proceeded to the cove to embark, after a stay in ireland now of about three months altogether; and when all was in readiness on board the ships, we set sail for the west indies. it can be better imagined than i can describe in what sort of spirit we began this other war, scarcely having slipped out of one field before we were launched into another; but as they were the usual thing on our embarkations, the same scenes that took place at portsmouth will serve to picture those at cork: they did not tend to enliven us much, but they were soon forgotten when we got to work talking over and telling our new comrades the many tales of the peninsula. after launching out of cork harbour, however, a terrible gale blew up, which obliged us to put into bantry bay for a time. one of our ships was lost on the rocks, but fortunately all on board were saved. they had lost all their accoutrements, however, so they were taken on board various ships, and as soon as we got fairer weather we returned to the cove to await a fresh supply, which was at least three weeks in coming. then we again set sail, amusing ourselves on the voyage as we best could; and having good weather, we arrived as soon as could be expected at barbadoes, and anchored there for a short time. one of the captains of my regiment, who had probably seen enough of war to satisfy him, had before our start sold his commission to a younger officer who gave him _l._ for it; but, singular to say, the very first night of this our anchorage this poor young man went to sleep on shore, and, catching a fever, was brought on board and a few hours afterwards was a lifeless corpse. owing to the infectiousness of his disease, he had to be immediately sewn up with two of our large shot in a blanket, and the funeral service being read by an officer as there was no minister on board, he was put into the sea. from barbadoes we sailed to jamaica, and anchored off port royal. a singular circumstance occurred during our stay there: a girl was discovered who had been concealed on board at cork by some of the sailors in a bundle of straw unbeknown to the captain of the ship. this being the best place for shipping her back to england, she was obliged to leave her accomplices at once, and i being sergeant of the watch was called to take her on shore to port royal with two privates. we took her to a kind of public-house, where, although it was two o'clock in the morning, the people were still amusing themselves in dancing to some rough music of their own, the whole of them being blacks. we asked for the landlord, and on his soon making his appearance from among the company, as black as a crow and still steaming with the dance, i inquired if the girl could have a bed there for the night. he said, "yes, for a dollar." i thought that was a stiffish price for a night considering it was two o'clock in the morning, but i paid him the sum and left the poor unfortunate girl there while we returned to our ships. i was very sorry for her, as she seemed nearly broken-hearted, but i could do no more for her under the circumstances, and i hope she got safe back to england after all. after about a week had elapsed a gun-brig arrived to convey us to north america, england being then at war with the americans, and we went on in her to the mouth of the river mississippi. there we disembarked into barges holding about a hundred troops each, and having been towed up by other small sailing and rowing boats to orleans, were put on shore near that place, our body consisting of five english and two black regiments, with a battalion of marines. we marched on the same day and encamped about two miles from the city. skirmishing was kept up with this our new enemy during the night, but without any great casualty happening. on the following morning, however, we advanced in a body to attack a battery that had been constructed near the city, chiefly out of barrels of brown sugar. we were at first warmly received with the cannon and musketry planted there, but they soon got tired of our peninsular medicines: i suppose the pills disagreed with them, for they were very quickly obliged to retire into the city and no more fighting ensued; and some terms having been hinted at, when the black regiments had eaten a quantity of the fortifications, which they seemed to be very fond of, and we had put some into our haversacks as likely to be useful to sweeten our cocoa, we returned to our boats, and dropping down the river to a piece of land called dolphin isle, there encamped again. the island was uninhabited, except that there were plenty of alligators, racoons, and oysters there; but we had plenty of provisions, that is, in the shape of meat and flour, though no bread, which inconvenience was from the want of ovens. we soon set to work, however, to construct one by burning a quantity of oyster-shells for lime, and having mixed that with sand and water we made some very good cement; after which we got a lot of iron hoops from the vessels, with which we formed the arch, and so we put one oven together; and i much doubt if it did not bake as well as any english one, considering the style of dough that we had. after it had been found to answer so well, at least twenty more were constructed on the once desolate but now busy little isle. we were constantly on the coast in search of oysters, of which there was an abundance; and some of the more industrious of us even collected them for sale among the troops who either preferred buying them to taking the trouble of collecting them for themselves, or else were unable to go on the sands on account of being on duty. they were sold very cheap, however; i have known half a bushel go for one dollar, which was certainly not much for the trouble of getting them. during our stay here a playhouse was likewise erected, and some of the more clever among the officers and men amused the troops in that way. the scenery was rather rude, to be sure; but with these and various other games and freaks the three months that we lay there passed off very pleasantly the poor blacks, however, suffered dreadfully from the cold, it being then winter, and they had to be sent back to their own country long before we left. our chief reason for lying there so long was to see all settled and to wait for orders before we proceeded back to england. when the order did come, joy was in every mouth, for this was indeed a short campaign compared with our peninsular affairs, and it may be supposed we were by no means sorry for that. we embarked on board the same ships, and again tacked to the west indies to get provisions at one of the spanish islands, where we took on board live cattle and water, and as food for the former a kind of cabbage, which on account of their size were called cabbage-trees. thence we proceeded on our route to portsmouth, and had a very pleasant voyage with fair weather prevailing; but when near england we fell in with an english frigate, which informed us that napoleon buonaparte had left the island of elba with a small force and had landed in france to collect more troops. this was indeed a disappointment to me, for i felt sure that if he again intended disturbing europe, we should have to be on the scene again. but in another way it caused no small amount of stir on board, for the young officers, who were looking ravenously forward to promotion, were so rejoiced at the news that they treated all the men to an extra glass of grog, to make everybody as lively as themselves. nothing else of any particular note occurred on our voyage, and having arrived near portsmouth a signal was raised, and we fell in on the quarantine ground, hoisting a yellow flag for a doctor to inspect us on board. when he came he found all on board our ship to be in very good condition, which was reported to the general, and the very next morning he signalled to us to weigh anchor and proceed to flanders; so without setting foot on english ground we again went on our way to meet our common enemy. this time, however, he was not in his old quarters, but in the north of france, where he had collected more than a hundred thousand troops. i left portsmouth this time with a good deal lighter heart than i had last, being now more used to war and hardships than to peace and plenty, though perhaps i would rather have landed than proceed on this errand; and, indeed, there were many of us who had left wife and children at home who went off with a very sad heart. our voyage this time was a very short one, only occupying one day; and early on the following morning we arrived in sight of flanders and there brought up at anchor. very shortly some small vessels came alongside to convey us to the quay at ostend, where we landed, and after marching about half a mile we came to a canal, where we embarked in large open barges, in which we were towed by horses past bruges, about twelve miles off ostend, to ghent, which at a wide guess might be twice the same distance further. we landed at ghent and lay there about nine days, while louis xviii. was staying in the town, he having been obliged to flee from paris by that old disturber after a short reign of about ten months. at the end of the nine days the drums beat at midnight, and we arrayed ourselves in marching order as quickly as possible. the landlord of the house where i was staying had got up, and would kindly insist on filling our canteens--that is a capacity of about three pints--with gin, giving us as well some bread and meat each, and warning us to look out, for he knew the french were coming. all having assembled at the rendezvous, orders were given to march on to brussels immediately. i could not exactly say what the distance was, but it was probably not less than forty miles, taking us two days of hard marching to accomplish it. chapter xxii. waterloo -- dreadful night before the battle -- opening of the battle -- unpleasant contiguity with a shell -- a recruit taken suddenly and conveniently ill -- the regiment in the thick of it -- rout of napoleon's bodyguards -- repeated charges of the french infantry and cavalry successfully repulsed -- lawrence in charge of the colours -- death of his captain -- gallant stand of the british until the arrival of the prussians -- lawrence on the tactics of the enemy -- the french finally driven off the field by blucher's army -- bivouac on the enemy's ground -- fatal results of trifling with a powder-wagon -- lawrence's supper in danger -- he invites a guest to supper, who, however, takes french leave -- on the march again. on the th of june, , we marched through brussels, amid the joy of the inhabitants, who brought us out all manner of refreshments. i heard some remarks from them to the effect that we were all going to be slaughtered like bullocks, but we only laughed at this, telling them that that was nothing new to us. some of the younger recruits, however, were terribly downcast and frightened at the idea of fighting, but i have often found that it is these most timid ones who when they come to an actual battle rush forward and get killed first; probably owing to the confused state they are in, while the more disciplined soldiers know better what course to pursue. from brussels we marched to about five or six miles out of the town, not far from the village of waterloo, when our commander sent his aide-de-camp to lord wellington for general orders how he was to act, or as to what part of the line we were to fall in at. the orders returned were that we were to stay in our present position till next morning, so that night we crept into any hole we could find, cowsheds, cart-houses, and all kinds of farmstead buildings, for shelter, and i never remember a worse night in all the peninsular war, for the rain descended in torrents, mixed with fearful thunder and lightning, and seeming to foretell the fate of the following morning, the th, which again happened to be sunday. the allied army had on the th and th been attacked by napoleon's large forces at ligny and quatre bras, but neither side had obtained any great success, beyond thousands being killed on both sides; during the night of the th, therefore, firing was continually going on, which i could distinctly hear, in spite of its being considerably drowned by the thunder. all that night was one continued clamour, for thousands of camp-followers were on their retreat to brussels, fearful of sticking to the army after the quatre bras affair. it was indeed a sight, for owing to the rain and continued traffic the roads were almost impassable, and the people were sometimes completely stuck in the mud: and besides these a continual stream of baggage-wagons was kept up through the night. early in the morning of the th we were again put on the march to join our lines, our position being in the reserve, which included the fourth and twenty-seventh regiments, together with a body of brunswickers and dutch, and formed a line between merk braine and mont st. jean on the brussels road. our regiment took the left of this road, but did not remain there long, for the french were seen in motion, and on their opening fire from their cannon we soon marched up to action in open column. during this movement a shell from the enemy cut our deputy-sergeant-major in two, and having passed on to take the head off one of my company of grenadiers named william hooper, exploded in the rear not more than one yard from me, hurling me at least two yards into the air, but fortunately doing me little injury beyond the shaking and carrying a small piece of skin off the side of my face. it was indeed another narrow escape, for it burnt the tail of my sash completely off, and turned the handle of my sword perfectly black. i remember remarking to a sergeant who was standing close by me when i fell, "this is sharp work to begin with, i hope it will end better:" and even this much had unfortunately so frightened one of the young recruits of my company, named bartram, who had never before been in action and now did not like the curious evolutions of this shell so close to him, that he called out to me and said he must fall out of rank, as he was taken very ill. i could easily see the cause of his illness, so i pushed him into rank again, saying, "why, bartram, it's the smell of this little powder that has caused your illness; there's nothing else the matter with you;" but that physic would not content him at all, and he fell down and would not proceed another inch. i was fearfully put out at this, but was obliged to leave him, or if he had had his due he ought to have been shot. from this time i never saw him again for at least six months, but even then i did not forget him for this affair of cowardice, as i shall have occasion to show hereafter. the right of our line had been engaged some little time before we were ordered up, and then our position was changed, we having to cross the road and proceed to the right of a farmhouse called la haye sainte. owing to the rain that had been peppering down the whole night and even now had not quite ceased, the fields and roads were in a fearful state of dirt and mud, which tended to retard our progress greatly as well as to tire us. it made it very bad too for the action of cavalry, and even more so for artillery. about ten o'clock the action of the day began at hougoumont on our right, and from there it fell on our centre, where we were attacked by a tremendous body of cavalry and infantry. the fire, however, which had been kept up for hours from the enemy's cannon had now to be abated in that quarter, owing to the close unison of the two armies. and from this time onward we endured some heavy work throughout the day, having constantly to be first forming square to receive the repeated attacks of their cavalry, and then line to meet their infantry, charge after charge being made upon us, but with very little success. at the commencement the commanding officer was killed by a musket-shot, but his place was soon filled up. on our left on the turnpike road was placed a brigade of german cavalry with light horses and men. when buonaparte's bodyguards came up they charged these, making fearful havoc amongst their number; they were routed and obliged to retreat, but the life guards and scotch greys fortunately making their appearance immediately, some close handwork took place, and the bodyguards at last finding their match, or even more, were in their turn compelled to fall back before the charge of our cavalry, numbers of them being cut to pieces. still nothing daunted, they formed again, and this time ascended at us; but of the two, they met with a worse reception than before, for we instantly threw ourselves into three squares with our artillery in the centre; and the word having been given not to fire at the men, who wore armour, but at the horses, which was obeyed to the very letter, as soon as they arrived at close quarters we opened a deadly fire, and very few of them wholly escaped. they managed certainly at first to capture our guns, but they were again recovered by the fire of our three squares; and it was a most laughable sight to see these guards in their chimney-armour trying to run away after their horses had been shot from under them, being able to make very little progress, and many of them being taken prisoners by those of our light companies who were out skirmishing. i think this quite settled buonaparte's bodyguards, for we saw no more of them, they not having expected this signal defeat. that affair, however, had only passed off a very few minutes before their infantry advanced and we had again to form line ready to meet them. we in our usual style let the infantry get well within our musket-shot before the order was given to fire, so that our volley proved to be of fearful success: and then immediately charging them we gave them a good start back again, but not without a loss on our side as well as on theirs. and no sooner had they disappeared than another charge of cavalry was made, so that we again had to throw ourselves into square on our old ground. these cavalry had no doubt expected to appear amongst us before we could accomplish this, but fortunately they were mistaken, and our persistent fire soon turned them. we did not lose a single inch of ground the whole day, though after these successive charges our numbers were fearfully thinned; and even during the short interval between each charge the enemy's cannon had been doing some mischief among our ranks besides. the men in their tired state were beginning to despair, but the officers cheered them on continually throughout the day with the cry of "keep your ground, my men!" it is a mystery to me how it was accomplished, for at last so few were left that there were scarcely enough to form square. about four o'clock i was ordered to the colours. this, although i was used to warfare as much as any, was a job i did not at all like; but still i went as boldly to work as i could. there had been before me that day fourteen sergeants already killed and wounded while in charge of those colours, with officers in proportion, and the staff and colours were almost cut to pieces. this job will never be blotted from my memory: although i am now an old man, i remember it as if it had been yesterday. i had not been there more than a quarter of an hour when a cannon-shot came and took the captain's head clean off. this was again close to me, for my left side was touching the poor captain's right, and i was spattered all over with his blood. one of his company who was close by at the time, cried out, "hullo, there goes my best friend," which caused a lieutenant, who quickly stepped forward to take his place, to say to the man, "never mind, i will be as good a friend to you as the captain." the man replied, "i hope not, sir;" the officer not having rightly understood his meaning, the late captain having been particularly hard on him for his dirtiness, giving him extra duty and suchlike as punishment. this man, whose name was marten, was a notorious character in the regiment, and i was myself tolerably well acquainted with him, for he had once been in my company; but on account of the same thing, dirtiness in his person, he had been transferred to this the fifth company, where neither this poor captain had been able to reform him, try however hard he might. still he was for all this an excellent soldier in the field. but now i must get on to the last charge of cavalry, which took place not very long after this. few as we were, when we saw it coming we formed squares and awaited it. then we poured volley after volley into them, doing fearful execution, and they had to retire at last before the strong dose we administered; not, however, without our losing more men and so becoming even weaker than before. we were dreading another charge, but all the help we got was the cry of "keep your ground, my men, reinforcements are coming!" not a bit, however, did they come till the setting sun, in time to pursue our retreating enemy; the prussians under marshal blucher having been detained elsewhere, and although long expected, only being able at this period to make their appearance at last. i must say here that i cannot think why those charges of cavalry were kept up against our unbroken squares, in spite of their being so constantly sent back. it is murder to send cavalry against disciplined infantry unless they have artillery to act in conjunction with them, in which case they might possibly succeed in routing them if they could take advantage of their falling into confusion, but not otherwise. we were indeed glad to see the arrival of these prussians, who now coming up in two columns on our left flank, advanced on the enemy's right. lord wellington, who was ever enticing his army on, now came up to our regiment and asked who was in command. on being told it was captain brown, he gave the order to advance, which we received with three cheers, and off we set as if renewed with fresh vigour. the attack was now being made by the whole line, together with the prussians, who had come up fresh and were therefore more than a match for the harassed french. they soon forced the french into a downright retreat by their fire, and the retreat becoming universal, the whole body of the french were thrown into disorder and pursued off the field by blucher's fresh and untired infantry and cavalry. we followed them ourselves for about a mile, and then encamped on the enemy's ground; and if ever there was a hungry and tired tribe of men, we were that after that memorable day of the th of june. then the first thing to be thought of was to get a fire and cook some food, which was not so easy, as wood was scarce and what there was was wet through. one of our company, named rouse, who went out in search of sticks, came across one of the enemy's powder-wagons that we had taken in the battle amongst the rest of the many things, and immediately commenced cutting the cover up for fuel; but his hook coming in contact with a nail or some other piece of iron and striking fire, as a natural consequence the remains of the powder in the wagon exploded and lifted the poor fellow to a considerable height in the air. the most remarkable thing was that he was still alive when he came down and able to speak, though everything had been blown from him except one of his shoes. he was a perfect blackguard, for although he was in a most dangerous state he did not refrain from cursing his eyes, which happened, as it was, to be both gone, and saying what a fool he must have been. he was that night conveyed to brussels hospital with the rest of the many wounded, and died in a few days, raving mad. we succeeded, however, in getting a fire at last, and then as i happened that night to be orderly sergeant to our general i went and reported myself to him. he was at the time sitting on a gun-carriage holding his horse, and when he saw me, said, "that's right, sergeant; i expect two more sergeants directly, but i wish you would meanwhile try and get some corn for my poor horse." off i went accordingly, and found two bushels or so in a sack which had evidently been left by the enemy, as it was on one of their cannon. when i opened the sack i found to my great surprise that it likewise contained a large ham and two fowls, so i asked the general if he would accept them; he, however, declined, saying he would take the corn, but that i might keep the meat for myself, advising me, however, to keep it out of sight of the prussians, who were a slippery set of men and very likely to steal it if they saw it. i prepared the hanger for the pot as quickly as possible, putting cross-sticks over the fire at a sufficient distance to prevent them igniting; but before i had finished doing this a quantity of these same prussians whom the general had been watching and warned me against passed by; and two of them coming to my fire to light their pipes noticed the ham, and remarked that it looked good. i thought it best to take my sword and immediately cut them off a piece each, and they relieved my fears by going off seemingly quite satisfied. they were evidently on the march following up the french, for the whole night we could hear the distant sound of cannon and musketry from the french and prussians, lord wellington having completely given up the pursuit to marshal blucher. i pretty quickly put my ham in the pot after that, and the two sergeants coming up, i set them to pick the fowls, and these soon going in after the ham, in two hours were pretty well done. about this time i heard a frenchman groaning under a cannon, where he was lying on a quantity of straw. i thought he was badly wounded, and perhaps as hungry as myself, so i went to him and told him as well as i was able to stop till our supper was cooked, and then i would bring him some; but when it was ready and i had cut off some bread, fowl, and ham, and taken it to the place where i had seen him, he had gone. for one reason i was not sorry, for he left his straw, which made a very good bed for us three sergeants, the ground itself being unpleasantly wet. i think perhaps this frenchman must have been a skulker, or he would not have ventured to escape. we sat down ourselves, however, and made a very good meal off our ham and poultry, and i can safely say we enjoyed our mess as much as men ever did, for i, for one, had had nothing to eat since early in the morning up to that time. after that, as the general did not want us for anything, we retired to rest on our straw, but i was too tired to go to sleep for a long time, and lay contemplating the scenes of the day. i was merely scratched on the face myself during the whole day, besides being a little shaken by the bursting of the shell i mentioned; but this scratch had been terribly aggravated by a private who had been standing next to me having overprimed his musket, with the consequence that when he fired, my face being so close, the powder flew up and caught my wound, which though only originally a slight one soon made me dance for a time without a fiddle. of the general loss on that blood-stained day i am unable to give an exact account, but it must have been enormous on both sides, for three hundred of my regiment alone were missing; and this was not so great a loss as that of some regiments, for the one on our right lost six hundred, chiefly from the continual fire of shot and shell that the french cannon had kept up between the charges. but now there was very little delay; and early next morning we were again put in motion, to prevent our enemy, if possible, from getting any breathing time. the prussians were at least twelve hours in advance of us, so that we really had not much to fear; but still some doubt was entertained as to whether the enemy would make another stand in their own territory, and in all probability such would have been the case if blucher had not been pushing so close on their heels. i very much doubt, too, if, had not the prussians come up when they did, both armies would not have remained on the field of waterloo, and perhaps have joined battle again in the morning, for the french had been expecting fresh reinforcements after their defeat; but these not arriving and we being increased in numbers, no resource was left them but to retreat. chapter xxiii. advance to paris -- lawrence on the general fickleness of humanity -- flight and surrender of napoleon -- enthusiastic reception of louis xviii. by the parisians rather snubbed by lord wellington -- lawrence assists in escorting louis to his throne -- comfortable quarters in paris -- various historical events of more or less importance -- review and sham fight -- sequel to the story of the sickly recruit -- an incorrigible subject -- flogged four times, and then drummed out of the regiment -- another very simple tale of true love, but one in which lawrence is this time more immediately concerned -- married, though not exactly settled -- departure from paris. our march now lay in the direction of paris, and being made all in the daytime, caused us very little fatigue, as we halted often, besides always encamping or billeting at night. we never fell in with the enemy ourselves, though some few collisions took place between the prussians and french after this, and likewise some towns were taken by our army; but beyond that our march was generally quiet, and we continued on to within a few miles of, and in sight of paris, where we remained for a short time, coming up here with our allies the prussians. they had already opened fire on that city of despotism, which was returned faintly by the enemy; but once the balance is turned, and once a man, however great, is defeated, all seem to forsake him, and he immediately becomes an usurper, as was shown to be true in this napoleon's case. there is not a doubt that the populace would have held to him if he had been a conqueror, but as it was, the whole city now changed its sentiments from napoleon to louis xviii., who had advanced with us with about fifty of his own guards. on our approach to the city the inhabitants soon sent a flag of truce for terms, and the firing having ceased on both sides, these were agreed upon, and the city gates were opened. napoleon buonaparte had previously flown to the coast to get a ship to america, but not finding one at hand, and fearing that if he stayed on land he might on account of his unpopularity be taken prisoner by his own bloodthirsty people, he went on board and gave himself up to the captain of one of our ships of the line, a seventy-four called the _bellerophon_. i remember that owing to that event she was very commonly known amongst us as the "billy ruff'un," and we used to aggravate the people not a little on our march into the city, by singing, "god save buonaparte, who has fled and given himself up to the billy ruff'uns," in opposition to their cry of "god save the king;" thousands of them having come out with white cockades in their hats to welcome the king. they even wanted to take the horses out of his carriage and draw him into the city, but lord wellington would not allow this, knowing well their changeable disposition, and fearing they might make their king a head shorter by the morning. the king therefore slept that night at st. denis, a few miles from paris, and on the following morning about three thousand men with cannon and cavalry were ordered to convey him into the city, amongst whom was myself. we started at about eleven or twelve o'clock, still not knowing how we should be welcomed, which was the reason for this large force being thought necessary; but as we met with no opposition at the entrance, the bands of each regiment soon struck up, and on proceeding through the streets we found flags from endless windows, and the cry, "god save the king!" resounding everywhere. our destination was of course the palace, where the king was again placed on his throne, with a strong guard to protect his person. after this we saw no more of napoleon's army, nor did we want to much, for most of us had had quite enough of it at waterloo, and now we found ourselves comfortably quartered at the different barracks throughout the city, where we remained for three months or so scarcely wanting for anything but money. during this time it became my duty to be one of the king's guard two or three times at the palace, which was a splendid place, with fine grounds and a beautiful river running at the back. nothing of particular note occurred whilst we were staying here, and on leaving it at the end of the time we encamped on marshal ney's own property in front of his residence or palace. at that time there could not have been much less than two hundred thousand troops encamped in various parts of and around paris, and those all of foreign nations: truly a downfall for that noble but despotic city. in the november of the same year marshal ney was brought to justice as a traitor. he was tried by his own country's law, lord wellington having nothing to do with the matter, and being found guilty, was shot. i believe that he was generally liked by the army he commanded through nearly the whole of the peninsular campaign. the bourbons, on their part, were evidently not liked by the french, for the next heir to louis xviii. was assassinated in the streets. his duchess however, very shortly afterwards had a son, and so there was soon another of the family in the way. still these ill-disposed french people could not rest, and the next thing was that two men were caught in the act of undermining the palace, with a view to blow the duchess and her child up. they were tried and sentenced to be guillotined, but the sentence was never carried into effect, as the duchess, in spite of her husband having been killed by the same party, begged their lives of the king, and they were transported for life instead. during our stay in the environs of paris the whole army was reviewed by two english dukes; one of them was the duke of york, but the other's name i am not able to give, as i never heard. a sham fight was likewise held, in which i should say more powder was thrown away than at waterloo itself; and i am positive i was quite as tired after it as at waterloo, for it lasted all day, and a great deal more marching took place than did there, for we were on the move the whole time, while at waterloo we did not advance or retreat more than a hundred yards during the entire action. the inhabitants kept up a continual market at the rear of our camp, which was always guarded by sentries to prevent plunder, and so we could always easily obtain supplies of every description. while we were lying there several of the wounded who had recovered rejoined the army from brussels, and with some of these bartram made his appearance, the man whom i mentioned as having smelt powder at the beginning of the th of june, and having so cowardly fallen out of his rank. as soon as i saw him i put him in the rear-guard as a prisoner, and reported him, as it was my duty to do, to the captain of my company. next day a court-martial was ordered, i being the chief but not the only evidence against him, and being sentenced to three hundred lashes as a punishment for absenting himself from the field of action, he was tied up and received every lash. this may seem to some a hard case, three hundred lashes for absenting himself, but it must be remembered that had there been many like this man, for i cannot call him a soldier, that day would most decidedly have ended in favour of the french. when taken down he was sent to hospital for three weeks and then came back to us, but even then he was not quite free, for i had orders from the captain to examine his kit to see if everything was complete, and i found his knapsack completely empty. i then searched his pouch and found all his ammunition gone. i was not much surprised at this, knowing that he did not like the smell of powder; but i reported these circumstances to the captain, who ordered him back to the rear-guard as a prisoner again; and the next day another court-martial was held on him for making away with his kit, and he was sentenced to three hundred more lashes, of which strange to say he received every one without crying out. he seemed to be a man without any feeling, for it may be pretty well taken for granted that the drummers did not fail in their duty towards such a man as this, for there is no one they feel more strongly against than a coward. he was then sent for three weeks more to the hospital, and at the end of the time again joined; but the poor fellow must after that have been very miserable, for all his comrades shunned his society and would scarcely speak to him at all; and not only that, but having had a new kit and sixty rounds of ball-cartridge supplied to him, he had sixpence a day stopped out of his money till they were paid for, his pay being only thirteenpence a day, so that after another sixpence had been stopped for his food he had only one penny per day to take. i need hardly say that he was consequently always without money, and at last we missed him for two or three days, after which he returned, having again lost his kit. we found he had been into paris and sold it for those two or three days' maintenance, so he was again sent to the rear-guard and reported, again court-martialled and sentenced to three hundred lashes, and again received the whole to the very letter and sent to hospital for the same time. when he again rejoined he went on better for a while, but on our regiment afterwards getting to scotland he transgressed and was flogged for a fourth time, and when he came out of hospital the colonel ordered his coat to be turned, and a large sheet of paper to be pinned on it with the words, "this is a coward, a very bad soldier, and one who has been whipped four times;" and he was then drummed out of the barracks, and i never saw anything of him again, which i was not sorry for, as he gave me more trouble than all the rest of my men put together. the reason of our stay in and about paris so long was to see louis xviii. thoroughly fixed again and in power on his throne. the armies being now moved into winter quarters chiefly in cantonments, our brigade took its route to st. germains, which lies ten or twelve miles to the north-west of paris on the river seine, where we remained quartered a few months. it was owing to this long stay, and my happening to see a young woman who gained my affections, that it fell out that i first then thought of marriage. for outside the barrack-gate where we were quartered was a movable stall, which was spread out in the day with fruit, spirits, tobacco, snuff, &c., and was cleared away at night. this was kept by the woman whom i afterwards made my wife. her father was a gardener in business for himself, and this was the way in which he disposed of most of his goods. my first introduction was through my going to purchase a few articles that i wanted from her, and it very shortly became a general thing for me to dispose of the chief of such time as i had to spare at the stall; and thus the attachment was formed of which i am happy to say i never afterwards repented. i happened to be at the stall one day when i saw a soldier of the twenty-seventh regiment, which was stationed at the barracks as well as ours, deliberately take half a pound of tobacco which was already tied up off the stall and attempt to get off with it. but that didn't suit me, so i pursued and overtook him, and delivered him over to his own regiment to dispose of as they thought best after i had told them the circumstances. i told them too that i didn't wish to prosecute him myself, so i never heard anything more of him. i took the tobacco, however, back to my intended, who of course was pleased, as what young woman would not have been under the circumstances we were then in? and so our courtship went on; but for a very little while, for once we were enamoured of one another we were not long in making things all square for our union. i made my intentions known to my captain, who i knew would not object, and he signed my paper to take to the colonel, whose permission i had next to get. the colonel could not understand at first my marrying a frenchwoman, but he nevertheless consented, saying that she would do to teach the soldiers french, but that he advised me to wait till i got to england. but having got the grant, it was a question of now or never for me; so i made arrangements with the army chaplain, who fixed the time and we were duly united. it cost us nothing, for neither the parson nor clerk looked for any fee, neither were we troubled with any wedding-cake, but simply took ourselves off for a day's merrymaking. my wife's maiden name had been marie louise claire, but owing to buonaparte's first wife having been marie louise too, she had been compelled to drop that name and assume that of clotilde; a proclamation having been made that no one should be called marie louise but the empress, and so by that vain freak of buonaparte's all in france who were called marie louise had to change their names. of course before marrying her i had explained to my wife the course of life she would have to put up with, and that at any moment we might have to proceed from her native place, and even might be recalled to england, but she did not mind the prospect of all this. and at length the time arrived that we had to go, for orders were given, and that on very short notice, that we were to prepare to resume our march. a farewell had then to be taken of her parents, whom we expected never to behold again, and this cast a slight shadow for a time over my wife's countenance, but it quickly passed away within the next few succeeding days. chapter xxiv. the brigade quartered near cambray -- outrage on a native farmer -- the perpetrators convicted and hanged -- lawrence sent to valenciennes to learn the sword exercise -- march to calais and embarkation for scotland -- tedious voyage -- kind reception by the inhabitants of bridlington -- lawrence finds a silk dress rather a superfluity on a campaign -- shields -- excursion over the glass-works -- final landing at leith and march to glasgow. from st. germain we proceeded to cambray. we were billeted at a village near cambray called aresne, where we had very good quarters and found the people particularly kind, and after remaining there a short time we were moved to a neighbouring village, where we got equally good quarters. but here another of those unpleasant things happened which often have to occur that proper discipline and justice may be kept up. a part of the twenty-seventh regiment was billeted at a village near where we were situated, most of whom were i believe irish; and two of the more ruffianly, knowing that a farmer who lived close by had gone to market, and would probably return laden with the value of the goods he had sold, laid wait for him with the intention of robbing him; and having met him, they fell upon him and left him in a corn-field evidently for dead, first stripping him of everything valuable about his person. there the man lay till his friends becoming uneasy at his long absence a search was made and he was tracked to his mournful bed. he was not dead when found, and so was conveyed to his house and properly attended to by a doctor, and at the end of a week he was able to give an account of the ill-treatment he said he had received at the hands of two soldiers who were quartered in the village occupied by the twenty-seventh regiment. one of the officers was consequently informed of the occurrence, and immediately went to the farmer to learn the rights of the story. the man could not tell the amount of money that had been taken from him, but he said he could recognize the men again. as soon, therefore, as he was able to walk, the officer took him down the ranks of his regiment, and certainly he proved to be correct about recognizing them, for he immediately picked out two men who were found to have been out at the time described. they were conveyed as prisoners to the guard-room, and reported to the general, who immediately ordered a court-martial, and, accepting the evidence of their sergeant, who pronounced them to be as often tipsy as not, found them guilty, and they were sentenced to be hanged. the sentence was, however, first sent to be approved of by lord wellington, who sanctioned it and returned it; and the execution was accordingly ordered to be carried out. the men were allowed a week to prepare themselves for their awful doom, and at the end of that time the brigade was called together to take warning from their unhappy fate. it was on a monday morning that we formed square round the gallows which had been erected for the occasion; and all being ready, the men were brought under the gallows in a spring-wagon guarded by a sergeant and twelve men of their own regiment, one of which latter having adjusted the ropes, the chaplain read the service. then the question usual in these cases was put, but all they had to say was that they were both guilty and hoped this would be a warning to their comrades. the chaplain then left them, and on the wagon being moved along they were left dancing on nothing. the poor fellows were not long in expiring, but they were left one hour before they were cut down, during which time we had to retain our post, and at the end of it each regiment retired solemnly to its own quarters, leaving a company of the men's own regiment to bury them. during the brigade's stay near cambray an order was received that a captain and five sergeants from each regiment should be sent to valenciennes to learn the sword exercise; so captain barnard of my own company was chosen, and amongst the five of our sergeants myself. we started accordingly to valenciennes, which was about twenty-five or thirty miles from cambray, and remained there six weeks till we got sick enough of the sword exercise, having six hours a day of it for the whole six weeks except on sundays. at the end of that time we again joined our regiment, which had been ordered to return immediately to scotland. the day after our arrival the regiment was put on the march for calais. we were quartered in cantonments every night, and at one of our sleeping-places i met a jew, and having a silver watch to dispose of, i asked him what he would give me for it. he replied fifteen francs and a silk dress, which i took, and when we arrived at calais we changed the french money into english; but since i had left my own country the coinage had been altered, which bothered me a little at first sight, and certainly did not bring me any gain. we lay in calais two nights, where i and my wife got very comfortable quarters. i may as well say here that she had borne the marches quite as well as i did, if not in some cases better. three colliers had been contracted with to convey our regiment to scotland, and from the appearance of the vessels themselves, i very much doubted, if bad weather should set in, that we should ever reach leith, the port we set sail for, they being the rickettiest old watertubs i ever saw. leith was supposed to be three days' sail from calais with a fair wind, but we had a foul one nearly the whole time, and we were seven weeks on the voyage, having to put in at bridlington in yorkshire to wait for this fair wind. my wife, who had never before seen salt water, was at first ill and found the whole voyage terribly long and tedious; but to me, who had long since learnt not to be troubled with trifles, it mattered not weather or no, and i was by this time thoroughly used too to long voyages by water after my american trips. our stay at bridlington lasted three weeks. the first night we were there, the mayor invited the officers to dine with him, and sent a quart of beer on board for each man, and half that quantity for each woman. during our stay here too, we were allowed to go on shore in the day but obliged to be on board by nine o'clock at night. the inhabitants were particularly kind to us, amongst other things offering our women their houses to wash their clothes in, which offer many accepted. and here i at last got a chance to get rid of my silk dress, which was a thing that my wife hardly required while travelling about, and i had been trying to dispose of it ever since i obtained it. i used to visit a public-house in the neighbourhood where i noticed the daughter of the place, a fine-looking girl, used to sport her silk dress, so i sold her mine for fifty shillings and a gallon of beer, which latter i gave to her customers. at last the favouring breeze sprang up, and we again attempted to proceed on our voyage. we were a whole day getting opposite shields, and a pilot was signalled for, but before he arrived we were again obliged to fall back to bridlington, which took us but nine hours to do, during the whole of which time the vessel rolled fearfully, and the women especially began to despair. our stay lasted for ten days this time, and then we proceeded again to shields, where we lay for a week, being likewise allowed to go on shore there. our walks on shore sometimes extended to the coal-mines, and we also went over the glass-manufactories, which last amused my wife more than anything. the workmen made her a smelling-bottle and me several pipes and a walking-stick of glass, for us to see the process. from shields we proceeded to leith, and landed, and all our baggage being examined at the customs-house, i thought what a capital thing it was that i had sold my dress. that night we remained in leith, and on the following morning were ordered to march to glasgow, which we reached on the third day. chapter xxv. lawrence receives news of his father's illness, and starts with his wife on a six weeks' furlough -- voyage to london -- they meet an agreeable fellow-cab-fare -- are cheated by lawrence's own countrymen -- at last reach his native place -- excitement among the inhabitants -- lawrence is received by his sister, who immediately asserts her privilege of making him tidy -- first meeting with his parents -- reception of his wife by his relatives -- the inconveniences of glory -- expeditions to various branches of his family -- general grief at his departure not appreciated at its full value by lawrence -- from dorsetshire to scotland by road -- mrs. lawrence distinguishes herself above her countrywomen and outwalks a british soldier -- return to glasgow -- the regiment presented with a new set of colours. the barracks at glasgow we found to be comfortable; and after lying there about three months, the winter of set in, and furloughs were granted for two months to a part of the regiment. as i had a wife with me and my home was so far away, i gave my furlough to a fellow-sergeant that he might go to ireland; but i wrote home and told them i had arrived in england, and very soon received an answer back from my mother to say my father was ill, and if i did not come then, perhaps i should never see him again. i consulted my wife as to the journey, and she readily consented to come with me, so i made up my mind to try for another furlough. i accordingly took the old lady's letter to the captain, who said, "well, sergeant, there are so many gone that i don't know whether the colonel will let you, but we will ask him;" so we went to him, and on hearing the nature of my case he readily consented to allow me six weeks, and signed my furlough. he likewise advanced me one shilling per day for the six weeks, and as i had lately received my waterloo prize-money which was twenty pounds, i started off with that, having previously bought some requisites in clothing and a watch, the sort of things that make one feel a little more respectable. my intentions were to proceed to leith to get a vessel bound for london, and then to walk the remaining distance, which is upwards of a hundred miles. the first day's march brought us twenty miles nearer leith, and we accomplished the remaining part on the following day; and the next morning i went in search of a vessel, and finding a leith trader bound for london, i took passage in her for two, the captain charging two guineas and a half including board. we were to sail next day, and true to time we started, but owing to a heavy wind we were obliged to run in and anchor at berwick. while there a revenue cutter which was cruising about came too close to us and knocked our little vessel's bowsprit off, disabling her for three days; but when all was put right we again set sail, and having a fair wind soon arrived in the london docks. it being night we remained on board till the following morning, when, after having had our breakfast, we started for piccadilly, which we found after a good deal of inquiry. a hackney cab then drove up to us and the driver wanted to know where we were going, and on our telling him and asking him the way, he said he would put us into the right road for two shillings. i offered him eighteenpence, but he would not take that, so we got him to show us the way and proceeded on walking. we had not got farther than hyde park corner, however, than we were again overtaken by the same cab, and the man stopped and said that he thought he could take us for the money now. he had one gentleman, an englishman, inside already, but evidently the sharp fellow was looking out for a double fare; so he asked this gentleman if we might get inside as we were going in the same direction. he politely and readily consented, and we were forked in by cabby, who then shot off as if the whole road was his own. i was under the necessity of talking french to my wife, as she could not understand english, which of course i made known to the gentleman, who replied that he knew a little of that language himself. then, noticing my waterloo medal on my breast, he said, "i see you have been in the battle of waterloo, sergeant?" "yes," i replied, "and in many other battles besides waterloo;" and so a conversation ensued and we soon became quite friends. he wished to know where i was bound for, and when i told him, he politely asked me to spend a week at his house on the way, saying i should not want for anything; but i told him the reason of my hurry, thanking him for his kindness, and his stage having expired at this period he got out. but he would insist on giving my wife five shillings and paying our fare: we then shook hands heartily and parted, he wishing us good-speed on our journey. after that we walked on some distance till we came to a village where we found the salisbury road-wagon put up, and being very hungry we entered a public-house and had some tea, and waited there till ten o'clock. i was enjoying myself over my tobacco, when at nightfall some ten or twelve customers came in and i spun them a pretty good yarn, making them shake with laughter; but what amused them most, though it annoyed my wife a little to see them laugh at what she could not understand, was to hear me and her talk french together. at ten o'clock the party broke up and i called for my bill, which was fourpence for a glass of gin for myself and eightpence for the boiling water for our tea, which was much to my surprise, as we had found our own food, tea, and sugar. i asked the landlady if it was not a mistake, and when she said no, i told her i wished she and her charges were at the other side of the moon. however, i paid her, though i gave her to understand that if we had been in the enemy's country we should have got our boiling water for nothing. we then joined the road-wagon, which was to start for salisbury at midnight. i spoke to the wagoner, who agreed to take us for two shillings and told us we could get in at once; so, as we were very tired, we did so, and lying down, soon fell fast asleep; and when we awoke we found ourselves jogging on towards salisbury, where we arrived late the next night. i paid the man his well-earned two shillings, besides which i had treated him to sundry refreshments on the way; and we remained at salisbury for the rest of the night, starting early on the following morning for blandford. we marched seven miles before breakfast, and after it did not halt again till we got to blandford, where we stayed the night; and next morning, which was sunday, proceeded on towards my native village, which is about eight miles from blandford. we arrived there during church service in the morning, and passing through the churchyard as a near cut, went up the village, inquiring at several houses where john lawrence, my father, lived. i found it was at the same house where i was born, but strange to say i did not at all hurry myself to get there. i had found from the neighbours that he was still living and much better, so i was at ease on that point. at last, however, i strolled into a house, the owner of which i well knew before i entered on my rambling life, but who was now turned into an old woman, and i asked her the same question that i had already put to others in the village, saying that i had seen my parents' son, and had got a message for them. but woman's piercing eyes are not so easily deceived, and she recognized me as a lawrence, though she did not know whether it was william or john. i certified as to that much, and she immediately ran off to bring my sister. as may be well imagined in a country place like that, we two strangers, one of us dressed as a soldier, and our entering so many houses, had already set the place all of a stir to know who we were, and now directly it was found out, it was telegraphed all through the village. before i could get to my own door my sister was upon me, and did try to kiss me, certainly, but i had not shaved since i left scotland, and now i had a long thick beard and moustache, so that the attempt was almost a fruitless task. she cried out, "come in; why don't you shave?" so i asked her if there was any barber handy. "no," she replied, "but i'll shave you, for i always do father," so in i went. my father and mother were still out at church. my wife meanwhile could hardly make out these scenes that were transpiring, not seeming to dare to interrupt the proceedings with one french word to me; and my sister not having yet thought to ask me who this mysterious woman was, she followed me indoors without any questioning and like myself sat down. i pulled off my knapsack, and the shaving-tackle was brought out; but it put me so much in mind of the ceremony with the iron hoop when we crossed the line that i became impatient, and opening my knapsack took out my own razor and finished myself. by this time church was over, and putting my head out of the door i beheld my brother, who could scarcely speak to me owing to his feelings. i found both my father and mother had stopped to take the sacrament, but when it was over i suddenly saw the old lady who had got scent of the matter coming along like a spread-eagle with the same old black bonnet and red cloak on that she had when i left her. i went to meet her, but she was so overcome with emotion that i had to lean her up against the house to prevent her falling, and then i proceeded on to the old man, who was quite infirm and hobbling along behind on two sticks, and i need hardly say that he behaved worse than any of them at my strange and sudden appearance. i led him in and got him with difficulty to a chair. none of us then spoke for a long time, but at last the old man gave utterance to, "my child, i did not expect to see you again." it was indeed sixteen long years since i had left them at dorchester. my wife, though of course she could not understand a word, was much affected by this scene. i now began to throw a word or two to her occasionally in her own language, which surprised them a good deal, and no less were they astonished when i told them she was my wife. no doubt she felt queer with all strangers round her and in a foreign land, which to her was like a new world, but by the evening we were all reconciled to each other; and by that time too we had dozens of friends and neighbours in to see us. my wife particularly wished to know what all these people wanted, as so many could not be all relations, so i told her that they had chiefly come to see her, as they had never seen a frenchwoman before; but of course she would not believe this piece of flattery. i then thought of wetting the subject a little, but there was no public-house in the village, the nearest being at piddletown about three miles off. however, i got one of my brothers to go even that distance, and he having brought back four gallons, we made ourselves comfortable till ten o'clock, when we retired to rest in the same room that i had slept in eighteen years before. after a good night's rest we rose early and found all recovering themselves, except perhaps the old lady, who had not yet done piping. after breakfast i took a walk round the village and fell in with the clergyman of the place, who would insist on taking me to his house and giving me some ale; and when he had once got me there, he kept me for at least an hour, the chief topics we talked about being the war and the religion of the countries i had been in. i was glad enough to get away from there, but i had to spend the whole of that day in visiting the people of the village; and the next day i had to occupy still worse, for my mother brought out every letter sent by me during my absence from the first to the last, and made me listen to them being read, which by the time night came on had almost sent me crazy. i advised her to burn the lot, but that only made her put them back in their place again, saying, "never, william, so long as i live." we passed the next two days visiting such of my brothers and sisters as lived more near, and then as i could not rest in one place for long, on the third morning i set out with my wife for corfe mullen, about twelve miles off, to see another brother who was a farm-labourer there. after some few inquiries for george lawrence i found out his house, and was answered at the door by his wife, who of course had no knowledge who i was, though i had known her before her marriage. she did not ask me in, but pointed out a barn, where she said i would find george. i went over and he was there threshing, so i said, "well, friend, do you thresh by the day or the quarter?" he answered, "by the quarter, but i cannot do much of it." he stared at me, for i had on my regimentals, but i did not yet make myself known. then i asked him if there was a public-house handy. he said there was one just below, so i told him that if he would go there with me i would treat him, as his must be hard work, and he thanked me and led the way. i ordered some beer and tobacco with pipes, and after that took off my shako which i could not bear any longer, and he immediately recognized me as his brother william. we then went to his home to be introduced to his wife, and we stayed there two days, after which we returned to bryant's piddle and remained with the old people for the rest of the eighteen days i had allotted for our stay out of the six weeks; the going and returning taking away above half our furlough. the morning we left was quite as bad as the morning of my appearance, my wife, who had got used to the old people, being quite as loud as any of them; till at last being sick of the whole affair i buckled on my knapsack, and bidding them good-bye, as quickly as possible took myself off, leaving my wife to follow with my brother to dorchester, he having volunteered to go with us as far as that. i had planned out a different way for my journey back, intending to find a ship at bristol to take us to scotland and with this view i proceeded westwards, parting from my brother at dorchester. we found a public-house by the roadside a little way from dorchester, and after stopping there for the night, continued through sherborne towards bristol. on the way we fell in with one of the light company of my regiment, called warren, who said he was going to london to get a ship back to scotland; but when i told him of my way of getting there, he immediately said he would go with us; only he had got no money, and hoped i would lend him some. i declined doing this as i had very little myself, but i told him that if he liked to come and live as we did, i would pay for his food and lodging till we got to the regiment, to which he consented and we marched on together. but when we got to bristol we found there was no ship going to scotland, so my wife who was an excellent walker proposed going all the way by road; and accordingly on the following day we started, doing generally two stages a day, through gloucester, worcester, manchester, and carlisle, and so to glasgow, a long and tedious march. our companion, who was anything but a pleasant one, left us at manchester. we returned to the barracks just one day before my time expired, with only twopence-halfpenny in my pocket and having had to sell my watch for subsistence on the way. after reporting myself, however, i drew my remaining tenpence per day for the six weeks, a penny being deducted from my pay per day for small-beer, which was not allowed while i was away. soon after our arrival at the barracks my wife became very ill owing to having been frost-bitten during the march, and remained so for upwards of a week. we had not been here very long before general sir george osborne, the head colonel of our regiment, came expressly to review us; he being a very old man, and not having seen his regiment for some years. after going through our facings, we were arranged in a square, into which the old gentleman entered and presented us with a new stand of colours; then he addressed us as he said for the last time, and hoped his colours would endure as well as our old ones had and be crowned with an equal amount of victory. on them were engraved in gilt letters, "the peninsula" and "waterloo." he then took a farewell leave of his regiment, as he doubted if he would ever see it again, and we returned triumphant with our new colours to the barracks. but i may as well add here that every man received sixpence from the old colonel to drink his health. chapter xxvi. reduction of the army -- lawrence sent up to london, where he is valued for his pension -- returns to his home -- thence to studland, and obtains work -- called out on service again, and sent to ireland to suppress smuggling -- ingenious devices in that line by the inhabitants of dingle -- finally discharged at plymouth -- settles down at studland again, and commends his narrative to the public. very shortly after this the army was reduced, and our regiment was made six hundred instead of a thousand strong. first all the old and disabled were discharged, and then lots were cast for the remainder, and the lot falling on me amongst the sergeants, at the end of about a month i and nine others were ordered to chatham. we marched to leith, where we embarked on the leith packet, and after some very rough weather landed at gravesend and proceeded to chatham, remaining there six weeks while we were waiting to pass the board. then we re-embarked on a small craft at gravesend and went up the river to the tower of london, whence we marched to chelsea hospital. the next morning, after we had been examined by the doctor, we were called up before the board one at a time. i was asked my age and time of service, and one of the gentlemen called out "seven!" but the doctor immediately said "nine!" as i had a wound in my knee; they evidently meaning that i should have ninepence a day as my pension, as that was what was settled on me for life. i then went to the office, where i received my expenses to dorchester, to the amount of one and tenpence for myself, and three-halfpence for my wife for every ten miles; and with that we started off for bryant's piddle again, and walked every step of the way, not, however, meeting any such kind gentleman this time as we had on our last route to the same place. when we arrived we found them all as well as when we had left; but i did not want to stay there long, so on the following morning i took leave of them and proceeded with my wife to studland, the place where i had been apprenticed, as i claimed that rightly as my parish. i put up at the public-house till i could procure a house and some furniture, which last took me about a week, and then my next undertaking was to try for work, for it may well be imagined that my wife and i could hardly live on my pension of ninepence a day. i soon obtained employment on a farm close by, for which i received ten shillings a week. i was only in the capacity of a labourer, and it certainly seemed to come very hard at first, but i soon got used to it, and i worked for this master for nine months. he had been formerly a captain in the navy, and i found him very sharp but very just. my reason for leaving him was a sudden call i received to again join the army. i started on the fifth of november, : i was ordered to plymouth, where i joined the third veteran battalion, which was about a thousand strong at the time, and from plymouth we went on to ireland, where we landed at the cove of cork and marched through cork to fermoy. we went on next day to templemore, which took us two or three days, and after staying there about a month, three companies of the regiment, myself being one of the number, were ordered to tralee in county kerry. when we arrived at tralee a detachment of a lieutenant, myself, a corporal, and seventeen men were ordered next day to go to dingle, which is situated on a large tongue of land, and here we were again stationed in barracks for about a year, our principal duty being to guard the coast against the smuggling that was at that time being carried on to a very great extent. we were chiefly under the command of the coastguard captain, whose name was collis. it was astonishing to see the many manoeuvres which the inhabitants practised in this art of smuggling. i remember once being called out by the captain to search a house that he had received information about as containing a quantity of smuggled tobacco. i went with twelve men and the captain to the house, and at the door we were met by three ruffianly-looking irishmen, whose conversation we could not understand at all: however, we passed on and searched the house, at one end of which were standing three cows, which did not seem to me at the time to be very homely guests. at first we could find nothing, so we were proceeding to search the outside, when i saw the three men laughing. not feeling at all satisfied i turned the cows out and looked under the litter, where i discovered a trap-door, under which when i had opened it i found a flight of steps leading into a cellar, which contained upwards of twenty bales of tobacco. this made the men's countenances change instantaneously. we brought this up, but still not being content we searched farther into the garden, and finding that ground had lately been moved, we disturbed it again and turned up about twelve bales more that were concealed there. these we conveyed in press-carts to the captain's house, and received a good supper for our services and extra pay, mine amounting to half a crown and the privates' less in proportion. on another occasion, when we were again out on the search, we passed what we thought was a funeral, to which we presented arms, but which we afterwards found was nothing but smuggled tobacco put into a box of the shape of a coffin with a pall over, and in this way conveyed into security. such and similar transactions were frequent during our stay here, the inhabitants being of the very wildest sort. once even a cotton-ship drove ashore, and we had the greatest difficulty in keeping them from plundering it. at last, however, we were ordered back to plymouth, so had to march to waterford harbour, whither after joining our other companions at tralee we proceeded, and embarking on board a transport, arrived at plymouth about june in the year . thus finally ended my military career, which had lasted seventeen years and seven months, the greater part of the time having been spent on active service. i was discharged on the same pension as before of ninepence a day, that having been stopped during my stay in the third veteran battalion. from plymouth i and my wife marched back to studland, where we took a house, and my master immediately took me back to work. i drifted about, however, between one or two trades, and finally took a little public-house, where i and my wife lived pretty prosperously till she died. i began to feel rather unwell, too, and thought it best to give up working and the public-house: so i wrote to the authorities at chelsea, and obtained through the influence of a kind gentleman an addition of threepence a day to my pension, making a shilling in all; and with that i am now living in a house that was bequeathed to me for as long as i live by my late master, as comfortably as these circumstances and the interposition of a few friends can make me. and to conclude i may add that i have striven here as well as my faculties will allow, though i know that is imperfectly, to sum up as it were in a small compass, so that they can be read over in a few hours by the residing populace, the leading scenes of my life, coupled as they have been with the various campaigns i served in; and though i am sorry that i cannot give the reader fuller details of the peninsula and waterloo, yet i think that if any even of my comrades themselves who went through the same campaigns, were to take up my work to examine it, they could not say that such information as i have been able to give has been wrong. the end. london: printed by gilbert and rivington, limited, , st. john's square. our soldiers; gallant deeds of the british army during queen victoria's reign, by w.h.g. kingston. ________________________________________________________________________ a very interesting book telling us about the various deeds of the british army throughout the reign of queen victoria. most of us will be aware of nearly all of the campaigns, but that there were so many comes as a bit of a shock. although many of the campaigns and battles were favourably completed, quite a few were not, and this also comes as a bit of a shock. kingston was the original author, but died many years before the end of queen victoria's reign, and the work was taken in hand by mr g.a. henty, also a prolific writer of books for teenagers. there was some evidence in the book of two or more authors being at work, by reason of different spellings for the same person or item. for instance one of the authors spelt "gatling guns" as "catling guns". the ghurkas also appeared in several variants, and a character called "soojah-ul-moolk" appeared with a different spelling practically every time! having cleared all that out of the way, we present you with a most interesting book that we hope you will greatly enjoy reading, or just glancing through. ________________________________________________________________________ our soldiers; gallant deeds of the british army during queen victoria's reign, by w.h.g. kingston. chapter one. the afghan campaigns-- - . in the reigning ameer of afghanistan, shah soojah-ul-moolk, was dispossessed of his throne and an exile. runjeet singh, the sikh ruler of punjaub, plundered and imprisoned him at lahore, and obtained from him the famous koh-i-noor, the great diamond which is now among the crown jewels of great britain. eventually soojah escaped from lahore and became a pensioner of the east india company. for many years after the fall of shah soojah, anarchy ruled in afghanistan, until in dost mahomed established himself upon the throne at cabul. meantime shah soojah never ceased to plot for his restoration, and in came to an agreement with runjeet singh, in pursuance of which the latter undertook to assist him in an armed attempt to oust dost mahomed. the indian government, while professing neutrality, indirectly assisted shah soojah by paying his pension in advance. in shah soojah's army was thoroughly beaten by dost mahomed before candahar, though he himself escaped. but runjeet singh was more successful; he drove the afghans back into the khyber pass and occupied peshawur, which province he held against all the attempts of the afghan ameer to expel him. in the shah of persia, under the instigation of and with assistance from, russia, and in spite of strong remonstrances by the british, made war upon afghanistan and marched upon herat. eldred pottinger at herat. the siege of this place commenced on the rd of november , and lasted over nine months, when it utterly collapsed, owing mainly to the determination and courage of lieutenant pottinger, who had arrived in the city just before, and assisted the afghans in the defence. notwithstanding the assistance of russian volunteers the persian attack was but feebly delivered; still, but for the presence of pottinger and the courage given by his example, the afghan defence would have been equally spiritless. at length, after some days' bombardment, a general assault was made on the rd of june , and repulsed by pottinger with heavy loss. soon after the shah, hearing that a british expedition had been sent up the persian gulf to force him to retire, raised the siege and left herat, which has remained up to the present in the hands of the afghans--a fact which may be said to be in the first instance due to the heroic achievements of one young british officer, lieutenant eldred pottinger. the afghan war. the indian government had now determined, for reasons into which it is not our province to inquire, to make war upon dost mahomed and to replace shah soojah upon the throne. this war, which ended so disastrously to our arms and prestige, seems at this time, when it is possible to take an impartial view of the question, to have been one of wanton aggression against a prince well disposed towards our government--and who, with whatever faults he had, was a strong and wise ruler, and accepted by his people--in order to force upon the afghans a mere nominee of the british, and one whose authority could only be supported by the bayonets of an alien race. such an enterprise was as discreditable to our councillors as it proved to be disastrous to our soldiers. the army collected for this purpose consisted of the bengal contingent, which, after leaving a division in reserve at ferozepore, was strong, under the command of sir willoughby cotton, and the bombay contingent, consisting of another , the whole being under the command of sir john keane. at the same time, another force, nominally under the command of shah soojah, was to be raised in the company's territories, to accompany him into afghanistan. this army crossed the indus near the fortress of bukkur, entering territories famous from their association with the operations of alexander the great, and which had never before been traversed by british troops. marching from shikapore, the army advanced for fifty miles through the dark defiles of the bolan pass, lofty mountains covered with snow towering above their heads. it now entered a desert region, where provisions were not to be procured, and where on every side the troops were assailed by the fierce beloochees, who attacked foraging parties and camp followers, and plundered the baggage left in the rear. early in april, the troops marched through the vale of shawl, forded many rivers, and passed the heights of kozak, over which the artillery was dragged by the men with ropes, till at length, surmounting all difficulties, the army reached candahar on the th of april . on the th of june the march was resumed, but it was necessary to leave a strong garrison at candahar, and, strange to say, probably owing to the difficulties of transport, the siege-guns which had been dragged with so much toil through the passes were left behind, while supplies were so short that the army had to proceed on half rations. capture of ghuznee-- rd july. on the st of july the army arrived before the famous fortress of ghuznee, which was considered impregnable by the afghans. the city of ghuznee lies between candahar and cabul, about miles distant from the former, and from the latter place. it stands on the extreme points of a range of hills, which slope upwards and command the north-east angle of the balla hissar. as the british advanced on it, and observed its strong fortifications rising up before them on the side of a hill, they saw that the place could not be reduced by artillery for want of the siege-guns left at candahar, and at the same time a high wall with a wet ditch in front made operations with scaling-ladders or mining equally impossible. it was discovered, however, by captain thomson, who made an inspection under heavy fire from the walls, that though the gates had been built up the cabul gate still existed, and he reported that this one, though at great risk, could be blown up, and so an attempt to take the place by storm could be made. the want of supplies made it absolutely necessary to take the place, and therefore sir john keane gladly accepted captain thomson's proposal. the morning of the rd of july, just before daybreak, was the time fixed for the assault. the regiments told off for the service were the nd, th, and th (queen's), and the company's european regiment, under major carruthers, lieutenant-colonel orchard, colonel croker, and major tronson. the advance consisted of the light companies of these four regiments. the night and morning were unusually stormy. the advance was placed under the command of colonel dennie of the th light infantry, and the main column under brigadier sale. the explosion party was directed by captain thomson, who had under him lieutenants durand and macleod of the bengal, and captain peat of the bombay corps. under cover of the darkness, the noise the men might make being overpowered by the roaring of the wind, the storming column advanced along the cabul road, while the engineers carried up their powder-bags to the gate. meantime the general filled the gardens near the city walls with the sepoys, who kept up a sharp fire on the wall, while the light batteries opened hotly upon the works. this demonstration fixed the attention of the enemy, and called forth a responsive fire. suddenly a row of blue lights appeared along the walls, illuminating the place, and showing that the afghans were manning them in expectation of an escalade. all this time the british engineers were quietly piling their powder-bags at the cabul gate. it was a work that required great courage, and it was done well; but at first the powder failed to ignite, and lieutenant durand was obliged to scrape the hose with his finger-nails. again the port-fire was applied. the powder exploded. the noise of the explosion was almost overpowered by the roaring of the guns and the rushing of the wind. still, many an afghan trembled at the ominous sound. mighty indeed was the effect. down with a crash came heavy masses of masonry and shivered beams in awful ruin and confusion. now occurred a slight delay. it had been agreed that the signal for the storming party should be the bugle-call "advance," but the bugler had fallen, and so durand had to rush back to the nearest party he could find. at length the signal was given. the advance was sounded. colonel dennie at the head of his brave band rushed forward through the breach, amid clouds of smoke and dust, and soon the bayonets of his light companies were crossing the swords of the enemy, who had rushed down to the point of attack. a few moments of darkness and confusion, and then the foremost soldiers caught a glimpse of the morning sky, and pushing gallantly on, were soon established in the fortress. three hearty, animating cheers, so loud and clear that they were heard throughout the general camp, announced to their excited comrades below that dennie and his stormers had entered ghuznee. colonel sale was pressing on to support dennie, when, deceived by a false report that the latter had failed to enter the breach, he halted his column. there was a pause of painful doubt; but the true state of affairs was soon ascertained. again the cheering notes of the bugle sounded the advance, and the british troops pushed on. but the enemy had profited by the pause, and numbers crowded to the breach. one of their number, rushing over the ruins, brought down the gallant sale by a cut on the face with his sharp sabre. the afghan repeated his blow as his opponent was falling; but the pommel, not the edge of his sword, this time took effect, though with stunning violence. he lost his footing, however, in the effort, and both rolled down together amid the fractured timbers of the gate. sale now made an effort to master the weapon of his opponent. he snatched at it, but one of his fingers met the edge of the sharp blade. he quickly withdrew his wounded hand, and placed it over that of his adversary, so as to keep fast hold of the hilt; but the afghan was active and powerful, and he was himself faint from loss of blood. happily, at that moment captain kershaw, of the th, approached the scene of conflict. the wounded leader called to him by name for aid. he gave it effectually by passing his sabre through the body of the afghan; who, however, continued to struggle gallantly. at length the brigadier for a moment got the uppermost. still retaining in his left hand the weapon of his enemy, he dealt him with his right a cut from his own sabre, which cleft his skull from his crown to the eyebrows. the mohammedan once shouted "ne ullah!" (o god!) and never moved or spoke again. at length the enemy gave way. the british pushed on. the support, under colonel croker, advanced, and the reserve speedily followed; and soon the colours of the th regiment, planted by the brave young ensign frere, as well as those of the th, were flying out in the morning breeze from the ramparts of ghuznee. the struggle within the fort, for a considerable time, was most desperate. in addition to a heavy fire kept up on them, the british troops were assailed by the enemy sword in hand, as well as with daggers, pistols, and other arms; but british courage, perseverance, and fortitude overcame all opposition, and the enemy were soon to be seen abandoning their guns, running in all directions, throwing themselves down from immense heights, and endeavouring to make their escape over the walls. by five o'clock the capture of the afghans' last stronghold was complete. but there was much hard fighting within the walls. in the frenzy of despair the afghans rushed out from their hiding-places, plying their sabres with terrible effect, though only to meet with an awful retribution from the musketry or bayonets of the british infantry. some, in their frantic efforts to escape by the gateway, stumbled over the burning timbers, wounded and exhausted, and were slowly burnt to death. some were bayoneted on the ground, and others hunted into corners and shot down like dogs; but though many an afghan sold his life dearly, and cut to the last at his hated enemy, the appeals of the helpless for mercy were never made in vain. and when resistance ceased, not a conquered enemy was injured. so ghuznee fell to the british army, and was made over to shah soojah. it cost the victors only killed, and wounded; of these last, were officers. upwards of of the garrison were buried by the victors; many more fell beyond the walls under the sabres of the british horsemen. sixteen hundred prisoners were taken, and large stores of grain and flour fell into the hands of the conquerors. the fall of ghuznee--a fortress hitherto deemed by the afghans impregnable--astonished dost mahomed, and was the cause of the ruin which soon afterwards overtook him. capture of khelat-- th november. in the northern part of beloochistan stands the strong mountain fortress of khelat. the chief, mehrab khan, had offended the british, and it was resolved to annex his territories to the kingdom of shah soojah. khelat is a place of commanding strength. the citadel rises high above the buildings of the town, and frowns down menacingly on its assailants. on the north-west of the fort are three heights. on these the khan had posted his infantry, supported by five guns in position. general willshire was sent to capture it, with the nd and th queen's regiments, the st bengal native infantry, with two howitzers, four of the shah's -pounder guns, and a detachment of local horse. on the morning of the th of november he found himself before the place. the engineer officers reported that until the heights were carried it would be impossible to proceed against the fortress; accordingly orders were issued for the attack. it was willshire's hope that the enemy might be driven down to the gate of the fortress, and that the stormers might rush in with them. gallantly our brave soldiers made their way up the heights--gallantly they were carried, and right nobly the guns were captured. the shrapnel shot from stephenson's batteries fell with too deadly an aim among the beloochee footmen for them to hold their position on the hills. they fled towards the walls of their fortress, and the british infantry pushed hotly after them; but, in spite of all their exertions, our brave soldiers were not in time to secure an entrance--the gates were closed against their advance. the enemy's artillery, planted on the walls, was now brought into play. the british infantry were compelled to find shelter behind some ruined buildings, while our batteries, planted on the heights, opened upon the gate and the neighbouring defences. two of cooper's guns were brought within yards of the walls. the gunners suffered much from the matchlocks of the enemy, but undauntedly continued to fire full upon the gate. at length it gave way. pointing his hand towards the gateway, willshire boldly rode down to show the infantry that an entrance was ready for them. rising at once from their cover, with a loud hurrah they rushed on. pennycuick and his men were the first to enter. the other companies eagerly followed, till the whole of the storming column were within the walls of khelat. onward they struggled manfully towards the citadel. every inch of ground was obstinately disputed. the citadel was reached, but there was here a desperate resistance. sword in hand, mehrab khan and some of his principal chiefs stood to give battle to their enemies. the khan himself fell dead with a musket-ball through his breast. eight of his principal sirdars fell beside him. heaps of dead lay around,--many fine-looking men,--their shields shot through and broken, swords and matchlocks scattered about in every direction, telling of the fierce fight. a small party held out in an inner apartment; there was no reaching them, except by a narrow passage which admitted but of one at a time. three or four attempted it, and were instantly shot dead. the little band of beloochees would not trust the british. at length lieutenant loveday was sent up to them alone. it was a critical moment for him; but they listened to his proposals, and surrendered. and khelat was won, the british loss being killed and wounded. these defeats had a very depressing effect upon the followers of dost mahomed, who, although still at the head of an army of , men, found that there was no courage in his faint-hearted followers, and that they could not be trusted even to be true to himself. his position being thus hopeless, dost mahomed fled from cabul on the nd of august, and that city was entered in state by shah soojah, who then, though for a short time, was restored to the throne which he had lost thirty years before. the army now ceased to be an expeditionary force, and became settled as an army of occupation. the officers sent for their wives and families, and for a time english society and english amusements may be said to have been established in cabul. still shah soojah was not accepted by the people, his rule was exacting and cruel, and disaffection was rife in the country, which was rapidly preparing to rise. in the meantime, dost mahomed was still to be reckoned with. after his flight from cabul he and his son akbar had gone to bokhara, where for a time they were in captivity. escaping thence, they reached khartoum, where the dost's family were under the protection of his brother jubbar khan. here he found the tribes strongly in his favour, and soon gathered force wherewith to oppose the british who were concentrating at bamian, where a small force under colonel dennie arrived on the th of september . the battle of bamian. on the th of september colonel dennie moved out with a detachment to drive a force of the enemy out of a valley near bamian. soon after eight o'clock, two horse artillery guns, under lieutenant murray mackenzie, two companies of the th native infantry, two companies of the goorkha corps, and about four hundred afghan horse, marched out to meet the enemy. about half an hour afterwards, dennie, with two more companies of the native infantry regiment, and two also of the goorkha corps, followed, in support of the advanced detachment. instead of coming merely upon the advance of the enemy, the brigadier found an army in his front; but, in spite of the slender force at his command, and the apparently overwhelming numbers of the enemy, he did not hesitate for a moment. his men were eager to advance, and he himself was full of confidence and courage. the enemy had got possession of a chain of forts reaching to the mouth of the defile, and were collected in bodies round the several forts, and upon the hills on either side of the valley. mackenzie's guns began to play upon them. for some short time the oosbegs, forming part of the dost's force, stood the fire, but the guns were ably served, and the shrapnel practice told with terrific effect on dense bodies of men, who had nothing to give back in return. the oosbegs retreated; the british guns were pushed forward, opening a destructive fire, first from one distance, then from another, upon the wavering enemy. the dost's army was soon broken to pieces, and the british cavalry were then let slip in pursuit. following the disorded masses of the enemy for some miles along the defile, they cut down large numbers, and dispersed them in all directions. the defeat of the dost's army was complete, and he and his son owed their lives to the fleetness of their steeds. dost mahomed's last charge. notwithstanding all this, dost mahomed, not yet beaten, was soon once more in command of a respectable force. the force which had been pursuing him under sir robert sale came up with him on the nd of november. as our cavalry advanced upon him, dost mahomed, at the head of a small band of horsemen, strong, sturdy afghans, but badly mounted, prepared to meet his assailants. beside him rode the bearer of the blue standard, which marked his place in the battle. he pointed to it, and reined in his horse, then snatching the white _lunghi_ from his head, stood up in his stirrups uncovered before his followers, and called upon them in the name of god and the prophet to drive the cursed kaffirs from the country of the faithful. "follow me," he cried aloud, "or i am a lost man!" slowly, but steadily, the afghan horsemen advanced. the english officers who led our cavalry to the attack covered themselves with glory; but the native troopers, those vaunting horsemen, treacherous not for the first time even now, and who were in after years to prove traitors of the darkest dye, fled like sheep. emboldened by the dastardly conduct of the men of the nd light cavalry, the afghan horsemen dashed on, driving their enemy before them, and not stopping till they were almost within reach of the british guns. the british officers unsupported by their men met the full force of the afghan charge, and fought bravely to the last. lieutenants broadfoot and crispin were killed, while captains fraser and ponsonby, though badly wounded, broke through their assailants. the next evening poor gallant dost mahomed, seeing his cause was hopeless, gave himself up to the british at cabul, and shortly after was sent to british india. action near soorkhab--november . the chiefs of certain hill tribes, kuzzilbashs, ghilzyes, and other robbers and bandits by profession, had been accustomed to receive subsidies to induce them to refrain from robbing any caravans or parties travelling in the neighbourhood of their territories. the expenses of the war in afghanistan had been enormous; and it becoming necessary to retrench, it was unwisely determined to begin by cutting off the pay of these chiefs. they resented the measure, and assembling in vast numbers, took every opportunity of attacking the british troops passing through the defiles of their mountainous country. sale's brigade had reached jugdulluck with little opposition; but on the next march it was seen that the heights were bristling with armed men, and a heavy fire was poured in with terrible effect from all the salient points on which the mountaineers had posted themselves. sale threw out his flanking parties, and the light troops, skirmishing well up the hillsides, dislodged the enemy, whilst a party under captain wilkinson, pushing through the defile, found that the main outlet had not been guarded, and that the passage was clear. the march was resumed, but the enemy were not yet weary of the contest. reappearing in great numbers, they fell furiously upon the british rearguard, and for a time the men thus suddenly assailed were in a state of terrible disorder. the energetic efforts of the officers, however, brought them back to a sense of their duty. broadfoot, backhouse, and fenwick rallied and reanimated them. but the british loss was heavy; upwards of were killed and wounded, and among them fell the gallant captain wyndham, of the th native infantry. although lame from a hurt, at the moment of peril he had dismounted to save the life of a wounded soldier, by bearing him from the combat on his charger. when the rearguard broke before the onset of the ghilzyes, unable to keep pace with the pursued, he turned, fought, and, overpowered by numbers, fell beneath the swords and knives of an unsparing foe. the force halted at gundamuck. the political managers of affairs in afghanistan fancied that this would prove the termination of disturbances in that country. unhappily the storm which was to break with such fearful violence was only now gathering. retreat from cabul-- th january . the british army had, as we have seen, advanced on cabul, the capital of afghanistan, in august . since that period it had been placed in cantonments outside the city. major-general sir v. cotton had at first commanded in afghanistan. he was succeeded by major-general elphinstone, who assumed the command in april . on the morning of the nd of november , the inhabitants of cabul broke out in rebellion, and murdered sir a. burnes, the political agent, as well as his brother and lieutenant broadfoot, who sold their lives dearly. the rebellion extended rapidly through the country; supplies were cut off, and it was resolved to retreat from cabul. the amount of the british force was fighting men: the camp followers were about , men, besides women and children. the retreat commenced at a.m. on the th of january . it was as disastrous as any in the pages of history. a revengeful, active enemy, bitter cold and driving snow overwhelmed them; and of that great multitude, only one officer, dr brydon, reached jellalabad in safety. all the rest had died from cold or the sword of the enemy--except those who had been delivered as hostages at the commencement of the retreat, or who had been taken prisoners; an account of whose release will be hereafter given. defence of jellalabad--october to april . before it was suspected to what extent the insurrection in afghanistan would reach, sir robert sale was placed in command of a brigade which was ordered to return to hindostan. his road led through the ghilzye defiles. here, for several days, he was attacked by the mountaineers, but fighting his onward way, he reached gundamuck. here he heard of the outbreak at cabul. deeming it important to push on, he left a considerable portion of his camp equipage at gundamuck, under charge of some afghan levies; but they proved traitors, plundered the baggage, and set fire to the cantonment. captain burn and the other european officers were pursued by the insurgents, but succeeded in reaching the british camp. sir robert sale renewed his march the next morning, but already the whole armed population of the district was on the alert. the afghans crowned each height as soon as our pickets were withdrawn, swarmed like hornets round the camp, and were repelled only by the most strenuous efforts. they permitted the advanced guard and the main body to pass through the town of futtehabad without interruption. bodies of them even came in guise of unarmed suppliants to beg for protection. but no sooner had the rearguard passed the houses and fort of this town, than a destructive fire was opened upon it. captain broadfoot and his sappers turned fiercely round more than once, and inflicted vengeance for this treachery; and colonel dennie, in the end, dexterously decoyed the enemy away from their walls into the open plain, and then the cavalry, under captain oldfield and lieutenant mayne, charging among them with headlong valour, strewed the ground with slain. that night the force encamped under the walls of jellalabad, and took possession of it next morning, the th of november. it was a most important object to occupy this place, in order to establish a post on which the corps at cabul might retreat it necessary, and then form a link in the chain of communication with india. a glance at the map will show the immense distance which the british forces were from all support, with intricate passes, lofty mountains, deserts, and broad rivers intervening between them and india; while on every side swarmed hostile tribes, accustomed to warfare, and sworn to destroy them. jellalabad was the winter residence of the rulers of cabul, and inferior only to that city and candahar. the walls were, however, in a state which might have justified despair as to the possibility of defending them. they were also far too extensive for our small force, embracing a circumference of upwards of yards. there was no parapet, except for a few hundred yards. in many places the walls were not more than two feet high, while rubbish had accumulated to such an extent that there were roads over them into the country. the population within was disaffected, and without were ruined forts, walls, mosques, tombs, and gardens, from which a fire could be opened at or yards. captains broadfoot and havelock and colonel dennie assured the general that the works might be restored by adequate exertions, and it was therefore resolved to occupy the town. the brigade was scarcely within the walls, when the plain was darkened by masses of the enemy. they had expected that the british troops would continue their progress towards india, and looked for a rich harvest of plunder of their baggage between jellalabad and peshawur. it was determined to read them a salutary lesson, and colonel monteith was ordered to drive them away. he issued from the gate on the morning of the th of november, with horse, foot, and artillery, in number, of whom were europeans, and fell on the enemy with such vigour and skill, that the masses broke up and fled, leaving dead on the field. at noon not an afghan remained, and all molestation ceased for fourteen days. on the th, the work of clearing away the ruins and restoring the fortifications was commenced, under the direction of captain broadfoot. the day was spent by him in superintending the work, the evening was devoted to his plans and calculations. working parties were told off, who laboured from dawn to dusk--officers and men worked with emulation; and in a few weeks the ramparts were ready to receive the guns, and everything around the town that could afford cover to the enemy was, as far as possible, cleared away. the chief cause of anxiety to sir robert sale was the deficiency of ammunition, which a single prolonged engagement would go nigh to exhaust. the men were therefore ordered not to expend a single shot uselessly. on the th of november, large bodies of afghans poured down upon the plains from the surrounding valleys, and opened a desultory fire on the town. as they interrupted the workmen on the fortifications, colonel dennie sallied out of the gates soon after midday on the st of december, with men from each regiment, to disperse them. the afghans fired a volley and fled--the troops followed. the guns dealt destruction among the fugitives; the cavalry, galloping in pursuit, drove some into the river, and cut down others, till bodies strewed the plain. the garrison enjoyed a long period of repose in consequence of this spirited repulse of the enemy. at length news reached the gallant band of the disasters at cabul; and dr brydon arriving in the city, confirmed the sad news. councils of war were held, and there was some talk of evacuating jellalabad; but there were brave spirits among the garrison, who saw, and loudly spoke, not only of the disgrace, but of the suicidal folly of such a measure. their bolder counsels prevailed, and it was determined to hold out to the last extremity. there was havelock, whose name was afterwards to be in the mouth of every british soldier, as one to be loved and imitated; there were broadfoot and dennie, true heroes of the noblest stamp. on the th of february a letter was received from general pollock, who had arrived in peshawur, approving of their resolution to hold out, and promising to advance as soon as possible to their aid. sir robert replied that the whole of the horses of his cavalry and artillery must perish in another month if he was not succoured before that time, and that then a retreat even on a force advancing to his relief would be impossible. major havelock and captain wade were seated by sir robert's side, the former writing the reply to general pollock, when the house began to shake violently. a fearful earthquake was taking place. the shocks continued, without intermission, with frightful violence--a confused, rumbling sound wildly mingled with the crash of falling houses and the outcries of the inhabitants. the earth was so uplifted that it was scarcely possible for the people to keep their feet. but the destruction of the defences was most appalling. all the parapets were shaken down, several of the bastions were injured, all the guard-houses were cast to the ground, a third of the town was demolished, and a considerable break made in the ramparts of a curtain in the peshawur face, while the cabul gate was reduced to a shapeless mass of ruins. the garrison did not lose heart even under these appalling circumstances. the camp of the enemy they knew was only seven miles off, and he might be upon them in a few hours. it was also necessary to guard against a rush which any parties of the enemy concealed in the neighbourhood might make against the ruined walls. at the sound of the bugle the troops assembled on the ramparts. when it was ascertained that no enemy was near, they piled their arms, and set to work with brave determination to restore the defences. temporary parapets of loose clods were thrown up, the earth was cleared out of the ditch, gabions were filled to block up the main breaches, and palisades fixed to impede the progress of assailants through others. in a few hours the walls wore a more encouraging aspect. the afghans, when a few days afterwards they approached the fortress and saw the wonderful state of repair in which it had been placed, believed that it had escaped through the power of english witchcraft. the difficulties of the garrison, however, increased great anxiety was felt for the subsistence of the cavalry and artillery horses. foraging parties were sent out daily under an escort, and were constantly attacked by the enemy; and the close investment of the place by akbar khan made it impossible for them to get in the needed supplies. at length, on the th of march, the afghans approached so near the walls, that it was suspected that they purposed undermining them. to prevent this colonel dennie made a vigorous sally with men, and ascertained that they had commenced no operation of the sort. akbar khan then advanced on the city with his whole force. it was a critical moment, but the hearts of none of the garrison failed them. he was received with so hot a fire from the ramparts, while horse and foot attacked him with such heroic courage, that he was compelled to fly, leaving more than dead on the field. starvation now threatened the garrison. for many days the european regiments had been on half rations of salt beef, without vegetables, while the native troops subsisted mainly on flour; and it was doubtful whether this allowance would be continued beyond the second week in april. when, however, they were almost reduced to despair that help would come in time to preserve their lives, some large flocks of sheep were seen grazing on the plains before them. at first it was believed that they were placed there to lure them out to destruction, but the desire to capture them at all hazards became too strong to be resisted. about men of the th, and the same number of the th, with some sappers and miners, were allowed to sally out to bring in the prey. they succeeded beyond their most sanguine expectations, and sheep and goats were captured and brought in amid shouts of laughter by the men. this success raised the spirits of the whole garrison, and made them more than ever determined to hold the fort until rescue should come. on the th of april the situation again changed and the fortunes of the garrison once more seemed desperate. spies had brought in rumours of a serious check inflicted upon general pollock by the enemy at ali-musjid, and akbar khan had salutes fired in honour of this supposed victory. few of the officers believed these reports, but they were only the more eager to attack akbar in force, and so, it victorious, effect their own relief, and support general pollock if the report should turn out to be true. this plan of action was especially urged by havelock upon the general, and though at first sir robert sale, brave as he was, shrank from the responsibility of ordering so daring an effort, he in the end agreed. on the th of april the infantry marched out in three columns. the centre, under colonel dennie, consisted of the th, strong; the left, of the th, under colonel monteith, mustering the same number of bayonets; and the right, under captain havelock, composed of one company of the th, another of the th, and the detachment of sappers under lieutenant orr, the whole amounting to . captain broadfoot lay on his couch, suffering from a dangerous wound received in a sortie on the th of march. it was at this time reported in the town that akbar khan was preparing to retreat. without sound of bugle or drum, at early dawn the troops fell into their ranks and marched out of jellalabad. notwithstanding the report of his flight, akbar khan's troops, in number, were found drawn up in front of his camp, his left resting on the cabul river. havelock moved on rapidly in advance with his column, and driving the skirmishers before him, pushed on towards the enemy's camp, the other columns following. sir robert sale was with the centre column. at about three-quarters of a mile from jellalabad, a flanking fire was opened from one of the forts on that column, and sir robert ordered colonel dennie to storm it. accordingly, rushing on with his men of the gallant th, he passed the outer wall through an opening, but found himself exposed to a murderous fire from the inner keep. here fell the brave colonel dennie, mortally wounded by an afghan marksman. he was acknowledged by all to be one of the most gallant soldiers in the british army. this false move nearly produced disastrous consequences. akbar khan, seeing havelock, who was much in advance, unsupported, brought down a body of , cavalry on his feeble column. havelock posted the company of the th in a walled enclosure on his right, to pour a flanking fire on the enemy, and formed the rest into square. that he might be able to command both parties, he himself remained outside the square till the horsemen were close upon them. his horse rearing, he was thrown, and the animal galloped back riderless to the town. he would have been killed by the afghans had not a sapper and two men of the th rushed forward and rescued him. the enemy's horse, charging with much resolution, approached within yards; but their leader was shot, and, exposed to a heavy fire in front and flank, they retired in confusion. again havelock's column advanced, and once more the afghan horse charged it. thrown into one square, it awaited the attack, which was more easily repulsed than the first. sir robert then sent backhouse's guns to havelock's assistance. the column, cheering them as they came on, advanced against the enemy's encampment and penetrated it, driving the afghans headlong into the river. the other columns now came up, the camp was attacked on three points, and in a short time the enemy were dislodged from every part of their position, their cannon taken, and their camp burnt. four guns, lost by the cabul and gundamuck forces, were recaptured, and a great quantity of ordnance stores and _materiel_ was taken or destroyed. the field was strewed with the bodies of the afghans, while the loss on the side of the victors amounted to only killed and wounded. thus the garrison of jellalabad, after having been isolated in a hostile country for five months, surrounded by enemies, and constantly threatened with destruction, achieved its own relief. the peasantry now brought in ample supplies of provisions, and on the th of april the relieving force under general pollock, having gallantly fought its way through the khyber pass, routing the afridis who guarded it, approached the long beleaguered city, an exploit second to none in the annals of warfare; and thus was accomplished the successful defence of jellalabad. forcing the khyber pass-- th april . meanwhile, when the news reached india that a british army had been destroyed in afghanistan, and that general sale, with another, was closely besieged in jellalabad, a strong force was despatched under general pollock to his relief. general pollock had to encounter many difficulties in his march, but the greatest was forcing the khyber pass, which was known to be guarded by a numerous, active, and daring enemy. the troops had arrived at jumrood, on the east end of the pass--on the west end was ali-musjid. the hills on either side of the pass were rocky and precipitous, presenting great obstacles to troops, guarded as they were by numerous bodies of afridis, long accustomed to warfare. the difficulties were great, but they were known, and general pollock prepared to surmount them. brigadier wild was in command of the advance guard, and general mccaskill of the rear. before dawn on the th of april pollock's force set out from jumrood to the entrance of the khyber pass. it was formed of eight regiments of infantry, among whom were the th queen's regiment, three cavalry corps, including two squadrons of the rd dragoons, artillery, and sappers, in all some men. brigadier wild was in command of the advance guard and general mccaskill of the rear. the arrangement of the march was that the heights on either side should be occupied by infantry, the right being under the command of colonel taylor, and the left of colonel morley; and while these advanced along the heights the main column was to advance through the pass. at three o'clock in the morning the army commenced its march. it moved off in the dim twilight without beat of drum or sound of bugle. the crowning columns moved off to the right and left, and commenced in silence to climb the heights, which were covered with the enemy; but so little did they expect that mode of attack, that the flankers had ascended a considerable distance before the khyberees were aware of their advance. daylight soon revealed the respective positions of the contending forces, and the struggle commenced. the hillmen had thrown up across the pass a formidable barricade, composed of stones, mud, and branches of trees. behind this barrier the enemy were gathered in force, waiting the opportunity to attack the main column when it should attempt the pass. but this opportunity did not come, for the main column on entering the pass halted in battle array, while the infantry on the hills performed the duty assigned to them of clearing the heights. the left column was soon actively engaged; the right could not at first surmount the heights, from their precipitous character; but colonel taylor and his men, not to be defeated, stole round the base of the mountain unseen, and found a more practicable ascent than that they had at first tried. "then on both sides the british infantry were soon hotly engaged with the mountaineers, clambering up the precipitous peaks, and pouring down a hot and destructive fire upon the surprised and disconcerted khyberees, who had not expected that our disciplined troops would be more than a match for them on their native hills. but so it was. our infantry, native and british, were beating them in every direction, and everywhere the white dresses of the khyberees were seen as they fled across the hills." now was the time for pollock to advance. the centre column did not attempt to move forward until the flankers had fought their way to the rear of the mouth of the pass. but when he had fairly turned the enemy's position, he began to destroy the barriers, and prepared to advance into the pass. the enemy had assembled in large numbers at the mouth; but finding themselves outflanked, they gradually withdrew, and without opposition pollock now cleared his way through the barricade, and pushed into the pass with his long string of baggage. the great extent of his convoy was his chief difficulty for the rest of the day. the march to ali-musjid occupied the greater part of the day. the heat was intense. the troops suffered greatly from thirst, but they all did their duty well. during the night, in spite of the bitter cold, the heights were held, and the enemy, who were constantly firing on the troops, kept in check. from thence the march was without incident, and the head of the column marched into jellalabad unresisted on the th, a fortnight after the gallant sortie by which the garrison had freed themselves of akbar khan and his army. occupation of cabul in . victory had once more settled on the standards of the british army. on the th of september the first division of general pollock's army approached the hills which overlook the pass of jugdulluck. the afghans attempted to oppose their invaders, but were driven back like sheep from hill to hill by the soldiers of the th, many of them the raw recruits whom havelock had brought up from calcutta the preceding year, and whom five months of hard service at jellalabad had turned into veterans. akbar khan's last stand was made at tzeen, a valley surrounded by hills; but these were gallantly stormed, and the enemy, as before, driven from crag to crag, fighting with all the fury of despair; but they were ultimately put to flight, and two days afterwards general pollock's force was encamped at cabul. one of the first results of this victory was the rescue of lady sale and the other prisoners who had been carried off by akbar khan. among the officers rescued with lady sale was lieutenant mein, of her majesty's th light infantry, who had distinguished himself by his gallantry in the retreat from cabul, before he was taken prisoner. lieutenant eyre gives us an account of him:--"sir robert sale's son-in-law, lieutenant sturt, had nearly cleared the defile, when he received his wound, and would have been left on the ground to be hacked to pieces by the ghazees, who followed in the rear to complete the work of slaughter, but for the generous intrepidity of lieutenant mein, of her majesty's th light infantry, who, on learning what had befallen him, went back to his succour, and stood by him for several minutes, at the imminent risk of his own life, vainly entreating aid from the passers-by. he was at length joined by sergeant deane of the sappers, with whose assistance he dragged his friend on a quilt through the remainder of the pass, when he succeeded in mounting him on a miserable pony, and conducted him in safety to the camp, where the unfortunate officer lingered till the next morning, and was the only man of the whole force who received christian burial. lieutenant mein was himself suffering from a dangerous wound in the head, received in the previous october." his heroic disregard of self, and fidelity to his friend in the hour of danger, are well deserving of a record in the annals of british valour and virtue. besides the officers and ladies, non-commissioned officers and men of the th regiment were rescued, making in all, who, with dr brydon, formed all that remained of the troops who left cabul in . the british avenging army arrived at cabul on the th of september , and encamped on the racecourse. the following morning the british colours were hoisted on the most lofty pinnacle of the battlements of the balar hissar, where they could be seen from all parts of the city. a royal salute was fired, the national anthem was played, and the troops gave three cheers. the colours were hoisted regularly every day on the balar hissar as long as the troops remained at cabul. defence of candahar, . major-general sir william nott, with the th regiment, and other troops, was stationed at candahar when the afghan insurrection broke out. on the morning of the th of january , a large force of the insurgents, under two powerful chiefs, approaching within eight miles of the city, sir william nott, with his troops, the th regiment forming the advance, went out to meet them. although the afghans were strongly posted, they were quickly put to flight. from this period up to the th of march the troops remained all night long accoutred and ready for action. in consequence of the severity of the weather, the british could not again quit the city to punish the enemy, who swarmed around and plundered the neighbouring villages. at length the position became so dangerous, that early in march every afghan was expelled from the city, and then the general, leaving a small garrison in the city, marched on to attack the enemy. as he advanced the afghans retired, and so gradually drew him away from the city. suddenly, on the night of the th, a large force doubled back on candahar and made a furious attack on the gates, one of which they set on fire and tore down. the garrison were hard-pressed, but fought valiantly for three hours behind an improvised rampart, and eventually drove off the enemy. nott was not able to return to candahar till the th, but it was now free from the enemy. here he had to stay waiting for ammunition and supplies, which eventually reached him, escorted by a force under sir r. england, and on the th of august he marched to cabul, passing on the way the fort of ghuznee. this, it will be remembered, had been valiantly taken by storm by our troops three years before, now it was again in afghan hands. for after a siege of three and a half months in the preceding december, the enemy, aided by treachery, found a way in, and the garrison, few in number, retired to the citadel. on the th of march they at length surrendered, under a promise of safe-conduct with colours and arms and the honours of war to peshawur, and, as was customary at this date, fell victims to afghan treachery, and were massacred or made prisoners. on the march to ghuznee, general nott on the th of august came up with an army of , men, and after a severe fight utterly defeated them. on the th of september ghuznee was once again occupied by our troops, and on the th cabul was reached, just two days after pollock had entered. the grand bazaar in cabul, in which the remains of the british envoy had been exposed to insult, having been destroyed on the th of october, the army commenced its return to india. on the way the fortifications of jellalabad were blown up; and on the th of december, the brave garrison of that place marching in advance, and wearing the medals granted to them, the whole army made a triumphal entrance into ferozepore. the th light infantry have "jellalabad"; the th and st, "candahar and ghuznee"; and the rd light dragoons, th, th, st, th, and st, "cabul, ." thus ended the second afghan campaign. chapter two. the conquest of scinde, . battle of meeanee, th february . scinde is a large province, through the western portion of which the river indus flows before it reaches the indian ocean. hyderabad is the capital, situated on the banks of the indus. this country was ruled by a number of chiefs or princes, who held the title of ameer. they were a lawless and rapacious set, and tyrannised over their subjects with the most barbarous cruelty. when, however, it was resolved (in ) to open up the indus for the navigation of our merchant vessels, it became important to secure their friendship; and to effect that object, colonel pottinger was despatched by lord william bentinck, and succeeded in forming with them a treaty, by which they guaranteed all the objects desired by the british government. for some years, while they believed that it was their interest to be honest, they remained tolerably faithful to the english; when, however, they fancied, from our disasters in afghanistan, that the british power was on the wane, they instantly began to plot with our enemies for our overthrow. to put a stop to these proceedings, lord ellenborough, the governor-general of india, despatched general sir charles napier with an army into scinde, and gave him the following instructions:--"should any ameer or chief, with whom we have a treaty of alliance and friendship, have evinced hostile intentions against us during the late events, which may have induced them to doubt the continuance of our power, it is the present intention of the governor-general to inflict on the treachery of such an ally and friend so signal a punishment as shall effectually deter others from similar conduct." sir charles, who was encamped at sukkur, in upper scinde, on the right bank of the indus, soon obtained ample proof of the treachery and hostility of the ameers, and prepared for war by disciplining and organising his troops, who were composed chiefly of raw levies with little experience. on the same side of the indus as sukkur, and about twenty miles from the river, was shikarpoor, with roree on the left bank, and the fortress of bukkur between them. one of the principal ameers was roostum, and an arch traitor. he had already induced a large number of beloochees, a warlike race from beloochistan, to prepare for battle. many also remained in their homes, ready for the signal to flock to his standard. he and the other chiefs did not delay long in raising that standard, and a force of , men was soon collected near the capital of hyderabad, at a spot afterwards to become famous, called meeanee. sir charles had led his forces down the left bank of the indus, several steamers accompanying his progress. on the th of february the british army had reached muttaree, about sixteen miles from hyderabad, when sir charles heard that , beloochees had suddenly crossed the indus, and that not less than , men were really in order of battle. in consequence of the garrisons he had been compelled to leave in his rear, his own army consisted at this time of only men of all arms fit for duty. still his resolution remained unshaken. he well knew what discipline could do against untrained hordes, however brave, and he was also well aware of the danger of retreating before a barbarian enemy. he was informed that the enemy's cavalry was , strong, and that they were posted on a vast plain of smooth hard clay or sand, while his whole cavalry force numbered but . marching on the night of the th, his advanced guard discovered the enemy at eight o'clock next morning, and at nine o'clock the british line of battle was formed. the enemy, , strong, were posted along the dry bed of the river fullaillee, which falls into the indus. its high bank, sloping towards the plain in front, formed a rampart. their position was about yards wide. eighteen guns, massed on the flank in advance of the bank, poured their shot on the british troops while forming the line, and the beloochee wings rested on _shikargahs_ (copses or woods), which lined the plain so far as to flank the advance on both sides. they were very large and dense, and that on the beloochee right intersected with _nullahs_ (water-courses) of different sizes, but all deep, carefully scarped, and defended by matchlock-men. behind the shikargahs, the fullaillee made a sudden bend to the rear, forming a loop, in which the ameer's cavalry was placed. the shikargah on the enemy's left was more extensive, and, though free from nullahs, very strong. it was covered towards the plain by a wall, having one opening, not very wide, about half-way between the two armies. behind this wall or men were posted, evidently designed to rush out through the opening upon the flank and rear of the british when the latter advanced. some matchlock-men were seen astride on this wall, which was ten feet high, but they soon disappeared; and the general, discovering that there were no loopholes or scaffolding to the wall, ordered captain tew, with a company of the nd, to occupy and defend it to the last. it was another thermopylae. the gallant tew died in the gap, but the post was maintained, and thus enemies were paralysed by only . as the british army advanced--the baggage, cast into a circle, was left close in the rear, surrounded by camels, which were made to lie down with their heads inwards, and their bales placed within them for their armed followers to fire over, thus forming a fortress not very easy to storm. two hundred and fifty poona horsemen, and four companies of infantry under captain tait, were the only force which could be spared for its protection. the order of battle was thus formed:-- twelve guns, under major lloyd, flanked by madras sappers, under captain henderson, were on the right. on lloyd's left stood the nd queen's regiment, under colonel pennefather, not strong, half irishmen, strong of body, high-blooded soldiers, who saw nothing but victory. on the left were the swarthy sepoys of the nd bombay native infantry; then the th, under major reid, and the st grenadiers, led by major clibborne; the whole in the echelon order of battle. closing the extreme left, but somewhat held back, rode the th bengal cavalry, under colonel pattle. in front of the right infantry, skirmishers were thrown out, and on the left the scinde horsemen, under captain jacob, fierce eastern troops, were pushed forward. between the two armies there was a plain of about yards, covered for the first with a low jungle, which impeded the march of the british troops. for yards, however, in front of the beloochee line, it had been cleared to give free play for their matchlocks, with which they fired long shots at times without showing themselves. the order to advance was given, and the general and his staff rode forward in face of the heavy fire from the beloochee guns. the enemy's right was strongly protected by the village of kottree, now filled with matchlock-men. the main body of the british advanced in columns of regiments, the right passing securely under the wall of the enclosure, where tew's gallant company, now reinforced by a gun, were with a rattling fire of musketry keeping their host of foes in check. onward marched the main body of the british army, while clibborne's grenadiers were storming the village of kottree on the left. the level was all the time swept by the beloochee guns and matchlocks, answered at times by lloyd's battery, but nothing stopped the progress of the gallant band. when within yards of the fullaillee, the nd opened into line, and all the columns formed in succession, each company as it arrived throwing its fire at the top of the bank, where the faces of the beloochees could be seen bending with fiery glances over their levelled matchlocks. the british front was still incomplete, when the voice of the general, loud and clear, was heard commanding the charge. the order was answered by a hearty british cheer. four guns were run forward, and the infantry, at full speed, dashed on towards the river, and rushed up the sloping bank. the stern beloochees, with matchlocks resting on the summit, let their assailants come within yards before they delivered their fire; but the steepness of the slope inside, which rendered their footing unsteady, and the rapid pace of the british, spoilt their aim, and the execution done was not great. the next moment the nd were on the top of the bank, thinking to bear all down before them; but even they staggered back at the forest of swords waving in their front. thick as standing corn, and gorgeous as a field of tulips, were the beloochees in their many-coloured garments and turbans. they filled the broad, deep bed of the now dry fullaillee; they were clustered on both banks, and covered the plain beyond. guarding their heads with their large dark shields, they shook their sharp swords, gleaming in the sun, and their shouts rolled like a peal of thunder, as, with frantic might and gestures, they dashed against the front of the nd. but with shrieks as wild and fierce, and hearts as big, and arms as strong, the british soldiers met them with the bayonet, which they used with terrible effect against their foremost warriors. at the same time the few guns that could be placed in position on the right of the nd, flanked by henderson's small band of madras sappers, swept diagonally the bed of the river, tearing the rushing masses with a horrible carnage. soon the sepoy regiments, th and th, prolonged the line of fire to the left, coming into action successively in the same terrible manner. "now the beloochees closed in denser masses, and the dreadful rush of their swordsmen was felt, and their shouts answered by the pealing musketry, and such a fight ensued as has seldom been recorded in the annals of warfare. over and over again those wild, fierce warriors, with shields held high and blades drawn back, strove with strength and courage to break through the british ranks. no fire of small-arms, no sweeping discharge of grape, no push of bayonets could drive them back; they gave their breasts to the shot, their shields to the bayonet, and, leaping at the guns, were blown away by twenties at a time: their dead rolled down the steep slope by hundreds, but the gaps were continually filled from the rear; the survivors pressed forward with unabated fury, and the bayonet and sword clashed in full and frequent conflict." thus they fought--never more than five yards apart, often intermingled, and several times the different regiments were forced backwards, but their general was always there to rally and cheer them. at his voice their strength returned, and they recovered ground, though soon in the dreadful conflict nearly all their regimental leaders were killed or wounded. major teasdale, animating the sepoys of the th regiment, rode violently down a gap in the beloochees, and was there killed by shot and sabre. major jackson, of the th, coming up with his regiment, the next in line, followed the same heroic example. two brave havildars kept close to him, all three in advance of their regiment, and all fell dead together, but not till several of the fiercest of the beloochee swordsmen were seen to sink beneath the brave jackson's strong arm and whirling blade. here also fell captains cookson and meade, and lieutenant wood, nobly cheering on their men to the attack, while tew had died at his post at the entrance of the shikargah. many more were desperately wounded: colonel pennefather and major wylie; captains tucker, smith, conway; lieutenants plowden, harding, thayre, bourdillon; ensigns firth, pennefather, bowden, holbrow. lieutenant harding, of the nd, was the first to leap upon the bank. his legs were cut by the swordsmen, and he fell, but rose again instantly, and, waving his cap, cheered his men to the charge. receiving another sword-cut, his right hand was maimed; yet still he urged the men forward, till at length a shot went through his lungs, and again he fell, and was carried out of the fight. lieutenant mcmurdo, a young staff-officer, rode, like teasdale and jackson, into the bed of the fullaillee, and his horse being killed, he fell. regaining his feet, he met and slew jehan mohamed, a great chief and a hardy warrior, in the midst of his tribe. several of jehan's followers then engaged him in front, while one struck at him fiercely from behind, but being at that moment struck down by a sergeant of the nd, the blow fell harmless. mcmurdo turned and repaid the service by cleaving to the brow a swordsman who was aiming at his preserver's back; another fell beneath his weapon, and then he and the sergeant fought their way out from among the crowds of foes pressing fiercely round them. several times the sepoys, when their leaders were killed or disabled, slowly receded; but the general was always at the point of the greatest danger, and then manfully his swarthy soldiers recovered their ground. once he was assailed by a chief, and his danger was great, for his right hand had been maimed before the battle. at the moment that the fierce warrior was about to cut him down, lieutenant marston, of the th native infantry, sprang to his side, killed the sirdar, and saved his general. at another period sir charles napier was alone for some moments in the midst of his enemies, who stalked round him with raised shields and scowling eyes; but, from some superstitious feeling possibly, to which the beloochees are very prone, not one attempted his destruction, which they might easily have accomplished. when the soldiers of the nd saw him emerge unharmed from his perilous position, they gave vent to their feelings in a loud and hearty cheer, heard above the din of battle. for more than three hours did this storm of war continue, and still the beloochees, undismayed, pressed onwards with furious force, their numbers to all appearance increasing instead of being diminished by those who had been struck down. now came the critical point in every battle. except the cavalry, there was no reserve to bring forward. in vain the brave jacob had previously endeavoured to turn the village of kottree with the scinde horse, and to gain the flank of the enemy's position. so heavily pressed by the beloochees on the right, and so exhausted were his men, that he could not quit that point; but his quick eye saw that the enemy's right could be turned, and he sent orders to colonel pattle to charge with the whole body of the bengal and scinde horsemen on the enemy's right. never was an order more promptly obeyed. spurring hard after their brave leaders, the eastern horsemen passed the matchlock-- men in the village of kottree, and galloped unchecked across the small nullahs and ditches about it, which were, however, so numerous and difficult, that of the troopers were cast from their saddles at once by the leaps. but dashing through the beloochee guns on that flank, and riding over the high bank of the fullaillee, the main body crossed the deep bed, gained the plain beyond, and charged with irresistible fury. major story, with his bengal troopers, turning to his left, fell on the enemy's infantry in the loop of the upper fullaillee, while the scindian horse, led by lieutenant fitzgerald, wheeling to their right, fell on the camp, thus spreading confusion along the rear of the masses opposed to the british infantry. in this gallant charge three or four beloochees had fallen before his whirling blade, when one, crouching, as is their custom, beneath a broad shield, suddenly stepped up on the bridle-hand, and with a single stroke brought down the horse. fitzgerald's leg was under the animal, and twice the barbarian drove his keen weapon at the prostrate officer, but each time the blow was parried; and at length, clearing himself from the dead horse, the strong man rose. the barbarian, warned by the herculean form and threatening countenance of his opponent, instantly cast his shield over a thickly rolled turban of many folds, but the descending weapon went through all, and cleft his skull. on charged the cavalry. the fierce beloochees, whose fury could before scarcely be resisted, slackened their onslaught, and looked behind them. the nd, perceiving this, leaped forward with a shout of victory, and pushed them back into the deep ravine, where again they closed in combat. the madras sappers and the other sepoys followed the glorious example. at length the beloochees who had been posted in the shikargah abandoned that cover to join the fight in the fullaillee, but this did not avail them. both sides fought as fiercely as ever. a soldier of the nd regiment, bounding forward, drove his bayonet into the breast of a beloochee; instead of falling, the rugged warrior cast away his shield, seized the musket with his left hand, writhed his body forward on the bayonet, and with one sweep of his keen blade avenged himself. both combatants fell dead together. the whole front of the battle was indeed a chain of single combats. no quarter was asked for, none given. the ferocity was unbounded; the carnage terrible. the ameers had now lost the day. slowly the fierce beloochees retired in heavy masses, their broad shields slung over their backs, their heads half turned, and their eyes glaring with fury. the victors followed closely, pouring in volley after volley; yet the vanquished still preserved their habitual swinging stride, and would not quicken it to a run though death was at their heels! two or three thousand on the extreme right, who had been passed by the cavalry, kept their position, and seemed disposed to make another rush; but the whole of the british guns were turned upon them with such heavy discharges of grape and shells that they also went off. all were now in retreat; but so doggedly did they move, and so inclined did they appear to renew the conflict on the level ground, where the british flanks were unprotected, that the general recalled his cavalry, and formed a large square, placing his baggage and followers in the centre. such was the battle of meeanee, fought with men against , . six officers were killed and wounded, and about sergeants and rank and file were killed, and wounded--a large proportion of the few actually engaged. of the enemy, upwards of were killed: bodies and more lay in heaps in the bed of the fullaillee alone. the next morning, six of the principal ameers presented themselves on horseback at the camp, offering their swords, and promising to deliver up hyderabad to the victor. to hyderabad he accordingly marched, and took possession of that city. there was another powerful chief still in arms with , men, about six miles off, and it is asserted that, had sir charles at once marched against this chief, shere mahomed of meerpore, he might have defeated him without loss of time; but at the same time it is evident that it was most important in the first place to secure the capital, and to give his troops refreshment after so desperate a fight. for the first time in english despatches, the names of private soldiers who had distinguished themselves were made known--an innovation which still more endeared him to those under his command, and which was hailed with satisfaction by thousands who never saw him. the men of the nd regiment all fought most bravely, but private james o'neil, of the light company, was especially noticed for taking a standard while the regiment was hotly engaged with the enemy; and drummer martin delany, who shot, bayoneted, and captured the arms of a chief, meer whulle mohamed khan, who was mounted, and directing the enemy in the hottest part of the engagement. lieutenant johnstone, of the st grenadiers, native infantry, cut down a beloochee, and saved the life of a sepoy who had bayoneted the beloochee, but was overpowered in the struggle. the names of a considerable number of the native regiments were also mentioned as conspicuous for their gallantry, as well as those of lieutenant fitzgerald and lieutenant russell, whose steady, cool, and daring conduct kept the men together in the desperate charge over the nullahs, under a heavy fire, made by the corps to get on the flank of the enemy--a manoeuvre which so mainly contributed to secure the victory to the british army. battle of hyderabad-- th march . after the battle of meeanee, the victorious army of sir charles napier entered hyderabad in triumph. he had not been there long when he heard that shere mahomed, or the _lion_, one of the most powerful of the ameers of scinde, was in arms at the head of a large force, hoping to retrieve the losses of his brother chieftains. considerable reinforcements for the british army were expected--some from sukkur down the indus, and others from kurrachee. approaching hyderabad, the haughty ameer sent an envoy as herald to the british camp, with an insolent offer of terms, saying, "quit this land, and, provided you restore all you have taken, your life shall be spared." just then the evening gun fired. "you hear that sound? it is my answer to your chief. begone!" said sir charles, turning his back on the envoy. on the st a column, under major stack, reached muttaree--a long march from hyderabad. the fortress of hyderabad was by this time repaired, and the intrenched camp was complete; and, on the th, recruits and provisions came up from kurrachee, and the st regiment of sepoys arrived from sukkur, down the indus. when the lion had notice of major stack's approach, he moved with his whole army to dubba, intending to fall on him on the following day. the general's plans were soon laid. his first care was to save major stack's column. he accordingly sent out captain mcmurdo with poona horsemen, to meet stack, and to order him to advance after he had ascertained the lion's position. the next morning, jacob was despatched with the scinde horsemen along the same road, and he himself followed, at a short distance, with the bengal cavalry and some guns, supported by all the infantry, who moved a short distance behind. meantime major stack had advanced, leaving his baggage unprotected. it was attacked by a body of beloochee matchlock-men; but captain mcmurdo, with only six poona horse, kept them at bay till some troops he sent for came up to his assistance. the beloochees were ultimately driven back, and the force reached hyderabad. sir charles had now men of all arms, being cavalry, with guns. leaving two guns to guard the camp, at break of day on the th he marched from hyderabad upon dubba, which was eight miles north-west of that city. the infantry and guns moved forward in a compact mass, the cavalry scouting ahead and on the flank; for so thickly covered was the whole country with houses, gardens, shikargahs, and nullahs, that , men might be in position without being discovered at half a mile distance. ten miles were passed over, and still the exact position of the enemy was unknown, when a scout came in with the information that the lion was with his whole force two miles to the left. the general, at the head of the irregular horse, galloped forward, and in a quarter of an hour found himself on a plain, in front of the whole beloochee army. the whole plain was swarming with cavalry and infantry; the right wing resting on the fullaillee, with a large pond of mud protecting the flank, while the left rested on a succession of nullahs and a dense wood. no distinct view could be obtained of the order of battle, but , men were before him, and they had guns-- being in battery, while two lines of infantry were intrenched, and a heavy mass of cavalry was in reserve. the front was covered with a nullah feet wide and feet deep, with the usual high banks, which were scarped so as to form a parapet. behind this the first line of infantry was posted, extending for a mile in a direction perpendicular to the fullaillee; while behind the right wing, close to the fullaillee, was the village of dubba, filled with men, and prepared for resistance by cuts and loopholes in the houses. there were other nullahs, behind which the rest of the beloochee army was posted, with one gun on a height to the right, and the remainder behind the third line. altogether, no position could have been better chosen or more formidable. the march of the british force was diagonal to the front of the beloochee army, and this brought the head of the column left in front near the right of the enemy, and the line was immediately formed on the same slant; the cavalry being drawn up on the wings, and the artillery in the intervals between the regiments. when the line was formed, the left, being advanced, was under the enemy's cannon. one shot nearly grazed the general's leg, and several men were killed. still the enemy's position could not be clearly made out, and to ascertain it more exactly, captain waddington of the engineers, and lieutenants brown and hill, rode straight to the centre of the beloochee lines, and then, under a sharp fire of matchlocks, along the front to the junction of the centre with the left. a thick wood on the right gave the general some anxiety, as it was supposed to be filled with beloochees, ready to rush out and attack the british rear when they were hotly engaged. to watch it, he placed the scindian horsemen and rd bombay cavalry under major stack, with orders to oppose whatever enemy appeared. the battle commenced at nine o'clock. leslie's horse artillery pushed forward, followed by the rest of the artillery in batteries, and all obtained positions where their fire crossed, and with terrible effect they raked the enemy. lieutenant smith, eager to discover a place where his artillery could cross a deep nullah, bravely rode up to it alone. he ascended the bank, and instantly fell, pierced by a hundred wounds. it was full of beloochees. the gallant nd was again first in action, and, as they advanced under a terrific fire from the gun on the hillock, and from the matchlock-men, with whom were some of the bravest chiefs posted in the first nullah, nearly half the light company were struck down. beyond the first nullah, a second and greater one was seen, lined still more strongly with men, while the village became suddenly alive with warriors, whose matchlocks could also reach the advancing line. while about to lead the gallant nd to the charge, the general observed the cavalry on the right making a headlong dash at the enemy's left wing, in consequence of having seen some of them moving in apparent confusion towards the centre. the right flank of the british army was thus left uncovered; and had the wood been filled with beloochees, the consequences might have been serious. "the whole body of cavalry was at full speed dashing across the smaller nullahs, the spurs deep in the horses' sides, the riders pealing their different war-cries, and whirling their swords in gleaming circles. there the fiery delamain led the gorgeous troopers of the rd cavalry; there the terrible fitzgerald careered with the wild scindian horsemen, their red turbans streaming amid the smoke and dust of the splendid turmoil." see `_conquest of scinde_', by sir w. napier. no enemy appearing from the wood, the heroic general hurried back and regained the nd at the moment it was rushing to storm the first nullah. riding to the first rank, he raised that clear, high-pitched cry of war which had at meeanee sent the same fiery soldiers to the charge. it was responded to with ardour, led by major poole, who commanded the brigade, and captain george, who commanded the corps. they marched up till within forty paces of the intrenchment, and then stormed it like british soldiers. the regiments were well supported by the batteries commanded by captains willoughby and hutt, which crossed their fire with that of major leslie. the second brigade, under major woodburn, consisting of the th, st, and th regiments, under captains jackson, stevens, and fisher respectively, bore down into action with excellent coolness. they were strongly sustained by the fire of captain whitley's battery. on the right of it again were the th and st regiments, under majors browne and clibborne, which advanced with the regularity of a review up to the intrenchments. lieutenant coote, of the nd, was the first to gain the summit of the bank, where, wresting a beloochee standard from its bearer, he waved it in triumph, while he hurried along the narrow ledge, staggering from a deep wound in his side. then, with a deafening shout, the soldiers leaped down into the midst of the savage warriors. at that point a black champion, once an african slave, and other barbarian chiefs, fell, desperately fighting to the last. onward the brave nd fought its bloody way amid the dense masses of the enemy, ably supported by the th native infantry; and now the british line began to overlap the village of dubba, while stack's cavalry were completely victorious on the right, and leslie's horse artillery, crossing the nullahs with sweeping discharges, committed fearful havoc among the dense masses of the beloochee army. the other regiments, bringing up their right shoulders, continued the circle from the position of the th, and lapped still farther round the village. in this charge the st sepoys stabbed every beloochee they came up with, whole or wounded, calling out "innes! innes!" at every stroke of death they dealt. in consequence of the rapidity of this charge, some confusion ensued, and while the general was endeavouring to restore order, a beloochee field-magazine exploding, killed all near him, broke his sword, and wounded him in the hand. still the enemy fought on fiercely; surprising feats of personal prowess were displayed. four or five of the foe fell beneath the iron hand of fitzgerald, whose matchless strength renders credible the wildest tales of the days of chivalry. mcmurdo was engaged in three successive hand-to-hand combats, his opponents having the advantage of shields to aid their swordsmanship. he killed two in succession, but the third, with an upward stroke, cut him from the belly to the shoulder, and would have killed him, had he not cleft the man to the brows, and thus lessened the force of the blow. as it was, he received a desperate wound. three other officers also performed surprising deeds of personal prowess. the general proved that he possessed humanity, as well as courage of the most heroic order. near the village, a chief, retiring with that deliberate rolling stride and fierce look which all those intrepid fatalists displayed in both battles, passed near the general, who covered him with a pistol; but then remembering meeanee, when in the midst of their warriors no hand had been raised against him, he held his finger. his generosity was fruitless, for a sepoy plunged his bayonet into the man with the terrible cry of "blood! blood!" much to the general's satisfaction, wounded prisoners were taken, whereas at meeanee the lives of only had been saved. slowly and sullenly the enemy retired, some going off with their leader to the desert, others towards the indus; but the latter were intercepted by the victorious cavalry of the right wing, and driven in masses after their companions into the wilderness. meanwhile the general in person led the bengal and poona horse, under major story and captain tait, through the valley of dubba against the retreating masses, putting them to the sword for several miles, but not without resistance, in consequence of which the brave captain garrett and others fell. the lion himself was seen, and very nearly captured by fitzgerald and delamain, as he was escaping on his elephant. on his return with the cavalry, the general was received with three hearty cheers by his troops. in this bloody battle, which lasted three hours, the british lost men and officers, of which number were of the gallant nd regiment, who had sustained the brunt of the fight. though fought near dubba, this battle is best known as that of hyderabad, which name is inscribed on the colours and medals of the soldiers by whom it was won. sir charles napier had resolved to make the battle a decisive one. having arranged for sending his wounded to hyderabad, reorganised his army, and ascertained that the enemy had retreated towards meerpoor, in eight hours he was again marching in pursuit. during the battle the thermometer stood at no degrees, and the heat was daily increasing. on that day his troops had marched twelve miles to find the enemy, fought for three hours, and had been employed for eight in collecting the wounded, burying the dead, and cooking, rather than in resting; but all were eager for a fresh fight; as evidence of which, several of the nd regiment concealed their wounds, that they might take part in it, instead of being sent back to hyderabad. their names are recorded--john durr, john muldowney, robert young, henry lines, patrick gill, james andrews, not severely hurt; sergeant haney, wound rather severe; thomas middleton, james mulvey, severely wounded in the legs; silvester day, ball in the foot. it was only discovered that they were wounded on the march, when, overcome by thirst, they fell fainting to the ground. captain garrett and lieutenant smith were killed in the battle; and lieutenants pownoll, tait, chute, coote, evans, brennan, bur, wilkinson, mcmurdo, and ensign pennefather were wounded. the next day the poona horse were at the gates of meerpoor. the lion fled with his family and treasure to omercote, and the gates of the capital were at once gladly opened to the victors. while the general remained at meerpoor, he sent forward the camel battery of captain whitley, supported by the th sepoy infantry, under major woodburn. there was but little water, and a risk of the indus rising, so that it would have been dangerous to have gone with the whole army. he promised the lion terms if he would surrender at once. news was brought him that the indus was rising. he despatched orders to captain whitley to return. that officer had just received information that the ameers had again fled, and that omercote might be captured. he was then distant miles from that place, and from meerpoor. a young officer, lieutenant brown, who had already distinguished himself, undertook to ride these miles to obtain fresh instructions. he reached meerpoor without a stop, and borrowing one of the general's horses, rode back again under a sun whose beams fell like flakes of fire, for the thermometer stood at above degrees. he bore orders to attack omercote. the little band pushed forward, and, on the th, omercote opened its gates. thus was this important place reduced ten days after the battle of hyderabad, though miles distant, and in the heart of the desert. this capture may be said to have completed the conquest of scinde. the lion was still at large, but he was finally hunted down and crushed by different columns sent against him, under colonels roberts, chamberlayne, and captain jacob. scinde was annexed to british india, and sir charles napier was appointed its first governor, independent of the presidencies, with directions to abolish slavery, to tranquillise the inhabitants, and to bring out the resources of the country he had so bravely acquired. chapter three. the gwalior campaign, . battle of maharajpoor-- th december . the loss of british prestige in the defiles of afghanistan had induced many of the native princes of india to fancy that the power of england was on the wane, and that they might assume a tone of authority and independence which they would not before have ventured to exhibit. among others, the mahratta court at gwalior adopted a line of policy inimical to british interests, and contrary to the engagements into which their princes had entered. lord ellenborough, foreseeing that they would make an attempt to emancipate themselves altogether from british influence, assembled an army on the frontier facing the mahratta territory, and called it the "army of exercise." it was gradually increased, and placed under the command of sir hugh gough. various insulting acts having been committed by the mahratta government against the english, and no apology having been made, the governor-general ordered the army to enter the mahratta territory. general grey took the lead with a division of infantry and a brigade of cavalry, and, crossing the jumna at calpee, threatened the gwalior territory from the south; while two divisions of infantry, and two brigades of cavalry, with the usual complement of artillery, moved down from the northward under the command of sir hugh gough himself. general grey, having advanced from bundelcund, reached panniar, about miles from gwalior, on the th of december. the enemy, estimated at about , in number, took up a strong position on the heights near the fortified village of mangore. although the british troops were much fatigued by their long march, the enemy were immediately attacked and driven from height to height, till the rout was completed. the british loss was killed and wounded. sir hugh gough advanced, and found the enemy awaiting him at a strong post which they had selected on the evening of the th. it was reconnoitred; but during the night the mahratta forces left their intrenched position, and took up another three or four miles in advance of it. the british troops numbered about , men, with pieces of artillery. the mahrattas mustered , men, including cavalry and guns. the mahratta army had under scindia been carefully organised by european officers, and was therefore composed of well-disciplined men, equal in bravery to any of the natives of india. on the morning of the th, no fresh reconnaissance having been made, the british forces found themselves in the presence of an enemy they fancied some miles off. many ladies, on their elephants, were on the field when the action commenced by the gallant advance of major-general littler's column upon the enemy, in front of the village of maharajpoor. the enemy's guns committed severe execution as they advanced; and though the mahrattas fought with the most desperate courage, nothing could withstand the headlong rush of the british soldiers. her majesty's th foot, with their accustomed dash, ably supported by the th native infantry, drove the enemy from their guns into the village, bayoneting the gunners at their posts. here a sanguinary conflict took place. the fierce mahrattas, after discharging their matchlocks, fought sword in hand with the most determined courage. general valiant's brigade, with equal enthusiasm, took maharajpoor in reverse, and guns were captured by this combined movement. so desperately did the defenders of this strong position fight, that few escaped. during these operations, brigadier scott was opposed by a body of the enemy's cavalry on the extreme left, and made some well-executed charges with the th light cavalry, most ably supported by captain grant's troop of horse artillery, and the th lancers, capturing some guns and taking two standards, thus threatening the right flank of the enemy. on this, as on every occasion, sir henry, then captain havelock, distinguished himself. the th native infantry, who had been brigaded with her majesty's th, were advancing on the enemy, but at so slow a pace as to exhaust the patience of sir hugh gough. "will no one get that sepoy regiment on?" he exclaimed. havelock offered to go, and riding up, inquired the name of the corps. "it is the th native infantry." "i don't want its number," replied he. "what is its native name?" "lamboorunke pultum--lambourn's regiment." he then took off his cap, and placing himself in their front, addressed them by that name, and in a few complimentary and cheering words reminded them that they fought under the eye of the commander-in-chief. he then led them up to the batteries, and afterwards remarked, that "whereas it had been difficult to get them forward before, the difficulty now was to restrain their impetuosity." in conformity with the previous instructions, major-general valiant, supported by the rd cavalry brigade, moved on the right of the enemy's position at chouda. during the advance he had to take in succession three strongly intrenched positions, where the enemy defended their guns with frantic desperation. here her majesty's th regiment lost two successive commanding officers, major stopford and captain coddington, who fell wounded at the very muzzles of the guns. it captured four regimental standards. this corps was ably and nobly supported by the nd and th grenadiers, under lieutenant-colonels hamilton and mclarey. major--general littler, with brigadier wright's brigade, after dispersing the right of the enemy's position at maharajpoor, steadily advanced to fulfil his instructions to attack the main position at chouda, and was supported most ably by captain grant's troop of horse artillery, and the st regiment of light cavalry. this column had to advance under a severe fire, over very difficult ground, but when within a short distance of the enemy, the gallant th regiment, as before, rushing forward, led by major bray, and gallantly supported by the th regiment, under major dick, carried everything before them, and thus gained the intrenched main position of chouda. the battle of maharajpoor was now virtually won. the loss on both sides had been severe. the british had killed, of whom were officers, and wounded, and missing, making a total loss of . the mahrattas are supposed to have lost between and men. in consequence of this victory and that of panniar, the mahratta durbar submitted to the british government. lieutenant-colonel stubbs was appointed governor of the fort of gwalior, which commands the city. the mahratta troops were disbanded, and a british contingent was formed, to be maintained at the cost of the gwalior government, which was compelled to pay forthwith the expenses of the campaign. chapter four. the punjaub campaigns, - . battle of moodkee-- th december . on the death of runjeet singh, the lion of lahore, chief of the sikhs and ruler of the punjaub, in , the throne was seized by his reputed son, sher singh. he was a good-natured voluptuary, and utterly unable to manage the warlike troops raised by his father. he was disposed to be friendly with the english, but being assassinated by ajeet singh on the th of september , dhuleep singh was proclaimed maharaja, and heera singh was raised to the dangerous office of vizier. the new vizier soon found that he could, no more than his predecessor, content the army. his only chance was to give it employment, or rather induce it to engage in a contest with the british, which he hoped might terminate in its dispersion. probably, like other rulers nearer england, he was prepared for either contingency. should the army be successful, he would take advantage of their success; if destroyed, he would not be ill pleased. the sikhs, indulging themselves with the idea of the conquest of british india, virtually declared war against the english on the th of november. they commenced crossing the sutlej on the th of december; and on the th of that month a portion of the army took up a position a few miles from ferozepore. the sikhs, it should be understood, had some territory on the eastern side of the sutlej, and it is supposed that they had from time to time sent across guns, and buried them there, to be ready for their contemplated invasion of british india. at length, on the th of december, the sikh army crossed the sutlej, and threatened ferozepore, but were held in check by the bold front shown by the garrison of that place under major-general sir john littler. meantime, the army of the sutlej, under sir hugh gough, was advancing on them. after a trying march of miles, with little rest, and a scarcity of water, on the afternoon of the th of december the information was received by the british army that the sikhs were advancing on moodkee, which they had just reached. the troops immediately got under arms, the horse artillery and cavalry were pushed forward; the infantry, accompanied by field batteries, moving on in support. before long the enemy, it was found, were approaching in order of battle, with , infantry, the same number of cavalry, and guns. the country over which the two armies were advancing to the conflict is a dead flat, covered at short intervals with a low but thick jungle, and dotted with sandy hillocks. the enemy screened their infantry and artillery behind this jungle and such undulation as the ground afforded. the british cavalry, under brigadiers white, gough, and mactier, advanced rapidly to the front in columns of squadrons, and occupied the plain, followed by five troops of horse artillery, under brigadier brooke, who took up a forward position, having the cavalry on his left flank. the british infantry now forming from echelon of brigade into line, the enemy opened a severe cannonade on them, which was vigorously replied to by the batteries of horse artillery under brigadier brooke. a gallant charge of the rd light dragoons, the th light infantry, and th lancers, turned the left of the sikh army, put their cavalry to flight, and sweeping along the whole rear of the infantry and guns, silenced them for a time. after this, brigadier brooke pushed on his horse artillery, and while the cannonading was resumed on both sides, the infantry, under major-generals sir harry smith, gilbert, and sir john mccaskill, attacked in echelon of lines the enemy's infantry, almost invisible among the jungle and the approaching darkness of night. the enemy made a stout resistance; but though their line far outflanked the british, that advantage was counteracted by the flank movements of the cavalry. the roll of fire from the british infantry showed the sikhs that they had met a foe they little expected, and their whole force was driven from position after position at the point of the bayonet, with great slaughter and the loss of seventeen pieces of artillery. night alone saved them from worse disaster, for this stout conflict was maintained for an hour and a half in dim starlight, amidst a cloud of dust from the sandy plain, which yet more obscured every object. the victory was not, however, obtained without severe loss to the british. sir john mccaskill was shot through the chest, and killed on the field; the gallant sir robert sale, the brave defender of jellalabad, received so severe a wound in the leg that he shortly after died from its effects; many other officers and men were killed, making in all ; and were wounded. the enemy's sharpshooters had climbed into trees, and from thence killed and wounded many officers. the victorious army returned to camp at midnight, and halted on the th and th, that the wounded might be collected, the captured guns brought in, and the men refreshed. battle of ferozeshah-- st december . the sikhs had intrenched themselves in a camp a mile in length, and half a mile in breadth, with the village of ferozeshah in the centre. they numbered nearly , men, and pieces of cannon of heavy calibre in fixed batteries. the umbala and sir john littler's forces, having formed a junction, now arrived. the british army, thus increased, consisted of , men, and guns, chiefly horse artillery. the united forces advanced at about four o'clock in the afternoon of the st, to attack the intrenched camp of the sikhs. the governor-general, sir henry hardinge, had offered his services to sir hugh gough as second in command, and was actively engaged in the operations of this and the following day. the divisions of major--general sir j. littler, brigadier wallace, and major-general gilbert deployed into line, having the artillery in the centre, with the exception of three troops of horse artillery, one on either flank, and one in support. major--general sir h. smith's division and the cavalry moved in a second line, having a brigade in reserve to cover each wing. sir hugh gough directed the right wing, and sir henry hardinge the left wing of the army. the infantry advanced under a terrific storm of shot and shell from upwards of sikh guns, of them of battering calibre; but nothing stopped the impetuous onset--the formidable intrenchments were carried-- the men threw themselves on the guns, and with matchless gallantry wrested them from the enemy. no sooner, however, were the sikhs' batteries won, than the enemy's infantry, drawn up behind their guns, opened so tremendous a fire on the british troops, that in spite of their most heroic efforts, a portion only of the intrenchment could be carried. sir harry smith's division advancing, captured and retained another point of the position, and her majesty's rd light dragoons charged and took some of the most formidable batteries; yet the enemy remained in possession of a considerable portion of the great quadrangle, whilst the british troops, actually intermingled with them, held the remainder, and finally bivouacked upon it, exhausted by their gallant efforts, greatly reduced in numbers, and suffering extremely from thirst, yet animated by that indomitable spirit which they had exhibited throughout the day. whenever moonlight, however, exhibited the british position, the enemy's artillery never failed severely to harass them. sir john littler's division, which had advanced against the strongest part of the work, suffered severely, especially her majesty's nd regiment, which had officers killed and wounded out of . it was not till they had done all that men could do that they retired. the rd dragoons in this desperate charge lost officers, and men out of . when the sikhs found that sir harry smith had retired from the village, they brought up some guns to bear upon the british. the fire of these guns was very destructive. when the governor-general found this, mounting his horse, he called to the th regiment, which was at the head of the column, "my lads, we shall have no sleep until we take those guns." the regiment deployed immediately, and advancing, supported by the st bengal europeans, drove a large body of sikhs from three guns, which they captured and spiked, and then retiring, took up its position again at the head of the column, as steadily as if on parade. "plucky dogs!" exclaimed the governor-general; "we cannot fail to win with such men as these." his aide-de-camp, lieutenant-colonel r. blucher wood, was severely wounded in the attack. for the rest of the night the column was unmolested, but its position was one of great danger,-- yards only from an overpowering foe, while neither the governor-general nor sir hugh gough could tell in what direction sir john littler and sir harry smith were to be found. it was suspected, also, that the sikh army had been greatly reinforced by tej singh. the two generals therefore agreed to hold their ground, and at earliest dawn to attack the enemy, taking their batteries in reverse, and to beat them, or to die honourably on the field. the whole of sir henry hardinge's personal staff had been disabled, except his son, captain a. hardinge, who had his horse killed under him. of that memorable night he himself has given us a most graphic description:--"it was the most extraordinary of my life. i bivouacked with the men, without food or clothing, and our nights are bitterly cold. a burning camp in front--our brave fellows lying down under a heavy cannonade, which continued during the whole night, mingled with the wild cries of the sikhs, our english hurrah, the tramp of men, and the groans of the dying. in this state, with a handful of men who had carried the batteries the night before, i remained till morning, taking very short intervals of rest, by lying down with various regiments in succession, to ascertain their tempers and revive their spirits. i found myself again with my old friends of the th, st, th, and th, and all in good heart. my answer to all and every man was, that we must fight it out, attack the enemy vigorously at daybreak, beat him, or die honourably on the field. "the gallant old general, kind-hearted and heroically brave, entirely coincided with me. during the night i occasionally called on our brave english soldiers to punish the sikhs when they came too close, and were imprudent; and when morning broke, we went at it in true english style. gough was on the right. i placed myself, and dear little arthur by my side, in the centre, about thirty yards in front of the men, to prevent their firing; and we drove the enemy without a halt from one extremity of the camp to the other, capturing thirty or forty guns as we went along, which fired at twenty paces from us, and were served obstinately. the brave men drew up in an excellent line, and cheered gough and myself as we rode up the line, the regimental colours lowering to me as if on parade. the mournful part is the heavy loss i have sustained in my officers. i have lost ten aides-de-camp _hors de combat_, five killed and five wounded. the fire of grape was very heavy from one hundred pieces of cannon. the sikh army was drilled by french officers, and the men the most warlike in india." this letter describes the commencement of the struggle on the nd. the line was supported on both sides by horse artillery, while from the centre was opened a fire by such heavy guns as remained effective, aided by a flight of rockets. the british, however, in the advance suffered much from a masked battery, which, opening on them, dismounted the guns and blew up the tumbrils. but nothing impeded the charge of the undaunted british, led on by their two heroic generals, till they were masters of the field. their rest was short: in the course of two hours sirdar tej singh, who had commanded in the last great battle, brought up from the vicinity of ferozepore fresh battalions, and a large field of artillery, supported by , ghorchurras, hitherto encamped near the river. he drove in the british cavalry, and made strenuous efforts to regain the position at ferozeshah. scarcely had this attempt been defeated, when more sikh troops and artillery arrived, and a fresh combination was made against the flank of the british, with so formidable a demonstration against the captured village that it was necessary to change the whole front to the right, the enemy's guns all the time keeping up an incessant fire, while those of the british were silent for want of ammunition. under these circumstances sir hugh gough ordered the almost exhausted cavalry to threaten both flanks of the enemy at once, while the whole infantry prepared to advance. with the swoop of a whirlwind the gallant rd dragoons and other cavalry regiments rushed on their foes. the sikhs saw them coming, while the british bayonets gleamed in front. their courage gave way; abandoning their guns, they fled from the field, retreating precipitately towards the sutlej, and leaving large stores of grain and the _materiel_ of war behind them. thus in less than four days, , sikh troops, supported by pieces of cannon, were dislodged from their position, and severely punished for their treacherous commencement of the war. the regiments which bear the word "ferozeshah" on their colours are the rd light dragoons, th, th, st, th, nd, and th regiments; while they and the st european light infantry of the honourable east india company's service received the governor--general's thanks for their courage and good conduct. battle of aliwal-- th january . while the british army were resting after the desperate encounters in which they had been engaged, and sir hugh gough was watching the enemy, sirdar runjoor singh mujethea crossed from philour, and made a movement which not only threatened the rich and populous town of loodiana, but would have turned the right flank, and endangered the communication with delhi. sir harry smith was accordingly despatched to the relief of loodiana. having first captured the fort of dhurmkote, he fought his way past the enemy to that city, where his presence restored confidence and order. this part of his duty being accomplished, and having under him , men and guns, he next proceeded to attack the sirdar runjoor singh, who was strongly intrenched at aliwal, about eight miles to the westward of loodiana, with , men and guns. the sikh force had advanced a short distance from their intrenched camp, when sir harry smith, on the th, with his small army, advanced to meet them. the regiments of cavalry which headed the advance of the british troops opened their glittering ranks to the right and left, and exhibited the serried battalions of infantry, and the frowning batteries of cannon. the scene was magnificent, yet few could have failed to experience a sense of awe as the shock of battle was about to commence. the lines were not truly parallel. that of the sikhs inclined towards and extended beyond the british right, while the other flanks were for a time comparatively distant. it was perceived by sir harry smith that the capture of the village of aliwal was of the first importance, and the right of the infantry was led against it. the sikh guns were keeping up a heavy fire, and major lawrenson, not having time to send for orders, at once galloped with his horse artillery up to within a certain distance of the enemy's guns, unlimbered, and by his fire drove the enemy's gunners from their guns. this promptitude of the gallant officer saved many lives. the defenders of the village were chiefly hillmen, who, after firing a straggling volley, fled, leaving the sikh artillerymen to be slaughtered by the conquerors. the british cavalry of the right made at the same time a sweeping and successful charge, and one half of the opposing army was fairly broken and dispersed. the sikhs on their own right, however, were outflanking the british, in spite of all the exertions of the infantry and artillery; for there the more regular battalions were in line, and the brave sikhs were not easily cowed. a prompt and powerful effort was necessary, and a regiment of european lancers, supported by one of indian cavalry, was launched against the even ranks of the lahore infantry. the sikhs knelt to receive the orderly but impetuous charge of the english warriors; but at that critical moment the wonted discipline of many failed them. they rose, yet they reserved their fire, and delivered it at the distance of a spear's throw, in the faces of the advancing horsemen, the saddles of many of whom were quickly emptied. again and again the cavalry charged and rode through them, but it was not till the third charge, led by major bere, of the th lancers, that the sikhs dispersed; and even then, the ground was more thickly strewn with the bodies of victorious horsemen than of beaten infantry. upwards of a hundred men of the th were either killed or wounded. an attempt was made by the enemy to rally behind boondree, but all resistance was unavailing. the sikh guns, with the exception of one, were captured, and they were driven headlong across the river. this gun was carried across the river, when lieutenant holmes, of the irregular cavalry, and gunner scott, of the horse artillery, in the most gallant way followed in pursuit, and, fording the river, overtook and spiked it. all the munitions of war which runjoor singh had brought with him were captured, and the sikh forces were thrown into the most complete dismay. the victory was decisive and complete. the loss of the british was killed, and wounded; that of the enemy far greater. sobraon-- th february . while sir hugh gough was waiting for reinforcements from delhi, as also for the arrival of sir charles napier, who was moving up the left bank of the sutlej, the sikhs were strongly fortifying themselves at a bridge they had formed across that river at sobraon. their lines were encompassed by strong walls, only to be surmounted by scaling-ladders, while they afforded protection to a triple line of musketry. these formidable works were defended by , men and pieces of artillery, while their position was united by a bridge of boats to a camp on the opposite side, in which was stationed a reserve of , men, and some pieces of artillery, which flanked some of the british field-works. altogether a more formidable position could scarcely have been selected, and a spanish officer of engineers in their service assured them that it could not be taken. as soon as sir harry smith had returned from aliwal, and the heavy artillery had arrived from delhi, sir hugh gough determined to attack the sikh position--his army now consisting of europeans and natives, making a total of , rank and file, and guns. on tuesday the th of february, at half-past three o'clock in the morning, the british army advanced to the attack, fresh, like lions awaked out of sleep, but in perfect silence, when the battering and disposable artillery were at once placed in position, forming an extended semicircle, embracing within its fire the works of the sikhs. a mist, however, hung over the plain and river; and it was not till half-past six, when it cleared partially away, that the whole artillery fire could be developed. then commenced the rolling thunder, of the british guns. nothing grander in warfare could be conceived than the effect of the batteries when they opened, as the cannonade passed along from the sutlej to little sobraon in one continued roar of guns and mortars; while ever and anon the rocket, like a spirit of fire, winged its rapid flight high above the batteries in its progress towards the sikh intrenchment. the sikh guns were not idle, and replied with shot and shell; but neither were well-directed, nor did much damage. at first, it was believed that the whole affair was to be decided by artillery; but, notwithstanding the formidable calibre of the british guns, mortars, and howitzers, and the admirable way in which they were served, aided by a rocket battery, it could not have been expected that they could have silenced the fire of pieces behind well-constructed batteries of earth, planks, and fascines, or dislodge troops covered either by redoubts, epaulments, or within a treble line of trenches. "for upwards of three hours this incessant play of artillery was kept up upon the mass of the enemy. the round shot exploded tumbrils, or dashed heaps of sand into the air; the hollow shells cast their fatal contents fully before them, and devious rockets sprang aloft with fury, to fall hissing among a flood of men: but all was in vain, the sikhs stood unappalled, and flash for flash returned, and fire for fire." it was determined, therefore, to try what the british musket and bayonet could effect. the cannonade ceased, and the left division of the army, under brigadier stacey, supported on either flank by captains harford and fordyce's batteries, and lieutenant--colonel lane's troops of horse artillery, moved forward to the attack. the infantry, consisting of her majesty's th, rd, and th regiments, with four regiments of native infantry, advanced steadily in line, halting only occasionally to correct when necessary, and without firing a shot; the artillery taking up successive positions at a gallop, until they were within yards of the heavy batteries of the sikhs. terrific was the fire they all this time endured; and for some moments it seemed impossible that the intrenchment could be won under it. there was a temporary check; but soon persevering gallantry triumphed, and the whole army had the satisfaction of seeing the gallant brigadier stacey's soldiers driving the sikhs in confusion before them within the area of their encampment. the check was chiefly on the extreme left, where they were exposed to the deadly fire of muskets and swivels, and enfilading artillery; but their comrades on the right of the first division, under major-general sir harry smith, headed by an old and fearless leader, sir robert dick, forming themselves instinctively into masses and wedges, rushed forward, with loud shouts leaped the ditch, and swarming up, mounted the ramparts, where they stood victorious amid the captured cannon. at this point lieutenant tritteon, bearing the queen's colours, was shot through the heart, and ensign jones, who carried the regimental colours, was about the same time mortally wounded. the regimental colours, falling to the ground, were seized by sergeant mccabe, and then rushing forward, he crossed the ditch and planted it on the highest point of the enemy's fortifications. there he stood under a tremendous fire, and maintained his position unhurt, though the flag was completely riddled with shot. lieutenant noel had seized the queen's colours, the staff of which was shivered in his hand; and the men cheering, rushed gallantly into the works, and drove the enemy towards the river, into which they were headlong precipitated. but for some time the sikhs fought with steadiness and resolution, and turned several guns in the interior on their assailants. several times the british line was driven back, and the fierce sikhs rushing on, slaughtered without mercy all who remained wounded on the ground. each time that with terrific slaughter the british were thus checked, with their habitual valour and discipline they rallied and returned to the charge. at length the second line moving on, the two mingled their ranks, and, supported by a body of cavalry, which, under sir joseph thackwell, had been poured into the camp, everywhere effected openings in the sikh intrenchments. in vain the brave sikhs held out. each defensible position was captured, and the enemy was pressed towards the scarcely fordable river; but none offered to submit, everywhere showing a front to the victors, or stalking sullenly away, while many turned and rushed singly forth to encounter a certain death amid the hosts of the victors. the foe were now precipitated in masses over the bridge, shattered by shot, into the sutlej, which a sudden rise had rendered hardly fordable. in their efforts to reach the right bank through the deepened waters, they suffered a dreadful carnage from the horse artillery, which poured in rapid succession volleys among them, till the river was red with the mangled bodies of men and horses; and it is supposed that fully one-third of the sikh army perished thus or in the battle. vast quantities of munitions of war were captured, numerous standards, and guns, with camel swivels. this desperate fight began at six in the morning; by nine the combatants were engaged hand to hand, and by eleven the battle was gained. sir robert dick, who had commanded the nd highlanders in spain, was among the slain, as was brigadier taylor, c.b., the beloved colonel of the th regiment, who commanded the third brigade of the second division. the rd, th, and th light dragoons, th, th, th, st, th, rd, nd, and th foot, received the thanks of parliament, and have "sobraon" on their colours. two days after this, the british army, now joined by sir charles napier, reached lahore, and on the nd a brigade of troops took possession of the palace and citadel of that capital of the humbled sikhs. in the four battles the british lost officers and men killed, and officers and men wounded. battles in the punjaub, . the punjaub lies between the indus and the sutlej, with the river chenab in the centre. in the southern part is the province of mooltan, governed in by dewan moolraj. the chief city of the province, a strongly fortified place, is also called mooltan. a sikh force in the company's service was sent into the punjaub in , and lieutenant herbert edwardes was attached to it as political agent, and invested with a very considerable amount of authority. young as he then was, and with little experience, either of fighting or diplomatising, he never failed to act with judgment and courage. he had soon ample exercise for both qualities. the government determined to supersede the above-mentioned moolraj, and to place a new nazim, sirdar khan singh, as governor of mooltan. this latter personage was accompanied to mooltan by two officers--mr vans agnew, of the civil service, and lieutenant anderson, of the st bombay european fusiliers--and a considerable body of troops. moolraj, however, had no intention of losing his government, and either prompted by his own ambition, or instigated by evil counsellors, he resolved to rebel. by bribes he won over the native troops who had accompanied the commissioners, and whom, there can be little doubt, he instigated his followers to murder. both mr agnew and lieutenant anderson were set upon and cruelly cut to pieces; not, however, till they had written to lieutenant edwardes to warn him of their danger. lieutenant edwardes was at that time with a small force at the distance of five days' march from mooltan. he sent a messenger to say that he would instantly set out with all the men he could collect to their assistance, while he directed lieutenant taylor, who was with general courtlandt, to join him. the heat was intense; but he pushed on, though he learned too soon that the lives of his countrymen had already been sacrificed. moolraj was in open rebellion, collecting troops from all sides. edwardes set to work to raise an army to oppose him, and recruiting went on actively on both sides. edwardes did his utmost to persuade the people that it would be to their true interest to join the british. by may he had raised a force of between and men, to which were united about sikhs, under general courtlandt, while he was ably supported by bhawal khan, nawab of bhawulpoor, with nearly , followers. with this force, having crossed the chenab on the th of june, he encountered the army of moolraj, some , to , strong, horse and foot, and twenty guns, near the village of kineyree. the battle began at a little after seven a.m., and was not decided till half-past four p.m. it was hotly contested, and both parties fought with desperation. out of ten guns, the enemy succeeded in carrying only two into mooltan, to which place they retreated, leaving men dead on the field of battle. it was an important victory; but as lieutenants edwardes and taylor were the only british officers present, i will not further describe it. the warning uttered to moolraj by the murdered officers, that their countrymen would amply avenge their deaths, was about to be fulfilled. soon after this, lieutenant edwardes' force was joined by lieutenant lake, and other british officers. on the st of july was fought the battle of suddoosam, where dewan moolraj, in spite of the assurances of his soothsayers that it would be an auspicious day to him, was again completely beaten, and driven up to the very walls of his capital. in this battle fell a gallant soldier, captain macpherson, in the service of the nawab of bhawulpoor, under lieutenant lake. the next day a serious accident happened to lieutenant edwardes. his pistol exploded as he was putting it into his belt, and the ball passing through his right hand, deprived him for ever of the use of it. his sufferings were great till the arrival of dr cole, a young and excellent english surgeon, who won the affection of all the wounded natives he attended. the four chief leaders in these actions received the thanks of the governor in council, and all the credit they so fully deserved; nor was a brave irishman, mr quin, who volunteered to serve under lieutenant edwardes, and rendered him most efficient aid, overlooked. there can be little doubt that, from the ill-defended condition of mooltan, these successes might have been followed up by the capture of the city itself, had the victorious army been allowed at once to attack it; but the higher authorities decided otherwise, and lieutenant edwardes' force was directed to wait for the arrival of a regular army to commence the siege. moolraj, consequently, was allowed time to complete the defences of mooltan, which he rendered very formidable. no sooner had sir frederick currie, the resident at lahore, received information that moolraj had shut himself up in mooltan, than he despatched general whish, with a train of heavy siege-guns, to invest it. meantime the fort was surrounded and closely invested by the troops under lieutenant edwardes and the nawab of bhawulpoor, and had thus at their command the revenues and resources of the whole district. lieutenant edwardes was now joined by lieutenant lumsden and a young lad, hugo james, who had come out to seek for a cadetship--a gallant boy. as he had come out to learn the art of fighting, his chief afforded him every opportunity of doing so, and "used to give him a few hundred men to take into any ugly place that wanted stopping up." steamers had found their way up the mighty indus into the chenab, and two of their officers, captain christopher and mr mclawrin, frequently joined their mess. the steamers were employed in capturing the boats, and otherwise harassing the enemy. the english leader had a great cause of anxiety from the approach of a large sikh force, under rajah sher singh, whose fidelity he had every reason to doubt. the sikhs advanced, however, and encamped before the city, and moolraj lost no time in endeavouring to corrupt both their leaders and common soldiers. with the latter he succeeded but too well, as the sequel will show. meantime, moolraj was actively recruiting, and numbers from the sikh country flocked to his standard. thus matters went on till the arrival of general whish, under whom the right column of the british army encamped at seetul-ke-maree, on the th of august . moolraj, hearing of his approach, resolved to attempt surprising him before he reached the city. accordingly, on the night of the th, he sent out a strong force, accompanied by artillery horses ready harnessed, to bring away the guns they expected to capture. now it happened that on that very day lieutenant edwardes, not wishing to have the sikh force between him and general whish, had exchanged positions with it, and both armies, according to custom, had in the evening fired a _feu de joie_ on the occasion, prolonged by general courtlandt's gunners in honour of their approaching friends. this heavy cannonade put the british camp on the _qui vive_, and the general ordered all the tents to be struck, and the troops to get under arms, in case it should be necessary to march to mooltan, and assist in the supposed engagement with the enemy. scarcely had this been done than the rebel detachment reached the british camp; and instead of finding all plunged in sleep, except the usual sentries, they were received with such a rattling fire, that, after fruitlessly assailing the pickets, they fled in confusion, as many as possible mounting the artillery horses, which they had brought for so different a purpose. in the affair the british had only six men and two horses wounded, and none killed; while the enemy lost forty killed, many more wounded, and some taken prisoners. it is one of the numberless examples to be brought forward of the importance of being on the alert in the neighbourhood of an enemy. how disastrous might have been the consequences had general whish's army not been aroused and prepared for an enemy on that occasion! moolraj made every attempt to destroy his enemies; and contriving to send three traitors into the camp of the irregulars, who got employed as cooks, lieutenant edwardes, lake, lumsden, courtlandt, hugo james, and cole, who were dining together, were very nearly all poisoned. the wretches were shaved, flogged, and turned out of the camp, when they fled to mooltan as fast as their legs could carry them. siege of mooltan. and now the avenging army arrived before mooltan. general whish's headquarters were with the right column; the left was under brigadier salter, and arrived on the th august ; while the heavy siege-guns, under major napier, with the sappers and miners, commanded by captain h. siddons, did not reach headquarters till the th of september. the european regiment attached to each column came as far as practicable by water. the irregular force under edwardes and lake being encamped a distance of six miles from that of general whish, it was necessary to move it closer up to the latter, to prevent the enemy's cavalry from passing between them. the very position taken up, it was found, was within gunshot of mooltan; but as it was an important one to hold, lieutenant edwardes resolved to keep it. it was not obtained without some fighting, where lake and pollock greatly distinguished themselves. hugo james and captain wilmot christopher accompanied lieutenant edwardes into the field, and greatly assisted him in carrying orders. the latter rode about with a long sea-telescope under his arm, just as composedly as if he had been on the deck of his own vessel. encamping within shot of the enemy's walls is unheard of in regular warfare; and the irregulars soon found it anything but pleasant. one sunday, during the service held by the chief for the benefit of all the christians under him, the little congregation was disturbed by about twenty shot falling round the tents in the space of a very few minutes; and when at length one found its billet, and smashed a man's thigh at the door, a general rush was made to the guns, and the whole strength of the artillery bent upon the bloody bastion until its fire was silenced. on another occasion, major napier had one night gone over to visit edwardes. they were sipping tea and breathing the cool night air, while lake, exhausted with his day's work, was fast asleep in his bed, under the same awning as themselves, when, the rebel gunners seeming to awake, one shot buried itself hissing in the sand by napier's side, and then another passed close by his friend. a third fell at the head of lake's bed, and his servant immediately got up, and with great carefulness turned his bed round. lake gave a yawn, and asked sleepily, "what's the matter?" "nothing," replied the bearer; "it's only a cannon ball!" lake went to sleep again. five minutes later another fell at his feet, when the good bearer again shifted his master's bed. once more lake asked, half asleep, "what's the matter _now_?" and was told in reply, "_another_ cannon ball--nothing more!"--on which he said, "oh!" and returned calmly to the land of dreams. various plans were suggested for carrying on the siege against the place, which, it was discovered, was very formidable, and not easily to be taken. constant skirmishes took place. the european soldiers took the night duty in the trenches, to avoid the heat of the day. on the night of the th of september, it became necessary to dislodge the enemy from a position they had taken up among some houses and gardens in front of the trenches; and four companies of her majesty's th regiment, a wing of the th native infantry, the rifle company of the nd native infantry, and two of general van courtlandt's horse artillery guns accordingly advanced, and a very sharp night-fight ensued. ignorance of the localities, and the darkness and confusion consequent on a hastily planned night-attack, rendered the gallant efforts of the troops useless, and, after a considerable loss in killed and wounded, they were withdrawn. lieutenant-colonel pattoun, of the nd foot, led the attack with great gallantry. lieutenant richardson, adjutant of the th native infantry, an officer of herculean frame, rushed at the barricaded door of the house most strongly occupied by the enemy, and with a mighty effort dashed it in among the rebel inmates, who threw themselves forward to oppose his entrance. seeing that the party was too strong for him, he seized the foremost sikh soldier in his arms, and, with his body thus shielded, backed out of the enclosure, when he hurled the half-strangled rebel back among his friends. he did not escape, however, without some severe wounds about his head and arms. captain christopher had, from the first arrival of the steamers at mooltan, shown the usual willingness of his profession to co-operate with his brother officers on shore. on the night in question he had already once conducted some reinforcements to colonel pattoun's assistance, but the fighting at the outposts still raged with unabated fury. another reinforcement came up, but had no guide. "will no one show us the way?" asked the officer of the party, looking round on the tired occupants of the trenches. "i will," replied christopher; and putting himself at their head, he steered them with the steadiness of a pilot through ditches and gardens, under a roaring fire of musketry. ere he reached the spot, a ball hit him on the ankle, and shivered the joint to pieces. he was borne out of the fight, but never recovered from the wound, and three weeks afterwards was numbered with the brave who fell at the siege. the british army continued forming their approaches for the attack, and the rebels at the same time laboured without ceasing to strengthen their position. on the th of september, general whish determined to clear his front. the action commenced at seven a.m. by the irregulars, under lumsden, lake, and courtlandt, making an attack to distract the attention of the enemy on the left, when they expelled the enemy from an important village, and captured their magazine and hospital. two british columns now advanced to do the real business of the day: the right, commanded by lieutenant-colonel pattoun; the left, by lieutenant-colonel franks; while three squadrons of cavalry, commanded by lieutenant-colonel wheeler, protected the british flanks. both the rebels and british troops fought desperately. moolraj's intrenched position was fiercely assailed, and fiercely defended. scarcely a man of its defenders escaped to tell their chief how calmly the young english engineer, lieutenant grindall, planted the scaling-ladder in their grim faces; how vainly they essayed to hurl it back; how madly rushed up the grenadiers of the nd; with what a yell the brave irish of the th dropped down among them from the branches of the trees above; and how like the deadly conflict of the lion and tiger in a forest den, was the grapple of the pale english with the swarthy sikhs in that little walled space the rebels thought so strong. on this day fell major montizambert, of the th, colonel pattoun, quarter--master taylor, lieutenant cubitt, and ensign lloyd; while major napier, the chief engineer, was among the wounded. altogether, men were killed, and wounded. this victory of dhurum salah gained the besieging army a distance to the front of some eight or nine hundred yards, and brought them within battering distance of the city walls. everybody expected that in a few hours mooltan would be won, when the astounding news reached general whish that rajah sher singh and his whole army had gone over to the enemy. a council of war was on this immediately held, when it was decided that the siege of mooltan should be raised, and that the british army should retire to a short distance, and there, holding a dignified attitude, wait for reinforcements. rajah sher singh was, however, received with suspicion by moolraj, and so, in a short time, he marched off to join his father and other insurgent chiefs. it was soon evident that the greater part of the sikh population was insurgent. the only remedy for this state of things, it was agreed, was the annexation of the punjaub--mooltan, however, must first be taken. the interval was not passed idly. lieutenant taylor prepared all sorts of contrivances for facilitating siege operations; and general courtlandt's sappers and lieutenant lumsden's guides prepared the enormous number of , gabions and , fascines. moolraj was also actively employed in strengthening his defences, and in endeavouring to gain over the neighbouring chiefs to his cause. one of the most important features in the scenery round mooltan was the wulle muhommud canal, which runs past the western side of the city, and the eastern of the village of sooruj koond. the water had been drained off by lieutenant glover, by damming up the mouth at the chenab. the enemy were intrenched within this canal under the walls of the city, and general whish determined to attack them on the th of november, and to drive them out at the point of the bayonet. the attack was to be made at daylight, on both sides of the canal, by a strong british brigade on the east, and by the irregular force on the west, each division carefully keeping on its own side of the canal, to prevent the friendly irregulars from being mistaken for the foe. on the very day before, some men of one of general courtlandt's regiments, called the kuthar mookhee, who had been placed in an advanced battery, deserted to the enemy, and endeavoured to carry off lieutenant pollock with them; but he was rescued by the rest of the regiment, who remained faithful; and in spite of this defection, he, assisted in a true comrade spirit by lieutenant bunny, of the artillery, and lieutenant paton, of the engineers, held the post with unflinching constancy till day. in consequence of this desertion, it was not deemed prudent to trust the other regiments of the same force with the posts which had been assigned to them. lieutenant edwardes, with his irregulars, was to supply their place; but, when all was prepared, the enemy himself attacked the british position, and the very men whose fidelity had been doubted gave such evident proof of their loyalty that they were allowed to take part in the action. the enemy was soon repulsed, and the british advanced, as had been intended. it was at this time that a body of rohillas irregulars, disregarding the order they had received to keep on the west side of the canal, crossed over and captured a gun on the eastern bank, when, mistaken by the sepoys for some of the moolraj's troops, they were instantly fired on. two had been shot down, when private howell, of her majesty's nd foot, perceiving what was going on, leaped down the canal, and putting himself in front of the rohillas, faced the british troops, and waved his shako on the end of his bayonet, as a signal to cease firing. by his presence of mind and courage many friendly lives were saved. brigadier markham afterwards presented howell with fifty rupees, at the head of his regiment, sent to him by lieutenant edwardes. on this occasion, lieutenants lake and pollock and mr hugo james again distinguished themselves; and so especially did dr cole, who not only attended to those who were hurt on his own side, but saved the lives of many wounded sikhs on the field of battle--an act to be performed only by one who adds the courage of a soldier to the humanity of a physician. brigadier markham led the british column. proceeding with the force under his command across the bridges over the nullah, on the right of the allied camp in the sooruj koond in open column, flanking the enemy's position, they brought their shoulders forward to the left, and proceeded directly across their rear. when they had advanced sufficiently far to ensure overlapping the most distant part of their position, they wheeled into line, three guns on the right and three on the left, the whole of the cavalry (with the exception of a small party with the guns) on their right flank. the reserve, in quarter-distance column, in rear of the centre of the right brigade, advanced steadily in echelon of brigade, at fifty paces' distance from the right, under a smart fire of grape and round shot. general markham, observing a large body of the enemy moving on his right, ordered the cavalry to attack them, to prevent them removing their guns. major wheeler, advancing in the most brilliant manner, charged the enemy, cutting up numbers of them, and saved the guns; then sweeping the whole british front, he re-formed speedily and in good order on the left, and moved off to cover the right. as the cavalry cleared the front, the horse artillery opened their fire, the line charged, and took the position, with the whole of the guns, on the bank of the nullah, driving the enemy across and up it with considerable loss. the action lasted about an hour. after the enemy's batteries had been destroyed, the troops returned to camp. never was there a more perfect triumph of discipline and good soldiership than the battle of sooruj koond. the british troops, who were manoeuvred as on parade, turned a large army out of a strong intrenchment, and routed them, with the loss of five guns, before they even understood the attack. the four leaders, lieutenant-colonels franks and brooks, and major wheeler and brigadier markham, were all comparatively young, and no men could have behaved with more judgment, as well as gallantry and spirit. on the st of december, a bombay division, commanded by brigadier the hon. h. dundas, c.b., of her majesty's th rifles, arrived before mooltan, with colonel cheape as chief engineer, raising the army under general whish to upwards of , men. on the th of december, the united british force resumed the long-suspended siege of mooltan. the plan adopted was to make a regular attack upon the north-east angle of the citadel, and to expel the enemy only from so much of the suburbs as were actually required for the operations of the besiegers. the portion of the suburbs so required consisted of some high brick-kilns; the cemetery of moolraj's fathers, called wuzeerabad; and moolraj's own garden-house, am khas. to seize these positions was the object of the opening attack on the th of december. while one british column was effecting it, three others were ordered to make diversions for the purpose of distracting the enemy, with discretionary orders to follow according to the effect produced, even to the taking of the positions, if facilities offered. the third column was composed of the whole disposable force of the irregulars. facilities did offer, and brigadier dundas captured, occupied, and crowned with guns some most important positions which commanded the city. the whole of the suburbs were now occupied by the british army, and it was resolved to take the city also. on this occasion major edwardes says that lieutenants lake, pollock, pearse, and young all distinguished themselves, as did his writer, the brave mr quin, who led on the sooraj mookhee regiment; but the palm was carried off by a new volunteer, mr mcmahon, who had joined him only a few days before, and who now earned his title to be brought especially to notice by encountering in single combat the leader of the enemy's infantry, a powerful sikh, whom he killed with one blow which divided his head. his men at last, thinking themselves responsible for his safety, made him prisoner, and brought him back, with bent and dripping sword, to where major edwardes and sir henry lawrence were standing directing the movements of the troops. on the th of december, a shell from a mortar laid by lieutenant newall, of the bengal artillery, pierced the supposed bomb-proof dome of the grand mosque in the citadel, which formed the enemy's principal magazine, and descending into the combustibles below, blew the vast fabric into the air. on the nd of january , the breach in the rhoonee boorj or bloody bastion of the city was declared practicable, and a second at the delhi gate was thought sufficiently good to allow of an attempt being made on it as a diversion. general whish determined to try both; and a party from the bengal division was told off for the delhi gate breach, and one from the bombay division for the breach at the bastion. the irregular force was to assist both by a diversion on the left. the diversion was commenced at one p.m., and the assault, by a signal from the batteries, at three p.m. the storming party destined to attack the delhi gate was led by a fine soldier, captain smyth, of the grenadier company of her majesty's nd regiment. off they started with hearts beating high; but no sooner had they emerged from the suburbs, than they found themselves on the edge of a deep intervening hollow, after crossing which, under a heavy fire of matchlocks, they discovered, to their surprise, that the city wall in front, about thirty feet in height, was unbreached and totally impracticable. this disagreeable fact had hitherto been concealed by the hollow, both from the breaching-battery and the engineers. the gallant band had therefore to retire; and without loss of time they hurried round to the breach at the bloody bastion, to assist their more fortunate comrades in the city. the bloody bastion was assaulted by three companies of the st bombay fusiliers, under captain leith. they found the breach easy to be surmounted, but it was intrenched inside, and a most bloody struggle ensued, in which the brave captain leith was severely wounded, and had to be carried to the rear; but his place was at once taken by lieutenant grey, and the redcoats pushed onwards. the first to mount was colour-sergeant john bennet, of the st fusiliers, who, having planted the colours of old england on the very crest of the breach, stood beside them till the flag and staff were riddled with balls. on rushed the fusiliers; they remembered the legends of their ancient corps, and closing with the rebels, soon made the city of mooltan their own. "then arose from every crowded height and battery, whence the exciting struggle had been watched, the shouts of applauding comrades; and through the deafening roar of musketry, which pealed along the ramparts, and marked the hard-earned progress of the victorious columns through the streets, both friend and foe might distinctly hear that sound, never to be forgotten--the `hurrah!' of a british army after battle." no sooner did moolraj discover that the city was captured, than, leaving three-fourths of his army to the mercy of the victors, he retired with picked men into the citadel, intending to hold out till he could make advantageous terms for himself. the garrison who could escape made the best of their way over the city walls, and fled to their homes. never did a city present a more awful scene of retribution than did that of mooltan. scarcely a roof or wall which had not been penetrated by english shells; and whole houses, scorched and blackened by the bombardment, seemed about to fall over the corpses of their defenders. the citadel itself was now closely invested, and incessantly shelled, so that there was scarcely a spot within the walls where the besieged could find shelter. in this siege the bluejackets of old england, as well as the redcoats, took a part. commander powell, of the honourable east india company's navy, at the head of a body of seamen, worked one of the heavy batteries from the commencement to the termination of the siege. "it was a fine sight to see their manly faces, bronzed by long exposure to the burning sun of the red sea or persian gulf, mingling with the dark soldiers of hindoostan, or contrasting with the fairer but not healthier occupants of the european barrack. they looked on their battery as their ship, their eighteen-pounders as so many sweethearts, and the embrasures as port-holes. `now, jack, shove your head out of that port, and just hear what my little girl says to that 'ere pirate, mol rag' (moolraj?), was the kind of conversation heard on board of the sailor-battery by those passing." the citadel still held out, but by the th two breaches had been effected, and the assault was fixed for six a.m. on the nd. before that hour the traitor sent in his submission, asking only for his own life and the honour of his women. the answer from general whish was, that the british government "wars not with women and children, and that they would be protected, but that he had neither authority to give moolraj his life nor to take it." thus moolraj was compelled to make an unconditional surrender. this second siege of mooltan occupied days, and the british loss was men killed and wounded. one of the last acts of the victors was to disinter the bodies of agnew and anderson, and to carry them to an honoured resting-place on the summit of moolraj's citadel, through the broad and sloping breach which had been made by the british guns in the walls of the rebellious fortress of mooltan. affair at ramnuggur-- nd november. the sikhs and afghans having formed a combination against the british power, a large force was quickly assembled at ferozepore, under the immediate orders of lord gough, the commander-in-chief, in the autumn of . sher singh and chuttur singh having effected a junction on the st of october, their forces amounted to , . on the st of november, lord gough joined the british army assembled at saharum. the sikh forces were found posted at ramnuggur. in front of this place flows the chenab river, which has in mid-channel a small island, on which, protected by a grove of trees, was placed a battery of six guns, with some men. the enemy also having boats on the river, and command of the fort, had pushed across a considerable number of infantry and cavalry. the british army having arrived in front of this strong position, a reconnaissance was made in force with cavalry and horse artillery. the sikhs, confident in their numbers and the strength of their position, sent across their cavalry, who rode as if in defiance before the british army. a charge of the rd light dragoons, aided by light cavalry, had chastised on one point the presumption of the sikhs. william havelock, the colonel of the th, entreated to be allowed to attack another body of the enemy; and to this colonel cureton consented. the commander-in-chief also riding up, said, "if you see a favourable opportunity of charging--charge." the gallant old colonel soon made the opportunity. "now, my lads," he exclaimed, boldly leading his dragoons to the onset, "we shall soon see whether we can clear our front of those fellows or not." the sikhs made a show of standing the charge, and some of them stood well. captain gall, while grasping a standard, had his right hand cut through by the stroke of a sikh sword, and lieutenant fitzgerald's head was cleft in two by a blow from one of the enemy's weapons; but the mass of the sikhs, opening out right and left, gave way before their victors. colonel cureton, however, on seeing the th charge, exclaimed, "that is not the body of horse i meant to have been attacked!" and, riding to the front, received in his gallant breast a matchlock ball, which killed him on the spot. "again the trumpets of the th sounded, and, overturning all who opposed them, onward in the direction of the island that gallant regiment took their course. the sikh battery opened on them a heavy fire, and there was a descent of some four feet into the flat; but havelock, disregarding all difficulties, and riding well ahead of his men, exclaimed, as he leaped down the declivity, `follow me, my brave lads, and never heed the cannon shot!' these were the last words he was ever heard to utter. the dragoons got among broken ground filled with sikh marksmen, who kept up a withering fire on the tall horsemen, throwing themselves flat on their faces whenever they approached. after many bold efforts, the th were withdrawn from the ground, but their commander never returned from that scene of slaughter." in this unfortunate cavalry affair, men were killed, and wounded. battle of chilianwala-- th january . in january of the following year lord gough determined to attack the force of sher singh, then posted in his front at the village of chilianwala, before he could be joined by his son, sirdar chuttur singh. the british army was marched round to take the village in the rear, and it was late in the day before they reached the ground where it was proposed they should encamp, it being lord cough's intention to attack early in the morning. while, however, the quartermaster-general was in the act of taking up ground for the encampment, the enemy advanced some horse artillery, and opened a fire on the skirmishers in front of the village. lord gough immediately ordered them to be silenced by a few rounds from the heavy guns, which advanced to an open space in front of the village. their fire was instantly returned by that of nearly the whole of the enemy's field-artillery, thus exposing the position of his guns, which the jungle had hitherto concealed. it now became evident that the enemy intended to fight, and lord gough drew up his forces in order of battle. sir walter gilbert's division was on the right, that of general campbell on the left; the heavy guns were in the centre, under major horsford, which commenced the engagement by a well-directed and powerful fire on the enemy's centre. the cannonade had lasted about an hour, when major-general campbell's division was ordered to advance against the enemy. part of it was victorious, but the brigade of general pennycuick met a terrific repulse. "its advance was daring in the extreme, but over impetuous. the order to charge was given at too great a distance from the enemy; consequently its british regiment, the gallant th, outstripped its native regiments, mistaking the action of their brave leaders, brigadier pennycuick and lieutenant-colonel brookes, who waved their swords above their heads, for the signal to advance in double-quick time. the th, consequently, led by colonel brookes, rushed breathless and confused upon the enemy's batteries. close to their position, it received a deadly shower of grape; and, while shattered by its fatal effects, was torn to pieces by a close fire poured in by the bunno troops from behind a screen of jungle. the brigade was thrown into utter confusion. the most desperate efforts of the officers availed not to restore order. colonel brookes, with numbers of his brave th men, fell among the guns. brigadier pennycuick was slain at the commencement. his son, ensign pennycuick, when he saw his father fall, rushed forward, and striding over his prostrate body, attempted to keep his assailants in check; but the fierce sikhs rushed on, and hacked the gallant youth to pieces. besides these brave chiefs, five captains, three lieutenants, and three ensigns of the th were killed, while many more were wounded; making in all officers and men. the sikhs, seeing their advantage, cut down their opponents with savage fury, and at length compelled the shallow remnant of the regiment to fly in disorder." the cavalry brigade was also brought forward in a way contrary to all the rules of warfare. advancing in line through a dense forest, they came suddenly upon a strong body of ghorchurras, intoxicated with the stimulating drug which the heroes of the east call to the aid of their valour. these fanatics, riding furiously towards them, killed some and wounded others, among whom was their brave colonel. at this moment a voice was heard to shout, "threes about!" it was a fatal order. wheeling round, the british dragoons fled, panic-struck, followed by the ghorchurras, even among the ranks of the artillery. it was now that their chaplain, who was attending to some of the wounded in the rear, seeing them approach, grasped a sword, and leaped on a charger standing near him. "my lads," he exclaimed, "you have listened to my preaching, listen to me now. about, and drive the enemy before you!" saying this, he placed himself at their head, and, encouraged by his gallant example, they once more wheeled about, and uniting with the rest of the regiment, who had been rallied by their colonel, charging furiously, drove back the enemy, and retrieved their honour. among the officers slain on this occasion was lieutenant a.j. cureton, the son of colonel cureton, who was killed at ramnuggur. on the extreme left, however, the cavalry, under sir joseph thackwell, were victorious wherever they encountered the enemy. the left brigade, under brigadier mountain, distinguished itself; while the right attack of infantry, under sir walter gilbert, was perfectly successful: indeed, the disasters of that fatal evening were caused, in the first place, by engaging so late in the day; and in the case of the th regiment, from the over-impetuosity of the officers; and in that of the th light dragoons, from being suddenly attacked on unfavourable ground, and from receiving wrong orders during the confusion into which they were consequently thrown. completely did the regiment retrieve its honour in subsequent actions. the sikhs retreated; the british remained masters of the field. their loss was, however, very great. twenty-six european officers and men killed, and officers and men wounded, was a heavy price to pay for so small an advantage. never, indeed, had a british army in india, prepared for battle, suffered what was more like a defeat than on this disastrous occasion. battle of goojerat-- st february . after the battle of chilianwala, the sikhs were joined by a body of afghan horse, under akram khan, a son of dost mahomed khan. compelled, however, by want of supplies, they quitted their intrenchments, and took up a fresh position with , men, and pieces of artillery, between goojerat and the chenab. from this they probably intended marching on lahore, but were prevented by a brigade under major-general whish, who was detached to guard the fords above and below wuzeerabad, while lord gough advanced towards them--the whole army burning to avenge the loss of their comrades who had fallen on the th of january, many of whom, when lying wounded, had been cruelly slaughtered by the sikhs. this time lord gough took good care to commence the action at an earlier hour in the day. at half-past seven in the morning on the st of february, the sky clear and cloudless, and the sun shining brightly on the extended line of bayonets and sabres, with the precision of a parade the british army advanced to meet the foe. the sikh artillery opened at a long distance, thus exposing the position of their guns. with good judgment, lord gough therefore halted the infantry out of the range of fire, and pushed forward the whole of his guns, which were covered by skirmishers. the sikh guns were served well and rapidly; but the terrific fire of the british artillery at length compelled the enemy to fall back, when the infantry were deployed, and a general advance directed, covered by artillery. a village in which a large body of the enemy's artillery was concealed lay directly in the line of sir walter gilbert's advance. this was carried by the rd brigade, under general penny, in the most brilliant style, the enemy being driven from their cover with great slaughter. here the nd european regiment distinguished itself. at the same time a party of brigadier harvey's brigade, most gallantly led by lieutenant-colonel franks, of the th foot, drove a large body of the enemy from another village. the infantry continued to advance, while the heavy guns as well as field batteries kept pace with them, unlimbering in successive positions for effective action. the rapid advance and admirable fire of the horse artillery and light field batteries, strengthened by two reserved troops of horse artillery under lieutenant-colonel brind, broke the enemy's ranks at all points. the other villages were stormed; the guns in position carried, pieces falling into the hands of the victors; the camp with baggage and standard captured, and the whole army of sher singh routed in every direction. the cavalry had hitherto been restrained from taking too active a part in the action, though the brigades on either flank were occasionally threatened and attacked by large masses of the enemy's horsemen. each time, however, by their steady movements and spirited manoeuvres, ably supported by the horse artillery attached to them, the british cavalry put the foe to flight. a large body of ghorchurras, with some afghan cavalry, appearing on the right, a brilliant and successful charge was made on them by some troops of the th lancers with the scinde horse, when several standards were captured. the th light dragoons and other cavalry regiments, by their bold front and gallant conduct whenever the enemy approached, contributed much to the success of the day. the enemy on all sides now took to flight. the right wing and general campbell's division passed in pursuit to the eastward of goojerat, and the bombay division to the westward. "then, from either flank the horse, unbroken and in perfect order, swept forward to do the work of final retribution. the two columns speedily got into communication. onward they moved in union, cutting down, dispersing, riding over, and trampling the flying or scattered infantry, capturing guns and waggons, strewing the paths with dead and dying; forward they moved in their irresistible course, and converted a beaten army into a shapeless, hideous mass of helpless fugitives." the sikh army was soon dispersed over the country, the ground strewed with the dead and wounded, and their weapons and military equipments, which they cast from them in the hopes that they might be taken for peasants or camp followers instead of soldiers. for twelve miles did the avenging horsemen pursue the foe; and it was not till half-past four that they drew rein, when they returned exultingly to camp. such was the battle of goojerat, one of the most important and decisive ever fought in india. by it the power of the sikhs was completely broken, while it taught a lesson to the afghans, who now for the first time had united to them, and made them feel that it was their best policy to obtain the friendship rather than the enmity of england. this great battle was won chiefly by artillery; though the infantry, by their gallant advance, drove back the enemy, and the cavalry, by their brilliant charges and their rapid pursuit, entirely broke and destroyed the force of the enemy. the flying army was followed up by sir walter gilbert, sir colin campbell, and colonel bradford, in three different directions, on the rd of march. sir walter gilbert came up with a portion of the fugitives, which still held together under sher singh and chuttur singh, at horrmuck, on the th of march, when they surrendered; and three days afterwards, the remainder of their forces, amounting to , men, laid down their arms at rawul pindee, and pieces of artillery were given up. dost mahomed was pursued as far as the khyber pass. in consequence of these operations, the punjaub was annexed to the government of india. "goojerat" is borne by the rd, th, and th light dragoons, and the th, th, th, nd, rd, th, and st regiments--while the army received the thanks of parliament. sir charles napier had been hurried out to take command, out found on his arrival that the work to be done had been achieved, and that the brave lord gough's last battle was a crowning victory. chapter five. the loss of h.m.s. birkenhead. in a terrible disaster at sea occurred which was the occasion of a display, to a degree never surpassed and rarely equalled, of the courage, heroism, and discipline of british soldiers. her majesty's steamer _birkenhead_ was on her passage from simon's bay to algoa bay, with souls on board, consisting of the ship's company, drafts from several regiments, and boys, women, and children. at about ten minutes past two a.m., the weather being fine, with a heavy swell on shore, she struck. mr salmond, the master, came on deck, and ordering the engines to be stopped, the boats to be lowered, and an anchor to be let go, directed the military officers, major seton, of the th regiment, and captain wright, of the st, to send the troops to the chain-pumps; the order was implicitly obeyed, and perfect discipline maintained. as soon as mr salmond heard that there was water in the ship, he directed the women and children to be put in the cutter in charge of mr richards, master's assistant, which was done. in ten minutes after the first concussion, and while the engines were turning astern, the ship struck again under the engine-room, and broke in two. major seton had called all the officers about him, and impressed on them the necessity of preserving order and silence among the men. sixty were put on the chain-pumps, and told off in three reliefs; sixty were put on to the tackles of the paddle-box boats, and the remainder were brought on the poop, so as to ease the fore part of the ship. "the order and regularity that prevailed on board, from the time the ship struck till she totally disappeared, far exceeded anything that i thought could be effected by the best discipline," says one of the survivors. "this is more to be wondered at, seeing that most of the soldiers had been but a short time in the service. every one did as he was directed, and there was not a cry or a murmur among them until the vessel made her final plunge. i could not name any individual officer who did more than another. all received their orders, and had them carried out as if the men were embarking instead of going to the bottom; there was only this difference, that i never saw any embarkation conducted with so little noise and confusion. four hundred and thirty-eight men and boys perished on this sad occasion. major seton, standing among his men, and refusing to leave them, perished with the rest." no heroes of whom we read in the page of history ever met their fate with more heroic courage than did these british soldiers embarked on board the _birkenhead_, and well worthy is the account to be placed among the gallant deeds of our redcoats. chapter six. the crimean war-- - . the settled resolve of the russian government to crush the power of the turks, and to take possession of constantinople, was the cause of the declaration of war by england and france against russia. the war became at once popular among the british people when the news was spread that a russian fleet, consisting of six men-of-war and several smaller vessels, had darted out of sebastopol, and, taking advantage of a dense fog, had entered the harbour of sinope, where they found a turkish squadron of eight frigates, two schooners, and three transports, totally unprepared for battle. admiral nachimoff, the russian commander, fiercely attacked them, and though the turks fought bravely, so great was their disadvantage, that in a few hours men were massacred, and every ship, with the exception of two, was destroyed. to prevent the recurrence of such an event, the allied fleets of england and france entered the black sea on the rd of january . war was not officially declared against russia till the th of march. the guards and other regiments had, however, embarked early in february; first to rendezvous at malta, and subsequently at varna, on the turkish shore of the black sea. the british troops, under lord raglan, amounted to , men of all arms; that of the french, under marshal saint arnaud, to nearly the same number, , ; and there were also turks, under selim pasha; making in all , men, and guns, of which were british. on the morning of the th september, the fleet conveying this magnificent army anchored off the coast, near old fort, distant about eighteen miles south of eupatoria. the first british troops which landed in the crimea were the men of number company of the rd welsh fusiliers, under major lystons and lieutenant drewe. the landing continued during the whole day, without any casualties. the first night on shore the rain fell in torrents, and the troops, who had landed without tents or shelter of any sort, were drenched to the skin. on the following morning the sun shone forth, and the disembarkation continued. no enemy was encountered till the th, when two or three russian guns opened fire, and a body of cossacks were seen hovering in the distance. the earl of cardigan instantly charged them, and they retreated till the british cavalry were led within range of the fire of their guns, when four dragoons were killed and six wounded,--the first of the many thousands who fell during the war. the evening of the th closed with rain. battle of the alma-- th september. wet and weary the allied troops rose on the morning of the th september of , to march forward to the field of battle. on their right was the sea, on which floated the british fleet; before them was the river alma, down to which the ground sloped, with villages, orchards, and gardens spread out along its banks. "on the other side of the river, the ground at once rose suddenly and precipitously to the height of three or four hundred feet, with tableland at the top. this range of heights, which, particularly near the sea, was so steep as to be almost inaccessible, continued for about two miles along the south bank, and then broke away from the river (making a deep curve round an amphitheatre, as it were, about a mile wide), and then returned to the stream again, but with gentler slopes, and features of a much less abrupt character." the road crossed the river by a wooden bridge, and ran through the centre of the valley or amphitheatre. prince menschikoff had posted the right of his army on the gentler slopes last described, and as it was the key of his position, great preparations had been made for its defence. about half-way down the slope a large earthen battery had been thrown up, with twelve heavy guns of position; and higher up, on its right rear, was another of four guns, sweeping the ground in that direction. dense columns of infantry were massed on the slopes, with large reserves on the heights above. a lower ridge of hills ran across the amphitheatre, and at various points batteries of field-artillery were posted, commanding the passage of the river and its approaches. in front of this part of the position, and on the british side of the river, was the village of borutiuk. on their left, close to the sea, the acclivities were so abrupt that the russians considered themselves safe from attack. the river, which ran along the whole front, was fordable in most places, but the banks were so steep, that only at certain points could artillery be got across. a numerous body of russian riflemen were scattered among the villages, gardens, and vineyards spread along the banks. the russian right was protected by large bodies of cavalry, which constantly threatened the british left, though held in check by the cavalry under lord lucan. the right of the allies rested on the sea, where, as close in shore as they could come, were a fleet of steamers throwing shot and shell on to the heights occupied by the russian left. "at about eleven a.m. the allied armies advanced, the whole front covered by a chain of light infantry. on the extreme right, and about yards in advance of the line, was the division of general bosquet; next, on his left, was that of general canrobert; then the prince napoleon's, with general forey's in his rear, in reserve. the english then took up the alignment, commencing with the nd division (sir de lacy evans), then the light division (sir g. brown), and, in rear of them, the rd and st divisions respectively--the whole in column; sir g. cathcart, with the th division, being in reserve on the outward flank; the english cavalry, under the earl of lucan, considerably farther to the left, also protecting the exposed flank and rear." the french advancing, gained the heights, took the enemy somewhat by surprise, and almost turned his left. he then, however, brought forward vast masses of troops against them, and it became necessary for the british more completely to occupy them in front. the two leading english divisions (the light and nd), which had advanced across the plain in alignment with the french columns, on coming within long range of the enemy's guns deployed into line (two deep), and whilst waiting for the further development of the french attack, were ordered to lie down, so as to present as small a mark as possible. the russian riflemen now opened fire, and the village burst into flames. lord raglan, with his staff, passing the river, perceived the position of the enemy on the heights he was about to storm. he instantly ordered up some guns, which, crossing the river, opened fire, and afterwards moving up the heights, harassed the russian columns in their retreat. now, with skirmishers and rifles in advance, the two leading divisions advanced towards the enemy, general codrington's brigade leading straight for the russian intrenched battery. the two brigades of the nd division were separated by the burning village. the brigade of general pennefather moved to the left of the village, close to the sebastopol road, and found itself in the very focus towards which the russians were directing their heaviest fire, both of artillery and musketry. still undaunted, though suffering terrible loss, they pressed the russians hard, and fully occupied their centre. while other operations were going on, the light division, under sir george brown, having moved across the plain in a long thin line, became somewhat broken among the vineyards and inequalities of the ground. as they approached, however, they found some shelter; and at length the word was given to charge. they sprang from their cover, and with a rattling fire rushed at the foe; and general codrington's brigade, rd and rd regiments, and th fusiliers, with the th on their left and the th on their right, were now in direct line, and in full view of the great russian battery. the whole british line now opened a continuous fire-- the russian columns shook--men from the rear were seen to run; then whole columns would turn and fly, halting again and facing about at short intervals; but with artillery marching on their left flank, with codrington's brigade streaming upwards, and every moment pouring in their fire nearer and nearer as they rushed up the slope, the enemy's troops could no longer maintain their ground, but fled disordered up the hill. the russian batteries, however, still made a fearful havoc in the english ranks; and a wide street of dead and wounded, the whole way from the river upward, showed the terrific nature of the fight. "breathless, decimated, and much broken, the men of the centre regiments dashed over the intrenchment and into the great battery in time to capture two guns. but the trials of the light division were not over. the reserves of the enemy now moved down. the english regiments, their ranks in disarray and sorely thinned, were forced gradually to relinquish the point they had gained, and doggedly fell back, followed by the russian columns. it seemed for a moment as if victory was still doubtful; but succour was close at hand. the three regiments of guards (having the highland brigade on their left) were now steadily advancing up the hill, in magnificent order. there was a slight delay until the regiments of codrington's brigade had passed through their ranks, during which time the struggle still wavered, and the casualties were very great; but when once their front was clear, the chance of the russians was at an end, and their whole force retreated in confusion. the several batteries of the different divisions, after crossing at the bridge, moved rapidly to their front, and completed the victory by throwing in a very heavy fire, until the broken columns of the enemy were out of range. and now from rank to rank arose the shout of victory. comrades shook hands, and warm congratulations passed from mouth to mouth that the day was won, and right nobly won. what recked then those gallant men of the toil, and thirst, and hunger, and wounds they had endured! those heights on which at early morn the legions of russia had proudly stood, confident of victory, had been gained, and the foe, broken and damaged, were in rapid retreat." in this fight the royal welsh fusiliers especially distinguished themselves by their heroic valour; and no less than officers and men, upwards of a quarter of their number, were killed or wounded during the battle. the brave young lieutenant anstruther carried the colours; and when he fell dead under the terrific fire from the chief redoubt, they were picked up by private evans, and by him given to corporal luby. from him they were claimed by the gallant sergeant luke o'connor, who bore them onwards amid the shower of bullets, when one struck him, and he fell; but quickly recovering himself, and refusing to relinquish them, onward once more he carried them till the day was won, and he received the reward of his bravery, by the praises of his general on the field, and the promise of a commission in his regiment; and a better soldier does not exist than captain o'connor of the rd. captain bell, of the same regiment, seeing the russians about to withdraw one of their guns, sprang forward, and putting a pistol to the head of the driver, made him jump off, and springing into the saddle in his stead, galloped away with it to the rear, but was soon again at his post, and, all the officers above him having been killed or wounded, had the honour of bringing the regiment out of action. colonel chester and captain evans were both killed near the redoubt. captain donovan, of the rd, captured another gun; but the horses not being harnessed to it, the driver took to flight, and it could not be removed. nineteen sergeants of that regiment were killed or wounded, chiefly in defence of their colours. the colours of the scots fusilier guards were carried by lieutenants lindsay and thistlethwayte. the staff was broken and the colours riddled, and many sergeants fell dead by their side, yet unharmed they cut their way through the foe, and bore them triumphantly up that path of death to the summit of the heights. the action lasted little more than two hours. in that time british officers were killed, and wounded; and of non-commissioned officers and men, were killed, and were wounded. but death was not satiated, and many brave officers and men died from cholera even on the field of victory. one name must not be forgotten--that of the good and brave dr thompson, who, with his servant, remained on the field to attend to the wants of upwards of russians who had not been removed. lieutenant lindsay, who carried the colours of the scots fusilier guards, stood firmly by them, when, as they stormed the heights, their line was somewhat disordered, and by his energy greatly contributed to restore order. in this he was assisted by sergeants knox and mckechnie, and private reynolds. sergeant knox obtained a commission in the rifle brigade for his courage and coolness on this occasion. siege of sebastopol. on the th of october commenced one of the most extraordinary sieges to be found recounted in the page of modern history. five bombardments took place; three sanguinary battles were fought under these walls, and numerous sorties and skirmishes occurred. sixty guns and mortars were landed and brought into position by the british; but the russians were not idle, and not only was the malakoff tower strengthened, but the redan and other formidable batteries were thrown up. the french were on the left, and had fifty-three guns and mortars in position. at half-past six a.m. on a beautiful morning on the th of october, the english and french batteries suddenly opened, completely taking the enemy by surprise; but though the guns from the top of the malakoff tower were overthrown by the english guns, the russians kept up a steady fire from the earthen batteries round, and from the redan and barrack batteries. the french siege-guns were, however, of less use, and totally inadequate for the work; consequently at half-past ten a.m. they ceased firing, one of their magazines also having blown up, and killed or wounded men. this undoubtedly was one of the main causes of the failure of the attempt. the fleets at the mouth of the harbour were warmly engaged, and suffered considerably. the russians lost admiral kermileff, killed, and admiral nachimoff, of sinope celebrity, was wounded, with about men killed and wounded. the english lost killed, and wounded. the french were greatly in want of guns, whereas the russians had the means of increasing their garrison to any extent; and, by sinking their ships, they added to the fortifications and obtained their crews to work them. sickness and fighting had sadly reduced the english forces, who now numbered only , men, though the french had still , fit for service; yet they also soon suffered greatly from sickness and want of food and shelter. to those who have not before them a plan of sebastopol, a slight description of the place and the surrounding country will be necessary. it is situated on the south side of an inlet of the sea, with another smaller inlet running up on the east side called dockyard creek, and one on the west, some little distance from the intrenchments, called quarantine bay. thus it has water on three sides. ships of war were stationed in each of the smaller inlets, with their guns bearing on the ravines leading down to them. on the north side of the harbour, at the mouth, was fort constantine, with several batteries, and farther inland the star fort, while across the harbour's mouth was a line of powerful ships of war. only one side, therefore, remained open to attack. at the commencement of the siege, on the east was a round stone tower, built on commanding ground, and mounting four guns, called the malakoff, and on the west a crenelated wall terminated by another tower overlooking the quarantine harbour; and between them, at one or two intermediate points, there were a few earthworks not completed, and apparently not armed. now these defences do not appear to be very formidable, and it is probable that, had the allies left their sick and wounded to the tender mercies of the cossacks, and pushed on at once after the battle of the alma, they might have entered the city; but they would have entered a trap in which they would have met certain destruction. the russian fleet commanding the town would have thundered down on them, and they in their turn would have been subjected to an immediate attack from the powerful russian forces hastening towards the place. it was therefore decided by the allied chiefs to wait till their siege-trains were landed, and then to lay regular siege to the place. the river chernaya ran into the head of the harbour from the east, passing under the heights of inkerman. a range of hills and high ground extended from its mouth to the town and small harbour of balaclava, with a broad valley intervening, in which the british cavalry was encamped, with a line of turkish redoubts in their front, and the village of kadikoi on their right. on the northern end of this range of heights above inkerman, the guards with the nd division were posted; while the french, under general bosquet, were encamped extending along the whole line of heights, till they were terminated by the valley where the cavalry camp was pitched. the other three english divisions faced sebastopol itself. balaclava harbour is surrounded by heights, on which some powerful batteries were placed, and only one mountain road led up to them near the sea. some way below them was the village of kamara. the weakest points of the position were at the two ends of the long range of heights at inkerman and balaclava, and on both these the russians made their fiercest attacks. in the valley the only infantry regiment was the gallant rd highlanders, posted in front of the village of kadikoi. battle of balaclava-- th october. the enemy had for some days before the th of october been observed hovering in the neighbourhood of balaclava; and on the morning of that day, reinforcements of , infantry, guns, and a strong force of cavalry arrived, under general liprandi. the heights above balaclava were now garrisoned by the marines landed from the fleet; and they, with the rd and a few detachments from other regiments, were under the immediate command of sir colin campbell. early in the morning the russians, in great force, attacked the turkish batteries, which they succeeded in capturing,--the english gunner in each, with noble self-devotion, spiking the guns before he attempted to escape. one large body of the enemy now attacked the rd, under lieutenant-colonel ainslie, but were bravely repelled. another, and the most powerful, turned towards the cavalry. as they did so, lord lucan ordered general scarlett to charge, although the ground was far from favourable for the operation. it was the moment every trooper ardently longed for. nothing could stop their impetuosity; but all descriptions would be tame after that of mr russell, for never has there been sketched a more vivid picture. "as lightning flashes through the cloud, the greys and enniskilleners passed through the dark masses of the russians. the shock was but for a moment. there was a clash of steel, and a light play of sword-blades in the air, and then the greys and the redcoats disappeared in the midst of the shaken and quivering columns. in another moment we saw them emerging with diminished numbers, and in broken order, charging against the second line. it was a terrible moment. `god help them, they are lost!' was the exclamation of more than one man, and the thought of many. with unabated fire the noble hearts dashed at their enemy. it was a fight of heroes. the first lines of russians, which had been utterly smashed by our charge, and had fled at our flank, and towards the centre, were coming back to swallow up our handful of men. by sheer steel and sheer courage enniskilleners and scots were winning their desperate way right through the enemy's squadron, and already grey horses and redcoats had appeared right at the rear of the second mass, when, with irresistible force, like one bolt from a bow, the th dragoon guards, riding straight at the right flank of the russians, and the th dragoon guards, following close upon the enniskilleners, rushed at the remnant of the first line of the enemy, went through it as though it were made of pasteboard, and put them to utter rout. the russian horse, in less than five minutes after it met our dragoons, was flying with all its speed before a force certainly not half its strength. a cheer burst from every lip. in their enthusiasm, officers and men took off their caps, and shouted with delight, and then, keeping up the scenic character of their position, they clapped their hands again and again. lord raglan at once despatched lieutenant curzon, his aide-de-camp, to convey his congratulations to brigadier-general scarlett, and to say, `well done!'" we may suppose the heights overlooking the plain or valley crowded with eager spectators--the enemy below--the russian hosts beyond. this was not that desperate charge known as the "balaclava charge," which took place soon afterwards. the charge of the light brigade. that the reader may understand the circumstances which led to that terrible charge, a description of the ground must be given. from the lofty plateau of the chersonese, on which the british army was posted, a long ridge of elevated ground extends to the eastward, on the top of which runs the woronzoff road. along this ridge was a line of forts armed with carriage guns, which had just before been captured by the russians from the turks who had garrisoned them. to the south was the broad valley, with the heights of balaclava on the farther side, in which the charge of the heavy cavalry, under general scarlett, took place. on the north side of the ridge was a narrower valley, with the fedhoukine hills to the north. it was towards the latter part of that memorable day, the th of october, that the british cavalry were drawn up under lord lucan at the western end of this narrow valley directly under the steep heights of the chersonese. on the summit, at the very edge of the heights, lord raglan with general airey and other officers had taken their post, so as to overlook the woronzoff ridge and the fedhoukine hills with the whole of the intermediate valley. the eastern end of the valley was occupied by some powerful batteries of russian guns, supported by large bodies of cavalry and several regiments of infantry, while the heights on both sides were crowned by russian artillery and infantry. lord raglan, perceiving that it was the intention of the russians to carry off the guns they had captured from the turks, ordered up general cathcart's brigade to prevent them from effecting their object. some delay occurred before the brigade began its march; and the commander-in-chief, seeing that the russians would succeed in carrying off the guns if not at once attacked, despatched captain nolan, an officer on general airey's staff, with a written order to lord lucan to charge the russians with the light brigade of cavalry commanded by lord cardigan, and to recapture the guns. lord lucan and lord cardigan saw only the heavy guns in their front--those to which lord raglan referred being concealed from their view by the high ground. they, therefore, supposing that they were to attack the guns which they did see, naturally demurred about performing an act which might prove the destruction of the whole brigade, while the aide-de-camp, who thought only of the guns on their right, insisted in strong language that the order must be obeyed. supposing that the order was understood, captain nolan then placed himself on the left of the light brigade, intending to charge with it. lord cardigan, still under a wrong impression, obedient to the order which he conceived had been sent him, placed himself at the head of his gallant light cavalry, and gave the order to advance. instead of wheeling with their left shoulders forward towards the slope on their right front, as the commander-in-chief expected them to do, the cavalry continued straight down the valley, lord cardigan, on his tall charger, at a distance of some five horses' lengths in front of the line, leading them. scarcely had they gone a hundred paces when captain nolan, dashing out from the left of the line, galloped diagonally across the front, waving his sword and pointing eagerly towards the russians on the right. there might yet have been time to remedy the fatal error into which the cavalry guards had fallen, but at that moment a shell burst close to the brave aide-de-camp. his sword fell from his hand, while his arm still remained extended; his horse wheeling, dashed back towards the advancing ranks, passing between the th light dragoons, and he fell to the ground a lifeless corpse. steadily on went those men, almost to certain death, a perfect marvel of discipline and heroic courage. from the woronzoff heights on the right, from the fedhoukine hills on the left, came showering down upon them shot and shell and rifle bullets, thinning their advancing ranks. each gap made by the deadly missiles was immediately filled up. on went the devoted band. more and more dropped. riderless horses galloped back, some falling in their course, others uttering cries of agony from the wounds they had received. here and there human forms could be distinguished lying in the quiet of death, others writhing on the ground, or endeavouring to drag themselves back up the valley. as the brigade, still as steady as if on parade, dashed forward, the guns in their front opened their fire, filling the air with dense masses of smoke. right up to them they charged, lord cardigan still leading. amid the guns they forced their way, cutting down the gunners, who either fled or endeavoured to find shelter under the carriages. lord lucan, in the meantime, followed with the heavy cavalry to support the light brigade, but having lost many men, he judiciously retired, at once seeing that his brigade would be destroyed before they could even reach the guns, and they were now compelled to remain inactive while the action continued, as their brethren in the light cavalry had been in the morning. at this juncture a portion of the french cavalry--the famous regiment of d'allonville--moved forward, sweeping round the western base of the fedhoukine hills, up which they charged, rushing forward as fast as the uneven nature of the ground would allow them, on the russian artillery and infantry posted there, and which had caused such fearful loss to the light cavalry as they passed. as the french approached, the artillery limbered up and galloped off to the eastward, while the infantry quickly retreated, although not until many a gallant frenchman's saddle had been emptied. some minutes of awful suspense had passed since the last of the red line of cavalry had been seen rushing into the smoke. those posted on the height of chersonese could discern, as the smoke cleared away, a dark mass in the distance, and the glittering of sword-blades, while the sounds of musketry and the confused murmur of voices which came up the valley indicated that the fight was still raging. the guns which had dealt death into their ranks had ceased to roar. they had fought their way through, attacked, and put to flight the russian cavalry. then breaking into several bodies, after enduring a heavy fire from the rifles of the infantry, had wheeled round and were making their way back towards the point from which a few minutes before they had set forth in brilliant array. one body had to encounter a whole regiment of lancers drawn up on their flank. although the russians thrust at them with their long spears, every blow was parried, and they passed by unscathed. at length, here and there a single horseman was seen moving slowly back, he or his charger sorely wounded. now more and more appeared, several dropping as they returned, the whole centre of the valley, as far as the eye could reach, being strewed with bodies of men and horses. the number of those coming up the valley now increased. among them appeared the tall form of their leader, he and his horse uninjured; then came larger parties, followed by single horses and men on foot, still exposed to the fire from the woronzoff ridge. presently a number of cossacks came galloping up after the retreating cavalry, spearing some, and taking others prisoners; but the russian guns on the causeway again opening fire, the cossacks, to avoid being struck by their friends, were compelled to abandon the pursuit, many of those they had surrounded making their escape. among the last who came in was lord george paget, who with colonel douglas led out the remnant of the th dragoon guards and a portion of the th hussars. of the gallant brigade, which half an hour before had numbered horseman, not now remained fit for duty. officers and men had been killed, and wounded, while upwards of horses were killed or rendered unfit for service. although the russian batteries still kept up their fire, many of the troopers who had themselves escaped dashed back to search for their wounded officers or comrades, and several were thus saved from perishing on the battle-field. the russian loss was far greater. sir george cathcart, with the th division, coming up, the enemy fell back, and abandoned the attempt to carry off the guns. on the next day, the th of october, the russians made an attack on the nd division, that part of the british force which was posted above the ruins of inkerman. about men, supported by artillery and skirmishers, advanced against this division; but so admirably did they sustain the attack, that when general bosquet led up some french troops, they retreated, and were chased down the ridge towards the head of the bay. this attack has been called the little inkerman. battle of inkerman th november. the allied commanders had decided on a general assault for the th of november; but the enemy, who had received immense reinforcements, anticipated their plans, and prepared for another terrific attempt to raise the siege, and to drive the allies into the sea. the camp of the nd division was on the extreme northern end of the heights, above the ruins of inkerman, with careening bay on the left, and the river chernaya in front. the extreme right of the british position, and the left of the french, was the weakest point. sir de lacy evans had pointed it out, and sir john burgoyne had especially urged the french general biot to strengthen it, but he paid no attention to the advice; and at length the english, their strength already overtaxed, had erected a small work there, but no guns had yet been mounted. of this the russian generals were fully aware when they formed their plan of attack. two corps of the russian army were detailed for the grand attack. one, under general pauloff, was to march from the north side, and crossing the marsh from the causeway, was then to wind up the heights in front of the nd division, and force the english right. simultaneously with general pauloff's movement, the other corps, under general soimonoff, was to leave sebastopol by a road near the malakoff, which would have brought it up in front of the british light division. instead of this, by mistaking the ground, he moved to his left, and found himself in front of the english nd division; so that, when general pauloff's leading regiments arrived, the ground intended for their attack was already occupied, and the battle had begun. the russians, confined therefore in a narrow space, encumbered each other during the day, and could not find sufficient room to deploy. it was dark and wet, and a thick fog lay on the ground as the day dawned on the th of november. it is said that major sir thomas troubridge, who commanded the outposts of the first brigade of the light division, after relieving the advanced sentries, went down before daybreak towards the mamelon, and sweeping the ground with a field-glass, descried the enemy on the opposite side of the ravine. while he hastened to get the nd division under arms to meet the threatened attack, the advanced pickets were surprised, but behaved with the greatest gallantry, disputing every inch of ground with the russian riflemen. one detachment, in falling back, held the sandbag battery for a short time, but were driven out by the enemy. the nd division, under general pennefather, was formed at once on the ridge in front of their own camp, the other english divisions getting under arms and hastening to the front. the three regiments of guards proceeded to the right, and general bullar's brigade to the left of the nd division. general codrington's brigade took up the ground in front of its own camp, on the left side of careening bay ravine, on the spot where it had been intended soimonoff's corps should have deployed. on the noble guards fell a large share of the work of that sanguinary day. pressing forward, they drove the enemy out of the sandbag battery; and, though fiercely assailed on both flanks, they maintained that forward position during the day, except for a short time. once they had to retire before overwhelming numbers and a terrific fire of artillery; reinforced by the th regiment, they again rushed forward and retook the redoubt. in vast masses the russians pressed on, their artillery of heavy calibre supporting their advance, and often throughout the day the fortune of the fight seemed doubtful; but never did troops behave with more heroic courage. shrouded by a thick fog, each man, and each company, and each regiment, felt that they must in a great part depend upon themselves. meantime, sir george cathcart, with part of the th regiment, and a few other men, hearing that the enemy were attempting to force the extreme right, and that it was the point most open to danger, pushed rapidly forward, hoping to act on the flank of the russian troops storming the sandbag battery. he had not gone far when he discovered the enemy on his front, on his right flank below him, and on his left above him. at that moment he fell, shot through the head, while several of his staff were killed with him. general torrens, who had come up, was also wounded; the men were withdrawn to the ground on the flank of the battery, which they, with other troops, continued to maintain. by this time several of the russian generals, with the officers of their staffs, and colonels of regiments, were killed, and their troops thrown into confusion. while the battle thus furiously raged and numbers were falling, the russians, strong, made a sortie against the left of the french batteries, and succeeded in spiking several guns; but the french troops, rallying, charged them so furiously that they were driven back; some of the french, carried on by their ardour, entering the batteries with them. the brave french general lourmel was killed; but the russians lost men. for several hours had the battle of inkerman raged; the english, but strong, supporting the whole brunt of the fight. the termination seemed doubtful; fresh troops were brought against them, but yet not a man who stood on those bloody heights ever dreamed of yielding. yet, overwhelmed at length, the guards were pressed back. not only were they assailed by the fire of the russian field batteries, but by the guns of sebastopol, and by those of the ships in careening bay. suddenly the shrill tones of the french horns were heard above the rolling and rattling of the firing. the regiments of the first brigade, which arrived with that dashing intrepidity for which the french are distinguished, immediately pressed forward into the thick of the fight, and almost reached the sandbag battery, the contest for which had been so often renewed. but even these fresh troops found difficulty in maintaining themselves, and were almost surrounded. a second brigade, however, quickly reinforced them, and several french batteries coming up on the right of the english ones, the enemy were at length completely driven from the ground, and had now no alternative but a difficult retreat down precipitous slopes. heavy masses were observed retiring over the bridge of the chernaya, and ascending the opposite heights, abandoning on the field of battle or dead and wounded. "there is probably," says colonel adye, "no record of any battle in which such great numbers fought on so small a space. there are few which have been so stoutly contested, or in which the valour and perseverance of all the troops engaged have been throughout so conspicuous." the conduct of the english infantry is immortal. although enfeebled by previous fatigue and constant night watches, still, on the day of trial, for hours did men resolutely maintain themselves against successive columns of attack of vastly superior numbers; and at last, when almost overpowered, they found an ever ready and gallant ally at hand to save them in their hour of need. this battle, too, brought out conspicuously the sterling courage and unmatched steadiness of the english artillery. repeatedly were the russian columns close to the muzzles of the guns, and were driven back by volleys of case. in some instances the batteries were actually run into, and the gunners bayoneted at their posts. their carriages were repeatedly struck, and their loss was men and horses killed. the casualties of the british army amounted to . of these, officers and men were killed, and officers and men were wounded, while nearly were missing. the russians lost fully , men. that of the , british infantry landed in the crimea, only should have been forthcoming to take part in the battle, may seem surprising; but so it was. three thousand had been killed, were sick, were in the trenches, and of the rd division were at balaclava. of those present, the guards had ; nd division, ; light division, ; and th division, . and now let us do justice to the memory of as gallant a soldier as ever led the armies of old england to victory, by looking at the difficulties by which lord raglan was surrounded. of his already diminished numbers, men were lying on the field of battle--eight of his generals had fallen--the hospitals were full-- cholera was in his camp--no recruits were coming--winter had arrived-- the men had no shelter--no transport to bring them food--no clothing, for the _prince_, with , greatcoats, and stores of all sorts, had gone down. never did an army with more heroic courage and endurance persevere to finally conquer, though its brave general sank under the load of anxiety pressed on him, and the unjust accusations brought against his fame. final bombardment. the allies had now been nearly a year before sebastopol. the batteries opened on the th of september, and continued firing till noon of the th, when the french signal was given for the advance. onward they rushed, and the malakoff was taken by surprise without loss, its defenders being at dinner. the tri-colour flying from the parapet was the signal for the british to advance. a column of the light division led, and that of the second followed. the men stormed the parapet, and penetrated into the salient angle. here major welsford, th, who led the storming party, was killed, and colonel handcock was mortally wounded. a most sanguinary contest ensued, but it was found impossible to maintain the position. colonel windham hurried back, and brought up the right wing of the rd, when a most brilliant charge was made, but it was of no avail: officers killed and wounded, with non-commissioned officers and men killed, wounded, showed the severe nature of the contest. many gallant deeds were done, but the following men deserve especial notice, for bringing in wounded men from the advanced posts during daylight on the th:--privates thomas johnson, bedford, chapman, and william freeman, of the nd. a considerable number performed the same merciful but dangerous work during the night. it was intended to renew the attack on the following morning with the highland brigade under sir colin campbell; but explosions were heard during the night, and when a small party advanced, the redan was found deserted, and it was discovered that, by means of admirable arrangements, the whole russian army were retiring by a bridge of boats to the north side, while they in the meantime had sunk all the ships of war in the harbour. thus was sebastopol won undoubtedly by the gallantry of the french, for the possession of the malakoff at that time ensured the capture of the town; but britons may well feel proud of the heroism displayed by their countrymen from first to last of that memorable siege, and it is an example of the stuff with which english redcoats are filled: officers were killed and fully men, while upwards of , died of disease. in october, kinburn was taken by general spencer; and the supplies of the russians being cut off, they were compelled to sue for peace. while this most bloody war showed england's might, the undaunted bravery of her soldiers, and their admirable discipline and perseverance, it also showed wherein her weakness lay--that her commissariat was imperfect, and that much of her machinery had grown rusty from want of use. she has profited by the terrible lessons she has received; and though there is still room for improvement, the british soldier need no longer fear that sad state of things from which so many of his gallant comrades suffered in the crimea. gallant deeds of the crimean war. here i must pause to tell of some few of the many gallant deeds done during that long and terrible year of warfare. first, how at; the bloody fight of inkerman, captain t. miller, r.a., defended his guns with a handful of gunners, though surrounded by russians, and with his own hand killed six of the foe who were attempting to capture them. how sergeant--major andrew henry, r.a., also nobly defended his guns against overwhelming numbers of the enemy, and continued to do so till he fell with twelve bayonet wounds in his body. how at the desperate charge of the guards to retake the sandbag battery, lieutenant-colonel the honourable h.m. percy, grenadier guards, in face of a hot fire, charged singly into the battery, followed by his men; and how afterwards, when he found himself, with men of various regiments who had charged too far, nearly surrounded by russians, and without ammunition, from his knowledge of the ground he was enabled, though he was wounded, to extricate them and to take them, under a heavy fire, to a spot where they obtained a supply of ammunition, and could return to the combat; and how he engaged in single combat, and wounded a russian soldier. how sergeant norman and privates palmer and baily were the first to volunteer to follow sir charles russell to attempt retaking the sandbag battery. onward dashed those gallant men; the russians could not withstand the desperate onslaught, and fled before them. i have described those two cavalry charges at balaclava. several noble acts of heroism resulted from them. first, i must tell how, when lieutenant-colonel morris, th lancers, lay desperately wounded on the ground, in an exposed situation, after the retreat of the light cavalry, surgeon mouat, th dragoons, voluntarily galloped to his rescue, and, under a heavy fire from the enemy, dressed his wounds; and how sergeant-major wooden, th, also came to the rescue of his fallen colonel, and with mr mouat bore him safely from the field. how, likewise, when captain webb, th lancers, lay desperately and mortally wounded, sergeant-major berryman, th lancers, found him, and refused to leave him, though urged to do so. how quarter-master-sergeant farrell and sergeant malone, th light dragoons, coming by, assisted to carry him out of the fire. worthy of note is the conduct of private parkes, th light dragoons. in that fearful charge trumpet--major crawford's horse falling, he was dismounted, and lost his sword. thus helpless, he was attacked by two cossacks, when parkes, whose horse was also killed, threw himself before his comrade, and drove off the enemy. soon afterwards they were attacked by six russians, whom parkes kept at bay; and he retired slowly, fighting and defending crawford, till his own sword was broken by a shot. sergeant ramage, nd dragoons, perceiving private mcpherson surrounded by seven russians, galloped to his comrade's assistance, and saved his life by dispersing the enemy. on the same day, when the heavy brigade was rallying, and the enemy retiring, finding that his horse would not leave the ranks, he dismounted and brought in a russian prisoner. he also on the same day saved the life of private gardner, whose leg was fractured by a round shot, by carrying him to the rear from under a heavy cross fire, and from a spot immediately afterwards occupied by russians. officers and men vied with each other in the performance of gallant deeds. major howard elphinstone, of the royal engineers, exhibited his fearless nature by volunteering, on the night of the th june, after the unsuccessful attack on the redan, to command a party of volunteers, who proceeded to search for and bring back the scaling-ladders left behind after the repulse; a task he succeeded in performing. he also conducted a persevering search close to the enemy for wounded men, twenty of whom he rescued and brought back to the trenches. lieutenant gerald graham, on the same day, several times sallied out of the trenches, in spite of the enemy's fire, and brought in wounded men and officers. on that day, also, when assaulting the redan, colour-sergeant peter leitch first approached it with ladders, and then tore down gabions from the parapet, and placed and filled them so as to enable those following to cross over. this dangerous occupation he continued till disabled by wounds. sapper john perie was on that day conspicuous for his valour in leading the seamen with ladders to storm the redan. he also rescued a wounded man from the open, though he had himself just been wounded by a bullet in his side. private john connors, rd foot, distinguished himself at the assault of the redan, on the th september, in personal conflict with the enemy. seeing an officer of the th regiment surrounded by russians, he rushed forward to his rescue, shot one and bayoneted another. he was himself surrounded, when he spiritedly cut his way out from among them. few surpassed lieutenant william hope, th fusiliers, in gallantry. after the troops had retreated, on the th june, lieutenant hope, hearing from sergeant bacon that lieutenant and adjutant hobson was lying outside the trenches, went out to look for him, accompanied by private hughes, and found him lying in an old agricultural ditch running towards the left flank of the redan. he then returned, and got some more men to bring him in. finding, however, that he could not be removed without a stretcher, he ran back across the open to egerton's pit, where he procured one; and in spite of a very heavy fire from the russian batteries, he carried it to where lieutenant hobson was lying, and brought in his brother officer in safety. he also, on the th of september, when his men were drawn out of the fifth parallel, endeavoured, with assistant-surgeon hale, to rally them, and remained to aid dr hale, who was dressing the wounds of captain jones, th foot, who lay dangerously wounded. dr hale's bravery was conspicuous; for after the regiment had retired into the trenches, he cleared the most advanced sap of the wounded, and aided by sergeant fisher, th royal fusiliers, under a very heavy fire, carried several wounded men from the open into the sap. private sims, th regiment, showed his bravery and humanity on the th june, when the troops had retired from the assault on the redan, by going into the open ground outside the trenches, under a heavy fire, in broad daylight, and bringing in wounded soldiers. major elton, th regiment, exhibited the greatest courage on several occasions. on the night of the th august he commanded a working party in the advanced trenches in front of the quarries; and when, in consequence of the dreadful fire to which they were exposed, some hesitation was shown, he went into the open with pick and shovel, and by thus setting an example to his men, encouraged them to persevere. in march, he volunteered with a small body of men to drive off a body of russians who were destroying one of the british new detached works, and not only succeeded in so doing, but took one of the enemy prisoner. colour--sergeant g. gardiner, th regiment, showed great coolness and gallantry on the occasion of the sortie of the enemy, nd march, when he was acting as orderly sergeant to the field officers of the trenches, in having rallied the covering parties which had been driven in by the russians, and thus regaining and keeping possession of the trenches. still more conspicuous was his conduct on the th june when attacking the redan. he remained and encouraged others to stay in the holes made by the explosion of shells, from whence, by making parapets of the dead bodies of their comrades, they kept up a continuous fire until their ammunition was exhausted, thus clearing the enemy from the parapet of the redan. this was done under a fire in which nearly half the officers and a third of the rank and file of the party of the regiment were placed _hors de combat_. major lumley, th regiment, especially distinguished himself at the assault on the redan, th september. he was among the first inside the works, when he was immediately engaged with three russian gunners, reloading a field-piece, who attacked him. he shot two of them with his revolver, when he was knocked down by a stone which for the moment stunned him. on his recovery he drew his sword, and was in the act of cheering on his men, when he received a ball in his mouth, which wounded him most severely. sergeant coleman, also of the th regiment, exhibited coolness and bravery unsurpassed, when, on the night of th august, the enemy attacked a new sap and drove in the working party. he, however, remained in the open, completely exposed to the enemy's rifle-pits, until all around him had been killed or wounded; then, taking on his shoulder one of his officers, mortally wounded, he retreated with him to the rear. of the many anecdotes of heroism exhibited during the war, none is more worthy of note than one told of ensign dunham massy, of the th regiment, then one of the youngest officers in the army. at the storming of the redan he led the grenadier company, and was about the first of the corps to jump into the ditch, waving his sword, and calling on his men to follow. they nobly stood by him, till, left for two hours without support, and seized by a fear of being blown up, they retired. he, borne along, endeavoured to disengage himself from the crowd, and there he stood, almost alone, facing round frequently to the batteries, with head erect, and with a calm, proud, disdainful eye. hundreds of shots were aimed at him, and at last, having succeeded in rallying some men, and leading them on up the side of the ditch, he was struck by a shot and his thigh broken. being the last, he was left there with many other wounded. hours passed by--who can tell the agony suffered by that mass of wounded men! many were groaning, and some loudly crying out. a voice called faintly at first, and at length more loudly, "are you queen victoria's soldiers?" some voices answered, "i am! i am!" "then," said the gallant youth, "let us not shame ourselves; let us show these russians that we can bear pain as well as fight like men." there was a silence as of death; and several times, when the poor fellows again gave way to their feelings, he appealed to them in a similar strain, and all was silent. the unquailing spirit of the young hero ruled all around him. as evening came on, the russians crept out of the redan, and plundered some of the wounded--though, in some cases, they exhibited kind feelings, and even gave water. men with bayonets fixed strode over massy's body. sometimes he feigned death. a man took away his haversack. a russian officer endeavoured to disengage his sword, which he still grasped; nor would he yield it. the russian, smiling compassionately, at length left him. when the works were blown up in the night by the retreating russians, his left leg was fearfully crushed by a falling stone. he was found in the morning by some highlanders, and brought to the camp more dead than alive from loss of blood. great was the joy of all at seeing him, as it was supposed that he was killed. in spite of his dangerous wounds, he ultimately recovered. privates and non-commissioned officers vied with each other in acts of gallantry and dash, as well as of coolness and calm heroism. privates robert humpston and joseph bradshaw, rifle brigade, nd battalion, especially exhibited their cool bravery. a russian rifle-pit situated among the rocks overhanging the woronzoff road, between the third parallel right attack and the quarries, was occupied every night by the russians, much impeding a new battery being erected by the british. these two men, seeing the importance of dislodging the enemy, at daybreak of the nd april started off of their own accord, made so furious an attack on the astonished russians that they killed or put to flight all the occupants of the rifle-pit, and held it till, support coming, it was completely destroyed. private b. mcgregor, also of the same corps, finding that there were two russians in a rifle-pit who considerably annoyed the troops by their fire, he, being in the advanced trenches, crossed the open space under fire, and taking cover under a rock, dislodged them, and took possession of the pit, whence he fired on the enemy. several of the officers, too, of the rifle brigade exhibited conspicuous gallantry. at the battle of inkerman, brevet-major the honourable henry h. clifford led a dashing charge of his men against the enemy, of whom he killed one and wounded another; and one of his men having fallen near him, he defended him against the russians, who were trying to kill him, and carried him off in safety. lieutenant claude t. bouchier and lieutenant william j. cuninghame highly distinguished themselves at the capture of the rifle-pits, on the th of november . there were numerous instances in which, at the risk of their own lives, both officers and men saved the lives of their comrades who lay wounded in exposed positions. private john alexander, th regiment, after the attack on the redan on the th of june, knowing that many wounded men lay helpless on the ground, in spite of the storm of round shot, bullets, and shells still raging, went out from the trenches, and, with calm intrepidity, brought in, one after the other, several wounded men. he also, being one of a working party, on the th of september , in the most advanced trench, hearing that captain buckley, of the scots fusilier guards, was lying dangerously wounded, went out under a very heavy fire, and brought him safely in. sergeant moynihan, of the same regiment, also rescued a wounded officer near the redan, under a very heavy fire; and on the assault of the redan, th of september , actually encountered, and with his own hand was seen to have killed, five russians in succession. other acts of gallantry are recorded of this brave soldier, who, as a reward for them, and for a long-continued career of excellent conduct, has been since deservedly promoted to a lieutenancy, and subsequently obtained his company in the th foot. sergeant william mcwheeney, th regiment, showed probably as much bravery in saving the lives of his comrades, and in other ways, as any man in the army. at the commencement of the siege he volunteered as a sharpshooter, and was placed in charge of a party of his regiment, who acted as sharpshooters. in the action on the woronzoff road, the russians came down in such overwhelming numbers that the sharpshooters were repulsed from the quarries in which they had taken post. on that occasion private john kean, one of his party, was dangerously wounded, and would have been killed, had he not, running forward under a heavy fire, lifted the man on his back, and borne him off to a place of safety. on the th of december he performed a similar act. corporal courtenay, also a sharpshooter, was, when in the advance, severely wounded in the head. sergeant mcwheeney then lifted him up, and, under a heavy fire, carried him to some distance. unable to bear him farther, he placed him on the ground; but, refusing to leave him, threw up with his bayonet a slight cover of earth, protected by which the two remained till dark, when he brought off his wounded companion. he also volunteered for the advanced guard of major-general eyre's brigade, in the cemetery, on the th of june . during the whole war he was never absent from duty. private mcdermot, also, at the battle of inkerman, seeing colonel haly lying wounded on the ground, surrounded by russians about to despatch him, rushed to his rescue, killed the man who had cut down the colonel, and brought him off. in like way, at the same time, private beach, seeing lieutenant-colonel carpenter lying on the ground, several russians being about to plunder and probably kill him, dashed forward, killed two of them, and protected the colonel against his assailants, till some men of the st regiment coming up put them to flight. sergeant george walters, th regiment, also highly distinguished himself at inkerman, by springing forward to save brigadier-general adams, who was surrounded by russians, one of whom he bayoneted, and dispersed the rest. captain thomas esmonde especially exhibited his courage and humanity in preserving the lives of others. on the th of june he was engaged in the desperate and bloody assault on the redan. unwounded himself, he repeatedly returned, under a terrific fire of shell and grape, to assist in rescuing wounded men from the exposed positions where they lay. two days after this, he was in command of a covering party to a working party in an advanced position. a fire-ball, thrown by the enemy, lodged close to them. with admirable presence of mind, he sprang forward and extinguished it before it had blazed up sufficiently to betray the position of the working party under his protection. scarcely had the ball been extinguished, than a murderous fire of shell and grape was opened on the spot. lance-sergeant philip smith, on the th june, after the column had retired from the assault, repeatedly returned under a heavy fire, and brought in his wounded comrades. several acts of coolness, similar to that recorded of captain esmonde, were performed. on the nd september, sergeant alfred ablet, of the grenadier guards, seeing a burning shell fall in the centre of a number of ammunition cases and powder, instantly seized it, and threw it outside the trench. it burst as it touched the ground. had it exploded before, the loss of life would have been terrific. private george strong, also, when on duty in the trenches, threw a live shell from the place where it had fallen to a distance. corporal john ross, of the royal engineers, exhibited his calmness and judgment, as well as bravery, on several occasions. on the rd of august he was in charge of the advance from the fifth parallel right attack on the redan, when he placed and filled twenty-five gabions under a very heavy fire, and in spite of light-balls thrown towards him. he was also one of those who, in the most intrepid and devoted way, on the night of the memorable th september, crept to the redan and reported its evacuation, on which it was immediately occupied by the british. corporal william lendrim, of the same corps, also, on the th april, in the most intrepid manner, got on the top of a magazine, on which some sandbags were burning, knowing that at any moment it might blow up. he succeeded in extinguishing the fire. on the th of february, when the whole of the gabions of number battery left attack were capsized, he superintended french chasseurs in replacing them, under a heavy fire from the russian guns. he likewise was one of four volunteers who destroyed the farthest rifle-pits on the th april. sergeant daniel cambridge, royal artillery, was among those who gallantly risked his own life to save those of his fellow-soldiers. he had volunteered for the spiking party at the assault on the redan, on the th of september, and while thus engaged he was severely wounded; still he refused to go to the rear. later in the day, while in the advanced trench, seeing a wounded man outside, in front, he sprang forward under a heavy fire to bring him in. he was in the open, shot and shell and bullets flying round him. he reached the wounded man, and bore him along. he was seen to stagger, but still he would not leave his helpless burden, but, persevering, brought him into the trench. it was then discovered that he had himself been severely wounded a second time. the gallantry of sergeant george symons was always conspicuous, but especially on the th of june , when he volunteered to unmask the embrasures of a five-gun battery, in the advanced right attack. no sooner was the first embrasure unmasked, than the enemy commenced a terrific fire on him; but, undaunted, he continued the work. as each fresh embrasure was unmasked, the enemy's fire was increased. at length only one remained, when, amid a perfect storm of missiles, he courageously mounted the parapet, and uncovered the last, by throwing down the sandbags. scarcely was his task completed when a shell burst, and he fell, severely wounded. driver thomas arthur, of the same corps, had been placed in charge of a magazine, in one of the left advanced batteries of the right attack, on the th of june, when the quarries were taken. hearing that the th fusiliers were in want of ammunition, he, of his own accord, carried several barrels of infantry ammunition to supply them, across the open, exposed to the enemy's fire. he also volunteered and formed one of the spiking party of artillery at the assault on the redan. among the numberless acts of bravery performed at the battle of inkerman, few are more worthy of record than one performed by lieutenant-colonel sir charles russell, bart., of the grenadier guards. the sandbag battery, the scene of so many bloody encounters during that eventful day, had been at length entered by a strong party of russians, its previous defenders having been killed or driven out by overwhelming numbers. sir charles russell, seeing what had occurred, offered to dislodge the enemy, if any men would accompany him. the undertaking seemed desperate; but notwithstanding this, sergeant norman and privates anthony palmer and bailey immediately volunteered; others afterwards followed their example. on they went, following the gallant sir charles at furious speed, and into the battery they rushed. bailey was killed, but palmer escaped, and was the means of saving his brave leader's life. the russians were driven out, and the battery was held by the british. sir charles russell received the victoria cross. we now give an extract from a letter he wrote to his mother after the battle: "after the brave band had been some time in the battery, our ammunition began to fail us, and the men, armed with stones, flung them into the masses of russians, who caught the idea, and the air was thick with huge stones flying in all directions; but we were too much for them, and once more a _melee_ of grenadiers, coldstreams, and fusiliers held the battery their own, and from it, on the solid masses of the russians, still poured as good a fire as our ammunition would permit. there were repeated cries of `charge!' and some man near me said, `if any officer will lead us, we will charge'; and as i was the only one just there, i could not refuse such an appeal, so i jumped into the embrasure, and waving my revolver, said, `come on, my lads; who will follow me?' i then rushed on, fired my revolver at a fellow close to me, but it missed fire. i pulled again, and think i killed him. just then a man touched me on the shoulder, and said, `you was near done for.' i said, `oh no, he was some way from me.' he answered, `his bayonet was all but into you when i clouted him over the head.' and sure enough, a fellow had got behind me and nearly settled me. i must add, that the grenadier who accompanied me was publicly made a corporal on parade next morning. his name is palmer. i did not know it, but i said, `what's your name? well, if i live through this, you shall not be forgotten.'" corporal shields, rd regiment royal welsh fusiliers, among many brave men especially distinguished himself, and he was among the earliest recipients of the order of valour. he received also the cross of the legion of honour from the emperor of the french for the following brave action:-- on the th of september he was among the foremost at the desperate attack on the redan, and one of the very few who reached the ditch at the re-entering angle. finding that lieutenant dyneley, adjutant of the regiment, for whom he had a great regard, had not returned, he immediately set forward by himself to search for him, exposed to the hot fire of the enemy, who, although they must have known that he was on an errand of mercy, continually aimed at him. after searching for some time, he found his young officer on the ground, desperately wounded, behind a rock, which somewhat sheltered him from the enemy's fire. stanching the flow of blood as well as he could, he endeavoured to lift him on his back to carry him to the trenches, but the pain of being lifted in that way was more than mr dyneley could bear. reluctantly he was compelled to relinquish the attempt; and hurrying back to the trenches, he entreated one of the medical officers to render the young officer assistance. his appeal was not made in vain. without hesitation, the brave assistant--surgeon sylvester, always ready at the call of humanity, volunteered to accompany him. together they passed across the hailstorm of bullets the russians were incessantly sending from their walls, when the surgeon knelt down and dressed the wounds of his brother officer, and did all that he could to alleviate his sufferings. unwillingly they quitted him that they might obtain more succour; and in the evening captain drew and other volunteers accompanied corporal shields, who then for the third time braved the bullets of the enemy, and together they brought in the young lieutenant. unhappily, his wound was mortal, and he died that night. while praising the brave corporal, we must not forget the heroism of the young surgeon. for this action corporal shields was rewarded with a commission. major gerald littlehales goodlake, coldstream guards, gained the victoria cross for his gallantry on several occasions. a number of the best marksmen in each regiment had been selected to act as sharpshooters. with a party of these he set forth, on a night in november , towards a fort at the bottom of the windmill ravine, where a picket of the enemy were stationed. approaching with all the caution of indian warriors along a difficult and dangerous path, they suddenly sprang on the astonished russians, who took to flight, leaving their rifles and knapsacks behind. a short time before this, on the th of october, he was posted in this ravine, which, with the party of his men, not exceeding thirty, he held against a powerful sortie of the russians, made against the nd division of the british army. in truth, young officers brought up in luxury and ease vied with soldiers long accustomed to warfare and the roughest work in deeds of daring and hardihood. these are only some few of the many acts of heroism, coolness, and gallantry performed during the war, and for which the victoria cross has been awarded. undoubtedly many more were performed, which have not been noted, in consequence of the death of the actors or witnesses, and some gallant men, though equally deserving, have not brought forward their claims; but even from the few examples here given, it is shown of what materials the british soldier is formed. chapter seven. the campaign in persia-- - . in the persians, thinking that they would be supported by russia, took possession of herat, in direct infraction of their treaty with england. to convince them of their mistake, war was declared; and an expedition, under major-general stalker, was despatched to the persian gulf, which, on the rd of december, took possession of the island of karrack. on the th, the troops landed at ras halala, about fifteen miles below bushire. their first exploit was an attack on the old dutch fort of reshire, on the th of december. the enemy made a stout resistance. captain augustus wood, of the th bengal native infantry, led the grenadier company, which formed the head of the assaulting column. he was the first to mount the parapet of the fort, when a considerable number of the enemy, suddenly springing out on him from a trench cut in the parapet itself, attacked him furiously, firing a volley at his men when only a yard or two distant. although seven bullets struck him, he at once rushed at his assailants, and passing his sword through the leader's body, being followed closely by his grenadiers with their bayonets at the charge, quickly drove all before him, and established himself in the place. brigadier stopford was unfortunately killed in the attack, and other officers were wounded. captain wood was so severely wounded that he was compelled to leave the force for a time; but he returned to it even before his wounds were healed. he gained the victoria cross for his gallantry on that occasion. the next morning the british force marched on bushire, a town of some strength, and walled round; but some of the garrison ran away, and were drowned as they were escaping, and the remainder, strong, laid down their arms. meantime, a much larger force was organised at bombay to unite with that of brigadier--general stalker, with lieutenant-general sir james outram as commander-in-chief. general stalker's division was considerably increased, and was called the first division, while a second division embarked under the command of brigadier--general havelock. brigadier hamilton, th highlanders, commanded one of his brigades, and brigadier hale the other. these forces arrived at bushire at the end of january. on the rd of february, the army broke ground from the camp of bushire, and marched on the village of brasjoon, outside of which the enemy were said to be intrenched, and to have eighteen guns. such was the case. a wall, with tower bastions, enclosed the whole, and detached square towers within overlooked all; while a ditch, fifteen feet deep, ran outside, and beyond it were gardens, with high thorn and cactus fences: altogether it was a very formidable position. shortly before one o'clock on the th, the persian videttes and reconnoitring parties were made out; but they very rapidly retreated. a smart brush, however, took place between the rearguard and a few of the british cavalry, in which cornet speers, of the rd light cavalry, and two or three troopers were wounded. by two o'clock the british were in possession of the intrenched camp, in which were large quantities of grain, camp equipage, and ammunition. the governor of the place also fell into their hands. all the stores, guns, and ammunition which could not be carried off having been destroyed, the army commenced its return march to bushire on the th, not expecting to encounter an enemy. after moving a few hundred yards clear of the intrenchment, the troops were halted to witness the explosion of a large quantity of gunpowder, stated to be , pounds. a very magnificent spectacle it occasioned. the evening was darker than usual, and the rush of one mighty column into the heavens, with cloud over cloud of bright silvery-looking smoke, mingled with shells bursting like sky-rockets in the midst, attended by a report that made the hills echo again, and a concussion which shook the ground even where the advanced guard stood, formed altogether an event not likely to be forgotten by any who beheld it. the pile of ammunition was fired by lieutenant gibbard, of the horse artillery, and lieutenant hassard, the adjutant of the nd european light infantry, with rifles and shell-bullets of colonel jacob's invention, from a distance of about yards. both were thrown down by the shock of the concussion. from _outram and havelock's persian campaign_, by captain hunt, from which the account of the battle of khoosh-aub is chiefly taken. the march was then renewed, the general belief being that the enemy were never likely to approach them. at midnight, however, a sharp rattle of musketry was heard, and it was supposed that the rearguard were attacked. colonel honnor so ably handled the protecting troops, that he kept the enemy at bay for some time. in about half an hour, however, after the first shots had been fired, the persian cavalry advanced in great numbers, and the entire force was enveloped in a skirmishing fire. horsemen galloped round on all sides, yelling and screaming like fiends, and with trumpets and bugles making all the noise in their power. one of their buglers got close to the front of a skirmishing company of the highlanders, and sounded first the "cease fire," and afterwards "incline to the left," escaping in the dark. several english officers having but a few years before been employed in organising the persian troops, accounted for their knowledge of the english bugle-calls, now artfully used to create confusion. the silence and steadiness of the men were most admirable, and the manoeuvring of regiments that followed, in taking up position for the remaining hour of darkness, was as steady as on an ordinary parade; and this during a midnight attack, with an enemy's fire flashing in every direction, and cavalry surrounding, ready to take advantage of the slightest momentary confusion. at length, having been roughly handled by the th, the cavalry, and horse artillery, the persian horsemen kept at a respectful distance. the army was then thrown into an oblong form--a brigade protecting each flank, and a demi-brigade the front and rear; field-battery guns at intervals, and a thick line of skirmishers connecting and covering all; the horse artillery and cavalry on the flank of the face fronting the original line of march, the front and flanks of the oblong facing outwards; the baggage and followers being in the centre. when thus formed, the troops lay down, waiting for daylight in perfect silence, and showing no fire or light of any kind. sir james outram met with a severe accident while carrying out these admirable arrangements; but they were well concluded by colonel lugard, the chief of his staff. scarcely was the formation completed, than the enemy brought five heavy guns to bear; and iron shot plunging into the th regiment, knocked down six men, and killed one of them. another shot, first taking off a foot from lieutenant greentree, severely wounded captain mockler of that regiment. several of the camp followers and baggage animals in the centre were killed but the orderly conduct of the troops saved them from many casualties, and as no musketry fire was allowed after the guns opened, the enemy had no opportunity of improving his original range. as the morning approached, the enemy's fire slackened, and it was believed that he had retreated; but as the mist cleared off, the persians were seen drawn up in line, their right resting on the walled village of khoosh-aub and a date-grove, their left on a hamlet with a round fortalice tower. two rising mounds were in front of their centre, which served as redoubts, and where they had their guns; and they had some deep nullahs on their right front and flank thickly lined with skirmishers. their cavalry, in considerable bodies, were on both flanks. soojah-ul-moolk, the best officer in the persian army, was at their head. the british army was drawn up in two general lines. the front line consisted of the th highlanders, and a party of sappers on the right; then the th regiment of native infantry, the nd european light infantry, and the th rifle regiment on the left of all. the second line had her majesty's th regiment on its right, then the th regiment native infantry, and the beloochee battalion on its left. the light companies of battalions faced the enemy's skirmishers in the nullahs, and covered both flanks and rear of their own army. a detachment of the rd cavalry assisted in this duty; and as the enemy showed some bodies of horse, threatening a dash on the baggage or wounded men, they were of considerable service. the lines advanced directly the regiments had deployed, and so rapidly and steadily did the leading one move over the crest of the rising ground (for which the enemy's guns were laid), that it suffered but little; the highlanders not having a single casualty, and the th native infantry, their companion regiment in brigade, losing only one man killed, and but four or five wounded. the brigades in the rear, in consequence of the shot which passed over the regiments in front striking them, suffered far more, especially the nd european light infantry. during this time the cannonade had been continuous; but as the persian fire in some degree slackened, the british artillery advanced to closer action, making most beautiful practice, and almost silencing the opposing batteries. some bodies of horse soon presented an opportunity for a charge, and the squadrons of the rd cavalry, and tapp's irregulars, who had hitherto been on the right front, dashed at them, accompanied by blake's horse artillery, and made a sweeping and most brilliant charge, sabring gunners, and fairly driving the enemy's horse off the field. the rd bombay light cavalry was led by lieutenant-colonel forbes. lieutenant moore, the adjutant of the regiment, was, however, perhaps the first of all, by a horse's length. as the regiment approached the enemy, thrown into a somewhat disorderly square, his horse sprang into their centre, but instantly fell dead, crushing his rider, whose sword was broken by the concussion. the enemy pressed round him, but speedily extricating himself, he attempted with his broken weapon to force his way through the throng: he would most certainly have lost his life, had not lieutenant malcolmson, observing his danger, fought his way through the crowd of persians, and, giving him his stirrup, carried him safely out from among them. the thoughtfulness for others, cool determination, devoted courage, and ready activity shown in extreme danger by this young officer, lieutenant malcolmson, were most admirable. both these officers most deservedly gained the victoria cross. meantime, the infantry lines were still advancing rapidly, and in beautifully steady order, to sustain the attack, and were just getting into close action when the enemy lost heart, and his entire line at once broke, and fled precipitately. the men cast away their arms and accoutrements, and, as the pursuit continued, even their clothing. two or three of the sirbar, or regular battalions, on the extreme right, alone retired with any semblance of order. the rd cavalry charged through, and back again, one of the battalions which attempted to receive them with steadiness, and colonel forbes was severely wounded, while captain moore, a brother of the adjutant, had his horse killed under him. the rout of the enemy was complete, and the troopers, as well as irregulars, were fairly exhausted cutting down the fugitives. more than were left on the field, and many horses; while numbers more were slain in the pursuit. the british loss was only officer and men killed, and officers and men wounded. lieutenant frankland, of the nd european regiment, who was killed, was highly mentioned, as was lieutenant greentree, of the th, who lost his leg. subsequently, on the nd of may, a treaty of peace was signed at bagdad, in which the shah agreed to evacuate herat, and to refrain from all interference in future in the internal affairs of afghanistan. chapter eight. the indian mutiny-- - . the year saw the commencement of the indian mutiny, a terrible outbreak of cruelty and fanaticism which, while it inflicted unspeakable anguish upon hundreds of our defenceless countrywomen and their children, desolated many an english home, and evoked the horror and compassion of the civilised world, was also the occasion of numberless acts of heroism and devotion, not only on the part of british soldiers and their native allies, but of all classes of civilians. among other causes which led to the rising of so many of the natives, was no doubt the impression made by the crimean war, under the influence of which certain ambitious mohammedan chiefs, combining with some hindoo rulers, misled by false accounts of the result of the war with russia, formed the idea that the time had arrived for destroying the power of great britain in india. for this purpose they made use of the prejudices and superstitions of the hindoo soldiery, and the avarice and worst passions of the mohammedans; and a story that the new cartridges issued to the troops were made with pig's or bullock's fat--the one being an abomination to the mohammedans, the other to the hindoos, who eating it would lose caste--was believed by the more ignorant and fanatical, who saw in it a design to destroy their religion. the first serious outbreak took place at meerut, when out of men of the rd light cavalry refused to use the cartridges. they were condemned to a long imprisonment, and their sentence was read out on parade. the next day, sunday, th may, while the europeans were at church, news was brought that the th and th regiments of native infantry were assembling tumultuously on the parade-ground. colonel finnis, who immediately rode out to quell the disturbance, was shot by a sepoy while addressing the th regiment, and cut to pieces; thirty other europeans were speedily slaughtered, and the cantonments given to the flames. mr greathead, the commissioner, and his wife, were saved by the fidelity of their servants. the british troops in the place were not called out till the mutineers had time to escape to delhi; where, on their arrival, an outbreak took place, and the greater number of the british residing there were butchered with the most horrible barbarity. the siege of delhi-- th may to th september . it was not till many of the mutineers had fled to delhi that the inhabitants of that city dared to rise in arms against the british. at delhi resided a pensioner of the british government, the last representative of the mogul emperors--an old man, feeble in mind and body, yet capable of atrocious mischief--who had assumed the title of the king of delhi. he and his sons and some of his ministers were undoubtedly promoters of the revolt. by agreement with this potentate, no british troops were quartered in the city, notwithstanding that the government had made the city the principal depot for military stores in india. the city was also inhabited by a large mohammedan population, who clustered round the king, and clung to the traditions of their former greatness. on the th of may there arrived at delhi, early in the morning, several parties of mutineers from meerut. they gave the signal of revolt. with scarcely a moment's warning, military officers, civil servants of the government, merchants, and others were set upon by the rebel sepoys and by the inhabitants of the city, and cut down without mercy. ladies and children were butchered with every conceivable cruelty and indignity. mr simon fraser, the commissioner, was murdered in the palace of the king; so was captain douglas, of the palace guards, and mr jennings, the chaplain, and his daughter and another lady. the regiments outside the walls in cantonments revolted, and many of the british officers were killed, though some, with a few ladies, who got over the city walls, effected their escape. "the magazine, which was within the city walls, not far from the palace, was of course in danger from the very beginning. the officers in charge had seen the mutineers crossing the bridge in the morning, and lieutenant willoughby had gone in with sir t. metcalf to endeavour to get the gates closed. on his return, he found eight of the officers attached to the establishment--lieutenants forrest and raynor, conductors buckley, shaw, and scully, subconductor crowe, and sergeants edward and stewart--with the native lascars and servants. preparations were instantly begun for the defence of the magazine till the arrival of relief from meerut, which none doubted was at hand. the magazine consisted of a number of buildings enclosed by a high wall. the gates were closed and barricaded. inside the gate leading to the park were placed two -pounders, doubly charged with grape. the two sergeants stood by with lighted matches, ready, should that gate be attacked, to fire both at once, and fall back upon the body of the magazine. at the principal gate two guns were put in position, with a _chevaux-de-frise_ on the inside; and a little behind, but bearing on the same point, were two others. farther in were placed four more pieces, commanding two cross passages. a train was laid to the powder-magazine, ready to be fired at a given signal. arms were put in the hands of the natives in the establishment, which they took sulkily. they were getting insolent and disobedient--the mussulmans particularly so. scarcely had these arrangements been made, when the palace guards appeared and demanded the magazine in the name of the badsha of delhi. no answer was given. "the king, they heard soon after, had sent word that ladders would be immediately brought from the palace to scale the walls. the natives in the magazine scarcely concealed their hostility. one man was seen to be communicating with the mutineers outside through the gate, and ordered to be shot if he was observed doing so again. the enemy, who had thus learned what was ready for them, did not attempt to force the gates; but in a short time the scaling-ladders arrived. on their being placed against the walls, the whole of the lascars deserted, climbing over the sloped sheds on the inside, and down the ladders. it was found that they had hid the priming-pouches. the enemy now appeared in hundreds on the walls. the guns were immediately pointed at them, and worked with wonderful rapidity considering the small number of the party. nine britons, alone in that great mohammedan city, betrayed and deserted as they were, bravely thought only of holding their post till the death. the enemy kept firing down upon them. in a few minutes several of the little band were wounded; it was clear that in a few more they would all be shot. willoughby then gave the signal for firing the powder store. scully, who had distinguished himself in this dreadful emergency by his perfect coolness, in the most careful and methodical manner lighted the trains. the explosion took place almost immediately. the wall adjoining was thrown to the ground; numbers of the enemy were buried among the ruins; and thousands of bullets from the cartridges in store were hurled far off, striking down people in the streets. wonderful as it may seem, half the gallant defenders of the magazine crept out alive, partly stunned, blackened, scorched, and burned, yet able to make their way through the sally-port by the river for the cashmere gate. lieutenants forrest and raynor and conductor buckley succeeded in escaping to meerut. willoughby was seen at the cashmere gate, and set out for meerut with three more, who were all murdered in a village on the road. scully, who was much hurt, was killed, when trying to escape, by a sowar. the explosion of the magazine was of course seen from the flagstaff tower, and was heard even at meerut." that afternoon, the sepoys who remained in the lines either deserted or revolted--a general flight took place; the brigadier was one of the last to leave; and thus was delhi lost. no sooner had the europeans gone, than the treacherous old king hoisted the green flag, and proclaimed himself emperor of india. he had imprisoned within his palace walls forty-nine europeans, chiefly women and children. having for a week allowed them to be treated with the greatest cruelty, he gave them up to be further ill-treated, and finally murdered, by his soldiery. their bodies were piled in a rotting heap at the cashmere gate. the day of vengeance was, however, not long delayed. on the th of june a small army, under major-general sir henry barnard, was collected at alleepore, one march from delhi. it consisted of four guns, nd troop st brigade, nd and rd troops rd brigade horse artillery; rd company rd battalion artillery, and number horse field-battery; th company th battalion artillery: detachment artillery recruits; headquarters' detachment sappers and miners; her majesty's th lancers; two squadrons her majesty's th dragoon guards; headquarters and six companies th royal rifles; headquarters and nine companies of her majesty's th regiment; st bengal fusiliers; headquarters and six companies nd fusiliers; simoor battalion goorkhas. on the morning of the th this little army advanced from alleepore towards delhi. they encountered, strongly intrenched, a body of mutineers in number. the enemy's guns were well worked; the british artillery were unable to cope with them. there was only one thing to be done. the order was given to charge and capture the guns. with a ringing cheer, her majesty's th rushed on amidst a hailstorm of musketry, and the sepoys fled in terror to their next position; for they had constructed a line of defence from the signal-tower to the late maharajah hindoo rao's house, and disputed every inch of the ground. however, by nine o'clock the army of retribution was in possession of the parade-ground and cantonments. the latter, indeed, were now covered with masses of blackened walls, while the compounds were strewed with broken furniture, clothing, and books. here, at about a mile and a half from the walls of delhi, the army encamped, and waited for reinforcements. the british advanced position was a strong brick-built house, on the top of a hill overlooking the city. near it three batteries were constructed, which played night and day on the city. the mutineers had also three batteries, which kept up a continual fire on the british camp. they also generally sallied out each afternoon with a couple of guns and some cavalry--the greater portion of their force, however, consisting of infantry. the latter advanced skirmishing up, especially towards the large house, among rocky ground, covered with brushwood, which afforded them ample shelter. they always courted this system of desultory fighting, in which the strength of the native soldiers is best brought out. the british soldiers, on the contrary, too often lost their lives from want of caution. disdaining the advantages of cover, fluttered with fury and impatience, and worn-out or stupefied by the heat, they were often shot down as they pressed incautiously forward to close with their wily foes. however, after a time, the british soldiers made a very visible improvement in skirmishing; and as they were also well manoeuvred by their officers, they were perfectly able to cope with the enemy. hindoo rao's hill was looked upon as the post of honour, and round it most of the affrays took place. it was held by major reid, with the simoor battalion, and two companies of rifles. his losses were afterwards filled up by the infantry of the guides. the goorkhas were crowded into the large house from which the place took its name. its walls were shattered with shells and round shot, which now and then struck through the chambers. ten men were killed and wounded in the house by one shot, and seven by another the same day. nobody was then secure of his life for an instant. through the whole siege, major reid kept to his post. he never quitted the ridge save to attack the enemy below, and never once visited the camp until carried to it wounded on the day of the final assault. the gallant rifles here, as on every other occasion where they have had the opportunity afforded them, made good use of their weapons. on one occasion ten riflemen at the sammy house made such execution among the gunners at the moree bastion, that the battery was for a time abandoned. the goorkhas, the inhabitants of the hill-country of nepaul, and who happily had remained faithful to the british standard, were great adepts at skirmishing, and gallant little fellows in the main. a story was told of a goorkha and a rifleman, who had in a skirmish followed a brahmin soldier. the last took refuge in a house, and closed the door. the rifleman tried to push it open, but the goorkha went to the window, and coiling his compact little person into its smallest compass, waited for his enemy. soon the point of a musket, then a head and long neck appeared: the goorkha sprang up, and seizing him by the locks, which clustered out of the back of his pugarie, he cut off his head with his cookri, ere the brahmin could invoke mahadeo. the little man was brought along with his trophy by the rifleman, to receive the applause of his comrades. the annoyance which the batteries on hindoo rao's hill caused to the city was so great, that the mutineers commenced the construction of a battery on the right of it, to enfilade the whole british position. it was necessary to prevent this. about men of the st fusiliers and th rifles, with tombs' troop of horse artillery, horsemen of the guides, and a few sappers and miners, were got ready. the command was given to major tombs. their destination was kept secret. orders were given and countermanded, to confound the enemy's spies. major reid descended from hindoo rao's hill with the rifles and goorkhas, while tombs advanced towards the enemy's left, and our batteries poured their fire on the lahore gate, whose guns might have reached our squadrons. at first their cavalry, seeing the fewness of our sowars, prepared to charge them, but recoiled at sight of our troops coming up behind. their infantry, taken by surprise, fled without offering the least resistance--many leaving their arms and clothes behind them. some threw themselves into a mosque. the walls of its courtyard were loopholed, and they began to fire at our men. tombs had two horses killed under him. his bold bearing and loud voice made him the aim of the enemy. he ordered the riflemen to go up and fire into the loopholes till the doors could be forced. a train of gunpowder was got ready, a bag was attached to the gates, they were blown open, and sepoys were killed in the mosque. a -pounder gun was taken. major reid, on his side, was also successful. he destroyed a battery and magazine, and set a village and serai on fire. the whole british loss was killed and wounded-- captain brown, of the fusiliers, dangerously. sir henry barnard showed his admiration of the gallantry and conduct of tombs in the most enthusiastic manner. visiting the mess-tent of the umballa artillery, he gave the highest and most enthusiastic praise to the young officer, declaring that he had never seen greater coolness and courage, and a more perfect knowledge of his profession, than had been shown by major tombs. tombs, on first entering the company's army, had served with great distinction in the wars of the punjaub, and his talents had been marked by the keen and wise eye of sir charles napier. he had been made brevet-major when only a lieutenant of artillery. his gallantry at ghazeoodeenugger had made him conspicuous from the beginning of the siege of delhi. in one of the first skirmishes--and it was a very severe one--which took place under hindoo rao's hill, lieutenant quintin battye was mortally wounded through the stomach, the ball coming out at his back. he was a joyous, boyish, but noble fellow, whose every thought was honour. he was carried into camp, and was well aware that his last hour was approaching. a comrade went to see him. he smiled, and quoted the old tag, which, when so quoted, ceases to be trite: "well, old fellow, `dulce et decorum est pro patria mori'; you see it's my case. it is sweet and proper to die for one's country." poor fellow! he did not survive his wound twenty-four hours. he was a good swordsman, and an excellent rider; and his impatience for an opportunity of distinguishing himself had been remarked at every station he had passed on the march. several accounts have been published describing the way in which major tombs saved the life of lieutenant hills. the following is among them:-- "on the morning of the th of july an outlying post of the british camp was unwisely confided to the care of a picket of the th irregulars, who had hitherto remained true to their colours. a large body of rebel cavalry came down and talked them over, and were shown by them the way into the camp. a body of cavalry who were in their way--an inlying picket--proved for the moment unsteady, and thus the rebels reached the post at which two of major tombs' guns were placed. this post--a mound to the right of the camp--was under charge of lieutenant hills. at about eleven o'clock there was a rumour that the enemy's cavalry were coming down on his post. instantly lieutenant hills hurried to the spot, to take up the position assigned to him in case of alarm; but before he reached the spot, and before there was time for his guns to form up, he saw the enemy close upon them. issuing rapid orders to his sergeant, he charged single-handed the head of the enemy's column, cut the first man down, struck the second, and was then ridden down, horse and all. rapidly recovering himself, however, he was attacked by three of the enemy. one he killed outright, another he wounded; but, in a combat with a third, he was brought to the ground. at that moment his commanding officer, major tombs, galloped up, having crossed the path of the enemy's cavalry, and escaped the certain death which would have been his fate had he met them. seeing the critical position of his subaltern, he nobly charged his assailants, shot one and sabred the other, and then dragged the lieutenant out from under his horse, receiving, as he did so, a sword-cut on his head, but the thick turban he wore saved it from injury. the enemy passed on to the native troop of horse artillery, in the hopes of getting them to join; but, failing this, galloped out of the camp. "in the meantime, captain fagan, who had been writing in his tent, hearing the noise, started up, and without waiting for his sword, led a few foot artillerymen, who were ready armed, in pursuit. fifteen of the enemy were shot down by the party, and the captain returned with a sword and a minie carbine, of which he had relieved a ressaldar of the th cavalry." note. none but europeans now remained in the camp. in consequence of their behaviour on this occasion, the th irregulars were sent away, while the golundazees who composed renny's artillery were ordered to be disarmed. this latter measure was considered unnecessary. the brave fellows served in the batteries during the remainder of the siege; and, at the time of the assault, were sent in with the stormers to turn the guns captured in the bastions upon the enemy. notice having been received in the camp that the nemuch brigade was advancing upon agra, the only city in the doab which remained faithful to the british, a force was sent out to oppose them. it consisted of of the rd europeans, captain d'oyley's battery, and about mounted volunteers. it was determined to attack the enemy, who were several thousand strong. they came in front of the village, with guns. the british force met them with half a battery on each wing, supported by the volunteer horse. a long artillery fight took place, and the enemy were driven back but not followed up. the foot were kept alternately advancing and lying down. two tumbrils were blown up, and a gun dismounted. the enemy sent some cavalry to turn our flank, but they were met by our guns and some volunteer horse. it was now that captain d'oyley was mortally wounded, but still he continued giving his orders. at last, beginning to faint away, he said, "they have done for me now. put a stone over my grave, and say that i died fighting for my guns." the enemy were ultimately driven out of the village, but the british ammunition falling short, advantage could not be taken of the success which had been obtained. gallantry of brigadier chamberlain. brigadier chamberlain's gallantry was on all occasions very conspicuous. on the th of july a desperate attack was planned by the enemy on the british batteries. they came out in great force to storm the pickets under hindoo rao's hill, and the subzi mundi. the british, however, under good cover, kept them back for several hours, making great havoc among them, and losing only men. when chamberlain appeared, he ordered the infantry and two troops of horse artillery into the subzi mundi. the goorkhas descended from the fatal hill, a cheer running along the gardens, thickets, and rocks, to the length of the british line. the enemy were supported by the fire from their walls; grape thrown from their large guns fell up to yards, but our men pushed on. a native officer was seen sitting on his horse, waving his arm to cheer his men. our troops recoiled from a wall lined with the enemy, when chamberlain, leaping his horse over it among them, dared his men to follow. influenced by his example, they charged, and drove the enemy through the gates with immense slaughter. the british force was, however, compelled to fall back in some confusion by the tremendous fire from the walls; and a large body of horse was advancing against them, when some infantry, consisting of the st fusiliers and guides, collected by majors jacob, hodson, and greville, and a few horsemen, came to their rescue, and again turned the enemy. there was great difficulty in getting off the wounded. many soldiers were seen bearing their comrades in their arms; and lieutenant thompson, of the horse artillery, was shot through the leg while trying to save one of his men from falling into the hands of the enemy. seventeen men were killed, and officers and men wounded. among the latter was brigadier chamberlain, who had his arm shattered below the shoulder. he received his wound at the time he leaped the wall and charged the enemy who had sheltered themselves behind it. captain norman was appointed, in consequence, to carry on the duties of the adjutant-general. on the st july, another fierce attempt was made by the rebels to gain the rear of the british camp, followed by another attack the next day, but both were vigorously repulsed. a welcome reinforcement a few days after this arrived, of europeans and sikhs, under brigadier--general nicholson. on the th of august, general nicholson obtained a brilliant victory over the enemy at nujjuffghur, about twenty miles from delhi, and thus prevented an attack which had been intended by the rebels on the rear of the british camp. on the morning of the th of september, the long-expected siege-train arrived from meerut, and now all felt sure that the moment for storming the central stronghold of the mutiny was not far off. the most gallant action fought at this time was that of nujjuffghur. information had been received in camp that of the enemy had marched from delhi, with the object in view of taking the british army in the rear. immediately a force consisting of european and native troops, under the gallant brigadier-general nicholson, was despatched to meet the enemy, who were found posted at nujjuffghur. the brigadier formed the st and st europeans in line, reminding them in a short speech of the renown gained by several regiments in the crimea from reserving their fire till they were close on the foe. the word was given, "line will advance." steadily as on parade they stepped off with fixed bayonets, and not till close to the enemy did they utter their hearty british cheer, and rush fiercely forward towards the serai they were ordered to attack, on which four guns were mounted. the sepoys fled, and their guns were captured; a bridge was next taken; and in all thirteen guns fell into the hands of the victorious column, while ammunition and stores were destroyed, and numbers of the enemy were killed or wounded. towards the termination of a severe engagement in the subzi mundi, near delhi, on the th of july, lieutenant wilberforce greathead had, with part of the artillery and others, thrown himself into a serai, where they were surrounded by a host of rebels, who opened a hot fire on them. as they were not in a position to stand a siege, it was agreed that they should force their way out. all were prepared. the gate was thrown open. the officers led. out rushed the gallant band. they killed the men immediately in front with their swords, and the british soldiers pressing on, the rebels gave way, and fled in disorder to delhi. it was a trying moment. the odds against the british were ten to one. one officer was killed, another was wounded, and twenty-nine men were killed or wounded. the capture of a rebel post before delhi called ludlow castle, on the th august, was a very gallant affair. while still dark, the column destined to make the attack under brigadier showers marched down the flagstaff road, and aroused the rebels by a rattling fire of musketry and a bayonet charge. so completely were the enemy taken by surprise, that all who could escape fled to the town, leaving four field-guns in the hands of the victors, which were brought back in triumph to camp. brigadier showers was severely wounded, and colonel greathead was sent down to take the command. with the coolness and forethought for which he is well-known, he brought the force out of action, taking good care that not a wounded man should be left behind. colonel greathead afterwards much distinguished himself. the qualifications for command which he possesses are such as all young officers should endeavour to obtain--coolness, decision, and forethought, with gallantry unsurpassed. without these virtues, bravery, and even a perfect knowledge of his profession, will not make a man fit to command. storming of delhi. on the night of the th of september, two engineer officers were sent to examine the breaches made in the walls of delhi. they stole through the enemy's skirmishers, descended into the ditch, and ascertained that the breaches were practicable, but that they might both be improved by a longer cannonade. as, however, the enemy had begun greatly to strengthen the fortifications, it was decided that the assault should take place at once. the infantry were accordingly divided into five columns of about men each, destined to carry the city in different places. the first was composed of detachments of the th, st fusiliers, and nd punjaub infantry, to storm the breach near the cashmere bastion. the second was made up from her majesty's th and nd fusiliers, and th infantry, to carry the breach in the water bastion. it was commanded by brigadier jones. the third column was composed of her majesty's nd foot, the kumaon battalion, and the st punjaub infantry. this was to blow open and enter by the cashmere gate. the fourth, composed of goorkhas and the guides, with some companies of european troops, and the cashmere contingent, was under major reid, and was to assault kissengunge, and enter by the lahore gate. the fifth column, consisting chiefly of native troops, was destined for a reserve. at one o'clock a.m. on the th, the men turned out in silence, not a bugle nor a trumpet sounding, and noiselessly moved down to the trenches. the batteries all the time kept up an incessant fire on the city, which was responded to as usual. when the troops arrived at the trenches, they lay down, awaiting the signal which was to be given at daybreak. this was to be the blowing in of the cashmere gate. the party selected for this hazardous operation consisted of lieutenants home and salkeld, of the engineers; sergeants carmichael, burgess, and smith; bugler hawthorne to sound the advance; and eight native sappers. this work was to have been done before dawn; but, through some mistake, it was daylight before they reached the spot. lieutenant home walked through the outer barrier gate, which he found open, and crossed the broken drawbridge with four men, each carrying a bag of powder. the enemy in alarm shut the wicket, and home had time to arrange his bags and jump into the ditch. the firing party followed, with four more bags of powder and a lighted port-fire. the enemy now understood what the party were about. the wicket was open, and through it, from above and from every side, came the bullets of the sepoys. lieutenant salkeld was wounded in two places, but passed the light to sergeant carmichael, who fell dead while attempting to fire the train. havildar madhoo was also wounded. the port-fire was next seized by sergeant burgess. scarcely had he time to apply it successfully to the powder, than he too sank with a mortal wound. sergeant smith ran forward to see that all was right, while bugler hawthorne lifted up lieutenant salkeld; and barely had they time to leap for safety into the ditch than the explosion took place, and instantly afterwards the storming column burst through the shattered gates. for ever associated with the storming of delhi will be the names of the two young lieutenants home and salkeld, and the brave men who accompanied them. bugler hawthorne, after sounding the advance, bore away salkeld on his shoulders, and did not leave him till he had bound up his wounds and deposited him in a place of safety. the four heroes who survived were recommended for the victoria cross, but salkeld died of his wounds, and the gallant home lost his life by accident not two weeks afterwards; so that two only, sergeant smith and bugler hawthorne, received their honours. meantime the storming columns had marched on with deep and steady tramp. the rifles ran forward in skirmishing order, and the heads of the first two columns issued from the koodsia bagh at a quick march. no sooner were their front ranks seen, than a storm of bullets showered upon them from every side. at the breach of the cashmere gate, for some minutes it was impossible to put ladders down into the ditch. the ladders were thrown down, but they were quickly again raised against the escarp. numbers are struck down, some to rise no more; others again scramble up,--the groans of the wounded, the feeble cries of the dying, the shouts and shrieks of the combatants, mingle together in wild confusion. first to mount the breach was lieutenant fitzgerald, of the th: but the young hero fell dead on the spot. on came stout hearts and strong hands behind him. the enemy gave way. the british were in at last, and the glorious old colours over the broken wall. the second column had also burst through; and that line of ramparts which had so often turned back the brave soldiers of england was now their own. the first and second columns swept along the circuit of the walls, taking the moree bastion and the cabul gate. on approaching the lahore gate they found, however, that they should have to push through a narrow lane, barricaded and swept by some pieces of artillery, while the enemy fired on them from the houses. in vain was the attempt made; the hero nicholson was shot through the chest, lieutenant speke killed, major jacob mortally wounded, and captain greville severely. the third column, ably guided by sir t. metcalf, had also to retire before the massive walls of the jumma musjid. part also of the th, under major reid, hastening to the support of the cashmere contingent, was almost overpowered. major reid was wounded, and his troops retreated; but the guns mounted on hindoo rao's hill poured shrapnel into the enemy. the gallant chamberlain came among the infantry a little recovered from his wound; while brigadier hope grant brought up his old lancers, with three regiments of punjaub cavalry, and hodson's sikh and paton sabres, to their aid. however, from the nature of the ground, the troopers could neither charge nor retire. they were compelled, therefore, to sit on their horses till some infantry could come to their relief. the horse artillery did what they could to keep the enemy back, but they became every moment bolder, and spread out, mending their sight and taking better aim. lieutenant macdowell, second in command of hodson's horse--an eye-witness--says: "the steadiness with which the cavalry confronted this most anxious position for two hours is as deserving of praise as the courage of the infantry who carried the breaches. at three a.m. we moved down in column of squadrons to the rear of our batteries, and waited there till about five a.m., when the enemy advanced from the lahore gate with two troops of artillery, no end of cavalry, and a lot of infantry, apparently to our front. i think that they intended to try and take their old position now that we had got theirs. in an instant, horse artillery and cavalry were ordered to the front, and we then went at a gallop through our own batteries, the men cheering us as we leaped over the sandbags, and halted under the moree bastion under as heavy a fire of round shot, grape, and canister, as i have ever in my life been peppered with. our artillery dashed to the front, unlimbered, and opened upon the enemy, and at it they went, hammer and tongs. we had no infantry with us; all the infantry were fighting in the city. the enemy came out against us with large bodies of infantry and cavalry, and then began the fire of musketry. it was tremendous. there we were ( th lancers, st, nd, and th sikh guide cavalry, and hodson's horse), protecting the artillery, who were threatened by their infantry and cavalry. all this time we never returned a shot. our artillery blazed away, of course; but we had to sit in our saddles, and be knocked over. however, i am happy to say we saved the guns. the front we showed was so steady as to keep the enemy back, till some of the guide infantry came down and went at them. here we had had to sit for three hours in front of a lot of gardens, perfectly impracticable for cavalry, under a fire of musketry which i have seldom seen equalled, and the enemy quite concealed. had we retired, they would at once have taken our guns. had the guns retired with us, we should have lost the position." night put an end to the desperate struggle. a considerable portion of the city remained in the hands of the victors, but in other parts the rebels still held out. during this day's operations the casualties amounted to killed, wounded, and missing. the victorious british continued making progress day by day, driving the enemy before them through the city. the magazine still remained in the power of the rebels. lieutenant-colonel deacon, of the st regiment, led the attack. in silence his men approached the city: not a trigger was pulled till the stormers and supports reached the walls; when, with a loud cheer, they rushed on at the enemy, who, taken by surprise, threw down the port-fires at their guns, and fled before them. some were bayoneted close to the breach as they attempted to escape, and others, flying, were followed by the st and the th punjaub infantry. captain norman accompanied a party under lieutenant-colonel rainey, and spiked a gun which was in position, pointing at the college garden battery, in spite of the desperate defence of the enemy. assistant-surgeon reade and colour-sergeant mitchell, of the st, also spiked a gun. frequent attacks were made by the rebels on the troops within the walls under colonel farquhar, but they were vigorously repulsed on each occasion. on the morning of the th, the enemy were driven from the lahore gate, and possession was secured. the troops now pushed triumphantly on, capturing the other gates and bastions, till all the defences of the rebel city were in the power of the british. the gate of the palace was blown in early on the th, and here major-general wilson established his headquarters. major brind, of the artillery, with a detachment of fifty men of the th foot, and twenty of the st bengal european fusiliers, under the command of major bannatyne, forced an entrance in the most brilliant way into the jumma musjid, and contributed much to the success of the operations. the guns from the bloodstained battlements of delhi thundering forth a royal salute, as the rising sun gilded the summit of its domes and minarets, on the st of september , proclaimed that delhi was once more under the rule of great britain. pursuit of the foe. in terror, the hordes of the rebel foe took to flight, abandoning most of their artillery, stores, and sick and wounded. the princes, the chief instigators of the atrocities committed, were captured by major hodson, and shot; and the old king was likewise taken, and sent as a prisoner for life to rangoon. a flying column, consisting of the th lancers, th and th regiments, the nd and th punjaub infantry, of hodson's horse, with the st, nd, and th punjaub cavalry, and horse artillery, was immediately formed, and placed under the command of lieutenant-colonel e.h. greathead, who proceeded in a south-easterly direction, in order to cut off the mutineers on the right bank of the jumna. after defeating a body of the enemy at boolundshuhur on the th of september, the column took and destroyed the fort of malaghur. here, while blowing up the fortifications, the gallant and young lieutenant home lost his life. on the evening of the th october, as the troops, wearied with a long march in the heat of the sun, were preparing to encamp, they were attacked by a numerous body of the enemy, whom they routed with great slaughter, the th lancers especially distinguishing themselves. the column defeated the enemy in various engagements. on the th of october it was joined by brigadier hope grant, who, as superior officer, took the command; and finally, on the th of november, reached the alumbagh, before lucknow. the following officers and men obtained the victoria cross for gallant deeds performed during these operations:-- lieutenant john charles campbell daunt, th (late th) bengal native infantry, and number , sergeant denis dynon, rd regiment, gained that honour, for conspicuous gallantry in action, on the nd of october , with the mutineers of the ramgurh battalion at chotah behar, in capturing two guns, particularly the last, when they rushed forward and secured it by pistolling the gunners, who were mowing the detachment down with grape, one-third of which was _hors de combat_ at the time. lieutenant daunt highly distinguished himself by chasing, on the nd of november following, the mutineers of the nd bengal native infantry across a plain into a rich cultivation, into which he followed them with a few of rattray's sikhs. he was dangerously wounded in the attempt to drive out a large body of these mutineers from an enclosure, the preservation of many of his party, on this occasion, being attributed to his gallantry. conductor james miller, ordnance department, bengal, gained the cross on th october , at great personal risk, by going to the assistance of a wounded officer, lieutenant glubb, of the late th regiment of bengal native infantry, whom he carried out of action. he was himself subsequently wounded, and sent to agra. conductor miller was at the time employed with heavy howitzers and ordnance stores attached to a body of troops commanded by the late colonel cotton, c.b., in the attack on the rebels who had taken up their position in the serai at futtehpore sikra, near agra. on the th of october the fort of jhujjur was captured by brigadier showers, and this achievement is looked upon as the close of the operations against delhi. lieutenant kerr at kolapore. among the many dashing exploits performed at this time, was one for which lieutenant william alexander kerr, adjutant of the south mahratta horse, gained high renown. he was with his regiment at sattara, the inhabitants of which had already exhibited a mutinous disposition, when information was received that the th regiment of bombay native infantry, stationed at kolapore, a town about miles off, had mutinied and murdered their officers. for the safety perhaps of the whole presidency, the mutiny must be immediately crushed. kerr instantly volunteered to lead a body of his men against the rebels. he knew that he could trust his fellows. not a moment was to be lost. the bugle sounded to horse. he addressed them, and told them what was to be done. they promised to follow him to the death. across rivers and nullahs, swollen by heavy rains, they went, and in twenty-six hours pulled rein before the gates of kolapore. the mutineers had barricaded all the entrances to the place, and were already flushed with a momentary success over a body of infantry sent against them. without guns the barricades were difficult to remove, but kerr was not to be disheartened. he and a faithful sowar, gumpunt row, dismounting from their horses, with crowbars in their hands advanced to the attack, leading on the rest of the troop also on foot. the first defences, in spite of showers of bullets, were forced; the rebels gave way, but took refuge in a loopholed house with other barricades in front. these were to be removed before an entrance could be effected. again the gallant lieutenant vigorously plied his crowbar; the barricade was forced; a shot carried away the chain of his helmet. gumpunt row was wounded, but still he fought on by the side of his leader, and twice saved his life from the bayonet-thrusts of the foe. kerr, passing his sword through the body of a sepoy who had fired his musket in his face and almost blinded him with the powder, rushed on, and, wounded though he was, killed another enemy, entered the house, and the defenders, to the number of , armed with muskets and bayonets, were all either killed, wounded, or captured. of his own brave followers, not one escaped unhurt; were killed on the spot, and afterwards died of their wounds. it was not only a brave deed, but well-executed, and so well timed that it contributed greatly to crush the spread of the mutiny throughout the presidency. lieutenant kerr most deservedly obtained the victoria cross. defence of cawnpore-- th and th june . the saddest episode in the bloodstained history of the sepoy mutiny is the storming of cawnpore. cawnpore was one of the most pleasant stations of the indian army. the cantonments were entirely separated from the native town, and spread in a semicircular form over an extent of six miles along the banks of the river. on the highest ground in the cantonments stood the church and the assembly rooms, and on another part a theatre and a cafe, supported by public subscriptions. round them were scattered, amid gardens and groves, numberless bungalows, the residence of officers, with barracks for troops, and a separate bazaar for each regiment; while numerous tents for the troops kept under canvas increased the picturesque effect and animation of the scene. the native town at the time of the mutiny contained , inhabitants. in cantonments there were sepoy troops, and, including officers, european combatants, and upwards of european civilians, merchants, railway officials, shopkeepers, and women and children. general sir hugh wheeler was the commandant of the division. it was not till the middle of may that full credit was given to the fact that the great sepoy army of india was in revolt. a spot was then selected, in which the europeans intrenched themselves. in the centre was the old dragoon hospital, and round it a mud wall was thrown up four feet high. ten guns were placed round the intrenchments, three commanding the lines on the north-east, and three on the south to range the plain which separates the cantonments from the city. of the other four, one was a -pound rifled gun, and three were brought by lieutenant ashe, of the bengal artillery. supplies of food were also laid in, but very inadequate to the wants of so large a number of people. the outbreak of the troops commenced on th june, when the nd native cavalry deserted their post, taking with them their horses, arms, colours, and regimental treasure-chest. some few, but very few, of the natives proved true to their oaths. among them was the old subadar-major of the regiment, who defended as long as he had the power the colours and treasure, which were in the quarter guard. the old man was found in the morning severely wounded, and lying in his blood at his post. he remained with the british, and was killed by a shell in the intrenchment. the native commissioned and non-commissioned officers and a few privates of the rd regiment of native infantry also remained faithful. the british troops who defended the intrenchments of cawnpore for so long a period, and against such fearful odds and so treacherous an enemy, consisted of men of the th regiment, men of the nd, men of the madras fusiliers, and men of the company's artillery, besides the officers attached to the sepoy regiments. the siege was noted, perhaps, more for the patient suffering and endurance of those within the lines, especially of the women and children, and for its most dreadful and terrible termination, than for many especial acts of bravery performed by its defenders. the fact is, that the whole defence was one continual act of heroism; and had more forethought been exhibited in providing a sufficient store of food, and had no confidence been placed in the promises of that abominable wretch the nana, it might have proved as successful as that of lucknow, which in many respects it resembled. on the morning of sunday the th june, the bugle-call summoned the whole garrison to the lines; and soon after lieutenant ashe with his guns went out to meet the enemy, but he was speedily compelled to return. in a short time the mutineers opened their fire from a -pounder, the shot striking the crest of the mud wall, and gliding over into the puckah-roofed barrack. this was about ten o'clock; a number of ladies and children were outside the barrack. the consternation among them was indescribable. as the day advanced, the firing became hotter. shrieks and cries most heartrending burst from them as the shot struck the walls of the barrack. this was the commencement of the horrible sufferings they had to endure, and which only terminated with their yet more terrible destruction. they soon learned the uselessness of giving vent to their fears in cries, and from henceforth never uttered a sound except when groaning from the dreadful mutilation they were compelled to endure. the following were the arrangements made for the defence:--on the north, major vibart, of the nd cavalry, assisted by captain jenkins, held the redan, which was an earthwork defending the whole of the northern side. at the north-east battery, lieutenant ashe, of the oude irregular artillery, commanded one -pounder howitzer and two -pounders, assisted by lieutenant sotheby. captain kempland, th native infantry, was posted on the south side. lieutenant eckford, of the artillery, had charge of the south-east battery with three -pounders, assisted by lieutenant burney, also of the artillery, and lieutenant delafosse, of the rd native infantry. the main guard, from south to west, was held by lieutenant turnbull, th native infantry. on the west, lieutenant c. dempster commanded three -pounders, assisted by lieutenant martin. flanking the west battery, the little rifled -pounder was stationed, with a detachment under the command of major prout, th native infantry; and on the north-west, captain whiting held the command. at each of the batteries infantry were posted, fifteen paces apart, under the cover of the mud wall, four feet in height. this service was shared by combatants and civilians alike, without any relief: each man had at least three loaded muskets by his side, with bayonet fixed in case of assault; but in most instances our trained men had as many as seven and even eight muskets each. the batteries were none of them masked or fortified in any way, and the gunners were in consequence exposed to a most murderous fire. the intrenchments were commanded by eight or more barracks in the course of erection, from to yards distant, on the allahabad road. a detachment, consisting chiefly of civil engineers, was accordingly placed in two or more of them, and they became the scene of several desperate encounters. even to obtain ammunition it was necessary to send across to the intrenchments under fire of the mutineers, who had obtained possession of the outer barracks. food also had to be obtained in the same way; but volunteers were never found wanting for this hazardous service. every day the pickets swept through these barracks to dislodge the enemy, who scarcely ever remained for a hand-to-hand fight. scarcity of food, the shot of the enemy, and the excessive heat of the weather, carried off day after day numbers of the gallant defenders. want of food was greatly felt--the defenders were glad to shoot the horses of the enemy for the purpose of making soup; and on one occasion a brahmin bull coming near the lines was killed. to get it was now the difficulty. an officer, with ten followers, rushed out, and dragged it within the intrenchments under a hot fire from the enemy. the well in the intrenchment was one of the points of greatest danger, as it was completely exposed to the enemy's fire; and even at night the creaking of the tackle was the signal for the mutineers to point their guns in that direction. still, brave men were found, chiefly privates, who incurred the risk of drawing water for the women and children, when all money reward had become valueless. a gentleman of the civil service, mr john mckillop, constituted himself captain of the well, drawing for the supply of the women and children as often as he could. after numerous escapes, he received his death-wound in the groin from a grape-shot, with his last breath entreating that someone would draw water for a lady to whom he had promised it. dreadful were the sufferings of all from thirst; and children were seen sucking pieces of old water-bags to try and get a drop of moisture on their parched lips. one of the barracks was thatched; part of it was used as an hospital. that at length caught fire; and while the heroic garrison were dragging forth their wounded countrymen from the flames, the mutineers poured in on them incessant volleys of musketry, and a continued shower of round shot. the enemy, imagining that all the attention of the garrison was devoted to extinguishing the flames, advanced to the assault, with the intention of storming ashe's battery. not a sound did they utter, and, fancying that they were undiscovered, were allowed to come within or yards of the guns before one was fired, or a movement made to indicate that they were perceived. just as they must have supposed their success certain, the -pounders opened on them with a most destructive discharge of grape. the men shouldered in succession the muskets which they had by their sides ready loaded, and discharged them into their midst. in half an hour the enemy took to flight, leaving a hundred corpses on the plain. no sooner had the ashes of the barrack cooled, than the soldiers of the nd regiment, though the enemy were firing on them, raking with their swords and bayonets, made diligent search for their medals. several of them were found, though much injured by fire. this fact shows the high appreciation in which the british soldier holds his decorations. numbers of the officers and men had already fallen. soon after the destruction of the hospital, captain moore determined to make a dash upon the enemy's guns, in the hope of silencing some of them. accordingly a party of fifty, headed by the captain, sallied out at midnight towards the church compound, where they spiked two or three guns. proceeding thence to the mess-house, they killed several of the native gunners asleep at their posts, blew up one of the -pounders and spiked another, and returned with the loss of one private killed and four wounded. gallant and successful as was the exploit, it availed the garrison nothing, as the next day the enemy brought fresh guns into position. in vain did they look for relief. so completely were the roads closed by the rebel sepoys, that news of their condition did not reach lucknow, only fifty miles distant, till near the termination of the affair. the rd of june was the centenary of the battle of plassy, and the sepoys believed on that day they should finally throw off the british yoke. on the night of the nd, the barrack held by the british under the command of captain mowbray thomson was threatened with a grand attack. numbers of rebels were seen gathering from all directions at this barrack, and captain thomson, believing that he should be overpowered, sent to the intrenchments for reinforcements. the answer was that none could be spared. captain moore, however, shortly after came across to see how affairs stood. he proposed that they should themselves sally out as if they were about to make an attack. he himself had but a sword, lieutenant delafosse an empty musket. captain moore vociferated to the winds, "number one to the front"; and hundreds of ammunition pouches rattled on the sheaths as the astonished foe vaulted out from the cover afforded by heaps of rubbish, and rushed for shelter to the barrack walls. the gallant little party, which consisted but of privates and officers, fired a volley, and with bayonets at the charge followed the enemy, who dared not face them. the party returned to their barrack, laughing heartily at the success of their feint. all night long a series of false charges and surprises were made on the barrack, and not a man for an instant left his post. towards dawn, the enemy being more quiet, mr mainwaring, a cavalry cadet, one of captain thomson's picket, begged him to lie down, while he kept a look-out. scarcely had the captain closed his eyes when mainwaring shouted, "here they come!" the enemy, with more pluck than they had hitherto shown, advanced close up to the doorway of the barrack. mainwaring's revolver despatched two of the enemy. stirling, with an enfield rifle, shot one and bayoneted another. captain thomson fired both charges of his double-barrelled gun, killing two more. the defenders of the barrack consisted of but seventeen men, while the enemy left eighteen corpses lying outside the doorway. at the same time the mutineers surrounded the intrenchments on all sides with cavalry and infantry, and horse and bullock batteries of field-artillery. their cavalry, however, started on the charge at a hand gallop, so that when they neared the intrenchments their horses were winded, and a round from the british guns threw their ranks into hopeless confusion; all who were not biting the dust wheeling round, and galloping off in dismay. one of the expedients adopted by the enemy was to roll before them large bales of cotton, under which they managed to approach very near the walls. a well-directed fire from the batteries soon, however, set fire to these novel defences, and the skirmishers, panic-struck, took to flight before the main body had begun to advance. for seventeen days and nights had the gallant little band resisted all the efforts made by the overwhelming numbers of the foe to storm the position. at last it only remained for the enemy to starve them out; and this operation they forthwith commenced, abandoning all attempts to take the place by assault. of the fifty-nine artillerymen, all, with the exception of four, had perished at the batteries, while the guns themselves were so knocked about that two only could be made to carry grape. even in these, in consequence of the irregularity of the bore, the canisters could not be driven home. a new style of cartridge was therefore invented, formed by stockings supplied by the women; and into these the contents of the canisters were emptied. among the most gallant defenders of the fort, and one of the few survivors of the siege, was lieutenant delafosse. being much annoyed by a small gun in barrack number , he resolved to silence it if possible. giving his own worn-out gun a monster charge of three -pound shots, and a stockingful of grape, he rammed them all well down. he fired; his faithful piece of artillery did not burst, and his troublesome little antagonist was never again heard. another gallant exploit on the part of lieutenant delafosse occurred at the north-east battery on the st june. a shot had entered the tumbril of a gun, blew it up, and ignited the woodwork of the carriage, thus exposing the ammunition all around to destruction. the rebels, observing what was taking place, directed their fire to the spot with redoubled fury. delafosse, with perfect self-possession, went to the burning gun, and, lying down under the firing mass, pulled away portions of the wood, and scattered earth with both hands on the flames. two soldiers followed this courageous example, each with a bucket of water, which the lieutenant applied till the fire was extinguished. in time, the sepoys discovering that they were not likely to capture the fort while any of the heroic garrison remained alive, resolved to starve them to death. their sufferings from want of food at last became so great, that on the th of june general wheeler entered into arrangements for the evacuation of the place with nana sahib. the next day the survivors proceeded to the river to embark on board boats prepared for them, when, with a treachery almost unparalleled in history, by the order of that demon in human shape, they were fired on and mostly killed. the rest, with few exceptions, were brought back to cawnpore, when the men were shot, and the women and children, after being kept prisoners for some time and treated with the utmost indignity and barbarity, were indiscriminately slaughtered, and their bodies thrown into a well. one boat only escaped down the river, by which the life of lieutenant delafosse, who has given a narrative of what he witnessed, was preserved. of all the gallant men and heroic women who endured the sufferings which have been described, he, with two or three others, alone escaped. terribly, however, ere long were they to be avenged. lucknow-- - . the drama of lucknow may properly be divided into four acts. st, the defence by sir henry lawrence and brigadier inglis; nd, the succour of lucknow by sir henry havelock and sir james outram, th september; rd, the relief of lucknow on the nd november by sir colin campbell, when the hard-pressed garrison were carried out from overwhelming numbers of the enemy; and th, the siege of lucknow by the british force under sir colin campbell and sir james outram. sir james outram had previously been established in the strong position of the alumbagh, from which the rebels had in vain endeavoured to dislodge him. defence of lucknow-- th june to th september . sir henry lawrence, with a small body of troops, was stationed at lucknow, when, on the th of june, hearing that a large body of rebels was approaching, he marched out to make a reconnaissance. the force fell into an ambuscade, and some of the native artillerymen proving traitors, it was compelled to retire with a very heavy loss of officers and men, and three pieces of artillery. immediately on his return, sir henry prepared for the defence. the whole garrison amounted only to officers and men fit for duty, and with officers and men sick and wounded. sir henry's first care was to withdraw the garrison from the old fort of muchee bowen; and in the course of the night of the st july, such provision as could be removed having been carried off, it was blown up with vast quantities of gunpowder and ball cartridges. an intrenched position had been commenced round the british residency, and to complete this all the energies of the garrison were first devoted. long, however, before all the proposed batteries were thrown up, the rebels, assembling in vast numbers, began the blockade of the place. unhappily, sir henry lawrence was mortally wounded by a shell on the nd of july, and closed a distinguished career on the th. brigadier inglis then succeeded to the command. at this time only two batteries were finished. no spot was safe: the sick and wounded were killed in the hospital, and women and children in private houses suffered the same fate. on the th of july, the enemy, after exploding a mine, attempted to storm the defences, but were driven back, after a desperate struggle which lasted four hours. day and night a murderous fire was kept up on the garrison, who were already suffering dreadfully from sickness, while famine stared them in the face. on the th of august, the enemy attempted another assault, after, as before, springing a mine. on the th, a similar attempt was made. on this occasion three officers were blown up, though without injury, and the enemy established themselves in one of the houses of the british position; they were, however, driven out in the evening by a gallant charge of the nd and th regiments. no men could have behaved more splendidly than did those of these two regiments. the nd was reduced to less than men. the artillery behaved admirably, and suffered so much, that at length there were only european gunners to work guns, including mortars in position; so that, although ably assisted by the men of the nd and by civilian volunteers, they had to run from gun to gun to defend the points most threatened by the enemy. five sorties were made during the siege by the british, for the purpose of destroying buildings which commanded the intrenchments, and of spiking guns. on all these occasions, both officers and men of the nd regiment particularly distinguished themselves. in a sortie made on the th july, for the purpose of examining a house strongly held by the enemy, to ascertain whether or not a mine was being driven from it, lieutenant lawrence, nd regiment, was the first to mount the ladder and to enter the window of the house, in effecting which he had his pistol knocked out of his hand by one of the enemy. on the th of september, he charged with two of his men in advance of his company, and captured a -pounder gun. a verandah having fallen on the th june, mr capper, of the bengal civil service, being entangled among the ruins, corporal oxenham rushed forward amid a shower of bullets, to which he was exposed for ten minutes while extricating him from his dangerous situation. private dowling on three several occasions rushed out and spiked the enemy's guns; on one, killing a subadar, who attempted to defend his gun. captain henry george browne, nd regiment, later of the th regiment, performed a similar conspicuous act of bravery, having, on the st august , gallantly led a sortie at great personal risk, for the purpose of spiking two heavy guns, which were doing considerable damage to the defences. captain browne was the first person who entered the battery, which consisted of the two guns in question, protected by high palisades, the embrasures being closed with sliding shutters. on reaching the battery, captain browne removed the shutters, and jumped into the battery. the result was, that the guns were spiked, and it is supposed that about of the enemy were killed. the succour of lucknow-- th september. at length, on the th september, early in the morning, a messenger arrived with a letter from general outram, announcing his approach to lucknow. hours passed by; many of the enemy were seen retreating across the river, and every gun which could be brought to bear was fired at them, though all the time the rebels engaged in besieging the intrenchments never ceased firing, both with artillery and rifles. at four p.m. there was a report that some officers and a european regiment had been seen advancing in the distance. at five p.m. volleys of musketry were heard, growing louder and louder, and soon afterwards the british troops were seen fighting their way through one of the principal streets; and though men fell at every step, onward they gallantly pushed, till the rearguard heavy guns were inside the position. the relieving force was under the command of sir james outram. it had suffered severely in the gallant exploit. of who had left cawnpore, nearly one-third had been either killed or wounded in forcing their way through the city, so that nothing could be done for the relief of the place. the united body was therefore as closely besieged as before. we must now describe more particularly how this gallant exploit had been accomplished. on the return of general havelock from persia, he was appointed to the command of a movable column, consisting of men. he immediately commenced his march on cawnpore, hoping to relieve the prisoners there confined by the miscreant nana sahib. having been joined by major renard with men, a victory was obtained, on the th july, over a large body of the rebels near futtehpore. twice on the th he engaged the rebels, at aeng, and the bridge of pandoo nudder. on the th he drove nana sahib from a strong position at ahirwa. the next day, the fatal th, the wretch butchered the women and children left in his power, blew up the magazine at cawnpore, and retreated to bithpor. here he was unable to make a stand, and once more made a hasty retreat. general havelock, on this, leaving general neill at cawnpore, pushed on for lucknow. he again encountered the mutineers near uano on the th july, when the th highlanders, the st fusiliers, and the th regiment were chiefly engaged. the same corps next captured busherut gunge, a walled town with wet ditches. three times the same place was attacked and taken while general havelock was waiting at cawnpore for reinforcements. on the th september, sir james outram arrived. though superior officer, he refused to supersede major-general havelock, but accompanied the force as chief-commissioner of oude. the relieving force, now amounting to about men and guns, crossed the ganges, and, on the st september, attacked the rebels at munghowar, who fled, four guns being captured, two of which were taken in a cavalry charge led by sir james outram. on the rd, they arrived before the alumbagh, an isolated building, a country palace situated in a large walled park to the south-east of the city of lucknow, and about three miles from the residency. from this place the enemy were driven, four guns were taken, and it was occupied by the relieving army. as the british troops were wearied with their long march in pelting rain, the assault was deferred till the th. all the th they were bombarded by the enemy, and an attack was made by cavalry on the baggage, which was defeated by the soldiers of the gallant th, though not without the loss of several officers and men. the morning of the th arrived. the generals breakfasted at a small table placed in the open field; and while they and their staff were afterwards examining a map of the city spread out on it, a -pound shot from the enemy's battery struck the ground five yards from it, and bounded over their heads. soon after eight the welcome order to advance was given. sir james outram commanded the first and leading brigade, with all the artillery, heavy and light. the second brigade, under general havelock, followed in support. scarcely had sir james's brigade passed the advanced pickets, than it was assailed by a heavy fire in front, on either flank, and from two guns planted near a house called from its colour the yellow house. the enemy had flanked his road under cover of long, high grass, and a murderous fire was poured on the columns from a double-storied house, full of musketeers, from the loopholed walls of the surrounding gardens, from two guns that raked the road from his right flank, and from another that commanded his front. in the face of this desperate opposition, captain maude, with his brave artillerymen, pushed on, though not without the loss of one-third of their number. a canal passes between the alumbagh and lucknow. at the bridge over it the enemy had determined to make their stand, and dispute the entrance to the city. it was defended by six guns on the lucknow side, one of them a -pounder, which completely swept the bridge and the approach to it, while all the houses near it were loopholed and filled with musketeers. here nearly every man of captain maude's two guns was killed or wounded, though he and lieutenant maitland remained unhurt, and they frequently had to call for volunteers from the infantry to replace the artillerymen falling around. a charge was now made by the madras fusiliers, when lieutenant arnold, at the first word of command, dashed on to the bridge with nineteen of his men. the enemy, believing this little band to be the main body, sent a discharge of grape, which they had reserved for the occasion, among them. lieutenant arnold fell, shot through both legs, and most of his men were swept down. lieutenant havelock alone remained on the bridge. waving his sword, he called to the fusiliers to advance. then, bravely led by their regimental officers, they dashed forward with a cheer, and, not giving the enemy time to reload, rushed on the guns, amid a storm, of bullets, wrested them from the enemy, and bayoneted the gunners. the british army now entered the city, and the th highlanders were pushed forward on the cawnpore road to the residency, to cover the passage of the troops and baggage, etcetera; while the remainder turned short to the right, and began to thread the narrow lane leading towards the king's stables. the th highlanders held their position at the head of the street, as the baggage, the wounded, and the followers defiled over the bridge. as soon as the enemy perceived that it was an unsupported rearguard, it was assailed by overwhelming numbers, but continued firmly to hold its own. in this unequal struggle, which lasted nearly three hours, its ammunition was more than once exhausted and renewed. on one occasion, the enemy becoming more bold, brought two brass -pounders to bear on the highlanders; but they immediately left the shelter of the houses, captured the guns, hurled them into the canal, and then calmly resumed their defensive position. repeatedly tried through this campaign, and always found worthy of its high reputation, never did the valour of this gallant regiment shine brighter than in this bloody conflict. among others, lieutenant-adjutant herbert mcpherson was conspicuous in the splendid charge on the two guns, while assistant-surgeon valentine mcmaster exhibited the most devoted gallantry in the way in which he risked his life for the purpose of binding up the wounds, and securing the retreat of the men under his charge disabled by the bullets of the enemy. the main body, turning to the right, advanced to a point between the motee mahal and the old mess-house of the nd. it was between this spot and the residency, a distance of three-quarters of a mile, that the strength of the enemy was concentrated; and here the fiercest conflict, after that of forcing the bridge, occurred. at length, however, the enemy were driven back by the heavy guns, and, after passing through a hot fire from the roofs of neighbouring houses, the force was halted under shelter of a wall of one of the palaces, to allow the long column, the progress of which had been impeded by the narrowness of the streets, to come up. the main body was now within yards of the residency, but surrounded with enemies. the generals, however, determined to push on. the highlanders and a regiment of sikhs were called to the front; sir james outram, though wounded, and general havelock placed themselves at their head, and through an incessant storm of shot pushed on to the residency. "the loopholed houses on either side poured forth a stream of fire as they advanced: every roof sent down a shower of missiles on them. deep trenches had been cut across the road to detain them under the fire of the adjacent buildings. at every angle they encountered a fearful volley; but, animated by the generals, officers and men pushed on, till at length the gate of the residency was reached, and the hard-pressed garrison welcomed them with their hearty cheers. the remainder of the troops quickly followed, and entered the residency. numbers had fallen, and among them general neill, who was with the st madras fusiliers, and soon after the shelter was quitted was shot dead, falling instantly from his horse, and never speaking more. the united forces were, however, too weak to attempt to retreat. they were consequently again besieged in the residency, though able to keep the foe at bay." relief of lucknow. at length, on the th of november, sir colin campbell, with a thoroughly equipped force of men, arrived in the neighbourhood of the alumbagh. it was important that the generals in the residency should communicate with him, and mr cavanagh, an officer of the civil service, volunteered to proceed to his camp with plans of the city, and suggestions as to the route he should take. perilous as was the adventure, mr cavanagh accomplished the undertaking. a semaphoric communication was soon afterwards established between the alumbagh and the residency. by its means sir colin was enabled, on the th, to announce his intention of advancing by the dilkoosha at seven a.m. on the th. the garrison therefore prepared to co-operate with him. at the time appointed, the advance began; but several large buildings, strongly fortified, had to be stormed,--the dilkoosha, martiniere, and finally the secunderbagh, in which place upwards of rebels were killed. these operations occupied till the afternoon of the th, when the mess-house was gallantly stormed by a company of the th, a picket of the rd, with some punjaub infantry. beyond this the enemy again made a desperate stand; but the advance was sounded--the troops pushed on--house after house was taken--nowhere could the rebels withstand them, and complete communication was established with the residency. it was now resolved to remove the non-combatants, the women, children, and sick and wounded, as well as the troops, from lucknow. by masterly arrangements, the enemy were completely deceived. the women and children, the sick and wounded, were first withdrawn on the night of the th, many ladies walking a distance of six miles to the dilkoosha encampment over rough ground, and at one spot exposed to the fire of the enemy,--lady inglis, the heroic wife of brigadier inglis, setting the example. when they were in safety, arrangements were made to withdraw the garrison. on the th and st, captain peel, with the guns of his naval brigade, aided by havelock's guns in the palaces, breached the kaiserbagh. the enemy, believing that an assault would immediately follow, stood on the defensive. orders were then given for the garrison to withdraw through the line of pickets at midnight on the nd. brigadier hope's brigade covered all their movements, and brigadier greathead's brigade closed in the rear, and formed the rearguard as the troops retired through a long narrow lane, the only road open for them towards the dilkoosha. that position was reached by four o'clock in the afternoon of the rd of november, without the loss of a man. on the previous day, one of the gallant defenders of lucknow, the good and brave sir henry havelock, had breathed his last in the dilkoosha, from dysentery, brought on by exposure and the unwholesome food on which he had been compelled to exist. of course all the property in the residency, which had been so long bravely defended, had to be left at the mercy of the rebels; but that was a slight gain compared to the rage and vexation they must have experienced at finding themselves so completely out-manoeuvred, and that the foes they hoped to crush had escaped them. siege and capture of lucknow-- nd and st march. when sir colin campbell retired with his rescued countrymen from lucknow, on the th of november , he left a force under sir james outram in the strong position of the alumbagh, to keep the enemy in check in the city, thus locking up a large number, and preventing them from committing mischief throughout the country. on the th and th of january, and at other subsequent times, the rebels endeavoured to dislodge sir james outram from his position, but were each time driven back with loss. meanwhile, sir colin campbell defeated the enemy on the th of december,--estimated at , men and guns. he remained at cawnpore till the th of february, when the first portion of his army crossed the ganges, on their road to lucknow. while marching on lucknow, brigadier franks, on the th, successively defeated two bodies of the enemy at chanda and amerapore; and, on the rd, gained a still more important victory over their united forces near sultanpore. sir colin, with reinforcements and siege-train, arrived at the alumbagh on the st of march, and no time was lost in carrying out the contemplated operations against lucknow. the dilkoosha palace was first seized, when a gun was captured. this palace then formed the advanced post on the right, and the mahomed bagh on the left, heavy guns being placed in them, to keep down the fire of the enemy. sir james outram being withdrawn from the alumbagh, crossed to the left bank of the goomtee, and, on the th, drove the enemy before him at all points, till he was enabled to occupy the tyzabad road, and to plant his batteries so as to enfilade the works on the canal. a two gun battery of the enemy had in the most gallant way been attacked by an officer with half his company, and the guns spiked, thus securing the most advanced position of the troops from artillery fire. it thus became very important that the skirmishers on the opposite side of the river should be made acquainted with this success. to carry the information, lieutenant thomas adair butter, st bengal fusiliers, plunging into the goomtee, swam across it under a heavy fire, and, climbing the parapet, remained for some time still exposed to the shots of the enemy. he, however, happily escaped without a wound, and, leaping down, delivered his message. for this act of cool bravery, he was prominently mentioned by general outram in general orders, and deservedly received the victoria cross. on the afternoon of the same day, brigadiers sir edward lugard and adrian hope, with the nd, rd, and th regiments, stormed and captured the martiniere college. and now the operations against the kaiserbagh could be carried out more effectually, and science and engineering skill were brought into play. building after building was captured, and well secured, before the infantry were allowed to advance. a large block of palaces, known as the begum kotee, having been breached under the direction of brigadier napier, it was stormed on the morning of the th, with the greatest gallantry, by the rd highlanders, supported by the th punjaub rifles and goorkhas, led by brigadier adrian hope. this was looked upon as one of the severest struggles and most gallant actions during the siege. brigadier napier now, by aid of sappers and heavy guns, pushed forward the approaches through the enclosures, the infantry immediately occupying the ground as he advanced, the guns and mortars being moved on as the positions were gained where they could be placed. brigadier franks, early on the morning of the th, carried the imambarrah; and major brasyer, with a regiment of sikhs, pressing forward in pursuit, entered the kaiserbagh, and then the third line of the enemy's defences was won, and the spot where so many desperate encounters had taken place was once more occupied by the british. moosabagh, the last position of the rebels on the goomtee, was cannonaded and captured by sir james outram and sir hope grant on the th; and, on the st, sir edward lugard, after a fierce struggle, took the last stronghold in the possession of the rebels in the heart of the city. brigadier w. campbell, at the head of the nd dragoon guards, followed the fugitives for the distance of six miles, killing vast numbers, and completely routing them. the inhabitants were now invited to return, and lucknow was once more placed under british rule. some of the gallant deeds performed during the suppression of the mutiny. at no time in the history of the world has more calm courage, devotion, perseverance, and gallantry been shown than was exhibited by the soldiers of england during the indian mutiny. many of their gallant deeds have already been recounted, but it is impossible to recount them all. not only soldiers, but non-combatants were conspicuous on many occasions for their gallantry. the surgeons especially exhibited the most heroic courage. the name of surgeon herbert taylor reade deserves to be mentioned. during the siege of delhi, while he was attending to the wounded at the end of one of the streets, on the th of september, a party of rebels advanced from the direction of the bank, and, having established themselves in the houses in the street, commenced firing from the roofs. the wounded were thus in very great danger, and would have fallen into the hands of the enemy, had not surgeon reade, drawing his sword, and calling upon about ten soldiers who were near him to follow, dashed bravely forward under a heavy fire, and, attacking the rebels, dislodged them from their position, and put them to flight. two of his followers were killed, and five or six wounded, in this gallant act, for which he was deservedly decorated with the victoria cross. he also accompanied his regiment on the assault of delhi, and, on the morning of the th september, was one of the first up at the breach of the magazine. on this occasion, he, with a sergeant of his regiment, spiked one of the enemy's guns. surgeon joseph jee, c.b., was another medical officer whose bravery was conspicuous. after that gallant charge made by the th highlanders, when two guns were captured near the char bagh, as they, forming part of sir henry havelock's force, were entering lucknow on the th september , numbers were left wounded on the ground. he hastened among them, exposed to a severe fire and the risk of being cut off, and succeeded, by great exertions, in getting them removed in cots, or on the backs of their comrades, until he had collected the dooly-bearers, who had fled. he remained by the wounded till later in the day, when he endeavoured to convey them into the residency, but was compelled to take refuge with his charge and their escort in the motee mahal, where they were besieged by an overwhelming force. here, however, he remained during the whole night, voluntarily and repeatedly exposing himself to a heavy fire while he was engaged in dressing the wounds of the men who fell serving a -pounder in a most exposed situation. at length he set forward to accompany a number of the wounded into the residency by the river bank, although warned of the danger of the undertaking. seeing the importance, however, of placing them in safety, he persevered, and succeeded in accomplishing his object. surgeon anthony d. home, of the th, aided by assistant-surgeon w. bradshaw, on the same occasion, and under very similar circumstances, behaved in the same manner. when the relieving columns pushed their way forward towards the residency, he was left behind in charge of the wounded. the escort had by casualties been greatly diminished, and, being entirely separated from the column, they were compelled to take refuge in a house on the approach of a large body of the enemy. here they defended themselves till it was set on fire. of four officers who were with the party, all were badly wounded--three of them mortally. the conduct of the defence therefore devolved on mr home; and as it was by his active exertions, before being forced into the house, that the wounded were then saved, so now to his coolness and intrepidity the continued defence of the building was mainly due. hour after hour passed by, one after the other dropping, till only he and six companions remained to fire. still they persevered, though they had almost abandoned hope, and had resigned themselves to their fate. at length, a little after daybreak, they were aroused by distant firing. they did not, however, believe that it announced any help to them, but rather the return of more foes. still it approached nearer and nearer, when a brave soldier of the st madras fusiliers, john ryan, suddenly jumping up, shouted, "oh, boys! them's our chaps!" the little band, leaping to their feet, united in a hearty cheer, crying out to their friends to keep on the right, while they fired into the loopholes from which the enemy were annoying them. in about three minutes, captain moorsom, who had led the party to their relief, appeared at the entrance-hole of the shed, and they beckoning to him, he entered. it was by the admirable arrangements of this officer that the little band were brought safely off, and soon after reached the palace, with the rearguard of the th. on this occasion, private mcmanus, th regiment, kept outside the house, and continued behind a pillar, firing on the sepoys, to prevent their rushing into it, till he was himself wounded. he also, in conjunction with private john ryan, rushed into the street under a heavy fire, and took captain arnold, st madras fusiliers, out of a dooly, and brought him into the house, that officer being again hit while they were so doing. among the many gallant men we may mention captain george alexander renny, and gunner william conolly, of the bengal horse artillery. after the capture of the delhi magazine, th september , a vigorous attack was made on it by the enemy. under cover of a heavy cross fire from the high houses on the right flank of the magazine, and from selinghur and the palace, the enemy advanced to the high wall of the magazine, and endeavoured to set fire to a thatched roof. this was partially accomplished, but the fire was extinguished by a sepoy of the beloochee battalion. however, the roof having been again set on fire, and the enemy pressing round, captain renny, with great gallantry, mounted to the top of the wall of the magazine, and flung several shells with lighted fusees into the midst of the enemy. this had so considerable an effect, that the enemy almost immediately retreated. the half troop to which gunner conolly belonged, under command of lieutenant cooks, having advanced at daybreak at a gallop, and engaged the enemy within easy musket range, the sponge-men of one of the guns having been shot, conolly assumed the duties of second sponge-man; and he had barely assisted at two discharges of his gun, when a musket-ball through the left thigh felled him to the ground. nothing daunted by pain and loss of blood, he was endeavouring to resume his post, when a movement in retirement was ordered. mounting his horse, he rode to the next position the guns took up, and manfully declined going to the rear when the necessity of his doing so was represented to him. at about eleven a.m. he was again knocked down by a musket-ball striking him on the hip, causing him great pain and faintness. on hearing his commanding officer direct that he should be taken out of action, he staggered to his feet, exclaiming, "no, no; i'll not go there while i can work here." shortly afterwards he once more resumed his post. later in the day the guns were engaged at yards from the walls of a village, whence a storm of bullets was directed at them. here, though suffering severely from his two previous wounds, he was wielding his guns with an energy and courage which attracted the admiration of his comrades; and while cheerfully encouraging a wounded man to hasten in bringing up the ammunition, he was a third time hit by a musket-ball, which tore through the muscles of his right leg. even then, with the most undaunted bravery he struggled on, and not until he had loaded six times did he give way, and then only from loss of blood, when he fell fainting at his post into his commander's arms, and, being placed in a waggon, was borne in a state of unconsciousness from the fight. such are the materials of which are made the true british soldiers, the redcoats of old england, who have nobly upheld her honour and glory in all parts of the world. we do not pretend to give a catalogue of all the gallant deeds done during that sanguinary struggle worthy of being chronicled. were we to attempt to give all, we should fail in so doing; and some, whose names were omitted, would complain that we treated their comrades with partiality. the numerous brave acts we have recorded are rather to show of what british soldiers of the present day are capable, and what is more, what sort of deeds are most highly appreciated, for on all, or nearly all, the men whose names we have mentioned, the victoria cross has been bestowed; and yet, probably, we have omitted half the recipients of that honour, not less deserving than those whose deeds we have recorded. chapter nine. the chinese war-- - . the chinese, in breach of the treaties into which they had entered in , committed a series of aggressive acts against british subjects, the most memorable of which was the seizure of the crew of the lorcha _arrow_, in . war was consequently declared, and hostilities were commenced by our naval forces, which, under sir michael seymour, after bombarding canton in october, and destroying several war-junks on the th, captured the bogue forts, mounting more than guns, on the th and th of november, and again attacked the suburbs of canton on the th of january . the fleet also destroyed a large number of chinese war-junks in the canton waters; but further operations on land were suspended till the indian mutiny had been quelled, and lord elgin had returned to china. the british and french troops having united towards the end of december , the city of canton was summoned to surrender. on the refusal of the chinese authorities to do so, a bombardment was commenced by the fleet on the th, and the british and french troops landed at kupar creek, to the south-east of the town. the english troops were divided into two brigades: the first, consisting of the first and second battalions of royal marine light infantry, was commanded by colonel holloway, of that corps; while the second, which was composed of the royal engineers and a volunteer company of sappers, royal artillery, and royal marine artillery, provisional battalion royal marines, the th regiment, and th madras native infantry, was under colonel hope graham, of the th. colonel dunlop commanded the artillery. the troops amounted to men. then there was the british naval brigade, consisting of men, and the french naval brigade, of . the first attack was made on east or linn fort. the chinese received their assailants with a hot fire, but were soon driven out, retreating to cough's fort. the ships kept up a continued cannonade during the day and the following night, and on the th it was determined to make a grand attack by escalade on the east wall of the city. the advance was led by the brave major luard, the th, under major burmister, covering the french naval brigade and royal marines. at an appointed time the ships were to cease firing, and the assault was to be made. the chinese, meantime, were keeping up a hot fire on their approaching assailants from their walls. it was necessary to ascertain the best spot for placing the scaling-ladders. captain bate volunteered to go, and captain naun, of the engineers, accompanied him. captain bate had run across an open space, and was looking down into the ditch, when a shot struck him. he fell. dr anderson rushed out through a hot fire, accompanied by captain bate's coxswain, to his assistance, but he never spoke again. they escaped uninjured. "some minutes before the time, the french advanced, and the english could not be kept back. they had crossed the ditch, and were clustered under the walls before the scaling-ladders could be brought up. a young frenchman had taken off his shoes and gaiters, and was trying to work himself up to the southern angle of the bastion, aided by major luard, who was propping him up with the muzzle of the frenchman's own firelock, when a ladder was placed, and luard, leaping on it, stood first upon the wall. he was followed by a frenchman, the bandmaster of the th, and colonel hope graham. at the same time, stuart, of the engineers, was balancing in air on a breaking ladder at the north side of the bastion; but though he sprang to another, two or three frenchmen got up before him. here, also, corporal perkins and daniel donovan, volunteer sappers, pushing on with the french, were among the first over the wall. meantime the chinese had been tumbling down all sorts of missiles; but when the allies were once upon the walls, the great body of them retired. they poured down into the city, and fired from the streets; they dodged behind the buildings on the ramparts, and thence took aim with their cumbrous matchlocks. a few single encounters occurred, and major luard's revolver disposed of one lingerer; but the allies generally fired right and left, and pushed on to the right, so as to sweep the wall upwards towards the hill. helter-skelter they went, driving the tartars close into the town and before them along the wall, until, some hundred yards in front, they came upon captain fellowes and his bluejackets, who were just accomplishing another escalade. commodore elliot was well in front, and the admiral and general were not far behind." see `_china_', by wingrove cooke. the enemy were now driven entirely along the wall, and complete possession was taken of the eastern gate. some casualties had occurred. lieutenants shinkwin and ensign bower, of the th, were both wounded, the latter mortally. the chiefs of the expedition, however, anxious to prevent the destruction of life, would not allow the troops to descend into the streets, though they had in reality entire command over the city. a whole week was allowed the chinese authorities to consider the matter, and to sue for peace; but, as they continued obstinate, on the th of january the allied forces were poured down into the streets, when commissioner yeh, the tartar general, and the governor of canton were speedily captured, very much to their own astonishment, and very little to the regret of the people over whom they ruled. on the th of may, the forts at the mouth of the peiho were taken, and then at length the chinese commissioners, discovering that the allies were in earnest, sued for peace. a treaty was signed at tientsin on the th of june, when all the terms demanded by the allies were agreed to, though the chinese authorities had no intention, probably, of adhering to any of them. capture of the taku forts-- st august . the chinese government having refused to ratify the treaty of tientsin, the british and french forces once more prepared for active operations. major-general sir hope grant had been appointed to the command of the british troops, with the local rank of lieutenant-general,-- major-general sir robert napier holding command of the second division under him. the expedition started from hong kong harbour early in june, and assembled at talien bay, ready for a descent on the peiho. on the st of august, the expedition, organised with great forethought, and in the most admirable manner, commenced disembarking at the mouth of the peiho river. the village of pehtang was immediately taken possession of. the first engagement took place at sinho, when the tartar cavalry showed some courage, but were soon put to the rout,--the armstrong guns being here for the first time employed; the second division, under sir robert napier, taking the principal part in the action. soon after daybreak on the th, the first division received notice that they were to storm the fortified village of tangkoo. a causeway ran from sinoo to tangkoo, with a marsh on one side, and a moist plain, intersected by ditches, on the other, which ditches had now been bridged over. the fortifications of tangkoo consisted of a long semicircular crenelated wall, three miles in length, terminating at both ends on the banks of the river. the attack was made from the right of the causeway,--the english on the right near the river, the french along the road. two hundred rifles, commanded by major rigaud, advanced in skirmishing order, to support the batteries of armstrong guns and some -pounders. the royals and st followed, and then the queen's th rifles and th punjaubees. some chinese batteries and junks were silenced; and then sir john michel ordered up the infantry, who rushed into the fortress, and bowled over the tartars, as they scampered with precipitancy from the wall across the open into the village, while rockets, whizzing through the air over their heads in graceful curve, spread dismay among their masses, and hastened their speed. the taku forts were next to be taken. on the th, they were summoned to surrender; and the officer in command having refused to do so, preparations were made to storm them on the morning of the st. the french force consisted of about infantry, and six -pounder rifled cannon. the english mustered men, consisting of a wing of the th, under lieutenant-colonel mcmahon; a wing of the th, under lieutenant-colonel thomas, supported by the other wings of those two regiments; the royal marines, under lieutenant-colonel gascoigne; a detachment of the same corps under lieutenant-colonel travers, carrying a pontoon-bridge for crossing the wet ditches; and ensign graham, with his company of royal engineers, to conduct the assault. the whole were commanded by brigadier reeves. several gunboats had also come up the river to bombard the forts. at daylight the chinese opened fire on their assailants, which was replied to by the gunboats and armstrong guns; and soon a large magazine blew up with a terrific roar, the explosion shaking the ground for miles round. soon after, another magazine in the lower north fort blew up. still the tartar troops defended themselves with the greatest bravery. the field-guns were advanced to within yards of the forts, and redoubled their efforts. the fire of the forts having ceased, a breach was commenced near the gate, and a portion of the storming party were advanced to within thirty yards, to open a musketry fire. no sooner had the artillery fire slackened, than the enemy emerged from their cover, and opened a heavy fire of musketry on the allies. no less than fifteen men of the sappers carrying the pontoon-bridge were struck down, and the french who had pushed on were unable to escalade the walls. while the fire was hottest, an hospital apprentice, arthur fitzgibbon, * who had accompanied a wing of the th, quitted cover, and proceeded, in spite of the shot rattling round him, to attend to a dooly-bearer whose wounds he had been directed to bind up; and while the regiment was advancing under the enemy's fire, he ran across the open to attend to another wounded man, when he was himself severely wounded. at this juncture sir r. napier caused the two howitzers of captain govan's battery to be brought up to within fifty yards of the gate, in order more speedily to create a breach, when the storming party was joined by the headquarters wing of the th, under colonel knox, who had partly crossed by the french bridge, and partly swam over. a space having been made sufficient to admit one man, the brave band forced their way in by single file in the most gallant manner, lieutenant rogers, * th regiment, and (all marked thus * obtained the victoria cross) lieutenant burslem, * th regiment, being the first to enter, when they assisted ensign chaplain, * who carried the regimental colours, to enter; and he, supported by private lane, * th regiment, was the first to plant them on the breach, and subsequently on the cavalier, which he was the first to mount. accompanying lieutenant rogers was private john mcdougall, * th regiment, and lieutenant e.h. lewis, * who gallantly swam the ditches, and were the first established on the walls, each assisting the others to mount the embrasures. lieutenant burslem and private lane more especially distinguished themselves in enlarging the opening in the wall, through which they eventually entered, and were severely wounded in so doing. at the same moment the french effected their entrance, and the garrison was driven back step by step, and hurled pellmell through the embrasures on the opposite side, when a destructive fire was opened on them by captain govan's guns, which strewed the ground outside with dead and wounded. preparations were then made to attack the lower fort, but the garrison of men and upwards yielded without firing a gun. of the british, men were killed, and officers and men wounded. the french had casualties; several of their officers were killed. fully tartars must have been killed and wounded. the allies entered tientsin on the th september, when every effort was made by the chinese authorities to gain time by negotiations. on the arrival of the allies on the ground intended for the camp, it was found occupied by a large chinese army, who had hastily thrown up batteries for their defence. colonel walker, with commissary thompson and a few orderlies, had ridden on at an early hour, to arrange about the camping-ground for the army. mr parkes, lieutenant anderson, mr de norman, and mr bowlby went forward to ascertain the reason of the threatening attitude of the chinese, not in any way apprehending danger. captain brabazon and mr lock followed with a flag of truce, to order them to return. on their return, the whole party, with several french officers and men, were surrounded by the chinese. some were cut down, and others were made prisoners; but colonel walker, suspecting what was about to occur, called out to those of his companions near him to charge for their lives through the midst of the enemy. at the word of command, they bent down to their horses' necks, and spurred their chargers through the tartar ranks, which gave way before them; and though a fire was opened on them, one dragoon only was wounded. the action instantly commenced; but after lasting two hours, the enemy, unable to withstand the fierce charges of the cavalry and the hot fire of the armstrong guns, gave way in all directions, being dreadfully cut up by the dragoon guards and fane's and probyn's horse. on the st, the allies, being strengthened by the arrival of french troops, again advanced to meet the enemy. general michel's division was on the left, and the cavalry brigade and the marines, and the nd queen's taking the extreme left. while sir hope grant was riding towards the french, to confer with general montauban, a furious charge was made towards him and his staff by a large body of tartar cavalry. the general and his followers, at once galloping to the right and left, disclosed the armstrong guns, which had just before been ordered to move their position. they were, however, under the command of lieutenant rochfort, who, as he was about to obey the order, saw the threatening movement of the enemy. he therefore held his ground, and when the general and his staff rode aside, he was ready for action. at first the range was incorrect. with perfect coolness he altered the elevation, and, as the tartars came on, yelling furiously, opened a fire which, aided by the rifles of the nd queen's, emptied many a saddle, and sent the enemy speedily to the right-about, with yells of terror and despair. another body of tartar cavalry were posted on an eminence which had a sudden fall at the foot of it, with a deep ditch in front. it was evident that they thought the cavalry could not pass this ditch, and that they might easily pick them off with their matchlocks. the st dragoon guards, however, rode at it, and cleared the ditch, one or two men only getting out of the ranks. the dragoons then made a furious charge, and soon put the tartars to flight. finally, the chinese intrenched camp was taken, and their army was driven back towards pekin, completely broken and disorganised. during these operations, nearly guns were captured by the allies. the army now advanced towards pekin; and on the th of october the emperor was informed that unless the prisoners were restored, and one of the gates of the imperial city was placed in the hands of the allies, pekin would be stormed. these terms were agreed to. on the th of october, at noon, possession was taken of the gate by a small body of english and french; the money demanded was paid, and the surviving prisoners were delivered up; others had died under the barbarous treatment received by them. chapter ten. the new zealand war-- - . ensign mckenna--an example of cool courage and devotion. we do not like to hear of war in new zealand. long ago the native inhabitants of these magnificent islands desired to become subjects of queen victoria. their offers were accepted, and new zealand became a british colony. differences, however, arose between the settlers and the natives, chiefly about land; and from time to time the latter have attempted to assert their rights in a thoroughly barbarous fashion, by murdering all the white settlers they could fall on unprepared. it is difficult to say by whom they were instigated to revolt. the possession of certain lands claimed by settlers was the ostensible cause of each outbreak; and the natives invariably commenced hostilities, by murdering some settlers whom they attacked unawares. such was the commencement of the last new zealand war. one of their chiefs had been proclaimed king by the rebel tribes, who had declared their intention of driving the british from the northern island. although the natives may be pitied for their ignorance, it was necessary immediately to put down such pretensions by force. preparations were therefore made for attacking the enemy in their strongholds--a nature of warfare arduous and hazardous in the extreme, and requiring great judgment and discretion not only in the leaders, but in the non-commissioned officers and privates. where british soldiers have an opportunity of exhibiting these qualities, they are generally found in their possession. the th regiment of foot was stationed at auckland at the commencement of the war in july , and were about to return to england, when they were ordered to the front in search of the enemy. for two months a detachment under the command of captain swift was posted at fort alexandra, in the neighbourhood of cameron town, where mr armitage, a magistrate, had his residence. on the th of september, news was brought to the fort that mr armitage, a few white men, and a large number of friendly natives residing near him, had been massacred by the enemy. captain swift, on hearing this, immediately set out, with lieutenant butler, sergeant mckenna, two other sergeants, a bugler, and a party of fifty men, into the bush in pursuit of the foe. swamps were crossed, rivers forded, hills climbed, and dense woods penetrated, and other difficulties overcome, till towards the evening the gallant little band found themselves in an open space near the place where they expected to fall in with the enemy. a party of ten were sent in advance to feel the way. the advance guard, however, lost the path, thus greatly reducing the main body. again they advanced, when, having reached another opening in which the savages had been encamped, they once more halted. hearing the sounds of the enemy's voices, they were advancing to chase them, when they found themselves exposed to a terrific fire from out of the bush on either side. captain swift was the first to fall; and directly afterwards lieutenant butler, while bravely animating his men, and having shot three of the enemy, received his death-wound. the command now devolved on sergeant mckenna, who, leaving corporal ryan and two men with the wounded officers, with the rest of the force charged the enemy in the most spirited manner, and put them to flight. a fresh position was again taken up in an opening, on the left and front of which the maories had collected. the sergeant, ordering his men to extend in skirmishing order across the opening, kept up a hot fire for a considerable time with the savages, bringing down some who had climbed up into trees for the purpose of taking more certain aim. any wavering or disorder on the part of the soldiers would have caused their immediate destruction. their steady coolness alone seemed to overawe the natives, who, after losing several of their number, retired to a greater distance. they still, however, kept up a fire at the little body of british, by which another man was killed. night was drawing on. mckenna saw that the time for retreating had arrived. he took his measures with admirable coolness and presence of mind. he ordered the front rank of skirmishers to fire a volley, and, giving a loud cheer as if about to charge, to retire down the hill by a sheltered path through the bush. the movement was executed with the utmost steadiness. when they were established below, the rear rank performed the same manoeuvre, and, finding a stream of clear water, were able to refresh themselves. they were not to retire unmolested. they were again attacked by the maories, numbering, it was ascertained, nearly men, who were, however, successfully driven back; and at eight o'clock the party commenced their arduous retreat through the bush, many of them severely wounded. it would be impossible to describe fully the difficulties of that midnight march through the tangled bush, with bloodthirsty foes swarming on every side. the judgment and coolness of the non-commissioned officers in charge of the party cannot be praised too highly. it was not till eight o'clock in the morning that they came in sight of the redoubt, and met a body of men marching to their relief. they then learned that corporal ryan and privates bulford and talbot had, in the most devoted manner, remained with captain swift, after carrying him for some distance, till he died, and that the savages had at one time actually surrounded them, while they lay hid among the brushwood. not till he had breathed his last, and they had covered up his body with branches, did they think of seeking their own safety by making their way towards the redoubt. in the same truly devoted manner privates thomas and cole had remained all the night with lieutenant butler. the dying officer complained bitterly of the cold, and not only did the two brave fellows cover him up with their own greatcoats, but one of them, thomas, took off his own serge shirt and put it on him. they knew full well that their suffering superior would not live to report their conduct, or to reward them, and that very probably they would themselves be slaughtered by the savages. in the above narrative, we find an exhibition of courage, judgment, discipline, coolness, devotion, and affection rarely surpassed. sergeant mckenna obtained the victoria cross and his commission. incidents of a skirmish in new zealand, in the war of , lieutenant-colonel havelock commanding. gallantry of captain heaphy, a.r.v. that british militia and volunteers, when opportunity offers, possess no lack of gallantry, they have often given proof, especially in the cape colony and new zealand. in the last war in new zealand, colonel waddy, c.b., was in command of the advance force of the british, composed of regulars, militia, and volunteers, at paterangi near a native pah or fort. under him was serving lieutenant-colonel havelock. to the right, facing the pah, at some distance from the camp, the river mangapiko forms a complete bow or loop. at the narrow end or knot there is an old native pah, with the river flowing on either side of it. inside the loop at the broad end is a thick scrub, and here maories from the paterangi pah had formed an ambush. a number of soldiers from the camp, unsuspicious of danger, had gone to the river to bathe directly opposite this scrub, there being a ford at the spot across the river. immediately the natives began to fire on the bathers, the inlying pickets of the th and th regiments turned out, a party under major bowdler going to the right to attack the natives retreating up that part of the river, while lieutenant-colonel havelock, with the men he could collect, accompanied by captain fisher, captain heaphy, and captain jackson, marched rapidly on the left a considerable distance towards the old pah, to cut off the retreat of the natives who had formed the ambush, or to intercept any others who might come from paterangi to their relief. at the narrow end of the loop there was a deep gully, with an old canoe thrown over it as a bridge. while major bowdler's party were attacking the natives who had taken post in the old pah on one side, captain fisher led a few men across the bridge on the opposite side, followed by captain heaphy, who had collected some men of the th and th regiments. large numbers of natives now came rushing up from paterangi pah, and the fight became general over a wide extent of woody ground, the english soldiers often dashing forward incautiously at the enemy, and suffering considerably; captain fisher recrossing the bridge to repel the maori reinforcements. colonel havelock, who had no arms, and captain heaphy were left with a few men in the midst of the enemy. captain heaphy now shot a maori, and, having secured his gun and pouch, gave colonel havelock his own breechloader and a few cartridges, continuing the fight himself with the maori gun and ammunition. captain jackson, when wading the river, shot a maori who had snapped both barrels at him, and then, hauling the man to the bank, secured his gun and pouch. meantime, captain fisher being hotly engaged and somewhat pressed by a large body of natives coming from paterangi, captain heaphy collected a party of stragglers under fire, told them off into front and rear ranks, and, placing them under cover, directed their fire on the above-mentioned natives, who, receiving thus a cross fire, made no further headway. a series of hand-to-hand encounters took place during the fight about the old tree-covered pah, between the maories, crouching in the thick bush, and the british, who showed a keen eagerness to dart at and close with their lurking enemies. a private, cassan of the th, having been desperately wounded, fell into one of the deep overgrown ditches near the pah, within reach of many maories concealed there. captain heaphy, on hearing of this, called for volunteers and hastened down for the purpose of bringing off the wounded soldier, though exposed to a hot fire from the enemy directly above him. two of his followers were shot dead, while five balls pierced his cap and clothes, and he was wounded in three places, providentially but slightly. he remained by the man, to defend him from the enemy, till assistant-surgeon stiles of the th regiment joined him, when the poor fellow was brought off, though he died directly after. dr stiles greatly exposed himself, and took great pains to get the wounded removed to the camp. when wounded, captain heaphy was urged by colonel havelock to go back to camp, but he remained in the skirmish to the end, after aiding dr stiles in attending to other wounded. when the troops withdrew to camp after dark, while ten files of major von tempsky's rangers were covering the rear of the stretcher parties, he remained with them, only crossing the river with the last men. at the very moment of fording the stream, a ball, passing between him and colonel havelock, struck a man of the th farther in advance through the wrist, thus proving that the gallant heaphy was under fire to the very end of the fight. few will dispute that this brave officer of the auckland volunteer rifles, in addition to the majority he forthwith obtained, deserved as much as any man the honour of the victoria cross. chapter eleven. the abyssinian expedition-- - . a glance at the map of africa shows us abyssinia situated at the south of egypt, beyond nubia, with the red sea on the east, and a wild and little-known country of arid and sandy desert on the west, and a still more mountainous and barbarous country to the south. it has therefore long been considered a region inaccessible to an invading army. on the north, the unhealthy plains and valleys of nubia render its approach dangerous and difficult, while a range of lofty mountains, rugged and precipitous, and deep valleys run almost parallel with the sea, having at their base a dry and sandy region, destitute of water, and productive of fever and agues. the centre of the country consists of lofty plateaus and rugged mountains, with deep valleys, lakes, and streams. the higher regions are healthy and fertile, but in the valleys, at certain seasons, pestilence destroys numbers who are subjected to its influence. dark-skinned people, though of different tribes, inhabit this region. a portion of the population who formerly dwelt in the eastern part of the country are jews. the ruling race are the amharas, who are a warlike and intelligent people, but of cruel and bloodthirsty disposition. they are christians, having been converted about the fourth century, but their christianity has been greatly corrupted. the country has for centuries remained in a state of chronic disorder, the chiefs rebelling against the sovereign, and being in a constant state of warfare amongst themselves. notwithstanding, therefore, its many natural advantages, it has made no progress in civilisation or prosperity, and the great mass of the people are ignorant and barbarous in the extreme. the chiefs, too, are often cruel, bloodthirsty, turbulent, and grasping. though their complexion is dark, their features are regular and handsome. they wear their hair plaited and wound round their head, covered thickly with butter. their costume consists of drawers, a cotton shirt, with a white cotton-cloth cloak, called a shama, having a broad scarlet border, and, in addition, a lion-skin tippet with long tails. on their right side hangs a curved sword in a red leather scabbard, and a richly ornamented hilt, while a hide shield, ornamented with gold filigree bosses, and with silver plates, is worn on the left arm, and a long spear is grasped in the right hand. the most invincible enemies of the amharas have been the heathen tribes of the gallas, inhabiting the regions to the south of abyssinia. at the end of last century, however, one of their chiefs, rass guka, obtained possession of the person of the then puppet emperor, and assumed supreme power. he outwardly conformed to the christian religion, many of his people following his example. when in the egyptian troops of mahomed ali attempted to invade abyssinia, they were defeated by dejatch confu, chief of kuara, who had a nephew, kasa by name. kasa was deprived of his father at an early age, and his mother was reduced to a state of poverty, and compelled, it was said, to follow the humble calling of a kosso seller. he was sent to a convent to be brought up as a priest or scribe, but the convent being attacked by a robber chief, who put most of the inmates to the sword, kasa escaped to the castle of his powerful uncle. here, listening to the conversation of various chiefs, he imbibed an enthusiastic love of war and daring exploits. on the death of his uncle, his cousins quarrelled. he sided with the eldest, was defeated, and became a robber chief. at length he unfurled the standard of rebellion, under the pretence of checking oppression and restraining violence. the queen of the usurping semi-christian galla race, of whom we have just spoken, long hated in the land, sent an army against him. her troops were, however, speedily defeated. finding that force would not prevail against him, the wily sovereign hoped to entrap him by guile, and offered him her granddaughter in marriage, having instructed the young lady how to betray him. the princess, however, admiring his character, became a most faithful wife, warning him of all the plots contrived for his destruction. at length the treacherous queen and her son, kasa's father-in-law, were defeated in a pitched battle, and fled from the country. kasa had still several chiefs and provinces to conquer. the most important province was that of tigre, governed by a warrior, dejatch oulie, whose army awaited him drawn up on the heights of gemien. on the rd of february was fought one of the most desperate battles in the annals of abyssinian warfare. it resulted in favour of kasa, who was crowned under the name of king theodorus. many a battle had still to be fought; and king theodore, as we will call him, lost not a moment in endeavouring to quell rebellion. he now became sovereign of tigre and amhara, the principal provinces of abyssinia. not content, however, with the power he had gained, his great ambition was to conquer the galla tribes, whom he treated with the greatest cruelty. having reduced many of them to a temporary submission, he marched towards tigre, where a rebellion had broken out. here also he was victorious, but he treated those he had conquered in so barbarous a way, that he made enemies of the chiefs in all directions. it was about this time that a number of missionaries were sent into the country, for the purpose of preaching the gospel to the jewish falashas, at the instigation of bishop gobat, of jerusalem. the principal one was the reverend mr stern, an english clergyman, who was accompanied by several german missionaries and their wives. in the camp of the king there were also a number of artisans of various nations, some of whom were engaged by the king to manufacture cannon and muskets. mr stern, on returning to england, wrote an interesting volume, in which he made some disparaging remarks on king theodore. the book unfortunately found its way into the country, and these remarks were translated to the king. he had previously written a letter to the queen of england, which for a long time remained unanswered. this and other circumstances greatly excited his anger; at the same time, he suspected that the english were disposed to assist the egyptians, who he thought purposed invading his country. the english government, desirous of cultivating friendly relations with abyssinia, had appointed captain cameron as consul to that country. he was stationed at massowa, on the shores of the red sea. during an expedition into the interior, he was seized by theodore, in revenge for the insult he considered he had received, the king having also thrown mr stern and some of the other missionaries into prison. at length mr rassam was sent as ambassador to king theodore, in hopes of obtaining the release of the prisoners. he was accompanied by lieutenant prideaux and dr blanc. at the very moment that it appeared the king was about to release the prisoners, mr rassam and his companions were themselves seized and treated with the greatest indignity. in vain every attempt was made by the english government to obtain their release. theodore would listen to no expostulations, and at length it was resolved to send an english army to compel him to deliver them up, although the difficulties of the undertaking were well-known. never was an expedition undertaken for a more generous object or with purer motives. it was simply for the release of the captives. the thought of conquest or the acquisition of territory did not for a moment enter into the views of the british cabinet. the work to be done was to march an army of some thousand men a distance of miles across a mountainous and little-known region, inhabited by tribes who might prove hostile, to the fortress in which the king had confined certain british subjects, and to compel him to release them. the persons, both military and civil, who were believed to be the best able to carry it out, were selected without favouritism or party consideration of any sort. colonel merewether, an officer of known talent, was appointed to make the preliminary preparations, and to select the spot best suited for the base of operations. the reconnoitring party selected a place called mulkutto, in annesley bay, on the shores of the red sea, for that object. in the previous month, sir robert napier, then commander-in-chief of the bombay army, was appointed to command the abyssinian expedition, and major-general sir charles staveley was nominated as second in command, with a force under them of british and native troops. the reconnoitring party consisted of the th regiment of bombay native infantry, the rd regiment of bombay cavalry, a mountain train of four guns, with native gunners, and two companies of bombay sappers. associated with colonel merewether were colonel phayre, quartermaster-general of the bombay army, and colonel wilkins, of the royal engineers. the first work of importance was the construction of a landing-pier, the beach being too gradually shelving to allow of landing without it. in a short time a pier was run out for yards, where there was a depth of five feet at low-water spring tides, and a tramway was laid down from its head to some way up the beach, for bringing up stores. wells were also dug, and the surrounding country carefully examined for water. exploring expeditions were also made for a considerable distance, under a blazing tropical sun overhead, through a wild and unknown region. on the st of october, the advance brigade arrived, under command of colonel field. h.m.s. _satellite_ also reached the bay, with apparatus for condensing sea-water, and she and other, steamers were able in a short time to produce , gallons a day, which was conveyed on shore by pipes raised on trestles above the sea. officers also were sent in all directions to purchase mules and other beasts of burden for the transport service. a friendly understanding was soon established with the shoho tribes, who gladly undertook to furnish guides and to convey stores into the interior. friendly relations were also established with several powerful chiefs then in rebellion against theodore, and who gladly offered all the assistance in their power. sir charles staveley now arrived with a brigade which had been embarked at scinde, under brigadier-general collins, consisting of the rd regiment, the g armstrong battery of six -pounder guns, under captain murray, the beloochee regiments, and rd scinde horse. on the rd of january , lieutenant-general sir robert napier, commander-in-chief of the expedition, arrived on board h.m.s. _octavia_. he expressed his satisfaction at the progress made by the expedition, which had now obtained a firm footing on the highlands of abyssinia. a convenient port had been established on the desert shore; a road for cart traffic had been formed through a difficult mountain pass; the most determined robbers, the shohos, had been turned into useful assistants; and an advance force had already gained the abyssinian plateau, and friendly relations had been secured with the principal chiefs ruling over the territories up to magdala itself. it must be understood that some time before this the british and other prisoners had been sent by theodore to the fortress of magdala, to reach which was therefore the main object of the expedition. two plans were now open to sir robert napier for the conduct of the campaign: one was, relying on the friendliness of the people for keeping communications open with his base, to push forward and attack theodore on his flank march before he could reach magdala, and thus prevent the prisoners again falling into his power. sir robert, however, considered that in order to make any real and permanent advance, he must be entirely independent of the resources of the country, and that he should not have a force of much less than , men, with six months' supplies stored at senafe; that theodore might at any time abandon his guns should he hear of his approach, and push forward to magdala, which he could quickly reach without them. it was believed, however, that this he would never attempt doing, as it was the prestige of those guns which served as his only protection from being attacked and overwhelmed by the numerous rebel forces surrounding him. this latter plan, however, was not adhered to. great efforts were made to improve the transport train. owing to the want of care and barbarity of the natives who had been brought from india, a large number of the mules and camels died, but fresh supplies continued to arrive, and the whole organisation of the transport train was entrusted to major warden, who served in the same department in the crimea. by the time the campaign was over, there was a corps of , muleteers, native and european inspectors, and commissioned officers. the most difficult piece of work to be accomplished was the conveyance of the artillery, next to the transport organisation. the guns and equipments were brought from england by lieutenants nolan and chapman, who had prepared everything at mulkutto for two batteries, a and b , the officers and men of which came from india. the guns were conveyed athwart-ships on mules, and they, with the ammunition and equipments for the two batteries, required go mules for their carriage. this may give some idea of the number of animals required for the work. a naval brigade, consisting of men, with two rocket tubes, commanded by captain fellowes of the _dryad_, was also organised. the advance force halted in a beautiful district near adigerat, upwards of feet above the sea. from this they pushed on to antalo, where they halted for nearly a month, in consequence of having to wait for a supply of dollars, without which no purchases could be made. at length, on the th of march, the march to magdala really commenced. colonel phayre led the advance force, accompanied by a pioneer force consisting of two companies of the rd, two of native sappers, one of punjaub pioneers, and sabres of native cavalry; the whole commanded by captain field, of the th native infantry. the rest of the force was divided into two brigades, under sir charles staveley. with the first brigade marched the commander-in-chief and headquarters. it consisted of the rd regiment, two companies of beloochees, the head-quarter wing of the th bombay native infantry, the th company of royal engineers, a battery of mountain guns, and the scinde horse. the second brigade was composed of the th regiment, a wing of the beloochees, a company of sappers, punjaub pioneers, naval brigade, and armstrong guns, and two mortars with elephants, the b battery of mountain guns, and the rd bombay cavalry. sir charles staveley and his staff marched with this brigade. the road before them was rough and mountainous in the extreme, with difficult passes, mountain torrents to be crossed, and often lofty overhanging rocks above their heads. frequently, before the first brigade could advance, the roads had to be made practicable for mules and carts. the rd regiment distinguished itself by the persevering way in which the men laboured, often going out as grass-cutters, laying out the camp, and working hard at road-making, along the whole line. all superfluous baggage had been sent to the rear. the camp equipage now consisted of small bell-tents only, without tables, chairs, bedsteads, luggage, or any of the usual comforts of camp life. the rations were of the roughest and most unvarying description; seldom anything but tough beef and chowpatties were eaten, the commander-in-chief enjoying no greater luxuries than the private soldier. during the halts the men were employed on the roads, and often even on marching days. for days the force pushed on from the buya camp, near antalo, to the wadela plateau, a distance of miles, during which they crossed no less than six formidable ranges of mountains. perhaps the severest march of the campaign was one performed on the th of march, from marawa to dildi, on the banks of the tellare, a distance of miles, up and down the steep spurs of the lasta mountains. starting soon after eight in the morning, with a long train of mules, they had to scramble up and down the rugged, tree-covered mountain-sides, the rd regiment carrying, in addition to their arms, a heavy weight of blankets and waterproofs. towards the end of it rain came on, and during some hours of the night the men came straggling in, footsore, hungry, and wet, and complaining not a little of their hardships. the cold, too, was severe on that high ground after sunset. all luxuries about this time also began to fall short. no spirits remained, and but a small quantity of tea and compressed vegetables. magdala was almost reached. the country now appeared open and covered with grass; long stages of grassy hill and dale, with occasional rocky ridges, and here and there among the hills a lovely lake, with streams and narrow valleys, formed the general aspect of the country. round magdala, situated itself on a high rock, rose numerous peaks and saddles above the large plateau on which it stands. they form a curve, magdala being at the east end, and a peak called sallasye at its base, and a smaller plateau called fala at the south-west end. sallasye and magdala are connected by a saddle about a mile long called islamgye, bounded on either flank by scarped precipices with sides below sloping rapidly down to the ravines, and covered with trees and bushes, some of the ravines nearly feet below the fortress. meantime, theodore was advancing towards magdala, having burnt his capital of debra tabor, likewise forming roads up the steep sides of mountains and across deep ravines for the transport of his heavy guns, on which he mainly depended for the success of his arms, with a force under him of about soldiers, a host of camp followers, and several european workmen. by the th of march his army had reached arogye. at this time there were in magdala the whole of the british prisoners, as well as natives, many of them chiefs. some days afterwards, the king sent for mr rassam, lieutenant prideaux, and dr blanc to visit him, and treated them with courtesy, but the very next day in a drunken fit he ordered nearly of his native prisoners to be murdered. some he killed with his own hands, others were thrown over the precipice of islamgye. a letter was next addressed by sir robert napier to the king, demanding the liberation of the captives. to this no answer was sent. on the th of april, two brigades of the british army encamped on the delanta plateau, in full view of the heights of magdala. by the night of the th all preparations were completed for storming the fortress. theodore had posted his army, consisting of soldiers armed with percussion guns, a host of spearmen, and several pieces of ordnance, on the flat-topped hill of fala. here he had come to conquer, as he thought it possible, with his cherished guns, or to die should he meet with defeat. between the armies was the plain of arogye. in front rose, more than feet above it, the lofty stronghold of the tyrant. to the left of fala appeared the lofty peak of sallasye, the two being connected by a lower saddle. the british army consisted of men, of whom were cavalry. they had two batteries of steel mountain guns, a battery of four armstrong -pounder guns, and two mortars, besides which many of the troops were armed with the deadly snider rifle, against which the weapons of the abyssinians were almost useless. the naval brigade of men were armed also with deadly rockets, especially calculated to create a panic among such troops as the abyssinians. the greater part of the day had passed, and sir robert had no intention of commencing an action, when, at forty-two minutes past four in the afternoon of the th of april, a gun was fired from the crest of fala, feet above the arogye plain. a few rounds followed, plunging into the ground close to the british, when several thousand men, the flower of theodore's army, rushed impetuously over the crest of the hill down the precipitous slopes, yelling defiance, led by their chiefs on sure-footed galla ponies. while the main body advanced across the plain, a large detachment hastened to attack the baggage train of the british on one side. immediately the naval brigade opened upon them with their rockets, while sir charles staveley moved the infantry of his brigade down to the plain, the snider rifles keeping up a fire against which the abyssinians could not for a moment stand. unable to get within range themselves, they were mown down in lines. their old general, fitaurari gabriye, led them on again and again, but he soon fell, shot through the head; and night coming on, the shattered remnant retired towards the fala saddle, still shouting defiance. colonel milward, who accompanied penn's battery, had opened fire on the left, while chamberlain with his pioneers drove back the enemy who were attacking the baggage train. they still, however, persevered, but were finally checked by the baggage guard, consisting of two companies of the th under captain roberts. as the abyssinian army retreated, captain fellowes and his bluejackets took up a fresh position farther in advance, sending their rockets into the flying crowd as they ascended the hillside. of the abyssinian force, nearly were killed and wounded, most of the survivors flying in all directions, few returning to magdala; while of the british force, captain roberts and six men of the th, twelve punjaub pioneers, and one bombay sapper alone were wounded, two of them mortally. the first brigade encamped on the aficho plateau, without food, water, fires, or tents, while the second formed their camp on the plain of arogye. meantime theodore, who had hitherto always headed his own troops, remained on the heights watching the combat. as night came on, and claps of thunder resounded over his head, he paced the ground at the foot of the sallasye peak, waiting the return of his chiefs and soldiers. he called for his faithful old general gabriye, but no answer came; for other trusted leaders,--there was no reply. he now saw that all hope of victory was gone. he must yield to the demands of an irresistible enemy or die. fearful must have been the anxiety of the prisoners. any moment he might have sent to order their destruction. providentially, however, he resolved to try and obtain the friendship of the english by delivering up the captives. lieutenant prideaux and mr flad were sent into the english camp to propose terms. the english general, however, would offer none short of an unconditional surrender, guaranteeing, however, honourable treatment for the king and his family. on their return across the field of battle, the body of the old general gabriye was found. he was lying flat on his back, with his arms stretched out, habited in a rich shirt of scarlet and gold. a snider rifle bullet had passed through his temples. the dead and dying thickly strewn about had frightful wounds, many with half their skulls taken off. on the arrival of two envoys, the king was found sitting on the brow of sallasye. he immediately sent them back to the english camp with a document he had been dictating, refusing to deliver himself up. soon after their departure, he put a pistol to his head, but the bullet was turned aside by his attendants. the king after this appears to have resolved to live, and to have conceived the hope of obtaining peace by releasing his captives. many of his chiefs, however, had advised him to kill them, and fight to the last. one alone--basha abito--urged that they should be preserved, lest a terrible vengeance should be exacted by their countrymen. immediately the king had arrived at this decision, he ordered one of his officers to escort mr rassam and all the prisoners at once to the english camp, believing, no doubt, that by so doing acceptable terms would be secured for him. meantime sir robert napier had sent lieutenant prideaux back with a message to the king, reiterating the contents of his former letter. the gallant young officer knew perfectly well the fearful risk he was running. happily he encountered a german workman, who informed him of the release of the captives, when he and mr flad returned to the camp. the released prisoners were mr rassam, dr blanc, lieutenant prideaux, consul cameron, mr stern the missionary, mr flad, mr and mrs rosenthal, young kerans, secretary to captain cameron, and pietro, an italian servant. as may be supposed, they received the warmest welcome in the camp, and every attention was paid to them. the king now made another attempt at reconciliation, by sending a present of cattle. on finding that this was refused, he seems to have given way to despair. having spent the night on islamgye, he summoned his soldiers, and ordered those not prepared to share his fortunes to the last to provide for their own safety. the whole army immediately disbanded, a few chiefs and personal followers only answering his call. after this he seems to have wished to make his escape, but he was cut off by the british on one side, while the gallas were eagerly watching on the other to capture him. on seeing the english advancing up islamgye, he mounted his favourite horse hamra, and, followed by some of his chiefs, furiously galloped up and down in circles, firing off his rifle as a challenge, perhaps wishing that some kind bullet might at the moment end his career. probably he experienced a peculiar pleasure at that desperate moment in displaying his horsemanship and other soldierlike qualities. as the british advanced and opened fire, he was compelled to abandon his guns and retreat into magdala, followed by the few chiefs who had remained faithful. part of the british army now took possession of the heights of islamgye, while a party of the rd regiment, the th company of royal engineers, and a company of madras sappers were ordered to assault the koket-bir gate of the fortress. the guns from islamgye and the fala saddle opened fire, and continued it during the afternoon. the ascent to the fortress, or amba, as it is called, was by an excessively steep and narrow path, amidst large boulders, with perpendicular black cliffs on the right. the koket-bir gate consisted of a rough stone gateway feet deep, with folding wooden doors. on either side the approach was defended by a thick hedge with stakes. seventy feet higher up there was a second hedge, and another gate opening on the flat summit of the amba. as the british soldiers climbed up the rocky path, firing rapidly with their sniders, they received a dropping fire in return, by which seven men were wounded and a few others slightly injured. the rd then made a dash at the hedge, climbed over it, and opened the door from the inside, when the rest of the storming party rushed in. the dead bodies of a few chiefs, richly dressed, were found lying in a heap inside the gate, but no enemy appeared. deserted by most of his followers, the king, after attempting to pile up large stones against the inside of the gate, took his seat on the rocks between the two gates, surrounded by his friends, watching the english guns with his glass. when the assault commenced, he and nine who had remained with him commenced firing at the english. by a volley fired into the little band, most of those who had hitherto survived were wounded. theodore on this retired to some huts on the amba, about yards from the second gate. here, dismissing his remaining followers, he turned to his body-servant, walda gabir, saying that, sooner than fall into the hands of his enemies, he would kill himself. then, putting a pistol to his mouth, he fired it, and fell dead. the bullet had passed through the roof of his mouth and through the back of his head. this was at about : p.m. some prisoners who had escaped pointed out the body of the king to the english. it was now put into a litter, and brought to sir charles staveley. it appears that theodore had eaten nothing for four days, supported only by tej and drams of araki. he was of medium stature, well-built, broad chest, small waist, and muscular limbs, his complexion being dark even for an abyssinian, though with a finely cut aquiline nose, with a low bridge, his thin lips telling of his cruel disposition. he was in his th year and the th of his reign. the level area of the now well-known fortress was almost entirely covered with well-built circular thatched huts, most of them surrounded by a hedge or wall. the king's own house, in which the queen terunish and her little boy resided, was an oblong building of two storeys. other buildings were attached to it, with a sort of summer-house commanding a magnificent view of the country. amidst the houses was a church in miserable condition; indeed, magdala was not considered christian ground, being in the territory of the heathen gallas. the whole town contained about persons. the body of the king, having been embalmed, was buried by the abyssinian priests, within the precincts of this wretched church, a small guard of the rd attending to keep order. the grave was shallow, and soon covered in with stones, and the surface strewn with straw. the queen came for protection to the british camp, and expressed her wish that the english would take charge of her son. she, however, died on the march, and her young son remained under charge of the english, by whom he has been brought up and educated. the huts in magdala were burned, the gates of the fortress were blown up, and all the guns, to the number of , collected by theodore, were burst. the return march was performed as successfully as the advance, and before the end of the month of june the last man of the expedition had departed from annesley bay. the larger body returned to india, while the commander-in-chief sailed in the _feroze_ for england. a peerage, a grand cross of the bath, and a pension were conferred upon sir robert napier; and two knight commanderships and companionships of the same order were bestowed on other officers; while colonelcies, lieutenant-colonelcies, and majorities were distributed among the other officers of the expedition. the abyssinian expedition will ever be remembered for the judgment and forethought exercised in its preparation, the perseverance and energy of the officers employed, and the admirable conduct of the men. chapter twelve. the ashantee war-- - . on that part of the west coast of africa which runs east and west, extending from the bight of benin to cape palmas, a portion being known as the gold coast, are situated a number of forts, some of which belonged to the dutch and danes, who lately ceded them to the british government. the principal fort is cape coast castle, and to the west of it is the late dutch fort of elmina. the largest river in this part of africa is the prah, which, running for some distance from the north-east to the south-west, takes an almost due southerly course, and falls into the sea about miles west of cape coast castle. the whole region is almost entirely covered by dense scrub or lofty trees, with a thick undergrowth of shrubs and creepers, through which it is impossible to pass, unless where native paths exist or a way has been cut by the axe of the pioneer; while in all directions marshes exist, emitting exhalations destructive to the health and lives of europeans exposed to their noxious influences. the ashantees, a large and warlike tribe who had fought their way from the interior, established themselves early in the last century to the north and west of the prah, and founded coomassie as their capital, about miles to the north of cape coast castle. having devastated the country by fire and sword, they soon after annexed the greater part of denkera to their kingdom, driving the surviving inhabitants to the south-east, where they are at present settled near the swat river, which falls into the sea between cape coast castle and elmina. the country between cape coast castle and the prah is inhabited by the fantis, a tribe which, although at one time warlike, have greatly degenerated. neither the dutch nor the english have attempted to subdue any of the neighbouring tribes; and though the people residing in the immediate vicinity of the forts have been friendly, the europeans have throughout their occupancy been subject to serious attacks from the savages in the neighbourhood. the most formidable of these foes have been the ashantees, who have on several occasions threatened cape coast castle, and numbers of the garrison marching out to drive them back have been cut off. the fantis have been, since the commencement of this century, constantly attacked by the ashantees, and in they placed themselves under the protection of england. a fatal expedition for their defence was undertaken in by sir charles macarthy, who, crossing the prah with a small force without waiting for the main body of his troops, being deserted by the fantis and surrounded by the ashantees, was with all his forces cut to pieces, three white men only escaping. this and other successes over our native allies induced the reigning king of ashantee, coffee calcalli, to hold the british power in contempt. the barbarous customs of the ashantees almost surpass conception. their religion is the grossest fetishism. human life is utterly disregarded; and thousands of slaves are yearly slaughtered as sacrifices by the king, their bodies being thrown into a vast pit in the neighbourhood of his palace. in , this black potentate having made alliances with the chiefs of other tribes, sent a large ashantee force across the prah, with the avowed intention of capturing elmina, which he asserted the dutch had no right to dispose of to the english. destroying the fanti villages in their course, they advanced to within a few days' march of cape coast castle. every effort was made by colonel harley, who was then in command there, to induce the fantis to withstand the enemy, while he collected such forces as were available for their support. one of the bravest and most disciplined races in that part of africa are the houssas, a body of whom were at once obtained from lagos, and who, with some companies of the nd west india regiment and a body of fanti police, were marched to the front, under the command of lieutenant hopkins. the fantis, however, though far more numerous than their invaders, took to flight, and the force which had been sent to their assistance had to return. the ashantees now took possession of dunquah, from whence they moved to the east towards denkera. as serious apprehensions were entertained that both elmina and cape coast castle would be attacked, the english government sent out h.m.s. _barracouta_, captain fremantle, with a detachment of no marines, under the command of lieutenant-colonel festing, of the royal marine artillery. they landed at cape coast castle on the th of june, when colonel festing assumed command of the troops on the coast, and captain fremantle became senior naval officer on the station. martial law was proclaimed; and as the inhabitants of the native town of elmina showed a disposition to revolt, on the refusal of the chiefs to give up their arms the place was bombarded and set on fire, the rebels making their escape. a large body of ashantees, two or three thousand strong, now approached elmina, when they were gallantly attacked by colonel festing with the marines, and a party of bluejackets under captain fremantle, some men of the nd west india regiment, and a body of houssas. the enemy advanced boldly along the plain, and were about to outflank the british force on the right, when lieutenant wells, r.n., of the _barracouta_, attacked them with a heavy fire of sniders, and drove them back, on which colonel festing, ordering the advance of the whole line, repulsed the enemy, who left men dead on the field. this was the first of several actions which ensued; but it was very evident that no adequate punishment could be inflicted on king coffee and his subjects unless by a strong body of disciplined troops. this was the opinion of all the principal officers acquainted with the country. the british government, however, not being at first thoroughly satisfied of the necessity of sending out troops from england, appointed sir garnet wolseley, who had displayed his abilities as a general in the red river expedition, to proceed to cape coast castle, with a well-selected staff of officers, and to make his report. one of the most active officers at this time was lieutenant gordon, who had raised and drilled a body of houssas, with whom he rendered good service during the war. he now formed a redoubt at the village of napoleon, about five miles from cape coast, and several others being thrown up, the intermediate country to the south was well protected. a further body of marines arrived by the _simoom_. in the meantime commodore commerell, who had arrived in the _rattlesnake_ from the cape of good hope, made an excursion with several other officers up the prah, to communicate with the chiefs residing on its banks. having had an interview with the chiefs he found near the mouth of the river, he led his fleet of boats about a mile and a half up, when, without any warning, an enemy concealed in the bush opened a heavy fire on them. the commodore was badly wounded, and captains luxmoore and helden were also severely hurt, as were several of the men. on this the commodore ordered the return of the boats to the _rattlesnake_, when the town of chamah was at once bombarded, and quickly destroyed. in this unfortunate affair four men were killed and sixteen wounded, while so severe was commodore commerell's wound, that he was ordered immediately to return to the cape. space will not allow a description of the numerous engagements with the enemy, in which all the officers employed exhibited the greatest courage and endurance, although none surpassed lieutenant gordon and his houssas in the services they rendered. on the nd october, sir garnet wolseley arrived at cape coast castle in the _ambris_, having previously touched at sierra leone, and made arrangements with the governor for raising men from the various tribes along the coast; steps were also immediately taken to form an army of fantis. the major-general, however, was soon convinced that the attempt was hopeless; and, after a month's experience of the native forces he was able to collect, supported as they were by marines, bluejackets, and west india regiments, he wrote home requesting that the regiments which had been selected might be immediately sent out. in the meantime, captain glover, formerly of the navy, who had served as administrator of the government at lagos, proposed a plan to raise a force of , natives, and to march from the east on coomassie, the base of operations being on the river volta, on which some steam-launches and canoes were to be placed. captain glover's plan being sanctioned, he at once proceeded out with the officers he had selected to act under him. he was now busily employed in raising the proposed troops, which, from a thorough knowledge of the people, he succeeded in doing in the most complete manner. one of sir garnet wolseley's first exploits was a well-conducted attack on several of the villages in the neighbourhood of elmina held by the ashantees. keeping his plan secret until the moment the march was commenced, he was able to surprise the enemy, who, however, stood their ground until put to flight by the rockets and the snider rifle. several officers and men were, however, wounded--colonel mcneill badly in the wrist, as was also captain fremantle. the seamen and marines had been up all night, and marched miles under a burning sun, yet there were only two cases of sunstroke, and only four men were admitted to hospital the following day. captain rait and lieutenant eardley wilmot, of the royal artillery, had drilled a number of houssas as gunners for gatling guns and rockets, who afterwards rendered admirable service. besides captain rait's artillery, two efficient regiments had been formed of between and men each, from the bravest tribes, the one under the command of lieutenant-colonel wood, the other under that of major russell. both these corps were well drilled by experienced english officers, and on all occasions exhibited the greatest bravery. so well-conducted were the attacks made on the ashantee forces which had invaded the fanti territory, that at length, towards the end of october, they broke up their camp and began to retreat over the prah. they were closely pursued; but many of the native allies, as on other occasions, refusing to proceed, the difficulty of carrying on reconnaissances fell mostly on the english officers. in this work lord gifford especially distinguished himself. colonel festing commanded the force employed in the pursuit. he had with him lieutenant eardley wilmot, in charge of eight houssas of rait's artillery. while pushing on gallantly in front, lieutenant wilmot was wounded in the arm, yet in spite of this he continued under fire, until an hour later he was shot through the heart; and colonel festing, when bringing in his body from where it was lying, was wounded by a slug in the hip. abrakrampa, one of the british advance posts, was garrisoned by the black regiment commanded by major russell, who had with him also a party of marines and bluejackets. he had received orders to send the latter back to cape coast, but just as they were about to march he received information that his camp would certainly be attacked. the report proved to be true. the enemy came on in great force; but each time that they attempted to break out of the bush, they were driven back by the hot fire kept up by the little garrison. major russell immediately despatched a requisition for assistance, when a body of marines and bluejackets from the ships in the roads were landed and sent off. the ashantees again and again renewed the attack, but were each time driven back. the british force marching to the relief of the place suffered greatly from fatigue. they arrived, however, in time to assist in driving back the enemy, who now retreated towards the prah at a more rapid rate than heretofore. while in pursuit of the enemy, large numbers of the native allies again took to flight, proving how utterly unreliable they were. sir garnet wolseley's chief object now was, having driven the enemy before him, to construct a road in the direction of coomassie, and prepare halting-places for the european troops which were soon expected out. sickness, however, rendered a considerable number of the english officers incapable of duty. the pursuit of the enemy by the force under colonel wood was especially harassing work. he and many of his officers were suffering from fever. the ashantees frequently halted and fired on their pursuers, though on each occasion driven back. as many bluejackets as could be spared from the ships were now landed, and several officers arrived out from england. the major-general was able to report on the th december --"that the first phase of this war had been brought to a satisfactory conclusion by a few companies of the nd west india regiment, rait's artillery, gordon's houssas, and wood's and russell's regiments, admirably conducted by the british officers belonging to them, without the assistance of any english troops except the marines and bluejackets, who were on the station on his arrival." the fanti country being cleared, a road towards the prah was now energetically pushed forward. it was feet wide, cleared of stumps or roots, swamps were either drained or avoided, or causeways made over them, and all the streams were bridged. this task was confided to major home, of the royal engineers. the rough clearing of the first miles had, however, already been performed by lieutenant gordon. stations were selected, and huts erected for the accommodation of the troops, and for stores and provisions. means were taken to secure an ample supply of water, either by digging wells or from streams in the neighbourhood. at prahsu the river prah makes a sharp bend, within which a large camp was formed, with shelter for european troops, an hospital, and storehouses. complete arrangements were made for the accommodation of the sick. the great difficulty was to obtain native carriers, who frequently deserted as soon as they were collected; and it was not until some time had passed that the transport service could be arranged in a satisfactory manner. the plan which the major-general had arranged for the campaign was as follows:--the main body, consisting of three battalions of european troops, the naval brigade, wood's and russell's regiments and rait's artillery, was to advance from prahsu by the coomassie road. on the extreme right, a native force under captain glover was to cross the prah near assum, and, as a connecting link between him and the main body, a column composed of natives, under the command of captain butler, th regiment, was to cross the same river lower down; while, on the extreme left, another column of natives, commanded by captain dalrymple of the th regiment, was to advance by the wassaw road on coomassie. march to coomassie. on the th december, the major-general with his staff left cape coast castle for prahsu, which he reached on the nd january. here the naval brigade arrived the following day. the disembarkation of the regular troops commenced the st of january at : , and by : that evening the whole of the troops had landed, and the brigade had reached inquabun, six miles from cape coast castle. they consisted of the nd highlanders, the rifle brigade, a detachment of the royal engineers, the rd fusiliers, a detachment of the royal artillery, numbering in all men. as, however, there was great difficulty in obtaining transport, the fusiliers and royal artillery were re-embarked, to remain on board the ships until required. two hundred of the fusiliers were afterwards re-landed, and marched to the front. besides these, there were the nd west india regiment, of men, rait's artillery, men, and wood's and russell's regiments, numbering together , afterwards increased by a detachment of the st west india regiment, lately landed. during the early part of january, the whole of the british troops reached prahsu, and on the th, the bridge across the prah being finished, the force intended for the attack on coomassie marched out of the camp. lord gifford, in command of a well-trained body of native scouts, had previously gone forward, followed by russell's and wood's regiments, which obtained possession of the crest of the adansi hills. lord gifford pushing ahead, the enemy's scouts retreated before him, and the inhabitants deserted the villages. the king, it was evident, by this time was seriously alarmed, and, hoping for peace, released the european prisoners in his hands. he first sent in mr kuhne, a german missionary, who was followed by mr ramseyer, another missionary, and his wife and their two children, and monsieur bannat, a french merchant, from whom much important information was obtained. as the army advanced, the villages taken possession of were fortified and garrisoned, so that communication with the rear should be kept up and the sick carried back to hospital. already a considerable number of officers and men were suffering from sickness. captain huyshe died the day before the major-general left prahsu. thus, out of the whole european force of men forming the main body, men and officers were unfitted for duty. fommanah, a large village miles from coomassie, having been deserted by the enemy, was entered on the th. the king sent letter after letter to sir garnet wolseley petitioning for peace, but as he did not forward the hostages which were demanded, the army continued its advance, while the answer sent to him was "that the governor meant to go to coomassie." in an attack on the village of borborassie, in which the naval brigade, a company of fusiliers, and another of russell's regiment, with rait's artillery, were engaged, captain nicol, who led the advance, was unhappily shot dead, the first officer to fall north of the prah. information being received that the enemy was posted near the villages of amoaful and becquah, it was resolved immediately to attack them. the nature of the ground over which the operations were carried on must be described. excepting where the clearings for the villages existed, or native paths, the whole country was covered thickly with lofty trees, from which hung creepers innumerable, while below was thick brushwood, through which the pioneers had to cut a way before the troops could advance. such a region afforded the enemy ample means of forming ambushes as well as for fighting under cover, of which they did not fail to take full advantage. the only other openings to be found were where swamps had prevented the growth of trees. such was the difficult country in which sir garnet wolseley had to manoeuvre his troops. the army advanced, with lord gifford's scouts skirmishing in front, rait's guns and rockets leading, followed by the nd highlanders, the rd fusiliers, and the rifle brigade in succession, and on either flank the naval brigade and russell's and wood's regiments,--that on the right under command of colonel wood, and on the left of colonel mcleod. lord gifford, with scouts, pushing ahead early in the morning, occupied the village of egginassie by a rush. on the other side the enemy was found in considerable force. on this, brigadier sir archibald alison sent two companies of the nd highlanders, forming the advance guard, up the main road to the front, and a section up a path which branched off to the left. being soon hotly engaged, they were quickly supported by other companies under major macpherson, and the remainder of the regiment was immediately afterwards pushed forward. as company after company descended, their pipes playing, they were rapidly lost to sight in the thick smoke beneath, and their position could only be judged of by the sharp crack of their rifles, in contradistinction to the dull roar of the ashantee musketry. it was with the greatest difficulty, when fresh companies were sent to the support of those in action, that the latter could find their friends in the midst of the enemy's fire. the engineer labourers under captain buckle were cutting paths in the required directions, but so heavy a fire was brought to bear by the enemy, that their progress was much delayed. while at this time engaged in urging on his men, captain buckle fell mortally wounded. by one of the paths thus formed, lieutenant palmer brought his rockets into action, and, covered by their fire, two of the companies of russell's regiment, led by captain gordon, made a splendid dash at the enemy. the naval brigade, under captain luxmoore, were engaged at the same period in exchanging a heavy fire with the ashantees, who were making desperate attempts to retake the village. before long, major macpherson and several other officers were wounded. captain rait's guns were now sent across the swamp, to attack a spot on which a dense mass of the enemy were collected together. after or rounds, which caused tremendous slaughter, they showed signs of giving way, and a rush being made, their position was carried. on the summit was found a large camp, in which their main body had been posted. this being quickly traversed by the british troops, the ashantees again made a bold stand from a ridge behind it. once more rait's guns were brought into action, followed by a heavy rifle fire, when, another charge being made, the fresh position taken up by the enemy was also carried. in the meantime, the right column, under colonel wood, which had been supported by the fusiliers, was hotly engaged, and a considerable number of men were wounded, colonel wood and his aide-de-camp among them. so fierce was the opposition, that a second support of two companies of the rifle brigade was next ordered up. pushing forward, they gallantly drove the enemy from their cover, and about half-past twelve the ashantees took to flight. as the cheers in front announced that the battle was gained, a rapid fire was heard in the direction of quarman, showing that the ashantees were attempting to cut off the communication with the rear. four companies of the rifle brigade were accordingly ordered back, and so actively did they ply their rifles, that in less than an hour the ashantees were put to flight. another attack was, however, made on the right and rear of quarman, by one of the principal ashantee generals, but the enemy was gallantly held in check by its small garrison until the arrival of a company of the rifle brigade. in the meantime amoaful had been taken by a gallant rush of the nd highlanders, led by major cluny macpherson, and here the major-general established his headquarters. the action altogether had lasted twelve hours, extending along two and a half miles of road. during the greater part of the time the firing was incessant,--the loss suffered by the nd being proof of its severity, nearly every fourth man having been hit. the enemy must have lost upwards of men in killed and wounded. in the action, besides captain buckle, there were two privates of the nd and one of wood's regiment killed. of wounded, there were military officers, and men; officers of the naval brigade, and men. as short a time as possible was spent at amoaful, when the force again advanced on the nd of february. the advance guard was under colonel mcleod, the main body under brigadier-general sir archibald alison. the troops carried two days' rations in their haversacks, a similar quantity being conveyed by the spare hammock bearers. a fifth day's rations were to be brought forward to them. colonel mcleod, pushing on, found but little opposition. the force was now concentrated at a place called aggemmamu, within fifteen miles of coomassie. sir garnet now announced his intention of making a dash on coomassie. the soldiers were asked whether they would undertake to make their rations for four days last if necessary for six. the answer was, as may be supposed, "most willingly." leaving their baggage under the care of such men as were too weakly to march, the army advanced on the morning of the rd. as usual, lord gifford with his scouts went ahead, followed by russell's regiment under colonel mcleod. in a short time the enemy was encountered. after a sharp and short action, however, he was driven back, but with some loss on the side of the british. the advance guard pushed on until within a short distance of coomassie, when messengers arrived from the king again entreating for peace, at the same time stating that there were , men on the other side of the river, who would fight if the british advanced. sir garnet wolseley returned word, "that unless the queen and prince royal should be put into his hands, the march would be continued." the advance guard reached the river ordah at : p.m. it was found to be fifty feet wide and waist deep. russell's regiment at once passed over, forming a covering party to the engineers, who immediately set to work to throw a bridge across for the passage of the european troops, while clearings were made on the south bank, and rush huts thrown up in which the british soldiers bivouacked. at first some apprehensions were entertained that a night-attack would be made, but a heavy thunderstorm coming on, during which the flintlocks of the enemy would have been useless, rendered that improbable. by daybreak on the th, the bridge over the ordah was completed, major home, of the engineers, having worked at it all night throughout the whole of the tornado and drenching rain. as no hostages had arrived, it was expected that another battle would have to be fought. at an early hour the advance guard pushed on, the naval brigade being left at the bridge to guard the passage until the baggage had crossed. directly the troops advanced, the enemy opened fire. the native troops on this occasion firing wildly, colonel mcleod ordered a company of the rifle brigade and the -pounder gun under lieutenant saunders to the front. the enemy pressing the advance, a vigorous flank fire being also opened on the troops under sir archibald alison, reinforcements were ordered up. colonel mcleod continued steadily to advance, lieutenant saunders' gun clearing the road, when the rifles again pushed forward, until the village of ordahsu was carried and a lodgment effected there. in this skirmish lieutenant eyre was mortally wounded, and several of the men were severely hurt, although the enemy did not fight with the same obstinacy as at amoaful. as the village was approached, a tremendously heavy fire was opened on both flanks of the british force. the rifle brigade and the fusiliers, with two of rait's guns, having now got up to the village, under sir archibald alison's command, the force was ordered to move on. at that moment the enemy commenced a vigorous attack on the village, so that the rifle brigade and fusiliers had to be thrown into the bush to check them. according to the brigadier's request, the nd were pushed forward, the object being to break through the enemy who appeared in force in front. the highlanders were quickly sent on, and the major-general with the headquarters entered the village immediately after them. a short halt, however, was required, to allow the baggage to arrive. during this time the enemy pressed boldly up to the village, firing volleys of slugs, one of which struck the major-general on the helmet, fortunately at a part where the leather band prevented it entering. about noon, the nd, with rait's artillery, led the attack on the enemy's front, for the purpose of breaking through and pushing on direct for coomassie, followed by the rifle brigade. they had not got far before a tremendous fire was opened on the head of the column from a strong ambuscade behind a fallen tree, and several men were knocked over, but the flank companies working steadily through the bush, the leading company sprang forward with a cheer. the pipes struck up, and the ambuscade was carried. then, without stop or stay, the nd rushing on cheering, their pipes playing, officers to the front, ambuscade after ambuscade was successfully carried, and village after village won in succession, until the whole of the ashantee army broke and fled in the wildest disorder down the pathway towards coomassie. the ground was covered with traces of their flight. umbrellas, war chairs of their chiefs, drums, muskets, killed and wounded, strewed the way. no pause took place until a village about four miles from coomassie was reached, when the absolute exhaustion of the men rendered a short halt necessary. meanwhile the attack on the village continued, and the enemy were allowed to close around the rear, ordahsu, however, being strongly guarded. on the arrival of the major-general, he ordered an advance of the whole force on coomassie. it was nearly five o'clock before the troops again moved forward. the village of karsi, the nearest to coomassie, was passed without opposition. when close upon the city, a flag of truce was received by the brigadier, who forwarded it with a letter to sir garnet wolseley, whose only reply was, "push on." on this the brigadier immediately advanced, and, passing the soubang swamp which surrounds the city, entered the great market-place of coomassie, without opposition, about : . the major-general himself arrived at : , when the troops formed on parade, and, at his command, gave three cheers for her majesty the queen. the town was full of armed men, but not a shot was fired. the brigadier had so placed the artillery that it could sweep the streets leading to the market-place, and had thrown out the necessary pickets. a party was sent down to the palace, under the guidance of an englishman who had long been a resident at coomassie; but the king, queen-mother, and prince, with all other persons of distinction, had fled. due arrangements were made to preserve order. the major-general issued a proclamation, threatening with the punishment of death any person caught plundering. the troops were exposed to much danger, flames bursting out in several directions, the work of the fanti prisoners who had been released. the great palace of the king was entered,--a building far superior to the ordinary habitations of the natives,--and was found to contain treasures of all sorts, and evidence also of the fearful atrocities committed within it; while close to it was seen the dreadful pit into which the bodies of those slaughtered almost daily by the king's command were thrown. in vain sir garnet wolseley waited for the king to fulfil his promise; neither any part of the sum demanded, nor the hostages, had been delivered. to remain longer at coomassie was hazardous in the extreme. the rains had already commenced, and the rivers, which had been crossed with ease, were now much swollen. for the sake of the health of the troops, the major-general resolved, therefore, having destroyed the town and palace, to retreat. that the enemy might not be aware of his intentions, a report was circulated that the army would advance in pursuit of the king, and that any ashantee found in the town after six o'clock would be shot. this effectually cleared out the natives. prize agents were appointed to take charge of the riches in the palace. arrangements were made for destroying it on the following morning, and setting the whole town on fire. early the next morning the return march began. the rear company of the nd highlanders remained at the south end of the market-place while the guard was removed from the palace. the city was then set on fire, and the mines for the destruction of the palace exploded,--the dense columns of smoke which curled up in the sky showing the king of ashantee and all his subjects that the white man had not failed to keep his word. gallant colonel mcleod remained until the last of the engineers and sappers had passed to the front; he then waved his hand as a signal for the rear company to march, and coomassie was abandoned to the flames. the troops on their return march, although they encountered some difficulties, were not molested, so thoroughly and completely had the ashantees been defeated. as a further proof of this, ambassadors from the king overtook the army on the th, bringing upwards of ounces of gold, as part of the indemnity of the , ounces demanded, and returned with a treaty of peace for the black monarch to sign. the forts which had been constructed were destroyed, the sick and wounded, with the stores, sent on, and the major-general and his staff reached cape coast castle on the th of february. the naval brigade, consisting of men and officers, rendered valuable service throughout the campaign, and fought on all occasions with most dashing courage. though only one was killed, were wounded in action, while several others were killed and wounded during the operations which took place along the coast, to punish several of the petty chiefs who had sided with the ashantees. one of the most gallant performances of the campaign was the ride across the country, from the eastward, by captain sartorious, who with followers passed through coomassie five days after the army had quitted it, and, though fired on twice by the enemy, safely arrived at prahsu. the following day, captain glover, r.n., having marched from the volta, entered the city at the head of native allies. here king coffee sent him a token of submission by the hands of an ambassador, in the shape of a plateful of gold, which he returned, and then proceeded southward with his forces into friendly territory, having performed an exploit which, for daring, intrepidity, judgment, and the perseverance with which it was carried out, stands almost unrivalled. most of the officers engaged in the expedition were promoted, but on two only--lord gifford and sergeant mcgaw of the nd--was the victoria cross bestowed,--an honour which, by the unanimous voice of all who witnessed their behaviour, they richly deserved. the commander-in-chief also recommended captain a.f. kidston of the nd, private george cameron, and private george ritchie, for the same honour. the officers killed in action were lieutenant e. wilmot, r.a., lieutenant eyre, th regiment, captain nicol, hants militia, captain buckle, re; while three died from the effects of the climate,-- lieutenant the honourable a. charteris, a.d.c., captain huyshe, d.a.q.m.g., lieutenant e. townshend, th regiment; while seven others were wounded. chapter thirteen. the afghan war-- - . for many years previous to the war, the relations between england and afghanistan had been unsatisfactory. shere ali, the ruler of the latter country, received an annual subsidy from us, and had, besides, been presented with large quantities of arms and other warlike weapons. the events which led to the war have been debated with great acrimony, and are viewed in opposite manners by persons of different political opinions, and it is enough here to say that the approach of russia to the northern frontier of afghanistan caused considerable uneasiness to the ameer, and that, unable to obtain from us any positive assurances of support in case of attack from the north, he appears to have determined that his best course would be to throw himself into the arms of russia, even at the risk of breaking with us. for some time all communications with the ameer had ceased, and it was from a native news-writer that the intelligence that a russian general with a mission had arrived in cabul, and had been honourably received, came to the ears of our authorities. upon the news being made public, the viceroy of india wrote to shere ali, requesting him to receive also an english mission. the answer of the ameer was evasive, and major cavaignari, an officer of great experience in afghanistan, was sent up with an escort as a precursor of a larger and more important mission to follow. upon the st september he arrived at ali-musjid, an afghan fort in the khyber pass, and was there stopped by an officer of the ameer with a large force. a long parley took place; but the officer refused to allow him to pass, and major cavaignari, not having a sufficient number of men with him to force his way up, retired, with an intimation that the ameer would be held responsible for the conduct of his officer. as it was clearly impossible that the indian government could put up with this insult, and that, moreover, england could not submit to see russian envoys received by a country upon her border which refused to admit her own officers, preparations were at once made for war. it was decided to invade afghanistan in three columns, one starting from jumrood, at the north of the khyber pass, the second to advance through tull by the kuram valley, and the third to move _via_ the bolan pass upon candahar. the first of these was to be commanded by general sir s. browne, the second by general roberts, the third by general biddulph. the preparations for the concentration of these columns occupied considerable time, as india had been for some time in a state of profound peace, and the commissariat and transport service had to be entirely organised. the greatest efforts were, however, made, and the troops were rapidly got into place. on the th of october a defiant reply to the viceroy's letter was received from the ameer, and an ultimatum was in consequence sent to him, to the effect that unless the british demands were complied with, the troops would advance across the frontier. no reply having been received from him up to the night of the th november, orders were given to the troops to advance, and upon the following morning generals roberts and browne advanced across the frontier with their respective columns. the division of general browne was divided into four brigades. the first, under general macpherson, consisted of the fourth battalion of the rifle brigade, the th bengal infantry, and the th ghurkas, with a mountain battery. these were to go round by a mountain road, to make a long circuit, and to come down into the pass at a village lying a mile or two beyond ali-musjid. the second brigade, under colonel tytler, consisting of the first battalion of the th foot, the infantry of the guides, the st sikhs, and a mountain battery, were to take a hill opposite to ali-musjid, and capture some batteries which the afghans had erected there; while the third and fourth brigades were to advance direct up the valley. the former of these brigades consisted of the st, the th sikhs, and the th native infantry. the fourth brigade was composed of the st foot, the th native infantry, and the th sikhs. with them was a mountain battery, and a battery of horse artillery. the fort of ali-musjid is situated on a rock standing out in the valley, at a distance of some six miles from the frontier. it is a most commanding position, and, flanked as it was by batteries on the hillsides, was a most formidable place to capture. the advancing column marched forward until from a rise in the valley they could see ali-musjid at a distance of a mile and a half. the fort at once opened fire. the gunners there had been practising for some weeks, and had got the range with great accuracy. the column was therefore halted, and the men allowed to eat their dinners, as it was desired that the flanking columns should get into position before the front attack began. the guns of the battery answered those upon the fort, and a battery of -pounders coming up and opening fire, their effect upon the fort was at once visible. the sikhs were now thrown out upon the hillside, and these began a heavy musketry fire against the afghans in the batteries there. presently a general advance was ordered. the st and th native infantry advanced on the right-hand slopes of the valley, while the st and th native infantry and the sikhs worked along on the left. the scene is described as one of the most picturesque ever seen in warfare. from the fortress standing on the perpendicular rock in the centre of the valley, the flashes of the great guns came fast and steadily, while the edges of the rocks and forts were fringed with tiny puffs of musketry. on the british side the heavy -pounders and the batteries of horse and royal artillery kept up a steady fire, while both sides of the steep hill-slopes were alive with british infantry, the quick flash of the rifles breaking from every rock and bush. gradually our skirmishers advanced until they were nearly abreast of the fort; but, so far, there was no sign that macpherson's brigade had accomplished its task and carried the hill, or that tytler had worked round to the village in the rear. some attacks, however, were made upon the afghan intrenchments. these, however, were unsuccessful, and some valuable lives were lost. major birch and lieutenant fitzgerald, both of the th native infantry, were killed; captain maclean, of the th sikhs, was wounded; and between thirty and forty rank and file killed and wounded. as the fort and its defences could not have been carried without vast loss of life, it was now determined to halt, in order to give the flanking columns time to get in their places. these, who had met with enormous obstacles on their march, arrived in the night at their respective destinations, and the defenders of ali-musjid, taken by alarm at the news that forces were advancing which would cut off their retreat, precipitately abandoned their posts and fled. a great number were taken prisoners, and in the morning the troops occupied ali--musjid without resistance. so completely taken by surprise were the afghans at the easy capture of a fort which they believed to be absolutely impregnable, that they fled without further resistance; and the british, moving quietly up the valley, occupied place after place with scarcely a shot fired until they reached jellalabad. in the meantime, general roberts was advancing up the kuram valley. the tribes here greeted our advance with pleasure, for they were tributary to cabul, and viewed the afghan rule with aversion. it was upon the peiwar khotal, a steep and extremely strong position, that the afghans determined to take their stand. on the th of november the forces approached this position. the afghans remained silent, and preparations were made for encamping at the commencement of the pass. the enemy, however, were nearer and more active than had been supposed, and scarcely had the troops taken up their position, when a heavy fire was opened upon them from above, and the force had to retire hastily out of range. some of the infantry were pushed forward, and for a time brisk firing took place. the troops then encamped for the night out of range of shot. the next day was passed in endeavouring to feel the position of the enemy, who occupied the line upon the top of the crest, and it was not until the nd that an attack was delivered. after thoroughly reconnoitring the ground, it was found that the position of the afghans was too strong to be attacked in front, and it was determined to turn it by a long and very difficult night-march of nine miles, up a path leading to the extreme left of the enemy's position. the nd highlanders, the th ghurkas, and the th native infantry were told off for the service, and started after nightfall. at daybreak they came upon the enemy's pickets, and a fierce fight took place, the afghans defending themselves desperately. captain kelso brought up his battery of mountain guns, and did good service in aiding the infantry, who were all fiercely engaged. he himself, however, was shot dead. after three hours' hard fighting the enemy's left wing was beaten, and the british, pressing forward, drove them in confusion upon the centre. the nd punjaub infantry, the rd pioneers, and four artillery guns on elephants now arrived on the scene. it was well that they did so, for the enemy were again found in a strong position in a thick wood, and an obstinate fight ensued. it was some hours before they were dislodged from this point, as they continually brought up fresh troops. so severe was their resistance that it was found impossible to force them back by a direct attack, and general roberts now directed his men to advance in such a direction as to still further turn their position and threaten their line of retreat. this had the desired effect. the afghans, as usual, lost heart as soon as it appeared that their retreat was menaced, and, leaving the strong positions on the peiwar itself, fled hastily. while this fight had been going on, the second battalion of the th foot had advanced direct from the camp below. hitherto they had made no great progress, but had succeeded in attracting the attention of the enemy and keeping a large body of men in their intrenchments, and so aided the main attack on the right. the moment the afghans yielded, the th pushed forward and occupied the enemy's position. the total loss on our side was officers killed, wounded, and rank and file (europeans and natives) killed and wounded. the troops were too much fatigued with their hard marching and fighting to be able to pursue the enemy. but no ill effect was caused by this, as the afghans had completely lost heart, and in their retreat threw away arms and abandoned baggage of all kinds, most of their guns being left behind, and one battery falling into the hands of the british when they advanced to the shaturgurdan pass. general roberts with a small party went on to this point, which they found abandoned, and from whence they commanded a view across the heart of afghanistan almost to cabul. it was considered unnecessary to occupy this position, as the winter was now at hand, during which time the pass is absolutely closed by snow. there was, then, no fear of the afghans taking the offensive from this quarter. thus in two engagements the military strength which shere ali had been building up for many years, and which he considered sufficient to defend his country against the attacks of the british, fell absolutely to pieces; and a few days later he himself left cabul, and started, a fugitive, for the northern frontier with the intention of passing into russia. it was necessary, however, that letters should be sent asking permission for him to take this step, and during the delay which ensued the ameer was seized by fever, and expired. general roberts determined to leave a force to garrison the peiwar, and to take up his headquarters in the lower valley, there to winter. on the way down he followed a route hitherto unknown, leading through the defile of the chappri. it turned out to be extremely wild and difficult, and the people of this part, a tribe called mongols, attacked the baggage, which was proceeding under a small escort only, the troops having passed through ahead. the attack was sudden and unexpected; but the men of the baggage guard stood their way well. captain goad, assistant-superintendent of transport, was shot through the legs, and fell while fighting bravely. the natives made a rush towards him, but four soldiers of the nd stood over him and gallantly defended him against a crowd of enemies until the th ghurkas, under major fitzhugh, came up from the rear. heavy as the fire was, singularly enough, only one of these gallant fellows was wounded. the mongols stood boldly, and, taking to the rocks, kept up a very rapid fire, while the ghurkas repeatedly charged home with the bayonet, using their terrible knives with great effect, and finally putting them to flight, three of the th being killed and wounded. farther up the defile the mongols made another rush upon the train, but were here more easily beaten back. the attack was made with the hope of plunder only, and from no political animosity. the population in the valley, although not hostile to british rule, were eager to plunder british waggons, and constant outrages of this kind took place, many soldiers and camp followers being killed. the marauders were in some cases taken and executed upon the spot. early in january, general roberts started with a force up the valley of the khost. the general reached khost without much opposition. the villages round sent in their submission, and all appeared likely to terminate quietly. but upon the day after their arrival at the fort, the natives from around mustered in great numbers, and advanced to an attack upon the camp, occupying a number of steep hills around it, and massing in the villages themselves. a troop of the th punjaub cavalry advanced to attack them, with orders, if possible, to tempt them out on to the plain. this was well managed. the enemy, seeing the smallness of the force, poured out of the villages, when major bulkeley with the th hussars swept down upon them, and the afghans fled and took post on the hills. they again advanced on all sides, and attacked the camp, and for four hours the nd, with two guns to assist them, could get but little advantage of them. then, unable to withstand the fire of our breechloaders and the effect of our shell, they fell back to the hills. near the villages on the south side major stewart with thirty men of the th punjaub cavalry made a notable charge. a body fully a thousand strong of the enemy was making from the hills, when, with his handful of men, he dashed down upon them, scattering them in all directions, cutting down twenty, and wounding a large number. when the enemy had retired to the hills, the villages were searched; and as the inhabitants of these had taken part in the fight, and large numbers of arms were found concealed there, these were burnt, the inhabitants being expelled, and those whom their wounds showed to have taken part in the fight--over in number--brought as prisoners. the loss on our side was but two killed and eight wounded, showing that the afghans, courageous as they are, are contemptible as marksmen. this brought the fighting to a close. general roberts, finding his force too small to hold the kuram and khost valleys, evacuated the latter, and the force went into winter quarters. this step had already been taken in the khyber. it had not been intended from the first to push the advance as far as cabul before the winter came on, as the difficulties in the way of so doing would have been enormous, and the troops would have had great difficulty in maintaining their position, even should they capture cabul before the snow set in. the flight of the ameer, too, and the accession to power as his father's representative of yakoob khan, his eldest son, who had for many years been kept by his father as a prisoner, naturally arrested the course of affairs. it was hoped that yakoob would at once treat with us, and that our objects would be attained without further advance. these anticipations were to some extent verified. negotiations were opened, and upon the rd of march yakoob offered to negotiate terms of peace. nothing has been said as yet of the doings of the third column of invasion under general stewart, who had taken the command originally assigned to general biddulph. the difficulties in the way of advance of this column were immense. first, a sandy desert almost destitute of water, extending between the indus and the foot of the mountains, had to be crossed; then the ascent of the bolan pass had to be made, a work of the most tremendous difficulty. this pass, whose ascent occupies three days, is in fact the mere bed of a stream, full of boulders and stones of all sizes, in which the baggage and artillery horses sank fetlock deep. in making this passage vast quantities of camels and other animals died, and a long delay took place in assembling the force at quettah, a post occupied by us at the top of the pass. the arrangements were completed at last, and general stewart advanced upon candahar, which he captured on the th of january, having met with, a small amount of resistance only. the negotiations with yakoob, who had now succeeded to the dignity of ameer, continued for some time; and upon the th of may he arrived at the british camp at gundamuck, where he was received by general sir s. browne and staff. three or four days were spent in visits and negotiations, yakoob assenting to the british terms, and expressing the strongest hopes that a permanent friendship would be established between england and afghanistan. previous to this a sad accident had occurred, which cast a gloom over the british camp. upon the st of april a squadron of the th hussars, following a squadron of the th bengal lancers, had, in crossing the river after nightfall, missed the ford, and had been carried off by the current. lieutenant harford and no less than fifty men were drowned. this was an accident almost without precedent. the treaty made at gundamuck had for its chief object the representation of the british government at the court of yakoob khan; and in accordance with the terms of the treaty, and of a direct invitation on the part of the ameer, sir louis cavaignari, accompanied by mr william jenkyns, of the indian civil service, as secretary, and by cavalry and infantry of the guides under lieutenant hamilton, went up to cabul, where they arrived on the th of july. doctor kelly, surgeon of the guides, accompanied the mission as medical officer. some doubt had been entertained as to the prudence of sending this mission, but the ameer's promises of protection had been given with such solemnity, that it was deemed advisable to carry out the provisions of the treaty. for some time all went well at cabul. but the arrival of some regiments from herat altered the complexion of affairs. from the date, august th, when these regiments arrived, turbulent outbreaks commenced in the town. these regiments had not, like those of cabul, suffered defeat at our hands, and they taunted the cabul people with cowardice. the position of the embassy became full of danger. sir louis cavaignari, a man of most extraordinary courage, was aware of the threatening danger, but determined to remain at his post and do his duty. when told by the native _rissaldar_ of one of our cavalry regiments, who was spending his furlough at a village near cabul, that the afghan soldiers would be likely to break into open mutiny, and that the danger was very real, he replied quietly, "they can only kill the three or four of us here, and our death will be avenged." it appears, however, that cavaignari to the last believed that the ameer's authority would be sufficient to protect the little british force. on the night of the nd of september the heratee troops attacked the embassy. the party were lodged in a wooden building in the bala hissar. although numbering but fifty fighting men, headed by four british officers, the little band for hours held out heroically against thousands of the enemy. these at last brought cannon to bear upon the place. yakoob khan, in his palace close by, heard the roar of the battle, but made no movement. some of his councillors urged upon him to call out the loyal regiments at bala hissar, and to suppress and punish the mutiny. but the ameer remained vacillating and sullen until the terrible night was over, and the last of the defenders, after performing prodigies of valour, and killing many more times than their own number of the enemy, succumbed to the attack, the british officers rushing out and dying sword in hand. twenty-four hours later, natives from cabul brought the news over the shaturgurdan pass into the kuram valley. thence it was telegraphed to simla. the terrible news created a shock throughout all india. but no time was lost in taking measures to avenge the massacre. on the th orders were sent to brigadier-general massy, commanding at that time the kuram field forces, to move the rd pioneers, the th ghurkas, and mountain train to the crest of the shaturgurdan, and to intrench themselves there. the nd highlanders and th punjaub infantry followed in a few days to secure the road between ali kheyl and the pass. on the th, general baker took command of the troops at the shaturgurdan, where the rd pioneers and th ghurkas had been strengthened by the arrival of the nd highlanders. general roberts now set about the work of collecting transport. as usual, the moment the first campaign had terminated, the transport had been scattered, with the view of saving expense, and had now, at a great outlay, to be renewed. all the available animals in peshawur and near the frontier were ordered to be sent up. but the drain had told heavily, and only mules, camels, and bullocks could be collected. the tribes in the valley, however, furnished many animals for local transport. the ameer at this time wrote to general roberts, saying that he was trying to restore order and put down the mutineers, and to punish them for their conduct. but it was clear that he had lost all authority. on th september, general roberts joined the troops at ali kheyl. on the way up from this point to the shaturgurdan, two or three attacks were made upon baggage convoys by the natives; but these were all repulsed. the advance now commenced. it consisted of the th and th bengal cavalry, two guns of the royal horse artillery, two companies of the nd highlanders, and the th punjaub native infantry. these moved out as far as the zerghun shahr; and here the ameer, with some of his principal nobles, came into camp, declaring that they could not control the soldiery of cabul, but that he had come to show his friendship to the english. the brigades of generals baker and macpherson joined the advance at zerghun; and on the th a _durbar_ was held. yakoob, although received with all honour, was strongly suspected of treachery, and his conduct at the rising in cabul had forfeited for him all claim upon our friendship. all matters were, however, deferred until after the arrival at cabul. before the force moved forward, a proclamation was issued and sent forward among the people, stating that all loyal subjects of the ameer would be well treated, and that the object of the expedition was only to punish those concerned in the rising at cabul. owing to the shortness of transport, some difficulty was experienced in moving forward, and the force was obliged to advance in two divisions. on the rd of october macpherson's brigade, with the cavalry, reached suffed sang. there they halted, while the baggage animals went back to bring up baker's brigade. upon this day an attack was made by the villagers upon the rearguard; but these were driven off, and several of them captured. the next march was a short one to charasia. beyond this place the enemy had taken up their position. here a mass of hills shuts in the wild valley, and this narrows to a mere defile. upon both sides of this the enemy had placed guns in position, and lined the whole circle of the hills. in the afternoon a cavalry reconnaissance was made; but they did not succeed in getting the enemy to show themselves in force. at daybreak on the th a working party was sent forward to improve the road through the defile. but they had scarcely started when the cavalry patrol announced that the enemy were in great strength on the hills, and had guns in position commanding the road. sir frederick roberts determined to attack at once without waiting for the division in the rear, as he feared that any inaction before the mutinous troops now facing them would lead to a general rising, and that in another twenty-four hours there might be not only the regulars, but the whole tribal force of the country to contend with. the following were the troops who, under the command of brigadier-general baker, marched out at eleven o'clock to attack the position:--four guns number mountain battery, two gatling guns, the th company of sappers and miners, the nd highlanders, six companies of the th ghurkas, men of the th punjaub infantry, and of the rd pioneers. on the right, the attack was to be made under the command of major white of the nd highlanders, who had three guns royal artillery, two squadrons of cavalry, a wing of the nd, and men of the rd pioneers. it was determined to attack the enemy by both flanks, as their power of resisting a front attack was considerable, and flank attacks are always found the most certain against foes of this kind. a reserve was left in charasia, as the temper of the villagers around was very uncertain, and these would have been sure to rise and attack the baggage left there if the least reverse happened to the advancing force. the attack was completely successful, both columns effecting their objects and driving the enemy before them. the afghans, however, fought with great courage, for it was an hour and a half before any advantage was gained. the enemy were armed with sniders and enfields, and their fire was rapid and continuous. they were, however, bad shots, and our loss was extremely small. the nd were in advance, and these, after some hard fighting, carried the first position. the enemy rallied on some low hills about yards to the rear. but the mountain guns and gatlings opened upon them, the nd fired volleys into them, and a general advance being made, the enemy were driven back. major white, in the meantime, on the right had been doing excellent service with his column. it was but a weak one, and the operation had been intended as a feint rather than a real attack. however, they pushed forward, drove the enemy from their position, and captured guns; and having done the work allotted to him, major white was able to send a portion of his force to co-operate with general baker's brigade. unfortunately our cavalry were in the rear; the road through the pass was difficult; and before they could get through, the masses of afghans had fallen back into strong villages on the plain, and could not be attacked by cavalry. the enemy had altogether from to , on the ridges, including regiments of regular troops. they left dead on the field; but their losses in killed and wounded must have been much greater. upon our side were killed and wounded. among the latter were three officers. this defeat, by a small portion only of the british force, of the whole of their troops placed in a position considered well-nigh impregnable, struck a complete panic into the afghans, and no further resistance was offered. in the night a great portion of the afghan troops scattered and fled. the cavalry under general massy swept round cabul, and came upon the sherpur intrenched camp, where guns were captured. unfortunately considerable delay took place in the operations of our infantry; and in the face of the troops, who could easily have crushed them, the regiments which had taken the principal part in the massacre of major cavaignari marched off unmolested. the villagers were to a man hostile, and seized every opportunity of firing upon bodies of our troops. it was necessary to show considerable severity, and all captured with arms in their hands in such cases were shot at once. cabul was now open to us; and upon the th october, sir frederick roberts and his staff entered the bala hissar, and visited the ruins of the embassy. the bala hissar is a large enclosure containing many important buildings, and situate on the hill above cabul, which town its guns command. even had the afghans made a stand here, the place could not have resisted the british guns, as the walls were old and ruinous. on the th of october formal possession was taken of cabul, the troops occupying the bala hissar. delay had taken place in this operation, as it was feared that the afghans might explode large quantities of ammunition known to be stored there. a _durbar_ was held after we had entered the bala hissar. the whole of the sirdars and principal men of cabul and its neighbourhood attended. of these the leaders, who had been more than suspected of heading the plot against us, were at once seized and held as prisoners. a proclamation was issued by sir frederick roberts, warning the people that any attempt against our authority would be severely punished; forbidding the carrying of weapons within the streets of cabul, or within a distance of five miles from the city gates; and commanding that all arms issued to, or seized by, the afghan troops should be given up, a small reward being given for the delivery of each. a reward also was offered for the surrender of any person, whether soldier or civilian, concerned in the attack on the british embassy. for some time things went quietly. the people were clearly intensely hostile to us. but except in the case of the women, no open insults were ventured upon. but it was unsafe in the extreme for small parties to ride about the country. on the th the camp was startled by a tremendous explosion at the bala hissar, where the th foot were encamped, and where a body of engineers, under captain shafto, were examining the various small buildings in which powder was stored. the southern wall of the arsenal was blown down, and great damage was done; but, singularly enough, no soldiers of the british regiment were killed, but of the ghurkas, who were on guard at the arsenal at the time, twelve were killed and seven wounded. captain shafto was unfortunately killed. no examination could for a time be made, as some of the buildings were on fire, and explosions continued frequent. in the afternoon another tremendous explosion occurred; four afghans were killed and several soldiers hurt at a distance of or yards from the spot. although it was never proved, it was believed that these explosions were caused by the afghans; and as large quantities of powder still remained in the bala hissar, it was determined that, for the present, the place should remain unoccupied. the little force at cabul was now isolated. between that place and the shaturgurdan the natives were in a restless and excited state. two attacks by men had been made on the garrison holding the crest of the shaturgurdan, in number. these bravely sallied out, attacked the enemy in the open, and killed large numbers of them. general gough, with the th punjaub cavalry and th punjaub infantry and four guns, was therefore sent from cabul to bring down from the shaturgurdan all the stores accumulated there and the garrison, and then to desert the place, which would shortly be closed by snow. several executions now took place at cabul, of men who had shared in the attack on the embassy. many of the villagers were also hung for shooting at bodies of our troops; and the position of the british force at cabul was that of a body holding only the ground they occupied in the midst of a bitterly hostile country. the ameer was powerless, and, indeed, his goodwill was more than doubtful. he was regarded as a prisoner, although treated with all courtesy; and feeling his own impotence, and being viewed with hostility by both parties, he resigned his position as ameer, and asked to be sent into india, which was done. the abdication of the ameer really took place on october the th, but it was not publicly known until the th. on the th of november, brigadier-general gough returned with the garrison of shaturgurdan, which he had safely brought off just as their position was becoming almost untenable, so large was the body of men assembling round them. the roads were now carefully examined upon the way down to jellalabad, and communication was opened with the force occupying that valley. some of the cavalry were sent down to the valley, as it was clear that with all the efforts the commissariat could make, sufficient quantities of forage could not be collected for their support during the winter. up the khyber pass troops were slowly coming, destined in the spring to join the force at cabul, should it be necessary to carry on further operations. the sherpur cantonments were now occupied, and were made the headquarters of the force. these cantonments consisted of barracks surrounded on three sides by a lofty wall, steep hills rising at the back. they had been built by the ameer for his own troops, but had never been used for the purpose. the winter was now setting in. snow began to fall on the hills around, and ice formed in the pools every night. several expeditionary columns were sent out round the country to bring in provisions and grain, and these were attended with great success. the enemy were, however, collecting in several places, specially at kohdaman and maidan, and had stopped the influx of provisions, which the natives were ready enough to sell for sums which to them were handsome indeed. two columns were told off to march out and attack these parties of the enemy. but the movement was an unfortunate one. the force under general macpherson found mahommed jan near chardeh, and pushed on the th bengal lancers, who came across several thousand men on their way to join mahommed jan. a sharp fight ensued. the guns shelled the enemy, but the water-courses prevented our cavalry from being of any service. mahommed jan had with him , men, and, passing general macpherson, placed himself between him and cabul, and there watched the movements of our troops. shortly afterwards, four horse artillery guns, under major smith wyndham, moved along the argandeh road to join the infantry. brigadier massy, with a squadron of the th lancers, and men of the th bengal lancers, escorted the guns. after a four-mile march, the advanced troop reported the enemy to be in sight. it was apparent that the afghans had thrown themselves between the infantry and the guns; but as only or appeared, it was thought that they were fugitives, flying either from general macpherson or general baker. as they came streaming down the hill, general massy got his guns into action. after a few shells had been fired, the enemy advanced in full force. four thousand men were extended in the shape of a crescent, marching in good order, and in rear was an irregular body numbering . the four guns pitched their shell rapidly into the thick of the enemy; but no effect was produced in the way of breaking the line of advance. it never wavered, but came steadily on; and as general massy had no infantry with him, he was obliged to retire. the guns fell back a little, and again opened fire. the enemy's bullets were now dropping fast among the cavalry and guns. thirty of the th lancers dismounted and opened fire with their martini carbines, but the enemy were too numerous to be checked by so small a body of men. while the artillery were in action, sir f. roberts with his staff joined general massy. general roberts ordered him to send the lancers at the enemy at a charge. colonel cleland led his squadron of lancers of the th full at the advancing mass, the th bengal lancers, in number, following in his wake. on the right, captain gough, with his troop of the th, also took his men into action at the enemy's left flank. two hundred and twenty men, however, against , could scarcely be expected to conquer. the three bodies of cavalry disappeared in a cloud of dust. they were received with a terrific fire, which killed many horses and men, and, charging bravely on into the midst of the enemy's infantry, were surrounded, and their progress blocked by sheer weight of numbers. the _melee_ was a desperate one. many of the soldiers were struck from their horses. some were dragged up again by their comrades, others were killed upon the ground. the chaplain of the force, the reverend mr adams, had accompanied the troopers in the charge, and extricated one man from the midst of the enemy under a heavy fire, for which he was recommended for the victoria cross. when the dust cleared away, it was seen that the cavalry charge had made no impression upon the enemy, who were still steadily advancing across the fields. the lancers had fallen back, having suffered terribly. two of their officers, lieutenants hersee and ricardo, had been left on the ground dead, with sixteen of their men. the colonel and lieutenant mackenzie were both wounded, as were seven of the troopers. this squadron rallied upon captain gough's troop, which had kept better together, and still held its post between the guns and the enemy. a second charge was ordered; but it was not pushed home, the country being of extraordinary difficulty for cavalry, owing to the water-courses which cut it up. as major smith wyndham was falling back with his two guns, which had been advanced after the first charge, he found one of the other guns stuck in a water-course. the greatest efforts of the remaining horses were insufficient to draw it from the mire in which it was bogged. lieutenant hardy was killed by a shot through the head, and the gun was abandoned. the other three guns were taken back or yards farther. they were then stopped by a channel, deeper and steeper than any which had been before met, and here they became hopelessly bogged. they were spiked and left in the water, and the drivers and gunners moved off with the cavalry just as the long line of the enemy came upon them. general macpherson's troops, which had been sent for by general roberts, were now showing down the chardeh valley. at their sight the enemy turned off from the sherpur road and made direct for the city. general roberts sent a message to brigadier gough, commanding at sherpur, ordering men of the nd highlanders to go out to the gorge at a double. the cavalry retired steadily, keeping up a fire with their carbines, and checking the advance of the enemy. but they could not have stemmed the rush had not colonel brownlow, with rifles of the nd, arrived at the nick of time. these opened fire instantly upon the enemy, who charged down upon the village. the steady fire of the highlanders checked the rush, and after half an hour's persistent fire the enemy were forced back, their entrance to cabul having been frustrated. they occupied, however, a position on the heights to the south of the balar hissar region. general macpherson had broken up a large body of afghans higher up the valley, and pursued them towards argandeh. as he came back, he came upon the scene of the charge, and recovered the bodies of lieutenants hersee and ricardo, and the troopers who had been killed. the guns had already been carried off by colonel macgregor, who, with a small scratch lot of lancers and artillerymen whom he had collected, worked round into the village, which had been left by the main body of the enemy, and, putting down the opposition of the villagers, carried off the guns. the next day a body of men, composed of portions of the th foot, the nd highlanders, the rd sikhs, and th ghurkas, made an attack upon the enemy, who had established themselves on a lofty peak south of cabul. the enemy occupied the crest in strength, and away on the south, hidden from our view, had or men waiting for our attack to develop. after several hours of fighting, the little british force drove the afghans from the low hill, but were unable to carry the position above. no more troops could be spared, and ammunition ran short. it was determined, therefore, to put off the attack until morning. at eight o'clock general baker left sherpur with a strong force, and attacked the enemy's position. after desperate fighting, he stormed the ridge. great masses of the enemy in the meantime were moving round, so as to threaten the road to sherpur. the th lancers charged with great gallantry among them, and defeated them. captain butson, who commanded the lancers, was, however, killed, and two other officers wounded. several other brilliant charges were made, and the plain was kept clear of the enemy. our position, however, although actually victorious in the field, was getting more and more serious. the city was now in open revolt. large numbers of natives continued to arrive and reinforce the enemy; and it was rapidly becoming clear that the british force, although strong enough to hold the sherpur cantonments or the bala hissar, would not be able to maintain itself in both. upon the next day, the th, desperate fighting again took place. general baker, with bayonets and guns, left the cantonments to make another attempt to clear the hills, and in this he succeeded, but only after the greatest efforts. several officers were killed or wounded, but the enemy were driven from their first position. just as they had done this, a body of from , to , of the enemy marched out upon the plain, and made towards the position captured by general baker. steadily they advanced, and the shells which our mountain guns sent among them, and the volleys poured down from the hills, did not suffice to cause the slightest faltering in their advance. steadily they came forward, and desperate fighting took place. a position held by the th punjaub infantry was carried by their attack; two guns were lost; but the rest of the positions were held. there were now , men, at least, gathered round the british forces, and general macpherson was ordered to fall back to sherpur with all his force. general baker was to hold the village he had occupied since the morning, until all the troops from the heights were within the walls. the movement was well carried out, and although some loss took place as the troops fell back, by nightfall all the british forces were gathered in the cantonments of sherpur. for some days fighting was suspended, the afghans being busy in plundering the hindoo portions of the city, and in preparing for an attack. the british forces in sherpur were now fairly besieged, and it was considered certain that nothing could be done until the arrival of troops from jugdulluck and gundamuck, down in the jellalabad valley. unfortunately the position had been considered as so secure from attack, that no steps had been taken to demolish the old forts and villages standing round sherpur, and these were now occupied by the enemy, who kept up a steady fire upon the cantonments. upon the th the enemy made an attack upon the place, but this, although hotly kept up, was repulsed without much difficulty. on the th, general baker made an assault upon a small fort situate at a few hundred yards from the cantonment, from which the enemy had greatly annoyed us. a portion of the place was blown up, the afghans being driven from it after severe fighting. skirmishing went on each day; but the afghans could not bring themselves to make another attack until the night of the nd, when , men advanced to storm the british position. the garrison had received warning, and at four in the morning signal fires were seen burning, and the fire of the enemy's skirmishers began. the enemy crept quietly up, and at six o'clock, with a shout, the whole body rushed out from the villages and orchards round the place, and charged upon the walls. they opened fire with a tremendous roar, but this was drowned by the roll of musketry which broke out from the whole circuit of the walls, where the men had been lying for the last three hours, rifle in hand, awaiting the attack. some of the enemy pushed forward to within eighty yards of our rifles, but beyond this even the bravest could not advance. for a few hours they skirmished round the place; but finally fell back, and the attack was abandoned. with the morning came the welcome news that general gough had reached the cabul plain, and the cloud of dust arising in the distance showed that the enemy had also heard of our reinforcement, and was marching out to attack him. the garrison of sherpur at once sallied out and attacked the afghans, creating a diversion, and killing large numbers of the enemy. by nightfall the whole of the afghans were driven into cabul. upon the following day general cough's force arrived, and the british were again masters of the country. the whole of the afghans engaged in the attack fled during the night, and the british marched into cabul without resistance. this was virtually the end of the fighting at this point. the time now passed quietly, and it was not until the month of may that any serious fighting took place. then the tribesmen again began to muster. general stewart was on his way from candahar, and the tribes, feeling that if any hostile movement against us was to be successful it must be undertaken before the arrival of the reinforcements, assembled in great numbers. general macpherson moved out against them, and another battle took place at charasia, and after some very severe fighting the enemy were scattered. sir donald stewart's march had been uneventful as far as shahjui, the limit of the candahar province. here the teraki country begins, and the mollahs had been actively preaching a holy war, and had collected several thousand men. as we advanced the villages were deserted. upon arriving at ahmed khel, the enemy were found to have taken up a position in front. our baggage stretched far in the rear, and it was all-important to prevent the column being outflanked. general stewart therefore determined to attack at once. the two batteries of artillery opened fire upon the enemy, who numbered from , to , , and who, at a signal, rushed headlong down from their position, and charged upon general stewart's force. this charge was executed by some or ghazees, as they were called--that is to say, fanatics sworn to give their lives to carry out their object of exterminating the hated infidel. these men were armed, some with rifles and matchlocks, some with heavy swords, knives, and pistols, others with pikes made of bayonets or pieces of sharpened iron fastened upon long sticks. some were on foot; some on horseback. so sudden and unexpected was the attack, so swiftly did they cross the four or five hundred yards of intervening ground, that they came upon the british before preparations could be made for their reception. cavalry were moving in front of the infantry, and these, before they could be got into line for a charge, were surrounded by the enemy. in an instant they were lost to sight in the cloud of dust and smoke caused by the battle; and in the confusion a troop charged to the right in rear of our infantry line, and burst into the th punjaub native infantry, in rear of the general and his staff. all was for a moment confusion. the ammunition mules were stampeded, riderless horses dashed hither and thither, and behind the cavalry came in the ghazees with a furious rush, and a hand-to-hand fight took place. so impetuous were they, that on the left they swept round in the rear of our infantry; and the results would have been most terrible, had not colonel lister, v.c., commanding the rd ghurkas, formed his men rapidly into company squares, and poured a tremendous fire into the fanatics. all along the line the attack raged, and so hurriedly had the affair come on that many of the men had not even fixed bayonets. desperate was the hand-to-hand fighting; and valour more conspicuous than that of the ghazees was never shown. but the three regiments, british, sikh, and ghurka, to whom they were exposed, held their own, and poured rolling volleys into the ranks of the enemy. so fiercely did these charge that they came up to within thirty yards of the muzzles of major waters' guns, which were firing case and reversed shrapnel, and mowed them down in hundreds. the nd punjaub cavalry charged again and again in the most gallant manner, and protected the guns from the ghazees' attacks. the general, surrounded by his escort, was in the midst of the fight, the enemy having burst in between the guns and the th foot, and officers and troopers had alike to fight for their lives, several of the escort being killed. at last, however, the ghazees fell back before the terrific fire, and the st punjaub cavalry, coming up from the rear, took up the pursuit. the fighting had lasted but an hour; but of the enemy dead lay upon the field, besides those bodies which had been carried off, and their wounded must have been even more numerous. among our troops were killed and wounded. our native allies, the hazaras, seeing the afghans defeated, took up the pursuit, and the rout of the enemy was complete. ghuznee fell without opposition, the fighting men having been engaged in the battle of ahmed khel, and having had enough of hostilities. a force was sent out from ghuznee on the rd of april, under brigadier-general palliser; and this had a severe engagement with the natives near the village of shalez, where they fought with a desperation equal to that shown by the fanatics in the previous battle. our men, however, were this time prepared, and were able to inflict very heavy losses upon the enemy, without allowing them to get to such close quarters as before. this was the end of the afghan resistance, and general stewart moved on to cabul, and effected a junction with general roberts. this brought the second period of the afghan war to a close. for some months the forces remained quiet at cabul. negotiations were now going on. abdul rahman was advancing upon cabul. this chief had long been a resident among the russians, and had assumed the ameership, and had been received cordially in the north of afghanistan. as no other competitor appeared to have equal chances with him, and as the british government were most desirous to retire from the country, his authority was recognised by us, and upon his approach to cabul the british force was ordered to retire. just at this moment, however, news came which showed that the work was not yet over. when general stewart left candahar in his march towards cabul, a strong british force had been left at that city. a protege of the british, named wali shere ali, had been appointed by us governor of candahar. his native army was not, however, regarded as reliable; and when the news came that ayoub, a brother of yakoob, was moving down from herat, of which town he was the governor, with a large force, a body of british troops advanced with the wali's army towards girishk on the river helmund. on july the th the conspiracy which had been going on among the wali's troops came to a head. the whole of them deserted, and the small british brigade found itself alone on the helmund. general burrows had with him but infantry, cavalry, and guns, a force clearly inadequate to meet the large body with which ayoub was advancing, and which would be swelled by the addition of the wali's late troops. general primrose, who commanded at candahar, decided that no more troops could be sent forward to strengthen this brigade. ayoub was advancing steadily, and, after deliberation, general burrows fell back from girishk to a point upon the road near maiwand. ayoub had crossed the helmund higher up, and was moving in a parallel line to that taken by the british; and the object of the english commander was to take up a position which would at once bar the road to candahar and would prevent ayoub striking by a more northern road, by which he would place himself north of the city and on the road to cabul. the camping-ground was a village called khussk-i-nakhud. reconnaissances were made by general nuttal's cavalry in the direction of the enemy; but general burrows had but bad information, and had no idea of the real strength of the force with which ayoub was advancing. it was not until the th that the forces came into collision. it was known then that ayoub was trying to reach maiwand without fighting, and general burrows at once marched from khussk-i-nakhud to maiwand to anticipate this movement. at half-past six the troops marched, the general belief being that it was only ayoub's cavalry with which he should have to deal. upon arriving near maiwand, however, our spies brought in the news that the whole of ayoub's force was in front. the morning was thick, and but little could be seen of ayoub's army. the cavalry were indeed found moving about in large masses, but these fell back on our advance. lieutenant maclean, with two horse artillery guns and a small cavalry escort, galloped out on the extreme left, and got his guns into action on the afghan cavalry. the position was considered a dangerous one, and the guns were withdrawn. large numbers of the enemy, led by ghazees, were now seen swarming down over the low hills. the british infantry were formed in the following order:--on the right were the th regiment, the bombay grenadiers formed the centre, and jacob's rifles the left. two guns were placed in position to support the th on the right, the remaining ten--for the six british guns had been increased to twelve by a battery captured from the wali's mutineers--between the grenadiers and the main body of jacob's rifles. there was no reserve, nor, indeed, with so small a force could there have been any. the cavalry, the rd scinde horse and rd bombay cavalry, formed up in the rear of the left centre. our guns shelled the enemy as they advanced, and it was fully an hour before his artillery opened in reply, when five batteries unmasked and opened fire. under cover of this artillery fire, the enemy's irregulars advanced. when within or yards of the th, the martini fire of the latter checked them, and in this quarter for a moment the attack ceased. unfortunately our position was in every way a bad one. deep ravines ran both to the right and left of our force. by these the enemy could advance until within a short distance of us. the position, too, was dominated by the hills on either side, and after an artillery duel lasting for some time, the enemy's guns were moved on to the hills and a terrible fire opened upon our infantry. at about two o'clock the smooth-bore guns began to run short of ammunition, and as only sixty rounds had been captured with them and there was no reserve, these were abandoned. the enemy's battery now came boldly up, their cavalry manoeuvred on the left flank of the brigade, large numbers of their infantry and irregulars got into the villages behind us, and the position became more and more serious. half an hour later the two companies of jacob's rifles on the extreme left began to waver. the retirement from the smooth-bore guns demoralised them, and they broke their ranks and fell into utter confusion, breaking in upon the grenadiers, who had up to that time fought steadily. the ghazees swept down in great masses, and the grenadiers likewise gave way. the remaining companies of jacob's rifles shared in the panic. the enemy now swept in in all directions, their guns from the heights poured volleys of shell into the ranks of the crowded british, and the th, borne in upon by the rush of native troops on the one side, pressed by the ghazees on the other, and cut down by the artillery fire, began to fall back also. the confusion became hopeless. the artillery fired until the ghazees were within a few yards of them, and two of the guns were lost. the cavalry were ordered to charge; but they had already been much demoralised by the artillery fire, and could not be persuaded to charge home. in the walled enclosures behind, the th and the grenadiers rallied, and fought nobly. here colonel galbraith was killed and nine other officers of the th. some bodies of troops, entirely cut off from the rest, fought desperately to the end, and, dying, surrounded themselves with a ring of slaughtered enemies. but at length the surviving troops were extricated from the villages, and the retreat commenced. fortunately the pursuit lasted only two or three miles, the enemy having themselves suffered terribly, and being, moreover, anxious to take part in the loot of the camp. the retreat was a terrible one. fifty miles had to be passed, and no water was obtainable on the way. along the whole line the villagers rose upon the fugitives, and the loss was terrible. had the cavalry remained, as was their duty, behind the infantry, protected the retreat, and so given time to the fugitives to rally, the result would have been different. but the conduct of the native cavalry regiments was the reverse of creditable. fortunately ayoub's army had been to a great extent demoralised by the tremendous losses which it had incurred in the defeat of this handful of british troops, and some days elapsed before it could continue its advance. this gave time to the garrison at candahar to put all in readiness. the doubtful portion of the population was cleared out of the city, provisions collected, and all put in readiness for a siege. the news of maiwand aroused tremendous excitement throughout india, and orders were at once issued for the carrying out of relieving operations. general roberts was to march from cabul with a strong division, consisting of tried troops, while general phayre, with another force, was to move from quettah. unfortunately the same false economy which had so delayed the advance after the massacre of cavaignari, by the instant break-up of the transport trains, again operated to delay general phayre; and although every possible effort was made, the force advancing from the bolan could not reach candahar until after that coming down from cabul, although the latter had many times the distance to march. the forces which took part in the memorable march of general roberts were the nd highlanders, rd pioneers, th punjaub infantry, nd ghurkas, nd highlanders, nd sikhs, rd sikhs, th ghurkas, nd, th, th sikhs, th punjaub infantry, and the th ghurkas. there were three batteries of artillery, and four cavalry regiments--the th lancers, the rd bengal cavalry, the rd punjaub cavalry, and the central india horse. this gave a total of about , men. the march would be between three and four weeks. there would, in addition, be followers to feed, horses, and some transport and artillery mules and ponies. the new ameer did his best, by sending orders that all should be done to assist the march. but the operation was in any case a dangerous one, and it was questionable whether the force would be able to subsist upon the road. however, it started, and marching steadily day by day, passed through ghuznee and down to khelat-i-ghilzai, where colonel tanner had been besieged. no difficulties were met with, and scarce a shot was fired on the way down. in seven days ghuznee was reached, in fifteen khelat-i-ghilzai, the marching being no less than . miles per day,-- not an extraordinary distance for a single regiment to perform, but a wonderful feat for a force containing some , persons, and baggage animals, marching through mountainous valleys. candahar had held out during the advance of general roberts. indeed, ayoub's forces had never ventured upon anything like a formidable attack upon it, believing that they would be able to starve out the garrison in time. a sortie had been made, but with disastrous effects, and the garrison were now standing strictly on the defensive. as the relieving force advanced, ayoub drew off and took ground on some hills near the town. on the th of august the cavalry established heliographic communication, this being the nineteenth day of their march from cabul. on the st the entry was made into candahar. there was little delay here. ayoub's army had taken up its position on the baba wali hills. on the south-west his right was protected by the pir-paimal hill. this, however, was liable to be turned. a reconnaissance was at once made by the cavalry, and the enemy unmasked five guns and opened upon them. the afghans poured out to the attack of the th sikhs. but these retired steadily, as there was no wish to bring on an engagement. general macpherson's brigade, with those of generals baker and macgregor, were to take part in the fray, the latter being in reserve. the men breakfasted at eight o'clock, and at nine were ready for the advance. the attack commenced by general macpherson's brigade carrying a village which the afghans had occupied in advance of the range. without maps, it is difficult in the extreme to describe battles; but it may be briefly said that generals macpherson and baker advanced round the end of the pir-paimal, carried village after village, in some of which a desperate defence was made by the enemy, and so at last, winning every foot of the ground by hard fighting, they swept round the hill, and turned the enemy's left. many of the men were killed by ghazees, who shut themselves up in the houses of the villages and sold their lives dearly, firing upon our troops until house after house was carried by storm. the whole ground was orchard and enclosed fields, and each of these was the scene of a conflict. behind the northern hill, where the country is cut up by water-courses and canals between the river and the slopes, the afghans made their last stand. a deep water-cut, twelve feet broad, with banks two or three feet high, and with cultivated fields in front, served them as an excellent defence. the banks had been ingeniously loopholed for rifle fire, and two camps lay in rear of it. the highlanders, however, carried the place with a rush, losing upwards of men as they did so. the rest of the enemy, numbering from to , , who had been gathered in the orchards, were driven round the rear of the line of hills. wherever they tried to rally, the british were upon them, and at last the fugitives reaching their camp, the whole body of ayoub's army took to flight, although his regular regiments had never been engaged during the day, the whole fighting having been done by the irregulars. in four hours from the time the fight began, the afghan army was driven from the position it had taken up, its camp and all its appurtenances falling into our hands, as well as thirty-one guns and two horse artillery guns, which had been captured at maiwand. they had made certain of victory, for not a tent was struck, nor a single mule-load of baggage off. this action, which completely crushed the force of ayoub, concluded the campaign. the battle cost the lives of three officers--lieutenant-colonel brownlow, commanding nd highlanders, captain frome, nd highlanders, and captain straton, nd battalion nd foot. eleven officers were wounded, men were killed and wounded. the enemy's loss was about in killed alone. their work was over; and as general stewart, with the army of cabul, had retired from beyond the borders of afghanistan on the one side, so general roberts, with his relieving force, fell back on the other, and the afghan campaign came to a close. chapter fourteen. the zulu war-- . towards the end of the year , serious disputes arose between the british authorities of natal and cetewayo, the king of the zulus, a savage monarch possessing a large army of warriors, composed of men well-trained according to the savage idea of warfare, and possessed of extreme bravery. the ill-feeling had commenced at the time that the british took over the transvaal. between the boers and the zulus great hostility prevailed, the boers constantly encroaching upon the zulus' ground, driving off cattle, and acting with extreme lawlessness. the zulus had long been preparing for retributive warfare; and as the boers had proved themselves shortly before unable to conquer secoceni, a chief whose power was as nothing in comparison with that of cetewayo, the zulus deemed that they would have an easy conquest of the transvaal. the occupation of that country by the english baulked them of their expected hopes of conquest and plunder, and a very sore feeling was engendered. this was heightened by the interference of the english with the tribal usages. wholesale massacres had been of constant occurrence in zululand, the slightest opposition to the king's will being punished not only by the death of the offender himself, but by the destruction of all the villages of the tribe to which he belonged. every fighting man was in the army, and the young men were not permitted to marry until the king gave permission, such permission being never granted until after the regiment to which the man belonged had distinguished itself in fight. hence it happened that frequently the men were kept single until they reached middle age, and this privation naturally caused among the whole of the younger population an intense desire for war. the british government, seeing the danger of such an organisation, and feeling that unless it was broken up war would shortly break out, called upon cetewayo to abolish this institution. at the same time the government was acting as arbitrator between the zulus and the boers on a question of frontier, and there was also a minor dispute concerning some chiefs who had crossed the tugela, the frontier river, and carried off some captives. in december a _durbar_ was held, in which the government gave the decision on the frontier question in favour of the zulus, ordered the persons who had violated the frontier to be given up, and at the same time gave in an ultimatum to the zulu king respecting the dissolution of his army. it was not known what answer the king would give; but it was believed that it would be unsatisfactory. accordingly every effort was made to place a strong force upon the frontier. three columns were assembled, one near the mouth of the tugela, which was to march along the coast; another was to cross the river at rorke's drift; a third was to enter zululand from the transvaal. the first of these was to be commanded by colonel pearson; the second would be commanded by colonel glyn, and accompanied by the general, lord chelmsford, himself; and the force acting from the transvaal would be commanded by colonel evelyn wood. on the st december, cetewayo returned an answer, expressing his willingness to give up some of the persons whose surrender was demanded, and to pay the fine imposed upon him. as to the other points, however, his answer was purely evasive, and preparations were made to cross the frontier at once. on the rd, general lord chelmsford left capetown for the front, and the time given to cetewayo to return a favourable answer was extended to the th. on the th, no further reply having been received, the british troops crossed the tugela river. lord chelmsford's column moved slowly forward, and occupied no less than ten days in getting to isandula, a place little more than ten miles from the frontier. on the morning of the nd, lord chelmsford, taking with him the main body of the column, advanced to reconnoitre the country beyond,--five companies of the st battalion of the th, one company of the nd battalion of the th, two guns, two rocket tubes, men of one of the frontier corps, and natives remaining behind to guard the camp. these were further reinforced in the course of the day by the arrival of colonel durnford with a body of frontier troops. the zulus were presently seen advancing towards the camp. this was situate in a valley. at the back of the camp was a very high and steep hill, which, had time been given, could have been occupied and held against overwhelming forces. unfortunately, however, no steps had been taken to occupy this point of vantage, or in any way to strengthen the camp. had the force been pitched in salisbury plain, it could not have acted as if in more perfect security. upon the zulus making their appearance, advancing in their usual formation,--namely, that of a great crescent,--two companies of the th advanced to meet them, and colonel durnford, with his horse, went out to skirmish. the zulus, however, were so numerous and came on with such determination, that even the rapid fire of the infantry rifles scarcely sufficed to check them for an instant. the cavalry were forced to fall back; the infantry, after resisting to the last moment, also retired hastily. in the meantime the wing of the zulu force had swept round, and came down upon the baggage waggons in the rear of the camp. then the whole body fell upon the little force of british. so sudden and determined was the attack, so unexpected in its character, that the british force had scarcely time to prepare in any way for it. for a few minutes they fought fiercely, and then the zulus, with a tremendous rush, were upon them. then, in a moment, all was confusion and disorder. some stood in groups and fought desperately, back to back. others broke and fled. but to all, whether they fought or fled, the same fate came. a few, and a few only, of the mounted frontiers succeeded in cutting their way through the enemy and making for the river but the footmen were, to a man, killed. the loss was over , and scarce of those engaged effected their escape. among the dead were colonel durnford and lieutenant macdonald, royal engineers; captain russell and captain stewart smith, royal artillery; colonel pulleine, major white, captains degacher, warden, mostyn, and younghusband; lieutenants hobson, caveye, atkinson, davey, anstie, dyson, porteous, melville, coghill; and quartermaster pullen of the st battalion th regiment; and lieutenants pope, austin, dyer, griffith, and quartermaster bloomfield, together with surgeon--major shepheard, of the nd battalion th regiment. a large number of british officers commanding the native contingents were also killed. among those who had ridden off while the fight was raging were lieutenants melville and coghill. these were both mounted, and melville bore the colours of the regiment. cutting their way through the surrounding zulus, they rode for the river, hotly pursued by the enemy. lieutenant coghill swam safely across; but upon reaching the other side, perceived that his comrade was helpless in the river, his horse having thrown him, and he clinging to a rock. the gallant young officer at once returned and rescued his friend; but the delay was fatal. the zulus were upon them, and, after a desperate resistance, the young officers were both killed. in the meantime, by some extraordinary neglect, the column under lord chelmsford was marching on without having any idea of what was happening in its rear, no communication whatever being kept up between the two bodies. at last, late in the afternoon, just as it was preparing to halt, the news was brought of the attack upon the camp. the column marched back with all speed; but only arrived at the camp late at night, to find it deserted by the enemy, and strewn with the bodies of those they had left in high health and spirits in the morning, and with the remains of waggons and stores of all descriptions. that night the force lay on their arms on the scene of the encounter, and next morning marched back to the tugela, and crossed at rorke's drift. here another conflict had taken place upon the previous day; and had it not been for the gallantry and presence of mind of two young officers, not only would the depots here have fallen into the hands of the zulus, but the retreat of the column would have been cut off, and in all probability it would have shared the fate of those at isandula. at rorke's drift was a depot of provisions and stores. this was guarded by a little force of some men of the th regiment, under the command of lieutenant bromhead; lieutenant chard, royal engineers, being senior officer. in the afternoon the news reached them that the enemy were approaching in force; and without a moment's loss of time the young officers set their men to work to form an intrenchment with the grain bags and boxes, to connect a house used as an hospital with the storehouse. scarcely were the preparations complete, when the zulus, several thousand strong, crossed the river and advanced to the attack. the little garrison defended themselves with heroic bravery. fortunately, among the stores was a large quantity of ammunition, and they were therefore enabled to keep up a steady and incessant fire all round, without fear of running short. several times the zulus charged up to the breastwork and endeavoured to climb over; but each time these efforts were repulsed. the little force, however, was unable successfully to defend the hospital, which, after desperate fighting, was carried by the zulus and burnt, the garrison then being concentrated in the storehouse and a small piece of ground enclosed by meal-bags in front. for twelve hours the fight continued, and then the zulus, after suffering a loss which they themselves admit to exceed , fell back, and the all-important station was retained. upon the rd, as colonel pearson's column was advancing from the lower tugela drift, they were attacked by the enemy at the ebroi river, and a fierce fight ensued. the zulus, however, were kept at bay by the fire of the rifles, artillery, and rockets, and were unable to come to close quarters. after making several efforts to charge, they fell back with a loss of killed. the force pushed on as far as ekowe, and there receiving the news of the defeat at isandula, colonel pearson set to work to intrench the position, sent back his mounted men and the native contingents, and determined to hold the place to the last. when the news of the disaster at isandula reached england, the effect was immense, and preparations were instantly made to send reinforcements to the cape, to the extent of six battalions of infantry, two regiments of cavalry, and two batteries of artillery. the th regiment, which was at the cape, was at once hurried round, and every available man who could be spared landed from the men-of-war. for a few days a panic pervaded the colony, as it was feared that the zulus, inflamed by victory, would cross the river and invade natal; and had this bold policy been carried out, there can be no doubt that wholesale devastation could have been caused by them. fortunately, however, the zulus, satisfied with their victory and to a certain extent appalled by the tremendous loss which had been inflicted upon them, both at isandula before they overwhelmed the th, and at rorke's drift, where they failed in their attack, fell back from the frontier and allowed the british preparations to be made without interruption. the column of colonel evelyn wood was attacked two days after the battle of isandula; but having received news of that disaster, they were well prepared, and repulsed the enemy with much loss. they then fell back to the frontier, and, like the other columns, stood on the defensive. the troops on the way from england made rapid passages, and arrived at durban earlier than could have been expected. about the same time prince napoleon, who had gone out from england with the permission of government as a spectator in the war, also arrived there, and was permitted to accompany the british column. upon the arrival of the first troopship at natal all fear of an invasion passed away, and as vessel after vessel arrived with its load, the hopes of the british, that the defeat of isandula would speedily be wiped out, rose high. there was, however, considerable delay in obtaining the waggons and mules required for transport. the first operation to be undertaken was the relief of ekowe. this position had been attacked, and had not only defended itself successfully, but the little garrison had sallied out, and burned various kraals in the neighbourhood. considerable anxiety, however, was felt as to them, for they were entirely cut off from news. a few runners only had managed to make their way through, and these had now ceased, the zulu watch being too strict to allow any of them to pass. fortunately the engineers were able to establish communication by means of flashing signals, and from that time news was received daily, giving an account of the camp, and acquainting those there of the preparations which were being pushed forward for their relief. on the th of march, men of the th regiment, under the command of captain moriarty, when marching from durban to luneberg, on the north-western frontier of zululand, were attacked in the night by the enemy; captain moriarty and half the force being killed, while the remainder of the party, who were encamped upon the other side of the river intombi, succeeded in making their escape. on the th of march the column of relief advanced from the tugela. it consisted of the th, st, th, rd, th, several companies of the buffs, the naval brigade, cavalry, and two battalions of the native contingent. the naval brigade, consisting of the men of the _shah_ and _tenedos_, with two -pounders and three gatling guns, led the advance. no enemy was met with during the first day's march, and they encamped on the ioyuni, nine miles north of the tugela, where they threw up intrenchments at once. the next day they marched to matacoola, and thence on the following day seven miles farther, to gingihlovo. this camp was situated on slightly rising ground, and the tower of ekowe was distinctly visible from it. from this colonel pearson flashed signals that a large force of the enemy was on the march. intrenchments were thrown up, and the force remained in readiness for an attack. at half-past five in the morning large masses of the enemy were sighted. they crossed the river inyanzi, and advanced in their usual crescent-shaped formation. the camp was formed in a square; the th rifles were holding the face first threatened by the enemy. for half an hour the th were hard at work; but their steady fire beat back the enemy at this point. sweeping round to the right, they then made a determined effort to force their way in on that side, but were met and checked by a tremendous fire from the th and st. nothing could be finer than the way in which the natives advanced to the attack upon the line of intrenchments, and, notwithstanding the tremendous musketry fire which they encountered, they pressed forward so closely that for some time it appeared as if they would force their way to the intrenchments, and bring the matter to a hand-to-hand fight. the fire, however, proved too much for them, and they wavered and began to fall back. then the little body of cavalry sallied out from the camp, and fell upon them, and the native contingent followed and took up the pursuit hotly. the zulu army was composed of some of the picked men of the best regiments of the king, and the result showed conclusively that british troops, if only properly led, can resist an attack of any number, even of the most gallant savages. the loss of the zulus was estimated at . the relieving force now pushed on to ekowe, where they found the gallant garrison in great straits from want of food and from disease, brought on by living so long in confinement. during the siege officers and men had succumbed. ekowe was evacuated, a force was left at gingihlovo, and the column then returned to the tugela. on the th of march, the day before the relief column started for ekowe, very heavy fighting had taken place in the north-west of zululand. colonel wood had, during the whole of the time of inactivity, harassed the enemy with great success. a chief by the name of umbelini, however, had made repeated attacks, and it was now determined to punish him by an attack on the strong plateau of mhlobani, on which umbelini kept the greater part of his herds. on the morning of the th, colonel buller, with all the mounted forces, started, gained the plateau without much difficulty, collected great herds of cattle, and prepared for the return. when, however, they were on the point of leaving the plateau, vast bodies of zulus were seen approaching from the plains. these were an army which had been sent by cetewayo to the assistance of umbelini. the cavalry, scattered among the herds, and unable to act from the rocky nature of the ground, were now in a bad position, and suffered most heavily. captain barton's volunteer horse and colonel weatherley's troop suffered most heavily, losing no less than men and officers. among these were colonel weatherley himself, captain hamilton of the connaught rangers, and captains campbell and burton of the coldstream guards. the rest of the force succeeded in getting away, and, hotly pursued, fell back upon the camp at kambula. the following day the zulus were seen approaching in great force. colonels buller and russell, with the cavalry, went out and skirmished, but were speedily driven in. the enemy came on in great force until within yards of the intrenchment, when a heavy fire was opened upon them by the men of the th regiment. this checked their advance upon the front, and they then threatened the cattle laager, hard by, by a flanking movement. major hackett of the th, with two companies, moved to this, and for three hours a desperate fight raged round the whole circuit of the camp. at the end of this time the zulus, having suffered terribly from the fire of our breechloaders, began to fall back, when our cavalry under colonel buller at once sallied out and fell upon them, and for seven miles pursued and cut them up. our loss was comparatively small. lieutenant nicholson, r.a., and lieutenant bright of the th were killed, major hackett and several other officers being severely wounded. many weeks now passed without striking events, and the greatest discontent was caused by the long inactivity. kambula and gingihlovo had shown how british troops, when steady, could defeat great masses of the enemy; and it was inexplicable to all why a british force of some , men could remain for weeks inactive within but four days' march of the stronghold of the enemy. so great had the discontent become, both in england and natal, at the extraordinary inaction of the british troops, that the greatest satisfaction was diffused when, on the th of may, sir garnet wolseley was appointed to the chief command at the cape. on the st of june an occurrence took place which cast a gloom over the whole country. the prince imperial started with lieutenant carey of the th, and six men of bettington's horse, on a reconnoitring expedition, and reached a kraal some ten miles from the camp. here they unsaddled their horses and rested for an hour. as they were in the act of resaddling, a party of zulus suddenly sprang out. all leaped to their horses and rode off, unhappily headed by the officer, who should have been the last in the retreat. the prince imperial was unable to mount his horse, and was overtaken by the zulus within yards of the kraal, and, being deserted and alone, was killed by the zulus, making a noble resistance to the last. there is no blacker episode in the history of the british army than this. another month was passed in tedious delays and crawling movements. general sir garnet wolseley reached the cape in the last week in june, and the news of his approach appears to have quickened the faculties of the officer until then commanding the british troops, who accordingly advanced, and upon the th of july fought the battle of ulundi. the british were formed in square, and upon their approach to the king's head village, were attacked by the zulus. the fight was never for an instant in doubt. from the four sides of the square a tremendous fire from our breechloaders, aided by guns and gatlings placed at the angles, mowed down the zulus, who advanced bravely, but were wholly unable to stand the withering fire. the conflict lasted but a very few minutes, at the end of which the zulus were in flight, and the war in zululand was virtually at an end. after this there was no more actual fighting. scattered bands were dispersed and places occupied; but the zulus lost all heart, and went off at once to their villages. a hot pursuit was kept up after the king, and he was finally captured and sent a prisoner to the cape. the troops were sent back to england as speedily as possible. after the pacification of zululand, sir garnet wolseley carried out a very dashing little expedition against secoceni, who had long defied the strength of the boers and the authority of the english. his stronghold was captured after sharp fighting, and for a time the south of africa was pacified. chapter fifteen. the egyptian war-- . in the spring of a movement, in which the military were the principal actors and arabi pasha the guiding spirit, took place in egypt; and although tewfik, the khedive, was not absolutely deposed, his authority was set at naught. he had, from the commencement of his reign, acted under english advice, and as there was a strong anti-foreign element in the movement, considerable apprehensions were excited lest the safety of the suez canal would be threatened, should the revolution be carried to a successful end. the support given by the english to the khedive excited against us a strong feeling of hostility on the part of arabi's party, and the position grew so threatening that an english and french fleet was sent to alexandria to give a moral support to the khedive, and to protect the european inhabitants. the situation was further aggravated by a serious riot in alexandria on th june, arising primarily from a quarrel between the natives and the lower class of greeks and levantines. the riots spread, and a considerable number of europeans were killed and wounded. preparations were at once made for war, but before the troops could arrive upon the scene a crisis occurred. arabi's troops commenced throwing up fresh batteries, in positions menacing the english fleet. admiral seymour requested that the work should be discontinued; but as it still went on, he sent in an ultimatum. this was not attended to, and at the expiration of the time given, the british fleet opened fire upon the egyptian forts and batteries. the events of the action belong rather to _our sailors_, than to the military branch of the service. the firing continued all day, and by the afternoon the egyptian batteries were all silenced. the next day the enemy exhibited a flag of truce, and negotiations were kept up until evening. that night the egyptian troops evacuated the town; but before leaving, they, with the fanatical portion of the populace, set fire to the greater portion of the european quarter, which was almost entirely destroyed. little loss of life, however, took place, as the greater part of the european inhabitants had gone on board ship previous to the commencement of the bombardment. the next day marines and seamen landed, and took possession of the town. the troops now began to arrive from malta and gibraltar, and a position was taken up outside the town at ramleh, facing the army of arabi. several small skirmishes took place at the outposts, a body of twenty mounted infantry, under lieutenant pigott of the th rifles, particularly distinguishing themselves. the troops arrived fast, general sir archibald alison took the command, and reconnaissances of the enemy's position were made by the troops and by an armour-clad train manned by sailors. on the th of august a reconnaissance in force was made. six companies of the th rifles, four companies of the th, and four of the th marched out from the lines at ramleh, accompanied by seven companies of the marines with the iron-clad train. the th and th moved forward with one gun, on the left bank of the mahmoudieh canal; the th, also with a gun, moving on the right bank, while the marines advanced on the railway embankment. the enemy were seen in large numbers in front of the rifles, and these advanced in skirmishing order. the enemy lined a ditch which ran across the country with a dense jungle on its rear, and opened a heavy fire from the cover upon the rifles. a hot fire was kept up on both sides, the english gradually pressing forward towards their invisible foe. when the rifles reached within yards of the ditch, the egyptians began to steal away through the jungle, and the th charged down upon the ditch with a cheer, when the enemy at once took to their heels. the marines were equally successful along the line of the railway embankment. the enemy made a bold stand at the point where the canal and railway approach each other, and, strong reinforcements coming to their assistance, the british fell back in good order, the egyptians declining to pursue. at the commencement of the fight, the mounted infantry under captain barr and lieutenants pigott and vyse were in advance of the th. the officers with six men went forward to reconnoitre, and suddenly found themselves in front of a large body of the enemy; the infantry dismounted and returned the fire opened upon them, expecting support from the rear. orders, however, came for them to retire. in the meantime two of the little band were struck dead, and two were wounded. lieutenant vyse, a great favourite with his men, was struck high in the leg, and, the arteries being severed, bled to death. his comrades would not desert his body, but carried it off under a tremendous fire, the two wounded men, who were still able to use their rifles, covering the retreat with their fire. sir garnet wolseley arrived at alexandria on the th of august, and on the th, the whole of the troops from england having arrived, the fleet with a large number of transports sailed from alexandria, leaving a division under the command of general sir evelyn wood to defend the town. arriving at port said, the fleet sailed up the suez canal to ismailia, which they occupied without resistance, and the troops at once began to land. on the th an advance was made on ismailia, and at a distance of seven miles the enemy was encountered. the force was not sufficient to attack the enemy, but an artillery fire was kept up hotly all day. in the evening british reinforcements came up, and the egyptians in the morning retired without fighting. they made a stand, however, farther back; but the cavalry under general drury lowe pushed forward on their flank, and after a short resistance the egyptians fled, a great number of them making their escape in the railway trains. seven krupp guns, an immense quantity of rifles and ammunition, and seventy-five railway waggons, loaded with provisions, fell into our hands. the troops now advanced as far as kassassin, where the advanced troops were under the command of general graham. on the th of august the enemy were seen in considerable force near this post, and the cavalry at mahsameh, four miles in the rear, rode out to assist the force there. the enemy, however, made no attack, and in the afternoon the cavalry returned. scarcely had they reached camp when a heavy and continuous roar was heard; the egyptians, with a force of , men, had advanced with the intention of crushing the small bodies of british troops in their isolated posts. the garrison of kassassin consisted only of a battalion of marine artillery, the th and th regiments. the enemy came on in overwhelming numbers, and with great resolution. the british infantry turned out to defend the positions, manning the slight earthwork which had been thrown up round the camp. the egyptians advanced in a storm of bullets, their artillery playing heavily on the camp. the egyptians suffered heavily, but advanced with considerable courage, and the position of the british was becoming serious. at this moment, however, the british cavalry, consisting of the horse and life guards and the th dragoon guards, with the horse artillery,-- who had remounted and advanced when the recommencement of the cannonade told that the attack had begun in earnest,--came into action. instead of advancing direct upon kassassin, general lowe took his men by a long detour by the right, and so came round in the darkness upon the enemy's rear. it was not until they arrived within a mile that the enemy saw the black mass advancing in the moonlight over the sandy plain. a battery of nine guns at once opened upon them, and the horse artillery replied immediately to the enemy's fire. bullets as well as shell were now falling fast around the cavalry, and general lowe gave the order to charge the guns. led by colonel sir baker russell, the cavalry rode straight at the enemy's battery. fortunately, in their haste the egyptian gunners fired high, and with a few casualties the cavalry reached the guns. the egyptian gunners were cut down, and then the horsemen dashed into the infantry behind, who were already turning to fly. the opening of the british guns in their rear at once checked the advance of the assailants of the garrison of kassassin. the cavalry charge completed the confusion of the enemy, and in a short time the plain was covered with bodies of the flying egyptians making their way back to tel-el-kebir, from which they had started in the morning, confident in their power to annihilate the little british force at kassassin. large numbers were killed, and the rout would have been even more complete had not the horses of the cavalry been too much exhausted with their long day's work under a broiling sun, to permit the pursuit being vigorously continued. the british advance had been terribly hindered from the difficulties of transport, but at last all was in readiness, and the division which had come from india having been brought round from suez to ismailia, all was prepared for the advance against the strong egyptian position at tel-el-kebir. on th september the enemy again advanced in great numbers, many of them having been brought up by train from tel-el-kebir. the videttes of the bengal lancers, who were now at the front, brought in the news of their approach, and the infantry and guns moved out to check them. the enemy had, however, already reached positions whence their fire commanded the camp, and opened fire with thirty guns upon the camp and moving column. the english artillery returned the enemy's fire, but the numbers were so great that for a time the position of the force appeared critical. general lowe with his cavalry rode out from camp, and repeated his manoeuvre of the previous engagement. the enemy's flank movement was checked, and their cavalry fell back, and for half an hour the two bodies of cavalry manoeuvred to outflank each other, halting occasionally while the light artillery on both sides opened fire. in the meantime the egyptian infantry had advanced on either side of the canal and railway, and down the slopes of the sand-hills, until within yards, when they opened a continuous rifle fire. the th rifles and the marines advanced to meet the enemy coming by the canal and railway line, when the th pressed forward against those on the high ground. for a time a tremendous fire was kept up on both sides; then the fire of the egyptian guns began to slacken under the superior aim of the british artillery. the order was given to advance, and the three regiments, supported by two others in reserve, went at the enemy, who at once broke and fled, abandoning three of their guns. the english pursued them until within four miles of tel-el-kebir. the cavalry, on their side, had not only driven in the cavalry of the enemy, but of their infantry, who were advancing from salahieh to outflank our position. so completely demoralised were the enemy by their defeat, that there can be little doubt the force engaged would have been sufficient to have carried tel-el-kebir at a rush. sir garnet wolseley, however, ordered a halt, as he had no wish to attack their position until able to deliver a crushing blow with his whole force, which was now close at hand. on the th the whole expeditionary force was assembled at kassassin, and in the evening the camp was struck, and the army, , strong, moved out, and, piling their arms, lay down on the sand until one o'clock; then they again fell into rank and advanced. scarcely a word was spoken, and the dark columns moved off almost noiselessly, their footfalls being deadened by the sand. on the right was graham's brigade, which had already done such good service by twice repelling the assaults of the enemy; next to them came the brigade of guards, which was, when the action began, to act as their support; next to these moved guns of the royal artillery, and on the line of railway the naval brigade advanced with the -pounder on a truck; beside them came the highland brigade,--the cameronians, th, gordon highlanders, and black watch,--the th and th forming their support. it was upon these that the brunt of the action fell. so silent was the advance in the darkness, that the enemy did not perceive the advancing column until they were within yards. the highlanders were advancing to attack the face of the works nearest to the line of march, and consequently arrived at their destination some time before graham's brigade, which had to make a sweep round. suddenly a terrific fire broke from the egyptian intrenchment upon the highlanders. not a shot was fired in reply, but with a wild cheer the highland regiments dashed at the enemy's line. against so fierce and rapid an onslaught the egyptians could make but little stand, and the highlanders dashed over the line of earthworks. scarcely, however, had they won that position when the egyptians opened a tremendous fire from an intrenchment farther back. the highlanders for a minute or two replied, and then again advanced at a charge. the egyptians fought stoutly, and for a time a hand-to-hand struggle went on; then some of the highlanders penetrated by an opening between the egyptian intrenchments, and opened fire upon their flank. this was too much for them, and they almost immediately broke and fled. in the meantime fighting had begun on the other flank. warned by the roar of conflict with the highlanders, the egyptians were here prepared, and for a time kept up a steady fire upon our troops. the th royal irish were sent to turn the enemy's left, and dashed at the trenches, carrying them at the bayonet's point. next to the th came the th and th, with the guards close behind. for a short time the enemy clung to the line of intrenchments, but their fire was very ineffective. by this time the highland division was already in their camp, and soon losing heart they too fled, and the whole egyptian army were in full rout. with hardly a moment's delay, the cavalry were pushed on in pursuit, and, riding forward with scarcely a halt, reached cairo in twenty-four hours. although there was a strong garrison here, it at once surrendered, and arabi pasha gave himself up to the english. the instant the news reached the egyptian army facing alexandria, it dispersed in all directions, and the war in egypt came to an abrupt termination. on every occasion throughout this war, when the british came in contact with the enemy they behaved with great valour; but the nature of the conflict, and the poor fighting power of the egyptian troops, afforded comparatively few opportunities for the display of deeds of individual heroism. england, however, has every reason to be proud of the conduct of her soldiers and sailors during the egyptian campaign, which was accomplished with a dash and rapidity, and with a smallness of loss, in comparison with the number of the enemy's troops and the strength of their artillery, altogether unprecedented in the annals of modern warfare. chapter sixteen. campaigns against the mahdi-- - . although the defeat of arabi was complete, another and much more serious danger to egyptian civilisation soon after arose in the soudan. an arab of dongola, a moslem fanatic, who had been accepted by many of the arabs as the mahdi or prophet, the expected messiah of islam, had, as far back as , resisted and defeated the egyptian forces, and during , by repeated successes, had largely increased his power and the number of his adherents. in serious preparations were made by the egyptian government for a campaign against these rebels; and in august an army of over , men of all arms was collected and despatched against the mahdi under the command of colonel hicks, a retired indian officer, and at this time a pasha in the egyptian service; and with him were many other english officers. for some weeks nothing was heard in lower egypt of the expedition, but at last news reached khartoum that the whole force had become entangled in a defile in which an ambuscade had been prepared by the enemy, and that after three days' fighting, the ammunition being exhausted, the army had been annihilated by the superior numbers of the mahdi's followers. in this awful slaughter there fell with hicks pasha, the governor of the soudan, and more than officers; while all the guns, munitions of war, and transport animals fell into the hands of the mahdi. this and other victories of the mahdi and his lieutenants added greatly to his prestige as prophet, and to the number of his fanatic followers, who now overran the whole of the soudan. the british government urged upon the egyptian ministry the necessity of relieving the various invested garrisons, and withdrawing from the country without delay. to this plan the egyptians reluctantly agreed, but they found themselves unable to accomplish it. the british government then applied to general gordon, who had formerly acted as governor-general of the soudan, and who had more influence over the arabs than any other european, to undertake the task of the evacuation of khartoum, the civil population of which was about , , an operation which, as they could only hope to retire by the nile, would require months of preparation. general gordon set out at once for his post, and, reaching cairo on the th january , left for khartoum on the th, with general stewart as his sole companion. travelling up the nile, these two reached korosko on st february, and then mounting camels rode for six days across the desert, and eventually reached khartoum on th february, where they were hailed with the greatest enthusiasm by the people. at first all seemed well, the country was fairly quiet, and gordon hoped to be able to send the garrison back, and indeed did send in safety some widows and children to korosko, but events soon occurred which destroyed all hopes of a peaceful retreat. after the defeat of hicks pasha, baker pasha, another quondam british officer, had been collecting a force of egyptians at suakin, and while gordon was still on the road to khartoum came into contact with the mahdi's men. baker's force consisted of some or egyptians, who proved of such miserable quality that at the first attack of the enemy they were seized by wild panic, and notwithstanding the heroic effort and example of their european officers, could not be prevailed upon to stand, but broke and fled in all directions, followed by the relentless mahdists, who massacred them without pity, men being slaughtered like sheep, and with no more show of resistance, in fifteen minutes. nearly all the european officers were killed fighting, and only a few, among whom was colonel baker, succeeded in cutting their way through, and returning to suakin. soon after this disaster sincat fell; its gallant garrison, under tewfik pasha, refusing to surrender, blew up the forts, and then marched out and fell fighting to the last; and tokar also fell into the mahdists' hands, its garrison agreeing to terms of surrender, thus leaving osman digna, the mahdist leader, free to attack suakin itself. battle of el-teb-- . as it was now clear that no reliance could be put upon egyptian troops, even when led by british officers, it became necessary for great britain to intervene if suakin was not to fall into the hands of the mahdi. this had to be prevented at all costs, and by the end of february a british force consisting of about troops was assembled at suakin under general graham. the arabs had taken up a strong position at the village of teb, a few miles inland of trinkitat, at the scene of the defeat of baker's army, and it was decided to drive them from this position. early on the morning of th february the british column set out, marching in the form of a hollow square, with the transport animals carrying reserve ammunition and hospital equipment in the middle. the force consisted of infantry selected from the gordon highlanders and black watch, the royal irish fusiliers, king's royal rifles, york and lancaster regiment, royal marines, and some engineers, of the naval brigade, six machine guns and eight royal artillery -pounders, and some mounted troops. the arabs were found in carefully made intrenchments, on which were mounted the guns recently taken from baker pasha's force, but their rear was unprotected; the attack was therefore made on this side. after the village had been shelled by -pounders for some time, the square marched against the rear of the arab lines, the storm of bullets and shell by which they had been greeted having by this time ceased. as the column reached the lines the arabs, who were concealed on all sides, suddenly sprang up, and with the reckless courage which the british soldier was often to witness in the near future, rushed upon the square, upon three sides at once; they had now, however, a foe of a quality widely different from that of baker's force to deal with, and a continuous and well-directed hail of bullets swept them down by hundreds, while all who reached the square fell by the bayonet on its outside, the square meantime steadily advancing. as the village was approached the formation could no longer be kept so regular, and there was fierce hand-to-hand fighting. when the fort was reached, a company of the black watch charged, with them being colonel burnaby and some bluejackets. the enemy stood their ground, and fought like heroes; in the _melee_ colonel burnaby was wounded, and also captain wilson, r.n., of the _hecla_. the latter, seeing a marine in difficulties with five or six of the enemy round him, went to his assistance, and after breaking his sword set to with his fists, doing terrible work with the hilt. the enemy were at length driven out at the point of the bayonet, and though they stubbornly contested every inch of the ground for three hours and a half, at length gave way in all directions. the cavalry were now called into action to pursue the scattered ranks of the mahdists and prevent their re-forming. the enemy again met the attack with great bravery, and it was at this stage of the action that the principal british losses occurred, for the arabs lying concealed in holes in the sand and behind hillocks, drove their spears into the horses and men as they passed over them, the sword proving a very inefficient weapon in the encounter, a fact which led to the general use of the lance on future similar occasions. the mahdists suffered a crushing and, as it seemed at the time, a complete defeat, and the troops meeting with no further opposition advanced to tokar, and after destroying the fort returned to suakin. on our side major slade, lieutenants freeman and probyn, and quartermaster williams, and non-commissioned officers and men were killed, and officers and men wounded; whilst of the enemy were found dead upon the field, and probably as many more were wounded. battle of tamanieb-- . it was naturally hoped that after so thorough a beating the arabs round suakin would make their submission, and a proclamation was issued calling upon the sheikhs to do so. this, however, only provoked defiance, and it soon became known that the mahdists were collecting in force at tamai, about miles to the south-west of suakin, and accordingly another fight, which proved to be a very severe one, became necessary. this took place on march th, the troops having bivouacked on the previous night a mile or two from the enemy's position. the force consisted of two brigades under general sir redvers buller and general davis respectively, the first consisting of men from the gordon highlanders, royal irish fusiliers, and king's royal rifles; and the second of some of the black watch, york and lancaster regiment, and marines, with a force of th and th hussars, and mounted infantry under general stewart. the hussars and mounted infantry first came into touch with the enemy, dismounting and firing by volleys and independently, the nature of the ground not being suitable for charging; the enemy faced their fire with great courage, and retired in good order and slowly, as though unwillingly; the loss on our side being only two killed and eight wounded, a number quite out of proportion to the services rendered and loss inflicted on the enemy. the second brigade, which was leading, had a very severe fight, and suffered heavy loss, which was mainly owing to the open formation of the square at a critical moment. on this account it was not strong enough to resist the sudden rush of the arabs, who had lain concealed about fifty yards away. the charge being delivered at such close quarters and so suddenly, enabled the enemy to get to close quarters before the guns of the naval brigade could be got into position. a charge was ordered, but the arabs swept round each line as it charged, burst through it, and pressed it back, and a terrible hand-to-hand fight followed. the black watch lost many men, being attacked both from front and rear. three times the naval officers commanding the guns, which they would not leave, were surrounded; at last all of them and many of their men were killed, and for a few minutes the guns were in the hands of the enemy. the york and lancaster regiment were also hard-pressed. seeing the serious position of the brigade, general stewart sounded a charge, and flashing sabres swept down upon the enemy,--an awe-inspiring sight, which even the courage of the mahdists could not endure, and after a moment's hesitation they retreated. upon this colonel wood, commanding the hussars, ordered his men to halt, dismount, and fire upon the enemy; at the same time general buller's brigade poured in a heavy fire, thus affording the second brigade time to re-form, and in a few minutes the victory was complete. the guns were retaken, and the whole force advanced and took possession of the enemy's position, and destroyed the village and tents, all opposition having entirely ceased. there fell in this action british officers and men, the heaviest losses being among the black watch. lieutenant montresor, r.n., lieutenant almach, r.n., and lieutenant houston, r.n., with seven of their men, were killed at their guns. the enemy's force was estimated at , and their loss at over . the expedition to khartoum-- and . the fighting around suakin in , though successful as to its immediate result, namely, the defeat of local levies of the mahdi, had no beneficial effect upon the position of gordon in khartoum; rather, it would appear, the contrary. the defeat and terrible slaughter of the arabs at el-teb and tamai seem to have been taken as an earnest of the intention of the british to reconquer the soudan, and so to have decided many hitherto friendly, or at least neutral, sheikhs to throw in their lot with the mahdi. whether this view is correct or not, the fact remains that up to march khartoum was open, and by the end of the operations it was besieged. our purpose being rather to relate achievements of "our soldiers" than a history of the events which preceded them, we will not attempt to state the cause which led to the seclusion of khartoum and the isolation of the heroic gordon and his companions, colonel stewart and consul power, nor the causes which rendered the splendid engagements at suakin fruitless, and led to the fall of berber. it is enough to say that at length the people of great britain could bear the spectacle no longer, and the force of public opinion compelled the government to take steps in the summer of to achieve, if it were not too late, the relief of khartoum. what was a possible task a few months before had now become an exceedingly difficult, if not impossible, one, and it was thought that, under the circumstances, the route which was the most feasible would be by the nile. in the early part of october news arrived that colonel stewart and mr power, the special correspondent of the _times_, who had also acted as vice-consul at khartoum, had been murdered on their way to dongola. they were proceeding down the nile in one of gordon's steamers in order to open communications with the british expedition under lord wolseley, which was then advancing up the river, and with them were some forty-five other people, including the french consul at khartoum. the steamer struck on a rock, and the whole party had to disembark. they were hospitably received by the sheikh, who promised no harm should happen to them if they came unarmed. this they accordingly did; but no sooner had colonel stewart and the consul entered the arab's house than they were attacked, and having no weapons but their fists, were eventually overcome and killed. general gordon was now absolutely alone, and still holding khartoum against the mahdi, and no time was to be lost if he was to be released. strenuous efforts were made to push on the expedition, and by the middle of december a strong force had assembled at korti, on the nile, miles by the nile from the sea. here lord wolseley arrived on the th of december. the latest news from general gordon was dated th november, saying that his steamers awaited the expedition at metammeh, and that he could hold out for forty days, but that after that the defence would be difficult. upon this news lord wolseley decided to send a flying column as soon as possible across the desert to metammeh, with instructions to send a detachment by the steamers up to khartoum. the desert route to metammeh direct from korti is miles, but the distance is very much greater by the river, which between these two places makes a bend of three parts of a circle. the command of the force selected was given to general sir herbert stewart, with sir charles wilson as second in command. a strong depot having previously been established at the wells of jakdul, about miles towards metammeh, the expedition started on the th january. it consisted of naval officers and bluejackets under lord charles beresford (sent for service on the steamers), a battery of artillery, officers and men of the th hussars under colonel barron, the guards camel regiment under colonel boscawen, the heavy camel regiment, consisting of household troops and cavalry, under major gough, infantry mounted also on camels, men of the royal sussex, some transport engineers and hospital details--in all officers and men, with horses and camels, and some native drivers, etcetera. the battle of abu klea. nothing of importance took place until the th of january, when the wells of abu klea were approached and found to be held in great force by the enemy. leaving a few men of the sussex and mounted infantry to hold the camp, the general advanced the remainder of his force to seize the wells, the possession of which was, of course, a matter of supreme importance. the british as usual advanced in the form of a hollow square, the troops being disposed as in the diagram. as the square approached the enemy's position, the attack was delivered in the shape of a well-ordered charge, commencing with a wheel to the left and falling upon the left front and rear of the square. it was a matter of wonder to our men how such a regular formation was preserved over a space of yards in face of a continuous and withering rifle fire. when the enemy got well within yards, the fire of the mounted infantry and guards began to tell, and the arabs fell in heaps. the rear left was not so fortunate, for either from the rear not closing rapidly enough, owing to the fact that the heavies were not trained to infantry work, or from its opening out in order to bring the gardner gun into action, the square at the left rear corner was not able to bear the force of the charge, and was driven in by sheer weight of numbers, and several of the arabs got inside. the gardner gun had become jammed at the tenth round, and so became a source of weakness to the solidity of the square, a fact of which the enemy was quick to take advantage. at this point colonel burnaby, who had joined the expedition as a volunteer, was killed while gallantly facing the crowd. the naval brigade, as usual refusing to retire from their gun, suffered heavily, and lost all their officers except lord c. beresford, who was knocked down in the _melee_. for a few moments the arabs were in the square and among the camels, and many of the officers had narrow escapes, while major gough and others were killed. for five minutes it was a hand-to-hand fight, but after the first wild rush no more of the enemy could pierce the ranks of the heavies, and all who had entered the square were killed; and the enemy retreated, while the column marched down to and occupied the wells, and rejoiced in abundance of sweet if muddy water. the square had another fight of the same nature before the nile was reached, but on this occasion the enemy failed to penetrate the zone of fire, and left all their leaders and many of their men lying dead on its front. in the early part of the day general stewart received a wound which subsequently proved fatal. it is sad here to relate that all this gallantry of the men, the loss of valuable lives, and the slaughter of thousands of arabs, which had become necessary by delaying operations until the mahdi had gathered so much strength, failed in its object, namely, the relief of khartoum and the rescue of its heroic defenders. for when colonel wilson and his party, having found gordon's steamer, reached the city, they found it in the possession of the mahdi, and subsequently learned that gordon had been killed, and the garrison put to the sword, but two days before their arrival; but, in the words of lord wolseley's despatch-- "it was not through any lack of zeal or want of energy that the steamers only reached khartoum two days after it had fallen. there is no hesitation in saying that all ranks worked as hard as human beings could, hoping to render the earliest possible assistance to their heroic comrade who was besieged in khartoum." fighting round suakin-- . in addition to the operations undertaken for the relief of khartoum by way of the nile and across the desert, the british government had placed general sir g. graham in command of a strong force collected at suakin, with instructions to destroy the power of osman digna, and to occupy the hadendowa territory in order to enable a railroad to be built between suakin and berber, for which purpose vast quantities and stores had been despatched from england. among the components of this force were not only indian troops, both the cavalry and infantry, but for the first time in history a well-equipped body of volunteer horse, some strong, despatched at the expense of the colony of new south wales, who joined the force on march th, and proved to be of great assistance and well worthy of a place among the soldiers of the queen. the arabs had been in no way disheartened by the defeats inflicted upon them by sir g. graham in the preceding year, and from the very first offered a fierce resistance to the advance of the expedition, so that skirmishes of more or less importance took place daily. the first serious battle took place on march th near the village of hasheen, upon which the british column was advancing. about nine a.m. the berkshire regiment, supported by some marines, advanced upon the dhilibat hill, which was held by swarms of the enemy, who were soon driven down the opposite slope. in pursuing these the th bengal cavalry were ordered to dismount and fire volleys, but as this most unfortunately took place in thick bush, they were placed at a great disadvantage when the arabs turned upon them, and they in turn were pursued, and many who were unable to mount in time lost their lives. this pursuit, however, cost the arabs very dear, for it brought them right down to the square of the guards, who were in reserve below the hill, before they were aware of them. with their usual bravery the arabs charged the square, but so heavy and well-sustained was the fire that none got within fifteen yards of the rifles. the hills for the time were cleared, but the arabs did not retire far, and hung in around the troops in the dense bush, full of fight and as undaunted as ever. the estimate of the enemy's losses was about , while the british loss was killed and wounded; and, in the words of the official despatches, "the conduct of the force was satisfactory in all respects. the dhilibat hill was carried by the berkshire regiment with the greatest spirit, and the behaviour of the guards' square under a heavy fire from an unseen enemy was marked by extreme steadiness." mcneill's zareba. two days later, on sunday, march nd, a second engagement took place, very much more serious than the first, and much more important in its result. general graham had decided to form a zareba eight miles out on the road to tamai, in order to make a depot for water and stores,--more especially the former,--preparatory to an advance in force on that place; it was intended to leave troops in this zareba, and on the return of the main body to form and occupy a smaller zareba between it and suakin. the force selected for the purpose of effecting this object consisted of one squadron th lancers, naval brigade with four gardner guns, detachments of royal engineers, berkshire regiment, royal marines, and company of sailors with four gatlings, some royal engineers, madras sappers, th sikhs, th bengal native infantry, and th bombay native infantry, and one squadron of hussars, and was under the command of general sir john mcneill; general hudson of the indian force being second in command. the convoy which these troops had to protect consisted of about camels carrying water and supplies, as well as a large number of mules and horses--no easy task in a country covered with dense bush, which afforded concealment to an enemy who were absolutely fearless. the column started at : , and its troubles soon began, for no sooner was it fairly within the bush than the difficulty of keeping the transport together became apparent, and the rate of progress was necessarily so slow that sir j. mcneill saw that it would be impossible to carry out the programme of building and occupying the two zarebas before night, and therefore decided to form one only on an open space that the troops had reached about : a.m. up to this time no sign of the enemy had been seen, but all precautions were taken to prevent a surprise. the force was drawn up as follows: the indian troops occupied three sides of a hollow square, the open side being towards the bush through which the column had just come; outposts of infantry, and beyond them of cavalry, were placed in advance on the three sides; and the road to suakin in the rear was patrolled by the lancers, and all the convoy was drawn up in the square. all hands at once proceeded to form the zareba. the idea was to form a zareba with its north-east corner pointing to suakin, and its south-west to tamai, and at each of these corners to form a minor zareba or redoubt to contain two gardner guns apiece, and to leave these garrisoned by the berks, the marines, and the bluejackets, who would thus be able to guard the main zareba, all sides of which could be swept by their fire. the work proceeded merrily, and by three o'clock was nearly finished. at that time the marines had got inside the north-east zareba, and half the berkshire were having their dinner outside, behind the camels, which, by this time having unloaded, were filing out of the square at the rear of the open side; the other half of the berkshire were busy cutting bush, leaving their arms piled in the south-west zareba, with half the bluejackets and the two gardner guns, and the central zareba was nearly completed. suddenly a yell was heard, some cavalry videttes came galloping in, and in a moment arabs were rushing upon the unclosed square. the outposts got together and stood back to back, forming rallying squares which the enemy could not break; the berkshire men who were cutting bush rushed back to the zareba where the small naval brigade was suffering severely, for the guns not being in position the enemy got into the square, but so quickly did the berks men follow them and recover their weapons, that, though arabs got into the square no arab came out again. the other half of that regiment formed square, and with a steady fire kept the arabs at bay, and eventually gained the north-east zareba without losing a man. but amongst the transport animals the state of affairs was very different. the th native infantry fell back before the rush, and the enemy, following their retreat, dashed into the central zareba among the transport animals, cutting and slashing in every direction, and in a few moments a general stampede ensued; camels, mules, and horses made one wild rush for suakin followed by triumphant arabs, who in their turn were met and routed by the bengal cavalry and th lancers. at the first rush a number of the enemy succeeded in getting into the north-east zareba, the east side of which was at the moment undefended, and for a few minutes the marines were in a dangerous position, but while the front rank continued to fire on the enemy on their side, the rear rank faced about, and, fighting back to back, soon cleared the zareba of the enemy and lined the open side. after about twenty minutes the bugle sounded "cease fire," and as the smoke cleared away, the enemy were seen streaming away. thus ended the fight. it was indeed a soldiers' battle, and but for the steadiness and heroism of the individuals it would have proved another isandlana. the enemy's loss was very heavy, and the power of osman digna utterly crushed; but the cost to the british was heavy, for the losses of british and indian troops was in killed and wounded, and a large proportion of the transport train was destroyed. chapter seventeen. the chitral campaign-- . in january the reigning mehtar of chitral was murdered by his brother, whom, in breach of a time-honoured custom of chitralis, he had neglected to murder or exile upon his own accession. umra khan, the chief of jandol, who had long had designs upon chitral, made this occasion a pretext for invading the territory off which he had been repeatedly warned by the british government as the suzerain of chitral, and laid siege to kila drosh. on february st, dr robertson, the british resident at mastuj, arrived in chitral, and at once ordered umra khan to retire. umra khan, however, who had in the meantime taken kila drosh, retorted by calling upon dr robertson to retire, and to recognise sher afzul as mehtar. this, of course, the british resident refused to do; and called a _durbar_, at which soojah-ul-moolk was declared mehtar of chitral, on st of march. the position of the british resident and his small party, which by way of precaution had occupied the fort some time previous, now became very serious. on nd of march, sher afzul had advanced upon them, and chitral was very soon invested on all sides, and indeed, as will be seen, the actual siege commenced on rd of march. the siege and defence of chitral. with dr robertson were captains colin campbell and townshend of the central india horse, lieutenant harley of the th sikhs, surgeon-- captain whitchurch, captain baird of the th punjaub infantry, and lieutenant gurdon, who was acting as political officer before dr robertson's arrival; the troops consisted entirely of natives, there being eventually shut up in the fort, in addition to those named, persons, of whom were combatants, namely kashmirs and sikhs. on the rd of march, captain campbell with men was sent out to make a reconnaissance in the direction of sher afzul's position, and with him were captains townshend and baird, and surgeon-captain whitchurch, joined afterwards by dr robertson and lieutenant gurdon. they were at once attacked by the enemy in strong force, and were met with a very hot fire, and eventually had to retire to the fort, fighting every inch of the ground, with the enemy on the front and both flanks, and firing from the cover of garden walls. captain campbell being wounded, the command devolved upon captain townshend, who fought his way back with his wounded to a small hamlet where dr robertson was rallying the men; meantime a message had brought out from the fort lieutenant harley and sikhs, a reinforcement which enabled the party to retire steadily into the fort, which they reached at eight o'clock. at the same time a detachment of men under captain baird and lieutenant gurdon were hotly engaged in another part of the ground. captain baird was wounded early in the action, and under the care of surgeon-captain whitchurch, while lieutenant gurdon conducted the retreat to the fort. with whitchurch were a few kashmir sepoys and some hospital bearers, but the two parties soon got separated in the _melee_, and whitchurch and his men had to fight their way back inch by inch, carrying their wounded officer. every now and then they had to stop and make bayonet-charges to clear the enemy out of the shelter of stone walls around them, and when at length they reached the fort nearly half the party had been left dead on the field, yet not a man had left the party. poor captain baird was hit three times in the retreat, and died next day; while, strange to say, his gallant rescuer, whitchurch, escaped untouched. many heroic acts are done by our men in war and peace, but none can be greater heroes than these few sepoys, who were able so long to bear the strain of an apparently hopeless retreat and retire orderly, resisting all temptation to a _sauve qui peut_, when a speedy retreat without encumbrance of the wounded and bearers must at times have seemed the only chance for life. for his gallant conduct on this occasion, surgeon--captain whitchurch received the victoria cross. the total loss on this day was very heavy, and in addition to captain baird, general baj singh and major bhikam of the kashmirs, and about men, were killed; an ominous outset for the defence, which at first had a very depressing effect upon the troops, the majority of whom, it must be remembered, were of newly raised regiments, and without any british troops to give them confidence. everything therefore depended upon the vigilance and calmness of the few british officers, one of whom unfortunately, captain campbell, was severely wounded in the knee, the command in consequence falling upon captain townshend. from this day the siege commenced, and the fort was cut off from the outer world. on taking stock of their resources the garrison found that, everyone being on half rations, there was supply until about the middle of june, by which time, if they could hold out, they might expect relief; while there was a supply of about rounds of ammunition per man. of water there was no lack, as fortunately when first the fort was occupied a covered way had been made down to the river, and this covered way was all through the siege one of the principal objects of the enemy's attacks, and had to be held day and night by a strong guard. the fort itself was yards square, the walls being feet high, and made of stone held together by a frame-work of wood, and feet thick at each angle was a tower, while a fifth guarded the way to the water. outside the walls were gardens and out-buildings, which afforded shelter to the enemy; these, owing to the rapidity with which the siege had developed, there had been no time to destroy, and this necessary work had therefore now to be done under fire. the enemy all through fought very well, and made every use of the cover afforded to their riflemen, who were excellent shots; and they built sangars on the rising ground above, commanding the fort, so that it was necessary for the besieged to build sheltering galleries to protect the men going from post to post. hardly a night passed without an attack of some sort, and three times the enemy succeeded in setting the towers on fire, only to be extinguished with great difficulty by the use of earth and water. the enemy employed every device to get into the fort, and succeeded in mining close up to the walls, adding thus the labour of making counter-mines to the other tasks of the garrison. the principal fight took place on the th april. the enemy had been for some days previous in the apparently innocent amusement of making a noise with drums and pipes in a summer-house not far from the walls. one of the men suggested that the noise was made to cover the sound of mining--a not uncommon trick of umra khan's. accordingly men were told off to listen, and the sound of mining was heard close to a tower, so close indeed that no time was to be lost in blowing it up. this dangerous duty was successfully performed by lieutenant harley, who rushed the summer-house with men. there was a fierce hand-to-hand fight, and some chitralis were killed, and the mine successfully destroyed; harley and his men regaining the fort in an hour and twenty minutes. from the start of the brave were hit, of whom were killed. nothing of importance occurred after this, for the enemy had heard of the close approach of colonel kelly, and by the th of april had disappeared. thus ended a defence as gallant as any recorded in this book. for forty-six days this little band of sepoys, with five english leaders, held the fort, with inadequate defences and no artillery, against a superior force; the sepoys suffering greatly from want of food, for their caste forbade their eating horseflesh,--their ghi or melted butter, which is as meat to the native, had run out, and all they had left was half rations of flour. to the want of food must be added the mental effect, first of the disastrous day at the opening, then of the absolute ignorance of the measures taken to relieve, and the apparent hopelessness of their position, if we are to take due measure of the pluck and determination of the garrison. the defence of reshun. on the th of march, lieutenants edwardes and fowler left mastuj with orders to join the british agent at chitral, and they had with them bengal sappers and men of the kashmir rifles, conveying sixty boxes of ammunition and seven days' rations. the day on which they arrived at reshun they heard rumours of opposition ahead of them, and therefore intrenched themselves as well as possible near the river. the next day they were attacked by the tribes, and finding the position too exposed, they carried the houses of the village close by with the bayonet, and hastily made them defensible, and succeeded by nightfall in getting in all their ammunition and supplies and all the wounded. here the little force, now reduced to about men, was regularly besieged. the first great difficulty was the want of water, as the enemy had diverted the rivulet, thus making it necessary for the garrison to go some distance under fire to bring in sufficient for their daily wants. food was fortunately plentiful, as, in addition to the rations, eggs and fowls and flour were found in the village. the enemy, after several attempts to take the place by assault, contented themselves with besieging the village, doing as much damage as possible by a continuous fire from the cover of houses and trees, and at length succeeded in occupying a house not more than a few feet from the wall. on the th the enemy hoisted a white flag, and informed the officers that there had been some fighting at chitral but that now peace was made, and offering to let the garrison go either to chitral or to mastuj. lieutenant edwardes upon this agreed to a three days' armistice, and sent letters to chitral and mastuj; meantime the garrison were well treated and supplies sent in to them. on the th the enemy proposed a game of polo, and invited the officers to come and see it. this invitation was unfortunately, as it turned out, accepted, for, although under the fire of their own men, the two officers were suddenly seized from behind and bound, and a sudden attack was made upon the house occupied by the troops. this was taken by assault, most of the sepoys being killed. on march th, the officers were taken to chitral, where they found about a dozen of the sepoys who had been taken prisoners; after being kept here some time, they were sent to drosh to umra khan. he treated them very well, and even offered to let them join the force in chitral, but as he would not let their men accompany them they declined. they were afterwards taken with umra khan on his return to jandol, and though strictly guarded were treated with every respect and courtesy, and finally sent in safety to sir r. low's camp. the sepoys also were allowed to go unharmed--an act of forbearance on the part of umra khan almost without precedent among pathans. the affair of reshun, which cost the lives of so many brave men, was the indirect cause of the loss of many more at the same time. for as soon as the british officers discovered the state of things at reshun, they sent back word to mastuj, and captain ross and lieutenant jones with sikhs at once set out to their assistance. thirty-three men were left at buni, and the remaining , with the two officers, pushed forward towards reshun. on the way they had to pass through a narrow ravine with precipitous cliffs on either side. here they were suddenly attacked by the enemy in great force from the cliffs above. soon the enemy closed the end of the pass, and retreat or advance was equally impossible. for a time shelter was found in a cave, and an attempt was made to rush out of the defile in the night; but the enemy were found on the alert, and though the rifle fire could be faced, it was impossible to pass several stone shoots which were in the possession of the enemy, who could annihilate with avalanches of rocks any troops passing below. the cave was again occupied for a day, but without food, and therefore it was necessary to make one desperate effort if the men were to escape starvation. accordingly, in the middle of the night a sudden rush was made, and after a desperate fight the sangars held by the enemy were taken, but with heavy loss, captain ross being among the first killed. eventually, after desperate fighting, and a great number having been killed in crossing the stone shoots, a small remnant reached the end of the ravine; here a stand was made, and at length lieutenant jones with men, of whom and himself were wounded, returned to buni, where the enemy did not attack them; and on the th reliefs arrived from mastuj, to which the whole party returned. here they were besieged, and would in all probability have in time been reduced by famine had not colonel kelly's force arrived. colonel kelly's march. while these stirring events were taking place on the frontier, the indian government had not been inactive, for in the month of march an army of , men was mobilised, under the command of major-general sir r. low, the intention being originally that this expedition should be sent to chitral through swat and bajour, starting in april. on receipt of the news of the disaster at karagh it became necessary to not only advance the troops as early as possible, but also to take immediate steps for the relief of chitral at the earliest possible moment, as it was known that that place was only supplied till the end of april. it was impossible to send troops from india to gilgit for this purpose, as the passes would not be open till june. most fortunately a force of the nd pioneers, under colonel kelly, were at this time road-making at bunji, on the indus, only miles from gilgit; it was therefore determined to send colonel kelly with all the men he could collect to march as rapidly as possible to chitral. on the st of march colonel kelly received orders by telegraph to march, and he set off the same afternoon. and a famous march it was! on the rd of march the expedition set out from gilgit. it consisted at starting of men of the pioneers, two guns of number kashmir mountain battery, and hunza and puniali levies under their own chiefs; the officers with colonel kelly being captain borrodaile, surgeon-captain browning-smith, and lieutenants beynon, bethune, cobbe, paterson, and cooke; and these were joined at gupis by lieutenant stewart, r.a., who took charge of the guns, and lieutenant oldham, r.e., with kashmir sappers, and lieutenant gough with kashmir rifles. it will be noticed that again the troops and non-commissioned officers were entirely native. on april the st, in spite of five days' snow, the column set out from ghizr to attempt the shandur pass. the first difficulty was a stampede of the impressed native bearers, who had bolted in the night and were not collected again till late in the afternoon. after a few miles the guns stuck in the deep snow, and it was found impossible to get them along. captain borrodaile, with lieutenant oldham and men, with the hunza levies, remained at teru with provision for ten days. the rest of the column with the guns had reluctantly to return to ghizr. the snow continuing, it was impossible to attempt the pass; but the kashmirs set to work to dig a road from teru through the snow to langar, the camping-ground on their side of the pass, and on the next day the guns were got along to teru and thence to langar, but this was only effected by _carrying_ the guns, carriages, and ammunition. these were divided amongst squads of four men, relieved every fifty yards, so that the progress did not exceed a mile an hour, the men being often up to their middle in snow in a bitter wind and a glaring sun. the camping-ground at langar, some miles from teru, was not reached till near midnight, and the guns had to be left by their exhausted bearers a mile or so outside the camp. this was indeed a great achievement, but there remained still the pass. first there was a very stiff climb for about a mile, then a more gradual ascent up to , feet above sea-level, then five miles of fairly level plain, a sheet of glaring snow swept by a bitter wind. the distance from langar to laspur on the other side of the pass is only ten miles, but though borrodaile's party of pioneers and levies started early next day, they did not reach laspur till evening. the villagers were as surprised as though the party had dropped from the moon, and thought it expedient to be friendly. the enemy had so implicitly relied upon the impossibility of getting through the pass in such extreme weather that no preparation to block our movements had been made. the next day the village was put into a state of defence, and supplies were collected, and with the aid of the villagers the guns were brought down. both men and officers suffered severely; most had blue spectacles, but by the time the whole column had got over there were cases of snow-blindness and of frost. the opposition shown by the enemy as the column proceeded was overcome by the gunfire, which the chitrali seemed quite unable to stand; and mastuj, from which the enemy had retired on the same day in the direction of chitral, was reached on the afternoon of the th of april. the march was continued the next day, and after a sharp fight on the th, in which colonel kelly lost eight men, chitral was entered on the th. in this wonderful march the column had gone miles in days over a very difficult country, climbed a difficult pass, carrying the guns through the snow and in the face of an enemy. the men carried each two days' rations; and only seven days' rations being provided, after that the force had entirely to depend upon what the country afforded, which was very little. the capture of the malakand pass. we have now to return to the actions of the army, which, as we have seen, had been ordered to assemble under general sir r. low in march. the first army corps, consisting of , men, was mobilised at nowshera and hoti mardan, with general sir bindon blood, chief of the staff, and lieutenant--colonel h.s. craigie, assistant adjutant-general; the three brigades being commanded by generals kinloch, waterfield, and gatacre. when the news arrived of the danger at chitral the preparations were pressed forward, and on the st of april the troops were moved forward, marching without tents, and water supplies for only three weeks; and on the nd of april the second and third brigades were at dargai, a village at the foot of the malakand pass. there are three passes into the swat valley, namely, malakand, shakhot, and morah; all of these were held by the enemy, but as it had been given out that the british intended to cross by the shakhot pass, to which the first brigade had been sent, the enemy were not in such force at malakand as they should have been. the fact was that when sir r. low learned that the greater part of the enemy were at the shakhot and morah passes he determined to mislead them into staying there by acting as though he intended to attack the shakhot pass, and for this purpose marched the first brigade in that direction with orders to rejoin him if possible at dargai by a forced night-march; intending that the three brigades should meet on the nd of april at a.m. and carry the pass before the enemy had discovered their intention. the weather frustrated the carrying out of this plan, the night-march had to be abandoned and the attack postponed until the rd, but the plan of deceiving the enemy was quite successful, for the enemy had not time to get across the hills to help their comrades in the malakand pass. and this was fortunate, for the pass was so obstinately defended as it was that all three brigades, with the exception of one regiment held in reserve, were engaged in the attack. the pass is through a valley gradually narrowing for about two miles from dargai, and at this point it bends for about a mile and a half to a point where the hills drop precipitately into the pass. from this bend the pass was strongly defended, the whole range on the west side being held by the enemy. the th sikhs were sent along the heights to guard the left flank of the advance, and climbing up the sides cleared many sangars of the enemy with great gallantry. the guides infantry had an equally arduous task on the hills. meanwhile the force advanced up the valley. to quote from the general's despatch-- "when the infantry advance was ordered it soon became apparent that if the assault was delayed till the position was turned by the guides the action would be unduly delayed and the guides themselves seriously out-numbered. at this time i ascertained that though the pass appeared to lie in the valley itself, and to round the corner of the western hill where it dropped into the valley, yet beyond this point there was no path or roadway whatever, the valley being blocked with huge blocks and boulders; and that the crossing of the pass lay to the left, over the heights to our left which were so strongly held by the enemy. action was at once therefore taken to carry the hill to the left, which from this point was about feet high. the gordon highlanders were directed up the end of the western hill from the point where it touched the valley, and the king's own scottish borderers were directed up the centre spur; the th rifles were directed up the slopes from farther back on the line, while the bedfordshire regiment and the th dogras pushed on and rounded the point from which the gordon highlanders commenced the ascent, and, turning to the left, ascended the hill from the northern side--the th sikhs being held in reserve. as the infantry ascended it was seen how well the defence of the hill had been organised. the gordon highlanders and king's own scottish borderers, ascending as they did on a direct attack, met with the greatest resistance and suffered most. sangar after sangar was obstinately held; each sangar as it was rushed coming at once under fire of the one above it. and here i may note the admirable service done by the artillery and maxim guns. several attempts were made by the enemy to concentrate from above and hold the lower sangars and positions, but all such attempts were frustrated by the admirable practice of the mountain batteries and maxim guns over the head of our advancing infantry. although at several points sangars were only carried by hand--to--hand fighting, the enemy were gradually driven from position to position, and eventually fled down the other slopes of the western hill as the heads of the attacking columns reached the top when the pass was captured and the fighting over, though they were pursued down the other side as soon as the men got together." the action commenced at o'clock and lasted six hours. the force of the enemy was estimated at , men, of whom perhaps or had firearms. the loss on the british side was only men killed, and officers and men wounded. chapter eighteen. the terah expedition-- . in a general rising of the tribes took place along the north-west frontier, which, in addition to minor expeditions, was the cause of the despatch of an expedition through the terah country, under sir william lockhart. it is impossible here to detail the innumerable acts of gallantry called forth by almost daily skirmishes with fierce and numerous bands of hardy mountaineers, but we must content ourselves with referring only to the most stirring incidents of the campaign. the first action of dargai. it had become necessary to clear the enemy out of the commanding position at dargai, from which a harassing fire had been kept up upon our men, and on th october this was achieved. the village lies on the north of a small plateau, which ends in a steep cliff approached by a sloping ridge; this ridge is well within range of the cliff, but by keeping on the south side troops can approach under cover; but connecting the ridge with the cliff is a narrow neck yards long by broad, completely open to fire from the cliffs, which must be crossed in order to get to the path up to the heights. the enemy were in force on the top of the cliff, under cover of rocks and boulders. on this occasion the attack was made by the rd ghurkhas and the king's own scottish borderers, and the northampton regiment in reserve. every point from which rifle or artillery fire could be brought to bear on the enemy was occupied, and at noon a rush of ghurkhas and borderers was made across the ridge. a tremendous fire burst out from the heights, but so sudden was the rush that only twenty-two men were hit, of whom only three were killed. the enemy did not stay long when once the ridge was crossed and the heights were occupied. it was not, however, thought advisable to retain the position, and satisfied with having cleared the enemy out, sir william lockhart recalled the troops. as they retired the rearmost regiments were pressed by the tribesmen, who in consequence lost heavily; but several men of the gordon highlanders were wounded, and major jennings bromley killed, in the fighting that ensued. second action of dargai. on th october the enemy were again in force on the heights, and in much greater numbers, and a second attack became necessary. the troops upon whom this duty fell were the nd ghurkhas, the st dorset and the derbyshire, with the gordon highlanders in reserve. the first to cross were the gallant ghurkhas, led by colonel travers, captains mcintyre, bower, and norie, and lieutenant tillard; these succeeded in crossing unhurt, but with the loss of men, and major judge and captain robinson. the bullets now swept the ridge, and in attempting to follow many a brave dorset and derby was killed, officers and men, and but few reached the ghurkhas. to quote from the despatch of sir william lockhart-- "by : the force was in formation under cover in readiness to capture the heights, but when the nd ghurkas, accompanied by the ghurka scouts of the first battalion rd ghurkas, made their first rush across the open, they were met by such a hot and well-aimed fire that all they could do was to hold on to the position they had reached without being able to advance farther. at p.m. the dorsetshire regiment was ordered to storm the enemy's intrenchments, but though a few men were able to get across the fire-swept zone, an advance beyond the line held by the nd ghurkas was reported by the commanding officer to be impracticable owing to the large number of tribesmen lining the edge of the dargai plateau, and the steepness of the slope leading up to it. the general officer commanding the second division accordingly ordered brigadier-general kempster to move up the gordon highlanders and the rd sikhs, the former regiment being replaced on the lower spur which it had hitherto occupied by the jhind imperial service infantry. "the gordon highlanders went straight up the hill without check or hesitation. headed by their pipers, and led by lieutenant-colonel mathias, c.b., with major macbean on his right and lieutenant a.f. gordon on his left, this splendid battalion marched across the open. it dashed through a murderous fire, and in forty minutes had won the heights, leaving officers and men killed or wounded on its way. the first rush of the gordon highlanders was deserving of the highest praise, for they had just undergone a very severe climb and had reached a point beyond which other troops had been unable to advance for over three hours. "the first rush was followed at short intervals by a second and a third, each led by officers, and as the leading companies went up the path for the final assault the remainder of the troops, among whom the rd sikhs were conspicuous, streamed on in support. but few of the enemy waited for the bayonet, many of them being shot down as they fled in confusion. the position was won at : ." amongst the losses of this day were-- _dorsetshire_.--nine men killed; captain arnold, lieutenant hewitt, and thirty-nine men wounded. _gordon highlanders_.--lieutenant lamont and two men killed; colonel mathias, major macbean, captain uniacke, lieutenants dingwall, meiklejohn, craufurd, and thirty-five men wounded. _derbyshire_.--captain smith and three men killed, eight wounded. the victoria cross was awarded to lieutenant pennell, who endeavoured under fire to bring in captain smith; to piper findlater, who though wounded in both legs still continued to blow his pipes; to private lawson for carrying lieutenant dingwall out of fire and returning to bring in another, being himself twice wounded; to private vickery and colonel mathias. chapter nineteen. the re-conquest of the sudan-- . once more our attention is directed to the doings of our soldiers in egypt. all the toil, all the bloodshed, and all the treasure expended against mahdism had been in vain. general gordon nobly holding out at khartoum waiting for the relief which the vacillating and divided counsels of the british cabinet had delayed until it was too late, had been slain, and the inhabitants of khartoum despoiled and massacred by the savage followers of the mahdi. berber, dongola, and tokar had shared the same fate; and the anglo-egyptian army, leaving the sudan to its fate, had fallen back to wady haifa, at which the southern frontier of egypt was fixed, and which became a barrier against which the tide of mahdism was to rush in vain. suakin was also strongly held, and the mahdi's forces came no farther south; but the whole of the immense territory from the second cataract to the equatorial lakes was overrun by his fanatic hordes, who carried "fire, the sword, and desolation" far and wide over that unhappy land. it is not to the british administrators in egypt that the blame of all this failure, and of the purposeless bloodshed of the two expeditions from suakin, is to be laid, nor can it be said that after the fall of khartoum any other course could have been adopted than to retire for a time; but it is to the british administrators in egypt, and not to the home government, that belongs the credit of years of patient perseverance, of restoring the finances and resources of egypt, and of instilling so much character into an oppressed race that at length the poor fallaheen were able to hold their own against the sudanese, and to wipe out the disgrace of the defeat at el-teb and the slaughter of the army of hicks pasha in . and it may be said that it was these same english rulers in egypt-- administrators, engineers, military officers, and drill sergeants--that made it possible for the english to march in triumph through khartoum and to avenge the death of gordon, to some extent to wipe out the humiliations and blunders of past years. the original mahdi died within six months of general gordon, and was succeeded by the chief khalifa, abdullah. abdullah was an ignorant and wholly abominable person, and by his unspeakable cruelty and rapacity soon alienated vast numbers of the followers of his predecessor, and by mahdism could no longer be looked upon as an aggressive but as a decaying force; yet, though dwindling, it still existed as a strong military power, with its headquarters at omdurman. meantime the english had been making soldiers of the fallaheen, to whom successful skirmishes under their english officers and drill instructors were yearly giving confidence and self-reliance; and in addition to the fallaheen regiments, sudanese regiments were formed of the very men who fought so bravely against our squares at abu klea, the "fuzzywuzzy" of kipling, "a first-class fighting man." whilst the british campaigns in the sudan, though affording many a brilliant fight, and many an example of the heroism and endurance of the british soldiers, were fruitless in result, the egyptian campaigns were from onwards one continual success,--the fruit of steady effort and perseverance directed to one end through every kind of difficulty and disappointment, but which nothing could turn aside from its object, never faltering or swerving for fourteen years, the credit of which is wholly due to sir evelyn baring (now lord cromer), sir h. kitchener (lord kitchener), sir f. grenfell, colonel wingate, colonel h.a. macdonald, and many others; and their subordinates, among whom must be remembered the english drill sergeants. in osman digna again threatened suakin, and threw up trenches against the town, but was defeated by sir f. grenfell, the sirdar or commander-in-chief of the egyptian forces, on december th. next, wad-en-nejunii, the great emir who had defeated hicks pasha, came south in , attempting to get to the nile at toski behind wady haifa, the garrison of which, under sir f. grenfell, attacked him at toski, with the result that he was killed and his army annihilated, and egypt freed from fear of invasion. after this egypt began to advance; sarras, beyond wady haifa, was reoccupied, and a railway laid between the two places. in february colonel holled smith, commanding the egyptian garrison at suakin, marched out against osman digna's men with only egyptian and sudanese troops, and defeated them after a good fight and occupied tokar. in this action captain barrow was killed, and of the enemy a large number of emirs; but osman as usual got away. the effect of this battle was to clear away the dervishes from the eastern sudan and re-establish egyptian government there. in the dervishes again gave trouble both on the nile and in the eastern sudan, and there were many skirmishes. a serious attempt was made in january to cut the railway between wady haifa and sarras, but without success; in the fight captain pyne, commanding the egyptian force, was killed. osman digna again turned up near suakin, but had no success except in his usual flight. in this year sir horatio kitchener, who had had a long experience both of egypt and the sudan, having been on active service in one or the other since , became sirdar in succession to sir f. grenfell, who was appointed to the command of the british forces in egypt, and he set himself to the task of the re-conquest of the sudan. he had not the british tax-payer to draw upon, but the very meagre egyptian treasury, and he had therefore to work with very limited means. his plan was not to raise a costly army for the purpose of winning victories glorious but fruitless, slaughtering arabs by the thousand and then retiring till they gathered head and then slaughtering more, after the manner of the peace-loving government of , but to make sure of each stage of his progress as he went along, driving back the mahdi and bringing confidence and commerce in his train, never retiring from ground once occupied, but never advancing till his course was clear; and his chief instrument for effecting his purpose was, as it will be seen, the railway. the advance to dongola. during all these years, as has been said, the egyptian army was in the making; and in it was decided to put it to the test, and to make an advance on dongola. on march st the sirdar left cairo for wady haifa, taking with him a british regiment, the st staffordshire, to join the egyptians already at the front; indian troops having taken the place of the egyptian garrisons of tokar and suakin. meantime, railway making had been pushed on apace, and the line reached kosheh, a distance of miles, by the end of april; but rapid as this was, it was as nothing to the achievements of the following year. on june th a considerable force of dervishes was attacked and utterly defeated by the egyptian army, whose conduct delighted their officers and gave them all confidence in the future. a further advance was made in september, and dongola was occupied. the campaign had been entirely successful, the character of the egyptian soldiery was established, the fertile province of dongola rescued from the devastating rule of the khalifa, and the frontier pushed back as far as mirawi and abu dis,--the steamboats could pass to this point up the nile, and thus a great step was taken upon the road to khartoum. the sirdar now conceived, and at once began to carry out, the bold idea of laying a railway from wady haifa across the desert to abu hamed, and thence to berber and to dakhala, and the junction of the nile and the atbara, a distance of nearly miles. a bold idea indeed, for not only had every rail and every sleeper to be brought up to wady haifa, and thence along the rail itself as it disappeared into the trackless desert, but every mile the railway advanced the work was getting farther away from its base and penetrating deeper into the enemy's country, for at this time abu hamed was still held by the dervishes. water was bored for and actually found along the route; and before the line arrived there abu hamed had been captured, and by the end of the year the railway reached the nile again, at a point miles from haifa, and above the third cataract. general hunter, after a sharp fight in which major sidney and lieutenant fitzclarence were killed, had seized abu hamed; and by the end of the campaign, dongola, debbet, khorti, and berber were held by egypt, while the nile was patrolled even up to metammeh by the six steamers which, despite all difficulties, had been passed over the cataracts. the railway making did not pause at abu hamed, but at once set out towards the junction of the atbara with the nile, a point miles farther, and just south of the fifth cataract; the object being not only to provide for the rapid transport of provisions and stores, but also to get on to the nile the three new steamers which had been brought from england in sections, so that they might be ready for the final advance. the atbara campaign. at the beginning of the sirdar's force at the front was in four brigades, three egyptian and one british. the egyptian division of three brigades was under major-general hunter; the first brigade, three regiments of black hoofs, sudanese, and splendid soldiers, and one of egyptian, was commanded by lieutenant-colonel h.a. macdonald, and quartered at berber. the second brigade, also consisting of three sudanese and one egyptian regiment, and under the command of lieutenant--colonel maxwell, was about half-way between berber and the atbara river; while the third brigade, under lieutenant-colonel lewis, consisting entirely of egyptians, was at the atbara. the british brigade, commanded by major-general gatacre, had its camp about a mile away from the second brigade, and consisted of the st lincolnshire, colonel verner; the st cameron highlanders, colonel money; st warwickshire, under lieutenant-colonel onagle jones, and was afterwards joined by the st seaforth highlanders, colonel murray. the whole force in the field, exclusive of the railway battalion and the crews of the gunboats, but including four batteries of artillery under lieutenant-colonel long and eight squadrons of egyptian cavalry under lieutenant-colonel broadwood, amounted to about , men. about the end of february it was known that mahmoud was concentrating at shendy, and preparing to make an attack upon berber, which being held only by egyptian troops he hoped to capture before the sirdar could come to its relief. nor was this by any means an impracticable plan, for mahmoud's force consisted of some , horse and foot, with ample supplies of arms and ammunition, guns, and transport animals; but mahmoud reckoned without the sirdar. on the th february the british brigade was ordered to proceed from abu dis, to which point they had recently advanced, to debeker, a village miles or so south of berber. the men had but just returned from a -mile route march, but the start was made without delay. the railway, which was always being pushed ahead, was available for miles out, and by the evening of the th the whole force was on the march; while by the evening of rd march they had reached their destination,--as good a performance as even the records of british infantry can show. to quote the special army order issued from the horse guards at the end of the campaign, "the march of the british brigade to the atbara, when in six days--for one of which it was halted--it covered miles in a most trying climate, shows what british troops can do when called upon." on the th of march the entire force marched to ras-el-hudi, a point on the bend of the river which mahmoud would have to pass if he decided to attack berber. but mahmoud, finding now that he would have the british as well as egyptians to deal with, changed his plans, and instead of advancing intrenched his position, hoping to receive assistance from the khalifa. on the th a raid was made on shendy by the steamboats, under command of commander keppel and lieutenants beatty and hood, r.n.; the troops being commanded by majors hickman and sitwell, captain sloman, and lieutenant graham. this was completely successful: the dervishes fled; shendy, where was mahmoud's reserve depot, was occupied, and the forts and depot destroyed, and a large number of female prisoners released. attempts to draw mahmoud out of his cover were unsuccessful, and the sirdar decided to attack him. on april th the force, with the british leading, made a night-march, and after a short rest took up a position about one and a half miles from the enemy's camp, and about : a.m. a general advance in attack formation was made. the british brigade was on the left, macdonald's in the centre, maxwell's on the right, and lewis's egyptians were held in reserve. the enemy were in a large irregular enclosure, with its rear on the now dry bed of the river. the position was defended by trenches, and in part by palisades; and was surrounded by a strong zareba, the inside being full of shelter trenches and pits. after a bombardment by guns and the rocket detachment, at : the general advance was sounded, and with pipes and bands playing the infantry bore down upon the zareba. in front of the british were the camerons in line, and behind them the warwicks on the left, seaforths in the centre, and lincolns on the right; general gatacre, the staff, and colonel money in front. the zareba was soon reached and torn aside, and in a few minutes our men were in the enclosure. the enemy fought bravely, and, refusing quarter, died fighting. in every hut and trench the dervishes were hid, and slashed and fired at their enemy till bayoneted, or shot themselves. there were many hand-to-hand fights and many narrow escapes, but in forty minutes the firing was over and the dervish army scattered and annihilated. with the exception of osman digna, who with his usual luck escaped, and three others, all the important leaders were killed, and mahmoud himself taken prisoner. he was found in a hole under his bed! a rare instance of cowardice among dervishes. of the british, captains urquhart and findlay of the camerons, and lieutenant gore of the seaforths, who had only recently joined, were killed leading their men over the trenches, besides non-commissioned officers and men; and officers and non-commissioned officers and men wounded. the egyptian army lost officers and men, and british and native officers and non-commissioned officers and men wounded. the dervish losses were estimated at over killed at and around the zareba; but of the whole dervish army but very few, and none of the wounded, could have escaped to omdurman,--in fact the army was practically annihilated. among the many escapes from spear or bullet that occurred, none are more curious than those of corporal lawrie of the seaforths, which he related in a letter home, afterwards published in a daily paper. a bullet took off the toe of his shoe, his bayonet was bent by a shot; a shot passed through his sleeve, his rifle was struck by a bullet; a dervish striking at him with a spear only split his haversack; a shot entered the lid of his ammunition pouch, passed into his coat pocket, smashing a penknife and two pencils, tore four holes in his shirt, made a surface wound on his left breast, and came out near his left shoulder through his coat and pouch braces. the advance to khartoum. after the battle of the atbara the troops returned to the nile and went into summer quarters, waiting for the time of high nile, when the advance would be made. the british troops settled down for a time in camp as in times of peace, for there was no fear of any dervish force, and were made as comfortable as possible; and the men, who were all well seasoned and inured to the climate, spared as much as possible during the heat. but it was a very busy time with the egyptians, and especially with the railway brigade, which, under the able direction of the director of railways, major gerouard, r.e., laboured incessantly to complete the track to dakhala, which now became the base and depot of the autumn campaign. the new gunboats were brought up by rail in sections, and put together, as well as the barges for transport, and launched at abadieh on the nile, a village between berber and the fifth cataract. camping-grounds were prepared, commissariat stores and ammunition forwarded to the front, wood cut and stacked for fuel, and every preparation made, so that there might be no delay or hitch at the critical moment. from the th of july, everything being in readiness to receive them, reinforcements for the british command, now to be raised to a division and commanded by major-general gatacre, were moved up from cairo; amongst these were royal artillery, royal engineers, army service corps, medical corps, and the st lancers under colonel martin, a regiment which had never yet been in action, and was therefore burning to distinguish itself, as indeed it did, as we shall presently see. a second british brigade had been formed, under the command of colonel lyttleton; it was comprised of st northumberland fusiliers, lieutenant--colonel money; nd lancashire fusiliers, lieutenant-colonel collingwood, from the army of occupation at cairo; nd rifle brigade, colonel howard; and st grenadier guards, colonel hatton; which last two regiments had come direct to the front from malta and gibraltar respectively. there was also a detachment of royal irish fusiliers, with maxims, making in all about men. the st lancers numbered , the rest of the cavalry being broadwood's egyptians, about sabres. there was also an addition to the artillery of the nd field-battery r.a., major williams; th field-battery with the new -inch howitzers firing lyddite shells, and two siege-guns, besides some twenty or more maxims. the first british division was composed, as before, of the camerons, seaforths, lincolns, and warwicks; the last two having changed colonels, lieutenant-colonel louth now leading the lincolns, and lieutenant-colonel forbes the warwicks. the brigade was commanded by colonel wauchope; general gatacre, as has been said, being now in command of the division. the land forces numbered over british troops and about , egyptian; in addition to this the sirdar had a river flotilla of eleven steamboats well armed, besides iron barges especially made for transport of troops, and innumerable native craft. the battle of omdurman. on th august the final advance began, and on the nd the whole force was concentrated at wad hamed, some miles from omdurman, a brilliant achievement even for the sirdar, for it meant that , men, with all impedimenta, stores, and ammunition, had been moved within ten days miles across the desert into the enemy's country by means of marching and the use of the flotilla on the nile. "the task before them is one of the most arduous that an army has ever been called upon to perform, being at a distance of something like miles from the real base of operations, on the sea, in a climate the conditions of which are trying, and amidst deserts devoid of all resources--even of those few which existed in when the british forces under lord wolseley advanced to metammeh, and which have since been utterly destroyed by the complete devastation of the villages on the banks of the nile and the murder or despoliation of their inhabitants."--field-marshal sir j.l.a. simmons, in a letter to the _times_. on the nd september the army lay encamped at agaiga on the nile, a few miles only from khartoum, having already come into touch with he khalifa's outposts, the main body of whose army, some , or , , had come out of omdurman, and was intrenched between them and the city. the sirdar's camp was in the form of a semicircle, with about one mile of the nile for its diameter. on the extreme left was the nd field-battery r.a.; and next them, with their left on the nile, and on the right of the guns, lay the second british brigade (rifles, lancashire, northumberland, and grenadier guards); then the first british brigade (wauchope's), warwicks, seaforths, camerons, and lincolns; then maxwell's nd egyptian; macdonald's, and then lewis with his right on the nile. on the left, and extending close down to the lines, was a small hill, gabel surgham; and on the right, some way off, the rising ground of kerrin. the camp was protected by a zareba and trench, with spaces at intervals, and all along the river were the flotilla of gunboats. at an early hour the whole army was armed and everything in readiness for the advance, when the scouts and the pickets of the st lancers came galloping in with the astounding but most welcome news that the khalifa, instead of waiting to be attacked behind his intrenchments, as did mahmoud at atbara, was rapidly advancing with his whole army upon the zareba. nothing could have been more fortunate for the sirdar or more foolish on the part of the khalifa; had he even remained in his position he would have caused his assailants heavy loss, while had he awaited our attack in omdurman the siege might have presented many difficulties. as it was, over-confident in the fanatic courage of his followers, and their superior numbers, he threw his host upon our fire, verily "quem deus vult perdere prius dementat" was true in his case. the black flag of the khalifa and the huge host of the arabs was soon seen approaching, and at : a.m. the firing commenced. first the maxims and -pounder field-guns, yards; then the lee-metford rifles. the air was full of shot and bullet, shrapnel and shell, mowing out great gaps in the charging masses, who never faltered in their movement. thousands upon thousands fell, and were succeeded by thousands upon thousands who likewise fell; and of all that host never a man reached the zareba. nothing could exceed the courage of the dervishes. following their old tactics, they meant to rush the zareba, piercing, as they hoped, the line of fire by sheer force of numbers. "stormed at by shot and shell, bravely they fought and fell." a large body of horse tried to break through the centre, and were annihilated. at length human endurance could do no more, and the shattered remnants of what had been but an hour before a mighty host, withdrew behind gabel surgham. so ended the first act, with a loss of a few hundred in killed and wounded; , dervishes were slain. it was at first thought when the last dervish disappeared behind the high ground that the fight was over, and that omdurman lay open; and after a delay occupied in removing the wounded to the steamers, and replenishing ammunition, the army, about : , re-formed for marching, moved out of the camp. lyttleton's and wauchope's brigade, turning by the left, moved round the bottom of gabel surgham; maxwell passing on their right, while lewis and macdonald moved away much farther on the right; and thus the brigades became at some distance apart. and now took place one of the most stirring events of this eventful day. the st lancers, trotting ahead a mile or more beyond gabel, came upon a small body of dervishes hiding in a hollow; and colonel martin having decided to cut them off, the regiment charged in line, led by colonel martin. within yards of the enemy the horsemen saw the trap that had been laid for them; instead of or men in a hollow, or more dervishes lay in wait for them in a narrow and rather deep ravine. four hundred against rode the lancers, and somehow or another were into the ravine and out again, and with lance and sword and revolver had pushed and hacked their way through the dense mass of the enemy. clean through and out on the other side; but not all of them, for any whose horse fell and could not recover at once was cut to pieces. there were many wonderful escapes, and many acts of bravery. the colonel rode through well in front without drawing sword or revolver; his horse fell in the midst of the _melee_ but was up again, and both came through without a scratch. perhaps dervishes were knocked over, but the lancers suffered severely. lieutenant grenfell fell at the head of his troop, and ten of his men with him. as he was lying surrounded by a crowd of dervishes, lieutenant de montmorency, who had got through safely, returned to his assistance. he succeeded in driving off the enemy, and finding lieutenant grenfell dead he attempted to place the body across his horse. while he was doing this his horse bolted, and he was left to face the enemy. captain kenna and corporal swabrick came to his assistance, and fortunately caught the horse and were able to keep the enemy at a distance with their revolvers, while all three got safely through. lieutenant de montmorency received the victoria cross, and also captain kenna, who had also saved major windham, whose horse was bolting, by taking him up behind him on his own horse. meantime macdonald's brigade, which had moved away to the right, had to bear a sudden attack of , dervishes who had rallied behind the high ground, and with reckless courage threw themselves upon the egyptian ranks, who now found themselves attacked on three sides at once. in old times no egyptian troops could have sustained the shock, but all was altered now. admirably handled by their commander, both men and officers as cool as on parade, the brigade thrown practically into line, with the left and right thrown back, held their own, mowing down the enemy with a well-sustained fire. the guns soon came to the relief, and shot and shell fell from steamers on to the devoted host; and wauchope's brigade coming up, the rout of the dervishes was soon complete. again the army advanced, and soon after four o'clock the sirdar with the captured standard of the khalifa entered omdurman, arriving just after the khalifa, with a small body of followers, had succeeded in slipping away. a victoria cross was also given to captain nevill smyth, who galloped forward and engaged in single combat with an arab who was attacking camp followers, and killed him, being slightly wounded himself. the funeral of general gordon. on sunday, th september, the sirdar, generals, and staff, with detachments from all branches of the army, steamed up the blue nile to the ruins of khartoum, and on the summit of gordon's old palace, the scene of his death, hoisted the union jack and the egyptian flag. after this ceremony the bands played the dead march, the chaplains--presbyterian, roman, wesleyan, and anglican--offered prayer, and hymns were sung on the very spot where the hero fell. among the numerous rewards given for services in this campaign, none was more popular than the peerage conferred upon the sirdar, now lord kitchener of khartoum. the end. none the dark tower by phyllis bottome with illustrations by j. h. gardner soper new york the century co. copyright, , by the century co. published, september, dauntless the slughorn to my lips i set, and blew "child roland to the dark tower came." --robert browning to w. w. d. h. "god forbid that i should do this thing. if our time be come, let us die manfully for our brethren and let us not stain our honour." _i maccabees, ix, ._ [illustration: "i shall never be dangerous for you, miss rivers," he said gently] list of illustrations "i shall never be dangerous for you, miss rivers," he said gently "you may have to take her as a daughter-in-law, though," winn remarked without turning round from the sideboard. in his heart there was nothing left to which he could compare her "i don't want a chance," whispered claire "you've got to live," said winn, bending grimly over him; "you've got to live!" the dark tower part i chapter i winn staines respected god, the royal family, and his regiment; but even his respect for these three things was in many ways academic: he respected nothing else. his father, admiral sir peter staines, had never respected anything; he went to church, however, because his wife didn't. they were that kind of family. lady staines had had twelve children. seven of them died as promptly as their constitutions allowed; the five survivors, shouted at, quarreled over, and soundly thrashed, tore themselves through a violent childhood into a rackety youth. they were never vicious, for they never reflected over or considered anything that they did. winn got drunk occasionally, assaulted policemen frequently, and could carry a small pony under each arm. charles and james, who were in the navy, followed in the footsteps of sir peter; that is to say, they explored all possible accidents on sea or ashore, and sought for a fight as if it were a mislaid crown jewel. dolores and isabella had to content themselves with minor feats and to be known merely as the terrors of the neighborhood, though ultimately dolores succeeded in making a handsome splash by running away with a prize-fighting groom. she made him an excellent wife, and though lady staines never mentioned her name again, it was rumored that sir peter met her surreptitiously at tattersall's and took her advice upon his horses. isabella, shocked and outraged by this sisterly mischance, married, in the face of all probability, a reluctant curate. he subsided into a family living given to him by sir peter, and tried to die of consumption. isabella took entire control of the parish, which she ruled as if it were a quarter-deck. she did not use her father's language, but she inherited his voice. it rang over boys' clubs and into mothers' meetings with the penetration and volume of a megaphone. lady staines heartily disliked both her daughters, and she appeared not to care very deeply for her sons, but of the three she had a decided preference for winn. winn had a wicked temper, an unshakable nerve, and had inherited the strength of sir peter's muscles and the sledge-hammer weight of lady staines's wit. he had been expelled from his private school for unparalleled insolence to the head master; a repetition of his summing up of that gentleman's life and conduct delighted his mother, though she assisted sir peter in thrashing him for the result. it may have contributed to his mother's affection for him that winn had left england at nineteen, and had reached thirty-five with only two small intervals at home. his first leave had kept them all busy with what the staines considered a wholly unprovoked lawsuit; a man whom winn had most unfortunately felt it his duty to fling from a bus into the street, having the weak-minded debility to break his leg had the further audacity to claim enormous damages. the staines fought the case _en bloc_ with splendid zeal, and fiery eloquence. it would probably have resulted better for their interests if they had not defied their own counsel, outraged the respectable minds of the jury, and insulted the learned judge. under these circumstances they lost their case, and the rest of winn's leave was taken up in the family's congenial pursuit of laying the blame on each other. the second and more fatal visit heralded winn's marriage. he had not had time to marry before. it would not be true to say that women had played no part in his experiences, but the part they had played was neither exalted nor durable. they figured in his imagination as an inferior type of game, tiresome when captured. his life had been spent mainly in pursuit of larger objects. he had been sent straight from sandhurst to south africa, where he had fought with violence and satisfaction for two years, winning the d. s. o., a broken nose, and a cut across the face. when the fighting was over, he obtained leave for a two-years' exploring expedition into the heart of west africa. ten men had gone on this expedition, and two survived. winn never talked of these experiences, but he once admitted to a friend that the early study of his sisters' characters had saved him in many awkward moments. he had known how to appeal to female savages with the unerring touch of experience. from west africa he was called to the indian frontier, where he put in seven years in variegated and extremely useful service. he received his majority early, and disappeared for two years into tibet, manchuria, and china. after that he came back to england for polo, and met estelle fanshawe. she was lovely, gentle, intensely vain, and not very truthful. lady staines disposed of her at once as "a mincing ninny." the phrase aggravated winn, and his fancy deepened. it was stimulated by the fact that estelle was the belle of the neighborhood and had a large supply of ardent admirers. it was almost like running a race with the odds against you. winn was not a conceited man, and perhaps he thought the odds more against him than they actually were. he was the second son of a man who was immensely rich, (though sir peter was reported stingy to his children). everybody knew who the staines were, while the fanshawes after every effort and with nearly every attraction had not become a part of public knowledge. besides, estelle had been made love to for some time, and winn's way was undeniably different from that of her other admirers. he met her at a dance, and insisted upon dancing with her the whole evening. he took her card away from her, and scored off all her indignant partners. in the interval of these decisive actions he made love to her in a steady, definite way that was difficult to laugh at and impossible to turn aside. when he said good-night to her he told her that he would probably come and see her soon. she went away in a flutter, for his words, though casual, had had a sharply significant sound; besides, he had very nearly kissed her; if she had been more truthful, she would have said quite. she didn't, in thinking it over, know at all how this had happened, and she generally knew precisely how these things happened. lady staines told her son at breakfast a few mornings later what she thought of miss fanshawe. "she's a girl," she observed, knocking the top off her egg, "who will develop into a nervous invalid or an advanced coquette, and it entirely depends upon how much admiration she gets which she does. i hear she's religious, too, in a silly, egotistical way. she ought to have her neck wrung." sir peter disagreed; they heard him in the servants' hall. "certainly not!" he roared; "certainly not! i don't think so at all! the girl's a damned pretty piece, and the man's one of my best tenants. he's only just come, and he's done wonders to the place already. and i won't have the boy crabbed for fancying a neighbor! it's very natural he should. you never have a woman in the house fit to look at. who the devil do you expect your boys to marry? negresses or bar-maids?" "gentlewomen," said lady staines, firmly, "unless their father's behavior prevents them from being accepted." winn said nothing. he got up and began cutting ham at the sideboard. his mother hesitated a moment; but as she had only roused one of her men, she made a further effort in the direction of the other. "the girl's a mean-spirited little liar," she observed. "i wouldn't take her as a housemaid." "you may have to take her as a daughter-in-law, though," winn remarked without turning round from the sideboard. [illustration: "you may have to take her as a daughter-in-law, though," winn remarked without turning round from the sideboard] sir peter grunted. he didn't like this at all, but he couldn't very well say so without appearing to agree with his wife, a thing he had carefully avoided doing for thirty years. lady staines rose and gathered up her letters. "you're of age," she said to her son, "and you've had about as much experience of civilized women as a european baby has of crocodiles, and you'll be just about as safe and clever with them. as for you, peter, pray don't trouble to tell me what you think of the fanshawes in a year's time. you've never had a tenant you haven't had a lawsuit with yet, and this time you'll be adding winn's divorce proceedings to your other troubles. i should think you might begin to save toward the damages now." sir peter's oaths accompanied his wife across the dining-room to the door, which her son opened ceremoniously for her. their eyes crossed like swords. "if i get that girl, you'll be nice to her," winn said in a low voice. "as long as you are," replied lady staines, with a grim smile. he did not bang the door after her, as she had hoped; instead, he went to see the girl. chapter ii it was eleven o'clock when winn arrived at the fanshawes. estelle was barely dressed, she always slept late, had her breakfast in bed, and gave as much trouble as possible to the servants. however, when she heard who had called to see her, she sent for a basket and some roses, and five minutes later strolled into the drawing-room, with her hat on, and the flowers in her hands. her mother stayed in the garden and nervously thought out the lunch. winn seized the basket out of estelle's hands, took her by the wrists, and drew her to the window. she wasn't frightened of him, but she pretended to be. she said, "oh, major staines!" she looked as soft and innocent as a cream-fed kitten. winn cleared his throat. it made him feel rather religious to look at her. he did not of course see her as a kitten; he saw her approximately as an angel. "look here," he said, "my name's winn." "you're hurting my wrists," she murmured. he dropped them. "winn," she said under her breath. "i say," he said after a moment's pause, "would you mind marrying me?" estelle lifted her fine china blue eyes to his. they weren't soft, but they could sometimes look very mysterious. "oh," she said, "but, winn--it's so sudden--so soon!" "leave's short," winn explained, "and besides, i knew the moment i looked at you, i wanted you. i don't know how you feel, of course; but--well--i'm sure you aren't the kind of girl to let a fellow kiss you, are you, and mean nothing?" estelle's long lashes swept her cheeks; she behaved exquisitely. she was, of course, exactly that kind of girl. "ah," she said, with a little tremble in her voice, "if i do marry you--will you be kind to me?" winn trembled, too; he flushed very red, and suddenly he did the funniest, most unlikely thing in the world: he got down on his knees beside her, and taking both her hands in his, he kissed them. "i'll be like this as much as ever you'll let me," he said gravely. he had a great craving for sweetness, delicacy, and gentleness; he began to tell her in little short, abrupt sentences how unworthy he was of her, not fit to touch her really--he was afraid he'd been horribly rough--and done lots of things she would have hated (he forgot to mention that he'd ever done anything worth doing as well); he explained that he didn't know any women a bit like her; there weren't any, of course, _really_ like--but she knew what he meant. so that he expected she'd have to teach him a lot--would she--if she didn't mind, and overlook his being stupid? estelle listened thoughtfully for a few minutes, then she asked him if he didn't think eight bridesmaids would be better than four? he got up from his knees then. he didn't like discussing the wedding, and he got bored very soon and went away, so that mrs. fanshawe didn't need to have the special lunch she had ordered, after all. they were to have a very short engagement, and estelle decided on four bridesmaids and four pages; she was so small herself that children would look prettier and more innocent. there was something particularly charming about a young wedding, and they were to have a celebration first--estelle was most particular about that--and a wedding breakfast afterwards of course. winn was extraordinarily kind to her; he let her settle everything she liked and gave her exactly the ring she wanted--an immense emerald set with diamonds. he wasn't in the least particular about where they spent the honeymoon, after making a very silly suggestion, which estelle promptly over-ruled, that they might go to the east coast and make a study of fortifications. he agreed that london would do just as well, with theaters, and he could look up a man he knew at the war office. certainly they should go to the ritz if estelle liked it; but it was rather noisy. the one point he did make was to have a young officer he liked, who had been with him in china, lionel drummond, as his best man, instead of his cousin lord arlington. his brothers were out of the question, as he couldn't have one without having a row with the other. estelle wanted lord arlington, but when she pressed the point, winn gave her a most extraordinary sharp look and said, "i thought i told you i wanted that boy drummond?" it was a most peculiar and disconcerting look, well known in the staines family. trouble usually followed very quickly upon its heels. estelle shivered and gave in and was rewarded by a diamond brooch. this showed her how important shivering was going to be in her married life. the only really disagreeable time estelle had during her engagement was the short half hour in which lady staines fulfilled her maternal duties. it was a rainy day and lady staines had walked two miles across the fields in what looked like a cricket cap, and a waterproof. she cleaned her boots as carefully as she could in the hall. they were square-toed and hob-nailed and most unsuitable for a drawing-room. mrs. fanshawe literally quailed before them. "you shouldn't have parquet floors," lady staines remarked, holding out her hand; "in the country, it's the ruin of them unless you wear paper soles," she glanced searchingly at mrs. fanshawe's and estelle's feet. "and that of course is the ruin of your feet. probably you've lived in london all your lives?" mrs. fanshawe found herself in the position of apologizing for what had hitherto been her proudest boast. lady staines looked tolerantly around her. "london's a poor place," she observed, "and very shoddy. when my friends the malverns lived here, they had old oak and rather nice chintzes. i see you go in for color schemes and nicknacks. i hope estelle won't find staines uncomfortable; however, she probably won't be with us often." she turned to her future daughter-in-law. "you are estelle, my dear, ain't you?" she demanded. "and i dare say you can't speak a word of french in spite of your fine name. can you?" estelle hesitated and blushed. "not very much, i'm afraid," she truthfully murmured. it flashed through her mind that with lady staines you must be truthful if there was any possible chance of your being found out. "hum!" said lady staines thoughtfully. "i can't see what people spend so much on education for nowadays. i really can't! and you're going to marry my second son, ain't you?" she demanded. "well, i'm sure it's very kind of you. all the staines have tempers, but winn's is quite the worst. i don't want to exaggerate, but i really don't think you could match it in this world. he generally keeps it, too! he was a nasty, murderous, little boy. i assure you i've often beaten him till he was black and blue and never got a word out of him." mrs. fanshawe looked horrified. "but my dear lady staines," she urged, "surely you tried kindness?" lady staines shook her head. "no," she said, "i don't think so, i don't think i am kind--very. but he's turned out well, don't you think? he's the only one of my sons who's got honors--a 'd.s.o.' for south africa, and a c.b. for something or other, i never know what, in china; and he got his majority extraordinarily young for special services--or he wouldn't have been able to marry you, my dear, for his father won't help him. he doesn't get drunk as often as the other two boys, either; in fact, on the whole, i should call him satisfactory. and now he's chosen you, and i'm sure we're all very grateful to you for taking him in hand." mrs. fanshawe offered her visitor tea; she was profoundly shocked, but she thought that tea would help. lady staines refused it. "no, thank you very much," she said. "i must be getting back to give sir peter his. i shall be late as it is, and i shall probably hear him swearing all down the drive. we shall all be seeing more than enough of each other before long. but there's no use making a fuss about it, is there? we're a most disagreeable family, and i'm sure it'll be worse for you than for us." estelle accompanied her future mother-in-law to the door. she had not been as much shocked as her mother. lady staines laid her small neat hand on the girl's arm. she looked at her very hard, but there was a spark of some kind, behind the hardness; if the eyes hadn't been those of lady staines, they might almost have been said to plead. "i wonder if you like him?" she said slowly. estelle said, "oh, dear lady staines, believe me--with all my heart!" lady staines didn't believe her, but she smiled good-humoredly. "yes, yes, my dear, i know!" she said. "but how much heart have you got? you see his happiness and yours depend on that. the woman who marries a staines ought to have a good deal of heart and all of it ought to be his." estelle put on an air of pretty dignity. "i have never loved any one before," she asserted with serene untruthfulness (she felt sure this fact couldn't be proved against her), "and winn believes in my heart." "does he?" said his mother. "i wonder. he believes in your pretty face! well, it is pretty, i acknowledge that. keep it as pretty as you can." she didn't kiss her future daughter-in-law, but she tapped her lightly on the shoulder and trudged back with head erect through the rain. "it's a bad business," she said to herself thoughtfully. "he's rushed his fence and there's a ditch on the other side of it, deep enough to drown him!" chapter iii winn wanted, if possible, a home without rows. he knew very little of homes, and nothing which had made him suppose this ideal likely to be realized. still he went on having it, hiding it, and hoping for it. once he had come across it. it was the time when he had decided to undertake a mission to tibet without a government mandate. he wanted young drummond to go with him. the job was an awkward and dangerous one. certain authorities had warned winn that though, if the results were satisfactory, it would certainly be counted in his favor, should anything go wrong no help could be sent to him, and he would be held personally responsible; that is he would be held responsible if he were not dead, which was the most likely outcome of the whole business. it is easy to test a man on the indian frontier, and winn had had his eye on lionel drummond for two years. he was a cool-headed, reliable boy, and in some occult and wholly unexpressed way winn was conscious that he was strongly drawn to him. winn offered him the job, and even consented, when he was on leave, to visit the drummonds and talk the matter over with the boy's parents. it was then that he discovered that people really could have a quiet home. mrs. drummond was a woman of a great deal of character, very great gentleness, and equal courage. she neither cried nor made fusses, and no one could even have imagined her making a noise. it was she who virtually settled, after a private talk with winn, that lionel might accompany him. the extraordinary thing that mrs. drummond said to winn was, "you see, i feel quite sure that you'll look after lionel, whatever happens." winn had replied coldly, "i should never dream of taking a man who couldn't look after himself." mrs. drummond said nothing. she just smiled at winn as if he had agreed that he would look after lionel. general drummond was non-committal. he knew the boy would get on without the mission, but he also seemed to be influenced by some absurd idea that winn was to be indefinitely trusted, so that he would say nothing to stop them. lionel himself was wild with delight, and the whole affair was managed without suspicion, resentment, or hostility. the expedition was quite as hard as the authorities had intimated, and at one point it very nearly proved fatal. a bad attack of dysentery and snow blindness brought lionel down at a very inconvenient spot, crossing the mountains of tibet during a blizzard. the rest of the party said with some truth that they must go forward or perish. winn sent them on to the next settlement, keeping back a few stores and plenty of cartridges. he said that he would rejoin them with drummond when drummond was better, and if he did not arrive before a certain date they were to push on without him. they were alone together for six weeks, and during these six weeks winn discovered that he was quite a new kind of person; for one thing he developed into a first-rate nurse, and he could be just like a mother, and say the silliest, gentlest things. no one was there to see or hear him, and the boy was so ill that he wouldn't be likely to remember afterwards. he did remember, however, he remembered all his life. the stores ran out and they were dependent on winn's rifle for food. they melted snow water to drink, and there were days when their chances looked practically invisible. somehow or other they got out of it, the boy grew better, the weather improved, and winn managed, though the exact means were never specified, to drag lionel on a sledge to the nearest settlement, where the rest of the party were still awaiting them. after that the expedition was successful and the friendship between the two men final. winn didn't like to think what mrs. drummond would say to him when they got back to england, but she let him down quite easily; she gave him no thanks, she only looked at him with lionel's steady eyes and said, smiling a little, "i always knew you'd bring him back to me." winn did not ask lionel to stay at staines court until the wedding. none of the staines went in much for making friends, and he didn't want his mother to see that he was fond of any one. the night before the wedding, however, lionel arrived in the midst of an altercation as to who had ordered the motor to meet the wrong train. this lasted a long time because all the staines, except dolores, were gathered together, and it expanded unexpectedly into an attack on charles, the eldest son, whose name had been coupled with that of a lady whose professional aptitudes were described as those of a manicurist. there was a moment when murder of a particularly atrocious and internecine character seemed the only possible outcome to the discussion--then charles in a white fury found the door. before he had gone out of earshot sir peter asked lionel what his father would do if presented with a possible daughter-in-law so markedly frail? sir peter seemed to be laboring under the delusion that he had been weakly favorable to his son's inclinations, and that any other father would have expressed himself more forcibly. lionel was saved from the awkwardness of disagreeing with him by an unexpected remark from lady staines. "a girl from some kind of a chemist's shop," she observed musingly. "i fancy she's too good for charles." sir peter, who was fond of charles, said the girl was probably not from a chemist's shop; and described to the horror of the butler, who had entered to prepare the tea-table, just what kind of a place she probably was from. lady staines looked at winn, and said she didn't see that it was much worse to marry a manicure girl than one who looked like a manequin. they were neither of them types likely to do credit to the family. winn replied that, as far as that went, bad clothes and good morals did not always go together. he was prepared apparently with an apt illustration, when isabella's husband, the rev. mr. betchley, asked feebly if he might go up-stairs to rest. it was quite obvious to everybody that he needed it. the next morning at breakfast the manicure girl was again discussed, but in a veiled way so as not really to upset charles before the wedding. winn escaped immediately afterwards with lionel. they went for a walk, most of which was conducted in silence; finally, however, they found a log, took out their pipes, and made themselves comfortable. lionel said, "i wish i'd seen miss fanshawe; it must be awfully jolly for you, winn." winn was silent for a minute or two, then he began, slowly gathering impetus as he went on: "well--yes, of course, in a sense it is. i mean, i know i'm awfully lucky and all that, only--you see, old chap, i'm frightfully ignorant of women. i know one sort of course--a jolly sight better than you do--but girls! hang it all, i don't know girls. that's what worries me--she's such a little thing." he paused a moment. "i hope it's all right," he said, "marrying her. it seems pretty rough on them sometimes, i think--don't you--i fancy she's delicate and all that." lionel nodded. "it does seem rather beastly," he admitted, "their having to have a hard time, i mean--but if they care for you--i suppose it works out all right." winn paid no attention to this fruitless optimism. he went on with his study of estelle. "she's--she's religious too, you know, that's why we're to have that other service first. rather nice idea, i think, don't you, what? makes it a bit of a strain for her though i'm afraid, but she'd never think of that. i'm sure she's plucky." lionel also was quite sure estelle must be plucky. "fancy you getting married," lionel said suddenly. "i can't see it somehow." "i feel it funny myself," winn admitted. "you see, it's so damned long, and i never have seen much of women. i hope she won't expect me to talk a lot or anything of that kind. her people, you know, chatter like so many magpies--just oozes out of 'em." "we must be off," lionel said. they stood up, knocked the ashes out of their pipes, and prepared to walk on. it was a mild june day, small vague hills stretched behind them, and before them soft, lawn-like fields fell away to the river's edge. everywhere the green of trees in a hundred tones of color and with delicate, innumerable leaf shadows, laid upon the landscape, the fragrance and lightness of the spring. they were in a temperate land, every yard of it was cultivated and civilized, immensely lived on and understood. none of it had been neglected or was dangerous or strange to the eye of man. simultaneously the thought flashed between them of other lands and of sharper vicissitudes; they saw again bleak passes which were cruel death traps, and above them untrodden alien heights; they felt the solemn vastness of the interminable, flawless snows. they kept their eyes away from each other--but they knew what each other was feeling, adventure and danger were calling to them--the old sting and thrill of an unending trail; and then from a little hollow in the guarded hills rang out the wedding bells. lionel looked a little shyly at his chief. "i wonder," he said, as winn made no response, "if we can ever do things--things together again, i mean--i should like to think we could." winn gave him a quick look and moved hastily ahead over the field path toward the church. "why the devil shouldn't we?" he threw back at lionel over his shoulder. chapter iv estelle's wedding was a great success, but this was not surprising when one realized how many years had been spent in preparation for it. estelle was only twenty-three, but for the last ten years she had known that she would marry, and she had thought out every detail of the ceremony except the bridegroom. you could have any kind of a bridegroom--men were essentially imperfect--but you need have only one kind of ceremony, and that could be ideal. estelle had visualized everything from the last pot of lilies--always annunciation ones, not arum, which look pagan--at the altar to the red cloth at the door. there were to be rose-leaves instead of rice; the wedding was to be in june, with a tent in the garden and strawberries. if possible, she would be married by a bishop; if not, by a dean. the bishop having proved too remote, the dean had to do. but he was a fine-looking man, and would be made a bishop soon, so estelle did not really mind. the great thing was to have gaiters on the lawn afterward. the day was perfect. estelle woke at her usual hour in the morning, her heart was beating a little faster than it generally did, and then she remembered with a pang of joy the perfect fit of her wedding-gown hanging in the wardrobe. she murmured to herself: "one love, one life." she was not thinking of winn, but she had always meant to say that on her wedding morning. then she had early tea. her mother came in and kissed her, and estelle implored her not to fuss, and above all not to get red in the face before going to church, where she was to wear a mauve hat. it was difficult for mrs. fanshawe not to fuss, estelle was the most expensive of her children and in a way the most important; for if she wasn't pleased it was always so dreadful. there were half a dozen younger children and any of them might do something tiresome. estelle arrived at the church five minutes late, on her father's arm, followed by four little bridesmaids in pink and white, and four little pages in blue and white. the effect was charming. the village church was comfortably full, and with her eyes modestly cast down estelle managed to see that all the right people were there, including the clergyman's daughters, whom she had always hated. the fanshawes and her mother's relations the arnots had come down from town. they all looked very prosperous people with good dressmakers and tailors, and most of them had given her handsome silver wedding presents or checks. they were on one side of the church just as estelle had always pictured them, and on the other were the staines and their relations. the staines had very few friends, and those they had were hard riding, hunting people, who never look their best in satin. there was no doubt that the staines sitting in the front seat were a blot on the whole affair. you couldn't tell everybody that they were a county family, and they didn't look like it. they were too large and coarse, and took up far too much room. there they sat, six big creatures in one pew, all restless, all with big chins, hard eyes, jutting eyebrows, and a dreadful look as if they were buccaneering. as a matter of fact they all felt rather timid and flat, and meant to behave beautifully, though sir peter needn't have blown his nose like a trumpet and stamped simultaneously just as estelle entered. at the top of the aisle winn waited for his bride; and his boots were dusty. standing behind him was the handsomest man that estelle had ever seen; and not only that, but the very kind of man she had always wished to see. it made estelle feel for a moment like a good housekeeper, who has not been told that a distinguished guest was coming to dinner. if she had known, she would have ordered something different. she felt in a flash that he was the kind of bridegroom who would have suited the ceremony. he was several inches taller than winn, slim, with a small athletic head and perfectly cut greek features; his face would have been a shade too regular and too handsome if he had not had the very same hard-bitten look in his young gray eyes that winn had in his bright, hawk-like brown ones. lionel was looking at estelle as she came up the aisle in a tender, protective, admiring way, as if she were a very beautiful flower. this was most satisfactory, but at least winn might have done the same. instead of looking as if he were waiting for his bride, he looked exactly as if he were holding a narrow pass against an enemy. his very figure had a peculiarly stern and rock-like expression. his broad shoulders were set, his rather heavy head erect, and when he did look at estelle, it was an inconceivably sharp look as if he were trying to see through her. she didn't know, of course, that on his way to church he had thought every little white cloud in the blue sky was like her, and every lily in a cottage garden. there was a drop of sardonic blood in him, that made him challenge her even at the moment of achieved surrender. "by jove," he thought to himself, "can she be as beautiful as she looks?" then the service began, and they had the celebration first, and afterward the usual ceremony, perfectly conducted, and including the rather over-exercised "voice that breathed o'er eden." the dean gave them an excellent, short and evasive address about their married duties, a great deal nicer than anything in the prayer book, and the march from lohengrin took them to the vestry. in the vestry winn began to be tiresome. the vicar said: "kiss the bride," and winn replied: "no, thanks; not at present," looking like a stone wall, and sticking his hands in his pockets. the vicar, who had known him from a boy, did not press the point; but of course the dean looked surprised. any dean would. the reception afterwards would have been perfect but for the staines, who tramped through everything. estelle perpetually saw them bursting into places where they weren't wanted, and shouting remarks which sounded abusive but were meant to be cordial to cowering fanshawes and arnots. it was really not necessary for sir peter to say in the middle of the lawn that what mr. fanshawe wanted was more manure. it seemed to estelle that wherever she went she heard sir peter's resonant voice talking about manure. lady staines was much quieter; still she needn't have remarked to estelle's mother, "well--i'm glad to see you have seven children, _that_ looks promising at any rate." it made two unmarried ladies of uncertain age walk into a flower-bed. winn behaved abominably. he took the youngest fanshawe child and disappeared with him into the stable yard. even charles and james behaved better than that. they hurled well-chosen incomprehensible jokes at the clergyman's daughters--dreadful girls who played hockey and had known the staines all their lives--and these ladies returned their missiles with interest. it caused a good deal of noise, but it sounded hearty. isabella, being a clergyman's wife, talked to the dean, who soon looked more astonished than ever. at last it was all comfortably over. estelle, leaning on her father's arm in pale blue, kissed her mother. mrs. fanshawe looked at the end rather tactlessly cheerful. (she had cried throughout the ceremony, just when she had worn the mauve hat and estelle had hoped she wouldn't.) mr. fanshawe behaved much more suitably; he said to winn with a trembling voice, "take care of my little girl," and winn, who might have said something graceful in reply, merely shook his father-in-law's hand with such force that mr. fanshawe, red with pain, hastily retreated. lionel drummond was charming and much appreciated everywhere; he retrieved winn from the stable yard when no one could guess where he was, and was the first person to call estelle, mrs. staines; he wound up the affair with a white satin slipper. when they drove off, estelle turned toward winn with shining eyes and quivering lips. it was the moment for a judicious amount of love-making, and all winn said was: "look here, you know, those high-heeled things on your feet are absolutely murderous. they might give you a bad tumble. don't let me see you in 'em again. are you sure you're quite comfortable, and all that?" he made the same absurd fuss about estelle's comfort in the railway carriage; but it was one of the last occasions on which he did it, because he discovered almost immediately that however many things you could think of for estelle's comfort, she could think of more for herself, and no matter how much care or attention was lavished upon her, it could never quite equal her unerring instinct for her own requirements. after this he was prepared to be ardent, but estelle didn't care for ardor in a railway train, so she soon stopped it. one of the funny things she discovered about winn was that it was the easiest possible thing to stop his ardor, and this was really odd, because it was not from lack of strength in his emotion. she never quite discovered what it did come from, because it didn't occur to her that winn would very much rather have died than offend or tire the woman he loved. she thought that winn was rather coarse, but he wasn't as coarse as that! estelle had a great deal that she wanted to talk over about the wedding. the whole occasion flamed out at her--a perfect project, perfectly carried out. she explained to winn at length who everybody was and how there had been some people there who had had to be taken down, and others who had had to be pushed forward, and her mother explained to, and her father checked, and the children (it was too dreadful how they'd let bobby run after winn), kept as much out of the way as possible. winn listened hard and tried to follow intelligently all the family histories she evolved for him. at last after a rather prolonged pause on his part, just at a point when he should have expressed admiration of her guidance of a delicate affair, estelle glanced at him and discovered that he was asleep! they hadn't been married for three hours, and he could go to sleep in the middle of their first real talk! she was sure lionel drummond wouldn't have done any such thing. but winn was old--he was thirty-five--and she could see quite plainly now that the hair round the tops of his ears was gray. she looked at him scornfully, but he didn't wake up. when he woke up he laughed. "by jove!" he exclaimed, "i believe i've been to sleep!" but he didn't apologize. he began instead to tell her some things that might interest her, about what drummond, his best man, and he, had done in manchuria, just as if nothing had happened; but naturally estelle wouldn't be interested. she was first polite, then bored, then captious. winn looked at her rather hard. "are you trying to pay me back for falling asleep?" he asked with a queer little laugh. "is that what you're up to?" estelle stiffened. "certainly not," she said. "i simply wasn't very interested. i don't think i like chinese stories, and manchuria is just the same, of course." winn leaned over her, with a wicked light in his eyes, like a naughty school boy. "own up!" he said, laying his rough hand very gently on her shoulder. "own up, old lady!" but has anybody ever owned up when they were being spiteful? estelle didn't. she looked at winn's hand till he withdrew it, and then she remarked that she was feeling faint from want of food. after she had had seven chicken sandwiches, pâté de foie gras, half a melon, and some champagne, she began to be agreeable. winn was delighted at this change in her and quite inclined to think that their little "breeze" had been entirely due to his own awkwardness. still, he wished she had owned up. chapter v it took winn a month to realize that he had paid his money, had his shy, and knocked down an empty cocoanut. he couldn't get his money back, and he must spend the rest of his life carrying the cocoanut about with him. it never occurred to him to shirk the institution of marriage. the church, the law, and the army stood in his mind for good, indelible things. estelle was his wife as much as his handkerchief was his handkerchief. this meant that they were to be faithful to each other, go out to dinner together, and that he was to pay her bills. he knew the great thing in any tight corner was never under any circumstances to let go. all the dangers he had ever been in, had yielded, only because he hadn't. it was true he had not been married before, but the same rule no doubt held good of marriage. if he held on to it, something more bearable would come of it. then one could be out of the house a good deal, and there was the regiment. he began to see his way through marriage as a man sees his way through a gap in an awkward fence. the unfortunate part of it was that he couldn't get through the gap unless estelle shared his insight. he would have liked to put it to her, but he didn't know how; he never had had a great gift of expression, and something had brought him up very short in his communications with his wife. it was so slight a thing that estelle herself had forgotten all about it, but to a staines it was absolutely final. she had told the gardener that winn wanted hyacinths planted in the front bed. winn hadn't wanted a garden at all, and he had let her have her way in everything else; but he had said quite plainly that he wouldn't on any account have hyacinths. the expression he used about them was excessively coarse, and it certainly should have remained in estelle's memory. he had said, that the bally things stank. nevertheless, estelle had told the gardener that the master wanted hyacinths, and the gardener had told winn. winn gazed at the gardener in a way which made him wish that he had never been a gardener, but had taken up any other profession in which he was unlikely to meet a glance so "nasty." then winn said quietly: "you are perfectly sure, parsons, that mrs. staines told you it was _my_ wish to have the hyacinths?" and the gardener had said: "yes, sir. she _did_ say, sir, as 'ow you 'ad a particler fancy for them." and winn had gone into the house and asked estelle what the devil she meant? estelle immediately denied the hyacinths and the gardener. people like that, she said, always misunderstand what one said to them. "very well, then," winn replied. "he has lied to me, and must go. i'll dismiss him at once. he told me distinctly that you had said i liked them." estelle fidgeted. she didn't want the gardener to go. she really couldn't remember what she'd said and what she hadn't said to him. and winn was absurd, and how could it matter, and the people next door had hyacinths, and they'd always had them at home! winn listened in silence. he didn't say anything more about the gardener having lied, and he didn't countermand the hyacinths; only from that moment he ceased to believe a single word his wife said to him. this is discouraging to conversation and was very unfair to estelle; for she might have told the truth more often if she had not discovered that it made no difference to her husband whether she told it to him or not. estelle knew that her heart was broken, but on the whole she did not find that she was greatly inconvenienced. in an unhappy marriage the woman generally scores unless she is in love with her husband. estelle never had been in love with winn; she had had an agreeable feeling about him, and now she had a disagreeable feeling about him, but neither of these emotions could be compared with beaten-brass hot-water jugs, which she had always meant to have when she was married. if winn had remained deeply in love with her, besides making things more comfortable at meals it would have been a feather in her cap. still his cruelty could be turned into another almost more becoming feather. she said to herself and a little later to the nearest clergyman, "i must make an offering of my sorrow." she offered it a good deal, almost to every person she met. even the cook was aware of it; but, like all servants, she unhesitatingly sided with the master. he might be in the wrong, but he was seldom if ever in the kitchen. they had to have a house and servants, because estelle felt that marriage without a house was hardly legal; and winn had given way about it, as he was apt to do about things estelle wanted. his very cruelty made him particularly generous about money. but estelle was never for a moment taken in by his generosity; she saw that it was his way of getting out of being in love with her. winn was a bad man and had ruined her life--this forced her to supplement her trousseau. later on when he put down one of his hunters and sold a polo pony so that she could have a maid, she began to wonder if she had at all found out how bad he really was? there was one point he never yielded; he firmly intended to rejoin his regiment in march. the station to which they would have to go was five thousand feet up, lonely, healthy, and quite unfashionable. winn had tried to make it seem jolly to her and had mentioned as a recommendation apparently that it was the kind of place in which you needn't wear gloves. it was close to the border, and women had to be a little careful where they rode. estelle had every intention of being careful; she would, she thought, be too careful ever to go to the indian frontier at all. she had often heard of the tragic separations of anglo-indian marriages; it was true that they were generally caused by illness and children, but there must be other methods of obtaining the same immunities. she had never had any difficulty with the doctor at home; she relied on him entirely, and he had invariably ordered her what she wanted, after a nice quiet talk. travers, the regimental doctor, was different, he looked exactly like a vet, and only understood things you had actually broken. still estelle put her trust in providence; no self-respecting higher power could wish a woman of her type to be wasted on a hill station. something would happen to help her, and if not, she would be given grace to help herself. one day winn came down to breakfast with a particularly disagreeable expression. he said "good-morning" into his newspaper as usual without noticing her pathetic little smile. he only unburied himself to take his second cup of coffee, then he said, without looking at her, "it's a beastly nuisance, the war office want me to extend my leave--hanged if i do." estelle thanked heaven in a flash and passed him the marmalade. she had never dreamed the war office could be so efficient. "that shows," she said gracefully, "what they think of you!" winn turned his sardonic eyes towards her. "thanks," he drawled, "i dare say it's the kind of thing you'd like. they propose that i should stay on here at the staff college for another year and write 'em a damned red tape report on tibet." his irony, dropped from him. "if it was a job," he said in a low voice, "i'd go like a shot." "mightn't it mean promotion?" she asked a little nervously. winn shrugged his shoulders. "i can write anything they want out there," he said gloomily. "all i want is ink! what i know i've got in my head, you see. i'd take that with me." "but you couldn't talk things over with them or answer their questions, could you?" estelle intelligently ventured. she had an intelligence which ripened along the line of her desires. "i could tell them anything they want to know in ten minutes!" said winn impatiently. "they don't want information, they want a straight swift kick! they know what i think--they just want me to string out a lot of excuses for them not to act! besides the chief thing is--they'd have to send for me, if there was a row--i know the ground and the other chaps don't. i wish to god there'd be a row!" estelle sighed and gazed pathetically out of the window. her eyes rested on the bed where the hyacinths were planted, and beyond it to gorse bushes and a corrugated iron shed. they were at aldershot, which was really rather a good place for meeting suitable people. "what do you intend to do?" she asked, trembling a little. winn was at his worst when questioned as to his intentions; he preferred to let them explode like fire-crackers. "do!" he snorted, "write and tell 'em when they've got any kind of job on the size of six-pence i'll be in it! and if not tibet's about as useful to draw up a report on--as ice in the hunting season--and i'm off in march--and that's that!" a tear rolled down estelle's cheek and splashed on the tablecloth; she trembled harder until her teaspoon rattled. winn looked at her. "what's up?" he asked irritably. "anything wrong?" "i suppose," she said, prolonging a small sob, "you don't care what i feel about going to india?" "but you knew we were always going out in march didn't you?" he asked, as if that had anything to do with it! the absurd face value that he gave to facts was enough to madden any woman. estelle sobbed harder. "i never knew i should be so unhappy!" she moaned. winn looked extremely foolish and rather conscience-stricken; he even made a movement to rise, but thought better of it. "i'm sure i'm awfully sorry," he said apologetically. "i suppose you mean you're a bit sick of me, don't you?" estelle wiped her eyes, and returned to her toast. "can't you see," she asked bitterly, "that our life together is the most awful tragedy?" "oh, come now," said winn, who associated tragedy solely with police courts and theaters. "it's not so bad as all that, is it? we can rub along, you know. i dare say i've been rather a brute, but i shall be a lot better company when i'm back in the regiment. we must buck up, that's all! i don't like to bother you about it, but i think you'd see things differently if we had a kid. i do really. i've seen heaps of scratch marriages turn out jolly well--when the kids began to come!" "how can you be so disgustingly coarse!" shuddered estelle. "besides, i'm far too delicate! not that you would care if i died! you'd just marry again!" "oh, no! i shouldn't do that," said winn in his horrid quiet way which might mean anything. he got up and walked to the window. "you wouldn't die," he observed with his back turned to her. "you'd be a jolly sight stronger all the rest of your life! i asked travers!" "oh!" she cried, "you don't mean to tell me that you talked me over with that disgusting red-faced man!" "i don't talk people over," said winn without turning round. "he's a doctor. i asked his opinion!" "well," she said, "i think it was horrible of you--and--and most ungentlemanly. if i'd wanted to know, i'd have found out for myself. i haven't the slightest confidence in regimental doctors." winn said nothing. one of the things estelle most disliked in him was the way in which it seemed as if he had some curious sense of delicacy of his own. she wanted to think of winn as a man impervious to all refinement, born to outrage the nicer susceptibility of her own mind, but there were moments when it seemed as if he didn't think the susceptibilities of her mind were nice at all. he was not awed by her purity. he didn't say anything of course, but he let certain subjects prematurely drop. suddenly he turned round from the window and fixed his eyes on hers. she thought he was going to be very violent, but he wasn't, he talked quite quietly, only something hard and bright in his eyes warned her to be careful. "look here," he said, "i've thought of something, a kind of bargain! i'll give in to you about this job, if you'll give in to me about the other! it's no use fighting over things, is it? "if you'll have a kid, i'll stay on here for a year more; if you won't, i'll clear out in march and you'll have to come with me, for i can't afford two establishments. i don't see what else to offer you unless you want to go straight back to your people. you'd hardly care to go to mine, if they'd have you. "but if you do what i ask about the child--i'll meet you all the way round--i swear to--you shan't forget it! only you must ride straight. if you play me any monkey tricks over it--you'll never set eyes on me again; and i'm afraid you'll have to have travers, because i trust him, not some slippery old woman who'd let you play him like a fish! d'you understand?" estelle stared aghast at this mixture of brutality and cunning. her mind flew round and round like a squirrel in a cage. she could have managed beautifully if it hadn't been for travers. travers would be as impervious to handling as a battery mule. she really wouldn't be able to do anything with travers. he looked as if he drank; but he didn't. of course having a baby was simply horrid; lots of women got out of it nowadays who were quite happily married. it was disgusting of winn to suggest it when he didn't even love her. but once she had one, if she really did give way, a good deal might be done with it. maternity was sacred; being a wife on the other hand was "forever climbing up the climbing wave," there was nothing final about it as there was in being able to say, "i am the mother of your child!" her wistful blue eyes expanded. she saw her own way spreading out before her like a promised land. "i can't," she said touchingly, "decide all this in a minute." he could stay on for two years at the war office, and estelle meant him to stay without inconvenience to herself. he tried bargaining with her; but her idea of a bargain was one-sided. "i sometimes feel as if you kept me out of everything," she said at last. estelle was feeling her way; she thought she might collect a few extras to add to her side of the bargain. apparently she was right. winn was all eagerness to meet her. "how do you mean?" he asked anxiously. "oh," she said contemplatively, "such heaps of things! one thing, i don't expect you've ever noticed that you never ask your friends to stay here. i've had all mine; you've never even asked your mother! it's as if you were ashamed of me." "i'll ask her like a shot if you like," he said eagerly. estelle was not anxious for a visit from lady staines, but she thought it sounded better to begin with her. she let her pass. "it's not only your relations," she went on; "it's your friends. what must they think of a wife they are never allowed to see?" "but they're such a bachelor crew," he objected. "it never occurred to me you'd care for them--just ordinary soldier chaps like me, not a bit clever or amusing." estelle did not say that crews of bachelors are seldom out of place in the drawing-room of a young and pretty woman. she looked past her husband to where in fancy she beheld the aisle of a church and the young adonis, who had been his best man, with eyes full of reverence and awe gazing at her approaching figure. "i thought," she said indifferently, "you liked that man you insisted on having instead of lord arlington at the wedding?" "i do," said winn. "he's my best friend. i meet him sometimes in town, you know." "he must think it awfully funny," said estelle, sadly, "our never having him down here." "he's not that sort," said winn. "he was my sub, you know. he wouldn't think anything funny unless i told him to. we know each other rather well." "that makes it funnier still," said estelle, relentlessly. "oh, all right," said winn, after a moment's pause. "have him down here if you like. shall i write to him or will you?" "he's your friend," said estelle, politely. "yes," said winn, "but it's your idea." there was a peculiar look in his eyes, as if he wanted to warn her about something. he went to the door and then glanced back at her, apparently hoping that she had changed her mind. estelle hadn't the faintest intention of changing her mind. she had already decided to put sweet peas in lionel's room and a marked copy of "the road mender." "you may as well ask him yourself," said winn, "if you really want him to come." chapter vi it was time, estelle felt, that the real things of life should come back to her. she had had them before marriage--these real things--light, swift, contacts with chosen spirits; friendships not untinged with a liability to become something less capable of definition. but since her marriage she had been forced into a world of secondary experiences. winn, to begin with, had stood very much in the way, and when he had ceased to block the paths of sentiment she had not found a substitute. at aldershot, where they lived, there was an unspoken rule that brides should be left alone. women called, and men were polite, but when estelle began those delicate personal conversations which led the way to deeper spiritual contacts she discovered that nothing followed. she could not say that she found the men elusive; stone walls are not elusive, but they do not lend themselves to an easy way across country. as to women, theoretically estelle desired their friendship just as much as that of men; but in practice she generally found them unsympathetic, and incapable of the finest type of intimacy. they did not seem to know what the word devotion meant. men did, especially young men, though the older ones talked more about it. estelle had already seen herself after marriage as a confidante to winn's young brother officers. she would help them as only a good woman can. (she foresaw particularly how she would help to extricate them from the influences of bad women. it was extraordinary how many women who influenced men at all were bad!) estelle never had any two opinions about being a good woman herself. she couldn't be anything else. good women held all the cards, but there was no reason why they shouldn't be attractive; it was their failure to grasp this potentiality, which gave bad women their temporary sway. it was really necessary in the missionary career open to young and attractive married women, to be magnetic. up to a certain point men must be led on, because if they didn't care for you in the right way you couldn't do anything with them at all. after that point, they must be gently and firmly stopped, or else they might become tiresome, and that would be bad both for them and for you. especially with a husband like winn, who seemed incapable of grasping fine shades, and far too capable of dealing roughly and brutally with whatever he did grasp. there had been a dress, for instance, that he simply refused to let estelle wear--remarking that it was a bit too thick--though that was really the last quality it had possessed. the question of congenial friendship was therefore likely to be a difficulty, but estelle had never forgotten lionel drummond. when she stopped thinking about winn except as an annoyance, it became necessary for her to think of somebody else, and her mind fixed itself at once upon her husband's friend. it seemed to her that in lionel drummond she would find a perfect spiritual counterpart. she dreamed of a friendship with him too deep for mere friendliness, too late for accepted love; and it seemed to her exactly the kind of thing she wanted. hand in hand they would tread the path of duty together, surrounded by a rosy mist. they might even lead winn to higher things; but at this point estelle's imagination balked. she could not see winn being led--he was too truculent--and he had never in his tenderest moments evinced the slightest taste for higher things. it would be better perhaps if they simply set him a good example. he would be certain not to follow it. she and lionel would have terrible moments, of course. estelle thrilled at the thought of these moments, and from time to time she slightly stretched the elastic of the path of duty to meet them. they would still keep on it, of course; they would never go any further than petrarch and laura. these historic philanderers should be their limit, and when the worst came to the worst, estelle would softly murmur to lionel, "petrarch and laura have borne it, and we must bear it too." she became impatient for lionel's arrival and bought a new and exquisitely becoming blue chiffon dress. both she and her maid were so struck by her appearance that when estelle heard winn banging about at the last moment in his dressing room, she knocked at his door. even the lowest type of man can be used as a superior form of looking glass. he shouted "come in!" and stared at her while he fumbled at his collar stud; then he lifted his eyebrows and said "war-paint--eh?" "i only wanted to remind you, dear," said estelle patiently, "that the key of the wine cellar is in my bureau drawer." lionel arrived before winn had finished dressing. estelle greeted him with outstretched hands. "i am so very glad to see you at last," she said in her softest, friendliest voice. "i think it will do winn good to have you here." lionel laughed shyly. "i shouldn't have thought," he said, "that winn would need much more good." "ah, my dear fellow!" said winn's voice behind him, "you don't know how great my needs are. sorry i couldn't meet you." estelle's beautiful, wavering eyes rested for a moment on her husband. she had never known a man to dress so quickly, and it seemed to her an unnecessary quality. the dinner was a great success. both men were absurdly gay. winn told good stories, laughed at lionel, and rallied his young wife. she had never seen him like this before, and she put it down to the way one man sets off another. estelle felt that she was being a great success, and it warmed her heart. the two men talked for her and listened to her; she had a moment when she thought that perhaps, after all, she needn't relegate winn to a lower world. they accepted with enthusiasm her offer to sing to them after dinner and then they kept her waiting in the drawing-room for an hour and a half. she sat there opposite a tall italian mirror, quivering with her power, her beauty, her ability to charm, and with nothing before her but the empty coffee-cups. she played a little, she even sang a little (the house was small) to recall them to a sense of her presence, but inexplicably they clung to their talk. winn who at ordinary times seemed incapable of more than disconnected fragments of speech was (she could hear him now and then quite distinctly) talking like a cataract; and lionel was, if anything, worse. her impatience turned into suspicion. probably winn was poisoning his friend's mind against her. perhaps he was drinking too much, sir peter did, and people often took after their fathers. that would have to be another point for lionel and her to tackle. at last they came in, and lionel said without any attempt at an apology: "we should love some music, mrs. winn." winn said nothing. he stuck his hands into his pockets, and stood in front of the fireplace in a horribly british manner while she turned over her songs. estelle sang rather prettily. she preferred songs of a type that dealt with bitter regret over unexplained partings. she sang them with a great deal of expression and a slight difficulty in letting go of the top notes. after she had sung two or three, lionel said: "now, winn, you sing." estelle started. she had never before heard of this accomplishment of her husband's. it occurred to her now that lionel would think it very strange she hadn't, but he need never know unless winn gave her away. she need not have been afraid. winn said quietly, as if he said it to her every evening, "d'you mind playing for me, estelle?" then he dragged out from under her music a big black book in which he had painstakingly copied and collected his selection of songs. he had a high, clear baritone, very true and strangely impressive; it filled the little room. when he had finished, lionel forgot to ask estelle to sing again. winn excused himself; he said he had a letter or two to write and left them. "it's jolly, your both singing," lionel said, looking at her with the same admiring friendliness he had shown her before. she guessed then that winn had said nothing against her. after all, at the bottom of her heart she had known he wouldn't. you can't live with a man for five months and not know where you are safe. estelle smiled prettily. "yes," she said gently, "music is a great bond," and then she began to talk to lionel about himself. she had a theory that all men liked to talk exclusively about themselves, and it is certain that most men enjoyed their conversation with her; but in this particular instance she made a mistake. lionel did not like talking about himself, and above all he disliked sympathetic admiration. he was not a conceited man, and it had not occurred to him that he was a suitable subject for admiration. nor did he see why he should receive sympathy. he had had an admirably free and happy life with parents who were his dearest friends, and with a friend who was to him a hero beyond the need of definition. still, he wouldn't have shrunk from talking about winn with estelle. it was her right to talk about him, her splendid, perfect privilege. he supposed that she was a little shy, because she seemed to slip away from their obvious great topic; but he wished, if she wasn't going to talk about winn, she would leave his people alone. she tried to sympathize with him about his home difficulties, and when she discovered that he hadn't any, her sympathy veered to the horrible distance he had to be away from it. "oh, well," said lionel, "it's my father's old regiment, you know; that makes it awfully different. they know as much about my life as i do myself, and when i don't get leave, they often come out to me for a month or two. they're good travelers." "they must be simply wonderful!" estelle said ecstatically. lionel said nothing. he looked slightly amazed. it seemed so funny that winn, who hadn't much use for ecstasy, should have married a so easily ecstatic wife. "i do envy you," she said pathetically, "all that background of home companionship. we were brought up so differently. it was not my parents' fault of course--" she added rather quickly. something in lionel's expression warned her that he would be unsympathetic to confidences against parents. "well, you've got winn," he said, looking at her with his steadfast encouraging eyes, "you've got your background now." he was prepared to put up with a little ecstasy on this subject, but estelle looked away from him, her great eyes strangely wistful and absorbed. she was an extraordinary exquisite and pretty little person, like a fairy on a christmas tree, or a dresden china shepherdess, not a bit, somehow, like a wife. "yes," she said, twisting her wedding ring round her tiny manicured finger. "but sometimes i am a little anxious about him--i know it's silly of me." lionel's shyness fell away from him with disconcerting suddenness. "why are you anxious?" he demanded. "what do you mean, mrs. winn?" estelle hesitated, she hadn't meant to say exactly what her fear was, she only wanted to arouse the young man's chivalry and to talk in some way that approached intimacy. everything must have a beginning, even petrarch and laura. she found lionel's eyes fixed upon her with a piercing quality difficult to meet. he obviously wouldn't understand if she didn't mean anything--and she hardly knew him well enough to touch on her real difficulties with winn, those would have to come later. but she must be anxious about something--she was forced into the rather meager track of her husband's state of health. "i don't quite know," she mused, "of course he seems perfectly strong--but i sometimes wonder if he is as strong as he looks." lionel brushed her wonder aside. "please tell me exactly what you've noticed," he said, as if he were a police sergeant and she were some reluctant and slightly prevaricating witness. she hadn't, as a matter of fact, noticed anything. "he sometimes looks terribly tired," she said a little uncertainly, "but i dare say it's all my foolishness, mr. drummond. i am afraid i am inclined to be nervous about other people's health--" estelle sighed softly. she often accused herself of faults which no one had discovered in her. "winn, i am sure, would be the first to laugh at me." "yes, i dare say he would," said lionel quietly. "but i never will, mrs. winn." she raised her eyes gratefully to him--at last she had succeeded in touching him. "you see," lionel explained, "i care too much for him myself." her eyes dropped. she had a feeling that petrarch and laura had hardly begun like that. the next few days were very puzzling to estelle; nobody behaved as she expected them to behave, including herself. she found lionel always ready to accept her advances with open-hearted cordiality, but she had to make the advances. she had not meant to do this. her idea had been to be a magnet, and magnets keep quite still; needles do all the moving. but this particular needle (except that it didn't appear at all soft) might have been made of cotton wool. and winn wouldn't behave at a disadvantage; he was neither tyrannical nor jealous. he left her a great deal to lionel, and treated her with good-natured tolerance in private and with correct attention before his friend. in theory estelle had always stated her belief in platonic friendship, but she had never been inconvenienced by having to carry it out. one thing had always led to another. she had imagined that lionel (in his relations with her) would be a happy mixture of lancelot and galahad. the galahad side of him would appear when lancelot became inconvenient--and the lancelot side of him would be there to fall back upon when galahad got too dull. but in their actual relation there seemed to be some important ingredient left out. of course lancelot was guilty and estelle had never for a moment intended lionel to be guilty, but on the other hand lancelot was in love with the queen. this quality was really essential. lancelot had had a great affection for the king of course, but that had been subsidiary; and this was what puzzled estelle most, was lionel's feeling for her subsidiary to his feeling for winn? lionel was delightful to her; he waited on her hand and foot; he studied all her tastes and remembered everything she told him. could playing polo with winn, going out for walks in the rain, and helping to make saddles in winn's musty, smelling den appeal to him with greater force than her society? he wasn't in love with any one else, and if men weren't in love with any one else, they were usually in love with estelle. but with lionel everything stopped short. they conversed confidentially, they used each other's christian names, but she was left with the sensation of having come up against an invisible barrier. there was no impact, and there was no curtness; there was simply empty space. she was not even sure that lionel would have liked her at all if she hadn't been winn's wife. as it was, he certainly wanted her friendship and took pains to win it. it must be added that he won more than he took pains to win. estelle for the first time in her life stumbled waveringly into a little love. the visit prolonged itself from a week to a fortnight. estelle did not sleep the night before lionel went. she tossed feverishly to and fro, planning their parting. surely he would not leave her without a word? surely there must be some touch of sentiment to this separation, horrible and inevitable, that lay before them? she remembered afterwards that as she lay in the dark and foresaw her loneliness she wondered if she wouldn't after all risk the indian frontier to be near him? she was subsequently glad she had decided that she wouldn't. it was a very wet morning, and lionel was to leave before lunch. winn went as usual into his study to play with his eternal experiments in leather. lionel went with him. she heard the two men laughing together down the passage. could real friends have laughed if they had minded parting with each other? she sat at her desk in the drawing-room biting nervously at her pen. he was going; was it possible that there would be no farewell? just some terrible flat hand-shake at the door under winn's penetrating eyes. but after a time she heard steps returning. lionel came by himself. "are you busy?" he asked. "shall i bother you if we talk a little?" "no," she said softly. "i hoped you would come back." lionel did not answer for a moment. for the first time in their acquaintance he was really a little stirred. he moved about the room restlessly, he wouldn't sit down, though half unconsciously she had put her hand on the chair beside her. "do you know," he said at last, "i've got something to say to you, and i'm awfully afraid it may annoy you." was it really coming, the place at which he would have to be stopped, after all her fruitless endeavors to get him to move in any direction at all? it looked like it; he was very obviously embarrassed and flushed; he did not even try to meet her eyes. "the fact is," he went on, "i simply can't go without saying it, and you've been so awfully good to me--you've let me feel we're friends." he paused, and estelle leaned forward, her eyes melting with encouragement. "i am so glad you feel like that, lionel," she murmured. "do please say anything--anything you like. i shall always understand and forgive, if it is necessary for me to forgive." "you're awfully generous," he said gratefully. she smiled, and put out her hand again toward the chair. this time he sat down in it, but he turned it to face her. he was a big man and he seemed to fill the room in which they sat. his blue-gray eyes fixed themselves on hers intently, his whole being seemed absorbed in what he was about to say. "you see," he began, "i think you may be making a big mistake. naturally winn's awfully fond of you and all that and you've just started life, and you like to live in your own country, surrounded by jolly little things, and perhaps india seems frightening and far away." estelle shrank back a little; he put his hand on the back of her chair soothingly. "of course it must be hard," he said. "only i want to explain it to you. winn's heart is yours, i know, but it's in his work, too, as a man's must be, and his work's out there; it's not here at all. "when i came here and looked about me, and saw the house and the garden and the country, where we've had such jolly walks and talks--it all seemed temporary somehow, made up--not quite natural, i can't explain what i mean but not a bit like winn. i needn't tell you what he is, i dare say you think it's cheek of me to talk about him at all, i can quite understand it if you do, only perhaps there's a side of him i've seen more of, and which makes me want to say what i know he isn't--what i don't think even love can make him be--he isn't tame!" he stopped abruptly; estelle's eyes had hardened and grown very cold. "i don't know what you mean," she said. "has he complained of my keeping him here?" lionel pushed back his chair. "ah, mrs. winn! mrs. winn!" he exclaimed half laughingly, and half reproachfully; "you know he wouldn't complain. he only told me that he wasn't coming back just yet, and i--well, i thought i saw why he wasn't." "then," she said, turning careful eyes away from him, "if he hasn't complained, i hardly see why you should attack me like this. i suppose you think i am as unnatural and--and temporary as our surroundings?" lionel stood up and looked down at her in a puzzled way. "oh, i say, you know," he ventured, "you're not playing very fair, are you? of course i'm not attacking you. i thought we were friends, and i wanted to help you." "friends!" she said. her voice broke suddenly into a hard little laugh. "well, what else have you to suggest to me about my husband--out of your friendship for me?" "you're not forgiving me," he reminded her gently, not dreaming what it was she had been prepared to forgive. "but perhaps i'd better go on and get it all out while i'm about it. you know it isn't only that i think he won't care for staying on here, but i think it's a bit of a risk. i don't want to frighten you, but after a man's had black water fever twice, he's apt to be a little groggy, especially about the lungs. england isn't honestly a very good winter place for him for a year or two--" estelle flung up her head. "if he was going to be an invalid," she said, "he oughtn't to have married me!" the silence that followed her speech crept into every corner of the room. lionel did not look puzzled any more. he stood up very straight and stiff; only his eyes changed. he could not look at her; they were filled with contempt. he gave her a moment or two to disavow her words; he would have given his right hand to hear her do it. "i beg your pardon," he said at last. "i have overstated the case if you imagine your husband is an invalid. i think, if you don't mind," he added, "i'll see if my things are ready." "please do," she said, groping in her mind for something left to hurt him with. "and another time perhaps you will know better than to say for my husband what he is perfectly competent to say for himself." "you are quite right," lionel said quietly; "another time i shall know better." the rain against the windows sounded again; she had not heard it before. he did not come back to say good-by. she heard him talking to winn in the hall, the dogcart drove up, and then she saw him for the last time, his fine, clear-cut profile, his cap dragged over his forehead, his eyes hard, as they were when he had looked at her. he must have known she stood there at the window watching, but he never looked back. she had expected a terrible parting, but never a parting as terrible as this. mercifully she had kept her head; it was all she had kept. chapter vii it was shortly after lionel's departure that estelle realized there was nothing between her and the indian frontier except the drawing-room sofa. she fixed herself as firmly on this shelter as a limpet takes hold upon a rock. people were extremely kind and sympathetic, and winn himself turned over a new leaf. he was gentle and considerate to her, and offered to read aloud to her in the evenings. nothing shook her out of this condition. the baby arrived, unavailingly as an incentive to health, and not at all the kind of baby estelle had pictured. he was almost from his first moments a thorough staines. he was never very kissable, and was anxious as soon as possible to get on to his own feet. at eight months he crawled rapidly across the carpet with a large musical-box suspended from his mouth by its handle; at ten he could walk. he tore all his lawn frocks on winn's spurs, screamed with joy at his father's footsteps, and always preferred knees to laps. his general attitude towards women was hostility, he looked upon them as unfortunate obstacles in the path of adventure, and howled dismally when they caressed him. he had more tolerance for his mother who seemed to him an object provided by providence in connection with a sofa, on purpose for him to climb over. her maternal instinct went so far as to allow him to climb over it twice a day for short intervals. after all he had gained her two years. estelle lay on the sofa one autumn afternoon at four o'clock, with her eyes firmly shut. she was aware that winn had come in, and was very inconsiderately tramping to and fro in heavy boots. he seldom entered the drawing-room at this hour, and if he did, he went out again as soon as he saw that her eyes were shut. probably he meant to say something horrible about india; she had been expecting it for some time. the report on tibet was finished, and he could let his staff work go when he liked. he stood at the foot of her couch and looked at her curiously. estelle could feel his eyes on her; she wondered if he noticed how thin she was, and how transparent her eyelids were. every fiber in her body was aware of her desire to impress him with her frailty. she held it before him like a banner. "estelle," he said. when he spoke she winced. "yes, dear," she murmured hardly above a whisper. "would you mind opening your eyes?" he suggested. "i've got something i want to talk over with you, and i really can't talk to a door banged in my face." "i'm so sorry," she said meekly; "i'm afraid i'm almost too exhausted to talk, but i'll try to listen to what you have to say." "thanks," said winn. he paused as if, after all, it wasn't easy to begin, even in the face of this responsiveness. she thought he looked rather odd. his eyes had a queer, dazed look, as if he had been drinking heavily or as if somebody had kicked him. "well," she asked at last, "what is it you want to talk about? suspense of any kind, you know, is very bad for my heart." "i beg your pardon," he said. "it was only that i thought i'd better mention i am going to davos." "davos!" she opened her eyes wide now and stared at him. "that snow place?" she asked, "full of consumptives? what a curious idea! i never have been able to understand how people can care to go there for sport. it seems to me rather cruel; but, then, i know i am specially sensitive about that kind of thing. other people's pain weighs so on me." "i didn't say i was going there for sport," winn answered in the same peculiar manner. he sat down and began to play with a paper-cutter on his knee. "as a matter of fact, i'm not," he went on. "i've crocked one of my lungs. they seem to think i've got to go. it's a great nuisance." it was curious the way he kept looking at her, as if he expected something. he couldn't have told exactly what he expected himself. he was face to face with a new situation; he wasn't exactly frightened, but he had a feeling that he would like very much to know how he ought to meet it. he had often been close to death--but he had never somehow thought of dying, he wasn't close to death now but at the end of something which might be very horrible there would be the long affair of dying. he hoped he would get through it all right and not make a fuss or be a bother to anybody. it had all come with a curious suddenness. he had gone to travers one day because when polly pulled he had an odd pain in his chest. he had had a toss the week before, and it had occurred to him that a rib might be broken; but travers said it wasn't that. travers had tapped him all over and looked grave, uncommonly grave, and said some very uncomfortable things. he had insisted on dragging winn up to town to see a big man, and the big man had said, "davos, and don't lose any time about it." he hadn't said much else, only when winn had remarked, "but, damn it all, you know i'm as strong as a horse," he had answered, "you'll need every bit of strength you've got," and all the way home travers had talked to him like a dutch uncle. it was really funny when you came to think of it, because there wasn't anything to see or even feel--except a little cough--and getting rather hot in the evenings, but after travers had finished pitching into him winn had written to lionel and made his will and had rather wondered what estelle would feel about it. he hadn't wanted to upset her. he hadn't upset her. she stared at him for a moment; then she said: "how odd! you look perfectly all right. i never have believed in travers." winn mentioned the name of the big man. "it does sound rather rot," he added apologetically. he still waited. estelle moved restlessly on the sofa. "well," she said, "what on earth am i to do? it's really horribly inconvenient. i suppose i shall have to go back to my people for the winter unless you can afford to let me take a flat in london." "i'm afraid i can't afford that," said winn. "i think it would be best for you to go to your people for the winter, unless, of course, you'd rather go to mine. i'm going down there to-morrow; i've written to tell them. i must get my father to let me have some money as it is. it's really an infernal nuisance from the expense point of view." "i couldn't go to your people," said estelle, stiffly. "they have never been nice to me; besides, they would be sure to teach baby how to swear." then she added, "i suppose this puts an end to your going to india." winn dropped his eyes. "yes," he said, "this puts an end to my going back to india for the present. i've been up before the board; they're quite agreeable. in fact, they've been rather decent to me." estelle gave a long sigh of relief and gratitude. it was really extraordinary how she had been helped to avoid india. she couldn't think what made winn go on sitting there, just playing with the paper-knife. he sat there for a long time, but he didn't say any more. at last he got up and went to the door. "well," he said, "i think i'll just run up and have a look at the kid." "poor dear," said estelle, "i'm frightfully sorry for you, of course, though i don't believe it's at all painful--and by the way, winn, don't forget that consumption is infectious." he stopped short as if someone had struck him. after all, he didn't go to the nursery; she heard him go down the passage to the smoking-room instead. chapter viii sir peter was having his annual attack of gout. staines court appeared at these times like a ship battened down and running before a storm. figures of pale and frightened maids flickered through the long passage-ways. the portly butler violently ejected from the dining-room had been seen passing swiftly through the hall, with the ungainly movement of a prehistoric animal startled from its lair. the room in which sir peter sat burned with his language. eddies of blasphemous sound rushed out and buffeted the landings like a rising gale. sir peter sat in a big arm chair in the center of the room. his figure gave the impression of a fortressed island in the middle of an empty sea. his foot was rolled in bandages and placed on a low stool before him; within reach of his hand was a knobbed blackthorn stick, a bell and a copy of the "times" newspaper. fortunately lady staines was impervious to sound and acclimatized to fury. when sir peter was well she frequently raised storms, but when he had gout she let him raise them for himself. he was raising one now on the subject of winn's letter. "what's that he says? what's that he says?" roared sir peter. "something the matter with his lungs! that's the first time a staines has ever spoken of his lungs. the boy's mad. i don't admit it! i don't believe it for a moment, all a damned piece of doctors' rubbish, the chap's a fool to listen to 'em! when has he ever seen me catering to hearse-conducting, pocket-filling asses!" charles was home on a twenty-four hours' leave--he stood by the mantelpiece and regarded his parent with undutiful and critical eyes. "i should say you send for 'em," he observed, "whenever you've got a pain; why they're always hangin' about. look at that table chock full of medicines. 'nuff to kill a horse--where do they come from?" "hold your infernal tongue, sir!" shouted sir peter. "what do i have 'em for? i have 'em here to expose them! that's why--i just let them try it on, and then hold them up to ridicule! do you find i ever pay the least attention to 'em, sarah?" he demanded from his wife. "not as a rule," lady staines admitted, "unless you're very bad indeed, and then you do as you like directly the pain has stopped." "well, why shouldn't i!" said sir peter triumphantly. "once i get rid of the pain i can do as i like. when i've got red hot needles eating into my toes, am i likely to like anything? of course not, you may just as well take medicine then as anything else, but as to taking orders from a pack of ill-bred bumpkins, full of witch magic as a dog of fleas, i see myself! don't stand grinning there, charles, like a dirty, shock-headed barmaid's dropped hair pin! i won't stand it! i can't see why all my sons should have thin legs, neither you nor i, sarah, ever went about like a couple of spilikin's. i call it indecent! why don't you get something inside 'em, charles, eh? no stamina, that's what it is! everybody going to the dogs in motor cars with manicure girls out of their parents' pockets--! why don't you answer me, charles, when i speak to you?" "nobody can answer you when you keep roaring like a deuced megaphone," said charles wearily. "let's hear what the chap's got to say for himself, mater." lady staines read winn's letter out loud in a dry voice without expression; it might have been an account of a new lawn mower which she held beneath it. "i've managed to crock one of my lungs somehow, but they say i've got a chance if i go straight out to davos for six months. ask the guv'nor if he'll let me have some money. i shall want it badly. my wife and the kid will go to her people. you might run across and have a look at him sometimes. he's rather a jolly little chap. i shall come down for the week-end to-morrow unless i hear from you to the contrary. "your affectionate son, "winn." "i think that's all," said his mother. "what!" shouted sir peter. he had never shouted quite like this before. charles groaned and buried his head in his hands. even lady staines looked up from the lawn mower's letter, which she had placed on the top of winn's; the medicine bottles sprang from the table and fell back again sufficiently shaken for the next dose. "do you mean to tell me!" cried sir peter in a quieter voice, "that that little piece of dandelion fluff--that baggage--that city fellow's half baked, peeled onion of a minx is going to desert her husband? that's what i call it--desertion! what does she want to go back to her people for? she must go with him! she must go to davos! she shall go to davos! if i have to take her there by the hair! i never heard of anything so outrageous in my life! what becomes of domesticity? where's family life? that's what i want to know! and is winn such a milk and water noodle that he's going to sit down under it and say 'thank you!' not that i think he needs to go to davos for a moment, mind you. let him come here and have a nice quiet time with me, that's what he wants." "that's all very well, father," said charles. "but what you mean is you don't want to fork out! if the chap's told to go to davos, he's got to go to davos, and it's his own look-out whether he takes his wife with him or not. consumption isn't a joke, and i tell you plainly that if you don't help him when he's got a chance, you needn't expect _me_ to come to the funeral. no flowers and coffins and beloved sons on tombstones, are going to make me move an inch. it'll be just the same to me as if you'd shoved him under with your own hand, and that's all i've got to say, and it's no use blowing the roof off about it!" "you'd better go now, charles," said lady staines quietly. when sir peter had finished saying what he thought of charles and what he intended to do to the entail, lady staines gave him his medicine. "look here, peter," she said, "this is a bad business about our boy." sir peter met her eyes and nodded. "yes," he agreed, "a damned bad business!" "we'd better get him off," she added after a moment's pause. "it's all nonsense," grumbled sir peter, "and i told you from the first you ought never to have let him marry that girl. her father's the poorest tenant i ever had, soft-headed, london vermin! he doesn't know anything about manure--and he'll never learn. i shall cut down all his trees as soon as i'm about again. as for the girl, keep her out of my sight or i'll wring her neck. i ought to have done it long ago. how much does he want?" "let's make it three hundred," lady staines said. "he may as well be comfortable." "pouring money into a sieve," grumbled sir peter. "send for the doctor and bring me the medical dictionary. i may as well see what it says about consumption, and don't mention the word when winn's about. i _will_ have tact! if you'd used common or garden tact in this house before, that marriage would never have taken place. i sit here simmering with it day in and day out and everybody else goes about giving the whole show away! if it hadn't been for my tact charles would have married that manicure girl years ago. bring me my check-book. it's nothing but a school-boy's lark, this going to davos. why consumption's a pin-prick compared to gout! no pain--use of both legs--sanguine disposition. where the hell's that medical dictionary? ah, it's there, is it--then why the devil didn't you give it me before?" sir peter read solemnly for a few minutes, and then flung the book on the floor. "bosh!" he cried angrily. "all old woman's nonsense. can't tell what's going on inside a pair of bellows--can they? then why make condemned asses of themselves, and say they can! don't tell charles i've written this check--he's the most uncivil rascal we've got." chapter ix it was odd how winn looked forward to seeing staines; he couldn't remember ever having paid much attention to the scenery before; he had always liked the bare backs of the downs behind the house where he used to exercise the horses, and the turf was short and smelt of thyme; and of course the shooting was good and the house stood well; but he hadn't thought about it till now, any more than he thought about his braces. he decided to walk up from the station. there was a short cut through the fields and then you came on the court suddenly, over-looking a sheet of water. it was a still november day, colorless and sodden. the big elms were as dark as wet haystacks and the woods huddled dispiritedly in a vague mist. the trees broke to the right of the court and the house rose up like a gigantic silver ghost. it was a battered old tudor building with an air of not having been properly cleaned; blackened and weather-soaked, unconscionably averse from change, it had held its own for four hundred years. the stones looked as if they were made out of old moonlight and thin december sunshine. a copse of small golden trees, aspen and silver birches made a pale screen of light beside the house and at its feet, the white water stretched like a gleaming eye. there wasn't a tree winn hadn't climbed or an inch he hadn't explored, fought over and played on. he wanted quite horribly to come back to it again, it was as if there were roots from the very soil in him tugging at his menaced life. his mother advanced across the lawn to meet him. she wore a very old blue serge dress and a black and white check cap which looked as if it had been discarded by a jockey. in one hand she held a trowel and in the other a parcel of spring bulbs. she gave winn the side of her hard brown cheek to kiss and remarked, "you've just come in time to help me with these bulbs. every one of them must be got in this afternoon. philip has left us--your father threw a watering can at him. i can't think what's happened to the men nowadays, they don't seem to be able to stand anything, and i've sent davis into the village to buy ducks. he ought to have been back long ago if it was only ducks, but probably it's a girl at the mill as well." winn looked at the bulbs with deep distaste. "hang it all, mother," he objected, "it's such a messy day for planting bulbs!" "nonsense," said lady staines firmly, "i presume you wash your hands before dinner, don't you, you can get the dirt off then? it's a perfect day for bulbs as you'd know if you had the ghost of country sense in you. there's another trowel in the small greenhouse, get it and begin." winn strode off to the greenhouse smiling; he had had an instinctive desire to get home, he wanted hard sharp talk that he could answer as if it were a punch and judy show. in his married life he had had to put aside the free expression of his thoughts; you couldn't hit out all round if the other person wouldn't hit back and started whining. every member of the staines family had been brought up on the tradition of combative speech, the bleakest of personalities found its nest there. sometimes, of course, you got too much of it. sir peter and charles were noisy and james and dolores were apt to be brutally rough. they were all vehement but there were different shades in their ability. winn got through the joints in their armor as easily as milk slips into a glass. it was lady staines and winn who were the deadly fighters. they fought the others with careless ease, but they fought each other watchfully with fixed eyes and ready implacable brains. it was difficult to say what they fought for but it was a magnificent spectacle to see them fight, and they had for each other a regard which, if it was never tender, had every element of respect. they worked now for some time in silence. suddenly lady staines cocked a wintry blue eye in her son's direction and remarked, "why ain't your wife going with you to davos?" winn hurled a bulb into the small hole prepared for it before answering, then he said: "she's too delicate to stand the cold." "is there anything the matter with her?" asked his mother. winn preferred to consider this question in the light of rhetoric and made no reply. he wasn't going to give estelle away by saying there was nothing the matter with her, and on the other hand a lie would have been pounced upon and torn to pieces. "marriage don't seem to have agreed with either of you particularly well," observed lady staines with a grim smile. "we haven't got your constitution," replied her son. "if either you or father had married any one else--they'd have been dead within six months." "humph!" said his mother. "that only shows our sound judgment; we took what we could stomach! it's her look-out of course, but i suppose she knows she's running you into the divorce court, letting you go out there by yourself? all those snow places bristle with grass widows and girls who have outstayed their market and have to get a hustle on! sending a man out there alone is like driving a new-born lamb into a pack of wolves!" lady staines with her eye on the heavily built and rather leathery lamb beside her gave a sardonic chuckle. winn ignored her illustration. "you needn't be afraid," he replied. "i'm done with women; they tempt me about as much as stale sponge cakes." "ah!" said his mother, "i've heard that tale before. a man who says he's done with women simply means one of them's done with him. besides, you're to be an invalid, i understand! an invalid man is as exposed to women as a young chicken to rats. you won't stand a ghost of a chance. look at your father, if i left him alone when he was having an attack of gout with a gray-haired matron of a reformatory, he'd be on his knees to her before i could get back." "you can take it from me," said winn, "that even if i _should_ need such a thing as a petticoat, i'd try a kind that won't affect marriage. i'll never look at another good woman again--the other sort will do for me if i can't stick it without." "don't racket too much," said lady staines, planting her last bulb with scientific skill. "they say keeping women's very expensive up there--on account of the russian princes." "by the by," said winn, "thanks for the money. had any difficulty in extracting it?" "not much," said lady staines, withdrawing to the lawn. "charles got rather in the way." "silly ass," observed winn. "didn't want me to have it, i suppose?" "no, he did want you to have it," replied lady staines, "but he needn't have been such a fool as to have said so. it nearly upset everything. his idea was, you see, that if his father gave you something--he and james would have to be bought off. so they were in the end, but they'd have had more if he'd played his hand better." winn laughed. "jolly to be home again," he remarked. "dinner as usual?" "yes," said lady staines, "and don't forget one of the footmen's a plymouth brother and mustn't be shocked. it's so difficult to get any one nowadays, one mustn't be too particular. he said he could stand your father by constant prayer, but he gave notice over charles. charles ought to have waited till dessert to let himself go." the dinner passed off well. sir peter and winn had one never failing bone of contention, the rival merits of the sister services. sir peter expressed on every possible occasion in his son's presence, a bitter contempt for the army, and winn never let an opportunity pass without pointing out the gorged and pampered state of the british navy. "if we'd had half the money spent on us, sir, that you keep guzzling over," winn cheerfully threw out, "we could knock spots out of europe. the trouble with england is--she treats her sailors as if they were the proud sisters--and we are shoved out like cinderella into the scullery to do all the dirty work." "pooh!" said sir peter, "work! is that what you call it--takin' a horse out for an hour or two, and shoutin' at a few men on a parade ground. what's an army good for--even when it's big enough to be seen with the naked eye and capable of attacking a few black savages with their antiquated weapons. why you're _safe_, that's what you are--dead safe! land's beneath you--immovable--you can get anywhere you want to as easy as sliding down banisters! targets keep still too! it's nothing to hit a thing you can stand to fire at while _it_ stands still to _be_ fired at! child's play, that's what it is. look at us, something up all the time, peace or war. we've got the sea to fight--wind too--and thick weather. we've got our pace to mind and if we ever did clinch up we'd have to do our fighting at a rate that'd make an express train giddy--and running after a target goin' as hard as we do! that's what i call something of a service. no! no! the army's played out. you're for ornament now, meant to go round buckingham palace and talk to nurse-maids in the park." "not many nurse-maids in the kyber pass," his son observed. "frontiers--yes, i dare say," snorted sir peter. "a few black rag dolls behind trees popping at you to keep your circulation going, and you with maxims and all, going picnics in the hills and burning down villages as easy as pulling fire-crackers--and half the time you want help from us! look at south africa!" they looked at south africa for some time till the dessert came and the plymouth brother thankfully withdrew. after that winn allowed himself some margin and lady staines leaned back in her chair, ate grapes and enjoyed her coffee. the conversation became pungent, savage and enlivened on sir peter's part by strange oaths. winn kept to sudden thrusts of irony impossible to foresee and difficult to parry. they drank velvety ripe old port. sir peter was for the moment out of pain and anxious to assert his freedom from doctors. the conversation shifted to submarines. sir peter thought them an underhand and decadent development suited to james, who was in command of one of them. as to aëroplanes he said that as we'd now succeeded in imitating infernal birds and fishes--he supposed we'd soon bring off reptiles the kind of creature the modern young would be likely to represent best. "we shall soon have the police crawling on their bellies up and down the strand hiding behind lamp-posts," finished sir peter. "call that kind of thing science! it's an inverted noah's ark! that's what it is! and when you get it all going to suit yourself, there'll be another flood, and serve you all damned well right. i shall enjoy seeing you drown!" winn replied that you had to fight with your head now and that people who fought with their fists were about as dangerous as stuffed rabbits. sir peter replied that in the end everything came down to blood, how much you'd got yourself and how much you could get out of the enemy. lady staines was slightly afraid of leaving them in this atmosphere, but at last she reluctantly withdrew to the hall, where she listened to the varying shades of sir peter's voice and decided they were on the whole loud enough to be normal. at eleven o'clock she and winn between them assisted sir peter to bed. this was a sharp and fiery passage usually undertaken by the toughest of the gardeners. winn however managed extraordinarily well. he insisted on occasional pauses and by a home truth of an appallingly personal nature actually silenced his father for the last half flight. sir peter breakfasted in his room. he had had a bad night. he wouldn't, as he explained to his wife, have minded if winn had been a puny chap; but there he was, sound and strong, with clear hard eyes, broad, straight shoulders and a grip of iron, and yet taylor, that little village hound of an apothecary, said once you had microbes it didn't matter how strong you were--they were just as likely to be fatal as if you were a narrow-chested epileptic. microbes! the very thought of such small insignificant creatures getting in his way filled sir peter with fury. he had always hated insects. but the worst of it was in the morning he didn't feel angry, he simply felt chilled and helpless. his son was hit and he couldn't help him. it all came back to that. there was only one person who could help a sick man, and that person was his wife. theoretically sir peter despised and hated women, but practically he leaned on his wife as only a strong man can lean on a woman; without her, he literally would not have known which way to turn. his trust in her was as solid as his love for a good stout ship. in every crisis of his life she had stood by his side, bitter tongued, hard-headed, undemonstrative and his as much as any ship that had sailed under his flag. if she had failed him he would have gone down, and now here was his son's wife--another woman--presumably formed for the same purpose, leaking away from under him at the very first sign of weather. he thought of estelle with a staggered horror; she had looked soft and sweet--just the woman to minister to a knocked-out man. the trouble with her was she had no guts. sir peter woke his wife up at four o'clock in the morning to shout this fact into her ear. lady staines said, "well--whoever said she had?" and apparently went to sleep again. but sir peter didn't go to sleep: estelle reminded him of how he had once been done over a mare, a beautiful, fine stepping lady-like creature who looked as if she were made of velvet and steel, no vice in her and every point correct; and then what had happened? he'd bought her and she'd developed a spirit like wet cotton wool, no pace, no staying power. she'd sweat and stumble after a few minutes run, no amount of dieting, humoring or whipping affected her. she'd set out to shirk, and shirk she did--till he worked her off on a damned fool dolores had fortunately introduced him to--only wives can't be handed on like mares--"devil's the pity"--sir peter said to himself, as he fell off to sleep. "works perfectly with horses." winn came up-stairs soon after breakfast a little set and silent, to say good-by to his father. sir peter had thrown his breakfast out of the window and congealed the plymouth brother's morning prayers. he wanted to get hold of something tangible to move circumstances and cheat fate, but he couldn't think what you did do, when it wasn't a question of storms or guns--or a man you could knock down for insubordination, simply a physical fact. he scowled gloomily at his son's approach. "i wish you weren't such a damned fool," he observed by way of greeting. "why can't you shake a little sense into your wife? what's marriage for? i've been talking to your mother about it. i don't say she isn't a confoundedly aggravating woman, your mother! but she's always stuck to me, hasn't let me down, you know. a wife ain't meant to do that. it's unnatural! why can't you say to her, 'you come with me or i'll damned well show you the reason why--' that's the line to take!" "a woman you've got to say that to isn't going to make much of a companion," winn said quietly. "i'd rather she stayed where she liked." sir peter was silent for a moment, then he said, "any more children coming?" "no," said his son, "nor likely to be either, as far as i'm concerned." "there you are!" said sir peter. "finicky and immoral, that's what i call it! that's the way trouble begins, the more children the less nonsense. why don't you have more children instead of sitting sneering at me like an egyptian pyramid?" "that's my look-out," said winn with aggravating composure. "when i want 'em, i'll have 'em. don't you worry, father." "that's all devilish well!" said sir peter crossly. "but i _shall_ worry! do i know more about the world or do you? not that i want to quarrel with you, my dear boy," he added hastily. "i admit things are awkward for you--damned awkward--still it's no use sitting down under them when you might have a row and clear the air, is it? what i want to say is--why not have a row?" "you can't have a row with a piece of pink silk, can you?" his son demanded. "i don't want to blame her, but it's no use counting her in; besides, honestly, father, i don't care a rap--why should i expect her to? my marriage was a misdeal." sir peter shook his head. "men ought to love their wives," he said solemnly; "in a sense, of course, no fuss about it, and never letting them know--and not putting oneself out about it! but still there ought to be something to hold on to, and anyhow the more you stick together, the more there is, and your going off like this won't improve matters. love or no love, marriage is a life." winn laughed again. "life--" he said, "yes--well--how do i know how much longer i shall have to bother about life?" there was a silence. sir peter's gnarled old hands met above his blackthorn stick and trembled. winn wished he hadn't spoken. he did not know how to tell his father not to mind. he hadn't really thought his father would mind. however, there they sat, minding it. then sir peter said, "i don't believe in consumption, i never have, and i never shall; besides taylor says davos is a very good place for it, and you're an early case, and it's all damned nonsense, and you've got to buck up and think no more about it. what i want to hear is that you're back in your regiment again. i dare say there'll be trouble later on, and then where'll you be if you're an invalid--have you ever thought of that?" "yes--that'd be something to live for," winn said gravely; "trouble." "you shouldn't be so confoundedly particular," said his father. "now look at me--if we did have trouble where'd i be? nowhere at all--old! just gout and newspapers and sons getting up ideas about their lungs, but when do i complain? "if you want another £ any time--i don't say that i can't give it to you--though the whole thing's damned unremunerative! there's the trap. well--good-by." winn stood quite still for a moment looking at his father. it might have been thought by an observer that his eyes, which were remarkably bright, were offensively critical, but sir peter, though he wished the last moment to end, knew that his son was not being critical. then winn said, "well--good-by, father. i'm sure i'm much obliged to you." and his father said, "damn everything!" just after the door was shut. chapter x it hadn't seemed dismal at first, it had only seemed quite unnatural. everything had stopped being natural when the small creature in lawn, only the height of his knee, had been torn reluctantly away from its hold on his trousers. this parting had made winn feel as if something inside him was being unfairly handled. there was nothing he could get hold of in peter to promise security, and the only thing that peter could grasp was the trousers, which had had to be forcibly removed from him. later on peter would be consoled by a teddy bear or the hearth brush, but winn had had to go before peter was consoled, and without the resources of the hearth brush. estelle wept bitterly in the hall, but winn hadn't minded that; he had long ago come to the conclusion that estelle had a taste for tears, just as some people liked boiled eggs for breakfast. he simply patted her on the shoulder and looked away from her while she kissed him. he had enjoyed starting from charing cross, intimidating the porters and giving the man who registered his luggage dispassionate and unfavorable pieces of his mind. but when he was once fairly off he began to have a new feeling. it came over him when he was out of england and had crossed the small gray strip of formless familiar sea--the sea itself always seemed to winn to belong much more to england than to france--so much so that it annoyed him at boulogne to have to submit to being thought possibly unblasphemous by porters. he began to feel alone. up till now he had always seen his way. there had been fellows to do things with and animals; even marriage, though disconcerting, had not set him adrift. he had been cramped by it, but not disintegrated. now what seemed to have happened was that he had been cut loose. there wasn't the regiment or even a staff college to fall back upon. there wasn't a trail to follow or horses to gentle; his very dog had had to be left behind because of the ridiculous restrictions of canine quarantine. it really was an extraordinarily uncomfortable feeling, as if he were a damned ghost poking about in a new world full of surprises. it was quite possible that he might find himself among bounders. he had always avoided bounders, but that had been comparatively easy in a world where everybody observed an unspoken, inviolable code. if people didn't know the ropes, they found it simpler to go, and winn had sometimes assisted them to find it simpler; but he saw that now bounders could really turn up with impunity, for, as far as ropes went, it was he himself who would be in the minority. he might meet men who talked, long-haired, mysterious chaps too soft to kick or radicals, though if the worst came to the worst, he flattered himself that he had always the resource of being unpleasant. he knew that when the hair rose up on his head like the back of a challenged bull-dog, and he stuck his hands in his pockets and looked at people rather straight between the eyes, they usually shut up. he didn't mind doing this of course, if necessary; only if he had to do it to everybody in the hotel it might become monotonous, and he had a nervous fear that consumption was rather a cad's disease. fortunately he had got his skates, and he supposed there'd be toboggans and skis. he would see everybody in hell before he would share a table. it was curious how one could get to thirty-six and then suddenly in the middle of nothing start up a whole new set of feelings--feelings about peter, who had, after all, only just happened, and yet seemed to have belonged to him always; and his lungs going wrong, and loneliness, like a homesick school-girl! winn had never felt lonely in central africa or tibet, so that it seemed rather absurd to start such an emotion in a railway train surrounded by english people, particularly as it had nothing to do with what he looked upon as his home. his feeling about leaving the house at aldershot had been, "thank god there aren't going to be any more dinners!" still, there it was. he did feel lonely; probably it was one of the symptoms of bad lungs which travers hadn't mentioned, the same kind of thing as the perfectly new desire to lean back in his corner and shut his eyes. he felt all right in a way, his muscles acted, he could easily have thrown a stout young man with white eyelashes passing along the corridor through the nearest window; but there was a blurred sensation behind everything, a tiresome, unaccountable feeling as if he mightn't always be able to do things. he couldn't explain it exactly; but if it really turned up at all formidably later, he intended to shoot himself quickly before peter got old enough to care. one thing he had quite made up his mind about: he would get well if he could, but if he couldn't, he wasn't going to be looked after. the mere thought of it drove him into the corridor, where he spent the night alternately walking up and down and sitting on an extremely uncomfortable small seat by a draughty door to prove to himself that he wasn't in the least tired. he began to feel rather better after the coffee at basle, and though he was hardly the kind of person to take much interest in mere scenery, the small swiss villages, with their high pink or blue clock-faced churches made him wish he could pack them into a box, with a slice of green mountain behind, and send them to peter to play with. after landeck he smelt the snows, and challenged successfully the whole shivering carriage on the subject of an open window. the snows reminded winn in a jolly way of kashmir and nights spent alone on dizzy heights in a dak bungalow. the valleys ceased slowly to breathe, the dull autumn coloring sank into the whiteness of a dream. the mountains rose up on all sides, wave upon wave of frozen foam, aiming steadily at the high, clear skies. the half-light of the failing day covered the earth with a veil of silver and retreating gold. the valleys passed into silence, freezing, whispering silence. the moon rose mysteriously behind a line of black fir-trees, sending shafts of blue light into the hollow cup of mountain gorges. it was a poet's world, blake or shelley could have made it, it was too cold for keats. winn had not read these poets. it reminded him of a particularly good chamois hunt, in which he had bagged a splendid fellow, after four hours' hard climbing and stalking. the mountains receded a little, and everything became part of a white hollow filled with black fir-trees, and beyond the fir-trees a blue lake as blue as an indian moonstone, and then one by one, with the unexpectedness of a flight of glow-worms, sparkled the serried ranks of the hotels. out they flashed, breaking up the mystery, defying the mountains, as insistent and strident as life. the train stopped, and its contents spilled themselves out a little uncertainly and stiffly on the platform. instantly the cold caught them, not the insidious, subtle cold of lower worlds, but the fresh, brusk buffet of the alps. it caught them by the throat and chest, it tingled in ears and noses; there was no menace in it, and no weakness. it was as compulsory as a policeman in a street fight. winn had just stepped aside to allow a clamorous lady to take possession of his porter when he saw a man struggle into the light under a lamp-post; he was carrying something very carefully in his arms. winn could not immediately make out what it was, but he saw the man's face and read utmost mortal misery in his eyes; then he discovered that the burden was a woman. her hands were so thin that they lay like broken flower petals on the man's shoulders; her face was nothing but a hollow shell; her eyes moved, so that winn knew she was alive, and in the glassy stillness of the air he caught her dry whispering voice, "i am not really tired, dearest," she murmured. in a moment they had vanished. it struck winn as very curious that people could love each other like that, or that a dying woman should fight her husband's fears with her last strength. he felt horribly sorry for them and impatient with himself for feeling sorry. after all, he had not come up to davos to go about all over the place feeling sorry for strange people to whom he had never been introduced. the funny part of it was that he didn't only feel sorry for them, he felt a little sorry for himself. was love really like that? and had he missed it? well, of course he knew he had missed it, only he hadn't realized that it was quite like that. fortunately at this moment a german porter appeared to whom winn felt an instant simple antagonism. he was a self-complacent man, and he brought winn the wrong luggage. "look here, my man," winn said smoothly, but with a rocky insistence behind his words, "if you don't look a little sharp and bring me the _right_ boxes with green labels, i shall have to kick you into the middle of next week." this restored winn even more quickly than it restored his luggage. no one followed him into the small stuffy omnibus which glided off swiftly toward its destination. the hotel was an ugly wooden house in the shape of a hive built out with balconies; it reminded winn of a gigantic bird-cage handsomely provided with perches. it was only ten o'clock, but the house was as silent as the mountains behind it. the landlord appeared, and, leading winn into a brilliantly lighted, empty room, offered him cold meat. winn said the kind of thing that any staines would feel called upon to say on arriving at a cold place at a late hour and being confronted with cold meat. the landlord apologized in a whisper, and returned after some delay with soup. nothing, not even more language, could move him beyond soup. he kept saying that it was late and that they must be quiet, and he didn't seem to believe winn when winn remarked that he hadn't come up there to be quiet. winn himself became quieter as he followed the landlord through interminable passages covered with linoleum where his boots made a noise like muffled thunder. everywhere there was a strange sense of absolute cleanliness and silence, the subduing smell of disinfectant and the sight of padded, green felt doors. when winn was left alone in a room like a vivid cell, all emptiness and electric light, and with another green door leading into a farther room, he became aware of a very faint sound that came from the other side of the door. it was like the bark of a dog shut up in a distant cellar; it explained the padding of the doors. in all the months that followed, winn never lost this sound, near or far; it was always with him, seldom shattering and harsh, but always sounding as if something were being broken gradually, little by little, shaken into pieces by some invisible disintegrating power. winn flung open the long window which faced the bed. it led out to a small private balcony--if he had to be out on a balcony, he had of course made a point of its being private--and looked over all davos. the lights were nearly gone now. only two or three twinkled in a narrow circle on a sheet of snow; behind them the vague shapes of the mountains hung immeasurably alien and at peace. a bell rang out through the still air with a deep, reverberating note. it was a reassuring and yet solemn sound, as if it alone were responsible for humanity, for all the souls crowded together in the tiny valley, striving for their separate, shaken, inconclusive lives. "an odd place--davos," winn thought to himself. "no idea it was like this. sort of mix up between a picnic and a cemetery!" and then suddenly somebody laughed. the sound came from a slope of mountain behind the hotel, and through the dark winn's quick ear caught the sound of a light rushing across the snow. some one must be tobogganing out there, some one very young and gay and incorrigibly certain of joy. winn hoped he should hear peter laughing like that later on. it was such a jolly boy's laugh, low, with a mischievous chuckle in it, elated, and very disarming. he hoped the child wouldn't get hauled up for being out so late and making a noise. he smiled as he thought that the owner of the voice, even if collared, would probably be up to getting out of his trouble; and when he turned in, he was still smiling. chapter xi dr. gurnet's house was like an eye, or a pair of super-vigilant eyes, stationed between davos dorf and davos platz. it stood, a small brown chalet, perched high above the lake. there was nothing on either side of it but the snows, the sunshine, and the sense of its vigilance; inside, from floor to ceiling, there were neat little cases with the number of the year, and in each year there was a complete, exhaustive, and entertaining history of those who wintered, unaware of its completion and entertainment, in either of the villages. no eye but his own saw these documents, but no secret policeman ever so controlled the inner workings of a culprit's mind. there was nothing in dr. gurnet himself that led one to believe in his piercing quality. he was a stout little man, with a high-domed, bald head, long arms, short legs, and whitish blue eyes which had the quality of taking in everything they saw without giving anything out. sometimes they twinkled, but the twinkle was in most cases for his own consumption; he disinfected even his jokes so that they were never catching. the consulting-room contained no medical books. there were two book-shelves, on one side psychology from the physical point of view, and in the other bookcase, psychology as understood by the leading lights of the catholic religion. dr. gurnet was fond of explaining to his more intelligent patients that here you had the two points of view. "psychology is like alcohol," he observed; "you may have it with soda-water or without. religion is the soda-water." two tiger skins lay on the floor. dr. gurnet was a most excellent shot. he was too curious for fear, though he always asserted that he disliked danger, and took every precaution to avoid it, excepting, of course, giving up the thing which he had set out to do. but it was a fact that his favorites among his patients were, as a rule, those who loved danger for its own sake without curiosity and without fear. he saw at a glance that winn belonged to this category. names were like pocket electric lamps to dr. gurnet. he switched them on and off to illuminate the dark places of the earth. he held winn's card in his hand and recalled that he had known a former colonel of his regiment. "a very distinguished officer," he remarked, "of a very distinguished regiment. probably perfectly unknown in england. england has a preference for worthless men while they live and a tenderness for them after they are dead unless corrected by other nations. it is an odd thing to me that men like colonel travers and yourself, for instance, care to give up your lives to an empire that is like a badly deranged stomach with a craving for unhealthy objects." "we haven't got to think about it," said winn. "we keep the corner we are in quiet." "yes," said dr. gurnet sympathetically, "i know; but i think it would be better if you had to think about it. perhaps it wouldn't be necessary to keep things quiet if they were more thoroughly exposed to thought." winn's attention wandered to the tiger skins. "did you bag those fellows yourself?" he asked. dr. gurnet smilingly agreed. after this winn didn't so much mind having his chest examined. but the examination of his chest, though a long and singularly thorough operation, seemed to dr. gurnet a mere bead strung on an extended necklace. he hadn't any idea, as the london specialist had had, that winn could only have one organ and one interest. he came upon him with the effect of bouncing out from behind a screen with a series of funny, flat little questions. sometimes winn thought he was going to be angry with him, but he never was. there was a blithe impersonal touch in dr. gurnet, a smiling willingness to look on private histories as of less importance than last year's newspapers. it was as if he airily explained to his patients that really they had better put any facts there were on the files, and let the housemaid use the rest for the kitchen fire; and he required very little on winn's part. from a series of reluctant monosyllables he built up a picturesque and reliable structure of his new patient's life. they weren't by any means all physical questions. he wanted to know if winn knew german. winn said he didn't, and added that he didn't like germans. "then you should take some pains to understand them," observed dr. gurnet. "not to understand the language of an enemy is the first step toward defeat. why, it is even necessary sometimes to understand one's friends." winn said that he had a friend he understood perfectly; his name was lionel drummond. "i know him through and through," he explained; "that's why i trust him." dr. gurnet looked interested, but not convinced. "ah," he said, "personally i shouldn't trust any man till he was dead. you know where you are then, you know. before that one prophesies. by the by, are you married?" dr. gurnet did not raise his eyes at this question, but before winn's leaden "yes" had answered him he had written on the case paper, "unhappy domestic life." "and--er--your wife's not here with you?" dr. gurnet suavely continued. winn thought himself non-committal when he confined himself to saying: "no; she's in england with my boy." he was as non-committal for dr. gurnet as if he had been a wild elephant. he admitted peter with a change of voice, and asked eagerly if things with lungs were hereditary or catching? "not at present in your case," dr. gurnet informed him. "by the by, you'll get better, you know. you're a little too old to cure, but you'll patch up." "what does that mean?" winn demanded. "shall i be a broken-winded, cats'-meat hack?" dr. gurnet shook his head. "you can go back to your regiment," he said, "and do anything you like bar pig-sticking and polo in a year's time. that is to say, if you do as you are told for that year and will have the kindness to remember that, if you do not, i am not responsible, nor shall i be in any great degree inconsolable. i am here like a sign-post; my part of the business is to point the road. i really don't care if you follow it or not; but i should be desolated, of course, if you followed it and didn't arrive. this, however, has not yet occurred to me. "you will be out of doors nine hours a day, and kindly fill in this card for me. you may skate, but not ski or toboggan, nor take more than four hours' active exercise out of the twenty-four. in a month's time i shall be pleased to see you. remember about the german and--er--do you ever flirt?" winn stared ominously. "flirt? no," he said. "why the devil should i?" dr. gurnet gave a peculiar little smile, half quizzical and half kindly. "well," he said, "i sometimes recommend it to my patients in order that they may avoid the intenser application known as falling in love. or in cases like your own, for instance, when a considerable amount of beneficial cheerfulness may be arrived at by a careful juxtaposition of the sexes. you follow me?" "no, hanged if i do," said winn. "i've told you i'm married, haven't i? besides, i dislike women." "ah, there perhaps we may be more in agreement than you imagine," said dr. gurnet, increasing his kindly smile. "but i must continue to assure you that this avoidance of what you dislike is a hazardous operation. the study of women at a distance is both amusing and instructive. i grant you that too close personal relations are less so. i have avoided family life most carefully from this consideration, but much may be obtained from women without going to extremes. in fact, if i may say so, women impart their most favorable attributes solely under these conditions. good morning." winn left the small brown house with a heart that was strangely light. of course he didn't believe in doctors any more than sir peter did, but he found himself believing that he was going to get well. all the morning he had been moving his mind in slow waves that did not seem like thoughts against the rock of death; but he came away from the tiger-skins and the flickering laughter of dr. gurnet's eyes with a comfortable sense of having left all such questions on the doorstep. he thought instead of whether it was worth while to go down to the rink before lunch or not. it was while he was still undecided as to this question that he heard a little shriek of laughter. it ran up a scale like three notes on a flute; he knew in a moment that it was the same laughter he had listened to the night before. he turned aside and found himself at the bend of a long ice run leading down to the lake. a group of men were standing there, and with one foot on a toboggan, her head flung back, her eyes full of sparkling mischief, was the child. he forgot that he had ever thought her a boy, though she looked on the whole as if she would like to be thought one. her curly auburn hair was short and very thick, and perched upon it was a round scarlet cap; her mouth was scarlet; her eyes were like scotch braes, brown and laughing; the curves of her long, delicate lips ran upward; her curving thin, black eyebrows were like question-marks; her chin was tilted upward like the petal of a flower. she was very slim, and wore a very short brown skirt which revealed the slenderest of feet and ankles; a sweater clung to her unformed, lithe little figure. she had an air of pointed sharpness and firmness like a lifted sword. she might have been sixteen, though she was, as a matter of fact, three years older; but she was not so much an age as a sensation--the sensation of youth, incredibly arrogant and unharmed. the men were trying to dissuade her from the run. it had just been freshly iced; the long blue line of it curved as hard as iron in and out under banks of ice far down into the valley. a tall boy beside her, singularly like her in features and coloring, but weaker in fiber and expression, said querulously: "don't go and make a fool of yourself, claire. it's a man's run, not a girl's. i won't have you do it." it was the fatal voice of authority without power. across the group her eyes met winn's; wicked and gay they ran over him and into him. he stuck his hands into his pockets and stared back at her grimly, like a staines. he wasn't going to say anything; only if she had belonged to him he would have stopped her. his eyes said he could have stopped her; but she didn't belong to him, so he set his square jaw, and gave her his unflinching, indifferent disapproval. she appeared after this to be unaware of him, and turned to her brother. "won't have it?" she said, with a little gurgle of laughter. "why, how do you suppose you can stop me? there's only one way of keeping a man's run for men, and that's for girls not to be able to use it--see!" she slipped her teasing foot off the toboggan and with an agile twist of her small body sprang face downward on the board. in an instant she was off, lying along it light as a feather, but holding the runners in a grip of steel. in a moment more she was nothing but a traveling black dot far down the valley, lifting to the banks, swirling lightning swift back into the straight in a series of curves and flashes, till at the end the toboggan, girl and all, swung high into the air, and subsided safely into a snow-drift. winn turned and walked away; he wasn't going to applaud her. something burned in his heart, grave and angry, stubborn and very strong. it was as if a strange substance had got into him, and he couldn't in the least have said what it was. it voiced itself for him in his saying to himself, "that girl wants looking after." the men on the bank admired her; there were too many of them, and no woman. he wondered if he should ever see her again. she was curiously vivid to him--brown shoes and stockings, tossed hair, clear eyes. he remembered once going to an opera and being awfully bored because there was such a lot of stiff music and people bawling about; only on the stage there had been a girl lying in the middle of a ring of flames. she'd showed up uncommonly well, rather like this one did in the hot sunshine. walking back to the hotel he met a string of bounders, people he had seen and loathed at breakfast. some of them had tried to talk to him; one beggar had had the cheek to ask winn what he was up there for, and when winn had said, "not to answer impertinent questions," things at the breakfast-table--there was one confounded long one for breakfast--had fallen rather flat. he felt sure he wouldn't see the girl again; only he did almost at once. she came into the _salle-à-manger_ with her brother, as if it belonged to them. after two stormy, obstinate scenes winn had obtained the shelter of his separate and solitary table. the waiter approached the two young things as they entered late and a little flushed; apparently he explained to them with patient stubbornness that they, at any rate, must give up this privilege; they couldn't have a separate table. he also tried to persuade them which one to join. the boy made a blustering assertion of himself and then subsided. claire rivers did neither. her eyes ran over the room, mutinous and a little disdainful; then she moved. it seemed to winn he had never seen anybody move so lightly and so swiftly. there was no faltering in her. she took the room with her head up like a sail before a breeze. she came straight to winn's table and looked down at him. "this is ours," she said. "you've taken it, though we were here first. do you think it's fair?" winn rose quietly and looked down at her. he was glad he was half a head taller; still he couldn't look very far down. she caught at the corner of her lip with a small white tooth. he tried to make a look of sternness come into his eyes, but he felt guiltily aware that he wanted to give in to her, just as he wanted to give in, to peter. "of course," he said, gravely, "i had no idea it was your table when i got it from that tow-headed fool. you must take it at once, and i'll make him bring in another one." "he won't," said claire. "he says he can't; herr avalon, the proprietor, won't give him another; besides, there isn't room." "oh, i think he will," said winn. "shall i go over and bring your brother to you? won't you sit down?" she hesitated, then she said: "you make me feel as if i were being very rude, and i don't want to drive you away. only, you know, the other people here are rather awful, aren't they?" winn was aware that their entire awfulness was concentrated upon his companion. "please sit down," he said a little authoritatively. her brother ought to have backed her up, but the young fool wouldn't; he stood shamefacedly over by the door. "i'll get hold of your brother," winn added, turning away from her. the waiter hovered nervously in their direction. "am i to set for the three, sir?" he ventured. claire turned quickly toward winn. "yes," she said; "why not? if you don't mind, i mean. you aren't really a bit horrid." "how can you possibly tell?" winn asked, with a short laugh. "however, i'll get your brother, and if you really don't mind, i'll come back with him." claire was quite sure that she could tell and that she didn't mind. the waiter came back in triumph, but winn gave him a sharp look which extracted his triumph as neatly as experts extract a winkle with a pin. maurice apologized with better manners than winn had expected. he looked a terribly unlicked cub, and winn found himself watching anxiously to see if claire ate enough and the right things. he couldn't, of course, say anything if she didn't, but he found himself watching. chapter xii winn was from the first sure that it was perfectly all right. she wouldn't notice him at all. she would merely look upon him as the man who was there when there were skates to clean, skis to oil, any handy little thing which the other fellows, being younger and not feeling so like an old nurse, might more easily overlook. women liked fellows who cut a dash, and you couldn't cut a dash and be an old nurse simultaneously. winn clung to the simile of the old nurse. that was, after all the real truth of his feelings, not more than that, certainly not love. love would make more of a figure in the world, not that it mattered what you called things provided you behaved decently. only he was glad he was not in love. he bought her flowers and chocolates, though he had a pang about the chocolates, not feeling quite sure that they were good for her; but flowers were safe. he didn't give her lilies--they seemed too self-consciously virginal, as if they wanted to rub it in--he gave her crimson roses, flowers that frankly enjoyed themselves and were as beautiful as they could be. they were like claire herself. she never stopped to consider an attitude; she just went about flowering all over the place in a kind of perpetual fragrance. she enjoyed herself so much that she simply hadn't time to notice any one in particular. there were a dozen men always about her. she was so young and happy and unintentional that every one wanted to be with her. it was like sitting in the sun. she never muddled things up or gave needless pain or cheated. that was what winn liked about her. she was as fair as a judge without being anything like so grave. they were all playing a game, and she was the leader. they would have let her break the rules if she had wanted to break them! but she wouldn't have let herself. of course the hotel didn't approve of her; no hotel could be expected to approve of a situation which it so much enjoyed. besides claire was lawless; she kept her own rules, but she broke everybody else's. she never sought a chaperon or accepted some older woman's sheltering presence; she never sat in the ladies' salon or went to tea with the chaplain's wife. on one dreadful occasion she tobogganed wilfully on a sunday, under the chaplain's nose, with a man who had arrived only the night before. when old mrs. stewart, who knitted regularly by the winter and counted almost as many scandals as stitches, took her up on the subject out of kindness of heart, claire had said without meaning to be rude: "i really don't think the chaplain's nose ought to be there, to _be_ under, do you?" of course, mrs. stewart did. she had the highest respect for the chaplain's nose; but it wasn't the kind of subject you could argue about. for a long time claire and winn never really talked; she threw words at him over her shoulder or in the hall or when he put her skates on or took them off at the rink. he seemed to get there quicker than any one else, though the operation itself was sometimes a little prolonged. of course there were meals, but meals belonged to maurice, and claire had a way of always slipping behind him, so that it was really over the skates that winn discovered how awfully clever she was. she read books, deep books; why, even hall caine and marie corelli didn't satisfy her, and winn had always thought those famous authors the last words in modern literature. he now learned others. she gave him conrad to read, and meredith. he got stuck in meredith, but he liked conrad; it made him smell the mud and feel again the silence of the jungle. "funny," he explained to claire, "because when you come to think of it, he doesn't actually write about the smell; only he's got it, and the jungle feeling, too. it's quiet, you know, in there, but not a bit like the snows out here; there's nothing doing up in this snow, but god alone knows what's happening in the jungle. odd how there can be two sorts of quiet, ain't it?" "there can be two sorts of anything," said claire, exultantly. "oh, not only two--dozens; that's why it's all such fun." but winn was inclined to think that there might be more fun where there were fewer candidates for it. there was, for instance, mr. roper. maurice was trying to work up for his final examination at sandhurst with mr. roper. he was a black-haired, polite man with a constant smile and a habit of agreeing with people much too promptly; also he read books and talked to claire about them in the evening till every one started bridge. fortunately, that shut him up. winn was considered in anglo-indian clubs, where the standard of bridge is high, to play considerably above it, and claire played with a relish, that was more instinctive than reliable; nevertheless, winn loved playing with her, and accepted mr. roper and maurice as one accepts severity of climate on the way to a treat. he knew he must keep his temper with them both, so when he wanted to be nasty he looked at claire, and when claire looked at him he wanted to be nice. he couldn't, of course, stop claire from ever in any circumstances glancing in the direction of mr. roper, and it would have startled him extremely if he had discovered that claire, seeing how much he disliked it, had reduced this form of communion to the rarest civility; because winn still took for granted the fact that claire noticed nothing. it was the solid earth on which he stood. for some months his consciousness of his wife had been an intermittent recognition of a disagreeable fact; but for the first few weeks at davos he forgot estelle entirely; she drifted out of his mind with the completeness of a collar stud under a wardrobe. he never for a moment forgot peter, but he didn't talk about him because it would have seemed like boasting. even if he had said, "i have a boy called peter," it would have sounded as if nobody else had ever had a boy like peter. besides, he didn't want to talk about himself; he wanted to talk about claire. she hadn't time to tell him much; she was preparing for a skating competition, which took several hours a day, and then in the afternoons she skied or tobogganed with mr. ponsonby, a tall, lean eton master getting over an illness. winn privately thought that if mr. ponsonby was well enough to toboggan, he was well enough to go back and teach boys; but this opinion was not shared by mr. ponsonby, who greatly preferred staying where he was and teaching claire. claire tobogganed and skied with the same thrill as she played bridge and skated; they all seemed to her breathless and vital duties. she did not think of mr. ponsonby as much as she did of the toboggan, but he gave her points. in any case, winn preferred him to mr. roper, who was obliged to teach maurice in the afternoons. if one wants very much to learn a particular subject, it is surprising how much of it one may pick up in the course of a day from chance moments. in a week winn had learned that maurice and claire were orphans, that they lived with an aunt who didn't get on with claire and an uncle who didn't get on with maurice, and that there were several cousins too stodgy for words. claire was waiting for maurice to get through sandhurst--he'd been horribly interrupted by pleurisy--and then she could keep house for him somewhere--wherever he was sent--unless she took up a profession. she rather thought she was going to do that in any case, because they would have awfully little money; and besides, not doing things was a bore, and every girl ought to make her way in the world, didn't major staines think so? major staines didn't, and emphatically said that he didn't. "good god, no! what on earth for?" was how he expressed it. claire stopped short, outside the office door, just as she was going to pay her bill. "we shall have to talk about this," she said gravely. "i'm awfully afraid you're a reactionary." "i dare say i am," said winn, who hadn't the faintest idea what a reactionary was, but rather liked the sound of it. "we'll talk about it as much as you like. how about lunch at the schatz alp?" that was how they went to the schatz alp and had their first real talk. chapter xiii claire was not perfectly sure of life--it occurred to her at nineteen that it might have in store for her certain surprises--but she was perfectly sure of herself. she knew that she ought to have been a boy, and that if she had been a boy she would have tried to be like general gordon. balked of this ambition by the fact of her sex, she turned her attention to maurice. it seemed to her essential that he should be like general gordon in her place, and by dint of persuasion, concentration of purpose, and sheer indomitable will power she infected maurice with the same idea. he had made her no promises, but he had agreed to enter the army. it is improbable that general gordon's character was formed wholly by the exertions of his sister, but claire in her eagerness rather overlooked the question of material. there was nothing in maurice himself that was wrong, but he belonged to a class of young men who are always being picked up by "wrong 'uns." he wanted a little too much to be liked. he was quite willing to be a hero to please claire if it was not too much trouble. meanwhile he expected it to be compatible with drinking rather more than was good for him, spending considerably too much money, and talking loudly and knowingly upon subjects considered doubtful. if the world had been as innocent as maurice, this program would in time have corrected itself. but besides holes and the unwary, there are from time to time diggers of holes, and it was to these unsound guides that maurice found himself oftenest attracted. what he asked of claire was that she should continue to believe in him and make his way easy for him. she could fight for his freedom with a surly uncle, but having won it, she shouldn't afterward expect a fellow to do things with it which would end in his being less free. maurice really loved claire, his idea of love being that he would undeviatingly choose her to bear all his burdens. she managed the externals of his life with the minimum of exertion to himself. she fought his guardians; she talked straight to his opposers; she took buffets that were meant for him to take; she made plans, efforts, and arrangements for his comfort. lots of things he wanted he could simply not have had if she had failed to procure them. pushed beyond a certain point maurice gave in, or appeared to give in, and lied. claire never admitted even to herself that maurice lied, but she took unusual pains to prevent his ever being pushed beyond a certain point. it was claire who had managed the journey to davos in the teeth of opposition; but it was maurice who would have no other guide than mr. roper, a splendid army coach picked up at a billiard room in a hotel. now that they were at davos, claire became a little doubtful if, after all, her uncle hadn't been right when he had declared that bournemouth would have done as well and been far less expensive. then winn came, and she began mysteriously to feel that the situation was saved. it wasn't that winn looked in the least like general gordon, but mr. ponsonby had told her that he was a distinguished officer and shot tigers on foot. claire was quite surprised that winn had been so nice to her, particularly as he hadn't appeared at all a friendly kind of person; but she became more and more convinced that winn was a knight errant in disguise and had been sent by heaven to her direct assistance. claire believed very strongly in heaven. if you have no parents and very disagreeable relatives, heaven becomes extremely important. claire didn't think it was at all the place her aunt and uncle vaguely held out to her as a kind of permanent and compulsory pew into which an angelic verger conducted the more respectable after death. everything mr. and mrs. tighe considered the laws of god seemed to claire unlikely to be the laws of anybody except people like mr. and mrs. tighe; but she did believe that god looked after maurice and herself, and she was anxious that he should look particularly after maurice. she determined that on the day she went to the schatz alp with major staines she would take him into her confidence. she could explain the position of women to him while they climbed the rhüti-weg; this would give them all of lunch for maurice's future, and she hoped without direct calculations--because, although claire generally had very strong purposes, she seldom had calculations--that perhaps if she was lucky he would tell her about tigers on the way down. it was one of those mornings at davos which seemed made out of fragrance and crystal. the sun soaked into the pines, the sky above the tree-tops burned like blue flame. it was the first time in claire's life that she had gone out all by herself to lunch with a grown-up man. winn was far more important than a mere boy, besides being a major. she had been planning all the morning during her skating what arguments she should use to winn on the subject of women, but when she saw him in the hall everything went out of her head. she only knew that it was a heavenly day and that it seemed extraordinarily difficult not to dance. it was a long walk up to the schatz alp; there were paths where the pine-trees met overhead, garlanded with wreaths of snow, and the spaces between the wreaths were as blue as love-in-a-mist, an old-fashioned flower that grows in english gardens. claire pointed it out to winn. "only," she said, "up here there isn't any mist, is there?" "no," said winn, looking at her in a curious way; "as far as i can see, there is none whatever. by the by, that particular flower you mention isn't only called love-in-a-mist, it's also called devil-in-a-bush." "but that's a pity," said claire, decisively. "i like the other name better." she moved beside him with a buoyant, untiring step, without haste and without effort. he told her that he would like to take her up into the himalayas. she would make a good climber. in his heart he knew there was no place on earth to which he wouldn't like to take her. she was born to be a man's comrade, observant, unexacting, level-headed. she was the kind of girl you wouldn't mind seeing in a tight place if you were there, of course, to get her out of it. then he pulled himself up and told himself not to be fanciful. it was rather a fanciful morning: the day and the snowy hillside and the endless, pungent sweetness of the sunny air were like a spell. he found he was telling claire about the things he used to do when he was a boy. he went on doing it because the adventures of the staines family made her laugh. he had not supposed that james, charles, isabella, dolores, and he himself were particularly funny before, but he was delighted to discover their hidden gift. claire wanted to hear everything about them, their ponies, their dogs, their sharp disgraces, and their more wonderful escapes and revenges; but she didn't want them to be punished, and winn had to hasten over those frequent and usually protracted disasters. they had the woods to themselves; there was no sound at all except the occasional soft drop of melting snow. once they stood quite still holding their breath to watch the squirrels skim from tree to tree as if they were weaving the measures of a mystic dance. if it hadn't been for the squirrels they might have been the only creatures alive in all the silent, sparkling earth. the mountains spread out around them with the reticent hush of interrupted consciousness. they seemed to be on the verge of further revelations, and were withheld from a last definite whisper only by the intrusion of humanity. "i know they could speak if they liked," claire murmured. "what do you suppose they'd say?" "let's have an avalanche and knock the silly blighters out of our valley for good and all," winn suggested. claire disposed of davos with a wave of her hand. "but they don't mind us, do they?" she urged. "because we're so happy and we like them so. doesn't the air make you feel awfully funny and happy?" "yes," winn admitted; "but it's not all the air, you know." claire wanted to know what else it was; but as winn didn't offer to explain, she felt that perhaps she had better not ask. they were near the top when winn paused suddenly and said in a most peculiar reluctant voice; "look here, i think i ought to tell you." he stumbled over the words and then added, "no, by jove, that won't do!" "oh, don't let's tell each other things we ought!" claire entreated. "it's not the kind of morning for that. i meant to talk about lots of really important subjects, but i'm not going to now. i may later, of course; but just now i don't feel in the mood for being important." winn looked at her very hard, and then he said: "but still you are rather important, you know." "then," she laughed, "i'm important enough to have my own way, aren't i?" winn said nothing. he seemed to acquiesce that she was important enough for that. "would you like to know," she asked, "what i'd really like for lunch?" winn said he would awfully, and by the time she had told him they had reached the top, and the funicular appeared, disgorging people in front of a big glass-covered restaurant. winn found the best and quietest table with the finest view. from it they could see the valley down to frauenkirch and up to clavedel. it was a splendid lunch, curiously good, with sparkling sweet wine, which claire loved, and winn, secretly loathing, serenely shared because of a silly feeling he had that he must take what she did. after lunch they sat and smoked, leaning over the great clear view. they could hear the distant velvety boom of the village clock beneath them. winn gripped his hand firmly on the table. "i've got to damned well do it," he said to himself. he remembered that he had had once to shoot a spy in cold blood, and that he used those words to himself before he did it. a couple passed close to their table. the woman was over-dressed, and hung with all kinds of jingling chains and bangles; she was pretty, and as she sat with her profile turned a little toward them she was curiously like estelle. this was his opportunity. it must come now; all the morning it had lain in the back of his mind, behind delight, behind their laughter, like some lurking jungle creature waiting for the dark. "do you see that woman," he asked claire, "the pretty one over there by the pillar? she's awfully like--" claire stopped him. "pretty!" she cried. "do you really think she's pretty? i think she's simply loathsome!" winn checked himself hurriedly; he obviously couldn't finish his sentence with "she's awfully like my wife." "well, she sets out to be pretty, doesn't she?" he altered it rather lamely. claire continued extremely scornful. "yes, i dare say," she admitted. "she may set out to be smart too, hung round with things like a christmas-tree, but she's as common as a sixpenny bazaar. i'll tell you why i don't like her, major staines, and who she reminds me of, but perhaps you think her pretty, too? i mean that horrid woman, mrs. bouncing in our hotel?" "but can't horrid women be pretty, too?" winn ventured with meekness. "no, of course not," said claire, with great decisiveness. "why, you know horrid men can't be handsome. look at mr. roper!" winn was uncertain if this point of knowledge had ever reached him; but he wasn't at this time of day going to look at mr. roper, so he gave in. "i dare say you're right," he said. "as a matter of fact, you know, i never _do_ look at roper." "but that's not the reason," claire went on, slightly softened by her victory, "that i dislike her. i really dislike her because i think she is bad for maurice; but perhaps you haven't noticed the way he keeps hanging about her. it makes me sick." winn admitted that he had noticed it. "still," he said, "of course if you hadn't proved to me that by being horrid she couldn't be pretty, i should have supposed that he simply hung about mrs. bouncing because she was--well, not precisely plain." claire looked doubtfully at him, but he wasn't smiling; he was merely looking at her with sufficient attention. "there are only two of us," she said in a low voice, "maurice and me, and i do so awfully want him to be a success. i don't think anybody else does. i don't even know how much he wants it himself. you see, maurice is so young in many ways, and our people having died--he hasn't had much of a chance, has he? men ought to have fathers." winn listened intently; he always remembered anything she said, but this particular opinion sank deep into the bottom of his heart: "men ought to have fathers." "i've done the best i can," claire went on, "but you see, i'm young, too; there are lots of things i don't really know about life. i think perhaps i sometimes believe too much that things are going to be jolly, and that makes me a bad adviser for maurice. do you know what i mean?" winn nodded, but he determined that whether she expected or not, she should have things jolly. he must be able to manage it. if one wanted a thing as much as he wanted this, surely one could bring it off. hadn't he pulled off races on the scratchiest of polo ponies, when he couldn't afford better, out of sheer intention? he had meant to win, moved the pony along, and won. was life less controllable than a shoddy polo pony? he set his mouth and stared grimly out over the sparkling snow. he did not ask himself how a man with a wife hung round his neck like a millstone was going to manage the perpetual happiness of a stray young woman. he never asked himself questions or saw how things were to be done, but when the crisis came his instinct taught him in a flash the short cut to victory. "now," said claire, unexpectedly, "you are looking awfully dangerous--you do rather sometimes, you know--like a kind of volcano that might go off." winn turned his eyes slowly toward her. "i shall never be dangerous for you, miss rivers," he said gently. he did not know how much he promised her or that he was already incapable of keeping his promise. she looked away from him with smiling lips and happy, mysterious eyes. she had known long ago that all the force he had was as safe with her as if he had laid it in her hands; safer than that, because he held it in his own--for her. it seemed to claire that you were only perfectly secure when you were with a man who could be dangerous to everybody else, but always safe for you. "you will help me with maurice?" she said softly. "then i sha'n't feel worried any more." "i shouldn't let it worry me for a moment if i were you," winn assured her. "he hasn't come to much harm so far. he's young, that's all. i'll keep my eye on him, of course." winn knew quite well what he would do with a subaltern of maurice's type. he would take him out shooting and put the fear of god into him. if this were done often and systematically enough, the subaltern would improve or send in his papers. but davos did not offer equal advantages. one could not get the fear of god everywhere on a tap; besides, there was mrs. bouncing. claire turned suddenly toward him. "i want maurice," she said rather breathlessly, with shining eyes, "to be a good soldier; i want him to be like you." winn felt a pang of fear; it was a pang that was half horrible pain, and half passionate and wild delight. was claire perfectly safe? why did she want maurice to be like him? it was claire herself who banished his fear; she added hastily: "he really must get through sandhurst properly." of course she hadn't meant anything. in fact, if she really had liked him in any particular way she'd have been shot before she showed it. what she wanted was simply the advice of an older man in the service. it did not occur to winn that claire had been shot already without knowing it. he went on being reassured all the way back because claire talked persistently about tigers. winn explained that once you thoroughly knew where you were, there was no real danger in a tiger. part ii chapter xiv winn discovered almost immediately that what assistance he could give to maurice would have to be indirect. he had not a light hand for weak, evasive, and excitable people, and maurice did not like to be driven off the rink with "better come along with me" or "i should think a good brisk walk to clavedel would be about your mark." winn's idea of a walk was silence and pace; he had a poor notion of small talk, and he became peculiarly dumb with a young man whose idea of conversation was high-pitched boasting. when maurice began telling stories about how he got the better of so-and-so or the length of his ski-jumps, winn's eyes became unpleasantly like probes, and maurice felt the élan of his effects painfully ebbing away. still, there was a certain honor in being sought out by the most exclusive person in the hotel and winn's requests, stated in flat terms and with the force of his determination behind them, were extraordinarily difficult to refuse. it was mr. roper who gave maurice the necessary stiffening. mr. roper didn't like winn, and though their intercourse had been limited to a series of grunts on winn's part, mr. roper felt something unerringly inimical behind each of these indeterminate sounds. "that man's a spoil-sport," he informed his pupil. maurice agreed. "but he's beastly difficult to say no to," he added. "you mean to somehow, but you don't." "i expect he's trying to manage you," mr. roper cleverly hinted. this decided maurice once and for all. he refused all further invitations. he had a terror of being managed, and though he always was managed, gusts of this fear would seize upon him at any effort to influence him in any direction favorable to himself. he was never in the least uneasy at being managed to his disadvantage. baffled in his main direction, winn turned his mind upon the subject of mr. roper. mr. roper was slippery and intensely amiable; these were not the qualities with which winn felt himself capable of direct dealing. he would have liked to destroy mr. roper, and he thought that the situation might eventually arrive at this point; but until it did, he saw that he had better leave mr. roper alone. "you can't do anything with a worm but tread on it," he said to himself, and in hotels people had to be careful how they trod on worms. there was still mrs. bouncing, but a slight study of that lady, which took place in the hall after dinner, put this possibility out of the question. she called winn a "naughty man" and suggested his taking her tobogganing by moonlight. mr. bouncing was a side issue, but winn, despite his own marriage, held the theory that men ought to look after their wives. he felt that if there had been any question of other men he could have managed estelle; or, even short of managing estelle, he could have managed the other men. it occurred to him now that perhaps mr. bouncing could be led to act favorably upon the question of his wife's behavior. mr. bouncing could not walk at all; he could get out to the public balcony in the sun, and when he was there, he lay with the "pink 'un" and "the whipping post" on his lap and his thermometer beside him. all he asked was that he should have his hot milk regularly four times a day. he hardly talked to anybody at all. this was not because it made him cough to talk--it didn't particularly; he coughed without being made to--but because he had exhausted his audience. there was only one subject left to mr. bouncing, and that was his health; after he had told people all his symptoms, they didn't want to hear any more and there was nothing left to talk about. so he lay there in the sunshine thinking about his symptoms instead. there were a good many of them to think about, and all of them were bad. mr. bouncing was surprised when winn sat down to talk to him, and he explained to him at once exactly what the doctors thought of his case. winn listened passively, and came back the next day at the same time. this surprised mr. bouncing still more, and little by little the subjects between them widened. mr. bouncing still talked about himself, but he talked differently. he told winn things he had never told any one else, and he was really pleased when winn laughed at a joke he showed him in "the pink 'un." "you can laugh," he said almost admiringly. "i daren't, you know; that's one of the things i'm told not to do, but i often wish some one would come here and laugh at the jokes for me. it's quite an effort for me sometimes not to burst out; and then, you see, hemorrhage! i knew a poor chap who literally died of it--died of laughing. they might put that in the 'pink 'un,' mightn't they?" winn said he thought one might die of worse things. "yes, i know," agreed mr. bouncing, "but i'm not going to be caught like that. i dare say you don't know, but i believe i'm the worst case in the hotel. i'm not _quite_ sure; that's what worries me. there's a mrs. maguire who stays in bed. i've made all sorts of inquiries about her; but people are so stupid, they don't know the right symptoms to ask about, and i can't go in and look at her, can i? and my wife won't. she says one death's-head is enough for her and i quite see her point. perhaps mrs. maguire's case is partly nerves. my wife thinks i'm very nervous. so i am, you know, in a way. i have to be careful; but, lord! when i see the things people do up here! the risks they take! you, for instance. i've seen you do heaps of things that are perfectly deadly; and yet there you are getting better. funny, isn't it?" winn said it was funny, but he supposed one must take his chance. "yes, i know; that is what people keep saying," mr. bouncing admitted. "you can take it if you've got it; but my point is, if you haven't got it, you can't take it, can you? now, as far as i can see, looking back from the start, you know, i never had a dog's chance. it's years since i went out in a wind without an overcoat on, and once in the very beginning i got my feet wet; but for the last five years i've been as careful as a girl with a new hat. i think i shall live till the spring if i don't get influenza. i hope you'll remember not to come near me if you feel a cold coming on." winn assured him that he would. "i asked dr. gurnet the other day," mr. bouncing went on musingly, "if he thought i should ever be able to walk to the post-office again--i used to get there and back last winter, you know--but he wouldn't give me a direct answer. he said he thought i could rely on the hotel porter. he's not quite definite enough--dr. gurnet. i told him the other day how difficult it was to get up in the morning, and he said, 'well, then, why not stay in bed?' but i'm not going to do that. i believe you go quicker when you stay in bed. besides, i should be dull lying there in bed. i like to sit here and watch people and see the silly things they do. that young boy you sit at table with--he won't come to any good. silly! he thinks my wife likes him, but she doesn't; it's just that she must have her mind taken off, you know, at times, poor thing. i like to see her amused." "and what about you?" asked winn. "it seems to me she might better spend some of her time amusing you." mr. bouncing pointed to the "pink 'un." "i've got plenty to amuse me," he explained, "and you mustn't think she doesn't look after me. why, the other day--when i had the high temperature, you know, and stayed in my room--she came to the door after she'd been skating, and said, 'still coughing?' that shows she noticed i was worse, doesn't it?" "i'm sure she must be awfully anxious about you," winn assented with more kindliness than truth. "but do you care for her knocking about so with young rivers and that chap roper? it seems to me she's too young and too pretty. if i were you, i'd call her in a bit; i would really." mr. bouncing leaned back in his chair and shut his eyes. this always made winn a little uneasy, for when mr. bouncing's eyes were shut it was so difficult to tell whether he was alive or dead. however, after a few minutes he opened them. "they are five minutes late with my hot milk," he said. "do you mind just getting up and touching the bell? and you've got such a sharp way of speaking to waiters, perhaps you wouldn't mind hauling him over the coals for me when he comes?" winn complied with this request rapidly and effectively, and the hot milk appeared as if by magic. mr. bouncing drank some before he returned to the subject of his wife. "yes," he said, "i dare say you would call her in. you're the kind of man who can make people come in when you call. i'm not. besides, you see, she's young; she's got her life to live, and, then, ought i to have married her at all? of course i was wonderfully well at the time; i could walk several miles, i remember, and had no fever to speak of. still, there were the symptoms. she took the risk, of course--she was one of a large family, and i had money--but it hasn't been very amusing for her, you must admit." winn didn't admit it, because it seemed to him as if it had been extremely amusing for mrs. bouncing, a great deal more amusing than it had any right to be. "perhaps you think she oughtn't to have married for money," mr. bouncing went on when he had finished the hot milk and winn still sat there saying nothing. "but you're quite wrong if you do. money is the most important thing there is--next to health of course. health and money--one's no use without the other, of course; but i don't honestly think anything else really matters. i know what the chaplain says; but he's always been quite strong." "that's all very well," said winn. "i'm not a religious man myself, but people oughtn't to take something for nothing. if she's married you for your money, she ought to be more with you. she's got the money, hasn't she, and what have you got? that's the way i look at it." mr. bouncing did not shake his head--he was too careful for that--but he looked as if he were shaking it. "that's one point of view, of course," he said slowly; "but how do you know i want to have her more with me? she's very young and strong. i expect she'd be exciting, and it wouldn't be at all good for me to be excited. "besides, she has no sense of humor. i wouldn't dream of asking her to laugh at my jokes as i do you. she wouldn't see them, and then i shouldn't like to show her the improper ones. they're not suitable for ladies, and the improper ones are the best. i sometimes think you can't have a really good joke unless it's improper." winn did not say anything; but he thought that however limited mrs. bouncing's sense of humor might be, she would have enjoyed the improper ones. mr. bouncing took out his thermometer. "it is five minutes," he said, "since i've had the glass of milk, and i think my tongue must have cooled down by now. so i shall take my temperature, and after that i shall try to go to sleep. but i don't believe you are really anxious about my wife; what you're worried about is young rivers. i've seen you taking him for walks, and it's no use your worrying about him, because, as i've said before, he's silly. if he didn't do one silly thing, he'd do another. however, he's selfish, too. that's always something; he won't be so likely to come to grief as if he were merely silly. it's his sister i should be worried about if i were you." "why?" asked winn without looking at him. mr. bouncing looked at winn, but he made no answer. he had already got his thermometer in his mouth. chapter xv winn had a feeling that he ought to keep away from her, but davos was an inconvenient place for keeping away. people were always turning up when one least expected them, or one turned up oneself. privacy and publicity flashed together in the sunny air. even going off up a mountain with a book was hardly the resource it seemed; friends skied or tobogganed down upon you from the top, and carried you off to tea. winn had an uneasy feeling that he oughtn't to go every morning to the rink, though that was naturally the place for a man who was only allowed to skate to find himself. it was also the place where he could not fail to find claire. there were a good many other skaters on the rink, too; they were all preparing for the international skating competition. the english, as a rule, stuck to their own rink, where they had a style of skating belonging to themselves. their style was perpendicular and very stiff; it was by no means easy to attain, and when attained, hardly perhaps, to the observer, worth the efforts expended. winn approved of it highly. he thought it a smart and sensible way to skate, and was by no means a bad exponent; but once he had seen claire skating on the big rink, he put aside his abortive circling round an orange. it is difficult to concentrate upon being a ramrod when every instinct in you desires to chase a swallow. she wore, when she skated, a short, black velvet skirt, white fox furs, and a white fur cap. one couldn't very well miss seeing her. it did not seem to winn as if she skated at all. she skimmed from her seat into the center of her chosen corner, and then looked about her, balanced in the air. when she began to skate he could not tell whether the band was playing or not, because he felt as if she always moved to music. she would turn at first mysteriously and doubtingly, trying her edges, with little short cuts and dashes, like a leaf blown now here and now there, pushed by a draught of air, and then some purpose seemed to catch her, and her steps grew intricate and measured. he could not take his eyes from her or remember that she was real, she looked so unsubstantial, eddying to and fro, curving and circling and swooping. there was no stiffness in her, and winn found himself ready to give up stiffness; it was terrible the amount of things he found himself ready to give up as he watched her body move like seaweed on a tide. motion and joy and music all seemed easy things, and the things that were not easy slipped out of his mind. after a time maurice would join her to practise the pair-skating. he was a clever skater, but careless, and it set winn's teeth on edge to watch how nearly he sometimes let her down. he would have let any other woman down, but claire knew him. she counted on his not being exactly where he ought to be, hovered longer on her return strokes, pushed herself more swiftly forward to meet him, or retreated to avoid his too impulsive rushes. winn was always glad when maurice, satisfied with his cursory practice, left her circling alone and unfettered like a sea-gull on a cliff. this was the time when he always made up his mind not to join her, and felt most sure that she didn't care whether he joined her or not. he had not talked with her alone since their lunch at the schatz alp nearly a week ago. every one of her hours was full, her eyes danced and laughed as usual, the secretive bloom of youth hid away from him any sign of expectation. he did not dream that every day for a week she had expected and wanted him. she couldn't herself have explained what she wanted. only her gaiety had lost its unconsciousness; she was showing that she didn't mind, she was not, now minding. it seemed so strange that just when she had felt as if they were real friends he had mysteriously kept away from her. perhaps he hadn't meant all the nice things he had said or all the nicer things he hadn't said at all, but just looked whenever her eyes met his? they did not meet his now; he always seemed to be looking at something else. other men put on her skates and found her quickest on the rink, and the other men seemed to claire like trees walking; they were no longer full of amusing possibilities. they were in the way. then one morning winn, watching her from a distance noticed that maurice didn't turn up. claire actually looked a forlorn and lonely little figure, and he couldn't make up his mind not to join her. he skated slowly up to her. "well," he said, "where's maurice? he oughtn't to be missing a good skating morning like this?" it suddenly seemed to claire as if everything was all right again. winn was there for her, just as he had been on the schatz alp; his eyes looked the same, and the intentional bruskness which he put into his voice was quite insufficient to hide its eagerness. "oh," she said, "major staines, i didn't mean to tell anybody, but i shall tell you of course. it's rather sickening, isn't it? maurice doesn't want to go in for the competition any more; he says he can't spare the time." "what!" cried winn; "look here, let's sit down and talk about it." they sat down, and the music and the sunshine spread out all round them. everything swung into a curious harmony, and left them almost nothing to be upset about. "he can't throw you over like this," winn protested. "why, it's only a fortnight off the day, and you're one of the tiptop skaters." claire did not say what she knew to be true, that people had been saying that too much to maurice, and maurice only liked praise that came his own way. "i think it's mrs. bouncing," she said dejectedly. "he's teaching her to skate, but she'll never learn. she's been up here for years, and she doesn't know her edges! it looks awfully as if he really liked her, because maurice skates quite well." "i'm afraid i've been of very little use to you about mrs. bouncing," winn said apologetically. "i thought bouncing might help us, he's quite a good chap; but i'm afraid he's too down in the mouth. still, i think i may be able to do something if things get to look really bad. don't worry about that, please. but, by jove! this skating matter _is_ serious. what are you going to do about it?" anything that stopped sport seemed to winn to be really serious; something had got to be done about it. "isn't there any one else up here not going in for it that you could lick into shape?" claire shook her head doubtfully. "they'd have to give up every bit of their time," she explained, "and virtually hardly breathe. you see, pair-skating is really very stiff. of course, if i got a new man, i'd do most of the figures; but he'd have to be there to catch me at the right times, and awfully steady on his edges, and waltz of course." "what about me?" winn asked quietly. "i'm steady on my edges, and i can waltz after a fashion, and i'd promise not to breathe for a fortnight." he looked at her, and then looked away quickly. he was a damned fool to have offered himself! how on earth was he going to stand a fortnight with her when he could barely keep himself in hand for five minutes? "oh," she said, "you!" afterward she said a good deal more, but winn only remembered the way she said "you," because her voice had sounded different, as if she had found something she had wanted to lay her hands on. of course what she really wanted was to go in for the pair-skating; it was much the most fun. they began from that moment to go in for it. winn had to speak to dr. gurnet about the skating, because four hours wasn't enough, and claire insisted upon dr. gurnet's consent. dr. gurnet had consented, though he had raised his eyebrows and said, "pair-skating?" and then he had asked who major staines had chosen for his partner. naturally winn had become extremely stiff, and said, "miss rivers," in a tone which should have put an end to the subject. "well, well!" said dr. gurnet. "and she's a woman, after all, isn't she?" winn ignored this remark. "by the by," he said, "my friend's coming out in about a fortnight--the one i told you about, captain drummond." "i remember perfectly," said dr. gurnet; "a most estimable person i understand you to say. in about a fortnight? the skating competition will just be over then, won't it? i am sure i hope you and miss rivers will both make a great success of it." the fortnight passed in a sunny flash. on the whole winn had kept himself in hand. his voice had betrayed him, his eyes had betrayed him, all his controlled and concentrated passion had betrayed him; but he hadn't said anything. he had buried his head deep in the sands and trusted like an ostrich to an infectious oblivion. he reviewed his behavior on the way to the rink the day of the international. it was an icy cold morning; the valley was wrapped in a thick blue mist. there was no sunlight yet. the tops of the mountains were a sharpened deadly white, colder than purity. as he walked toward the valley the black fir-trees on the distant heights took fire. they seemed to be lighted one by one from some swift, invisible torch, and then quicker than sight itself the sun slipped over the edge and ran in a golden flood across the mountains. the little willows by the lake-side turned apricot; the rink was very cold and only just refrozen. it was a small gray square surrounded by color. winn was quite alone in the silence and the light and the tingling bitter air. there was something in him that burned like a secret undercurrent of fire. had he played the game? what about that dumb weight on his lips when he had tried to tell claire on the schatz alp about estelle? he couldn't get it out then; but had he tried again later? had he concealed his marriage? why should he tell her anything? she wouldn't care, she was so young. couldn't he have his bit of spring, his dance of golden daffodils, and then darkness? he really thought of daffodils when he thought of claire. she wouldn't mind, because she was spring itself, and had in front of her a great succession of flowers; but these were the last he was going to have. there wouldn't be anything at all after claire, and he wasn't going to make love to her. good god! he wasn't such a beast! there had been times this last fortnight that had tried every ounce of his self-control, and he hadn't touched her. he hadn't said a word that damned yellow-necked, hen-headed chaplain's wife couldn't have heard and welcome. would many fellows have had his chances and behaved as if they were frozen barbed-wire fences? and she'd looked at him--by jove, she'd looked at him! not that she'd meant anything by it; only it had been hard to have to sit on the only decent feelings he had ever had and not let them rip. and as far as estelle was concerned, she didn't care a damn for him, and he might just as well have been a blackguard. but that wasn't quite the point, was it? blackguards hurt girls, and he hadn't set out to hurt claire. well, there was no use making any song or dance about it; he'd have to go. at first he had thought he could tell her he was married--tell her as soon as the competition was over, and stay on; but he hadn't counted on the way things grew, and he didn't think now he could tell her and then hold his tongue about what he felt. if he told her, the whole thing would be out; he couldn't keep it back. there were things you knew you could do, like going away and staying away; there were others you were a fool to try. he circled slowly over the black ice surrounded by pink flames. it made him laugh, because he might have been a creature in hell. yes, that was what hell was like, he had always known it--cold. cold and lonely, when, if you'd only had a bit of luck, you might have been up somewhere in the sunlight, not alone. he didn't feel somehow this morning as if his marriage was an obstruction; he felt as if it were a shame. it hurt him terribly that what had driven him to estelle could be called love, when love was this other feeling--the feeling that he'd like to be torn into little bits rather than fail claire. he'd be ridiculous to please her; he'd face anything, suffer anything, take anything on. and it wasn't in the least that she was lovely. he didn't think about her beauty half as much as he thought about her health and the gentle, tender ways she had with sick people. he'd watched her over and over again, when she had no idea he was anywhere near, being nice to people in ways in which winn had never dreamed before one could be nice. when people had nothing but their self-esteem left them, no attractions, no courage, no health, she'd just sit down beside them and make their self-esteem happy and comfortable. she needn't have been anything but young and gay and triumphant, but she never shirked anybody else's pain. he had puzzled over her a good deal because, as far as he could see, she hadn't the ordinary rules belonging to good people--about church, and not playing cards for money, and pulling people up. it wasn't right and wrong she was thinking of most; it was other people's feelings. he tried not to love her like that, because it made it worse. it was like loving god and peter; it mixed him all up. he couldn't see straight because everything he saw turned into love of her, and being with her seemed like being good; and it wasn't, of course, if he concealed things. the icy blue rink turned slowly into gold before he had quite made up his mind what to do. making up his mind had a good deal to do with lionel, so that he felt fairly safe about it. it was going to hurt horribly, but if it only hurt him, it couldn't be said to matter. you couldn't have a safe plan that didn't hurt somebody, and as long as it didn't hurt the person it was made for, it could be counted a success. davos began to descend upon the rink, first the best skaters--swedes, russians, and germans--and then all the world. the speed-skaters stood about in heavy fur coats down to their feet. claire came down surrounded by admirers. winn heard her laugh before he saw her, and after he had seen her he saw nothing else. she looked like one of the fir-trees when the sun had caught it; she seemed aflame with a quite peculiar radiance and joy. she flew toward winn, imitating the speed-skaters with one long swift stride of her skates. "ah," she cried, "isn't it a jolly morning? isn't everything heavenly? aren't you glad you are alive?" that was the kind of mood she was in. it was quite superfluous to ask if she was nervous. she was just about as nervous as the sun was when it ran over the mountains. "there doesn't seem to be much the matter with you this morning," said winn, eying her thoughtfully. the rink cleared at eleven and the band began to play. the judges sat in different quarters of the rink so as to get the best all-around impression of the skating. the audience, muffled up in furs, crowded half-way up the valley, as if it were a gigantic amphitheater. a polish girl, very tall and slender, with a long black pigtail, swung out upon the ice. she caught the music with a faultless steadiness and swing. her eyes were fixed on the mountains; her flexible hips and waist swung her to and fro as easily as a winter bird hovers balanced on its steady pinions. out of the crowd her partner, a huge black-bearded russian, glided toward her, caught her by the waist, lifted her, and flung her from side to side in great swirls and resounding leaps. her skirts flew about her, her pigtail swung round her in the air, her feet struck the ice firmly together like a pair of ringing castanets. the crowd shouted applause as he caught her by the wrists after a particularly dazzling plunge into the empty air, and brought her round to face them, her fixed eyes changed and shot with triumph. the dance was over. then a succession of men skaters came forward, whirling, twisting, capering with flying feet. winn watched them with more astonishment than pleasure. "like a ring of beastly slippery microbes!" he remarked to claire. "yes," she said; "but wait." half a dozen men and women came running out on the rink; with lifted feet, hand in hand, they danced like flying sunbeams. then a german pair followed the polish. both were strong, first-rate skaters, but the man was rough and selfish; he pulled his girl about, was careless of her, and in the end let her down, and half the audience hissed. swedish, norwegian, french pairs followed swiftly after. then claire rose with a quickening of her breath. "now," she said, "you!" it was curious how seldom she said major staines. winn didn't much care to do this kind of thing before foreigners. however, it was in a way rather jolly, especially when the music warmed one's blood. he swept her out easily to the center of the ice. for a time he had only to watch her. he wondered what she looked like to all the black-headed dots sitting in the sun and gazing. in his heart there was nothing left to which he could compare her. she turned her head a little, curving and swooping toward him, and then sprang straight into the air. he had her fast for a moment; her hands were in his, her eyes laughed at his easy strength, and again she shot away from him. now he had to follow her, in and out, to the sound of the music; at first he thought of the steps, but he soon stopped thinking. something had happened which made it quite unnecessary to think. [illustration: in his heart there was nothing left to which he could compare her] he was reading everything she knew out of his own heart; she had got into him somehow, so that he had no need to watch for his cue. wherever she wanted him he was; whenever she needed the touch of his hand or his steadiness it was ready for her. they were like the music and words of a song, or like a leaf and the dancing air it rests upon. they were no longer two beings; they had slipped superbly, intolerably into one; they couldn't go wrong; they couldn't make a mistake. where she led he followed, indissolubly a part of her. they swung together for the final salute. it seemed to winn that her heart--her happy, swift-beating, exultant heart--was in his breast, and then suddenly, violently he remembered that she wasn't his, that he had no right to touch her. he moved away from her, leaving her, a little bewildered, to bow alone to the great cheering mass of people. she found him afterward far back in the crowd, with a white face and inscrutable eyes. "you must come and see the speed-skaters," she urged, with her hand on his arm. "it's the thing i told you about most. and i believe we've won the second prize. the russian and pole have got the first, of course; they were absolutely perfect, but we were rather good. why did you rush off, and what are you looking like that for? is anything the matter? you're not--" her voice faltered suddenly--"you're not angry, are you?" "no, i'm not angry," said winn, recklessly, "and nothing's the matter, and i'll go wherever you want and see what you want and do what you want, and i ran away because i was a damned fool and hate a fuss. and i see you're going to ask me if i liked it awfully. yes, i did; i liked it awfully. now are you satisfied?" he still hadn't said anything, he thought, that mattered. "oh, yes," she said slowly, "of course i'm satisfied. i'm glad you liked it awfully; i liked it awfully myself." chapter xvi the valley of the dischmatal lies between two rather shapeless mountains; it leads nowhere, and there is nothing in it. winn gave no reason for his wish to walk there with lionel except that it was a quiet place for a talk. they had been together for twenty-four hours and so far they had had no talk. lionel had expected to find a change in winn; he had braced himself to meet the shock of seeing the strongest man he knew pitilessly weakened under an insidious disease. he had found a change, but not the one he expected. winn looked younger, more alert, and considerably more vigorous. there was a curious excitement in his eyes which might have passed for happiness if he had not been so restless. he was glad to see lionel, but that wasn't enough to account for it. winn looked ten years younger and he had something up his sleeve. lionel had his own theory as to what that something might be, but he wouldn't have expected it to make winn look younger. he couldn't help being afraid that winn had found out estelle. there had always been the chance that he might never find her out; he was neither reflective nor analytical, and lionel was both. winn might have been content simply to accept her as lovely and delightful, an ideal wife--not a companion, but a beautiful, fluttering creature to be supplied with everything it wanted. if he had done that he wouldn't have waked up to the fact that the creature gave him nothing whatever back--beyond preening its feathers and forbearing to peck. lionel respected and loved women, so that he could afford to feel a certain contempt for estelle, but he had always feared winn's feeling any such emotion. winn would condemn estelle first and bundle her whole sex after her. lionel hardly dared to ask him, as he did at last on their way through dorf, what news he had of his wife. "what news of estelle?" winn asked indifferently. "none particularly. she doesn't like peter's language. my people seem to have taken to him rather, and i hear he's picked up parts of the governor's vocabulary. it'll be jolly hearing him talk; he couldn't when i left. estelle's taken up religion. it's funny, my mother said she would, before we were married. my mother's got a pretty strong head; estelle hasn't, she was keen about the tango when i left; but i dare say religion's better for her; hers is the high church kind. up there is the valley--funny sort of place; it'll remind you of the hills--that's one reason why i brought you out here--that and the hotel being like a fly paper. davos is like all the places where our sort of people go--fashion or disease--it don't matter a penny which--they're all over the place itself, in and out of each other's pockets, and yet get a mile or two out and nobody's in sight. funny how people like each other. i don't like 'em, you know. i hate 'em." in the early february afternoon the valley lay before them singularly still and white. there were no fir-trees on the sides of the abrupt snow slopes, and it took winn some time to rediscover a faint pathway half blotted out by recent snow. a few minutes later the road behind them vanished, everything dropped away from them but the snow, and the low gray skies. a tiny wind slipped along the valley; it was strange not to see it, for it felt like the push of a presence, in the breathless solitude. a long way off lionel could hear a faint noise like the sound of some one choking. it reminded him of the sound behind the green baize doors in the hotel. it was just such a sound, suppressed, faint, but quite audible, that he heard along the passages at night. he looked questioningly at winn. "that's a waterfall," said winn; "most of it's frozen up but it leaks through a little. there's a story about this place--i didn't mention it to you before, did i?" lionel shook his head. winn was not in the habit of telling him stories about places. he had informed lionel on one occasion some years ago, that he thought legends too fanciful, unless they were in the bible, which was probably true, and none of our business. but lionel had already wondered if this change in winn wasn't on the whole making him more fanciful. "i dare say," winn began, "there's not a word of truth in it, and it's perfectly pointless besides; still it's a queer place, this valley, and what's particularly odd is, that though you can find it easily enough sometimes, there are days when i'm blessed if it's there at all! anyhow i've gone wrong times out of number when i've looked for it, and you know i don't usually go wrong about finding places. this is the middle one of three valleys, count 'em backwards or forwards, whichever way you like--but i give you my word, after you've passed the first, and take the second turn, you'll find yourself in the third valley--or take it the other way, you'll be in the first. it's made me jumpy before now, looking for it. however, that hasn't anything to do with the story, such as it is. "they say that on new year's eve, all the dead that have died in davos (there must be a jolly lot of 'em when you come to think of it) process through the valley to the waterfall. what their object is, of course, the story doesn't mention--ghosts, as far as i can see, never have much object, except to make you sit up; but they set out anyhow, scores and scores of 'em. "if it happens to be moonlight, you can see them slipping over the snow, making for the waterfall as fast as they can hoof it, but none of them look back--and if they were all your dearest friends you couldn't catch a glimpse of their faces--unless, i suppose, you had the gumption to start off by sitting up at the waterfall and waiting for 'em--which nobody has, of course. the point of the story, if you can call it a point, is that the last man in the procession isn't dead at all. he's a sort of false spook of the living--taking his first turn in with them--because as sure as fate he dies before the next year's out, and when the other chaps have reached the waterfall, he stops short and looks back toward davos--that's how he's been spotted, and he's always died all right before the end of the year. rum tale, isn't it?" "how did you get hold of it?" lionel asked curiously. "it's not much in your line, is it?" "well--i don't know," said winn, taking out his pipe and preparing to light it. "the last six months or so, i've thought a lot of funny things. i came up here prepared to die; that's to say, i thought i'd got to, which is as far as you can prepare for most things, but i'm not going to die, as i told you yesterday, but what i didn't mention to you then was that, on the whole, as it happens now, i'd jolly well rather." "you mean," said lionel, "that it's got too thick between you and estelle? i wish you'd tell me, old chap. i haven't an idea how it stands, but i've been afraid ever since i stayed with you, that you'd made a bit of a mistake over your marriage?" "as far as that goes," said winn, "i swallowed that down all right. it's no use bothering about a thing that isn't there. it's what is that counts. it counts damnably, i can tell you that. look here, have you ever had any ideas about love?" "i can't say that i have," lionel admitted cautiously. "many. i dare say i should like it if it came; and i've had fancies for girls, of course, but nothing so far i couldn't walk off, not what people call the real thing, i suppose. i've always liked women more than you have, and i don't think you get let in so much if you honestly like 'em. i haven't seen any one i particularly want to marry yet, if that's what you mean?" "that's part of it," agreed winn. "i supposed you'd been like that. i shouldn't wonder if what you say about liking 'em being safer, isn't true. i never liked 'em. i've taken what i could get when i wanted it. i rather wish i hadn't now, but i can't say i was ever sorry before. even--estelle--well, i don't want to be nasty about her--but it was only different, i can see that now, because i knew i couldn't get what i wanted without marrying her--still--i somehow think i'd made a kind of a start that time--only i got pulled up too short. i dare say i quite deserved it. that's no way of liking a woman. when you do _really_, you know all the rest's been half twaddle and half greed. your father and mother are all right--so are mine really, though they do blow each other's heads off--still, there's something there--you know what i mean?" "something indestructible and uniting--" said lionel quietly. "i've often wondered about it." "well, i've never wondered about it," said winn, firmly, "and i'm not going to begin now. still, i admit it's there. what i'm getting at is that there's something i want you to do for me. you'll probably think i'm mad, but i can't help that. it'll work out all right in the end, if you'll do it." "you can ask me anything you like," said lionel, quietly; "any damned thing. i don't suppose i'll refuse to do it." the water broke into a prolonged gurgle under their feet; it sounded uncannily like some derisive listener. there was nothing in sight at all--not even their shadows on the unlighted snows. "well--there's a girl here," winn said in a low voice; "it's not very easy to explain. i haven't told her about estelle; i meant to, but i couldn't. i'm afraid you'll think i haven't played the game, but i haven't made love to her; only i can't stay any longer; i've got to clear out." lionel nodded. "all right," he said; "let's go wherever you like; there are plenty of other snow places jollier than this." "that isn't what i want," said winn. "i want you to stay with her. i want you to marry her eventually--d' you see? it's quite simple, really." "by jove," said lionel, thoughtfully; "simple, d' you call it? as simple as taking a header into the mid-atlantic! and what good would it do you, my dear old chap, if i did? it wouldn't be you that had got her?" "i dare say not," said winn; "you don't see my point. she'd be all right with you. what i want for the girl is for her to be taken care of. she hasn't any people to speak of, and she's up here now with a rotten, unlicked cub of a brother. i fancy she's the kind of girl that would have a pretty hideous time with the wrong man. i've got to know she's being looked after. d' you see?" "but why should she marry?" lionel persisted. "isn't she all right as she is? what do you want to marry her off for?" "there'll be a man sooner or later," winn explained. "there always is, and she's--well, i didn't believe girls were innocent before. by god, when they are, it makes you sit up! i couldn't run the risk of leaving her alone, and that's flat! it's like chucking matches to a child and turning your back on it. "for after all, if a man cares about a girl the way i care about her, he does chuck her matches. when i go--some one decent ought to be there to take my place." "but there isn't the slightest chance she'll like me, even if i happened to like her," lionel protested. "honestly, winn, you haven't thought the thing out properly. you can't stick people about in each other's places--they don't fit." "they can be made to," said winn, inexorably, "if they're the proper people. she'll like you to start with, besides you read--authors. so does she--she's awfully clever, she doesn't think anything of marie corelli; and she likes a man. as to your taking to her--well, my dear chap, you haven't seen her! i give you a week; i'll hang about till then. you can tell me your decision at the end of it." "that's another thing," said lionel. "of course you only care for the girl, i see that, it's quite natural, but if by any chance i did pull the thing off--what's going to happen to you and me, afterwards? i've cared for that most, always." a föhn wind had begun to blow up the valley--it brought with it a curious light that lay upon the snow like red dust. "i don't say i shall like it," winn said after a pause. "i'm not out to like it. there isn't anything in the whole damned job possible for me to like. but i'd a lot rather have it than any other way. i think that ought to show you what i think of you. you needn't be afraid i'll chuck you for seeing me through. i might keep away for a time, but i'd come back. she isn't the kind of a woman that makes a difference between friends." "oh, all right," said lionel after a pause, "i'll go in for it--if i can." winn got up and replaced his pipe carefully, shaking his ashes out on to the snow. "i'm sure i'm much obliged to you," he said stiffly. the wind ran up the valley with a sound like a flying train. neither of them spoke while the gust lasted. it fell as suddenly as it came, and the valley shrank back into its pall of silence. it was so solitary that it seemed to lionel as if, at times, it might easily have no existence. lionel walked a little in front of winn; the snow was soft and made heavy going. at the corner of the valley he turned to wait for winn, and then he remembered the fanciful legend of new year's eve, for he saw winn's face very set and white, and his eyes looked as if the presence of death was in them--turned toward davos. chapter xvii winn was under the impression that he could stand two or three days, especially if he had something practical to do. what helped him was the condition of mr. bouncing. mr. bouncing had suddenly retired. he had a bedroom on the other side of winn's, and a sitting-room connected it with his wife's; but mrs. bouncing failed increasingly to take much advantage of this connection. her theory was that, once you were in bed, you were better left alone. mr. bouncing refused to have a nurse; he said they were disagreeable women who wouldn't let you take your own temperature. this might have seemed to involve the services of mrs. bouncing; but they were taken up for the moment by a bridge drive. "people do seem to want me so!" she explained plaintively to winn in the corridor. "and i have a feeling, you know, major staines, that in a hotel like this it's one's duty to make things go." "some things go without much making," said winn, significantly. he was under the impression that one of these things was mr. bouncing. winn made it his business, since it appeared to be nobody else's, to keep an eye on mr. bouncing: in the daytime he sat with him and ran his errands; at night he came in once or twice and heated things for mr. bouncing on a spirit lamp. mr. bouncing gave him minute directions, and scolded him for leaving milk exposed to the menaces of the air and doing dangerous things with a teaspoon. nevertheless, he valued winn's company. "you see," he explained to winn, "when you can't sleep, you keep coming up to the point of dying. it's very odd, the point of dying, a kind of collapsishness that won't collapse. you say to yourself, 'i can't feel any colder than this,' or, 'i must have more breath,' or, 'this lung is bound to go if i cough much more.' and the funny part of it is, you do go on getting colder, and your breath breaks like a rotten thread, and you never stop coughing, and yet you don't go! i dare say i shall be quite surprised when i do. then when you come in and give me warm, dry sheets and something hot to drink, something comes back. i suppose it's life force; but not much--never as much as when i started the collapse. i'm getting weaker every hour; don't you notice it? i never approved of all this lying in bed. i shall speak to dr. gurnet about it to-morrow." winn had noticed it; he came and sat down by mr. bouncing's bed. "snowy weather," he suggested, "takes the life out of you." mr. bouncing ignored this theory. "i hear," he went on, "that you and your new friend have changed your table. you don't sit with the rivers any more." "no," said winn, laconically; "table isn't big enough." "i expect they eat too fast," mr. bouncing continued; "young people almost always eat too fast. you'll digest better at another table. you look to me as if you had indigestion now." winn shook his head. "look here, bouncing," he said earnestly, "i'm going off to st. moritz next week to have a look at the cresta; i wish you'd have a nurse. drummond will run in and give an eye to you, of course; but you're pretty seedy, and that's a fact. i don't like leaving you alone." "next week," said mr. bouncing, thoughtfully. "well, i dare say i shall be ready by then. it would be a pity, when i've just got you into the way of doing things properly, to have to teach them all over again to somebody else. i'm really not quite strong enough for that kind of thing. but i'm not going to have a nurse. oh, dear, no! nurses deceive you and cheer you up. i don't feel well enough to be cheered up. i like somebody who is thoroughly depressed himself, as you are, you know. i dare say you think i notice nothing lying here, but i've noticed that you're thoroughly depressed. have you quarreled with your friend? it's odd you rush off to st. moritz alone just when he's arrived." "no, it isn't," said winn, hastily. "he'll join me later; he's staying here at my request." mr. bouncing sighed gently. "well," he said; "then all i can say is that you make very odd requests. one thing i'm perfectly sure about: if you go and look at the cresta, you'll go down it, you're such a careless man, and then you'll be killed. is that what you want?" "i could do with it," said winn, briefly. "that," said mr. bouncing, "is because you're strong. it really isn't nice to talk in that light way about being killed to any one who has got to be before very long whether he likes it or not. if you were in my place you'd value your life, unless it got too uncomfortable, of course." winn apologized instantly. mr. bouncing accepted his apology graciously. "you'll learn," he explained kindly, "how to talk to very ill people in time, and then probably you'll never see any more of them. experience is a very silly thing, i've often noticed; it hops about so. no continuity. what i was going to say was, don't be worried about young rivers and my wife. take my word for it, you're making a great mistake." "i am glad to hear you say so," winn answered. "as a matter of fact, i have at present a few little private worries of my own; but i'm relieved, you think the rivers boy is all right. i've been thinking of having a little talk with that tutor of his." "ah, i shouldn't do that if i were you," said mr. bouncing, urgently; "you're sure to be violent. i see you have a great deal of violence in you; you ought to control it. it's bad for your nerves. there are things i could tell you which would make you change your mind about young rivers, but i don't know that i shall; it would excite me too much. i think i should like you to go down and telephone to dr. gurnet. tell him my temperature is normal. it's a very odd thing; i haven't had a normal temperature for over three years. perhaps i'm going to get better, after all. it's really only my breathing that's troubling me to-night. it would be funny if i got well, wouldn't it? but i mustn't talk any more; so don't come back until i knock in the night. pass me the 'pink 'un.'" winn passed him the "pink 'un" and raised him with one deft, strong movement more comfortably up on his pillows. "you've got quite a knack for this sort of thing," mr. bouncing observed. "if you'd been a clever man, you might have been a doctor." mr. bouncing did not knock during the night. winn heard him stirring at ten o'clock, and went in. the final change had come very quickly. mr. bouncing was choking. he waved his hand as if the very appearance of winn between him and the open balcony door kept away from him the air that he was vainly trying to breathe. then a rush of blood came in a stream between his lips. winn moved quickly behind him and lifted him in his arms. mr. bouncing was no weight at all, and he made very little sound. he was quite conscious, and the look in his eyes was more interested than alarmed. the rush of bleeding stopped suddenly; his breathing was weaker and quieter, but he no longer choked. "look here, old man," winn said, "let me get your wife." but mr. bouncing signaled to him not to move; after a time he whispered: "this is the first time i ever had hemorrhage. most uncomfortable." "do let me get your wife!" winn urged again. "no," said mr. bouncing. "women--not much good--after the first." "don't talk any more then, old man," winn pleaded. "you'll start that bleeding off again." but mr. bouncing made a faint clicking sound that might have been a laugh. "too late," he whispered. "don't matter now. no more risks. besides, i'm too--too uncomfortable to live." there were several pauses in the hemorrhage, and at each pause mr. bouncing's mind came back to him as clear as glass. he spoke at intervals. "not rivers," he said, fixing winn's eyes, "roper--roper." then he leaned back on the strong shoulder supporting him. "glad to go," he murmured. "life has been--a damned nuisance. i've had--enough of it." then again, between broken, flying breaths he whispered, "lonely." "that's all right," winn said gently. "you're not alone now. i've got hold of you." "no," whispered mr. bouncing, "no, i don't think you have." there was no more violence now; his failing breath shook him hardly at all. even as he spoke, something in him was suddenly freed; his chest rose slowly, his arm lifted then fell back, and winn saw that he was no longer holding mr. bouncing. chapter xviii he closed the balcony door; the cold air filled the room as if it were still trying to come to the rescue of mr. bouncing. winn had often done the last offices for the dead before, but always out of doors. mr. bouncing would have thought that a very careless way to die; he had often told winn that he thought nature most unpleasant. when winn had set the room in order he sat down by the table and wondered if it would be wrong to smoke a cigarette. he wanted to smoke, but he came to the conclusion that it wasn't quite the thing. to-night was the ball for the international skaters--he ought to have been there, of course. he had made lionel go in his place, and had written a stiff little note to claire, asking her to give his dances to his friend. he had claire's answer in his pocket. "of course i will, but i'm awfully disappointed." she had spelled disappointed with two s's and one p. win had crushed the note into his pocket and not looked at it since, but he took it out now. it wasn't like smoking a cigarette. bouncing wouldn't mind. there was no use making a fuss about it; he had done the best thing for her. he was handing all that immaculate, fresh youth into a keeping worthy of it. he wasn't fit himself. there were too many things he couldn't tell her, there was too much in him still that might upset and shock her. he would have done his best, of course, to have taken care of her; but better men could take better care. lionel had said nothing so far; he had taken claire skiing and skating, and once down the schatz alp. when he had come back from the schatz alp he had gone a long walk by himself. winn had offered to accompany him, but lionel had said he wanted to go alone and think. winn accepted this decision without question. he knew lionel was a clever man, but he didn't himself see anything to think about. the thing was perfectly simple: lionel liked claire or he didn't; no amount of being clever could make any difference. winn was a little suspicious of thinking. it seemed to him rather like a way of getting out of things. the room was very cold, but winn didn't like going away and leaving mr. bouncing. by the by he heard voices in the next room. he could distinguish the high, flat giggle of mrs. bouncing. she had come back from the dance, probably with young rivers. he must go in and tell her. that was the next thing to be done. he got up, shook himself, glanced at the appeased and peaceful young face upon the pillow, and walked into the next room. it was a sitting-room, and winn had not knocked; but he shut the door instantly after him, and then stood in front of it, as if in some way to keep the silent tenant of the room behind him from seeing what he saw. mrs. bouncing was in a young man's arms receiving a prolonged farewell. it wasn't young rivers, and it was an accustomed kiss. mrs. bouncing screamed. she was the kind of woman who found a scream in an emergency as easily as a sailor finds a rope. it wasn't winn's place to say, "what the devil are you doing here, sir?" to mr. roper; it was the question which, if mr. roper had had the slightest presence of mind, he would have addressed to winn. as it was he did nothing but snarl--a timid and ineffectual snarl which was without influence upon the situation. "you'd better clear out," winn continued; "but if i see you in davos after the eight o'clock express to-morrow i shall give myself the pleasure of breaking every bone in your body. any one's at liberty to play a game, mr. roper, but not a double game; and in the future i really wouldn't suggest your choosing a dying man's wife to play it with. it's the kind of thing that awfully ruffles his friends." "i don't know what you mean," said mr. roper, hastily edging toward the door; "your language is most uncalled for. and as to going away, i shall do nothing of the kind." "better think it over," said winn, with misleading calm. he moved forward as he spoke, seized mr. roper by the back of his coat as if he were some kind of boneless mechanical toy, and deposited him in the passage outside the door. mrs. bouncing screamed again. this time it was a shrill and gratified scream. she felt herself to be the heroine of an occasion. winn eyed her as a hostile big dog eyes one beneath his fighting powers. then he said: "i shouldn't make that noise if i were you; it's out of place. i came here to give you bad news." this time mrs. bouncing didn't scream. she took hold of the edge of the table and repeated three times in a strange, expressionless voice: "george is dead! george is dead! george is dead!" winn thought she was going to faint, but she didn't. she held on to the table. "what ought i to do, major staines?" she asked in a quavering voice. winn considered the question gravely. it was a little late in the day for mrs. bouncing to start what she ought to do, but he approved of her determination. "i think," he said at last--"i think you ought to go in and look at him. it's usual." "oh, dear!" said mrs. bouncing, with a shiver, "i never have seen a corpse!" winn escorted her to the bedside and then turned away from her. she looked down at her dead husband. mr. bouncing had no anxiety in his face at all now; he looked incredibly contented and young. "i--i suppose he really is gone?" said mrs. bouncing in a low voice. then she moved waveringly over to a big armchair. "there is no doubt about it at all," said winn. "i didn't ring up gurnet. he will come in any case first thing to-morrow morning." mrs. bouncing moved her beringed hands nervously, and then suddenly began to cry. she cried quietly into her pocket-handkerchief, with her shoulders shaking. "i wish things hadn't happened!" she sobbed. "oh, dear! i wish things hadn't happened!" she did not refer to the death of mr. bouncing. winn said nothing. "i really didn't mean any harm," mrs. bouncing went on between her sobs--"not at first. you know how things run on; and he'd been ill seven years, and one does like a little bit of fun, doesn't one?" "i shouldn't think about all that now," winn replied. "it isn't suitable." mrs. bouncing shook her head and sobbed louder; sobbing seemed a refuge from suitability. "i wouldn't have minded," she said brokenly, "if i'd heated his milk. i always thought he was so silly about having skin on it. i didn't believe when he came up-stairs it was because he was really worse. i wanted the sitting-room to myself. oh dear! oh dear! i said it was all nonsense! and he said, 'never mind, millie; it won't be for long,' and i thought he meant he'd get down-stairs again. and he didn't; he meant this!" winn cleared his throat. "i don't think he blamed you," he said, "as much as i did." mrs. bouncing was roused by this into a sudden sense of her position. "oh," she said, "what are you going to do to me? you've always hated me. i'm sure i don't know why; i took quite a fancy to you that first evening. i always have liked military men, but you're so stand-offish; and now, of course, goodness knows what you'll think! if poor old george were alive he'd stand up for me!" "i'm not going to do anything to hurt you, mrs. bouncing," said winn, after a short pause. "you'll stay on here, of course, till after the funeral. we shall do all we can to help you, and then you'll go back to england, won't you?" "yes," she said, shivering, "i suppose so. i shall go back to england. i shall have to see george's people. they don't like me. will--will that be all?" "as far as i am concerned," said winn, more gently, "there is only one thing further i have to suggest. i should like you to promise me, when you leave here, to have nothing more to do with young rivers. it's better not; it puts him off his work." mrs. bouncing reddened. "oh," she said, "i know; i didn't mean any harm by that. you can't help young men taking a fancy to you, can you? at least i can't. it looked better didn't it, in a way--you know what i mean. i didn't want people to think anything. if only george hadn't been so good to me! i don't suppose you can understand, but it makes it worse when they are." it seemed to winn as if he could understand, but he didn't say so. bouncing should have pulled her up. winn always believed in people being pulled up. the difficulty lay in knowing how to carry the process out. it had seemed to mr. bouncing simpler to die. "you'd better go to bed now," winn said at last. "people will be up soon. he died quite peacefully. he didn't want you to be disturbed. i think that's all, mrs. bouncing." she got up and went again to the bed. "i suppose i oughtn't to kiss him?" she whispered. "i haven't any right to now, have i? you know what i mean? but i would have liked to kiss him." "oh, i don't believe he'd mind," said winn, turning away. mrs. bouncing kissed him. chapter xix winn felt no desire to go to bed. he went out into the long, blank corridor and wondered if the servants would be up soon and he could get anything to drink. the passage was intensely still; it stretched interminably away from him like a long, unlighted road. a vague gray light came from the windows at each end. it was too early for the shapes of the mountains to be seen. the outside world was featureless and very cold. there was no sound in the house except the faint sound behind the green baize doors, which never wholly ceased. winn had always listened to it before with an impatient distaste; he had hated to hear these echoes of dissolution. this morning, for the first time, he felt curious. suppose things had gone differently; that he'd been too late, and known his fate? he could have stayed on then; he could have accepted claire's beautiful young friendliness. he could have left her free; and yet he could have seen her every day; then he would have died. weakness has privileges. it escapes responsibility; allowances are made for it. it hasn't got to get up and go, tearing itself to pieces from the roots. he could have told her about peter and estelle and what a fool he had been; and at the end, he supposed, it wouldn't have mattered if he had just mentioned that he loved her. now there wasn't going to be any end. life would stretch out narrow, interminable, and dark, like the passage with the windows at each end, which were only a kind of blur without any light. however, of course there was no use bothering about it; since the servants weren't up and he couldn't get any coffee, he must just turn in. it suddenly occurred to winn that what he was feeling now was unhappiness, a funny thing; he had never really felt before. it was the kind of feeling the man had had, under the lamp-post at the station, carrying his dying wife. the idea of a broken heart had always seemed to winn namby-pamby. you broke if you were weak; you didn't break if you were strong. what was happening now was that he was strong and he was being broken. it was a painful process, because there was a good deal of him to break, and it had only just begun. however, this was mercifully hidden from him. he said to himself: "i dare say i'm run down and fidgety with having had to sit up with bouncing. i shall feel all right to-morrow." then the door behind him opened, and lionel joined him. he was still dressed as he had been when he came back from the ball some hours earlier. "hullo!" he said. "i wondered if that was you; i thought i heard something stirring outside. you weren't in your room when i came in. been with bouncing?" "yes," said winn; "he's dead. i'm looking for some coffee. these confounded, tow-headed swiss mules never get up at any decent hour. why are you still dressed? nothing wrong, is there?" "well, i didn't feel particularly sleepy, somehow," lionel acknowledged. "are you going to stand outside in this moth-eaten passage the rest of the night, or will you come in with me and have a whisky and soda? you must be fagged out." "i don't mind if i do," winn agreed. "we may as well make a night of it." for a few minutes neither of them spoke, then winn said: "had a jolly dance?" lionel did not answer him directly; but he turned round, and met his friend's eyes with his usual unswerving honesty. "look here, old winn," he said, "it's up to you to decide now. i'll stay on here or go with you, whichever you like." "you like her, then?" winn asked quickly. "yes," said lionel, "i like her." "well, then, you'll stay of course," said winn without any hesitation. "isn't that what we damned well settled?" lionel's eyes had changed. they were full of a new light; he looked as if some one had lit a lantern within him. love had come to him not as it had come to winn, bitterly, unavailingly, without illusion; it had fallen upon his free heart and lit it from end to end with joy. he loved as a man loves whose heart is clean and who has never loved before, without a scruple and without restraint. love had made no claims on him yet; it had not offered him either its disappointments or its great rewards. he was transformed without being altered. he simply saw everything as glorious which before had been plain, but he did not see different things. "yes," he said, "i know we talked about it; but i'm hanged if i'll try unless i'm sure you are absolutely keen. i thought it all out after--after i'd seen her, and it seemed to me all very well in the abstract giving her up to another man and all that, but when it came to the point, would you be really sure to want me to carry through? i've seen her now, you know, and i'm glad i've seen her. i'll be glad always for that, but it needn't go any further." winn looked past him; he was tired with the long night's strain, and he had no white ideal to be a rapture in his heart. he loved claire not because she was perfection, but because she was herself. she was faultless to lionel, but winn didn't care whether she was faultless or not. he didn't expect perfection or even want it, and he wasn't the man to be satisfied with an ideal; but he wanted, as few men have ever wanted for any women, that claire should be happy and safe. "i've told you once," he said; "you might know i shouldn't change. i've got one or two little jobs to see to about bouncing's funeral. that woman's half a little cat and half an abject fool. still, you can't help feeling a bit sorry for her. i dare say i can get things done by lunch-time; then i'll drive over the fluella. i'll put up at the kulm; but don't bother to write till you've got something settled. i'm not going to mess about saying good-by to people. you can tell miss rivers when i'm gone." "look here," lionel urged, "you can't do that; you must say good-by to her properly. she was awfully sick at your not turning up at the ball. after all, you know, you've seen a lot of her, and she particularly likes you. you can't jump off into space, as if you were that old chap in the bible without any beginning or any end!" winn stuck his hands in his pockets and looked immovably obstinate. "i'm damned if i do," he replied. "why should i? what's the use of saying good-by? the proper thing to do when you're going away is to go. you needn't linger, mewing about like somebody's pet kitten." lionel poured out the whiskey before replying, and pushed a glass in winn's direction; then he said: "don't be a fool, old chap; you'll have to say good-by to her. you don't want to hurt her feelings." "what's it to you whether i hurt her feelings or not?" winn asked savagely. there was a moment's sharp tension. it dropped at the tone of lionel's quiet voice. "it's a great deal to me," he said steadily; "but i know it's not half as much to me as it is to you, old winn." "oh, all right," said winn after a short pause. "i suppose i'll say it if you think i ought to. only stand by if you happen to be anywhere about. by the by, i hope i shall have some kind of a scrap with roper before the morning's over. i shall enjoy that. infernal little beast, i caught him out last night. i can't tell you how; but unless he's off by the eight o'clock to-morrow, he's in for punishment." lionel laughed. "all right," he said; "don't murder him. i'm going to turn in now. sorry about bouncing. did he have a bad time, poor chap?" "no," said winn, "not really. he had a jolly sight harder time living; and yet i believe he'd have swopped with me at the end. funny how little we know what the other fellow feels!" "we can get an idea sometimes," lionel said in a queer voice, with his back to his friend. winn hastened to the door of his room. he knew that lionel had an idea. he said, as he half closed the door on himself: "thanks awfully for the whiskey." chapter xx unfortunately, winn was not permitted the pleasure of punishing mr. roper in the morning. mr. roper thought the matter over for the greater part of an unpleasantly short night. he knew that he could prepare a perfect case, he could easily clear himself to his pupil, he could stand by his guns, and probably even succeed in making mrs. bouncing stand by hers; but he didn't want to be thrashed. whatever else happened, he knew that he could not get out of this. winn meant to thrash him, and winn would thrash him. people like winn could not be manipulated; they could only be avoided. they weren't afraid of being arrested, and they didn't care anything about being fined. they damned the consequences of their ferocious acts; and if you happened to be one of the consequences and had a constitutional shrinking from being damned, it was wiser to pack early and be off by an eight o'clock train. winn was extremely disappointed at this decision; it robbed him of something which, as he thought, would have cleared the air. however, he spent a busy morning in assisting mrs. bouncing. she was querulous and tearful and wanted better dressmakers and a more becoming kind of mourning than it was easy to procure in davos. it seemed to winn as if she was under the impression that mourning was more important to a funeral than a coffin; but when it came to the coffin, she had terrible ideas about lilies embroidered in silver, which upset winn very much. mr. bouncing had always objected to lilies. he considered that their heavy scent was rather dangerous. mrs. bouncing told winn what everybody in the hotel had suggested, and appeared to expect him to combine and carry out all their suggestions, with several other contradictory ones of her own. during this crisis maurice rivers markedly avoided mrs. bouncing. he felt as if she might have prevented mr. bouncing's death just then. it was a failure of tact. he didn't like the idea of death, and he had always rather counted oh the presence of mr. bouncing. he was afraid he might, with mr. bouncing removed, have gone a little too far. he explained his position to winn, whom he met on one of his many errands. "one doesn't want to let oneself in for anything, you know," he asserted. "i'm sure, as a man of the world, you'd advise me to keep out of it, wouldn't you? it's different for you, of course; you were poor bouncing's friend." winn, whose temper was extremely ruffled, gave him a formidable glance. "you get into things a bit too soon, my boy," he replied coldly, "and get out of 'em a bit too late." "oh, come, you know," said maurice, jauntily, "i'm not responsible for poor old bouncing's death, am i?" "i don't say you are," winn continued, without looking any pleasanter. "bouncing had to die, and a jolly good thing for him it was when it came off; his life wasn't worth a row of pins. but i wasn't talking about him; i was talking about her. if you really want my advice, i'll tell you plainly that if you want to go the pace, choose women one doesn't marry, don't monkey about with the more or less respectable ones who have a right to expect you to play the game. it's not done, and it's beastly unfair. d' you see my point?" maurice wondered if he should be thoroughly angry or not. suddenly it occurred to him that winn was waiting, and that he had better see his point and not be thoroughly angry. "yes, i dare say i did go a little far," he admitted, throwing out a manly chest; "but between you and me, staines, should you say our friend mrs. b. _was_ respectable or not?" "she isn't my friend," said winn, grimly; "but as she ought to be yours, i'll trouble you to keep your questions to yourself." the idea of being angry having apparently been taken out of maurice's hands, he made haste to disappear into the hotel. winn walked on into the village. it was the last time he intended to go there. there was nothing peculiarly touching about the flat, long road, with the rink beneath it and the mountains above. the houses and shops, german pensions and crowded balconies had no particular charm. even the tall, thin spire of the church lacked distinction; and yet it seemed to winn that it would be difficult to forget. he stopped at the rink as he returned to pick up his skates. he told himself that he was fortunate when he discovered claire, with lionel on one side of her and ponsonby on the other; he had wanted the help of an audience; now he was going to have one. claire saw him before the others did, and skated swiftly across to him. "but why don't you put your skates on?" she said, pointing to them in his hand. "you're not much good there, you know, on the bank." "i'm not much good anywhere, as far as that goes," said winn, quickly, before the others came up. then he said in a different voice, "i hope you enjoyed your dance last night." claire paused the briefest moment before she answered him; it was as if she were trying quickly to change the key in which she spoke in order to meet his wishes, and as if she did not want to change the key. "yes, i did," she said, "most awfully. it was a heavenly dance. i was so sorry you couldn't come, but captain drummond told me why." winn confounded lionel under his breath for not holding his tongue; but he felt a warmth stir in his heart at the knowledge that, no matter what was at stake, lionel would not suffer the shadow of blame to attach itself to him. it had been one of winn's calculations that claire would be annoyed at his disappointing her and think the less of him because she was annoyed. he was not a clever calculator. "of course i understood," claire went on; "you had to be with poor mr. bouncing. it was just like you to stay with him." she had said a good deal, considering that mr. ponsonby and lionel were there. still, winn did not misunderstand her. of course she meant nothing. "well," he said, holding out his hand, "i'm extremely glad, miss rivers, to have run across you like this, because i'm off this afternoon to st. moritz. i want to have a look at the cresta." claire ignored his outstretched hand. "oh," she cried a little breathlessly, "you're not going away, are you? but you'll come back again, of course?" "i hope so, i'm sure, some day or other," said winn. then he turned to ponsonby. "have you been down the cresta?" he asked. mr. ponsonby shook his head. "not from church leap," he replied. "i've got too much respect for my bones. it's awfully tricky; i've gone down from below it. you don't get such a speed on then." "oh, major staines, you won't toboggan?" claire cried out. "you know you mustn't toboggan! dr. gurnet said you mustn't. you won't, will you? captain drummond, aren't you going with him to stop him?" lionel laughed. "he isn't a very easy person to stop," he answered her. "i'll join him later on, of course; but i want to see a little more of davos before i go." "there isn't the slightest danger," winn remarked, without meeting claire's eyes. "the cresta's as safe as a church hassock. there isn't half the skill in tobogganing that there is in skating. good-by, miss rivers. i never enjoyed anything as much as i enjoyed our skating competition. i'm most grateful to you for putting up with me." claire gave him her hand then, but winn remembered afterward that she never said good-by. she looked at him as if he had done something which was not fair. chapter xxi winn's chief objection to st. moritz was the shabby way in which it imitated davos. it had all the same materials--endless snows, forests of fir-trees, soaring peaks and the serene blueness of the skies--and yet as davos it didn't in the least come off. it was more beautiful and less definite; the peaks were nearer and higher; they streamed out around the valley like an army with banners. the long, low lake and the small, perched villages, grossly overtopped by vulgar hotel palaces, had a far more fugitive air. it was a place without a life of its own. whatever character st. moritz might once have had was as lost as that of the most catholic of evening ladies in piccadilly. davos had had the dignity of its purpose; it had set out to heal. st. moritz, on the contrary, set out to avoid healing. it was haunted by crown princes and millionaire jews, ladies with incredible ear-rings and priceless furs; sharp, little, baffling trans-atlantic children thronged its narrow streets, and passed away from it as casually as a company of tramps. there was this advantage for winn: nobody wanted to be friendly unless one was a royalty or a financial magnate. winn was as much alone as if he had dropped from charing cross into the strand. he smoked, read his paper, and investigated in an unaccommodating spirit all that st. moritz provided; but he didn't have to talk. winn was suffering from a not uncommon predicament: he had done the right thing at enormous cost, and he was paying for it, instead of being paid. virtue had struck her usual hard bargain with her votaries. she had taken all he had to give, and then sent in a bill for damages. he was not in the least aware that he was unhappy, and often, for five or ten minutes at a time, he would forget claire; afterward he would remember her, and that was worse. the unfortunate part of being made all of a piece is that if you happen to want anything, there is really no fiber of your being that doesn't want it. winn loved in the same spirit that he rode and he always rode to a finish. in these circumstances and in this frame of mind, the cresta occurred to winn in the light of a direct inspiration. no one could ride the cresta with any other preoccupation. winn knew that he oughtn't to do it; he remembered dr. gurnet's advice, and it put an edge to his intention. if he couldn't have what he wanted, there would be a minor satisfaction in doing what he oughtn't. the homely adage of cutting off your nose to spite your face had never been questioned by the staines family. they looked upon a nose as there chiefly for that purpose. it was a last resource to be drawn upon, when the noses of others appeared to be out of reach. there were, however, a few preliminary difficulties. no one was allowed to ride the cresta without practice, and it was a part of winn's plan not to be bothered with gradual stages. only one man had ever been known to start riding the cresta from church leap without previous trials, and his evidence was unobtainable as he was unfortunately killed during the experiment. since this adventure a stout swiss peasant had been placed to guard the approaches to the run. winn walked up to him during the dinner-hour, when he knew the valley was freest from possible intruders. "i want you to clear off," he said to the man, offering him five francs, and pointing in the direction of st. moritz. the peasant shook his head, retaining the five francs, and opening the palm of his other hand. winn placed a further contribution in it and said firmly: "now if you don't go i shall knock you down." he shook his fist to reinforce the feebleness of his alien speech. the swiss peasant stepped off the path hurriedly into a snow-drift. he was a reasonable man, and he did not grasp why one mad englishman should wish to be killed, nor, for the matter of that, why others equally mad, should wish to prevent it. so he walked off in the direction of st. moritz and hid behind a tree, reposing upon the deeply rooted instinct of not being responsible for what he did not see. winn regarded the run methodically, placed his toboggan on the summit of the leap, and looked down at the thin, blue streak stretching into the distance. the valley appeared to be entirely empty; there was nothing visibly moving in it except a little distant smoke on the way to samaden. the run looked very cold and very narrow; the nearest banks stood up like cliffs. winn strapped a rake to his left foot, and calculated that the instant he felt the ice under him he must dig into it, otherwise he would go straight over the first bank. then he crouched over his toboggan, threw himself face downward, and felt it spring into the air. he kept no very definite recollection of the sixty-odd seconds that followed. the ice rose up at him like a wall; the wind--he had not previously been aware of the faintest draught of air--cut into his eyes and forehead like fire. his lips blistered under it. he felt death at every dizzy, dwindling second--death knotted up and racketing, so imminent that he wouldn't have time to straighten himself out or let go of his toboggan before he would be tossed out into the empty air. he remembered hearing a man say that if you fell on the cresta and didn't let go of your toboggan, it knocked you to pieces. his hands were fastened on the runners as if they were clamped down with iron. the scratching of the rake behind him sounded appalling in the surrounding silence. he shot up the first bank, shaving the top by the thinness of a hair, wobbled sickeningly back on to the straight, regained his grip, shot the next bank more easily, and whirled madly down between the iron walls. he felt as if he were crawling slowly as a fly crawls up a pane of glass, in a buzzing eternity. then he was bumped across the road and shot under the bridge. there was a hill at the end of the run. as he flew up it he became for the first time aware of pace. the toboggan took it like a racing-cutter, and at the top rose six feet into the air, and plunged into the nearest snow-drift. winn crawled out, feeling very sick and shaken, and as if every bone in his body was misplaced. "oh, you idiot! you idiot! you unbounded, god-forsaken idiot!" a voice exclaimed in his ears. "you've given me the worst two minutes of my life!" winn looked around him more annoyed than startled. he felt a great disinclination for speech and an increasing desire to sit down and keep still; and he did not care to conduct a quarrel sitting down. however, a growing inability to stand up decided him; he dragged out his toboggan and sat on it. the speaker appeared round a bend of the run. she had apparently been standing in the path that overlooked a considerable portion of it. she was not a young woman, and from her complexion and the hardness of her thickly built figure she might have been made of wood. she wore a short, strapped-in skirt, leather leggings, and a fawn-colored sweater. her eyes were a sharp, decided blue, and the rest of her appearance matched the sweater. winn pulled himself together. "i don't see, madam," he remarked slowly, but with extreme aggressiveness, "what the devil my actions have to do with you!" "no," said the lady, grimly, "i don't suppose from the exhibition i've just been watching, that you're in the habit of seeing farther than to the end of your own nose. however, i may as well point out to you that if you had killed yourself, as you richly deserved, and as you came within an ace of doing, the run would have been stopped for the season. we should all have been deprived of the grand national, and i, who come up here solely to ride the cresta, which i have done regularly every winter for twenty years, would have had my favorite occupation snatched from me at an age when i could least afford to miss it." "i haven't been killed, and i had not the slightest intention of being so," winn informed her with dangerous calm. "i merely wished to ride the cresta for the first time unobserved. apparently i have failed in my intention. if so, it is my misfortune and not my fault." he took out a cigarette, and lit it with a steady hand, and turned his eyes away from her. he expected her to go away, but, to his surprise, she spoke again. "my name," she said, "is marley. what is yours?" "staines," winn replied with even greater brevity. he had to give her his name, but he meant it to be his last concession. "ah," she said thoughtfully, "that accounts for it. you're the image of sir peter, and you seem to have inherited not only his features, but his manners. i needn't, perhaps, inform you that the latter were uniformly bad. i knew your father when i was a girl. he was stationed in hong-kong at the time and he was good enough to call me the little chinese, no doubt in reference to my complexion. plain as i am now, i was a great deal plainer as a girl, though i dare say you wouldn't think it." winn made no comment upon this doubtful statement; he merely grunted. his private opinion was that ladies of any age should not ride the cresta, and that ladies old enough to have known his father at hong-kong should not toboggan at all. it was unsuitable, and she might have hurt herself; into these two pitfalls women should never fall. miss marley had a singularly beautiful speaking voice; it was as soft as velvet. she dropped it half a tone, and said suddenly: "look here, don't do that kind of thing again. it's foolish. people don't always get killed, you know; sometimes they get maimed. forgive me, but i thought i would just like to point it out to you. i could not bear to see a strong man maimed." winn knew that it was silly and weak to like her just because of the tone of her voice, but he found himself liking her. he had a vague desire to tell her that he wouldn't do it again and that he had been rather a fool; but the snow was behaving in a queer way all around him; it appeared to be heaving itself up. he said instead: "excuse me for sitting down like this. i've had a bit of a shake. i'll be all right in a moment or two." then he fainted. miss marley stooped over him, opened his collar, laid him flat on the ground--he had fallen in a heap on his toboggan--and chafed his wrists and forehead with snow. when she saw that he was coming round, she moved a little away from him and studied his toboggan. "if i were you," she observed, "i should have these runners cut a little finer; they are just a shade too thick." winn dragged himself on to the toboggan and wondered how his collar came to be undone. when he did it up, he found his hands were shaking, which amazed him very much. he looked a little suspiciously at his companion. "of course," miss marley continued pleasantly, "i ought to have that watchman discharged. i am a member of the cresta committee, and he behaved scandalously; but i dare say you forced him into it, so i shall just walk up the hill and give him a few straight words. probably you don't know the dialect. i've made a point of studying it. if i were you, i should stay where you are until i come back. i want you to come to tea with me at cresta. there's a particularly good kind of bun in the village, and i think i can give you some rather useful tobogganing tips. it isn't worth while your climbing up the hill just to climb down again, is it? besides, you'd probably frighten the man." "thanks," said winn. "all right; i'll stay." he didn't want the cresta bun, and he thought that he resented miss marley's invitation; but, on the other hand, he was intensely glad she was going off and leaving him alone. he felt uncommonly queer. perhaps he could think of some excuse to avoid the tea when she came back. all the muscles of his chest seemed to have gone wrong; it hurt him to breathe. he sat with his head down, like a man climbing a hill against a strong wind. it was rather funny to feel ill again when he had really forgotten he was up there for his health. that was what he felt--ill. it was not nearly as painful a feeling as remembering claire. unfortunately, it was very quickly followed by the more painful feeling. when miss marley came back, he had the eyes of a creature caught in a trap. she took him to cresta to tea, and it did not occur to winn to wonder why a woman who at forty-five habitually rode the cresta should find it necessary to walk at the pace of a deliberating snail. it was a pace which at the moment suited winn precisely. on the whole he enjoyed his tea. miss marley's manners, though abrupt, had certain fine scruples of their own. she showed no personal curiosity and she gave winn some really valuable tips. he began to understand why she had so deeply resented his trifling with the cresta. miss marley was one of the few genuine workers at st. moritz, a member of the old band who had worked devotedly to produce the monster which had afterward as promptly devoured them. this fate, however, had not as yet overtaken miss marley. she was too tough and too rich to be very easily devoured. the cresta was at once her child and her banner; she had helped to make it, and she wound its folds around her as a screen for her invisible kindnesses. menaced boys could have told how she had averted their ruin with large checks and sharp reproofs. she had saved many homes and covered many scandals. for girls she had a special tenderness. she had never been a beautiful young girl, and she had a pathetic reverence for what was frail and fair. for them she had no reproofs, only vast mercy, and patient skill in releasing them from the traps which had caught their flurried young senses; but for those who had set the traps she had no mercy. miss marley was not known for any of these things. she was celebrated for fights with chaplains and sanitary inspectors, and for an inability to give in to authority unless authority knew what it was about. she had never once tried to please, which is the foundation of charm. perhaps it would have been a useless effort, for she was not born to please. she was born to get things done. after miss marley had talked to winn for an hour, she decided to get him to join the bandy club. he was the kind of man who must do something, and it was obviously better that he should not again tempt fate by riding the cresta from church leap without practice. this course became clearer to miss marley when she discovered that winn had come up for his health. "of course a fellow who wasn't seedy wouldn't have made an ass of himself over riding the cresta," winn explained, eyeing her thoughtfully. he must have got somehow off his toboggan on to the snow, and he had no recollection at all of getting there. miss marley said nothing to enlighten him further. she merely suggested bandy. after dinner she introduced winn to the captain of the st. moritz team, and at three o'clock the next afternoon she watched him play in a practice-match. winn played with a concentrated viciousness which assured her of two things: he would be an acquisition to the team, and if he felt as badly as all that, it was just as well to get some of it worked off on anything as unresponsive as a ball. after this miss marley let him alone. she considered this the chief factor in assisting the lives of others; and for nearly two hours a day, while he was playing bandy, winn succeeded in not remembering claire. chapter xxii winn's way of playing bandy was to play as if there wasn't any ice. in the first few practices it had the disadvantage of a constant series of falls, generally upon the back of his head; but he soon developed an increasing capacity of balance and an intensity of speed. he became the quickest forward the st. moritz team had ever possessed. when he was following the ball he took up his feet and ran. the hard clash of the skates, the determined onrush of the broad-built, implacable figure, were terrible to withstand. what was to be done against a man who didn't skate, but tore, who fell upon a ball as a terrier plunges, eyeless and intent, into a rat-hole? the personal safety of himself or others never occurred to winn. he remembered nothing but the rules of the game. these he held in the back of his mind, with the ball in front of it. all st. moritz came to watch the great match between itself and davos. it was a still, cold day; there was no blue in the sky; the mountains were a hard black and white and the valley very colorless and clear. there was a hush of coming snow in the air, and the sky was covered by a toneless, impending cloud. the game, after a brief interval, became a duel between two men: winn, with his headlong, thirsty method of attack, and the champion player of davos, mavorovitch, who was known as the most finished skater of the season. mavorovitch never apparently lifted his skates, but seemed to send them forward by a kind of secret pressure. he was a very cool player, as quick as mercury and as light as thistledown. winn set himself against him with the dogged fury of a bull against a toreador. "that man's not brave; he's careless," a st. moritz potentate remarked to miss marley. miss marley gave a short laugh and glanced at winn. "that's my idea of courage," she said, "carelessness toward things that don't count. major staines isn't careless with the ball." "a game's a game," the foreign prince protested, "not a prolonged invitation to concussion." "all, that's where your foreign blood comes in, your highness," argued miss marley. "a game isn't a game to an englishman; it's his way of tackling life. as a man plays so he reaps." "very well, then," remarked her companion, gravely. "mark my words, madame, your friend over there will reap disaster." winn tackled the ball in a series of sudden formidable rushes; he hurled himself upon the slight form of mavorovitch, only to find he had before him a portion of the empty air. mavorovitch was invariably a few inches beyond his reach, and generally in possession of the ball. twice winn wrested it forcibly from him and got half way up the ice, tearing along with his skates crashing their iron way toward the goal, and twice mavorovitch noiselessly, except for a faint scraping, slid up behind him and coaxed the ball out of his very grip. st. moritz lost two goals to nothing in the first half, and winn felt as if he were biting on air. he stood a little apart from the other players, with his back turned to the crowd. he wished it wasn't necessary always to have an audience; a lot of people who sat and did nothing irritated him. mavorovitch irritated him, too. he did not like a man to be so quiet; the faint _click_, _click_ of mavorovitch's skates on the ice was like a lady knitting. the whistle sounded again, and winn set upon the ball with redoubled fury. he had a feeling that if he didn't win this game he was going to dislike it very much. he tore up the ice, every muscle strained, his stick held low, caressing the round, flying knob in front; he had got the ball all right, the difficulty was going to be, to keep it. his mind listened to the faint distant scraping of mavorovitch's approach. winn had chosen the exact spot for slowing up for his stroke. it must be a long-distance shot or mavorovitch would be there to intercept him, the longer, the safer, if he could get up speed enough for his swing. he had left the rest of the players behind him long ago, tossing some to one side and outflanking others; but he had not got clear away from mavorovitch, bent double, and quietly calculating, a few feet behind him, the exact moment for an intercepting spurt: and then through the sharpness of the icy air and the sense of his own speed an extraordinary certainty flashed into winn. he was not alone; claire was there. he called it a fancy, but he knew it was a certainty. a burning joy seized him, and a new wild strength poured into him. he could do anything now. he drew up suddenly, long before the spot he had fixed upon as a certain stroke, lifted his arm, and struck with all his might. it was a long, doubtful, crossing stroke, almost incredibly distant from the goal. the crowd held its breath as the ball rose, cutting straight above the goal-keeper's head, through the very center of the goal. winn was probably the only person there who didn't follow its flight. he looked up quickly at the bank above him, and met her eyes. she was as joined to him as if they had no separate life. in a moment it struck him that there was nothing else to do but to go to her at once, take her in his arms, and walk off with her somewhere into the snow. he knew now that he had been in hell; the sight of her was like the sudden cessation of blinding physical pain. then he pulled himself together and went back to the game. he couldn't think any more, but the new activity in him went on playing methodically and without direction. mavorovitch, who was playing even more skilfully and swiftly, got the better of him once or twice; but the speed that had given winn room for his great stroke flowed tirelessly through him. it seemed to him as if he could have outpaced a scotch express. he carried the ball off again and again out of the mob of his assailants. they scattered under his rushes like creatures made of cardboard. he offered three goals and shot one. the cheering of the st. moritzers sounded in his ears as if it were a long way off. he saw the disappointed, friendly grin of little mavorovitch as the last whistle settled the match at five goals to four against davos, but everything seemed cloudy and unreal. he heard mavorovitch say: "spooner never told us he had a dark horse over here. i must say i am disappointed. until half-time i thought i should get the better of you; but how did you get that devilish spurt on? fierce pace tires, but you were easier to tire when you began." winn's eyes wandered over the little man beside him. "oh, i don't know," he said good-naturedly; he had never in his life felt so good-natured. "i suppose i thought we were getting beaten. that rather braces one up, doesn't it?" "ah, that is you english all over," laughed mavorovitch. "we have a saying, 'in all campaigns the english lose many battles, but they always win one--namely, the last.'" "i'm sure it's awfully jolly of you to say so," said winn. "you play a pretty fine game yourself, you know, considerably more skill in it than mine. i had no idea you were not english yourself." mavorovitch seemed to swim away into a mist of laughter, people receded, the bank receded; at last he stood before her. winn thought she was a little thinner in the face and her eyes were larger than ever. he could not take his own away from her; he had no thoughts, and he forgot to speak. everybody was streaming off to tea. the rink was deserted; it lay a long, gray shadow beneath the high, white banks. the snow had begun to fall, light, dry flakes that rested like powder on claire's curly hair. she waited for him to speak; but as he still said nothing, she asked with a sudden dimple: "where does this path lead to?" then winn recollected himself, and asked her if she didn't want some tea. claire shook her head. "not now," she said decidedly; "i want to go along this path." winn obeyed her silently. the path took them between dark fir-trees to the farthest corner of the little park. far below them a small stream ran into the lake, it was frozen over, but in the silence they could hear it whispering beneath the ice. the world was as quiet as if it lay in velvet. then claire said suddenly: "oh, why did you make me hurt him when i liked him so much?" they found a bench and sat down under the trees. "do you mean you've sent lionel away?" winn asked anxiously. "yes," she said in a forlorn little voice; "yesterday i sent him away. he didn't know i was coming over here, he was very miserable. he asked me if i knew about you--he said he believed you wanted me to--and i said, 'of course i know everything.' i wasn't going to let him think you hadn't told me. why did you go away?" he had not thought she would ask him that. it was as if he saw before him an interminable hill which he had believed himself to have already climbed. he drew a deep breath, then he said: "didn't they talk about it? i wrote to her, the chaplain's wife i mean; i hadn't time to see her, but i sent it by the porter. i thought she'd do; she seemed a gossipy woman, kept on knitting and gassing over a stove in the hall. i thought she was--a sort of circulating library, you see. i tipped the porter--tow-headed swiss brute. i suppose he swallowed it." "he went away the same day you did," claire explained. "nobody told me anything. do you think i would have let them? i wouldn't let lionel, and i knew he had a right to, but i didn't care about anybody's rights. you see, i--i thought you'd tell me yourself. so i came," she finished quietly. she waited. winn began to draw patterns on the snow with his stick, then he said: "i've been a bit of a blackguard not telling you myself. i didn't want to talk about it, and that's a fact. i'm married." he kept his face turned away from her. it seemed a long time before she spoke. "you should have told me that before," she said in a queer, low voice. "it's too late now." "would it," he asked quickly, "have made any difference--about lionel, i mean?" she shook her head. "not," she said, "about lionel." he bent lower over the pattern in the snow; it had become more intricate. "i couldn't tell you," he muttered; "i tried. i couldn't. that was why i went off. you say too late. d'you mind telling me if you mean--you care?" her silence seemed interminable, and then he knew she had already answered him. it seemed to him that if he sat there and died, he couldn't speak. "winn," she asked in a whisper, "did you go because of me--or because of you?" he turned round, facing her. "is that worrying you?" he asked fiercely. "well, you can see for yourself, can't you? all there is of me--" he could not finish his sentence. it was snowing heavily. they seemed intensely, cruelly alone. it was as if all life crept off and left them by themselves in the drifting gray snow, in their silent little corner of the unconscious, unalterable world. winn put his arm around her and drew her head down on his shoulder. "it's all right," he said rather thickly. "i won't hurt you." but he knew that he had hurt her, and that it was all wrong. she did not cry, but she trembled against his heart. he felt her shivering as if she were afraid of all the world but him. "i must stay with you," she whispered. "i must stay with you, mustn't i?" he tried not to say "always," but he thought afterward that he must have said "always." then she lifted her curls and her little fur cap with the snow on it from his shoulder, and looked deep into his eyes. the worst of it was that hers were filled with joy. "winn," she said, "do you love me enough for anything? not only for happiness, but, if we had to have dreadful things, enough for dreadful things?" she spoke of dreadful things as if they were outside her, and as if they were very far away. "i love you enough for anything," said winn, gravely. "tell me," she whispered, "did you ever even think--you liked her as much?" winn looked puzzled; it took him a few minutes to guess whom she meant, then he said wonderingly: "my wife, you mean?" claire nodded. it was silly how the little word tore its way into her very heart; she had to bite her lips to keep herself from crying out. she did not realize that the word was meaningless to him. "no," said winn, gravely; "that's the worst of it. i must have been out of my head. it was a fancy. of course i thought it was all right, but i didn't _care_. it was fun rather than otherwise; you know what i mean? i'm afraid i gave her rather a rotten time of it; but fortunately she doesn't like me at all. it's not surprising." "yes, it is," said claire, firmly; "it's very surprising. but if she doesn't care for you, and you don't care for her, can't anything be done?" there is something cruel in the astonishing ease with which youth believes in remedial measures. it is a cruelty which reacts so terribly upon its possessors. winn hesitated; then he told her that he would take her to the ends of the world. claire pushed away the ends of the world; they did not sound very practical. "i mean," she said, "have you got to consider anybody else? of course there's maurice and your people, i've thought of them. but i don't think they'd mind so awfully always, do you? it wouldn't be like robbing or cheating some one who really needed us. we couldn't do that, of course." then winn remembered peter. he told her somehow that there was peter. he hid his face against her breast while he told her; he could not bear to see in her eyes this new knowledge of peter. but she was very quiet about it; it was almost as if she had always known that there was peter. winn spoke very wildly after that; he denied peter; he denied any obstacles; he spoke as if they were already safely and securely married. he explained that they had to be together; that was the long and short of it. anything else was absurd; she must see that it was absurd. claire didn't interrupt him once; but when he had quite finished, she said consideringly: "yes; but, after all, she gave you peter." then winn laughed, remembering how estelle had given him peter. he couldn't explain to claire quite how funny it was. she bore his laughter, though it surprised her a little; there seemed to be so many new things to be learned about him. then she said: "anyway, we can be quite happy for a fortnight, can't we?" winn raised his head and looked at her. it was his turn to be surprised. "maurice and i," she explained, "have to go back in two weeks; we've come over here for the fortnight. so we'll just be happy, won't we? and we can settle what we'll do afterward, at the end of the time." she spoke as if a fortnight was a long time. then winn kissed her; he did it with extraordinary gentleness, on the side of her cheek and on her wet curls covered with snow. "you're such a baby," he said half to himself; "so it isn't a bit of use your being as old as the hills the other part of the time. there are just about a million reasons why you shouldn't stay, you know." "oh, reasons!" said claire, making a face at anything so trivial as a reason. then she became very grave, and said, "i _want_ to stay, winn; of course i know what you mean. but there's maurice; it isn't as if i were alone. and afterwards--oh, winn, it's because i don't know what is going to happen afterwards--i _must_ have now!" winn thought for a moment, then he said: "well, i'll try and work it. you mustn't be in the same hotel, though. fortunately, i know a nice woman who'll help us through; only, darling, i'm awfully afraid it's beastly wrong for you. i mean i can't explain properly; but if i let you go now, it would be pretty sickening. but you'd get away; and if you stay, i'll do the best i can but we shall get mixed up so that you'll find it harder to shake me off. you see, you're awfully young; there are chances ahead of you, awfully decent other chaps, marriage--" "and you," she whispered--"you?" "oh, it doesn't matter a damn about me either way," he explained carefully. "i'm stuck. but it isn't really fair of me to let you stay. you don't understand, but it simply isn't fair." claire looked reproachfully at him. "if i don't want you to be fair," she said, "you oughtn't to want to be--not more than i do, i mean. besides--oh, winn, i do know about when i go! that's why i _can't_ go till we've been happy, awfully happy, _first_. don't you see, if i went now, there'd be nothing to look back on but just your being hurt and my being hurt; and i want happiness! oh, winn, i want happiness!" that was the end of it. he took her in his arms and promised her happiness. part iii chapter xxiii it seemed incredible that they should be happy, but from the first of their fortnight to the last they were increasingly, insanely happy. everything ministered to their joy; the unstinted blue and gold of the skies, the incommunicable glee of mountain heights, their blind and eager love. there was no future. they were on an island cut off from all to-morrows; but they were together, and their island held the fruits of the hesperides. they lived surrounded by light passions, by unfaithfulnesses that had not the sharp excuses of desire, bonds that held only because they would require an effort to break and bonds that were forged only because it was easier to pass into a new relation than to continue in an old one. their solid and sober passion passed through these light fleets of pleasure-boats as a great ship takes its unyielding way toward deep waters. winn was spared the agony of foresight; he could not see beyond her sparkling eyes; and claire was happy, exultantly, supremely happy, with the reckless, incurious happiness of youth. it was terrible to see them coming in and out with their joy. their faces were transfigured, their eyes had the look of sleep-walkers, they moved as through another world. they had only one observer, and to miss marley the sight of them was like the sight of those unknowingly condemned to die. st. moritz in general was not observant. it had gossips, but it did not know the difference between true and false, temporary and permanent. it had one mold for all its fancies: given a man and a woman, it formed at once its general and monotonous conjecture. maurice might have noticed claire's preoccupation, for maurice was sensitive to that which touched himself, but for the moment a group more expensive and less second rate than he had discovered at davos took up his entire attention. he had none to spare for his sister unless she bothered him, and she didn't bother him. it was left to miss marley to watch from hour to hour the significant and rising chart of passion. the evening after the davos match, winn had knocked at the door of her private sitting-room. it was his intention only to ask her if she would dine with some friends of his from davos; he would mention indifferently that they were very young, a mere boy and girl, and he would suggest with equal subtlety that he would be obliged if miss marley would continue to take meals at his table during their visit. st. moritz, he saw himself saying, was such a place for talk. there was no occasion to go into anything, and miss marley would, of course, have no idea how matters really stood. she was a good sort, but he wasn't going to talk about claire. miss marley said, "come in," in that wonderful, low, soft voice of hers that came so strangely from her blistered lips. she was sitting in a low chair, smoking, in front of an open wood fire. her room was furnished by herself. it was a comfortable, featureless room, with no ornaments and no flowers; there were plenty of books in cases or lying about at ease on a big table, a stout desk by the window, and several leather-covered, deep armchairs. the walls were bare except for photographs of the cresta. these had been taken from every possible angle of the run--its banks, its corners, its flashing pieces of straight, and its incredible final hill. it was noticeable that though there was generally a figure on a toboggan in the photograph, it never happened to be one of miss marley herself. she was a creditable rider, but she did not, to her own mind, show off the cresta. her eyes met winn's with a shrewdness that she promptly veiled. he wasn't looking as if he wanted her to be shrewd. it struck her that she was seeing winn as he must have looked when he was about twenty. she wondered if this was only because he had won the match. his eyes were very open and they were off their guard. it could not be said that winn had ever in his life looked appealing, but for a staines to look so exposed to friendliness was very nearly an appeal. "mavorovitch has just left me," said miss marley. "you ought to have heard what he said about you. it was worth hearing. you played this afternoon like a successful demon dealing with lost souls. i don't think i've ever seen bandy played quite in that vein before." winn sank into one of the leather armchairs and lighted a cigarette. "as a matter of fact," he said, "i played like a fluke. i am not up to mavorovitch's form at all. i just happened to be on my game; he would have had me down and out otherwise." miss marley nodded; she was wondering what had put winn on his game. she turned her eyes away from him and looked into the fire. winn was resting for the first time that day; the sense of physical ease and her even, tranquil comradeship were singularly soothing to him. suddenly it occurred to him that he very much liked miss marley, and in a way in which he had never before liked any woman, with esteem and without excitement. he gave her a man's first proof of confidence. "look here," he said, "i want you to help me." miss marley turned her eyes back to him; she was a plain woman, but she was able to speak with her eyes, and though what she said was sometimes hard and always honest, on the present occasion they expressed only an intense reassurance of good-will. "when i came in," winn said rather nervously, "i meant to ask you a little thing, but i find i am going to ask you a big one." "oh, well," said miss marley, "ask away. big or little, friends should stand by each other." "yes," said winn, relieved, "that's what i thought you'd say. i don't know that i ever mentioned to you i'm married?" "no," she answered quietly, "i can't say that you did; however, most men of your age are married." "and i've got a son," winn continued. "his name is peter--after my father, you know." "that's a good thing," she concurred heartily. "i'm glad you've got a son." "unfortunately," said winn, "my marriage didn't exactly come off. we got hold of the wrong end of the stick." "ah," said miss marley, "that's a pity! the right end of the stick is, i believe, almost essential in marriage." "yes," winn acknowledged; "i see that now, of course. i was keen on getting her, but i hadn't thought the rest out. rather odd, isn't it, that you don't get as much as a tip about how jolly a thing could be till you've dished yourself from having it?" miss marley agreed that it was rather odd. winn came back swiftly to his point. "what i was going to ask you," he said, holding her with his eyes, "is to sit at my table for a bit. i happen to have two young friends of mine over from davos. he's her brother, of course, but i thought i'd like to have another woman somewhere about. look better, wouldn't it? she's only nineteen." his voice dropped as he mentioned claire's age as if he were speaking of the madonna. "yes," agreed miss marley, "it would look better." "i dare say," said winn after rather a long pause, "you see what i mean? the idea is--our idea, you know--to be together as much as we can for a fortnight. it'll be all right, of course; only i rather wondered if you'd see us through." "see you through being all right?" miss marley asked with the directness of a knife-thrust. "well--yes," said winn. "it would just put people off thinking things. everybody seems to know you up here, and i somehow thought i'd rather you knew." "thank you," said miss marley, briefly. she turned back to the fire again. she had seen all she wanted to see in winn's eyes. she saw his intention. what she wasn't sure about was the fortnight. a fortnight can do a good deal with an intention. miss marley knew the world very well. people had often wanted to use her for a screen before, and generally she had refused, believing that the chief safeguard of innocence is the absence of screens. but she saw that winn did not want her to be that kind of a screen; he wanted her to be in the center of his situation without touching it. he wanted her for claire, but he wanted her also a little for himself, so that he might feel the presence of her upright friendliness. he intensely trusted her. there are people who intend to do good in the world and invariably do harm. they enter eagerly into the lives of others and put their fingers pressingly upon delicate machinery; very often they destroy it, more seldom, unfortunately, they cut their own fingers. miss marley did not belong to this type. she did not wish to be involved and she was scrupulous never to involve others. she hesitated before she gave her consent, but she couldn't withstand the thought that claire was only nineteen. she spoke at last. "what you suggest," she said quietly, "is going to be rather hard for you both. i suppose you do realize how hard? you see, you are only at the beginning of the fortnight now. unhappy men and very young girls make difficult situations, major staines." he got up and walked to the window, standing with his back to her. she wondered if she had said too much; his back looked uncompromising. she did not realize that she could never say too much in the defense of claire. then he said, without looking round: "we shall have to manage somehow." it occurred to miss marley, with a wave of reassurance, that this was probably winn's usual way of managing. "in any case," she said firmly, "you can count on me to do anything you wish." winn expressed no gratitude. he merely said: "i shall introduce her to you this evening." before he left miss marley he shook hands with her. her hands were hard and muscular, but she realized when she felt his grip that he must have been extremely grateful. chapter xxiv they went out early, before the sun was up, when the valley was an apricot mist and the mountains were as white as snowdrops in the spring. the head waiter fell easily into their habits, and provided them with an early breakfast and a parcel for lunch. then they drove off through the biting, glittering coldness. sometimes they went far down the valley to sils and on to the verge of the maloja. sometimes they drove through the narrower valleys to pontresina and on into the impenetrable winter gloom of the mortratsch glacier. the end was the same solitude, sunshine, and their love. the world was wrapped away in its winter stillness. the small swiss villages slept and hardly stirred. in the hot noonday a few drowsy peasants crept to and from the barns where the cattle passed their winter life. sometimes a woman labored at a frozen pump, or a party of skiers slipped rapidly through the shady streets, rousing echoes with their laughter; but for the most part they were as much alone as if the world had ceased to hold any beings but themselves. the pine-trees scented all the air, the snow dripped reluctantly, and sometimes far off they heard the distant boom of an avalanche. they sat together for long sunlit hours on the rickety wooden balcony of a friendly hospice, drinking hot spiced _glüwein_ and building up their precarious memories. there were moments when the hollow present snapped under their feet like a broken twig, and then the light in their eyes darkened and they ran out upon the safer path of make-believe. it was winn who, curiously enough, began it, and returned to it oftenest. it came to him, this abolishing of estelle, always more easily than it came to claire. it was inconceivable to claire that winn didn't, as a rule, remember his wife. she could have understood the tragedy of his marriage, but winn didn't make a tragedy of it, he made nothing of it at all. it seemed terrible to claire that any woman, bearing his name, the mother of his child, should have no life in his heart. she found herself resenting this for estelle. she tried to make winn talk about her, so that she might justify her ways to him. but winn went no further in his expressions than the simple phrases, "she's not my sort," "we haven't anything in common," "i expect we didn't hit it off." finally he said, terribly, under the persistency of claire's pressure, "well, if you will have it, i don't believe a single word she says." "oh, but sometimes, sometimes she must speak the truth!" claire urged, breathless with pity. "i dare say," winn replied indifferently. "possibly she does, but what difference does it make to me when i don't know which times?" claire waited a little, then she said: "i wasn't thinking of the difference to you; i was thinking of the difference to her." "i tell you," winn repeated obstinately, "that i don't care a hang about the difference to her. people shouldn't tell lies. i don't care that for her!" he snapped a crumb off the table. he looked triumphantly at claire, under the impression that he had convinced her of a pleasing fact. she burst into tears. he tried to take her in his arms, but for a moment she resisted him. "do you _want_ me to love estelle?" he asked in desperation. claire shook her head. "i'd like her--to be loved," she said, still sobbing. winn looked wonderingly at her. "well, as far as that goes, so would i," he observed, with a sardonic grin. "there'd be some way out for us then." claire shook her head vehemently, but she made no attempt to explain her tears. she felt that she couldn't alter him, and that when he most surprised her it was wiser to accept these surprises than to probe her deep astonishment. he surprised her very often, he was in such a hurry to unburden himself of all he was. it seemed to him as if he must tell her everything while he had her. he expressed himself as he had never in his wildest dreams supposed that any man could express himself to another human being. he broke down his conventions, he forced aside his restraint, he literally poured out his heart to her. he gave her his opinions, his religion, his codes of conduct, until she began a little to understand his attitude toward estelle. it was part of his exterior way of looking at the world at large. up till now people, except lionel, had never really entered into his imagination. of course there were his servants and his dogs and, nearer still, his horses. he spent hours telling her about his horses. they really had come into his life, but never people; even his own family were nothing but a background for wrangles. he had never known tenderness. he had had all kinds of odd feelings about peter, but they hadn't got beyond his own mind. his tenderness was beyond everything now; it over-flowed expression. it was the radical thing in him. he showed her plainly that it would break his heart if she were to let her feet get wet. he made plans for her future which would have suited a chronic invalid. he wanted to give her jewels, expensive specimens of spaniels, and a banking account. she would take nothing from him but a notebook and a little opal ring. winn restrained his passion, but out of revenge for his restraint his fancies ran wild. it was claire who had to be practical; she who had spent her youth in dreams now clung desperately to facts. she read nothing, she hardly talked, but she drew his very soul out to meet her listening soul. there were wonders within wonders to her in winn. she had hardly forced herself to accept his hardness when she discovered in him a tolerance deeper than anything she had ever seen, and an untiring patience. he had pulled men out of holes only to see them run back into them with the swiftness of burrowing rabbits; but nothing made him feel as if he could possibly give them up. "you can't tell how many new starts a man wants," he explained to claire; "but he ought to have as many as he can take. as long as a man wants to get on, i think he ought to be helped." his code about a man's conduct to women was astonishingly drastic. "if you've let a woman in," he explained, "you've got to strip yourself to get her out, no matter whether you care for her or not. the moment a woman gets caught out, you can't do too much for her. it's like seeing a dog with a tin can tied to its tail; you've got to get it off. a man ought to pay for his fun; even if it isn't his fault, he ought to pay just the same. it's not so much that he's the responsible person, but he's the least _had_. that ought to settle the question." he was more diffident, but not less decided, on the subject of religion. "if there's a god at all," he stated, "he must be good; otherwise you can't explain goodness, which doesn't pay and yet always seems worth having. you know what i mean. not that i am a religious man myself, but i like the idea. women certainly ought to be religious." he hoped that claire would go regularly to church unless it was draughty. it was on the bernina, when they were nine thousand feet up in a blue sky, beyond all sight or sound of life, in their silent, private world, that they talked about death. "curious," winn said, "how little you think about it when you're up against it. i shouldn't like to die of an illness. that's all i've ever felt about it; that would be like letting go. i don't think i could let go easily; but just a proper, decent knock-out--why, i don't believe you'd know anything about it. i never felt afraid of chucking it, till i knew you, now i'm afraid." claire looked at his strong hands in the sunshine and at her own which lay on his; they looked so much alive! she tried hard to think about death, because she knew that some day everybody must die; but she felt as if she was alive forever. "yes," she said; "of course i suppose we _shall_. but, winn, don't you think that we could send for each other then? wouldn't that be splendid?" the idea of death became suddenly a shortening of the future; it was like something to look forward to. winn nodded gravely, but he didn't seem to take the same comfort in it that claire did. he only said: "i dare say we could manage something. but you feel all right, don't you?" claire laughed until something in his grave eyes hurt her behind her laughter. the sky changed from saffron to dead blue and then to startling rose color. flame after flame licked the bernina heights. their sleigh-bells rang persistently beneath them. they drank their coffee hurriedly while the sun sank out of the valley, and the whole world changed into an icy light. they drove off rapidly down the pass, wrapped in furs and clinging to each other. they did not know what anything would mean when they were apart. the thought of separation was like bending from a sunny world over a well of darkness. claire cried a little, but not very much. she never dared let herself really cry because of what might happen to winn. it surprised him sometimes how little she tried to influence his future life. she did not make him promise anything except to go to see dr. gurnet. he wondered afterward why she had left so much to his discretion when he had made so many plans, and urgent precautions for her future; and yet he knew that when she left him he would be desperate enough to break any promises and never desperate enough to break her trust in him. suddenly he said to her as the darkness of the pass swallowed them: "look here, i won't take to drink. i'd like to, but i won't." and claire leaned toward him and kissed him, and he said a moment later, with a little half laugh: "d'you know, i rather wish you hadn't done that. you never have before, and i sha'n't be able to forget it. you put the stopper on to that intention." and claire said nothing, smiling into the darkness. chapter xxv claire had never been alone with miss marley before; she had known her only as an accompaniment to winn; but she had been aware, even in these partial encounters, that she was being benevolently judged. it must be owned that earlier in the day she had learned, with a sinking of the heart, that she must give up the evening to miss marley. when every hour counted as a victory over time, she could not understand how winn could let her go; and yet he had said quite definitely: "i want you to go to miss marley this evening. she'd like to talk to you, and i think you'd better." but something happened which changed her feelings. miss marley was a woman despite the cresta and there are times when only a woman's judgment can satisfy the heart of a girl. claire was startled and perturbed by maurice's sudden intervention. maurice said: "that chap staines is getting you talked about. pretty low down of him, as i believe he's married." she was pulled up short in the golden stream of her love. she saw for the first time the face of opinion--that hostile, stupid, interfering face. claire had never thought that by any malign possibility they could be supposed to be doing wrong. she could not connect wrong with either her love or winn's. if there was one quality more than another which had distinguished it, it had been its simple sense of rightness. she had seen winn soften and change under it as the hard earth changes at the touch of spring. she had felt herself enriched and enlarged, moving more unswervingly than ever toward her oldest prayer--that she might, on the whole, be good. she hardly prayed at all about winn; loving him was her prayer. if she had meant to take him away from estelle or to rob him of peter, then she knew she would have been wrong. but in this fortnight she was taking nothing from estelle that estelle had ever had, and she was doing no harm to peter. it would not be likely to do him any harm to soften his father's heart. claire's morality consisted solely in the consideration of other people; her instincts revolted against unkindness. it was an early christian theory much lost sight of, "love, and do as you please," the safety of the concession resting upon the quality of the love. but to-night another idea had occurred to her, and she was very uneasy. was it really possible that any one could blame winn? her first instinct had been sheer anger, and her anger had carried her past fear into the pride of love. she had felt as if she wanted to confront the world and defy it. if the world dared judge them, what did it matter? their hearts were clean. she was too young to know that under the world's judgments clean hearts break even more easily than soiled ones. but her mind had not rested there. she had begun to be afraid for winn, and with all her heart she longed to see him justified. what had he ever done that he could be judged? he had loved her, spared her, guarded her. he had made, he was making, inconceivable sacrifices for her. he was killing not only his own joy, but hers rather than do her what he thought a wrong. she sat on a footstool in front of miss marley's wood fire, frowning at the flames. miss marley watched her cautiously; there was a good deal she wanted to say, but she hoped that most of it might be said by claire. a very careful talker can get a good deal expressed in this way; impressions, to be permanent, must always come from the person you wish to impress. "miss marley," claire began, "do you think it matters what people _think_?" miss marley, who invariably rolled her own cigarettes, took up a small silver box, flattened the cigarette-paper out carefully, and prepared to fill it before answering. then she said: "very few people do think; that is generally what matters--absence of thought. speech without thought is responsible for most people's disasters." "but it can't matter what people say if it isn't true, can it?" claire persisted. "i mean--_nonsense_ can't _count_ against any one?" "i'm rather afraid it does matter," said miss marley, lighting her cigarette. "nonsense is very infectious, and it often carries a good deal of weight. i have known nonsense break people's hearts." "oh!" said claire in a rising breath. she was wondering what it was like to have a broken heart. somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that she was going to have one, half of one; but what really frightened her was that the other half was going to belong to winn. "could any one," she said under her breath, "think any harm of him? he told me you knew all about us, and that i might talk to you if i wanted to; but i didn't then. there didn't seem anything to say. but now i do want to know; i want to know awfully what you think. if i asked him, he'd only laugh or else he'd be angry. he's very young in some ways, you know, miss marley--younger than i am." "yes," agreed miss marley; "men are always, to the end of their lives, very young in some ways." "i never thought," claire went on breathlessly, "that people would dream of blaming him because we were together. why, it's so stupid! if they only knew! he's so good!" "if he's that," said miss marley, smiling into the fire, "you've succeeded in making a saint of a staines, a very difficult experiment! i shouldn't advise you to run away too much with that idea, however." "it isn't me; it's him," exclaimed claire, regardless of grammar. "i mean, after what maurice said this afternoon--i don't know how to put it quite--i almost wish we'd both been bad!" miss marley nodded. she knew the danger of blame when a tug of war is in progress, and how it weakens the side attacked. "how can i explain to people," claire went on, "what he's been like? i don't know whether i've told you, but he went away almost directly he found out he cared, before--long before he knew i cared, though he might have known; and he left a message to tell me about his wife, which i never got. but, oh, miss marley, i've never told him, i should have come if i'd got it or not! i should really, because i _had_ to know if he cared! so you see, don't you, that if either of us was wicked it was me? only i didn't _feel_ wicked; i really felt awfully good. i don't see how you're to tell what's right if god doesn't let you know and people talk nonsense." "it's not," agreed miss marley, dryly, "particularly easy to know." "and his wife doesn't care for him," claire went on. "fancy winn's wife not caring for him! poor woman!" "why do you pity her?" miss marley inquired with interest. "well," said claire, with a sudden dimple, "i was only thinking i shouldn't like to be winn's wife if he didn't care for me; and then i was thinking that if he didn't, i'd make him!" "well, that effort doesn't seem required of you," said miss marley. "no, but it only shows you that i'm much the most wicked, doesn't it?" asked claire, with some pride. "the points against winn," miss marley said gravely, "are his age, his experience, and his wife. i feel bound to tell you that there are points against him." claire frowned. "winn isn't really old," she explained, "because he's only done things all his life--games or his work; it hasn't been people. people make you old, especially when you are looking after them. he's never really grown up; and as for experience, i don't think you experience anything unless you care about it. it hurts me sometimes to hear him talk about his wife. he's never _had_ her; he's only had me. i don't explain very well, but i know it's true, because he told me things about loving which showed me he'd never had anything before except dogs--and peter; and peter's awfully young, and dogs can't answer back. you can't grow up on dogs." miss marley tacitly admitted the limitations of canine influence; but she said: "still, you know, he's not kept to his own code; that's what one must judge people by. i'm sure he'd tell you himself that a married man should leave girls alone." claire thought for a moment, then she said: "yes, but he's gone deeper than his code now. don't you think that perhaps a smash, even of something you value, makes you grow? i don't know how to put it quite, but if you never did what you thought wrong, would you ever know how big right is? besides, he hasn't gone on doing it. perhaps he _did_ start wrong in getting to care, but that only makes it harder and finer, his stopping himself. very few people, i think, but winn could stop themselves, and nobody but winn could ever care--so much." her voice broke, and she turned away her head. "what," said miss marley, rolling another cigarette, "are your plans?" miss marley felt that she must give up first principles but she hoped that she might still be able to do something about plans. "we are going to drive over the maloja to chiavenna," said claire; "maurice has a party to go with. we shall start by the earlier post, and have lunch together at vico-soprano before he comes. and then when maurice comes we shall say good-by; and then--and then, miss marley, i've been thinking--we mustn't meet again! i haven't told winn yet, because he likes to talk as if we could, in places awfully far away and odd, with you to chaperon us. i think it helps him to talk like that but i don't think now that we must ever meet again. you won't blame him if i tell you something, will you?" "no," said miss marley; "after what you've said to me to-night i am not inclined to blame him." "well," said claire, "i don't think, if we were to meet again, he would let me go. we may manage this time, but not twice." "are you sure," asked miss marley, gently, "that you will manage this time?" claire raised her head and looked at miss marley. "aren't you?" she said gravely. "i _did_ feel very sure." "i'd feel a great deal surer," said miss marley, "if you didn't drive down the pass. if you once set off with winn, do you suppose he'll stop? i am sure he means to now; in fact, his sending you up here to talk to me proves it. he knows i sha'n't be much of a help to him in carrying you off. but, my dear, i never knew any staines stop, once he'd started. as long as he is looking at the consequences for you, he'll steer clear of them, he's looking at them now, but a moment will come when he'll cease to look, and then everything will depend on you. i think your one chance is to say good-by here, and to drive down the pass with maurice. he can dispose of his party for once." the color left claire's face, but her eyes never flinched from miss marley's. after a time miss marley turned her head away; she could no longer bear the look in claire's eyes. it was like watching the face of some one drowning. "i don't want a chance!" whispered claire. [illustration: "i don't want a chance," whispered claire] miss marley found her voice difficult to control, but she did control it; she said: "i was thinking of his chance. if he does you any harm, he won't forgive himself. you can stop it; he can't possibly stop himself." "no," said claire. she didn't cry; she sat very straight and still on her footstool in front of the fire. after a while she said in a curious dragging voice: "very well, then; i must tell him about the pass. oh, what shall i do if he minds! it's his minding--" she stopped, as if the words broke something in her. "yes," said miss marley; "but he'll mind more if he ruins your life. you see, you won't think you're ruined, but winn will think so. he'll believe he's ruined the woman he loves, and after a little time, when his passion has ceased to ride him blind, he'll never hold up his head again. you'll be responsible for that." it sounded cruel, but it was not cruel. miss marley knew that as long as she laid the responsibility at claire's door, claire would not think her cruel. claire repeated slowly after her: "i should be responsible for that!" then she said: "oh, how silly laws are! how silly! as if any one could be ruined who simply loved!" "we should probably be sillier without laws," miss marley observed. "and you must remember they have their recommendations: they keep silly people comparatively safe." "safe!" said claire. "i think that's the emptiest, poorest word there is! who wants to be safe?" "you wouldn't think so if you had a child," said miss marley, quietly. "you would need safety then, and you would learn to prize it." claire bowed her head into her hands. "oh, why can't i have one now! why can't i?" she whispered brokenly. miss marley bit her lips; she had hoped claire was too young for this particular stab. "because he'd think it wrong," said miss marley after a pause, "and because of peter. he's got that obligation. the two would clash." claire rose slowly to her feet. "i'll just go and tell him about the pass," she said quietly. "when it's over i'll begin to think; but i needn't really think till then, need i? because i feel as if i couldn't just now; it would stop my going on." miss marley said that she was quite sure that claire need not begin to think at present and privately she hoped that, when that hour came, something might happen which would deaden thought. she was thankful to remember that the worst of feeling is always over before the worst of thinking can begin. but claire was too young to comfort herself with the limitations of pain. she only knew that she must tell winn about the pass and seem for a moment at least, in his eyes, not to trust him. nevertheless, she smiled at miss marley before she left her, because she didn't want miss marley to feel upset; and miss marley accepted this reassurance with an answering smile until the door was shut. chapter xxvi when claire found winn at the bridge-table she saw at a glance that he was not in the mood for renunciations. his eyes had the hard, shining stare that was the danger-signal of the staines family. he shot a glance at claire as if she were a hostile force and he was taking her measure. he was putting her outside himself in order to fight her. it was as if he knew instinctively that their wills were about to clash. when the rubber was over, he got up and walked straight to her. "you put me off my game," he said grimly. "i can see you're up to something; but we can't talk here." "let's talk to-morrow," she urged, "not now. i thought perhaps you'd like to come and listen to the music with me; there is music in the hall." "you did, did you?" he replied in the same hard voice. "well, you were mistaken. go up-stairs to my room and wait for me. it's number , two or three doors beyond miss marley's sitting-room. i'll follow you." an older woman would have hesitated, and if claire had hesitated, winn would never have forgiven her. but her youth was at once her danger and her protection. she would rather have waited till to-morrow, because she saw that winn was in a difficult mood; but she had no idea what was behind his mood. she went at once. she had never been in winn's room before, and as she sat down to wait for him her eyes took in its neat impressive bareness. it was a narrow hotel room, a bed in one corner, a chest of drawers, washstand, and wardrobe opposite. by the balcony window were a small table and an armchair. a cane chair stood at the foot of the bed. nothing was lying about. there were few traces of occupation visible; only a pair of felt slippers under the bed, a large bath sponge on the washstand, and a dressing-gown hanging on the nail behind the door. in his tooth-glass by the bedside was a rose claire had worn and given him. it was put there with meticulous care; its stalk had been re-cut and its leaves freshened. beside it lay a small new testament and a book on saddles. winn joined her in exactly five minutes. he shut the door carefully after him, and sat down on the cane chair opposite her. "i thought you might like to know," he said politely, "that i have made up my mind not to let you go." then he waited for claire to contradict him. but claire waited, too; claire waited longest. she was not sure what to say, and, unlike most women, when she was not sure what to say, she said nothing. winn spoke again, but a little less quietly. "it's no use your making a fuss," he stated, "or cutting up rough about it and throwing morals at my head. i've got past that." he got up, locked the door, and then came back. "i'm going to keep that door locked until i make sure what you're up to." "you needn't have done that," claire said quietly. "do you think i want to leave you? if i did, i shouldn't be here. you can't make me do anything i don't want to do, because i want exactly what you do." winn shot an appreciative glance at her; that was a good stroke, but he wasn't going to be taken in by it. in some ways he would have preferred to see her angry. hostility is generally the sign of weakness; but claire looked at him with an unyielding tenderness. "the question is," he said firmly, "can i make you do what we both want and what you are holding back from? i dare say you've got good reasons for holding back and all that, and i know i'm an out-and-out blackguard to press you, but i've reached a place where i won't stand any more. d'you see my point?" claire nodded. she was not angry, because she saw that winn was fighting her not because he wanted to be victorious over her, but because he was being conquered by pain. she was not going to let him be conquered by it--that, as miss marley had said, was her responsibility--but it wasn't going to be easy to prevent it. she was close against the danger-line, and every nerve in her being had long ago become part of winn. he was fighting against the best of himself, but all that was not the best of claire fought on his side. perhaps there was not very much that was not the best in claire. she hesitated, then she said: "i thought you wanted me--to go. i think you really do want it; that's why i'm going." winn leaned forward and took hold of both her wrists. "so i did," he agreed; "but it isn't any good. i can't do it. i've thought it all out--just what to do, you know--for both of us. i'll have to leave my regiment, of course, but i can get back into something else all right later on. estelle will give me a divorce. she'll want to keep the child away from me; besides, she'll like to be a public martyr. as for you and me, you'll have to face rough music for a year or two; that's the worst part of it. i'm sorry. we'll stay abroad till it's over. my mother will help us. i can count on her." "winn, come here," said claire. he came and knelt down beside her. she put her hands on his shoulders and looked deep into his eyes. he tried to keep them hard, but he failed. "don't try and get round me!" he said threateningly. "you'll make me dangerous if you do. it isn't the least good!" "can you listen to what i say?" claire asked quietly. "i suppose so," said winn, guardedly. "i love every bit of you--i love the ground your chair's on--but i'm not going to give in." "and that's the way i love you," she said. "i'd go with you to the world's end, winn, if i didn't love you so much and you'd take me there; but you won't, for just the same reason. we can't do what would be unfair; we shouldn't like it. it's no use, darling; we shouldn't like it." "that's all you know about it," said winn, unappeasably. "anyhow, we're going to do it, whether you like it or not." then she took her hands away from his shoulders and leaned back in her chair. he had never seen her look so frail and small, and he knew that she had never been so formidably strong. "oh, no, winn," she whispered; "i'm not. i'm not going to do it. if you wanted it, if you really wanted it with all of you, you wouldn't be rough with me; you'd be gentle. you're not being gentle because you don't think it right, and i'm never going to do what you don't think right." winn drew a deep, hard breath. he threw his arms round her and pressed her against his heart. "i'm _not_ rough," he muttered, "and you've got to do it! you've got to give in!" claire made no answer. she only clung to him, and every now and then she said his name under her breath as if she were calling to something in him to save her. whatever it was that she was calling to answered her. he suddenly bowed his head and buried it in her lap. she felt his body shake, and he began to sob, hard, dry sobs that broke him as they came. he held her close, with his face hidden. claire pressed her hands on each side of his temples, feeling the throbbing of his heart. she felt as if something inside her were being torn to pieces, something that knocked its way against her side in a vain endeavor to escape. she very nearly gave in. then winn stopped as suddenly as he had begun. "sorry," he said, "but this kind of thing is a bit wearing. i'm not going to unlock that door. do you intend to stay all night here, or give me your promise?" he spoke steadily now; his moment of weakness was past. she could have gone then, but nothing would have induced her to leave him while he cried. "i don't intend to do either," claire said with equal steadiness. "when you think i ought to go, you'll let me out." it struck winn that her knowledge of him was positively uncanny. "i don't believe," he said sharply, "you're only nineteen. i believe you've been in love before!" claire didn't say anything, but she looked past him at the door. her look maddened him. "you're playing with me!" he cried. "by jove! you're playing with me!" he caught her by the shoulders, and for a moment he believed that he was going to kill her; but her eyes never wavered. he was not hurting her, and she knew that he never would. she said: "o my darling boy!" winn got up and walked to the window. when he came back, his expression had completely changed. "now cut along to bed," he said quietly. "you're tired. go--at once, claire." this time she knew she ought to go, but something held her back. she was not satisfied with the look in his eyes. he was controlled again, but it was a controlled desperation. she could not leave him with that. her mind was intensely alert with pain; she followed his eyes. they rested for a moment on the stand by his bed. he pushed the key across the table toward her, but she did not look at the key; she crossed the room and opened the drawer under the bible. she saw what she had expected to see. it was winn's revolver; upon it lay a snap-shot of peter. he always kept them together. claire took out the revolver. winn watched her, with his hands in his pockets. "be careful," he said; "it's loaded." she brought it to him and said: "now take all the things out of it." winn laughed, and unloaded it without a word. "now open the window," she ordered, "and throw them into the snow." winn obeyed. when he came back she put her arms around his neck and kissed him. "now i'll go," she said. "all right," agreed winn, gently. "wait for me in the cloak-room, and i'll take you across. but, i say, look here--will you ever forgive me? i'm afraid i've been a most fearful brute." then claire knew she couldn't stand any more. she turned and ran into the passage. fortunately, the cloak-room was empty. she pressed herself against a fur coat and sobbed as winn had sobbed up-stairs; but she had not his arms to comfort her. she had not dared to cry in his arms. they walked hand in hand across the snow from his hotel to the door of hers. claire knew that she could say anything she liked to winn now, so she said what she had made up her mind to say. "winn dearest, do you know what i came down for this evening?" he held her hand tighter and nodded. "i guessed," he said. "that was, you know, what rather did for me. you mean you aren't going to let me come with you down the pass?" "we mustn't," claire whispered; and then she felt she couldn't be good any more. it cost too much. so she added, "but you can if you like." but there wasn't any real need for claire to be good now; winn was good instead. "no," he said; "it's much wiser not. you look thoroughly done up. i'm not going to have any more of this. let's breakfast together. you come over at eight sharp and arrange with maurice to take you down at ten. that's quite enough for you." claire laughed. winn stared at her, then in a moment he laughed, too. "we'd better not take any more chances," he explained. "next time it might happen to us both together. then you'd really be had! thanks awfully for seeing me through. good night." she went into the hotel without a word, and all her heart rebelled against her for having seen him through. chapter xxvii the hour of parting crept upon them singularly quietly and slowly. they both pretended to eat breakfast, and then they walked out into badrutt's park. they sat in the nearest shelter, hand in hand, looking over the gray, empty expanse of the rink. it was too early for any one to be about. only a few swiss peasants were sweeping the ice and winn hardly looked upon swiss peasants as human. he asked claire exactly how much money she had a year, and told her when she came of age what he should advise her to suggest to her trustees to put it in. then he went through all the things he thought she ought to have for driving down the pass. claire interrupted him once to remind him about going to see dr. gurnet. winn said he remembered quite well and would go. they both assured each other that they had had good nights. winn said he thought maurice would be all right in a few years, and that he didn't think he was shaping for trouble. he privately thought that maurice was not going to have any shape at all, but he omitted this further reflection. he told her how much he enjoyed his regiment and explained laboriously how claire was to think of his future, which was to be, apparently, a whirl of pleasure from morning till night. they talked very disconnectedly; in the middle of recounting his future joys, winn said: "and then if anything was to happen to me, you know, i hope you'd think better of it and marry lionel." claire did not promise to marry lionel, but she implied that even without marriage she, like winn, was about to pass into an existence studded with resources and amusements; and then she added: "and if you were to die, or i was, miss marley could help us to see each other just at the last. i asked her about it." despite their future happiness, they seemed to draw more solid satisfaction out of this final privilege. the last ten minutes they hardly talked at all. every now and then winn wanted to know if claire's feet were warm, and claire asked him to let her have a photograph of peter. then maurice came out of the hotel, and a tailing party stood in the open doorway and wondered if it was going to snow. the sleigh drove up to the hotel, jingling in the gayest manner, with pawing horses. winn walked across the courtyard with her and nodded to maurice; and maurice allowed winn to tuck claire up, because, after he'd looked at winn's eyes, it occurred to him that he couldn't do anything else. winn reduced the hall porter, a magnificent person in gold lace, with an immense sense of dignity, to gibbering terror before the lift-boy and the boots because he had failed to supply the sleigh with a sufficiently hot foot-warmer. finally even winn was satisfied that there was nothing more to eat or to wear which the sleigh could be induced to hold or claire agree to want. he stood aside then, and told the man briefly to be off. the driver, who did not understand english, understood perfectly what winn meant, and hastened to crack his whip. claire looked back and saw winn, bare-headed, looking after her. his eyes were like a mother's eyes when she fights in naked absorption against the pain of her child. he went on looking like that for a long while after the sleigh had disappeared. then he put on his cap and started off up the valley toward pontresina. it had already begun to snow. the walk to pontresina is the coldest and darkest of winter walks, and the snow made it heavy going. winn got very much out of breath, and his chest hurt him. every now and then he stopped and said to himself, "by jove! i wonder if i'm going to be ill?" but as he always pushed on afterward with renewed vigor, as if a good idea had just occurred to him, it hardly seemed as if he cared very much whether he was going to be ill or not. he got as far as the mortratsch glacier before he stopped. he couldn't get any farther because when he got into the inn for lunch, something or other happened to him. a fool of a porter had the impertinence to tell him afterward that he had fainted. winn knocked the porter down for daring to make such a suggestion; but feeling remarkably queer despite this relaxation, he decided to drive back to the kulm. he wound up the day with bridge and a prolonged wrangle with miss marley on the subject of the liberal government. miss marley lent herself to the fray and became extremely heated. winn had her rather badly once or twice, and as he never subsequently heard her argue on the same subject with others, he was spared the knowledge that she shared his political views precisely, and had tenderly provided him with the flaws in her opponent's case. when he went to bed he began a letter to claire. he told her that he had had a jolly walk, a good game of bridge, and that he thought he'd succeeded in knocking some radical nonsense out of miss marley's head. then he inclosed his favorite snap-shot of peter, the one that he kept with his revolver, and said he would get taken properly with him when he went back to england. winn stopped for a long time after that, staring straight in front of him; then he wrote: "i hope you'll never be sorry for having come across me, because you've given me everything i ever wanted. i hope you'll not mind my having been rather rough the other night. i didn't mean anything by it. i wouldn't hurt a hair of your head; but i think you know that i wouldn't, only i thought i'd just mention it. please be careful about the damp when you get back to england." he stopped for half an hour when he had got as far as "england," and as the heating was off, the room grew very cold; then he wrote, "i didn't know men loved women like this." after that he decided to finish the letter in the morning; but when the morning came he crossed the last sentence out because he thought it might upset her. chapter xxviii he had been afraid that davos would be beautiful, but the thaw had successfully dissipated its immaculate loveliness. half of the snow slopes were already bare, the roads were a sea of mud, and the valley was as dingy as if a careless washerwoman had upset a basket of dirty linen on her way to the laundry. all the sport people had gone, the streets were half empty, and most of the tourist shops were shut. only the very ill had reappeared; they crept aimlessly about in the sunshine with wonder in their eyes that they were still alive. winn had put up at the nearest hotel and made the earliest possible appointment with dr. gurnet. dr. gurnet was obviously pleased to see him, but the pleasure faded rapidly from his face after a glance or two at winn. the twinkle remained in his eyes, but it had become perceptibly grimmer. "perhaps you would be so kind as to take off your things," he suggested. "after i have examined you we can talk more at our ease." it seemed to winn as if he had never been so knocked about before. dr. gurnet pounced upon him and went over him inch by inch; he reminded winn of nothing so much as of an excited terrier hunting up and down a bank for a rat-hole. eventually dr. gurnet found his rat. he went back to his chair, sat down heavily, and looked at winn. for rather an ominous moment he was silent; then he said politely: "of course i suppose you are aware, major staines, of what you have done with your very excellent chances?" winn shook his head doubtfully. he hadn't, as a matter of fact, thought much lately about these particular chances. "ah," said dr. gurnet, "then i regret to inform you that you have simply walked through them--or, in your case, i should be inclined to imagine, tobogganed--and you have come out the other side. you haven't got any chances now." winn did not say anything for a moment or two; then he observed: "i'm afraid i've rather wasted your time." "pray don't mention it," said dr. gurnet. "it is so small a thing compared with what you have done with your own." winn laughed. "you rather have me there," he admitted; "i suppose i have been rather an ass." "my dear fellow," said dr. gurnet, more kindly, "i'm really annoyed about this, extremely annoyed. i had booked you to get well. i expected it. what have you been doing with yourself? you've broken down that right lung badly; the infection has spread to the left. it was not the natural progress of the disease, which was in process of being checked; it is owing to a very great and undue physical strain, and absolutely no attempt to take precautions after it. also you have, i should say, complicated this by a great nervous shock." "nonsense!" said winn, briefly. "i don't go in for nerves." "you must allow me to correct you," said dr. gurnet, gently. "you are a human being, and all human beings are open to the effects of shock." "i'm afraid i haven't quite played the game," winn confessed, after a short pause. "i hadn't meant to let you down like this, doctor gurnet. i think it is due to me to tell you that i shouldn't have come to you for orders if i had intended at the time to shirk them. you're quite right about the tobogganing: i had a go at the cresta. i know it shook me up a bit, but i didn't spill. perhaps something went wrong then." "and why, may i ask, did you do it?" dr. gurnet asked ironically. "you did not act solely, i presume, from an idea of thwarting my suggestions?" winn's eyes moved away from the gimlets opposite them. "i found time dragging on my hands, rather," he explained a trifle lamely. "ah," said dr. gurnet, "you should have done what i told you--you should have flirted; then you wouldn't have found time hanging on your hands." winn held his peace. he thought dr. gurnet had a right to be annoyed, so he gave him his head; but he had an uncomfortable feeling that dr. gurnet would make a very thorough use of this concession. dr. gurnet watched winn silently for a few moments, then he said: "people who don't wish to get well don't get well; but, on the other hand, it is very rare that people who wish to die die. they merely get very ill and give everybody a great deal of highly unnecessary trouble." "i'm not really seedy yet," winn said apologetically. "i suppose you couldn't give me any idea of how things are going to go--i mean how long i've--" he hesitated for a few seconds; he felt as if he'd been brought up curiously short--"i've got to live," he finished firmly. "i can give you some idea, of course," said dr. gurnet; "but if you take any more violent or irregular plunges, you may very greatly shorten your time. should you insist on remaining in your regiment and doing your work, you have, i fancy, about two years more before a complete breakdown. you are a very strong man, and your lung-tissue is tough. should you remain here under my care, you will live indefinitely, but i can hold out no hope of an ultimate recovery. if you return to england as an invalid, you will most undoubtedly kill yourself from boredom, though i have a suggestion to make to you which i hope may prevent this termination to your career. on the whole, though i fear advice is wasted upon you, i should recommend you to remain in the army. it is what i should do myself if i were unfortunate enough to have your temperament while retaining my own brains." "oh, yes," said winn, rising to go; "of course i sha'n't chuck the army. i quite see that's the only sensible thing to do." "pray sit down again," said dr. gurnet, blandly, "and do not run away with the idea that i think any course you are likely to pursue sensible in itself. if you were a sensible man, you would not take personal disappointment as if it were prussic acid." winn started. "it isn't disappointment," he said quickly; "it was the only thing to do." "ah, well," said dr. gurnet, "heaven forbid that i should enter into a controversy with any one who believes in moral finality! sensible people compromise, major staines; but do not be offended, for i have every reason to believe that sensible people do not make the best soldiers. i am asking you to remain for a few minutes further because there is one other point to which i wish to draw your attention should you be able to spare me the time?" "all right," said winn, with a short laugh; "i've got time enough, according to you; i've got two years." "well, yes," said dr. gurnet, drawing the tips of his fingers carefully together. "and, major staines, according to me you will--er--need them." winn sat up. "what d' you mean?" he asked quickly. "men in my position," replied dr. gurnet, guardedly, "have very interesting little side-lights into the mentality of other nations. i don't know whether you remember my asking you if you knew german?" "yes," said winn. "it went out of head; but now you speak of it, i do remember." "i am delighted," said dr. gurnet, blandly, "to have reconstructed your brain-tissue up to that point. i had a certain reason for asking you this question. i have a good many german patients, some french ones, and a most excellent belgian professor has placed himself under my care." "well, what about it?" asked winn with some sharpness. he had an idea that this queer fellow before him meant something. "the germans are an interesting nation," dr. gurnet proceeded without hurrying, "and they have a universal hobby. i don't know whether you have noticed, major staines, but a universal hobby is a very powerful thing. i am sometimes rather sorry that with us it has wholly taken the form of athletic sports. i dare say you are going to tell me that with you it is not golf, but polo; even this enlarged idea does not wholly alter my depression. "with the germans, you see, the hobby happens to be man[oe]uvers--military man[oe]uvers. i understand that this spring alsace and lorraine have taken on the aspect of one gigantic camp. now, belgium," dr. gurnet proceeded, tapping winn's knee with his fore-finger, "is a small, flat, undefended country, and one of my french patients informs me that the french government have culpably neglected their northern line of forts. "i hear from my other friend, the belgian professor, that three years ago the belgian government ordered big fortress guns from krupp. they have not got them yet; but i do not believe krupp is incapable of turning out guns. on the contrary, i hear that krupp has, in a still shorter time, entirely renovated the artillery of the austrian army." winn leaned forward excitedly. "i say, sir," he exclaimed, "you ought to be in the intelligence office." "god forbid!" said dr. gurnet, piously. "not that i believe in god," he added; "but i cling to the formulated expletives. "i should be extremely uncomfortable in any office. besides, i have my doubts as to the value of intelligence in england. it is so very rare and so un-english. one suspects occasional un-english qualities drawn together for government purposes. "i merely mentioned these interesting national traits because i had an idea, partly that you would respond to them, and partly that they are going in an exceedingly short time to become manifest to the world at large." "you think we are going to have war?" asked winn, his eyes sparkling. "war!" he said the word as if he loved it. dr. gurnet shrugged his shoulders and sighed, and spread out his rather fat little hands. "yes, major staines," he said dryly, "i quite think we are going to have war." "then i must get back to my regiment as quickly as possible," said winn, getting up. "i shouldn't do that if i were you," said dr. gurnet. "i should advise your remaining in england for three months, i think you will be used quicker if you do that. war is unlikely to begin in india, and the climate is deleterious in the summer months. and might i suggest the carrying out of a few minor precautions? if you are to live efficiently for two years, it will be highly necessary for you to carry them out." winn turned toward him eagerly. "i'll do any bally thing you tell me to now," he said quickly. dr. gurnet laughed, then he said: "go back to england, study german, and await your chance. don't play any more heavy games, don't lose your temper or try your heart, don't drink or smoke or play billiards or sit in a room with a shut window. take plenty of good plain food and a certain amount of exercise. you are going to be needed." winn drew a deep breath. "it's a funny thing," he said, turning toward the door, "but somehow i believe in you." dr. gurnet shook hands with him cordially. "in a sense, i may say," he observed, "in spite of your extremely disappointing behavior, that i return the compliment. i believe in you, major staines, only--" dr. gurnet finished the rest of the sentence after the door had shut behind his patient. "unfortunately, i am not sure if there are quite enough of you." chapter xxix when the staineses gave an entertainment it was to mark their contempt for what more sensitive people might have considered a family catastrophe. they had given a ball a week from the day on which dolores ran away with the groom. a boat-race had been inaugurated upon the occasion on which winn lost his lawsuit; and some difficulty (ultimately overcome) between james and the admiralty had resulted in a dinner followed by fireworks on the lawn. when winn returned from davos, lady staines decided upon a garden party. "good god!" cried sir peter. "do you mean to tell me i've wasted that three hundred pounds, sarah?" sir peter preferred this form of the question to "is my boy going to die?" he meant precisely the same thing. "as far as i know," lady staines replied, "nobody ever dies _before_ causing trouble; they die after it, and add their funeral expenses to the other inconveniences they have previously arranged for. can't you see the boy's marriage has gone to pot?" "i wish you wouldn't pick up slang expressions from your sons," growled sir peter. "you never hear me speaking in that loose way. why haven't they got a home of their own? you would ask them here--nurse, bottles, and baby like a traveling barnum's--and winn glares in one corner--and that little piece of dandelion fluff lies down and grizzles on the nearest cushion--and now you want to have a garden party on the top of 'em! anybody'd suppose this was a seamen's home from the use you put it to! and of all damned silly ways of entertaining people, a garden party's the worse! who wants to look at other people's gardens except to find fault with 'em? "besides, unless you want rain (which we don't with the hay half down) it's tempting providence. nothing'll keep rain off a garden party except prayers in church during a drought. "what the hell do you expect to gain by it? i know what it all means--buns! bands! high-heeled kick-shaws cutting up my turf! why the devil don't you get a punch and judy show down and be done with it?" "of course you don't like a garden party," said lady staines, smoothly, "nor do i. do you suppose i care to be strapped tight into smart stays at my age, and walk about my own gravel paths in purple satin, listening to drivel about other people's children? we must do something for the neighborhood sometimes, whether they like it or not. that's what we're here for--it's the responsibility of our position. quite absurd, i know, but then, most people's responsibilities are quite absurd. you have a son and he behaves like a fool. you can leave him to take the consequences of course if you like--only as some of them will devolve on us, it is worth a slight effort to evade them." "for god's sake, spit it out, and have done with it!" shouted sir peter. "what's the boy done?" lady staines sat down opposite her husband and folded her hands in her lap. she was a woman who always sat perfectly still on the rare occasions when she was not too busy to sit down at all. "what i hoped would happen," she said, "hasn't happened. he's presumably picked up with some respectable woman." "what do you mean by that?" asked sir peter. "i never knew any one as cold-bloodedly immoral as you are, sarah. did you want the boy to pick up with a baggage?" "certainly," said lady staines. "why not? i have always understood that the social evil was for our protection, but i never believed it. no woman worth her salt has ever wanted protection. it's men that want it. they need a class of creature that won't involve them beyond a certain point, and quite right too. winn seemed to see this before he went off--but he didn't keep it in mind--he ran his head into a noose." "has he talked to you about it?" asked sir peter, incredulously. "i don't need talk," said lady staines. "i judge by facts. winn goes to church regularly, his temper is execrable, and he takes long walks by himself. a satisfied man is neither irate nor religious--and has nothing to walk off. consequently it's a virtuous attachment. that's serious, because it will lead to the divorce court. virtues generally lead to somebody trying to get out of something." "pooh!" sir peter grunted. "you've got that out of some damned french novel. you must have virtue, the place has got to be kept up somehow, hasn't it? if what you say is true--and i don't for a moment admit a word of it--i don't see how you're going to sugar things over with a couple of hundred people trampling up my lawn?" "estelle likes people," lady staines replied. "my idea is to make her a success. i will introduce her to everybody worth knowing. i'll get some of our people down from town. they'll hate it, of course; but they'll be curious to see what's up. of course they won't see anything. at the end of the day, if it's all gone off well--i'll have a little talk with estelle. i shall tell her first what i think of her; and then i shall offer to back her if she'll turn over a new leaf. winn'll do his part for the sake of the boy, if she meets him half way. i give religion its due--he wants to do his duty, only he doesn't see what it is. he must live with his wife. his prayers will come in nicely afterwards." sir peter chuckled. "there's something in your idea, sarah," he admitted. "but it's a damned expensive process. all my strawberries will go. and if it rains, everybody'll come into the house and scuttle over my library like so many rabbits." "i'll keep them out of the library," said lady staines, rising, "and i shall want a hundred pounds." she left the library after a short series of explosions, with a check for seventy-five. she had only expected fifty. the garden party was, if not a great success, at least a great crowd. the village was entertained by sports in a field, backed by beer in tents, and overseen by winn with the delighted assistance of the younger peter. lady staines, in stiff purple satin, strode uncomfortably up and down herbaceous borders, exposing the ignorance of her fellow gardeners by a series of ruthless questions. charles and james, who had put in an intermittent appearance in the hope of a loan from sir peter, did their best to make things go. charles had brought down a bull terrier, and the bull terrier brought down, first one of the donkeys that was to take part in the sports, but was permanently incapacitated from any further participation either in sport or labor, then two pet lap dogs, in a couple of sharp shakes on the lawn, and crowned his career of murder with the stable cat, in an outhouse where charles had at last incontinently and a little inconsiderately, as far as the cat was concerned, flung him. isabel and her husband had driven over from a neighboring parish. isabel liked garden parties. she made her way at once to a group of clergy, her husband dangling meekly in her rear; and then told them in her quarter deck style exactly what she thought ought to be done with their parishes. sir peter remained in the library with the windows open and his eye upon passing clouds. several of his friends joined him, and they talked about ulster. everybody was at this time talking about ulster. most of them spoke of it as people talk of a tidal wave in china. they did not exactly wish the wave to destroy the whole of china, but they would all have felt a little annoyed if it had withdrawn without drowning anybody. "the government has been weak," said sir peter sternly; "as weak as a soft-boiled egg! what ireland wants is a firm hand, and if that's not enough, a swift kick after it! concession! who wants concessions? a sensible man doesn't make concessions unless he's trying to bluff you into thinking he's got what he hasn't got, or is getting out of you what he hasn't right to get! "but people oughtn't to import arms. i'll go as far as that! it's against discipline. whether it's one side or the other, it ought to be stopped. "there'll be a row, of course--a healthy, blood-letting hell of a row, and we shall all be the better for it! but i don't approve of firearms being let loose all over the place--it's un-english. it only shows what the poor devils at ulster must have suffered, and be afraid of suffering, to resort to it! that sort of thing is all very well in the balkans. my son winn's been talking about the balkans lately--kind of thing the army's always getting gas off about! what i say is--let 'em fight! they got the turk down once, all of 'em together, and he was the only person that could keep 'em in hand. now i hear austria wants to start trouble in serbia because of that assassination in june. what they want to make a fuss about assassination in that family for i can't think! i should look upon it as an hereditary disease and leave it at that! but don't tell me it's anything to worry about compared to ulster. what's the danger of a country that talks thirteen languages, has no non-commissioned officers, and always gets beat when it fights? sarah! sarah! get the people in for tea. can't you see there's a shower coming? damn it all! and my second crop of hay's not in yet! that's what comes of giving garden parties. of course i'm very glad to see you all, but you know what i mean. no shilly-shallying with the english climate's my motto--it's the only dangerous thing we've got!" lady staines disregarded this admonition. the light clouds above the elms puffed idly in the heavy air. it was a hot bright day, murmurous with bees and the idle, half notes of midsummer birds. estelle, in the most diaphanous of blue muslins, held a little court under a gigantic mulberry tree. she had always intended marriage with a staines to be like this. winn was nowhere to be seen, and his mother plodded patiently to and fro across the lawn, bringing a line of distinguished visitors to be introduced to her. they were kind, curt people who looked at estelle rather hard, and asked her absurd questions about winn's regiment, sir peter's ships, and her baby. they had no general ideas, but however difficult they were to talk to, estelle knew they were the right people to meet--she had seen their names in magazines. none of her own family were there; they had all been invited, but estelle had preferred their remaining at home. she had once heard sir peter refer to her father as "old moneybags." he had apologized afterwards, but he might do it again. lady staines was the only person who noticed the arrival of two telegrams--they were taken to charles and james, who were at that moment in the refreshment tent opposite the claret cup. the telegrams arrived simultaneously, and charles said, "good lord!" and james said, "my hat!" when they read the contents, with every symptom of surprise and pleasure. "i shouldn't have supposed," lady staines thought to herself, "that two of my boys would have backed the same horse. it must be a coincidence." they put the telegrams rather carefully away, and shortly afterwards she observed that they had set off together in the direction of the village sports. the long golden twilight drew to a close, the swallows swooped and circled above the heavy, darkened elms. the flowers in the long herbaceous borders had a fragile look in the colorless soft air. the garden party drifted slowly away. lady staines stopped her daughter-in-law going into the house; but she was destined never to tell her what she thought of her. estelle escaped nemesis by the turn of a hair. sir peter came out of the library prepared to inspect the lawn. "what's up with those boys?" he demanded, struck by the unusual sight of his three sons advancing towards him from the river, their heads bent in talk, and not apparently quarreling. lady staines followed the direction of his eyes; then she said to estelle, "you'd better go in now, my dear; i'll talk to you later." sir peter shouted in his stentorian voice an appeal to his sons to join him. lady staines, while she waited, took off her white kid gloves and her purple bonnet, and deposited them upon the balustrades. "what are you up to," demanded sir peter when they came within earshot, "sticking down there by the river with your heads glued together like a set of damned guy fawkeses--instead of saying good-by to your mother's guests--who haven't had the sense to get under way before seven o'clock--though i gave 'em a hint to be off an hour ago?" "helping villagers to climb greasy poles, and finishing a sack race," charles explained. "lively time winn's been having down there--i had no idea our second housemaid was so pretty." "none of that! none of that!" said sir peter, sharply. "you keep to bar-maids, young charles--and manicure girls, though there ought to be an act of parliament against 'em! still, i'll admit you can't do much harm here--three of you together, and your mother on the front doorstep!" "harm," said james, winking in the direction of his mother; "what can poor chaps like us do--here to-day and gone to-morrow--mother'd better keep her eye on those near home!" "off to-night you might as well say!" remarked charles, glancing at james with a certain intentness. "why off to-night?" asked lady staines. "i thought you were staying over the week-end?" "winn's put us on to something," explained charles. "awfully good show, he says--on at the oxford. pretty hot stuff and the censor hasn't smelt it out yet--we rather thought we'd run up to-night and have a look at it." winn stuck his hands in his pockets, set his jaw, and looked at his mother. lady staines was regarding him with steady eyes. "you didn't get a telegram, too?" she asked. "no," said winn. "why should i?" "not likely," said james, genially. "always behindhand in the--" "damn these midges!" said charles, hurriedly. james stopped with his mouth open. "army, you were going to say, weren't you?" asked his mother, suavely. "if you are my sons i must say you make uncommonly poor liars." sir peter, whose attention had wandered to tender places in the lawn, looked up sharply. "what's that? what's that?" he asked. "been telling lies, have they? a nice way you've brought 'em up, sarah! what have they been lying about? a woman? because if they have, i won't hear a word about it! lies about a woman are perfectly correct, though i'm hanged if i can see how they can all three be lying about one woman. that seems a bit thick, i must say." to sir peter's surprise, nobody made any reply. charles yawned, james whistled, and winn kept his eyes steadily fixed on lady staines. "those were orders then," lady staines observed in a dry quiet voice. "i thought it very likely. i suppose it's germany. i felt sure we should have trouble with that excitable young man sooner or later. he had too good an opinion of himself to be an emperor." "not ulster!" exclaimed sir peter. "god bless my soul--not ulster!" "oh, we can take on ulster afterwards," said james reassuringly. "now we'll see what submarines can do; 'member the japs?" "winn," said lady staines, "before you're off, say good-by to your wife." winn frowned, and then he said, "all right, mother," and left them. it was a very still evening, the scent of new mown hay and the mysterious sweetness of the starry white tobacco plant haunted the delicate air. winn found estelle lying down by the open window. he had not been in her room for some time. he sat down by the sofa, and fingered the tassels at her waist. "is anything the matter?" she asked coldly. he had only himself to thank that she was cold--he knew that. he saw so plainly now, all the mistakes he'd made, that the ones estelle had made, receded into the distance. he'd never been gentle to her. even when he thought he loved her, he wasn't really gentle. gentleness was superlative kindness, and no woman who had not had just that sort of kindness from the man she married, could help being rather nasty. he had owed it to estelle--no matter whether she told him the truth or not. "look here, estelle," he began. "i want our boy to go to charterhouse." it wasn't exactly what he meant to say, but it was something; he had never called peter "our boy" before. estelle did not notice it. "of course, i should prefer eton," she said, "but i suppose you will do as you like--as usual!" winn dropped the piece of tassel, but he persevered. "i say," he began, "don't you think we've got rather off the track? i know it's not your fault, but your being ill and my being away and all that? i don't want you to feel sore about it, you know. i want you to realize that i know i've been rather a beast to you. i don't think i'm fitted somehow for domestic life--what?" "fitted for it!" said estelle, tragically. "i have never known one happy moment with you! you seem incapable of any kind of chivalry! i never would have believed a man could exist who knew _less_ how to make a woman happy! it's too late to talk of it all now! i've made my supreme sacrifice. i've offered up my broken heart! i am living upon a higher plane! you would never understand anything that wasn't coarse, brutal, and low! so i shan't explain it to you. i know my duty, but i don't think after the way you have behaved i really need consider myself under any obligation to live with you again. father anselm agrees with me." winn laughed. "don't you worry about that," he hastened to assure her, "or father anselm either; there isn't the least necessity--and it wasn't what i meant." estelle looked annoyed. it plainly should have been what winn meant. "have as much of the higher plane as you like," he went on, "only look after the boy. i'm off to london to-night, there's probably going to be some work of a kind that i can do. i mayn't be back directly. hope you'll be all right. we can write about plans." he stood up, hesitating a little. he had an idea that it would make him feel less strange if she kissed him. of course it was absurd, because just to have a woman's arms round his neck wasn't going to be the least like claire. but he had a curious feeling that perhaps he might never be alone with a woman again, and he wanted to part friends with estelle. "i wonder," he said, leaning towards her, "would you mind very much if i kissed you?" estelle turned her head away with a little gesture of aversion. "i am sorry," she said. "i shall not willingly allow you to kiss me, but of course you are my husband--i am in your power." "by jove," said winn, unexpectedly, "what a little cat you are!" they were the last words he ever said to her. chapter xxx for a time he could do nothing but think of his luck--it was astounding how obstacles had been swept aside for him. the best he had expected was that in the hurry of things he might get back to india without a medical examination, in the hope that his regiment would be used later. but his work at the staff college had brought him into notice, a man conveniently died, and winn appeared at the right moment. within twenty-four hours of his visit to the war office, he was attached for staff duty to a british division. then work closed over his head. he became a railway time-table, a lost-luggage office, a registrar, and a store commissioner. he had the duties of a special providence thrust upon him, with all the disadvantages of being readily held accountable, so skilfully evaded by the higher powers. junior officers flew to him for orders as belated ladies fly to their pin cushions for pins. he ate when it was distinctly necessary, and slept two hours out of the twenty-four. he left nothing undone which he could do himself; his mind was unfavorable to chance. the heads of departments listened when he made suggestions, and found it convenient to answer with accuracy his sudden questions. subordinates hurried to obey his infrequent but final orders; and when winn said, "i think you'd find it better," people found it better. the division slipped off like cream, without impediment or hitch. there were no delays, the men acquired their kit, and found their railway carriages. the trains swept in velvet softness out of the darkened london station through the sweet, quiet, summer night into a sleepless folkestone. the division went straight onto the right transports; there wasn't a man, a horse, or a gun out of place. winn heaved a sigh of relief as he stepped on board; his troubles as a staff officer had only just begun, but they had begun as troubles should always begin, by being adequately met. there were no arrears. he did not think of claire until he stood on deck and saw the lights receding and the shadow that was england passing out of his sight. he remembered her then with a little pang of joy--for suddenly he knew that he was free to think of her. he had thought of her before as a man registers a fact that is always present to him, but in the interval since he had seen her his consciousness of her had been increasingly troubled. now the trouble was fading, as england faded, as his old life was fading. he had a sense that he was finally freed. it was not like seeing claire again, but it was like not having to see anything else. "until i'm dead i'm hers, and after i'm dead i'm hers, so that's all right," he said to himself. "i haven't got to muddle things up any more." the sea lay around them at dawn like a sheet of pearl--it was very empty but for the gulls' wings beating to and fro out of the mist. winn had lived through many campaigns. he had known rough jungle tussles in mud swamps, maddened by insects, thirst, and fever; he had fought in colder, cleaner dangers down the khyber pass, and he had gone through the episodic scientific flurries of south africa; but france disconcerted him; he had never started a campaign before in a country like a garden, met by welcoming populations, with flowers and fruit. it made him feel sick. the other places were the proper ones for war. it was not his way to think of what lay before him. it would, like all great emergencies, like all great calamities, keep to its moment, and settle itself. nevertheless he could not free his mind from the presence of the villages--the pleasant, smiling villages, the little church towers in the middle, the cobbled streets, the steep-pitched, gray roofs and the white sunny walls. carnations and geraniums filled the windows, and all the inhabitants, the solid, bright-faced people, had a greeting for their khaki guests. "voilà quelque choses des solides, ces anglais!" the women called to each other. winn found himself shrinking from their welcoming eyes. he thought he hadn't had enough sleep, because as a rule a staines did not shrink; but when he slept in the corner of the hot jolting railway train, he dreamed of the villages. they were to attack directly they arrived at their destination. by the time they reached there, winn knew more. he had gathered up the hastily flung messages by telegram and telephone, by flying cars and from breathless despatch riders, and he knew what they meant. they had no chance, from the first, not a ghost of a chance. they were to hold on as long as they could, and then retreat. part of the line had gone already. the french had gone. no reinforcements were coming up. there were no reinforcements. they were to retreat turn and turn about; meantime they must hold. they could hear the guns now, the bright harvest fields trembled a little under the impact of these alien presences. they came nearer and the sky filled with white puffs of smoke that looked like glittering sunset clouds, and were not clouds. overhead the birds sang incessantly, undisturbed even by the occasional drilling of an aëroplane. in the plains that lay beneath them, they could see the dim blue lines of the enemy debouching. they made winn think of locusts. he had seen a plague once in egypt. they came on like the germans, a gray mass that never broke--that could not break, because behind it there were more, and still more locusts, thick as clouds, impenetrable as clouds. you killed and killed and killed, and yet there were more clouds. every now and then it ran through his mind like a flame, that they would spread this loathsome, defiling cloud over the smiling little villages of france. fortunately there was no time for pity; there were merely the different ways of meeting the question of holding on. it was like an attempt to keep back a tide with a teaspoon. their guns did what they could, they did more than it seemed possible guns could do. the men in control of them worked like maniacs. it was not a time to think of what people could do. the men were falling like leaves off a tree. the skylarks and the swallows vanished before the villainous occupation of the air. the infantry in the loosely built trenches held on, breathless, broken, like a battered boat in a hurricane, stout against the oncoming waves. the stars came out and night fell--night rent and tortured, darkness assaulted and broken by a myriad new lights of death, but still merciful, reassuring darkness. the moment for the retreat had come. it was a never-ending business, a stumbling, bewildering business. the guns roared on, holding open indefatigably, without cessation, the way of their escape. much later they got away themselves, dashing blindly in the wake of their exhausted little army, ready to turn at command and hold again, and escape again, and once more hold the unending blue lines, with their unnumbered guns, unwinding like an endless serpent in their rear. the morning showed them still retreating. sometimes they were miles ahead and could see nothing but the strangely different barred and shivering villages, small settlements of terror, in an untroubled land. there were no flowers flung upon them now, only hurried gasping questions, "are they coming?" "how far are they behind you?" sometimes they were halted for half an hour at a time, and sat in hedges and ate, or meant to eat, and slept between the bites. occasionally they surprised small bands of wandering uhlans, and if there was time took them prisoners, and if there was no time, shot them in rows against white walls. once they met a troop out of one of their own divisions, led by a solitary subaltern of nineteen, with queer fixed eyes, who didn't know who he was. all he could say, "i brought them out." despatch riders hurled themselves upon the staff with orders; very often they had conflicting orders; and they always had dust, trouble with horses, trouble with motor ambulances, trouble with transport. enraged heroic surgeons achieving hourly physical miracles, implored with tears to be given impossible things like time. of course they couldn't have time. then in the midst of chaos, orders would come to hold. the guns unlimbered, the transports tore madly ahead. everything that could be cleared off down the road was cleared off, more rough trenches were dug, more hot and sullen hours of waiting followed, and then once more the noise, the helpless slaughter, the steady dogged line gripping the shallow earth, and the unnumbered horde of locusts came on again, eating up the fields of france. sometimes whole regiments entrained under the care of fatherly french railway officials, curiously liable to hysteria on ordinary excursion days, but now as calm as egyptian pyramids in the face of national disaster. they pieced together with marvelous ingenuity the broken thread of speech presented to them by the occasional french scholars upon the british staff; but more often still they shook polite and emphatic heads, and explained that there quite simply were no trains. the possible, yes; but the impossible, no. one could not create trains. so the men went on marching. they did not like retreating, but they moved as if they were on parade in front of buckingham palace, and when they held, they fought as winners fight. it was not until they reached the marne that winn found time to write to claire. "we are getting on very nicely," he wrote. "i hope you are not worrying about us. we have plenty to eat, though we have to take our meals a little hurriedly. "there is a good deal of work to do. "this war is the best thing that ever happened to me--bar one. before i came out i thought i should go to pieces. i feel quite free to write to you now. i do not think there can be any harm in it, so i hope you won't mind. if things do not seem to be going very well with us at first, remember that they never do. "every campaign i ever went in for, we were short-handed to start with, and had to fight against odds, which doesn't matter really if you have the right men, but always takes longer and looks discouraging to outsiders. the men are very good and i am glad the war office let me commandeer the boots i wanted--the kind they offered me at first wouldn't have done at all for this sort of work. it is rather hard not being with the men more, but the work is very absorbing, so i do not mind as much as i did. "i think the regiment will come out later, and they have promised to let me go back into it. i am sorry about the villages. it's a pity the germans slopped over into france at all. i found two uhlans yesterday in a farmyard; they had been behaving badly, so i did them both in. "one very seldom sees any of them, worse luck. "i hope you are taking great care of yourself and not worrying. your loving winn." in the weeks that followed, claire got many letters. they were short letters, written in flying motors, in trains, in outhouses, in romantic châteaux; but they all began in the same reassuring way. "i am very well, and we are getting on quite nicely." the allied line was being flung out in wild curves and swoops like the flight of a dove before a hawk; from soissons up toward calais they fenced and circled. they retook rheims, they seized amiens. lille fell from them and laon. the battle of the aisne passed by slow degrees out of their hands, and the english found themselves fighting their extraordinary first fight for ypres. they stood between the germans and the channel ports as thinly as a japanese screen, between england and the atlantic. the very camp cooks were in the trenches. time fled like a long thunderous hour. it was a storm that flashed and fell and returned again. winn was beginning to feel tired now. he hardly slept at night, and by day his brain moved as if it were made of red-hot steel, flying rapidly from expedient to expedient, facing the hourly problems of that wild and wet october, how to keep men alive who never rested, who were too few, who took the place of guns. he wrote more seldom now, and once he said, "we are having rather a hard time, but we shall get through with it." fortunately all englishmen are born with a curious pioneer instinct, and being the least adaptable people in the world, they have learned the more readily to adapt the changes of the hour. they remade their external world, out of this new warfare. they remade it at the cost of their lives in flanders, in the face of incredulous enemies and criticizing neutrals, painstakingly, without science, doggedly out of their own wills. they held ypres by a thread, and when it seemed that nothing could keep it, one cold and dreadful day along the menin road came up their reinforcements. first one group and then another of tall, dark people, silent footed as falling leaves, turbaned black faces, eyes of appalling and unearthly gravity, hearts half like a rock and half like a child, alien captive people of another blood, took their place silently, regiment by regiment blocking up the dreadful gaps with their guns, their rifles, and the free gift of their lives. "lionel has come," winn wrote, "and all my men. i never was so glad of anything, but you. send me all the warm things you can. the winter will be quite jolly now when the men get used to the trenches. it's a funny thing, but they've given me command of the regiment. i hadn't expected it, but i've always liked handling sikhs. whatever happens, you'll remember that i've been an awfully lucky chap, won't you?" chapter xxxi lionel and winn talked of the regiment and the war; these two things filled the exacting hours. in a world a very long way off and in the depths of their hearts were england and claire. they spent three weeks in the trenches, blackened and water clogged and weary. it was the darkest time of a dark december, the water was up to their waists, there was no draining the treacherous clay surfaces. the men suffered to the limit of their vitality and sometimes passed it; they needed constant care and watching. it had to be explained to them that they were not required to give up their lives to spirits, in a land that worshiped idols. behind the strange lights and noises heralding death there were solid people who ate sausages, and could be killed. one or two small parties led in night attacks overcame the worst of their fears. later on when the mud dried they could kill more; in the end all would be killed, and they would return with much honor to their land of sunshine. to the officers who moved among them, absorbed in the questions of their care, there was never any silence or peace, and yet there was a strange content in the huddled, altered life of their wet ditch. every power of the will, every nerve of the body, was being definitely used. winn and lionel felt a strange mood of exultation. they pushed back difficulties and pierced insoluble problems with prompt escapes. only from time to time casualties dropped in upon them grimly, impervious to human ingenuity. in the quieter hours of the night, they crouched side by side formulating fresh schemes and going over one by one the weak points of their defenses. they hadn't enough guns, or any reinforcements; they had no dry clothes. the men were not accustomed to wet climates or invisible enemies. they wanted more sand-bags and more bombs, and it would be better for human beings not to be in trenches for three weeks at a time in the rain. they sat there pitting their brains against these obstacles, creating the miraculous ingenuity of war. personal questions dropped. lionel saw that winn was ill beyond mending, but he saw it without definite thought--it was one more obstacle in a race of obstacles. it wouldn't do for winn to break down. he fitted himself without explanations, selflessly, with magnificent disinterestedness, into his friend's needs. he was like a staff in the hand of a blind man. winn himself had begun to wonder, moving about in his sea of mud, how much worse you could be before you were actually done. his cough shook him incessantly, his brain burned, and his hands were curiously weak. he was conscious that he had to repeat to himself all day long the things he had to do; even then he might have forgotten if there had not been lionel. he might have forgotten to give orders. in spite of everything a strange inner bliss possessed him which nourished him like food. he had claire's letters, they never failed him, they were as regular as the beats of a heart. something in him lived that had never lived before, something that did not seem likely ever to die. it was helping him as lionel was helping him to get through things. what he had to get through was dying. it was going to be quicker than the way they had of dying in davos, but it mightn't be quick enough; it might drive him out of his last fight, back to an inconceivable stale world. this must not happen. lionel must live and he must die, where he was. you could bully fate, if you were prepared to pay the price for it. winn was not sure yet what the price would be, he was only sure that he was prepared to pay it. they were to be relieved next day. the men were so worn out that they could hardly move. winn and lionel found their own bodies difficult to control; they had become heavy and inert from want of sleep, but their minds were alive and worked with feverish swiftness, like the minds of people in a long illness, when consciousness creeps above the level of pain. winn had just returned from his evening round of the trenches. lionel was resting in his dug-out; he heard winn's approach. winn was coughing again--a little choking, short cough. he bent double and crouched down beside lionel without speaking. "well," said lionel, "to-morrow we'll be out of this. about time too--with that cough of yours." winn was silent for a moment, then he said, "i suppose you know i'm nearly done?" lionel bowed his head. "yes," he muttered, "i suppose i know it." after a pause winn began again. "there isn't much good talking, of course. on the other hand, you may as well know what i feel. i've had tremendous luck in one way and another. i never expected to get the regiment, for instance--and your coming out here and all that. i've seen how jolly things could be." "you haven't had them," said lionel in a low voice. "the things you wanted most, i mean. your pitch was queered too soon." "i don't know," said winn, painstakingly. "in a sense, of course, you haven't had things if you've only seen 'em. still when you come to think of it, you partly have. look at the germans; we've worked considerably into them without seeing 'em, haven't we? what i mean is that i appreciate goodness now; i see its point. not that i'd have kept clear a moment by myself. i hope you quite understand that? i've been a blackguard and i'd have been a worse one if i'd had the chance. but i'm glad i hadn't the chance now. i don't know that i'm putting the thing straight--but you know what she's like? thank god i couldn't alter her!" they listened for a moment to the night. their ears were always awake, registering sounds from the sodden, death-ridden fields beneath them, and above, but they heard nothing beyond the drip of the rain, an occasional groan from a man tortured by rheumatism, and the long-drawn scream of a distant shell. "you can call yourself what you like," said lionel at last. "i know what you are, that's enough for me, and she knew it; that's one reason i got to caring for her. "i dare say that seems a rummy thing to you, to care for a woman because she cares for another man. but it's a fact." winn moved uneasily. then he said abruptly, "look here, young 'un, i was wrong before when i asked you to step in instead of me, but i'm not wrong now. you can take it from me she'll marry you in the end. she's young; be patient. i dare say she'll think for a time she's had enough, but she hasn't. there's no good living a lonely life. we may both get done in, of course. but i don't fancy we shall. i want you to promise me not to get killed if you can help it. "keep away from me if you think i'm getting into trouble, because i sha'n't be getting into trouble, i shall be getting out of it, d'you see?" the guns sounded nearer, a machine gun rattled sharply in their ears, as if it had been let off in their dug-out. "i sha'n't care for anybody else," said lionel, quietly, "and i shall wait all my life for her. as for not being killed--you don't want me to shirk my job, of course; bar that, i sha'n't ask for trouble." winn said, "all right--then that's that! i'm going to sleep." they neither of them slept. it came very quickly and confusedly toward dawn. the silence was rent across like a piece of torn silk. the crash of bombs, the peppery, sharp detonation of rifles broke up the sullen air. out of the dark, vague shapes loomed, the trench filled with the sound of deep breathing and scuffling, and the shriek of sudden pain. death and mud and darkness closed together. it was all over in half an hour, the attack was driven out, and the men moved uncertainly about, trying to discover their dead, and relieve their wounded. the dawn was gray and in the half light, winn saw lionel's eyes open and shut; the blood was pouring from a hideous wound in his side. "you've got to live," winn said grimly, bending over him. "no damned nonsense about it! you've got to live." lionel's eyes closed again and he knew nothing more of the rough bandaging, the endless waiting in the sodden trench while winn sat motionless beside him, watching his flickering breath. in the hours of the interminable journey, lionel roused himself sometimes and heard again like a perpetual refrain, "you've got to live." the motor ambulance jarred and bumped it, the wheels of the train echoed it through the fever in his brain. he woke in england knowing that he was going to live. [illustration: "you've got to live," said winn, bending grimly over him; "you've got to live!"] a few hours later winn went to see the general of his division. "i want you to let me have another twenty-four in, sir," he explained. "they won't expect an attack so soon. i know my men are not very fresh, but it'll wake them up. they've stood a good lot. i've been talking to 'em. they want to get a bit of their own back. that trench of theirs is too near us in any case. they'd be better pushed back." the general hesitated, but winn's fiery sunken eyes held and shook him. "well, staines," he said, "you know what you can do with your men, of course. have it your own way. when do you want to attack?" "soon as they've settled off to sleep," said winn, "just to give 'em a night-cap." "don't lose too many men," said the general, "and above all come back yourself." "that's as may be," said winn. "if i can get the men over quietly in a bit of mist, i sha'n't lose too many of 'em. i've told them if they're too fagged to stand, they'd better fight. they quite agree about it." winn led the attack with the last of his strength, and in the fierceness of his rage with life. a white fog hung over the fields like the shadow of a valley filled with snow. the men fought like demons--strange shapes in the fog, with here and there as the flames shot up, the flash of their black faces, set to kill. winn's voice rallied and held them above the racket of the spitting rifles, and the incessant coughing of the guns. it was the staines voice let out on a last voyage. to have gone back against it would have been more dangerous than to go on against the guns. they seized the trench and held it, there were no prisoners taken in the dark, and after the first light they ceased to hear winn's voice. the sun came out and showed them all they had won, and what they had lost. winn lay peacefully between the old trench and the new, beyond resentment, beyond confusion, in the direct simplicity of death. the end * * * * * +-----------------------------------------------------------+ | transcriber's note: | | | | inconsistent hyphenation in the original document has | | been preserved. | | | | obvious typographical errors have been corrected. for | | a complete list, please see the end of this document. | | | +-----------------------------------------------------------+ * * * * * the irish on the somme the irish on the somme _being the second series of "the irish at the front"_ by michael macdonagh _author of "irish life and character"_ _with an introduction by_ john redmond, m.p. hodder and stoughton london new york toronto mcmxvii to the memory of major william redmond, m.p. royal irish regiment (irish brigade) who died of wounds received in action june , leading his men in the attack on wytschaete wood introduction by john redmond, m.p. the response of the irish race this war is a war of liberation, and its battle-cry is the rights and liberties of humanity. from the very beginning of the conflict my colleagues of the irish party, and i myself, have availed of every opportunity in parliament, on the platform, and in the press, to present this view of it to the irish race at home and abroad; and despite the tragic mistakes made in regard to ireland by the successive governments which have held office since war broke out, we are still unshaken in our opinion that ireland's highest interests lie in the speedy and overwhelming victory of england and the allies. the response of the irish race the world over to our appeal to rise in defence of civilisation and freedom has been really wonderful. the example was set by ireland herself. at the outbreak of the war i asked the irish people, and especially the young men of ireland, to mark the profound change which has been brought about in the relations of ireland to the empire by wholeheartedly supporting the allies in the field. i pointed out that at long last, after centuries of misunderstanding, the democracy of great britain had finally and irrevocably decided to trust ireland with self-government; and i called upon ireland to prove that this concession of liberty would have the same effect in our country as it has had in every other portion of the empire, and that henceforth ireland would be a strength instead of a weakness. i further pointed out that the war was provoked by the intolerable military despotism of germany, that it was a war in defence of small nationalities, and that ireland would be false to her own history and traditions, as well as to honour, good faith and self-interest, if she did not respond to my appeal. the answer to that appeal is one of the most astonishing facts in history. at the moment, fraught with the most terrible consequences to the whole empire, this kingdom found for the first time in the history of the relations between great britain and ireland that the irish nationalist members, representing the overwhelming mass of the people of ireland, were enabled to declare themselves upon the side of england. they did that with their eyes open. they knew the difficulties in the way. they knew--none so well--the distrust and suspicion of british good faith which had been, in the past, universal almost in ireland. they recognised that the boon of self-government had not been finally granted to their country. they knew the traditional hostility which existed in many parts of ireland to recruiting for the british army. facing all these things, and all the risks that they entailed, they told ireland and her sons abroad that it was their duty to rally to the support of the allies in a war which was in defence of the principles of freedom and civilisation. we succeeded far better than we had anticipated, or hoped at the commencement. this is a notorious fact. there is genuine enthusiasm in ireland on the side of the allies. addressing great popular gatherings in every province in ireland in support of the allies, i called for a distinctively irish army, composed of irishmen, led by irishmen and trained at home in ireland. with profound gratitude i acknowledge the magnificent response the country has made. for the first time in the history of the wars of england there is a huge irish army in the field. the achievements of that irish army have covered ireland with glory before the world, and have thrilled our hearts with pride. north and south have vied with each other in springing to arms, and, please god, the sacrifices they have made side by side on the field of battle will form the surest bond of a united irish nation in the future. from ireland, according to the latest official figures, , irishmen are serving in the navy and army, representing all classes and creeds amongst our people. careful inquiries made through the churches in the north of england and scotland and from other sources, show that, in addition, at least , sons of the irish race, most of them born in ireland, have joined the colours in great britain. it is a pathetic circumstance that these irishmen in non-irish regiments are almost forgotten, except when their names appear in the casualty lists. some of the irish papers have, for a considerable time past, been publishing special lists of killed and wounded under the heading, "irish casualties in british regiments." one of these daily lists, taken quite haphazard, and published on november , , contains names, all distinctively irish--o'briens, o'hanlons, donovans, etc. these men were scattered amongst the following non-irish regiments-- grenadier guards. coldstream guards. scots guards. welsh guards. royal field artillery. royal engineers. royal scots fusiliers. the black watch. northumberland fusiliers. yorkshire regiment. east yorks regiment. dorsetshire regiment. cheshire regiment. york and lancaster regiment. lancashire fusiliers. king's royal rifles. london regiment. manchester regiment. king's liverpool regiment. loyal north lancashire regiment. royal warwickshire regiment. highland light infantry. leicestershire regiment. worcestershire regiment. sherwood foresters. king's own yorks light infantry. border regiment. durham light infantry. notts. & derby regiment. machine gun corps. army service corps. army cyclist corps. as showing the extent to which scottish regiments at the front are made up of irishmen, one newspaper quotes four hundred names from the casualty lists issued on four successive days one week. all the names are irish, all the addresses are scotch, and in only about twenty cases were the men enrolled in irish regiments, all the others being attached to scottish regiments. these sad records show the many thousands of irishmen serving in non-irish regiments who are never taken into account to the credit of ireland, in estimating the part she is playing in this war, until they come to light in the casualty lists. in addition to these voluntary contributions of ireland and her sons in great britain to the british army, i am informed on the highest authority that from twenty to twenty-five per cent of all the troops from the oversea dominions are men of irish blood. general botha sent me this cablegram from south africa: "i entirely endorse your view that this victory"--he is referring to his great defeat of the germans in their colonies--"is the fruit of the policy of liberty and the recognition of national rights in this part of the empire." general botha had enormous difficulties to face, serious racial animosity, and bitter national memories. does any fair-minded man think that general botha could have overcome those difficulties as he did if the war had broken out just after the recognition of those national rights to which he referred and before they had come into operation? the national rights of ireland are recognised, but they have not yet come into operation. yet it is true to say that the overwhelming sentiment of the irish people is with the empire for the first time. that fact is of incalculable value. its influence has spread to every corner of the empire. if the sentiment of the irish people at home had not been with england in this war, the depressing and benumbing effect would have been felt everywhere in the self-governing dominions. ireland herself has made a splendid response, and the result has been that a wave of enthusiasm has stirred the hearts of men of irish blood throughout the empire. i received a new year's card from the commanding officer and the other officers of a regiment raised in vancouver, commanded by irishmen and composed of irishmen. they call themselves "the vancouver irish fusiliers." then, not long since, in cape town, green flags were presented by general botha's wife--a member of the historic emmet family--to an irish regiment raised there. these facts constitute a striking result of the action we felt it our duty to take to bring feeling in ireland in regard to the war into line with that of the rest of the empire. then there is that remarkable irish battalion of the canadian expeditionary force, the irish canadian rangers, which is composed of irish catholics and irish protestants in equal numbers, commanded by officers more than half of whom are catholics and having a catholic chaplain and a protestant chaplain. this battalion, unique among the fighting units raised at home or abroad during the war, and a magnificent body of men, made a tour through the ancient motherland of their race in january (on their way to the front), and received in dublin, belfast, cork and limerick the most enthusiastic popular welcomes. ireland is very proud of these sons of the irish race who, in every part of the empire, have followed the lead which she herself has given in rallying to the cause with which she has always sympathised and has always supported--the cause of right against might. the irish race is represented in this war by at least half a million of men who have voluntarily joined the colours. how gallantly they have fought this book, in part, relates. in his first series of _the irish at the front_ mr. macdonagh deals with the achievements of the irish guards and the regular irish regiments of the line in flanders and france in the earlier years of the war; the landing of the munsters and dublins of the immortal th division at beach v, gallipoli; and the fighting of the th (irish) division of the new armies at suvla bay. the story of these glorious deeds sent a wave of emotion through the land. the king, addressing a battalion of the irish guards on st. patrick's day, , said-- "on st. patrick's day, when irishmen the world over unite to celebrate the memory of their patron saint, it gives me great pleasure to inspect the reserve battalion of my irish guards, and to testify my appreciation of the services rendered by the regiment in this war.... i gratefully remember the heroic endurance of the st battalion in the arduous retreat from mons, again at ypres on the critical november st, when, as lord cavan, your brigadier, wrote, those who were left showed the enemy that irish guards must be reckoned with, however hard hit. after twenty-eight days of incessant fighting against heavy odds, the battalion came out of the line less than a company strong, with only four officers--a glorious tribute to irish loyalty and endurance.... in conferring the victoria cross on lance-corporal, now lieutenant, michael o'leary, the first irish guardsman to win this coveted distinction, i was proud to honour a deed that, in its fearless contempt of death, illustrates the spirit of my irish guards. at loos the nd battalion received its baptism of fire and confirmed the high reputation already won by the st battalion." _the daily telegraph_ (london), writing on march , , said-- "there is one key to the soul of ireland--the word 'freedom.' it was realised instantly that this was no dynastic war on the part of the allies, no struggle for material ends, but a life and death conflict for liberty of thought and action. once the issue was exposed, irishmen, with all the white heat which injustice inspires in their breasts, threw themselves into the battle. the enemy has since felt irish steel and fallen under irish bullets. whatever the future may have in store, the british people will never forget the generous blood of the sister nation, which has been shed on so many hard-fought battlefields since the world-war began." in this, the second series of _the irish at the front_, the thrilling story is continued. the irish troops dealt with are all of the new armies--the ulster division, the irish division and the tyneside irish brigade. i am as proud of the ulster regiments as i am of the nationalist regiments. i do not want to boast of their valour. we irishmen are inclined to take it as a matter of course. these irish regiments, unionist and nationalist, merely keep up the tradition of our race. but i say that lord kitchener's words remain true--the words that he wrote to the viceregal recruiting conference in dublin in , when he said that in the matter of recruiting, "ireland's performance has been magnificent." let me ask any fair-minded man this question: if five years ago any one had predicted that in a great war in which the empire was engaged , men would have been raised from ireland, and that there would be more than half a million irishmen with the colours, would he not have been looked upon as a lunatic? it is the free offering of ireland. surely it must be regarded as a proud and astonishing record! j.e. redmond. preface this narrative is concerned chiefly with the three distinctively irish units of the new armies engaged on the western front--the ulster division, the irish division (representative of the south and west), and the "tyneside irish," in which irishmen living in the north of england enlisted. it also deals incidentally with the irish regular regiments of the line, and with that numerous body of irishmen serving in english, scottish and welsh battalions and in the anzacs and canadians. the first series of _the irish at the front_ covers, first, the fighting of the irish regiments of the regular army in france, flanders and the dardanelles during the early stages of the war; and, secondly, the operations of the th (irish) division--composed entirely of "kitchener's men"--against the turks at gallipoli. the latter, an exceptionally fine body of young irishmen, gallantly fought and fell--as the story discloses--in that expedition, so ill-fated and yet so romantic, though they had never handled a rifle or done a day's drill before the war. in this series we see irishmen of the same type matched against the germans in france. as we know, germany confidently expected that such levies, hastily raised and insufficiently trained, would break in pieces at the first encounter with her seasoned troops. but it was the formidable german lines that were broken, and they were broken by these very raw levies at the bayonet's point. for the telling of the irish part in the story of the somme i am much indebted to the assistance given by officers and men of the irish battalions engaged in that mighty battle. but the irish soldiers are not only "splendid fighting material"--a rather non-human phrase now much in vogue, as if the only thing that matters in warfare is the physical capacity of man--they have souls and minds and hearts, as well as strong right hands, and of these also something is said in this book. michael macdonagh. contents page introduction by john redmond, m.p. preface chap. i.--in the trenches with the connaught rangers scenes comic and tragic ii.--exploits of the ulster division belfast's tribute to the dead iii.--ulsters' attack on the slopes of thiepval. "not a man turned to come back, not one" iv.--four victoria crosses to the ulster division brilliant additions to the record of irish valour and romance v.--combativeness of the irish soldier the british blends of courage vi.--with the tyneside irish over the heights of la boiselle, through bailiff's wood to contalmaison vii.--the wearing of religious emblems at the front viii.--the irish soldier's humour and seriousness stories from the front, funny and otherwise ix.--the irish brigade "everywhere and always faithful" x.--irish replies to german wiles and poison gas how the munsters captured the enemy's wheedling placards xi.--storming of guillamont by the irish brigade raising the green flag in the centre of the village xii.--the brigade's pounce on guinchy gallant boy officers of the dublin fusiliers xiii.--honours and distinctions for the irish brigade how lieut. holland of the leinsters won the v.c. xiv.--the wooden cross death of lieut. t.m. kettle of the dublins xv.--more irish heroes of the victoria cross deeds of the highest merit and lustre xvi.--relations between enemy trenches irish kindliness and german guile chapter i in the trenches with the connaught rangers scenes comic and tragic "the men are as anxious for the road, sir, as if 'twere to galway races they were going, no less, or to ballinasloe fair," said the company sergeant-major to the captain. those referred to belonged to a battalion of the connaught rangers ordered to the firing-trenches for the first time. "the real thing at last;" "the genuine mccoy, and no mistake," they said to one another as, in preparation for the march, they hurriedly packed their things in the barns and cow-sheds that served as billets, and, to provide further vent for their jubilation, danced irish jigs and reels and sang national songs. these irishmen had read a lot about the fighting, and had heard a great deal more, but they felt that print and talk, however graphic and copious, left many strange things to be disclosed by the actual experience. some of them would "get the beck"--the call from death--but what matter? were not soldiers who died in action to be envied, rather than pitied, by those who found themselves alive when the war was over, and had not been to the mysterious front at all? so they thought and said, and now that they were on the road there was a look of proud elation on their faces, as though they had been singled out by special favour for a grand adventure. they did not regard themselves in the least as heroes, these entirely unsophisticated men, without a trace of self-consciousness. they had volunteered for service in the belief that ireland would be false to her historical self if she did not take part in this war for freedom, democracy and humanity. but now there was nothing in their minds about revenging the wrongs of belgium, or driving the invader from the soil of france, or even of saving the british empire. it was the fight that was the thing. it was the chance of having a smack at "the gerrys"--as the enemy is called by the irish soldiers--that they prized. more exalted feelings would come again when the battle was over and won. then, and not till then, as they return with many gaps in their ranks, do irish troops see themselves as an army of redemption and deliverance; and the only land they think of having saved is ireland. to them ireland personifies all the great causes of the war, and a blow struck for these causes, no matter where, is a blow struck for her. by the light of many stars sparkling in the sky that dark october night the men could see signs that battles had been fought in the country they were traversing. it was a devastated bare expanse, stretching for miles and miles, very muddy and broken up with shell holes. roads had been made across it, and along one of these the battalion went in the wake of the guides with swinging lanterns. the men were fully loaded. in addition to his fighting equipment, almost every one carried something extra, such as a pick or shovel, a bag of rations, or a bundle of fire-wood. the company officers also had heavy packs strapped on their shoulders. great good-humour prevailed. whenever, at awkward turns of the road, or at very dark points, progress was interrupted, those in front would shout some preposterous explanation of the delay to their comrades behind. "begonnies, boys, we're taking tickets here for galway. word has come down that the war is over," cried one joker. deep groans of pretended dismay and disappointment rose from the rear ranks. "and poor me, without a german helmet, or even a black eye, to show that i was in it," was one of the responses. when the open plain was quitted the battalion disappeared into a trench like a narrow country lane winding between high banks. it was much darker in these deeps than it had been outside. the gloom was broken occasionally by the light of lanterns carried by sentinels, or electric torches at junctions where several trenches crossed. soon the trench became narrower and more tortuous. it also became more soaked with rain. pools of water were frequently encountered. the battalion was now a floundering, staggering, overloaded and perspiring closely packed mass of men, walking in couples or in single file and treading on each other's heels. the mishaps arising from this crowded scramble in the dark through mud and mire, between banks of unsupported crumbling earth, did not exhaust the irish cheerfulness of the battalion. there was laughter when a man got a crack on the skull from a rifle which a comrade carried swung across his shoulder. there was louder laughter still when another, stooping to pick up something he had dropped, was bumped into from behind and sent sprawling. so sucking and tenacious was the mud that frequently each dragging footstep called for quite a physical effort, and a man was thankful that he did not have to leave a boot behind. "ah, sure this is nothin' to the bog away in connemara, where i often sunk up to me neck when crossing it to cut turf," was the comfort imparted in a soft brogue. "true for you, tim," remarked another. "it's an ould sayin' and a true one that there's nothin' so bad but it could be worse." the trench certainly proved the truth of the saying. bad as it had been, it sank to a still lower degree of slush. there were deep holes filled with water into which the men went with an abrupt plunge and passed through with much splashing. just ahead of one of these particularly treacherous points singing was heard. the chorus was taken up by many voices, and its last line was rapped out with hearty boisterousness-- "out and make way for the bould fenian men." this joyous noise heralded the appearance of a party of the dublin fusiliers, belonging to the same division, who were coming down the trench. by the light of lanterns and lamps it was seen that they had taken off their trousers and socks and, holding up their shirts, were wading in their boots blithely through the pools, like girls in bare legs and lifted petticoats paddling at the seaside. the connaught men laughed hilariously. "sure the dublin jackeens have never been beaten yet for cuteness," they cried. "they stripped to their pelts so as they wouldn't get the 'fluensy by means of their wet clothes. and, faix, 'twould be the greatest pity in the world anything would ail stout and hearty boys like them." as they spoke, the men of the west lay close against the embankments to let the men of the east go by. but weren't the dublins in the divil of a hurry back to billets? the rangers went on to remark. and why not? answered the dublins. sure if they'd only sniff with their noses they would smell the roast beef and the steaming punch that were being got ready for them by special orders of field-marshal haig for the great things they did away up in the firing-line. "lucky boys!" shouted the rangers, responding to the joke. "and tell us now, have ye left us a gerry at all alive to get a pelt at, and we new at the game?" a dublin man gave the reply as he went past. "to tell ye the truth, except there's a raid, there isn't much divarshion in the way of fighting; but every man of ye will have his full and plenty of mud and water before he's much oulder." "well, there's nothing in that to yowl about." "maybe not, if you can swim." the trench resounded with laughter at the exchange of banter. but for fear any of the rangers might take some of the talk as half a joke and whole earnest, a kind-hearted sergeant of the dublins, wishful to say the cheery word, called out, "don't mind them playboys; there's no more water and mud in it than is natural in such wet weather as we're getting." the rangers reached their destination just as the day was dawning in a cold drizzle from a grey, lowering sky. they were all plastered with yellowish mud. mud was on their hands, on their faces, in their hair, down their backs; and the barrels of their rifles were choked with mud. for the next four days and nights of duty in the trenches they were to be lapped about with mud. war was to be for them a mixture of mud and high explosives. of the two mud was the ugliest and most hateful. soon they would come to think that there was hardly anything left in the world but mud; and from that they would advance to a state of mind in which they doubted whether there ever had been a time in their existence when they were free from mud. but through it all this battalion, like the others in the division, preserved their good-humour. they are known, in fact, as "the light-hearted brigade." every difficulty was met with a will to overcome it, tempered with a joke and a laugh. no matter how encrusted with filth their bodies might be, their souls were always above contamination. men off duty at night slept in shelter pits dug deep into the soil by the side of the trenches. it was overcrowded in stark violation of all the sanitary by-laws relating to ventilation in civil life. no time was wasted in undressing. the men lay down fully clad in their mud-crusted clothes, even to their boots, wrapped round in blankets. during the night they were awakened by a loud explosion. "all right, boys; don't stir," cried the sergeant. "it's only one of those chape german alarum clocks going off at the wrong time. get off to sleep again, me heroes." in the morning more time was saved by getting up fully dressed, and not having to wash or to shave, so as to spare the water. a private, looking round the dug-out and noticing the absence of windows, remarked, "faix, those of us who are glaziers and window-cleaners will find it hard to make a living in this country." as the battalion was new to the trenches, another irish battalion of more experience shared with them the holding of this particular line. to a group of lads gathered about a brazier of glowing coke in a sheltered traverse an old sergeant that had seen service in the regular army was giving what, no doubt, he thought was sound and valuable advice, but which was at times of a quality calculated more to disturb, perhaps, than to reassure. "bullets are nothin' at all," said he. "i wouldn't give you a snap of me fingers for them. listen to them now, flyin' about and whinin' and whimperin' as if they wor lost, stolen or strayed, and wor lookin' for a billet to rest in. they differ greatly, do these bullets; but sure in time you'll larn them all by sound and be able to tell the humour each one of them is in. there's only one kind of bullet, boys, that you'll never hear; and that is the one which gives you such a pelt as to send you home to ireland or to kingdom come. but," he continued, "what'll put the fear of god into your sowls, if it isn't there already, is the heavy metal which the gerrys pitch across to us in exchange for ours. the first time i was up here i was beside a man whose teeth went chatterin' in a way that put me in fear of me life. sure, didn't i think for a minute it was a gerry machine-gun--may the divil cripple them!--startin' its bloody work at me ear. now, there must be none of that in this trench. if you're afraid, don't show it; remimber always that the gerrys are in just as great a fright, if not more so. show your spunk. stand fast or sit tight, and hope for the best. above all, clinch your teeth." the bombardment of a trench by shells from guns in the rear of the enemy's lines, or by bombs thrown from mortars close at hand, is probably the greatest test of endurance that has ever been set to humanity. the devastating effect is terrific. at each explosion men may be blown to pieces or buried alive. even the concussion often kills. a man might escape being hit by the flying projectiles and yet be blinded or made deaf or deprived of his speech by the shock. all feel as if their insides had collapsed. the suspense of waiting for the next shell or bomb, the uncertainty as to where it is going to fall, followed by the shake which the detonation gives the nervous system, are enough to wear out the most stout-hearted of soldiers. it is then that companionship and discipline tell. the men catch from one another the won't-appear-frightened determination, and the spirit of won't-give-in. crash! a fierce gust of wind sweeps through the trench. men are lifted from their feet and flung violently to the ground amid showers of earth and stones. there is a brief pause; and then is heard the most unexpected of sounds--not the moaning of pain, but a burst of laughter! four men of the battalion were playing "forty-five," a card game beloved of hibernians, seated under a piece of tarpaulin propped up on poles, as much at their ease as if they lay under a hedge on a sunday evening in summer at home in ireland, with only the priest to fear, and he known to be on a sick call at the other side of the parish. the bomb came at the most inopportune moment, just as the fall of the trick was about to be decided. when the card party recovered their senses, the man who held the winning card was found to be wounded. "'twas the gerrys--sweet bad luck to them!--that jinked the game that time, boys," he exclaimed. his companions, standing round him, burst into laughter at the remark. merriment is not uncommon as the shells are bursting. the spectacle of four or five men hurriedly tumbling for shelter into the same "funk hole," a wild whirl of arms and legs, has its absurd side and never fails to excite amusement. the way in which men disentangle themselves from the ruins caused by the explosion is often also grotesque. racy oddities of character are revealed. one man was buried in the loose earth. his comrades hastened to rescue him, and to cheer him up told him he would be got out next to no time, for tim maloney, the biggest as well as the fastest digger in the company was engaged on the job. "i feel that right well," cried the victim, as he spluttered the mud from his mouth. "but i've enough on top of me without him! pull me out of this from under his feet." there was an explosion close to a man at work repairing the trench. the man was overheard saying to himself, as he turned his back disdainfully to the shell, "oh, go to blazes, with yez." but it is not all comedy and farce. how could it be with stern, black-visaged death always watching with wolfish eyes to see men die? fate plays unimaginable tricks with its victims. a bullet stops many a casual conversation for ever. "look at this!" cries a man, holding up his cap for a comrade to see the bullet-hole that had just been made through it. "a close shave," he adds; "but what matter? isn't a miss as good as a mile?" and, as he was putting the cap on again, he fell a corpse to a surer bullet. there he lay, just a bundle of muddy khaki; and a dozing comrade, upon whom he dropped, elbowed him aside, saying impatiently, "get out of that, with yer andrew-martins" (jokes and tricks); "can't you let a poor divil get a wink of sleep?" tragedy takes on, at times, queer, fantastic shapes. a man has his right arm blown off close to the shoulder. he picks the limb up with his left hand, shouting, "my arm! my arm! oh, holy mother of god, where's my arm?" in raging agony he rushes shrieking down the trench carrying the limb with him until he encounters his company officer. "oh, captain, darlin'," he cries. "look what the gerrys have done to me! may god's curse light upon them and theirs for ever! an' now i'll never shoulder a rifle for poor ould ireland any more." the night, and only the night, has terrors for the irish soldiers, especially those from the misty mountains and remote seaboard of the west and south. in the daylight they are merry and prolific of jest. strongly gregarious by instinct, they delight in companionship. they are sustained and upheld by the excitement of battle's uproar. they will face any danger in the broad daylight. but they hate to be alone in the dark anywhere, and are afraid to pass at night even a graveyard in which their own beloved kith and kin lie peacefully at rest for ever. they feel "lonesome and queer" as they would say themselves. so it is that when by himself at a listening post in a shell hole in no man's land, lapped about with intense blackness, peering and hearkening, the superstitious soul of the irish soldier seems to conjure up all the departed spectral bogies and terrors of the dark ages. he is ready to cry out like ajax, the greek warrior, in "homer," "give us but light, o jove; and in the light, if thou seest fit, destroy us." even a cockney soldier, lacking as he is in any subtle sympathy with the emotional and immaterial sides of life, confesses that it gives him the creeps proper to be out there in the open jaws of darkness, away from his mates and almost right under the nose of old boche. an irish soldier will admit that on this duty he does have a genuine feeling of terror. crouching in the soft, yielding earth, he imagines he is in the grave, watching and waiting he knows not for what. everything is indefinite and uncertain. there is a vague presentiment that some unknown but awful evil is impending. perhaps a thousand hostile german eyes are staring at him through the darkness along rifle barrels; or, more horrible still, perhaps a thousand invisible devils are on the prowl to drag his soul to hell. the supernatural powers are the only forces the irish soldier fears. the senses of the sentry are so abnormally alert that if grass were growing near him he had only to put his ear to the ground to hear the stirring of the sap. but though he listens intently, not a sound comes out of the blackness. he regards the profound stillness as confirmation of his worst fears. all is silence in the trench behind him, where his comrades ought to be. he would welcome the relief of voices and the sound of feet in the enemy's lines. but the gerrys give no sign of life. is he alone in the whole wide world, the solitary survivor of this terrible war? what would he not part with to be able to get up and run! but he is fixed to his post by a sense of duty, just as strong as if he were chained there by iron bands. to cry out would afford immense relief to his overwrought feelings. but his tongue seems paralysed in his mouth. then he bethinks him of his prayers. from his inside tunic pocket he takes out his beads--which his mother gave him at parting and made him promise faithfully always to carry about his person--and, making the sign of the cross, he is soon absorbed in the saying of the rosary. resignation and fortitude came to his aid. the invisible evil agencies by which he had really been encompassed--loneliness, anxiety, melancholy--are dispelled. scouting is the night work that appeals most to the irish soldiers. there is in it the excitement of movement, the element of adventure and the support of companionship, too, for four, five or six go out together. oh, the fearful joy of crawling on one's stomach across the intervening ground, seeking for a passage through the enemy's wire entanglements or wriggling under it, taking a peep over their parapets, dropping down into a sparsely occupied part of the trench, braining the sentry and returning with rifle and cap as trophies! this is one of the most perilous forms of the harassing tactics of war, and for its success uncommon pluck and resource are required. yet, like everything else at the front, it often has an absurd side. a connaught ranger, back from such an expedition, related that, hearing the gerrys talking, he called out, "how many of ye are there?" to his surprise he got an answer in english: "four." then, throwing in a bomb, he said, "divide that between ye, an' be damned to ye." "faix, 'twas the bomb that divided them," he added, "for didn't they come out of the trench after me in smithereens." another party returned from a raid with tears streaming down their cheeks. "is it bad news ye bring, crying in that way?" they were asked. no! they hadn't bad news; nor were they crying. if it was crying they were, wouldn't they be roaring and bawling? and there wasn't a sound out of them for any one to hear. only asses could say such a thing as that. 'twas they that looked like silly asses, they were told, with the tears pouring out of their eyes like the powerscourt waterfall. what the mischief was the matter with them, anyway? well, then, if any one cared to know, was the reply, 'twas the gerrys that treated them to a whiff of lachrymose gas! the fatigue, the disgust, and the danger of life in the trenches are, at times, stronger than any other impulse, whether of the flesh or of the soul. "'tis enough to drive one to the drink: a grand complaint when there's plenty of porter about," said a private; "but a terrible fate when there's only the water we're wading in, and that same full up--the lord save us!--of creeping and wriggling things." "true for you; it's the quare life, and no mistake," remarked another. "you do things and get praise for them, such as smashing a fellow's skull, or putting a bullet through him, which if you were to do at home you'd be soon on the run, with a hue and cry and all the police of the country at your heels." back in billets again, for a wash and a shave and a brush up, and lying in their straw beds in the barns, the rangers would thus philosophise on their life. the bestial side of it--the terrible overcrowding of the men, the muck, the vermin, the gobbling of food with filthy hands, the stench of corrupting bodies lying in the open, or insufficiently buried, and, along with all that, its terror, agony and tragedy are, indeed, utterly repellent to human nature. still, there was general agreement that they had never spent a week of such strange and exquisite experiences. fear there was at times, but it seemed rather to keep up a state of pleasurable emotion than to generate anguish and distress. certainly most connaught rangers will swear that life in the trenches has at least three thrilling and exalting moments. one is when the tot of rum is served round. another is the first faint appearance of light in the sky behind the enemy's lines, proclaiming that the night is far spent and the day is at hand. the third is the call to "stand to," telling that a visit from the gerrys is expected, when the men cease to be navvies and become soldiers again--throwing aside the hateful pick and shovel and taking up the beloved rifle and bayonet. chapter ii exploits of the ulster division belfast's tribute to the dead "i am not an ulsterman, but as i followed the amazing attack of the ulster division on july , i felt that i would rather be an ulsterman than anything else in the world. with shouts of 'remember the boyne' and 'no surrender, boys,' they threw themselves at the germans, and before they could be restrained had penetrated to the enemy fifth line. the attack was one of the greatest revelations of human courage and endurance known in history."--a british officer on the exploits of the ulster division, july , . one of the most striking and impressive tributes ever paid to the heroic dead was that of belfast on the th of july, , in memory of the men of the ulster division who fell on the opening day of that month in the great british offensive on the somme. for five minutes following the hour of noon all work and movement, business and household, were entirely suspended. in the flax mills, the linen factories, the ship yards, the munition workshops, men and women paused in their labours. all machinery was stopped, and the huge hammers became silent. in shop and office business ceased; at home the housewife interrupted her round of duties; in the streets traffic was brought to a halt, on the local railways the running trains pulled up. the whole population stood still, and in deep silence, with bowed heads but with uplifted hearts, turned their thoughts to the valleys and slopes of picardy, where on july the young men of ulster, the pride and flower of the province, gave their lives for the preservation of the british empire, the existence of separate and independent states, and the rule of law and justice in their international relations. "the twelfth" is the great festival of belfast. on that day is celebrated the williamite victories of the boyne, july , and aughrim, july , , in which the cause of the stuarts went down for ever. it is kept as a general holiday of rejoicing and merrymaking. the members of the orange lodges turn out with their dazzling banners and their no less gorgeous yellow, crimson and blue regalia; and the streets resound with the lilt of fifes, the piercing notes of cornets, the boom and rattle of many drums, the tramp of marching feet and the cheers of innumerable spectators. there was no such demonstration on july , . for the first time in the history of the orange institution the observance of the anniversary was voluntarily abandoned, so that there might be no stoppage of war work in the ship yards and munition factories. but at the happy suggestion of the lord mayor (sir crawford mccullagh), five minutes of the day were given reverently to lofty sorrow for the dead, who, by adding "the ancre," "beaumont hamel" and "thiepval wood" to "derry," "enniskillen," "the boyne" and "aughrim" on the banners of ulster, have given a new meaning and glory to the celebration of "the twelfth" in which all ireland can share. major-general o.s.w. nugent, d.s.o., commanding the ulster division, in a special order of the day, issued after the advance, wrote-- "nothing finer has been done in the war. "the division has been highly tried and has emerged from the ordeal with unstained honour, having fulfilled in every part the great expectations formed of it. "none but troops of the best quality could have faced the fire which was brought to bear on them, and the losses suffered during the advance. "a magnificent example of sublime courage and discipline." this glory was gained at a heavy cost. there was cause for bitter grief as well as the thrill of pride in ulster. nothing has brought home more poignantly to the inhabitants of a small area of the kingdom the grim sacrifices and the unutterable pathos of the war than the many pages of names and addresses of the dead and wounded--relatives, friends and acquaintances--which appeared in the belfast newspapers for days before "the twelfth" and after. so blinds were drawn in business and private houses; flags were flown at half-mast; and bells were mournfully tolling for ulster's irremediable losses when, at the stroke of twelve o'clock, traffic came instantaneously to a standstill, and for five minutes the citizens solemnly stood with bared heads in the teeming rain thinking of the gallant dead, the darkened homes and the inconsolable mothers and wives. the ulster division possesses an individuality all its own. it has no like or equal among the units of the british army on account of its family character; the close and intimate blood relationship of its members; its singleness of purpose; the common appeal of racial, political and religious ideals that binds it together by stronger links than steel. the united kingdom, as a whole, may be said to have been totally unready when war broke out. but it happened that one small section of this industrial and peace-loving community was prepared, to some extent, for the mighty emergency. that was ulster. it was immersed in business at the time, just as much as manchester or sheffield, and in making money out of its flourishing prosperity. but, unlike those english industrial centres, ulster had in its history and traditions an influence which bred a combative disposition, and ever kept burning a martial flame, even in its marts and workshops. the community was convinced that in defence of all they hold dearest in religious beliefs and political principles they might have some day, not, as in england when opinions are at stake, to flock to the polling stations at a general election, but take to the field and fight. the very pick of the manhood of the province joined the ulster volunteer force, and armed and trained themselves as soldiers. so it was that in the years immediately preceding the war it seemed almost certain they would have to follow the example of their forefathers centuries before and raise the orange flag at enniskillen and derry. then came the challenge of germany to british ideals. the aim and purpose of the ulster volunteer force remained the same, as the members conceived it, but it was turned into a wholly unexpected channel. by an astounding transformation of events they were to bleed and give their lives for all they revere and cherish, not in ulster but on the hills and in the woods of picardy. the ulster division is entirely protestant and unionist; or was, until it was decimated on the somme. it was formed out of the men who had previously bound themselves together by a solemn covenant, signed on "ulster day," saturday, september , , to stand by one another in defending, for themselves and their children, their cherished civil and religious heritage, should home rule be established. thus the division is unparalleled for its kind since cromwell's "ironsides" in enlisting stern religious fervour and political enthusiasm in a fighting phalanx. it consists of twelve battalions forming three brigades. it is wholly irish. nine of the battalions have the regimental title of royal irish rifles. the other battalions have the titles of the royal inniskilling fusiliers and the royal irish fusiliers, the two other regiments of the line associated with ulster. the battalions have also territorial classifications denoting their origin from the ulster volunteer force, such as "north belfast volunteers"; "east belfast volunteers"; "young citizen volunteers"; "south belfast volunteers"; "west belfast volunteers"; "south antrim volunteers"; "down volunteers"; "county armagh volunteers"; "central antrim volunteers"; "tyrone volunteers"; "donegal and fermanagh volunteers"; "derry volunteers." it has its own engineers, army service corps, army medical corps and a complete ambulance equipment. there are also reserve battalions. in the pleasant surroundings of the botanic gardens, belfast, a splendid hospital was established for the care of the wounded, and the provision of artificial limbs to those who might need them; and as evidence of the characteristic thoroughness with which everything was attended to, a fund has been raised to assist members of the division who may be left maimed and broken in health, and to support the dependents of the fallen, outside any aid that may be derived from the state. the commander, major-general nugent, is a county cavan man, a deputy lieutenant for the county, and a kinsman of the earl of westmeath. he served in the king's royal rifles for seventeen years, and was wounded in both the chitral and south african campaigns. the division completed its training at seaford, in sussex. on visiting the district i was amused to find that the advent of "the wild irish" had been anticipated by the inhabitants with much misgiving. they were apprehensive of their ancient peace being disturbed by the hilarity and commotion that spring from high and undisciplined spirits. what did happen agreeably surprised the sussex folk. the ulstermen quickly earned the esteem of every one for their affable qualities and good-humour. what was particularly remarkable was that they were found to be most pliant and tractable--qualities which, by common tradition, are supposed not to be looked for in any body of irishmen; and as for their moral behaviour, what was more astonishing still was that the church or the chapel was to them infinitely more attractive than the inn. so the division prepared themselves for taking the field against the enemy. they were reviewed by the king shortly before leaving for the front. "your prompt patriotic answer to the nation's call to arms will never be forgotten," said his majesty. "the keen exertions of all ranks during the period of training have brought you to a state of efficiency not unworthy of any regular army. i am confident that in the field you will nobly uphold the traditions of the fine regiments whose names you bear. ever since your enrolment i have closely watched the growth and steady progress of all units. i shall continue to follow with interest the fortunes of your division. in bidding you farewell i pray god may bless you in all your undertakings." in the autumn of they went to france, determined to uphold the highest traditions of the fighting qualities of the irish race, and burning for a chance of distinction. during the winter months of - the division took its turns in the firing-line. every battalion experienced the hardships and dangers of the front trenches, when the weather was at its worst for chills, bronchitis, pneumonia and frost-bite, and when the germans were most active at sniping and bombarding. names of men in the division began to appear in the lists of casualties within ten days of the landing in france. the battalions passed through these preliminary stages with courage, endurance and splendid determination. they quickly earned a fine reputation among the highest military commanders for such soldierly qualities as willingness and cheerfulness in doing any sort of work, however unpleasant, that fell to them in the trenches, and their coolness and alertness on such dangerous missions as going out at night to the listening posts in no man's land and repairing the wire entanglements. eager to snatch their share of peril and glory, they were also among the foremost in volunteering for such wild adventures as bombing raids on the german trenches under cover of darkness. one such daring exploit by the tyrone volunteers was the subject of a special order of the day issued by major-general nugent, commanding the division. it was as follows-- "a raid on the german trenches was carried out at midnight on ---- by the royal inniskilling fusiliers. the raiding party consisted of major w.j. peacocke, captain j. weir, lieutenant w.s. furness, second-lieutenant l.w.h. stevenson, second-lieutenant r.w. m'kinley, second-lieutenant j. taylor, and eighty-four other ranks. the raid was completely successful, and was carried out exactly as planned. six german dugouts, in which it is certain there were a considerable number of men, were thoroughly bombed, and a machine-gun was blown up, while a lively bombing fight took place between the blocking detachments of the raiding party and the germans. having accomplished the purpose of the raid, the party was withdrawn, with the loss of one man killed and two wounded. the raid was ably organised by major peacocke, and was carried out by the officers and men of the party exactly in accordance with the plan, and the discipline and determination of the party was all that could be desired. the divisional commander desires that his congratulations should be extended to all who took part in it. "brigadier-general hickman, in a special brigade order, says the arrangements and plans reflect the greatest credit on colonel a. st. q. ricardo, d.s.o., commanding the battalion, major peacocke, and the other officers concerned. the whole scheme was executed with great dash and determination, cool judgment and nerve." such was the fame of the raid and its success that the commander-in-chief, sir douglas haig, visited the battalion and personally congratulated them. dr. crozier, archbishop of armagh and primate of all ireland, visited the division in january ; and after a week spent with the battalions, brought home a deep impression of their spirit and devotion. "a more capable, energetic and cheerful body of men i have never come across," he writes. "i have seen them at rifle practice, bomb-throwing, route marching, road-mending, and in the trenches, and everywhere my experience was the same--officers and men working in splendid harmony, and taking the keenest interest in any and every job they were given to do. one night i met a couple of hundred men coming back from eight days' weary work in water-logged trenches, and they were singing so lustily that i really thought at first they were coming from a concert. and yet the war is to them a terrible reality, and they have already experienced some of its horror. i could not help noticing that this has produced a deep sense of responsibility, and has intensified their belief in the reality of duty; and whether at sunday services or at weekday informal addresses, there were no restless or inattentive men, but they seemed to welcome every word that spoke of god's presence and guidance in all life's difficulties and dangers." chapter iii ulsters' attack on the slopes of thiepval "not a man turned to come back, not one" the division was put to the great test on july , , the memorable day of the opening of the battle of the somme and the british attack in force to break through the german trenches in picardy. it was a formidable task. the strength of the enemy positions was that they stood on high ground. that, also, was the reason of their importance. the table-land must be taken and held to permit of an advance in the stretch of open country spreading on the other side to the north. it was to be uphill work. so the battle became the greatest the world has ever known, so far, for its dimensions, the numbers engaged and the duration. the ulstermen were in the left wing of the british lines, and the scene of their operations was, roughly, three miles of broken country, dips and swells, on each side of the river ancre, between the village of beaumont hamel, nestling in a nook of the hill above the river, eastwards to the slopes of thiepval, perched on a height about feet, below the river, all within the german lines. the main body of the division assembled in the shelter of a thiepval wood. "porcupine wood" it was called by the men. the trees were so stripped of foliage and lopped into distorted shapes by enemy gun-fire that their bare limbs stood up like quills of the fretful porcupine. at half-past seven in the morning the advance commenced. for ten days the british batteries had been continuously bombarding the whole german front. there was no sudden hush of the cannonade at the moment of the attack. for a minute there was a dramatic pause while the guns were being lifted a point higher so that they might drop their shells behind the enemy's first lines. then the british infantry emerged from their trenches and advanced behind this furious and devastating curtain of fire and projectiles. the morning was glorious and the prospect fine. the sun shone brightly in the most beautiful of skies, clear blue flecked with pure white clouds; and as the ulstermen came out of the wood and ranged up in lines for the push forward, they saw, in the distant view, a sweet and pleasant upland country, the capture of which was the object of the attack. in the hollows the meadows were lush with grass, thick and glossy. there was tillage even, green crops of beetroot growing close to the ground, and tall yellowing corn, far behind the main german trenches. it was like a haunt of husbandry and peace. the only sound one would expect to hear from those harvest fields was that of the soothing reaping-machine garnering the wheat to make bread for the family board of a mother and a brood of young children. but no tiller of the soil was to be seen, near or far. the countryside to the horizon ridge was tenantless, until these tens of thousands of british soldiers suddenly came up out of the ground. even in the franco-prussian war of the agriculturists of northern france--then, as now, the zone of conflict--remained in the homes and pursued their avocations. during the battle of sedan, which sealed the fate of france, an extraordinary incident occurred--a peasant was observed in one of the valleys within the area of the fight calmly guiding the plough drawn by a big white horse. "why should the man lose a day?" says zola in _the downfall_. "corn would not cease growing, the human race would not cease living, because a few thousand men happened to be fighting." but war is waged differently now. it is spread along fronts hundreds of miles in extent and depth. millions of men are engaged. they burrow underground and are armed with terrific engines of destruction. so it was that behind that green and pleasant land, bathed in sunshine, ferocity and death are skulking underground. those elaborately interlacing white chalky lines over the face of the landscape mark the run of the german trenches. each dip is a death-trap. the copses are barricaded with fallen timber and wired; the villages are citadels, the farmsteads are forts, the ridges of the two plateaux are each one succession of batteries. swallows were darting to and fro hawking for flies for their young, and in the clear air soaring larks were singing to their mates brooding on their eggs in the grass, showing that nature was still carrying on her eternal processes, but the husbandman had fled the deceiving scene, and the after-crops from his old sowings of corn and mustard were mixed with weeds in no man's land. things befell the ulstermen, when they appeared in the open, which were things indeed. the fortunes of war varied along the british advance. a group of war correspondents on a height near the town of albert, about midway in the line, noticed that while some of the british battalions were comparatively unmolested, the resistance of the enemy to the left or west was of the fiercest and most desperate character. the germans seem to have expected the main assault at this part of the field of operations. their guns and men were here most heavily massed. on the left of the valley made by a curve of the river ancre is a crest, in a crease of which lay on that july morning the village of beaumont hamel, or rather its site, for it had been blown almost out of existence by the british artillery fire. under the village--as shown by explorations made after it fell--were a vast system of passages and cellars, in which whole battalions of germans found shelter from the bombardment. on the right of the valley is the plateau of thiepval. it was as strong a position as the consummate skill of german engineers and gunners could make it. on the sky line at the top of a ridge of the plateau were the ruins of the village of thiepval--heaps of bricks and slates and timber that once were walls and roofs of houses--encircled by blackened stumps of trees that once in the spring were all pink and white of the apple blossom. the ground sloping down to the valley, and the valley itself was a network of german trenches--mostly turned into a maze of upheaved earth-mounds by shell-fire--studded with many machine-gun posts. the main part of the ulster division advanced across the valley that rose gently, with many undulations upwards, to the slopes on the western or left side of thiepval. they had to take what were called the a, b and c lines of trenches. as will be seen, they pushed far beyond their objective. clouds of smoke had been liberated from the british lines to form a screen for the attackers. into it the men disappeared as they marched, line after line, in extended order, over the intervening stretch of ground. but almost immediately they were all scourged--especially the ulster battalions on the extreme left moving towards beaumont hamel--with machine-gun fire poured at them from various points, to the continuous accompaniment of short, sharp, annihilating knocks. the bullets literally came like water from an immense hose with a perforated top. the streams of lead crossed and re-crossed, sweeping the ranks about the ankles, at the waist; breast high, around their heads. comrades were to be seen falling on all sides, right, left, front and rear. so searching was the fire that it was useless to seek cover, and advance in short rushes in between. so the lines kept undauntedly on their way, apparently not minding the bullets any more than if they were a driving and splashing shower of hail. "let her rip, ye divils!" shouted some of the ulstermen in jocular defiance at the enemy and his machine-gun; "and," said an officer relating the story, "the bosche let her rip all right." one of the wounded rank and file told me that in the advance he lost entire perception of the roar of the british guns which was so impressive as he lay with his comrades in the wood, though they still continued their thundering. their terrible diapason of sound seemed to be lulled into absolute silence, so far as he was concerned, by the hollow, crepitating "tap-t-t-tap" of the german machine-guns; and the swish, swish, swish of the bullets, of all the noises of battle the most unnerving to soldiers assailing a position. but the ulstermen were in a mood of the highest exaltation, a mood in which troops may be destroyed but will not easily be subjugated. the day had thrilling historic memories for them. "july the first on the banks of the boyne, there was a famous battle." the opening lines of their song, "the boyne water," recounting the deeds of their forefathers, came inevitably to their minds. "just as we were about to attack," writes rifleman edward taylor of the west belfast volunteers, "captain gaffikin took out an orange handkerchief and, waving it around his head, shouted, 'come on, boys, this is the first of july!'" "no surrender!" roared the men. it was the answer given by the gallant defenders of derry from their walls to king james and the besieging jacobites. on the fields of picardy new and noble meanings were put into these old, out-worn irish battle-cries. one sergeant of the inniskillings went into the fray with his orange sash on him. some of the men provided themselves with orange lilies before they went up to the assembly trenches, and these they now wore in their breasts. but, indeed, their colours were growing in profusion at their feet when they came out of the trenches--yellow charlock, crimson poppies and blue cornflowers, and many put bunches of these wild flowers in their tunics. so the ulstermen were keen to prove their metal. they divided their forces and advanced to german positions on the right and left. through it all their battle-shout was "no surrender." but there was one surrender which they were prepared to make, and did make--the surrender, for the cause, of their young lives and all the bright hopes of youth. when the battalions on the right reached the first german line they found shapeless mounds and cavities of soil and stones and timber, shattered strands and coils of barbed wire, where the trenches had been, and the dead bodies of the men who were in occupation of them at the bombardment. the ulstermen then pushed on to the second line, which still held living men of courage and tenacity who had to be disposed of by bayonet and bomb. on to the third line the ulstermen went at a steady pace. they were still being whipped by machine-gun fire. their ranks were getting woefully thinner. in their tracks they left dead and wounded. at the sight of a familiar face among the curiously awkward attitudes and shapes of those instantaneously killed there was many a cold tug at the heart-strings of the advancing men, and many a groan of sorrow was suppressed on their lips. the moaning of the wounded was also terrible to hear, but their spirit was magnificent. "lying on the ground there under fire, they had no thought of their own danger, but only of the comrades who were going forward, and they kept shouting words of encouragement after the attacking column until it was well out of sight," said an inniskilling fusilier. "one company, recruited mainly from the notorious shankill road district of belfast, was going forward, when a wounded man recognised some of his chums in it. 'give them it hot for the shankill road,' he cried, and his comrades answered with a cheer." the same man, giving a general account of the fiercely contested attack on the enemy positions, said, "it was a case of playing leapfrog with death, but all obstacles were overcome, and the fusiliers carried the enemy trenches with a magnificent rush. the huns turned on them like baffled tigers and tried to hurl the irishmen out again, but they might as well have tried to batter down the walls of derry with toothpicks. the inniskillings held their ground, and gradually forced the enemy still further back." the german trenches, with their first, second, third, fourth and fifth lines, formed a system of defences of considerable depth, into which the ulstermen had now penetrated for distances varying from two to three miles in depth. it was a land of horrible desolation. the ground at this point was almost bare of vegetation. it was torn and lacerated with shell holes. the few trees that remained standing were reduced to splintered and jagged stumps. all was smoke, flashes, uproar and nauseating smells. in this stricken battle area the defence was as stubborn and desperate as the attack. it seemed impossible for men with a nervous system and imagination to retain their reason and resolution in the terrific, intensive and searching preliminary bombardment. nevertheless, the germans did it. the british guns had, indeed, wrought widespread havoc. not only lines of trenches were pounded to bits, but spots outside, affording concealment for guns and troops, were discovered and blown to atoms. there were, however, deep dug-outs going as many as thirty feet below ground, and in some cases, even at that depth, there were trapdoors and stairs leading to still lower chambers, and up from these underground fortifications the germans came when the cannonade lifted. there were also hidden machine-gun shelters in the hollows and on the slopes which the british artillery failed to find. the resistance offered to the advance of the ulstermen was accordingly of the most obstinate and persistent nature. the hand-to-hand fight with bayonet and bomb at the third line of trenches was described by a man of the irish rifles as "a belfast riot on the top of mount vesuvius." no more need be said. the phrase conveys a picture of men madly struggling and yelling amid fire and smoke and the abominable stench of battle. yet the enemy's fourth line fell before these men who would not be stopped. there remained the fifth line, and the ulstermen were preparing to move forward to it when the order came to fall back. the state of affairs at this time of the evening is well explained by one of the men-- "we had been so eager that we had pressed too far forward, and were well in advance of our supporting troops, thus laying ourselves open to flank attacks. the position became more serious as the day advanced, and the supporting troops were unable to make further progress, while the huns kept hurrying up fresh men. we kept shouting the watchword of 'no surrender,' with which our fathers had cheered themselves in the siege of derry, and every time the huns attacked we sent them reeling back with something to remind them that they were fighting irishmen. we couldn't help taunting them a lot. 'would you like some irish rebellion?' we called out to them, and they didn't like it. they kept throwing in fresh reinforcements all day, and gradually the pressure became almost unbearable. still we held our ground, and would have continued to hold it if necessary." "retirement," he adds, "is never a pleasant task, especially after you have fought your corner as we fought ours. we felt that the ground won was part of ourselves, but orders had to be obeyed, and so we went back." the retirement was to the third line of trenches, at the point known as "the crucifix," just north-west of thiepval. it was carried out at nightfall, after fourteen hours' continuous fighting. this section of the division, in the words of major-general nugent, "captured nearly prisoners, and carried its advance triumphantly to the limits of the objective laid down." the battalions, two in number, operating on the left at beaumont hamel, were not so fortunate. they were broken to pieces by the devastating machine-gun fire. the remnants, by a magnificent effort, succeeded in getting into the german trenches. they were held up there by an utterly impassable curtain of shells and bullets. it was not their fault that they could not advance any further. they had to face a more terrific ordeal than any body of men have had to encounter in battle before. "they did all that men could do," says major nugent, "and, in common with every battalion in the division, showed the most conspicuous courage and devotion." lieut.-colonel ambrose ricardo, d.s.o., of lion house, strahane, commander of the tyrone battalion of the royal inniskilling fusiliers, gives an account of the experience of the ulster division which is of the greatest value for the reasons it supplies why the division lost so heavily and thus were unable to hold the advanced positions they had taken. he first describes how his men set out for their plunge into the terrible unknown. "every gun on both sides fired as fast as it could, and during the din our dear boys just walked out of the wood and up rumps we had cut through our parapet and out through lanes in our wire," he says. "i shall never forget for one minute the extraordinary sight. the derrys on our left were so eager they started a few minutes before the ordered time, and the tyrones were not going to be left behind, and they got going without delay. no fuss, no shouting, no running; everything orderly, solid and thorough, just like the men themselves. here and there a boy would wave his hand to me as i shouted good luck to them through my megaphone, and all had a happy face. most were carrying loads. fancy advancing against heavy fire carrying a heavy roll of barbed wire on your shoulder!" then dealing with the division generally, colonel ricardo states that the leading battalions suffered comparatively little until they almost reached the german front line, when they came under appalling machine-gun fire which obliterated whole platoons. "and, alas for us," he cries, "the division on our right could not get on, and the same happened to the division on our left, so we came in for the concentrated fire of what would have been spread over three divisions. but every man who remained standing pressed on, and, without officers or non-commissioned officers, they carried on, faithful to their job. not a man turned to come back, not one." eventually small parties of all the battalions of the division--except the two operating towards beaumont hamel--gathered together in the section of the german third line, which was their part in the general british advance. they had captured, in fact, a portion of the famous schwabon redoubt on the summit of the ridge facing them, and set to work to consolidate it. "the situation after the first two hours was indeed a cruel one for the ulster division," continues colonel ricardo. "there they were, a wedge driven into the german lines, only a few hundred yards wide, and for fourteen hours they bore the brunt of the german machine-gun fire and shell-fire from three sides, and even from behind they were not safe. the parties told off to deal with the german first and second lines had in many cases been wiped out, and the germans sent parties from the flanks in behind our boys. yet the division took prisoners, and could have taken hundreds more, had they been able to handle them." major john peacocke, "a most gallant and dashing officer" (as colonel ricardo describes him), was sent forward to see how matters stood. he crossed "no man's land" at a time when the fire sweeping it was most intense. taking charge of the defence of the captured position, he gave to each unit a certain task to do in furtherance of the common aim. then he sent runners back with messages asking for reinforcements, for water and for bombs. "but," says colonel ricardo, "no one had any men in reserve, and no men were left to send across. we were told reinforcements were at hand, and to hold on, but it was difficult, i suppose, to get fresh troops up in time. at any rate the help did not come. in the end, at . p.m. (they had got to the third line at . a.m.), the glorious band in front had to come back. they fought to the last and threw their last bomb, and were so exhausted that most of them could not speak. shortly after they came back help came, and the line they had taken and held was reoccupied without opposition, the germans, i suppose, being as exhausted as we were. our side eventually lost the wedge-like bit after some days. it was valueless, and could only be held at very heavy cost. we were withdrawn late on sunday evening, very tired and weary." a private in one of the battalions sent to his parents in ulster a very vivid account of the advance. as he was crossing "no man's land" two aspects of it, in striking contrast, arose in his mind. "how often had i, while on sentry duty in our own trenches, looked out over that same piece of ground," he says. "how calm and peaceful it looked then; how fresh, green, and invitingly cool looked that long, blowing grass! now, what a ghastly change! not a level or green spot remained. great, jagged, gaping craters covered the blackish, smoking ground, furrowed and ploughed by every description of projectile and explosive. in the blue sky above white, puffy clouds of shrapnel burst, bespattering the earth below with a rain of bullets and jagged shrapnel missiles." tripping and stumbling went the men over the broken and ragged ground. "fellows in front, beside, and behind me would fall; some, with a lurch forward, wounded; others, with a sudden, abrupt halt, a sickly wheel, would drop, give one eerie twist, and lie still--dead!" they find the first line in the possession of comrades; and moving on to the second, came to blows there with the enemy. "an inniskilling, scarcely more than a boy, standing on the parapet, yells madly 'no surrender,' and fires several shots into the german mob. from every part of the trench we closed forward, bayonet poised, on the crowd of grey figures. a short scuffle; then we swayed back again, leaving a heap of blood-stained greyishness on the ground. 'come on, boys!' yells the lieutenant, springing up on to the parapet. 'come on, the ulsters.' up we scramble after him and rush ahead towards the far-off third line. vaguely i recollect that mad charge. a few swirlings here and there of grey-clad figures with upraised hands yelling 'kamerad.' heaps of wounded and dead. showers of dust and earth and lead. deafening explosions and blinding smoke. but what concerned me most and what i saw clearest were the few jagged stumps of the remnants of the wire entanglements and the ragged parapet of the third line--our goal!" from this enemy trench the ulsterman looked back over the ground he had covered, and this is what he saw: "through the dense smoke pour hundreds and hundreds of tommies, with flashing bayonets and distorted visages, apparently cheering and yelling. you couldn't hear them for the noise of the guns and the exploding shells. everywhere among those fearless ulstermen burst high-explosive shells, hurling dozens of them up in the air, while above them and among them shrapnel bursts with sharp, ear-splitting explosions. but worst of all these was the silent swish, swish, swishing of the machine-gun bullets, claiming their victims by the score, cutting down living sheaves, and leaving bunches of writhing, tortured flesh on the ground." he, too, noticed that their co-operating divisions had failed, for some reason, to advance. "look there, something _must_ be wrong!" he called out to his comrades. "why, they're not advancing on _that_ side at all," pointing towards the left flank. "not a sign of life could be seen," he says. "the ulster division were out to the huns' first, second, third, fourth, and even fifth lines, with all the german guns pelting us from every side and at every angle." many a brave and self-sacrificing deed was done in these affrighting scenes. here are a few instances taken haphazard from the records of one battalion alone, the th royal inniskilling fusiliers. they were repeated a hundredfold throughout the division. corporal thomas m'clay, laghey, county donegal, assisted second-lieutenant lawrence to take twenty prisoners. he conveyed them single-handed over "no man's land," and then returned to the german third line, all the time having been under very heavy fire. when he got back he had been fighting hard for ten hours. private thomas gibson, of coalisland, saw three germans working a machine-gun. he attacked them alone, and killed them all with his clubbed rifle. corporal john conn, caledon, came across two of our machine-guns out of action. he repaired them under fire, and with them destroyed a german flanking party. he carried both guns himself part of the way back, but had to abandon one, he was so utterly exhausted. lance-corporal daniel lyttle, leckpatrick, strabane, was trying to save two machine-guns from the enemy when he found himself cut off. he fired one gun until the ammunition was spent, then destroyed both guns and bombed his way back to the rest of his party at the crucifix line. sergeant samuel kelly, belfast, volunteered to take a patrol from the crucifix line to ascertain how things were going on our right. corporal daniel griffiths, dublin; lance-corporal lewis pratt, cavan; and private william abraham, ballinamallard, went with him. the latter was killed, but the remainder got back with valuable information. sergeant kelly did great work to the last in organising and encouraging his men when all the officers of his company had fallen. corporal daniel griffith, lance-corporal lewis pratt, with private fred carter, kingstown, bombed and shot nine germans who were trying to mount a machine-gun. private samuel turner, dundrun, and private clarence rooney, clogher, forced a barricaded dug-out, captured fifteen germans and destroyed an elaborate signalling apparatus, thereby preventing information getting back. lance-corporal william neely, clogher; private samuel spence, randalstown; private james sproule, castlederg; and private william r. reid, aughnacloy, were members of a party blocking the return of germans along a captured trench. their officer and more than half their comrades were killed, but they held on and covered the retirement of the main party, eventually getting back in good order themselves and fighting every inch of the way. private fred gibson, caledon, pushed forward alone with his machine-gun, and fought until all his ammunition was used. private james mahaffy, caledon, was badly wounded in the leg early in the day, and was ordered back. he refused to go, and continued to carry ammunition for his machine-gun. lance-corporal john hunter, coleraine, succeeded in picking off several german gunners. his cool and accurate shooting at such a time was remarkable. private robert monteith, lislap, omagh, had his leg taken off above the knee. he used his rifle and bayonet as a crutch, and continued to advance. private wallie scott, belfast, met five germans. he captured them single-handed, and marched them back to the enemy second line, where a sergeant had a larger party of prisoners gathered. chapter iv four victoria crosses to the ulster division brilliant additions to the record of irish valour and romance the most signal proof of the exceptional gallantry of the ulstermen is afforded by the awarding of four victoria crosses to two officers and two privates of the division. there is many a division that has not won a single v.c. they must not be belittled on that score; their ill-fortune and not their service is to blame. but the rarity of the distinction, and the exceptional deed of bravery and self-sacrifice needed to win it, reflects all the more glory on the achievements of the ulstermen. by the winning of four victoria crosses the ulster division have made a name which will shine gloriously for all time in the imperishable record of british gallantry on the battlefield. private william frederick mcfadzean of the royal irish rifles was posthumously awarded the victoria cross for sacrificing himself deliberately to save his comrades. the men of the battalion were packed together in a concentration trench on the morning of july . just prior to the advance bombs were being distributed for use when the german lines were reached. one of the boxes of these missiles slipped down the trench and emptied its contents on the floor. two of the safety pins fell out. shouts of alarm were raised. men who would face the german bombs undaunted shrank with a purely physical reaction from the peril which thus accidentally threatened them. they knew that in a moment these bombs would explode with a terrific detonation and scatter death and mutilation among them. in that instant mcfadzean flung himself bodily on the top of the bombs. he was a bomber himself, and he well knew the danger, but he did not hesitate. the bombs exploded. all their tremendous powers of destruction were concentrated upon the body which enveloped them in an embrace. mcfadzean was blown literally to bits. one only of his comrades was injured. mcfadzean was only twenty-one years of age. he was born at lurgan, county armagh, and was a presbyterian. a member of the ulster volunteer force, he joined the young citizens' battalion (belfast) of the royal irish rifles in september . the other private who won the victoria cross is robert quigg, also of the royal irish rifles. on the morning after the advance he went out seven times, alone and in the face of danger, to try to find his wounded officer, sir harry macnaghten of dundaraye, antrim, and returned on each occasion with a disabled man. private quigg is thirty-one, the son of robert quigg, a guide and boatman at the giant's causeway, antrim. he was a member of the ulster volunteer force, and enlisted in the royal irish rifles (central antrim volunteers) in september, . he is an episcopalian, an orangeman and a member of the flute band of his lodge. the official account of private quigg's exploit is as follows-- "for most conspicuous bravery. he advanced to the assault with his platoon three times. early next morning, hearing a rumour that his platoon officer was lying out wounded, he went out seven times to look for him under heavy shell and machine-gun fire, each time bringing back a wounded man. the last man he dragged in on a waterproof sheet from within a few yards of the enemy's wire. he was seven hours engaged in this most gallant work, and finally was so exhausted that he had to give it up." it was also "for most conspicuous bravery" in searching for wounded men under continuous and heavy fire that lieutenant geoffrey shillington cather of the royal irish fusiliers got the victoria cross. he lost his life in thus trying to succour others on the night and morning after the advance of the ulster division. "from p.m. till midnight he searched 'no man's land,' and brought in three wounded men," says the official account. "next morning, at a.m., he continued his search, brought in another wounded man, and gave water to others, arranging for their rescue later. finally, at . a.m., he took out water to another man, and was proceeding further on when he was himself killed. all this was carried out in full view of the enemy, and under direct machine-gun fire, and intermittent artillery fire. he set a splendid example of courage and self-sacrifice." lieutenant cather was twenty-five years of age, a son of mrs. cather, priory road, west hampstead, london. his father, who was dead, had been a tea merchant in the city. on his mother's side, lieutenant cather was a grandson of the late mr. thomas shillington, of tavanagh house, portadown; and on his father's side, of the late rev. robert cather, a distinguished minister of the irish methodist church. he was a nephew of captain d. graham shillington, of ardeevin, portadown, who, with his son, lieutenant t.g. shillington, was serving in the same battalion of the royal irish fusiliers. lieutenant cather was educated at rugby. he first joined the public schools' battalion of the royal fusiliers (city of london regiment), and obtained his commission in the county armagh volunteers in may, . the second officer of the ulster division to win the victoria cross was captain eric n.f. bell of the royal inniskilling fusiliers, whose gallantry on july also cost him his life. he was about twenty-two years old, one of three soldier sons of captain e.h. bell, formerly of the inniskillings (serving in egypt in a garrison battalion of the royal irish regiment), and mrs. bell, an enniskillen lady living in bootle. the two brothers of the late captain bell hold commissions in the ulster division. the deeds for which he was awarded the victoria cross are thus set out in the official account-- "for most conspicuous bravery. he was in command of a trench mortar battery, and advanced with the infantry in the attack. when our front line was hung up by enfilading machine-gun fire captain bell crept forward and shot the machine gunner. later, on no less than three occasions, when our bombing parties, which were clearing the enemy's trenches, were unable to advance, he went forward and threw trench mortar bombs among the enemy. when he had no more bombs available he stood on the parapet, under intense fire, and used a rifle with great coolness and effect on the enemy advancing to counter-attack. finally he was killed rallying and reorganising infantry parties which had lost their officers. all this was outside the scope of his normal duties with his battery. he gave his life in his supreme devotion to duty." colonel ricardo, in a very fine and sympathetic letter to the bereaved mother, gives additional particulars of captain bell's gallantry-- "the general, hearing that his parents were old friends of mine, has asked me to write on his behalf, sending his sympathy and telling of the gallantry of eric, which was outstanding on a day when supreme courage and gallantry was the order of the day. eric was in command on july of his trench mortar battery, which had very important duties to perform, and which very materially helped the advance. we know from his servant, private stevenson, a great deal of eric's share in the day's work. he went forward with the advance, and, coming under heavy machine-gun fire, and seeing where it came from, he took a rifle and crawled towards the machine-gun and then shot the gunner in charge, thus enabling a party on his flank to capture the gun. this gallant action saved many lives. "when in the german lines eric worked splendidly, collecting scattered units and helping to organise the defence. he was most energetic, and never ceased to encourage the men and set all a very fine example. having exhausted all his mortar ammunition, he organised a carrying party and started back to fetch up more shells; it was whilst crossing back to our own line that eric was hit. he was shot through the body, and died in a few moments without suffering. his servant stayed with him to the end and arrived back quite exhausted, and has now been admitted into hospital. nothing could have exceeded the courage and resource displayed by eric. the brigade are proud that he belonged to it. it is only what i should have expected from him. it must be a solace to his father and mother that he died such a gallant death. he was a born soldier and a credit to his regiment. may i add my heartfelt sympathy to my dear old friends." among the many other distinctions gained by the division were military crosses to two of the chaplains: captain rev. j. jackson wright and captain rev. joseph henry mckew. captain wright was the presbyterian minister of ballyshannon, county donegal. he gave up that position temporarily to accept an army chaplaincy, and was posted to the ulster division in november, , being attached to the inniskilling brigade. he was ordained in . captain mckew was curate of the parish of clones prior to being appointed church of ireland chaplain to the troops in august, . he is a trinity man, and during his university career won a moderatorship in history. ordained in , he has spent his entire ministry under canon ruddell in clones. before going to the front he was a chaplain at the curragh. the company officers led their men with conspicuous gallantry and steadfastness. "come on, ulsters;" "remember july the first," they cried. they were severely thinned out before the day was far advanced. it was the same with the non-commissioned ranks. at the end several parties of men desperately fighting had not an officer or a non-commissioned officer left. among the officers lost were two brothers, lieutenant holt montgomery hewitt, machine-gun corps (ulster division), and second-lieutenant william arthur hewitt, royal inniskilling fusiliers (tyrone volunteers). they were the sons of mr. j.h. hewitt, manager of the workshops for the blind, royal avenue, belfast. a third son, lieutenant ernest henry hewitt, royal lancaster regiment, was killed in action on june , . the three brothers were members of the ulster volunteer force before the war. they were prominent athletes, and played rugby football for the north of ireland club. in that respect they were typical of the officers of the ulster division. they were also typical of them for high-mindedness and cheerful devotion to duty. "poor holt, the most genial and lovable of souls!" exclaims lieutenant e.w. crawford, the adjutant of his battalion of the inniskillings. "willie led his platoon fearlessly over the top." the commanding officer of the battalion, colonel ricardo, in a letter to mr. hewitt, pays a remarkable tribute to second-lieutenant william holt. he says: "it was a sad day for us, and i feel quite stunned and heartbroken. your willie was one of the nicest-minded boys i ever knew. my wife saw a letter he wrote to the widow of a man in his company, and she told me it was the most beautiful letter of sympathy she had ever read. no one but a spiritually-minded boy could have written such a letter. i made him my assistant-adjutant, and of all my young lads i could spare him the least. no words can express the sympathy we all feel for yourself and mrs. hewitt and your family in this grievous double blow." captain c.c. craig, royal irish rifles (south antrim volunteers), m.p. for south antrim and brother of colonel james craig, m.p. for east down, was taken prisoner. when last seen he was lying wounded in a shell hole at the most advanced point of the narrow and dangerous salient carved by the ulstermen in the enemy lines, shouting encouragement to his company. in a letter to his wife, written from a hospital at gutersloh, westphalia, germany, and dated july , captain craig states it was while he was directing his men to convert the c line of trenches into defences against the germans by making them face the opposite way, that he was hit by a piece of shrapnel in the back of the leg below the knee. "this put me out of action," he says. "i was bandaged up, and, as i could not get about, i sent a message to r. neill to take command, and i crawled to a shell-hole, where i lay for six hours. this was at about a.m. on the st july. during this six hours the shelling and machine-gun fire was very heavy, but my shell-hole protected me so well that i was not hit again, except for a very small piece of shrapnel on the arm, which only made a small cut." at about four o'clock in the afternoon the enemy made a counter attack, during which captain craig was found and taken prisoner. describing his treatment as a prisoner, captain craig says-- "i had to hobble into a trench close at hand, where i stayed till ten o'clock, till two germans took me to another line of trenches about or yards further back. this was the worst experience i had, as my leg was stiff and painful. the space between the lines was being heavily shelled by our guns, and my two supporters were naturally anxious to get over the ground as quickly as possible, and did not give me much rest, so i was very glad when, after what seemed an age, though it was not more than fifteen minutes or so, we got to the trench. i was put in a deep dug-out, where there were a lot of officers and men, and they were all very kind to me and gave me food and water, and here i spent the night. my leg was by now much swollen, but not painful except when i tried to walk. there were no stretchers, so in the morning i had to hobble as best i could out of the trenches till we came to a wood. soon after i passed a dug-out where some artillery officers lived, and the captain seeing my condition refused to allow me to go any further on foot, and took me in and gave me food and wine, and set his men to make a kind of sling to carry me in. this proved a failure; as i was so heavy, i nearly broke the men's shoulders. he then got a wheelbarrow, and in this i was wheeled a mile or more to a dressing station, where my wound was dressed, and i was inoculated for tetanus. that night i was taken to a village, and had a comfortable bed and a good sleep." another officer of the division who was "pipped," as he calls it, tells in an interesting story how he worked himself along the ground towards the british lines, and his experiences on the way. "by and by," he says, "a boche corporal came crawling along after me. he shouted some gibberish, and i waved him on towards our lines with my revolver. he wasn't wounded, but he was devilish anxious to make sure of being a prisoner--begad, you don't get our chaps paying them the same compliment. they'll take any risks sooner than let the boche get them as prisoners. so this chap lay down close beside me. i told him to be off out o' that, but he lay close, and i'd no breath to spare. that crawling is tiresome work. presently i saw a man of ours coming along, poking round with his rifle and bayonet. he'd been detailed to shepherd in prisoners. he was surprised to see me. then he saw my boche. 'hell to yer sowl!' says he; 'what the divil are ye doin' there beside my officer? get up,' says he, 'an' be off with ye out a' that!' and he poked at him with his bayonet; so the fellow squealed and plucked up enough courage to get up on his feet and run for our lines. our own man wanted to help me back--a good fellow, you know--but i'd time enough before me, so told him to carry on. i wriggled all the way back to our line, and a stretcher-bearer got me there, so i was all right." when they were relieved, the survivors of the division came back very tired and bedraggled, their faces black with battle smoke and their uniforms white from the chalky soil. but they were in a joyous mood; and well they might be, for they had battered in one of the doors of the supposed impregnable german trenches and left it ajar. their exploits add a brilliant chapter to the record of irish valour and romance. grief for the dead will soon subside into a sad memory, but the glory of what they accomplished will endure for ever. because of it, the first of july is certain to be as great a day for ulster in the future as the twelfth has been in the past. chapter v combativeness of the irish soldier the british blends of courage there is a story of wellington and his army in the peninsular campaign which embodies, in a humorous fashion, the still popular idea of the chief national characteristics of the races within the united kingdom. it says that if wellington wanted a body of troops to get to a particular place quickly by forced marches he gave an assurance that on their arrival scottish regiments would be given their arrears of pay; english regiments would have a good dinner of roast beef, and the bait held out to irish regiments to give speed to their feet, however weary, was an all-round tot of grog. the welsh, it will be noticed, are not in the story. this cannot be explained by saying they had yet to achieve separate national distinction on the field of battle. the rd regiment of foot (royal welsh fusiliers) served under wellington and contributed more than their fair share to the martial renown of the british army. it is solely due, i think, to the fact that they had not yet emerged from their absorption in the english generally. but, to round off the story, what motive of a material kind would impel the welsh regiments to greater military exertions? shall we say any one of the three inducements mentioned--pay, grub or grog, or, better still, all of them together? the present war has provided the most searching tests of the qualities of the races involved in it. they have all been profoundly moved to the uttermost deeps of their being, both in the mass and as individuals. the superficial trappings of society and even of civilisation have fallen from them, and they appear as they really are--brave or cowardly, noble or base, unselfish or egotistical. we see our own soldiers, english, scottish, welsh and irish, not perhaps quite as each came from the hands of nature, but certainly as the original minting of each has been modified only by the influence of racial environment. all the races within the united kingdom are alike in this, that each is a medley of many kinds of dissimilar individuals with very varied faculties and attributes. but there are certain broad, main characteristics which distinguish in the mass each racial aggregate of dissimilar units; and it is these instincts, ideas, habits, customs, held in common, that fundamentally separate each nationality from the other. that is what i mean by racial environment. the soldiers of the united kingdom possess in general certain fine qualities of character and conduct which may be ascribed to the traditions and training of the british army. but when we come to consider them racially we find that their points of difference are more striking even than their points of similarity. each nationality evolves its own type of soldier, and every type has its distinctly marked attributes. as troops, taken in the mass, are the counterpart of the nations from which they spring, and, indeed, cannot be anything else, so they must, for one thing, reveal in fighting the particular sort of martial spirit possessed by their race. though i am an irishman, i would not be so boastful as to say that the irish soldiers have a superior kind of courage to which neither the english, the scottish nor the welsh can lay claim. they are all equally brave, but the manifestation of their bravery is undoubtedly different--that is, different not so much in degree as in kind. in a word, courage, like humour, is not racial or geographical, but, like humour also, it takes on a racial or geographical flavour. general sir ian hamilton has written: "when, once upon a time, a queen of spain saw the grenadier guards she remarked they were strapping fellows; as the nd highlanders went by she said, 'the battalion marches well'; but, at the aspect of the royal irish, the words 'bloody war!' were wrung from her reluctant lips." after a good deal of reading on the subject, and some thought, i venture to suggest the following generalisations as to the qualities which distinguish the english, scottish, welsh and irish, in valour, one from another. english--the courage of an exalted sense of honour and devotion to duty, and of the national standard of conduct which requires them to show, at all costs, that they are better men than their opponents, whoever they may be. scottish--the courage of mental as well as physical tenacity, coolly set upon achieving the purpose in view. welsh--the courage of perfervid emotion, religious in its intensity. irish--the courage of dare-devilry, and the rapture of battle. all these varieties of courage are to be found, to some extent, in each distinct national unit, and thus they cross and recross the racial boundary lines within our army. still, i think they represent broadly the dominant distinguishing characteristics of the english, scottish, welsh and irish as fighting men. the qualities lacking in one race are supplied by the others; and the harmonious whole into which all are fused provide that fire and dash, cool discipline, doggedness and high spirits for which our troops have always been noted. the commander-in-chief, sir douglas haig, is said to have made a most interesting estimate of the qualities of the soldiers of the three home races under his command. the irish are best for brilliant and rapid attack, and the english are best for holding a position against heavy onslaughts. the scottish, he thinks, are not quite so fiery and dashing in assault as the irish, but they are more so than the english, and not quite so tenacious in holding on under tremendous fire as the english, but they are more so than the irish. it is this combination of attributes which enables the british army, more perhaps than any other army, to get out of a desperate situation with superb serenity and honour. there is an old saying that it never knows when it is beaten. soult, marshal of france, whose brilliant tactics in the peninsular war so often countered the consummate strategy of wellington and the furious dash of the irish infantry, bore testimony in a novel and vivid way to this trait of the british. "they could not be persuaded they were beaten," he said. "i always thought them bad soldiers," he also said. "i turned their right, pierced their centre, they were everywhere broken; the day was mine; and yet they did not know it and would not run." any other troops, in a hopeless pass, would retreat or surrender, and would do so without disgrace. there are numberless instances in british military history where our troops, faced with fearful odds, stood, magnificently stubborn, with their backs to the wall, as it were, willing to be fired at and annihilated rather than give in. mr. john redmond tells a story of a reply given by an english general when asked his opinion of the irish troops. "oh," he said, "they are magnificent fighters, but rotten soldiers. when they receive an order to retire their answer is, 'be damned if we will.'" i may add, in confirmation of this story, that one of the incidents of the retreat from mons, which was the subject afterwards of an inquiry by the military authorities, was the refusal of a few hundred men of a famous irish regiment to retire from what appeared to be an untenable position, much less to surrender, one or other of which courses was suggested by their superior officer. the answer of the men was as stunning as a blow of a shillelagh, or as sharp as a bayonet thrust. "if we had thrown down our arms," one of them said to me, "we could never have shown our faces in ireland again." racial distinctions are to be seen on the weak side as well as on the strong side of character. each nationality, regarded as fighters, has therefore its own particular failing. the irish are disposed to be foolhardy, or heedless of consequences. it is the fault of their special kind of courage. "the british soldier's indifference to danger, while it is one of his finest qualities, is often the despair of his officers," says mr. valentine williams, one of the most brilliant and experienced of war correspondents, in his book, _with our army in flanders_, and he adds, "the irish regiments are the worst. their recklessness is proverbial." they are either insensible to the perils they run, or, what is more likely, contemptuous of them. i have been given several examples of the ways they will needlessly expose themselves. though they can get to the rear through the safe, if wayward, windings of the communication trenches, it is a common thing for them to climb the parapets and go straight across the open fields under fire so as to save half an hour. to go by the trenches, they will argue, doubles the time taken in getting back without halving the risk. in like manner, they prefer to go down a road swept by the enemy's artillery, which leads direct to their destination, rather than waste time by following a secure but circuitous way round. there is an irish proverb against foolhardy risks which says it is better to be late for five minutes than dead all your lifetime, but evidently it is disregarded by irish soldiers at the front. an english officer in the royal irish regiment writes: "really the courage and cheerfulness of our grand irish boys are wonderful. they make light of their wounds, and, owing to their stamina, make rapid recoveries. the worst of them is they get very careless of the german bullets after a while and go wandering about as if they were at home." another english officer begins an amusing story of an irish orderly in an english regiment with the comment: "i shall never now believe that there is on this earth any man to beat the irish for coolness and pluck." the officer was in his dug-out, and first noticed the irishman chopping wood to make a fire for cooking purposes on a road which was made dangerous during the day by german snipers. he remarked to another officer, "by jove! that man will get shot if he isn't careful." "no sooner had i said the word," he writes, "when a bullet splattered near his head. then another between his legs. i saw the mud fly where the bullet struck. the man, who is the captain's servant, turned round in the direction of the sniper and roared, 'good shot, kaiser. only you might have hit me, though, for then i could have gone home.' after this the orderly proceeded to roast a fowl, singing quite unconcernedly, 'i often sigh for the silvery moon.' another bullet came and hit him in the arm. he roared with delight; and, as he basted the fowl, exclaimed, 'oh, i'm not going to lave you, me poor bird.' the officer shouted to him to come into the dug-out. he did so, but when he had licked the wound in his arm, and bound it up, he said he must get the fowl, or it would be overdone; and before the officer could utter a word of protest, he ran across the road to the fire, started singing again, though the bullets, once more, came whistling past his ear. when he returned to the dug-out with the fowl nicely roasted he remarked cheerily, 'people may say what they like, but them germans are some marksmen, after all.'" the whimsical side of irish daring is further illustrated by a story of some men of the royal munster fusiliers. to while away the time in the trenches one night they made bets on doing this or that. one fellow wagered a day's pay that he would go over to the german lines and come back with a maxim gun, which was known to be stationed at a particular point. in the darkness he wriggled across the intervening space on his stomach, and, coming stealthily upon the guard, stabbed him with a dagger. then slinging the maxim across his shoulder, he crawled safely back to the trenches. "double pay to-day!" he cried to the comrade he made the bet with. "but you haven't won," said the other. "where's the machine's belt and ammunition?" the next night he sallied forth on his belly again, and returned with the complete outfit. the spirit of the anecdote is true to the irish temperament, though the episode it records may be fanciful. there is no doubt that things of the kind are done very frequently by irish soldiers. they call it "gallivanting"; and the mood takes on an air of, say, recklessness which, at times, seems very incongruous against the frightful background of the war. the very root of courage is forgetfulness of self. self-consciousness is, in no great degree, an irish failing, or virtue, either, if it is to be regarded as such. especially when he is absorbed in a martial adventure, the irishman has no room in his mind left for a thought of being afraid, or even nervous. he likes the thrill of movement, the fierce excitement of advancing under fire for a frontal attack on the enemy, the ferocity of a contest at close grips. this is the temperament that responds blithely to the whistle--"over the parapets!" his blood is stirred when the actual fighting begins, and as it progresses he is carried more and more out of himself. the part of warfare repugnant to him, most trying to his temper, is that of long watching and waiting. for the work of lining the trenches a different kind of courage is required. the slush, the miseries, the herding together, the cramped movements, are enough to drive all the heat out of the blood. the qualities needed for the severe and incessant strain of this duty are an immovable calm, a tireless patience, an endurance which no hardships can break down. here the english and the scottish shine, for by nature they are more disciplined, more submissive to authority, and they hold on to the end with an admirable blend of good-humour and doggedness. on the other hand, i am told, on the authority of an officer of the welsh guards, that when the irish guards are in the trenches they find the long dreary vigil and the boredom of inaction so insupportable that it is a common thing for parties of them to go to the officer in command and say, "please, sir, may we go out and bomb the germans?" as lord wolseley had "the irish drop in him," perhaps it is not to be wondered at that he discounts the old proverb that the better part of valour is discretion. "there are a great many men," he writes, "who pride themselves upon simply doing their duty and restricting themselves exclusively to its simple performance. if such a spirit took possession of an army no great deeds can ever be expected from it." what more can one do, it may be asked, than one's duty? evidently lord wolseley would have duty on the battlefield spiced or gingered with audacity. the way the irish look at it is well illustrated, i think, in a letter which i have seen from a private in a devon regiment. he states that while he and some comrades were at an observation post in a trench near the enemy's line six germans advanced close to them, and though they kept firing at them they could not drive them back. "two fellows of the royal irish rifles came up," continues the devon man, "and asked us what was on. we told them. then one turned round to the other and said, 'come on, jim, sure we'll shift them.' then the two of them fixed their bayonets and rushed at the germans. you would have laughed to see the six germans running away from the two irishmen." we have here an exhibition of the spirit of the born fighter who does not stop to count the odds or risks too cautiously. the incident recalls, in a sense, the scene depicted by shakespeare in _king henry v_ at the camp before harfleur, france, when fluellen the welshman--all shilly-shallying and dilly-dallying in enterprise--wants to argue with captain macmorris, the irishman, concerning the disciplines of war. but the irishman wants not words but work. away with procrastination! so he bursts out, in shakespeare's most uncouth imitation of the brogue-- "it is no time to discourse, so chrish save me: the day is hot, and the weather, and the wars and the king, and the dukes: it is no time to discourse. the town is beseeched, and the trumpet call us to the breach, and we talk, and, be chrish, do nothing; 'tis shame for us all: so god sa' me 'tis shame to stand still; it is shame by my hand; and there is throats to be cut, and works to be done; and there isn't nothing done, so chrish sa' me, la!" lord wolseley also lays greater store on the spontaneous courage of the blood, the intuitive or unconscious form of courage, which is peculiarly irish, than on moral courage, the courage of the mind, the courage of the man who by sheer will-power masters his nervous system and the shrinking from danger which it usually excites. in lord wolseley's opinion the man who is physically brave--the man of whom it may often be said that he has no sense of fear because he has no perception of danger--is the true military leader who draws his men after him to the achievement of deeds at which the world wonders. that is the kind of courage which of old led the mailed knight, bent on a deed of derring-do, to cleave his way with sword or battle-axe to the very heart of the enemy's phalanx for the purpose of bringing their banner to the ground, or dealing them a more vital blow by slaying their commander. there may be little opportunity in trench warfare and in duels between heavy guns, both sides concealed behind the veils of distance, for such a show of spectacular bravery. war is no longer an adventure, a game or a sport. it is a state of existence, and what is needed most for its successful prosecution, so far as the individual fighter is concerned, is a devotion to duty which, however undramatic, never quails before any task to which it is set. but the irish soldier still longs for the struggle to the death between man and man, or, better still, of one man against a host of men. at dawn one day a young irish soldier, inexperienced and of a romantic disposition, took his first turn in the trenches. he had come up filled with an uplifting resolve to do great things. the germans immediately began a bombardment. the lad at first was filled with vague wonderments. he was puzzled especially by the emptiness of the battlefield. he had in mind the opposing armies moving in sight of each other, as he had seen them in manoeuvres. where was the enemy? whence came these shells? then the invisibility of the foe, and this mechanical, impersonal form of fighting appalled him. one of his comrades was blown to pieces by his side. a dozen others disappeared from view in an upheaval of the ground. this was a dastardly massacre and not manly warfare, thought the youth. he could stand the ordeal no longer. he ran, bewildered, up the trench, shouting "police! police!" "hello, there; what are you up to?" said an officer, barring the way. "oh, sir," cried the young soldier, "there's bloody murder going on down there below, and i am looking for the police to put an end to it." chapter vi with the tyneside irish over the heights of la boiselle, through bailiff's wood to contalmaison the men of the tyneside irish battalions stood to arms in the assembly trenches by the somme on the morning of july , . suddenly the face of the country was altered, in their sight, as if by a frightful convulsion of nature. their ears were stunned by shattering explosions, and looking ahead, they saw the earth in two places upheaving, hundreds of feet high, in black masses of smoke. the ground rumbled under their feet, so that many feared it would break apart and bring the parapets down on top of them. two mines had been sprung beneath the first line of the german trenches to the south-west and north-east of the heap of masonry and timber that once had been the pretty little hamlet of la boiselle. it was the signal to the division, which included the tyneside irish, that the hour of battle had come. the part in the general british advance allotted to the division was first to seize the heights on which la boiselle stood. this was a few miles beyond the town of albert, held by the allies, on the main road to the town of bapaume, in the possession of the germans. thence they were to move forward to bailiff's wood, to the north-west of contalmaison, and to a position on the cross-roads to the north-east of that village. contalmaison lay about four miles distant, almost in ruins amid its devastated orchards, and with the broken towers of its chateau standing out conspicuously at the back. one brigade had to take the first line of german trenches, other battalions of the division had to take the second and third lines, after which the tyneside irish were to push on over all these lines to the farthest point of the brigade's objective, the second ridge on which contalmaison stood, where they were to dig themselves in and remain. the tyneside irish had already had their baptism of fire, and had proved themselves not unworthy of the race from which they have sprung. captain davey--formerly editor of the _ulster guardian_ (a radical and home rule journal)--records a stirring incident of st. patrick's day, . on the night of march - a german patrol planted a german flag in front of the tyneside irish, half-way across "no man's land." it was determined to wipe out the insult. during the day snipers were allowed to amuse themselves firing at the flag, and it was not long before a lucky shot smashed the staff in two, and left the german ensign trailing in the dust. but the real work was reserved for the night. there were abundance of volunteers, but captain davey, with pride in his own province, selected an ulsterman for the adventure. the man chosen was second-lieutenant c.j. ervine, of belfast. mr. ervine, supported by two tyneside irishmen, set out on the eve of st. patrick's day, and entered the gloomy depths of "no man's land." an hour passed and they returned--but without the flag. the enemy was too keenly on the alert. but in the early hours of st. patrick's day lieutenant ervine set off again--this time by himself. what happened is thus described by captain davey-- "for an hour and a half we waited for his return, expecting each minute to hear the confounded patrol and machine-gun making the familiar declaration that 'we will not have it.' so keen were the sentries that even when relieved they would not leave their posts. after an hour had passed, mr. ervine's sergeant, getting impatient, went over the parapet and crawled to our wire so as to see better. punctually at a quarter to three a german star-light went up, and by it we could see a dark form making in our direction. in five minutes it reached our wire, and in ten it was over the parapet. the germans had been caught napping. in less than half an hour, while the spoiler of the huns stood by in the crude garb of a highlander in trench boots--for he had fallen into a ditch full of water on the way and we bring no change of clothing to the trenches--another officer and myself had erected a flagstaff in a firing-bay and nailed to it was the german ensign, while above it floated a green flag with the harp which had been presented to our company before we left home. and so we ushered in st. patrick's day!" captain davey proceeds-- "proudly the green banner floated out, while, of course, we flattered ourselves that the black, white and red of prussia hung its head in shame below. it was not long before the germans showed that they were wide awake at last, and the bullets began to sing about our newly-erected monument to ireland and ireland's patron saint. but it was a stout flagstaff, and though dozens of bullets struck it, nothing short of a shell could have shifted it. and there it stood all day with the green above the black, white and red. it was no longer a case of 'deutschland' but of 'ireland uber alles.' i don't know if any similar sight has been seen in a british trench. i know the green flag has led irish troops to victory in this war, but i think this is the first time the spectacle has been seen of the irish ensign hoisted above a captured german flag. at any rate the spectacle was sufficiently novel to cause us to have admiring visitors all day long from other parts of the line." unfortunately there is a sad pendant to this story of st. patrick's day at the front. lieutenant ervine, the gallant hero of the exploit, died from wounds. the country which faced the tyneside irish on july , , had been an agricultural country, inhabited by peasant cultivators before the war. the ravages of war had turned it into a barren waste. the productive soil was completely swept away. nothing remained but the raw, elemental chalk. it was bare of vegetation, save where, in isolated spots, the hemlock, the thistle, and other gross weeds, proclaimed the rankness of the ground, and also that the processes of nature ever go on unchecked, even in a world convulsed by human hate. not only were the villages pounded into rubbish by gun-fire, but the woods--also numerous in these parts--appeared, as seen from a distance, to be but mere clusters of gaunt and splintered tree stumps devoid of foliage. not a human being was to be seen. yet that apparently empty waste was infested with men--men turned into burrowing animals like the badger, or, still more, like the weasel, so noted for its ferocious and bloodthirsty disposition. in every shattered wood, in every battered hamlet, in all the slopes and dips by which the face of the country was diversified, they lie concealed, tens of thousands of them, in an elaborately and cunningly contrived system of underground defences, armed with rifles, bombs, machine-guns, trench-mortars, and ready to spring out, with all their claws and teeth displayed, on the approach of their prey, the man in khaki. but, as things turned out, the man in khaki pared the nails of fritz, and broke his jawbone. "before starting, and when our guns were at their heaviest, there was a good deal of movement, up and down, and talking in the trenches. a running fire of chaff was kept up, and there was many a smart reply, for irish wit will out even in the face of death," said lieutenant james hately, who was wounded in that battle. "some of the fellows were very quiet, but none the less determined. most of us were laughing. at the same time i felt sorry, for the thought would obtrude itself on my mind that many of the poor chaps i saw around me would never see home again. as for myself, curiously enough, it never occurred to me that i would even be hit. perhaps that was because i am of a sanguine or optimistic disposition. i started off, like many another officer, with a cigarette well alight. many of the men were puffing at their pipes. officers and men exchanged 'good-lucks,' 'cheer-ohs' and other expressions of comradeship and encouragement." many were, naturally, in a serious mood. they felt too near to death for the chaff of the billets or trenches to be seemly. they thought of home, of dear ones, of life in the workshops and offices of newcastle and sunderland, and the gay companions of favourite sports and amusements, and, more poignant still, some recalled the last sight of the cabin in donegal, before turning down the lane to the valley and the distant station, on their way to try their fortune in england. thus there was some restlessness and anxiety, but the company officers in closest touch with the men agree that the general mood was eagerness to get into grips with the enemy, and relish for the adventure, without any great concern as to its results to themselves individually. when the command was given, "up and over," the brigade, in fact, was like a huge electric battery fresh from a generating station, for its immense driving force and not less for the lively agitation of its varied emotions. up and over the battalions went, and moved forward in successive waves, the men in single file abreast, the lines about fifty yards apart. for about two hundred yards or so nothing of moment happened. then they came under heavy fire. shells burst about them, shrapnel fell from above, bullets from rifle and machine-gun tore through the air, or caused hundreds of little spurts of earth to leap and dance about their feet. one of the men told me that the shrieking and hissing of these deadly missiles reminded him of banshees and serpents, a confused and grotesque association appropriate to a battlefield as to a nightmare. it must not be supposed that everything was carried with a rush and a shout, at point of the bayonet. an impetuous advance is what the men would have liked best. it would be most in tune with the ardour of their feelings, and less a strain on their nerves. but there were many reasons why that was impossible. the country, in its natural formation, was upward sloping, and all dips and swells. it was broken up into enormous shell-holes and mine-craters, seamed with zigzag lines of white chalky rubble marking the german trenches, and strewn with the wire of demolished entanglements, fallen trees and the wreckage of houses. the men were heavily equipped in what is called fighting order. they carried haversacks, water-bottles, gas-helmets, bandoliers filled with cartridges, as well as rifles and bayonets. some were additionally burdened with bombs and hand grenades. behind them came the working parties with entrenching tools, such as picks and shovels. accordingly, the physical labour of the advance alone was tremendous. it would have been stiff and toilsome work for the strongest and most active, even if there had been no storm of shot and shell to face besides. there was, furthermore, the danger in a too hasty progress of plunging headlong into the curtain of high explosives which the artillery, firing from miles behind, hung along the front of the infantry, lifting it and moving it forward as the lines were seen to advance. nevertheless the men went on steadily, undaunted by the fire and tumult; and the shuddering earth; undaunted even by the spectacle of the dead and dying of the battalions which preceded them in the attack; shaken only by one horror--a horror unspeakable--that of seeing fond comrades of their own falling bereft of life, as in a flash, by a bullet through the brain or heart; or, worse still, just as suddenly disappearing into bloody fragments amid the roar and smoke of a bursting shell. now and then men stopped awhile, trembling at the sight and aghast; and, under the sway of impulses that were irresistible, put their right hands over their faces as a protection to their eyes--an appeal, expressed in action rather than in words, that they might be mercifully spared their sight--or else made a sweeping gesture of the arm, as if to brush aside the bullets which buzzed about them like venomous insects. the pace, therefore, was necessarily slow. it was rather a succession of short rushes, a few yards at a time, with intervening pauses behind such shelter as was available in order to recover breath. the right soldierly quality is not to be over rash, but to adapt oneself to the nature of the fighting and its scene; the circumstances of the moment, the ever-varying requirements of the action. such an advance, whatever precautions be taken, entails great sacrifices. every life that is lost should be made to go as far as possible in the gaining of the victory. foolhardy movements, due to unreflecting bravery, were accordingly discouraged. advantage was to be taken of any cover afforded by the natural features of the country or the state into which it had been transformed by the pounding of high explosives. the influence of the officers, so cool and alert were they, so suggestive of capability in direction, was most reassuring and stimulating to the men. on the other hand, the officers were relieved by the intelligence, the amenable character of the men and their fine discipline, from the worry and annoyance which company commanders have so often to endure in the course of an action by the casual doings, and the lack of initiative on the part of those under their charge. simple, biddable, gallant and faithful unto death, it was the wish of the tyneside irish that, if they were to fall, their bodies might be found, not in the line of the advance, but at the german positions to the north-west of contalmaison, out of both of which they had helped to drive the enemy. but now the lines or waves of men which had left the trenches in extended formation were broken up into separate little bodies, all independently engaged in various grim tasks. they had mounted la boiselle hill, and moved down into the valley which still intervened between them and bailiff's wood and contalmaison. thus they were in the very centre of the labyrinth of the enemy's system of defences. an air of intolerable mystery and sinister hidden danger hung over it. was it not possible that those brutes, those dirty fighters, the inventors of poisonous gas, liquid fire and flame jets, who had established themselves in the very vitals of the place, might not have other devilish inventions prepared for the wholesale massacre of their adversaries? the thought arose in the minds of many, and caused a vague sense of apprehension. the germans, however, had no further hellish surprises. even so, the place was baneful and noxious enough. the germans had suffered terrible losses and were morally shaken by the artillery bombardment--gigantic, devastating, thunderous--which preceded the british advance. it is the fact, nevertheless, that most of the survivors had enough courage and tenacity left doggedly to contest every inch of the way. they lay concealed in all sorts of cunning traps and contrivances, apart from their demolished trenches. machinery on the side of the british--in the form of big guns--had done its part. the time had come for the play of human qualities, the pluck, the endurance and the stout arm of the british infantry man. snipers had to be dislodged from their burrows; hidden machine-gun posts had likewise to be found out and silenced. so the men of the tyneside irish were rushing about in small parties, shooting, bayoneting, clubbing, bombing; and the triumphant yells which arose here and there proclaimed the discovery of yet another lair of the foe. many a stirring story of personal adventure could be told. sergeant knapp of sunderland, who won his stripes in the advance, gives this account of his experiences-- "i had just taken the machine-gun off my mate to give him a rest when 'fritz' opened fire on us from the left with a machine-gun, which played havoc with the irish. then i heard my mate shout, 'bill, i've been hit,' and when i looked round i saw i was by myself; he, poor chap, had fallen like the rest. now i had to do the best i could, so i picked up a bag of ammunition for the gun and started across 'no man's land.' once i had to drop into a shell-hole to take cover from machine-gun fire. "after a short rest i pushed on again and got into the german second line. by this time i was exhausted, for i was carrying a machine-gun and rounds of ammunition, besides a rifle and rounds in my pouches, equipment, haversack and waterproof cape, so i had a fair load. i stopped there for a few minutes picking off stray boches that were kicking about. then along came a chap, whom i asked to give me a help with the gun, which he did. we had scarcely gone ten yards when a shell burst on top of us. i stood still, i don't think i could have moved had i wanted to. then i looked around for my chum, but alas! man and gun were missing. where he went to i don't know, for i have not seen him or my precious weapon since." who that has talked with many wounded soldiers has not found that often they are unable to give any coherent account of their own actions and feelings during a battle. in some cases it is due to an unwillingness to revive haunting memories, a wish to banish out of mind for ever the morbid, terrible and grotesque, the ugly aspects in which many experiences in battle present themselves, surpassing the nightmares of any opium eater. in other cases there is an obvious distaste for posing. all one gallant irish tynesider would say to me was, "sure i only went on because i had to. didn't the officers tell us before we left the trenches that there was to be no going back?" he brushed aside everything he had done that terrible day which got him the distinguished conduct medal, with the jocose assumption that he was but the most unheroic of mortals, that he went to a place where he would not have gone if he had had any choice in the matter. the incommunicativeness of the soldier is also due to the fact that he cannot recall his sensations. during an engagement his mind is in a whirl. he has no disposition to note his thoughts and feelings in the midst of the fighting. in fact, few men can analyse the processes of their emotions in such a situation, either at the time or afterwards. as a rule, an overmastering passion possesses the soldier to stab, hack and annihilate the foe who want to take that life which he so greatly desires to preserve. all else is confused and blurred--a vague sense of desperate happenings shrouded in fire and smoke, out of which there emerges, now and then, with sharp distinctness, some specially horrible incident, such as the shattering of a comrade into bits. but i have met with cases still more strange, where the mind was a blank during the advance through the showering bullets and shrapnel and the exploding shells. even the simplest process of the brain--memory, or self-consciousness--was dormant. the soldiers in this mental condition appear to have been like the somnambulist who does things mechanically as he walks in his sleep, and when aroused has an impression of having passed through some unusual experience, but what he cannot tell, so vague and formless is it all. suddenly all the senses of these hypnotised soldiers became wide awake and alert. this happened when they caught sight of figures in skirted grey tunics and flat grey caps with narrow red bands, emerging from cavernous depths into the light of day, or unexpectedly came upon them crouching in holes or behind mounds of earth away from the trenches. germans! face to face with the bosche at last! the effect was like that of a sudden and peremptory blast of a bugle in a deep stillness. each irish tynesider braced up his nerves for bloody deeds. "my life, or theirs," was the thought that sprang to his mind. thus it was a scene of appalling violence. it resounded with the clash of bayonets; the crackle of musketry; the explosion of bombs; the rattle of machine-guns; and in that confusion of hideous mechanical noises were also heard the shriek of human anguish and the cry of victory. it was in a wood not far off contalmaison that the fighting was most desperate and sanguinary of all. the place was full of germans. the paths and glades were blocked or barricaded with fallen trees. beneath the splintered and blackened trunks that were still standing, the undergrowth, freed from the attentions of the woodman in the two years of the war, was dense and tangled. right through the wood were trenches with barbed wire obstructions. at its upper end were peculiarly strong outposts, which poured machine-gun fire through the trees and bushes. it was commanded by batteries on two sides--from contalmaison on the right and oviliers on the left. the attackers had to penetrate this dreadful wood, scrambling, tearing, jumping, creeping in the sultry and stifling heat of the day. there were ferocious personal encounters. the form of fighting was one of the most terrible to which this most hideous of wars has given rise. probably there has been nothing like it since early man fought those horrid and extinct mammoth animals, the skeletons of which are now to be seen in museums, what time they were alive and savage and ruthless in their haunts in the primeval forest. the battle was marked by ever-varying vicissitudes of advance and repulse. "the german guardsmen fought like tigers to hold it," is a phrase in one letter of an irish tynesider. our own official despatches relating to the somme battle also show that this part of the german front--oviliers, la boiselle, bailiff's wood, contalmaison, mametz wood--was held by battalions of the guards, composed of the flower of the youth of prussia, and standing highest in the mightiest army in the world. these were not the kind of men to put up their hands and cry "kamerad, mercy!" at the sight even of that pitiless and unnerving thing--a bayonet at the end of a rifle in the hands of a brawny irishman, with the fury of battle flaming in his eyes. they held on tenaciously, and gave blow for blow. a long bombardment, night and day, by modern heavy guns, is a frightful ordeal. its objects are, first, to kill wholesale; and, next, to paralyse the survivors with the fear of death, so that they could but offer only a feeble resistance to the advancing troops. shaken and despairing men were, therefore, encountered--filthy, unshaven, vile-looking, and so mentally dazed as to act and talk like idiots. but they were not all like that. so well-designed and powerful were their subterranean defences that large numbers were unaffected by the visitations of the high explosives, and through it preserved their courage and their rage. conspicuous among these were the prussian guards. they made furious efforts to stop the advancing lines of the tyneside irish, and that they were overpowered is a splendid testimony to the martial qualities of our men. think of it! two years ago, or so, these young lads of various industrial callings--farm hands, railway porters, clerks, drapers' assistants, policemen, carters, messenger boys, miners--would have regarded as preposterous the idea that at any time of what seemed to them to be their predestined humdrum existence, or in any period even of a conceivably mad and topsy-turvy world, they would not only be soldiers but would encounter the germans on the fields of france; and--most incredible phantasy of all--defeat the renowned prussian guards--men whose hearts from their earliest years throbbed high at the thought that they were to be soldiers; men highly disciplined and trained, belonging to the proudest regiments in the german army, and always ready and eager for the call of battle. bailiff's wood and contalmaison appear to have been the furthest points reached on the first day of the battle of the somme. if they did not then fall, the superb action of the tyneside irish made breaches in these strongholds which, when widened and deepened by subsequent assaults, led to their complete capture on july . as captain downey, an officer of the tyneside irish says: "our men paved the way for various other british regiments who swept through some days later." a few companies of one of these battalions which got into contalmaison on july , and were driven out, brought back some tyneside irish and scottish that were imprisoned in a german dug-out in the village. they also found outside the village the bodies of several tyneside irish, gallant fellows who died in the attempt to push on to the point they had orders to reach. the effectiveness of the attack by the brigade on july depended a good deal upon the progress made by troops of other divisions who were co-operating on both sides. "on our left flank the parallel division was held up; on our right the division moved slowly," says an officer of the irish brigade. the difficulties of the advance would probably have held up indefinitely any other troops in the world. but there is never any danger of the momentum of an attack by irish troops being weakened through excessive caution against what is called "over running." indeed, it is a fault of their courage that they are sometimes prone to act with too much precipitation, and, in fact, on this occasion it was not so much that the divisions to the right and left were behind time as that the irish brigade were somewhat ahead of it. the result, however, was that the irish tynesiders were exposed on their right to a deadly enfilading fire that swept across from oviliers, which was not yet in british possession. nevertheless, they did not stop. "no matter who cannot get on, we must." that was the order of the officers in command, and so dauntless was the response to it that by one o'clock the men got to a point in front of contalmaison. here what remained of the brigade held on for some days and nights, until the reserves came to their relief on july . the casualties among all ranks were heavy. the officers, sharing every hardship and being foremost in every danger, suffered most grievously. "our brigadier, our colonels, our company commanders, were badly wounded. every officer, with the exception of two subalterns, was hit. some were hit in no less than three places. yet they carried on. those too weak to walk crawled until they eventually gave up through loss of blood. the losses among the n.c.o.s were just as large." this is the testimony of captain downey. lieut.-colonel l. meredith howard of the tyneside irish was severely wounded, and died two days afterwards. among the officers of the brigade who fell in action was second-lieutenant gerald fitzgerald. a brother officer says, "he died shouting to his men: 'come on.'" his father was lord mayor of newcastle the year in which the brigade was raised. other officers killed were captain kenneth mackenzie of kinsale, co. cork, whose father was formerly an irish land commissioner; lieutenant louis francis byrne of newcastle, who was serving his articles as a solicitor when war broke out; and lieutenant j.r.c. burlureaux, a journalist. the disappearance of so many of the officers was enough to have dispirited and confused any body of men. would it be possible for them to extricate themselves from the fearful labyrinth in which they were involved? would there be any of them left for the final dash at their objective? the non-commissioned officers rose splendidly to the emergency. one battalion had not far advanced when all the officers were shot down. quartermaster-sergeant joseph coleman took command and continued onward. soon he found himself with only three men left. everything seemed lost in his part of that scene of tumult and death but for his coolness and gallantry. he went back, gathered up the remnants of other scattered companies, and led a willing and eager band to the capture of the position put down to the battalion in the scheme of operations. for this coleman got the distinguished conduct medal, and had it pinned on his breast by general munro, the brigadier. when the brigade was relieved, their return to the haven behind the lines was attended with almost as much danger as their advance to the hell beyond the ridge had been. as the men ascended the slope of la boiselle, down which they had charged a few days before, the german machine-guns were still rattling from the opposite hill, and snipers were picking off the stragglers. the hideousness of the field of action had also increased. the devastated ground, with its shell-holes, its great gaping craters and its trenches, was now strewn with the unsavoury litter of the wake of battle--discarded rifles, helmets, packs, burst and unburst shells; boots, rags, meat-tins, bottles and newspapers. such of the wounded as could walk at all limped along on the arms of comrades. every one was inconceivably dirty. down their blackened faces were white furrows made by their sweat. thus they came back, the irish tynesiders, with bloody but unbowed heads. "i saw our battalions file out from their bivouac under cover of night, and, though each man knew of the deadly work before him, the ready jest and witty retort were as abundant as ever," writes lieutenant f. treanor, quartermaster of one of the battalions of the tyneside irish, and a native of monaghan. "in the dressing-stations afterwards i saw many of them, and there were still the same heroic fortitude and the exchange of comments, many grimly humorous, as that of one poor fellow who remarked, when asked if he had any souvenirs. 'be danged, 'twas no place for picking up jewellery.'" the brigade received the highest praises from the commander of the army corps and the commander of the division, as well as from their own general. the corps commander wrote: "the gallantry, steadiness and resource of the brigade were such as to uphold the very highest and best traditions of the british army." major-general ingouville-williams, who commanded the division, wrote to the tyneside committee-- "it is with the greatest pride and deepest regret that i wish to inform you that the division which included the tyneside irish covered itself with glory on july , but its losses were very heavy. every one testifies to the magnificent work they did that day, and it is the admiration of all. i, their commander, will never forget their splendid advance through the german curtain of fire. it was simply wonderful, and they behaved like veterans. tyneside can well be proud of them; and although they will sorrow for all my brave and faithful comrades, it is some consolation to know they died not in vain, and that their attack was of the greatest service to the army on that day." writing to his wife on july , , major-general ingouville-williams said: "my division did glorious deeds. never have i seen men go through such a hell of a barrage of artillery. they advanced as on parade and never flinched. i cannot speak too highly of them. the division earned a great record, but, alas! at a great cost." on july he also wrote to his wife: "never shall i cease singing the praises of my old division, and i never shall have the same grand men to deal with again." a few days later major-general ingouville-williams died for his country. seventy-three officers and men of the tyneside irish received decorations. four distinguished service orders and twenty military crosses went to the officers, eight distinguished conduct medals and forty military medals were received by the men, and a sergeant was awarded the high russian decoration of the order of st. george. among the officers who received the military cross was lieutenant t.m. scanlan, whose father, mr. john e. scanlan, newcastle-on-tyne, took a prominent part in the raising of the brigade. lieutenant scanlan states that only eight men were left out of his platoon after july , and six of them were awarded honours. all honour to the brigade! those who helped to raise the battalions--mr. peter bradley and mr. n. grattan doyle, the chairmen of the committee; mr. gerald stoney and mr. john mulcahy, the joint secretaries--have reason to be proud of the magnificent quality of the men who responded to their call. let it stand as the last word of the story of their achievement that they overthrew and trampled down the proud prussian guards, and relaxed the grip which germany had held for two years on a part of france. chapter vii the wearing of religious emblems at the front spread of the example set by irish soldiers "nearly every man out here is wearing some sort of catholic medallion or a rosary that has been given him, and he would rather part with his day's rations or his last cigarette than part with his sacred talisman."--extract from a letter written from the front by a non-catholic private in the hussars. the wearing of religious emblems by soldiers of the british army is much talked of by doctors and nurses in military hospitals in france and at home. when wounded soldiers are undressed--be they non-catholic or catholic--the discovery is frequently made of medals or scapulars worn around their necks, or sacred badges stitched inside their tunics. it is a psychological phenomenon of much interest for the light it throws upon human nature in the ordeal of war. it shows, too, how war is a time when supernatural signs and wonders are multiplied. testimony to the value of these religious favours as safeguards against danger and stimulants to endurance and heroism was given in a most dramatic manner by corporal holmes, v.c., of the king's own yorkshire light infantry, who also holds the highest french decoration, the medaille militaire. he visited the catholic schools at leeds. all the girls and boys were assembled to see him. one of the nuns told the children how corporal holmes won his honours during the retreat from mons. he carried a disabled comrade out of danger, struggling on with his helpless human burden for three miles under heavy fire. then taking the place of the driver, who was wounded, he brought a big gun, with terror-stricken horses, out of action, through lines of german infantry and barbed wire entanglements. at the crossing of the aisne a machine-gun was left behind, as the bridge over which it was hoped to carry it was shelled by the enemy. corporal holmes plunged into the river with it, some distance below the bridge, and, amid shot and shell, brought it safely to the other bank. when the nun had finished recounting his deeds, corporal holmes unexpectedly turned back his tunic, and saying, "this is what saved me," pointed to his rosary and medal of the blessed virgin. there is the equally frank and positive declaration made by lance-corporal cuddy of the liverpool irish (the king's liverpool regiment), who was awarded the distinguished conduct medal for gallantry in saving life after the great battle of festubert. he was in the trenches with his regiment. cries for help came from some wounded british soldiers lying about fifteen yards from the german trenches. the appeal smote the pitying heart of cuddy. he climbed the parapet of his trench, and, crawling forward on his stomach, discovered two disabled men of the scottish rifles. one of them had a broken thigh. cuddy coolly bound up the limb, under incessant fire from the german trenches, and crawled back to his trench, dragging the man with him. then, setting out to bring in the second man, he was followed by corporal dodd of the same battalion, who volunteered to assist him. on the way a bullet struck dodd on the shoulder and passed out through his leg. cuddy bandaged him and carried him safely back. once more he crawled over the fire-swept ground between the trenches to the second scottish rifleman. this time he took an oil-sheet with him. he wrapped it round the wounded man and brought him in also. all this was the work of hours. not for a moment did this brave and simple soul flinch or pause in his humane endeavours. he seemed to be indifferent, or absolutely assured, as to his own fate. and he had the amazing good luck of going through the ordeal scathless, save for a slight wound in the leg. as is the way with soldiers, the comrades of cuddy joked with him on his success in dodging the bullets of the bloody german snipers. "they were powerless to hit me. i carry the pope's prayer about me, and i put my faith in that," he answered, in accordance with his simple theology. this prayer of pope benedict xv is one "to obtain from the mercy of almighty god the blessings of peace." both soldiers were convinced, as catholics, that, being under the special protection of the heavenly powers whose symbols they wore, they were safe and invincible until their good work was done. psalm civ. speaks of god, "who maketh the sweeping winds his angels, and a flaming sword his ministers." why should he not work also through the agency of the religious emblems of his angels and saints? with this belief strong within them, holmes and cuddy leaped at the chance of bringing comfort to comrades in anguish, and help to those sorely pressed by the enemy. there is another aspect of this question of the psychology of war. it is a boast of the age that we have freed ourselves from what is called the deadening influence of superstition. nevertheless, since the outbreak of the war there has been an extraordinary revival of the secular belief in omens, witchcraft, incantations and all that they imply--the direct influence of supernatural powers, of some sort or other, on the fortunes of individuals in certain events. one amiable form of it is the enormously increased demand for those jewellers' trinkets called charms and amulets, consisting of figures or symbols in stone and metal which are popularly supposed to possess powers of bringing good fortune or averting evil, and which formerly lovers used to present to each other, and wear attached to bracelets and chains, to ensure mutual constancy, prosperity and happiness. even the eighteenth-century veneration of a child's caul--the membrane occasionally found round the head of an infant at birth--as a sure preservative against drowning is again rife among those who go down to the sea in ships. the menace of the german submarine has revivified the ancient desire of seafaring folk to possess a caul, which was laid dormant by the sense of security bred by years of freedom from piracy, and the article has gone up greatly in price in shops that sell sailors' requirements at the chief ports. fortune-tellers, crystal-gazers, and other twentieth-century witches and dealers in incantations, who pretend to be able to look into the future and provide safeguards against misfortune, are being consulted by mothers, wives and sweethearts, anxiously seeking for some safe guidance for their nearest and dearest through the perils of the war. so far as the army is concerned, the belief that certain things bring good luck or misfortune has always been widely held by the rank and file. formerly there were two talismans which were regarded as especially efficacious in warding off evil, and particularly death and disablement in battle. these were, in the infantry, a button off the tunic of a man, and, in the cavalry, the tooth of a horse, in cases where the man and the horse had come scathless through a campaign. a good many years ago the old words "charm," "talisman," "amulet," dropped out of use in the army. the french slang word "mascot," which originated with gamblers and is applied to any person, animal or thing which is supposed to be lucky, came into fashion; and some animal or bird--monkey, parrot, or goat, or even the domestic dog or cat--was appointed "the mascot of the regiment." but since the outbreak of the war the army has returned to its old faith in the old talisman. a special charm designed for soldiers, called "touchwood," and described as "the wonderful eastern charm," has had an enormous sale. it was suggested by the custom, when hopes are expressed, of touching wood, so as to placate the fates and avert disappointment, a custom which is supposed to have arisen from the ancient catholic veneration of the true cross. "touchwood" is a tiny imp, mainly head, made of oak, surmounted by a khaki service cap, and with odd, sparkling eyes, as if always on the alert to see and avert danger. the legs, either in silver or gold, are crossed, and the arms, of the same metal, are lifted to touch the head. the designer, mr. h. brandon, states that he has sold , , of this charm since the war broke out. not long ago there was a curious scene in regent's park. this was the presentation of "touchwood" to each of the officers and men of a battalion of the city of london regiments (known as "the cast-irons") by mdlle. delysia, a french music-hall dancer, before they went off for the front. never has there been such a public exhibition--uncontrolled and unashamed--of the belief in charms. mr. brandon has received numerous letters from soldiers on active service, ascribing their escape from perilous situations to the wearing of the charm. one letter, which has five signatures, says-- "we have been out here for five months fighting in the trenches, and have not had a scratch. we put our great good fortune down to your lucky charm, which we treasure highly." thus we see that mankind has not outgrown old superstitions, as so many of us thought, but, on the contrary, is still ready to fly to them for comfort and protection in danger. the truth is that the human mind remains at bottom essentially the same amid all the changes made by time in the superficial crust of things. man is still the heir of all the ages. some taint of "the old popish idolatries" survives in the blood of most of us, no matter how protestant and rationalistic we may suppose ourselves to be. and now that the foundations of civilisation are disrupted, and humanity is involved in the coils of the most awful calamity that has ever befallen it, is it to be wondered at that hands should be piteously stretched out on all sides, and in all sorts of ways--unorthodox as well as orthodox--groping in the dark for protective touch with the unseen powers who rule our destinies. it is in these circumstances that non-catholic soldiers of the new armies are turning from materialistic charms to holy emblems. it may be thought that this new cult is but a manifestation, in a slightly different form, of the same primal superstitious instinct of mankind as inspired the old, but as it has a religious origin and sanction and is really touched by spiritual emotion, it seems to me to be far removed from the other in spirit and intention. non-catholic soldiers appear to have been led into the new practice by the example of catholic soldiers. these religious objects, commemorative of the blessed virgin and other saints, have always been carried about their persons by irish catholic soldiers, to some extent, as well as by catholics generally in civil life. the custom is now almost universal among catholic officers and men at the front. it resembles, in a way, the still more popular practice of carrying photographs of mother, wife and child. will it be denied that the soldier, as he looks upon the likenesses of those who cherish him, and hold him ever in their thoughts, does not derive hope and consolation from his consciousness of their watchful and prayerful love? there are several little breastplates thus worn by catholics to shield them from spiritual evil and bodily calamity. the chaplet of beads, known as the rosary, is well known. the brown scapular of st. mary of mount carmel is made of small pieces of cloth connected by long strings, and is worn over the shoulders in imitation of the brown habit of the carmelite friars. then there are the medal of our lady of perpetual succour, a reproduction of the wonderful picture discovered by the redemptorist order in rome; and the miraculous medal of our lady, revealed by the immaculate virgin to catherine labouré, sister of charity of st. vincent de paul, in paris. another is the "agnus dei" ("lamb of god"), a small disc of wax, impressed with the figure of a lamb supporting a cross, and blessed by the pope, which is the most ancient of the sacramentals, or holy objects worn, used or preserved by catholics for devotional purposes. but what is now perhaps the most esteemed of all is the badge of the sacred heart. on an oval piece of red cloth is printed a picture of jesus, standing before a cross, with his bleeding heart, encircled by thorns and flames, exposed on his breast. the badge is emblematical of the sufferings of jesus for the love of and redemption of mankind. it is the cognisance of a world-wide league, known as the apostleship of prayer, conducted by the society of jesus, and having, it is said, a membership of , , of all nations. the promotion of these special devotions in the catholic church has been assigned to different orders: such as the rosary to the dominicans; the scapular to the carmelites; the way of the cross to the franciscans. so the spread of the devotion of the sacred heart is the work of the jesuits. the headquarters of the apostleship of prayer in this country is the house of the jesuits in dublin, who publish as its organ a little monthly magazine called _the messenger_. there has been so enormous a demand for the badge since the war broke out that the jesuits have circulated a statement emphasising that it is not to be regarded as "a charm or talisman to preserve the wearer from bullets and shrapnel." to wear it in this spirit would, they say, be "mere superstition." "what it stands for and signifies is something far nobler and greater," they also say. "it is, in a sense, the exterior livery or uniform of the soldiers and clients of the sacred heart of jesus, king of heaven and earth, just as the brown scapular is the livery of the servants and soldiers of mary, heaven's glorious queen. as such it procures for those who wear it in the proper spirit the grace and protection of god; and the scapulars the special protection of mary, much more than the livery or uniform of a country procures for those who fight under its flag the help and protection of the nation to which they belong." what is the attitude of the irish catholic soldier towards this religious movement as a means of preservation and grace in the trials and perils of war? i have read many letters from irish catholics on service in france, flanders and the east in which the matter is referred to, and have discussed it with some of those who have been invalided home. all this testimony establishes beyond question that the mystical sense of the irish nature, which has been developed to a high degree by the two tremendous influences of race and religion, leads the irish catholic soldier profoundly to believe that there is a supernatural interference often with the chances and fortunes of the battlefield in answer to prayers. michael o'leary, v.c., a splendid type of the irish soldier in body and mind, gave a brief but pointed statement of his views on the matter. "a shell has grazed my cheek and blown a comrade by my side to pieces," he said, "though there was no reason, so far as i could see, but the act of god, why the shell should not have knocked my head off and grazed my comrade's cheek." the average irish soldier probably knows nothing of the materialistic theory that nature is a closed system; that the laws of the universe are fixed and immutable; that no wearing of holy objects, and no amount of praying even, will ever disturb their uniform mechanical working; and that the sole reason why any soldier on the battlefield escapes being hit by a bullet or piece of explosive shell is that he was not directly in its line of flight. such a doctrine would be regarded, at least by the simple and instinctive natures in the irish ranks, as the limit of blasphemy. their belief in the reality and power of god is most profound. god is to them still the lord and master of all the forces of nature; and the turning aside of a bullet or piece of explosive shell would be but the slightest manifestation of his almighty omnipotence. mystery surrounds the irish catholic soldier at all times. his realisation of the unseen is very vivid. the saints and angels are his companions, not the less real and potent because they are not visible to his eyes. but it is on the field of battle that he is most closely enveloped by these spiritual presences. he is convinced that he has but to call upon them, and that, if he be in a state of grace, they will come to his aid as the ministers of god. so he prays that god may protect and save him, and he wears next his heart the emblems of god's angels and saints. thus he feels invincible against the powers of darkness in both the spiritual and material worlds. for these devotions have also the effect of putting him in train to receive submissively whatever fate god may will him. he knows that god can safeguard him in the fight if he chooses; and he believes that if god does not choose so to do it is because in his wisdom he does not deem it right. "blessed be the holy will of god!" the old, familiar irish ejaculation springs to his lips, that variant of job's unshakable trust in the almighty: "though he slay me, yet will i trust him." thus it is that the sight of his comrades lying around him, dead and wounded, who prayed like him and, like him, carried rosary beads or wore the badge of the sacred heart, has no effect in shaking his belief in his devotions and his holy emblems. so when the hour of direst peril is at hand he is found not unnerved and incapable of standing the awful test. there is an ancient gaelic proverb which says: "what is there that seems worse to a man than his death? and yet he does not know but it may be the height of his good luck." even if death should come, what is it but the shadowy gate which opens into life everlasting and blissful? there are on record numerous cases of protection and deliverance ascribed by non-catholics as well as catholics to the wearing of religious emblems. the sisters of mercy, dungarvon, waterford, tell the story of the marvellous escape from death of private thomas kelly, royal munster fusiliers, at the first landing on the gallipoli peninsula on april , . kelly had emerged with his comrades from the _river clyde_--the steamer which had brought his regiment to the landing-place, beach v--and was in the water wading towards the shore when this happened to him-- "a bullet struck him, passing through his left hand, which at the moment was placed over his heart. the bullet hit and shattered a shield badge of the sacred heart, which was sewn inside his tunic, then glanced aside and passed over his chest, tearing the skin. the mark of its passage across the chest can still be plainly seen. the bullet then passed through the pocket of his tunic at the right-hand side, completely destroying his pay-book. when wounded he fell into the water, where he lay for about two hours under a perfect hurricane of bullets and shrapnel. in all that time, while his companions were falling on every side, he received only one slight flesh wound. he is now in ireland, loudly proclaiming, to all whom he comes in contact with, his profound gratitude to the sacred heart. he is quite recovered from his wounds, and expects soon to be sent to the front. his trust in the sacred heart is unbounded, and he is fully convinced that the sacred heart will even work miracles for him, if they are necessary, to bring him safely home again." private edward sheeran, royal irish rifles, relating his experiences in france, says-- "we were waiting in reserve, and were shelled heavily before the advance. four of us were lying low in the traverse of a trench. every time i heard a shell approaching i said, 'o sacred heart of jesus, have mercy on us!' just as i was reciting this ejaculation a shell burst in our midst. for a minute i was dazed, and when i surveyed the damage, imagine my surprise to find the man next to me blown to pieces, parts of him over me. another never moved again to my knowledge, while the remaining one had his arms shattered. as regards myself, my pack was blown off my back, but all the injury i received was a very slight wound in the left shoulder. thanks to the mercy of the sacred heart i was able to rejoin my battalion two days afterwards." "a very grateful sister," writing to the _irish messenger_, in thanksgiving for "a great favour obtained through our blessed lady of perpetual succour," states-- "my brother was ordered out to the war and was in the fighting line from the first. i sent him a miraculous medal of our blessed lady and promised publication if he came back safe. he has been in twelve battles and got nine wounds, none dangerous, only on his hands and one leg badly broken. he was being carried off the field by his comrades and the shells were falling so fast that they had to leave him and fly for their lives. he lay there three hours, bleeding and faint, until he was picked up again, and, thanks to our blessed lady's protection, he is now safe in a london hospital and making a speedy recovery." the brother of an irish catholic nurse in a british military hospital in france writes to the _irish messenger_-- "i was speaking lately to my sister, the nurse to whom you sent the parcel of badges, beads, etc. she says if every parcel of badges did as much good as hers has done and is doing, you will have a big reward in eternity. the poor irish and english catholic lads in their torments find the greatest comfort in their beads and badges, and put more trust in the sacred heart than in surgeons and nurses. one poor man said: 'i know i am dying, but, nurse, write to my poor wife and tell her that my beads and a sip of holy water was my consolation. tell her i put my trust in the sacred heart and die confident. send her this old badge which i wore all through the war.'" in ireland there are tens of thousands of catholic mothers, wives and sisters, ever praying for the safe return of their men from the front, or else that they be given the grace of a happy death, and there is nothing that tends more to prevent them brooding when the day, the hour, the moment may come with a dread announcement from the war office, than the consoling thought that these dear ones are faithful in all the dangers and emergencies of their life to the practices of their religion. that is why private michael o'reilly, of the connaught rangers in france, writes to his mother: "i have the sacred heart badge on my coat and three medals, a pair of rosary beads and father's agnus dei around my neck, so you see i am well guarded, and you have nothing at all to fear so far as i am concerned." even for the mother, death loses its sting when she gets news of her son which leaves her in no doubt as to his soul's eternal welfare. here is a characteristic specimen of many letters from bereaved but comforted mothers which have been printed in _the messenger_-- "dear rev. father,--i beg to appeal to you for my dear good son who was killed in action on the th of march, and who died a most holy death. i have heard from father gleeson that he died with his rosary beads round his neck and reciting his rosary. he got a gunshot wound in the head and lived several hours after receiving the wound. i know perfectly well that it was owing to his having st. joseph's cord about him that he got such a happy death, and had the happiness of receiving his easter duty on sunday the st. he also had the sacred heart badge, a crucifix, and his blue and brown scapulars on him, so that i am content about the way he died. he is buried in bethune cemetery. i am a subscriber to _the messenger_, and my son was in the apostleship of prayer and used to get the leaflets in his young days at the school he was going to, taught by the christian brothers. he was twenty-one years and seven months the day of his sad death. he belonged to the royal munster fusiliers." some people, no doubt, will smile indulgently or mockingly--according to their natures--at what appears to them to be curious instances of human credulity. others will cry out in angry protest against "popish trumperies"; "idolatrous practices"; "fetishism." no religion can be truly understood from the outside. it must be lived in, within, to be apprehended. but surely those who are not altogether cursed with imperfect sympathies--those, at least, who take pleasure in the happy state of others, will shout aloud in joy to know that there is something left--no matter what--to sustain and console in this most terrible time of youth's agony and motherhood's lacerated heart. it must not be supposed that the religious practices of the irish catholic troops are confined to the wearing of scapulars, medals and agnus deis. there are among them, of course, many who attribute all kinds of phenomena to natural rather than to miraculous causes. by them, also, beads, medals and scapulars are venerated, and proudly displayed over their tunics--often, too, rosary beads are to be seen twisted round rifle barrels--as outward symbols of the spirit of their religion, as aids to worship, as bringing more vividly before them the god they adore and the saints whose aid they invoke. but their faith gives, in addition, to the catholic troops the mass, which is celebrated by the army chaplains up at the front in wrecked houses or on the open, desolate fields, and attended by many hundreds of men in silent and intent worship, the sacraments of confession and communion, and makes possible that solemn spectacle of the priest administering the general absolution, or forgiveness of sin, to a whole battalion, standing before him with bared and bowed heads, before going into action. all these religious scenes have greatly impressed non-catholic soldiers. they wonder at the consolation and inspiration which catholic comrades derive from their services and their symbols. they feel the loneliness and the dread of things. they are impressed by the number of wayside shrines, with crucifixes and madonnas, which have survived the ravages of war. in their hearts they crave for spiritual companionship and help which the guns thundering behind them cannot give any more than the guns thundering in front; and they, too, put out their hands to grasp the supernatural presences, unseen but so acutely felt in the shadowy arena of war. if there was scoffing at a praying soldier in barracks, there is respect for him in the trenches. non-catholics join in the prayers that are said by catholics. "plenty of shells were fired at our trenches, but, thank god, no harm was done," writes an irish soldier. "when the shells came near us we used to pray. prayers are like a double parapet to them, i think. yesterday we were reciting the litany of the sacred heart while the shells were annoying us. i was reading the beautiful praises and titles of the litany, and both my protestant and catholic mates were answering me with great fervour. i was just saying 'heart of jesus, delight of all the saints, succour us,' when one shell hit our trench and never burst, and, furthermore, no shell came near us after that, for our opponents directed their attention elsewhere for the rest of the day." he adds that every night in the trenches the rosary of the blessed virgin was recited; and the responses were given by non-catholics as well as by catholics. in like manner, non-catholic soldiers are being weaned from the use of pagan charms and talismans, and are taking instead to the catholic substitutes which have been blessed by the priest making over them the sign of the cross. father plater stated at a meeting of the westminster catholic federation that, travelling in the south of england, he met in the train some soldiers of the ulster division, all orangemen, and instead of consigning the holy father to other realms, as they probably would have done in other times and other circumstances, they actually asked him to bless their miraculous medals. there is an ever-increasing desire among them for medals, rosaries, and for holy pictures, such as the little prints of saints and angels which catholics carry in their prayer-books. at the convents in london where the badge of the sacred heart is to be had, protestant soldiers are constantly calling to get it, and they tell stories which they had heard of wonderful escapes by those who wore it. one nun told me they cannot keep the supply abreast of the demand. for instance, she said that on the day i saw her a private of the royal welsh fusiliers got fifty badges for distribution in the regiment. religious emblems have a warmth and intimacy about them which secular charms lack. they are regarded as representing real spiritual beings, saints and angels. secular charms, on the other hand, are devoid of association with any potentate or power known or believed to exist in the other world, and seem still to possess something of the mingled simplicity and grossness of the first dawning of superstition on the mind of the savage. the curiosity and interest of the non-catholic soldier in these religious symbols being thus excited, the moment he handles one and examines its design, he feels a pleasant sensation of help and comfort, and a consequent increase in his vitality. he highly treasures his holy talisman. should he pass unscathed through the constant yet capricious menace of an engagement, he ascribes his luck to supernatural protection. as the english troops were passing through hornu, near mons, a young belgian lady took a rosary from her neck and gave it to private eves of the west riding regiment, telling him to wear it as a protection against the bullets of the germans. eves, a non-catholic northumbrian, wore the rosary during the battle of mons. "the air was thick with shells and machine-gun bullets," he says, "and how i escaped i don't know. a shell burst close to me. a piece of it struck my ammunition band and bent five cartridges out of shape; but i escaped with only a bruise on the chest. i always say this rosary had something to do with it." many stories of the like might be told. a driver of the royal field artillery says: "i think i owe all my luck to a mascot which i carry in my knapsack. it is a beautiful crucifix, given me by a frenchwoman for helping her out of danger. it is silver, enamel and marble, and she made me take it." private david bulmer of the royal engineers, an ulster presbyterian, returned home on furlough to his parents at killeshandra, wearing a rosary. he declared it was the beads that saved his life on the battlefield, as he was the only man left in his company. sapper clifford perry has written to a cardiff friend: "rosaries are very popular here. i think i can safely say that four out of every ten men one meets wear them around their necks. strange to say, they are not all catholics. those who are not catholics do not wear them as curios or ornaments either, as upon cases of inquiry they attach some religious value to them even though they cannot explain what it is. still, no one could convince them to part with them." often the emblems and badges worn by non-catholic soldiers are gifts from catholic wives and children concerned for their spiritual and temporal well-being. "an irish mother who trusts in the sacred heart" writes from kensington in acknowledgment of the "wonderful escape" of her husband. "he had only gone out from a stable when a german shell knocked the roof in, killing his two horses, and also killing one man and wounding five others. my husband, who is a protestant, is wearing a sacred heart badge and the cross belonging to my rosary. he has been saved during many battles from the most awful dangers, having been fighting regularly since september ." father peal, s.j., of the connaught rangers serving in france, relating some of his experiences as a chaplain after a battle, says: "it was very solemn, creeping in and out among the wounded, finding who were catholics. some could not speak, others just able to whisper. one poor man lay on his face, with a hole in his back. he was actually breathing through this hole. i felt round his neck for his identification disc and found he had a medal and agnus dei. i naturally thought he was a catholic, but he whispered to me, 'missus and the children did that.' we repeated an act of contrition, and i gave him conditional absolution." so it has come to pass that rosaries, which were formerly a monopoly of the religious repositories in french towns and villages, may now be seen displayed in every shop window, so great is the demand for them, and that "the league of the standard of the cross"--an anglican society--has, up to the end of , sent out over , crucifixes to protestant soldiers. the wearing of catholic emblems by the rank and file is encouraged by many officers who understand human nature, and make allowance for what some of them, no doubt, would call its inherent weaknesses. the practice has been proved to have on conduct a profound influence for good. it seems to incite and fortify the soldiers' courage. man's will and resolution often prove to be weak and fickle things, especially on the field of battle, where they are put to the sternest and most searching of tests. fear of death, which, after all, is but a manifestation of the primal instinct of self-preservation, often militates against the efficiency of the soldier. it disorganises his understanding; it paralyses his power to carry out orders. the elimination of fear, or its control, is therefore part of the training of the soldier. how fortunate, then, is the soldier who can find such tranquillity in battle that he has passed beyond the fear of death. psychologists tell us, such is the influence of the body upon the mind, that whether a man shall act the hero or the coward in an emergency depends largely on his physical condition at the time. the body of the soldier must, as far as possible, be made subordinate to his mind. religious sensibility and emotion, in whatever form it may manifest itself, tends to the exaltation of the mental mood; and as good officers know they cannot afford to neglect any means which promises to steady their men, calm them and give them confidence in action or under fire, they have enlisted this tremendous force on their side by favouring and promoting the catholic custom of wearing holy objects. a nun writing from a convent in south london says: "the colonel at ---- sent twenty-two medals to father x---- to be blessed. the father took the medals to the barracks himself, where the colonel informed him that he wanted them for protestant officers who were going to france." the girls of the notre dame convent school, glasgow, sent a parcel of medals to a scottish regiment. they received a letter of thanks from one of the officers, in which he says: "you will be glad to know that most, if not all the men, protestants though they be, have put your medals on the cord to which their identity discs are tied, so that our lady may help them." thus is the wearing of scapulars and medals in the army welcomed as an aid to our arms, a reinforcement of our military power. in it may be found the secret of much of the dash and gallantry of the irish troops. up to the end of , victoria crosses have been awarded for great deeds done in the war. as many as twenty-four have been won by catholics, of whom eighteen are irish, a share out of all proportion to their numbers, but not--may i say?--to their valour. in order to appreciate adequately the significance of these figures it is necessary to remember the nature of the deed for which the victoria cross is given. it must be exceptionally daring, involving the greatest risk to life. it must be of special military value, or must lead to the saving of comrades otherwise hopelessly doomed. above all, it must be done not under orders but as a spontaneous act on the soldier's own motion. it is largely due to their religion and the emblems of their religion, and their views of fate and destiny, that irish catholic soldiers are so pre-eminently distinguished in the record of the highest and most noble acts of valour and self-sacrifice in war. there is the significant saying of sergeant dwyer, v.c., an irishman and a catholic, at a recruiting meeting in trafalgar square. "i don't know what the young men are afraid of," said he. "if your name is not on a bullet or a bit of shrapnel it won't reach you, any more than a letter that isn't addressed to you." he, poor fellow, got a bullet addressed to him on the somme. "'twas the will of god," was the lesson taught him by his creed. chapter viii the irish soldier's humour and seriousness stories from the front, funny and otherwise the memorable words of an irish member, speaking in the house of commons during the south african war, on the gallantry of the irish regiments, come to my mind. "this war has shown," said he, "that as brave a heart beats under the tunic of a dublin fusilier as under the kilt of a gordon highlander." the saying may be curiously astray as to the anatomy of the scotch, but the truth of it in regard to irish courage has been emphasised by the victories and disasters alike of the great world war. on all the fields of conflict east and west the irish soldiers have earned the highest repute for valour. "they are magnificent fighters," says lieutenant denis oliver barnett, an english officer of a battalion of the leinster regiment, in letters which he wrote home to his own people. a public school boy, with a high reputation for scholarship, he became a soldier at the outbreak of war instead of going to oxford. courageous and high-minded himself--as his death on the parapet of the trenches, directing and heartening his men in bombing the enemy, testifies--his gay and sympathetic letters show that he was a good judge of character. he also says of his men, "they are cheerier than the english tommies, and will stand anything." cheeriness in this awful war is indeed a most precious possession. it enhances the fighting capacity of the men. where it does not exist spontaneously the officers take measures to cultivate it. as far as possible they try to remove all depressing influences, and make things bright and cheerful. i have got many such glimpses of the irish soldier at the front, and their total effect is the impersonation or bodying forth of an individual who provides his own gaiety, and has some over to give to others--whimsical, wayward, with a childlike petulance and simplicity; and yet very fierce withal. i met at a london military hospital an irish catholic chaplain and an irish officer of the army medical corps back from french flanders. they told irish stories, to the great enjoyment and comfort of the wounded soldiers in the ward. "be careful to boil that water before drinking it," said the doctor to men of an irish battalion whom he found drawing supplies from a canal near ypres. "why so, sir?" asked one of the men. "because it's full of microbes and boiling will kill them," answered the doctor. "and where's the good, sir?" said the soldier. "i'd as soon swallow a menagerie as a graveyard any day." another example of a quick-witted hibernian reply was given by the chaplain. he came upon a man of the transport service of his battalion belabouring a donkey which was slowly dragging a heavy load. "why do you beat the poor animal so much?" remonstrated the priest; and he recalled a legend popular in ireland by saying, "don't you know from the cross on the ass's back that it was on an ass our lord went into jerusalem?" "but, father," said the soldier, "if our lord had this lazy ould ass he wouldn't be there yet." one of the inmates of the ward kept the laughter going by giving an example of irish traditional blundering humour from the trenches--a humour due to an excited and over-active mind. "don't let the germans know we're short of powder and shot," cried an irish sergeant to his men, awaiting the bringing up of ammunition; "keep on firing away like blazes." some of the flowers of speech that have blossomed from the irish regiments at the front are also worth culling. speaking of the catholic chaplain of his battalion, a soldier said, "he'd lead us to heaven; an' we'd follow him to hell." as a loaf of bread stuck on a bayonet was passed on to him in the trenches another exclaimed, "here comes the staff of life on the point of death." the irregularity of the food supply in the trenches was thus described: "it's either a feast or a famine. sometimes you drink out of the overflowing cup of fulness, and other times you ate off the empty plate." "what have you there?" asked a nurse of an irish private of the army medical corps, at a base hospital, as he was rummaging among the contents of a packing-case. taking out a wooden leg, he answered: "a stump speech agin the war." good-humour at the front is by no means an exclusively irish possession. happily the soldiers of all the nationalities within the united kingdom are so light-hearted as to find even in the most dismal situation cause for raillery, pleasantry and laughter, and to derive from their mirth a more enduring patience of discomfort and trouble. the irish form of humour, however, differs entirely from the english, scottish or welsh variety not only in quality but in the type of mind and character it expresses. in most things that the irish soldier says or does there is something racially individual. perhaps its chief peculiarity, apart from its quaintness, is that usually there is an absence of any conscious aim or end behind it. the english soldier, and the cockney especially, is a wag and a jester. he is very prone to satire and irony, deliberate and purposeful. even his "grousing"--a word, by the way, unheard in the irish regiments, unless it is somewhat incomprehensibly used by an english non-commissioned officer--is a form of caustic wit. irish humour has neither subtlety nor seriousness. it is just the light and spontaneous whim, caprice or fancy of the moment. it is humour in the original sense of the word, that is the expression of character, habit and disposition. the munstermen have contributed to the vocabulary at the front the expressive phrase, "gone west," for death; the bourne whence no traveller returns. in kerry and cork the word "west" or "wesht," as it is locally pronounced, expresses not only the mysterious and unknown, but is used colloquially for "behind," "at the back," or "out of the way." so it is also at the front. a lost article is gone west as well as a dead comrade. "when i tould the colonel," said an irish orderly, "that the bottle of brandy was gone wesht, he was that mad that i thought he would have me ate." as food and drink are sent west, perhaps the colonel had his suspicions. the saying, "put it wesht, larry, an' come along on with you," may be heard in french estaminets as well as in kerry public-houses. at parade a subaltern noticed that one of his men had anything but a clean shave on the left side of his jaw. "'twas too far wesht for me to get at, sir," was the excuse. "well," said the dentist to a munster fusilier, "where's this bad tooth that's troubling you?" "'tis here, sir," said the soldier, "in the wesht of me jaw." another irish soldier told his quartermaster that he was in a very unpleasant predicament for want of a new pair of trousers. "the one i've on me is all broken wesht," said he. it is fairly obvious what part of the trousers the west of it was. it would seem from the stories i have heard that odd escapes from death are an unfailing source of playfulness and laughter. a shell exploded in a trench held by an irish battalion. one man was hurled quite twelve feet in the air, and, turning two somersaults in his descent, alighted on his back, and but little hurt, just outside the trench. he quickly picked himself up and rejoined his astonished comrades. "he came down with that force," said an invalided irish soldier who told me of the incident, "that it was the greatest wonder in the world he didn't knock a groan out of the ground." no groan came from the man himself. "that was a toss and a half, and no mistake," he remarked cheerily when he got back to the trench; and in answer to an inquiry whether he was much hurt he said, "i only feel a bit moidhered in me head." more comical still in its unexpectedness was the reply of another irishman who met with a different misadventure from the same cause. a german -in. shell exploded on the parapet of a trench, and this irishman was buried in the ruins. however, he was dug out alive, and his rescuers jokingly asked him what all the trouble was about. "just those blessed snipers again," he spluttered through his mouth full of mud, "and may the divil fly away with the one that fired that bullet." it is readily acknowledged at the front that the irish soldiers have a rich gift of natural humour. but, what is more--as some of my stories may show--they are never so exceedingly comic as when they do not intend to be comic at all. is it not better to be funny without knowing it than to suffer the rather common lot of attempting to be funny and fail? it arises from an odd and unexpected way of putting things. how infinitely better it is than to be of so humdrum a quality as to be incapable of being comical even unconsciously in saying or in deed! yet in this essentially irish form of fun there is often a snare for the unwary. how can you tell that these laughable things are said and done by irish soldiers without any perception of humour or absurdity? if you could look behind the face of that apparently simple-minded irish soldier you might find that in reality he was "pulling your leg"--or "humbugging," as he would say himself--in a way that you would regard as most uncalled for and aggravating. for instance, an irish sentry in a camp in france was asked by a colonel of the army service corps whether he had seen any of his officers about that morning. "indeed, and i did, sir," was the reply. "'twas only a while ago that two of the gintlemen came out of the office down there below, and passed by this way." "and how did you know they were army service officers?" "aisy enough, sir. didn't i see their swords stuck behind their ears?" and in which category must be placed the equally amusing retort of another irish sentry to his officer--the naïvely simple, or the slyly jocular? the sentry looked so shy and inexperienced that the officer put to him the question, "what are you here for?" and got the stereotyped answer, "to look out for anything unusual." "what would you call unusual?" asked the officer. "i don't know exactly, sir, until i saw it," was the reply. the officer became sarcastically facetious. "what would you do if you saw five battleships steaming across the field?" he said. "take the pledge, sir," was the sentry's answer. these officers are, by all accounts, but two of many who have got unlooked-for but diverting answers from irish soldiers. a sergeant who was sent out with a party to make observations felt into an ambuscade and returned with only a couple of men. "tell me what happened," said the commanding officer, when the sergeant came to make his report; "were you surprised?" "surprised isn't the word for it, sir," exclaimed the sergeant. "it was flabbergasted entirely i was when, creeping round the end of a thick hedge, we came plump into the divil of a lot of germans lying on their stomachs." then, seeing the officer smiling, as if in doubt, as he thought, he hastened thus to emphasise his wonder and astonishment at this sudden encounter. "i declare to you, sir, it nearly jumped the heart up out of me throat with the start it gave me." of a like kind for ingenuousness was the report made by another irish non-com. who found himself all alone in a trench, with only a barrier of sandbags between him and the germans. "i had nayther men, machine-gun or grenade," he wrote, expressing not only his temporal but his spiritual condition, for he added, "nothing, save the help of the mother of god." in ireland domestic servants are noted for their forward manners and liberty of speech with the family, and the same trait is rather general in the relations between different social grades. an illustration of what it leads to in the army was afforded at a camp concert attended by a large assembly of officers and men of a certain division, into which, at a solemn moment, an unsophisticated irish soldier made a wild incursion. lord kitchener had been there that day and had inspected the division, and the general in command announced from the platform how greatly pleased the secretary for war was with the soldierly fitness of the men. "i told lord kitchener," continued the general, speaking in grave and impressive tones, "that the division would see the thing through to the bitter end." in the midst of a loud burst of cheering an irish private rushed forward, and sweeping aside the attempt of a subaltern to stop him, jumped on to the platform, and seizing the aged general by the hand, exclaimed, "glory to you, me vinerable friend! the ould division will stick to it to the last, and it's you that's the gran' man to lade us to victory and everlasting fame." the general, greatly embarrassed, could only say, "yes, yes, to be sure, my good fellow; yes, yes"; and the staff turned aside to hide their grins at this comic encounter between incongruities. the colonel of an irish battalion, after a harassing day in the trenches, got a pleasant surprise in the shape of a roast fowl served for dinner by his orderly. after he had eaten it and found it tender he recalled that complaints were rather rife among the inhabitants about the plundering of hen-roosts, and his conscience smote him. "i hope you got that fowl honestly," he said. "don't you be troubling your head about that, sir," replied the orderly, in a fine burst of evasion and equivocation. "faith, 'twas quite ready for the killing, so it was, and that's the main thing." then, as if to improve the occasion by a homily, he added, in a tone of religious fervour, "ah, sure, if we wor all as ready to die as that hin, sir, we needn't mind a bit when the bullet came." the colonel was almost "fit to die" with quiet laughter. it may well be that sometimes the english officers of irish battalions are puzzled by the nature of their men--its impulsiveness, its glow, its wild imagery and over-brimming expression. it is easy to believe, too, that the changeful moods of the men, childlike and petulant, now jovial, now fierce, and occasionally unaccountable, may be a sore annoyance to officers who are very formal and precise in matters of discipline. i have heard from an irish colonel of an irish battalion that the english commander of the brigade of which the battalion was a unit came to him one day in a rage and asked him where his damned fools had been picked up. it appears the brigadier-general, going the rounds alone, came suddenly upon one of the sentries of the battalion at a remote post. the sentry happened to be a wild slip of an irish boy, not long joined and quite fresh from mayo, and, taken by surprise, he challenged the brigadier-general by calling out, "in the name of god, who the divil are you?" the colonel told me his reply to the brigadier-general was this: "certainly, the challenge and the salute were not quite proper. but you can imagine what kind of a reception that simple but fearless lad would give to a german; and, after all, is not that the main thing just now?" yes, the capacity of fighting well should, in war time, cover a multitude of imperfections in a soldier. in order to get the best out of the irish soldiers it is necessary to have a knowledge of their national habits and peculiarities, and a sympathetic understanding of their qualities and limitations. i am glad to be able to say that the most glowing tributes to the sterling character of the irish soldiers that i have heard have come from their english or scottish officers. these are true leaders, because they possess imagination and sympathy by which they can look into the hearts of men that are diverse from them in blood and temperament and nature. i suppose there is nothing on earth, no matter how solemn or terrible, which may not be turned into a subject of irreverent humour in one or other of its aspects. english soldiers appear to have found that out even in regard to the war. an officer told me of a remarkable encounter on a flanders high road between an irish battalion coming back from the trenches and an english battalion going up for a turn at holding a section of the lines, which he thought presented a striking contrast in racial moods. the uniforms of the irishmen were plastered with mud, and they had a week's grime on their unshaven faces. they had also suffered heavily in repelling a german attack. yet they looked as proud as if they had saved ireland by their exertions, and hoped to save the empire by their example, and they sang from the bottom of their hearts, and at the top of their voices, the anthem of their national yearnings and aspirations, with its refrain-- "whether on the scaffold high, or the battlefield we die, what matter when for erin dear we fall." the english battalion, spick and span, swung by to horrible discomforts, to wounds and death, as blithely as if they were on a route march at home. they also were singing, and if they were in the same mood as the irishmen they would be rendering the chorus-- "land of hope and glory, mother of the free, how shall we extol thee who are born of thee? wider still and wider shall thy bounds be set; god, who made thee mighty, make thee mightier yet." but instead of that the chorus of their song, set to a hymn tune, was this-- "will you fight for england? will you face the foe? and every gallant soldier boldly answered--no!" it has been said, with general acceptance, that the spirit of a nation can best be studied in its songs. but can it really? how wrong would be the moral drawn from its application in this case! high patriotism is a solemn thing; but the average british soldier's attitude towards it is like that of dr. johnson when he took up philosophy--"somehow cheerfulness was always breaking in." the english soldier will not sing songs of a lofty type and deep purpose--songs which express either intimate personal feeling or deeply felt national convictions. these emotions he hides or suppresses, for he cannot give vent to them without feeling shamefaced or fearing that he may be regarded as insincere. yet he is by no means so inconsequential or cynical as he affects to be. he is animated--none more so--by the spirit of duty and sacrifice. when it comes to fighting he is in earnest, desperately and ferociously in earnest, as the germans know to their cost. it seems to me that he has been misled by kipling into supposing that the true pose of the british soldier is to be more concerned with the temporal than with the spiritual, to grumble about the petty inconveniences of his calling, to pretend to an indifference to its romantic side and its ideals, to die without thinking that the spirits of his national heroes are looking down upon him. the irish have the reputation of having a delight in fighting. it is supposed that "ructions" are the commonplace of their civic life. undoubtedly they have "a strong weakness"--as they would phrase it themselves--for distributing bloody noses and cracked crowns even among friends. it is true, also, that they find the grandest scope for their natural disposition in warfare. a war correspondent relates that he met a wounded dublin fusilier hobbling painfully back to the field dressing-station after a battle, and giving the man his arm to help him on, he was prompted to make the pitying remark: "it's a dreadful war." "'tis indeed, sir; a dreadful war enough," said the soldier; and then came the characteristic comment: "but, sure, 'tis far better than no war at all." still, individuals are to be found among the irish soldiers who take quite a materialistic view of the army, and fail to rise to the anticipation of glory in a pending action. an agricultural labourer who had become one of kitchener's men was asked how he liked soldiering. "it's the finest life in the whole wide world," he exclaimed. "it's mate, drink, lodgin' and washin' all in one. wasn't i working hard for ten long years for a farmer there beyant in kerry, and never once in all that time did the ould boy say to me, 'stand at aise.'" it will be noticed that in this enthusiastic outburst there is nothing about the divarshion of fighting. another story that i heard records the grim foreboding of an irish soldier who was lagging behind on the march to the trenches for the first time. "keep up, keep up," cried the officer; and, by way of encouragement, he added: "you know, we'll soon make a field marshal of you." "you're welcome to your joke, sir," said the soldier; "but i know well what you'll make of me--a casualty, sure enough." another irish soldier thought he saw a way of making money out of the fighting. the colonel of the battalion told his men, according to the story, that for every german they would kill he would give a sovereign. the next morning the men were told the germans were coming. "how many?" "thirty thousand at least." "wake up, mike," said one to a sleeping comrade; "our fortune is made." there is also a story told of a remark made by an irish soldier regardless of the glory and romance of the highest distinction in the army. the award of the victoria cross to michael o'leary was held up to a battalion for emulation. "yerra," cried a voice, "i'd a great deal rather get the victoria 'bus." it may be that in this we have nothing more than an instance of the impish tendency in the irish nature displaying itself at the spur of the moment, rather than the yearning for home, its ease, repose and comforts. it recalls an anecdote of the american civil war. general thomas francis meagher of the irish brigade was informed by an aide-de-camp in the course of a battle that the federalists had carried an important strategic point and several colours belonging to confederate battalions. "here's good news for ye, boys," shouted meagher. "our troops have won the day and captured the enemy's colours." "yerra, gineral," cried a private, looking up at meagher, who was on horseback, "i'd rather have, this blessed minute, half a pint of dinnis mcgure's whisky than all the colours of the rainbow." then there is the story told by the colonel of an irish regiment of an incident in the battle of the somme. he noticed that a private followed everywhere at his heels, and especially where the fighting was hottest. the colonel thought that perhaps the private was anxious to come to his aid should any harm befall him. at the end of the day, however, the private thus explained his conduct to the colonel: "my mother says to me, sir, 'stick to the colonel, and you'll be all right. them colonels never get hurt.'" but, with all their playfulness and jocularity, there are no soldiers to whom the serious aspects of the war make a more direct appeal than to the irish. this is seen in various ways. it is seen in their devotional exercises. the irish guards and other irish regiments have been known frequently to recite the rosary and sing hymns even in the trenches. it is seen also in their national fervour. they go into action singing their patriotic songs. from these qualities they derive support for their martial spirit, their endurance and their unconquerable courage. they never quail in the face of danger. no soldiers have risen to loftier heights of moral heroism, as the numerous records of their deeds on the roll of the victoria cross bear inspiring witness. but their humour always remains. one of the injunctions to men at the front is "don't put your head above the parapet." the irish soldiers are more apt than others to disregard it, however frequently its wisdom is brought home to them. i have heard only one that was convinced. "faix," he remarked, as the bullets of the snipers soon stopped his survey of the prospect outside the trench, "it's aisy to understand that the more a man looks round in this war the less he's likely to see." they have a comforting philosophy that it takes many a ton of lead to kill a man. an irish soldier invalided home from france was asked what struck him most about the battles he took part in. "what struck me most?" said he. "sure it was the crowd of bullets flying about that didn't hit me!" chapter ix the irish brigade "everywhere and always faithful" pride and sorrow struggle for mastery at the spectacle of troops returning to camp from the battle, their appearance telling of the intolerable strain which this war imposes, even in the case of victory, upon the human faculties. the thought of it alone is painful to the feelings of any one who has the least imagination. they are all begrimed and careworn, and many have the distraught look of those who have seen and suffered terrible things. so the irish brigade came back from guillamont and guinchy, on the somme, in the early days of september , what time the empire was resounding with the fame of their exploits. on a sunday they carried guillamont with a rush; on the following saturday they literally pounced upon guinchy, and in between they lay in open trenches under continuous shell fire. i saw the irish brigade before they left for the front, and noted in the ranks the many finely shaped heads and thoughtful faces of poets and leaders of men, interspersed with the lithe frames of athletes and the resolute, hard-bitten countenances of born fighters. at first i was moved to sorrow at the thought of the pass to which civilisation has come that the best use which could be made of all this superb youth and manhood in its valiancy was to send it forth into the devouring jaws of war. then i perceived that something like a radiance shimmered about the marching ranks. it came, i noticed, both from their muscular strength and their martial ardour, for the flush of battle already mantled their cheeks, and its light was in their dancing eyes; and at once i understood that if i saw but the mound surmounted by the little wooden cross in france, and in ireland the desolate hearthstone, they, with the wider and more aspiring imagination of youth, rejoiced that they were going out to fight in liberty's defence, and saw only their bayonets triumphantly agleam in the fury of the engagement. careless and gay, they captured the two villages on the somme in a ding-dong, helter-skelter fashion. they maintained the reputation of the irish infantry as "the finest missile troops in the british army" (so they are described by colonel repington, the renowned military correspondent of _the times_), by the spirit and dash of their charge, their eagerness to get quickly into touch with the foe, and the energy and dexterity with which they wield that weapon which finally decides the issue of battles--the bayonet. as they emerged out of the cloud of smoke on the somme, and marched back to camp in much diminished numbers--caked with mud, powdered with grey dust, very tired--across the ground their valour had won and their grit maintained against fierce counter attacks, they displayed quite another phase of the irish nature--its melancholy and its mysticism. the piper that led them back began to play some old irish rhapsodies having that wonderful blending of joy and grief which makes these airs so haunting. that was well. for the men were in so extreme a stage of exhaustion, physical and mental, that they lurched and reeled, and were overwhelmed with distress at missing many beloved comrades that fought with them, and officers that led them only a few days before. then they heard the pipes, and their hearts were uplifted by the strains, plaintive and yearning, defiant and challenging, which expresses in music the history of their race. they seemed, indeed, to have caught even some of the jaunty, boastful swagger of the piper, as he strode before them, blowing into his reeds and working the bag with his left elbow. the general of the brigade watched his troops go by, and in his eyes they were all the grander for the horrid disarray of their torn, muddy and bloody uniforms, and their haggard faces blackened with sweat and smoke and soil. "i am proud of you," he called out in a voice surging with emotion. "ye did damned well, boys." a handful of men, once a company, was led by a sergeant. every officer was gone. "bravo, dublins!" exclaimed the general; but for the moment his heart was heavy within him as he recalled to mind the dashing, gallant young lads, so hearty and joyous, buried now round about the ruins of the villages from which the germans had been driven at the bayonet-point by the splendid rank and file at whose head they fell. quickly the thoughts of the general came back to the survivors. "ireland is proud of you, boys," he cried in exultant tones. he knew that would stir them. ireland is their glory; and they lifted up their heads a little more as they caught the import of their commander's words. this irish brigade, officially known as the irish division, was the outcome of the meeting in dublin addressed by mr. asquith, shortly after the outbreak of the war, in the course of his tour of the country as prime minister to explain the origins and aims of the conflict. lord wimborne, the viceroy, presided. the lord mayor of dublin and mayors of most of the chief towns of ireland, the chairmen of county councils and representatives of all shades of political and religious opinions were present. mr. john redmond proposed, at the meeting, the formation of an irish brigade. while "irish division" sounds meaningless to young irishmen, "irish brigade" at once arouses thrilling memories of the battlefields of europe during the eighteenth century. for a hundred years, from the fall of the stuarts to the french revolution, there was an irish brigade in the service of france. it was regularly recruited from ireland through that long span of time, though to join it was a penal offence. as the young men stole secretly away to france in smuggling crafts from the west of ireland, they were popularly known as "the wild geese." "everywhere and always faithful" was the motto bestowed on the brigade by the king of france. that being so, there was a hearty response to the call for a new irish brigade to serve again in france, and for causes more worthy than the old. just as the ulster division was composed of unionists and protestants, the irish division was recruited mainly from the nationalist and catholic sections of the population. the nationalist volunteers, supporters of the policy and aims of the irish parliamentary party, provided most of the rank and file. like another irish division, the first of ireland's distinctive contributions to the new armies, which perished in the ill-starred expedition to gallipoli, the irish division was composed of the youth of ireland at its highest and best--clean of soul and strong of body, possessing in the fullest measure all the brightest qualities of the race, the intellectual and spiritual, not less than the political and humorous. one of the first to join was mr. william redmond, m.p. for east clare, younger brother of the irish leader, though he was well over the military age. he was appointed captain in the royal irish regiment--the premier irish regiment--in which he had served thirty-three years previously, before his election to the house of commons. speaking at an early recruiting meeting, he said that, should circumstances so demand, he would say to his countrymen "come" instead of "go." he was as good as his word. for his services at the front he was promoted to the rank of major, and has been mentioned by field-marshal haig in despatches. other nationalist members of parliament who were officers of the brigade were captain w. archer redmond, dublin fusiliers, son of mr. john redmond, captain stephen gwynn, well known as a man of letters, who joined the connaught rangers as a private and was promoted to the rank of captain in the battalion; captain j.l. esmonde, dublin fusiliers, and captain d.d. sheehan, munster fusiliers, who also gave his two boys to the brigade. general sir lawrence parsons, son of the earl of rosse--scion of a distinguished irish family resident for centuries at birr, king's co.--was appointed to the command of the division. sir francis vane, an eminent irish soldier of nationalist sympathies, who was appointed by the war office to supervise the recruiting for the division, says that never in his life did he witness so extraordinary a scene as that presented at buttevant and fermoy, co. cork, where the men first assembled in september and october . "it reminded me," he says, "of the pages of charles lever in the variety of irish types answering to the call. there were old men and young sportsmen, students, car drivers, farm labourers, members of parliament, poets, _litterateurs_, all crowding into barracks which were totally incapable of housing decently the half of them." they were dressed in all sorts of clothes, from the khaki, red and blue of the services, to "the latest emanation of the old clo' merchants." that curious assortment of all types and classes was the rough material out of which was fashioned, by training and discipline, a superb military instrument. the soldierly essentials were there in abundance. within two years they came successfully through ordeals that would have tried the nerves of the toughest veterans of the old guard of napoleon. in the course of the division was removed to camps at aldershot to complete their training. the men were visited there, in november, by cardinal bourne, archbishop of westminster, who gave them his benediction, and said he was sure they would do their duty at the front "as good children of ireland and good sons of the catholic church." early in december they were reviewed by the queen. it was originally arranged that the review should be held by the king, but his majesty, on a visit to the front, had been flung from his horse, and was not sufficiently recovered from the accident to be able to be present. among those in the reserved enclosure surrounding the saluting-base that day were mr. john dillon, m.p., and mr. t.p. o'connor, m.p. in the march past the queen they were led off by the south irish horse, a body of yeomanry. each of the three infantry brigades was headed by one of the irish wolfhounds which mr. john redmond presented to the division as mascots. at the conclusion of the review her majesty sent for general parsons and the three brigadier-generals, and congratulated them upon the appearance and efficiency of the troops. shortly afterwards the division left for the front, under the command of major-general william bernard hickie, c.b., an irishman and a catholic, who has had a very brilliant military career. born on may , , the eldest son of the late colonel j.f. hickie of slevoyre, borrisokane, co. tipperary, he was educated at oscott and sandhurst. at the age of nineteen he joined his father's old regiment, the st battalion of the royal fusiliers, of which in due course he became colonel. in the south african war he served on the staff, in command of a mounted infantry corps and of a mobile column. on his return home he became deputy assistant quartermaster-general to the th division. in he was appointed assistant quartermaster-general of the irish command. on the outbreak of the war general hickie became deputy assistant quartermaster-general of the second army, and is stated to have particularly distinguished himself maintaining good order during the retreat from mons. the irish brigade was most fortunate in having such a man as commander. thoroughly understanding the irish character, its weak points as well as its strong ones--its good-humoured and careless disposition; its impatience often of the restraints and servitude of military life; its eagerness always for a fight or any sort of enterprise with a spice of danger in it--he was able to get the most out of his men. one of his happy thoughts was the institution of a system of rewards in the division apart from but supplementary to the usual military honours. any company officer or man who, in the opinion of the commander of his regiment, has given proof of exceptional good conduct and devotion to duty in the field, is presented by general hickie with a parchment certificate at a parade. the certificate has been specially prepared in ireland, having the words "the irish brigade" in gaelic letters enwreathed with shamrocks at the top, setting out the name of the recipient, the nature and date of his achievement, and the signature of the general. the men send these certificates home, where they are preserved as precious mementoes. an honours book of the irish brigade is also kept in which these presentations and the military honours won are recorded. the first experience which the irish brigade had of the trenches was in the loos-hullock line. it is the most desolate of the war-stricken regions, one bare, black, open plain, where everything has been blown to pieces and levelled to the ground, save here and there some wire entanglements; where there is no sign of human life, except when parties of the thousands upon thousands of combatants who burrow beneath its surface, emerge in the darkness of the night for stealthy raids on each other's positions. the front line trenches of both sides run close together. at one point they are no more than sixteen yards apart. they are notoriously of the worst type, nothing more, indeed, than shallow and slimy drains, badly provided with dug-outs, and much exposed to fire. under such conditions the craving of the body for food and rest could be satisfied only at the bare point of existence. major william redmond, in a letter to dr. fogarty, bishop of killaloe, dated february , , says: "our first spell in the trenches was for twelve days, and in that time we had no change of clothing, just stayed as we were all the time. the shelling was terrific, and the division suffered some losses. the day before we came out the enemy began to celebrate the kaiser's birthday, january , and we were shelled without ceasing for twenty-four hours. the men of our division behaved very well, and received good reports; so the general said." testimony to the excellent way in which the irishmen passed through the ordeal comes from quite independent and impartial sources. here, for example, is an extract from a letter written by the rev. h.j. collins, chaplain to a battalion of the black watch-- "our division had the privilege of introducing the irish battalions to the trenches, when they arrived out here; and they were our guests for a week or so before taking over on their own account. they made a great impression on our lads by their cheerfulness and their eagerness to be 'up and at' the hun. the connaughts arrived one evening just as our line was being heavily shelled, and although they were our visitors they at once took charge of the situation. they had never been in the trenches in their lives before; they were experiencing shell fire for the first time; and before they had had time to get their packs off and settle down, one impatient sergeant was over the parapet, crying out in a rich and musical brogue: 'come on, the connaughts!'" as is well known, the men of one regiment are not greatly disposed to praise those of another. in fact, some bitter regimental feuds exist in the british army, or used to among the old regulars. it is, therefore, all the more remarkable to find in the _glasgow herald_ of february , , a letter signed "jock," proclaiming in the warmest terms the fine qualities of the new irish soldiers. "your readers may like to hear that we scotsmen, who have been tried and not found wanting, have a great admiration for the new irish division that came out some time ago," says "jock." "we have lived in the trenches side by side with them, and find them as keen as a hollow-ground and as ardent as a young lover. at a recent attack when the germans were advancing the excitement became unbearable, and one sergeant got up on the parapet with the shout of: 'come on, bhoys, get at them.' one of them, too, was heard to grumble, 'here we've been in th' trinches fur two weeks an' niver wance over th' paradise.' it is to be feared they will outvie even the kilts." yet during this instructional period, when the various battalions of the brigade were attached to other regiments for preliminary practice in the trenches, some high military honours were won. sergeant j. tierney, of the leinster regiment; lance-corporal a. donagh, and private p.f. duffy, of the connaught rangers, gained the distinguished conduct medal. donagh and duffy, in response to a call for volunteers, undertook to carry messages forward under heavy fire, as all telephone communication had been cut. the task was one of extreme danger, but the men succeeded in accomplishing it unhurt, and were awarded the d.c.m. for their coolness and bravery. corporal timoney, of the munster fusiliers, was especially mentioned in army orders for an act of courage in picking up and throwing away a live mills-grenade which had fallen among some men under instruction. by this act he undoubtedly saved the lives of several men, and if it had happened in the field instead of at practice he would have been eligible for recommendation for a higher honour. chapter x irish replies to german wiles and poison gas how the munsters captured the enemy's wheedling placards it was from the germans that the irish brigade got the first intimation of the troubles in dublin at easter, . the germans, heedless of their failure to induce the irish soldiers in their captivity to forswear allegiance and honour, availed themselves of the rebellion to try their wiles on the irish soldiers in the field. both sides in the trenches often become acquainted, in curious ways, with the names and nationality of the regiments opposed to them. but in regard to a particular section of the british line, between hulluch and loos, in april , the germans might easily know it was held by irish troops. the fact was proclaimed by the green banner with the golden harp which the boys of the brigade hoisted over the breastworks--the flag which, in their eyes, has been consecrated in the great cause of liberty by the deeds and sacrifices of their forefathers, the flag for whose glorified legend they were proud to die. so it happened that one morning these irish troops were surprised to see two placards nailed to boards on the top of poles, displayed by the germans, on which the following was written in english-- "irishmen! in ireland's revolution english guns are firing on your wives and children. the english military bill has been refused. sir roger casement is being persecuted. throw away your arms; we give you a hearty welcome. "we are saxons. if you don't fire, we won't." the irish brigade and the irish volunteers who rose in rebellion in dublin were alike recruited from the same class. such are the unhappily wayward circumstances of irish life that the tremendous fact whether this lad or that was to fight for england in flanders or against her in dublin was in many cases decided by mere chance or accident. at any rate, the kith and kin of numbers of men of the irish brigade were among the sinn feiners. a widowed mother in dublin had, in consequence, a most tragic experience. the post on easter monday morning brought her a letter from a company officer of a battalion in the irish brigade announcing that her son had been killed in action. "he died for ireland," said the officer, knowing that it was true and that it would help to soften her maternal grief. before the day was out her other son, wearing the green uniform of the irish volunteers, staggered home mortally wounded, and as he lay gasping out his life on the floor he, too, used the same phrase of uplifting memories: "mother, don't fret. sure, i'm dying for ireland." the effect of the german placards on the battalion of munster fusiliers, then holding the british line, was very far astray from that which their authors hoped for and intended. a fusillade of bullets at once bespattered the wheedling phrases. what fun to make a midnight foray on the german trenches and carry off the placards as trophies! no sooner was the adventure suggested than it was agreed to. in the darkness of night a body of twenty-five men and two officers of the munsters crawled out into no man's land. they were discovered when about half-way across by a german searchlight, and then the flying bullets of two machine-guns commenced to splutter about them. some of the men were killed; some were wounded. the others lay still for hours in the rank grass before they resumed their stealthy crawl, like the indians they used to read of in boyhood stories, and, having noiselessly cut their way under the enemy entanglements, they sprang, with fixed bayonets and terrifying yells, into the trench. the germans, startled out of their senses by this most unexpected visit, scurried like rabbits into the nearest dug-outs. the notice-boards were then seized and borne in triumph to the irish trenches, to the unbounded delight and pride of the battalion; and they are now treasured among the regiment's most precious spoils of vanquished enemies. a few days later, on the morning of april , the germans tried what blows could do where lying blandishments had failed; and the irish brigade had to face, for the first time, an infantry attack in force. the enemy began their operations by concentrating a bombardment of great intensity upon trenches held by dublin fusiliers. then, shortly after five o'clock, there came on the light breeze that blew from the german lines a thick and sluggish volume of greenish smoke. "poison gas! on with your helmets!" surely, the hearts of the most indomitable might well have quailed at the thought of the writhing agony endured by those who fall victims to this new and most terrible agency of war. instead of that, the flurry and excitement of putting on the masks was followed by roars of laughter as the men looked at one another and saw the fantastic and absurd beings, with grotesque goggle-eyes, into which they had transformed themselves. but they were not the only monsters in the uncanny scene. like grey spectres, sinister and venomous, the germans appeared as they came on, partly screened by the foul vapour which rolled before them. not one of them reached the irish trenches. the dublins, standing scathless in the poison clouds which enveloped them, poured out round after round of rifle fire, until the germans broke and fled, leaving piles of their dead and wounded at the wire entanglements, and the body of the officer who had led them caught in the broken strands. two hours later, that same morning, there was another sally from the german trenches, under cover of gas, against a different section of the irish. the parapets here had been so demolished by shell fire that the germans gained a footing in the trenches. but they were hardly in before they were out again. "the time during which the germans were in occupation of our trenches was a matter of minutes only," says the war correspondent of _the times_. they were put to rout by the inniskillings, who came up from the reserve trenches at the double. "never was a job more cleanly and quickly done," adds _the times_ correspondent. on the next occasion that the germans launched an attack with gas, they had themselves to drink, so to speak, the poison cup they had prepared for the irish. that was two days subsequently, on april . "providence was on our side," writes major william redmond, "for the wind suddenly changing, the gas blew back over the german trenches where the bavarians had already massed for attack. taken by surprise, they left their front line and ran back across the open under the heavy and well-directed fire of our artillery. in one battalion of that bavarian infantry regiment the losses from their own gas and from our fire on that day were stated to be, by a deserter, over eight hundred; and the diary of a prisoner of another battalion captured on the somme in september states that his regiment also had about five hundred gassed cases, a large number of whom died." the irish division continued to hold the hulluch-loos sector of the line until the end of august . they were subjected to severe bombardments. it was a common occurrence for the enemy to send from two to five thousand . shells a day into their trenches. what fortitude and grim determination must they not have had at their command to enable them to pass unshaken through these terrible ordeals. they retaliated in the way they love best, with many a dashing raid on the german positions. for conspicuous gallantry in these operations the military cross was awarded to several of the officers. in the cases of captain victor louis manning and lieutenant nicholas joseph egan of the dublin fusiliers, the official record says that "by skilful and determined handling of their bombing parties they drove off three determined bomb attacks by the enemy in greatly superior numbers," and that "they continued to command their parties after they had both been wounded," gives but a faint idea of the faring nature of their deed. a small counter-mine was exploded under a german mine at a point between the opposing lines, but nearer to those of the germans. the germans were able to occupy the mound first and establish a machine-gun on it, with which they dominated the dublin trenches. volunteers being called for to clear them out, lieutenant egan and a small party of privates, armed with bombs, rushed out and carried the position. then they had to hold it against german counter-attacks which were launched during the next three days. lieutenant egan was wounded in the wrist early in the fight, but he and six men, being plentifully supplied with bombs, held their ground doggedly. instead of waiting for the germans to reach the mound, in what threatened to be the worst of the counter-attacks, the party of dublins advanced to meet them and drove them back, thus conveying the impression that they were in greater strength than was really the case. on the night of the third day another party, under captain manning, came to their support. after a further series of encounters had ended in favour of the dublins, the germans abandoned the hope of recapturing the post, which was subsequently strongly consolidated by the victors. on the fourth day, when the struggle had definitely ended in favour of the dublins, and lieutenant egan was about to return to the lines, a bomb fell at his feet. he was blown a distance of fifteen yards, and was picked up seriously wounded in the thigh. lieutenant egan is a grandson of mr. patrick egan of new york, well known in the stormy agrarian agitation in ireland under parnell and davitt as the treasurer of the land league. previous to the war lieutenant egan was in business in canada. another fine exploit standing to the credit of the irish brigade was that of lieutenant patrick stephen lynch of the leinsters, who got the military cross "for conspicuous gallantry when successfully laying and firing a torpedo under the enemy's wire." it was an uncommon deed, and just as uncommon is the very remarkable tribute with which the official record ends: "his cool bravery is very marked and his influence over his men very great." the brigadier-general, george pereira, d.s.o., in a letter of congratulation to lieutenant lynch, dated july , , says: "your leading the attack along the parapet was splendid, but you must be more careful another time." before the month was out lieutenant lynch got a bar to his military cross--in other words, he had won the distinction twice over--an honour which, as general hickie wrote to him, was well deserved, and likely to be very rare. this young waterford man--a fine type of the fearless and dashing irish officer, made out of a civilian in two years--was promoted captain in the leinsters, and was killed on his birthday and the completion of his twenty-fifth year, december , . the battalion was plunged into grief by the loss of captain lynch. "'paddy'--the name we all knew him by from the c.o. down to the youngest sub.--was considered the most efficient officer in this battalion, and he was certainly the most popular," writes lieutenant h.w. norman, an officer of the captain's company. "everybody mourns his death, and when the news got to his men they could not believe that such a brave and daring officer could be killed, but the news was only too true; and when it was confirmed i saw many's the officer and man crying like children. he lost his life to save his men, who were in a trench that was being heavily shelled. he went up with a sergeant, in spite of danger and certain death, to get them out, and on the way up a shell landed in the trench where they were, killing both instantaneously." another noble deed was that for which lieutenant john francis gleeson, munster fusiliers, won the military cross. "under heavy rifle fire and machine-gun fire, he left his trench to bring in a wounded man lying within ten yards of the enemy entanglements." it was also in connection with these raids on the german trenches that the irish division gained the first of its victoria crosses. the hero is captain arthur hugh batten-pooll of the munster fusiliers--a somerset man, and he got the v.c. "for most conspicuous bravery whilst in command of a raiding party." "at the moment of entry into the enemy's lines," the official record continues, "he was severely wounded by a bomb, which broke and mutilated all the fingers of his right hand. in spite of this he continued to direct operations with unflinching courage, his voice being clearly heard cheering on and directing his men. he was urged, but refused, to retire. half an hour later, during the withdrawal, whilst personally assisting in the rescue of other wounded men, he received two further wounds. still refusing assistance, he walked unaided to within a hundred yards of our lines, when he fainted, and was carried in by the covering party." captain d.d. sheehan of the munster fusiliers supplies the following spirited account of the raid-- "our men got into the enemy's trenches with irresistible dash. they met with a stout resistance. there was no stopping or stemming the sweep of the men of munster. they rushed the germans off their feet. they bombed and they bludgeoned them. indeed, the most deadly instrument of destruction in this encounter was the short heavy stick, in the shape of a shillelagh, the use of which, we are led to believe, is the prescriptive and hereditary right of all irishmen. the munster fusiliers gave the huns such a dressing and drubbing on that night as they are not likely to have since forgotten. half an hour in the trenches and all was over. dug-outs and all were done for. of the eight officers, four were casualties, two, unhappily, killed, and two severely wounded, of whom one was batten-pooll." for months the irish brigade had on their right the renowned ulster division. thus the descendants of the two races in ireland who for more than two centuries were opposed politically and religiously, and often came to blows under their rival colours of "orange" and "green," were now happily fighting side by side in france for the common rights of man. though born and bred in the same tight little island, the men themselves had been severed by antagonisms arising out of those hereditary feuds, and thus but imperfectly understood each other. "when they met from time to time," says major william redmond, m.p., "the best of good feeling and comradeship was shown as between brother irishmen." evidence of these amicable relations is afforded by a letter written by private j. cooney of the royal irish regiment. "the ulster division are supporting us on our right," he says. "the other morning i was out by myself and met one of them. he asked me what part of ireland i belonged to. i said a place called athlone, in the county westmeath. he said he was a belfast man and a member of the ulster volunteers. i said i was a national volunteer, and that the national volunteers were started in my native town. 'well,' said he, 'that is all over now. we are irishmen fighting together, and we will forget all these things.' 'i don't mind if we do,' said i; 'but i'm not particularly interested. we must all do our bit out here, no matter where we come from, north or south, and that is enough for the time.'" private cooney adds: "this young belfast man was very anxious to impress me with the fact that we irish were all one; that there should be no bad blood between us, and we became quite friendly in the course of a few minutes." meeting thus in the valley of darkness, blood and tears, the fraternity born of the dangers they were incurring for the same great ends, united them far more closely than years of ordinary friendship could have done. to many on both sides the cause of their traditional hostility appeared very trivial; and there were revealed to them reasons, hitherto obscured by prejudice and convention, for mutual loving-kindness and even for national unification. but it was not the first time that north and south fought together in the empire's battle. there is an eloquent passage on the subject in conan doyle's _great boer war_. it refers to the advance of hart's "irish brigade"--consisting of the st inniskillings, st connaughts and st dublins--over an open plain to the tugela river, at the battle of colenso, under heavy fire from front and flank, and even from the rear, for a regiment in support fired at them, not knowing that any of the line was so far advanced-- "rolling on in a broad wave of shouting, angry men, they never winced from the fire until they swept up to the bank of the river. northern inniskillings and southern men of connaught, orange and green, protestant and catholic, celt and saxon, their only rivalry now was who could shed his blood most freely for the common cause. how hateful those provincial politics and narrow sectarian creeds which can hold such men apart!" on july the ulster division won immortal renown on the somme. it was now the turn of the irish brigade to uphold the martial fame of the race on the same stricken field. they were done with trench raids for a while, and in for very big fighting. chapter xi storming of guillamont by the irish brigade raising the green flag in the centre of the village at the end of august the irish brigade was ordered to the somme. the civil authorities of the district, headed by the mayor and curé, called upon general hickie to express their appreciation of the good conduct and religious devotion of his troops. the general was a proud man that day. nothing pleased him more than praise of his soldiers. in return, they gloried in him. as an example of his fatherly solicitude for them, he had established a divisional laundry under the care of the nuns, in which , shirts a week and pairs of socks per day are washed for them, and every day's rations sent to the men in the trenches was accompanied by a dry pair of socks. the result was that "trench feet"--feet benumbed with the cold and the wet--were almost unknown in the division. he also provided for a thousand baths a day being given to his men in a specially constructed bath-house. the marches of the brigade to their new station was done to the accompaniment of patter, drip, trickle, ripple, splash--all the creepy sounds of continuous rain, and across the sodden and foul desolation that was once the fair fields of france. up to the firing line swung a battalion of the munster fusiliers, gaily whistling and singing in the rain. they carried a beautiful banner of the sacred heart, the gift of the people of the city of limerick, from which many of the men came. miss lily doyle of limerick, who made the presentation to major lawrence roche of the battalion, tells me that the idea of the banner originated with the reverend mother of the good shepherd's convent, limerick, who had read, in what are termed the "extended revelations," that a promise was given by jesus to blessed margaret mary that, inasmuch as soldiers derided his sacred heart when he hung upon the cross, any soldiers who made reparation by carrying his standard would have victory with them. the cost of the banner (£ ) was mainly raised by penny subscriptions. it was worked by the good shepherd nuns on crimson poplin. on one side is a beautiful piece of embroidery representing our lord with his heart exposed on his breast to blessed margaret mary, with the inscriptions, "tu rex gloria christi" and "parce domine, parce populo tuo." on the other side are the words of the archangel michael: "quis ut deus," surrounded with monograms of "royal munster fusiliers" and "god save ireland." "you could not have sent us a more suitable gift," the rev. j. wrafter, s.j., chaplain of the battalion, wrote to miss doyle, "or one which would give more pleasure to the men. i believe they prefer it to any material comforts that are sent to them." this is the third religious banner borne by soldiers since the crusades. the first was the standard of joan of arc, and the second that of the pontifical zouaves, when rome was an independent state. as the munsters thus marched to battle a cry of "look!" was suddenly raised in the ranks, and as all eyes turned in the direction indicated a wonderful sight was seen. the great tower of albert cathedral appeared through the mist of rain, and the sun shone on the great copper statue of the blessed virgin and the child, which dominated the countryside for miles around, and, laid prostrate by german gunners, was now lying out level with the top of the tower. thus that symbol of faith, though fallen, was not overthrown. its roots in the pedestal were firm and strong. the virgin mother, facing downwards, still held the infant jesus scathless in her outstretched hands, as if showing him the devastation below, ready to be uplifted again on the day of christianity's victory. the piety of the battalion was kindled by that strange and moving spectacle. quickly responsive always to things that appeal to the imagination, the men felt as if they were witnesses of a miracle, and with one accord they took off their helmets and cheered and cheered again. though it is an unusual thing for the commander-in-chief to give in his dispatches the names of the troops who took part in a particular engagement, sir douglas haig makes special mention of the irish brigade in his message announcing that guillamont had fallen. "the irish regiments which took part in the capture of guillamont on september behaved," he says, "with the greatest dash and gallantry, and took no small share in the success gained that day." september was a sunday. on the night before the battle the irish troops selected for the attack on guillamont bivouacked on the bare side of a hill. they were the connaughts, the royal irish, the munsters and the leinsters. the rain had ceased, but the ground was everywhere deep in mud, the trenches were generally flooded and the shell holes full of water. it was a bleak and desolate scene, relieved only here and there by the sparkle of the little fires around which the platoons clustered. just as the men of one of the battalions were preparing to wrap themselves in their greatcoats and lie down for the rest which they might be able to snatch in such a situation, the catholic chaplain came over the side of the hill and right to the centre of the camp. "in a moment he was surrounded by the men," writes major redmond. "they came to him without orders--they came gladly and willingly, and they hailed his visit with plain delight. he spoke to them in the simple, homely language which they liked. he spoke of the sacrifice which they had made in freely and promptly leaving their homes to fight for a cause which was the cause of religion, freedom and civilisation. he reminded them that in this struggle they were most certainly defending the homes and the relations and friends they had left behind them in ireland. it was a simple, yet most moving address, and deeply affected the soldiers." major redmond goes on to say: "when the chaplain had finished his address he signed to the men to kneel, and administered to them the general absolution given in times of emergency. the vast majority of the men present knelt, and those of other faith stood by in attitudes of reverent respect. the chaplain then asked the men to recite with him the rosary. it was most wonderful the effect produced as hundreds and hundreds of voices repeated the prayers and recited the words, 'pray for us now and at the hour of our death. amen.' at the dawn masses were said by the chaplains of all the battalions in the open, and most of the officers and men received holy communion." the attack was timed to begin at noon. all the morning the war-pipes of these leinsters, munsters and connaughts gave out inspiring irish tunes--"brian boru's march," that was played at the battle of clontarf in the eleventh century when the danish invaders were driven from ireland; "the white cockade," the jacobite marching tune of the first irish brigade in the service of france; "the wearin' o' the green," one of the finest expressions of a country's devotion to an ideal; and "a nation once again," thrilling with the hopes of the future. the pipers strode up and down, green ribbons streaming from their pipes, sending forth these piercing invocations to ancient irish heroes, to venerable saints of the land, to the glories and sorrows of ireland, to the love of home, to the faith and aspirations of the race, to come to the support of the men in the fight. and what of the men as they waited in the assembly trenches for the word? the passage from shakespeare's _henry v_ best conveys their mood: "i see ye stand like grey-hounds in the leash straining upon the start." at twelve o'clock the battalions emerged from the trenches. numbers of the men had tied to their rifles little green flags with the yellow harp. like the english infantry associated with them, the irish advanced in the open snaky lines in which such attacks are always delivered. but there was a striking difference--noted by the war correspondents--in the pace and impetus of the irish and the english. mr. beach thomas of the _daily mail_ says: "it gives, i think, a satisfying sense of the variety and association of talent in the new army to picture these dashing irish troops careering across the open while the ground was being methodically cleared and settled behind them by english riflemen." "the english riflemen who fought on their right had more solidity in their way of going about the business," says mr. philip gibbs of the _daily chronicle_, "but they were so inspired by the sight of the irish dash and by the sound of the irish pipes that those who were in support, under orders to stand and hold the first german line, could hardly be restrained from following on." the english advance was calm, restrained, deliberate, infused by a spirit of determination that glowed rather than flamed. a breath of fire seemed to sweep through the irish. from first to last they kept up a boisterous jog-trot charge. "it was like a human avalanche," was the description given by the english troops who fought with them. the country across which this dash was made was pitted with innumerable shell holes, most of them of great width and depth and all full of water and mud. a munster fusilier graphically likened the place to a net, in his irish way--"all holes tied together." so the men, as they advanced, stumbled over the inequalities of the ground, or slipped and tripped in the soft, sticky earth. it was a scene, too, of the most clamorous and frightful violence. the shells were like fiends of the air, flying with horrid shrieks or moans on the wings of the wind, ignoring one another and intent only on dropping down to earth and striking the life out of their human prey. blasts of fire and flying bits of metal also swept the plain. there is a loud detonation, and when the smoke clears away not a trace is seen of the ten or dozen comrades that a moment before were rushing forward like a rugby pack after the ball. they have all been blown to the four winds of heaven. "jim, i'm hit," cries a lad, as if boastingly, on feeling a blow on his chest. he twirls round about like a spinning top and then topples face downward. his body has been perforated by a rifle bullet. a shell explodes and a man falls. he laughs, thinking he has been tripped up by a tree root or piece of wire. both his legs are broken. another shell bursts. a leinsterman sees a companion lifted violently off his feet, stripped of his clothes, and swept several yards before he is dashed violently to the ground. he goes over to his friend and can see no sign of a wound on the quite naked body. but his friend will never lift up his head again. the blasting force of the high explosive, the tremendous concussion of the air, has knocked the life out of him. "good-bye, joe, and may god have mercy on your soul," the leinsterman says to himself, and, as he dashes on again he thinks, "sure, it may be my own turn next." it is that which assuages the grief of a soldier for a dead comrade, or soon ousts it altogether from his mind. khaki and grey-clad forms were lying everywhere in the frightfully distorted postures assumed by the killed in action--arms twisted, legs doubled together, heads askew. some had their lips turned outward, showing their teeth in a horrible sneer. their mouths had been distended in agony. others had a fixed expression of infinite sadness, as if in a lucid moment before death there came a thought of home. more horrifying still was the foul human wreckage of former battles--heads and trunks and limbs trodden under foot in the mud, and emitting a fearful stench. the priests followed in the wake of the troops to give the consolations of religion to the dying. they saw heartrending sights. one of them, describing his experiences, says: "i was standing about a hundred yards away, watching a party of my men crossing the valley, when i saw the earth under their feet open, and twenty men disappear in a cloud of smoke, while a column of stones and clay was shot a couple of hundred feet into the air. a big german shell, by the merest chance, had landed in the middle of the party. i rushed down the slope, getting a most unmerciful whack between the shoulders. i gave them all a general absolution, scraped the clay from the faces of a couple of buried men who were not wounded, and then anointed as many of the poor lads as i could reach. two of them had no faces to anoint, and others were ten feet under the clay, but a few were living still. by this time half a dozen volunteers had run up, and were digging the buried men out. we dug like demons for our lads' lives, and our own, to tell the truth, for every few minutes another 'iron pill' from a krupp gun would come tearing down the valley." another priest says: "many of the wounded were just boys, and it was extraordinary how they bore pain, which must have been intense. very few murmurings were heard. one young man said to me, 'oh, father, it is hard to die so far from home in the wilds of france.' certainly the fair land of france just here did seem wild, with the trees all torn and riven with shot, and the earth on every side ploughed with huge shell holes." but the irish troops swept on. nothing could stop them--neither their fallen comrades, nor the groans of the wounded, nor the abominably mangled dead; and the blasts of fire and iron and steel which the enemy let loose beat in vain against their valour and resolution. "'tis god's truth i'm telling you," a leinsterman remarked to me, "when i say we couldn't stop ourselves in the height of our hurry, we were that mad." in fact, they had captured guillamont before they were aware of it. "where's that blessed village we've got to take?" they shouted, as they looked round and saw not a stick or a stone. "we're in it, boys," replied a captain of the munsters as he planted a green flag with a yellow harp on the dust heap which his map indicated was once the centre of guillamont, and the irishmen, mightily pleased with themselves, raised a wild shout. chapter xii the brigade's pounce on guinchy gallant boy officers of the dublin fusiliers guinchy fell within the same week as guillamont. it was stormed on the following saturday, september . the village had been taken two or three times previously--some accounts say four--by the british and recaptured each time by the germans. but the grip of the irish brigade could not be relaxed. standing on a hill feet high, guinchy was one of the most important enemy strongholds on the somme, particularly for artillery. it had been fortified with the accumulated skill of eighteen months' labour by the german engineers. it was well protected by guns. picked troops--the bavarians--defended it. the germans, according to a captured officer, believed that guinchy could not be taken. "but," he added, "you attacked us with devils, not men. no one could withstand them." the capture of the place was therefore a good day's work. it stands solely to the credit of the irish brigade. they did it all by themselves. the attack was mainly delivered from the direction of guillamont. all through the week, for five days and nights, most of the irish battalions had lain in the trenches--connected shell craters for the most part--under heavy artillery fire. in these circumstances they could get nothing hot to eat. they subsisted mainly on the iron rations of bully beef and biscuit, which formed part of each man's fighting equipment, and a little water. as for sleep, they were unable to get more than disturbed and unrefreshing snatches. yet they were as full of spirit and had nerves as unshaken as if they had come fresh from billets, and they were as eager for a fight as ever. in preparation for the advance, a thunderstorm of british fire and steel broke over the german trenches. the splitting, tearing crashes of the mighty "heavies" lying miles back; their firing accuracy, the penetrating power of their shells, had a heartening influence on the men. "ah, those guns," said an officer of the royal irish regiment--"their effect, spiritual and temporal, is wonderful. your own makes you defiant of the very devil; the enemy's put the fear of god into you." the german lines were blotted out by smoke and flying soil. the ground rocked and swayed. it was like a heavy sea, only the waves were of earth. the whistle sounded at four o'clock, and up and over went the men in a mass. like the country before guillamont, the country before guinchy was slashed and gouged and seared, and the air had the sickening taste of gunpowder, poison gas and the corruption of the body. the men walked or ran, in broken array, in and out of the shell holes or over the narrow ledges that separated them. soon the enemy got the range. severed limbs, heads, arms and legs, and often the whole body, were flung high into the air. it was a dreadful scene. the noise, too, was appalling, what with the roaring of the guns, the bursting of the shells, and, not less, the frenzied yells of the charging masses. there is no shout in the mêlée of battle so fierce as the irish shout. every man is like "stentor of the brazen voice," whose shout, as homer says in the _iliad_, "was as the shout of fifty men." so the irish shouted as they dashed forward, partly in relief of their feelings, and partly in the hope of confusing and dismaying their adversaries. it was an amazing martial feat, that charge of the irish brigade at guinchy. within just eight minutes they had overrun the intervening ground and captured the village. nothing stopped nor stayed them. they did not pause to lie down for a while and let the bullets and shrapnel fly over them. many were seen, as the advance proceeded, lying huddled on the ground as if taking shelter. they had taken shelter, indeed, but it was behind a stronger thing than a mound of earth--and that is death. the most graphic and thrilling narrative of the engagement is given in a letter written home by a second lieutenant of one of the irish battalions. they were in reserve, five or six hundred yards behind the first line, who were in occupation of the rising slope nearer to guinchy. it was about four o'clock when they were ordered to move up so as to reinforce the first line. they got up in the nick of time, just as the great charge had begun, and they saw a sight which the officer says stirred and thrilled them to the depths of their souls. "mere words," he says, "must fail to convey anything like a true picture of the scene, but it is burned into the memory of all those who were there and saw it. between the outer fringe of guinchy and the front line of our own trenches is no man's land, a wilderness of pits so close together that you could ride astraddle the partitions between any two of them. as you look half right, obliquely down along no man's land, you behold a great host of yellow-coated men rise out of the earth and surge forward and upward in a torrent--not in extended order, as you might expect, but in one mass. there seems to be no end to them. just when you think the flood is subsiding, another wave comes surging up the bend towards guinchy. we joined in on the left. there was no time for us any more than the others to get into extended order. we formed another stream converging on the others at the summit." he goes on to give a wonderful impression of the spirit of the men--their fearlessness and exuberance which nothing could daunt. "by this time we were all wildly excited. our shouts and yells alone must have struck terror into the huns. they were firing their machine-guns down the slope. their shells were falling here, there and everywhere. but there was no wavering in the irish host. we couldn't run. we advanced at a steady walking pace, stumbling here and there, but going ever onward and upward. that numbing dread had now left me completely. like the others, i was intoxicated with the glory of it all. i can remember shouting and bawling to the men of my platoon, who were only too eager to go on." the officer mentions a curious circumstance which throws more light on that most interesting subject--the state of the mind in battle. he says the din must have been deafening--he learned afterwards that it could be heard miles away--and yet he had a confused remembrance only of anything in the way of noise. how guinchy was reached and what it was like is thus described: "how long we were in crossing no man's land i don't know. it could not have been more than five minutes, yet it seemed much longer. we were now well up to the boche. we had to clamber over all manner of obstacles--fallen trees, beams, great mounds of brick and rubble--in fact, over the ruins of guinchy. it seems like a nightmare to me now. i remember seeing comrades falling round me. my sense of hearing returned to me, for i became conscious of a new sound--namely, the pop, pop, pop, pop of machine-guns, and the continuous crackling of rifle fire. by this time all units were mixed up, but they were all irishmen. they were cheering and cheering like mad. there was a machine-gun playing on us near by, and we all made for it." through the centre of the smashed and battered village ran a deep trench. it was occupied by about two hundred germans, who continued to fire rifle and machine-gun even after the irish had appeared on all sides, scrambling over the piles of masonry, bent and twisted wood and metal and broken furniture. "at this moment we caught our first sight of the huns," the officer continues. "they were in a trench of sorts, which ran in and out among the ruins. some of them had their hands up. others were kneeling and holding their arms out to us. still others were running up and down the trench, distracted, as if they didn't know which way to go, but as we got closer they went down on their knees, too." in battle the irish are fierce and terrible to the enemy, and in victory most magnanimous. "to the everlasting good name of the irish soldiery," the officer says, "not one of these huns, some of whom had been engaged in slaughtering our men up to the very last moment, was killed. i did not see a single instance of a prisoner being shot or bayoneted. when you remember that our men were worked up to a frenzy of excitement, this crowning act of mercy to their foes is surely to their eternal credit. they could feel pity even in their rage." he adds: "it is with a sense of pride that i can write this of our soldiers." many incidents in which smiles and tears were commingled took place in the nests of dug-outs and cellars among the ruins of the village. the dublin fusiliers lost most of their officers in the advance. many of them were the victims of snipers. in the village the direction of affairs was in the hands of young subalterns. the manliness and decision of these boys were wonderful. one of them captured, with the help of a single sergeant, a german officer and twenty men whom they had come upon on rounding the corner of a trench. the german officer surrendered in great style. he stood to attention, gave a clinking salute, and said in perfect english, "sir, myself, this other officer and twenty men are your prisoners." the subaltern said, "right you are, old chap!" and they shook hands. hundreds of the defenders of guinchy had fled. "an' if they did itself, you couldn't blame them," said a wounded dublin fusilier to me. "we came on jumping mad, all roaring and bawling, an' our bayonets stretched out, terribly fierce, in front of us, that maybe 'tis ourselves would get up and run like blazes likewise if 'twere the other way about." hot and impulsive in all things, the irishmen were bent on advancing into the open country beyond guinchy in chase of the retreating germans. the officers had frantically to blow their whistles and shout and gesticulate to arrest this onward rush of the men to destruction in the labyrinth of the enemy supports which had escaped bombardment. "very frankly the men proclaimed their discontent," says the special correspondent of _the times_, "with what they called the 'diplomacy' which forbade them to go where they wanted--namely, to hell and beyond, if there are any germans hiding on the other side." the only cases of desertion in the irish division occurred on the night before the storming of guinchy. it is a deliciously comic incident. three servants of the staff mess of one of the brigades disappeared. they left a note saying that, as they had missed guillamont, they must have a hand in the taking of guinchy. "if all right, back to-morrow. very sorry," they added. sure enough they were found in the fighting line. chapter xiii honours and distinctions for the irish brigade how lieutenant holland of the leinsters won the v.c. many decorations and rewards were won by the irish brigade. the honours book of the brigade contained, at the end of , about one thousand names of officers and men, presented by major-general hickie with the parchment certificate for gallant conduct and devotion to duty in the field. over three hundred military decorations were gained. two high russian honours were also awarded--the cross of st. george, second class, to lance-corporal t. mcmahon, munster fusiliers, and the cross of st. george, fourth class, to lance-sergeant l. courtenay, dublin fusiliers. the list of decorations is so long that only a select few of those won by officers of the brigade for gallant conduct in the capture of guillamont and guinchy can be given. father maurice o'connell, the senior chaplain of the brigade, got the distinguished service order. father wrafter, s.j., and father doyle, s.j., got the military cross. all the chaplains of the division were indeed splendid. the others are: fathers browne, s.j., burke, cotter, o'connor, and fitzmaurice, s.j. the official records show that the d.s.o. was also awarded to the following-- "temporary captain (temporary major) robert james abbot tamplin, connaught rangers.--he led his company with the greatest courage and determination, and was instrumental in capturing the position. he was wounded." "second-lieutenant cyril paxman tiptaft, connaught rangers, special reserve.--with his platoon he consolidated and held for fourteen hours a strong point, thus preventing the enemy from getting behind our advanced positions, which they tried to do again and again. he set a fine example to his men, and kept up their spirits in spite of heavy casualties." "temporary lieutenant-colonel george alexander mclean buckley, leinster regiment.--he led his battalion with the greatest courage and determination. he has on many occasions done very fine work." "temporary lieutenant-colonel edwin henry charles patrick bellingham, royal dublin fusiliers.--he took command of the two leading battalions when the situation was critical, and displayed the greatest determination under shell and machine-gun fire. the success of the operation was largely due to his quick appreciation of the situation, and his rapid consolidation of the position." "temporary captain john patrick hunt, royal dublin fusiliers.--he formed and held a defensive flank for ten hours, until relieved, under heavy machine-gun and rifle fire, thus frustrating the enemy's attempt to turn the flank." "major walter mcclelland crosbie, royal munster fusiliers.--he led two companies with the greatest courage and initiative. later, he organised the position with great skill, displaying great coolness throughout. he was wounded." the military crosses won included the following-- "captain william joseph rivers reardon, royal irish regiment, special reserve.--he led his men with great dash, and during a counter-attack, though wounded, stayed with a party of men in a most exposed position, till he could carry on no longer." "lieutenant edward alexander stoker, royal irish regiment, special reserve.--with two or three men he went under heavy shell fire, and captured some enemy snipers. during the enemy counter-attack he brought a party of men across the open to the threatened flank, under heavy fire." "temporary second-lieutenant thomas adams, royal inniskilling fusiliers.--for conspicuous gallantry when leading a raid. he entered the enemy's trenches, and it was largely due to his skill and determination that the raid was successful." "temporary second-lieutenant hugh abbot green, royal inniskilling fusiliers.--when two senior company commanders had become casualties, he took command and led the men forward, capturing a portion of the final objective, which had been missed by the first attacking troops. he then advanced eighty yards, and, though himself wounded, consolidated his position." "temporary captain victor henry parr, royal inniskilling fusiliers.--he rallied men of different units in a wood during an enemy counter-attack, and, though wounded, led them forward and beat off the attack." "temporary second-lieutenant charles lovell naylor, royal irish fusiliers.--he took command of his company when the other officers had become casualties, and showed great pluck when driving off a counter-attack. he then advanced and reoccupied one of our advanced posts." "temporary captain thomas francis o'donnell, royal irish fusiliers.--in the attack he dashed forward and led the battalion the whole way. he was first into the enemy's position, where he did fine work consolidating the defences." "lieutenant valentine joseph farrell, leinster regiment, special reserve.--when the senior officers of two companies had become casualties in the firing line he took command, and, by his fine example, kept his men together under intense fire." "captain charles carleton barry, leinster regiment, special reserve.--for conspicuous gallantry and devotion to duty when returning with another officer from reconnaissance. the latter officer was severely wounded. although wounded in the arm, captain barry succeeded in pulling his comrade into a shell hole, and dressing his wound. he finally succeeded in getting the officer back to our trench. these actions were carried out under heavy machine-gun and snipers' fire." "temporary second-lieutenant nicholas hurst, royal dublin fusiliers.--he organised a party to rush two machine-guns, which were holding up the advance, and, when the first party failed, he organised a second, which succeeded. the strong point was captured and two officers and thirty men made prisoners." "temporary second-lieutenant harold arthur jowett, royal dublin fusiliers.--for conspicuous gallantry during an attack, moving up and down his line under heavy fire, encouraging his men and setting a fine example to all ranks. he displayed considerable coolness and skill in maintaining his position until the line was re-established." "temporary lieutenant william kee, royal dublin fusiliers.--although twice wounded, he continued to lead his men during an attack until ordered back to the dressing station. he has several times carried out reconnaissance work most efficiently." "temporary lieutenant eugene patrick quigley, royal dublin fusiliers.--though wounded, he brought a machine-gun into action against some enemy who were collecting to repel our attack. not finding a suitable rest for one of his guns, he had it placed on his shoulder, where it opened fire." "temporary second-lieutenant dennis joseph baily, royal munster fusiliers.--when all the officers round him had become casualties he took command and led the men forward with great dash and ability." "temporary lieutenant labouchere hillyer bainbridge-bell, royal munster fusiliers. he continually repaired breaks in the line during several days of heavy shelling, never hesitating to go out when the wires were cut. he was several times smothered in debris, and was much bruised." "temporary captain cecil william chandler, royal munster fusiliers.--although wounded, he led his men and beat off repeated enemy attacks, displaying great courage and initiative throughout." "temporary captain maurice fletcher, royal munster fusiliers.--he directed a working party, close to the enemy's line, and completed his task under continuous shelling and rifle fire. he has done other fine work." "temporary lieutenant fabian strachan woodley, royal munster fusiliers.--by his skill and determination he beat off three counter-attacks of the enemy, who were endeavouring to reach his trench. four days later he led his men in two attacks with great pluck." captain place, royal irish regiment, was awarded bar to cross he had already won. these official records, brief and coldly phrased though they be, cannot be read without a thrill of pride in the race which produced the men. there is one other account of the winning of a military cross that must be specially given, for it describes the feats of "the boy hero of guinchy," second-lieutenant james emmet dalton, of the dublin fusiliers. he joined the army in january , and was only eighteen years of age when he took command and proved himself a born leader of men at guinchy. the following is the official record, which, happily, is more extended than usual-- "at the capture of guinchy, on the th of september, , he displayed great bravery and leadership in action. when, owing to the loss of officers, the men of two companies were left without leaders, he took command and led these companies to their final objective. after the withdrawal of another brigade and the right flank of his battalion was in the rear, he carried out the protection of the flank, under intense fire, by the employment of machine-guns in selected commanding and successive positions. after dark, whilst going about supervising the consolidation of the position, he, with only one sergeant escorting, found himself confronted by a party of the enemy, consisting of one officer and twenty men. by his prompt determination the party were overawed and, after a few shots, threw up their arms and surrendered." the irish brigade also got a second victoria cross at the battle of the somme. it was won by lieutenant john vincent holland of the leinster regiment for most conspicuous bravery. he was born at athy, co. kildare, the son of john holland, a past president of the royal college of veterinary surgeons of ireland, was educated at the christian brothers' schools, and clongowies wood college. at the outbreak of war he was employed in the chief mechanical engineers' department of the central argentine railway at rosario, and, hastening home, got his commission in the leinster regiment. for his services at the front he received the certificate of the irish brigade. it was at guillamont that lieutenant holland won the victoria cross. the official account of his exploits is as follows-- "for most conspicuous bravery during a heavy engagement, when, not content with bombing hostile dug-outs within the objective, he fearlessly led his bombers through our own artillery barrage and cleared a great part of the village in front. he started out with twenty-six bombers and finished up with only five, after capturing some fifty prisoners. by this very gallant action he undoubtedly broke the spirit of the enemy, and thus saved us many casualties when the battalion made a further advance. he was far from well at the time, and later had to go to hospital." as proof of lieutenant holland's dash it is related that the night before the engagement he made a bet of five pounds with a brother officer that he would be first over the parapet when the order came. he won the bet, the v.c., and, in addition, he was made a chevalier of the legion of honour and of st. george of russia. chapter xiv the wooden cross death of lieutenant t.m. kettle of the dublins for all this glory and renown the irish brigade had to pay a bitter price. many a home in ireland was made forlorn and desolate. the roads of the countryside by which the men went off to the war will be lonely and drear for ever to womenfolk, for never again will they be brightened by the returning foot-steps of son or husband. one of the most grievous losses which the brigade sustained was the death of lieutenant-colonel lenox-conyngham of the connaught rangers. he came of an ulster soldier family. he was the son of colonel sir w. fitzwilliam lenox-conyngham of springhill, co. derry, was born in , and three of his brothers were also serving in the army with the rank of colonel. he fell at the head of his battalion, which was foremost in the rush for guillamont. "i cannot imagine a more fitting death for him," writes captain stephen gwynn, m.p., who served under colonel lenox-conyngham since the days the battalion was formed at fermoy. "he was never in doubt as to how his men would acquit themselves. to us officers he said things in private which would sound a little arrogant if i quoted them--and yet they have been made good." the welfare of the men was always his first concern. captain gwynn relates that on the return of the battalion one night, after a dreary day of field operations at home, the company officers, feeling very miserable, were gathered about the door of their mess-room, waiting for dinner, when the colonel called out that their proper place was in the cook-house, seeing that the men were first served. the incident greatly rejoiced the heart of captain gwynn, for, having served in the ranks, he knew that the officer who is best served by the men is he who places their comfort and well-being before his own. in france, whenever any compliment was paid to colonel lenox-conyngham, he could not be content until, with frank generosity, he passed it on to the company officers. "it is you who have done it," he would say. "he was right too," says captain gwynn. "we did the work, and no men were ever less interfered with; but we did it as we had been taught to do it, and because we were kept up to it at every point." i can only mention a few typical cases of the officers of the irish brigade killed at guillamont and guinchy. lieutenant e.r.f. becher, of the munster fusiliers, was but nineteen, and the only child of e.w. becher, lismore, co. waterford. he was descended in direct line from colonel thomas becher, who was aide-de-camp to king william at the battle of the boyne, and was on that occasion presented by the king with his watch, which is still an heirloom in the family. captain h.r. lloyd of the royal irish regiment was descended from the ensign who carried the colours of the coldstream guards at waterloo. he was educated at drogheda grammar school, and was at business in brazil when the war broke out. lieutenant j.t. kennedy of the inniskillings was editor of the _northern standard_, monaghan. lieutenant charles p. close of the dublin fusiliers was a native of limerick, and conducted a teaching academy in that city. at the time he volunteered he was the commanding officer of the city regiment of national volunteers. another officer of the national volunteers was lieutenant hugh maguire, son of dr. conor maguire of claremorris. he was a university student when he volunteered for service in response to the national call, and got a commission in the connaught rangers, but was temporarily attached to the inniskillings when he was killed. another gallant youth was lieutenant thomas maxwell, dublin fusiliers, son of surgeon patrick w. maxwell of dublin, who was in his twenty-first year when he fell while in temporary command of the leading company of his battalion in the taking of guinchy. then there is second-lieutenant bevan nolan. he was the third son of walter nolan, clerk of the crown for south tipperary. when the war broke out he was in canada, and, returning at once, obtained a commission in the royal irish regiment. he was a very gallant young officer, and most popular with his comrades. in the camp the general verdict was: "nolan is destined for the v.c., or to die at the head of his platoon." he was only twenty-one years of age, and a splendid type of young tipperary. the greatest loss in individual brain-power which ireland suffered was through the death of that brilliant man of letters and economist, lieutenant t.m. kettle of the dublin fusiliers. he was a son of andrew j. kettle, a dublin farmer, one of the founders of the land league, and a member of the executive who in , on the arrest of the leaders, parnell, davitt and dillon, signed the no-rent manifesto addressed to the tenants. in the house of commons, where he sat as a nationalist from to , young kettle made a reputation for eloquence and humour of quite a fresh vein. he resigned on his appointment as professor of national economics in the national university of ireland. he was married to margaret, daughter of david sheehy, m.p., whose sister is the widow of sheehy skeffington, shot by the military in the dublin rebellion. in public life kettle was a vivid figure, and very irish. at first he belonged to the extreme, or irreconcilable section of nationalists, noted for a cast of thought or bias of reasoning which finds that no good for ireland can come out of england. when england was fighting the boers he distributed anti-recruiting leaflets in the streets of dublin. to his constituents in east tyrone he once declared that ireland had no national independence to protect against foreign invasion. "i confess," he added, referring to the over-taxation of ireland, "i see many reasons for preferring german invasion to british methods of finance in ireland." but increased knowledge brought wider views. as a result of his experiences in parliament, where he found in all parties a genuine desire to do what was best for ireland according to their lights, he approached the consideration of irish questions with a remarkably tolerant, broad-minded and practical spirit. when the war broke out there was no more powerful champion of the allies. the invasion of belgium, which he had witnessed as a newspaper correspondent, moved him to an intense hatred of germany, and, throwing himself with all his energy into the recruiting campaign in ireland, he addressed no fewer than two hundred meetings, bringing thousands of his countrymen to the colours. one of his epigrammatic and pointed sayings--suggested by the ill-favour of absentee landlordism of old in ireland--was: "nowadays the absentee is the man who stays at home." in a letter written to a friend on the night his battalion was moving up to the somme, kettle said he had had two chances of leaving--one on account of sickness and the other to take a staff appointment. "i have chosen to stay with my comrades," he writes. "the bombardment, destruction and bloodshed are beyond all imagination. nor did i ever think that valour of simple men could be quite as beautiful as that of my dublin fusiliers." on the eve of his death he wrote to his wife another fine tribute to his battalion. "i have never," he says, "seen anything in my life so beautiful as the clean and, so to say, radiant manner of my dublin fusiliers. there is something divine in men like that." kettle fell in the storming of guinchy. his friend and comrade, lieutenant james emmet dalton, m.c., states that they were both in the trenches in trones wood opposite guillamont, on the morning of september th, discussing the loss of two hundred men and seven officers which the battalion had sustained the day before from german shell fire, when an orderly arrived with a note for each of them, saying, "be in readiness. battalion will take up a and b position in front of guinchy to-night at midnight." lieutenant dalton continues: "i was with tom when he advanced to the position that night, and the stench of the dead that covered our road was so awful that we both used some foot-powder on our faces. when we reached our objective we dug ourselves in, and then, at five o'clock p.m. on the th, we attacked guinchy. i was just behind tom when we went over the top. he was in a bent position, and a bullet got over a steel waistcoat that he wore and entered his heart. well, he only lasted about one minute, and he had my crucifix in his hands. then boyd took all the papers and things out of tom's pockets in order to keep them for mrs. kettle, but poor boyd was blown to atoms in a few minutes. the welsh guards buried mr. kettle's remains. tom's death has been a big blow to the regiment, and i am afraid that i could not put in words my feelings on the subject." in another letter lieutenant dalton says: "mr. kettle died a grand and holy death--the death of a soldier and a true christian." lieutenant kettle left his political testament in a letter to his wife and in verses addressed to his little daughter. the letter, written a few days before his death, with directions that it was to be sent to mrs. kettle if he were killed, says-- "had i lived i had meant to call my next book on the relations of ireland and england _the two fools; a tragedy of errors_. it has needed all the folly of england and all the folly of ireland to produce the situation in which our unhappy country is now involved. i have mixed much with englishmen and with protestant ulstermen, and i know that there is no real or abiding reason for the gulfs, salter than the sea, that now dismember the natural alliance of both of them with us irish nationalists. it needs only a fiat lux of a kind very easily compassed to replace the unnatural by the natural. in the name, and by the seal, of the blood given in the last two years i ask for colonial home rule for ireland, a thing essential in itself, and essential as a prologue to the reconstruction of the empire. ulster will agree. and i ask for the immediate withdrawal of martial law in ireland, and an amnesty for all sinn fein prisoners. if this war has taught us anything it is that great things can be done only in a great way." the lines, "to my daughter betty--the gift of love," were written "in the field before guillamont, somme, september , -- "in wiser days, my darling rosebud, blown to beauty proud as was your mother's prime-- in that desired, delayed, incredible time you'll ask why i abandoned you, my own, and the dear breast that was your baby's throne, to dice with death, and, oh! they'll give you rhyme and reason; one will call the thing sublime, and one decry it in a knowing tone. so here, while the mad guns curse overhead, and tired men sigh, with mud for couch and floor, know that we fools, now with the foolish dead, died not for flag, nor king, nor emperor, but for a dream, born in a herdsman shed and for the secret scripture of the poor." these young leaders have won the wooden cross--the symbol of the supreme sacrifice they made that others might live; the symbol, also, of eternal peace for themselves--the wooden cross which marks their graves. from north, south, east and west of ireland, of differing creeds, of opposing political opinions--these men of the irish brigade and the ulster division--they lie, as they fought, side by side, comrades in a noble cause. it is sad to think of the many rare intelligences, ardent and glowing spirits, which are quenched for ever in the little cemeteries that have sprung up along the allied front. the loss to ireland is incalculable. but gain might come from it, which, weighed in the balance, would not be found wanting, if only the solemn lesson which it teaches were brought home to all: that one in irish name, as one in irish fame, are the northerners and southerners who died in france for the liberation of humanity. major-general hickie--as mindful of the memories of those of his men who have fallen as of the well-being of those still in the fighting ranks--erected as a memorial to the dead of the irish brigade a statue in white marble of our lady of victories in a town of the district. another striking proof of his esteem for the men is afforded by the following order which he issued on december , -- "to-day is the anniversary of the landing of the irish division in france; the divisional commander wishes to express his appreciation of the spirit which has been shown by all ranks during the past year. he feels that the division has earned the right to adopt the motto which was granted by the king of france to the irish brigade, which served in this country for a hundred years: 'everywhere and always faithful.' with the record of the past, with the memory of our gallant dead, with this motto to live up to, and with our trust in god, we can face the future with confidence." god save the king. chapter xv more irish heroes of the victoria cross deeds of the highest merit and lustre in this war victoria crosses are being won in remarkably large numbers, despite dangers and sufferings immeasurably greater than were ever conceived of in any war of the past. it would seem, indeed, as if human nature is capable of withstanding any test to which it can conceivably be put. "man," said mr. lloyd george, "is the bravest animal that god has made; and, in comparison with him, the lion is an arrant coward." up to the end of the war has contributed additional names to that golden chronicle of valorous deeds--the roll of the victoria cross. of these as many as thirty-five are irishmen. that is a most glorious achievement, having regard to the proportion of irishmen in the army. the number, taking the irish regiments, the irishmen in english and scottish regiments and in the forces of the different dominions, is altogether about , ; and estimating the entire strength of the army to be , , , it will be seen that if the other nationalities won victoria crosses in the same ratio to their numbers as the irish, the roll of the present war would contain not , but names. to put it in another way, the irish on a basis of numbers would be entitled only to twenty-two of the victoria crosses that have actually been awarded. but however that may be, the irish part of the roll, as it stands, will be found to be a very thrilling record of the gallantry of irish officers and men in the various theatres of war. twenty of the thirty-five irish heroes of the victoria cross are dealt with in the first series of _the irish at the front_. of the remaining fifteen, the deeds of four are recounted in the exploits of the ulster division; one, in the story of the irish brigade--the second cross that fell to the brigade having been won by an english officer--and the other ten are dealt with here. sub-lieutenant arthur walderne st. clair tisdall, v.c., of the royal naval volunteer reserve, was another of the many gallant irishmen who distinguished themselves at the memorable first landing at gallipoli on april , , when the munsters and the dublins won imperishable renown. the announcement of the award of the victoria cross to sub-lieutenant tisdall was not made until march , . the following official statement explains the delay-- "during the landing from the ss. _river clyde_ at v beach, in the gallipoli peninsula, on april , , sub-lieutenant tisdall, hearing wounded men on the beach calling for assistance, jumped into the water, and, pushing a boat in front of him, went to their rescue. he was, however, obliged to obtain help, and took with him on two trips leading seaman malin, and on other trips chief petty officer perring and leading seamen curtiss and parkinson. in all sub-lieutenant tisdall made four or five trips between the ship and the shore, and was thus responsible for rescuing many wounded men under heavy and accurate fire. owing to the fact that sub-lieutenant tisdall and the platoon under his orders were on detached service at the time, and that this officer was killed in action on may , it has now only been possible to obtain complete information as to the individuals who took part in this gallant act." sub-lieutenant tisdall came of a well-known irish family, the tisdalls of charlesfort, who have been established in co. meath since the year . the late head of the family, major tisdall of the irish guards, fell guarding the retreat of the british army in france in september . the volume of _memoirs and poems of a.w. st. c. tisdall, v.c._, by mrs. m.l. tisdall, states that among his ancestors and relatives on both sides were "crusaders, royalists, who lost everything--even their family name--for king charles i; scotch covenanters and french huguenots, who had been driven from their own countries for their faith's sake; irish patriots who fought at the battle of the boyne, a danish diplomatist who had danced with queen marie-antoinette; an ancestress who is said to have fired the first cannon at the siege of gibraltar; a famous attorney-general for ireland; a brilliant and versatile cathedral chancellor, a bishop, three missionaries, and many university, military and naval men." he was born at bombay on july , , his father--the rev. dr. st. clair tisdall (now of st. george's vicarage, deal)--being then in charge of the mohammedan mission of the church missionary society. he was educated at bedford school from to , when he left as scholar of trinity college, cambridge, where he had a distinguished career, culminating in the winning of the chancellor's gold medal in the university in , after which he entered the home civil service. on the outbreak of war he was called to the colours as an a.b. of the royal naval volunteer reserve, of which he had been a member for some time previously. he served in the ranks in the antwerp expedition, and was afterwards given a commission. by this time, the memoirs tell us, "he had acquired great self-control, and had practically conquered two of his irish handicaps--viz. a hot temper and a certain carelessness, or casualness, in business. latterly, the 'tisdall temper,' as it is called in the family, only flashed out in the presence of what he considered wrong or unjust." the following extract from a letter by an officer of the royal navy who took part in the landing in gallipoli was published in _the times_ on december , -- "it has been, unfortunately, my sad lot to write of the ending on this earth of many heroes, for i have been through much since august ; but i sincerely assure you that i have never seen more daring and gallant deeds performed by any man, naval or military, than those performed by the man i now know to have been sub-lieutenant a.w. st. clair tisdall, anson battalion, r.n.v.r., at the landing from the _river clyde_ on that terrible 'v' beach. throughout the afternoon of april a boat containing an officer (unknown to all) and three bluejackets, one of them a petty officer, was very prominent. the officer and the petty officer did the most daring of things, and were seen by very many. time after time they visited that awful beach and brought back wounded officers and men. darkness came on and that officer was nowhere to be found. all the petty officer and bluejackets could say was, 'he's one of those naval division gents.' days and weeks passed away, and i and others never ceased trying to find out if we could who and where the unknown hero was. over and over we discussed in the _river clyde_ and in dug-outs on the beach how those two had escaped." it was not till june , , that the writer of the letter learned who the hero was. he adds: "his very saving of the wounded and the handling of them was in itself the work of an artist, and a very great one." the end of this gallant officer is told by an a.b. of the anson battalion, who, writing to mrs. tisdall, says: "on may the naval division got orders to make an advance, which we did, and advanced about a mile. when we got nicely settled in the enemy trench your son stood up on the parapet, looking for the enemy, but was not there long before he was shot through the chest, and he never said one word." this was at the first battle of achi baba. tisdall was buried on the night of may , a few yards from where he fell. it was a glorious death, but far from the kind of death he had dreamt of. in a poem, "love and death," written in , he says-- "be love for me no hoarse and headstrong tide, breaking upon a deep-rent, sea-filled coast, but a strong river on which sea-ships glide, and the lush meadows are its peaceful boast. be death for me no parting red and raw of soul and body, even in glorious pain, but while my children's children wait in awe, may peaceful darkness still the toilsome brain." corporal william richard cotter, an irishman serving in the east kent regiment, got the v.c. for an act of unexampled courage and endurance. it was a deed which showed to what heights the bravery of irish soldiers can soar. on the night of march , , in the course of a raid made by his company along an enemy trench, his own bombing party was cut off owing to heavy casualties in the centre of the attack. the situation was so serious that cotter went back under heavy fire to report and bring up more bombs. on the return journey his right leg was blown off close below the knee, and he was wounded in both arms. by a kind of miracle, the miracle of human courage, he did not drop down and die in the mud of the trench--mud so deep that unwounded men found it hard to walk in it--but made his way for fifty yards towards the crater where his comrades were hard pressed. he came up to lance-corporal newman, who was bombing with his sector to the right of the position. cotter called to him and directed him to bomb six feet towards where help was most needed, and worked his way forward to the crater against which the germans were making a violent counter-attack. men fell rapidly under the enemy's bomb fire, but cotter, with only one leg, and bleeding from both arms, took charge. the enemy were repulsed after two hours' fighting, and only then did cotter allow his wounds to be bandaged. from the dug-out where he lay while the bombardment still continued he called out cheery words to the men, until he was carried down, fourteen hours later. he died of his wounds. a wonderful story of gallantry, endurance and fortitude, it would seem almost incredible were it not established by official record of the awarding of the v.c. to corporal cotter-- "for most conspicuous bravery and devotion to duty. when his right leg had been blown off at the knee, and he had also been wounded in both arms, he made his way unaided for fifty yards to a crater, steadied the men who were holding it, controlled their fire, issued orders, and altered the dispositions of his men to meet a fresh counter-attack by the enemy. for two hours he held his position, and only allowed his wounds to be roughly dressed when the attack had quieted down. he could not be moved back for fourteen hours, and during all this time had a cheery word for all who passed him. there is no doubt that his magnificent courage helped greatly to save a critical situation." cotter was born at sandgate, near folkestone, of irish parents who came from limerick, and was thirty-four years of age. he was educated at the catholic school, folkestone. always fond of adventure, he ran away to sea as a boy. he then enlisted in the army, and, after twelve years in the buffs, came out on the reserve in , and was employed by the sandgate council. he was called up at the outbreak of war. he had lost an eye as the result of an accident, but nevertheless was sent on active service, and this disability enhances the extraordinary heroism of his deed. he was the eldest of six sons, one of whom was killed in france, one was in the navy, one in salonika, and another died after serving in the south african war. the chaplain of his regiment wrote to his parents informing them of his death, and said his last words were "good-bye, god bless them all." cotter was previously recommended for the distinguished conduct medal in december . thomas hughes, of the connaught rangers, got the v.c. for most conspicuous bravery and determination. the official record adds: "he was wounded in an attack, but returned at once to the firing line after having his wounds dressed. later, seeing a hostile machine-gun, he dashed out in front of his company, shot the gunner, and single-handed captured the gun. though again wounded, he brought back three or four prisoners." he was born at corravoo, near castleblayney, co. monaghan, his father being a farmer, and was at the curragh, employed as a jockey in a racing stable, until, on the outbreak of war, he joined the connaught rangers. "come on, the dubs." this slogan was heard at a critical moment during one of the pushes on the somme in the summer of . it was shouted by sergeant robert downie of the dublin fusiliers, and his coolness and resource in danger saved the situation and got him the victoria cross. the dublins have been through many memorable campaigns and battles and have won many honours, but sergeant downie is the first of his regiment to win the most prized of all distinctions. the following is the official record of the award-- "for most conspicuous bravery and devotion to duty in attack. when most of the officers had become casualties, this non-commissioned officer, utterly regardless of personal danger, moved about under heavy fire and reorganised the attack, which had been temporarily checked. at the critical moment he rushed forward alone, shouting, 'come on, the dubs.' this stirring appeal met with immediate response, and the line rushed forward at his call. sergeant downie accounted for several of the enemy, and in addition captured a machine-gun, killing the team. though wounded early in the fight, he remained with his company, and gave valuable assistance, whilst the position was being consolidated. it was owing to sergeant downie's courage and initiative that this important position, which had resisted four or five previous attacks, was won." sergeant downie is twenty-three years of age. he was born in glasgow of irish parents, both his father and mother being natives of laurencetown, co. down, and received his education at st. aloysius' catholic schools, springburn, glasgow. he is one of a family of sixteen, of whom thirteen are alive. his father was employed for thirty years in the hydepark locomotive works, glasgow, as an oiler and beltman. after leaving school young downie served for some time in the same works as his father, and at the age of eighteen he enlisted in the dublin fusiliers. he went to france with the expeditionary force. he is married, and his wife lives with her two children at springburn. a wounded officer of the dublins thus describes how downie won the v.c.-- "for coolness and resource under danger, it would be impossible to beat downie. the ordeal we had to go through that day was one of the most severe we have struck since the present war, and, as you know, the 'dubs' have been in many tight corners. we had orders to advance against a position that had so far resisted all efforts of our men to take. we knew it had to be taken this time, be the cost what it might. we went over with a good heart. the men were magnificent. they faced their ordeal without the slightest sign of wavering. the enemy's fire was ploughing through our ranks. we lost heavily. in a short time there was not an officer left capable of giving directions. it was only then that the attack began to falter. at that moment the enemy fire increased its intensity. it was many times worse than any hell i have ever heard of. the machine-gun fire of the enemy swept across the ground like great gusts of wind, and the finest troops in the world might have been pardoned for a momentary hesitation in face of such fire. downie took the situation in. he ran along the line of shell holes in which the men were sheltering and cried out, 'come on, the dubs.' "the effect was electrical. the men sprang from their cover, and under his leadership dashed to the attack on the enemy position. their blood was now up, and there was no stopping them until the goal was reached. the immediate approach to the part of the trench they were attacking was swept by the fire of one machine-gun that galled the attacking party a lot. downie made straight for that. using alternately bomb, bayonet, and rifle, he wiped out the entire crew, and captured the gun, which he quickly turned on the enemy. the effect of this daring exploit was soon felt. the enemy resistance weakened, and the dublin lads were soon in possession of the trench. it was later on, when the attack was being pressed home, that downie was wounded. it was severe enough to justify any man in dropping out, but downie was made of better stuff. he stuck to his men, and for the rest of the day he directed their operations with a skill and energy that defeated repeated attempts of the enemy to win back the lost ground. throughout the very difficult operations his cheery disposition and his eye for discerning the best thing to do in given circumstances, were as good as a reinforcement to the hard-pressed irishmen." captain john a. sinton, indian medical service, was awarded the victoria cross, after the action at shaikh saad in mesopotamia. the official record is as follows-- "for most conspicuous bravery and devotion to duty. although shot through both arms and through the side he refused to go to hospital, and remained as long as daylight lasted attending to his duties under very heavy fire. in three previous actions captain sinton displayed the utmost bravery." captain sinton was born in lisburn, co. antrim, and is thirty-one years of age. he is a member of a well-known quaker family. as a boy he went to the memorial school in lisburn, named after the heroic brigadier-general, john nicholson, of the indian mutiny, and afterwards attended the royal belfast academical institution. he had a brilliant career in the medical school at queen's university, belfast. he took first place at the examination for the indian medical service at the school of tropical medicine in liverpool. he went to india in , and was attached to the st duke of connaught's own lancers at kohat. at the outbreak of war he transferred to the dogras, in order to take part in the operations of the indian expeditionary force in the persian gulf. private henry kenny of the loyal north lancashire regiment is another london irishman, and the third of the name of kenny who have gained the coveted v.c. the stories of the other two kennys are told in the first series of _the irish at the front_. private kenny's father is a native of limerick, where all his people belonged to, and from where he moved to england with his parents. private kenny himself was born in hackney, london, and enlisted, at the age of eighteen, in . on the outbreak of war he was recalled to the colours as a reservist, and took part in many famous engagements. the official record of his gallantry is as follows-- "for most conspicuous bravery. private kenny went out on six different occasions on one day under a very heavy shell, rifle and machine-gun fire, and each time succeeded in carrying to a place of safety a wounded man who had been lying in the open. he was himself wounded in the neck whilst handing the last man over the parapet." when kenny was invalided home on account of the wounds he received in performing the noble action for which he won the victoria cross, he made no reference to his achievement. the sixth man whom he rescued was his own colonel, and it was while he was bearing his commanding officer into safety that he was himself wounded. on his return home for a holiday after the announcement of the award he visited the house of commons, and was introduced to sir e. carson, lord and lady pirrie, mr. and mrs. redmond, lord wimborne and colonel churchill, and had tea on the terrace. there was much rejoicing amongst the pupils and staff of the royal hibernian military school, phoenix park, dublin, when it became known that the greatest honour that can be bestowed upon a soldier--the victoria cross--had been won by a former pupil of the school in the person of private frederick jeremiah edwards, of the middlesex regiment. there are three royal military schools in the united kingdom (the duke of york's school, near london, the queen victoria school in scotland, and the royal hibernian school), and naturally there was keen anxiety amongst them as to which would be the first to place a v.c. to its credit in the present war. the irish school has won, thanks to private "jerry" edwards. he is the second "old boy" of the hibernian school to win the v.c., the previous occasion on which the distinction was gained being during the crimean war. private edwards was born at queenstown, co. cork, the son of a soldier. he entered the hibernian school at seven years of age. he is spoken of as a bright, intelligent and plucky lad by the schoolmasters, to whom his lively spirits were oftentimes a source of worry--and, perhaps, of trouble for "jerry." when he was fourteen he left the school to join the army. the circumstances under which he won the v.c. in his twenty-first year are thus officially described-- "for most conspicuous bravery and resource. his part of the line was held up by machine-gun fire, and all officers had become casualties. there was confusion and indication of retirement. private edwards, grasping the situation, on his own initiative dashed out towards the gun, which he knocked out with his bombs. this very gallant act, coupled with great presence of mind and a total disregard of personal danger, made further advance possible and cleared up a dangerous situation." a former schoolmate of private edwards, and a comrade in the middlesex regiment, gives the following more specific particulars of the hero's courage and determination in carrying along the wavering men by the force of his example-- "the day our regiment went over there was some wild work. the enemy concentrated on our part of the line a furious fire. there was absolutely no cover for a great part of the way. one by one our officers were picked off. young lieutenant ---- was the last to go. as he fell he called to the men to go right on. they did so for a time, but things got worse, and finally the men seemed to lose heart. 'jerry' edwards declared that he wasn't going back. he sprang forward into the thick hail of machine-gun bullets, in full view of the taunting huns on their parapet. 'this way, die-hards,' he cried, and at the sound of the glorious old nickname the men recovered from their panic. gradually order was restored, and the men followed edwards up to the enemy parapet. this was stormed in a few minutes. edwards himself bowled over a machine-gun and its crew. he picked up a couple of bombs and threw them. privates behind him handed up more, and from an exposed position on the enemy parapet he kept raining bombs on the foe. the gun and crew were blown to bits, and the rest of the enemy bolted to their next position. edwards saw what they were up to, and, leading some of the men by the near cut, he intercepted the flying enemy. then a great bombing match began. our lads won, thanks to the way the team was handled by edwards. though the position was dangerous for some time afterwards, we held on, and finally consolidated the ground." the finest quality in gallantry is that which impels a soldier to leave a place of safety voluntarily, and, though he is not under the excitement of battle, to plunge with cool calculation into some danger which he knows and has estimated to its full extent. for a deed of valour of that character the victoria cross was given to private william young, east lancashire regiment. the official record says-- "on seeing that his sergeant had been wounded he left his trench to attend to him under very heavy fire. the wounded non-commissioned officer requested private young to get under cover, but he refused, and was almost immediately very seriously wounded by having both jaws shattered. notwithstanding his terrible injuries, private young continued endeavouring to effect the rescue upon which he had set his mind, and eventually succeeded with the aid of another soldier. he then went unaided to the dressing-station, where it was discovered that he had also been wounded by a rifle bullet in the chest. the great fortitude, determination, courage, and devotion to duty displayed by this soldier could hardly be surpassed." private young was born in glasgow of irish parents, and joined the east lancashire regiment in may , when about twenty-one years of age. he was transferred to the army reserve in august , and joined section d, army reserve, in may . he responded to the mobilisation call on august , , and went to france on september , going all through the fighting until wounded at the battle of ypres in november , by a bullet in the thigh. returning to the front, he was "gassed," and the resulting injuries to his eyes laid him up for three weeks in hospital. on going back to the trenches the second time he performed his heroic deed on december , . young's home was at preston, where he had a wife and nine children, the youngest of whom was born while the father was at the war. in the following letter to his wife private young told how the news of his distinction was received by him in a military hospital in england, where he underwent an operation for the complete removal of his lower jaw and the fitting of an artificial one in its place. "of course, long enough before you get this letter you will see by the papers that i have received the greatest honour that any britisher can get, namely, the v.c., and, of course, i am naturally very proud of the great honour, both for my sake and the sake of you and the kiddies and the good old regiment i have the honour to belong to, and the old proud town of preston. i was shaving when the news came through, and the matron and sisters, nurses and patients have the hands wrung off me, and i can see i could do with another pair of hands. there are telegrams coming every two or three minutes, so i have a busy time in front of me. i have another soldier from lancashire helping me to answer them." young's indomitable spirit was finely evidenced in a second letter to his wife-- "i feel all right, seeing what i have gone through; in fact it was the grace of god, careful nursing, and a grand constitution that pulled me through.... you know the old saying, 'fools rush in where angels dare not tread,' and if i was in the same place to-morrow i would do exactly the same thing. i knew that if i went over the wife and the kiddies would be well looked after. i am very glad to say that the sergeant i carried out is all right, and i expect in about a fortnight's time he will be at home on sick leave with his young wife, as he only got married just after the war broke out, so you see it's an ill wind that blows nobody good." young was able in april to visit preston, where he was given a public welcome. but he had to return to hospital again, and died in august . a local fund was raised, and so generously responded to that it was possible to invest a sum of over £ for the family. captain henry kelly of the duke of wellington's west riding regiment got the v.c. for deeds which are thus officially described-- "for most conspicuous bravery in attack. he twice rallied his company under the heaviest fire, and finally led the only three available men into the enemy trench, and there remained bombing until two of them had become casualties and enemy reinforcements had arrived. he then carried his company sergeant-major, who had been wounded, back to our trenches, a distance of seventy yards, and subsequently three other soldiers. he set a fine example of gallantry and endurance." captain kelly was born in manchester of irish parentage. his father was from wicklow and his mother from limerick. he is twenty-eight years of age, and joined the manchester "pals" with his younger brother on september , . he was promoted to the rank of sergeant-major two months later, and in the following may was gazetted second lieutenant to the west riding regiment. prior to joining the army he was employed at the general post office in manchester as a sorting clerk and telegraphist. he was a prominent member of the ancient order of hibernians, and also of the city branch of the united irish league. he could speak the irish language before he ever spent a holiday in ireland. a detailed account of the circumstances in which captain kelly won the v.c. is given by a soldier in his company-- "the enemy had pounded us unmercifully with their big guns, and the strain put on our men was so great that they began to waver. captain kelly sprang forward and urged his men to the attack under a blistering hot fire. they responded with cheers, and under his direction they held a very exposed position for hours. later, things looked black once more. so he up again and called on his lads to hold fast for all they were worth. to show his contempt for the danger to which we were exposed he led the way towards another position. he decided to have a cut in at the enemy's trench. he got hold of a non-com, and two privates belonging to the bombing section. with these he entered the enemy trench and started to bomb the boches out. they got a good way along, driving before them an enemy more than big enough to eat up the whole company. then fritz was reinforced, and under the direction of a very brave officer the enemy began to push our party back. the two privates were knocked out, and captain kelly had to make for home. he picked up the sergeant-major and carried him out of the german trench. the enemy had many a pot shot at him, and the shell fire continued as well. it is a miracle how he escaped. the boches were close on his heels. the captain just laid down his burden for a few minutes and threw a bomb or two at them. they skulked back. then he picked up his burden and came marching back to us. all the way he was under heavy fire. after taking a look round to see how things were shaping he found that three of our chaps were out in the open, wounded. immediately he set off to find them. one by one he carried them into safety, in spite of the furious fire kept up by the enemy." australia is proud of private martin o'meara, v.c., of the australian infantry. so also is tipperary. he comes of an old tipperary family, and has well sustained the splendid traditions of the fighting race. the official record of the award of the v.c. is as follows-- "for most conspicuous bravery. during four days of very heavy fighting he repeatedly went out and brought in wounded officers and men from 'no man's land' under intense artillery and machine-gun fire. he also volunteered and carried up ammunition and bombs through a heavy barrage to a portion of the trenches which was being heavily shelled at the time. he showed throughout an utter contempt of danger and undoubtedly saved many lives." private o'meara, v.c., is thirty-two years of age. he is the youngest son of mr. thomas o'meara, rathcabbin, birr, and is one of a family of nine children. before he left ireland, in , private o'meara worked as a tree-feller, and in australia he continued to labour in the woods, being engaged in making railway sleepers at collie in west australia. in the august of he answered the call to arms, and entered the blackboy training camp as a member of the th reinforcements of the australian infantry. before embarking from australia a friend vouches that o'meara said: "as i am going i will do the best i can to bring back the victoria cross." to achieve the highest award in the british army was evidently strongly before his mind. he was two months in france before going up to the trenches, where he remained five days in all, covering himself with glory and winning the v.c. in this short period. private o'meara got a fortnight's leave in october --two months after he had won the v.c.--and availed himself of it to visit his native place. the modesty of the man is to be seen in the mode of his home-coming. his family expected him, but did not know the exact date of his arrival. he got off the train at birr station and walked home--about five miles--in the darkness, along the disused birr and portumna railway line, which passes close to his home. no one recognised him at the station or along the way. he opened the door and walked in, surprising his brother and sister inside. at the end of his leave he returned almost as quietly as he had come. a fund to make him a presentation was raised locally, and a considerable sum was invested in war stock, and a gold watch was bought. advantage was taken of the presence of general hickie, commanding an irish division, on a short visit from france to his home at selvoir, north tipperary, to have him present the gold watch to o'meara. but o'meara, like the genuine fighting man that he is, had immediately volunteered for active service on his return to london from home, after recovering from his wounds, and it was found exceedingly difficult to get into touch with him. in fact, but for the interest taken by general hickie it would have been impossible. ultimately his exact whereabouts were learned through the war office, and arrangements were made for his return. even so, o'meara could not get home in time for the presentation, and it was made to his brothers and sisters. physically, he is a fine type of manhood, and in disposition is most lovable. chapter xvi relations between enemy trenches irish kindliness and german guile in the trenches one evening a battalion of the leinster regiment held a "kailee" (_ceilidh_), or irish sing-song, at which there was a spirited rendering of the humorous old ballad, "bryan o'lynn," sung to an infectiously rollicking tune. the opening verse runs-- "bryan o'lynn had no breeches to wear, so he bought a sheep-skin to make him a pair, with the woolly side out, and the skinny side in, faix, 'tis pleasant and cool, says brian o'lynn." the swing of the tune took the fancy of the germans in their trenches, less than fifty yards away. with a "rumpty-tum-tumty-tum-tumty-tum-tum," they loudly hummed the air of the end of each verse, all unknowing that the leinsters, singing at the top of their voices, gave the words a topical application-- "with the woolly side out and the skinny side in, sure, we'll wallop the gerrys, said brian o'lynn." hearty bursts of laughter and cheers arose from both trenches at the conclusion of the song. it seemed as if the combatants gladly availed themselves of the chance opportunity of becoming united again in the common brotherhood of man, even for but a fleeting moment, by the spirit of good-humour and hilarity. lieutenant denis oliver barnett, a young english officer of a different battalion of the same leinster regiment (whose letters from the front have been published as a memorial by his parents), tells of a more curious incident still, which likewise led to a brief cessation of hostilities. two privates in his company had a quarrel in the trenches, and nothing would do them but to fight it out on no man's land. the germans were most appreciative and accommodating. not only did they not molest the pugilists, but they cheered them, and actually fired the contents of their rifles in the air by way of a salute. the european war was, in fact, suspended in this particular section of the lines while two irishmen settled their own little differences by a contest of fists. "who will now say that the germans are not sportsmen?" was the comment of the young english officer. there is, however, another and perhaps a shrewder view of the episode. it was taken, i have been told, by a sergeant of the company. "yerra, come down out of that, ye pair of born fools," he called out to the fighters. "if ye had only a glimmer of sense ye'd see, so ye would, that 'tis playing the gerrys' game ye are. sure, there's nothing they'd like better than to see us all knocking blazes out of each other." but as regards the moral pointed by the officer, there must be, of course, many "sportsmen" among the millions of german soldiers; though the opinion widely prevailing in the british army is that they are more often treacherous fighters. indeed, to their dirty practices is mainly to be ascribed the bitter personal animosity that occasionally mark the relations between the combatants, when the fighting becomes most bloody and desperate, and--as happens at times in all wars--no quarter is given to those who allow none. in the wars of old between england and france, both sides were animated by a very fine sense of chivalry. barère, one of the chief popular orators during the worst excesses of the french revolution, induced the convention to declare that no quarter was to be given to the english. "soldiers of liberty," he cried, "when victory places englishmen at your mercy, strike!" but the french troops absolutely refused to act upon the savage decree. the principle upon which both french and english acted during the peninsular war was that of doing as little harm to one another as possible consistently with the winning of victory. between the rank and file friendly feelings may be said, without any incongruity, to have existed. they were able, of their own accord, to come to certain understandings that tended to mitigate, to some extent, the hardships and even the dangers to which they were both alike exposed. one was that sentries at the outposts must not be fired on or surprised. often no more than a space of twenty yards separated them, and when the order to advance was given to either army the sentries of the other were warned to retire. once a french sentry helped a british sentry to replace his knapsack so that he might more quickly fall back before the firing began. a remarkable instance of signalling between the opposing forces is mentioned by general sir charles napier in his _history of the peninsular war_. wellington sent a detachment of riflemen to drive away some french troops occupying the top of a hill near bayonne, and as they approached the enemy he ordered them to fire. "but," says napier, "with a loud voice one of those soldiers replied, 'no firing,' and holding up the butt of his rifle tapped it in a peculiar way." this was a signal to the french and was understood by them--probably as a result of a mutual arrangement--to mean, "we must have the hill for a short time." "the french, who, though they could not maintain, would not relinquish the post without a fight if they had been fired upon, quietly retired," napier writes; "and this signal would never have been made if the post had been one capable of a permanent defence, so well do veterans understand war and its proprieties." throughout that long campaign the british and french recognised each other as worthy foemen, and they were both solicitous to maintain unstained the honour and dignity of arms. as the opposing forces lay resting before lisbon for months, the advanced posts got so closely into touch that much friendly intercourse took place between them. french officers frequently asked for such little luxuries as cigars, coffee and stationery to be brought to them from lisbon, which was held by the british, and their requests were always readily complied with. at the battle of talavera, on july , , the possession of a hill was fiercely contested all day. the weather was so intensely hot that the combatants were parched with thirst. at noon there was an almost entire cessation of artillery and rifle fire, as if an informal truce had been suddenly come to, by a flash of intuition, and with one accord french and british rushed down to the rivulet at the foot of the hill to moisten their burning throats. "the men crowded on each side of the water's edge," says napier. "they threw aside their caps and muskets, and chatted to each other in broken french and still more fragmentary english across the stream. flasks were exchanged; hands shaken. then the bugle and the rolling drum called the men back to their colours, and the fight awoke once more." such amenities between combatants are very ancient--the greeks and trojans used to exchange presents and courtesies, in the intervals of fighting--and the early stages of this war seemed to afford a promise that they would be revived. the fraternising of the british and germans at their first christmas under arms, in , will, perhaps, always be accounted as the most curious episode of the war. it was quite unauthorised by the higher command. the men themselves, under the influence of the great christian festival, brought about a suspension of hostilities at several points of the lines, and they availed themselves of the opportunity to satisfy their natural curiosity to see something more of each other than they could see through the smoke of battle with deadly weapons in their hands and hatred in their eyes. each side had taken prisoners; but prisoners are "out of it," and therefore reduced to the level of non-combatants. the foeman in being appears in a very different light. he has the power to strike. you may have to kill him or you may be killed by him. so the british and the germans, impelled in the main by a common feeling of inquisitiveness, met together, unarmed, in no man's land. there was some amicable conversation where they could make themselves understood to each other, which happened when a german was found who could speak a little english. cigarettes and tunic-buttons were freely exchanged. but, for the most part, british and germans stood, with arms folded across their breasts, and stared at each other with a kind of dread fascination. it never happened again. how could it possibly be repeated? the introduction of the barbaric elements of "frightfulness," hitherto confined to savage tribes at war, the use of such devilish inventions as poison gas and liquid fire, are due to the malignant minds of the german high command, and for them the german soldiers cannot be held accountable. but the native lowness of morality shown by so many of the german rank and file, their apparent insensitiveness to ordinary humane instincts, the well-authenticated stories of their filthy and cruel conduct in the occupied districts, inevitably tended to harden and embitter their adversaries against them too. of the instances of their treachery to irish soldiers which have been brought to my notice, i will mention only two. one arose out of the "truce" of christmas day, , despite the goodwill of the occasion. the victim, sergeant timothy o'toole, leinster regiment, first mentions that he took part in a game of football with the germans, and then proceeds-- "i was returning to my own trench unaccompanied about . p.m. when i reached within fifteen paces i was sniped by a hunnish swine, the bullet entering my back, penetrating my intestines. following the example of our lord, i instantly forgave him, concluding he was only a black sheep, characteristic of any army or community, but i was labouring under a delusion. within five minutes of being hit, i had quite a number around me, including officers and clergymen. i was so mortally wounded that the 'padre' administered the last rite of the church on the spot. four stretcher bearers came out for me. i noticed the white band and red cross on their arms. immediately i was lifted up on the stretcher. though i was semi-unconscious i remember the bullets beating the ground like hailstone on a march day. i was wounded again, this time the bullet going through the lower part of my back. here two of my bearers got hit, privates melia and peters. the former died in hospital immediately after. naturally the two bearers instantly dropped the stretcher. i fell violently to the ground--nice medicine for a man wounded in the abdomen." "thank providence, i am still living," sergeant o'toole adds, "but a living victim of german atrocity and barbarism." in the other case a very gallant young officer of the dublin fusiliers, lieutenant louis g. doran, lost his life on the somme, october , , through the guile and falsehood of german soldiers. the circumstances are told in a letter written by captain louis c. byrne to the father of lieutenant doran, mr. charles j. doran of blackrock, co. dublin-- "believe me, mr. doran, i sympathise fully with you in your loss because i was your son's company commander and by his death i have lost one of the best officers in my company. we attacked a certain position and we had just got to it when some germans put up their hands to surrender. your son went out to take their surrender and they shot him through the heart and he died at once. my other three officers were also knocked out, and only myself and thirty-six men returned to headquarters after the battle. still, we took the position owing to gallantry of men like your son. he died a noble and heroic death--no man could possibly wish for a better one. he told me he had just had a brother wounded, so your loss is double and words cannot express my sympathy with you. your son was buried with the men in the position we took. it was impossible to bring his body down owing to heavy fire. i think it is what he would have liked best." the lady to whom lieutenant doran was engaged to be married kindly sent me a few extracts from his letters which convey something of his care and thought for his men. "those i have seen from the men," she says, "amplify this from their own experience in ways which he would never dream of mentioning, he was always so modest about all he did." "i'm going to tell you what i would really love to get now and again," lieutenant doran wrote in one letter. "you see, we officers are never very hard up for grub, and i would much prefer to receive something for my men, who get very little in the way of luxuries or dainties. as you know, a platoon is split into four sections, and anything that i could divide into four parts amongst them would be most acceptable. for instance, four small tins of butter would be a great luxury, or a big cake--anything that gives them a change." in another he said: "as you say, there are always hungry soldiers to be found, and i often wish some of the presents i receive would only come together, as one cake is a useless thing among forty hungry men. the poor fellows have fairly rough fare as a rule, and sometimes not even much of that. one wonders how it is they keep so cheerful." the men, in turn, were most devoted to lieutenant doran. they would do anything to prevent a hair of his head being hurt. generally speaking, feeling in the british army is, however, extraordinarily devoid of that vindictiveness which springs from a deep sense of personal injury, and evokes, in turn, a desire for revenge which, were it shown, would, however lamentable, be not unnatural in many circumstances of this war. the germans, in the mass, are regarded as having been dehumanised and transformed into a process of ruthless destruction. in any case, they are the enemy. as such, there is a satisfaction--nay, a positive delight--in sweeping them out of existence. that is war. but the rage for killing them is impersonal. against the german soldier individually it may be said that, on the whole, there is no rancour. in fact, the british soldiers have a curiously detached and generous way of regarding their country's enemies. when the german soldier is taken prisoner, or picked up wounded, the british soldier is disposed, as a hundred thousand instances show, to treat him as a "pal"--to divide his food and share his cigarettes with him as he passes to the base. it is very noticeable how all the war correspondents, in their accounts of the taking of the village of guinchy on the somme by the irish division, dwelt on the chivalrous way in which the irish treated their vanquished foes. once the spirit of combativeness is aroused in the irish soldiers they hate the enemy like the black death to which they strive to consign them. but when the fury of battle has died down in victory there are none so soft and kindly to the beaten enemy. surrender should always, of course, disarm hostility. no true soldier would decline to lower his bayonet when a foeman acknowledges defeat and places his life in his keeping. that is, after a fair and gallant fight on the part of the foeman. it was because the germans at guinchy were vindictive in combat, and despicable when overthrown, that the irish acted with rare magnanimity in accepting their submission and sparing their lives. in that engagement the irish made a characteristically headlong dash for the enemy positions. rifle and machine-gun fire was poured into them by the germans up to the very last moment--until, in fact, they had reached the trenches; and then, as they were about to jump in and bayonet and club their bloodthirsty foemen, they found them on their knees, with hands uplifted. the irish were enraged at the sight. to think that men who had been so merciless should beg for mercy when their opponents were on top of them! were their comrades slain only a moment since to go unavenged? these thoughts passed rapidly through the minds of the irish. as swiftly came the decision, worthy of high-souled men. an enemy on his knees is to them inviolable, not to be hurt or injured, however mean and low he may have proved himself to be. so the irish bayonet, at the very breasts of the germans, was turned aside; that was the right and proper thing to do, and it would not call for notice but that it shines with the light of chivalry in comparison with the black meanness and treachery of the germans. in the gladiatorial fights for the entertainment of the people in ancient rome the defeated combatant was expected to expose his throat to the sword of the victor, and any shrinking on his part caused the arena to ring with the angry shouts of the thousands of spectators: "receive the steel." the way of the irish at guinchy was different, and perhaps the renunciation of their revenge was not the least magnificent act of a glorious day. "if we brained them on the spot, who could blame us? 'tis ourselves that would think it no sin if it was done by any one else," said a private of the dublin fusiliers. "let me tell you," he went on, "what happened to myself. as i raced across the open with my comrades, jumping in and out of shell holes, and the bullets flying thick around us, laying many the fine boy low, i said to myself, this is going to be a fight to the last gasp for those of us that get to the germans. as i came near to the trenches i picked a man out for myself. straight in front of me he was, leaning out of the trench, and he with a rifle firing away at us as if we were rabbits. i made for him with my bayonet ready, determined to give him what he deserved, when--what do you think?--didn't he notice me and what i was up to. dropping his rifle, he raised himself up in the trench and stretched out his hands towards me. what could you do in that case, but what i did? sure you wouldn't have the heart to strike him down, even if he were to kill you. i caught sight of his eyes, and there was such a frightened and pleading look in them that i at once lowered my rifle. i could no more prod him with my bayonet than i could a toddling child. i declare to the lord the state of the poor devil almost made me cry. i took him by the hand, saying, 'you're my prisoner.' i don't suppose he understood a word of what i said, but he clung to me, crying, 'kamerad! kamerad!' i was more glad than ever then that i hadn't the blood of him on my soul. 'tis a queer thing to say, maybe, of a man who acted like that; but, all the same, he looked a decent boy every bit of him. i suppose the truth of it is this: we soldiers, on both sides, have to go through such terrible experiences that there is no accounting for how we may behave. we might be devils, all out, in the morning, and saints, no less, in the evening." the relations between the trenches include even attempts at an exchange of repartee. the wit, as may be supposed, in such circumstances, is invariably ironic and sarcastic. my examples are irish, for the reason that i have had most to do with irish soldiers, but they may be taken as fairly representative of the taunts and pleasantries which are often bandied across no man's land. the germans holding part of their line in belgium got to know that the british trenches opposite them were being held by an irish battalion. "hello, irish," they cried; "how is king carson getting on? and have you got home rule yet?" the company sergeant-major, a big tipperary man, was selected to make the proper reply, and in order that it might be fully effective he sent it through a megaphone which the colonel was accustomed to use in addressing the battalion on parade. "hello, gerrys," he called out. "i'm thinking it isn't information ye want, but divarshion; but 'tis information i'll be after giving ye, all the same. later on we'll be sending ye some fun that'll make ye laugh at the other side of ye'r mouths. the last we heard of carson he was prodding the government like the very devil to put venim into their blows at ye, and more power to his elbow while he's at that work, say we. as for home rule, we mean to have it, and we'll get it, please god, when ye're licked. put that in ye're pipes and smoke it." of all the horrible features of the war, surely the most heartrending is the fate of the wounded lying without succour in the open between the opposing lines, owing to the inability of the higher command on both sides to agree to an arrangement for a short suspension of hostilities after an engagement so that the stricken might be brought in. prone in the mud and slush they lie, during the cruel winter weather, with the rain pouring down upon them, their moans of agony in the darkness of the night mingling with the cold blasts that howl around them. but, thanks to the loving kindness of man for his fellow, even in war, these unfortunate creatures are not deserted. british soldiers without number have voluntarily crept out into no man's land to rescue them, often under murderous fire from the enemy. many of the victoria crosses won in this war have been awarded for conspicuous gallantry displayed in these most humane and chivalrous enterprises. one of the most uplifting stories i have heard was told me by a captain of the royal irish fusiliers. out there in front of the trench held by his company lay a figure in khaki writhing in pain and wailing for help. "will no one come to me?" he cried in a voice broken with anguish. he had been disabled in the course of a raid on the german trenches the night before by a battalion which was relieved in the morning. these appeals of his were like stabs to the compassionate hearts of the irish fusiliers. several of them told the captain they could stand it no longer, and must go out to the wounded man. if they were shot in the attempt, what matter? it happened that a little dog was then making himself quite at home in both the british and german trenches at this part of the lines. he was a neutral; he took no sides; he regularly crossed from one to the other, and found in both friends to give him food and a kind word, with a pat on the head. the happy thought came to the captain to make a messenger of the dog. so he wrote, "may we take our wounded man in?", tied the note to the dog's tail, and sent him to the german trenches. the message was in english, for the captain did not know german, and had to trust to the chance of the enemy being able to read it. in a short time the dog returned with the answer. it was in english, and it ran: "yes; you can have five minutes." so the captain and a man went out with a stretcher and brought the poor fellow back to our lines. some of these understandings are come to by a sort of telepathic suggestion inspired by the principle of "live and let live," however incongruous that may seem in warfare. as an instance, recuperative work, such as the bringing up of food to the firing lines is often allowed to go on in comparative quietude. neither side cares to stand on guard in the trenches with an empty stomach. often, therefore, firing is almost entirely suspended in the early hours of the night, when it is known that rations are being distributed. that is not the way everywhere and always. a private of the royal irish regiment told me that what he found most aggravating in the trenches was the fusillading by the germans when the men were getting ready a bit to eat. "i suppose," he remarked, "'twas the smell of the frying bacon that put their dandher up." but even defensive work has been allowed to proceed without interference, when carried on simultaneously by both sides. heavy rain, following a hard frost, turned the trenches in the ypres district into a chaos of ooze and slime. "how deep is it with you?" a german soldier shouted across to the british. "up to our knees, bedad," was the reply. "you are lucky fellows. we're up to our belts in it," said the german. driven to desperation by their hideous discomfort, the germans soon after crawled up on to their parapets and sat there to dry and stretch their legs, calling out, "kamerads, don't shoot; don't shoot, kamerads!" the reply of the irish was to get out of their trenches and do likewise. on another occasion, in the broad daylight, unarmed parties of men on both sides, by a tacit agreement, set about repairing their respective barbed-wire entanglements. they were no more than fifteen or twenty yards apart. the wiring-party on the british side belonged to the munster fusiliers. being short of mallets, one of the munsters coolly walked across to the enemy and said, "good-morrow, gerrys. would any of ye be so kind as to lend me the loan of a hammer?" the germans received him with smiles, but as they did not know english they were unable to understand what he wanted until he made it clear by pantomimic action, when he was given the hammer "with a heart and a half," as he put it himself. having repaired the defences of his own trench, he brought back the hammer to the germans, and thought he might give them "a bit of his mind," without offence, as they did not know what he was saying. "here's your hammer, and thanks," said he. "high hanging to the man that caused this war--ye know who i mean--and may we be all soon busily at work hammering nails into his coffin." many touching stories might be told of the sympathy which unites the combatants when they find themselves lying side by side, wounded and helpless, in shell holes and copses, or on the open plain after an engagement. the ruling spirit which animates the soldier in the fury of the fight is, as it seems to me, that of self-preservation. he kills or disables so that he may not be killed or disabled himself. besides that, each side are convinced they are waging a purely defensive war. so it is that hostility subsides, once the sense of danger is removed, and each side sees in its captives not devils or barbarians, but fellow-men. especially among the wounded, british and german, do these sentiments prevail, as they lie together on the field of battle. in a dim way they pitifully regard each other as hapless victims caught in the vortex of the greatest of human tragedies, or set against each other by the ambitions of rulers and statesmen in which they have no part. they try to help each other, to ease each other's sufferings, to stanch each other's wounds, to give each other comfort in their sore distress. "poor devil, unnerved by shell shock," was the comment passed as a wounded german was being carried by on a stretcher sobbing as if his heart would break. it was not the roar of the artillery and the bursting of high explosives that had unnerved him, but the self-sacrifice of a dublin fusilier, who, in succouring him, lost his own life. at the hospital the german related that, on recovering his senses after being shot, he found the dublin fusilier trying to stanch the wound in his shattered leg, from which blood was flowing profusely. the irishman undid the field-dressing, consisting of bandage and antiseptic preparation, which he had wrapped round his own wound, and applied it to the german, as he appeared to be in danger of bleeding to death. before the two men were discovered by a british stretcher party, the dublin fusilier had passed away. he developed blood-poisoning through his exposed wound. the german, on hearing the news, broke down and wept bitterly. reconciliation between wounded foemen is happily a common occurrence on the stricken plain. the malignant roar of the guns may still be in their ears, and they may see around them bodies battered and twisted out of all human shape. all the more are they anxious to testify that there is no fury in their hearts with each other, and that their one wish is to make the supreme parting with words of reconciliation and prayers on their lips. i have had from a french officer, who was wounded in a cavalry charge early in the war, an account of a pathetic incident which took place close to where he lay. among his companions in affliction were two who were far gone on the way to death. one was a private in the uhlans, and the other a private in the royal irish dragoons. the irishman got, with a painful effort, from an inside pocket of his tunic a rosary beads which had a crucifix attached to it. then he commenced to mutter to himself the invocations to the blessed virgin of which the rosary is composed. "hail, mary! full of grace, the lord is with thee; blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, jesus." the german, lying huddled close by, stirred with the uneasy movements of a man weak from pain and loss of blood on hearing the murmur of prayer, and, looking round in a dazed condition, the sight of the beads in the hands of his fellow in distress seemed to recall to his mind other times and different circumstances--family prayers at home somewhere in bavaria, and sunday evening devotions in church, for he made, in his own tongue, the response to the invocation: "holy mary, mother of god, pray for us sinners now at the hour of our death. amen." so the voices intermingled in address and prayer--the rapt ejaculations of the irishman, the deep guttural of the german--getting weaker and weaker, in the process of dissolution, until they were hushed on earth for evermore. war has outwardly lost its romance, with its colour and pageantry. it is bloody, ugly and horrible. yet romance is not dead. it still survives, radiant and glowing, in the heroic achievements of our soldiers, and in the tender impulses of their hearts. the end printed in great britain by richard clay & sons, limited, brunswick st., stamford st., s.e., and bungay, suffolk. the irish at the front by michael macdonagh from the reviews of the first series _westminster gazette._--"mr. macdonagh has crammed into a small volume an almost incredible number of thrilling stories of great deeds, whether of collective dash and daring and endurance or of individual heroism. he has found his material in the letters of officers and men and the conversation of those who have come home, as well as from the records compiled at regimental depots; and he has utilised it skilfully, avoiding too frequent quotation and giving his reader a connected and fluent narrative that is of absorbing interest. he gives us vivid pictures of the retreat from mons--of the irish guards receiving their baptism of fire; of the connaught rangers' part in the first stand that was made ('it was a grand time we had,' one of them said, 'and i wouldn't have missed it for lashin's of money!'); of the dublins at cambrai, where they went into the fray in a way that is well described as 'uproariously and outrageously irish,' after singing all the fenian songs for which they had time; and of the munsters who harnessed themselves cheerfully, for lack of horses, to the guns they had captured from the germans. he tells us of the green flag that corporal cunningham bought from a pedlar in london, and that the irish guards have since followed to the gates of death on a score of fields; of the irish rifles rallying to the 'view-hallo' that lieutenant graham gave them on a french newsboy's horn; of the glorious sacrifices of the dublins and the munsters at the gallipoli landings; and of the desperate resistance at loos, where, as the brigadier said to his men when it was over, 'it was the london irish who helped to save a whole british army corps.' from first to last it is a glorious story of almost incredible deeds." _star._--"it is an amazing story of incredible gallantry and fantastic daring, gay with humour and poignant with pathos. i defy anybody except a tapeworm to read it without a lump in the throat and tears in the eyes."--james douglas. bound in cloth, s. d. net. postage d. extra. the irish at the front some further reviews _the times._--"'it is heroic deeds entering into their traditions that give life to nations,' writes mr. john redmond in his preface to mr. michael macdonagh's _the irish at the front_. the phrase sums up the aim and temper of the book, which is designed to bring home to english, and especially to irish, readers the magnificent service of irish soldiers in the war and the sanctity of the cause for which they fight. it is an appeal to irishmen not to let the national effort flag, for the sake of the highest interests both of humanity and of ireland. in a vivid and earnest popular style mr. macdonagh puts flesh and blood on the dry bones of the official dispatches by drawing on regimental records and the narratives of officers and men. the letters of irish soldiers give a lively impression of battle scenes, and add greatly to the spirit of the volume; but many of the most striking testimonies to the achievements of the irish regiments come from comrades who are not irish. it is indisputable that the traditional military valour of the irish race has been brilliantly sustained in this war, not only by the old regular battalions, but by the irishmen of the new army." _irish times._--"page after page uncovers the story of a heroism such as few of us had dreamt of--a story told with the understanding of one who is an irishman of nationalist sympathies, intensely proud of his country, and of the form of faith which is predominant in ireland. we do not regard ourselves as easily giving visible expression to our feelings, but we must confess that we found the tears coming to our eyes again and again as we read the magnificent, yet sad, story. whether it was the valour of the munsters in their retreat from mons, or the headlong impetuosity of the irish guards at the battle of the rivers, or the football charge of the london irish at loos, or the glorious but ghastly tale of the th division at beach v, or the hardly less awful landing of the th division at suvla bay, it was the same. we were overcome, yet filled with pride, at the glory and the sorrow of it all. the old spirit is still in the soldiers of ireland. the shifting scenes of the narrative tell us that the imperturbability and daring which belonged to the irish of past battles are seen as strongly marked as ever in the hurriedly trained units of the new armies." _freeman's journal._--"a vivid human narrative of the war, at once a fine contribution to the history of the great deeds of our day and a tribute to the heroism and sacrifices of the irish." hodder & stoughton: london, new york and toronto. some recent war books with a preface by rudyard kipling britain and the war. by andrÃ� chevrillon. with a preface by rudyard kipling. cloth, /-net. j.p. bang hurrah and hallelujah: the spirit of new germanism. a documentation. by j.p. bang, professor of theology in the university of copenhagen. second edition. cloth, /-net. captain philippe millet comrades in arms: vignettes from the trenches, the artillery zone, or behind the lines. by captain philippe millet. translated by lady frazer. cloth, / net. johannes jorgensen false witness: the authorised translation of "klokke roland." by johannes jorgensen. with illustrations. cloth, / net. l. mokveld the german fury in belgium: the personal experiences of a netherlands journalist during four months with the german armies. by l. mokveld, war correspondent of _de tyd_. cloth, / net. jacques bainville italy and the war. by jacques bainville. cloth, / net. ch. de visscher belgium's case: a juridical enquiry. by ch. de visscher, professor of law at the university of ghent. cloth, / net. hodder & stoughton, publishers, warwick sq., london, e.c. * * * * * +-----------------------------------------------------------+ | typographical errors corrected in text: | | | | page : ojects replaced with objects | | page : chose replaced with choose | | page : leiutenant replaced with lieutenant | | | +-----------------------------------------------------------+ * * * * * [transcriber's note: at the conclusion of this diary, the author writes: "if these notes should ever be written out by my relations after my death--for i am now like to die, let me beg that the many mistakes in spelling, consequent upon the hurry and roughness of the writing, may by corrected and not set down to ignorance." the relations may indeed have corrected many errors, but many remain, and they have been left as in the original.] three months of my life. a diary of the late j.f. foster, assistant-surgeon, her majesty's th foot. _edited by lizzie a. freeth._ guernsey: le lievre, printer, star-office, , bordage street. london: simpkin & marshall . i dedicate, _firstly,_ my gratitude to god-- for his mercy in preserving me thus far, and bringing me safely home after several years service in india, to meet again all (save one) those most dear to me. _and secondly,_ my book to my parents, with the certain and happy knowledge that they will read without criticism and only with affectionate interest, the account of my thoughts and experiences while wandering in a remote and lovely corner of the earth. editor's preface. in laying the following pages before the public, i do so with a feeling that they will be read with interest, not only by those who knew the writer, but those to whom the scenes described therein are known, and also those who appreciate a true description of a country which they may never have the good fortune to see. we are all familiar with kashmir in the "fanciful imagery of lalla rookh," at the same time may not object to reading an account--with a ring of truth in it--of that lovely land, lovely and grand, beyond the power of poets to describe as it really is, so travellers say. readers will see that mr. foster intended to have published this diary himself had he been spared to reach england, he has offered any apology that is necessary, so i will say nothing further than to state, the daily entries were kept in a pocket-book written in pencil, occasionally a word is not quite legible, that will account for any little inaccuracy. after being two years at elizabeth college, guernsey, under the rev. a. corfe, mr. foster entered st. george's hospital, as student of medicine, he received there in his last year the "ten guinea prize" for general proficiency. from st. george's he went to netley, and on leaving that he served for a short time in jersey, with the nd battallion st royals, and st battallion th royals, after which he embarked for india, where from february, , to the beginning of , he served with the following regiments, &c., st highlanders, at dum dum; f battery c. brigade royal horse artillery, at benares; th inniskillings, at hazareebagh, bengal depôt, chinsurah; detachment th regiment, at sahibgunge; head-quarters th regiment, at sinchal, again at the bengal depôt chinsurah; head-quarters th regiment, at allahabad; detachment th regiment, at fort allahabad; g battery th brigade royal artillery, at cawnpore; left wing th regiment, moradabad; head-quarters th regiment, peshawur, from whence ultimately we find he started for kashmir in the hope of regaining his health, a vain hope as events proved, as he died on the passage home at malta. during the course of publication i have received many letters from people who were personally acquainted with mr. foster who had met him at home and abroad, from the tone of which letters i gather he was held in the highest possible estimation as a friend, a medical man, and an officer. i am indebted to the kindness of his father, dr. john l. foster, of this island, for being allowed to publish these interesting memorials of one who had now passed "to where beyond these voices there is peace." lizzie a. freeth. montpellier, guernsey, nov. . author's preface. this work requires few prefatory remarks. i have transcribed without alteration, the diary that i kept during my visit to kashmir. it may seem a strange jumble of description and sentiment, jocularity and seriousness. during the greater part of each day i enjoyed perfect rest, smoking and thinking--sometimes soberly, often i fear idly--and for mere occupation sake, my thoughts were written as they arose. my mind as influenced by scene or incident, is fully exposed in these pages, and while i have concealed nothing, neither have i added to that which i originally indited. i am necessarily, and indeed intentionally egotistical, because i write for those who will chiefly value a personal narrative. still, i am not ashamed if others see my book, although i would deprecate their criticism by begging them to remember that i only offer it for the perusal of those near and dear to me. introduction. in the early morning of midsummer's-day, , i might have been seen slowly wending my way towards the office of the deputy inspector general of hospitals, at peshawur--for the purpose of appearing before the standing medical committee of the station, and having an enquiry made concerning the state of my health. a dooley followed me lest my strength should prove inadequate to the task of walking a quarter of a mile. but let me make my description as short as the committee did their enquiry. my face, as white as the clothes i wore, told more than my words could, and i was hardly required to recount how that one burning may-day i was called at noon to visit a sick woman, and that while all other europeans were in their closed and darkened bungalows with punkahs swinging, and thermautidotes blowing cool breezes, i went forth alone on my medical mission to encounter the fierce gaze of the baneful sun, and was overpowered by its fiery influence, or how that i laid a weary month on the sick bed, tormented by day with a never ceasing headache, and by night with a terrible dread, worse than any pain, or to conclude, how the deadly climate of that notoriously evil station afforded me no prospect of improvement. this relation was scarcely needed to procure me a certificate, stating that three months leave of absence to murree was absolutely essential for my recovery, and a recommendation that i might be allowed to proceed immediately in anticipation of the leave being granted. so the next evening saw me start from peshawur for rawul pindee, in a dâk gharie, accompanied by my dog "silly" and my madrapee servant or "boy." onwards we sped at a gallop, the horses being changed every six miles, through nowshera, the furnace; over the rapid and icy cold indus by boat; past fort attock, the oven in which our soldiers are done to death; and hussan aboul of lallah rooke celebrity; arriving at the french hotel at pinder, ten miles from peshawur the following morning. that day i called upon the officers of the th foot, with whom i had served in jersey, and was persuaded to dine at mess. a melancholy dinner it was for me, meeting old friends whom i had not seen for so long. yet not possessing energy enough for conversation or feeling the spirit of "hail fellows, well met." i felt that my moody silence and ghostlike appearance (for i was dressed in black) threw a gloom over them. this was no doubt a morbid fancy as also was perhaps the idea that they looked at me with pitying eyes. but these feelings seized me, and increased till they became unbearable, and i was glad to escape to my hotel. "three months of my life." a diary. july th, .--started from murree for kashmir at . a.m. bell, surgeon th regt. [since deceased] came with me four miles. walked on expecting the dandy to overtake me, but it did not, and i marched all the way, nine miles up a steep hill to khaira gullee, where i halted and put up in one of the old sheds formerly used by the working party when the road was being made. i am not tired, though my left heel is blistered, which is fair considering i have not walked half a mile for more than a month. the road is excellent and the scenery fine, the khuds being sometimes deep, but nothing like the eastern himalayas. the forest too is quite different, fir trees predominating here. saw many beautiful birds, and regretted i had not brought my gun. in the evening a thunderstorm came on with a cold wind from the north, so i made a good fire with a few fir logs. in the middle of the night the storm became very violent, and large hailstones fell. july th.--got away at sunrise, the rain having quite cleared off, and marched on to doonga gullee, up a hill to an elevation of , feet, and then down again to about , ; then up a final steep to doonga gullee, , feet above the sea. the khuds much grander very deep and precipitous, sometimes falling one or two thousand feet from the edge of the road almost perpendicularly. but the hills are too close together to allow the valleys to be termed magnificent. reached doonga gullee at a.m. the length of last march, eleven miles--the road, a good military one, has been cut in the face of the mountain. put up at the dâk bungalow, and dined with the officers of the working party; among them heath, of the th, and leggatt and lyons, of the th, whom i knew. a number of tents are pitched here for the working parties from the th and th regiments (road making). i was carried part of the march in my dandy--a piece of carpet gathered at each end and hooked to a pole,--the pole being carried on the shoulders of two men. i swung below it just off the ground, and could often look down a vast depth between my knees. my first pickled tongue, cooked the day before yesterday was fly-blown at breakfast this morning. this may seem a trifling note, but it is ominous i fear for the whole of my salted stores. july th.--got up at o'clock and marched on to bugnoota, a distance of thirteen miles. the first four miles a slight rise, and then a rapid descent all the rest of the way. the road is much narrower, only a mule track in fact, i walked twelve miles, and then felt tired, and had a headache afterwards. pitched my tent in a tope, (a grove of trees) in company with dr. and mrs. holmes, of rohat, whom i did not know. slight rain in the middle of the day, but it cleared off towards evening. felt all right after an hour's sleep and took a stroll before dinner. scenery grand, tent pitched on the edge of a deep gorge at the bottom of which is a mountain stream, the hills rising abruptly on the opposite side. july th.--marched on to abbottabad at sunrise, down hill to the river, and then along its course for two miles over very rough and fatiguing ground, the river having to be forded twice. in rainy weather this is very dangerous as its rush is so impetuous. up hill again then down into the plain of abbottabad, , feet above the sea. distance twelve miles though only put down eight in the route. met the general at the bottom of the hill. put up at the dâk bungalow, and met ford, th, and de marylski, r.a., returning from kashmir, got some hints from them. abbottabad is a small cantonment on a large plain surrounded by bare mountains, a notice is posted in my room warning travellers not to go unarmed; so i'll gird on my kookery to-morrow. a kookery is a formidable native knife, about eighteen inches long and over two inches wide, carried in a peculiar way, sheep and goats heads come off very easily at a single blow from it. much hotter down here, the sun powerful after o'clock, but punkahs not necessary. this is the head-quarters of the punjab frontier force. a pity they do not have an english regiment stationed here as it is a very pleasant place as regards climate. snow in winter, and this the warmest time of the year quite bearable. brigadier gone to the _hills_ for the _hot weather._ took in supplies of bread and butter and purchased a pair of chuplus or sandals for marching in, as boots hurt my feet. july th.--a long tedious march of nearly fifteen miles to mansera, put down in the guide as a level plain road, but having a good many ups and downs. one of my sandals broke, and i was obliged to ride in the dandy about half way. some difficulty occurred in getting my baggage off as the coolies did not come. left my boy to manage it, he came in about noon with two ponies, i shall not pay for them yet, and then they will come on with me. a warmer day than yesterday. mountains rising up in front, which i shall begin to ascend to-morrow if i make the whole march of twenty miles. snow visible above all. the real work of the trip will now soon commence. the marches hitherto have been child's play compared with those to come. mansera is only a native village, but there is a dâk bungalow, in which i am now. met captain ellis, of the th hussars, returning from kashmir, and had a talk with him. there are _two_ routes open to me, he advises the one which yesterday i was warned against by the other fellows. they have been over both roads, yet do not agree as to which is the best. ellis was disappointed with kashmir, but he has only been a few months in india, and has not yet forgotten england, for i expect that kashmir after all, is only so very pleasant, by contrast with the plains of india. july th.--started an hour before sunrise and did the whole march to ghuri, distance nineteen miles. walked the greater part of the way in sandals and socks, which i find the most comfortable way of getting on. first half of the march along the level to the foot of the hill, then an undulating road through a pine forest, the latter half easy walking owing to the ground being covered with fallen fir leaves which made it as soft as a carpet. a fine view from the top of hill, looking down to ghuri. the river ghuri, a mountain torrent seen for a long distance rushing with a great roar over its rocky bed, bounded on each side by high hills, and above by mountains covered with snow, from the melting of which it arises. the water is consequently icy cold, and my tub at the end of the march was highly invigorating. put up at the dâk bungalow, a neat, clean, furnished building, standing on the right bank of the river, which is crossed just in front by a very fair suspension bridge. i can trace my route for to-morrow, for several miles, and i look at it with dismay as it ascends a terribly steep hill. there are two other men in the bungalow, but i do not know who they are. i have not mentioned my equipment. it is so simple that a few lines will tell all. two suits of old clothes, three flannel shirts, two warm under flannels, two pair of boots, "a light pair and a heavy pair of ammunitions," socks, handkerchiefs, &c., mackintosh, warm bedding, a small tent called a "shildaree," a two-rolled ridge tent, about eight feet square, a dressing bag containing toilet requisites, a metal basin, salted tongues and humps, potatoes, tea, sugar, flour, mustard, &c., one bottle of brandy, to be reserved for medicinal use, a portable charpoy or bedstead, cane stool, a little crockery, knives and forks, cooking utensils, brass drinking cup for every purpose, a gingham umbrella with white cover, a dandy (previously described), solar topee, and light cap, tobacco, soap, and candles, a kookery, a stout alpen stock, a pass into kashmir, and bag of money, and "voilà tout." for carrying this baggage, i require two mules, and two coolies, or when mules are not procurable, seven coolies. four other coolies man my dandy, and these men are going all the way with me. each coolie receives four annas, or sixpence a day, and a mule costs eight annas. stopped under a "pepel tree" and sent some coolies up it for the fruit, which was ripe. this tree is the indian fig, and the fruit is very small, not larger than marbles; and without much flavor. the river is running a few yards from me, with a sound as of the surf on a rocky beach. i hope ere long to hear the same pleasant music seated on the cliffs of the south coast of guernsey. now my time in india is drawing to a close, i begin to think that it has not been altogether wasted, though i would not prolong it a day. all i have seen and done within a period of three years (so much falls to the lot of few men to perform) must have had some effect upon my mind; at any rate, when safe at home again, i shall have much to talk of, many experiences to relate. my dog silly who accompanies me, was awfully done up towards the end of the march. at last we came to a running stream in which he laid down and was much refreshed, before that his panting had become gasping though he kept up with us bravely, only lying down for a moment when we came to a little bit of shade--not often met with, the last three or four miles. for the last day or two, i have been almost continually in a cool, gentle perspiration, this is a great contrast to my state when at peshawur, where my skin was always as dry as a bone, and i look upon that as a healthy symptom, i have had no headache since i left bugnostan. july th.--to mozufferabad nine miles, but apparently much more, such a bad fatiguing march. i got away with the first grey of the dawn and after a mile's tramp began the ascent of the doabbuller pass, three and a half miles long and very steep, so steep that i could often touch the ground with my hands without stooping much. this was terribly exhausting and i had to make many halts to recover my breath. then began a rough descent along the side of a mountain torrent and afterwards over its bed, which is a narrow gorge between high hills. this walking was very rough and difficult; the path being covered with great stones and often undistinguishable. indeed it was no path at all, only the ground occasionally a little trodden. through the stream, backwards and forwards _innumerable_ times we went. i found that my feet, though naked except where covered by the straps of the sandals, were able to take care of themselves, and avoid contusion almost without the help of my eyes. then i came to a large and rapid river called the kishun-gunga crossed by a rope bridge. let me describe the bridge. three or four leather ropes about one inch in diameter tied into a bundle to walk upon, three feet above this, a couple of ropes, two feet apart, the upper ropes connected to the lower one at intervals of four or five yards by stakes. this formed a v shape, and you walk on the point of the v and hold on by the two sides. the breadth of the river is sixty yards, and the bridge which is high above the water forms a considerable curve. the description of the bridge is easy enough, but how shall i describe my feelings, when i had gone a few yards and found myself poised in mid-air like a spider on a web, oscillating, swaying backwards and forwards over a foaming and roaring torrent, the rush of the water if i looked at my feet, made me feel as if i was being violently carried in the opposite direction; the bridge swayed and jumped with the weight of half a dozen natives coming from the opposite side whom i had to pass, the whole thing seemed so weak and the danger so terrible that i turned giddy, lost my head, and cried out to be held. a firm hand at once grasped me behind and another in front. i shut my eyes and so proceeded a few yards. then those dreadful men had to be passed. imagine meeting a man on a rope fifty feet above a torrent and requiring him to "give you the wall." however they were passed by a mysterious interlacing of feet; and when half way over i regained confidence, and bid the men "chando" or release me, and so gained the opposite bank, where i sat down and roared with laughter at my "boy" who was then coming over, and who evidently was much more affected than i was. however he arrived safely with his black face _pale_, dripping with perspiration and saying he was sick. what was most amusing was to see him hooking his legs one in front of the other on his way over, but i dare say i was equally laughable to anyone on terra firma. he told me afterwards "water all go down, and i go up and get sick and giddy." another two miles over a low ridge and i got to mozufferabad and put up at the barahduree provided by the maharajah for the convenience of english travellers free of charge, for we are now in kashmerian territory. this is an unfurnished bungalow built of mud and pine logs, and there is one at every stage. this saves the trouble of pitching a tent, and is of course much better in wet weather. i have not had a drop of rain though yet. met watson, of fane's horse, at the bungalow going back to peshawur. got incis's guide from him for the day, and made some notes at the other end of this book. there is a picturesque fort on this bank of the river commanding the bridge, built by the pathans, apparently of bright red stone or brick. it was interesting to see mules and ponies swimming across the stream. holding on by the tail of each was a man supported by two inflated mussaks or goat skins which are ordinarily used by the bheisties for carrying water. though both man and horse struck out vigorously they were carried down many hundred yards before reaching the opposite side. to look at them in the foam and rush of the river, and see their impetuous career down the current, they appeared to be doomed to certain destruction. i saw about twenty cross in this way. i walked the whole of this march, though often tired, as i preferred trusting my own legs to being carried in the dandy over such bad ground. curran, assistant-surgeon, th connaught rangers, is one march in front of me. he has left his pony here till he returns. i suppose the last march was too much for him. i am very glad i did not bring my horse with me; i was strongly advised to do so, but i am afraid advice has not much weight with me; in this instance anyhow, my own opinion has proved the best. all the men i meet coming back have horses with them, but they are nearly all shoeless, lame and sick, and have not been ridden for weeks. july th.--marched on hultian, distant seventeen miles. much better road than yesterday, but many ups and downs and short rough bits. started two hours before sunrise, by the light of the moon. the road soon reached the right bank of the jhelum and continued the whole distance alongside of that river. it is a rapid river apparently not so deep and often not so wide as the kishun-gunga, its bed strewn with huge boulders over which the water breaks in great waves of foam. it runs in a narrow rocky channel the precipitous sides of which are a great height. how many ages must it have taken to cut this channel in the solid rock? the valley is bounded by high hills, very narrow, the road so bare of trees, that the latter half of the march became hot and wearying, so i had recourse to the dandy for four or five miles. but it was rare gymnastic exercise as swinging from my pole i had to dodge the great stones on either side of me and keep a sharp look out to avoid hard bumps. my dog was again very much fatigued. his tail is a good token of his state, for when fresh it is stiff along his back, and gradually drops as he goes along until he is quite exhausted, when it hangs straight down. stopped at a barahduree (not so good a one as the last) a few feet above the jhelum in which i bathed. there is a rope bridge opposite, a much older one than the other i crossed, but not more than half as long, and not high above the water, some of the ropes are broken, and it seems very shaky. however, i must cross it to-morrow and get into the murree road, which runs parallel to this one, on the other bank, and is on the shady side and much cooler. it has been very hot all day. the reason i could not come the direct road from murree is because the ferry over the jhelum lower down, was recently carried away and twenty-six natives drowned. sir g. larpent's (of the th) baggage was in the boat, and he lost it all. he had not crossed and had to go back to murree minus everything including servants. there is excellent mahseer fishing in this river, the fish attain the enormous size of lbs. weight and afford exciting sport; but i have no tackle with me, and did not even bring a gun, as i thought i should be too seedy to do anything but moon about. i did not then know the great exertion necessary to reach kashmir, an exertion which any man with bodily infirmity would hardly venture on without first providing himself with an undertaker. upon making enquiries i find that all the coolies and supplies on the other road, have been sent over to this side, so i must keep to it and not cross as i intended. in the evening a slim young native came to me and offered to swim across the river for bakhshish, "a present." i promised it to him, and he ran a quarter of a mile up, and plunged into the torrent, landing on the opposite side a little below the bungalow. he then went up the river again, and swam down to this side, no mean feat in turbulent water running as it did with tremendous velocity. i gave him eight annas for it. july th, "sunday."--in the middle of last night a storm came on, i was sleeping in the open air, and the lightning awoke me, it was beginning to rain, and i had to move into the house. it was broad daylight when i was called, and i felt disinclined to proceed. i said it would rain, and i would halt. my boy said, "no sir, no rain." i said the sun would come out and it would be burning hot. he said, "no sir, no sun." i felt it was useless continuing the argument, so i got up and marched to kunda, eighteen miles, walking all the way. a hard march, nothing but steep rough ascents, and corresponding descents, still keeping along the river, but two or three hundred feet above it. my coolies pointed out to me a herd of "chiken" on a very high hill, at least four miles away. i saw nothing, for even big trees at that distance were diminished to very small objects, but did not dispute with them. they say uncivilized man has wonderful sight, and if deer were there, he certainly has far higher powers of vision even, than i had been led to expect. met three men leaving kashmir, and exchanged remarks with them. don't know who they were. caught sight of my destination from the top of one hill, and was delighted to see it was quite close to me. but alas! several weary miles of up and down and in and out had to be traversed before it could be reached. this has several times happened to me, and i shall in future put no faith in appearances. the barahduree here is a two storied one, standing i should think five hundred feet above the river, which is here confined in a very narrow channel. i took the upper room which has three sides and a roof, there being no wall facing the river, over which there is a fine and rather extended view, the more distant mountains being crowned with pine forests. had neither sun nor rain while marching, but soon afterwards the sun shone out, though heavy and threatening clouds continued to hang about the horizon. as i write this i hear the first roll of thunder, there will be another storm to-night. the maharajah's officials come to me at every stage to enquire my wants and provide for the same. other natives also come with an insane request,--a medical prescription for a sick bhai (or brother) who always has fever, and is at a great distance. what possible use a prescription could be to them i cannot decide. the storm came up just before dinner, p.m., and was rather sharp but soon over. i came up the valley of the jhelum, and i watched its course for some time before it arrived. it subsequently struck the edge of the house and i was all right; had it come down the valley which runs at right angles to the jhelum just opposite here i should have been blown out. i again noticed that to which my attention has often been directed, viz.: that when in or near the storm clouds, the thunder is of quite a different character to that heard below. it is a continuous low muttering growl without any claps or peals. i have stood in the storm cloud at sinchal, , feet high, with the lightning originating around me and affording the sublimest spectacle of dazzling brilliancy, and varying in colour from the purest white light to delicious rose and blue tints. i have seen it intensified and focussed as it were within a few feet of me, and from this centre angled lines and balls of fire like strings of beads radiated in all directions. yet the thunder which in the plains was heard pealing and roaring its loudest, was up there barely audible. july th.--from kunda to kuthin twelve miles of hard toiling over a similar road to that of the last march, finishing with a long, steep, and very rough ascent to the high plateau on which kuthin stands. on the top of this i took to my dandy and was carried a mile along the level to the barahduree, where i slept upon the charpoy which is provided at every bungalow for the weary travellers to rest upon pending the arrival of his baggage. these plateaus or table lands exist at intervals all the way up the valley, sometimes on one side sometimes on the other and occasionally on both the river in the middle. they are quite flat, very small, and highly productive, and vary from fifty to three or four hundred feet in height, above the river. the valley which widens where they exist, is narrowed again at either extremity. i can only account for their formation by supposing that at a former time, a chain of lakes existed, of which they are the beds, and that the water subsequently burst through and formed the channel of the present jhelum, leaving these beds dry as we now see them. came across a number of large tailed butterflies of a lovely green and blue metallic lustre. secured an un-injured specimen, and for want of a better place stuck it inside my topee, where i expect to carry it safely until my return to peshawur. another storm came on earlier than yesterday. i have been very lucky hitherto, not having had a drop of rain while marching. this morning was cloudy till within a mile or two of kuthin when the sun shone and made the last ascent doubly trying. this is a very small village (at kunda there was only one hut) but there is a mud fort with bastions at each corner but no guns. the walls are loop-holed for musketry, but there does not seem to be any garrison. on making enquiries, i find there is a garrison of seven men. it is getting dusk and mosquitoes are coming out by hundreds, they have not annoyed me before, but i think i must use my net to-night. i lie on my bed after dinner smoking with a lighted candle by my side. a hornet flies in and settles on my hand, then a large beetle comes with a buzz and a thud against me, making me start. sundry moths, small flies, and beetles, are playing innocently round the flame. in half an hour i shall be able to make a fair entomological collection but as i neither (ha! i've killed the hornet) desire them in my hat dead, nor in my bed alive, i must put out the light, give up writing, and smoke in darkness. july th.--to shadera, twelve miles walked all the way. the road worse than ever, and for the last mile actually dangerous, as it passed along the edge of a deep precipice, and was only a foot wide and considerably out of the horizontal, so that a single false step would have been fatal. road continued same character all the way along, though much above the tortuous and noisy jhelum, and its ups and downs were the roughest, longest, and most trying, i have yet experienced. i am pleased to know that the remaining two marches will be, in the words of my coolies over "uch'-cha rasta," a good road. it remained cloudy and threatening the greater part of the way, and a little rain fell, but eventually the sun shone, though great masses of "cumuli" continue to hang about. this is a small village completely shut in by three huge hills standing very close together. between the sides of the two in front, the summit of a fourth is visible, a magnificent towering mountain, covered with a dense pine forest. i have not seen the snows since i crossed the doobbullee pass, as we have been ascending the valley of the jhelum ever since, and the view is confined by its lofty sides. i have eaten my last loaf for breakfast this morning, and now one of the greatest privations of the journey will begin. no bread, nothing but flour and water made into a kind of pancake, which the natives call "chepattie." i have not tasted fresh meat since i left abbottabad, but that one can do very well without. i live upon fowls, eggs, milk, butter and rice, with a tongue or hump, cooked when necessary. two or three miles from kuthai, we passed a very pretty waterfall. the slender stream fell over a smooth perpendicular rock, of a rich brown colour, feet high, like a thread of silver. both sides of the gorge covered with a variety of beautifully green trees, shrubs and ferns, altogether constituting a delightful picture, the tints mingled so harmoniously, yet with strong contrasts. stopped at the barahduree as usual, this one surrounded with wild fig, plum, peach, pomegranate, and mulberry trees. the mulberries only ripe, and like all wild fruit, small and comparatively tasteless. july th.--started as soon as it was light for gingle, fourteen miles distant. road greatly improved, hilly of course, but tolerably smooth so that one could get on without clambering. about half way passed dorie on the left bank of the river, where there is another fort and a strong rope bridge, it is one of the halts on the murree road, farther on came to an old ruin, four thick walls perforated by arches enclosing an open square in the middle of two of the sides, large masses of masonry formed archways or entrances. it is built of the rough stones and boulders with which the surface of the ground is covered, yet the arches are of very good shape. on the opposite bank of the jhelum there are forests of deodar, but though they grow down to the waters edge, there is not one on this side. (larix deodora, called by the hindoos, "the god tree" is a stately pine, growing to a great height, and of a very gradual and elegant taper. its foliage is of the darkest green colour, and it gives the mountains a very sombre appearance.) the hills have become much more rugged and abrupt. i know of no single condition which gives a scene so great an aspect of wildness and desolation, as dead fir trees. there they stand on the most barren and inaccessible places, rearing their gaunt and whitened forms erect as ever, and though lifeless yet not decayed. seared and blasted by a thousand storms, they stand stern and silent, ghostlike and immoveable, scorning the elements. no wind murmurs pleasantly through their dead and shrunken branches, the howling tempest alone can make them speak, and then with wild straining shriek and harsh rattle, they do battle with the whirlwind. it was getting hot and i was thinking of my dandy, when a storm passed over with heavy rain. this was a mitigated evil (if an evil at all for my bed remained dry, and a wet bed is the worst result of a shower) as it rendered walking cool and pleasant. it cleared up again, and i rode the last half mile. the cleanest and best bungalow here i have been in since i left ghuri. the view down the valley is extremely pretty, hills rising one above the other, but shut in on all other sides by high mountains. gingle, which is only one or two huts, stands on a small plateau a quarter of a mile long by one hundred and fifty yards wide, fifty feet above the jhelum. the ground is laid out in paddy fields irrigated by a stream of the coolest and purest water. it is a great satisfaction to be able to drink water freely without fear. in the plains of india the water is so contaminated as to be almost poisonous, and i do not think that previous to this march i had drank a gallon of it since i landed in calcutta. july th.--left gingle with the earliest streak of dawn for baramula, an eighteen mile march. road very much more level, never ascending high above the river whose erratic course we continued to follow. passed through groves of hazel overrun by wild vines, but both grapes and nuts as yet green. the plateaus become gradually larger and almost continuous, and the hills separated and diminished in size, those on the right being covered with the lank deodar, while those on the left possessed only a bright green mantle of grass, far away in front they altogether ended, and the open sky above the valley was alone visible. and now an unusual occurrence presented itself. we were following the stream upwards towards its source, yet at every mile it increased in width and became more placid, till at length its surface was unbroken, and it assumed the form of a magnificent river, wider than the thames at richmond. the hills continued provokingly to overlap one another as though anxious to shut in and hide the happy valley from sight. but at length i discerned a far distant white cloud which i guessed betokened the summit of a mountain, and a few yards further revealed a faint glistening opaque line which the inexperienced eye would have certainly taken for a portion of the cloud, but which could not be mistaken by one who had before seen the snows. about half a mile from buramula we obtain the first view of the vale of kashmir, but not an extensive one, as it is obstructed on either side by low hills. however, what is seen is very pretty. a large level plain traversed by a broad smooth river which has now lost its tortuous zig-zag course and bounded by the everlasting snows covering the main backbone of the himalayas. at the head of the valley stands the quaint looking town of baramula surrounded by hills on all sides but one, embowered in trees and intersected by the jhelum, across which there is a good wooden bridge. the houses have mostly an upper story, and are built of wood with gabled roofs. the streets are narrow and roughly paved, and i regret to say are not more pleasant to the nostrils than are those of other indian towns. the bridge built of deodar wood, beams of which are driven into the bed of the river, and then others laid horizontally upon them, each row at right angles to and projecting beyond the layer beneath, till a sufficient height has been reached, six of these and two stone piers form the buttresses of the bridge and a broad pathway of planks connects them. the march was a fatiguing one on account of its length, and i used the dandy freely. i shall however discard it altogether for the future. i went to the barahduree but found it occupied by a man whose name i was told was "----," had been there five days. his coolies had taken possession of all the rooms, and though i was very angry and inclined to turn them out, i thought my tent would be preferable to a room just vacated by the uncleanly native, so i went to an orchard close by, surrounded by a row of fine poplars, and patiently awaited the arrival of my baggage which was a long time coming. the gate was guarded by the maharajah's sepoys who endeavoured to prevent my entrance. the thikadar told me he had no authority for this, but had done it "zubbur-dustee." they also say that the occupant of the barahduree has just come from england. he is a being shrouded in mystery, and i shall endeavour to unravel it. my first step will be to report the occurrence to the officials at s---- when i get there. i took a swim in the jhelum, whose course i have now followed for eighty-four crooked miles, and on whose bosom i shall to-morrow continue my journey. july th.--by boat up the river, the day so bright, the view so glorious, the breeze so balmy and delicious, and the motion so gentle and pleasant, that lying on my bed i devote myself to lazy listlessness, to a perfect sense of the "dolce far niente" and can hardly prevail on myself to disturb my tranquillity by writing these few notes. the contrast to my thirteen heavy marches is so great that i am content to remain for the present without thought or action, enjoying absolute rest. evening--we halt at sopoor, and now let me endeavour to continue the diary. got up at seven this morning and sent for a boat, one of the larger kind about thirty feet long, and six feet broad in the middle, the centre portion covered with an awning made of grass matting. the crew consisting of an entire family, from the elderly parents to quite young children-- in all. i was towed up the still widening river by all of them in turns, one wee girl not three feet high being most energetic, though i should think of little real service. boat flat bottomed, and alike at both ends, they use paddles instead of oars. but the scene! i am unable now to do justice to it, so i will only give the outlines to be elaborated hereafter. splendid river--verdant plain covered with many varieties of trees, poplar and chenar or tulip tree the most conspicuous, extending as far as the eye can reach and enclosed by lofty snow capped mountains, on which rest the clouds of heaven. bright blue king-fishers darting like flashes of light or hovering hawk-like before the plunge after fish and the many hued dragon flies upon the water weeds. among the several varieties of the weeds, i noticed a great quantity of "anacharis." got fresh mutton and apple-pie for dinner. swarms of very minute flies came to the candle dancing their dance of death. many thousands were destroyed, and their bodies darkened the board which serves me for a table. sopoor like baramula, river bridged, and grass growing on the roofs of the houses. july th.--in the night we moved on, and at five in the morning i was awoke at the foot of shukuroodeen hill, feet high, which i intended to ascend, and get a _coup d'oeil_ of the valley. instead of being on a river, the water now spread out into a great lake (lake wulloor) the largest in kashmir. got up and began to ascend the hill, but when half way up, the strap of one of my sandals gave way, and as i could not mend it, i was obliged to descend; however, i got an extensive view of the valley lying spread out at my feet, the lake occupying a great portion of the view. went on to alsoo (about three hours) from whence i shall march to lalpore the other side of a range of high hills which rise very near the water. we are thirty miles from baramula. the lake is in many parts covered with a carpet of elegant water weeds which makes it look like a green meadow, among them the singara or water nut, a curiously growing plant which bears spiny pods enclosing a soft delicately flavoured kernel--heart-shaped, as big as a filbert. mosquitoes by thousands, and very annoying, red and distended with their crimson feast. alsoo--a rather uninteresting place, grand mountains. huramuk to the east, and great expanse of water. july th, sunday.--on the march again to lalpore, twelve miles. i left my heavy baggage and dandy in the boat (which here awaits my return) and only took my tent and bedding with one week's stores, the whole only four coolie loads, and now began my first taste of real mountain work. for nearly four hours i was ascending the steep range which rises above alsoo, and hard toiling it was. half way up we met some men with butter-milk, of which my boy made me drink a quantity, saying it would "keep master cool." as we rose--the vale spread out magnificently beneath us, and the large lake was seen to full advantage shining under the morning sun, which appeared from behind a grand snow-clad mountain. near the top we came to the prettiest stream i have seen, its banks covered with maiden hair and other ferns, fruit trees and firs, and its surface skimmed by gorgeous flies. the summit gained, i was well rewarded by a view of the whole of the solab an off-shoot of the main valley. a bright gem in a dark setting of deodar covered mountains, spurs from which radiated into the valley so fair and verdant with its many villages, its meandering streams, and frequent orchards, the air laden with the perfume of many flowers. my bheisties even exclaimed "bahut ach chtu." i gazed entranced. the descent was long but a much better path. going down i came to wild raspberries which i must say were as large and well flavoured as any garden grown ones, there was also a small yellow plum which was very nice. arrived at lalpore the principal village, i encamped under a large walnut tree (very fine trees and very common) covered with its nuts. this valley abounds with bears, i was certainly cooler after taking the butter-milk, but i attributed it to the ascent being less steep and the path shady. saw a magnificent butterfly of a specimen i did not recognise; attempted to catch it, but like many other desirable objects in this world, it eluded my grasp at the very moment i thought i had secured it. got a fine one of a commoner sort which i placed in my hat, where the other remains uninjured. july th.--i halt at salpore, awaiting the arrival of my sirdar dandy coolie, an intelligent, useful, kashmiree man, whom i engaged to continue with me as a servant at baramula, and gave him four days leave to visit his home, arranging that he should rejoin me here. i lie under the shade of the wide spreading walnut trees, inhaling the fragrant breeze, and enjoying perfect quietude and repose. all is so grand and peaceful, that my heart swells with holy thoughts of praise and gratitude to the almighty creator, and while gazing on one of the fairest portions of his great work i find myself unconsciously repeating the glorious psalm "o come let us sing unto the lord." it would indeed be a hard heart and a dull spirit that did not rejoice in the scene, and acknowledge the power and magnificence of its maker. i see around me this garden of kashmir where every tree bears fruit for the use of man, and every shrub, bright flowers for his enjoyment. enclosed and guarded by "the strength of the hills" (a noble sentence which never never before so forcibly impressed me) and covered by the purest of blue skies. all nature seems to say to me "to-day if ye hear his voice, harden not your hearts," and surely the "still small voice" is speaking, and can be heard by those who will heed it, and have the heart to feel and the soul to rejoice in the strength of their salvation. the memory of the beautiful duett in "haydn's creation," when newly made adam and eve unite in praising god and extolling his wonderful works comes freshly before me. now, something akin to this must have crossed the mental vision of the grand old maestro when he wrote; and its calm glorious music well accords with my present state of mind. july st.--a pleasant stroll of ten miles before breakfast to koomerial along the level valley, through shady groves of apple, pear, green-gage, peach, and mulberry trees, and forests of cherry trees drooping with the weight of their golden blushing fruit. i have not seen any vines in the solab. koomerial is a very small place, and i had a little difficulty in getting supplies. i ought to have gone three miles further to a large village; but i'll go there to-morrow, and then return to alsoo in two marches. a native came to me with the toothache, begging assistance, but the tooth required extracting and i could do nothing for him. pitched under a walnut tope--the climate delicious, like a warm english summer, but it is rather hot in my small tent in the middle of the day; so i have my charpoy put outside in the shade and lie there smoking my pipe and thinking. i have spoken of the beauties and pleasures of the solab, but i must not omit mention of its annoyances, flies and mosquitoes, by day the flies abound and cause much irritation to any exposed part of the body. i do hate tame flies, flies that though driven away twenty times elude capture, and will pertinaciously return to the same spot--say your nose--until one is driven nearly mad with vexation. at dusk the flies return to roost, and then myriads of mosquitoes emerge from their hiding places, and make night hideous with their monotonous hum and blood-thirsty propensities. i do not find chepatties so bad as i expected, indeed i rather like them, but then my boy makes them excellently well, using soda in their composition. the process of manufacture is not pleasant--the flour is made into a paste, and then flattened and consolidated by being thrown backwards and forwards from one hand to the other, though one may avoid seeing this, it is difficult to escape hearing the pit-pat of the soft dough as it passes rapidly between the khitmutgars extended, and i fear not always clean fingers, it is then toasted, brought in hot, and you may eat it dirt and all. but travellers must not be too particular, and so long as your food is wholesome, eat and be thankful. but here comes my dinner, with the chepatties i have just seen prepared, and which sight suggested the foregoing lines. chicken for breakfast, chicken for dinner, chicken yesterday, chicken to-morrow, _toujours_ chicken, sometimes curried, sometimes roasted, torn asunder and made into soup, stew or cutlets, or with extended wing forming the elegant spatchcock, it is still chicken; the greatest and rarest change being that it is occasionally rather tender. i have had chicken soup and roast fowl for dinner, the chicken in the soup as stringy as hemp, the fowl as tough as my sandal, and with so large a liver that i doubted whether the bird had not met with a violent death. i like fowl's liver, it is my one _bonne bouche_ during the day, but these startled me, and after straining my teeth on the carcase, i gladly swallow the soft mouthful. oh! english readers, you who have never wandered far from your native shores and who esteem chickens a luxury to put on your supper table at your festive gatherings, come to india and surfeit on your dainties, you will see it calmly collecting its daily food unsuspicious of danger, then comes the rush and loud clacking as it flies pursued by the ferocious native, ending with cries of despair and the fluttering and hoarse gurgle of its death throes, in half an hour murghi will be placed before you hot and tempting to the eye but hard as nails to the touch; they are cheap in this part of the world. i pay one anna (or three halfpence) for a chicken, or two annas for a full grown fowl. july nd.--a little march of three miles to koopwaddie. i am glad i came here for one or two reasons. in the first place the walk afforded me a nearer and finer view of the head of the valley, surmounted by its high and rugged snow peaks; and secondly, i find i can return from here to sopoor in two marches instead of going back over the old road. from sopoor i shall boat to alsoo. the range which at lalpore was on the further side of the valley has gradually approached the other hills until now they are only a quarter of a mile apart, and are connected by short low spurs which i crossed this morning. my road to-morrow will be behind the first mentioned range, where another portion of the valley lies. the valley is in fact fork-shaped, intersected by a mountainous ridge which runs from its lower end for about fifteen miles. the two portions then unite and form one valley up to the snows, and koopwaddie is situated at their junction. the solab proper is only the eastern arm which is formed into a _cul de sac_ by the mountains, and in which lalpore stands. july rd.--to chargle ten miles down the western fork of a valley rough and uncultivated by comparison with the solab. over a low range of hills with a very steep descent to chargle standing on the left bank of the pohroo river. not finding a good place on that side i forded the river, which is not more than two feet deep, and encamped on smooth green sward under a walnut tope on the other bank. fine view from the top of the hill of the level valley through which the pohroo runs, with the broad jhelum shining like silver in the distance. this plain is laid out in open fields, and lacks trees except round the numerous villages. the surrounding hills too are comparatively bare, and their summits are to-day obscured by the low-lying clouds. july th.--a hot and uncomfortable walk of twelve miles on the exposed and uninteresting road to sopoor. there were but few trees to afford any shade, but there were mulberries bearing ripe fruit, under which you know it is impossible to sit down. from sopoor to alsoo (sixteen miles) by boat, slowly driving all day through the tangled weeds and water lilies. at soopoor i waited for my boy to get what he wanted for my breakfast (which he would prepare on board) and while waiting, a procession of natives came with bells and flags, and something surrounded by curtains and carried under a canopy, but i could not see what it was. it was being fanned vigorously by several men and was no doubt very holy. a large number of men (mahometans) followed, shouting loudly when the bells were rung, and some of them chanted a slow but not unpleasing melody. they were praying for rain which is rare in this country, and which is now required for the crops. my boy returned bringing with him to my joy a fore quarter of mutton. stopped at shukuroodeen for the evening, the wind being too strong to proceed. those flat bottomed boats with their large heavy awnings are very cranky. july th.--started early for alsoo. found my old boat where i had left it, but brought my baggage on board of this one, which i mean to keep to, as the boatman is a much more useful fellow than the other man. he acts as a servant, knows all the places i am going to, including ummernath, and has many excellent characters from those who have employed him. there was such a scene when my intentions were made known to the other crew, at first with tears and folded hands they supplicated, but when that proved useless they took to cursing and gesticulating, which they continued as their boat moved away and so long as they were within hearing, screaming across the water, making faces, and shaking their fists aloft; the old man was especially violent, it was very laughable. my present crew consists of the man i have mentioned, three good looking young woman, one of whom has the hooping cough, and a variety of children i have not yet made out the different relations to each other. there was lightning and some heavy rain last night (the result no doubt of yesterday's ceremony) and the sky is still gloomy and overcast. on from alsoo after chota hazree or first breakfast to lunka, a small island, which is only fifty yards square, is thickly covered with pine trees, with trailing grape vines clinging around their boughs, on it stands an old ruin, and fallen pillars and carved stones litter the ground. from a distance it looked very lovely, floating as it were on the bosom of the open waters, but as we neared it an unpleasant odour became perceptible, rapidly increasing to a horrid stench. this proceeded from a colony of natives who were in temporary habitation of the island, and were engaged in catching and drying the fish with which the lake abounds. i landed however, but was soon forced to beat a rapid retreat. such a mass of all kinds of filth crowded in so small a space, i have never before witnessed. man is ever the plague spot of the world, where he is not, all is peace, and beauty, with his presence comes contamination and discord. saw many a whistling seal in one part of the lake. the water soon became contracted into a narrow channel, with a low bank on either side, after travelling a few miles more we reached the broad jhelum above its entrance into the lake. remained for the night at hajun. july th, sunday.--moved on in the morning to manusbul, a small lake connected with the river by a canal. this lake is about three miles long and one mile wide, it is very deep in the middle, and said by the natives to be unfathomable. in one of the hindoo legends we are told a story of a holy man who spent all his life endeavouring to make a rope long enough to reach to the bottom, and failing, at length threw himself in and was never seen again. my boatman to give me an idea of its depth, dropped in white pebbles which could be seen for a long time sinking in the clear green water, until they gradually disappeared from sight. i longed to take a plunge into the cool fluid, and ungoo evidently read my wish in my looks, for he proposed that i should gussul or bathe. the presence of three women however proved too much for my modesty, and i refrained, although i have no doubt that had i not done so their feelings would not have been in the least outraged. very handsome water lilies (lotus) on the surface of the lake, the flowers being of a delicate pink colour with a yellow centre, and as large as the crown of a man's hat. at the further extremity, a high hill rises from the edge of the water. a stream is artificially conducted along its face at a height of about fifty feet, and the surplus water escapes in several pretty little cascades, by the side of one of them grow some noble chenars. the bottom of the lake around the edges is very uneven, and covered with a dense growth of mynophillum spicatum, on which planorbus and other molluces graze and tiny fry pick their invisible atoms of food. the elegant shape of this plant with its branching and finely cut leaves, and the inequalities of the ground remind me of the pine-clad hills in miniature. a brilliant king-fisher took the gunwale of the boat as the "base of his operations," and i amused myself all the morning, by watching him catch fish; when one approached the surface he descended with a splash which i imagined would have driven every fish far away, emerging quickly and very seldom without a capture, which he turned head downwards and swallowed alive and whole, then looked round with a laughable air of self-satisfaction. when the fish was a size too large to be trifled with, he first polished it off by rapping its head on the boards. it is now sunset, and that bird is still feeding, and probably the day will end without deciding whether his appetite or his capacity is the larger. a native brought me a dish of excellent apricots and mulberries--the mulberries especially good, and my garden is celebrated for the best peaches in kashmir. july th.--up the jhelum again, past sumbul with its deodar bridge (similar to the others described with this exception, that the footway appears to be built in imitation of the roof of a house sloping on either side from a high central ridge, not the best form of bridge i have seen, but variety is charming) to the entrance of the scind river, where a chenar stands in the middle of the stream, protected by a square block of masonry. tradition says this tree never grows. near it is a small island over grown with trees. here we left the jhelum and pursued the course of the scind which soon contracted into a narrow and rapidly flowing river, its water derived from the snows, being very cold. it was slow work rowing against the strong current, but we presently emerged into a great lake entirely covered with high rushes except where a winding channel was cut for the boats, and here progression was slower still as the rope had to be abandoned, and the pole called into requisition, so that it was nearly dark when we reached ganderbul. passed a number of men wading in the water up to their necks, and spearing the ground with poles armed with a single barbed spike. although this seems an insane way of attempting to catch fish, their boat was well laden with a small species of trout, and i saw several drawn from the water impaled and wriggling upon the sharp point. sreenuggur seen in the distance at the extremity of a mountainous spur, with the fort and soloman's throne, standing upon two elevated rocks. within a few miles of ganderbul the lake became clear, and presented a fine expanse of water, but with so many shallows, that our course was very tortuous. having travelled twenty miles, we are now only five miles from manusbul. ganderbul stands at the opening of the scind valley, but it was too late to take any observations when i arrived; so i must wait until my return. july th.--a march of nine miles up the valley to kungan, taking with me as before only four coolie loads of baggage; my boatman accompanies me. met scott, of the th, three or four miles from ganderbul, the first european i have seen since the th. this is a narrow and beautiful valley, down which the scind river rushes foaming and roaring. its waters are icy cold and its colour also seems to partake of its snowy origin, for it is white, not only with foam, but the water itself in small quantities is as though it had come out of a milky jug. grand hills stand on either side, and up the valley i occasionally got glimpses of high and rugged snow peaks. several natives came to me with different ailments, i gave them rough directions whereby to benefit, but what they wanted was a gift of medicine (of which i have none.) they fancy every englishman is an adept in the art of healing, and that english physic especially tyrnhill's pills, possesses magical powers. july th.--to toomoo, six miles, a shorter march than i intended, for they told me at kungan that toomoo was twelve miles distant. however, when i arrived, the temptation to stop was too strong to be resisted. in marching one gets very weary about the sixth or seventh mile, but this passes off, and you can then go on comfortably for almost any distance, provided you resist the first feelings of fatigue, and do not give way to it, as i have done to-day. the mountains are now huge towering masses, rising thousands of feet above the valley; they have lost all smoothness of outline, and their upper portions are bare and rough, cragged, and pine clad. instead of having merely whitened peaks, snow fields extend down the sides. the scene is one of wild majestic grandeur. what tremendous agonies in past ages must have been employed to produce such vast upheavals. one cannot help contemplating with awe the possibility of the world again becoming violently rent and shaken to its foundations by the forces which though now comparatively inert, still exist beneath us and occasionally give sad proof of their undiminished power. in the present day the slow but continued action of this subterranean power is in some parts perceptible (as in south america) and we have no guarantee that it may not suddenly acquire increased energy, and overwhelm our fairest lands with a run too terrible to be imagined. stinging nettles abound here, of the tall sort that grow so rankly on old earth heaps and in dry ditches. i placed my hand among them, delighted to be stung again by english friends; the sensation is so far preferable to mosquito bites. besides it took me back to "childhood's happy hours," when with bramble torn breeches and urticarious shin, i forced the hedges, apple stealing--i have stolen apples to-day for a tart which is now baking--robbed the trees of them for they are no man's property. just above here on the other side of the valley is a very perfect crater (of course extinct) for there are now no volcanoes in the himalayas. its lips are rugged and serrated like the teeth of a saw, and form a very perfect circle i cannot tell the depth of the basin, but on the further side i can see that the edge rises perpendicularly to a considerable height, and at the bottom of it i just got a glimpse of a steeply sloping floor. on its exterior are deep grooves containing strong blocks, which at this distance appear to show by contrast of colour their igneous origin, but i cannot speak positively on this point. my bheistie to whom i gave three days leave to visit his family, came in saying he had walked one hundred miles. he does not look any the worse for it. july th.--another short march of five miles to soorapra, a small village around which stand several enormous hills, half obscured by clouds, for it is a thoroughly wet day, drizzling rain having fallen ever since my arrival. it is very cool and pleasant, but i have got up too far and am now in the rainy region, so to-morrow i shall retrace my steps, three or four marches would take me over the himalayas into ladâk. this would be an interesting trip, but there still remains much for me to see in kashmir, and i have not time to do both. passed another, but smaller and less perfect crater. some natives brought a young black bear, which they had just caught to show me. it was no larger than a good-sized dog, but had very long sharp claws; its expression was anything but ferocious. a dense pine and walnut forest extends down one of the hills to the verge of the village. i was strolling in that direction, not a hundred yards from the huts--before the arrival of my baggage--when two men ran after me and begged me to come back on account of the number of tigers there. i imagined they meant leopards, but on making enquiries i find cows are carried away, which could not be done by leopards. this would be a good ground for the sportsman, but no europeans come here as it is off the regular track up the valley. i crossed the river this morning by a ricketty bridge built of a couple of firs, on which logs were loosely laid, leaving the main road which runs along the other or right bank. just behind my tent a stream of deliciously cold and transparent water issues from the hill side; a rough sort of shed is erected over it, and the water is conducted a short distance in a wooden trough, from the end of which it falls to the ground. it is the custom in kashmir to build over the springs and esteem them holy. no mosquitoes up here, delightful prospect of a good night's rest. july st.--back to kungan in one march, but did not encamp on the same ground as before, as i found a better place by the side of the river. i have been thinking all the morning about my future career, whether i shall obtain the appointment in the guards that i have applied for, (my application has by this time reached england) if not, what will they do with me when i get home, or shall i remain in the army? these questions have been running in my head and occasionally a more delicate one obtruded. shall i marry, and if so, when and whom, and here, where all my thoughts are revealed, i must needs confess that now at twenty-nine years of age, i begin to weary of single blessedness, and long for a fair, loving, and loveable companion. now my gentle lady reader, here is a chance for you, if you are content with honest love without adoration, faithfulness without romance; for my romantic days have passed. i have learnt the sober realities of life, and among them the truth of god's declaration that it is not good for man to be alone. the _saturday review_ in recent articles, "the girl of the period, &c.," holds out a poor prospect for the would be benedict, and i fear there is much truth in the assertion that the majority of our young women are husband hunting, that they make matrimony their one great object, and will condescend to any means whereby to attain the personal independance given them by that position, that these marriages without love, only prompted by selfish considerations, are followed by a total neglect of all wifely duties--nay more, that even maternal care and tenderness have nearly ceased to exist. it is a sad picture, and sternly drawn. the well-known power of the paper is put forth in its highest degree, and withering sarcasm, and bitter contempt accompany its stern reproofs. yet there is a final wail of despair at the unlikelihood of any change for good being effected. this evil like most others is of our own making. we men no longer marry while young, but when middle-aged or with grey hairs beginning to show, a man desires a wife, he will most likely choose one five and twenty years his junior. the girl often marry thus because she cannot get a husband of her own age, and a very few years lost will doom her to perpetual spinsterhood. it is necessarily a marriage without love, a lucky one if there be respect. girls have learnt that it is useless to bestow their affections where nature would have them, and and it is scarcely a matter for surprise that they should in consequence endeavour to repress them altogether. moral for my own use. marry while i am young, or not at all. august st.--to wangut nine miles rough and hilly walking. i lost the path once, and had a long scramble before i regained it. though not a pleasant march the scenery is very fine and picturesque. wangut lies up a short and contracted valley, an offshoot of the scind which is a much larger one, and the mountains around it are very grand especially at the head of the valley, i put up large coveys of grey partridge on the road. i have come here for the purpose of visiting some mines two miles further on, and i intend to halt to-morrow and walk to see them. there is a great row going on while i write this, the natives appear unwilling to furnish supplies (milk, eggs, &c.,) and my boatman who has accompanied me is applying his stick freely by way of persuasion. there is of course a babel of tongues and i sit within a few yards, quietly ignoring the proceeding, though if necessary, i shall get up and add some lusty whacks as my share of the argument. a mountain torrent--a tributary of the scind runs down the valley with the usual noise and hurly burly. a travelling native carpenter is here, and all the village are bringing their ploughs to be mended, he is very clever with his hoe-shaped hatchet fashioning the hard walnut wood so correctly with it, that the chisel is hardly necessary for the few finishing touches. i have seen him make some wooden ladles very rapidly, and he has provided me with a new set of tent pegs and mallet and a wooden roller, by means of which i hope to avoid the digital process in the manufacture of my chepatties. august nd, sunday.--sitting having my feet washed by a servant (delightful sensation) after my return from the ruin of rajdainbul and nagbul. i meditate on the mutability of all things human. i have taken a walk before breakfast this sabbath morning to witness the overthrow of former magnificence and the destruction of man's crafty handiwork. these two temples erected many long years ago in honour of a hindoo deity named naranay, now stand desolate piles in the dense jungle. fallen stones cover the ground and great trees grow from the interstices of those that still hold together and retain a semblance of their original shape. confusion reigns supreme and the place that was once the scene of mistaken worship, is now only the haunt of the wild beast and deadly reptile. the thoughts which such a sight suggest, have been the theme of many a moralist, but the great lesson it teaches cannot lose any of its importance by repetition. yet a consideration of the littleness of man and the utter vanity of his proudest works is, i fear, distasteful to most of us; we cannot bear to be forced to admit our own insignificance. we go to church and cry "what is man that thou art mindful of him," but the words are but empty sounds. our preachers may tell us that life is but a shadow, but they speak to unwilling and heedless ears, and we go on ignoring the fact, crying peace, and stifling our conscience by a form of religion without godliness. we are arrogant, high-minded, puffed up in our own conceit, and though there are many that would wish to be considered holy, how few there are that are humble men of heart, and time continues to repeat the old, old story, filling our grave-yards, destroying our works; creation alone remaining stable, waiting for the end. these ruins are small in size, and their architecture rude, though the individual blocks are certainly large and well though not elaborately carved. but they produce a strange impression of awe by the dreary solitude and wildness of their position which is perhaps peculiar to themselves, although they lack both the fairy elegance of netley abbey, and the massive grandeur of a pevensey castle. the men who accompanied me advanced very cautiously through the thick underwood, beating with their sticks in order to drive away the iguana lizards, which they call the "bis cobra" and hold in deadly fear, believing its bite to be most surely fatal. this belief is universal among the natives of india, but there is no proof of its truth, and i need hardly say that the dental arrangement of bactrachian reptiles is incompatible with the possession of poisonous qualities. but though science will not admit it, it is strange that the idea is so widely spread, especially as the natives do not fear any other species of lizard, while they believe that every snake is armed with the fatal fang. august rd.--heavy rain prevented my departure from wangut, at the usual early hour, but about o'clock it cleared up, and i marched on arric eight miles distant down a path on the right bank of the river, (i ascended the valley on the other side.) the rain has made it very slippery, and it was a fatiguing walk the road not being good, and occasionally dangerous; one part fairly beat me, i was expected to pass round a smooth rock by means of several ledges one inch wide and four or five long, cut on its surface. the precipice below was deep, and when i had taken one step, and found myself hanging over it; i determined to go back and try another way. the other way is bad enough, but all i object to is having my safety depending upon a single foothold. i like to have at least one chance of recovering myself if i slip. my walnut tree to-day is covered with mistletoe and my mind is directed to christmas time, and all its (to us) sad associations. three christmases have i spent away from england, and a fourth is now approaching, one of them on the ocean, and two in the tented field, the next will i fancy also find me under canvass, but i trust on my way homewards. westward ho! is my cry; let the gorgeous east with its money bags, its luxuries, and its many hours of idleness, remain for those who are content to exchange home-ties and the enjoyment of life for dreary exile and too often untimely death, who will sell their minds and bodies for the price of rupees. august th.--marched back to ganderbul, nine miles. ganderbul is a very small place, and the only object of interest i noticed, was a very old bridge built of rough stones, standing now upon dry land, for the scind has left its former channel and runs one hundred yards to to the south of it, three of the arches remain entire and connected, and at least twelve others are either decayed or destroyed. this bridge is evidently of very ancient date. on emerging from the scind valley, i got a better view of the vale than i have before had. it was a clear but cloudy morning--one of those grey days when rays abound, and photographic efforts are most successful--and every distant object was seen with great distinctness. the snowy pin punjaul range, in its southern boundary looked magnificent, rising abruptly from the level and beautiful plain. on board the boat again, i continued the journey towards srenuggur. we had not been long afloat before a sudden squall came down from the hills and blew the roof of the boat off; it took a long time to repair the mischief, but fortunately all the matting was blown on to the bank, it was eventually replaced and we proceeded onwards in a tolerably direct line to the capital, ten miles distant. but near sunset the wind increased again, and compelled us to take refuge in a sheltered nook within a mile or two of srenuggur, the fort standing above us on the summit of a hill--imposing from its apparently impregnable position--and there we remained all night. august th.--starting early, i soon arrived at the outskirts of the town, and the boat entered a canal with houses on both sides. there was some delay at a lock and great excitement in pushing over the fall caused by the rash of the water. passed through the city which is a large one, and encamped under chenars on the banks of the canal on the other side. the baboo-mohu chundee, an officer appointed by the maharajah to attend to the many and varying wants of european visitors--called upon me and afterwards sent "russud" or a present from the maharajah consisting of tea, sugar, flour, butter, rice, salt, spice, vegetables, a chicken, and a live sheep. some cloth merchants also came and i was led into extravagance in purchasing some of their goods. in the afternoon i got a small boat, a miniature of the larger one, propelled by six men with paddles. they took me along very quickly, and i went down the canal which opens into the jhelum--the main thoroughfare of suenaggur opposite to the palace and the adjoining temple, whose dome is covered with plates of pure gold. it is a very strange sight, the broad river covered with boats, and lined by houses built in the curious kashmirian style. seven fine bridges cross it, and on two of them stand rows of shops like our old london bridge. i first went to the post-office and got a satisfactory communication from our paymaster, and also a letter from bill, giving me the sad tidings of poor tyrwhitt's death, which took place at murree a fortnight after my departure. it is a selfish consideration, but i cannot help feeling grateful that he was prevented by an attack of ague from accompanying me, as he intended. i then went to sumnad sha's, the great shawl merchant, and turned some of the paymaster's paper into silver currency. he showed me his stock, and i wished that i possessed the means of purchasing his goods. but even here a good shawl costs thirty or forty pounds, very magnificent they are, but i need not describe that which every english lady knows and longs for, if she has not it. hewson, the paymaster at chinsurah, is encamped within one hundred yards of me. passing in his boat he recognised me, and we went and had a swim and talked over old times at the depôt. august th.--bought some tackle and went fishing, but the hooks were rotten and the fish broke several. i only succeeded in landing one trout of nearly two pounds weight. the spoon bait is a favourite one here. bought a variety of stones and pebbles. ladûk, yarkund, opals, garnets, &c., for making brooches, bracelets, and studs. i was a long while making the selection and a long while bargaining, but i seem to have got them cheap; at all events for less money than hewson has paid for his. this, and fishing, occupied the whole day--which was consequently an uneventful one. in the evening i borrowed writing materials from hewson, and wrote a letter to bell. august th.--went out spearing fish, but found it difficult in consequence of the allowance necessary for the refraction of the water and the movement of the fish. there is a great temptation to strike in an apparently direct line with the fish, which i need hardly say, even if the fish be stationary does not go near it. i only succeeded in piercing two. but i afterwards went out with a spoon and very soon landed a couple of trout of two and four pounds weight. i have found out who was at baramula ---- travelling quietly like a private gentleman, still, notwithstanding the paucity of his retinue, the unmistakeable stamp of nobility about him made it plain that he was more than he appeared to be, obtaining for him the attention which he had wished to ignore. as a contrast to him we have here x----, y----, and z----, noticeable like many other englishmen, when travelling in foreign countries for the prodigality of their expenditure, one of whom got a thrashing the other day from ----. rather a disreputable affair for him, if all i hear be true. i dare say many a poor native wishes that a small portion of the money these three men waste was given to them instead. august th.--i have done nothing to-day except go to sumnad shas for some more money, as i intend to leave sreenugger to-morrow for the eastern part of kashmir. there are two reasons for my idleness; in the first place hewson gave me some books he had done with, and i got interested in james' "heidelberg" and was reading it all this morning; and secondly, hewson left this afternoon and sat a long time with me before his departure. to lengthen my notes for the day i ought to write a sermon, or secular discourse, (as i have done before) but i don't feel inclined to do so. this diary only gets my thoughts when they arise spontaneously and require no further labour than the mere putting of them into words. to-day my mind is a blank, and i am not going to search in hidden recesses for thoughts that may possibly be secreted there. perhaps after dinner something may occur to me worth writing about. august th, sunday.--on again by the big boat up the jhelum stopping at pampur for two hours fishing under the bridge (the reputed haunt of large fish) but without success, so continued the journey gliding slowly along the beautiful river until dark, when the boat was run ashore and secured. so it has been an uneventful day with no new scenery to describe and no musings to record. august th.--another day passed on the river. from early dawn till dusk we continued towing against the stream, and then halted for the night at kitheryteen (i spell the word from my boatman's pronunciation of it) a small village on the right bank. august th.--started again at daybreak but soon stopped at bigbikara, where there is another bridge. all these bridges are alike and similar to the one described at baramula, but this one is particularly pretty from the fact of large trees having grown from the lower part of every pier. these trees green and flourishing are high above the footway, between which and the water there is a distant vista of fine mountains. fished here, but only hooked one, which i judged from its run to be large, and lost it. above the bridge the river narrowed to about half its former width. we are approaching a very grand range of mountains which seems to be the boundary of the valley. before mid-day we reached kunbul and completed the trip of forty miles by water. at kunbul is the first bridge over the jhelum, the river here diminishes to a breadth of only thirty or forty yards, and soon breaks up into a number of small streams which mostly rise from the water, then along the foot of the hills. august th.--marched to buroen, six miles, on arriving found the camping ground occupied by numerous "fakirs" who had lately returned from ummernath. these men are horrible looking objects, most of them being painted white and nearly naked. ummernath is a mountain , feet high, and at the top of it is a cave sacred to the hindoo deity. in july pilgrims assemble there for a great religious festival, and these are some of them on their way back. i intended to visit this cave, but i have not time now, and i have thought that it may be a trifle too cold up there. at burven is a very holy spring. two tanks are formed where the water escapes from the ground, and these tanks swarm with tame fish, some of them of large size. it was a great sight feeding them. they all rushed to the place struggling and fighting for the food. the bright green water was black with them, and a space yards wide and long, and several feet thick, was occupied by a block of fish packed as closely as if they were pickled herrings. these fish are also very sacred, and to catch them is prohibited. soon after leaving kunbul i passed through islamabad, a large town of which i may have more to say hereafter. there are two other men encamped here with me, but they don't seem very sociable, and i don't care much for the society of strangers; we have exchanged "good mornings" and that is all, and now sit staring at each other at a distance of twenty yards. how different it would have been if we were frenchmen instead of cold-blooded englishmen. after dark the fakirs had a "tomasha." singing, bell ringing, tambourine-beating, and the blowing of discordant horns all at the same time, constituted a delightful music--to them at least--and was continued for hours, interrupted by shouting and yelling, and with this din going on i now hope to sleep. august th.--marched back to islamabad, seven miles, by another road, as i first visited the ruins of martund, a temple built (so the legend goes) ages ago by "gin men" or demons of gigantic stature. these are really grand ruins, whether position, site, or architecture be considered. they stand on an open plain, on the summit of a ridge, from which is a fine view of the surrounding mountains, which are much higher than in the western part of kashmir. in the centre is a large block, containing several rooms, the huge stones of which it is built being elaborately carved. there are many niches containing figures, but the defacing hand of time has sadly marred them. on two sides of this building and only a few feet distant from it rise a couple of wings, and the whole is enclosed by a stone screen, perforated by trefoil arches, and having on its inner side a row of fluted columns. in the middle of the south side of the screens is the main entrance, the pillars of which are very tall. vigne, classes these ruins among the finest in the world, and perhaps he is right. at islamabad there are several bungalows provided for visitors, and i went into one of them, having first cleared it of the "fakirs"--who are here too. these bungalows stand by tanks in which are tame fish, as at burven. a spring issues from the hill side, just above them. two men of the th hussars, walker and verschoyle, occupied another, and i breakfasted with them. adjoining the tanks is a small pleasure garden, with some buildings which are inhabited by the maharajah when he visits islamabad. the place reminds me more of a tea garden in the new road, than the resort of royalty. the water from the tanks escapes under the front bungalow forming a pretty cascade. dined and passed the evening with the other fellows. august th.--to atchebul, six miles. this is a charming spot. it is a pavilion and garden built--if my memory serves me--by the emperor shah jehan, for his wife; at its upper end rises a hill covered with small deodars and other trees, and from the foot of this hill four springs gush forth from crevices in the rock. the volume of water is very large, and it is conveyed into three tanks at different levels. these tanks are connected by broad canals lined with stone, and at the extremity of each canal is a fine waterfall. there are also two lateral canals which run through the whole length of the gardens, from the boundary of which the water escapes in three cascades, the centre one from the tanks being the largest. in the middle tank are twenty-five fountains, which were turned on for my benefit; only seventeen of them play, and the best jets are not more than six feet high. in the centre of this tank stands a pavilion which i now inhabit. its walls are of wooden trellis work, and the ceiling is divided into panels on which are painted in many colours the everlasting shawl pattern; it looks as though the floor-cloth had been placed on the ceiling by mistake. along the foot of the hill is a ruined terrace built of bricks, with arches and alcoves crumbling to pieces. there is also an arch over the canal, between the second and third tanks. the whole garden was originally laid out in several terraces faced with masonry, and having wide flights of stone steps from one to the other; but all is now much decayed, and the garden itself is quite uncultivated, except a small portion, and is but a wilderness of fruit trees and fine chenars. on the left of it is the old human or bath, a series of domed and arched rooms containing baths and marble seats. the interior is in a fair state of preservation, and the various pipes which conveyed the water to it still exist. the whole ground is enclosed by a wall, and if it was properly looked after, might be converted into a very pleasant retreat. in the afternoon walker and verschoyle, rode over from islamabad and sat some time with me, after a few hours five other pipes began to squirt--rendered patulous i suppose by the pressure of the water--so that three only now remain occluded. i had a great loss last night; the dogs broke open the basket containing my provisions, and carried away half a large sized cake, and a hump of beef that had been cooked but was uncut. august th.--marched to nowboog, fifteen miles, this long march was quite unexpected as ince in his book puts it down eight miles. it was up hill nearly all the way--this combined with the sun's heat--for i did not start so early as i would have done if i had known the distance--and the vexation of having to go on, long after i considered the march ought to have been finished, made it very fatiguing. nowboog is situated in a small and pretty valley separated by hills from the rest of kashmir. i intend to halt here to-morrow, so will reserve further description until i feel fresh again. it was one or two o'clock before i arrived, and i have worn a hole in my left heel which will, i fear, render the next marches painful. umjoo--the boatman--is now shampooing my legs and feet. this process consists of violent squeezes and pinches which make me inclined to cry out, but i am bearing it bravely without flinching and endeavouring to look happy, and to persuade myself that it is pleasant--now my toes are being pulled with a strength fit to tear them off. oh! ----. there's a cry on paper. he does not hear that, and it is some sort of relief. august th, sunday.--the valley of nowboog is small but very picturesque. the surrounding hills are comparatively low, and are covered with pasture on the open places, while the deodar and many other trees occupy the ravines and gullies. the large amount of grass and the grouping of the trees give it a park-like appearance, and the gentle slopes of the verdant mountains remove all wildness from the scene. it is a pleasant spot to halt at. a little nook which while it charms the eye, only suggests peaceful laziness. my coolies sit at a short distance, singing through their noses kashmirian songs. there is much more melody in their music than in that of their brethren of hindoostan. indeed some of the tunes admit of being written, and i have copied a few of the more rythmical, as they sang them. the principal objection to them is that they are rather too short to bear repetition for half an hour as is the custom, there is another music going on--a music that cannot be written and will be difficult to describe--i mean the song of the "cicada stridulantia" in walnut trees above me. this insect--the balm cricket--is in appearance a burlesque, just such a house fly as you might imagine would be introduced in a pantomime; and its cry is as loud and incessant as it is peculiar. to describe it, fancy to begin with a number of strange chirps, and that every few seconds, one of those cogged wheels and spring toys that you buy at fairs to delude people into the belief that their coats are being torn--is passed rapidly down the back, with occasionally momentary interruption in the middle of its course, while between each scratch you hear a mew of a distant cat--another cat purring loudly all the time, and any number of grasshoppers chirping to conclude with a running down of the most impetuous and noisy alarum, and then silence--a silence almost painful by contrast--until it begins again. such is the song of the cicada in the himalayan forests. i wonder every sunday if they miss me at peshawur; for i was organist to the church before i left, and i doubt if there is anybody to take my place. i wish i had the instrument here now to peal forth to the hills and the wondering kashmirians handel's sublime "hallelujah chorus" or "the marvellous works" of haydn. what can be more inspiring than the grand old church music we possess, bequeathed to us by composers of immortal memory. though much opposed to the present ritualistic tendencies i do delight in a musical service. it seems to elevate the mind and give a greater depth to our devotion. go into any of our cathedrals and hear the solemn tones of the liturgy echoing through the vaulted roof, and your heart must needs join in the supplication, "and when the glorious burst of music calls to praise and rejoicing, will not your own soul fly heavenward with the sound and find unaccustomed fervency in its thanksgivings." there is perhaps one thing necessary, and that is, that you should know the music you hear, otherwise the first admiration of its beauty may eclipse all other considerations. but if you have studied it, if it is as familiar to you as it ought to be, and is intimately connected in your mind with the words to which it is set, you will understand its spirit, and see that however beautiful it may be it is only the means whereby higher thoughts and nobler feelings are sought to be expressed. i bought here a very fine pair of antlers of the "bara sing"--a large deer found on these hills. august th.--to kookur nag, twelve miles. i am now convinced i came the wrong road from atchibul to nowboog, as i had to march back over a great portion of it this morning; however, with the exception of a mile or two, it was all down hill, and as i knew when i started that i had twelve miles to go, i was not tired. stopped at the village on the way where there are iron works, and saw them smelting the ore which is obtained from the neighbouring mountains, this ore is a yellow powder, and appears to be almost pure oxide. their method of working is very rude; a small furnace, such as a blacksmith uses at home, supplied with a pair of leather bellows constitutes the whole of the foundry, and is of course, only capable of smelting a very small quantity of ore at a time. kookur nag is the name of some springs about two miles from the village i have encamped at, and i walked over this afternoon to see them. it was scarcely worth the trouble. there are a great number of them close together and they issue from the ground, as usual, at the foot of a prettily wooded hill. the water is very pure and cold, and of sufficient quantity to form immediately a large and rapid stream. this place lies near the mouth of a wide gorge or valley which leads right up to the snows, and down which there must have been at one time, either a mighty rush of water or a vast glacier, as the ground is thickly strewn with huge boulders. the stratification of one mountain against which it is evident the flood impinged--is very clearly and beautifully shown. august th.--to vernag, ten miles, crossing a range of hills, the descent being the steepest i have experienced. from the top of the range there was a fine view of the two valleys of kookur nag and vernag. they are very similar and down the middle of each is a layer of loose rounded stones. the springs of vernag occupy the same position in the valley as those of kookur nag do in the other, but around them is a good sized village, and their point of exit has been converted into a large and very deep octagonal tank, which is perfectly crowded with sacred fish. surrounding the tank is a series of arches, and on the side from which the stream escapes is a bungalow for the use of visitors. six days ago a hindoo was drowned here, and his body has not been recovered--so deep is the water, it is probable that ere this the fish have removed all but his bones, one hundred yards below the tank is another spring, which is the finest i believe in kashmir. it comes straight up on level ground, and forms a mound of water eighteen inches high, and more than a foot in diameter. the morning cloudy and very gloomy on account of the eclipse of the sun of which i saw nothing. this is my birthday and my thoughts have been running over my past life and speculating upon the future before me. "but fear not dear reader!" i will not bore you with all my musings over those twenty-nine unfruitful, if not absolutely mis-spent evil years, or show you how my "talent" lies carefully folded up and hidden away, in order that i may have it to return to its "owner". "oh! fool, fool that i am." knowing better things and with a half a lifetime gone, "i find myself still plodding along the old road paved with good intentions." the springs of grace indeed surround me, but i am in the shallows and the water is muddy. the very "tree of life" is by my side, but it is a dwarfed and stunted shrub, whose shoots wither before they put forth leaves. when will this change? will my resolutions ever become deeds? "will grace abound: or will faith ever give such impetus to my "tree of life," that it may grow up into heaven?" i put to myself the question that was asked ezekiel. "can these dry bones live," and have no other answer than his to make. these are some of my birthday thoughts. pray, forgive, excuse me if i have wearied you. august th.--back to atchibul, twelve miles, the road for the most part level, but there was one mile of very hard work, over the ridge i crossed yesterday. i approached atchibul from the hill i mentioned as standing at the head of the garden, and from the top of it a very pretty view of the place is obtained. i found the pavilion unoccupied, and again took possession of it, set the fountains playing, and imagined myself the great mogul. just out of vernag, i caught a small black and yellow bird, which my boatman calls a "bulbul" (though i think he is wrong in the name) and says it sings very well. i have had a cage made for it, and it is now feeding at my side, and is apparently very happy. i'll try and take it to england. i believe it is only one of the shrike family, but it is too young to identify at present. however, it is my fancy to keep it, so why should i not. the old gardener here is very attentive, constantly bringing me fruit. shall i do him injustice, by saying that he probably has expectation of a reward? i think not indeed, is it not the same expectation or its allied motive, the desire to escape punishment, which prompts the actions of all of us? we do good, i fear, more for the sake of the promised recompense, than for any love of the thing itself. light rain has fallen all day. august th.--i halt at atchibul. i have now completed my wanderings in kashmir, and have seen all i intended except one portion, which i shall visit on my road home. my next move will be to ----, but as i do not care to spend more than seven or eight days there, i am in no hurry to get back. my bird died in the night, and by its death has put an end to a rather violent controversy between my bheistie and boatman. the boatman stoutly maintained his opinion of its value and the bheistie with a more correct appreciation, and while explaining to me that it was a jungle bird and would never sing, appeared to look upon my conduct with a mixture of compassion and disgust, and then they quarrelled over it. was my fancy a foolish one? some men will spend years in the pursuit and classification of butterflies, while others go into ecstasy over a farthing of the reign of queen anne. my common jungle bird was a pretty one, and if i had got it home and put it in a gilt cage, it would surely have possessed some value for its antecedents, even if it had proved as mute as a fish, or as discordant as a hindoo festival. august st.--marched back to kunbul, seven miles, and took up my quarters again on board the boat, fifteen or twenty other boats are here, a good many visitors having recently arrived in this part of kashmir. i remained at kunbul all day waiting for the completion of a pair of chuplus which i ordered of a shoemaker ten days ago. i have occupied the time by reading marryat's "newton forster" (one of hewson's gifts) and i find that when i read i can't write, so that must be my excuse for the shortness of my notes. my head is full of ships, sea fights, and love making to the exclusion of everything else. i heard you--you said it was a good job, as it prevented me writing more nonsense. august nd.--slowly drifting all day down the stream towards sreenuggur. past bijbehara with its fine bridge, stopping there a short time to procure milk and eggs for breakfast. past awuntipoor--the former capital--but now only a very small village, where stands on the rivers bank the ruins of two ancient hindoo temples, square blocks, built indeed of enormous stones, but without sufficient architectural embellishment to require a closer inspection than i obtained from the boat. another of those charming lazy days on the water, nothing to think about, but the time for meals, nothing to do, but to eat them when prepared. the eastern part of kashmir is covered with high isolated mounds called kuraywahs, composed of alluvium, presenting perfectly flat summits and precipitous sides. the top of these was doubtless the original bed of the lake at the time when the whole valley was submerged, and the present channels between them (though now dry land) were cut by the rush of the water, when the jhelum burst through the opening at baramula and drained the valley. this rush then is shown to have been impetuous (and the high banks of the river also bear evidence to it) but it seems to me that the mere breaking through of the stream sixty or seventy miles away is not enough to account for it. no doubt that occurrence was attended, i may say produced by violent subterranean phenomena; and i imagine that this portion of the vale--which is much higher than the western half--then underwent a sudden upheaval, the result of which if only a few feet would be to throw its waters with terrific force into the lower portion and afford an easy explanation of the formation of both the kuraqwahs and the jhelum. i noticed in my course up the jhelum, that it appeared to have originally consisted of a chain of small lakes, this would be the the natural effect of such a cause as i have supposed. the bulk of water, at first, would only have been sufficient to produce a few of them, perhaps only the large one between gingle and baramula. but as its quantity and measure continually increased by the flow from the higher level so would lake after lake have been formed among the crowded hills until the plains were reached. then the drainage of these small lakes would follow as a matter of course, and the channel of the river be reduced to a size proportionate to its constant supply. dear reader, you are very difficult to please. my descriptions you call slow, my imaginings frivolous, science dry. jokes are feeble and personalities tedious morality is stale, religion is cant. what, how can i write? you have had a taste of all and if you are not content the fault is--well, let me be on the safe side--either yours or mine. august rd, sunday.--we continued to progress last night by moonlight long after the sun had set, and started again very early this morning, so that the tukh-t-i-suliman (soloman's throne) and fort are now visible, and i expect to reach sreenuggur before noon. it is faster work floating down the current than towing against it. at sreenuggur i found several letters waiting for me, and amongst them a large "official," which i tore open with eager haste; thinking it might be a reply to my application to be sent home. it was ----. well, you will never guess--an urgent enquiry as to what language i could speak and write fluently beside english. i have answered this question some half dozen times since i have been in the service, but they never get tired of asking it. the date of my arrival in india is another favourite and constantly recurring enquiry, and this might lead me to give you a dissertation upon the theory and practice of red-tapeism, with a special consideration of the amount of stationery thereby wasted, and its probable cost to the government. it would perhaps, be very interesting to you, but to any one who is at all connected with it, the subject is only one of weariness and disgust--weariness at the unproductive labour entailed--disgust at the utter folly of the proceedings. so i pass it by, leaving some one who is willing to sacrifice his feelings, or more probably some one who knows nothing whatever about it to furnish the much needed exposé; it is customary to cry it down but it is an acknowledged evil, the custom has never been fully and fairly explained to outsiders or it must have given way before the burst of public indignation which such an explanation would have created. i have again encamped in the chinar bugh, but not quite in the old position as a better place was unoccupied. indeed i had my pick of the whole, for there is now nobody here but myself. i received news (in my letters) that a field force had left pindee to operate against some of the hill tribes between peshawur and abbottabad--ruffians who are always giving trouble, and who occasioned the inglorious umbeylla campaign a few years ago. i informed my "boy" that there was going to be some hard fighting, and his reply was "with our troops, sir?" our troops! good heavens! a black man speaking to me of "our troops." it is customary i know to call these asiatics our fellow subjects, but i never before had the fact so forcibly brought before me. august th.--i got up early this morning and have spent half the day on the "dul" or "city lake"--a large sheet of water which lies at the foot of the hill behind sreenuggur. besides the excessive beauty of the lake itself there are many objects of interest to be seen on its banks. i visited in succession the mussul bagh, rupa lank or silver isle, shaliman bagh, suetoo causeway, nishat bagh, souee lank or golden isle, and floating gardens. a word or two of description for each. the mussul bagh is a large grove of fine chenars planted in lines so as to form avenues at right angles to each other. there must be several hundred of these noble trees upon the ground, i do not mean fallen but erect and vigorous. the shaliman bagh is an extensive and well cultivated pleasure garden with pavilions, tanks, canals and fountains, in true oriental style. the upper pavilion is especially worthy of notice having a verandah built of magnificent black marble veined with quartz containing gold. it is surrounded by a large tank possessing one hundred and fifty-nine fountains, and its exterior is grandly if not artistically painted. the nishat bagh is smaller but scarcely less attractive. it is arranged in a series of fifteen terraces, from which a splendid view is obtained of the lake and adjacent country. down its centre runs a canal, expanding at intervals into tanks and having a waterfall for each terrace, with a single straight row of fountains numbering more than one hundred and sixty. grand hills rise immediately above it. it contains pavilions of fruit trees, and as a flower garden, is superior to the shaliman bagh. the suetoo causeway, is a series of old bridges and embankments which formerly crossed the lake, and was two or three miles long, but only portions of it now remain. the two islands are small and covered with trees, having no interest of themselves, but adding greatly to the appearance of the lake. they are i believe artificially constructed. the celebrated floating gardens are very curious; they were formed by dividing the stalks of the water weeds near their roots, and sprinkling the surface of them with earth, which sinking a little way was entangled in the fibres and retained; fresh soil was then added, until the whole was consolidated, and capable of bearing a considerable weight. the ground is now about nine inches thick, floating upon the surface of the water, and the stalks of the weeds below it having disappeared. it is exceedingly porous and is used for the cultivation of water melons, when walking upon it a peculiar elasticity is perceived, accompanied with a tremulous or jelly like motion. it is divided into long stripes pierced by a stake at each end, which secures them in their position and allows of their rising or falling with the height of the water. an unlucky day for silly. in the first place he was _sea-sick_. the use of the broad paddle in a small boat caused a good deal of shaking, and every stroke is attended with a sharp jerk forwards--secondly, he mistook a collection of weeds for dry land and jumped out into the water. this puzzled him immensely, and after he was recovered he sat for a long time gazing with a bewildered air upon the surface of the lake. paid a visit in the afternoon to sumnud shah for the purpose of replenishing my exchequer, but found his shop better calculated to exhaust it. i'll not go there again. august th.--lying down inside my tent i just now heard two crows chuckling and laughing in their way and saying to one another "here's a joke" or caws to that effect. you need not laugh at this statement or think that my mind has suddenly become deranged, i merely state a fact. the language of animals--dumb creatures as fools call them--is far more expressive than you imagine, and if you had spent the same time and the same attention that i have in listening to birds notes, you would be able to understand much of their meaning. here a conversation carried on in a foreign tongue, one to which you a perfect stranger, will you be able to distinguish words? no! you will only hear a confusion of sounds possessing apparently but little variety. but as you become accustomed to it the words and syllables will start out into clear relief; so with birds songs--at first they will appear to you to be always the same, but they have really different tones and meanings, which you may learn to appreciate by studying them in connection with their acts. however i heard the crows say "here's a joke" and guessing i was to be the victim of it, i immediately jumped up and rushed out. they flew away loudly exulting and i found my match box,--which i had left on the table broken to pieces and the matches carefully distributed so as to cover as large a space of ground as possible; there is a crow's joke for you--there is not much in it as a joke,--but i introduce it principally to show that birds talk and that i (clever i) can understand them. i wrote the foregoing to eke out my notes for the day, not having anything particular to record. when the baboo called upon me with the startling intelligence, all officers from the peshawur division ordered immediately to rejoin their respective regiments; this has taken away the greater number of the visitors and very few are now left in kashmir. why don't i pack up and start? well, i forgot to mention a short sentence in the order "except those on medical certificate" which saves me the trouble and annoyance of hurrying back before the expiration of my leave. it is on account, i suppose, of the little war we have entered on with those hill tribes, and i may be missing honour and glory, wounds and death, neither of which i care to earn from barbarians on the black mountains. i am sorry for the affair as i fear that from the inaccessibility of the country the best result will barely escape disaster. this is a strange day. you see me, one moment trifling with my thoughts for the sake of occupation and then having matters and subjects for the deepest consideration suddenly thrust upon me. ought i to rejoin? i am indeed protected from the necessity of doing so, but my health is now fully established and such being the case, is it my duty to waive my right and return to my regiment. i think not, for the reason it is not likely that they will weaken the garrison at peshawur by sending any of its troops into the field. its strength is maintained for the purpose of defence against the cabulese and other powerful pathan tribes immediately surrounding it, who are deadly enemies, and would be eager to avail themselves of any opportunity for offence. therefore i imagine that my regiment will remain in quarter, and do just as well without me as with me; and therefore have i determined to adhere to my original plans. august th.--there was a great fire in the town last night; three hundred houses have been destroyed. i went early to the scene of the disaster, which is on the left bank of the river adjoining the first bridge. the embers were still smouldering, and among the ruins the heat was intense, owing to the houses having been built almost entirely of wood, little but ashes and charred logs remained of them. here and there a few hot bricks retained the semblance of a wall, but the destruction has been as complete as it is excessive. the bridge has also suffered, the bank pier having been attacked by the flames, and half the railing on either side of the foot-way has been torn off and precipitated into the water. the latter injury was caused i imagine, by the rush of the crowd over it at the time of the fire. no lives lost i believe. august th.--at six o'clock this morning a jemindar or military officer made his appearance, sent by the baboo, for the purpose of conducting me over the fort. a row of a mile down the river, and half a mile walk through the narrow rough crowded and stinking streets of the town brought us to the outworks, at the foot of the hill on which it is built. this hill is very steep and several hundred feet high, (i do not know the exact height, but i think it is between six and seven hundred feet) and the climb up it was fatiguing. from the top there is an extensive view, but the morning was misty and the greater part of the valley indiscernible. in front lies the town, intersected by the jhelum; a great desert of mud-covered roofs presenting anything but the green carpet-like appearance described in books. on the left long lines of poplars, enclosing the moonshi bagh and the various encamping grounds, with the tukh-t-i-suliman rising high above them. behind, the dul, spread out like a sheet of silver with the back ground of mountains, and many canals radiating and glistening in the sun-light. of the fort i have but little to say. from below, its position renders it imposing, but a nearer inspection dispels the illusion. inside it there is a hindoo temple, two or three tanks filled with green, slimy water, and some wretched hovels for the occupation of the garrison. the ramparts though high are weak and a few shells dropped within them would blow the whole place to pieces. the ordnance consists of four ancient brass guns; two of them about -pounders and the others -pounders, but i did not see a spot from which either of them could be safely fired; and even if there were bastions strong enough, i doubt if cannon could be depressed sufficiently to sweep the precipitous sides of the hill. on my way back to the boat, i turned aside to visit the jumma musjid, or chief mosque, a large quadrangular wooden building, the roof of which is supported by deodar columns of great height, each pillar being cut out of a single tree, but i cannot waste more time over it, the name recalls to my memory the magnificent jumma musjid of delhi--but comparisons are odious. when parting with my attendant i felt uncertain whether or no he would be offended by the offer of a remuneration for his trouble, so i left him to ask for it, as natives usually do not scruple to request "bucksheesh" for the most trifling service, but either his orders or his dignity prevented him from soliciting it, and he went away unrewarded and i doubt not dissatisfied. after noon i went and selected a lot of papier maché articles, and gave monograms to be painted upon them. their papier maché is fairly made, elaborately painted and moderate in price. at this shop they prepared some ladâk tea for me, a most delicious beverage possessing a delicate flavour such as i have never before tasted in any tea. it was sweetened with a sort of sweet-meat in lieu of plain sugar. august th.--a blank day, i have done nothing but fish and only caught one of moderate size. early in the morning there was a storm attended with high wind and heavy rain; it cleared up before sun-rise, but its effect has been to make the day very pleasantly cool. august th.--went up to the tukh-t-i-suliman (solomon's throne) before breakfast. it stands one thousand one hundred feet above the town, and the ascent is effected by means of unhewn stones arranged in the form of a rough flight of steps built by the gins, i should fancy for their own private use and without any consideration for the puny race of mankind that was destined to follow them. i am a tall man and gifted with a considerable length of _understanding_ but the strides i was obliged to take--sometimes almost bounds--if calculated to improve my muscles, were certainly very trying to my wind. however all things have an end, and so had that long flight of steps, and at the summit i had leisure to recover my breath and enjoy the magnificent view. i took care to have a clear day for this excursion, and the whole valley was seen stretched out like a map, and spreading far away to the feet of its stupendous mountain boundaries. the lakes like huge mirrors reflecting a dazzling radiance. the jhelum twisting like a "gilded snake" and forming at the foot of the hill the original of the well-known shawl pattern; miles upon miles of bright and verdant fields, divided and marked out by the banks and hedges; clumps and groves of lofty trees diminished by distance to the appearance of mere dark green bushy excrescences; the poplar avenue looking like two long and paralleled lines drawn upon the ground; the fort and hill but a pigmy now; the city of sombre colour, with its houses closely huddled together and presenting an expanse of mud--unworthy stone for such a setting! the high and rugged mountains on every side piercing the clouds, out of which the everlasting snow and ice rock regions untrod by mortal foot gleam and glisten coldly in the scene below; these are the constituent parts of a view which taken altogether ranks among the finest (if indeed it be not itself the finest) in the world. but i have no description for it as a whole, words would fail me if i attempted to reproduce it on paper, so you must take the items and arrange them to your own satisfaction, and wish you had the opportunity of seeing the glorious original. i am no antiquarian, but i believe the building itself possesses great interest for those who indulge in that musty study, on account of its vast antiquity and uncertain history. to me it is only a hindoo temple of quaint architecture and unwholesome smell. inside it is a small marble idol in the form of a pillar with a snake carved round it. august th, sunday.--the beginning of a fresh week which will at its conclusion find me on my way homewards, my back turned on the lovely valley and all the beauties that i have witnessed existing only in my memory like a pleasant dream that has passed. so wags the world, joys giving place to sorrows, and sorrows in their turn effaced by fresh happiness or oblivion. for a little while each one of us plays his ever varying part in the great drama of life. now bewailing with bursting heart, and scalding tears the light affliction which is but for a moment; now with ringing laugh and reckless gaiety he enjoys the present, forgetful alike of past and future, now with stormy passions raging he "like an angry ape, plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven, as make the angels weep;" and then is his short act over, then the curtain falls and then will he be called before it to receive approbation? who can tell, i judge not one individually; but i may generalize and say, that while as a rule we give a terrible earnestness to the performance of the _business_ connected with our parts, we too often fail to appreciate and interpret the _spirit_ of the character, without which it is of course but a sorry exhibition and one that will be deservedly damned. as i sit under the shade of the chenars writing, a young native swell is passing along the opposite bank of the canal--a mere boy, with gold turban, lofty plume and embroidered clothing, riding a horse led by two grooms, followed by attendants also mounted, but sitting two on a horse and preceded by a band consisting only of some six drummers. he is playing his part doubtless very much to his own satisfaction, and little thinking that there is one "taking notes" and laughing at his proceedings. but so it is, we can always see, and ridicule the faults and foibles of others, would to god we could as easily perceive and weep over those of our own. the baboo mohes chund called to pay his farewell visit to me and shortly afterwards sent a second edition of "russud" including as before--a live sheep. august st.--my last day in sreenuggur--and now let me make a few observations on a topic which i dare say you are surprised has not been mentioned before, i mean the women; the far-famed beauties of kashmir. i am not ungallant, while i have been silent, i have been observing, and have delayed my remarks in order that they might have the benefit of the largest experience i could command. i did this the more willingly, because to tell the truth, i was disappointed at first, and i hoped that by waiting i might eventually have reason to change my unfavourable opinion. this however has not been the case, and while i intend to do full justice to their charms i must commence by saying that they have been grossly exaggerated. i do not of course allude to the higher classes. they are invisible; they _may_ be very beautiful, but are never seen by europeans. but the middle and lower classes go about with the face uncovered, exposing themselves to the criticism of some and the admiration of others, and it is of them i speak. the slim elegant figure of the hindoo is seldom seen; they are large, plump, round women. their complexion has been absurdly compared to that of our brunettes (may they feel complimented thereby) but veracity compels me to say that they are _very dark_. fair indeed by comparison with the hindoos, but actually and unmistakeably copper-coloured not to say _black_. in their features we find a great improvement; a well-shaped nose replaces the expanded nostrils, compressed lips, the thick pouting ones, their teeth are of marvellous whiteness and regularity as are those of all asiatics. their cheeks may sometimes have a tinge of pink, but this is usually veiled by the darker tint of the "rete mucosum." their eyes--oh! their eyes!--here lies their beauty, almond-shaped eyes, that when not in anger cannot help throwing the sweetest and most captivating glances. none of your trained disciplined eyes, taught to express feelings that do not exist; but still eyes that equally deceive, eyes that nature in some strange freak determined should ever look love. unconsciously and unintentionally they dart upon you the brightest, the most tender, nay, even passionate glances. when looking at a young face, you only see the eyes; eyes so voluptuous, so maddening, that you exclaim "good heavens what a beautiful creature," and unless you are a calm and cool analyst like myself, you may not discover that there is really no beauty save in them. they dress their hair in a peculiar manner. it is plaited in a number of small plaits joining two larger ones which fall over the shoulders and unite in the middle of the back to form a long tail terminating with a tassel. the larger plaits are mixed with wool, this adds to their bulk, and increase the length of the tail, which often extends below the knees. they wear a single loose gown, reaching in ample folds nearly to the feet. on the head a small red skull cap, over which is thrown the white (too often dirty) "chudder"--a light cloth which hangs down the back and is used for veiling the face. the boatwomen are renowned for their beauty. i have seen but little of it. the punditanees are said to be more beautiful than the boatwomen. i consider them even less so. but among the nautch girls i have seen both grace and beauty, and as a class, i certainly think far better looking than the others. respect to age is a noble feeling--though one that is unfortunately at a low ebb now-a-days--but truth, compels me and i must pronounce all the elderly women to be positively ugly, and a woman is elderly in kashmir when in england she still might be called young. the men are a fine race, regular features, broad shouldered and muscular, wearing their bushy black beards on their faces, but shaving the head, which is covered with a small coloured skull cap and white turban. two other men have pitched their tents under this tope. to-morrow i shall leave them in undisturbed possession of the whole. they are friends and have been travelling in kashmir. i have had a conversation with one of them, but i don't like strangers and am glad they did not come before. september st.--up and away, taking a last look at the town and bridges, a last look at the tukh-t-i-suliman while floating down the river. i am on my way to baramula, having given up my intended visit to gulmurg, so that i may get a week at murree, and see more of the place than i did when i was last there. adieu to sreenuggur, adieu to the scind, adieu to manusbul; gently onwards we go towards lake wulloor. it is a bright clear day, one of the brightest among the many bright ones, and the valley seems smiling upon me an affectionate farewell in order that the last recollections and parting scene may be a joyful memory to me in days and years to come. i thank thee for it. when i am gone let rain-tears fall and clouds of care bewail my absence, but gladden my departing moments with the full radiance of thy glorious countenance. oh! kashmir, loveliest spot on earth, i owe thee a deep debt of gratitude, i came to thee weak in body; thou hast restored my strength, i was poor in thought; thou hast filled my heart with good things, i was proud in conceit; thou hast shown me nature's grandeur and my own littleness. with a voiceless tongue thou hast spoken and my spirit has heard the unuttered words. tales of the creation when the morning stars sang together and all the sons of god shouted for joy; tales of man and his works perished in the endless roll of ages; tales of the future when heaven and earth shall have passed away amid the dread terror of the great tribulation. aye, and one more tale, a tale of love, mercy, and forgiveness; the tale of an asiatic--who, not far from here, was once "bruised for our transgressions," who took upon himself the iniquities of us all and made up for us a mighty deliverance, and to this tale there is a refrain that echoes from hill to hill, and spreads along the plain in endless repetition, "believe only and thou shalt be saved," but though the command is so simple, its eager passionate tone as it swells around me, and an earnest mournful cadence as it dies away in the distance, seems to imply that it is neither easily nor commonly obeyed. september nd.--awoke early and found myself in the broad waters of the lake, the full moon shining brightly in the west, and yet unpaled by the rosy dawn that was rapidly illuminating the east. stopped at sopoor for breakfast, and macnamara, surgeon of the th rifles, and his wife, arrived soon after me, also bound for murree. macnamara was at peshawur with me, and was one of the committee that sent me away. we passed the morning in conversation, and at mid-day continued our journey to baramula. he told me that he had heard that i was going home this winter with troops; but i do not know whether his information is reliable. i trust it may prove to be so, but it has not raised my hopes to a certainty. it is a good rule never to reckon confidently upon the achievement of our desires. it never assists to realise them and only renders the disappointment more bitter in case of failure. i have a great hope, but i do not forget that obstacles may arise, that while man proposes god disposes, and often find myself forming plans for next year under the supposition that i shall still remain in india. i have written the dedication of this volume and have written it as if i had already returned to england, and this may appear to indicate that i rely strongly upon the fulfilment of my expectation. but not so, i can alter or destroy it if need be, and shall do so with regret indeed, but without despair. about halfway between sopoor and baramula the wind increased to a gale and obliged me to take refuge under the bank. i dined with macnamara and his wife at o'clock, the weather moderated and we proceeded to baramula. september rd.--at sunrise i obtained coolies, and turned my back on the happy valley for ever. it was a beautiful morning with a golden haze rising from the ground, the mountains appearing blue and purple against the eastern halo; but before i had gone a mile a dark cloud gathered around me, and wept passionate rain. i marched to naoshera, ten miles, followed in an hour by dr. and mrs. macnamara who will be my fellow travellers as far as murree. the rohale ferry is re-opened and i am returning by the direct road on the left bank of the jhelum. there is a barahduree at every stage, so i sold my tent at sreenuggur to render my baggage lighter. i am travelling with only six coolies. the river is much lower and less rapid than when i came up it, the excess of water caused by the melting of the snow during the summer having been carried off. it is still however a noisy turbulent torrent. september th.--a long march of fourteen miles to ooree. the road is becoming very hilly, but is not as yet nearly so rough and difficult as on the other side. passed two ruins; one of then very similar to those at wangut, but much smaller. september th.--to chukoti, sixteen miles, a severe and fatiguing march, the hills being intersected by ravines--the beds of streams--to all of which there was a steep descent and corresponding ascent. this is the worst march on the murree road, but though bad, it is much better than five or six that i described on my journey from abbottabad. these long marches are very detrimental to my diary, for at the conclusion i have no energy either to think or write. i am not using my dandy now, and have to walk every inch of the way. september th.--fifteen weary miles to huttian, low down on a level with the river where i found a number of tents belonging to the lord bishop of calcutta and his chaplain, who are here with a large retinue of servants, and are on their way into kashmir. they had very considerately and unlike a certain ---- ---- left the bungalow empty for the use of other travellers. macnamara sprained his knee yesterday, and used my dandy to day. one of my coolies stumbled on the road and the kitta he was carrying--containing my stores and cooking utensils, went over the rhudd and burst open in the fall. macnamara was behind fortunately (for me) and superintended the collection of the articles so that my only loss of any moment is that of my big cooking pot, which from its weight probably rolled all the way down to the jhelum--the long grass growing on the hill, stopped the other things. the six remaining marches are i am glad to say short. the three last have been a severe trial on account of the numerous and rough ups and downs, and for the last mile or two this morning, the soles of my feet were in great pain; silly too was very exhausted even to the dropping of his tail. september th.--got up at daybreak and marched on chikar, distance ten miles. for three miles the road continued along the valley of the jhelum, and then turned to the south, and crossed several ranges of hills, each range rising higher than the one before, very hard work it was, the ascents being so steep and long--i can't keep my breath going up hill; it is far more fatiguing than any roughness of road. chikar is a good sized village with a fort and is situated on the summit of a mountain at least two thousand feet above the jhelum. there is a fine view of the surrounding hills from the barahduree. shortly after our arrival it began to rain, and has turned out a wet day. i had half my crockery broken by the coolie dropping the basket instead of putting it carefully down at the conclusion of the march. september th.--to meira, seven and a half miles, a toilsome hill for half the distance, and then a descent the rest of the way. scenery very pretty, the valleys being much larger and the mountains higher. the murree ridge is now visible. from this bungalow we can see the next halting place, half way up a hill on the opposite side of an extensive valley deeply cut by ravines. the view is really very grand--much the finest on this road--in some parts it slightly resembles the scenery around darjeeling with, of course, pine trees taking the place of magnolias and rhododendrons. the mere mention of those trees--magnolias and rhododendrons i mean--will only give you a misconception of the sikin forests, because your ideas will be turned to the stunted shrubs of our northern latitudes. the magnolias and rhododendrons i speak of, are huge towering trees, taller than the largest oaks. how well i remember the magnificent spectacle they presented when in blossom! i have never seen mountains or forests that could compare in grandeur with those of the eastern himalayas. can you imagine kishun-gunga twenty-nine thousand feet high? no! it is impossible; it is a sight that produces the most intense awe, and when i first looked upon it i did not know how to contain my feelings; but enough, or i shall be giving you a chapter quite irrevelant to my journey from kashmir. by the side of this bungalow stands a large cypress; a very beautiful and by no means a common tree. there is something peculiarly rich in its dark green foliage, and withal, melancholy look, but that is doubtless owing to its tomb--stone associations. ince in his "guide," calls it a _sycamore_. he could hardly have named a tree more widely different. september th.--to dunee, eight and a half miles; first half, down hill, second up: both very steep and rough. a bad fatiguing march. the barahduree here has been lately white-washed and looks quite refreshing after the other dirty ones; but the rooms are ridiculously small. this is the last halt in kashmirian territory; to-morrow we shall be in a dâk bungalow. i had a lesson to-day. the same lesson that the spider taught bruce--never to cease striving to obtain any desired object; and not despair even if frequent failures attend the attempt. ever since i left baramula i have been endeavouring to catch another of the green butterflies, as beetles had eaten my first specimen. but they are very alert on the wing, and i could not get near one. the last two or three marches i had not seen any, having got out of their locality, but to-day a solitary one flew by me and i knocked it down, caught it, and secured it in my toper. success will eventually crown all constant endeavours, it is a slight peg on which to hang a moral, but let it pass. life is made up of trifles, and i desire my book to represent my life. a number of people--ladies, men, and children--came into the bungalow at o'clock, having made a double march and overtaken us; so we are very closely packed, even the verandah being occupied. september th.--to kohala, six miles, nearly all the way down a terribly steep and rough hill to the banks of the jhelum--which river has taken a great bend among the mountains and now runs at right angles to its former course. a ferry boat crosses the torrent at this spot and the passage during the summer is attended with considerable danger, as the stream runs at the rate of twenty miles an hour. i got my baggage in it and landed upon british soil at the other side. the dâk bungalow is just above, but we were very much crowded as all the other people remained for the night. after dinner a great thunderstorm took place accompanied with very heavy rain. september th.--marched to dargwal, twelve miles, up hill all the way, but the road is broad and smooth, so that the march was quickly and easily accomplished. m---- and his wife did not come in till the middle of the day as they could not get coolies in time to start early. there is a good furnished bungalow here, our other fellow travellers have gone on to murree, so we have the house to ourselves. september th.--to murree, ten miles, road the same as yesterday. went to woodcot, and found spurgeon, gordon, and egerton, of the th; hensma and beadnell, th; and dalrymple, th. put up with them sharing spurgeon's room. spent a pleasant time at murree, doing very little--a long rest of ten days after my labours--and on the nd, at o'clock, i took my seat in the mail cart with redan massy for my companion, and started on my journey to peshawur. arrived at rawul birder at in the evening, and went on at once by the government van. had no time for food. got to peshawur at o'clock next morning, and thus ended my three months sick leave. and now i go back to the din and bustle of life, the empty conventionalities of society, the noise and glitter of mess; to the re-pursuit of my profession, and to learn again by the bedside of many a dying man how weak and powerless is that profession to combat the ills that flesh is heir to. i sometimes wish i could exchange my present calling. terrible thoughts often assail me, after the death of any of my patients. questions as to whether i am at all responsible for the fatal issue. whether by lack of knowledge that i should possess or by careless observation during the progress of the disease, i have allowed a man to die who might have been saved, or pushed into the grave one who was only trembling with uncertainty upon its brink. yet as a set off against these feelings there is the satisfaction experienced when sufferings are relieved or health restored by the interposition of my aid. the profession of medicine is potent for good and evil. for good in the hands of him who makes it his lifelong study; for evil in his hands who adopts it merely as a respectable means of obtaining his livelihood. it is noble in the one case; detestable in the other. you do not know how detestable. if the vail could be raised, if you could see the vast amount of misery and suffering caused, the many hearts broken that god would not have made sad; and the many unprepared souls hurried out of this life into eternity by the ignorance of men who are "licensed to kill," you would cry out against the whole body of the profession with a bitter hatred, that even the army of noble and devoted minds amongst us would be unable to appease. am i too severe? i fear not. there are charlatans and know nothings in every pursuit, but in mine they effect so seriously the temporal and may be eternal welfare of mankind that their existence is awful to contemplate. shall i, in conclusion, write an apology for having nothing better than the foregoing to offer for your perusal "devil a bit." if i have written folly and you have read it all, why, you are the greater simpleton. to me it was an occupation when i had nothing better to do, on your part it was a foolish waste of time, which might have been more profitably employed. if i have written folly and you have _not_ read it, what necessity is there for me to apologize to you? if i have written sense and you consider it nonsense, you owe me an apology for your erroneous opinion. but if i have written sense and you have derived pleasure from the perusal of it, then we are both content, and i need neither forefend your criticism nor beg your excuses. thus then i have proved that though it may possibly be necessary for you to apologize to me, it cannot under any circumstance be needful for me to apologize to you. but there is a small class to whom the above remarks do not apply. i mean those few who i delight to think will read my book diligently and admiringly, merely because _i_ wrote it. whose judgment is warped by their affection, and who will be unconscious of the weary yawn my pages may often produce. shall i apologize to them? no! let them read, let them yawn; t'is a labour of love on their part, a labour which _love_ has prepared for them--and for them alone--or mine. and now farewell. may your shadow _never_ grow less! may you live for a thousand years. hazor salaam. january th, .--if these notes should ever be written out by my relations after my death--for i am now like to die, let me beg that the many mistakes in spelling, consequent upon the hurry and roughness of the writing, may by corrected and not set down to ignorance. list of subscribers. prince frederic of schleswig holstein. his excellency lieut.-general e. frome, r.e., governor of guernsey. sir p. stafford carey, bailiff of guernsey. edgar macculloch, esq., lieutenant-bailiff. william wallace armstrong, esq., san francisco. a.b. mrs. boucaut, guernsey. general sir george brooke, k.c.b., r.h.a. lieut.-col. h.j. buchanan, - th regiment. major henry l. brownrigg, th regiment. henry s.r. bagenal, esq., control department. captain george p. beamish, th regiment. mr. george beedle, quarter-master th regiment. a. brown, esq., national provincial bank of england. j. p. bainbrigge, esq., bank of england, liverpool. j. banckes, esq., shipwrecked mariners' society. mrs. crawford, guernsey. mrs. cunnynghame, edinburgh. w. collins, esq., m.d., scots fusilier guards. mrs. cave, hartley whitney, hants. captain g. collis, th regiment. colonel conran, fitzroy, melbourne. h. couling, esq., brighton. h. cuppaidge, esq. miss dugdale, , gloucester terrace, hyde park, w. miss e. donne, grove terrace highgate. miss donne, salisbury. james d'altera, esq., m.d. james deane, esq., queenstown, cork. w.g. don, esq., m.d. dr. drewitt, wimborne, dorset. dr. dudfield, , upper phillimore place, kensington, w. b. de marylski, esq., royal artillery. captain p. de saumarez, guernsey. captain d.k. evans, th regiment. mrs. w. foster, , lower berkeley street, london. mrs. e. foster, , chester terrace, regent's park. mrs. feilden, isle of herm. major-gen. sampson freeth, late royal engineers. major-gen. james h. freeth, late royal engineers. colonel foster, late th lancers. the rev. w. foran, guernsey. walter freeth esq., croydon. henry foster esq., victoria road, kensington. patterson foster, esq. kingsly, o. foster, esq. mrs. f.w. gosselin, guernsey. rev. f. giffard, the vicarage, hartley wintney. john c. guerin, esq., guernsey. s.m. gully, esq., th regiment. f.l. grundy, esq., th regiment. m. garnier, guernsey. mrs. horridge. lieut.-col. fitzwilliam hunter, th regiment. t. holmes, esq., , great cumberland place, hyde park. captain j.b. hopkins, th regiment. reginald hollingworth, esq., late th regiment. t. husband, esq., , argyle road, kensington. charles hogge, esq., th regiment. in memoriam. miss b.s.h. coventry jeffery. captain a.h. josselyn, th regiment. j.w. jones, esq., th dragoon guards. the rev. charles kingsley, m.a. mr. j. kenwood, hartley wintney. mrs. le marchant thomas le marchant, guernsey. miss lefebvre, guernsey. mrs. la serre, guernsey. sir t. galbraith logan, k.c.b., director general. thomas lacy, esq., guernsey. major r.b. lloyd, th regiment. "library," officers, th regiment. mr. thomas lenfestey, guernsey. mrs. macpherson, guernsey. mrs. mogg, clifton. mrs. peter martin, guernsey. mrs. myers, guernsey. a.d. macgregor, esq., guernsey. capt. a.e. morgan, late st highland lt. inf. captain j.w. massey, th regiment. j.w. morgan, esq., th regiment. james e. macdonnel, esq., th regiment. w.h. marriot, esq., th regiment. s.m. maxwell, esq., th regiment. a. morgan, esq., treasurer, s.w. railway. the mess, th regiment. w. moullin, esq., clifton. miss a.m. newman, cheltenham. the rev. e.j. ozanne, m.a., guernsey. captain j. osmer, th regiment. e.f. o'leary, esq., th regiment. mrs. joshua priaulx, guernsey. mr. charles palmer, hartley wintney. miss m. pittard guernsey. colonel priaulx, guernsey. colonel lewis peyton. g. pollock, esq., , grosvenor street, london, w. c.w. poulton, esq., th regiment. g. pound; esq., odiham, hants. mrs. ramsay, isle of sark. john roberts, esq., m.d., guernsey. george m. richmond, esq., th regiment. j.l. rose, esq., th regiment. mrs. sandes, st. john's hill, london, s.w. mrs. r. smith, guernsey. lieut.-col. r. scott, fort george, aberdeen. major charles stirling, late royal artillery. dr. fowler smith, district recruiting office, peterborough. capt. c. spurgeon, th regiment. capt. h. stopford, th regiment. w. smail, esq., th regiment. r.b. smyth, esq., m.b. d regiment. mrs. threllfall, ferryside, south wales. capt. c. townsend, royal artillery. d. thorburn, esq., m.d., th hussars. mrs. wren, paris square, bayswater. charles williams, esq., guernsey. watkin s. whylock, esq., m.d., assist.-surgeon. capt. h. webb, th regiment. mr wetheral, oak lodge, winchfield. netley library. and "others received too late for publication." le lievre, printer, star-office, bordage-street. servants of the guns by jeffery e. jeffery _by the ears and the eyes and the brain, by the limbs and the hands and the wings, we are slaves to our masters the guns, but their slaves are the masters of kings!_ gilbert frankau. london smith, elder & co., waterloo place [_all rights reserved_] printed by william clowes and sons, limited london and beccles, england _to one who knows nothing of guns but much of life my mother_ contents part i the new "ubique" beginning again a battery in being "in the line" spit and polish a battle part ii and the old bilfred "the progress of pickersdyke" snatty five-four-eight part iii in enemy hands some experiences of a prisoner of war henry part i the new "ubique" beginning again as the long troop train rumbled slowly over the water-logged wastes of flanders, i sat in the corner of a carriage which was littered with all the _débris_ of a twenty-four hours' journey and watched the fiery winter's sun set gorgeously. it was christmas evening. inevitably my mind went back to that other journey of sixteen months ago when we set forth so proudly, so exultantly to face the test of war. but how different, how utterly different is everything now! last time, with the sun shining brilliantly from a cloudless sky and the french sentries along the line waving enthusiastically, we passed cheerfully through the pleasant land of france towards our destination on the frontier. i was a subaltern then, a subordinate member of a battery which, according to pre-war standards, was equipped and trained to perfection--and i can say this without presumption, for having only joined it in july i had had no share in the making of it. but i had been in it long enough to appreciate its intense _esprit-de-corps_, long enough to share the absolute confidence in its efficiency which inspired every man in it from the major to the second trumpeter. but now it is midwinter, the second winter of the war, and the french sentries no longer wave to us, for they have seen too many train-loads of english troops to be more than mildly interested. the war to which we set out so light-heartedly sixteen months ago has proved itself to be not the "greatest of games," but the greatest of all ghastly horrors threatening the final disruption of civilised humanity. more than a year has passed and the end is not in sight. but the cause is as righteous, the victory as certain now as it was then.... the methods and practice of warfare have been revolutionised. theory after theory has been disproved by the devastating power of the high explosive and the giant gun. horse and field batteries no longer dash into action to the music of jingling harness and thudding hoofs. they creep in by night with infinite precautions and place their guns in casemates which are often ten feet thick; they occupy the same position not for hours, but for months at a time; they fire at targets which are sometimes only fifty yards or even less in front of their own infantry, with the knowledge that the smallest error may mean death to their comrades; and the control of their shooting is no longer an affair of good eyesight and common sense, but of science, complicated instruments, and a multiplicity of telephones. and i, a novice at all this kind of work, am no longer a subaltern. i am directly responsible for the welfare and efficiency of the battery which this long train is bearing into the zone of war. how we fare when we get there, what kind of tasks are allotted to us, and how we succeed in coping with them i hope to record in due course. but this i know now--the human material with which i have to deal is good enough. we have the advantage of being a homogeneous unit, for we belong to one of the "locally raised" divisions. with only a very few exceptions (notably the sergeant-major, who is a "serving soldier" of vast proportions and great merit), the n.c.o.'s and men all come from the same district. many of them were acquainted in private life and enlisted in little coteries of five or six. christian names are freely used, which is fortunate seeing that we have four jones', five davies', and no less than eight evans' on our roll. in moments of excitement or of anger they resort to their own language and encourage or abuse each other in voluble welsh.... a few miles back we passed g.h.q. i was vaguely impressed with the silent dignity, the aloofness, as it were, of that now celebrated place. our train drew up in the station, which seemed as deserted as that of a small english country town on a sunday. "here, within a mile of me," i thought, "dwell the powers that be, whose brains control the destinies of a million men. here somewhere is the individual who knows my destination and when i am likely to get to it." but this surmise proved incorrect. it was three-thirty on christmas afternoon and even the staff must lunch. presently a r.t.o.[ ] issued from a cosy-looking office and crossed the line towards me. his first question was positively painful in its naïve simplicity. [ ] railway transport officer. "who are _you_?" he inquired haughtily. my reply was not only correct but dignified. "we know nothing about you," he said. "the staff officer who should have been here to give you your instructions is away at present." (i think i mentioned that it was christmas day!) "never mind," i replied, "but would it be disturbing your arrangements at all if i watered my horses and gave my men some food here? they've had nothing since last night, and the horses have been ten hours without water." "no time for that. you'll leave in two minutes." and sure enough in half an hour we were off again!... when, soon after five, we learnt that we were within a few minutes of our journey's end i leant across and woke "the child"--who is my junior subaltern. if this war had not come to pass the child would probably be enjoying his christmas holidays and looking forward to his last term at his public school. actually, he has already nine months' service, of which three have been spent at the front. he has been home wounded and is now starting out again as a veteran to whom less experienced persons refer their doubts and queries. last week he celebrated his eighteenth birthday. he is the genuine article, that is he holds a regular commission and has passed through "the shop."[ ] his clothes fit him, his aspirates appear in the right places, he is self-possessed, competent, level-headed and not infrequently amusing. of his particular type of manhood (or rather boyhood) he is a fine example. [ ] r.m.a. woolwich. "wake up, child," i said. "we're nearly there." he rubbed his eyes and sat up, wide awake at once. "_some_ journey," he observed. "hope it's not hell's own distance to our billets." the r.t.o. at ---- where we detrained was an expert, the passion of whose life it is apparently to clear the station yard in an impossibly short space of time. he addressed me as follows, the moment i was out of the train. "you _must_ be unloaded and out of this in two hours. you can sort yourselves in the road afterwards." i promised to do my utmost, but the prospect of sorting men, horses, vehicles, and harness on a narrow road flanked by deep ditches whilst the rain streamed down out of a sky as black as tar, appealed only vaguely to my optimistic spirit. the r.t.o., having given minute instructions and made certain that they were in course of being carried out with feverish haste, became communicative. "you see," he said, "there's been the dickens of a row lately. one unit took four and a half hours to detrain and several have taken more than three. then 'brass hats' get busy and call for reasons in writing, and i have to render a report and everybody gets damned. if you exceed your time i shall _have_ to report you. i don't want to, of course, and i'm sure you don't want me to." but at this moment i spotted, by the light of an acetylene flare, my prize-fool sergeant (every battery is issued with at least one of these) directing his drivers to place their harness just where it could not fail to be in everybody's way. i turned to the r.t.o. "my good man," i said, "you can report me to any one you please. i've reached the stage when i don't care _what_ you do." and i made for the offending sergeant. the r.t.o., justly incensed, retired to the warmth of his office. as a matter of fact things went rather well; the men, heartened by the thought that rest and food were not far distant, worked with a will, and by the time the allotted two hours had elapsed we were not only clear of the yard, but hooked in on the road and nearly ready to start. moreover, being the first battery of the brigade to arrive we had had our choice of billets, and knew that we had got a good one. the child, preceded by a cyclist guide whose knowledge of the country was palpably slight, and followed by the mess cart, had gone off into the darkness to find the way. it was his job to make all arrangements and then come back to meet us. since it was only drizzling now and not really very cold, the outlook was distinctly brighter. "walk--march," i ordered, and we duly started. we progressed without mishap for, roughly, twenty-five yards, when there was a shout from the rear of the column. the sergeant-major took in its ominous purport before i did. he forgot himself--and swore aloud. "g.s. wagon's overturned in the ditch" was what i eventually heard. it was enough to make an angel weep tears of vexation. a battery is provided by a munificent government with two g.s. wagons. one contains supplies (_i.e._ food for horse and man), the other contains baggage and stores. to be without either is most unpleasant. i went back to the scene of the disaster. the ditch was deep and more than half full of water. in it, completely overturned and firmly wedged, was the baggage wagon. behind the wagon, also in the ditch and still mounted upon a floundering steed, was our old farrier, talking very fast to himself in welsh. we got him out and soothed him--poor old man, he was wet through from the waist downwards--and then looked sadly, reluctantly, at the wagon. evidently there was no hope of shifting it without unloading, and that would take too long. so three unfortunate gunners and a bombardier were told off to mount guard over it, given some tins of bully beef and a few biscuits and marooned, as it were, till the morning. all this took time. and we were very tired and very hungry. "i am the most unlucky devil on earth," i thought, as riding up to the front again i found that the pole of an ammunition wagon had broken and was going to cause still further delay. but it was a selfish thought. there was a distant rumbling, not of thunder, far behind us. i looked back. the night was clearing and the black horizon was a clear-cut line against the heavens. into the sky, now here, now there, kept darting up tiny sparks of fire, and over the whole long line, for miles and miles, a glimmer, as of summer lightning, flickered spasmodically. for in that direction lay "the front." on this christmas night in the year of grace nineteen hundred and fifteen, from the north sea to the alps, there stood men peering through the darkness at the dim shape of the parapet opposite, watching for an enemy who might be preparing some sinister scheme for their undoing. and i had dared to deem myself unlucky--i who had hope that some time that night i should undress and slip into bed--warm and dry.... * * * * * st. stephen's day! i wonder if the u.h.c. are meeting at clonmult to-day. closing my eyes i can picture the village street with its crowd of holiday-making farmers, buckeens, horse-dealers, pinkcoated officers and country gentlemen, priests and "lads on jinnets," as it was when i went to a meet there that boxing day the year that "brad" and i spent our leave in cork. but now hunting is a thing of small importance and brad--is a treasured memory.... we are comfortable here, extraordinarily so. the whole battery is in one farm and more than half the horses are under cover. the men sleep in a roomy barn with plenty of straw to keep them warm, the sergeants have a loft of their own. we have arranged harness rooms, a good kitchen for the cooks, a washhouse, a gun park, a battery office, and a telephone room. "_m. le patron_" is courtly and obliging, madame is altogether charming. their parlour is at the officers' disposal for a living-room: i've got a bedroom to myself. we are, in fact, in process of settling down. my admiration for the soldiers of the new army increases daily. for i perceive that they too, in common with their more highly trained, more sternly disciplined comrades of the original "regulars," possess the supreme quality of being able to "stick it." the journey from our station in england to this particular farm in northern france was no bad test for raw troops--and we are raw at present, it is idle to deny the fact. we marched to southampton, we embarked (a lengthy and a tiring process). we were twelve hours on the boat, and we had an exceptionally rough crossing, during which nine-tenths of the battery were sick. we disembarked, we groomed our horses and regarded our rusty harness with dismay. we waited about for some hours, forbidden to leave the precincts of the quay. then we marched to the station and entrained. any one who has ever assisted to put guns and heavy wagons on to side-loading trucks, or to haul unwilling horses up a slippery ramp, knows what that means. and i may add that it was dark and it was raining. we travelled for twenty-four hours--with a mess-tin full of lukewarm tea at a.m. to hearten us--and then we detrained at just the time when it was getting dark again and still raining. moreover, whilst we were in the train, cold, hungry, dirty and horribly uncomfortable, we had ample time to remember that it was christmas day, a festival upon which the soldier is supposed to be given a gratuitous feast and a whole holiday. but all this, to say nothing of a five-mile march to our billet afterwards and the tedious process of unharnessing and putting down horse lines in the dark, was done without audible "grousing." truly this morning's late _réveillé_ was well earned. the sun is shining this afternoon. the gunners are busy washing down the guns and wagons, the drivers sit around the courtyard scrubbing away at their harness: through the open window i can hear them singing softly. the poultry picking their way delicately about the yard, the old _patron_ carrying armfuls of straw to his cattle, and madame sitting sewing in the kitchen doorway almost make one feel that peace has come again into the world. but from the eastward occasionally and very faintly there comes that ominous rumbling which portends carnage, destruction--death.... it was the quartermaster-sergeant's idea originally. he is a new army product, but he has already developed the two essential attributes which go towards the making of a good quartermaster-sergeant--a suave manner and an eye to the main chance. it was he who suggested, laughingly, that since the men had missed their christmas dinner, we should pretend to be scotch and celebrate new year's day instead. the arrangements are now complete. the men are to be "paid out" to-morrow and they have all agreed to subscribe a franc apiece. this will be supplemented until the funds are sufficient. the expeditionary force canteen at ---- has been visited, and in spite of the heavy demands previously made upon it for christmas has provided us with numerous delicacies. the old farmer, entering cheerfully into the spirit of the affair, has offered beans and potatoes which madame proposes to cook for us. bottled beer has been purchased, beer on draught will be forthcoming. there are even crackers. to crown all, the child returns triumphantly seated upon the box seat of a g.s. wagon which contains--a piano!... in the end circumstances forced us to celebrate the birth of the year of victory on the last day but one of . for to-day two officers and a large party of n.c.o.'s and men departed for the front on a course of instruction. so we had to have our "day" before they went. and what a day it was! the dinner--thanks largely to the energy and resource of the "quarter-bloke" and the cooks--was an immense success. every man ate until, literally, he could eat no more. then, after the issue of beer and a brief interval for repose and tobacco, an inter-section football match was started. the two subalterns whose commands were involved made a sporting agreement that the loser should stand a packet of cigarettes to every man of the winning section--some sixty in all. the game, which was played in a water-logged meadow, ended in a draw, so they each stood their own men the aforesaid packet--a highly popular procedure. the piano, need i say, was going all the afternoon. it was necessary to practise for the evening's concert, and besides we are welsh and therefore we are all musical. moreover--and this i record with diffidence--i saw the one sergeant we have who is _not_ welsh but irish inveigle the dairymaid into waltzing round the yard! in the officers' mess we too "spread ourselves a bit." we had guests and we gave them an eight-course dinner which began with _hors d'oeuvre variés_ (but not very varied seeing that there were only sardines and chopped carrots) and ended with dessert. specially selected ration beef was, of course, the _pièce de résistance_, but it was followed by roast pigeon and a salad, the latter mixed and dressed by madame's own fair hands. but the pigeons, though cooked to a nicety, were undeniably tough--a fact which was not surprising seeing that they were quite possibly the oldest inhabitants of the farm! eventually, well pleased with ourselves and each armed with a brand of cigar which one can buy at the rate of nine inches for twopence, we adjourned to the smoking concert in the barn. the stage was our old friend the g.s. wagon; the lights, siege lamps, hung round at intervals. bottled beer and cigarettes were in constant circulation; the performers were above the average, and the choruses vociferous but always tuneful. every unit has its amateur comedian; but we have got a real professional one--a "lad fra' lancasheer" who is well known in the north of england. i will not divulge his stage name, but he is a corporal now. his voice is exceptional, his good-nature unlimited, and as for his stories--well! moreover, he is gifted enough to be always topical, often personal, but never disrespectful. the child also performed. he has no great voice and had dined well, but, since he _is_ the child and sang a song about any old night being a wonderful night, was wildly applauded. then the saddler-sergeant, a quaint character of whom more anon, brought the house down by playing a quavering solo upon a penny whistle. finally, the sergeant-major made a speech which ended as follows:-- "now there's just one point i want to remind you of. we all wear a badge in our caps with a gun on it--those of us that is who haven't gone against orders and given them away as souvenirs" (audible giggles--although as a matter of fact this has not occurred). "we're all members of the royal regiment. it's got a fine history--let's play up to it. we'll now sing 'the king,' after which there'll be an issue of tea and rum...." the windows of our mess-room, as i have said, face the courtyard. we were enjoying supper and a welcome drink whilst the long queue of men waited for their tea at the cook-house door outside, when suddenly in a dark corner of the yard a chorus started. but it was not an ordinary chorus, raucous and none too tuneful. neither was it music-hall sentiment. it was grand opera, sung by a dozen picked men and sung beautifully. we threw open the window to listen. the effect was extraordinarily striking. it was a gorgeous starlit night, and against the sky the farm buildings opposite looked like silhouettes of black velvet. the voices of these unseen artists (for they _were_ artists) came to us softly out of the darkness, rising and falling in perfect cadence, perfect harmony. they sang two selections from _il trovatore_ and then the "soldiers' chorus" from _faust_. meanwhile the battery sipped its hot tea and rum and listened critically. then there followed a solo, "he like a soldier fell," from _maritana_. as a finale, most wonderful of all, they sang "land of my fathers" in welsh. the occasion, the setting, the way they put their very souls into every note of it, made me catch my breath as i sat on the window-sill and listened. and i went to bed feeling that there is yet a thread of romance running through all the sordid horror which vexes our unhappy world. a battery in being the author of a little red book "war establishments," labelled "for official use only" (presumably a gentleman with a brain like an automatic ready-reckoner), probably thought of nothing whatever, certainly of no human being, when he penned the decree "farrier-sergeants--per battery-- ." but if he could only see the result of his handiwork! for our farrier-sergeant david evans is simply splendid. he is small and sturdy and middle-aged, with grizzled hair that shows at all times in front of his pushed-back cap. his soft welsh accent is a joy to hear; his affection for the horses is immense, his industry unflagging, and his workmanship always of the very best. he knows nothing about guns or drill or any kind of soldiering, he is an indifferent rider and in appearance he would never be mistaken for a guardsman! but we have only cast one shoe since he joined us months ago, and he has been known to sit up all night with a sick horse and carry on with his work as usual on the following day, whistling merrily (he always whistles while he works) and hammering away as if his very ration depended upon his shoeing the whole battery before dusk. the child summed him up with his customary exactitude. "i love the old farrier," he said, "he's such a merry old man. i bet he's a topping uncle to somebody!" then there is the saddler. i know that the formation of our new armies has produced many anomalies, but it is my conviction that our saddler is unique. to start with he is a grandfather! he is a little wizened old man with a nose like a bird's beak and he wears huge thick spectacles. he is sixty-two, and how he got into the service is a mystery. he has never done a parade in his life, but when it comes to leather-work (again i quote the child) "he's a tiger." the battery was newly formed and living in billets in north wales when he joined it. his original appearance caused a mild sensation, even amongst that motley and ununiformed assembly. for he wore check trousers and a pair of ancient brown shoes, a tweed tail-coat from the hind pocket of which protruded a red handkerchief, and--most grotesque of all--a battered top hat of brown felt! and in this costume he served his country, quite unconcernedly, for two months before the authorities saw fit to provide him with a khaki suit. it is his habit, no matter where the battery may find itself--in barracks, camp or billets, to seek out a secluded spot (preferably a dark one), to instal himself there with his tools and a tangle of odd straps, threads and buckles, and proceed to make or mend things. for he is one of those queer persons who really like work. i was not fortunate enough to see him in his civilian garb, but i have a vivid recollection of his first appearance after being issued with a "cap, winter, overseas, with waterproof cover." this cap, though practical, does not tend to add to the smartness of the wearer, even if the wearer is in all other respects smart. but the saddler went to extremes. he managed to put on the cover so that the whole, pulled well down over his ears, resembled a vast sponge bag or an elderly lady's bathing cap, beneath which his spectacles gleamed like the head-lights of a motor-car. the wildest stretch of the imagination could not liken him to any sort of soldier. nevertheless, after his fashion, he is certainly "doing his bit." it is, of course, impossible to describe them all. equally is it impossible to understand them all. i wish i could, for therein lies the secret to almost everything. the sergeant-major, for instance, who is the personification of respectful efficiency--what does he think of this infant unit? from the dignified way in which he says, "of course in _my_ battery we did so and so" (meaning, of course, his old "regular" battery), i gather that his prejudices are strong and that he harbours a secret longing to go back whence he came. and i sometimes wonder whether he finds himself quite at home in the sergeants' mess. but he shows no outward sign of discontent and he allows no discord: his discipline is stern and unbending. he knows all about every man and every horse, he is always to be found somewhere in the lines, and he is extraordinarily patient at explaining to ignorant persons of all ranks the "service" method of doing everything--from the tying of a headrope to the actual manoeuvring of a battery in the field. last, but by no means least, he is six foot three and broad in proportion, and his voice carries two hundred yards without apparent effort on his part. the quartermaster-sergeant--i learnt this only a day or so ago--is a revivalist preacher in quieter times; the ration orderly, besides his faculty for wheedling extra bacon out of the supply people, has a magnificent tenor voice; the great majority of the rank and file are miners. it is only comparatively recently that they have really settled down to take a pride in themselves and an intelligent interest in the reputation of their unit. for we are not ki. we are nearer to being kv or vi, and we were not amongst the first to be equipped and trained. we got our guns, our horses and our harness late in the day, and we were, perhaps, the least bit rushed. consequently we were slow to develop, but we are making up for lost time now at an astonishing pace. i can remember a time when, on giving the order "walk--march" to any given team, there was always an even chance that drivers and horses would disagree as to the necessity for moving off. i can also remember a time (and not so very long ago either) when our gunners had but the smallest conception of what a gun was designed to do and (i know this) rather shrank from the dread prospect of actually firing it. but now we drive with no mean attempt at style; a narrow gateway off a lane is nothing to us, and our horses, artistically matched in teams of bay or black, are prepared to pull their two tons through or over anything within reason with just a "click" of encouragement from the drivers they know and understand. and we open the breech as the gun runs up after the recoil, we call out the fuzes and slap in the next shell with more than mere drill-book smartness; we're beginning to acquire that pride in our working of the guns which is the basis of all good artillery work. in fact we have reached a stage where it would be a wholesome corrective to our conceit to be taken _en masse_ to see the harness, the horses and the gun-drill of some regular battery that has borne the brunt of things since mons. then we would go home saying to ourselves, "if the war lasts another two years and we keep hard at it, we'll be as good as they are." but in the meanwhile we are quite prepared to take on the hun, moving or stationary, in trenches or in the open, at any range from "point-blank" to six thousand. and we have had it dinned into us, until we yawned and shuffled our feet and coughed, that it is our _rôle_ at all times to help our infantry, whose life is ten times more strenuous than ours, and by whom ultimately victory is won. we know the meaning of the two mottoes on our hats and we are distinctly optimistic. which is as well.... * * * * * to-day i visited "the front." we rode up, a subaltern and i, to see the battery to which our men are at present attached and which we will eventually relieve. it is a strange experience for the uninitiated, such as i am, this riding along the flat and crumbling roads towards the booming of the guns and the desolation of "the line." the battery position, we found, was just on the borderland of this zone of desolation. one would never have suspected the presence of guns unless one had known exactly where to look--and had gone quite close. a partially ruined house on the road-side had its front and one gable end entirely covered with a solid wall of sandbags, but these were the only obvious indications of occupation. this house, however, was the mess and officers' quarters, and the child was there at the door to welcome us. "we've had quite a busy morning," he said gaily. "they've been putting four-two's and five-nine's into ----" (---- is a village about a quarter of a mile up the road). "i was just going out to look for fuzes: but perhaps you'd like to see round the position first." we crossed the road and entered a small orchard. the child led me up to a large turf-covered mound which had a deep drain all round it and a small door at the back. "this," he said, rather with the air of a guide showing a visitor round a cathedral, "is no. ." i bent my head and stepped inside. the gun-pit (which was not really a pit since its floor was on ground level) was lit only by the narrow doorway at the rear and by what light could filter through the hurdles placed in front of the embrasure. but in the dimness i could just make out the rows and rows of shells all neatly laid in recesses in the walls, the iron girders that spanned the roof and held up its weight of sandbags, brick rubble and--reinforced concrete. ye gods! concrete--for a field gun! and there, spotlessly clean, ready for instant action, was the gun itself. i felt sorry for it--it seemed so hopelessly out of place, so far removed from its legitimate sphere. to think that an eighteen-pounder, designed for transit along roads and across country, should have come to this! "the detachment live here," said the child, and showed me a commodious dug-out connected with the gun-pit by a short tunnel. inside this dug-out were four bunks and a stove--also a gunner devouring what smelt like a very savoury dinner. "what will these keep out?" i asked. "oh!" replied the child, airily, "they're 'pip-squeak'[ ] and splinter-proof, of course, and they might stop a four-two or even a five-nine. but a direct hit with an eight-inch would make _some_ hole, i expect. come and see the telephonist's place. it's rather a show spot." [ ] german field gun shells. as we were walking towards it a stentorian voice shouted, "battery action." instantly, the few men who had been working on the drains and on the pits, or filling sandbags, dropped their tools and raced to the gun-pits. in a few seconds the battery was ready to fire. we entered the telephone room--a shell-proof cave really. a man sat at a little table with an improvised but extraordinarily ingenious telephone exchange in front of him and a receiver strapped to his ear. a network of wires went out through the wall above his head. his instrument emitted a constant buzzing of "dots" and "dashes," all of which he disregarded, waiting for his own call. suddenly he clicked his key in answer, then said-- "hullo, oh-pip[ ]--yes. target k.--one round battery fire--yes." [ ] "oh-pip" is signalese for o.p. = observation post. this order was repeated to the guns by megaphone. _bang_ went no. and its shell whistled and swished away towards its goal. _bang_ followed no. just before "no. ready" was called back. it all seemed astonishingly simple, and it seemed, too, quite unconnected with war and bloodshed. orders to fire came by telephone from some place thousands of yards in front. the guns were duly fired by men who had no conception of what they were firing at, men who had in all probability never been nearer to the enemy than they were at that moment, and who had in fact not the slightest conception of what the front line looked like. according to order these same men made minute adjustments of angles, ranges, fuzes, until the battery's shells were falling on or very close to some spot selected by the forward observing officer, the one man who really knew what was happening. and when this exacting individual was satisfied, each sergeant duly recorded his "register" of the target upon a printed form, reminding me vaguely of the manner in which a 'bus conductor notes down mysterious figures on a block after referring to his packet of tickets. after which the detachments, receiving the order "break off," returned to their work or dinners with no thought whatever (i am sure of this) as to where their shell had gone or why or how! but then this was not a "show" but just an ordinary morning's shoot. we lunched in the mess, a comfortable room with a red-tiled floor and a large open fireplace on which logs of wood crackled merrily. on inquiry i learnt that these same logs were once beams in the church at ----, devastated not long since by heavy shells and now a heap of shapeless ruins from which the marauding soldier filches bricks and iron work. and that church was centuries old and was once beautiful. war is indeed glorious. i have heard it said that people who live close to niagara are quite unconscious of the sound of the falls. i can believe it. practically speaking, in this part of the world, two minutes never pass, day or night, during which no one fires a gun. but the human beings whose job it is to live and work here evince absolutely no interest if the swish of the shell is _away_ from them and very little if it is coming towards them, unless there appears to be a reasonable chance that it is coming _at_ them. throughout lunch the next battery to this one was firing steadily. rather diffidently i asked what was going on. the major commanding the battery shrugged his shoulders. "old ---- has probably got some job on--or he may be merely retaliating," he replied. i subsided, not knowing then that before the day was over i was to learn more about this same retaliation. after lunch we set out for the o.p.[ ] [ ] observation post. "we've got quite a jolly little offensive _strafe_ on this afternoon," remarked the major. "there's some wire-cutting, and while it's going on the attention of the hun will be distracted by the 'heavies' who are going to bash his parapet a bit. then at dusk the infantry are to slip across and do some bombing. we'll be rather crowded in the o.p., but i dare say you'll be able to see something." the child and my other subaltern, who from his habit of brushing his hair straight back and referring constantly to his _blasé_ past is known to his intimates as gilbert, came too. we passed through ----, which is shelled regularly. some of its houses are completely wrecked, but many are still partially intact. infantry soldiers lounged about the ruined streets, for this village is used as a rest billet for troops waiting their turn in the trenches: the expression "rest" billet struck me as euphemistic. i noticed that several shells had burst in the graveyard near the church. even the dead of previous generations, it seems, are not immune from the horrors of this war. after going up the road for nearly a mile we turned off on to the fields. every ten yards or so it was necessary either to step over or stoop under a telephone wire. these nerve strings of modern artillery were all neatly labelled--they all belonged to some battery or other. "they strafe this part fairly often," said the major unconcernedly. it is this unconcern that amazes me. i suppose (or i hope anyway) that i shall get used to this walking about in the open, but, at present, i am far from feeling at ease. the odds against getting hit on this particular bit of ground are enormous, but the chance exists all the same. as a matter of fact we did get one salvo of "pip-squeaks" over as we were going up. they were high, to our left, and at least two hundred yards away, but they made me duck sharply--and then look rather foolish. the child pointed to a two-storied ruined house with a skeleton roof. "behold 'the waldorf,'" he said. "per_son_ally myself" (a favourite phrase of his) "i think it's rather a jolly o.p." approaching it, we crossed some derelict trenches--our front line before the battle of x----. i felt somehow that i was standing on holy ground--on ground that had been wrested back from the invaders at a cost of many hundreds of gallant lives and an infinite amount of pain and suffering. several batteries observe from "the waldorf," and i found that for all its dilapidated appearance it was astonishingly strong inside. telephone wires ran into it from all directions, and there were several signallers sitting about cooking over braziers or, if actually on duty, sitting motionless beside their instruments. except for a narrow passage-way and a small recess for the operators, the entire ground floor was blocked solid from earth to ceiling with sandbags; there is a distinct feeling of security to be derived from eight or ten feet thickness of clay-filled bags! we climbed a wooden ladder and squeezed into the tiny room upstairs from which the fire of this particular battery is directed. a long low loophole carefully protected with sandbags and steel plates provided me with my first view of the front. i was now some fifteen feet or so above ground level and could see the backs of all our lines of trenches, could see the smoke of burning fires and men walking casually up and down or engaged in digging, planking, revetting, and so on. beyond was the front line--less distinct and with fewer signs of activity in it; beyond that again a strip of varying width, untrampled, green and utterly forsaken--no man's land. a few charred tree-trunks from which every branch and twig had been stripped by shell fire, stuck up at intervals. i could see the first german parapet quite plainly and (with glasses) other lines behind it, and numerous wriggling communication trenches. so this was "the front," that vague term that comes so glibly to the lips of the people at home. i looked at it intently for a long time and i found that one idea crowded all others from my mind. "what madness," i thought, "this is which possesses the world! what _criminal_ waste, not only of lives and money, but of brains, ideas, ingenuity and time, all of which might have been devoted to construction instead of to destruction." the child noticed my absorption, read my thoughts perhaps, and translated them into his own phraseology thus:--"dam' silly business, isn't it, when you come to think of it?" the expression fitted. it _is_ a damnably silly business, _but_, if we are to secure what the whole world longs for--a just and lasting peace--we have got to see this business through to the end, however silly, however wasteful it may seem. we have got to "stick it," as the soldier says, until the gathering forces are strong enough to break the barrier beyond all hope of repair; to break it and then to pour through to what will be the most overwhelming victory in the history of the world.... the major turned his head and spoke into a voice-tube beside him. "battery action," he said. the operator on the ground floor repeated his words into a telephone. i pictured over again what i had seen in the morning; the detachments doubling to the places and the four guns instantly ready to answer the call. it is altogether astonishing, this siege warfare. an officer sits in a ruined house, strongly fortified, and not so many hundred yards from the enemy. from there with ease and certainty he controls the fire of his four guns. he knows his "zone" and every object in it as completely as he knows his own features in a looking-glass. further, he is connected by telephone with the infantry which he supports, and through the medium of his own headquarters with various other batteries. normally this "observation" work is done by a subaltern, who, nowadays, thank heaven and the munitions factories, shoots as much, if not more, than he is shot at. but occasionally the enemy is stirred up and "retaliates." this word, in its present military sense, was unknown before the war. it means just this-- one side organises a bombardment. it carries out its programme, perhaps successfully, perhaps not. the other side, sometimes at once, sometimes afterwards, "retaliates" with its artillery on some locality known to be a tender spot: this is by way of punishment. a year, six months ago even, the aggression came almost entirely from the germans, and our artillery from lack of ammunition could only retaliate mildly, almost timidly, for fear of drawing down still further vengeance on the heads of its unfortunate infantry. but that state of things has passed for ever. the aggression now is all on our side--i speak, of course, of an ordinary day when there is no "show" on: moreover it is rigorous and sustained and wearing. if and when the germans reply to our aggression, we re-retaliate, so to speak, with a bombardment that silences him. for instance, to quote from "comic cuts" (the official intelligence summary is thus named)-- "yesterday the enemy fired thirty-five shells into ----. we replied with ." that is all: but the whole situation on the western front _now_ is summed up in that bald statement. in these days we have the last word _always_.... on this particular afternoon, however, we had a definite object in view. the "heavies" by two hours' methodical work made what the child calls "hell's own mess" of a selected bit of parapet. meanwhile a field battery industriously cut the wire in front of it and other field batteries caused "divarsions," as one says in ireland, by little side-shows of their own. the enemy went to ground, no doubt in comparative safety, and sulked in silence. but as soon as dusk began to creep over the sodden lines, he woke up and started to retaliate. it had evidently occurred to him that we might be going to attack that hole in his parapet. i watched what seemed like a glorified firework display for five or ten minutes, and somehow gathered the impression that i was merely a spectator. then there came three sharp cracks outside the loophole--_just_ outside it seemed--followed by the peculiar but unmistakable whirr of travelling splinters. "safer downstairs," observed the major, and we descended quickly. for the next quarter of an hour it really seemed as though the enemy had made up his mind to flatten out the "waldorf." he had not, of course: he couldn't even see it. what he was really doing was putting a "barrage," or wall of fire, on the road just in front of us to hamper the advance of our supports in case we genuinely meant to attack on any scale. we waited patiently downstairs until it was over; rather like sheltering in a shop from a passing shower. the signallers packed up their instruments and prepared to go home. personally i was inwardly none too happy about the prospect of sallying forth into the open; but these men appeared to have no qualms whatever. they were used to it for one thing, and for another they had had a long day and wanted their tea. in such circumstances it takes much to deter the british soldier. "seems to be over: might as well 'op it, bill," said one. "righto," answered the other. "bloomin' muddy this way. what say to going down the road?" _tack-tack-tack-tack_ came from the direction of the road. even war-worn signallers retain their common sense. "'ark at that there [adjectived] machine-gun, it's 'ardly worth it;" they agreed and squelched off through the thick clay, grousing about the state of the country but perfectly indifferent to the deafening din around them. five minutes later we followed them and walked back, facing the flashes of our own guns, which were still firing steadily--just to make certain of having the last word with the hun.... it was nearly nine o'clock when we at last clattered into the courtyard of our billet and slipped wearily off our horses. it had been a long day but an interesting one, for we had seen, at close quarters, a battery doing its normal job under the prevailing normal conditions. and very soon now our battery will be in that position, putting the last finishing touches to its education and doing that same job, i hope efficiently. then, and not till then, will it really be a battery in being. "in the line" we are beginning now to regard ourselves as old stagers. we have been in action for nearly three months and in that period our education, in all the essential things, has advanced at a most surprising pace. our most cherished illusions--culled from the newspapers for the most part--have been dissipated and replaced by the realities of this life. how often, i wonder, have we read that this is a war of attrition, or of artillery, or of finance, or of petrol! it is none of these things--at least not from our limited perspective. it is rather, to us, a war of mud, of paper (so many reams of it that the battery clerk's head buzzes and he cannot sleep at night for thinking of the various "returns" that he must render to headquarters by a.m. on the following day), of routine, and, above all, of marauding. wherefore we have adapted ourselves to circumstances. we have learnt that mud in itself is harmless and, since it is impossible to avoid, not worth noticing at any time; that unpunctuality in the submitting of any report or return demanded (however senseless) leads to far more unpleasantness from high quarters than any other sin one may commit; that routine is an irksome fetish of the powers, but that it makes each day so like its predecessor that the weeks slip by and one forgets the date and almost the month. lastly, we have learnt that the way to get things is to find them lying about; that while it is possible to indent for material, it is also possible to collect it if one takes the trouble. timber, for instance, is required for building gun-pits, so are steel girders and brick rubble and brushwood. well, do not the winds that shriek across this flat country blow down trees sometimes? is there not a derelict railway station less than a mile away, and are not piles of rubble placed along the roadsides for mending purposes? it is pleasant, too, to have a real door to one's dug-out instead of a hanging corn sack: there is more than one partially ruined cottage near at hand. we are beyond the borderland of civilisation here; we have left our scruples behind us, for we know that if we refrain from taking those rails, those doors and window frames, those stout oak beams, some one else will have them shortly. circumstances, too, have brought it home to us that this war is not so "stationary" as we imagined. the relative positions of the two opposing armies remain the same, weary month after weary month. but the positions of the units composing them do not. we, for example, soon after our arrival in the country were sent up to be attached for instruction to a battery which was in action. it was explained to us that we would eventually "take over" from that battery when its division went out to rest. we were at pains, therefore, to acquire all the knowledge we could in the time. the subalterns learnt the "zone" which they would have to watch and fire over--every yard of it. the sergeants mastered the particular system of angles, "registrations," etc., in use; the signallers knew the run of their wires and understood the working of the circuit; the gun detachments, as a result of many hours of patient sand-bag filling and building, had begun to regard the place as their future home which it was meet to make as strong and (afterwards only) as comfortable as possible. and i, as the battery commander, besides being fairly confident of being able to "carry on," had noted, with satisfaction, it being then midwinter, that there was a fireplace in what would be my room. but did we "take over" this position? not we! three days before the relief was due to take place we were sent off to another battery about which we knew nothing whatever and took over from it in a hurry and a muddle. which strange procedure may be accounted for in one of two ways--as having been done expressly with a view to training us in dealing with an unexpected situation or, more simply, as merely "dam bad staff work." we will leave it at that. we occupied this new position, which, by the way, was a good one with a quite comfortable billet close at hand, for just three weeks. at the end of this time we had thoroughly settled down: we had done a great deal of constructive work--strengthening gun-pits, improving dug-outs, fixing voice-tubes for the passing of orders from the telephone-hut to the guns; we had laid out an extra wire to the o.p. and relabelled all our circuit: we had cleaned up the wagon-line, rebricked the worst parts of the horse-standings and laid down brushwood so that the vehicles were clear of the all-pervading mud. we had arranged a bathroom for the men as well as a recreation room: we had built an oven (nothing acquires merit more simply in the eyes of the powers than a well-devised oven--"your horse-management is a scandal, captain ----!" "yes, sir: but have you seen our oven?" wrath easily deflected and the great one departs to make a flattering report). we had visualised at least twenty various "stunts" that would make things safer, or more comfortable or more showy. we had reached a moment, in fact, when we were secretly rubbing our hands and saying "the place is not only habitable but _good_: and we are about to enjoy the fruits of our labours thereon." which was a foolish attitude to adopt and one which, now that we are a more experienced (and therefore a more cynical) unit, would not be conceivable. this time they moved the whole division, telling us (or the infantry rather) that the order should be regarded as a compliment in that the division had done so well that it was to be entrusted with a more difficult--which is a euphemism for a more dangerous--portion of the line. resignedly we packed up everything that we possessed, "handed over" to the incoming battery, and, after failing to persuade the mess cat to accompany us, trekked off in a howling gale to the new place. this latter was not without merits, but had the great disadvantage that the only house available for a mess was nearly a quarter of a mile from the gun position. the gun-pits, with the exception of one which had been partially reconstructed on sound principles, were bad. they had been built in the summer when every one was saying, "no use wasting material--we won't be here next winter." but here we are all the same, regarding rather gloomily the defects which it will take weeks of hard work to remedy. i overheard one gunner expressing his opinion thus to a friend of his-- "well now, dai,[ ] i don't know what battery was here before us now just, but they weren't great workers, see! our pit couldn't keep the rain out last night--what'll it do if a shell comes along?" [ ] david. so i indented on the royal engineers (who own vast storehouses called in the vernacular "dumps") for rails and bricks and cement and sandbags, and i sent marauding parties out at night to collect anything that might be useful. the men with a good-will which was beyond all praise, seeing that this was their third position within the month, started the arduous task of dismantling the old pits and dug-outs and building them anew--guessing by this time that in all probability they would be moved on elsewhere before their labours were finished. for that is one very definite aspect of this war.... our mess is a cottage which we share with a french family. monsieur works in a mine close by, the numerous children play in the yard or are sent on errands, madame in her spare moments does our washing for us. in the evening they all assemble in the kitchen and try to teach french to our servants. it amazes me to watch the sangfroid with which they go about their daily occupations regardless of the never-ceasing sound of guns and shells, regardless of the fact that the german line, as the crow flies, is less than two miles away. at p.m. to the moment, whilst we are at dinner, they troop through into their own room to bed, each with a charming "bon soir, messieurs." and on each occasion they make me personally feel that we are rather brutal to be occupying two-thirds of their house and spending our days making the most appalling havoc of their country. but i console myself by remembering that these people once had uhlans in the neighbourhood and are therefore prepared to disregard minor nuisances such as ourselves. seven to seven-thirty p.m. is generally rather a busy time. official correspondence, usually marked "secret" and nearly always "urgent," is apt to arrive, and it is at this time that the intricate report on the day's shooting has to be made out and despatched to group headquarters. i am in the midst of this, working against time, with an orderly waiting in the kitchen, when the door is flung open and the child enters with a cheery "good evening, master." the child calls me master sometimes because i am always threatening to send his parents a half-term report on his progress and general conduct, or to put him back into eton collars! he has now just returned from forty-eight hours' duty at the o.p. and presents an appearance such that his own mother would hardly recognise him. he wears a cap of a particularly floppy kind which he refers to as "my gorblimy hat," an imperfectly cured goatskin coat of varied hues which smells abominably, fur gauntlets, brown breeches, and indiarubber thigh boots. round his person are slung field glasses, a prismatic compass, an empty haversack, and a gas helmet. moreover, he is caked with mud from head to foot and flushed with his two-mile walk against the cold wind. for this is still march, and we have had frost and snow and thaw alternately this last week. "anything happen after i left?" i ask. i had been up at the o.p. in the morning, and we'd "done a little shoot" together. "nothing much. the hun got a bit busy with rifle grenades about lunch time and started to put some small 'minnies'[ ] into our second line. so i retaliated on three different targets, which stopped him p.d.q. later on he put a few pip-squeaks round our o.p. and one four-two into the church. that's about all, 'cept that i had to dodge a blasted machine-gun when i was leaving at dusk--one of those -rounds-a-minute stunts, you know--and i had to nip across that open bit, in between his bursts of fire. the trenches are in hell's own mess after this thaw--i went down to the front line with an infantry officer to look at a sniper's post he's located; we might get the 'hows'[ ] on to it. any letters for me?" [ ] minenwer, _i.e._ trench mortar bombs. [ ] howitzers. i push them across to him, but forbid him to remain in the room with that smelly coat on. "righto," he grins; "i'm off to have a bath and a shave before dinner." "but, my dear child," i say, "you shaved last week! surely----" he grins again and saunters gracefully out. the child is always graceful even when wearing a goatskin coat and ungainly thigh boots. but he's tired--i can see it in his eyes. his last two days have been spent as follows: at seven p.m. the night before last he arrived, in the capacity of liaison officer, at the headquarters of the battalion that we are supporting. he dined there and slept, in his clothes of course and always at the menace of a telephone, in a draughty hovel next door. before dawn the next morning he was groping his way along three-quarters of a mile of muddy communication trench to the o.p. arrived there it is his business to make certain that the telephonists below in the dank cellar are "through" on every line. then he ascends the ladder of the observation tower and stares through the loophole at the mists which swathe the trenches in front of him. and there, alternately with the subaltern of the other battery which uses this particular o.p., he must remain until it is again too dark to shoot. there are diversions, of course, which help to pass the long hours. one is "shooting the battery." the f.o.o., as the subaltern on duty at the o.p. is called, is allowed, within fairly wide limits, to shoot when and at what he likes provided always that he has a reasonable objective. the principles laid down for him are simple enough: whilst never wasting a round if he can help it, he must also never miss an opportunity. that is to say that he must keep ceaseless watch for signs of movement or of new work being carried out by the enemy, for the flashes of hostile batteries, for suspected o.p.'s, for machine-gun emplacements and snipers' posts--for almost everything in fact. and when he sees, he must shoot--at a rapid rate and for a few moments only. for it is useless to "plaster" the same spot for any length of time: the enemy will not be there--he must be caught unawares or not at all. another diversion is noting down the action of the hostile artillery, of which a report has to be rendered every evening. this is easy enough when he happens to be shelling at a convenient distance from you: it is not so easy, however, to count the number of "pip-squeaks" that burst within a few yards of the house in which you are, or of "minnies" that arrive in silence and explode with a terrific report apparently just at the foot of your tower, filling your observation room with acrid fumes. visitors appear at all hours--generals, staff officers, infantry colonels, trench-mortar or sniping officers. each wants to examine some portion of the line from the vantage point of the tower, and each expects to be told unhesitatingly everything he wants to know. but to return to the child and his tour of duty. after dusk he goes back to infantry headquarters to feed and sleep. then follows another long day in the tower, at the end of which he is relieved by the "next for duty" and returns to the battery with the privilege of breakfasting at any hour he likes on the following morning. the child, i may here remark, has been known to eat poached eggs and marmalade at . , and unblushingly sit down to sausages and mashed potatoes at . . but those two days at the o.p. are a strain. no hot meals, long hours, disturbed nights, shells for ever passing overhead, "mutual exchanges of rifle grenades," snipers' bullets which have missed their mark in our front line trenches flattening themselves against the outer wall of the house--there are pleasanter ways of living than this. and two things are always possible: one that the enemy may decide that this ruined house that he has watched for so long really _is_ an o.p., and therefore well worth razing to the ground with heavy shell; the other that an attack (either with or without gas) may suddenly be launched against our line. in the first case the cellar _may_ be a safe place, in the second there will be what the child calls "hell's own job," requiring a quick brain, keen vision, and the battery roaring in answer to sharp, curt orders. but if the two occur at once, as is more than probable, why, then the cellar is out of the question, for at no matter what cost the guns--always ready, always hungry--must be effectively controlled, the long-suffering, hard-pressed infantry must be supported. but at present these are dull days. neither side is trying to do more than annoy the other. " . a.m. working party seen at ----, fired on, dispersed." " . p.m. fired rounds at suspected o.p. at ----. one direct hit with h.e. drew quick retaliation on ----." thus is the daily report compiled. is it worth all the trouble, the science, the skill, the organisation? it is, for everything, every little detail, every little effort helps to bring nearer the day when our guns will be pulled out on to the roads again, to be used for their legitimate purpose--the "quick thing," the fight in the open, "the moving show."... our colonel is "some man"--which phrase, being expanded, means an individual whose keen eye misses absolutely nothing from the too-sharp rowel of a driver's spur to the exact levelling of a concrete gun-platform; whose brain is for ever evolving schemes for the undoing of the wily boche; whose energy enables him to walk and ride fifteen to twenty miles a day, deal with all his official correspondence and yet find time to talk about hunting at odd moments. periodically he holds conferences of battery commanders at his group headquarters. after seeing that every one is provided for, he produces a large scale map with all the "zones" marked on it, sticks out his chin in a manner peculiar to him, and says-- "the hun is becoming uppish again and must be suppressed. now, what i propose to do is this"--and he proceeds to detail something entirely original in the way of a bombardment. but he is seldom content to use his own batteries by themselves: nearly always he manages to borrow a few "heavies" and some trench mortars of various sizes. with these at his disposal he feels that he can "put up a good show," as he says, and it must be acknowledged that he generally does. in addition to these definitely organised bombardments he is constantly ordering small "joy strafes" to be carried out. for instance, he will study the map and decide that two roads in a given area are in all probability used by the enemy at night. he will forbid any one to shoot on the northern one (say) and order two batteries to put salvoes on to the southern one every night until further orders, "just to impress the hun," as he puts it, "with the idea that the southern road is a distinctly unhealthy spot. then he'll have double traffic on the northern one. we'll wait till we know for certain that it's his relief night and then we'll fairly plaster that road." this thoughtful scheme was duly carried out about a week ago--with what results, of course, it is impossible to say: but from the way the hostile batteries woke up and retaliated, we gathered that something had been accomplished. and so the days and weeks pass by--quickly on the whole, so quickly that we are already beginning to badger the adjutant with queries as to when we are likely to get leave. there are rumours, too, that the division is shortly going out "to rest." the infantry deserve it, for theirs is the hard part: daily i admire them more, every man of them from the humblest private who digs in the slushy trenches or stands on guard in a sap thirty yards or less from the enemy and quite possibly on top of a mine to their brigadier who conceals his v.c. and d.s.o. ribbons beneath a rubber suit and spends more of his time in the front line trenches than out of them. but for us gunners it is different. we live in comfort and in perfect safety (unless our actual position is spotted and "strafed," in which case we merely withdraw our men until the enemy's allowance of ammunition is expended). except possibly for our hard-worked telephonists we need no rest. moreover, it would be heartbreaking to leave the position that we have made so cosy, so inconspicuous, and, we all believe, so strong. we happen to be close to a main avenue of traffic. all sorts of people pass by--"brass hats" going up to inspect the line, r.e. wagons laden with every conceivable kind of trench store, mining officers caked in yellow clay returning after a strenuous tour of duty underground, a constant succession of small parties of infantry who are either "going in" or "coming out," ration carts, handcarts filled with things that look like iron plum-puddings but are really trench-mortar bombs and, occasionally, an ambulance. infantry officers or men who happen to halt close by are generally invited to have a look at the gun-pits. more often than not some one of them recognises a friend or a relation in the battery: it must be remembered that we are a homogeneous division. if by chance we are firing when a party of infantry (unaccompanied by an officer) is passing, it invariably halts and watches the performances with huge interest and quite often with a shout or two of encouragement. "go it, boys, give 'em a bit more marmalade," i heard one ribald private yell out, when to his joy he heard the order, "two rounds battery fire one second." when the guns had flashed and roared in their sequence, and the shells had gone rumbling away towards the distant lines, he picked up his burden, hitched his rifle more comfortably across his shoulders, and went upon his way, remarking, with a pleasant admixture of oaths-- "that'll give 'em something to think about for a while." this, on a minor scale, is an example of the great principle of infantry and artillery co-operation. i can picture that same private rejoining his platoon in the trenches and saying to his "batty"--[ ] [ ] = pal or friend. "look you, trevor, as i was coming up the road now just, i see a battery of our fellows givin' them ---- hell." and his friend would answer perhaps-- "well, 'tis fine to hear our shells come singing over. what about them fags, tom? did you get 'em?" neither of these men would know whether the rounds had been well or badly placed, but each would be left with the impression that the artillery exists for the purpose of helping him and his fellows when in difficulties and of preparing the way when the time comes. a small point, perhaps, but nevertheless a vital one.... it is fortunate that amid all the horror and the misery and the waste that this war entails it is still possible to see the humorous side of things sometimes. here is an example. a major on his way up to the front line saw a man hunting about amongst some ruins for "souvenirs"--and this in a place which was in view of the germans and only about yards from their trenches. the major was justly annoyed: firstly, the man was evidently wasting his time; secondly, there was every prospect that hostile fire would be drawn to the spot. so he drew his revolver and put a round into the brickwork about six feet to one side of the man. the effect was wonderful. the souvenir hunter, convinced that he had escaped a sniper's bullet by a mere inch, made a wild dive into a handy shell-hole and lay low. twenty minutes later he emerged, crawling on hands and knees through deep slime and eagerly watched by a working party who had seen the incident. he arrived, panting and prepared to give an account of his thrilling experience--only to be asked his name and unit and placed in arrest on a charge of loitering unnecessarily in a dangerous place thereby tending to draw fire. another incident, not devoid of humour (though i cannot say that i thought so at the moment), occurred a week after we had arrived at our present position. w----, the captain of the "regular" battery which we had replaced, came over to inquire about a telescopic sight and a clinometer belonging to his unit which had somehow got mislaid during the muddle of "handing over." "they must be somewhere here," w---- suggested politely, "and we _must_ have them because we are going back into action to-morrow." i assured him that to the best of my belief i had only my own, "but," i added confidently, "we'll go round and ask at each gun to make certain." the sergeant of no. was quite positive. the corporal of no. was apparently equally so, but i noticed the suspicion of a smile at the corners of his lips. "are you certain," i repeated, "that you've only got your own telescope and sight clinometer?" the corporal's answer was positively brutal in its honesty. he winked--an unmistakable wink--and said-- "well, sir, o' course i've got those what i pinched off t' batt'ry that was here before!" if the mud had then and there engulfed me i should have been grateful. as it was i could only weakly murmur, "fetch them at once," and then glance round to see the expression on w----'s face. but he, good soul, was walking quietly away, though whether with the idea of relieving his own feelings or of allowing me to vent mine upon the corporal, i never dared to ask. on the following day the corporal, who by the way is our professional comedian from lancashire, saw fit to apologise. he did so thus-- "sir," he said, as i was walking past his gun-pit. i turned and regarded him sternly, for i was still rather angry. "i'm sorry about what happened yesterday," he observed contritely. "_i didn't mean to make a fool of you!_" the charm of the remark lies in the fact that, while disregarding the enormity of his offence in "pinching" essential gun-stores from another battery, he was genuinely upset at having made _me_ look ridiculous. which being the case i could do nothing but accept his apology in the spirit in which it was offered. spit and polish "per_son_ally myself," said the child, tilting back his chair until his head touched the wall behind him, and stretching out a lazy arm towards the cigarette-box--"per_son_ally myself, i've enjoyed this trip no end--haven't you?" "i have," i answered; "so much so, child, that the thought of going back to gun-pits and trenches and o.p.'s again fills me with gloom." it was our last night in a most comfortable billet near ----, where, on and off, we had spent rather more than a month of ease; on the morrow we were going into the line again. the trip to which the child was referring, however, was an eight days' course at a place vaguely known as "the ----th army mobile artillery training school," from which our battery had but lately returned. the circumstances were these. when, five weeks ago, the division moved (for the _n_th time!) to a different part of the line, it transpired that three batteries would be "out at rest," as there would be no room for them in action. it also so chanced that it was our colonel's turn to be left without a "group"[ ] to command. this being so, he suggested to higher authorities that the three batteries "out" should be those of his own brigade, in order that he might have a chance "to tidy them up a bit," as he phrased it. thus it was that we found ourselves, as i have said, in extremely comfortable billets--places, i mean, where they have sheets on the beds and china jugs and gas and drains--with every prospect of a pleasant loaf. but in this we were somewhat sanguine. [ ] a certain number of batteries. the colonel's idea in having us "out" for a while was not so much to rest us as to give us a variation of work. being essentially a thorough man, he started--or rather ordered me to start--at the very beginning. the gunners paraded daily for marching drill, physical exercises, and "elementary standing gun drill by numbers." n.c.o.'s and drivers were taken out and given hours of riding drill under the supervision of subalterns bursting with knowledge crammed up from the book the night before and under the personal direction of a brazen-voiced sergeant who, having passed through the "riding troop" at woolwich in his youth, knew his business. the strangest sight of all was the class of signallers--men who had spent months in the foetid atmosphere of cellars and dug-outs, or creeping along telephone wires in "unhealthy" spots--now waving flags at a word of command and going solemnly through the morse alphabet letter by letter. of the whole community, this was perhaps the most scandalised portion. but in a few days, when everybody (not excluding myself and the other officers) had discovered how much had been forgotten during our long spell in action, a great spirit of emulation began to be displayed. subsections vied with one another to produce the smartest gun detachment, the sleekest horses, the best turned-out ride, the cleanest harness, guns, and wagons. the colonel, after the manner of his kind, came at the end of a week or so to inspect things. he is not the sort of man upon whom one can easily impose. a dozen of the shiniest saddles or bits in the battery placed so as to catch the light (and the eye) near the doorway of the harness room do not necessarily satisfy him: nor is he content with the mere general and symmetrical effect of rows of superficially clean breast-collars, traces, and breechings. on the contrary, he is quite prepared to spend an hour or more over his inspection, examining every set of harness in minute detail, even down to the backs of the buckle tongues, the inside of the double-folded breast collars, and the oft-neglected underside of saddle flaps. it is the same thing with the guns and wagons. burnished breech-rings and polished brasswork look very nice, and he approves of them, but he does not on that account omit to look closely at every oil-hole or to check the lists of "small stores" and "spare parts." for the next week or so we were kept very busy on "the many small points which required attention," to quote the colonel's phrase. nevertheless, as a variation from the monotony of siege warfare, the time was regarded by most of us as a holiday. many things combined to enhance our pleasure. the sun shone and the country became gorgeously green again; the horses began to get their summer coats and to lose their unkempt winter's appearance; there was a fair-sized town near at hand, and passes to visit it were freely granted to n.c.o.'s and men; at the back of the officers' billet was a garden with real flower-beds in it and a bit of lawn on which one could have tea. occasionally we could hear the distant muttering of the guns, and at night we could see the "flares" darting up from the black horizon--just to remind us, i suppose, that the war was only in the next parish.... but it was not to be supposed that a man of such energy as our colonel would be content just to ride round daily and watch three of his batteries doing rides and gun drill. it occurred to him at once that this was the time to practise the legitimate business--that is, open, moving warfare. wherefore he made representations to various quite superior authorities. in three days, by dint of considerable personal exertion, he had secured the following concessions: two large tracts of ground suitable for driving drill and battery manoeuvre, good billets, an area of some six square miles (part of the ----th army training area) for the purpose of tactical schemes, the appointment of himself as commandant of the "school," a ford ambulance for his private use, three motor lorries for the supply of the units under training, and a magnificent château for his own headquarters. and all this he accomplished without causing any serious friction between the various "offices" and departments concerned--no mean feat. each course was to last eight days, and there were to be four batteries, taken from different divisions, undergoing it simultaneously. it fell to us to go with the second batch, and we spent a strenuous week of preparation: it was four months since we had done any work "in the open," and we knew, inwardly, that we were distinctly rusty. we packed up, and at full war strength, transport, spare horses and all, we marched out sixteen miles to the selected area. at the halfway halt we met the commander of a battery of our own brigade returning. he stopped to pass the time of day and volunteered the information that he was going on leave that night. "and, by jove!" he added significantly, "i deserve a bit of rest. _réveillé_ at a.m. every morning, out all day wet or fine, gun drill at every odd moment, schemes, tactical exercises, everybody at high pressure all the time. the colonel's fairly in his element, revels in it, and 'strafes' everybody indiscriminately. but it's done us all a world of good though. cheeriho! wish you luck." and he rode on, leaving us rather flabbergasted. we discovered quite early (on the following morning about dawn, to be precise) that there had been no exaggeration. we began with elementary driving drill, and we did four and a half hours of it straight on end, except for occasional ten-minute halts to rest the astonished teams. it was wonderful how much we had forgotten and yet how much came back to us after the first hour or so. "i want all your officers to drill the battery in turn," said the colonel. "i shall just ride round and correct mistakes." he did--with an energy, a power of observation, and a command of language which i have seldom seen or heard surpassed. but the ultimate result by midday, when all the officers and n.c.o.'s were hoarse, the teams sweating and the carriages caked in oily dust--the ultimate result was, as the child politely says, "not too stinkin' awful." and it had been good to hear once again the rattle and bump of the guns and wagons over hard ground, the jingle of harness and the thud of many hoofs; good to see the teams swing round together as they wheeled into line or column at a spanking trot; good above all to remember that _this_ was our job and that the months spent in concrete gun-pits and double-bricked o.p.'s were but a lengthy prelude to our resumption of it--some day. in the evening, when the day's work was over and "stables" finished, we left the tired horses picking over the remains of their hay and walked down the _pavé_ village street, angelo and i, to look at the church. angelo is my eldest but not, as it so happens, my senior subaltern. before the war he was a budding architect, with a taste for painting: hence the nickname, coined by the child in one of his more erudite moods. the church at l---- is very fine. its square tower is thirteenth century, its interior is pure gothic, and its vaulted roof a marvel. for its size the building is well-nigh perfect. we spent some time examining the nave and chancel--angelo, his professional as well as his artistic enthusiasm aroused, explaining technicalities to me and making me envious of his knowledge. it was with regret that we turned away at last, for in spite of the tattered colours of some french regiment which hung on the north side of the chancel, we had forgotten the war in the quiet peacefulness of that exquisite interior. but we were quickly reminded. at the end of the church, kneeling on one of the rough chairs, was an old peasant woman: her head was bowed, and the beads dropped slowly through her twisted fingers. as we crept down the aisle she raised her eyes--not to look at us, for i think she was unconscious of our presence--but to gaze earnestly at the altar. her lips moved in prayer, but no tear damped her yellow cheek. and, passing out into the sunlight again, i wondered for whom she was praying--husband, brother, sons?--whether, still hoping, she prayed for the living, or, faithfully, for the souls of those lost to her. they are brave, the peasant women of france.... madame our hostess, besides being one of the fattest, was also one of the most agreeable ladies it has ever been our lot to be billeted upon. before we had been in her house ten minutes she had given us (at an amazing speed) the following information:-- her only remaining son had been wounded and was now a prisoner in germany. she had played hostess continuously since august, , to every kind of soldier, including french motor-bus drivers, indian chiefs (_sic_), and generals. english officers arriving after the battle of loos slept in her hall for twenty-four hours, woke to have a bath and to eat an omelette, and then slept the clock round again. she remembered , in which war her husband had fought. the boches were barbarians, but they would never advance now, though at one time they had been within a few kilometres of her house. the lettuce and cabbages in her garden were at our disposal. she took an enormous interest in the infant, who is even younger than the child and is our latest acquisition. "regardez donc le petit, comme il est fatigué!" she exclaimed to me in the tones of an anxious mother--and then added in an excited whisper, "a-t-il vu les boches, ce petit sous-lieutenant?" when i assured her not only that he had seen them, but had fired his guns at them, she was delighted and declared that he could not be more than sixteen. but here the infant, considering that the conversation was becoming personal, intervened, and the old lady left us to our dinner. towards the end of our week we packed up essentials and marched out to bivouac two nights and fight a two days' running battle--directed, of course, by our indefatigable colonel. after the dead flat ugliness where we had been in action all the winter and early spring it was a delight to find ourselves in this spacious undulating country, with its trees and church spires and red-tiled villages. we fought all day against an imaginary foe, made innumerable mistakes, all forcibly pointed out by the colonel (who rode both his horses to a standstill in endeavouring to direct operations and at the same time watch the procedure of four widely separated batteries); our imaginary infantry captured ridge after ridge, and we advanced from position to position "in close support," until finally, the rout of the foe being complete, we moved to our appointed bivouacs. in peace time it would have been regarded as a quite ordinary day, boring because of its resemblance to so many others. now it was different. true, it was make-believe from start to finish, without even blank cartridge to give the vaguest hint of reality. but there was this: at the back of all our minds was the knowledge that this was a preparation--possibly our last preparation--not for something in the indefinite future (as in peace time), but for an occasion that assuredly _is_ coming, perhaps in a few months, perhaps even in a few weeks. the colonel spoke truly when, at his first conference, he said-- "during these schemes you must all of you force yourselves to imagine that there is a real enemy opposed to you. the boche is no fool: he's got guns, and he knows how to use them. if you show up on crest lines with a whole battery staff at your heels, he'll have the place 'registered,' and he'll smash your show to bits before you ever get your guns into action at all. _think_ where he is likely to be, _think_ what he's likely to be doing, don't expose yourselves unless you must, and above all, _get a move on_." it was a delightful bivouac. we were on the sheltered side of a little hill, looking south into a wooded valley. nightingales sang to us as we lay smoking on our valises after a picnic dinner and stared dreamily at the stars above us. "jolly, isn't it?" said the child; "but i s'pose we wouldn't be feeling quite so comfy if it was the real business." "don't," said angelo, quietly. "i was pretending to myself that we were just a merry camping party, here for pleasure only. i'd forgotten the war." but i had not. i was thinking of the last time i had bivouacked--amongst the corn sheaves of a harvest that was never gathered, side by side with friends who were soon to fall, on the night before the first day of mons, nearly two years ago. the following day was more or less a repetition of the first, except that we made fewer mistakes and "dropped into action" with more style and finish. we were now becoming fully aware of the almost-forgotten fact that a field battery is designed to be a mobile unit, and we were just beginning to take shape as such when our time was over. a day's rest for the horses and then we returned to our comfortable rest billets. it had been a strenuous week, but i think every one had thoroughly enjoyed it.... we have had two days in which to "clean up," and now to-morrow we are to relieve another battery and take our place in the line again. our holiday is definitely over. it will take a little time to settle down to the old conditions: our week's practice of open warfare has spoilt us for this other kind. we who have climbed hills and looked over miles of rolling country will find an increased ugliness in our old flat surroundings. it will seem ludicrous to put our guns into pits again--the guns that we have seen bounding over rough ground behind the straining teams. to be cooped up in a brick o.p. staring at a strip of desolation will be odious after our bivouacs under the stars and our dashes into action under a blazing sun. worst of all, perhaps, is the thought that the battery will be split up again into "gun line" and "wagon line," with three miles or more separating its two halves, instead of its being, as it has been all these weeks, one complete cohesive unit. but what must be, must be; and it is absurd to grumble. moreover--the end is not yet. * * * * * "let's toss up for who takes first turn at the o.p. when the relief is completed," suggested the child. "wait a minute," said i, remembering something suddenly. "do you know what to-day is?" "friday," he volunteered, "and to-morrow ought to be a half-holiday, but it won't be, 'cos we're going into action." i passed the port round again. "it's only a fortnight since we celebrated the battery's first birthday," i said, "but to-day the royal regiment of artillery is two hundred years old. let's drink its health." and we did. a battle somewhere about the middle of june, we knew definitely that we were "for it," as the soldier says; we knew that our division was one of those chosen for the great concentration which was to culminate in the "great push"--and we were proud of the distinction. a three days' march brought us to a certain training area, where we camped for a week and worked some seventeen hours a day--counting, that is, from _réveillé_ at a.m. until the last bit of harness was hung up clean and ready for the morrow at p.m. during this period two incidents of note occurred. one was that the child suddenly developed pleurisy, and was removed to hospital--a serious loss at any time, but especially so at this particular moment. the other was that a squadron of hostile aircraft flew over our manoeuvre ground and actually dropped a bomb within yards of the tail of our column. which, seeing that we were some twenty miles from the nearest part of the line and at the moment only playing at soldiers, was most disconcerting. from the time when we left this training until, about three weeks later, we were withdrawn to rest in a quiet part of the line, i kept a rough diary of our particular share in the greatest battle ever fought by the british army. the following are some extracts from it, in no way embellished, but only enlarged so as to make them intelligible. _june ._--nine-hour night march southwards, arriving in comfortable billets at . a.m. aeroplanes (or at any rate, hostile ones) are the curse of this war: if it was not for fear of them we could move by daylight in a reasonable manner. the old saddler, dozing on a wagon, fell off and was run over: nothing broken, but he will be lost to us. a great pity, as he's a charming character and a first-class workman. _june and ._--rested, the continuation of the march having been postponed. _june ._--orders to move on to-night. was sent off with a small party on a road and river reconnaissance: this presumably with a view to going forward "when the advance begins." by the time we got back to where the brigade was to billet, had ridden about forty miles. job only half finished. battery marched in at midnight. _july ._--started at . a.m. with same party to finish reconnaissance. reached a point about four miles behind the line, at . a.m.: a tremendous bombardment in progress. left our horses, and walked on two miles to a river. here learnt that the attack had been launched at . and was going well. walked north up the river-bank, keeping well under the shelter of the steep ridge on the east side, and only emerging to examine each bridge as we came to it. thousands upon thousands of shells of every size, from "grannies" to prs., passing over our heads unceasingly: expected the enemy to retaliate. but not a round came: probably the boche was too busily engaged elsewhere. met streams of wounded coming down; some with captured helmets, nearly all with grins. finished the river reconnaissance about . and walked back by a roundabout (but less unpleasant!) way, and reached our horses about midday. rode back to the battery and spent the afternoon writing out full report. orders to move at . p.m. long night march to new billets, arriving . a.m. _july ._--rested. in the course of the day the child returned, having in some amazing way persuaded the hospital authorities that pleurisy and a temperature of ° are the best possible things to have on the eve of a great offensive. swears he's all right now, and objects to being ordered it to take it easy--while he can. heavy bombardment all day, but we are eight miles back here. official _communiqués_ record further successes. _july ._--moved at . p.m., and arrived ( . a.m.) soaking wet at the worst bivouac it has ever been our unhappy lot to occupy. _july ._--saw about german prisoners being brought back. in the afternoon, after a violent thunderstorm, went to look at the position which we are to take over. found that it was immensely strong. originally it was only yards from the enemy front line, but now, since the advance, is about . steady rain all the time. got back to find the camp converted into a veritable bog, and men of all the batteries making shelters for themselves by cutting down trees and looting straw. there will be a row over this, but--well, it is too much to expect men to submit to such _unnecessary_ discomfort. _july ._--took the child and two telephonists and went up to new position. bombardment proceeding incessantly. was amazed at the amount of material already brought up, at the gangs already working on the shell-wrecked roads, and at the crowd of spectators who lined a convenient ridge to "watch the show." went with the child and the battery commander from whom we were taking over to get a look at the country and visit the o.p. passed through fricourt--not long captured. never could a bombardment have done its work of destruction more thoroughly than here. not figuratively, but literally; no one brick stood upon another, scarcely one brick was whole. walked on up the sunken road that leads north from fricourt past the dingle and shelter wood. for days this road had been a death-trap. it was strewn with corpses, with stretchers on which lay wounded men awaiting removal, with broken bits of equipment, english and german--and it stank. we arrived at the headquarters of a battalion and asked if we could see the colonel. "no," they told us, "you can't at present. he's just been buried in his dug-out by a shell, and it will be some time before we get him clear; he's all right, but a bit shaken." so we went on up a battered trench to the o.p. in it a subaltern and two signallers, all three caked in mud. at the moment the wire to the battery was intact. two men had been killed and one wounded whilst mending it. from here we could see the famous quadrangle trench, which at that time was holding up the advance. many batteries were shooting at it. having got our bearings, so to speak, we did not linger in this most unhealthy spot, but returned to the battery position. on the way home we met our own colonel bearing the news that the brigade would probably go into action in quite a different area. this news confirmed at h.q. at p.m. turned back and reconnoitred the new position, which was farther south, nearer fricourt; rather cramped and quite unprepared for occupation. cadged dinner from an old friend whom we met at d.h.q. met the battery on the road about p.m. and led it to new position. work of getting guns in, ammunition and stores dumped, and teams away completed by a.m. awaited dawn. _july ._--as soon as it was light went up the hill on the right front of the battery to meet the colonel, choose an o.p. and "learn" the country. the scene of wreckage upon this hill now is past all belief, and is, i should imagine, a perfect example of the havoc wrought by a modern "intense" bombardment. the whole face of the earth is completely altered. on the german side of no man's land, not one square yard of the original surface of the ground remains unbroken. line upon line of trenches and tunnels and saps have been so smashed that they are barely recognisable as such: there are mine craters seventy to a hundred yards across, and there are dug-outs (some of these still intact) which go down fifty feet and more into the chalk. on every side is débris--rails, timber, kit, blankets, broken rifles, bread, steel helmets, pumps, respirators, corpses. and nowhere can one get away from the sickening smell--the smell of putrescent human flesh.... the morning mist cleared at last and we were able to see the landscape. from the o.p. we chose, the view, for our purposes, was ideal. below us lay the ruins that once were fricourt, to the right fricourt wood, farther off mametz wood and village, and on the skyline contal-maison. returned, very dishevelled, to breakfast at a.m. during the morning ran out a wire, got "through" to the battery, but did not dare to start shooting until further information as to the situation of the infantry was available. eventually gathered that we only hold the southern edge of mametz wood, and that the quadrangle trench which lies to the left (west) of it is not yet in our possession. spent the afternoon registering the guns, and then began shelling mametz wood. was relieved by the child at tea-time. came down to the battery and washed. looked forward to decent night's rest but was disappointed, viz.:-- _july ._--woken by angelo at a.m., who brought orders for a "strafe," which was to start at . battery fired at a rapid rate from that hour till . . went back to bed. woken by the infant, who had relieved angelo, at . big bombardment to start at . . went to telephone dug-out at . , unwashed and half-dressed, and remained there all day; meals brought in to me. the battery fired practically continuously for fourteen hours at rates varying from one to twenty-four rounds a minute. targets various--mostly "barraging" mametz wood and ground immediately to the west of it. worked the detachments as far as possible in reliefs, turning on spare signallers, cooks, and servants to carry ammunition as it arrived. the child, who was at the o.p., sent down what information he could, but reported that it was hardly possible to see anything owing to the smoke. passed on everything to brigade h.q. (communications working well), and received their instructions as to changes of target, rate of fire, etc. by dusk we were all very tired, and several of the men stone deaf. there were several heavy showers during the day, so that the position became a quagmire into which the guns sank almost to their axles and became increasingly difficult to serve. empty cartridge cases piled several feet high round each platform: mud awful. no official _communiqué_ as to result of the day's operation. got eight hours' sleep. _july ._--shooting, off and on, all day--mostly registration of new points. in the intervals when not firing the detachments kept hard at work improving and strengthening the position. hostile artillery much more active, but nothing really close to us. fired rounds during the night into mametz wood: northern portion not yet in our hands. _july ._--a good deal of barrage work all day, but as it was mostly at a slow rate the men managed to get some rest--goodness knows, they both need and deserve it. _july ._--went out with the colonel to reconnoitre an advanced position. got caught in a barrage, and had to crouch in a (fortunately) deep trench for half an hour. sitting there began to wonder if this was the prelude to a counter-attack; just then, looking out to the left, that is towards the south-west corner of mametz wood, saw a lot of men running hard. suddenly spotted the familiar grey uniform and spiked helmets of the enemy. "god!" i cried, "it is a counter-attack. those are _huns_!" expected every moment to have one peering in over the top of the trench: did not dare to run for it, owing to the barrage, which was still heavy. t----, who was with me, remained calm and put up his glasses. "all right," he said; "they're prisoners. look at the escort." and so they were, running for their lives through their own shrapnel--and the escort keeping well up with them! the storm being over (no "hate" lasts for ever) returned as quickly as we could, and reported that the position was possible but by no means tempting! a lot of night firing. _july ._--set out with the child, two sergeants, and my trusty "look-out man" to look for a more favourable spot. after a good deal of walking about found one, a fairly snug place (though pitted with shell-holes). intended to reconnoitre for an o.p. in the front edge of mametz wood, but met a colonel just back from those parts who assured us that the enemy front line ran there. reluctantly (!) we abandoned the enterprise and returned. at p.m. the child started off with a digging party to prepare the new position. move of the battery ordered for . , then postponed till . . road crowded with infantry and transport; progress slow. to be mounted and at the head of a column of twelve six-horse teams is a very different thing to being alone and ready to slip behind a wall or into a trench if occasion calls for it. luck was on our side, however, and we got through before any shells came. occupied the position quickly, emptied the ammunition wagons, and got the horses clear without casualties. the child reported that a few four-twos had come pretty close while he and his party were digging and had stopped their work for a while: nevertheless, quite a lot already done. time now . . turned on every available man and continued digging till dawn. men very beat, but not a word of grousing. _july ._--at dawn went up to find a new o.p.: took the child and two signallers, the latter laying a wire as they went. found excellent place with good general view in an old german redoubt. trenches, however, crammed with sleeping infantry, over whom one had to step, and under whom the signallers had to pass their line! thick mist till a.m., when light became good enough to start on our task, which was to cut through the wire at a certain spot in the german main second line north of mametz wood. observation difficult, as we were rather far back and the whole line was being heavily bombarded by our "heavies." about . what was apparently an excursion party of generals and staff officers arrived to see the fun, crowded us out of our bay in the trench and lined up, with their heads and red hat bands exposed. lay down in a corner and tried to sleep, but got trodden on, so abandoned the idea. shoon (another of my youthful subalterns) came up to relieve us at . , so the child and i returned to the battery and got about three hours' sleep. the detachments with amazing industry and endurance again hard at work digging. a good deal of hostile fire all round us, especially close to the nullah, but nothing within yards of the guns. about . p.m. shoon rang up from the o.p. to say that he and a signaller had been wounded. angelo went up to take his place. poor old shoon, when he arrived down, was pretty shaken. evidently the crowd of spectators previously remarked upon had attracted the attention of some cross boche gunner. a five-nine dropped just beside the o.p. and knocked both signallers and shoon, who was observing his wire-cutting at the moment, head over heels back into the trench below. while they were picking themselves up out of the _débris_ a salvo landed on the parados immediately behind them. one signaller was untouched (and rescued his precious telephone), the other was badly cut about the head and leg and departed on a stretcher--a good man too. shoon got a scratch on his forehead and some splinters into his left arm. swore he was all right, but since he didn't look it was ordered to bed. ammunition replenished in the evening in a tearing hurry. it is not pleasant to have teams standing about in a place like this. heard that on the return journey to the wagon line last night a bombardier, four drivers, and five horses had been wounded--all slightly, thank heaven! shot all night at the wood (bézantin-le-petit), and at the front line. _july ._--continued wire-cutting and searching the wood all day. scores of batteries doing the same thing, and noise infernal. the child went off to find out if he could see the wire from the front edge of mametz wood (which now really _is_ in our possession). failing to see it from there, he wandered on up an old communication trench known as middle alley, which led direct from our own to the german front line. eventually he found a place from which he could see through a gap in the hedge. the wire was cut all right--and, incidentally, he might have come face to face with a hostile bombing party at any moment! but what seemed to interest him much more was the behaviour of the orderly who had accompanied him. this n.c.o., who is the battery "look-out man," specially trained to observe anything and everything, raised himself from the ground a moment after they had both hurled themselves flat to await the arrival of a five-nine in mametz wood, peered over a fallen tree-trunk and said, "_that_ one, sir, was just in front, but slightly to the left!" spent the afternoon preparing detailed orders and time-tables for to-morrow's "big show." slept from till . a.m. _july ._--the "intense" bombardment began at . a.m.; the infantry attack was launched five minutes later. even to attempt to describe this bombardment is beyond me. all that can be said is that there was such a _hell_ of noise that it was quite impossible to give any orders to the guns except by sending subalterns from the telephone dug-out to shout in the ear of each sergeant in turn. the battery (in company with perhaps a hundred others) barraged steadily, "lifting" fifty yards at a time from . till . a.m., by which time some rounds had been expended and the paint on the guns was blistering from their heat. we gathered (chiefly from information supplied by the child at the o.p., who got into touch with various staffs and signal officers) that the attack had been very successful. about . things slowed down a little and the men were able to get breakfast and some rest--half at a time, of course. at midday cavalry moved up past us and affairs began to look really promising. slept from to p.m., then got orders to reconnoitre an advanced position in front of acid drop copse. (it may here be noted that from our first position this very copse was one of our most important targets at a range of nearly yards.) chose a position, but could see that if and when we do occupy it, it is not going to be a health-resort. and, owing to the appalling state of the ground, it will take some driving to get there. had a really good night's rest for once. battery fired at intervals all night. _july ._--attack continued. by . a.m. our guns had reached extreme range and we were forced to stop. (we started at in this position.) news very good: enemy much demoralised and surrendering freely. practically no hostile shelling round us now--in fact, we are rather out of the battle for the moment. after lunch formed up the whole battery and thanked the men for the splendid way that they had worked. shoon, whose arm has got worse, sent under protest to hospital. desperately sorry to lose him. in the afternoon switched to the left, where we are apparently still held up, and fired occasional salvos on martinpuich. ditto all night. _july ._--everybody much concerned over a certain switch trench, which appears to be giving much trouble. fired spasmodically (by map) on this trench throughout the day. in the evening all guns removed to a travelling ordnance workshop for overhaul--they need it. late at night received orders to dig the acid drop copse position next day, and occupy it as soon as the guns are sent back. _july ._--took all officers and practically every man up to new position at a.m. and started to dig. shells all round us while we worked, but still no damage. this is too good to last. in the afternoon went out with george (another b.c.[ ] in the brigade), the child, and a telephonist to look for an o.p. whence to see this infernal switch trench. after a while parted from george, whom we last saw walking _forward_ from the villa, pausing occasionally to examine the country through his glasses. we learnt afterwards that he spent a really happy afternoon in no man's land carrying various wounded infantrymen into comparative safety! for which he has been duly recommended. [ ] battery commander. got into the old german second line (taken on the th), and found that it had been so completely battered by our bombardment that its captors had been obliged to dig an entirely new trench in front of it. this part of the world was full of gunner officers _all_ looking for an o.p. for switch trench. returned to acid drop copse about p.m. and found that the digging had progressed well. marched the men back to the old position, where they got tea and a rest. teams came up about . packed up and moved forward. ground so desperately heavy that it became necessary to put ten horses in a team for the last pull up the hill to the position. got all guns into action and twenty-one wagon loads of ammunition dumped by p.m.--no casualties. work of the men, who were much worn out, beyond all praise. the noise in this place is worse than anything previously experienced. being, as we are now, the most advanced battery in this particular sector, we get the full benefit of every gun that is behind us--and there are many. moreover, the hostile artillery is extremely active, especially in the wood, where every shell comes down with a hissing rush that ends in an appalling crash. about midnight the boche began to put over small "stink" shells. these seemed to flit through the air, and always landed with a soft-sounding "phutt" very like a dud. one burst just behind our trench and wounded a gunner in the foot. found it impossible to sleep, owing to the din. _july ._--at a.m. the hostile bombardment seemed so intense that, fearing a counter-attack, i got up to look round. was reassured by angelo, who had already done so. beyond the fact that the wood was being systematically searched with five-nines, there was nothing much doing. returned to bed, but still failed to sleep. fired at intervals throughout the day at various spots allotted by brigade h.q. having no o.p. had to do everything from the map. men all digging when not actually firing: position now nearly splinter-proof. a most unnerving day, however. a hun barrage of "air-crumps" on the ridge in front of us by the cutting, another one to our right along the edge of the wood, many five-nines over our heads into the dip behind us, and quite a few into acid drop copse on our left rear. in the afternoon we had half a dozen h.e. "pip-squeaks" very close at a moment when there were three wagons up replenishing ammunition. one burst within four yards of the lead horses--and no damage. this _cannot_ last. orders for a big attack received at p.m. at counter-orders to the effect that we are to be relieved to-night. fired continuously till about . , then packed up and waited for the teams, which arrived about . we were just congratulating ourselves on our luck, it being then rather a quiet moment and three out of the four teams already on the move, when a big "air-crump" burst straight above our heads, wounding the sergeant-major in the thigh. put him up on the last limber and sent the guns off as fast as they could go--ground too bad to gallop. two more shells followed us down the valley, but there were no further casualties. at the bottom missed the child: sent to inquire if he was at the head of the column--no. was beginning to get nervous, when he strolled up from the rear, accompanied by the officers' mess cook. "pity to leave these behind," he observed, throwing down a kettle and a saucepan! nervy work loading up our stores and kits on to the g.s. wagon, but the enemy battery had returned to its favourite spot by the cutting, and nothing further worried us. marched back to the wagon line (about five miles). much amused by the tenacity with which one of the sergeants clung to a jar of rum which he had rescued from the position.[ ] at the wagon line collected the whole battery together, and while waiting went across to see the sergeant-major in the dressing-station. am afraid, though it is nothing serious, that it will be a case of "blighty" for him. a very serious loss to the battery, as he has been absolutely invaluable throughout this show. [ ] this jar was afterwards found to contain lime-juice! marched to our old bivouac at the swampy wood, but were allotted a reasonable space outside it this time. fell into bed, beat to the world, at . a.m. _july ._--much to do, though men and horses are tired to death. moved off at p.m. and did a twenty-mile night march, arriving at another bivouac at a.m. horses just about at their last gasp. poor old things, they have been in harness almost continuously throughout the battle bringing up load after load of ammunition at all hours of the day and night. _july ._--took over a new position (trench warfare style) just out of the battle area as now constituted, and settled down to--rest. * * * * * the above is an accurate, though, i fear, far too personal record of the doings of one particular unit during a fortnight's continuous fighting. it is in no way an attempt to describe a battle as a whole. that is a feat beyond my powers--and, i think, beyond the powers of any one actually engaged. thinking things over now, in the quiet of a well-made dug-out, i realise that the predominant impressions left upon my mind, in ascending order of magnitude so to speak, are: dirt, stink, horrors, lack of sleep, funk--and the amazing endurance of the men. in the first article of this series i wrote: "but this i know now--the human material with which i have to deal is good enough." it is. i grant that our casualties were slight (though in this respect we were extremely lucky), and that compared with the infantry our task was the easier one of "standing the strain" rather than of "facing the music." but still, think of the strain on the detachments, serving their guns night and day almost incessantly for fourteen days on end. in the first week alone we fired the amount of ammunition which suffices for a battery in peace time for thirty years! they averaged five hours' sleep in the twenty-four, these men, throughout the time; and they dug three separate positions--all in heavy ground. nor must one forget the drivers, employed throughout in bringing up ammunition along roads pitted with holes, often shelled and constantly blocked with traffic. the new ubique begins to be worthy of the old. part ii "and the old" bilfred ... fellow-creature i am, fellow-servant of god: can man fathom god's dealings with us? * * * * * * * oh! man! we, at least, we enjoy, with thanksgiving, god's gifts on this earth, though we look not beyond. you sin and you suffer, and we, too, find sorrow perchance through your sin--yet it soon will be o'er; we labour to-day and we slumber to-morrow, strong horse and bold rider! and who knoweth more? a. lindsay gordon. i in some equine elysium where there are neither flies nor dust nor steep hills nor heavy loads; where there is luscious young grass unlimited with cool streams and shady trees; where one can roam as one pleases and rest when one is tired: there, far from the racket of gun wheels on hard roads and the thunder of opposing artillery, oblivious of all the insensate folly of this warring human world, reposes, i doubt it not, the soul of bilfred. his was a humble part. he was never richly caparisoned with embroidered bridle and trappings of scarlet and gold. he never swept over the desert beneath some arab sheikh with the cry "allah for all!" ringing in his ears. he bore no general to victory, no king to his coronation. but he served his country faithfully, and in the end, when he had helped to make some history, he died for it. it is eight years since he joined the battery--a woolly-coated babyish remount straight from an irish dealer's yard. examining him carefully we found that beneath his roughness he was not badly shaped; a trifle long in the back perhaps, and a shade too tall--but then perfection is not attainable at the government price. there was no denying that his head was plain and his face distinctly ugly. from his pink and flabby muzzle a broad streak of white ran upwards to his forehead, widening on the near side so as almost to reach his eye. the grotesquely lopsided effect of this was enhanced by a tousled forelock which straggled down between his ears. the question of naming him arose, and some one said, "except for his face, which is like nothing on earth, he's the image of old alfred that we cast last year." now a system prevailed in the battery by which horses were called by names which began with the letter of their subsection. "well," said some one else, "he's been posted to b sub; why not call him bilfred?" and bilfred he became. our rough-rider at the time was a patient man, enthusiastic enough over his job to take endless trouble with young horses. this was fortunate for the new-comer, who proved at first an obdurate pupil. scientists tell us, of course, that in relative brain-power the horse ranks low in the animal scale--lower than the domestic pig, in fact. this may be so, but bilfred was certainly an exception. it was obvious, too obvious, that he _thought_, that he definitely used his brain to question the advisability of doing any given thing. to his rebellious celtic nature there must have been added a percentage of scotch caution. when any new performance was demanded of him he would ask himself, "is there any personal risk in this, and even if not, is there any sense in doing it?" unless satisfied on these points he would plead ignorance and fear and anger alternately until convinced that it would be less unpleasant to acquiesce. for instance, being driven round in a circle in the riding school at the end of a long rope struck him as a silly business; but when he discovered (after a week) that he could neither break the rope nor kick the man who was holding it, he (metaphorically) shrugged his shoulders and trotted or walked, according to orders, with a considerable show of willing intelligence. it took four men half a day to shoe him for the first time, and he was in a white lather when they had finished. but on the next and on every subsequent occasion he was as docile as any veteran. a saddle was first placed upon him, at a moment when his attention was distracted by a handful of corn offered to him by a confederate of the rough-rider's. he even allowed himself to be girthed up without protest. but when, suddenly and without due warning, he felt the weight of a man upon his back, his horror was apparent. for a moment he stood stock still, trembling slightly and breathing hard. then he made a mighty bound forward and started to kick his best. to no purpose; he could not get his head down, and the more he tried, the more it hurt him. the weight meanwhile remained upon his back. exhausted, he stood still again and gave vent to a loud snort. his face depicted his thoughts. "i'm done for," he felt; "this thing is here for ever." he was soothed and petted until his first panic had subsided; then coaxed into a good humour again with oats. at the end of a minute or so he was induced to move forward--cautiously, nervously at first, and then with more confidence. "unpleasant but not dangerous," was his verdict. in half an hour he was resigned to his burden. yet not entirely. every day when first mounted he gave two or three hearty kicks. he hated the cold saddle on his back for one thing, and for another there was always a vague hope. ... one day, about a fortnight afterwards, this hope fructified. a loose-seated rider, in a moment of bravado, got upon him, and immediately the customary performance began. at the second plunge the man shot up into space and landed heavily on the tan. bilfred, palpably as astonished as he was pleased, tossed his head, snorted in triumph and bolted round the school, kicking at intervals. for five thrilling minutes he enjoyed the best time he had had since he left connemara. then, ignominiously, he succumbed to the temptation of a proffered feed tin and was caught, discovering too late, to his chagrin, that the tin was empty. it was his first experience of the deceitfulness of man, and he did not forget it. six weeks later he had become a most accomplished person. he could walk and trot and even canter in a lumbering way; he answered to rein and leg, could turn and twist, go sideway and backwards; greatest miracle of all, he had been taught to lurch in ungainly fashion over two-foot-six of furze. but he had accomplished something beyond all this. he had acquired a reputation. it had become known throughout the battery that there were certain things which could not be done to bilfred with impunity. if you were his stable companion, for example, you could not try to steal his food without getting bitten, neither could you nibble the hairs of his tail without getting kicked. if you were a human being you could not approach him in his stall until you had spoken to him politely from outside it. you could not attempt to groom him until you had made friends with him, and even then you had to keep your eyes open. you got used to the way he gnashed his teeth and tossed his head about, but occasionally, when you were occupied with the ticklish underpart of him, he would show his dislike of the operation by catching you unawares by the slack of your breeches and throwing you out of his stall. but there was no vice in him. he was always amenable to kindness, and prepared to accept gifts of sugar and bread with every symptom of gratitude and approval. rumour even had it that he had once eaten the stable-man's dinner with apparent relish. and he flourished exceedingly in his new environment. his baby roundness had disappeared and been replaced by hard muscle. he no longer moved with an awkward sprawling gait, but with confidence and precision. his dark-bay coat was sleek and smooth, his mane hogged, his heels neatly trimmed. only his tail remained the difficulty. it was long and its hairs were coarse and curly. moreover, he persisted in carrying it slightly inclined towards the off side, as if to draw attention to it. frankly it was a vulgar tail. but, on the whole, bilfred was presentable. when the time came to complete his education by putting him in draught he surprised an expectant crowd of onlookers by going up into his collar at once and pulling as if he had done that sort of work for years. and so, as a matter of fact, he had. irish horses are often put into the plough as two-year-olds--a fact which had been forgotten. but he would not consent to go in the wheel. he made this fact quite clear by kicking so violently that he broke two traces, cut his hocks against the footboard and lamed himself. since ploughs do not run downhill on to one's heels, he saw no reason why a gun or wagon should. persuasion was found to be useless, and for once his obstinacy triumphed. but he did not abuse his victory nor seek to extend his gains. he proved himself a willing worker in any other position, and soon, on his merits as much as on his looks, he was promoted from the wagon to the gun and definitely took his place as off leader. it was a good team; some said the show one of the battery. the wheelers were beatrice and belinda, who knew their job as well as did their driver, whom they justly loved. being old and dignified they never fretted, but took life calmly and contentedly. in the centre bruno and binty, young both of them, and rather excitable, needed watching or they lost condition, but both had looks. the riding leader was old bacchus, tall and strong and honest, a good doer and a veteran of some standing. moreover, he was a perfect match for bilfred. all six of them were of the same mottled dark-bay colour. in course of time bilfred, quick, like most horses, to pick up habits, exhibited all the characteristics of the typical "hairy." (it is to be observed that the term is not one of abuse but of esteem and affection.) he became, frankly and palpably gluttonous, stamping and whinnying for his food and bolting it ravenously when he got it. at exercise he shied extravagantly at things which did not frighten him in the least. he displayed an obstinate disinclination to leave other horses when required to do so; and at riding drill he quickly discovered that to skimp the corners as much as possible tends to save exertion. artillery horses are not as a rule well bred; one finds in their characters an astonishing mixture of cunning, vulgarity, and docile good-tempered willingness which makes them altogether lovable. their condition reflects their treatment, as in a mirror. properly looked after they thrive; neglected, their appearance betrays the fact to every experienced eye. they have an enormous contempt for "these 'ere mufti 'orses," as our farrier once described some one's private hunter. watch a subsection out at water when a contractor's cart pulls up in the lines; note the way they prick their ears and stare, then drop their heads to the trough again with a sniff. it is as if they said, in so many words, "who the deuce are you? oh! a mere civilian!" bilfred was like them all in many ways. but, in spite of everything, he never lost his personality. he invariably kicked three times when he was first mounted--and never afterwards on that particular day; he hated motors moving or stationary; and he was an adept at slipping his head collar and getting loose. it was never safe to let go his head for an instant. with ears forward and tail straight up on end, he was off in a flash at a trot that was vulgarly fast. he never galloped till his angry pursuers were close, and then he could dodge like a rugby three-quarter. if he got away in barracks he always made straight for the tennis-lawns, where his soup-plate feet wrought untold havoc. and no longer was he to be lured to capture with an empty feed tin. everybody knew him, most people cursed him at times, but for all that everybody loved him. ii i think that when a new history of the regiment comes to be written honourable mention should be made therein of a certain team of dark bays that pulled the same gun of the same battery for so many years. they served in england and in ireland, in france and in the low countries; they thundered over the grassy flats of salisbury plain; they toiled up the steep rocky roads of glen imaal; they floundered in the bogs of okehampton. they stood exposed in all weathers; they stifled in close evil-smelling billets, in trains, and on board ship. they were present at mons; they were all through the great retreat, they swept forward to the marne and on to the aisne; they marched round to flanders in time for the first battle of ypres. they were never sick nor sorry, even when fodder was short and the marches long, even when there was no time to slake their raging thirsts. they pulled together in patience, and in dumb pathetic trust of their lords and masters, knowing nothing, understanding nothing, until at last fate overtook them. at the beginning of august, , the battery had just returned to its station after a month's hard work at practice camp. bilfred, a veteran now of more than seven years' service, had probably never been in better condition in his life. ordinarily he would have been given an easy time for some weeks, with plenty of food and just enough exercise and collar work to keep him fit for the strain of the big manoeuvres in september. but there were to be no manoeuvres. about august things quite beyond bilfred's comprehension began to happen. strange men arrived to join the battery and in their ignorance took liberties with him which he resented. every available space in the lines became crowded with unkempt, queer-looking horses, obviously of a low caste. bilfred was shod a fortnight before his time by a new shoeing-smith, for whom he made things as unpleasant as possible. his harness, which usually looked like polished mahogany decorated with silver, was dubbed and oiled until it looked (and smelt) disgusting. when the battery went out on parade, all these absurd civilian horses with bushy tails (some even with manes!) went with it, and for a day or two behaved disgracefully. the whole place was in confusion and everybody worked all day long. bilfred, ignorant of the term "mobilisation," was completely mystified. a week or so later he was harnessed up in the middle of the night, hooked in and marched to the station. now it had been his habit for years to object to being entrained. on this occasion he was doubly obstinate and wasted much precious time. other horses, even his own team-mates, went in quietly in front of him; it made no difference, he refused to follow them. a rope was put round his quarters and he was hauled towards the truck. he dug his toes in and tried to back. then, suddenly, his hind legs slipped and he sat down on his haunches like a dog, tangled in the rope and unable to move. in the dim light of the station siding his white face and scared expression moved us to laughter in spite of our exasperation. he struggled to his feet again, the cynosure of all eyes, and the subject of many curses. then, for no apparent reason whatever, he changed his mind and allowed himself to be led into the next truck, which was empty, just as though it was his own stall in barracks. and once inside he tried by kicking to prevent other horses being put in with him. he continued in this contrary mood for some time and upheld his reputation for eccentricity. some horses made a fuss about embarking. he made none. he showed his insular contempt for foreigners by making a frantic effort to bite the first french soldier he saw--a sentry on the landing quay, who, in his enthusiasm for his allies, came too close. he got loose during the night we spent at the rest camp, laid flat about an acre of standing corn, and was found next morning in the lines of a cavalry regiment, looking woefully out of place. on the railway journey up to the concentration area, he slipped down in the truck several times and was trampled on by the other horses. the operation of extricating him was dangerous and lengthy. when we detrained he refused food and water, to our great concern. but he took his place in the team during the twenty-mile march that followed and was himself again in the evening. where everybody was acutely conscious of the serious nature of the business during the first day or so, it was something of a relief to watch the horses behaving exactly as they normally did at home. we, heaven help us! knew little enough of what was in store for us, but they, poor brutes, knew nothing. oats were plentiful--what else mattered? bilfred rolled over and over on his broad back directly his harness was removed, just as he always did; he plunged his head deep into his water and pushed his muzzle to and fro washing his mouth and nostrils; he raised his head when he had drunk, stretched his neck and yawned, staring vacantly into space as was his wont. for him the world was still at peace. of course it was--he knew no better. but we who did, we whose nerves were on edge with an excitement half-fearful, half-exultant, saw these things and were somehow soothed by them. bilfred's baptism of fire came early. a few rounds of shrapnel burst over the wagon-line on the very first occasion that we were in action. fortunately, the range was just too long and no damage was done. some of the horses showed momentary signs of fear, but the drivers easily quieted them; and, besides, they were in a clover field--an opportunity too good to be wasted in worrying about strange noises. bilfred, either because he despised the german artillery or because he imagined that the reports were those of his own guns, to which he was quite accustomed, never even raised his head. his curly tail flapped regularly from side to side, protecting him from a swarm of flies whilst he reached out as far as his harness would allow and tore up great mouthfuls of grass. he had always been a glutton, and it was as if he knew, shells or no shells, that this was to be his last chance for some time. it was; there followed four days of desperate strain for man and beast. through clouds of powdery, choking dust, beneath a blazing august sun, parched with thirst, often hungry and always weary, bilfred and his fellows pulled the two tons of steel and wood and complicated mechanism called a gun along those straight interminable roads of northern france. thousands of horses in dozens of batteries were doing the same thing--and none knew why. then, on the fifth day, our turn came to act as rear-guard artillery. the horses, tucked away behind a convenient wood when we came into action just before dawn, had an easy morning--and there were many, especially amongst the new-comers received on mobilisation, who were badly in need of it. now the function of a rear-guard is to gain time, and this we did. but, when at last the order to withdraw was given, our casualties were numerous and the enemy was close. moreover, his artillery had got our range. the teams issuing from the shelter of their wood had to face a heavy fire, and it was at this juncture that the seasoned horses, the real old stagers, who knew as much about limbering up as most drivers and more than some, set an example to the less experienced ones. bilfred (and i take him as typical of the rest) seemed with a sudden flash of intuition to realise that his apprenticeship and all his previous training had been arranged expressly that he might bear himself courageously in just such a situation as this. somehow, in some quite inexplicable fashion, he knew that this was the supreme moment of his career. regardless of bursting shells and almost without guidance from his driver he galloped straight for his gun, with ears pricked and nostrils dilated, the muscles rippling under his dark coat and his traces taut as bow-strings as he strained at his collar with every thundering stride. he wheeled with precision exactly over the trail eye, checked his pace at the right moment, and "squared off" so as to allow the wheelers to place the limber in position. it was his job, he knew what to do and he did it perfectly. b was the first gun to get away and the only one to do so without a casualty.... more marching, more fighting, day after day, night after night; men were killed and wounded; horses, dropping from utter exhaustion, were cut loose and left where they lay--old friends, some of them, that it tore one's heart to abandon thus. but there could be no tarrying, the enemy was too close to us for that. then came the day when the terrible retreat southwards ceased as abruptly and as unexpectedly as it had begun. rejoicing in an advance which soon developed into a pursuit we forgot our weariness and all the trials and hardships of the past. and i think we forgot, too, in our eagerness, that for the horses there was no difference between the advance and the retirement--the work was as hard, the loads as heavy. for our hopes were high. we knew that the flood of invasion was stemmed at last. we believed that final victory was in sight. reckless of everything we pushed on, faster and still faster, until our strength was nearly exhausted. it mattered not, we felt; the enemy retreating in disorder before us must be in far worse plight. and then, on the aisne, we ran up against a strong position, carefully prepared and held by fresh troops. trench warfare began, batteries dug themselves in as never before, and the horses were taken far to the rear to rest. they had come through a terrible ordeal. some were lame and some were galled; staring coats, hollow, wasted backs, and visible ribs told their own tale. a few, at least, were little more than skeletons for whom the month's respite that followed was a godsend. good forage in plenty, some grazing and very light work did wonders, and when the moment came for the move round to flanders the majority were ready for a renewed effort. compared with what they had already done the march was easy work. they arrived on the yser fit and healthy. but the first battle of ypres took its toll. bringing up ammunition one dark night along a road which, though never safe, had perforce to be used for lack of any other, the teams were caught by a salvo of high explosive shell and suffered heavily. four drivers and nine horses were killed, seven drivers and thirteen horses were wounded. bilfred escaped unhurt, but he was the only one in his team who did. a direct hit on the limber brought instantaneous death to the wheelers and their beloved driver. a merciful revolver shot put an end to binty's screaming agony. bruno and bacchus were fortunate in only getting flesh wounds from splinters. it was a sad breaking up of the team which had held together through so many vicissitudes. it comforted us, though, to think that at least they had died in harness.... the winter brought hardship for horse as well as man. we built stables of hop-poles and sacking, but they were only a slight protection against the biting winds, and it was impossible to cope with the sea of slimy mud which was euphemistically termed the horse lines. in spite of all our precautions coughs and colds were rampant. about christmas-time bruno, always rather delicate, succumbed with several others to pneumonia, and a month later bacchus strained himself so badly, when struggling to pull a wagon out of holding mud whilst the rest of the team (all new horses) jibbed, that he passed out of our hands to a veterinary hospital and was never seen again. bilfred alone remained, and nature, determined to do her best for him, provided him with the most amazingly woolly coat ever seen upon a horse. the robustness of his constitution made him impervious to climatic conditions, but the loss of bacchus, his companion for so long, distressed him, and he was at pains to show his dislike of the substitute provided by biting him at all times except when in harness; then, and then only, was he dignity personified. the end came one day in early spring. the battery was in action in a part of the line where it was impossible to have the horses far away, for in those days we had to be prepared for any emergency. it so happened that the enemy, in the course of his usual morning "_strafe_," whether by luck or by intention, put an eight-inch howitzer shell into the middle of the secluded field where a few of our horses were sunning themselves in the warm air and picking at the scanty grass. fortunately, they had been hobbled so that there was no stampede. the cloud of smoke and dust cleared away and we thought at first that no harm had been done. then we noticed bilfred lying on his side ten yards or so from the crater, his hind quarters twitching convulsively. as we went towards him, he lifted his head and tried to look at the gaping jagged wound in his flank and back. there was agony in his soft brown eyes, but he made no sound. he made a desperate effort to get up, but could only raise his forehand. he remained thus for a moment, swaying unsteadily and in terrible distress. then he dropped back and lay still. a minute later he gave one long deep sigh--and it was over. our old farrier, who in his twenty years' service had seen many horses come and go, and who was not often given to sentiment, looked at him sadly. "'e's gone," he said. "a good 'oss--won't see the like of him again in the batt'ry this trip, i reckon." and bilfred's driver, the man who had been with him from the start, ceased his futile efforts to stem the flow of blood with a dirty handkerchief. "oh! gawd!" he muttered in a voice of despair, and turned his back upon us all to hide his grief. we kept a hoof, to be mounted for the battery mess when peace comes, for he was the last of the old lot and his memory must not be allowed to fade. the fatigue party digging his grave did not grumble at their task. he was an older member of the battery than them all and a comrade rather than a beast of burden. * * * * * i like to imagine that bilfred had a soul--not such a soul as we try to conceive for ourselves perhaps--but still i like to picture him in some heaven suitable to his simple needs, dwelling in quiet peacefulness among the departed of his race. what a company would be his and what tales he would hear!--tales of the chariots of assyria and rome, of the fleet parthians and the ravaging hosts of attila; stories of charlemagne and king arthur, of the lists and all the pomp of chivalry. and so down through the centuries to the crossing of the alps in and the grim tragedy of moscow twelve years later. would he stamp his feet and toss his head proudly when he heard of the greys at waterloo or the light brigade at balaclava? but stories of the guns would delight him more, i think--fuentes d'onoro, maiwand, néry, and le cateau. it pleases me to think of him meeting bacchus and binty and the rest and arguing out the meaning of it all. does he know now, i wonder, the colossal issues that were at stake during that terrible fortnight between mons and the marne, and does he forgive us our seeming cruelty? i hope so. i like to think that bilfred understands. "the progress of pickersdyke" i second lieutenant william pickersdyke, sometime quartermaster-sergeant of the ----th battery, and now adjutant of a divisional ammunition column, stared out of the window of his billet and surveyed the muddy and uninteresting village street with eyes of gloom. his habitual optimism had for once failed him, and his confidence in the gospel of efficiency had been shaken. for fate, in the portly guise of his fatuous old colonel, had intervened to balk the fulfilment of his most cherished desire. pickersdyke had that morning applied for permission to be transferred to his old battery if a vacancy occurred, and the colonel had flatly declined to forward the application. now one of the few military axioms which have not so far been disproved in the course of this war is the one which lays down that second lieutenants must not argue with colonels. pickersdyke had left his commanding officer without betraying the resentment which he felt, but in the privacy of his own room, however, he allowed himself the luxury of vituperation. "blooming old woman!" he said aloud. "incompetent, rusty old dug-out! thinks he's going to keep me here running his bally column for ever, i suppose. selfish, that's what 'e is--and lazy too." in spite of the colonel's pompous reference to "the exigencies of the service," that useful phrase which covers a multitude of minor injustices, pickersdyke had legitimate cause for grievance. nine months previously, when he had been offered a commission, he had had to choose between sentiment, which bade him refuse and stay with the battery to whose wellbeing he had devoted seven of the best years of his life, and ambition, which urged him, as a man of energy and brains, to accept his just reward with a view to further advancement. ambition, backed by his major's promise to have him as a subaltern later on, had vanquished. suppressing the inevitable feeling of nostalgia which rose in him, he had joined the divisional ammunition column, prepared to do his best in a position wholly distasteful to him. in an army every unit depends for its efficiency upon the system of discipline inculcated by its commander, aided by the spirit of individual enthusiasm which pervades its members; the less the enthusiasm the sterner must be the discipline. now a d.a.c., as it is familiarly called, is not, in the inner meaning of the phrase, a cohesive unit. in peace it exists only on paper; it is formed during mobilisation by the haphazard collection of a certain number of officers, mostly "dug-outs"; close upon men, nearly all reservists; and about horses, many of which are rejections from other and, in a sense, more important units. its business, as its name indicates, is to supply a division with ammunition, and its duties in this connection are relatively simple. its wagons transport shells, cartridges, and bullets to the brigade ammunition columns, whence they return empty and begin again. it is obvious that the men engaged upon this work need not, in ordinary circumstances, be heroes; it is also obvious that their _rôle_, though fundamentally an important one, does not tend to foster an intense _esprit de corps_. a man can be thrilled at the idea of a charge or of saving guns under a hurricane of fire, but not with the monotonous job of loading wagons and then driving them a set number of miles daily along the same straight road. a stevedore or a carter has as much incentive to enthusiasm for his work. the commander of a d.a.c., therefore, to ensure efficiency in his unit, must be a zealous disciplinarian with a strong personality. but pickersdyke's new colonel was neither. the war had dragged him from a life of slothful ease to one of bustle and discomfort. being elderly, stout, and constitutionally idle, he had quickly allowed his early zeal to cool off, and now, after six months of the campaign, the state of his command was lamentable. to pickersdyke, coming from a battery with proud traditions and a high reputation, whose members regarded its good name in the way that a son does that of his mother, it seemed little short of criminal that such laxity should be permitted. on taking over a section he "got down to it," as he said, at once, and became forthwith a most unpopular officer. but that, though he knew it well, did not deter him. he made the lives of various sergeants and junior n.c.o.'s unbearable until they began to see that it was wiser "to smarten themselves up a bit" after his suggestion. in a month the difference between his section and the others was obvious. the horses were properly groomed and had begun to improve in their condition--before, they had been poor to a degree; the sergeant-major no longer grew a weekly beard nor smoked a pipe during stable hour; the number of the defaulters, which under the new _régime_ was at first large, had dwindled to a negligible quantity. in two months that section was for all practical purposes a model one, and pickersdyke was able to regard the results of his unstinted efforts with satisfaction. the colonel, who was not blind where his own interests were concerned, sent for pickersdyke one day and said-- "you've done very well with your section; it's quite the best in the column now." pickersdyke was pleased; he was as modest as most men, but he appreciated recognition of his merits. moreover, for his own ends, he was anxious to impress his commanding officer. he was less pleased when the latter continued-- "i'm going to post you to no. section now, and i hope you'll do the same with that." no. section was notorious. pickersdyke, if he had been a man of biblical knowledge (which he was not), would have compared himself to jacob, who waited seven years for rachel and then was tricked into taking leah. the vision of his four days' leave--long overdue--faded away. he foresaw a further and still more difficult period of uncongenial work in front of him. but, having no choice, he was obliged to acquiesce. once again he began at the beginning, instilling into unruly minds the elementary notions that orders are given to be obeyed, that the first duty of a mounted man is to his horses, and that personal cleanliness and smartness in appearance are military virtues not beneath notice. this time the drudgery was even worse, and he was considerably hampered by the touchiness and jealousy of the real section commander, who was a dug-out captain of conspicuous inability. there was much unpleasantness, there was at one time very nearly a mutiny, and there were not a few court-martials. it was three months and a half before that section found, so to speak, its military soul. and then the colonel, satisfied that the two remaining sections were well enough commanded to shift for themselves if properly guided, seized his chance and made pickersdyke his adjutant. here was a man, he felt, endowed with an astonishing energy and considerable powers of organisation, the very person, in fact, to save his commanding officer trouble and to relieve him of all real responsibility. this occurred about the middle of july. from then until well on into september, pickersdyke remained a fixture in a small french village on the lines of communication, miles from the front, out of all touch with his old comrades, with no distractions and no outlet for his energies except work of a purely routine character. "it might be peace-time and me a bloomin' clerk" was how he expressed his disgust. but he still hoped, for he believed that to the efficient the rewards of efficiency come in due course and are never long delayed. without being conceited, he was perhaps more aware of his own possibilities than of his limitations. in the old days in his battery he had been the major's right-hand man and the familiar (but always respectful) friend of the subalterns. in the early days of the war he had succeeded amazingly where others in his position had certainly failed. his management of affairs "behind the scenes" had been unsurpassed. never once, from the moment when his unit left havre till a month later it arrived upon the aisne, had its men been short of food or its horses of forage. he had replaced deficiencies from some apparently inexhaustible store of "spares"; he had provided the best billets, the safest wagon lines, the freshest bread with a consistency that was almost uncanny. in the darkest days of the retreat he had remained imperturbed, "pinching" freely when blandishments failed, distributing the comforts as well as the necessities of life with a lavish hand and an optimistic smile. his wits and his resource had been tested to the utmost. he had enjoyed the contest (it was his nature to do that), and he had come through triumphant and still smiling. during the stationary period on the aisne, and later in flanders, he had managed the wagon line--that other half of a battery which consists of almost everything except the guns and their complement of officers and men--practically unaided. on more than one occasion he had brought up ammunition along a very dangerous route at critical moments. he received his commission late in december, at a time when his battery was out of action, "resting." he dined in the officers' mess, receiving their congratulations with becoming modesty and their drink without unnecessary reserve. it was on this occasion that he had induced his major to promise to get him back. then he departed, sorrowful in spite of all his pride in being an officer, to join the column. there, in the seclusion of his billet, he studied army lists and watched the name of the senior subaltern of the battery creep towards the head of the roll. when that officer was promoted captain there would be a vacancy, and that vacancy would be pickersdyke's chance. meanwhile, to fit himself for what he hoped to become, he spent whole evenings poring over manuals of telephony and gun-drill; he learnt by heart abstruse passages of field artillery training; he ordered the latest treatises on gunnery, both practical and theoretical, to be sent out to him from england; and he even battled valiantly with logarithms and a slide-rule.... from all the foregoing it will be understood how bitter was his disappointment when his application to be transferred was refused. his colonel's attitude astonished him. he had expected recognition of that industry and usefulness of which he had given unchallengeable proof. but the colonel, instead of saying-- "you have done well; i will not stand in your way, much as i should like to keep you," merely observed-- "i'm sorry, but you cannot be spared." and he made it unmistakably plain that what he meant was: "do you think i'm such a fool as to let you go? i'll see you damned first!" thus it was that pickersdyke, a disillusioned and a baffled man, stared out of the window with wrath and bitterness in his heart. for he wanted to go back to "the old troop"; he was obsessed with the idea almost to the exclusion of everything else. he craved for the old faces and the old familiar atmosphere as a drug-maniac craves for morphia. it was his right, he had earned it by nine months of drudgery--and who the devil, anyway, he felt, was this old fool to thwart him? extravagant plans for vengeance flitted through his mind. supposing he were to lose half a dozen wagons or thousands of rounds of howitzer ammunition, would his colonel get sent home? not he--he'd blame his adjutant, and the latter would quite possibly be court-martialled. should he hide all the colonel's clothes and only reveal their whereabouts when the application had been forwarded? should he steal his whisky (without which it was doubtful if he could exist), put poison in his tea, or write an anonymous letter to headquarters accusing him of espionage? he sighed--ingenuity, his valuable ally on many a doubtful occasion, failed him now. then it occurred to him to appeal to one lorrison, who was the captain of his old battery, and whom he had known for years as one of his subalterns. "dear lorrison," he wrote, "i've just had an interview with my old man and he won't agree to my transfer. i'm afraid it's a wash-out unless something can be done quickly, as i suppose jordan will be promoted very soon." (jordan was the senior subaltern.) "you know how much i want to get back in time for the big show. can you do anything? sorry to trouble you, and now i must close. "yours, "w. pickersdyke." then he summoned his servant. gunner scupham was an elderly individual with grey hair, a dignified deportment, and a countenance which suggested extreme honesty of soul but no intelligence whatsoever, which fact was of great assistance to him in the perpetration of his more complicated villainies. he had not been pickersdyke's storeman for many years for nothing. his devotion was a by-word, but his familiarity was sometimes a little startling. "'e won't let us go," announced pickersdyke. "strafe the blighter!" replied scupham, feelingly. "i'm proper fed up with this 'ere column job." "get the office bike, take this note to captain lorrison, and bring back an answer. here's a pass." scupham departed, grumbling audibly. it meant a fifteen-mile ride, the day was warm, and he disliked physical exertion. he returned late that evening with the answer, which was as follows:-- "dear pickers, "curse your fool colonel. jordan may go any day, and if we don't get you we'll probably be stuck with some child who knows nothing. besides, we want you to come. the preliminary bombardment is well under way, so there's not much time. meet me at the b.a.c.[ ] headquarters to-morrow evening at eight and we'll fix up something. in haste, "yours ever, "t. lorrison." [ ] brigade ammunition column. there are people who do not believe in luck. but if it was not luck which assisted pickersdyke by producing the events which followed his receipt of that note, then it was providence in a genial and most considerate mood. he spent a long time trying to think of a reasonable excuse for going to see lorrison, but he might have saved himself the trouble. some light-hearted fool had sent up shrapnel instead of high explosive to the very b.a.c. that pickersdyke wanted to visit. angry telephone messages were coming through, and the colonel at once sent his adjutant up to offer plausible explanations. pickersdyke covered a lot of ground that afternoon. it was necessary to find an infuriated artillery brigadier and persuade him that the error was not likely to occur again, and was in any case not really the fault of the d.a.c. section commander. it was then necessary to find this latter and make it clear to him that he was without doubt the most incompetent officer in the allied forces, and that the error was entirely due to his carelessness. and it was essential to arrange for forwarding what was required. lorrison arrived punctually and evidently rather excited. "what price the news?" he said at once. pickersdyke had heard none. he had been far too busy. "we're for it at last--going to bombard all night till . a.m.--every bally gun in the army as far as i can see. and we've got orders to be ready to move in close support of the infantry if they get through. _to move!_ just think of that after all these months!" pickersdyke swore as he had not done since he was a rough-riding bombardier. "and that's boxed _my_ chances," he ended up. "wait a bit," said lorrison. "there's a vacancy waiting for you if you'll take it. we got pretty badly 'crumped'[ ] last night. the boches put some big 'hows' and a couple of 'pip-squeak' batteries on to us just when we were replenishing. they smashed up several wagons and did a lot of damage. poor old jordan got the devil of a shaking--he was thrown about ten yards. lucky not to be blown to bits, though. anyway, he's been sent to hospital." [ ] shelled. he looked inquiringly at pickersdyke. the latter's face portrayed an unholy joy. "will i take his place?" he cried. "lummy! i should think i would. don't care what the colonel says afterwards. when can i join? now?" "as soon as i've seen about getting some more wagons from the b.a.c. we'll go up together," answered lorrison. pickersdyke, who had no conscience whatever on occasions such as this, sent a message to his colonel to say that he was staying up for the night (he omitted to say precisely where!), as there would be much to arrange in the morning. to scupham he wrote-- "collect all the kit you can and come up to the battery at once. _say nothing._" he was perfectly aware that he was doing a wildly illegal thing. he felt like an escaped convict breathing the air of freedom and making for his home and family. forty colonels would not have stopped him at that moment. * * * * * ii the major commanding the ----th battery sat in his dug-out examining a large-scale trench map. his watch, carefully synchronised with those of the staff, lay on the table in front of him. outside, his six guns were firing steadily, each concussion (and there were twelve a minute) shaking everything that was not a fixture in the little room. hundreds of guns along miles of front and miles of depth were taking part in the most stupendous bombardment yet attempted by the army. from "granny," the enormous howitzer that fired six times an hour at a range of seventeen thousand yards, to machine-guns in the front line trenches, every available piece of ordnance was adding its quota to what constituted a veritable hell of noise. the major had been ordered to cut the wire entanglements between two given points and to stop firing at . a.m. precisely. he had no certain means of knowing whether he had completed his task or not. he only knew that his "lines of fire," his range, and his "height of burst" as previously registered in daylight were correct, that his layers could be depended upon, and that he had put about a thousand rounds of shrapnel into fifty yards of front. at . he rose and stood, watch in hand, in the doorway of his dug-out. a man with a megaphone waited at his elbow. the major, war-worn though he was, was still young enough in spirit to be thrilled by the mechanical regularity of his battery's fire. this perfection of drill was his work, the result of months and months of practice, of loving care, and of minute attention to detail. dawn was beginning to creep into the sky, and he could just distinguish the silhouettes of the two right-hand guns. the flash as one of them fired revealed momentarily the figures of the gunners grouped round the breech like demons round some spectral engine of destruction. precisely five seconds afterwards a second flash denoted that the next gun had fired--and so on in sequence from right to left until it was the turn of number one again. "stop!" said the major, when the minute hand of his watch was exactly over the half-hour. "stop!" roared the man with the megaphone. it was as if the order had been heard all along the entire front. the bombardment ceased almost abruptly, and rifle and machine-gun fire became audible again. on a colossal scale the effect was that of the throttling down of a powerful motor-car whose engine had been allowed to race. then, not many moments afterwards, from far away to the eastward there came faint, confused sounds of shouts and cheering. it was the infantry, the long-suffering, tenacious, wonderful infantry charging valiantly into the cold grey dawn along the avenues prepared by the guns. for pickersdyke it had been a night of pure joy, unspoilt by any qualms of conscience. he had been welcomed at the battery as a kind of returned wanderer and given a section of guns at once. the major--who feared no man's wrath, least of all that of a dug-out d.a.c. commander--had promised to back him up if awkward questions were asked. pickersdyke had only one cause for disappointment--the whole thing had gone too smoothly. he was bursting with technical knowledge, he could have repaired almost any breakdown, and had kept a keen look-out for all ordinary mistakes. but nothing went wrong and no mistakes were made. in this battery the liability of human error had been reduced to a negligible minimum. pickersdyke had had nothing further to do than to pass orders and see that they were duly received. nevertheless he had loved every moment of it, for he had come into his own--he was back in the old troop, taking part in a "big show." as he observed to the major whilst they were drinking hot coffee in the dug-out afterwards-- "even if i do get court-martialled for desertion, sir, that last little lot was worth it!" and he grinned as does a man well pleased with the success of his schemes. to complete his satisfaction, scupham appeared soon afterwards bringing up a large bundle of kit and a few luxuries in the way of food. it transpired that he had presented himself to the last-joined subaltern of the d.a.c. and had bluffed that perplexed and inexperienced officer into turning out a cart to drive him as far as the battery wagon line, whence he had come up on an ammunition wagon. it was almost daylight when the battery opened fire again, taking its orders by telephone now from the f.o.o.,[ ] who was in close touch with the infantry and could see what was happening. the rate of fire was slow at first; then it suddenly quickened, and the range was increased by a hundred yards. some thirty shells went shrieking on their mission and then another fifty yards were added. the infantry was advancing steadily, and just as steadily, sixty or seventy yards in front of their line, the curtain of protecting shrapnel crept forward after the retiring enemy. at one point the attack was evidently held up for a while; the battery changed to high explosive and worked up to its maximum speed, causing lorrison to telephone imploring messages for more and still more ammunition. [ ] forward observing officer. the long-expected order to advance, when at last it came, nearly broke the major's heart. "send forward one section," it said, "in close support of the nd battalion ----shire regiment, to the advanced position previously prepared in j. ." one section was only a third of his battery; he would have to stay behind, and he had been dreaming nightly of this dash forward with the infantry into the middle of things; he had had visions of that promised land, the open country beyond the german lines, of an end to siege warfare and a return to the varying excitement of a running fight. but orders were orders, so he sent for pickersdyke. "i'm going to send you," he said, after showing him the order, "although you haven't seen the position before. but the other lad is too young for this job. look here." he pointed out the exact route to be followed, showed him where bridges for crossing the trenches had been prepared, and explained everything in his usual lucid manner. then he held out his hand. "good-bye and good luck," he said. their eyes met for a moment in a steady gaze of mutual esteem and affection. for they knew each other well, these two men--the gentleman born to lead and to inspire, and his ranker subordinate (a gentleman too in all that matters) highly trained, thoroughly efficient, utterly devoted.... there was not a prouder man in the army than pickersdyke at the moment when he led his section out from the battery position amid the cheers of those left behind. his luck, so he felt, was indeed amazing. he had about a mile to go along a road that was congested with troops and vehicles of all sorts. he blasphemed his way through (there is no other adequate means of expressing his progress) with his two guns and four wagons until he reached the point where he had to turn off to make for his new position. this latter had been carefully prepared beforehand by fatigue parties sent out from the battery at night. gun-pits had been dug, access made easy, ranges and angles noted down in daylight by an officer left behind expressly for the purpose; and the whole had been neatly screened from aerial observation. it lay a few hundred yards behind what had been the advanced british trenches. but it was not a good place for guns; it was only one in which they might be put if, as now, circumstances demanded the taking of heavy risks. pickersdyke halted his little command behind the remains of a spinney and went forward to reconnoitre. he was still half a mile from his goal, which lay on a gentle rise on the opposite side of a little valley. allowing for rough ground and deviations from the direct route owing to the network of trenches which ran in all directions, he calculated that it would take him at least ten minutes to get across. incidentally he noticed that quite a number of shells were falling in the area he was about to enter. for the first time he began to appreciate the exact nature of his task. he returned to the section and addressed his men thus-- "now, you chaps, it's good driving what's wanted here. we must get the guns there whatever happens--we'll let down the infantry else. follow me and take it steady.... terr-ot." the teams and carriages jingled and rattled along behind him as he led them forward. smooth going, the signal to gallop, and a dash for it would have been his choice, but that was impossible. constantly he was forced to slow down to a walk and dismount the detachments to haul on the drag-ropes. the manoeuvre developed into a kind of obstacle race, with death on every side. but his luck stood by him. he reached the position with the loss only of a gunner, two drivers, and a pair of lead horses. as soon as he got his guns into action and his teams away (all of which was done quietly, quickly, and without confusion--"as per book" as he expressed it) pickersdyke crawled up a communication trench, followed by a telephonist laying a wire, until he reached a place where he could see. it was the first time that he had been so close up to the firing line, and he experienced the sensations of a man who looks down into the crater of a live volcano. somewhere in the midst of the awful chaos in front of him was, if it still existed at all, the infantry battalion he was supposed to have been sent to support. but how to know where or when to shoot was altogether beyond him. he poked his glasses cautiously through a loophole and peered into the smoke in the vain hope of distinguishing friend from foe. "what the hell shall i do now?" he muttered. "can't see no bloomin' target in this lot.... crikey! yes, i can, though," he added. "both guns two degrees more left, fuze two, eight hundred...." he rattled off his orders as if to the manner born. the telephonist, a man who had spent months in the society of forward observing officers, repeated word for word into his instrument, speaking as carefully as the operator in the public call office at piccadilly circus. the guns behind blazed and roared. a second afterwards two fleecy balls of white smoke, out of which there darted a tongue of flame, appeared in front of the solid grey wall of men which pickersdyke had seen rise as if from the earth itself and surge forward. a strong enemy counter-attack was being launched, and he, with the luck of the tyro, had got his guns right on to it. methodically he switched his fire up and down the line. great gaps appeared in it, only to be quickly filled. it wavered, sagged, and then came on again. back at the guns the detachments worked till the sweat streamed from them; their drill was perfect, their rate of fire the maximum. but the task was beyond their powers. two guns were not enough. nevertheless the rush, though not definitely stopped, had lost its full driving force. it reached the captured trenches (which the infantry had had no time to consolidate), it got to close quarters, but it did not break through. the wall of shrapnel had acted like a breakwater--the strength of the wave was spent ere it reached its mark--and like a wave it began to ebb back again. in pursuit, cheering, yelling, stabbing, mad with the terrible lust to kill and kill and kill, came crowds of khaki figures. pickersdyke, who had stopped his fire to avoid hitting his own side and was watching the fight with an excitement such as he had never hoped to know, saw that the critical moment was past; the issue was decided, and his infantry were gaining ground again. he opened fire once more, lengthening his range so as to clear the _mélée_ and yet hinder the arrival of hostile reserves, which was a principle he had learnt from a constant study of "the book." suddenly there were four ear-splitting cracks over his head, and a shower of earth and stones rattled down off the parapet a few yards from him. "we're for it now," he exclaimed. he was. this first salvo was the prelude to a storm of shrapnel from some concealed german battery which had at last picked up the section's position. but pickersdyke continued to support his advancing infantry.... "wire's cut, sir," said the telephonist, suddenly. it was fatal. it was the one thing pickersdyke had prayed would not happen, for it meant the temporary silencing of his guns. "mend it and let me know when you're through again," he ordered. "i'm going down to the section." and, stooping low, he raced back along the trench. at the guns it had been an unequal contest, and they had suffered heavily. the detachments were reduced to half their strength, and one wagon, which had received a direct hit, had been blown to pieces. "stick it, boys," said pickersdyke, after a quick look round. he saw that if he was to continue shooting it would be necessary to stand on the top of the remaining wagon in order to observe his fire. and he was determined to continue. he climbed up and found that the additional four feet or so which he gained in height just enabled him to see the burst of his shells. but he had no protection whatever. "add a hundred, two rounds gun-fire," he shouted--and the guns flashed and banged in answer to his call. but it was a question of time only. miraculously, for almost five minutes he remained where he was, untouched. then, just as the telephonist reported "through" again the inevitable happened. an invisible hand, so it seemed to pickersdyke, endowed with the strength of twenty blacksmiths, hit him a smashing blow with a red-hot sledge-hammer on the left shoulder. he collapsed on to the ground behind his wagon with the one word "_hell!_" and then he fainted.... at p.m. that night the ----th battery received orders to join up with its advanced section and occupy the position permanently. it was after nine when lorrison, stumbling along a communication trench and beginning to think that he was lost, came upon the remnants of pickersdyke's command. they were crouching in one of the gun-pits--a bombardier and three gunners, very cold and very miserable. two of them were wounded. lorrison questioned them hastily and learnt that pickersdyke was at his observing station, that scupham and the telephonist were with him, and that there were two more wounded men in the next pit. "the battery will be here soon," said lorrison, cheerily, "and you'll all get fixed up. meanwhile here's my flask and some sandwiches." "beg pardon, sir," said the bombardier, "but mr. pickersdyke 'll need that flask. 'e's pretty bad, sir, i believe." lorrison found pickersdyke lying wrapped in some blankets which scupham had fetched from the wagon, twisting from side to side and muttering a confused string of delirious phrases. "fuze two--more _right_ i said--damn them, they're still advancing--what price the old ----th now?..." and then a groan and he began again. scupham, in a husky whisper, was trying to soothe him. "lie still for gawd's sake and don't worry yourself," he implored. by the time lorrison had examined the bandages on pickersdyke's shoulder and administered morphia (without a supply of which he now never moved) the battery arrived, and with it some stretcher-bearers. pickersdyke, just before he was carried off, recovered consciousness and recognised lorrison, who was close beside him. "hullo!" he said in a weak voice. "nice box-up here, isn't it? but i reckon we got a bit of our own back 'fore we was knocked out. tell the major the men were just grand. oh! and before i forget, amongst my kit there's a few 'spares' i've collected; they might come in handy for the battery. i shan't be away long, i hope.... wonder what the old colonel will say...." his voice trailed off into a drowsy murmur--the morphia had begun to take effect.... lorrison detained scupham in order to glean more information. "after 'e got 'it, sir," said scupham, "'e lay still for a bit, 'arf an hour pr'aps, and 'ardly seemed to know what was 'appening. then 'e suddenly calls out: 'is that there telephone workin' yet?' 'yes, sir,' i says--and with that 'e made for to stand up, but 'e couldn't. so wot does 'e do then but makes me bloomin' well carry 'im up the trench to the observin' station. 'now then, scupham,' 'e says, 'prop me up by that loophole so i can see wot's comin' off.' and i 'ad to 'old 'im there pretty near all the afternoon while 'e kep' sending orders down the telephone and firing away like 'ell. we finished our ammunition about five o'clock, and then 'e lay down where 'e was to rest for a bit. 'ow 'e'd stuck it all that time with a wound like that gawd only knows. 'e went queer in 'is 'ead soon after and we thought 'e was a goner--and then nothin' much 'appened till you came up, sir, 'cept that we was gettin' a tidy few shells round about. d'you reckon 'e'll get orl right, sir?" it was evident that the unemotional scupham was consumed with anxiety. "oh! he _must_!" cried lorrison. "it would be too cruel if he didn't pull through after all he's done. he's a _man_ if ever there was one." "and that's a fact," said scupham, preparing to follow his idol to the dressing station. as he moved away lorrison heard him mutter-- "there ain't no one on gawd's earth like old pickers--fancy 'im rememberin' them there 'spares.' 'strewth! 'e _is_ a one!" which was a very high compliment indeed.... official correspondence, even when it is marked "pressing and confidential" in red ink and enclosed in a sealed envelope, takes a considerable time to pass through the official channels and come back again. it was some days before the colonel commanding a certain divisional ammunition column received an answer to his report upon the inexplicable absence of his adjutant. he was a vindictive man, who felt that he had been left in the lurch, and he had taken pains to draft a letter which would emphasise the shortcomings of his subordinate. the answer, when it did come, positively shocked him. it was as follows:-- "with reference to your report upon the absence without leave of second lieutenant pickersdyke, the major-general commanding directs me to say that as this officer was severely wounded on september whilst commanding a section of the ----th battery r.f.a. with conspicuous courage and ability, for which he has been specially recommended for distinction by the g.o.c.r.a., and as he is now in hospital in england, no further action will be taken in the matter." to be snubbed by the staff because he had reported upon the scandalous conduct of a mere "ranker" was not at all the colonel's idea of the fitness of things. his fury, which vented itself chiefly upon his office clerk, would have been greater still if he could have seen his late adjutant comfortably ensconced in a cosy ward in one of the largest houses of fashionable london, waited upon by ladies of title, and showing an admiring circle of relations the jagged piece of steel which a very famous surgeon had extracted from his shoulder free of charge! for, in spite of his colonel, the progress of pickersdyke on the chosen path of his ambition was now quite definitely assured. snatty "this 'appened in a battle to a batt'ry of the corps which is first among the women an' amazin' first in war." --kipling. i driver joseph snatt, k battery, r.h.a., slouched across the barrack-square on his way to the stables. having just received a severe punishment for the heinous crime of ill-treating a horse, in spite of his plausible excuse that he had been bitten and had lost his temper, snatty, as he was always called, felt much aggrieved. "'orses," he thought to himself, "is everything in this 'ere bloomin' batt'ry--men's nothing." nor, in his own particular case, was he far wrong. for the horses of k were certainly quite wonderful, and snatty was undoubtedly a "waster." his death or his desertion would have been a small matter compared with the spoiling of one equine temper. the officers disliked him because he was an eyesore to them; the n.c.o.'s hated him because he gave them endless trouble; and the men had shown their distrust of his personal cleanliness by ducking him in a horse-trough more than once. driver snatt felt that every man's hand was against him, and since he possessed neither the will power nor the desire to overcome his delinquencies by a little honest toil, he not infrequently drowned his sorrows in large potations of canteen beer. in person he was small and rather shrivelled looking--old for his age unquestionably. a nervous manner and a slight stammer in the presence of his superiors, combined with a shifty eye at all times, served to enhance the unpleasing effect which he produced on all who knew him. there was but one thing to be said for him--he could ride. before enlisting he had been in a training stable, but had been dismissed for drink or worse. on foot he lounged about with rounded shoulders and uneven steps, always untidy and often dirty. but once upon a horse, the puny, awkward figure that was the despair of n.c.o.'s and officers alike, became graceful, supple, almost beautiful. the firm, easy seat that swayed to every motion, the hands that coaxed even the hard-mouthed gun-horses into going kindly, betrayed the horseman born. snatty might kick his horses in the stomach; he would never jerk them in the mouth. at the conclusion of the midday stable-hour snatt was summoned before his section officer, one briddlington by name, more frequently known as "biddie," and thus addressed-- "now, look here: you've made a dam' poor show so far, and this is your last chance. if you don't take it, god help you, for i won't. see?" snatt stared at his boot, swallowed twice, and then fixed his gaze on some distant point above the opposite stable. "ye-es, sir," he said huskily. "very well. now you've never had a job of your own, and i'm going to try you with one. you'll take over the wheel of a subsection gun team to-day, and have those two remounts to drive. i shall give you a fortnight's trial. if i see you're trying, i'll do all i can for you. otherwise--out you go. understand that?" again the deep interest in the distant point, but this time there was a trace of surprise in the faintly uttered, "yes, sir." snatty saluted and retired, wondering greatly. the wheel-driver of a gun team is an important personage: he occupies a coveted position attained only by those who combine skill, nerve, and horsemanship with the ability to tend a pair of horses as they would their own children, and to clean a double set of harness better than their fellows. snatty at first was resentful: "'e's put me there to make a fool of me, i s'pose. all right, i'll show 'im up. i can drive as well as any of them." then he experienced a feeling of pleasurable anticipation. as it so happened he detested the driver whose place he was to take, and he looked forward with satisfaction to witnessing the fury of that worthy when ordered to "hand over" to the despised waster of the battery. he was not grateful--that was not his nature--nor was he proud of having been selected. he was on the defensive, determined to show that, given a definite position with duties and responsibilities of his own, he could do very well--if he chose. which was precisely the frame of mind into which his thoughtful subaltern had hoped to lure him. in the barrack-room snatty met with much abuse. in a battery which prides itself enormously on its horses, any ill-treatment of them is not left unnoticed. barrack-room invective does not take the form of delicate sarcasm: on the contrary, it is coarse and directly to the point. the culprit sat upon his bed-cot and sulked in silence, until a carroty-headed driver, sitting on the table with his hat on the back of his head, remarked-- "i see ole biddie givin' you a proper chokin' off after stables." the chance for which snatty had waited very patiently had come, and he retorted quickly-- "oh! did yer? well, p'raps you'll be glad to 'ear that 'e 'as given me your 'orses and the wheel of a sub., says you're no ---- use, 'e does!" howls of derision greeted this sally, and snatty relapsed into silence. but that evening he whistled softly to himself as he led his new horses out to water and watched his red-headed enemy, deprived of his legitimate occupation, put to the unpleasant task of "mucking out" the stable. the day, so snatty felt, had not been wasted. ii from that time dated the conversion of driver joseph snatt. the change was necessarily gradual, for no man can reform in a week: the habits inculcated by years of idleness cannot be cast aside in a moment, nor can the doubts and suspicions clinging to an untrustworthy character be dispersed by one day's genuine work. but still a change for the better was evident. the comments of the barrack-room were free but not unfriendly, for snatty was beginning to find his true level after his own peculiar fashion. briddlington, too, did not fail to notice the success of his experiment. whilst inclined to boast of it in a laughing way to his brother officers, he had the good sense to overlook many trivial offences and to make much of anything that he could find to praise. what pleased him most of all was snatty's behaviour to his horses. dirty he still was upon occasions, and scarcely as smart as most drivers of the battery; nor was he always quite devoid of drink, but to his horses from that first day onwards he became a devoted, faithful slave. they were a pair of which any man might well have been proud. both were bright bays, well matched in colour and in size. in shape they were almost the ideal stamp of artillery wheeler, which is tantamount to saying that they might have graced the stud of any hunting gentleman of fifteen stone or thereabouts. snatty's pride in them was almost ludicrous. a word said against them would put him up in arms at once, and when territorials borrowed the battery horses for their training on saturday afternoons his indignation knew no bounds. "'ow can i keep me 'orses fit," he used to say, "if a bloomin' bank clerk goes drivin' 'em at a stretched gallop the 'ole o' saturday? proper dis'eartenin', that's wot it is." and this in spite of the fact that he was allowed a shilling for his trouble. the villainies that he perpetrated for their wellbeing, if discovered, would have given him small chance before a stern commanding officer. he stole oats from the forage barn, bread and sugar from his barrack-room, and even the feeds from the next manger. snatty's moral sense, as we have seen, was not a very high one. but pricked ears and gentle whinnies as he approached, and velvety muzzles pushed into his roughened hand, betrayed the effect of many a purloined dainty, and amply compensated for any qualms which a guilty but belated conscience may have given him. not that he was particularly caressing in his manner. he would growl at each one as he groomed him, or scold him as one does a naughty child, and his "naow _then_, stand still, will yer, dawn?" was well known during stable-hour. who it was who had first called the off horse dawn was never quite clear, but snatty in a fit of poetic inspiration had christened the other daylight. dawn was difficult to shoe, so difficult indeed that his driver's presence was required in the forge to keep him still. and when snatty went on furlough for a month both horses began to lose condition. the years went by, and snatty soldiered on, winter and summer, drill season and leave season, content to drive the wheel of a and drink a bit too much on saturdays. but in that time he had become a man--not a strong, determined man, certainly not a refined one, but for all that a man. to briddlington, who had raised him from the mental slough in which he had lain to all appearances content, he at no time betrayed a sense of gratitude. on the contrary, the position of a privileged person of some standing which he had gained he attributed largely to his own cunning in deceiving his superiors combined with his consummate skill with horses. but still he had learnt his job, and was fulfilling his destiny to more purpose than many better men. moreover he was happy. crooning softly as he polished straps and buckles in the harness-room, with a skill and speed born of long practice, he was contented, and was vaguely conscious that the world was not a bad place after all. an officer who knew him well once said-- "i wouldn't trust him to carry a bottle of whisky half a mile, but i'd send him across england with a pair of horses--by himself. and as to driving--well, i don't know about the needle and the camel's eye, but i know that snatty would drive blind drunk along the narrow road to heaven and never let his axles touch!" for two years in succession the battery won the galloping competition at olympia, with snatty in the wheel. and over rough ground, moving fast, he was unequalled. when his time was up and snatty had to go, there was never, perhaps, a time-expired man who was so hard put to it to assume a joy at leaving which he did not feel. of course, like other men, he swaggered about saying that he was glad to be "shut of" the army; that he had got a nice little place to step into where there wasn't any "do this" and "do that" and "why the deuce haven't you done what i told you?" but in his heart he was more affected than he had ever been before. "wot about yer 'orses, snatty?" some one asked him; "who's going to 'ave them when you're gorn?" "'ow should i know?" he answered, rather nettled. "nobbler parsons, so i 'eard. 'e'll soon spoil 'em, i bet yer." then was snatty very wroth, and he replied-- "you leave me and my 'orses alone, or you'll be for it, i warn yer," thereby revealing his inmost feelings most effectually. on the eve of his departure he was treated by his friends till he grew almost maudlin. then he slipped away "just to say good-bye to 'em," and even that hardened assembly of "canteen regulars" forbore to scoff. he was found when the battery came down to evening stables, a pathetic figure, in his ill-fitting suit of plain clothes, standing between his beloved pair, an arm round the neck of one, his pockets full of sugar, and tears of drink and genuine grief trickling down his unwashed cheeks. "six bloomin' years i've 'ad yer," they heard him say. "six bloomin' years, and no one's ever said a word against yer that i 'aven't knocked the 'ead of. p'rades and manoeuvres, practice camp and ceremonial, there's nothin' i can't do wiv yer and ... and, gawd, i wish i wasn't leavin' yer now to some other bloke." then they led him gently away, and on the morrow he was gone. for a week he was missed; in a month he was forgotten. only daylight and dawn still fretted for him, and turned round in their stalls with anxious, wistful eyes. for six months snatty struggled to keep body and soul together, living upon his reserve pay and upon such small sums as he could pick up by doing odd jobs in livery stables. but the self-respect which he had won so hardly slipped away from him, and he sank slowly in the social scale. the lot of the ex-soldier whose character is "fair," and whose record of sobriety leaves much to be desired, is not a happy one. snatty was in rags and well-nigh starving. small wonder, then, that one day the blandishments of an eloquent recruiting sergeant proved too much for his resistance and that he succumbed to the temptations thrust upon him by the great god hunger. manfully he perjured himself when brought before the magistrate. his name was henry morgan, his age twenty-three years and five months, and he had never served before, so help him god. all false--but snatty wished to live. he asked to be put into the infantry, fearing that his knowledge of the ways of troop stables would betray him if he joined a mounted branch. the penalties attached to a "false answer on attestation" were heavy, as he knew, and he would take no chances. in due course, therefore, he found himself posted to a crack light infantry regiment, and his troubles soon began. to be marched about a barrack-square followed by shouts of objurgation was bad enough: to be pestered with the intricacies of musketry was worse: but what galled him most of all was to have to walk. he loathed the life. this was not the world of soldiering that he had known and loved. his soul hungered for the rattle of log-chains and the jingle of harness; the smell of the stable still lingered in his nostrils. moreover, he was in constant trouble, for desperation made him reckless. those who had known him in the battery would scarcely have recognised in the sullen ne'er-do-well whom men called morgan, the cheerful snatty of a former time. he had just passed his recruit drills (with difficulty be it said) and taken his place in the ranks, when the war which wise men had predicted as inevitable was forced upon the nation with disconcerting suddenness. the regiment was ordered out on service, and with it, amongst nine hundred other souls, went private henry morgan, _alias_ snatty. iii a hot sun beating down from a cloudless sky upon a land parched and dusty from a lengthened drought; miles upon miles of rolling downs, which once were green but which the driest summer for many years has baked into a dirty yellow; here and there an oasis consisting of a copse of fir-trees, farmstead, and a field or two of pasture marking the presence of a kindly stream: a landscape in short so typical of hundreds of square miles of this particular region that ordinarily it would fail to interest. but to-day the peace of the country side is disturbed by the boom of guns and the rattle of musketry. two mighty armies are at grips at last, and in the space between them hovers death. upon a little rise commanding a good view of the surrounding country there is a long line of khaki figures lying prone behind a scanty earth-work. these are infantry, and shaken infantry at that; shaken because they have marched all night and stormed that hill at dawn with fearful loss, because they are weak from hunger and parched with thirst, and because they feel in their hearts that the end is near. relief must come, or one determined rush will drive them back to ruin. shells burst over them with whip-like crack, rifle fire tears through their ranks, and sometimes a harsh scream followed by a deafening report and clouds of acrid smoke marks the advent of a high-explosive shell. a much harassed brigadier sat behind a rock near the telephone awaiting the answer to his urgent demand for guns. it came sooner than he expected it, and took the tangible shape of a little group of horsemen which appeared on the hill some way to his right. there was a quick consultation as glasses swept the front. then the horses were led away under cover and the range-takers began operations. the brigadier recognised the signs and gained fresh hope as he saw that his prayer was answered. at the far end of the line private morgan, busily engaged in excavating a hole for himself by means of an entrenching tool much resembling a short-handled garden hoe, looked up quickly as he heard a well-known voice say-- "all right, biddie, i'll observe from here. bring 'em in quick." "strewth!" muttered snatty to himself, "it's the major. so the old troop's comin' into action 'ere." for weeks he had scanned every battery that had been near him, hoping to meet his own. but horse artillery act with cavalry and work far ahead of the toiling infantry in rear, so that it was not till now, when a pitched battle was in progress, when the advanced cavalry had come in and every available gun was being utilised, that fate permitted snatty to see his old battery once more. looking over his shoulder, he said-- "it's all right now, sergeant. there's some guns coming." "you shut yer mouth and get on with yer work," was the rejoinder, "wot do you know about guns, i'd like to know?" "oh, nothink! but you watch 'em, that's all," said private morgan, with an ill-suppressed gleam of pride, which made the sergeant wonder. the line of six guns, each with its wagon behind it, thundered up the rise. there was a shrill whistle, and a hand held up. then the hoarse voices of the sergeants shouted, "action front," and the wheelers were thrown into the breeching, almost sitting on their haunches to stop the weight behind them: the gunners leapt from their horses and sprang to the gun: a second's pause, then, "drive on," and six limbers went rattling away to the rear as six trails were flung round half a circle and dropped with a thud. hardly were they down before each gun had its wagon up beside it and the horses unhooked. they too galloped to the rear. in ten seconds there was not a sign of movement. the battery was there, and that was all. of the weary infantry who lay and watched there was one at least who could appreciate the merit of the performance. "couldn't ha' been better in the old days on salisbury plain," was his comment. "but, gawd! the 'orses 'ave fell away proper. skeletons, that's wot they are now." but private morgan's soliloquy was again cut short by the remorseless sergeant behind him. a few curt orders passed rapidly down the battery, then came two sharp reports, followed by the click of the reopened breech, as the ranging rounds went singing on their journey. a spurt of brown earth showed for a second in front of that thick black line a mile or more away, another showed behind. "graze short--graze over," said the major, still staring through his glasses. "eighteen hundred, one round gun fire." the order was repeated by a man standing behind him with a megaphone, and followed almost instantaneously by a round from every gun. some puffs of smoke above the target, the echo of the bursting shell borne back along the breeze, and then for perhaps a minute all hell might have been let loose, such was the uproar as every gun was worked at lightning speed. a whistle--and in a moment all was still again. "target down--stop firing," was the laconic order. "but," added the major, softly, "i think that sickened 'em a bit." the attacking infantry had dropped down under cover, but not for long. nearer and nearer pressed the relentless lines, sometimes pausing a while, or even dropping back, but always, like the waves of the incoming tide, gaining fresh ground at every rush. the end was very near now, and the bitterness of defeat entered into the defenders' hearts. for they did not know that the struggle for this particular hill, though of vital importance to themselves, was merely serving the subsidiary purpose of diverting attention while greater issues matured elsewhere. they only knew that ammunition was scarce, that they wanted water, and that now at last the order to retire had come. they got away in driblets, slowly, very slowly, until at last nothing was left upon the hillside but a handful of infantry, the battery, and the dead and wounded. the riflemen crawled closer to the guns, feeling somehow that there was solace in their steady booming. the major looked at his watch, and then at the attacking lines in front of him. "in ten minutes we'll have to get out of this," he said, "bring the horses up close behind us under cover." the minutes passed and the net around them drew closer. "prepare to retire--rear limber up." the few remaining infantry emptied their magazines and crept off down the hill. the guns fired their last few rounds as the teams came jingling up. their arrival was the signal for a fresh outburst of fire. the few moments required for limbering up seemed a lifetime as men fell fast and horses mad with terror broke loose and dashed away. but years of stern discipline and careful training stood the battery in good stead now. the principle of "abandon be damned: we never abandon guns," was not forgotten. through the shouting, the curses, and the dust, the work went on. dead horses were cut free and pulled aside, gunners took the place of fallen drivers, and at last five guns were got away. the sixth was in great difficulties. the maddened horses backed in every direction but the right one, and the panting gunners strove in vain to drop the trail upon the limber-hook. beside the team stood briddlington, trying to soothe the horses and steadying the men in the calm, cool voice that he habitually used upon parade. then suddenly from behind a rock there crawled out a strange figure. filthy beyond words, hatless, with an inch of scrubby beard, and one foot bound up in blood-stained rags, this apparition limped painfully towards the gun-- "naow then!" a husky voice exclaimed, "stand still, will yer, dawn?" "by god! it's snatty," cried briddlington, and as he spoke the driver of snatty's horses gave a little grunt and pitched off on to the ground. without a word the erstwhile private of infantry stooped and took the whip from the dead man's hand. he patted each horse in turn, then climbed into the saddle. "steady now--get back, will yer?" he growled, and they obeyed him quietly enough. the men behind gave a heave at the gun and a click denoted that the trail was on its hook. "drive on," cried snatty, flourishing his whip, and down the hill they went full gallop. safety lay not in the way that they had come, but further to their left, where the ground was bad. at the bottom of the hill there was a low bank with a ditch in front of it, and just before they reached it the centre driver received a bullet in the head and dropped down like a stone. there was no time to pull up. the lead driver took his horses hard by the head and put them at the bank. they jumped all right, but the pair behind them, deprived of a guiding hand upon the reins, saw the ditch at the last moment and swerved. "my gawd!" said snatty, sitting back for the crash he knew would follow. the traces and the pace had dragged the centre horses over in spite of their swerve, but one of them stumbled as he landed. he staggered forward, and before he could recover snatty's horses and the gun were upon him in a whirling mass of legs and straps and wheels. briddlington, who had been riding beside the team, leapt to the ground and ran to the fallen horses. "sit on their heads," he cried. "undo the quick release your side. now then, together--heave." there was a rattle of hoofs against the footboard as daylight rolled over kicking wildly to get free. briddlington, at the risk of his life, leant over and pulled frantically at a strap. the two ends flew apart and the snorting horses struggled to their feet, but snatty lay very still and deathly white upon the ground. "don't stand gaping. hook in again--quick. we're not clear away yet by a long chalk," said briddlington. then he bent down and putting his arms round snatty's crumpled figure lifted him very tenderly aside. "lie still now," he said with a catch in his voice as he saw that the case was hopeless, "and you'll be all right." but those flashing hoofs and steel-tyred wheels had done their work. snatty's last drive was over. "it warn't their fault. i should 'ave 'eld them up," was all he said before he died. the gun rejoined the battery safely, and defeat was turned to victory ere nightfall, but private henry morgan was returned as "missing" from his regiment. iv to this day, on the anniversary of the battle, in the mess of k battery, r.h.a., it is the custom, when the king's health has been drunk, for the president to say---- "mr. vice, to the memory of the man who brought away the last gun." and the vice-president answers, "gentlemen, to driver snatt." then the curious visitor is shown a large oil painting of a pair of bright bay horses with a little wizened driver riding one of them. "that's snatty," they will say, "a drunken scoundrel if you like, but he loved those horses, and he used to drive like hell." five-four-eight i rain! pitiless, incessant, drenching rain, that seemed to ooze and trickle and soak into every nook and cranny in the world, beat down upon the already sodden ground and formed great pools of water in every hollow. fires blazed and flickered at intervals, revealing within the glowing circles of their light the huddled forms of weary soldiers; and all the myriad sounds of a huge camp blended imperceptibly with the raindrops' steady patter. according to orders the ----th division had concentrated upon the main army for the impending battle. at dawn that day its leading battalion had swung out of camp to face the storm and the mud; not until dusk had the last unit dropped exhausted into its bivouac. for fourteen hours the troops had groped their way along the boggy roads: and they had marched but one-and-twenty miles. incredibly slow! incredibly wearisome! but they had effected the purpose of their chief. they had arrived in time. the headquarters of the divisional artillery had been established in a ramshackle old barn at one corner of the field in which the batteries were camped. within its shelter the general and his staff of three crouched over a small fire. the roof leaked, the floor was wet and indescribably filthy; their seats were saddles, and their only light a guttering candle. but to those four tired men, the little fire, the dirty barn, the thought of food and sleep, seemed heaven. brigadier-general maudeslay, known to his irreverent but affectionate subordinates as "the maud," was a fat little man of fifty, who owed his present rank largely to his steady adherence to principles of sound common-sense. for theoretical knowledge he depended, so he frankly declared, upon the two staff officers with whom he was supplied. nevertheless, those who knew him well agreed that in quickness to grasp the salient points of any given situation and in accuracy of decision he had few superiors. it was his habit, when pondering on his line of action, to walk round in a circle, his hands behind his back, humming softly to himself. then, swiftly and with conscious certainty, he would act. and he was seldom wrong. at the moment, however, his thoughts were not concerned with tactics but with food. for some time he sat before the fire in silence, then suddenly exclaimed---- "thank the lord! i hear the baggage coming in. go and hurry it up, tony." tony, whose rarely used surname was quarme, was an artillery subaltern of seven years' service, attached to the general's staff as personal a.d.c. on him devolved the irksome task of catering for the headquarter mess. it was his principal, though not his only function: and, owing to scarcity of provisions, a daily change of camp, and a general who took considerable interest in the quality of his food, it was a duty which often taxed his temper and his ingenuity to the utmost. he got up, wriggled himself into his clammy waterproof, and splashed out into the mud and darkness. "tony," observed the general to his brigade-major, "is not such a failure at this job as you predicted." "he's astonished me so far, i must confess," was the reply. "i always thought him rather a lazy young gentleman, with no tastes for anything beyond horses and hunting." "my dear hartley, he was lazy because he was bored." the general, being devoted to hunting himself, spoke a little testily. "peace soldiering," he went on, "_is_ apt to bore sometimes. tony is not what _you'd_ call a professional soldier. his military interests are strictly confined to the reputation of his battery, and to his own ability to command two guns in action. naturally he was pleased when i appointed him a.d.c. the part of the year's work which interested him, practice camp and so on, was over. in place of the tedium of manoeuvres as a regimental subaltern, he foresaw a novel and more or less amusing occupation on my staff for the rest of the summer, and he knew that he would go back to his own station in the autumn in time for the hunting season. but he did not reckon on the possibility of war, and therefore he is now dissatisfied. i know it as well as if he'd told me so himself." "how do you mean, sir?" "oh! he doesn't dislike the job: i don't mean that. but he can't help feeling that he's been sold. i can almost hear him saying to himself, 'here have i struggled through seven years' soldierin' thinking always that some day i should be loosed upon a battle-field with a pair of guns and a good fat target of advancing infantry. and now that the time _has_ come, i'm stuck with this rotten staff job.'" "by jove!" said the other, "i never thought of that." "no, hartley, you wouldn't. in your case the 'gunner' instinct has been obliterated by that of the staff officer. the guns have lost their fascination for you. isn't that so?" "in a way, yes." "well, in some men--and tony happens to be one of them--that fascination lasts as long as life itself. often enough in ordinary times it lies dormant. but as soon as war comes it shows itself at once in the mad rush made by officers to get back to batteries--that is, to go on service _with the guns_. it is the curse of our regiment in some ways: many potential generals abandon their ambitions because of it. but it's also our salvation." he relapsed into silence, staring into the fire. perhaps he, too, regretted for the moment that he was a general, and wished that, instead of thirteen batteries, he commanded only one. meanwhile the subject of their discussion had succeeded in finding the headquarters' baggage wagon. ignoring the protests of infuriated transport officers who were endeavouring to direct more than two hundred vehicles to their destinations, he had lured it out of the chaos and guided it to its appointed place. as the wagon came to a standstill outside the barn the tarpaulin was raised at the back and the vast proportions of the gunner who combined the duties of servant to tony and cook to the mess slowly emerged. from his right hand dangled a shapeless, flabby mass. "what the devil have you got there, tebbut?" demanded tony. "ducks, sir," was the unexpected reply. "we was 'alted near a farm-'ouse to-day, so i took the chanst to buy some milk and butter. while the chap was away fetchin' the stuff, i pinched these 'ere ducks. fat they are, too!" he spoke in the matter-of-fact tones of one to whom the theft of a pair of ducks, and the feat of plucking them within the narrow confines of a packed g.s. wagon, was no uncommon experience. "well, look sharp and cook 'em. we're hungry," said tony. he stayed until he saw that the dinner was well under way, and then floundered off through the mud to see his horses. of these he was allowed by regulations three, but one, hastily purchased during the mobilisation period by an almost distracted remount officer, had already succumbed to the effects of overwork and underfeeding. there remained the charger which he had had with his battery in peace time, and which he now used for all ordinary work--and dignity. the latter was well named. he was a big brown horse, very nearly thoroughbred--a perfect hunter and a perfect gentleman. tony had bought him as a four-year-old at a price that was really far beyond his means, and had trained him himself. he used openly to boast that dignity had taken to jumping as a duck takes to water, and that he had never been known to turn from a fence. in the course of four seasons, the fastest burst, the heaviest ground, the longest hunt had never been too much for him. always he would gallop calmly on, apparently invincible. his owner almost worshipped him. horse rugs are not part of the field service equipment of an officer. but to the discerning (and unscrupulous) few there is a way round almost every regulation. dignity had three rugs, and his legs were swathed in warm flannel bandages. as he stood there on the leeward side of a fence busily searching the bottom of his nosebag for the last few oats of his meagre ration, he was probably the most comfortable animal of all the thousands in the camp. tony spent some time examining his own and the general's horses, and giving out the orders for the morning to the grooms. by the time he got back to the barn it was past ten, and tebbut was just solemnly announcing "dinner" as being served. "the maud" eyed the dish of steaming ducks with evident approval, but avoided asking questions. loot had been very strictly forbidden. "we ought by rights to have apple sauce with these," he said, drawing his saddle close up to the deal low table and giving vent to a sigh of expectancy. "hi've got some 'ere, sir," responded the resourceful tebbut. "there was a horchard near the road to-day." he produced, as he spoke, a battered tin which, from the inscription on its label, had once contained "selected peaches." it was now more than half full of a concoction which bore a passable resemblance to apple sauce. for half an hour conversation languished. they had eaten nothing but a sandwich since early morning, and the demands of appetite were more exacting than their interest in the programme for the morrow. but as soon as tebbut, always a stickler for the usages of polite society, had brushed away the crumbs with a dirty dish-cloth and handed round pint mugs containing coffee, hartley unrolled a map, and, under instructions from the general, began to prepare the orders. as a result of a reconnaissance in force that day the enemy's advanced troops had been driven in, and the extent of his real position more or less accurately defined. the decisive attack, of which the ----th division was to form a part, was to be directed against the left. barring the way on this flank, however, was a hill marked on the map as point , which was situate about two miles in front of the main hostile position. the enemy had not yet been dislodged from this salient, but a brigade of infantry had been detailed to assault it that night. in the event of success a battery was to be sent forward to occupy it at dawn, after which the main attack would begin. general maudeslay had been ordered to provide this battery. "don't put anything in orders about it, though, hartley," he said. "it will have to be one from the ----th brigade, which has suffered least so far. i'll send separate confidential instructions to the colonel. get an orderly, will you, tony?" "i'll take the message myself, sir, if i may," suggested the a.d.c. "it's my own brigade, and i'd like to look them up." "all right; only don't forget to come back," said the general, smiling. tony pocketed the envelope and peered out into the night. the rain had ceased and the sky was clear. far away to right and left the bivouac fires glimmered like reflections of the starry heavens. the troops, worn out with the hardships of the day, had fallen asleep and the camp was silent. only the occasional whinny of a horse, the challenge of a sentry, or the distant rumbling of benighted transport broke the stillness. tony's way led through the lines of the various batteries. the horses stood in rows, tied by their heads to long ropes stretched between the ammunition wagons. fetlock-deep in liquid mud, without rugs, wet and underfed, they hung their heads dejectedly--a silent protest against the tyranny of war. "poor old hairies!" thought tony, as he passed them, his mind picturing the spotless troop-stables and the shining coats that he had known so well in barracks, not a month ago. he found the officers of his brigade assembled beneath a tarpaulin. their baggage had been hours late, and though it was nearly eleven o'clock the evening meal was still in progress. he handed his message to the adjutant and sat down to exchange greetings with his brother subalterns. "oh! there's bully beef for the batteries, but we've salmon all right on the staff," he sang softly, after sniffing suspiciously at the unpleasant-looking mess on his neighbour's plate, which was, in fact, ration tinned beef boiled hurriedly in a camp kettle. the song, of which the words were his own, fitted neatly to a popular tune of the moment. it treated of the difference in comfort of life on the staff and that in the batteries, and gave a verdict distinctly in favour of the former. he had sung it with immense success about a.m. on his last night at home with his own brigade. "now, tony," said some one, "you're on the staff. what's going to happen to-morrow?" "a big show--will last two or three days, they say. but," he added, grinning, "you poor devils stuck away behind a hill won't see much of it. i suppose i shall be sent on my usual message--to tell you that you're doing no dam' good, and only wasting ammunition!" but though he chaffed and joked his heart was heavy as he walked back an hour later. somewhere out there in the mud was his own battery, which he worshipped as a god. and he was condemned to live away from it, to be absent when it dashed into action, when the breech-blocks rattled and the shells shrieked across the valleys. he found the others still poring over the map. from the wallet on his saddle tony pulled out a large travelling flask. "i think that this is the time for the issue of my special emergency ration," he announced. "what is it, tony?" asked "the maud." "best old liqueur brandy from our mess in england," he replied, pouring some into each of the four mugs. then he held up his own and added-- "here's to the guns: may they be well served to-morrow." over the enamelled rim the general's eyes met tony's for a moment, and he smiled; for he understood the sentiment. tony crawled beneath his blankets, and fell into a deep sleep, from which he roused himself with difficulty a few hours later as the first grey streaks of dawn were appearing in the sky. ii the press of work at the headquarters of a division during operations comes in periods of intense activity, during which every member of the staff, from the general downwards, feels that he is being asked to do the work of three men in an impossibly short space of time. one of these periods, that in which the orders for the initial stages of the attack had been distributed, had just passed, and a comparative calm had succeeded. even the operator of the "buzzer" instrument, ensconced in a little triangular tent just large enough to hold one man in a prone position, had found time to smoke. divisional headquarters had been established at a point where five roads met, just below the crest of a low hill. a few yards away the horses clinked their bits and grazed. occasionally the distant boom of a gun made them prick their ears and stare reflectively in the direction of the sound. the sun, with every promise of a fine day, was slowly dispelling the mist from the valley and woodlands below. it was early: the battle had scarcely yet begun. a huge map had been spread out on a triangular patch of grass at the road junction, its corners held down with stones. staff officers lay around it talking eagerly. above, on the top of the hill, general maudeslay leant against a bank and gazed into the mist. the night attack, he knew, had been successful, and he was anxiously awaiting the appearance of the battery on point . tony was stretched at full length on the grass below him. he was warm, he was dry, and he was not hungry--a rare combination on service. "this would be a grand cub-hunting morning, general," he said. ordinarily "the maud" would have responded with enthusiasm, for hounds and hunting were the passion of his life. but now his thoughts were occupied with other matters, and he made no reply. then suddenly, as though at the rising of a curtain at a play, things began to happen. the telephone operator lifted his head with a start as his instrument began to give out its nervous, jerky, zt--zzz--zt. there was a clatter of hoofs along the road, and the sliding scrape of a horse pulled up sharply as an orderly appeared and handed in a message. rifle fire, up till then desultory and unnoticed, began to increase in volume. the mist had gone. "the maud," motionless against the bank, kept his glasses to his eyes for some minutes before lowering them, with a gesture of annoyance and exclaimed-- "it's curious. that battery ought to be on by now, but i can see no sign of it." "you can't see from here, sir. it's hidden behind that wood," said tony, pointing as he spoke. "what do you mean? there's ," said the general, also pointing, but to a hill much farther to their right. "no, sir--at least not according to my map." "the maud" snatched the map from tony's hand. a second's glance was enough. on it point was marked as being farther to the left and considerably nearer to the enemy. he turned on tony like a flash. "good lord! why didn't you tell me that before?" he cried. "there must be two different editions of this map. which one had they in your brigade when you went over there last night--the right one or the wrong one?" but tony, unfortunately, had no idea. his interest in tactics, as we have seen, was small, and his visit had not involved him in a discussion of the plan of battle. he had not even looked at their maps. "the maud" walked round in one small circle while he hummed eight bars. then he said-- "they must have started for the wrong hill, and in this mist they won't have realised their danger. that battery will be wiped out unless we can stop it." he looked round quickly. "signallers--no--useless: and the telephone not yet through. tony, you'll have to go. there's no direct road. go straight across country and you may just do it." tony was already halfway to the horses. "take up dignity's stirrups two holes," he called as he ran towards them. "quick, man, quick!" it took perhaps twenty seconds, which seemed like as many minutes. he flung away belt and haversack, crammed his revolver into a side pocket, and was thrown up into the saddle. "the maud" himself opened the gate off the road. "like hell, tony, like hell!" the general's words, shouted in his ear as he passed through on to the grass, seemed echoed in the steady beat of dignity's hoofs as he went up to his bridle and settled into his long raking stride. tony leant out on his horse's neck, his reins crossed jockey fashion, his knees pressed close against the light hunting saddle. before him a faded expanse of green stretched out for two miles to the white cottage on the hillside which he had chosen as his point. the rush of wind in his ears, the thud of iron-shod hoofs on sound old turf, the thrill that is born of speed, made him forget for a moment the war, the enemy, his mission. he was back in england on a good scenting morning in november. hounds were away on a straight-necked fox, and he had got a perfect start. almost could he see them beside him, "close packed, eager, silent as a dream." this was not humdrum soldiering--cold and hunger, muddy roads and dreary marches. it was life. "steady, old man." he leant back, a smile upon his lips, as a fence was flung behind them and the bottom of the valley came in sight. "there's a brook: must chance it," he muttered, and then, mechanically and with instinctive eye, he chose his place. he took a pull until he felt that dignity was going well within himself, and then, fifty yards away, he touched him with his heels and let him out. the stream, swollen with the deluge of the previous day, had become a torrent of swirling, muddy water, and it was by no means narrow. but dignity knew his business. gathering his powerful quarters under him in the last stride, he took off exactly right and fairly hurled himself into space. they landed with about an inch to spare. "good for you!" cried tony, standing in his stirrups and looking back, as they breasted the slope beyond. from the top he had hoped to see the battery somewhere on the road, but he found that the wood obstructed his view, and he was still uncertain, therefore, as to whether he was in time or not. "it's a race," he said, and sat down in his saddle to ride a finish. but halfway across the next field dignity put a foreleg into a blind and narrow drain and turned completely over. tony was thrown straight forward on to his head and stunned. * * * * * a quarter of an hour later he had recovered consciousness and was staring about him stupidly. the air was filled with the din of battle, but apparently the only living thing near him was dignity, quietly grazing. he noticed, at first without understanding, that the horse moved on three legs only. his off foreleg was swinging. tony got up and limped stiffly towards him. he bent down to feel the leg and found that it was broken. slowly, reluctantly, he pulled out his revolver and put in a cartridge. it was, perhaps, the hardest thing he had ever had to do. he drew dignity's head down towards the ground, placed the muzzle against his forehead and fired. the horse swayed for a fraction of a second then collapsed forward, lifeless, with a thud: and tony felt as though his heart would break. gradually he began to remember what had happened, and he wondered vaguely how long he had lain unconscious. in front of him stretched the wood which he had seen before he started, hiding from his view not only the actual hill but the road which led to it. he knew that on foot, bruised and shaken as he was, he could never now arrive in time. he had failed, and must return. then, as he stood sadly watching dignity's fast glazing eyes he heard the thunder of hundreds of galloping hoofs, and looked up quickly. round the corner of the wood, in wild career, came, not a cavalry charge as he had half expected, but teams--gun teams and limbers--but no guns. the battery had got into action on the hill, but a lucky hostile shell, wide of its mark, had dropped into the wagon line and stampeded the horses. a few drivers still remained, striving in vain to pull up. they might as well have tried to stop an avalanche. tony watched them flash past him to the rear. still dazed with his fall, it was some seconds before the truth burst upon him. _he knew those horses._ "my god!" he cried aloud, "it's my own battery that's up there!" in a moment all thought of his obvious duty--to return and report--was banished from his mind. he forgot the staff and his connection with it. one idea, and one only, possessed him--somehow, anyhow, to get to the guns. dizzily he started off towards the hill. his progress was slow and laboured. his head throbbed as though there was a metal piston within beating time upon his brain. the hot sun caused the sweat to stream into his eyes. the ground was heavy, and his feet sank into it at every step. twice he stopped to vomit. at last he reached the road and followed the tracks of the gun-wheels up it until he came to the gap in the hedge through which the battery had evidently gone on its way into action. the slope was strewn with dead and dying horses: drivers were crushed beneath them; and an up-ended limber pointed its pole to the sky like the mast of a derelict ship. the ground was furrowed with the impress of many heavy wheels, and everywhere was ripped and scarred with the bullet marks of low-burst shrapnel. but ominously enough, amid all these signs of conflict no hostile fire seemed to come in his direction. the hill rose sharply for a hundred yards or so, and then ran forward for some distance nearly flat. tony therefore, crawling up, did not see the battery until he was quite close to it. panting, he stopped aghast and stared. four guns were in position with their wagons beside them. the remnants of the detachments crouched behind the shields. piles of empty cartridge-cases and little mounds of turf behind the trails testified that these four guns, at least, had been well served. but the others! one was still limbered up: evidently a shell had burst immediately in front of it. its men and horses were heaped up round it almost as though they were tin soldiers which a child had swept together on the floor. the remaining gun pointed backward down the hill, forlorn and desolate. in the distance, for miles and miles, the noise of battle crashed and thundered in the air. but here it seemed some magic spell was cast, and everything was still and silent as the grave. sick at heart, tony contemplated the scene of carnage and destruction for one brief moment. then he made his way towards the only officer whom he could see, and from him learnt exactly what had happened. the major commanding the battery, it appeared, deceived first by the map and then by the fog, had halted his whole battery where he imagined that it was hidden from view. but as soon as the mist had cleared away he found that it was exposed to the fire of the hostile artillery at a range of little more than a mile. the battery had been caught by a hail of shrapnel before it could get into action. only this one officer remained, and there were but just enough men to work the four guns that were in position. ammunition, too, was getting very short. tony looked at his watch. it was only eight o'clock. from his vague idea of the general plan of battle he knew that the decisive attack would eventually sweep forward over the hill on which he stood. but how soon? at any moment the enemy might launch a counter-attack and engulf his battery. its position could hardly have been worse. owing to the flat top of the hill nothing could be seen from the guns except the three hundred yards immediately in front of them and the high ground a mile away on which the enemy's artillery was posted. the intervening space was hidden. yet it was impossible to move. any attempt to go forward to where they could see, or backward to where they would be safe, would be greeted, tony knew well enough, with a burst of fire which would mean annihilation. besides, he remembered the stampeding wagon line. the battery was without horses, immobile. to wait patiently for succour was its only hope. having ascertained that a man had been posted out in front to give warning of an attack, tony sat down to await developments with philosophic calm. the fact that he had no right to be there at all, but that his place was with the general, did not concern him in the slightest. it had always been his ambition "to fight a battery in the real thing," as he would himself have phrased it, and he foresaw that he was about to do so with a vengeance. he was distressed by the havoc that he saw, but in all other respects he was content. for hours nothing happened. the enemy evidently considered that the battery was effectually silenced, and did not deign to waste further ammunition upon it. then, when tony had almost fallen asleep, the sentry at the forward crest semaphored in a message---- "long thick line of infantry advancing: will reach foot of hill in about five minutes. supports behind." almost at the same moment an orderly whom tony recognised as belonging to his general's staff arrived from the rear. tony seized upon him eagerly. "where have you come from?" he demanded. "from the general, sir. 'e sent me to find you and to tell you to come back." "did you pass any of our infantry on your way?" "yes, sir. there's a lot coming on. they'll be round the wood in a minute or two." "well, go back to them and give _any_ officer this message," said tony, writing rapidly in his note-book. "beg pardon, sir, but that will take me out of my way. i'm the last orderly the general 'as got left, and i was told to find out what 'ad 'appened 'ere, and then to come straight back." "i don't care a damn what you were told. you go with that message _now_." the man hurried off, and tony walked along the line of guns, saw that they were laid on the crest line in front, and that the fuzes were set at zero. this would have the effect of bursting the shell at the muzzles, and so creating a death-zone of leaden bullets through which the attacking infantry would have to fight their way. then he took up his post behind an ammunition wagon on the right of the battery, and fixed his eyes on the signaller in front. he felt himself to be in the same state of tingling excitement as when he waited outside a good fox-covert expecting the welcome "gone away!" suddenly the signaller rose, and, crouching low, bolted back towards the guns. just as he reached them a few isolated soldiers began to appear over the crest in front. as soon as they saw the guns they lay down waiting for support. they were the advanced scouts of a battalion. a moment afterwards, a thick line of men came in sight. the sun gleamed on their bayonets. there was a shout, and they surged forward towards the battery. "three rounds gun fire!" tony shouted. the four guns went off almost simultaneously, and at once the whole front was enveloped in thick, white smoke from the bursting shell. in spite of diminished detachments the guns were quickly served. again and once again they spoke within a second of each other. the smoke cleared slowly, for there was scarcely a breath of wind. meanwhile the assailants had taken cover, and were beginning to use their rifles. bullets, hundreds of them, tore the ground in front and clanged against the shields. tony stepped back a few yards and looked down into the valley behind him. a thin line of skirmishers had almost reached the foot of the hill. his message had been delivered. he came back to the cover of his wagon. the enemy began to come forward by rushes--a dozen men advancing twenty yards, perhaps. "repeat!" said tony. again the guns blazed and roared: again the pall of smoke obscured the view. a long trailing line of infantry began to climb the hill behind him. but the enemy was working round the flanks of the battery and preparing for the final rush. it was a question of whether friend or foe would reach him first. for the second time that day tony muttered, "it's a race!" then, as he saw the whole line rise and charge straight at him---- "gun fire!" he yelled above the din, knowing that by that order the ammunition would be expended to the last round. he jumped to the gun nearest him, working the breech with mechanical precision, while the only gunner left in the detachment loaded and fired. "last round, sir," came in a hoarse whisper, as tony slammed the breech and leant back with left arm outstretched ready to swing it open again. in front they could see nothing: the smoke hung like a thick white blanket. tony drew his revolver and stood up, peering over the shield, expecting every moment to see a line of bayonets emerge. there was a roar behind. he heard the rush of feet and the rattle of equipment. he was conscious of the smell of sweating bodies and the sight of wild, frenzied faces. then the charge, arriving just in time, swept past him, a mad irresistible wave of humanity, driving the enemy before it and leaving the guns behind like rocks after the passage of a flood. tony fell back over the trail in a dead faint. * * * * * long afterwards, when the tide of battle had rolled on towards the opposing heights, tony, pale, grimy, but exultant, started back with the intention of rejoining his general. halfway down the hill he met him riding up. tony turned and walked beside him. "what's happened here, and where the devil have you been all day?" asked "the maud," angrily. "i've been here, sir." "so it appears. i sent an orderly to find you, and all you did was to despatch him on a message of your own, i understand. we were in urgent need of information as to what had happened up here. you failed to stop this battery, and it was your duty to come straight back and tell me so." tony had never seen the placid maud so angry. he glanced up at him as he sat there bolt upright on his horse looking straight to his front. "it was my own battery," said tony. then, after a pause, he added recklessly, "would you have come back, sir, if you'd been me?" the maud stared past him up the hill. he saw the guns, with the dead and wounded strewn around them, safe. he was a gunner first, a general only afterwards. he hummed a little tune. "no," he said, "i wouldn't." part iii in enemy hands in enemy hands some experiences of a prisoner of war _october , ._ hospital, bavai, france.--woke up to find the ward seething with excitement. one of the english wounded had escaped in the night, leaving his greatcoat neatly placed in his bed in such a manner as to suggest a recumbent figure. how he succeeded in evading the attentions of a night-nurse, an r.a.m.c. orderly, a german sentry at the main gate and two others in the courtyard outside the ward, is a complete mystery. the situation for the french hospital authorities is serious. so far, although the germans are in occupation of the town, have garrisoned it with a company of "landwehr" and have appointed a "governor" with a particularly offensive polyglot secretary, they have left the running of the hospital in the hands of the french staff. bavai has been looted but not sacked, no inhabitants have been shot and no fine inflicted. but what will happen now? technically, of course, responsibility for the custody of the patients rests with the germans, since they have posted sentries at the hospital and in the town. but conventions and technicalities do not count for much in these days. the doctor, five or six nurses, and the lady by whose charity the hospital is maintained hold a conference, animated by many dramatic gestures and an astonishing flow of eloquence. they are torn between fear of the consequences which may recoil upon the hospital and admiration for the daring of the man who stole forth into the rain, unarmed, and without a coat, to face the dangers of an unknown country infested with the enemy--alone. "quelle bêtise!" cried one. "oui, mais quel courage!" answered another. "si les allemands l'attrapent, il sera fusillé, sans doute." it is decided to inform the governor, and a deputation is formed for the purpose. in less than a quarter of an hour a squad of stolid teutons arrive and search the hospital from attic to cellar. they even enter the apartments of the nuns, to the horror of our kind old priest. of course they find nothing. it is by now eight o'clock. at nine the edict is given. in two hours every patient in the hospital who is able to crawl is to be ready to leave. i ask my friend the doctor if he can in any way pretend that i am worse than i am. "pas possible," he replies, shaking his head sadly. so it is over--this long period of waiting and hoping; waiting for an advance which never came, hoping where no hope was. seven weeks have passed since i was brought in here, left behind wounded when the tide of war ebbed back towards paris, and in that time i have gathered many memories which will never fade. i have seen strong men racked with pain day after day, night after night, until sometimes at last exhausted nature gave up the struggle and the nurses would come and whisper to me, crossing themselves, "il est mort, le pauvre. ah! comme il a souffert." i have realised to the full the compassion of woman for suffering humanity, irrespective of creed or nationality; and i have known the blessing of morphia. once, very early in the morning, just as the dawn was beginning to creep in and light with a ghostly dimness the rows of white beds and their restless, groaning occupants, i heard the tinkle of the bell announcing the approach of the priest bearing the host; and drowsily (for i was under morphia) i watched extreme unction being administered to a dying german officer. death, the overlord, is a great leveller of human passions. the old _curé_, whose face was that of a medieval saint and in whose kindly eyes there shone a pity akin to the divine, muttered the sacred words with a sincerity of conviction that one could not doubt. a few hours before i had heard his sonorous voice rolling out the archbishop of cambrai's prayer for victory: "seigneur, qui êtes le dieu des armées et le maître de la vie et de la mort, vous qui avez toujours aimé la france...." a.m.--we are ready to start. the dining-hall (in times of peace this hospital is a school) is crowded as we are given our last meal. the nuns, the doctor and his wife, the nurses, the village shoemaker who was our barber and who always used to have a reassuring rumour of some sort to retail--all are there to wish us a last sad "au revoir." they ply us with food and drink, but we are too miserable to take much. then the word is given--we file out slowly through the courtyard into the sunlit street where two transport wagons are drawn up opposite the gate. there are nineteen french soldiers, two english privates, and myself. our names are called by a german officer. those who cannot walk are helped (by their comrades) into the wagons. we three english are carefully searched, but our money is not taken. it is decreed that the englishmen must be separated by at least two frenchmen. does our escort (twenty armed men under a sergeant) fear a combined revolt, i wonder, or is this done merely to annoy us? i suspect the latter. a crowd of inhabitants forms round us, pressing close to say good-bye. suddenly the german officer notices this and in one second is transformed into a raging beast. he wheels round upon the crowd, waves his stick and pours forth a torrent of abuse. the people cower back against the wall and his anger subsides. it is the first display of german temper that i have seen. to hear women reviled, even in a strange tongue--and for nothing--is horrible. we start. at the corner i look back regretfully at the hospital where i have received such kindness as i can never forget. from a top window a handkerchief is waving. it is the nurse who, when i was really at my worst, never left my bedside for more than five minutes during two long nights and a day. to her, i think, i owe my life. for a moment the face of the cobbler distinguishes itself from the others in the crowd. he makes himself heard above the rattle of the wagons on the _pavée_ street. "vous reviendrez après la guerre, mon lieutenant," he shouts. "oui, je vous assure--à bientôt," i call back as we turn out into the open country and face the straight poplar-lined road that leads to maubeuge. halfway we stop at an _estaminet_ for beer. the prisoners, even the english, are allowed to purchase some. the german sergeant chucks under the chin the attractive-looking french girl who serves him. she smiles, but as he turns his back i note the sudden expression of fierce hate which leaps into her eyes. it is after p.m. when we reach the outskirts of maubeuge and cross the drawbridge over the old moat, made, i believe, by vauban. inside the town there are many signs of the devastation of war--buildings gutted, whole streets of small houses laid flat in ruins. the pavements are crowded and people throw chocolates and cigarettes to us. german officers, wrapped in their long grey cloaks, swagger about, brushing everyone aside in haughty insolence. from the windows of two or three hospitals french soldiers peer out and wave to us in obvious sympathy. approaching the railway station we go past the identical spot where, eight weeks ago to the day, the battery detrained. the logs on which we sat to eat our belated breakfast after the long night journey up from boulogne are still there. oh! the humiliation of it all; a week in the country, one hour's fighting, seven weeks in hospital, and now--prison. in the open space outside the station we are drawn up by the pavement. the french are allowed to sit down on the curb; not so we three unfortunate english. on our attempting to do so the sergeant in charge shouts at us and one of the escort threatens us with a bayonet. some inhabitants who approach us with offers of food and drink are driven off harshly. a crowd of german soldiers, some half-drunk, collects round us. they all know the english word "swine." pointing us out to each other they use it without stint. one man has a more extended vocabulary of abuse. having exhausted it he proceeds to recount for our benefit the damnable story that english soldiers use the marlinspike in their clasp-knives to gouge out the eyes of german wounded. we have already heard this allegation made before. the english-speaking secretary of the governor at bavai was very fond of it. but he, who was educated and who had lived in london for years, knew, i'm sure, that it was a malicious lie invented by the authorities for the express purpose of exciting the germans against us. but these men undoubtedly believe it. they produce knives of their own from their boots and threaten us with them. the expression on their faces is that of angry, untamed beasts. and yet, i dare say, at home these very men who now would like to tear us to pieces are really simple, harmless working folk. such is war. it is an awkward moment. if either of my compatriots loses his temper (which is not improbable, for the british soldier will not stand insult indefinitely) he will let fly with his tongue or even his fist, in which case we shall all three be put against the nearest wall and shot. so i keep muttering, "for god's sake take no notice; try to look as though you don't hear or understand"--knowing that besides being the safest attitude this will also be the most galling for our revilers. contemptuous indifference is sometimes a dignified defensive weapon. finding that we are not to be drawn, the crowd gradually disperses, and for an hour and a half we are kept standing in the gutter. then another long procession of dejected prisoners winds its way into the yard and we are taken with them into the station. the wait inside is enlivened for me by a conversation with a german n.c.o. who speaks english perfectly. he has lived, he tells me, eighteen years in south africa and fought for us against the matabele. until this war he liked the english, he frankly confesses. now nothing is too bad for us. _we_ started it, _we_'re the bullies of europe, it's _we_ who must be crushed. germany can't be beaten. napoleon the first couldn't do it. "we germans," he says, "fight without pay for love of our country, but you are mercenaries; you enlist for money." from motives of personal safety i refrain from making the obvious retort: "on the contrary, we are volunteers--you go into the army because you're dam' well made to." a diversion is caused by a wounded french soldier who faints, has to be given brandy, and is discovered to be far too bad to travel. why not have left the poor devil in his hospital? he's surely harmless enough from a military point of view. p.m.--we file across the line on to the other platform. on the way one of the english privates is kicked, hard, from behind by a passing german soldier. his whispered comments to me are unprintable. our train appears to consist entirely of cattle trucks. just as i am about to enter one of these in company with some french soldiers, a german captain touches me on the shoulder. "you are an officer, aren't you?" he says in french, and motions me aside. pointing at me, the sergeant who had brought us from bavai says something to the officer, the purport of which, i gather, is that his orders were to put me in with the men. fortunately, however, this captain has gentlemanly instincts; he ignores the sergeant, leads me down to the other end of the platform and deposits me in a second-class carriage with three french officers. we begin to exchange experiences. two are doctors, the other a captain of colonial infantry wounded during the siege of maubeuge. they tell me that there is another english officer on the train. i now begin to realise that i am hungry and half dead with fatigue. to march eight miles and then to stand upright for nearly three hours, after having walked no more than the length of the hospital ward for weeks, is no joke. the above-mentioned english officer comes in from the next carriage and introduces himself as major b., cavalry, wounded at the very beginning and put into maubeuge to recover; of course he was taken prisoner when that place fell. he and the french officers give me food and a blanket, for both of which i am more than grateful. an elderly landsturm private armed with a loaded rifle and a saw-bayonet occupies one corner of our carriage, so that there is not much room to lie down. we start about . , but i am so over-tired and so cold that i get very little sleep. _october ._--woke to find that we had only gone about miles and had not yet reached charleroi. a long, wearisome day, during which we exhausted our supplies of food. passed through namur and liége but were unable to see signs of the bombardment of either place. in the evening reached aix, where we were given lukewarm cocoa and sandwiches made of black bread and sausage--particularly nasty. but by this time we were so hungry that anything was welcome. the guard in our carriage, finding that we were not really likely to strangle him if he took his eyes off us for a moment, relaxed considerably, accepted cigarettes, gave us some of his bread, confessed to one of the frenchmen who could speak a little german that he hated the war and heartily wished that he was home again; finally he put his rifle on the rack and slept as well as any of us. _october ._--all yesterday and all this morning we passed train after train of reinforcements going to the front; some of the carriages were decorated with evergreens, and nearly all of them were labelled "paris" in chalk. many of the men looked very young--hardly more than boys. several trains, crammed with wounded, overtook us. the sight of english uniform was always enough to attract a crowd at any station where we stopped. i wonder if the inhabitants of the maori village at earl's court experienced the same sensations as i did--sitting there to be stared at, pointed at and not infrequently insulted. at about . we were taken out of the train, and locked into a waiting-room with about half a dozen belgian officers, all wounded, who had arrived from some other direction. an extremely fussy n.c.o. had charge of us and persisted in counting us every ten minutes. got into another train about p.m. and eventually arrived at our destination, crefeld, at . . we were taken out of the station almost immediately, marched through a large and rather hostile crowd and put into a tram. in this we went up to the barracks--about two miles. male inhabitants shook their fists at us, females put out their tongues: so chivalrous! in spite of the relief of at last being at the end of our journey, there was something terribly depressing in the sound of the heavy gate shutting to behind us. we were first taken up to an office and made to fill in our names, ranks, regiments, and monthly rates of pay on a special form; then put inside the palisade and left to find our way about. there are about sixty french officers here, a dozen or so belgians (including the commander of antwerp and his artillery general), and seven english, one of whom is a retired captain who happened to be in belgium at the outbreak of war and who was arrested as a spy on no evidence whatever. spent the remainder of the day settling down and writing home. it is a comfort, at any rate, to think that i can at last let people know what has become of me. comparing notes with the other english here, we discover that they were all wounded early in the war, on the aisne. we learn for the first time details of the stationary trench warfare into which the campaign is developing and hear all about the german preponderance in heavy artillery. we feed here in the big dining-hall attached to the canteen (in which by the way a great variety of things can be bought, including beer, wine, and tobacco). we live and sleep in the barrack rooms and we have the whole space of the barrack square-- yards long by about wide--to play about in! subalterns are paid marks a month, higher ranks . every one is charged marks a day for messing. the unfortunate subaltern, therefore, finds his accounts flat at the end of the month--unless the month has thirty-one days, in which case he owes the imperial government marks! am glad i've got about a fiver with me, which ought to last until i can get more from home. slept like a log on a bed as hard as iron. _october ._--five more english officers arrived this morning, including major v----. they were all more dead than alive, having spent three days and three nights in a cattle truck, the floor of which was covered with six inches of wet dung; the ammonia fumes had got into their eyes and they could hardly see; they had had practically no food and all through the journey they had been submitted to every conceivable insult. the cattle truck contained fifty-two persons--officers, privates, and civilians. such treatment is beyond comment. from major v---- i heard for the first time of the tragic fate of the battery on september . he could give no details beyond that it was surprised in bivouac at dawn by eight "dug-in" german guns at yards' range, that it was simply cut to pieces, but that the guns were served to the last, that the hostile batteries were silenced, and, in the end, captured. all the officers were killed or wounded. it's too awful to be ignorant of further particulars. went to bed more depressed than i have been all these weeks. i daren't think that "brad"[ ] has been killed. [ ] the late captain e. k. bradbury, v.c., r.h.a. _october ._--this morning we were made to parade at . to be counted; this is to be a daily amusement. the food here might be worse and at present there is plenty of it. took some exercise round the square--a deadly business. in the afternoon shaved off a month's beard with a cheap german safety razor, which was a painful operation! ordered some underclothing from the town. _october ._--employed a pouring wet day writing many letters, including one to bavai, though it is questionable if it ever gets there. _october ._--two more english officers arrived, one wounded. both seemed to think that things were going well but neither knew much. this morning the new commandant took over. he looks like an opulent and good-natured butcher disguised as a hungarian bandsman. actually, i am informed, he is a retired major of hussars. in the course of a chatty little discourse at the roll-call parade he informed us that in future we are to be counted at . a.m. and p.m.; further that alcoholic liquors will no longer be obtainable. thus we are robbed of two of our luxuries--drink and sleep! two new arrivals at midday, whose only news is that british troops are now in n.w. belgium. football started on the square. the monotonous horror of this life is just beginning to make itself felt on me. the worst part of the whole thing is the total lack of privacy. there is no room, no corner of a room even, where one can go to escape the incessant racket and babble of talk. reading and writing are practically impossible. this evening twelve more english arrived. learned from them of the transfer of our army from the aisne to belgium and realised from their accounts the appalling losses that many regiments seem to have had. one of these new-comers told me of brad's heroic death when "l" was smashed up. to the regiment and to the army his loss is great; to those of us who knew him well and were privileged to serve with him, it is irreparable. in everything he did he set up a standard which all of us envied but none of us could attain. he lived as straight as he rode to hounds--and no man rode straighter. to his brilliant mental gifts he added a conscientiousness, a thoroughness, and a quick grasp of detail which seemed to augur a great future. his was a personality which stamped itself indelibly upon all with whom he came in contact, and the influence for good which he wielded over both officers and men had to be seen to be believed. the men feared him, for he was strict and was no respecter of persons; but they loved him too, for he was always just. by his brother officers he was simply worshipped. he was not a typical british officer, he was far more than that, he was an ideal one. he died as he had lived--nobly. and he was an only son. _october ._--a vile cold has added to my depression of the last few days. a good many new prisoners have been brought in lately--mostly of the th division, which appears by all accounts to have had an awful doing. the battle w. and n.w. of lille still rages. a french officer retails a rumour that he had heard before being captured that the allies had retaken lille; a belgian, that the germans are retiring on the west and that our fleet are doing great execution along the coast. am now sharing a room with an infantry captain and three subalterns of the same regiment. we have bought cups and saucers and have tea in our room every afternoon. new regulation that we may only write two letters a month. _october ._--general von bissing, commanding the district, inspected the landsturm battalion here to-day. afterwards he visited some of the prisoners' rooms. seeing one english officer who, having only just arrived, was far from clean, he asked him through an interpreter how long he had had his breeches. the officer, who imagined that he was being asked how long the british army had been clad in khaki, answered politely, "nearly fourteen years!" whereupon von bissing was pleased to call our uniform "dirty-coloured, disgusting, and bad." however, i hear his son is a prisoner in france, so perhaps this undignified vituperation relieves his feelings. _november ._--the belgian officers departed to-day for some other camp. rumours of the arrival of russians not yet fulfilled. have bought some books, tauchnitz edition, and tried to settle down to read. we have started the formation of an english library, which will be a blessing. _november ._--we have often jokingly said: "we've got english, french, belgians, and arabs here--all we want to complete the show is a party of russians." well, now we've got them-- arrived this evening. such a scene in the canteen before roll-call! the roar of voices, the atmosphere of tobacco, and the pushing crowd in the bar reminded one of the empire on a boat-race night--minus the drink! the authorities with their usual thoughtfulness for our comfort have decreed that the english or french and the russians are to be mixed up in the rooms in approximately equal numbers. so three of us (g----, t----, and myself) migrated to another block this afternoon and installed ourselves in the beds nearest the window before the arrival of our "stable companions." these when they did turn up seemed pleasant enough, but as they could talk no english and only a few words of french, conversation was limited. they could give us no news, having all been prisoners in some other place for two months. one, however, produced a map of europe and showed us how the german columns were being swept aside--one apparently to finland, another to constantinople, and a third to rome! evidently an optimist! "_neuf millions_" is all the french he knows; it is his estimate of the strength of that portion of the russian army which is at present mobilised. _november ._--letter from home--the first since i left england on august . infinitely cheering; no news, though, owing to fear of the censor, except a few details about the battery on september . _november ._--overcrowding becoming desperate. a seventh added to our room to-day--a french lieutenant whom we nicknamed brigadier gerard, because he's always twirling his moustache in front of the glass. there are so many prisoners here now that we have to have two services for each meal--_i.e._ breakfast and a.m., lunch . a.m. and . p.m. supper . and p.m. one does a week of each alternately, with the idea presumably that constant change is good for the digestion. but the day consists of fifteen long waking hours all the same. there are moments when i hate all my fellow humans here. a youthful russian who inhabits this room irritates me almost beyond endurance by singing and whistling the same tune all day long. poor devil, he's got no books and nothing on earth to do--but if only he'd go and make his noises outside. i find myself unable to fix my mind on anything and sometimes i feel that this life will drive me mad. it's a _hell_ of moral, physical, and mental inactivity. i'd rather do a year here with a room to myself than six months as things are at present. _november ._--somebody got a bundle of old _daily graphics_ past the censor, i can't think how. as they were the first english papers we'd seen for ages they were most interesting. _november ._--howling gale and heavy rain all yesterday and the day before. hope the german fleet is at sea in it! have made great friends with tonnot, the french captain of colonial infantry with whom i travelled from maubeuge. he talks interestingly on a variety of subjects and i am learning a certain amount of french from him. curious how much more well endowed with the critical spirit the average frenchman is than the englishman of a corresponding class. the latter is more inclined to take men and affairs and life for granted. am getting anxious about the non-arrival of my parcels. clothes, books, and tobacco are what i want. dozens of officers who arrived after me have received parcels. in my saner moments i know that it is purely a matter of chance, but i have a tendency, when day after day a list of names is put up and mine is not amongst them, to grind my teeth in rage and regard it as a personal spite on the part of the german government. the arrival of letters and parcels is the only event of any importance in this monotonous life. an officer who receives two or three of either on the same day is regarded in much the same light, as, at home, one regards some lucky person who has inherited a fortune. every pleasure is relative and depends on circumstances. here, a tin of tobacco and two pairs of pyjamas are joys untold. _november ._--the same continuous stream of rumours and counter-rumours continues to flow in. heard this week that lille had been retaken and that four french corps were marching on mons. the latter theory borne out by the arrival of some very badly wounded prisoners from the hospital at that place. no confirmation, however. learnt of the prime minister's speech on war loans, in which he stated that the war will not last as long as expected. this is comforting, as he is not given to exaggeration. perfect weather--dry, frosty, sunny. long to be on mountains instead of trudging round this damnable square. _november ._--immense excitement this evening. two russians attempted to escape; they had obtained civilian clothes, passports, and a motor, but were given away by the man whom they had bribed to help them. they now languish in the guardroom. the german authorities spent two hours this evening searching all the rooms, i suppose for money. _november ._--all the bells in crefeld ringing this evening and extra editions of the papers announcing the capture of , russians. won't believe it. that's always the tendency--to believe any rumour favourable to us, however wild, and to discredit anything and everything the germans say. _december ._--the "allies" who live in this room have now been more or less educated by our pantomimic signs of disapproval and make less noise. have bought some more books and read all day except for an hour's walk in the morning and another in the afternoon or evening. daren't play football owing to the bullet in my neck. _december ._--the deadly "even tenor of our way" continues. have now bought a small table and a lamp of my own. ensconced in the corner behind my bed i can read or work at french in comparative peace. but c---- has had a box of games sent to him--amongst them (horror of horrors!) "pit." i do draw the line at the room being made into more of a bear-garden than usual by the addition of various strangers who wish to gamble on "minoru"--and i foresee trouble and unpleasantness over it. of course it's selfish of me, but there is no other place where i can go for peace and quiet, and--well--we're all inclined to be irritable here. it's a marvel to me that there haven't been more quarrels already. wild rumours that austria is suing for peace with russia. as usual, no confirmation. _december ._--to-day major v---- escaped. having gone down to the dentist's in the town with two other officers and a sentry, he somehow managed to slip past the latter into the street and find his way out of the town. he speaks german like a native and was wearing a civilian greatcoat. a very sporting effort, as he'll have a bad time if he's caught, i'm afraid. if he can get home and lay our grievances before our authorities there is a chance that, through the american embassy, the germans, fearing similar treatment for their prisoners in england, may make things pleasanter for us. _december ._--wild scene in the canteen following the announcement that no more tobacco would be sold after the th of this month. "the prisoners are being too well treated," is apparently the popular clamour in the town. fierce scrimmage round the bar to purchase what was left. however, the patriotism of the canteen contractor (who, need i say? is making a fortune out of us) was not equal to his love of gain. he bought up an entire tobacconist's shop, so that we were all able to lay in three or four months' supply. rumours that major v---- had crossed the frontier into holland. later, that he had been caught in that country and interned. somewhere about this date a score or so of english soldiers arrived here. this was the result of our repeated applications to be allowed to have servants of our own nationality as the russians and french have. the appearance of these men horrified me. it was not so much that they were thin, white-faced, ragged and dirty, though that was bad enough; but they had a cowed, bullied look such as i have never seen on the faces of british soldiers before and hope never to see again. apart from what they told us, it was evident from their appearance that for months they had not been able to call their souls their own and that temporarily, at any rate, all the spirit had been knocked out of them. better food and treatment will doubtless put them right again. _december ._--christmas day is christmas day even in prison. in the morning we held a service and sang the proper hymns with zest. at lunch we were given venison (said to be from the kaiser's preserves) and had some of an enormous plum-pudding which t---- had had sent him. then suddenly we rose as one man, toasted the king (in water and lemonade) and sang the national anthem. the french officers followed with the marseillaise and until that moment i had never realised what a wonderful air it is. then the russians, conducted by an aged white-haired colonel, sang their national hymn quite beautifully. and we all shouted and cheered together. into our room this afternoon, when we were all lying on our beds in a state of coma after too liberal a ration of plum-pudding, there burst the n.c.o. of the guard and four armed men. he shouted at us in german and we gathered from his gestures that he was accusing us of looking out of the window and making faces at the sentry. however, as we all went on reading and took not the slightest notice of him, i think we had the best of it. i imagine that, it being christmas day, he had "drink taken," as one says in ireland. we complained to the senior british officer, who saw the commandant about it. this sort of thing is becoming intolerable. the other night the guard entered a room, seized an unfortunate english officer (it is always the english), accused him of having had a light on after hours, although actually he was asleep at the time, and dragged him off to the guardroom, where he spent the night without blankets. this evening we feasted on a turkey which we had bought and had had cooked for us in the canteen, and more plum-pudding. afterwards we sang various songs, including "rule, britannia" (which the germans hate more than anything) until roll-call. i think "auld lang syne" produced a choky feeling in the throats of most of us--so many are gone for ever. the authorities, fearing a riot, doubled all the pickets--and it was a cold night! _december ._--it has been announced that, as a punishment for the escape of major v----, all smoking will be prohibited from january to ; all tobacco is to be handed in at a.m. on the nd. i wonder if we'll ever see it again. i dread this fortnight's abstention. _december ._--received £ ; also parcels containing food, books, clothes, and tobacco. _january , ._--tobacco duly handed in and receipt given for it. some mild excitement caused over a letter which i had received from f. p----, who is in india, part of which had been censored. the commandant here wanted it back again. fortunately i had destroyed it. i had not been able to read the censored part, but had gathered from the preceding sentence that it was something about the indian troops. wonder what the boches are after. anyway i was hauled up before the permanent orderly officer, who is an aged subaltern of at least sixty, known to the french as "l'asperge" because he is long and thin and looks exactly like an asparagus stalk when he's got his helmet on; and to us as "the chemist" because he has rather the air of a suave and elderly member of the pharmaceutical society. as a matter of fact, he is a baron! for a german, he was quite polite, believed me when i told him i had destroyed the letter, and seemed relieved when i mentioned that it was dated september --which was true. news gets scarcer and scarcer, german papers emptier and emptier. but there are signs of shortage in the country. no more rolls or white bread for us, for example. _january ._--managed to smuggle through the parcels office a tin of cigarettes which had arrived for me, but resisted the temptation to open it. if any one was caught smoking during this fortnight it would mean no more tobacco for any of us for months if not for ever. all the same, i find the privation hard to bear. _january ._--it has become evident that the authorities do not desire to take further steps in the tobacco question. yesterday "the chemist" searched various rooms. entering one he found several russians smoking--whereupon he left without comment. this was the act of a gentleman. this evening, therefore, we broached my tin of cigarettes. crouching round the stove we smoked them very carefully, blowing the smoke up the chimney. rather like school-days and very ridiculous. tobacco never tasted so good to me. to-day one of the russians who was implicated in the attempt to escape some weeks ago returned here. his _rôle_ in the affair had been to stand at the gate and keep watch while the other two slipped out to the motor. all three of them, he says, have been kept handcuffed, in solitary confinement, ever since, and fed only on black bread and weak coffee--and this _whilst awaiting trial_! eventually his case was dismissed, as it was not proved that he was attempting to escape. the other two are to undergo imprisonment for six more weeks. they are desperate and want to commit suicide. and this is civilised warfare in the twentieth century! it is nearly a month since we had any fresh german official _communiqués_ posted up in the dining-hall. perhaps it is a sign that things are going badly for them. from rumours it appears that turkey is getting a bad time from russia--and so is austria. the quality of the food is rapidly deteriorating. the bread is black, sour, and hard, with a large proportion of potato flour in it. the meat is generally uneatable. fortunately supplies are coming fairly regularly from home and we subsist almost entirely on potted meats, tongues, etc. _january ._--the russian new year's day. went to their church service and was greatly impressed by the solemnity of it; also by their beautiful singing. toasted the russian army at lunch; much bowing and scraping and a great interchange of compliments. _january ._--heard to-day of the second battle of heligoland and of the sinking of the _blücher_--good. amused to notice that the german papers claim this fight as a great victory--a trafalgar, they called it. prefer to believe the statement of our admiralty--quoted by the crefeld paper with many sneering comments and notes of exclamation interspersed. there is, i think, no doubt that germany has begun to feel the pinch. the altered manner of our "kindly captors" towards us is remarkable. there is a good deal less of the haughty conqueror about them. the authorities here are compiling a list of those prisoners who are wounded and unfit for further service. an astonishing number of officers were brought forward by the doctors of each nationality for examination by the german medico! particulars of our cases were taken down, to be forwarded to berlin. i fear that, as far as i am concerned, there is not much chance of getting sent home. _february ._--permission granted to us to write eight letters a month instead of two. perhaps this is due to pressure brought to bear since the arrival home of v----. we knew he'd reached england safely some time ago, but have heard no details as to how he did it. women conductors on the trams in crefeld now; and carl, a german waiter, late of the grosvenor hotel and at present underling here to the canteen manager, is under orders for the front. both facts are significant, especially the latter, seeing that the aforesaid carl is as good a specimen of the physically unfit as one could wish to see. _february ._--marked improvement of german manners continues unabated. carl still here. the civilian who heats the furnace for the bathroom (doubtless an authority!) confesses quite openly that germany is beaten, that he has been convinced of it for months and believes nothing he sees in the papers. our hosts having now condescended to allow us to hire musical instruments, and having even granted us a garret to play them in, we enjoyed quite a pleasant concert this evening. but the crowd and the atmosphere were awful. the orchestra surprisingly good, considering its haphazard formation: and a russian peasant chorus beautifully rendered. _february ._--fine day with a grand feeling of spring in the air. heading in a german paper: "the enemy takes one of our trenches near la bassée." but what an admission! am convinced that at last the german _people_ are beginning to realise what their government must have known from the time when the first great rush on paris failed--namely, that there can only be one end to this war for them--defeat. _february ._--received a second £ from cox within three weeks. he must have lost his head on finding me with a balance credit for about the first time in my career. _february ._--there was a rumour to-night, apparently with some foundation in it, that the first batch of wounded to be exchanged (two english and nine french) are to go on monday. i continue to hope that i may get away later on, but can't really feel there is much chance, as there is so little permanently wrong with me. _february ._--the incredible has happened. i'm to be sent home! i hardly dare believe it. this afternoon major d----, r----, and myself were sent for by the commandant and told to be ready to start at o'clock to-morrow. he further informed us that the authorities knew that our wounds were not very serious, so that he hoped we would realise the clemency of the imperial government. we were made to give our word of honour not to take any letters, etc., from prisoners with us. finally, after an interview with the paymaster, who squared up our accounts, we went through a ceremonious leave-taking with the commandant and "the chemist." felt quite sorry for the latter; he looks so old and careworn and has lost two sons in the war, i believe. spent the evening packing my few paltry possessions in a hamper i managed to buy in the canteen. found it very difficult to conceal my elation from all the poor devils we will leave behind to-morrow. far too excited to sleep. _february , saturday._--the germans evidently have been instructed to make things as pleasant as possible for us. a taxi provided at . and a most suave n.c.o. to accompany us. a large crowd of fellow-prisoners assembled at the gate to see us off. in spite of the depression they all must have felt at watching us go, not one of them showed a sign of it. they were just splendid--french, russians, and english--and wished us "good luck," "bon voyage," and whatever the slavonic equivalent may be, as though they themselves might be following at any date, instead of having to look forward to months and months more of that awful dreary life. at . turned out of the gate for ever. at the station h---- joined us from the hospital; being partially paralysed he was carried on a stretcher. r.'s kilt caused considerable interest, but the onlookers, evidently knowing our circumstances, were not in the least offensive--very different from four months ago. we were taken charge of by an n.c.o. whom we knew well, as he was employed at the barracks. he became most friendly, aired his small knowledge of english, and continually asked us if we were glad to be going home. what a question! when we changed trains and had about an hour to wait he ordered our lunch for us and saw that we had everything that we wanted. travelling viâ münster we reached osnabrück at about p.m. and were conveyed in a motor to the hospital. had thought, ever since last night, that i could never be depressed again, but the sight of the ward with nearly fifty empty beds in it, the smell of iodoform and the whole atmosphere of the place had that effect on all of us for a bit. found another english officer here, wounded in the head months ago, and still partially paralysed, but recovering. he is to join us. gathered from listening to his experiences that one might have been in much worse places than crefeld. no information as to when we are to move on. later in the evening another officer arrived--one leg shorter than the other as the result of a broken thigh. found the soft, comfortable hospital bed most pleasant after the hard mattresses of the prison. _february ._--spent a long dull day confined to the ward; occasionally we were visited by some of the german wounded, of whom there were many, more or less convalescent, in the hospital. they were quite agreeable. have noticed that the hate and malice engendered by the authorities against the english manifests itself more amongst those germans who have not been to the front. men who have actually been there and have come back wounded are far more inclined to sympathise with fellow-sufferers than to make themselves offensive. moreover, i take it that by this time the front line troops have acquired a wholesome respect for the british army. about midday we were all examined by a german doctor. this was nervous work, especially for r---- and myself--we both being far from permanently disabled. however, we seemed to satisfy his requirements. in the evening an aged teuton in shabby waiter's evening dress came and informed us that we could order anything we liked to eat or drink if we chose to pay for it. evidently he was acting under instructions to make himself pleasant. anyway we ordered a good dinner but confined ourselves to beer. still no news of when we are to start, but presumably it will be soon because of the "blockade," which starts on the th. _february ._--this morning a board of four german doctors made a careful examination of all of us. they came in so unexpectedly that i was obliged surreptitiously to withdraw the plug from the hole in my palate and swallow it! however, i managed to convince them that i could neither eat, drink, nor speak properly, and they passed me without demur. am sure that i went pale with fright at the prospect of being dragged back to prison again, and perhaps this fact was of assistance to me. there was a long consultation over r----. he was asked if he was capable of instructing troops in musketry; whereupon he proceeded to explain that, in spite of his three years' service, he himself was still under instruction! in the end we were all passed as incapacitated. we were told this afternoon that we might start to-night, but nothing definite. at p.m. were ordered to be ready in half an hour. hurried on our specially ordered dinner and split three bottles of wine amongst us. at . started for the station in motors and were then put on board an ambulance train. the "sitting-up" cases had distinctly the best of it here; we were in comfortable second-class carriages, whereas the others were put in slung-stretchers in cattle trucks. as this same train is to fetch back the exchanged german wounded from flushing, there was evidently no malice aforethought in this rough-and-ready accommodation; presumably it is the best they can produce. on the train are seven officers, or so n.c.o.'s and men, a few german nurses and red cross men, and one civilian doctor. started at . and reached the dutch frontier just after midnight. _february ._--had dozed off but woke up when we reached the frontier and was much amused when the dutch customs officials came and asked us if we had anything to declare! they even pretended to search our few miserable belongings. can never forget the kindness of the dutch both here and everywhere we stopped all through the journey to flushing. they crowded into the carriages; they showered food, tobacco, cigarettes, sweets, fruit, even english books and papers on us; they forgot nothing. if they'd been our own personal friends they could have done no more for us. dutch doctors and guards boarded the train at the frontier, and also an english newspaper correspondent with whom we talked for a couple of hours, gradually picking up the thread of all that had happened since we were cut off from the outer world. an exhilarating feeling to have left germany behind and to be amongst friends again. reached flushing about . and were welcomed by the british consul and by several english people over there in connection with belgian relief work. their hospitality was unbounded. had a merry lunch with them in the hotel, and then strolled out to see the town--followed by a large and noisy crowd of school children. but what a joy to be a free man, to be able to go where one likes and do what one likes! wired home. in the afternoon the boat which is to take us back arrived from england with the german wounded. the two batches of men were close together on the platform. what a contrast! the germans, clean, well-cared for, dressed either in comparatively serviceable uniform or new civilian clothes; the english, white-faced, pinched and careworn, in threadbare khaki (some even in tattered french or belgian uniform) with no buttons, most of them with no hats or badges. at first our men were indignant--they had suffered much, and it was evident to them that the treatment of prisoners in the two countries was very different. but soon the inherent chivalry of the british private soldier overcame his other feelings. the germans were enemies but they were wounded--cripples for life most of them--and they too were going home. it formed a bond between the two groups. in five minutes cigarettes were being exchanged and conversation (aided by signs) in full swing. there was an english corporal, paralysed, lying on a stretcher in the waiting-room. i helped one of the english ladies to take him some tea. she knelt beside him, put the cup to his lips, and, when he had drunk, asked him how he felt. for a moment he didn't answer but merely stared at her with great dark wondering eyes. then he said slowly: "are you english?" that was all, just those three words, but they expressed everything--the misery of all the months he had been in foreign hands, his patience, his suffering, and now at long last his infinite content at finding one of his own country-women bending over him. his head dropped wearily back on to the pillow and he closed his eyes; he was happy. had dinner at the hotel where we met the doctors who had come over with the germans and who were to go back with us. afterwards went on board the boat which, however, was not to start till the morning. to my dying day i shall remember sitting in the saloon and watching the sad procession of two hundred crippled n.c.o.'s and men being brought on board. there were paralysed cases on stretchers, blind men, deaf men, men with an arm or a leg gone, dozens hopelessly lame manoeuvring their crutches with difficulty, helping each other, laughing at each other--happy enough for the moment. but oh! the pity of it. what of the future of these maimed and broken men? they are happy now because they're thinking only of to-morrow, but what of the day after? what of the thousands of days after? england is proverbially ungrateful to her lesser kind of heroes as well as to her greater kind of poets. geniuses have been known to starve in garrets--and so have balaclava survivors. these men deserve well of their country. will they be remembered or forgotten? went to bed late, again too excited to sleep. feel at last that it's a reality and not a dream. _february ._--woke to find that the boat had started, that it was blowing half a gale, raining hard and that we were in for a vile crossing. too happy to be ill, however. a large number of belgian refugees on board. talked to several of our men. all their stories tallied in essentials. they had been underfed, under-clothed, singled out for all the disagreeable work and all the abuse--_because they were english_. watched them playing cards, helping anxious belgian mothers with their sea-sick children. listened to their talk and laughter and choruses, of which the most popular was a version of "tipperary" which stated that the kaiser would have a long way to go to st. helena. at intervals, every half-hour or so, a mighty shout would go up, "are we downhearted?" and all the crutches would rattle on the deck before the crashing answer, "no!" disembarked at folkestone pier at about six p.m. no fuss, no worry, everything done in perfect order. a buffet on the platform provided us with english tea and english buns (there can be great joy in a common penny bun) served by english ladies. the rain streamed down out of the inky sky as the long ambulance train puffed its way out of the station at p.m. even the weather was typically english, as if to welcome us! everything for our comfort had been thought of. in our saloon were flowers, great bunches of violets, and a gramophone. and so at last, just before eleven, we rolled over the darkened thames and drew up in charing cross--home! henry his real name was henri roman, but we called him henry because it was easier to pronounce. his status in the french army was not high--he was a private in the st territorial regiment; it was his custom, however, when in conversation with unsuspecting strangers, to omit the word territorial and by merely pointing to the " " on his _képi_ lead them to suppose that he belonged to the first regiment of the line--a rather more distinguished unit than his own. like ourselves, he was a prisoner of war, and in his capacity of _valet de chambre_ he was, if not perfect, at any rate unusual. we first became conscious of his possibilities as a source of merriment when, owing to the arrival of a fresh batch of prisoners, we were ordered to change our room. "je viens avec messieurs," henry announced simply, and proceeded to help us pack our things. it is a fact that my hair brushes and razor made the journey in one of his trouser pockets, g----'s pipes, a half-empty pot of jam and a face towel in the other. to us, accustomed to the diffidence of the english soldier in the presence of his officers, it was refreshing to watch henry enter our room in the afternoon bearing on his shoulder the daily supply of coal. he would lower the large bucket carefully to the ground and then wipe his huge hands on his baggy and discoloured red trousers with the air of a man who has done a hard job of work conscientiously and well. from a pocket, the bottom of which was apparently somewhere in the region of his knee, he would produce a half-smoked and much worn cigar, readjust any loose leaves that might be hanging from it, and then light it with all the care that a connoisseur bestows upon a corona. having opened the door of the stove to satisfy himself that the fire was "marching well," he would draw up a stool and sit down amongst us for five minutes' rest. conversation with him was of course an unequal contest. our french was weak--his, on the contrary, was powerful--in the sense that an express train is powerful, that is, rushing, noisy, and only to be stopped by signal. he was thirty-five, he told us, and it was obvious, from the way he referred to himself as a _père de famille_ that he considered himself as a man well past the prime of life, looking forward hopefully to a complacent but always industrious old age. he came from commines, which is north of lille on the belgian frontier, and he had worked all his life in a braces factory, for ten hours a day, six days a week, earning thirty to forty francs, which he considered good wages. on the outbreak of war his regiment had formed part of the garrison of maubeuge, which place, in his opinion, was undoubtedly sold to the enemy. he had spent about a month at a prisoners' camp in germany, and then had been sent to us with twenty other french soldiers who were to act as our servants and waiters. he confessed that he found the change agreeable because he was better fed and had some work to do. the idleness at the soldiers' camp had bored him. all of which led us to believe that he was that kind of man to whom work is a necessity. facts proved otherwise. he used to appear in our room in the morning at any time between seven and half-past. his first objective was the fire. it had happened once that the russian officers who shared the room with us had in our absence banked the stove up so high over-night that it was still burning on the following morning; in consequence henry had been saved the trouble of laying and lighting the fire afresh. just as a terrier who has once seen a cat in a certain place will always take a glance there when passing by, so henry, hoping daily for a recurrence of such luck, made straight for the stove. he was invariably disappointed; but the action became a habit. his next act was to go through the formality of waking us. his procedure was to stand at the foot of each bed in turn and place a gigantic hand on some portion of the occupant's anatomy. as soon as the sleeper stirred, henry would mutter, "sept heures vingt, mon capitaine" (or "mon lieutenant," as the case might be--he was most punctilious about rank), and pass on to the next bed. the actual time by the clock made no difference. he always said, "sept heures vingt." all this, as i have stated, was pure formality. his real method of waking us was to make a deafening noise clearing out the grate and laying the fire. having done this he abandoned us in favour of his own breakfast. he reappeared about a.m. to give the room what he called _un coup de balai_--his idiom for a superficial rite which he performed with a soft broom after scattering water freely about the floor. the resultant mess he picked up in his hands and put into the coal-box or pushed under a cupboard if he thought no one was looking. he spent the rest of his time till his dinner hour at eleven in cleaning the boots, making the beds, and pretending to dust things--all the while giving vent to his opinions on life in general and prison life in particular. in the afternoons we seldom saw him after two o'clock, by which time he had brought the coal and washed up the tea things, left dirty since the day before. henry possessed neither a handsome face nor a well-knit figure. when he stood upright--which he only did if he had some really impressive anathema to launch against the germans--he was not more than five feet eight. his skimpy blue blouse disclosed the roundness of his shoulders and accentuated the abnormal length of his arms. the ends of his wide trousers were clipped tight round his ankles, so that his heavy hobnailed boots were displayed in all their vast unshapeliness. in walking he trailed his short legs along, giving one the impression that he had just completed a twenty-mile march and was about to go away and rest for some hours. when we first knew him he had had a scraggy beard of no particular colour, but he startled us one morning by appearing without it, grinning sheepishly, and exposing to view a weak chin which already had a tendency to multiply itself indefinitely. except on friday, which was his bath day, his long moustache draggled indiscriminately over the lower part of his face; but after his douche he used to soap the ends and curl them up, giving to his rather foolish countenance a ludicrous expression of semi-martial ferocity. on these occasions he seldom failed to pay us a visit in the evening, shaved, clean, and palpably delighted with himself. the first time we saw him thus we asked him why he elected to wear his moustache like the kaiser. for a moment he was disconcerted; then suddenly realising that a joke was intended, he threw back his head and emitted a series of startling guffaws. being of a simple nature he was easily amused. jokes about the war and the germans, however, he considered to be in bad taste. his political philosophy was summed up in his simple phrase, "c'étaient _eux_" (the germans) "qui ont voulu la guerre," and on this count alone they stood condemned eternally before god and man. of history, diplomatic situations, international crises he took no heed. in his eyes the germans were a race of impoverished brigands for ever casting greedy eyes upon the riches of peaceful france. he told me once in all sincerity that before the war he had never borne a grudge against any man, that he had been content to live at peace with all the world, but that now he was changed--he hated the germans bitterly--"above all," he added, his voice quivering with impotent rage, "this fat pig of an under-officer who occupies himself with us orderlies. nom d'un chien!" (his invariable expletive) "one can only think he is put over us on purpose to annoy us." poor henry! i knew the gentleman to whom he referred--a fine type of the fat bully rejoicing in a position of power over unfortunate men who could in no way retaliate. at first we had accepted henry gladly as a kind of unconscious buffoon whose absurdities would enliven a few of our many dull hours. but in course of time we discovered other and more pleasing traits in him. he was a devout catholic and, in his humble fashion, a staunch republican. one day i asked him why he attached so much importance to that form of government. "sous la république, mon capitaine," he replied with dignity, "on est libre." free! free to work sixty hours a week for twenty years and then to march off to a war not of his making with but twelve francs in his pocket, leaving a wife and three children behind him to starve! like most frenchmen of his class henry was thrifty to a degree; i doubt if he spent sixpence a week on himself. with the blind faith of a child he one day confided his savings to me because he was afraid the germans might search him. by their regulations he was only allowed to have ten marks in his possession at once--the surplus he was supposed to deposit with the paymaster. but i really think he would rather have thrown the money away than done so. he kept a five-franc piece sewn in the lining of his trousers "in case," he informed me, "we get separated when the war is over. of course you would send me the rest, but when i get back to france i must be able to celebrate my return." each week he used to add to the little hoard which i kept for him, knowing not only the total but even what actual coins were there. upon occasions he could be courtesy itself. one day a russian officer came into our room at a moment when henry was standing idly by the table looking at the pictures in an english magazine. the russian, mistaking him for a french officer, saluted, bowed, and held out his hand. an english private would have been embarrassed--not so henry. with that true politeness which always endeavours to prevent others from feeling uncomfortable he returned the salute and the bow and shook the proffered hand! could tact have gone further? on christmas day we gave him a box of fifty cigars. he was immensely touched and overwhelmingly grateful. tears sprang to his eyes as he told us that he had never had so many cigars before--even in france. "avec ça," he exclaimed, fingering the box, "je serai content pour un an," and he insisted with charming grace, that we should each accept one then and there. his musical talent was discovered when some one received a concertina from england. coming into the room suddenly on the following morning i surprised henry sitting upon my bed giving what was a quite passable rendering of "tipperary." in no way abashed, he remained where he was, only ceasing to play for a moment to tell me that the concertina was too small--a toy, in fact. the truth was, i rather think, that his enormous fingers found difficulty in pressing less than two stops at once. he admitted that he had a passion for music, that he had learnt the harmonium from a blind man in commines, and that he had had an accordion specially made for him in belgium at a cost of francs which had taken him years to save. he was inclined to turn up his nose at catchy airs and music-hall songs, preferring what he called _la grande musique_, by which i think he meant opera. eventually he was given the concertina as a present and went off delighted--doing no more work that day. the optimism with which henry had begun his prison life gradually faded away. at one time he was certain that he would be home for christmas, then for easter; finally i think he had resigned himself to remaining where he was for life. it was his habit to believe implicitly every rumour that he heard; and since there were seldom less than fifty new ones current every day, he had a busy time retailing them, and was, in consequence, always either buoyed up with false hope or weighed down with unnecessary despair. but it was at about the end of december that he began to get anxious and worried. up till then he had been more or less content. his was not a super-martial spirit; he did not pine to be "at them" again nor did he chafe under the restrictions of a life of confinement. he confessed frankly that he was not anxious to fight again, but that when his day's work (!) was done he enjoyed sitting by the stove in the stable "avec les camarades" (the servants lived in the stables) "tandis que chacun raconte sa petite histoire de la guerre." one day he told me what was on his mind. he had had no news of his family since leaving home five months before. at first he had not worried, knowing that letters took a long time. but an answer was overdue by this time--others had heard from home. "every day," he said, "there are letters, but none for me." i could proffer sympathy but not, alas! advice, and i hadn't the heart to tell him that commines was in the thick of the fighting, and had probably been blown to pieces long ago. his wife and children _might_ be safe, but they were almost certainly homeless refugees. from that day on he used often to come and talk to me about his happy life before the war, growing sadder and sadder as the weeks passed and still he had no news. i shall always remember henry's pathetic little figure by the gate on the morning i left the prison, his baggy trousers more discoloured than ever, his enormous right hand at the salute, and his lips twisted into that wistful smile of his. i wonder what has happened to his wife and little daughters. i wonder if he or i or any one will ever know. author's note _of the contents of this book_, snatty _and_ five-four-eight _appeared in_ blackwood's, _and were both written before the war broke out--a fact which i mention with the selfish object of excusing myself for various technical errors therein_: henry _appeared in_ the new statesman. _my thanks are due to the editors of both these journals for kindly allowing me to republish the stories. the remainder have all appeared in_ the cornhill magazine, _to the editor of which i am deeply indebted for his unfailing courtesy and assistance._ flanders, _november, _. printed by william clowes and sons, ltd., london and beccles, england. internet archive (http://www.archive.org) note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h.zip) images of the original pages are available through internet archive. see http://www.archive.org/details/womanspartarecor yate [illustration: the manufacture of . -inch cartridge cases: operating the drawing press] the woman's part a record of munitions work by l. k. yates new york george h. doran company contents chapter page i. the advent of women in engineering trades sharing a common task dilution heroism in the workshop ii. training the munition worker the quintessence of the work the instructional factory first steps in industrial life iii. at work--i. shells and shell cases in the fuse-shop cartridges and bullets iv. at work--ii. the making of aircraft optical instruments in the shipyards v. comfort and safety welfare supervision protective clothing rest-rooms and first aid women police vi. outside welfare recreation motherhood the factory nursery vii. growth of the industrial canteen general principles the worker's oasis viii. housing billeting temporary accommodation permanent accommodation illustrations the manufacture of . -inch cartridge cases: operating the drawing press _frontispiece_ page turning the copper band of a . -inch high-explosive shell drilling safety-pin hole in fuse inspecting and gauging fuses turning the outside and forming the nose-end of a . -inch high-explosive shell assembling fuses cooling shell forgings operating a lumsden plain grinder: re-forming -inch high-explosive cutters engraving metal parts for compasses colouring aeroplane planes chipping and grinding blades of cast iron propeller with portable tools woman acting as mate to joiner making sea-plane floats cutting frayed-edge tape brazing turbine rotor segment mounting cards for dry compasses treadle polishing-machines, for smoothing lenses slitting and roughing optical glass view of canteen kitchen weighing ferro chrome for analysis balsaming lenses making instrument scales painting a ship's side in dry dock general view of women at work on aircraft fabric the canteen the woman's part chapter i: the advent of women in engineering trades sharing a common task--dilution--heroism in the workshop in a period of titanic events it is difficult to characterize a single group of happenings as of special significance, yet at the end of the war it is likely that great britain will look back to the transformation of her home industries for war purposes as one of the greatest feats she has ever accomplished. the arousing of a nation to fight to the death for the principle of liberty is doubtless one of the most stirring of spectacles in the human drama; it has repeated itself throughout history; but it has been left to this century to witness in the midst of such an upheaval the complete reorganization of a nation's industry, built up slowly and painfully by a modern civilization for its material support and utility. before the outbreak of hostilities great britain was supplying the world with the products of her workshops, but these products were mainly those needed by nations at peace. the coal mines of northumberland, the foundries of the midlands, the cotton mills of lancashire were aiding vast populations in their daily human struggle, but the demand of for vast requirements for war purposes found great britain unprepared. the instantaneous rearrangement of industries for war purposes, possible to germany by reason of forty years of stealthy war preparations, was out of the question for a nation that neither contemplated nor prepared for a european conflagration. eight or nine months had to elapse before the people of great britain were aroused to the realities of modern warfare. it was then only that a large public became aware that the herculean struggle was not merely a conflict between armies and navies, but between british science and german science, between british chemists and german chemists, between british workshops and the workshops of germany. the realization of these facts led to the creation of the ministry of munitions in may and the rapid rearrangement of industries and industrial conditions. before the war, three national factories in great britain were sufficient to fulfil the demand for output for possible war purposes; to-day, there are more than national factories and over , controlled establishments, scattered up and down the country, all producing munitions of war. the whole of the north country and the whole of the midlands have, in fact, become a vast arsenal. standing on an eminence in the north, one may by day watch ascending the smoke of from to munition factories, and by night at many a point in the midland counties one may survey an encircling zone of flames as they belch forth from the chimneys of the engineering works of war. the vast majority of these workshops had previously to the war never produced a gun, a shell, or a cartridge. to-day, makers of agricultural and textile machinery are engaged on munitions, producers of lead pencils are turning out shrapnel; a manufacturer of gramophones is producing fuses; a court jeweller is engaged in the manufacture of optical instruments; a maker of cream separators has now an output of primers. nor is this all. new industries have been started and languishing trades have been revived. the work of reorganization has been prodigious, and when the history of britain's share in the war comes to be written in the leisured days of peace, it is unlikely that the record will transmit to a future generation how much effort it has taken to produce the preponderance in munitions now achieved. with the huge task of securing an adequate supply of raw material has gone hand in hand the production of a sufficiency of suitable machinery and machine tools, the equipment of laboratories for chemical research, the erection, or adaptation, of accommodation in which to house the new 'plant', and the supply of a continuous stream of suitable labour. in face of the growing needs of the navy and army this labour question has been a crucial test; it is a testimony to the 'will to win' of the whole people that the problem from the outset has found its solution. as soon as the importance of the demand for munitions workers was widely understood, a supply of labour has continuously streamed into the factory gates. there are now , , persons employed in munitions industries--exclusive of admiralty work--of which one-third are women. the advent of the women in the engineering shops and their success in a group of fresh trades may be accounted as an omen of deep significance. women in this country have, it is true, taken their place in factory life from the moment that machinery swept away the spinning-wheel from the domestic hearth, and it is more often the woman mill-hand, or factory 'lass', who is the wealthier partner in many a lancashire home. women before the war, to be sure, took part in factory life where such commodities as textiles, clothing, food, household goods, &c., were produced, but by consensus of opinion--feminine as well as masculine--her presence in engineering works, save on mere routine work, or on a few delicate processes, was considered in the pre-war period as unsuitable and undesirable. _sharing a common task_ at the outbreak of hostilities, a few of the most far-sighted employers, contemplating a shortage of labour through the recruitment of men for military service, hazarded the opinion that women might be employed on all kinds of simple repetition work in the engineering shops. further than that even the optimist did not go. there was also no indication that women would be willing to adventure into a world where long hours and night-work prevailed, from which evils they were protected in the days of peace by stringent factory acts. events have proved that the women of great britain are as ready as their menfolk to sacrifice comfort and personal convenience to the demands of a great cause, and as soon as it was made known that their services were required, they came forward in their hundreds of thousands. they have come from the office and the shop, from domestic service and the dressmaker's room, from the high schools and the colleges, and from the quietude of the stately homes of the leisured rich. they have travelled from far-off corners in the united kingdom as well as from homesteads in australia and new zealand, and from lonely farms in south africa and canada. every stratum of society has provided its share of willing women workers eager from one cause or another to 'do their bit'. even in the early days of the advent of women in the munitions shops, i have seen working together, side by side, the daughter of an earl, a shopkeeper's widow, a graduate from girton, a domestic servant and a young woman from a lonely farm in rhodesia, whose husband had joined the colours. social status, so stiff a barrier in this country in pre-war days, was forgotten in the factory, as in the trenches, and they were all working together as happily as the members of a united family. employers and former employees likewise often share a common task in the workshops of the war. at woolwich, for example, a lady of delicate upbringing could, at one period, have been seen arriving at the arsenal in the early hours of each morning, accompanied by her former maid, both being the while 'hands' in the employ of the state. it is well known in certain circles how lady scott, the widow of the famous antarctic explorer, put aside all private interests to take up work in a munitions factory, how lady gertrude crawford became an official, supervising women's work in shipyards, and how lady mary hamilton (now mrs. kenyon slaney), the eldest daughter of the duke of abercorn, and miss stella drummond, daughter of general drummond, have won distinction as workers in 'advanced' processes of munitions production. these are but a few distinguished names amongst a crowd of women of all degrees of society who have achieved unexpected success in work to which they were entirely unaccustomed. amongst this nameless multitude, attention has been called from time to time to the remarkable feats in the engineering and chemical trades, in electrical works, and in the shipyards, of kitchen-maids and of dressmakers, of governesses and children's nurses. the underlying motives, all actuated by war conditions, which have turned the tide of women's work into new and unfamiliar occupations, are, however, more diverse than is generally supposed. unquestionably, the two main driving forces have been patriotism and economic pressure, and of these patriotism, the love of country, the pride of empire, accounts for a large proportion of women recruits. yet there are other motives at work: the old human forces of family love and self-sacrifice, pride, anger, hatred, and even humour. i have questioned workers at the lathes and in doping rooms, in filling factories, and in wood-workers' shops, and find the mass of new labour in the munitions works is there from distinctive individual reasons. it is only by the recognition of all these forces that successful management of a new factor in the labour problem is possible. an indication of the life-history of one or two individual munitions workers may exemplify the point. there is the case of a girl tool-setter in a factory near london. she is the only child of an old army family. when war broke out, she realized that for the first time in many generations her family could send no representative to fight the country's battles. her father was an old man, long past military age. the girl, although in much request at home, took up work in a base hospital in france, but at the end of a year, when broken down from over-strain, was ordered six months' rest in england. recovery followed in two months, and again, spurred by the thought of inaction in a time of national peril, she entered a munitions factory as an ordinary employee. after nine months' work she had only lost five minutes' time. another factory worker is a mother of seven sons, proud-spirited, efficient, and accustomed to rule her family. the seven sons enlisted and she felt her claim to headship was endangered. she entered a munitions factory and, to soothe her pride, sent weekly to each son a detailed account of her industrial work. at length, the eldest son wrote that he thought his mother was probably killing more germans than any of the family. since then, she says, she has had peace of mind. in another factory, in the west of england, there is an arduous munitions maker who works tirelessly through the longest shifts. before her entry into the industrial world she was a stewardess on a passenger-ship. the vessel was torpedoed by a german submarine, and she was one of the few survivors. daily she works off her hatred on a capstan lathe, hoping, as she tells the visitors, some day to get equal with the unspeakable huns. then there is a typical case of a wife who has learned some of life's little ironies through her work on munitions production. her husband, an old sailor, worked for the same firm before the war. he used to come home daily and complain of the hardness of his lot. it was 'a dog's life', he constantly reiterated, and his wife was careful to make reparation at home. war broke out and the naval reserve man was recalled to sea. the firm were put to it, in the labour shortage, for a substitute, and invited the wife's aid. having heard so much of the hardships of the work, she refused, but after some persuasion agreed to give the job a trial. at the end of a week, she surmised the task was not so hard as she contemplated; after a month had passed she realized the position. the job had been a capital excuse to ensure forgiveness for domestic short-comings. the wife awaits her husband's return with a certain grim humour. having arrived in the engineering trades, actuated by whatever motives, the woman munitions maker has more than justified the hopes of the pioneer employers who sponsored her cause. as soon as organized labour agreed that trade union rules and pre-war shop practice should be suspended for the duration of the war, women were rapidly initiated in the simple repetition processes of shell-making and shell-filling. machinery was adapted to the new-comers, and the skilled men workers were distributed amongst the factories to undertake the jobs possible only to experienced hands. _dilution_ thus, the principle of dilution, as old as plato's _republic_, which as a theory was reintroduced to british students by adam smith, has widely come into practice through the urgency of the war. women have been successfully introduced into a new group of occupations, men have been 'upgraded', so that many semi-skilled men have become skilled; and the skilled men have been allocated entirely to employment on skilled jobs. once introduced to the munitions shops, women soon mastered the repetition processes, such as 'turning', 'milling' and 'grinding', as well as the simpler operations connected with shell-filling. the keenest amongst them were then found fit for more 'advanced' work where accuracy, a nice judgment, and deftness of manipulation are essential. such are the processes connected with tool and gauge-making, where the work must be finished to within the finest limits--a fraction of the width of a human hair; such are the requirements for the work of overlooking, or inspection of output; and such are the many processes of aeroplane manufacture and optical glass production, upon which women are being increasingly employed. they are also undertaking operations dependent on physical strength, which in pre-war days would have been regarded as wholly unsuitable to female capacity. war necessity has, however, killed old-time prejudice and has proved how readily women adapt themselves to any task within their physical powers. one may, for example, to-day watch women in the shipyards of the north hard at work, chipping and cleaning the ships' decks, repairing hulls, or laying electric wire on board h.m. battleships. high up in the gantry cranes which move majestically across the vaulted factory roof, one may see women sitting aloft guiding the movement of the huge molten ingots; in the foundries, one may run across a woman smith; in the aeroplane factories, women welders work be-goggled at the anvils. an engineering shop is now sometimes staffed almost entirely by women 'hands', and it is no uncommon sight to find in the centre of the shop women operators at work on the machines; at one end a group of women tool-setters, and at another women gaugers who test the products of this combined women's labour. in the packing-rooms the lustier types of women may be seen dispatching finished shells, and on the factory platforms gartered women in tunic suits push the loaded trollies to waiting railway-trucks for conveyance to the front. one of the most surprising revelations of the war in this country has, indeed, been the capacity of women for engineering work, and to none has the discovery been more surprising and more exhilarating than to the women themselves. _heroism in the workshop_ the work has, in fact, called for personal qualities usually thought to be abnormal in women. the women in the engineering shops have disproved any such surmise. where occasion has demanded physical courage from the workers, the virtue has leaped forth from the average woman, as from the average man. where circumstances call for grit and endurance, there has been no shirking in the factories by the majority of the operators of either sex. the heroism of the battlefields has frequently been equalled by the ordinary civilian in the factory, whether man or woman. sometimes incidents of women's courage in the works have been reported in the press as matters for surprise. they are merely typical instances of the spirit that animates the general mass of the workers in great britain. a few examples may be added in illustration. on a recent occasion, a woman lost the first finger and thumb of her left hand through the jamming of a piece of metal in a press. after an absence of six weeks, she returned to work and was soon getting an even greater output than before. another instance relates to a serious accident in an explosives factory, when several women were killed and many were injured. within a few days a considerable number of the remaining female operators applied and were accepted for positions in the danger zone at another factory. another incident is reported from some chemical works in the north. the key controlling a valve fell off and dropped into a pit below, rendering the woman in charge unable to control the steam. an accident seemed imminent and the woman, in spite of the likelihood of dangerous results to herself, got down to the pit, regained the key and averted disaster. in a shipyard on the north-east coast, a woman of years had been engaged for some time in electric-wiring a large battleship. one day, when working overhead, a drill came through from the deck, piercing her cotton cap and entering her head. she was attended to in the firm's first aid room and sent home. to the surprise of every one concerned, she returned to work at a.m. on the following day, and laughingly remarked that she was quite satisfied that it was better to lose a little hair than her head. in the trivial accidents which are, of course, of more frequent occurrence, the women display similar calmness and will stand unflinchingly while particles of grit, or metal, are removed from the eyes, or while small wounds--often due to their own carelessness--are dressed and bound. the endurance displayed during the early period of munitions production, when holidays were voluntarily abandoned and work continued through sundays, and in many hours of overtime, was no less remarkable in the women than in the men. action is continuously taken by the ministry of munitions to reduce the hours of overtime, to abolish sunday labour, and to promote the well-being of the workers, but without the zeal and courage of the women munitions makers the valour of the soldiers at the front would often be in vain. as the premier remarked in a recent speech: 'i do not know what would have happened to this land when the men had to go away fighting if the women had not come forward and done their share of the work. it would have been utterly impossible for us to have waged a successful war, had it not been for the skill and ardour, enthusiasm and industry, which the women of the country have thrown into the work of the war'. chapter ii: training the munition worker the quintessence of the work--the instructional factory--first steps in industrial life when, in answer to the demand for shells and more shells, factories were built, or adapted to the requirements of war, it was soon found that a supply of suitable labour must be ensured, if the maximum output was to be maintained. the existing practice of the engineering shops, by which a boy arrived by gradual steps, counted in years, from apprenticeship to the work of a skilled operator, was obviously impossible where an immediate demand for thousands of employees of varying efficiency had to be fulfilled. the needs of the navy and army further complicated the problem by the withdrawal of men of all degrees of skill from factory to battlefield. the discovery of an untapped reservoir of labour in women's work, and the adaptation of a larger proportion of machines to a 'fool-proof' standard, certainly eased the situation, yet the problem remained of the immediate provision of workers able to undertake 'advanced', as well as simple work, in the engineering shops. factory employers were from the outset alive to the situation, and at once adopted measures for the training of new-comers within their shops, but harassed as the managers were by the supreme need for output, it was hardly possible to develop extensive schemes for training within the factory gates. hence, arose a movement throughout the united kingdom among the governing bodies of many institutions of university rank, among local education authorities, and among various feminist groups, to make use of existing technical schools and institutions for the training of recruits in engineering work. the effort was at first mainly confined to the instruction of men in elementary machine work, and the london county council may fairly claim to have acted as pioneer in this connexion. yet, as early as august , a group of women connected with the national union of women's suffrage societies (of which mrs. fawcett, widow of a former postmaster-general, is the president) decided to finance a scheme for the training of women oxy-acetylene welders, converting for this purpose a small workshop run by a woman silversmith. it was soon observed by the ministry of munitions that these sporadic efforts--sometimes successful beyond expectation, and sometimes failing for want of funds, or for lack of intimacy between training-ground and factory employer--must be co-ordinated, if they were to tackle successfully the growing task imposed by war conditions. the conception of a training section for factory workers within the ministry of munitions arose, took root. the section was established in the early autumn of . in the october of that year, authority to finance approved training schemes throughout the country was given to the new department. some fifty colleges and schools, undertaking independent schemes, were then brought into touch with the ministry, and steps were taken to develop the existing systems. equipment was thereby improved, recruiting of students stimulated, and a scheme for the payment of maintenance during training--such as the manhattan schools in new york had previously introduced to social investigators in this country--was established. the extension of the courses of training from instruction in simple processes to such advanced engineering work as lead-burning, tool-setting, and gauge-making soon followed, and was accompanied by necessary theoretical instruction in the methods of calculation of fine measurements. _the quintessence of the work_ for these advanced classes, men alone were at first eligible as students, women being only instructed at the outset in elementary parts of the work. in the early days, the women were invited 'to do their bit', by learning how to bore, how to drill, how to plane, how to shape, and above all, how to work to size. the chief battle of the training centre with regard to the instruction of women was then, and still remains, the implanting of a feeling for exactitude in persons accustomed to measure ribbons or lace within a margin of a quarter of a yard or so, or to prepare food by a guess-work mixture of ingredients. i remember, at the beginning of a course of training for women, how an instructor at a large metropolitan centre remarked that 'ninety-nine per cent. of the new students do not know what accuracy means', and he detailed how difficult it was to instil into their mind 'that quintessence of their work'. scientific methods of tuition, helped no doubt by women's proverbial patience, have, however, enabled the lesson to be learned after a few weeks' intensive training. the courses last but six to eight weeks and, at the conclusion of the carefully graduated tasks, it is not too much to say that the success of the women has been, in an overwhelming number of cases, surprising both to teachers and pupils. i have before me a batch of letters from factory employers, written in the early period of the training schemes. they all bear testimony to the value of the outside instruction. one manager notes how the trained women from the schools were able 'to become producers almost at once'; another states that the drafting of the women students from school to factory has enabled the work of munitions to be carried on 'with greater expedition than would otherwise have been the case', and yet another, with a scarcely concealed note of astonishment, relates that his students were able to be engaged at once on 'all kinds of machinery, capstan lathes, turning lathes, milling and wheel cutting machinery'. this discovery of the employer, of the potentialities of women's work in the engineering trades, soon led to a development of the instruction of female students in the training centres; more advanced machine work was added to the curriculum, as well as tuition in aeroplane woodwork and construction, in core-making and moulding, in draughtsmanship and electrical work, in optical-instrument making, including the delicate and highly-skilled work of lens and prism making. new training centres are constantly being opened in provincial areas, the instruction being adapted to the needs of local factories. there are now (december, ) over forty training schools for engineering work in great britain, as well as nine instructional factories and workshops, and the proportion of women to men trained in all the processes may be reckoned roughly as two to one. the system of instruction is based, in some of the centres, on the general principle that the school undertakes the preliminary work of tuition in the simpler engineering processes; the instructional factory, or workshop, specializing in the more skilled processes, acts as a clearing-house for promising students from the schools. the urgency of warfare does not, however, permit the application of any hard-and-fast rules. i have seen specimens of some of the most 'advanced' work produced in a school; indeed, the delicate work of lens polishing and centring, the intricacies of engineering draughtsmanship, the precise art of tool-setting and gauge-making have become specialisms of the schools in certain localities. [illustration: turning the copper band of a . -inch high-explosive shell] [illustration: drilling safety-pin hole in fuse] [illustration: inspecting and gauging fuses] [illustration: turning the outside and forming the nose-end of a . -inch high-explosive shell] as i write, the face of an eager girl of years recurs to memory. she was showing me, the other day, a master gauge produced at a school in the eastern counties. 'i made it all myself,' she said joyfully, 'dead exact, and all the other gauges of this size in the school are made from it. i have just been appointed assistant instructor in gauge-making.' when it is recalled that the deviation in the measurements of a gauge is only tolerated within such limits as a / part of an inch, the production in a school of a master gauge, 'dead exact' in all its dimensions, is a proof that the student has already gone some way in the mastery of the craft of the engineer. _the instructional factory_ on the other hand, the instructional factory is often forced by war conditions to enrol raw recruits who seem likely material for the urgent needs of surrounding factories. in such cases, the candidate is placed on trial for a week or two in the instructional workshop, as in the school. if, at the close of the period of probation, she is deemed unsuitable, she is advised at that preliminary stage to return to her former occupation. speaking generally, the rejects are extraordinarily few, and although it would be premature to draw definite conclusions, the experience of the training section suggests that there is considerable latent capacity for engineering work in a large number of women. a tour of the instructional workshops emphasizes the point; everywhere, women may be seen mastering in the short intensive course the one advanced job for which each is being trained. in the instructional workshop, the atmosphere of a school is exchanged for that of a factory, the conditions of a modern engineering shop being reflected within its precincts. thus the students 'clock on and off' on arrival and on departure, observe factory shifts, work on actual commercial jobs, obtain their tools from an attached store, and so on. the work varies in these instructional factories as in the engineering shop of the commercial world. in one section of such a hall of tuition you may see the women intent on the production of screws, or bolts, or nuts; in another part, such objects as fuse needles may be in the course of manufacture. you stop to see the magic which is answerable for the birth of the tiny factor which shall detonate the explosive, and you are amazed to find that a fuse needle requires six tools for its production and eight to nine gauges for testing the accuracy of its measurements. or, you may perhaps pause before a machine which is turning out tiny grub screws. to see a rod of steel offer itself, as it were, to the rightful instruments on a complicated machine to impress the thread and slit, to watch it proceeding on its way until a tiny section is divided and a complete screw is handed over to a tray outside the machine, is, to the uninitiated, a miracle in itself. to see the whole of these complicated processes guided and operated by a smiling girl makes one hopeful for the national industries of the future. setters-up of tools are at work in another section of the same instructional factory and at other machines are students grinding, milling, or profiling. you may then visit another instructional factory to find that aircraft is the specialty. i recall one such training-ground in a bay of an aeroplane factory. there the girls learn almost every part of aircraft production, from the handling of the tiny hammers used on the woodwork for the body and wings, to the assembling, or putting together the tested parts. in this training factory, a system prevails of lectures by the practical instructors on the use of necessary tools; questions from the students are encouraged at the close of the lecture, and, i was informed, when on one occasion i was one of the audience, that the saving of the instructor's time by the adoption of this method was beyond expected results. again, you may visit an instructional factory where foundry work is included in the curriculum, or where advanced machine work is a feature. i have stood in one instructional workshop where some machines were whirring simultaneously, and where the spirit of energy and goodwill of both students and instructors seemed as tangible as the metal objects produced. in this institution all the accomplished work is for production; night as well as day shifts are worked, and the needs of our armies, or those of our allies, are frankly discussed with the operators. there is no occasion for other incentive: raw recruits, students from the schools, discharged soldiers from the front, men unfit for active service, all these denizens of the training-shop vie with each other to produce a maximum output. it speaks volumes for this workshop that in spite of the continual changes of operators--each set of students remaining only for a course of six to eight weeks--it is entirely maintained on a commercial basis. to reach such a standard in these circumstances is to imply that the heroism of the workshop has become an ingrained habit in operators and staff. _first steps in industrial life_ i remember watching in this training-ground the manufacture of small aero-engine parts, exact in dimensions to within the smallest limits of tolerance. i put a query as to the wastage of material in such an operation, when handled by comparative new-comers. 'scrapping from this process', replied the production manager with pride, 'does not exceed a total average of one per cent.' the women at work at the time had come from the most varied occupations. a large proportion had never worked outside their own home, others were domestic servants, cooks, housemaids, and so on, others were dressmakers from small towns, and one, i recall, was an assistant from a spa, where she had been engaged handing out 'waters' to invalids. 'it is not the rank of society from which the student is drawn that matters,' remarked an instructor; 'it is the personality of the individual that counts.' every care has been taken by the ministry of munitions to make it easy for women of all classes to participate in their schemes of instruction. the middle class girl who has never undertaken independent work, the woman who has always lived and worked within the shelter of her own home, undoubtedly felt in many cases debarred from entering industrial life. the necessity of living away from her family, in order to enter a training-school, the absence of home conditions in school or factory, the dread of an entirely masculine superintendence, all helped to strengthen artificial barriers between potential students and the needed engineering work. the training section, watching the development of its schemes, became aware of the necessity of making arrangements for students from the welfare point of view, and an organization has thus developed by which the first steps in industrial life are made easy for the most apprehensive of new-comers. girl students by rail are met by a responsible woman official and are accompanied to suitable lodgings, or to hostels. in the event of pressure in accommodation, the new student is introduced to temporary apartments, or to a 'clearing hostel', where she awaits in comfort a vacancy. in the large training centres, a woman supervisor is in charge. she makes all arrangements as to the provision of meals, rest-rooms, cloak-rooms, first-aid centres, and so on, and is ready to advise the women students on all points relating to their personal interests. women students are also enabled to wear a khaki uniform, as members of the mechanical unit of the women's legion, a privilege found to be of distinct value to girls unaccustomed to steering an independent course in the more boisterous streams of life. the appreciation of the students of the safe-guarding of their individual desires crops out in unexpected places. in a handful of correspondence from students, one gleans such remarks as the following: 'mrs. h. never spares herself any trouble as long as she can make things pleasant for me, she considers it her "war work" to make munition workers happy, and it is very nice to meet people that appreciate what we are doing for our country.'... 'we were met at the station by the works motor. all at once we turned up an avenue of lime-trees and drew up at the door of our country estate. it is a real lovely house and we revel in the glories of fresh air, lawns and gardens, good beds and well-spread tables. we cross a field to the works. dinner and tea await us when we get here, and there is a well-stocked vegetable garden to give us fresh vegetables, so we all feel indeed that our lines are fallen in pleasant places, and we are very grateful.' in these ways a bridge has been built by the ministry of munitions between the normal life of the women in this country and the work in the munitions factory. chapter iii: at work--i shells and shell cases--in the fuse shop--cartridges and bullets arrived in the munitions factory, the new-comer, whether from a government training centre, or from another occupation, is given two or three weeks' trial on the task she has come to undertake. only a very small proportion of the women offering their services--one experienced manager puts it at per cent.--are found unsuitable, and these are discharged during the probationary period. except in the case of those who have received a preliminary training, or of those who have merely transferred their energies from other factory work, the average woman has, at the initial stage in the munitions shops, to overcome an instinctive fear of the machine. occasionally, the fear is intensified into an unreasoning phase of terror. 'one has to coax the women to stay with such as these,' said one understanding foreman, pointing to a monster machine with huge-toothed wheels. 'we don't ask a woman to sit alone with these at first, for she wouldn't do it, so we put a man with her, and let her sit and watch a bit, and after a while she loses her fear and won't work anything else, if she can help it.' the women, in fact, soon get attached to the machines they are working, in a manner probably unknown to the men. 'i've been here a year on this machine, and i can't do near so well on any other,' is a remark many a girl has made to me as i have watched her on a difficult job. from time to time, a girl will even confess that she 'can't bear to think of some one on the night-shift working _her_ machine'. an understanding has arisen between the machine and the operator which amounts almost to affection. i have often noticed the expression of this emotion in the workshops; the caressing touch of a woman's fingers, for instance, as a bore is being urged on to the job on the machine. this touch, which cannot be taught, or imparted, enables the operation to be started in the most effective method possible, and goes to the making of an excellent and accurate worker. the femininity of the worker has, however, its drawbacks, and for the sake of successful handling of women in the munitions factory, it is as well that these psychological points should be noted. if, for example, a machine is out of gear, or if the operation is held up for any other cause, the women munition makers will sometimes behave in an unreasonable manner, quite bewildering to a foreman accustomed only to dealing with men. the temporary cessation of work may make only a slight money difference to the woman operator by the end of the week: 'not enough to fuss about,' as the foreman judges. but the woman nevertheless often _does_ fuss, because in her eyes the wages do not loom so large as the interruption to her work. she 'hates standing-by', she will say, for she cannot express the emotion of which she is but dimly conscious, that a woman's deep instinct is to give freely of her fullness, and it frets her very soul to be balked in the middle of a job. [illustration: assembling fuses] [illustration: cooling shell forgings] [illustration: operating a lumsden plain grinder: re-forming -inch high-explosive cutters] other initial obstacles in the employment of 'new' female labour in the factories result from the exchange of the manifold duties of the woman in her own home for repetition work performed in the company of hundreds of other human beings. these difficulties are, however, soon overcome, and the new-comer, generally speaking, rapidly becomes one of a large and merry company. the whirr of the wheels and the persistent throb of the machinery may at first distract her, but after a short time the factory noises are unnoticed, save as an accompaniment to her thoughts, her laughter, or her song. i have indeed met in the england of to-day nothing more inspiriting, outside the soldiers' camps, than the women munition workers at work or at play. in august , there were some different munitions processes upon which women were engaged. to-day, they are employed upon practically every operation in factory, in foundry, in laboratory, and chemical works, of which they are physically capable. within the limits of this publication it is not possible to follow them into every field of their endeavours, yet a glance at their work in a few typical products may give some slight indication of women's contribution to britain's effort in the world war. _shells and shell cases_ of the numbers of operations that go to the making of a shell, women now undertake every process, in some works, including even the forging of the billets in the foundry. it was the urgent need of a greatly increased output of shells in which led to the widespread introduction into the engineering shops of female labour, and the women have repaid this unique opportunity by their unqualified success. so rapid, and so marked, has been their progress in shell production that by the spring of the official announcement was justified, that, by march of that year, government contracts for shells of certain dimensions would only be given where per cent. of the employees were women. at first, the women were mainly engaged in simple machine operations, such as boring, drilling, and turning, or in filling the shells. they are, at present, working hydraulic presses, guiding huge overhead cranes, 'tonging', or lifting the molten billets, 'setting', or fitting the tools in the machines, inspecting and gauging, painting the finished shell cases, making the boxes for dispatch of the finished product, and trucking these when finally screwed up and ready for exit from the factory to the front. it is not possible to describe here in detail women's entire contribution to the production of a shell, but, from foundry to railway truck, she has become an alert and promising worker. in the foundry, her appearance is as yet exceptional, yet in the north country it is no unusual sight to find a woman in the cage suspended from the overhead travelling crane, operating its protruding arm. now, she will pick up with the clumsy iron fingers a pig of iron and thrust it into the glowing depths of a furnace, or she will lift the red-hot billet and bring it to the hydraulic press, where it is roughly hollowed into its predestined shape. in the shell shop proper you may watch the woman operator on some scores of processes; at one machine, she may be attacking the centre of the billet with a revolving nose, at another she may be 'turning' the outside of a shell. the shavings curl off in this process like hot bacon rind and fall in iridescent rings around her: blue, purple, peacock, or gleaming silver. or, you may watch the woman worker 'threading' the shell, a process by which the screw threads are provided, into which the nose of the shell is afterwards fitted; or, you may stand and marvel at the skill of the worker who so deftly rivets the base-plate into the shell's lower end. but, perhaps, the most attractive operation to the visitor to the shell shop is the fitting and grooving of the shell's copper band, a process which leaves the machine and worker half-hidden in the glory of sunset tints, as the copper scrap falls thickly from the machine. at every stage, the shell is gauged and tested, examined and re-examined, since accuracy is the watch-word of its production. sometimes, the machine-operator will gauge her own product; at other stages, the shell passes into the hands of women overlookers of the factory, the final tests being made by government 'viewers'. the inside, as well as the outside of the shell is submitted to such inspection, and you may see women peering into the interior of the shells, aided by the light from a tiny electric bulb, mounted on a stick. this contrivance is thrust successively into rows and rows of shells. women are now exclusively used for the painting of the shells, a process accomplished, not by means of a brush and paint-pot, but by the operator playing a fine electrically-worked syringe on to the surface of the shell. this process is undertaken in what is often called 'the butcher's shop', the shells, in pairs, being swung up on a rope into a compartment where the operator works from behind a protective iron screen. in the filling shops, women's devotion to their work has been proved once and again. whether the process undertaken be in company of a few comrades, or in isolated huts where lonely vigils are kept over stores of explosives, the munition-girls are hardly known to flinch in their duty. sometimes, they have volunteered to work throughout the night when air-raids are in progress, at other times, women-workers have returned to the danger zone immediately after some bad experience there; and, in every case, the woman worker in the filling factory cheerfully sacrifices much which she holds dear in life. it may signify but little to a man to give up his small personal possessions whilst at work in the danger areas, but to many a woman worker it means much, that she may not wear a brooch, or a flower, while on duty, and that her wedding-ring, the only allowable trinket, must be bound with thread while she works. her tresses, which she normally loves to braid, or twist into varying fashions, must also be left hairpinless beneath her cap. she must relinquish her personal belongings before going to her allotted task; no crochet-hook or knitting-pin may accompany her into the zone where friction of steel, or hard metal, might spell death to a multitude of employees. yet this sacrifice of individuality is given freely by the woman in the filling shop, and she is still merry-hearted and blithe as she fills the small bags with deadly powder, or binds the charge which shall fire the shell. when the shell is finally filled and passed 'o.k.', or perfect, it is a woman who packs it into its box and who wheels it on a truck, sometimes for a mile or more over narrow platforms, to hand it to another woman who stacks it into the waiting railway-wagon. any one who has watched throughout the production of a shell in a factory of to-day can only echo a well-known author's recent salute: 'hats off to the women'. _in the fuse shop_ the fuse, that small and complicated object which explodes the shell, is a war-product now largely produced by women's labour. a few inches in length, it requires some hundreds of operations for its manufacture, even if the initial processes on the metal are excluded from the count. in section, it looks like a complicated metal jig-saw puzzle of exquisite finish and cohesion: viewing it externally, a child might mistake it for a conjurer's 'property', a bright metal egg, or roll often surrounded by a metal ring marked with time measurements. the care and accuracy necessary for the production of this small object can hardly be imagined by the uninitiated: it is measured and re-measured in every diameter, since on its perfection depends the life of the gunner and his team. the fuse shop is usually characterized by its cleanliness and quietude. i recall one such shop stretching far away into distance both in length and breadth. under its roof some , women were at work. conversation could be held in any part of the shop, undisturbed by the usual factory noises. the fuse parts are, indeed, so small that the machinery is necessarily light, and in such a shop it is dexterity and accuracy that tell, rather than physical strength. rows of graceful women and girls were standing at their machines, and i recall how their overalls and caps of varied hues made a rainbow effect, as one watched from a distant corner. some were in cream colour and some in russet-brown, or apple green, the caps sometimes matching the overall and sometimes offering a strong contrast. a splash of purple, or a deep magenta, mingled with the head-dresses of softer hue, for in this shop, away from the danger zone, no insistence was made on uniformity of factory costume. other women, wearing a distinctive armlet, were passing in and out between the rows of workers, now stopping and bending over a machine, now making some bright remark to the operator, as a ripple of laughter indicated, or again, pointing out in sterner wise some danger, or some error in the job. these itinerary women are the overlookers, who since the war have perfected themselves in their special job and can now supervise the operators. at long tables, other women were sitting; some quite elderly and grey-haired, some mere girls. they were measuring with small gauges parts of the fuse, some the size of a good-sized bead. there are different gauges authorized for the measurement of one type of fuse, and in practice even more are used, to ensure perfection of accuracy. i stood spell-bound at one of these gauging tables and watched the examination of small screws and flash plugs. there were six little squares of felt on the table, on which the examiner placed rejects, classified according to the detected flaw. the work proceeded with the utmost dispatch, the 'accepted' or 'perfect' heap growing as if by magic. at another table, a girl was testing springs of about an inch long. if any of these showed the smallest fraction too much length after being submitted to a given pressure, they were put aside as 'scrap'. at yet another table, tiny fuse needles were being examined for length, thickness of phlange, and accuracy of point, and on a high flat desk, near a machine, i noticed seventeen different gauges were ranged for the examination of the percussion end of the fuse-body, one ten-thousandth part of an inch being the limitation or variation allowed in such parts. when all the parts have been examined they are passed to other tables for assembling, or putting together. in this operation almost superhuman care is required, and the work is reserved for the best operators and time-keepers as a reward for long service. 'assembling' is regarded as the plum of the fuse-room. the operators are well aware of the importance of the task, as they stow away in the time fuses the pea-ball, pellet, spring, stirrup, ferrule, and other components of the fuse. the needle is fixed by blows from a small hammer, and at length the fuse is completed and passes out of the room of its creation to receive its 'filling' from other hands. _cartridges and bullets_ the production of cartridges and bullets is another branch of munitions production in which women are mainly employed. these objects, which, when completed, are together no longer than a ball-room pencil, make in their manufacture no great demand on physical strength. on entering a cartridge and bullet shop, one is at once struck with its individuality. there is more stir and movement than in a fuse-room, but less of the imperiousness of the machinery than in the shell or gun shop. there is in the cartridge and bullet room still the whirr of wheels and, above that, the deep constant throb of the driving-force, that makes conversation almost inaudible to the new-comer. but beneath this bass accompaniment, one can hear the lesser sounds belonging to the cartridge and bullet-room alone. there may be the buzz of the circulating gas machines--which resemble miniature merry-go-rounds--the tap, tap, of the cartridges as they are thrown out of the machine into a box below, and the tinkle of bullets as they are poured into weighing machines, or on to tables, or into huge barrels, such as are used on the wharves for the transport of herrings. a cartridge and bullet-shop sometimes is as animated and as picturesque as an open-air market under a southern sky. i remember such a shop where the girls were in various factory costumes, some at the machines in khaki and some in cream-coloured overalls and caps; some, who were 'trucking', or removing the product in boxes, were in cream trouser-suits, with smart head-dresses fashioned from brightly-coloured oriental handkerchiefs. in between the rows of girls men in dark suits were passing to and fro, now stopping to examine, or alter a machine and now taking up a box of bullets and pouring out its glittering contents like a silver stream, so that the output from each worker might be weighed and assessed. through an open door, at one side of the shop, one could see other men, like stern magicians, dropping cartridges into vats of acid, and just to the side of the vats i caught sight of two girls vigorously shaking a sack of cartridges, hot from the furnace. as they shook, they sang an army refrain: 'take me back to dear old blighty,' with a chorus of laughter. at the extreme end of the shop, near the door whence the product made its exit, were long narrow tables, piled with bullets, reminding one of a haul of silver sprats on the quay-side. these were the inspecting tables where the bullets receive minute attention from women viewers. the women's work in the bullet-shop is of extraordinary interest to the onlooker, although many of the processes must be infinitely more monotonous, from the worker's standpoint, than operations in other munitions productions. the elongation of the little metal vessel, resembling an acorn-cup, into a full-length cartridge, or bullet, necessitates many operations in which the dexterity of human fingers and the ingenuity of the machine both come into play. in the shop i recall, in one machine employed for semi-annealing, the cartridge was being 'fed' into a metal revolving plate. this passed behind an asbestos screen into a double row of gas jets, where the semi-annealing or hardening process was being accomplished. the dexterity of the operators was so great that one woman was often feeding two machines, apparently without effort, and never missed placing the cartridge into the correct aperture in the revolving plate. in another process, i watched young girls sitting round a table and placing bullets into circular apertures in small trays, resembling solitaire-boards. many of the girls were working with such speed that it was impossible to follow the movements of their fingers, but they, unconscious of their prowess, worked with averted heads, smiling in amusement at the visitor's astonishment. in yet another operation, it was the machine that held one's attention. the operator was feeding cartridges into a metal band which slipped out of view while the process of 'tapering' was performed. when finished, a metal thumb and index finger appeared, which delicately picked up the cartridges, one by one, and threw them aside. the displaced cartridge then hopped out of the machine into a box at the side of the machine. entranced by the many mysteries in the production of cartridges and bullets in the shop i am recalling, i had not noticed that the tea-interval had arrived, and suddenly found that the work-room was almost empty of human beings. only two girls remained. they were sitting sewing, whilst they devoured thick slices of bread and butter out of a newspaper packet. the woman inspector, who was my guide, turned sharply. 'what are you doing here?' she said, 'eating your tea in the workshop, instead of outside, or in the canteen. be off at once into the fresh air.' then, with the indignation fading out of a good-humoured face: 'what next?' she said. looking out of the open door at the streams of bright and happy girls laughing, singing, dancing, and running, as only healthy youth can do in the midst of these dark days of war, i seemed to see other and brighter days ahead stretching out into the years of the future, when the workfolk would all taste a fuller joy in life. with renewed hope, i gave her back her challenge: 'well! and what next?' chapter iv: at work--ii the making of aircraft--optical instruments--in the shipyards _the making of aircraft_ the production of aircraft, undertaken in this country on a large scale only since the outbreak of the war, has fallen more naturally into the hands of women. the work is for the most part light, and the new factories, often erected in open country, are bright, airy, and largely free from the noise of machinery. added to these special attractions to the woman worker, there is apparently a distinct appeal to the youth of both sexes and to women of all ages in anything connected with the art of flying. it is no secret that our output of aircraft is steadily increasing, and that during it has been doubled. in one factory in london, the output has been trebled within three months; in lancashire, there are instances in which it has been doubled, and other areas show an improved production varying from to per cent. yet the increased demand for labour for this work has always been immediately answered, and there is a steady flow into the factories of the best type of women workers from every class of society. here and there, one already meets a woman who, during the short period of the war, has risen to be manager or partner in an aircraft factory. unconsciously, such a one emphasizes the fact that the mastery of the element of the future is likely to be an affair of both the sexes. a visit to any aeroplane factory repeats the hint, and reveals the extraordinary versatility of skill latent in women, which can well be applied to this form of industry. 'women _must_ have been cabin'd, cribbed, and confined before the war', said a foreman in taking me over his shop in an aircraft works. 'look what they can do at this kind of job, and yet many of them are ladies, from homes where they sat about and were waited upon.' the wonder of it cannot fail to impress a visitor, since only four years ago women were allowed to undertake in aircraft construction merely those parts which convention deemed suitable for feminine fingers: such processes, for instance, as the sewing of the wings by hand, or by machine, or the painting of the woodwork. [illustration: engraving metal parts for compasses] [illustration: colouring aeroplane planes] [illustration: chipping and grinding blades of cast iron propeller with portable tools] [illustration: woman acting as mate to joiner. making sea-plane floats] to-day, they undertake almost every other process both at the carpenter's bench and in the engineering shop, and the chief impression you carry away from a stroll through such a factory is that the women are thoroughly at home in the work. the operations are often so clean that the workers' overalls and caps of the daintiest shades of pink, blue, white, and heliotrope, remain fresh; the material for aeroplane parts is usually so light that the handling of it presents no difficulty to a slip of a girl. when within the works, the visitor is constantly stimulated to the thought that the hand which rocks the cradle should obviously be the one to make the air-machine. one expects, of course, women's familiarity with the occupation in the room where the fine irish linen is cut out and fashioned into wings. one is not surprised at the facility with which the measuring and cutting out are accomplished, and, maybe, an emotion of admiration arises, similar to that evoked by the contemplation of old tapestries, when one watches the hand-sewing of a seam in a wing of some feet in length. not a stitch of the button-holing of such a seam deviates by a hairbreadth from its fellows. such work has, however, been women's province through the ages. but a new sensation is awakened in the carpenter's shop where women are working with dexterity at the bench, handling woodwork like the men, now dealing with delicate wooden ribs, or again, fashioning propellers out of mahogany or walnut with such nicety that there is not the slightest deviation between the dimensions of a pair. in the room where the linen is stretched over the wooden ribs, i have seen women working with tiny hammers, giving fairy blows that never miss their mark on tiny nails. it is with fascination that a visitor stands by be-goggled women as they undertake the welding of metal joints by the oxy-acetylene process. here, conscientiousness is a vital quality in the operator, since an undetected flaw in the weld, as a works foreman recently remarked, 'might easily send an airman to kingdom come'. for this process, women of education are more often selected. it is with awe that you watch the women at work on the metal parts of the aeroplane, drilling, grinding, boring, milling on the machine, or soldering tiny aluminum parts for the fuselage, and in each process gauging and re-gauging, measuring and re-measuring. women also work on aero-engines, and help in the manufacture of the magneto, the very heart of the machine. they even undertake special processes, which before the war were only entrusted to a select body of men. i stood one day, for example, watching a woman splicing steel rope, a process undertaken in pre-war days by sailors. she was working with extraordinary speed and unconcern, and had learned the job in three or four days. before then, she told me, she had been her employer's cook. but the most alluring scene of all is the assembling of aircraft. the infinite number of separate parts are now ready; they have been tested by factory overlookers and retested by government inspectors. the greatest care is taken in these examinations: it is the only possible insurance of the lives of the brave youths on their journey above the clouds. all the workers know this, and the seriousness of the job is reflected on their faces. but now all the parts are ready and to hand in the erecting shop. then wings and propeller are added to body, the engine and leather-upholstered seats introduced, the electric apparatus fitted up, the compass, ammunition box and other instruments and weapons placed in position. the aeroplane is at length complete, and stands in the hangar like some great bird, with outstretched pinions, awaiting its first flight into the unknown. women undertake every process of this assembling, and have acquired familiarity with all the parts. this was put to the test recently in a certain works when a woman operator was directed to dismantle a machine. without hesitation, she stripped the complex network of the structural stay-wires and the control wires, and then re-assembled them, correct in every particular, at the first attempt. _optical instruments_ of the many industries developed by the war, the production of optical instruments offers a striking example of rapid progress. before , the optical glass industry of europe was largely in the hands of germany and austria, and the outbreak of hostilities meant the total closing of that market to the allies. the lack of optical instruments thus occasioned was at first a source of grave national peril, since optical glass provides, as it were, eyes for both navy and army. the eyes of the guns are the range-finder, the director, the sighting telescope, periscope, prism binoculars, and other instruments for observing fire and correcting the aim; the tank would be blind without its periscope, and observations are made from aircraft by means of photographic cameras and lenses. at sea, the tale is repeated; the submarine requires at least one eye, and the submarine chaser needs many, while, by means of optical instruments, the naval gunner can fire at a target which is about to miles away. the very health of the army depends, in great measure, on optical glass, since the royal army medical corps fights malaria and other diseases due to parasites, which must be magnified by a microscope a thousand times before they can be identified. hence, the solution of the problem of optical munitions was a vital matter in the early days of the war. with characteristic energy, great britain set to work and soon restored a languishing trade. the task was enormous; the industry had to be revived from its very foundations. the production of the peculiar types of glass required for optical instruments in itself presented a formidable obstacle, even its principal ingredient, a special quality of sand, being formerly derived mainly from fontainebleau and belgium. but by widespread investigation efficient substitutes were soon discovered, the problem of mixing the ingredients was at length solved, formulæ for special glasses devised, and we are now producing large quantities of optical glass of perfect quality. the production of the raw material was, however, only a first step in obtaining an adequate supply of optical instruments. numbers of delicate processes stand between the rough glass and the finished implement. the glass must be cut, ground, and curved exactly to the requisite design, which in itself takes many days of high mathematical computation; it must be smoothed and polished, cleaned with meticulous care, and adjusted to a nicety in the particular instrument for which it is fashioned. the difficulties and pitfalls are incalculable; from start to finish the glass obeys no fixed laws, but answers only to the skilled handling of the scientist and craftsman. 'optical glass is the mule of materials', comments a recent writer with sincerity. the absence of requisite labour for what was practically a new industry was a serious menace, and it is to the credit of englishwomen that, as soon as the need for their services in this direction was made known, they stepped without hesitation into this unfamiliar and highly skilled industry. their success therein is remarkable, and many, from such callings as high-class domestic service, kindergarten instruction, music teaching, blouse and dressmaking, have achieved a wonderful record in the delicate and highly technical processes of lens-smoothing and polishing and in the production of prisms of faultless polish and cut. there is, i take it, no more interesting munitions development than in factories where these lenses and prisms are produced. the work is so fine and so delicate that one feels it might be more suitably transferred for manipulation to elves, or fairy folk, who might undertake the various processes standing at a large-sized toad-stool. but with the stern reality of war upon us, willing feminine fingers have had to be trained to handle these lenses, the smallest of which, when ranged in trays, resemble a collection of dewdrops, and the largest of which would easily fill the port-hole of an ocean-liner. optical glass when it comes into the workshop has the appearance of small blocks of rough ice of a greyish hue. these blocks are roughly sliced and cut into shape by a rotating metal disk charged with diamond dust. the prisms and lenses in their initial stage are then handed on to women, who complete the work on their surfaces. each process has its particular lure for the interested visitor. you may watch the slices of glass being shaped into prisms by handwork against the tool; you may follow these embryo prisms through the various processes of smoothing and polishing until a small magnifying prism is obtained for use in a magnetic compass, or until a large prism is completed suitable for a submarine periscope. you may follow the creation of a lens from the roughing and grinding of the glass slices with emery, or carborundum, until the approximate shape is given, or you may follow a later process of sticking the smaller lenses on to pitch, so that they may form a single surface for smoothing and polishing. again, you may watch the superlatively difficult operation of centring a lens. this task is necessary to ensure the polished surfaces of the lens running perfectly true and it requires a skilled touch and a trained eye to undertake it satisfactorily. in a shop in a certain optical munitions factory i met the first woman who worked a centring machine in that area. she was formerly a housemaid, and told me that, at first, all the men had discouraged her from the job and had said it was 'impossible for a woman to do such work'. but she 'stuck it'--so she said--and in a few weeks, to her own surprise and the men's dismay, this peculiarly skilled job became familiar to her. 'now i feel i am doing something,' she said in triumph. this sentiment was echoed by another worker in that factory who was accomplishing the surprising task of 'chamfering', or putting a tiny bevel onto the edge of a lens. the large lenses measure only inches in diameter; the smaller ones are about the size of a threepenny bit, and every operation, whether grinding, trueing, smoothing, polishing, or centring, must be accomplished with the utmost care. even the final process in the manufacture of the lens or prism, 'wiping off', is fraught with responsibility to the operator. 'wiping off,' or cleaning the lens, can only be done with a silken duster, for the finished glass, like a dainty lady, will tolerate the touch of nothing coarse. in cases where the glass is graticulated, or marked with fine lines for measurement purposes, the task of 'wiping off' is of extraordinary difficulty; in the opinion of at least one foreman with whom i have discussed this question, the operation is only perfectly successful when performed by a girl's fingers. it is of supreme importance that no speck of dirt or hint of grease from a finger-mark be left on the glass when finally adjusted, or the instrument would become a source of danger to the user. no wonder that the feeling of the optical instrument workshop expresses itself in the words: 'cleanliness is more than godliness at this job.' the completed glass at length reaches the stage where it is set in its instrument, be it periscope, dial-sight, telescope, and so on. although the most exact measurements have been observed both in the metal part and on the glass, small adjustments are necessary; for the fit must be so perfect that even if the metal case suffers shell-shock, the glass must still not rattle. but it is the metal alone which is submitted to alteration, and it is wonderful how women have been able to obtain sufficient dexterity to make these infinitesimal changes in the metal parts. one can see a mere girl undertaking such a task by giving the metal three or four delicate strokes from a file so fine that it would not hurt a baby's skin. meantime, the lens or prism is finally examined (also by women) for size, scratches, and other imperfections, and is then re-cleaned. girls and women take a full share in the production of the metal parts for the optical instruments and also assemble, or collect the parts, for the adjustment of the glass, but so far they do not generally adjust or test the completed instrument. the operations used in the production of optical instruments for war purposes are, of course, similar to those required in the manufacture of implements used in peace-time, such as opera-glasses, telescopes, microscopes, surveying instruments, photographic and cinematograph apparatus, &c., and it is expected that women who have entered the new war-time industry will happily find themselves, when peace dawns, in possession of a permanent means of livelihood in a skilled occupation. _in the shipyards_ 'ships, ships, and still ships': such is the main need of the allies in this, the fourth year of the war. to answer this demand, every dockyard in the country is working at the highest pressure. into this work, strange as it may seem to those familiar with the rough-and-tumble life of a shipyard, women have penetrated and have so far surmounted all obstacles in the tasks to which they have been allocated. at first, dilution in shipyards was looked upon as a hazardous experiment. the work is mostly heavy and clumsy, and the type of men undertaking it, splendid fellows enough in their physique and general outlook, are mainly accustomed to dealings with the boisterous elements and with men comrades of their own pattern. their attitude towards women, it was feared, would make for trouble immediately that the other sex was introduced as fellow-workers. even the most optimistic amongst shipbuilders were aghast at the idea of women working shoulder to shoulder with men on board ship. yet here and there a pioneer employer has arisen, and the experiment has been tried. it is succeeding unquestionably. i have been into the shipyards and seen the amazing sight and am convinced of its expediency, at all events as a war-time measure. special care must, of course, be taken in the planning and the supervision of women's work on board ship, but given the right type of inspectress, charge hand, and workers, there is no reason why women should not, in increasing numbers, fill the gaps in the shipyards, as in the factories. the women chosen to undertake such tasks are well aware of the service they are rendering to the nation at this juncture, and to the women workers the first day on board ship is one of supreme happiness. 'they are so excited when they actually get on board,' said a dockyard inspectress to me recently 'that they forget all about the difficulties and objections to the work.' it is well that this is so, for it is not too easy for the novice to move about below, even on a big battleship. i was taken over one where the women were working. it was in a big yard crammed with shipping of every kind--so full that one could echo the words of the old elizabethan, who said of a crowd: 'there was not room for a snail to put out its horns.' a stiff breeze was blowing, and the sea beyond ran full and blue. the great battleship along the dock lay serene and stately, bearing, as it were, with grim humour the meddlesome tappings and chippings of impertinent human beings, who presumed to furbish her up. there were men on the conning-tower, busy with paint-pots, and there was a tangle of ropes and pots on the upper decks where the guns were biding their time. men were calling lustily to each other, and were darting here and there as brisk and wholesome as the breeze. 'we go down here,' said the inspectress, pointing to a ladder as steep as the side of a house. she bounded down with the ease of an antelope. another ladder, and yet another. the inspectress seemed to have forgotten their steep incline and i was left, a helpless landlubber, cautiously descending step by step. when i joined her in the engine-room she was already deep in conversation with one of her staff. and then i noticed the secret aid to her agility. all the women aboard ship were dressed in trouser suits. the suits, of blue drill for the supervisors, and of a similar material in brown for the labourers, were made with a short tunic, and the trousers were buckled securely at the ankle. a tight-fitting cap to match completed the smart workmanlike costume which permits of perfect freedom of movement in confined places. without such a costume it would be hardly possible for women to work on board. the women workers on this particular battleship were engaged in renewing electric wires and fittings, a job which requires a good deal of care and accuracy. on the lower deck, they were fitting up new cables and were perched in high places, here 'sweating in' a distribution box, there marking off the position for the wires. others were drilling holes, others again were 'tapping', or making a thread in the holes. in the engine-room the women were busy stripping worn-out electric wiring and were working by the light of tall candles, as merry as a party preparing a christmas tree. everywhere the women were working in pairs, an arrangement found especially advisable on board. behind a small iron door we found one couple working on a fire-control in a nook where the entrance of a single visitor caused bad overcrowding. 'these are my mice', said the inspectress; 'they always get away into the cupboard-jobs, and very well they work there too. but we have to maintain a strict discipline on board, far stricter than anything known in the factories.' no talking, i was informed, is allowed in that dockyard, during the working hours on board, between the sailors or men labourers and the women and there is constant supervision of the women employed. these work on board in parties of - , each party being under the care of a charge hand. when the staff included three charge hands for supervision on board, an inspectress was appointed for this special branch of the work. the system seems to work well, and i noticed how the men and women had evidently accepted each other as comrades. coming into a secluded gangway a man-labourer, who had finished his job, was unconcernedly shaving before a square of mirror, while two or three women just beyond went on, just as unconcernedly, tap, tapping at the electric fittings. there was no chaffing, no 'larking', between the men and women, but a sense of comradeship, such as one notices in a co-education school. the women on electric-wiring receive, in that dockyard, one month's instruction on dummy bulk-heads before going on board; their instructors--expert men--accompany them to the number of two to every party of twenty or so, and remain with them for ten to twelve months. after that, the women are able to work without an instructor, and i was an eyewitness to this arrangement on a cargo vessel, where electric wiring was also being undertaken. besides the work on board, women in dockyards are employed in the various engineering shops where almost every description of construction and repair work for vessels is undertaken. i have seen numbers of women at work in such an electrical department, winding armatures, making parts for firing-gear, polishing, or buffing and repairing electrical apparatus, &c. the work in such a repair section is full of interest and variety. from day to day the operators receive consignments of electrical apparatus damaged on board by the elements, or worse. great dispatch is needed, and the women work with the utmost zeal and efficiency. i noticed them undertaking such varying operations as lackering guards for lamps and radiator fronts, repairing junction and section boxes, fire-control instruments, automatic searchlights, &c., and they were turning out their work, the foreman said, just like men. in the constructional department, women are now employed in making bulkhead pieces, or metal-work of various kinds, in oxy-acetylene welding, and occasionally in the foundry. when it is recollected that before the war only elderly women--the grandmothers--were, generally speaking, employed in the dockyards, and those only on such ornamental tasks as flag-making or upholstery for yachts, it is hardly credible that the granddaughters are now working successfully on intricate processes and even at jobs where physical strength is a qualification. 'we can hardly believe our eyes,' said a foreman recently, 'when we see the heavy stuff brought to and from the shops in motor lorries driven by girls. before the war it was all carted by horses and men. the girls do the job all right though, and the only thing they ever complain about is that their toes get cold.' 'they don't now', said a strapping young woman-driver, overhearing the conversation. 'we've got hot-water tins.' then, in a low voice, for my ears alone, 'i love my work, it's ever so interesting.' it is this note that one finds above all, amongst the women in the dockyards. the spirit of the sea, the almost forgotten heritage of an island population, has been stirred once more, and the sight of the good ships in harbour thrills the woman-worker, as the man, with a sense of independence, freedom, and love for 'this england, ... this precious stone set in the silver sea'. no wonder that englishwomen find their work in the dockyards 'ever so interesting'. [illustration: cutting frayed-edged tape] [illustration: brazing turbine rotor segment] [illustration: mounting cards for dry compasses] [illustration: treadle polishing-machines, for smoothing lenses] chapter v: comfort and safety welfare supervision--protective clothing--rest-rooms and first aid--women police the problems arising from the sudden employment of thousands of women in the factories have obviously been connected not only with the technical training of the workers and with the adaptation of machinery to their physical strength. something had to be done, and that without delay, to ensure the comfort and safety in the workshops of these new-comers to industrial life. in the first great rush for an increased munitions supply, war emergency dictated the temporary suppression of the factory acts. there was no demur within the factory gates. women worked without hesitation from twelve to fourteen hours a day, or a night, for seven days a week, and with the voluntary sacrifice of public holidays. their home conditions in a vast number of cases offered no drop of consolation. many of these women were immigrants from remote corners of the empire, or from faraway towns and villages of the united kingdom. housing accommodation in crowded industrial areas, or in a thinly populated countryside, was strained to breaking-point. undaunted, these workers--many of whom had previously led an entirely sheltered life--rose before dawn to travel long distances to the factory, and returned to take alternative possession with a night-shift worker of a part share of a bedroom. the shameful conditions to which the factory children were subjected at the period of the industrial revolution seemed about to return. _welfare supervision_ such a state of things could not be tolerated, and mr. lloyd george, then minister of munitions, grasped the situation. 'the workers of to-day', he said, 'are the mothers of to-morrow. in a war of workshops the women of britain were needed to save britain; it was for britain to protect them.' measures were immediately adopted to improve the conditions of the workers in the factory. a departmental committee was appointed to consider all questions relating to the health of munition workers, and at the ministry of munitions, on their recommendation, a welfare and health department was established, charged with 'securing a high standard of conditions for all workers in munitions factories and more especially for the women and juvenile employees'. since then, step by step the machinery is being set in motion for improving the conditions of life of munition workers. yet welfare work in the factory is no new thing in england. in pre-war days it had not, it is true, reached as widespread a development as in the united states, but as long ago as it was in practice in this country under another name. it is recorded of that period of one david dale, whose factory was a model to his contemporaries, that he 'gave his money by shovelfuls to his employees' to find that 'god shovelled it back again.' from the early part of the nineteenth century, sporadic attempts were successfully made to improve the conditions of the factory workers over and above the requirements of legislation, and before a number of enlightened factory owners had won renown by the practice of welfare work within their precincts. the seal of official sanction has, however, only been gained since the war, through the influx of women into munitions trades.[ ] the health of munitions workers committee has, since its inception, investigated at factory after factory such questions as the employment of women, hours of labour, sunday labour, juvenile employment, industrial fatigue, canteen equipment, the dietary of workers. it has published its conclusions in memoranda, stripped bare of officialism, so as to reveal with frankness facts acquired by scientists in touch with reality. working in connexion with this committee is the welfare and health department of the ministry of munitions. it follows closely the suggestions of the experts, its welfare officers moving up and down the country, now offering a suggestion to the management of a factory, and again, assimilating some practical experiment in welfare work, originated by a progressive factory-directorate. thus, a pooling of ideas is being effected, and isolated experiments of value are now being propagated throughout the country. but possibly one of the most valuable tasks of the welfare and health department is the selection and training of candidates for the work of welfare supervision in the factories. a panel of approved candidates is kept in readiness, so that a busy factory-manager may have at hand a choice of welfare workers who will, if necessary, undertake the entire supervision of the personal interests of his female, or juvenile staff. these officers, after engagement by the factory management, are responsible solely to the firms that employ them and not to the ministry of munitions. in establishments where t.n.t. (tri-nitro-toluene) is handled, the presence of a lady welfare supervisor is compulsory; in all national factories such an officer is recognized as a necessary part of the staff; and in controlled establishments, where a number of female operators are employed, the management is officially encouraged to make such an appointment. in many cases, engineering shops are for the first time employing female operators, and the management depute with relief all questions as to the personal requirements of the 'new labour' to the lady superintendent; in other instances, such matters as the engagement of the employees, canteen arrangements, and so on, are placed in the hands of other officials. hence, the duties of the lady welfare supervisor differ from factory to factory. generally speaking, the supervisor, or lady superintendent within the factory is made responsible for some, or all, of the following matters: . she aids, or is entirely responsible for, the selection of women, girls, and boys for employment. . the general behaviour of the women and girls inside the factory falls under her purview. . the transfer of a woman employee from one process to another is suggested by the welfare supervisor where health considerations make such an alteration advisable. . she is consulted on general grounds with regard to the dismissal of women and girls. . factory conditions come under her observation, and reports are made, when necessary, to the management, on the cleanliness, ventilation, or warmth of the establishment. . the necessity of the provision of seats is suggested, where this is possible. . in large factories, where the canteen is under separate management, the welfare supervisor reports as to whether the necessary facilities are available for the women employees. in smaller factories, the welfare supervisor may be called upon to manage the canteen. . while not responsible, except in small factories, for actual attention to accidents, the welfare supervisor works in close touch with the factory doctors and nurses. she also helps in the selection of the nurses, and should see that their work is carried out promptly. she supervises the keeping of all records of accidents and illness in the ambulance room, and of all maternity cases noted in the factory. she keeps in touch with all cases of serious accident or illness and with the compensation department inside the works. . she supervises cloak-rooms and selects the staff of attendants necessary for these. . the protective clothing supplied to the women at work comes under her supervision. in large establishments where the female and juvenile staff is counted by the thousand, these multifarious duties are necessarily divided among many individuals, and the welfare work within the factory (intra-mural welfare, as it is now termed) develops into a department. a typical example of such an evolution may be seen at the royal arsenal, woolwich. in pre-war days, the female staff numbered ; to-day some , women are there at work. the welfare supervision is happily in charge of a super-woman. in addition to her manifold duties she has trained a staff of assistants who, like herself, spare no effort to promote the health and happiness of those under their care. i have stood many an hour in this super-woman's office and watched her, surrounded by a throng of workers, fitting new-comers into vacancies, listening to reasons from others for a desired transference, or advising as to work, or meals, health, or recreation. no girl was refused a hearing, however trivial the difficulty, and a grievance as to the colour of a factory cap was discussed with as much attention with one employee as the causes of a 'shop' disagreement was with another complainant. i have accompanied her on visits through the works (the entire tour would take almost a week to accomplish), and have noted the diplomacy with which a suggested improvement in ventilation, or a needed cloak-room alteration, was discussed with the official in charge, and carried through. i have seen the faces of rows of workers light up as this modern florence nightingale passed through their shop, and have walked through the danger zone amazed at the arrangements for the protection of the worker. what is true of the life in such large concerns as woolwich arsenal, or his majesty's factory, gretna, is typical on a large scale of the development of welfare work in many a munitions factory throughout the kingdom. protective clothing has been universally adopted, ambulance-rooms and rest-rooms have been opened, cloak-room accommodation improved, canteens established, sane recreation encouraged, and the protection of a women-police service introduced. in short, an atmosphere is being introduced by which the old-time barrier between employer and employed is being helped to disappear. _protective clothing_ so much has been accomplished since the advent of women in the munitions factories with regard to protective clothing for the worker that the subject might well fill a chapter to itself. a separate department in the ministry of munitions now concerns itself solely with its supply, and is continually experimenting with improvements in aprons, gloves, boots, caps, and tunics. cotton overalls are now generally worn by the women employees and much thought has been given to the production of these garments in suitable materials and design. they are made with firmly stitched belts and with inset pockets, so as to avert accidents by contact of loose ends in the machinery, and are more often in the popular shades of khaki, or brown, with scarlet facings, or dark blue faced with crimson. but there is no set rule either as to colour, or design, so long as the principle of protection is followed. caps, which at first were much disliked by the workers, have at length found general favour, not, it is true, by reason of the immunity they offer against accident, but because they have been fashioned so as to add 'chic' to the wearer. they are usually of the 'mob,' or 'dutch' variety, and match the overall in colour and texture; they are all designed so that there is no pressure round the head. sometimes, the cap of safety has been skilfully used as a mark of distinction, and one may see, in a shop staffed by women, the operators at the machines in khaki headgear, the setters-up of machines in scarlet caps, and the overlookers or inspectors of the product in bright blue head-dress. for wet and dusty work there are trouser suits in cotton, woollen, or mackintosh, or tunic suits with knee breeches and leggings, or gaiters. mackintosh coats are also provided for outdoor work in shipyards, or for trucking and lorrying, or for overhead crane-work within the factory. acid-proof and oil-proof aprons are now furnished for certain operations, and for other processes specially prepared gloves are supplied. the varieties in workshop gloves are now very great; they are made in such materials as india-rubber, canvas, or leather, or a union of these three, or in teon-faced canvas or teon-faced leather. some are cuffless; others, for work in acids, have turned-up cuffs, and others again are gauntlets reaching the elbow. in every case, the process for which they are provided is minutely studied, and the fashion adopted is dictated by utility. footgear has also received a considerable amount of attention, and there are now available wellington boots, or half-wellingtons, for outdoor work, or wooden clogs for processes in the shops where the flooring is apt to become persistently wet. but, possibly, factory fashions receive most care when designed for wearers in filling shops. for these, suits in wool lasting-cloth are found satisfactory, the most popular and smartest being in cream-colour, faced with scarlet. fire-proofed blue serge overalls and asbestos coats with caps of the same material are also employed in certain of these factories. for work in the danger zone no metal fasteners are permissible, and the coat, or overall, is cut so as to protect the neck and throat from contact with the powder used in the process. boots and shoes for this type of work are also specially designed. no iron must enter into their composition, the soles being either machine-sewn, or riveted with brass. sometimes, cloth and india-rubber over-shoes are the chosen footwear of the danger zone, and in this case the fasteners must also be free from iron. these precautions are no mere fad, but essential safeguards where friction between a fragment of iron and a combustible powder might lead to an explosion. respirators, and in some cases veils, are also needful accessories of the filling factory, and these too are provided for the workers. a complete factory uniform has thus evolved since the war: it is a model of suitable clothing for industrial work. arising from within the workshops to meet essential needs, these fashions are not only free from vulgarity, or eccentricity, but have a distinct beauty of their own. it is unlikely that women, once accustomed to the comfort and cleanliness of such garments, will desire to return to the discredited habit of tarnished finery worn at work. _rest-rooms and first aid_ ambulance and first-aid work within the factory was not unusual even in pre-war days. since the development of munitions production it has become almost a commonplace, and from december , , its provision has been obligatory in blast furnaces, foundries, copper-mills, iron-mills, and metal works. where t.n.t. is handled, the employment of at least one whole-time medical officer is compulsory, if the employees number , , and, if in excess of that figure, at least one additional medical officer must be employed. the professional work of these doctors is supervised by the medical officers of the welfare and health department, who also in a similar way supervise the safety of workers employed upon the manufacture of lethal gases. the extra expense involved in the provision of such safeguards is by no means unproductive. in one factory, for example, it has been estimated that , hours were saved in a single week by prompt attention to minor ailments; in another factory, where the firm meets all smaller claims for workmen's compensation, it was found that in a period of eighteen months following the establishment of a first-aid organization, a credit balance of nearly £ accrued to the management after all expenses connected with the factory doctor and the nurses had been defrayed. tribute should be paid to the medical staff for their share in the triumph of first-aid work within the munitions factory, for without their extraordinary devotion the record of misadventure would undoubtedly be higher. one hears from time to time how, in a temporary breakdown of such a staff, a single worker will hold the fort. a typical case is recorded in the press as i write. it tells of a young nurse who worked shifts of twenty-four hours at a stretch, for a fortnight, during the absence of her colleagues. the development of the factory rest-room and cloak-room has also been a marked feature in the munitions factories where women are employed. formerly, it was usual to see the women workers' outdoor garments hung round the workshop walls; to-day, in numbers of munitions works, the women's cloak-rooms are provided with cupboards where hot pipes dry wet boots and clothing, where each girl has her own locker with lock and key, and where the maximum of wash-hand basins supplied with hot and cold water are set up. in t.n.t. workshops compulsory washing facilities are even more elaborate. bath-rooms are available, as well as a generous supply of towels, and face ointment, or powder, are supplied as preventatives to any ill effects from handling explosives. inside the workshops the spirit of reform is equally apparent; seats are provided where possible, and lifting-tackle, or sliding boards, are introduced to minimize strain when dealing with heavy weights. sometimes, one hears how such improvements, suggested for the women employees, are extended to the men. at a certain engineering works, for example, where in pre-war days women had never been employed, it was suggested by a government official that seats should be supplied for the women. the management looked askance. it would be 'such a bad example to the apprentices', it was said. the point was, however, pressed, and after a short time the suggestion materialized. the manager then stated, with surprised satisfaction, that the seats 'seemed to renew people', and he had accordingly extended the improvement to the men. _women police_ one of the most recent developments in the protection of women in the factories is the employment of women police. in the summer of , when it was found necessary to obtain further control and supervision of the women employees in munitions works, sir edward henry, the chief commissioner of police, recommended that the ministry of munitions should apply to the women police service for a supply of trained women police. this request has now created an extensive development of such work, and to-day women police are undertaking numerous duties in munitions works. they check the entry of women into the factory; examine passports; search for such contraband as matches, cigarettes, and alcohol; deal with complaints of petty offences; assist the magistrates at the police court, and patrol the neighbourhood of the factory with a view to the protection of the women employed. as many of the works have been erected in lonely places, and as the shifts are worked by night as well as by day, it can easily be imagined what a safeguard to the young employee is the presence of these female guardians of the peace. even within the precincts of the factory, the security assured by the patrolling police-women is of great importance, since many of the factories are built on isolated plots extending perhaps six miles from barrier to barrier, and within these boundaries women are often employed in isolated huts, should they be engaged on the production of explosives. the preventive work of the women police is, in these areas, incalculable. in such ways, welfare work has taken root in the factories of britain, and in the words of mr. lloyd george, 'it is a strange irony, but no small compensation, that the making of weapons of destruction should afford the occasion to humanize industry. yet such is the case.' [illustration: slitting and roughing optical glass] [illustration: view of canteen kitchen] [illustration: weighing ferro chrome for analysis] chapter vi: outside welfare recreation--motherhood--the factory nursery _recreation_ the gift in the early days of munitions development of several thousands of pounds from an indian prince, the maharajah of gwalior, for the benefit of munitions employees, helped to focus attention from the outset on their needful recreation. the necessity for a maximum output, bringing in its train long shifts, overtime, and a minimum of holidays, at first left scant leisure at the munition girl's disposal, yet it was at once apparent that some effort must be made to render that leisure healthful and invigorating. as soon as the welfare supervisors took up their positions in the factories and came into living touch with the needs of the women employed, requests found their way to the ministry of munitions for grants for recreation purposes from the maharajah's fund. at first, 'a piano for the recreation-room or canteen' was the more general appeal; for, strangely enough, after the long hours in the engineering shops the normal munitions girl craves most, not for passive amusement, such as 'the pictures', but for free movements of her own body. above all, she desires to dance, or to enjoy the rhythm of physical drill, or, in the summer, to swim or dive, or to chase a ball in one or other of the popular team games. within doors, the piano provides, as it were, a spring-board from which she can jump into a leisure-time atmosphere of merriment; it is the send-off to her dance, the guide to her song, and the backbone to the joy found in the united action of physical drill. the piano once provided in canteen, or recreation-room, you will find the munition girl footing it in the dinner-hour, or tea-interval, or in any other period when she is off duty. so long as the tune be bright, the merry-hearted munition-maker will dance the old dances, or the more complicated modern steps, as her mood suggests. from self-taught dancing, the desire for a more perfect expression in movement is a natural evolution, and in certain cases grants from the maharajah's fund have defrayed the fees of dancing mistress, or sports instructor. sums from the same source have been paid to assist the organization of a club, for the provision of a recreation-room, for the erection of swings and see-saws, for the installation of a swimming-bath, for tools and seeds for factory girls' gardens, for dramatic entertainments, for lectures for the instruction of apprentices, and in ireland, for the enlargement of schools for children of women munition workers. side by side with these endeavours, other efforts to promote sane amusement for munition makers have been fructifying. many an enlightened factory employer, studying the problem of woman-labour within his own works, has come to the conclusion that 'if women are called upon to work continuously, especially at repetition jobs, their pleasure in life must be kept alive'. being business men, they have soon turned the theory into practice, and have encouraged, started, and financed recreation schemes for their own employees. in sheffield, for example, successful dramatic entertainments have been given, the actors and actresses emerging from the engineering shops; near birmingham, a firm has provided a cinema, an orchestra, and a dancing-room for their workpeople, and on saturday evenings, free conveyance in an omnibus is arranged for those workers resident in outlying hostels and married quarters. at norwich, another firm has appointed a woman recreation officer to teach the girls physical drill, dancing, tennis, and other games. dances and a fancy-dress ball have been organized there, and in the summer, tennis, bowls, and cricket are played in a large recreation ground. these are but a few instances, typical of the growing understanding amongst employers in this country of the value of playtime to a women's staff. outside the factory other agencies have been at work, voluntarily attempting to provide rest and refreshment for the women whose sacrifices for the war are so great and so patiently endured. such bodies as the young women's christian association or local civic associations have opened recreation clubs--sometimes for girls only and sometimes 'mixed'--where concerts, dramatic entertainments, and lectures are given, and classes in useful arts or games are held. women from the aristocracy and working women, civic authorities and the clergy, have joined hands throughout the country to help forward this effort for the physical, spiritual and intellectual recreation of the munitions worker. the very spontaneity and eagerness of the movement have naturally led here and there to overlapping, and in the spring of it was found advisable to co-ordinate local streams of goodwill and energy. a branch of the welfare and health department of the ministry of munitions was thus established to keep in touch with all agencies outside the factory which deal with schemes regarding recreation, sickness, maternity-cases, crèches, housing, and transit facilities. extra-mural welfare officers have since been appointed to undertake such duties in various localities. these act as _liaison_ officers between existing associations of every denomination in a given district, and centralize all outside efforts for the protection and relaxation of the munition women of that area. the welfare officer at first surveys carefully the needs of the district, and institutes an inquiry as to provisions for their satisfaction. if necessary, a conference is then called of individuals and representatives of local bodies dealing with these matters, and sub-committees are appointed for each part of the work. when the numbers of women workers are comparatively small in a given area and no adequate provision has been made for their recreation, a central club is often opened. in other localities, existing clubs, or institutions, are adapted to new requirements, or new ones are added, according to local needs. where night shifts are worked in the local factories, it is usual to arrange the open hours of the club to suit the workshop leisure hours. thus, a club may be open from to a.m.; at midday, for two hours, and again from . to . p.m. in such cases, it is often necessary to employ paid club managers, as well as local voluntary help. the clubs, however, vary, both in scope and management, the general principle followed by the welfare officer being to ensure provision for recreation, and then to leave the administration to local effort. encouragement is given by the ministry of munitions to employers of controlled establishments and to the management of national factories to help forward the movement for recreation for their staffs by allowing treasury grants out of excess profits to be made towards approved schemes. in many districts the grants are 'pooled' for recreation purposes for the whole area. recreation for the munition worker thus rests on a secure basis. in the winter months, dancing, physical drill, theatricals, games, and classes are in full swing in the principal munitions areas, and in the summer, outdoor sports are encouraged, as well as the tending of vegetable plots and flower gardens. _motherhood_ a more difficult task falling to the 'outside welfare' officer is the supervision of maternity cases arising among munition workers. the all-important question of motherhood necessarily crops up in the factories where hundreds of thousands of women are in daily employment. numbers of them are wives of men hard at work in war industries at home; others are war-widows, and while the illegitimate birth-rate has not gone up disproportionately in munitions areas, the unmarried mother, from time to time, presents a special problem. the care of the expectant mother necessarily begins within the factory gates. we have so far no published conclusions from an authoritative survey of this question, such as dr. bonnaire (chief professor of midwifery at the maternity hospital, paris) has provided for france, yet scientific investigations and experiments undertaken by the health of munition workers' committee are in progress. as far as possible, the women welfare supervisors within the works keep their management informed of maternity cases as they are noted, and, where possible, the expectant mother is placed on lighter work. no woman known to be in that condition is, after a certain period, kept on at night work, nor is she allowed to work in an explosives factory, nor yet to handle t.n.t. 'we send the girl to the doctor and we act on his advice. if we can keep her, we always take her off night work and heavy machines and where there is a good deal of exertion,' is a report typical of the procedure in such cases in many factories. 'it is too risky for an expectant mother to stay on at all,' is a characteristic opinion from a filling factory; and from a high-explosives factory comes the verdict that an expectant mother should, after a certain period, be discharged from the works in view of the occasional occurrence there of small explosions. such maternity cases are, when possible, transferred, through local agencies, to lighter national work outside the factory. _the factory nursery_ closely connected with the safeguarding of motherhood is the case of the munition workers' children of pre-school age. after two months' interval from the baby's birth, many of the maternity cases from the factory return to their previous work, and the infant must, in the mother's absence, be nursed by others. a similar condition applies to the work of other mothers whose labour is required for munitions production. it sometimes happens that in a given area the call to the munitions factories has been answered by practically all the available women in the neighbourhood whose home ties are light, and the local labour reserve is found amongst the women with one or two young children. if these women are to offer their services, it is essential that their young family should not be neglected. sometimes, the mothers are able to make their own arrangements and a 'minder', either a relative, or a neighbour, is forthcoming, but, generally speaking, such a plan is not satisfactory in a locality where every active individual is undertaking urgent war work. thus has arisen in many districts the claim that a nursery for munition workers' children should be established. a local association, or an individual, often finds it possible to finance such a scheme; in other cases, monetary aid is required and obtained from the ministry of munitions. in the latter circumstances, the ministry of munitions, co-operating with the board of education, grants per cent. of the approved expenditure on the initial provision and equipment of the nursery, as well as _d._ a day for each attendance of a child, the balance of the expenses being met partly by fees (varying from _d._ to _s._ a day, or from _s._ _d._ to _s._ _d._ a week) charged to the mothers, and partly by contributions from the local originators of the scheme. where night shifts are worked, the munition workers may claim night accommodation for their children; arrangements are also made to board the infants by the week. in the schemes approved by the ministry it has generally been found possible to adapt existing buildings, but where no suitable accommodation is available within reasonable distance of the mothers' homes a new building is erected. such a nursery has been erected near woolwich and provides a useful model for this country. it is a long low building of bungalow type, surrounded by a small garden. the main room, the babies' parlour, is a long apartment enclosed on two sides by a verandah, and on the third, by a wide passage well ventilated at each end. the room itself is full of light and air, there is plenty of play room, and no awkward corners to inflict bruises unawares. a lengthy crawl brings a baby-boarder into the sunshine of the verandah and the safe seclusion of its play-pens, and a longer crawl and a hop is rewarded by entrance into the surrounding garden, where a delectable sand-pit is a permanent feature. brightly-coloured flowers enliven the garden in spring and in summer and attract bird and insect visitors, companions often more interesting to a two-year-old than the most sprightly of humans. mattresses occupy part of the floor space of the nursery, and at night-time are developed into full-fledged beds. at one end of the room are cupboards let into the walls, at the other, furniture fashioned for the needs of each 'two feet nothing'. there, instead of being perched on a high chair to feed with giants from an elevated table-land, the infant visitor sits on a miniature arm-chair at a table brought to the level of childhood. the low tables are, in fact, kidney-shaped and hollowed on the inside, so that a nurse, or attendant, seated in the centre, may feed half a dozen children in turn. the toddler's dinner in this retreat recalls the feeding time in a nest. a smiling nurse in the centre feeds, turn by turn, her open-mouthed charges whose satisfaction is expressed in human 'coos'. another room in this delightful babies' house is devoted to infants: a brigade in cots, of which the advance-guard, during fine weather, invade the verandah. the daintiness of the room with its blue curtains and cot-hangings and the chubby satisfaction of the cot-dwellers must be a constant inspiration to the visiting working mothers. spotless kitchens for the preparation of the children's meals are situated in the rear of the nurseries; there is also an isolation room where suspect infectious cases are detained, and a laundry with an indefatigable laundress. the bathing room, fitted with modern appliances, is in many respects excellent. the whole establishment is warmed by a central-heating installation, the radiators being well protected with guards. it may not always be possible, through lack of funds, to reproduce these ideal conditions, but where the accommodation is less and the ground space more limited, every care is taken that the factory nursery shall have an ample provision of fresh air. efforts are also made to obtain as much local support as possible. in some districts, the whole of the clothing provided at the nursery is made by the little girls from a neighbouring elementary school. at acton, middlesex, for example, i was shown piles of the daintiest little underwear, diminutive shoes and charming cotton frocks, all made in the sewing classes at their school, by pupils of eleven to thirteen years of age. the boys of the local manual schools--not to be outdone--contributed to this nursery all the carpentry for the cots for the elder babies. these small beds, fashioned out of hessian cloth, swung on long broom poles, with a wooden board at head and foot, seemed of a particularly economical and practical pattern. the factory nursery is certainly gaining popularity as a war-time measure; as a permanency in peace times it is recognized that there are some objections to its establishment. an alternative scheme, even in the war period, is being mooted. the suggestion is made that babies should be 'billeted', or boarded out in the munitions area amongst women who are not employed outside their home. supervision of the baby boarders, it is thought, might be undertaken by inspectors under the local authority. this scheme might, it is true, largely prevent the congregation of many children in one nursery and the resultant danger of the spread of contagious infantile disease. on the other hand, the proposal, if accepted, might open the doors to overcrowding in thickly populated areas and to the neglect of the baby boarder, undetected by a local inspectorate, already overstrained by war-time conditions. the scheme is, however, only at the discussion stage, as i write. in any case, the care of the munition workers' children is attracting considerable public attention, since in spite of the war, or because of it, the importance of the health and well-being of the ordinary individual, and more especially of the young, is becoming part of the creed of the average citizen. chapter vii: growth of the industrial canteen general principles--the worker's oasis 'money hardly counts; it is labour we have to consider nowadays', recently remarked the managing director of a large munitions works. it is this new conception that has given impetus to the development of the industrial canteen, now a feature of the munitions factory. in the opinion of mr. john hodge, m.p., minister of pensions, who since the war has acted for a long period as minister of labour, canteens in the engineering shops were 'necessary from the start', and one of the earliest investigations of the health of munition workers' committee was on the subject of the provision of employees' meals. the results of the inquiry are embodied in three valuable white papers.[ ] i have since been into many canteens connected with munitions works, and so far i have not met a factory manager who has regretted their introduction. yet, only three or four years ago, the average employer would have told you that a dinner brought by a worker in a newspaper, or tied up in a red handkerchief, stored in the works, heated anywhere, and eaten near the machines, was 'quite all right': and, as for the boys in the factory, it was considered shameful to 'coddle them'; if necessary, a factory lad should 'eat his dinner on a clothes line'. to-day, when the utmost ounce of energy is needed from man and woman, and boy and girl, wherever munitions production is concerned, it is recognized that the quality and quantity of the workers' food matters, and that even the surroundings where the meal is partaken of counts in the conservation of the essential reserve of human energy and power of will. thus, the best type of industrial canteen is designed not only 'to feed the brute', but to rest his mind. this is especially the case in certain filling factories, where immunity from ill-effects from the handling of t.n.t. has been found to depend largely on the physical fitness of the workers. in such factories, as well as in establishments where women are employed on night shifts, the provision of canteens is obligatory on employers and, indeed, recent legislation (the police, factories, &c. (miscellaneous provisions) act, ) has empowered the home secretary to require the occupiers of workshops and factories to make arrangements, where necessary, for the supply of meals for their employees. in the stress of warfare, when the demand for a maximum output is necessarily the pre-occupation of the factory manager, it was, however, recognized that the canteen must be state-aided. a canteen committee was therefore appointed under the central control board (liquor traffic). the work of this committee is twofold: it aids the factory management to open its own canteen or canteens, and it supervises and helps approved dining-rooms managed by voluntary bodies. in the first case, the expense for any necessary canteen is entirely borne by the government, if the factory is a 'national' one. in controlled establishments, the employer is allowed to charge the cost of the canteen as 'a trade expense', a concession by which the state practically bears the expense out of funds which would otherwise reach the exchequer. in the case of canteens provided by voluntary bodies, such as the young men's christian association, the young women's christian association, the church army, the salvation army, the national people's palace association, ltd., &c., the board pays half the capital expenditure, where approved.[ ] [illustration: balsming lenses] [illustration: making instrument scales] the efforts of these voluntary bodies have been of the utmost service, especially at the outset of munitions production on a vast scale, when the factory proprietors, or directors, were unable to devote even a fraction of their time to matters not obviously connected with output. the devotion of the unpaid workers in the voluntary canteen has through the turmoil of war hardly received due recognition, but it is no less than that of the nurses in the military hospitals, or of the munitions workers themselves. women of aristocratic families, accustomed to personal service from a large staff of domestic servants, and entirely unused to physical labour, as well as women hard-worked in their own homes or in livelihood occupations, have, since the need of the canteen was declared, come, by day and by night, to undertake the arduous duties of cooking and scrubbing for vast numbers of working-people. _mr. punch's_ delightful illustration, 'war, the leveller', where the rough scullery-maid from the slums is depicted issuing the emphatic order to the well-bred marchioness, 'nah then, lady montgummery wilberforce, 'urry up with them plates',[ ] is by no means a fancy picture of the hither side of canteen-life. in one factory, substantial meals have been provided daily by voluntary assistants for some , workers; in another locality, the food of , to , munitions employees has been arranged by volunteers; and in another establishment, , workers have been provided with standing-up refreshments by voluntary helpers. the rapid growth of the canteen system during the past fifteen months, accompanied by the increasing difficulties of catering for vast numbers under war-time conditions, has, however, led to the transference of numbers of voluntary canteens to the care of the factory management. _general principles_ industrial canteens differ from one another in many respects, partly because there was at first no fund of common experience in this country from which to draw, and partly because hours of work, tastes and customs in industrial areas vary considerably. hence, methods of administration and catering, found possible or popular in one canteen, are sometimes a complete failure when tried in other districts. in one canteen, with a seating capacity for , women, i found that three gallons of pickles were sold in pennyworths daily; in another district, the popular taste ran in the direction of jam tarts. yet, even with the small store of experience so far accumulated, certain general principles at least as regards site, construction, equipment, and administration of the canteen have been evolved. for instance, as regards site, a gloomy dining-room is never popular. if possible, a garden outlook should be arranged, and at the least, the canteen walls should be of a restful colour. it seems obvious that if pictures are introduced, they should be varied and bright, yet i have seen one canteen of which the walls were covered at intervals with reproductions of the same uninteresting print. another obvious point, too often neglected, is the insurance of good ventilation in canteen and kitchen. the dining-room should, if possible, provide separate accommodation for men and women, and should have a buffet-bar and serving-counter with separate hatchments for different items of the menu. again, it is a matter of common consent that the 'ticket system' of payment for the food handed over the counter is the best. ticket-offices, where the 'checks' are obtainable for cash, should be carefully placed with regard to entrance doors, serving-counters and dining-tables, so that the minimum time is expended in preliminaries by a _clientèle_ who has but a strict dinner-hour at its disposal. in a well-organized canteen i have seen over a thousand workers seated and served within ten minutes of the announcement of the dinner-hour within the factory shops. in the larger canteens, developments, as may be expected, run chiefly along the lines of labour-saving appliances. electric washing-up machines, electric bacon-cutters, as well as electric bread-cutters, tea-measuring machines, counter hot-closets for warming food brought by employees may now be seen in many kitchens where the needs of thousands of diners must be considered. but it is perhaps in the smaller concerns that the development of the industrial canteen is most assured. experiments can there be more easily tried, and if necessary, discarded, where the customers are counted by hundreds, rather than by thousands. from a tour of canteens, i select a couple of such instances. the other day i happened, during the dinner-hour, to be in a new munitions factory concerned with the production of magnetos, aero-engines, electric switches, and so on, work undertaken by men and women, boys and girls. the manager of this works has studied the labour question up and down the country, and has set down his conclusions, not on minute sheets, but in the bricks and mortar of new buildings, in green lawns and flower beds bright with colour, and in allotments round his shops. _the worker's oasis_ the canteen is a feature of the place. it stands apart from the factory, a long low building, one side looking on to a tennis court and the other on to homely but delightful vegetable plots. the workers' dining-room is divided down the centre: one side for the men, the other for the women. a serving-table, but no partition-wall, separates it from the kitchen, which, in its turn, is divided by further serving-tables from mess-rooms for the engineers and staff employees. the kitchen, in reality a series of ovens, stoves, and steamers, is a revelation of labour-saving appliances, heated by electricity. on the day of my visit there was not the slightest odour of cooking from these various utensils, although hot meals for some persons were in preparation. the factory hooter 'buzzed'. the dinner hour, the workers' oasis, had arrived, yet there was no clatter of dishes, or bustle of serving-maids, in the canteens. an atmosphere of repose was as manifest as in a well-appointed reception-room of some stately english home. the workers evidently react to these conditions, and standing at the back of the kitchen i was quite unaware of the diner's entry. 'when do the people come in?' i asked from my shelter behind a huge steamer where puddings were rising to the occasion. 'a hundred men are already seated and served', was the amazing reply. they had entered through a side door leading out of the garden, had there purchased a 'check' for the value of the dinner required, and presenting the 'check' at the serving-counter, had received their portion, piping hot from the hot shelves fitted beneath. picking up the necessary cutlery from an adjoining table, the customers had seated themselves at any special small marble-topped table of their fancy. waitresses, some voluntary workers garbed in rose-coloured overalls and mob-caps, and some staff employees in white or blue uniforms, moved about amongst the tables, supplying small wants. through the open windows floated the scent of hay and flowers; it seemed almost ludicrous to connect the scene with war and the manufacture of its engines of destruction. the quality of the food was excellent and the variety great. a dinner hour spent in such a canteen is a refreshment to both body and soul of the employees. in another instance, the firm have handed over the canteen and its management to a workers' committee upon which the managing director also sits. i noticed in this canteen various devices worthy of imitation, where catering is undertaken for large numbers. the method adopted, for example, of dividing the serving-counter into hatchments for the various items on the menu, and separating by rails the floor-space in front of each compartment, seems to economize both the time and patience of the customers. the note of economy with efficiency is emphasized in this, as in many canteens, and i was shown with pride some 'little brothers' on an adjoining piece of land--pigs that were fattening on the canteen 'waste'. these developments, started in munitions areas during the urgency of warfare, will, without doubt, have permanent importance in the days of peace, and it is probable that the munition workers' canteen, doubtingly adopted by employers some two years ago, is symptomatic of a revolution in the home life of the industrial worker, as well as of new methods of economy in the national supply of fuel and food. chapter viii: housing billeting--temporary accommodation--permanent accommodation of the indirect problems arising from a prolific output of munitions the most acute has undoubtedly been the affair of the housing of the workers. the opening of a new factory, or the conversion of existing works to the needs of the state, often involve the transference of thousands of workers, and in some cases the districts to which the stream of immigration is directed are already congested, and already suffering from inadequate housing accommodation. in one town in the north, for example, the population has since increased by immigration from , to , ; in another town, where the census showed a population of , , an unexaggerated estimate gives the figure for the end of as , ; in other munition areas a similar inflation of population has taken place. the housing problem has been further complicated by the almost total prohibition of building during the war period, save for government purposes. the effect of these conditions in the early days of the war was, as may be imagined, highly unsatisfactory to the residents in certain munition areas, as well as to the immigrant work-people. overcrowding became rife; lodgers were at the mercy of unscrupulous landladies, and all the evils associated with bad housing conditions began to make their appearance. then the ministry of munitions came to grips with the question, and although it remains a thorny subject, the activities of the department may be fairly said to have accomplished a miracle in some areas in the housing of the munition workers. the infinite variety of local conditions, as well as the humanness of the workers, obviously complicate the matter, and while it has been found possible to synthesize the factory system of a given area, no stereotyped regulations can conceivably be produced to cover the accommodation of its employees. the problem is therefore attacked piece-meal, each local proposition being decided on its own merits. a broad guiding principle has, however, been educed wherever the housing situation occasioned by the output of munitions demands state intervention. in the first place, it is decided whether the needed accommodation can be met in part, or altogether, by existing houses--a system now sanctioned by the billeting act of may . secondly, when it is found necessary to provide further housing room, consideration is given as to whether new buildings shall be of a temporary or of a permanent type. _billeting_ chronologically, an authorized system of billeting munition workers has been the latest development in the state housing schemes, but even in the early days of the war this arrangement existed in embryo. local committees were then appointed which, with the aid of the employment bureaux, compiled lists of suitable lodgings for immigrant women workers. from the earliest war period, too, provision was made to meet young women new-comers at railway stations and to place them, if necessary, in temporary unimpeachable lodgings, until permanent accommodation was available. this scheme has now developed into the regularized activities of a billeting board (established august ), working under powers given by the billeting act. under this enactment, compulsory billeting is provided for, but in practice is not adopted, sufficient facilities having so far been forthcoming from voluntary sources. the billeting board works in hearty co-operation with local authorities and individuals, and has met with extraordinary success. in the first instance, two executive members of the board proceed to a congested munitions area and, with local aid, institute an inquiry as to whether billeting can be successfully carried out. in such areas as the clyde, or woolwich, billeting would, for example, be out of the question, but in other localities, such as barrow and hereford, where public opinion ran that there was no further accommodation even for a stray cat, the board has yet found suitable billets for persons in barrow and , in hereford. the question of transit, it is true, is intimately connected with the housing problem, and through the action of the billeting board it has in many cases been possible to remove difficulties of locomotion, and hence to bring further accommodation within reach of the factories. the board has also been enabled to form local committees on which sit representatives of each housing interest (e. g. landlady, locality, lodger), and it has authority to recover rent from defaulting tenants. these, and other powers, have resulted in throwing many additional apartments on to the market. yet difficulties remain in the administration of the act in that the industrial workers are under no discipline such as that applied to soldiers, and there is no local authority to compel a munitions worker either to go into a given billet, or to remain there when placed. the goodwill of the locality and of the employees has, however, been so great that the system works smoothly, and from august to december , , , to , munition workers have been placed in existing houses. in a congested district where lodging accommodation is exhausted, the billeting board reports on the need for further houses, and at such centres as barrow and lincoln new houses are now being erected on their recommendation. _temporary accommodation_ excluding the utilization of local lodgings and the adaptation of existing buildings such as poor-law structures, elementary schools, charitable institutions, three distinct types of provisional accommodation for munition workers have made their appearance: temporary cottages, hostels, and colonies. the temporary cottage corresponds fairly closely to the ordinary type of permanent industrial cottage, save that the former is built of wood or concrete and is usually one story instead of two; it contains three to five rooms, and is rented on the basis of about _s._ _d._ to _s._ _d._ per week for a three-roomed abode. generally speaking, these rooms are allocated to married rather than to single women; sometimes the wife, as well as the husband, works in the neighbouring factory, but more usually the wife, housed in the temporary cottage, remains at home, housekeeping for the man worker. the unmarried girls and women workers in crowded districts are generally accommodated in hostels, or in colonies, the term used for a group of hostels. the hostel, which is designed to accommodate from to persons, is provided with its own kitchen, dining-room, and common-room, and to a certain extent life therein approximates to that of a large family. the colony, or group of hostels, has been found convenient where a large number of women must be housed. each hostel, or hutment, in the group is arranged for the sleeping accommodation of - persons, the dormitories being divided into cubicles (some single, some double), accommodation for bath-rooms being always made in these dormitory blocks. under the colony system, meals are usually partaken of in a separate building or buildings. the residents from all the hutments also meet in the recreation-room and in the laundry, common to all. experience, however, teaches that each hostel should have its own common room and that a colony should not shelter very large numbers. about girls, in five hostels, seems to be the ideal number for effective home-making, yet we have large housing schemes for the accommodation of many thousands which are at present answering their purpose as a war-time measure. for the management of the colony an exceptionally capable lady superintendent is needed, into whose hands usually falls the selection of the hutment matrons and their staffs, as well as the canteen managers and their subordinates. in the most developed colonies a recreation officer is often appointed. i recall a visit to one of the largest colonies for munition workers in the midlands. the scheme embraces the housing and feeding of some , women, drawn from every part of the united kingdom, indeed, possibly from every corner of the empire. the staff, in all, comprises some persons. perfect harmony reigned, and the girls seemed thoroughly at home in their novel surroundings. each girl can claim a separate cubicle, which is divided from the adjoining compartment by a wall and door. here and there, indeed, the arrangement was varied and two friends--terrified at sleeping alone--had secured permission to pool their bedrooms and to arrange a double sleeping-room and dressing-room. the cubicle system is, notwithstanding, much appreciated by the woman, who, working in company of hundreds of her fellows, and sharing perhaps a common life for the first time, rejoices in the possession of some spot in which to express her inner self. in some cubicles in that colony a desire for beauty asserted itself and the walls were gay with prints from illustrated papers; in others, dainty coloured curtains had been introduced and the locker was covered with a cloth to match. in another room, the owner had evidently a taste for embroidery, and all the toilet accessories bore this feminine touch. but, generally speaking, the chief feature i noticed in that, as well as in other colonies where the cubicle system prevails, was the cleanliness and order of the apartments. a taste for purity is infectious, and it is unlikely that girls, having once come under an influence that induces them to leave their sleeping apartment immaculate before going to work before dawn, will ever again tolerate slum conditions. the many problems involved in the housing of these girls of various types are indeed almost lost sight of by the visitor, but, as a lady superintendent once reminded me, there are difficulties inherent in the job. some girls will arrive with uncleanly habits, even when the medical officer has sorted out those unclean in person; others will, at first, show signs of violent antipathies and strange fears, and there is always the need for upholding an atmosphere of religious and racial toleration. in the midlands colony a system has been adopted of placing the bedrooms of girls from one part of the united kingdom in the same corridor, the irish in one wing, the scotch in another, and so on, but in the other parts of the country i have found perfect harmony where such classification is not observed. [illustration: painting a ship's side in dry dock] [illustration: general view of women at work on aircraft fabric] [illustration: the canteen] the feeding of the hostel residents presents its own difficulties, especially in these days of war. in some hostels and colonies, such as the one in the midlands, the residents take their meals in their own canteen; it being possible to supply the needs of a shift in the interval from work. in other hostels, arrangements are made by which meals can be had either at the hostel or the factory canteen. in these days of fluctuating food prices, it is difficult to indicate the cost of up-keep of a munition-workers' hostel, but, in general, it has not been found practicable to put the hostel on an entirely self-supporting basis. this is especially the case in the government establishments, where the return on expended capital is at present only sought in increased munitions output. _permanent accommodation_ at first sight, the provision of temporary accommodation alone may appear the obvious method for the housing of munition workers. cheaper and more rapid construction is obtainable by this method, and existing buildings may be adapted. but if, in an area of pre-war housing shortage, there is good prospect of permanent manufacturing activity, it is more often decided that permanent, rather than temporary, structures are provided. it may be of interest to note the methods that have been adopted by the state in the provision of permanent accommodation. these may be detailed under four heads: . in a certain number of cases loans have been made to public utility societies for the construction of dwellings for munition workers. such loans are conditioned after the manner already made familiar to the public by garden suburb and other associations. . loans have been made directly to certain individual firms to enable them to house their immigrant employees. these loans have been issued at the current rate of interest--usually per cent.--and run, generally speaking, for a period of forty years. . in a few exceptional cases, certain private firms--now controlled establishments--are permitted to charge a part of the increase on the cost of building (due to war conditions) to that portion of the firm's profits which would otherwise have gone to the exchequer. . a contribution is, in some instances, made by the state to certain local authorities of a part of the capital cost of building. in all cases this contribution is less than the estimated increase due to war conditions. the type of permanent building erected by such means is that which characterizes many of our newer industrial districts, namely a two-story brick cottage, containing two or three bedrooms, a living-room and a kitchen, a bath, in some cases a bath-room. sometimes a complete village or township has arisen, as it were from the earth, to shelter the working population who have so willingly left their homes to further the common cause by land and sea. in another instance, a large national factory has been erected on an isolated waste in the north country. the workers come from long distances, and not only need accommodation, but some reasonable provision for recreation and the amenities of life. beyond the great high road sweeping on to scotland, some one- or two-roomed cottages, a village shop or two, and a few more imposing residences there was, in june , nothing but bogland in the immediate neighbourhood of the site of this new factory. the landscape presented a view of coarse grass and brackish water; beyond that, beach and sea, and a horizon bounded by rugged mountains, capped in winter by snow. it needed courage, as well as genius, to undertake the transformation of such a desolate waste into surroundings which should offer a lure to industrial workers. but the work has been done in silence, quickly as well as efficiently, with imagination, as well as thoroughness, and with an eye to the future destiny of the place. by july , the first huts were occupied, and by december , when i was a privileged visitor, there had arisen a thriving busy township and a village some five miles beyond. excellent railway communication between township, village, and factory has been established, many good roads have been built, there are permanent cottages, churches, a school, shops, a staff club, an institute, a large entertainment hall, a cinema house, and a central kitchen, providing cooked meals for all the workers in the factories, and raw food-stuff for hostels and huts. little gardens surround the houses big and small, temporary or permanent, and allotments are in great request, and there is also provision for outdoor recreation, such as bowls, tennis, cricket, &c. the permanent brick cottages are built in blocks of twelve, which are now thrown together to form a hostel. the construction is so planned that ultimately these cottages can be re-separated for family use. there is housing accommodation for over , women operators, which was practically all in use. the task of supervising the home conditions of this army of women falls into the hands of a lady welfare superintendent, who keeps all the complicated machinery of hostels, huts, and lodgings in running order. the possibilities in the housing of industrial women away from their own homes have, i believe, never been so clearly demonstrated as in this town on the marshes. the lady superintendent who has pioneered this movement is of the opinion that its success is bound up with the fact that the hostels are limited to the accommodation of from to girls in each. other key-notes to the prevailing happiness of the women residents are, i gathered, that a minimum number of rules are enforced and that the women are treated as responsible human beings. the elder women are often housed in bungalows under the care of a housekeeper-cook, and they greatly enjoy the greater independence and the appeal to their individuality possible in such surroundings. the hostels, at the time of my visit, were in most hospitable mood. it was the eve of christmas, and festivities, tempered to war-time needs, were the order of the day. the sound of a piano and singing outside a certain hostel suggested a frolic within. we entered, the lady superintendent and myself. the lower floor had been converted into reception-rooms and supper was laid out on tables decorated with spoils from the hedge. gleaming red berries and glistening holly-leaves were on walls and brackets and here and there a sprig of mistletoe placed in suitable places for 'auld lang syne'. there were present young men, as well as girls, and a lively game, 'the duke of york', was in progress. suddenly the singing and accompaniment came to a sudden halt and the whole of the company trouped in from adjoining rooms. a young girl came forward. 'we wish to take this opportunity', she said, 'of thanking our matron and our secretary for the most happy time we have had under this roof. we do it now because we hope not to be here next year, but instead to be welcoming our boys home from the front'. it was a simple, spontaneous expression of the general emotion of the hostel residents in that area. everywhere i found a similar joy of life among the workers: in the institute clubs, where both girls and men were reading, studying, singing, and dancing; in the cinema hall, where the ever-popular 'movies' were taking place; and in the big recreation hall, where a weekly 'social' was being held. there, two girls provided the band, to which other girls danced with girls, or with men in khaki, or with factory workers in civilian dress. there was a healthy comradeship between girls and men and, when the hour of parting came there were leave-takings of which no one could be ashamed. laughter and jollity in plenty, and snatches of song up and down the darkened streets, as group after group found its way home, but self-respect and dignity noticeably present. in a new town, emerging during the hurry and bustle of the war, amongst new occupations, at which women needs must wear a masculine costume, we have at least accomplished this: that the spirit of home-life, of joy, and of love has not been discouraged: rather has it been fostered, or rekindled, in these unaccustomed homes provided by the state. indeed, many of the girls passing through this strange war-time adventure have assuredly gained by their pilgrimage precisely in those qualities most needed by the wives and mothers of the rising generation. it was an inspiring glimpse into a new industrial world, a portent, maybe, of the time to come. the words of a golden sonnet welled up: then felt i like some watcher of the skies when a new planet swims into his ken; or like stout cortez when, with eagle eyes, he stared at the pacific--and all his men looked at each other with a wild surmise-- silent, upon a peak in darien. footnotes: [ ] welfare work has since been officially extended to factories other than those engaged in munitions production by clause of the police, factories, &c. (miscellaneous provisions) act ( ). [ ] _health of munition workers committee_, memorandum no. , report on industrial canteens (cd. ); memorandum no. , appendix to memorandum no. , canteen construction and equipment (cd. ); memorandum no. , investigation of workers' food and suggestions as to dietary: report by leonard e. hill, m.b., f.r.s. (cd. ). [ ] a food section of the ministry of munitions has since been established to carry on the work of the central control board (liquor traffic). [ ] _punch_, september , . * * * * * +-----------------------------------------------------------+ | transcriber's note: | | | | inconsistent hyphenation in the original document has | | been preserved. | | | | obvious typographical errors have been corrected. for | | a complete list, please see the end of this document. | | | +-----------------------------------------------------------+ * * * * * with our fighting men [illustration: "we beseech thee to hear us good lord." _see page ._] with our fighting men the story of their faith, courage, endurance in the great war by william e. sellers _author of "from aldershot to pretoria"_ with coloured and other illustrations from drawings and from photographs london the religious tract society bouverie street & st. paul's churchyard preface [illustration] in sending forth this book i wish to acknowledge the kindness and co-operation of many friends, new and old, who have made my task easy and my story, so far as possible, complete. in the first place, i express my hearty thanks to the rt. rev. bishop taylor-smith, d.d. (the chaplain general); revs. e.g.f. macpherson, m.a., and f.g. tuckey (senior church of england chaplains at the front); rev. j.a. m'clymont, d.d., v.d. (convener of the church of scotland general assembly's committee on army and navy chaplains); rev. j.h. bateson (secretary of the wesleyan methodist army and navy board); rev. j.h. shakespeare, m.a. (secretary of the baptist union of great britain and ireland, and of the free church army and navy board); rev. e.l. watson (senior free church chaplain at the front); general booth and brigadier carpenter (of the salvation army); mr. a.k. yapp (general secretary of the young men's christian association); and several others. in the second place, i acknowledge with gratitude the help i have received from reports in the _methodist recorder_, _methodist times_, _united free church of scotland record_, _church pennant_, _baptist times and freeman_, _guardian_, _guy's hospital gazette_, _war cry_, and many other papers, to the respective editors of which i tender my thanks. i also wish to express my cordial thanks to my colleague, the rev. e.g. loosley, b.d., for the painstaking care with which he has revised the proofs of my book. i hope and pray that the story recorded in these pages may quicken interest in christian work among soldiers and sailors, and so help to extend the kingdom of christ. w.e.s. rochdale, _april _. contents chapter page preface iii list of illustrations vii introduction ix i. at the home base ii. early days at the front iii. at the fighting base iv. the marne, the aisne, ypres v. thomas atkins in the trenches vi. christmas at the front vii. christian heroism viii. at the sign of the red cross ix. with the grand fleet x. chaplains describe their work xi. heads of army work at home tell the story of work at the front xii. when the men come home list of illustrations a moonlight consecration service _frontispiece_ the military cross: the new decoration for special gallantry of officers p. ix to face page when the lads depart helping the helpless "it's a long, long way to tipperary" bishop taylor-smith, chaplain general, and other chaplains british trenches in the aisne district british soldier comforting a dying german a sunday evening service on the field in the trenches the bishop of london addressing men of the army service service corps at the front hot food for the wounded--a new form of red-cross work a rescue party. good samaritans of the battlefield an incident during the fighting on the marne a voluntary service on a battleship a fight in the air. british airman attacking a german monoplane an incident in the forÊt de la nieppe when the men come home [illustration: the military cross. the new decoration for special gallantry of officers. already several army chaplains have won it.] introduction the story i am about to tell is one of surpassing interest. it is the story of christian life, work, and heroism among our troops at the front. the soldier is easily moved to good or to evil. in the past evil influences have been more powerful and more numerous than influences for good. our soldiers had been drawn, for the most part, from classes outside all churches and christian influences, and the wet canteen had been the most popular institution in the army. for the last twenty-five years, however, the situation has been altering for the better. the day-school has done its work, and a free education has accomplished splendid things for the working-man. the sunday-school, too, has extended its scope and has of late years been more efficient than ever before. there has been a steady levelling up of the people, and the army has risen with the rest. said a soldier to me during the south african war: "they think we are the same as we used to be, but we are no longer the scum of the earth." slowly and surely the work done outside the army has been reflected _in_ the army. the army temperance association, the soldiers' christian association, the soldiers' homes provided by the churches, and other uplifting organisations have found that they were working on soil to some extent prepared. the soldier has responded readily to the appeals made, and the soldiers' homes have become as popular as the canteens, and often more so. a soldiers' home in a camp has meant at once a change for the better. the senior officers have recognised this fact, and have gladly welcomed every christian effort on behalf of their men. i remember, when bordon and longmoor camps were formed, with what joy my colleagues and i were welcomed by the officer in command. everything he had was placed at our disposal, a hut was apportioned to us, and we furnished it, for the most part, from furniture belonging to the camp. everything was very rough in those days, and the roads well-nigh impassable; but when we got there what a welcome we had! the late colonel gordon, r.e. (nephew of gordon of khartoum), lent us his piano and his wife often played it for us. i was standing on petersfield station platform one night looking sadly at a group of drunken and half-drunken soldiers, when a non-commissioned officer came up, and, after saluting, said, "they would not be like that if you had a home for them, sir." by and by it was not only a hut we had, but a permanent soldiers' home, and when it was opened by the earl of donoughmore, it became crowded at once. brigadier-general campbell stood our friend through all those difficult days, and rejoiced as much as we did in the prosperity of the home. it must be remembered also that for many years past there has been an increasing leaven of christian men in the army. the home to which i have just referred could not have been the power it became had it not been for this. i remember a lance-corporal who, so far as he knew, was the only christian in his regiment. he used to go out among the solemn pines at night and pray for his comrades. soon another joined him there, and many another, and by the time the home was opened we had a company of christian men ready to work among their fellows. during my ministry in aldershot i saw this illustrated in much larger measure, and the christian men were, all of them, christian missionaries working with great success. i have already told the story of christian work during the south african war in my book "from aldershot to pretoria." the story is one for which all the churches may well thank god. though that war was child's play compared with this, the higher war waged--the war for christ and his kingdom--was one of constant victory. large numbers of men gave themselves to christ, and when the war was over remembered the vows they had vowed to him. now we have witnessed a mobilisation of christian forces, such as would have been impossible hitherto. the chaplaincy department has developed into a great and well-organised agency for good. over two hundred chaplains are already at the front, and the ministers of all the churches are busily at work in the camps at home. all the old christian and temperance organisations are to the fore, only developed out of all former knowledge, and the young men's christian association has astonished and delighted the whole christian world. the christian men in the army--more numerous before the war broke out than they had ever been--are carrying on their noble work and are constantly receiving additions to their ranks. we have known for years what thomas atkins was like--susceptible as a child. i have heard sobs all over the room while picture slides of a little child's story, such as "jessica's first prayer," were being shown. but what will the new army be like? will it be as susceptible as the old? will the men still thrill when the gospel story is told? they are different men--men drawn from all classes, actuated by a common purpose to save their country. will they think only of that, or will their hearts also be "strangely warmed" by tidings of their saviour's love? already the answer comes to us "yes." never before has such deep seriousness fallen upon our men, and in their quiet moments, and even amid the stress of battle, thoughts have turned to christ and hearts have been surrendered to him. "the truth of the matter is," wrote the bishop of london, in the _times_, after his visit to the front at easter, "that the realities of war have melted away the surface shyness of men about religion; they feel they are 'up against' questions of life and death; and i have heard of more than one censor who has for the first time realised the part religion bears in a soldier's life by censoring the innumerable letters home in which the writers ask for the prayers of their relations or express their trust in god." it is the purpose of the following pages to tell, so far as it is possible, in these early months of the war, something of the christian work attempted and accomplished among our men at the front and at sea, and to answer the questions i have just asked. with our fighting men chapter i at the home base enlisting--"good-bye"--excitement and drunkenness--then came kitchener's army--the churches gave of their best--a canvas city--not for pay, these--what the churches did--the home church in the camp--a powerful christian leaven--theological students volunteer--what the boys did--organising religious work--fifty men stood up--the y.m.c.a. tents--a proud boast--at work in the tents--a typical service--the canadian y.m.c.a.--what the salvation army is doing--the church army at work--huts of silence--w.m. hut homes and "glory rooms"--hymn --teetotal soldiers--lord kitchener's message--the work of the navy chaplains--the sailors' homes--work among the wounded in hospital--hospital stories. a troop train slowly passing through winchester station. heads out of every window. one great shout by hundreds of eager young lads, "are we downhearted?" and then, not waiting for those of us on the platform to answer, the emphatic response "no!" winchester station looked strange that morning, early in august . its dignified quiet had gone. no one would have dreamt that this was the station of an ancient cathedral city. armed sentries were posted at every point of entrance and departure. with fixed bayonets they guarded the signal-boxes. their beds were in the waiting-rooms. the whole station was given up to the military. and this was not the only case. all down the line it was the same, while every few yards by the side of the metals, all the way to portsmouth and southampton, soldiers with fixed bayonets were on guard. here and there boy scouts were assisting, and enjoying themselves immensely. portsmouth harbour at that time was closed to ordinary traffic. the few passengers who still ventured to the isle of wight, in what should have been the height of the holiday season, had to betake themselves to southampton, and be thankful if after long waiting they could get across from there. the solent was full of troop-ships. we counted over forty at one time waiting to take troops across, while many more were in southampton water. the isle of wight was an armed camp. at night search-lights played all over it. what touching farewells there were! stand on almost any platform and see--that is if you have the assurance to look on at that which is sacred. a mother brings her little ones to say good-bye to their soldier father. an old woman with difficulty slowly comes to the edge of the platform to give her blessing to her soldier son. a wife is locked for a few brief moments in a loving embrace. the father, or son, or husband brushes the sleeve of his tunic across his eyes, and then, as the train begins to move, says "good-bye. i'll soon be back!" and as the train steams out those brave lads ask again, "are we downhearted?" and the mothers and wives and sweethearts, with tears streaming down their faces, strive to answer "no!" those were stirring times at aldershot. the old scenes at the outbreak of the war in south africa were re-enacted, only on a larger scale. that was mere child's play to this, and every one realised it. incessant coming and going as troops gathered from all parts of the country. military bands marching detachments to the station on their way to the front. at first there was much drunkenness, for this is generally the case where there is much excitement. but soon a serious feeling crept over all, and the town grew more sober in every respect. our troops were going to fight the greatest military power in the world, and every man realised that it would be a struggle such as this country had never known before. by and by our regular troops had departed, and the "terriers" began to come in. a workman-like lot of men these, shaping like good soldiers. in their thousands they had volunteered for active service, and to active service after a period of training they should go. and then came kitchener's army. and what an army! the appeal had gone forth for half a million men, and then for another half million, and by and by for still another million. the response was magnificent. never was our country so great as in those days when kitchener's army was being formed. the rush of recruits was overwhelming. it seemed as though the whole body of young men in the country would volunteer. the churches were to the front in this matter. all suspicion that the churches would prove unpatriotic was blown to the winds. they had been training their young people for peace, but when their country was threatened they were ready for war. they had, many of them, been strongly opposed to conscription, but it was no conscript army which was being embodied; it was an army of free englishmen. the churches gave of their best. the vicarages and manses of the country were denuded of their sons. in some sunday-schools the young men's classes volunteered to a man. in many places it was only with great difficulty that the work of the sunday-schools was carried on, because the male teachers had enlisted. from the nottingham wesleyan mission went five hundred young men. all sorts and conditions of healthy young manhood responded to their country's call. kipling's lines, true of the regular army, were prophetic when applied to kitchener's army of those days: parson's son, lawyer's son, son of the parish squire, garden hand, stable hand, hand from the smithy fire, counter boy, office boy, boy from the dock and mine, eat together, sleep together, follow the drum in line. and the young women would have gone too, if they could. it went hard in those days with a sweetheart who was not disposed to volunteer. and the young women _did_ go. the rush of volunteer nurses was tremendous and had to be checked. we shall hear of their good work as we progress. aldershot was taken by storm by kitchener's army. at one time there were a hundred and fifty thousand men in the camp. seeing that the barrack accommodation in the camp is not for many more than fifteen thousand in normal times, it was evident that the only way to meet the new conditions was to create a canvas city, and a canvas city it became. there were many miles of tents. it was a sight indeed to see kitchener's army drill. the rush was far too great to be met by the army clothing factories, and for many weeks there were no uniforms, and the men drilled and were drilled by other men in ordinary civilian clothing. one could see the varied occupations of the men who had enlisted. here is a man, great of girth, who will need to have his size reduced considerably ere he rushes at german trenches, and he still wears the leggings with which he trudged across his fields. here is a man who evidently a few days ago held in his hand the yardstick with which he measured his calico. he is bent on sterner work now. here, again, is one from the pit and another from the mill, and a third who looks as though he had been a lawyer or a lawyer's clerk. and drilling them all is a man who evidently a few days since was hewing coal from a welsh mine. he is back to the colours now, but will have to wait for his transforming uniform. but all eager, all intense. no work for pay this. "mercenaries" the kaiser called them, but no mercenaries these--england's best and noblest ready to give their lives for the land they love so well. it was a happy thought which allowed men who had been accustomed to live and work together to form their own battalion or regiment; and so we had the public school corps, and the pals' brigade, and many another. fastidious young men from west end drawing-rooms proved that they had the hearts of true englishmen, and worked hard as the rest. later on, in one hut were men whose income was said to average £ a year. they were just privates. from the religious point of view it was a great opportunity. nearly every church in the land had sent of its best and had done its best to honour those who went. "rolls of honour," containing the names of those who had gone from that particular church, hung in the porches. in many, sunday by sunday, the names on the roll of honour were read out and special prayer offered for them. the young men had left their homes and churches with the voice of prayer ringing in their ears. they knew that they were going to serious work and that many of them would never return. the most careless of them were serious now, and were ready, if the impression did not pass away, to give themselves not only to their king and country, but to the king of kings. and right earnestly was the work begun in the home church continued in the camps. these camps were established all over the country, for aldershot and salisbury plain were altogether inadequate. to all such camps chaplains were appointed, and, for the first time, the baptists, congregationalists, primitives and united methodists, who, except in the great military centres, had stood out of the army work, had their appointed chaplains--not many as yet--but sufficient to show that they also felt the need and were ready to do the work. they have since joined forces for this service, and are carrying on their united work by free church chaplains. the entry of the free churches into the army work is of such general interest that i asked the rev. j.h. shakespeare, m.a., secretary of the baptist union of great britain and ireland, to send me a brief account of the facts. mr. shakespeare replied under date of february , . "up to ten years ago, the sentiment among baptists and congregationalists was not very sympathetic towards the army, and there was no provision on the attestation sheet for the entry of men as belonging to these two denominations. i then secured a column for this purpose, which has been in use ever since, but i do not think it has been very effective. "when the war broke out, our churches were practically unanimous in their support of the government. at that time about three thousand troops were entered under our two denominations. i went to see the late mr. percy illingworth, who interested himself very warmly in the proper recognition of baptists and congregationalists. large numbers of our young men began to enlist. the rev. r.j. wells and i, through interviews at the war office, secured that orders were sent out directing that men were to be entered according to their religious professions. mr. lloyd george brought the matter under the notice of lord kitchener, who strongly resented any sort of sectarian unfairness and wished our recruits to have the same facilities as those of other denominations. meanwhile, mr. wells and i collected the names and regiments of baptist and congregational recruits, with the result that we are able to announce the following figures, though more than a third of our churches have made no reply:-- bloomsbury hampstead, heath street plaistow, barking road hornsey, ferme park peckham, rye lane glasgow, hillhead "in spite of what had been done, a great mass of certified evidence began to reach us that recruiting sergeants were refusing to enter our recruits as baptists or congregationalists, but were putting them down to some other church. of this we have exact evidence. further orders were then issued by the war office that this must not be done. "at the beginning of the war there were only two baptist chaplains to the forces--rev. f.g. kemp at aldershot, and rev. j. seeley at woolwich. the war office now asked our army board to nominate additional provisional chaplains, both for home camps and for the expeditionary force, and, in addition, that ministers should be appointed for any place where there was a considerable body of troops as 'officiating clergymen,' still carrying on their churches, but having the right to hold church parade, visit in camp, hospitals, &c. of these a large number have been appointed. in addition, congregational chaplains were appointed. "the next stage was that we were approached from the primitive methodist and united methodist churches asking to be grouped with us for army and navy purposes. the result has been the formation of a united army and navy board for the four denominations, and our chaplains and officiating clergymen have charge of soldiers and sailors belonging to these four churches. "the next step was that an appeal was made by the rev. r.j. wells, for the congregationalists, and myself, for the baptists, for an 'army tent and chaplain fund,' the result being that we have raised a sufficient sum to enable us to erect permanent institutes or huts with chaplains, or 'officiating clergymen,' in about half a dozen camps. the primitive methodists and united methodists are taking the same course, and together we shall shortly have a considerable number of such huts available. "concurrently with this we have succeeded in securing appointments for 'officiating clergymen' and chaplains for the navy and at naval stations, though some of our chaplains hold a double position, both to the army and navy." from the character of the response it was evident that there was a powerful christian leaven working in the army itself. to begin with, there was a wholesale offer by christian ministers for chaplaincy work. not a tithe of the offers could be accepted, and then was witnessed a sight such as has never been seen before. as they could not be accepted as chaplains, a large number of ministers of religion enlisted as private soldiers, and these from practically all the churches. certainly the proposal that the clergy should volunteer as combatants was not favoured by the ecclesiastical authorities. the archbishop of canterbury recognised the _prima facie_ arguments used by the younger clergy in support of such action, but concluded that fighting was incompatible with holy orders. however, many, with the archbishop's consent, enlisted in the army medical corps, and are devoting themselves to the sick and wounded. among the wesleyans, the matter was left to the judgment of the men concerned. some enlisted in line regiments, but the majority also entered the army medical corps. in one barrack room of the r.a.m.c. at aldershot, we hear of five church of england curates and one wesleyan minister. so far as we know the other free churches adopted the same line as the wesleyans. the theological colleges were not slow to follow the example of the ministers, in fact in many cases they led the way. both in this country and in scotland a large proportion of the students volunteered--so many in fact that it has become a serious matter for the immediate future of the churches. the church of england has been suffering from a dearth of candidates for its ministry for years past, and, as the _times_ says: "the great reduction caused by the war may quite seriously affect the church's efficiency." however, these young men evidently thought that they might serve their church and its divine lord as well in the ranks as in the pulpit, and might serve their country at the same time, and they went. this was a new army--new in every respect. never before had christian ministers and young men in training for the ministry volunteered, in any numbers, as private soldiers; but the call had been imperative, and they were out to save their country. they took their religion with them and made it felt. still another great work for the army has been done by the christian churches. in an important article in the _times_ of january we were told: "it is impossible to give an adequate account of the valuable work done by the different churches in providing men for the army through the various lads' brigades and boy scouts. the boys' brigade is the senior and largest of these organisations; it has many branches throughout the empire, with a present total strength of , . many of its members have enlisted. the church lads' brigade had in a membership of , , besides two junior organisations, the church scout patrols and the church lads' brigade training corps. it has also contributed a very large number of recruits. in london the diocesan church lads' brigade, which forms part of the cadet force of the country, sent practically every officer eligible and nearly every cadet of seventeen years of age to join the regular forces soon after the declaration of war. many of these have been in action, and the following casualties have been reported: killed, two; wounded, thirty-two; missing, six; invalided, five; prisoners, two. these boys' brigades have become very popular. besides those already mentioned there are the jewish lads' brigade, the catholic boys' brigade, the boys' life brigade, and the boys' naval brigade. three of the new v.c.'s have been won by former brigade lads. on behalf of all these admirable organisations the lord mayor of london has issued an appeal for financial support, pointing out that , of those now serving with the colours have been prepared for their work by one or other of these organisations." the government heartily backed the efforts of the churches. in addition to the chaplains of all denominations, others for whom no appointments could be found were allowed to go to france at their own or their friends' expense, to render to the soldiers what spiritual help they could. services for the men in training were organised everywhere. schools, vicarages, and manses were turned into temporary soldiers' homes. wherever they came, the men found the churches ready to receive them. they supplied them with literature to read and with writing materials, provided refreshments, organised religious services, and did their best, not only to cater for their social needs, but to enlist them into the army of jesus christ. numbers of the soldiers were preachers too, and supplied the pulpits of the free churches where they were stationed. they occupied choir stalls, taught in sunday-schools, and generally helped to carry on the work of the churches. many of these christian lads were themselves unofficial chaplains among their comrades. at aldershot and the other great military centres, the work of the churches was naturally of the best. never was the opportunity so great, and never was the response so rapid. take, for instance, the report that comes to us from grosvenor road wesleyan military church, aldershot. grosvenor road church dominates the town. it is a noble gothic building, its tower visible for many miles. it is locally known as the "wesleyan church of england." it is, of course, customary for it to be crowded at the parade services, but now it was thronged with soldiers at the voluntary services also. wesley hall at the back and the soldiers' home lecture hall at the side were thronged at the same time. on one sunday evening, when the appeal was made for decision for christ, fifty men stood up in the midst of eleven or twelve hundred of their comrades, to avow that they did then and there give themselves to christ. it was no easy matter for a soldier to do, but it was done, and similar scenes were enacted on many occasions. [illustration: _drawn by arthur twidle._ when the lads depart. one of kitchener's army salutes his mother as he leaves.] let no one suppose, however, that this was the only place where decisions for christ were registered. nearly all the churches could make some such statement, though perhaps they could not speak of such large numbers. never a night passed but some soldiers gave themselves to christ, in the "glory rooms" of the various soldiers' homes. the chaplains and the army scripture readers were busy all day and often far into the night: by day visiting the men in barrack room and tent, in the evening conducting services for them, and at night writing letters on their behalf. it is impossible to chronicle such work as this. much of it is too sacred to be told. many of the best workers are the slowest to speak of their work, and where all did their best--their _very_ best--it is invidious to mention names. but on every hand we hear of spiritual results surpassing all previous experience in work among soldiers--work which the great day will declare. it must be borne in mind that the men were ready for this spiritual work. the times were serious and they were serious too. it must also be borne in mind that splendid preparatory work had been done in the churches and sunday-schools of our land. and now that the spiritual need was felt, the response was rapid, and the sunday-school teacher far away reaped the result of his labour. i turn now to another class of work, the work of the young men's christian association. for many years the y.m.c.a. has been identified with social and christian work in the army. it has had its tents wherever soldiers have gathered for their training, and during the south african war it rendered most efficient and appreciated service. since the outbreak of the present war it has to a large extent suspended its ordinary work, in order that it might establish a system of recreation tents and reading rooms in all the naval and military camps. it is the boast of the association that it has not refused a single request for a tent, and by the end of march it had centres in different training camps, each with its wooden "hut" or canvas tent. not only are they in england, but in scotland and ireland, and by and by upon the continent also. when the canadians came they found the y.m.c.a. ready to receive them. six buildings were erected for their use, and the largest of these measured a hundred feet by thirty, with wooden walls and floor, and a canvas roof. coffee is served in these extemporised soldiers' homes from five o'clock in the morning to the end of the day. everything that it is possible to do for the soldiers' comfort is done. in one of these tents letters were written and posted in one week. in the evenings "singsongs" are arranged, and hundreds of thousands of a popular christian songbook have been sold. literature, largely provided by such agencies as the religious tract society, abounds. on sundays the "homes" are given over to the ministrations of the chaplains. all denominations are welcome, and the freedom of the buildings is also allowed for services to the roman catholics and the jews. over voluntary helpers have taken part in this work as well as the staff of the national headquarters, while per cent, of the general secretaries throughout the country have acted as supervising agents. we do not wonder that the association has received the thanks of the government. may i describe one service in a y.m.c.a. tent? it is sunday evening. the various parade services of the morning have been held, the church of england in the open air, and the congregationalists and wesleyans in the tent. but now a sergeant is in charge, and for half an hour he allows the men to choose what hymns they like, and right heartily do they sing. but now an anglican archdeacon is on the platform, and with eager words and practical advice is urging the soldiers to live as christian gentlemen. then follows a wesleyan minister with many a story and many an appeal. then a congregationalist minister, in quieter vein but with restrained earnestness. there are christian songs between the addresses and many an audible response from the "tommies" to the word of exhortation spoken. it is a re-union of the churches, proving that at heart they are all one in christ jesus, and it is made possible by the work of the y.m.c.a. in the case of the canadians, the y.m.c.a. is actually a part of the military force, and that is a remarkable thing. six of the canadian officers of the association in the first contingent were at the same time officers in the canadian army, and were told off to the service of the y.m.c.a., but they were none the less officers for that. in this way the association is recognised, and the officers can go with the men right into the trenches, and do. fine men were these first six officers, four of them with the infantry brigades, one with the cavalry, and one with the artillery. the salvation army is also doing this work in its own way, but on a smaller scale. writing to the _times_ in october , commissioner higgins said: "we have established centres of work by permission of the authorities in about forty camps, and others are in course of preparation. we have many indications that the men highly appreciate what is being done. in one centre alone, on one day recently, we received letters for men in camp. "in addition to personal help--which is so valuable when men are separated from their families and friends--there are opportunities for reading and writing, simple recreation and rest, and we are, so far as possible, holding bright and happy meetings, where men who know something of the power of christ are able to urge upon their comrades the love and service of god. it seems to us that these cannot but be of the highest advantage to the men when they come to face those dreadful ordeals which must lie before many of them. salvation army officers have been appointed by the authorities concerned as chaplains for various units, both in the forces coming from canada and new zealand." everyone who knows anything of christian work in the british army knows how efficient is the service rendered by the salvation army, and its salvation soldiers are always at work bringing other soldiers to christ. the church army is, and also has been, at work. prebendary wilson carlile reports that it has supplied tents in a number of the larger stations, tents which were welcomed everywhere, and in which the same class of work has been done as in those of the y.m.c.a. the "lord kitchener" tent in hyde park, close to the marble arch, has proved to be an admirable institution, and has afforded an object lesson as to how this work should be done. at the request of bishop taylor smith, the chaplain general, a new departure in christian work among the troops has been taken. in twelve different camps small chapels have been built, each feet by feet. in each chapel are a lord's table and chairs, and there is a small room, feet by feet, for interviews with the chaplain. these chapels are called "huts of silence" and are intended for quiet meditation and prayer. it is a new experiment and will be watched with much interest. tommy is a gregarious creature, and how he will take to silence remains to be seen. there is, however, opportunity for all classes of christian work in the ever-growing british army. in connection with the army work of the wesleyan methodist church, soldiers' homes have long played a conspicuous part. before the war broke out that church had already spent £ , on providing forty-one such homes in different parts of the empire, twenty of these being in england. always full in peace time, these homes have of course been overcrowded in time of war, and scores of temporary homes have been brought into use in all the great centres. soon after the war broke out an appeal was made for £ to erect tent or hut homes in all the camps. it has had a noble response, and the work is succeeding beyond expectation. in each of these homes there is a "glory room." the name comes from the mother home at aldershot, and they call it so because heaven comes down their souls to meet and glory crowns the mercy-seat. no pressure is brought to bear on any soldier to enter the glory room. there are the reading rooms, games room, refreshment room as everywhere else, but night by night an increasing number of lads find their way into the glory room. there prayer is wont to be made, and sankey's hymn-book, loved of the christian soldier, is in evidence. never a night passes but some soldier lad comes home to god, and "glory crowns what grace has begun." every night the gathering ends with the christian soldier's watchword--" ." years before the south african war it was used among our christian lads. it went right through south africa. as company passed company on the march, a christian man in one company would shout " ," and if there were a christian in the passing company he would respond " ." sometimes the response varied and instead would come the ringing shout, "aye, lad, and six further on." thus the christian soldier's watchword rang out from the cape to pretoria. and it has been ringing right through this war. so every meeting in the glory room of a wesleyan soldiers' home closes with it. if you turn to sankey's hymn-book you will find that " " is "god be with you till we meet again," and "six further on" is "blessed assurance, jesus is mine." thus our lads cheer each other in times of difficulty and danger. i must not forget to mention the little red books and blue books which, to the number of , , have been distributed to all wesleyan soldiers and sailors in the expeditionary forces. these, which contain hymns and prayers, have been compiled by the rev. f.l. wiseman and are greatly appreciated by the men. also a "housewife" has been given to every man, containing all things necessary for patching, darning, and mending. but every church has cared for its men, if not in these, in other ways, and the men have been loaded with comforts. i have singled out the wesleyan soldiers' homes for special mention, because that church has made this work a speciality, and has homes now in every great military or naval centre throughout the empire. but it must not be forgotten that the church of england has its "institutes" also, and that the presbyterian church is just beginning this work. miss daniel's soldiers' home at aldershot has for many years rendered good service. perhaps this is the best time to speak of temperance work in the army, for it is another form of christian service. temperance principles had been rapidly leavening the army years before the outbreak of war. we are apt to forget that we have a new army, an army educated in our council schools and sunday-schools, and most of its men have been under christian influence. before the war broke out, over forty per cent. of our army in india were members of the army temperance association, and in this country, though the percentage of members was lower, that magnificent institution was rejoicing in great success. there was still a "tail" to the british army, a long and unwholesome tail, but it was growing shorter and more wholesome each year. since the war commenced it has grown shorter still. temperance work has been done everywhere. the army temperance workers are in all the homes, and the fruit of their work is seen on every hand. the decree of the czar of russia prohibiting the sale of vodka gave a great impetus to british temperance work, and perhaps lord kitchener gave as great if not an even greater stimulus. lord kitchener's message to the expeditionary force on its departure for france may in part be quoted: "in france and belgium you are sure to meet with a welcome, and to be trusted. your conduct must justify that welcome and that trust. your duty cannot be done unless your health is sound, so keep constantly on your guard against any excess. in this new experience you may find temptation in wine.... you must entirely resist temptation." lord kitchener also issued a strong appeal to the british public, urging them not to treat our soldiers to intoxicating drink, and his entreaty was backed by strong measures in many camps. at the request of the naval and military authorities the home secretary (mr. mckenna) carried through parliament a measure giving to licensing justices in any district, upon the recommendation of the chief officer of police, the power temporarily to restrict the sale, consumption, and supply of intoxicating liquors on licensed premises and in clubs. add to all this the immense work of the churches and various temperance associations, and there is no wonder that we have new men in a new army. i turn now for a few moments to work among the men of the navy. not so much could be done for them as for our soldier lads. church of england chaplains were, of course, on the larger ships, but room could not be found for the chaplains of other churches. all the records tell of splendid work done by the chaplains on board. and when from their life on the ocean wave the men came in for brief periods to the home ports, the chaplains on shore rejoiced in the opportunity of service. everywhere services were arranged--services on board ship, and services on shore. all sorts of literature was provided. comforts, in the shape of warm garments made by loving hands at home, were distributed. the sailors' homes were open to them, and were thronged during the brief periods when they could be used by the men. special mention must be made of the splendid work done by miss agnes weston for many years. it must not be forgotten that long before the outbreak of war christian and temperance work had been as fruitful in the navy as in the army. but the war has made such work still more effective. on board ship the christian men were always ready for prayer. the rev. r.h. hingley tells that one day he had been conducting a brief service on a cruiser, and as he was waiting for his boat, man after man came up to him and suggested a prayer meeting. it was a newly commissioned ship and many of the men who gathered to the prayer meeting confessed christ for the first time. at sea these men congregate every evening for prayer in the chaplain's room, but often that room is too small, and more commodious quarters have to be sought. mr. hingley tells of a letter he has received from a sailor saint. "we have taken the ninety-first psalm as our special song. how grand it is to be sure, and how true have we proved it to be!" thus many of our christian sailor lads go down to the sea in ships singing as they go, "he that dwelleth in the secret place of the most high shall abide under the shadow of the almighty," and so they are not afraid "for the terror by night, nor for the arrow that flieth by day." christ has many witnesses among our sailors in the north sea. it was not long before another class of service came to those at the home base, viz. the work among the wounded in the hospitals. this war has brought the fact of war home to every one. not long was it before the hospitals already in use were all too small for the numbers of wounded drafted from the front, and hospitals sprang up in all the great centres of population. for weeks preparations had been made. red cross amateur nurses and st. john's ambulance nurses had been completing their training. medical men had volunteered their services, and ministers of religion of all denominations were ready to do what they could for the spiritual needs of the men. the opportunity was golden. never had there been one like it before. these men had come through the valley of death. they were ready to think and pray. says one chaplain: "again and again, while going through the wards, men have said, 'i shall be a different man after this, sir.' they have told us of their life in the trenches and of the prayers they have made while the bullets have been flying about them. said one: 'i know this--on the field i prayed hard, more than ever i prayed before.' another man speaks of the peace he had when facing death. 'i remembered those words in one of the psalms--"a thousand shall fall at thy side and ten thousand at thy right hand, but it shall not come nigh thee"--and god brought me through.'" multiply this story a thousandfold and we shall see what the war has done for men, and also realise how easy it has been to lead soldiers thus impressed into fellowship with our lord. a loving work is this, requiring ministry tender and true, but it has been done and done right nobly. men who had learnt not to be afraid of death have learnt also how to live. in denmark hill hospital a wounded man told this story to the rev. a. bingham. a young soldier was mortally wounded in one of the great battles. when he realised that he was dying he began to sing. faintly but clearly he sang: abide with me; fast falls the eventide; the darkness deepens; lord, with me abide; . . . . . . hold thou thy cross before my closing eyes; shine through the gloom and point me to the skies; heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee; in life, in death, o lord, abide with me. far away from loved ones--far from home--wounded to the death, the soldier found in the love and presence of jesus his saviour and friend, rest and peace. and his comrade in the hospital remembered his dying song and passed it on that it might become a message to many another when they too came to die-- in life, in death, o lord, abide with me. one more hospital story will suffice. it is of a different order from the last, but it reveals thomas atkins as he really is. the wife of the local colonel was making the round of a hospital and paused at the bedside of a wounded soldier, who evidently hailed from the north of england. he was toying with a helmet, apparently a trophy of war. "well," said the lady, "i suppose you killed your man?" "well, naw," quietly responded the soldier. "you see it was like this. he lay on the field pretty near me with an awfu' bad wound an' bleedin' away somethin' terrible. i was losin' a lot of blood too fra' my leg, but i managed to crawl up to him, an' bound him up as well as i could, an' he did the same for me. nawthin' o' coorse was said between us. i knew no german an' the ither man not a word o' english, so when he'd dun, not seein' hoo else tae thank him, i just smiled, an' by way o' token handed him my glengarry, an' he smiled back an' giv' me his helmet." thus thomas atkins has shown how to fight his enemy and to love him too. * * * * * this, then, in brief outline, is the story of christian work at the home base during the early stages of the war. chaplains or acting chaplains everywhere, scripture readers, y.m.c.a. workers, voluntary workers, all sorts and conditions of workers. bright, cheery services every evening. loving appeals for decision for christ--appeals which have been responded to by thousands of our lads. centres for thought and rest and recreation everywhere. the need has been great, and the need has been supplied by people moved to self-sacrifice as never before. few families but have had some members in either navy or army, and as parents have said good-bye to their sons they have known that a hearty christian welcome awaited them where they went, and that they might safely leave them to the kindly ministry of willing hearts and hands. the motto of everyone, high and low, has been _ich dien_--i serve. chapter ii early days at the front if minister shoots minister!--a brighter side--a beautiful story--pastors and members in the firing line--a german pastor--the retreat through belgium--the work of heroes--a rear-guard action--seeking the wounded--refugees stupid with terror--behind the rear-guard--a narrow escape--a night to be remembered--the man who saved the british army--god has been with me--the british soldier will joke--why not?--awful experiences--a monotony of horror--picking up wounded stragglers--lines of broken men--still retreating--a wonderful triumph of will--thirsty heroes--the ambulance found--the end of the retreat--mentioned in despatches--no parade services. viewed from a christian standpoint, the most distressing things about this war are: ( ) that _christian_ nations are engaged in a life and death struggle. it is a lamentable confession, an awful fact. two thousand years of christian teaching have absolutely failed to keep christian nations at peace. and yet are these nations christian? has not germany by its adoption of a false philosophy forfeited the title of christian? so far as its military class is concerned i fear we must say "yes," but so far as hundreds of thousands of its inhabitants are concerned we rejoice to believe we can still answer "no." they are fighting because they _must_, and because they do not understand. and we are fighting in another sense because we _must_. like luther, "we can no other." may god forgive us if we are wrong! we believe--with all our hearts we believe--our cause is just. [illustration: helping the helpless. royal navy division helping belgian soldiers and refugees during the retreat from antwerp. _drawn by ernest prater from sketches made by one who was there._] and out of this first distressing thing there emerges another. ( ) christian _ministers_ are opposed to each other in the ranks, not because they _want_, but because they _must_. the law of conscription in germany and in france applies to them as to others. surely these might have been left out of the call, or at any rate might have been left free to respond or not as their conscience dictated, as was the case in england. the consequence is that hundreds if not thousands of churches are left without their spiritual leaders, and everywhere the flock is destitute of the shepherd's care. i said "a distressing thing," but is it not a tragedy? and if they should meet--these christian ministers--across the trenches or in the line of battle, and minister shoot minister, or perforce meet him in a bayonet charge! but there is a brighter side even to this dark picture. there are twenty thousand priests, "religious," and seminarists serving in the french army. among them are three bishops. monsignor ruch, coadjutor of nancy, is one; he is employed as a stretcher-bearer. another, monsignor perros, is a sub-lieutenant; and the third, monsignor mourey, is simply private mourey in the ranks. it is quite an ordinary thing for confessions to be heard by soldier priests in the trenches, and for absolution to be given before the charge. protestant ministers, too, fighting in the ranks never forget they _are_ ministers, and their ministry may be even more effective than that of the chaplains, for are they not comrades too? thus the armies are leavened by christian men, whose supreme business must be the kingdom of god. a beautiful story comes to us from the early days of the war. in the hall of a great railway terminus in paris, a number of wounded were laid out on straw waiting to be taken to a hospital. several of them had evidently not long to live. one especially was very restless, and a nurse moved to his side, and began to do what she could for him. "i badly want a priest," moaned the dying man. the nurse looked round upon the company of wounded. "is there a priest here?" she asked. a voice in little more than a whisper replied: "yes, sister, i am a priest. take me to him." there he lay at the point of death, wounded and wounded sorely. it was a strange sight--his dirty ragged uniform not yet removed, the stains of war and of awful travel from the front upon his face, and he a priest! "take me to him," he repeated. she said: "you are not fit to be moved, i dare not do it." and then insistently he whispered: "sister, you are of the faith. you know what it means to the dying lad. i must go." he tried to rise from the straw on which he lay, and seeing his determination the nurse had him moved to the dying soldier's side. a few whispered words of confession, and the priest motioned to the sister. "i cannot raise my arm. help me to make the sign," he said. the sister lifted his arm and together they made the sign of the cross. and then, exhausted, the soldier priest fell back. his comrade felt for his hand, clasped it in his dying grasp, and together priest and penitent passed away. thus heroically are many french priests doing a double work, at once fighting for their country and for their faith. it is the same with french protestant ministers. all of military age have had to go. the president of the french wesleyan conference, the rev. emile ullern, is fighting as a private soldier in the french army, and many another. two-fifths of the pastors of the reformed church of france are also in the ranks. already three of them, plus a missionary and a most promising theological student, one of the monod's, have fallen on the battle-field. our french churches are without pastors, and the work of many years is seemingly being ruined. but their members are at the front too, and it is a joy if, now and then, they meet and are able to comfort one another in the firing line. it is the same in germany. already we hear of one german methodist minister who has fallen at the front--rev. friedrich rösch, ph.d. he graduated brilliantly in philosophy and languages at strasburg university. he then offered for missionary work and rendered excellent service among the mohammedans of northern africa. he had a good knowledge of arabic and had learned two other african languages. now a british or french bullet, or shrapnel shell, has cut short his career. this is the grim tragedy of this awful war--christian fighting christian, christian minister fighting christian minister. our business, however, is with the _british_ army and with christian work therein. our task is a difficult one, for the veil of secrecy which enveloped the early days of the war has hardly as yet been lifted. only here and there has that veil been raised just a little, but wherever we are privileged to gaze we are filled with admiration. the work of our chaplains and doctors and nurses has been heroic, and the no less noble work of christian soldiers fills us with thanksgiving. the war began with retreat. that apparently invincible german army strode ruthlessly through belgium, leaving fire and rapine and death in its track. it found a garden, and it left a wilderness; prosperity, and it left starvation. it will be remembered for all time for barbarities that disgraced war. belgian mothers will tell their children, and the story will be passed down the ages, of broken hearts and ruined lives, and a tortured devastated land. and then, the devoted little army of belgium thrown upon one side, the clash of war began in france. our british expeditionary force had been rushed across the channel with general sir john french in command. with marvellous efficiency it had crossed without a single casualty, convoyed by british and french men-of-war. with the forces went the chaplains of the different denominations, their numbers to be steadily augmented throughout the war. but the french were not ready, and our force was all too small for the task allotted to it. to our eternal credit, we also were not ready. our army did the work of heroes, but the huge german army steadily marched on, and there was nothing to be done but retire. when the full story of the retreat from mons comes to be written, what grim reading it will make! of course, in those desperate days all that the chaplains could do was to look after the wounded and bury the dead. organised services were out of the question. a few men gathered here or there at the close of a terrible march, a prayer or two, a message of cheer or consolation, and then a brief sleep, and the inevitable weary march again, the rear-guard fighting all the way. but all day long there were opportunities of individual service and these were used to the full. from the publications of the salvation army we get a vivid picture of those days. being an international institution it had, and still has, its agents in every part of the fighting area. germans, russians, french, belgians, and british are all the same to it--they are men who need salvation. it has been as vigorous in its work among germans as among any others, and its trophies won upon german battle-fields will be bright jewels in our redeemer's crown. brigadier mary murray, who rendered signal service during the south african war, and who wears the south african medal, was in brussels when the germans entered the city. she gives us a vivid picture of her experiences in connexion with the german occupation. i quote from the _war cry_ of september , : "at last i am able to write. twelve days of silence, no post, no papers, nothing but such news as the germans cared to put up, and all the time a sound of heavy firing. "we reached brussels last tuesday week. the first impression was of a town _en fête_. the streets, even the poorest, were gay with bunting and flags; on every side black, orange, and red caught one's eye. "in trying to get an extra man officer for our party we were still in brussels on thursday, and by twelve o'clock found ourselves german prisoners. every house in the better part of the town was closed and the windows shuttered. the empty streets at twelve o'clock gave one a horrid chill, but by four o'clock dense masses of people watched the german army pass. old men, young men, bare-headed women, women with hobble skirts, but one and all holding tiny dogs in their arms! behind, the cafés were in full swing. "hour after hour the th german army corps rolled along the cobble streets, a solid grey line of burly men and magnificent horses. i turned from watching and saw a boy in the act of throwing a heavily-weighted belt dragged away by two policemen. in the cafés men were drinking the inevitable beer and playing cards. i turned again. still on they came, cavalry, artillery, and infantry--a man to my right in french said, 'one of these men told me they knew they were going to their death.' just then a cavalry man, catching sight of my uniform, very courteously and gravely saluted me, saying, 'heils armee' (salvation army). "the next day--still the army passing through,--a gunner, bending down, said, 'heils armee--hallelujah!' wild rumours throughout the town; atmosphere electric, a single act of violence, and one felt the germans would have opened fire. notices were posted all over the town imploring the people to be calm; every day, often all day, we tried for a way to get out, but without a ray of hope; day after day refugees arrived with tales of misery and horror. "my diary runs: 'all cafés to be closed early. germans send for quicklime to cover their dead. wounded arrive--all germans. germans posted notices to-day: "english badly beaten; french retreated." threatened to sack brussels. no milk, no bread, no eggs, no butter. we were mobbed to-day, as the rumour had spread that brussels had been betrayed by the english. notice out not to touch water, as german dead were lying in great numbers unburied near mallien.'" from brussels brigadier murray made her way to le havre. the scenes she witnessed among the flying belgians were terrible. one picture will ever live in her memory--and ours. "a woman who had to fly at night from her village had to do so with three tiny children; the baby she put into her apron with some clothing, the other two she carried. through the darkness she had to walk to the junction, where ensued a wild scramble for seats. when the train had started the distracted woman discovered that the baby had dropped from her apron, when and where no one could discover." later brigadier murray has had charge of the first ambulance sent out by the salvation army. the bravery of these women salvation army officers is past description. during the battle of mons adjutant l. renaud, a french-swiss officer, was in charge of the salvation army corps at quaregnon, near mons. she tells us her experiences during those fearful days. "here in quaregnon it has been terrible--beyond all expression. more than houses have been destroyed, and many civilians killed, not only men and women, but also children, _but none of our salvation army comrades has been touched_. we have been protected in a marvellous manner. we can say with david, 'the angel of the lord encampeth around those that fear him and plucks them out of danger' (french translation). god has done that for us. the battle continued from sunday morning at eleven o'clock to monday evening. the bombardment did not cease a moment; while it was on we had thirty of our comrades with their little children in our large cellar." we understand that the officers got possession of this house with the large cellar last year. the hall is on the ground floor. in their former house there was no cellar. the adjutant proceeds: "i am so glad that i remained at my post, to aid and encourage not only my salvation army comrades, but also the population. the people were completely panic-stricken. i do not know how it has happened, but the lord has enabled me to rest in a great calm and without any fear. lieutenant and i have been enabled to go amongst the people, comforting them and taking help to them even when the balls have whistled by our ears. oh, how god has protected us! that night of august will never be forgotten by me. "the day after the battle--what horrible sights! dead bodies in the streets, the wounded, and from all sides poor maddened people flying to save themselves with their little children--all the people weeping. i could never describe what i have seen. how is it possible that such things could take place in this age of education? and now the misery is here for the poor workers. it is already seven weeks since the men (colliers) could work. the food has been seized and more often than not wasted by the german troops. the future is very dark for these poor people. "when the english soldiers came here the lieutenant and i prepared tea for them while they dug trenches. after the battle, when the germans came, we lodged many of them in our hall and did what we could for them. then i thought of all our dear salvationists who are in the different armies--english, german, french, austrian, russian, belgian. oh, how glad i am that i remained at my post to help my comrades! on the sunday during the bombardment the cry went forth, 'let all those save themselves who can do so!' i went outside to see if there was any serious danger. then i said to the people, 'come with us in the hall; i will take care of you as much as i can.' they came, and were content to be with their officers. they said, 'if it be necessary for us to die, well, we will be with our officers; it will be better for us to be with them.' thus they remained with us, and god has protected all. blessed be his holy name!" adjutant renaud and her lieutenant, however, were not the only women salvation army officers who stuck to their posts. they all did so, nerving themselves with the strength of christ, and daring all things in his name. and to-day many of them are still working in belgian and french towns overrun by german troops doing their best for christ and the kingdom. it is time, however, that we rejoined the british troops who by this time are retreating from mons. there had been terrible fighting around mons for four days, but the opposing forces were overwhelming, and they had no option but to retire fighting a rear-guard action all the way. the retreat began on or about august , , not three weeks after the declaration of war. it was a pitiful experience for our soldiers who are not accustomed to turn their backs to the foe. it is not our purpose to tell the story of that awful retreat--other books will do that. nor is it possible as yet to tell in full the story of the christian work attempted during the hurried marching of those fearful times. in the first place commissioned chaplains are not permitted as yet to publish reports, and in the second place all work attempted was necessarily unorganised and fragmentary. it could be nothing more than caring for the wounded and whenever possible burying the dead. the horrors of the retreat can only be known by those who experienced them, and there was little light amid the darkness of apparent failure. it must be remembered that our men were fighting all the time, sometimes it seemed to them succeeding, but really only succeeding in allowing the main body to retreat to the rear. for twelve days the retreat continued and did not terminate until saturday, september . here and there we get a little light in the darkness. the _war cry_ of september contains a story from the pen of a motor driver in the r.f.a., who was also a salvation army bandsman, which has to do with the battle more than the retreat, but which may as well be told here, leaving a description of some incidents in the retreat itself to follow later. "we got everything ready for the enemy, the trenches dug and the guns fixed, and then came the worst job of all--waiting. for thirty-six hours we lay there watching and listening for the first sign of the germans. then for five hours the battle lasted without cessation. "having brought my transport wagons up to the firing lines with my motor, i had to help load the guns. shells were flying and bursting all round us. i was wounded by a splinter from one of the shells, but as it was only a flesh wound i bound it up and went on with my work. "now, the enemy seemed to be beating us, then again they retreated. all the time my comrades were falling around me, and the germans were falling in hundreds too. so thick were the enemy's dead that when the advance was given we simply had to force the motor up and over heaps of bodies--there was nothing else for it. "at last the battle, so far as the batteries in our neighbourhood were concerned, went in our favour, and we were ordered to follow the retreating germans. in doing this six of us got lost, and for four days we were tramping about without a mouthful of food or drink! "by day we lay concealed in the corn or grass fields, and by night we crept along, without any guide, only hoping and praying--i've prayed many times in the past, but never so much as on these nights--that all would come right. "on the first day we were fairly well, on the second we were _very_ hungry, on the third our tongues were hanging out, and two of my comrades went mad. "on the fourth night we fell in with a british ambulance section and were taken into camp. as i was passing an ambulance tent i heard some one singing: 'i'm a child of a king, i'm a child of a king, with jesus my saviour, i'm a child of a king.' i asked who it was, and was told it was a salvationist. "in the stillness of another night from one of the tents i heard-- 'then we'll roll the old chariot along, and we won't drag on behind.' "i tell you it was thrilling; it made me dance for joy. two or three salvationists were having a free and easy; after the chorus had been sung once or twice i heard it taken up by other salvationists in other tents, and presently from many parts of the camp could be heard the old salvation army song. it was splendid! "my, didn't the old verse go with a swing-- 'if the devil's in the way we'll roll it over him!' by this time the whole camp had joined in. some of the non-salvationists would sing it with a slight change. "another favourite with us salvationists was the last verse of 'i'm a child of a king'-- 'a tent or a cottage what need i fear, he's building a palace for me over there.' "i was unable to get to chat with any of the salvationists, because if you want to go from one battery to another you have to get permission. but one night i did go and listen outside one of the tents to their singing. it cheered me only to know i was near some of my comrades. i learned that the salvationists in camp came from various parts of england, some were bandsmen, some local officers, and others soldiers. i didn't hear that any had been wounded beyond myself, although the comrade i heard singing in the ambulance tent was in all probability injured!" but now for the retreat itself! the passage i quote is from the pen of the rev. owen spencer watkins, as printed in the _methodist recorder_. mr. watkins had already seen much war service. he was in crete. he accompanied the british army to khartoum and was present at the battle of omdurman. he went through the south african war and was shut up in ladysmith during the siege. he knows what campaigning is, and he knows how to describe what he sees. when this war broke out he was attached to the th field ambulance, in command of which was lieut.-colonel g.s. crawford. the personnel of the ambulance consisted of nine medical officers, one quartermaster, two chaplains--rev. d.p. winnifrith (church of england) and himself (wesleyan)--and non-commissioned officers and men. his full description of the retreat is as fine a piece of writing as i remember to have seen in connexion with this war. "on we tramped through maretz, our destination being, we were told, estrées. never a halt or a pause, though horses dropped between the shafts, and men sat down exhausted by the roadside. a heavy gun overturned in a ditch, but it was impossible to stay to get it out, so it was rendered useless, and the disconsolate gunners trekked on. when horses could draw their loads no longer, the loads were cast by the roadside; there could be no delay, for the spent and weary infantry were fighting in our rear, and every moment's delay had to be paid for in human lives. "darkness fell and still we marched--i dozed in the saddle to waken with a start, but still nothing but the creak and rumble of waggons and guns, and the tramp, tramp, tramp of men. i cannot give a connected account of that night--it lives in my memory like an awful but confused nightmare--the overpowering desire for sleep, the weariness and ache of every fibre of one's body, and the thirst. i had forgotten to be hungry, had got past food; but i thirsted as i had only thirsted once before, and that was in the desert near khartoum. "about midnight we reached estrées, and i asked a staff officer where the th field ambulance was camped. 'camped!' he exclaimed. 'camped! nobody camps here. orders are changed and there must be no halt.' then, as an afterthought, 'what ambulance did you say?' 'number .' 'do you belong to it?' 'yes.' 'then i congratulate you, for if reports are true, you are all that is left of it: it is said to have been wiped out by shell fire.' i said i thought the reports were, to say the least, exaggerated, and rode on. "shortly after i heard a familiar voice also asking for the th field ambulance. it was major fawcett, r.a.m.c, who, like myself, had been detached from the ambulance on special duty. we greeted each other with joy, and for the rest of that awful march had company. "at last we felt we could go no further (remember, in the last four days we had only ten hours' sleep, and three proper meals), and were in danger of dropping out of our saddles from exhaustion. so we dismounted, sat by the roadside holding our horses, and at once were fast asleep. "two hours later we wakened, dawn was just breaking over the hills, and still the column creaked and groaned its way along the road, more asleep than awake, but still moving. a wonderful triumph of will over human frailty. but at how great a cost to nerve and vitality was revealed by one look at the faces of the men. "i was noticing how worn and gaunt my companion was looking, and was about to remark upon it, but the same thought was in his mind and he forestalled me. 'isn't it wonderful how quickly this sort of thing tells upon a man? you know, padre, you look as though you had just got up from a serious illness, and only three days ago you looked as hard as nails, and as fit as a man could be.' "soon after sunrise we came up with two of our ambulance waggons and one of our filter water-carts. the wounded were in such a state of exhaustion with the long trek, and the awful jolting of the waggons, that major fawcett decided to halt and make some beef-tea for them, so rode on ahead to find some farm where water could be boiled. he had hardly gone when a battalion of exhausted infantry came up with us, and as soon as they saw the water-cart, made a dash for it. "hastily i rode up to them, explained that there was very little water left in the cart, and that little was needed for their wounded comrades. "'i'm thirsty myself,' i said, 'and i'm awfully sorry for you chaps, but you see how it is, the wounded must come first.' "'quite right, sir,' was the ready response. 'didn't know it was a hospital water-cart,' and without a murmur they went thirsty along their way." soon the retreat was renewed and steadily they marched to the rear until st. quentin was reached, where they got their first wash and actually eight hours' sleep. then on again--back, back, always back. the river aisne was passed, soon to be regained and made memorable by a brilliant fight. but now it was all retreat. day after day, night after night they trekked. the days were tropical, the nights arctic. often it was too cold to sleep, though sleep was needed badly. at last, on saturday, september , they reached tournan, south of paris, and were informed that the retreat was over, and that they would ere long turn to attack the foe who had so ruthlessly followed them. the men were not down-hearted even through that awful march. down-hearted? no! they were always asking when they could get "a bit of their own back." their one desire was to turn and face their enemy. this was a retreat, not a defeat. the men were ragged, bearded, footsore, unkempt, but were unconquered and unconquerable. the spirit of their country burned in them and blazed through their eyes, and when the message of sir john french came thanking them for their magnificent courage and promising them a share in the rounding up, they cheered until they could cheer no longer. * * * * * when sir john french published his first list of names for honourable mention, the names of seven chaplains were "mentioned in despatches." and among the seven the name of the rev. owen spencer watkins was mentioned twice. no parade services--they were out of the question,--hardly any short unofficial services such as we grew accustomed to during the south african war. just a hearty handshake, a "god bless you," a whispered text, or a hearty word of cheer, but the ministry to the wounded always, and wherever possible the burial of the dead. no more is possible in such a retreat. but the christian soldier is cheered by the sight of his chaplain. his " " is never forgotten, and as he passes along the lines of the wounded they look up and call him blessed. thank god, the cross is always where there is suffering and death, and never is it needed more than on the stricken field, or in such a retreat as "the retreat from mons." [illustration: "it's a long, long way to tipperary."] chapter iii at the fighting base commissioned acting chaplains--all creeds participate--stories of christian workers at the fighting base--pluck, a miracle worker--a whole regiment praying--more chaplains' stories--the french mayor's speech--protestant service in a roman catholic church--an old-fashioned "revival"--the cross upon the field of war--a hospital confirmation scene--y.m.c.a. at the fighting base--the story of the german sniper. perhaps this is the best time to say a word about religious ministrations in the army. when a soldier enlists he is expected to "declare" his "religion." time was when only two forms of religion were recognised in the army--the church of england and roman catholic. a recruit was asked, "what are you? church or catholic?"--that was how it was shortly put. but that day has gone by, and now all the chief religious denominations are recognised, and the men--to the extent i have already indicated--have the ministration of the chaplains of their own churches. this some officers at first fail to recognise. the story goes that a captain, who had recently changed regiments and had not as yet become acquainted with the idiosyncrasies of his new command, was surprised at the small muster for church of england parade. "you see," explained the sergeant-major, "we've sixteen roman catholics, twelve wesleyans, six primitive methodists, two jews, and four peelin' purtaties!" the church of england, roman catholic, and presbyterian chaplains hold commissions in the army. the wesleyans, although commissions have repeatedly been offered, prefer to keep their ministers under their own control. their ministers become "acting chaplains," and, as i have already indicated, during the present war for the first time, the other free churches have been recognised in the same way. when, however, war breaks out, all the chaplains, commissioned and acting, are on the same footing, are attached to some unit, and are under its commanding officer. they all wear uniform, and the only way to distinguish the "padre" from the ordinary officer is by the black shoulder-knots and the cross on his hat. at the head of the chaplaincy department is bishop taylor-smith, the chaplain-general. he is a powerful preacher, a good administrator, a broad-minded man, and eminently fitted for his high position. but he remains at home during this war, for the chaplaincy department has become a big thing, and only very occasionally can he pay visits to the front. the chaplain in charge of the army work at the front is the rev. dr. j.m. simms (presbyterian), one of the chaplains who also have the distinction of being hon. chaplains to the king. it shows how catholic the army authorities are, and how little they allow their sympathies to be with any one church, that the man in charge of the chaplains of all the churches is a presbyterian. he takes this position by virtue of seniority, for dr. simms has seen long and varied service; but never before has any other than an anglican clergyman found himself in command. the senior church of england chaplain is the rev. e.g.f. macpherson, who served with distinction throughout the south african war and was among those shut up in ladysmith. chaplains have military status. the chaplain-general ranks as major-general, dr. simms as brigadier, and the others as colonels, majors, or captains. they do not use their title of military rank. as bishop taylor-smith says: "there are no flouts or sneers against the sky pilot in the army of to-day. quite the reverse; for does he not bring them comfort and courage, and that quiet confidence which a man of great moral might can implant in the most irreligious mind?... sometimes one hears grumbles at having to salute civilians 'dressed up as officers,' but never a word against the army chaplain--the padre." in an interview reported in the _daily chronicle_, bishop taylor-smith goes on to say: "chatting with a senior army chaplain who had been at the front from the beginning, i was not surprised to hear that he had not once received a snub, for his story confirmed the remarks made to me by tommy atkins himself. down there in the bleak desolation of mud and morass, with death hurtling through the grey sky, one is face to face with the unknown, and the man who in his native town never sets foot in church, turns with gratitude to the chaplain to strengthen him with the comfort of god.... all protestant creeds are one in the fighting line. if an anglican minister is not at hand, a presbyterian speaks a few words, and all of the protestant denominations work hand and glove.... only for holy communion in the field does he wear his surplice, and usually he invites all, the unconfirmed, or even those of other creeds, to participate, for any minute may mean death out there." i can bear this out from personal knowledge. there is much less distinction between the denominations in the army at home than one would expect, but in the "field" they rejoice in the grand old title of christian, and on occasion each does the other's work. every day is a sunday, so far as the chaplain is concerned. he takes a service when and where he can. he cannot have too many, and the men readily respond to his call. at the fighting base, however, his most important work lies in the hospital. here he is sorely needed. the men want him more than they ever did in their lives. and it is his to hear their last words and to tell them of the peace of god. we must remember that the fighting base is an ever-moving base, moved according to the exigencies at the front, now forward, now back. it is many miles behind the firing line, far from the sound though not the sights of war. here are headquarters, where the brains of the army do their responsible work. to headquarters comes information from every available source. the telegraph and telephone instruments tick and ring all day long. motor cyclists bring their store of knowledge, and aeroplanes, most important of all informants, dispense their news. here, also, somewhere among the miles that measure the fighting base, are the base hospitals, where the cases that cannot at once be sent to the homeland are received and cared for; and here, also, are soldiers on their way to the front, or those who--retired from the trenches--are resting until their turn comes to go back. it will be seen, therefore, that the term fighting base is a very elastic one. it stands for that wide area behind the advanced lines, where all but the fighting work is done. now, let us get among the christian workers and see what they are doing there. we are impressed with their magnificent opportunity. the men who have been fighting know what it means. they have looked the king of terrors in the face, and they feel the need of a saviour as never before. the men who, as yet, have not been to the front cannot escape an indefinable dread, and they, too, are ready for the gospel message. while the wounded--suffering, and maybe drawing near to death--eagerly drink in the words of life. we will listen to some of the chaplains as they tell their own tale. we will begin with the rev. j. esslemont adams, of the united free church of scotland. writing to the _record_, the organ of that church, he begins by emphasizing the splendid character of the men of the expeditionary force. he says (november , ): "of , men forming the expeditionary force only are in prison--one man out of every . that statement proves the clean character of the force. of these men in prison we find that the number penalised for yielding to the sins about which lord kitchener warned the troops before they left for overseas is (according to the official returns) one man in . only one man in is worthy of contempt. the rest are in gaol for reasons which stir not wrath but pity." this is a remarkable statement, and when we consider the strain that these men have experienced, and the reasons for their failure as given by mr. adams--breaking ranks to seize a bunch of fruit, falling asleep on "sentry-go" and the rest,--the wonder is that there have not been many more. we do not wonder that he adds: "british soldiers have a good name and a good character in this country, and it is well that this be placed to their credit by the people of the christian church." like all the chaplains at the base, mr. adams finds his chief opportunity in the hospitals. he says: "at the base there are nine hospitals, some in public buildings, some in tents out on the plain. of these nine hospitals, some are filled with british wounded, others with british and french, and the fellow soldiers of both--turcos, senegalese, belgians, indians. the chaplain's work is principally there, going from ward to ward and tent to tent, talking on all subjects from the war to the word of god, writing letters, or getting those angels of mercy, the nursing sisters, to write for men too crippled to write. "as he goes on his way the padre distributes out of his well-filled haversack gifts which have come from kind-hearted people at home.... a fig, a handful of raisins, a packet of 'woodbines' (greatest of all luxuries in the opinion of 'tommies' and 'jocks'), a box of matches, an old illustrated paper, a little bottle of perfume, or a little bag of perfume for the uneasy and restless. these are some of the contents of the wonderful haversack, and words cannot express the value of the good things. the men look on them as love-tokens from home. "these men deserve our best care. they are brave in suffering as they have been in service. their pluck is extraordinary, and the instances i now put down in my note-book prove the assertion. "in one of the field hospitals there are two men in the same tent, and occupying beds next to each other. one man has had his left leg amputated above the knee, the other his right leg. both are recovering and are as happy as sand boys. 'good job, sir,' says one, 'it isn't the same leg with both of us. one pair of boots will do between us when we are allowed to get up.' "in another tent lies a 'jock' shot in the back in two places, and with his left arm shattered by shrapnel. he, too, is mending and developing an alarming appetite for theological argument. pluck, the doctor says, is a miracle-worker here. "in a third tent is a lad with paralysis, the result of a bullet wound in the region of the spine. he believes he will recover and says he must hurry up, as no other fellow in the regiment can valet the colonel as he can.... "as a rule the wounded are eager for the chaplain's visit. they want a talk, and very often the talk turns steadily to the thing that counts. men are not ashamed to discuss religion, and get to the subject often without much manoeuvring. that is not surprising. very many have been in the valley of the shadow, and they tell you that they found god there. 'one' was with them--they cannot explain it, but they remember it. and a soldier is a strong partisan. the hard fact is that god was with them, and now they want to tell you what god is to them. "one lad (he is little more than a boy in years) said to me when he was telling me all about the battle of the aisne, where he was wounded: "'i never knew before then what it was to pray. of course, i had learnt to say my prayers, but i never really prayed till that day at the aisne. we all went into the battle singing "you made me do it, i didn't want to do it," but when we got in the trenches it was like hell. you should have seen some men dropping on their knees and praying. why, the whole regiment seemed to be praying. i know i was praying, and somehow i felt better, and i've prayed every night running since.' "that plain tale is the parable of many an awakening. it is the parable of the soldiers' need and vision and faith. they have seen something, and that something which is responsible for the question they so frequently ask, 'what is it like at home? are the people at home praying? are they praying for us doing our bit out here, or are they still going on the old way?'... "the other day i was acting chaplain at the funeral of a 'jock,' aged twenty-eight, who leaves a widow and three little children amongst that great company at home weeping for their beloved dead. "the night before he died i said, 'good-night, boy, i'll be in to see you early to-morrow morning.' "the poor fellow knew he might not last till morning; and as i turned away he tried to raise himself and salute, and then he said: "'good-night, sir, and god bless you! and if i'm gone, sir, remember i'm all right--all right. send my love to janet and the bairns, and tell them i'll be waiting for them.' "of such is the kingdom of heaven. these men are our heroes and god's own children." yes, that is the universal testimony--"brave in suffering as they have been brave in service." grand lads these, and we shall never forget what they have done for us. my difficulty in this chapter is to select out of the mass of material to hand stories which will best illustrate the work which is being done. much will necessarily have to be put upon one side. i will turn next to the rev. richard hall. for many years he had been at the head of the welcome soldiers' and sailors' home at chatham, and in this position had done most effective service for the men. the chatham wesleyan central hall is also his creation, and in it he had led hundreds of sailors and soldiers to christ. no truer friend of the soldier and no more efficient worker is to be found with the men. he, too, tells us something of hospital work at the fighting base. i quote from the _methodist times_. "one night," he says, "as i was going my rounds, my attention was directed to a man who was in delirium. i knelt down to hear what he was saying. his mind was dwelling on his boyish days. he was repeating-- 'hark, hark, hark, while infant voices sing loud hosannas to our king.' and then he uttered a name--it was the name of 'peter thompson.' this man had evidently when a boy attended our east end mission, and had known peter thompson. i buried him in the little cemetery close by. "it was all saints' day, a great festival in france, the time when friends visit the graves of their departed loved ones, and place thereon flowers. it was a beautiful morning, scores of people were there, and by invitation of the mayor, as many officers from the hospital as could be spared were present also. the funeral service was combined with the celebration. i conducted the funeral first. at the close the mayor made the speech, a copy of which i enclose. "'ladies and gentlemen,--often have i been proud to state that many of you have considered it a duty and a patriotic devotion to accompany to their last resting-place the glorious remains of our allies who have fallen on the field of honour, and to show your fraternal friendship in bringing flowers, a spontaneous testimonial, but ephemeral, which we will confirm later by a commemorative monument, and we shall put it up together on this ground of supreme rest. "'in the name of the municipal council of boisguillaume, ladies and gentlemen, i thank you one and all. "'english officers and soldiers,--be assured we shall never forget here your brothers in arms. the people of boisguillaume will make it their duty to watch over these glorious remains you trust to their care, and they will regard it as a perpetual honour. "'when later they bring the younger generation to bow to these graves, they will ask them to remember for ever that the men who rest here have shed their blood for france and england, in union of heart with the civilised nations, in order to fight against the invasion of our land by the barbarian hordes who are desirous of exterminating justice and right, our genius and our civilisation. "'glory to you, noble heroes, who for the sake of a sacred cause have sworn to defend france unto death! carry away with you into eternity this confidence that you will live for ever in the memory of the french, who have at present only one heart, one soul, whose gratitude to you will never fade. "'glory to england! "'farewell.'" i have given the mayor's speech in full, not because such a speech was exceptional, but because it gathers up into itself the sentiments of the french nation, and eloquently expresses the reverence felt for our british dead. but not only do british soldiers know how to die, but german soldiers also. they are our enemies, but it is a pleasure to record that many of the captured german soldiers have their bibles with them. mr. hall tells of one who died suddenly. his open bible was found on his bed; and john iii. --"for god so loved the world "--were the words he had been reading as he passed into the presence of his saviour. mr. hall also tells of a graceful act of kindness on the part of the roman catholic archbishop of the diocese. in company with father bradley and the church of england chaplain, he waited upon the archbishop to ask permission to hold protestant services in the small but beautiful roman catholic church. the archbishop received them most kindly and readily gave consent. by the by, mr. hall pays a beautiful tribute to that same roman catholic chaplain whose tent he shared--father bradley. he says: "i never met a more gentle and refined christian character. his one thought was to serve others, and he cared nothing for his own discomfort as long as he was helping someone else." when they parted--for father bradley was the first to go to the front--the father's last words were, "hall, don't forget to pray for me, underneath and round about both of us are the everlasting arms." differing as we do so much from the roman catholic church, it is a pleasure to record this testimony. the services in the roman catholic church were conducted by the church of england chaplain and mr. hall. they were united services, for in face of danger and death all are one in christ jesus. the services were fruitful in results as such services must always be. not only did large numbers attend, but doubtless the great day will declare that many received the pardon of sin. "padre, did you see me at the service last night?" asked one young officer of mr. hall. "i did." "well, do you know that is the first _voluntary_ service i ever remember attending, and i have made up my mind that from to-day god shall have the first place in my life?" a fortnight after he said, "i thank god that i have been a new man since that day i spoke to you." that is it--"a new man." god is making "new men" by the hundred, if not by the thousand, in france and belgium, and the chaplains are reverently looking on and praising him. the rev. w.h. sarchet tells quite a different, but not less striking, class of story. it is his privilege to record an old-fashioned "revival" at the fighting base. mr. sarchet has seen much work among soldiers and sailors. for eight years he was wesleyan chaplain at gibraltar; for another seven he was chaplain at devonport; for the last four he has served in the same capacity at portsmouth, having charge of the duchess of albany's soldiers' and sailors' home there, and the services in the town hall. in a letter to the rev. john bell, mr. sarchet tells the story of this remarkable spiritual movement which has been taking place at the general hospital, with which he has been serving at the fighting base. i give the story in his own words as printed in the weekly article by the rev. j.h. bateson in the _methodist recorder_. mr. bateson is secretary of the wesleyan army and navy board and ex-secretary of the british army temperance association in india. his weekly article is replete with first-hand information, and that and its corresponding article in the _methodist times_ are a gold mine in which students of the war may well dig. mr. sarchet, after referring to the wounded "fresh from the trenches in all their grime and dirt, torn clothes, broken limbs, and ghastly wounds," goes on to say: "in addition to this really distressing work, i am having some most delightful camp work experiences. last sunday week at my second parade service--my first was at a.m. three miles away--i discovered by the very hearty responses in the prayers that there were some out-and-out christian men present. i asked them if they would like a voluntary service at night. they said they would very much, so we fixed it up for . p.m. we had a delightful service just at setting sun. i think that 'abide with me,' as that crowd of r.f.a. men, waiting to go up to the fighting line, sang it, never sounded so beautiful. "at the close of the service, we had an after-meeting by moonlight, and three sought and found christ. i announced a meeting for monday night, and so we have gone on right through the week, and there have been seekers every night. at the close of this meeting we enlarge the ring in the centre, and then invite those who have decided to serve christ to come right out into the ring before their comrades. "it is beautiful clear moonlight, just like day, and out they come one after another. one never-to-be-forgotten evening we had twenty out. they kneel down and we pray with them, then close the meeting with 'god be with you till we meet again,' and prayer. then we take the names and talk with the soldiers individually. we have enrolled the names of over eighty men who have come out in this way in the last ten days. "the meetings are having this good effect--finding the christian men in the camps around. there are several camps and thousands of men--reinforcements just waiting for orders to move forward. night and day men are coming and going. a christian officer too heard us singing and has come and joined us. he has been with us every night when not on duty." supplementing this story mr. sarchet tells of another series of meetings still proceeding as he wrote. he says: "a large number of our mounted men have recently gone forward, so this week we started in the infantry camp, which is about three miles away. we had our first open-air service there on october . we were only two when we started, but a great crowd before we finished, with eleven men out in the ring seeking christ. this is grand work. the weather has turned very wintry and wet this week, but the camp commandant has promised me a store tent for our meetings, so we shall go on." what wonderful scenes these are when you think of their setting and the men who were the chief actors! as mr. bateson says: "in the nile expedition, in the south african campaign, in the frontier work in india, there have been many soldiers who, here and there, have surrendered their lives to christ, but this 'revival' in the british expeditionary force in france is surely unique in the history of war." we picture the scene--not a salvation army ring in some country town in england, but crowds of khaki clad soldiers, supposed to be trifling, light-hearted, devil-may-care. but here they are out in the open, in full view of hundreds of their comrades, surrounded by great camps, humbly kneeling in penitence at the throne of grace, "owning their weakness, their evil behaviour," and pleading "god be merciful to me a sinner." so strangely, yet so powerfully, stands the cross upon the field of war. another beautiful little picture is presented to us by mr. sarchet in another letter--a gathering of twenty-six soldier lads on the afternoon of the lord's day. "we had a talk about temptation, and then celebrated holy communion. it was all out in the open in a little wooden dell. i had my portable camp table. it was a very gracious and never-to-be-forgotten time, as we knelt there on the grass, with a beautiful clear sky overhead. there seemed absolutely nothing between us and god, and the presence of the risen christ was a great reality. before next sunday some who were there will be fighting in the trenches, but they will carry the memory of this soul-hallowing time with them." [illustration: bishop taylor-smith, chaplain-general. rev. e.l. watson, senior baptist chaplain at the front. rev. o.s. watkins, senior wesleyan chaplain at the front. rev. j.m. simms, d.d., k.h.c., presbyterian, principal chaplain at the front. rev. e.g.f. macpherson, senior church of england chaplain at the front.] so out there in france our soldier lads "do this" in memory of him "until he come." before i pass from the record of the directly spiritual work at the fighting base, let me tell the story of a unique confirmation--a confirmation without lawn sleeves. bishop taylor-smith was the chief actor in this strange scene. a church of england chaplain represented to him, during his visit to the front, that there were some men in hospital, badly wounded, who desired confirmation. the bishop gladly consented to confirm them. they could not come to him, and so he went to them. but it was not in his bishop's robes he went. he was on military duty and he went in his military uniform as major-general. there was no attempt to get a congregation. the bishop was only attended by a chaplain and scripture reader. he first went to a ward where lay two lads side by side, each with his right leg amputated above the knee. they were simple country lads and they were crippled for life. their hearts had been won for christ, and they desired to give their lives to him. the bishop spoke words of hope and cheer, and laid his hands upon them. then he went to another ward where lay a man with a terrible shrapnel wound in his arm. him also the bishop confirmed. in the next ward were two men--older men these--who had known agonising pain. their beds had been brought together, and upon these also the bishop laid confirming hands. then he passed to the church where the convalescents who desired confirmation could receive his church's rite. a simple record this, but i fancy we shall search history in vain for any other story of a bishop in military uniform administering the rite of confirmation to wounded soldiers. * * * * * a word about the y.m.c.a. work at the fighting base. it is being carried on there much as in england. wherever possible camp homes are being erected, and the work done in them not only keeps the men out of temptation, but is the means in many cases of turning their steps toward christ and heaven. mr. a.k. yapp (the general secretary) has recently paid a visit to france and reports most cheerily of the work done there. they have received ready help from both officers and men. in the erection of queen mary's hut, for instance, every consideration has been exhibited. materials have been carted free of charge, and other important and valuable concessions made, which have proved of the greatest service. the work by the y.m.c.a. in the indian hospitals is exceptionally interesting. those who are in charge can speak hindustani, and are able to render many kindnesses to these brave eastern fighters. they cannot, of course, undertake christian teaching, but they are able to show the christian spirit, and the lesson will not be lost on the sick and wounded indians. the more we study the work of the y.m.c.a. for our soldiers in this war, with its branches now grown to nine hundred, the more we shall agree with the statement of a british officer: "you y.m.c.a. people are marvellous." and the men--what of the men among whom these chaplains and "y.m.c.a. people" and others work? "the men," said general buller in south africa, "are splendid." that is still the verdict--the universal verdict--they are _splendid_. everybody loves thomas atkins who knows him; cheerful and kindly, ready to do anyone a good turn, heroic in action, patient in suffering, tender and chivalrous to women, he has set us all an example in this war. and he has done with the greatest ease what some people in this country find it so difficult to accomplish; he has shown us, as i have already indicated, how to fight his enemy and to love him too. the rev. harold j. chapman, m.a., vouches for the truth of this story told him in artless fashion by the hero of it. a german sniper was in a tree some distance from a small company of our men. he wounded one of our lads, and the pal of the wounded lad, lying not far from him, said, "i'll have to bring that fellow down, or he'll be hitting _me_ next." so he took aim and fired, and the german sniper dropped from the tree wounded. the ambulance that carried to the rear the wounded british soldier took also the german sniper. after some days, to their astonishment they found themselves opposite each other in the same compartment of the same train. "well, what did you do?" said mr. chapman. "did you hit him?" "oh no! why should i hit him? i couldn't speak his 'lingo,' and he couldn't speak mine, so i smiled at him and he smiled back at me. then i offered him a cigarette, and he offered me one of his, and we were the best of pals all the journey." that is it, the man who had shot the british soldier, and the man who had been shot by his pal, the best of friends! after all, why should not nations emulate the example of their soldiers? aye! they have seen suffering--these men--and they have risen superior to it, and speedily they forget the suffering, but they never forget a kindness shown. as private simmons of the st cameronians says: "i have seen hell, for i have seen war, and i have seen heaven, for i have been in hospital." they are worth all that is being done for them--these splendid fellows--and still they go on singing, the words that mr. robert harkness has recently written for them: sometimes the clouds hang heavy and low, nor can we see each step as we go; no silver lining the cloud doth bestow. are we down-hearted? no! bravely we march in the battle of life. fierce is the conflict, the turmoil, and strife; fraught with such peril, danger so rife, are we down-hearted? no! no! no! chapter iv the marne, the aisne, ypres christian work during the fighting--a monotony of horrors--a brave "bad lad"--strange places for worship--no apples on his conscience--transferred to flanders--strangest spectacle of the war--lord roberts in france--at dead of night--a shell stops a sermon--the university student. sunday, september , , will be a memorable date for british soldiers, for it was the day on which the long and perilous retreat from mons came to an end, and they once more turned to meet their foe. it was a day of great rejoicing. they were not privileged to join together in the worship of god; instead there was constant marching. but they were advancing now, not retreating, and there was a spring in their tread, and a glad light in their eyes, which showed of what stuff they were made, and pronounced them "ready, aye ready." as they marched steadily forward, they passed through village after village devastated by the german troops. stories of barbarism were told them which made them clench their hands and set their teeth. here and there, however, it was different, and they passed through villages on some of the doors of which was the notice, "only defenceless women and children are here. do not molest them." it seemed as though when the german troops had their commanding officer with them, and were well under control, they regarded the rules of war; but that when they were detached from the central command and could do more as they liked, then all the savage in them was let loose. at last the marne was reached and the battle begun. it is no part of our purpose in this book to describe that and the following battles. our business is with the christian work done in connexion with them, and only so far as they help to illustrate the work done have we anything at all to say about the conflicts. for five long days raged the battle of the marne, from september to inclusive. during it deeds of heroism were performed by the hundred which will never be recorded. while it continued but little of a specifically religious character could be performed by the chaplains. but they were everywhere--with their men in the front, with the ambulance and stretcher-bearers, bending over the wounded with words of christian hope, and when the darkness fell, burying the dead. they had the perils of the battle, but none of the excitement of participation. take this as a tribute from the rev. owen spencer watkins to the work of the r.a.m.c. i quote from the _methodist recorder_. "then the shrapnel swept the road; the bearers scattered in all directions; for a moment i thought general rolt and his staff were wiped out, but all reached cover in safety. for myself, i leaned close against the high bank, whilst in the bush just above my head rattled the bullets like rain, and the leaves and twigs fell round me in a shower, but the danger was not for long. "'stretcher-bearers!' came the shout down the hill, and major richards sprang to his feet and the first squad followed him. my task was for a time to direct the bearers, and i was filled with admiration as the men faced the hillside, and what waited for them in the woods above. "remember these were not fighting men who carried arms, and they could take no cover, for they had the stretcher to carry with its suffering load. i never admired the royal army medical corps as i did that day on the hills above pisseloup and montreuil. "'next squad!' i would shout, and without the slightest hesitation or sign of fear they would take their stretchers and climb the hill. now major richards was in the road dressing the wounds of those brought in, and working with equal bravery and almost a surgeon's skill, good sergeant-major spowage laboured at his side. later they were joined by lieutenant tasker, r.a.m.c, and still the wounded streamed down the hills above. "how those doctors and orderlies worked! that day at the cross-roads near pisseloup, i saw some of the best work done that has ever been accomplished in the field, and none seemed to realise that they were doing anything out of the ordinary." when night fell, rev. d.p. winnifrith and rev. o.s. watkins did work similar to that which other chaplains were doing elsewhere on the field. we have their record, but must wait for that of the others. what a picture it is upon which we gaze! aye, and not only at night, but next day following the advancing british troops. here and there is a wounded soldier who has lain for hours in the rain. their sufferings must have been horrible. and here and there, nay, all around, the dead. they buried them in fields, in gardens, in orchards and vineyards, sometimes singly, sometimes in twos and threes--in one grave two officers and eighteen men. but we draw a curtain over the scene. it will soon become a monotony of horrors. let us hasten on. the marne won, the next line of battle was the aisne. here i pause to relate a little incident variously reported in the papers. i give it as it came to me first, judging that the first report is probably the most correct. it dates from some of the fierce fighting near the banks of the aisne. a village was temporarily evacuated by the british under the pressure of german troops. in the hurried retreat six or eight british soldiers were left behind. they took shelter in a cottage, knowing that the germans were close upon them. there was a hasty council of war. one of them was the "bad lad" of the regiment--a drunken ne'er-do-well. he had his own solution of the problem. said he, "i have never been any good. i never shall be any good. let me go and i will try to save you lads. the germans are upon us. i can hear them in the street. i will rush out of the house and down the street. they will see me and they will fire. they will never suppose that one would run and not the others. they will not trouble to search, and you will be saved." his comrades protested and said they would all die together. but there was no time to argue. in a moment he was out of the house and down the street. shots rang out and the "bad lad" of the regiment fell, pierced by many bullets. it was as he said. the germans passed the house, and for a moment the rest of that little company were saved. but the british had received reinforcements. they advanced to the attack again and the village was cleared of germans. then the little company came out of their hiding-place, reverently lifted the body of the dead hero who had died for them, and carried it to the rear. they dug a grave and buried him. over the grave they placed a rough wooden cross, and wrote upon it--"he saved others, himself he _would_ not save." they hoped, they said, they were not guilty of blasphemy in altering and using the historic words, and we, as we quote them, are quite certain they were not. the battle of the aisne was long drawn out, if that can be described as a battle which consisted of many days of fierce fighting culminating in long continued siege warfare in the trenches. during its continuance there was the same individual ministry, the constant hair-breadth escapes of chaplains and doctors--not always, however, for both chaplains and doctors suffered--the same heroic endeavour to ameliorate suffering and to point the dying to the saviour. here and there we get glimpses of brief services held behind the firing line. a brigade at a time would be withdrawn from the trenches and then was the chaplain's opportunity. we read of a sunday spent among these men who had just been facing death. an early communion, the men kneeling on the straw of a dimly lit barn, a service in the open-air among men of line regiments and of batteries, a united service in the evening at which the rev. d.p. winnifrith read the prayers, colonel crawford the lessons, and the rev. o.s. watkins gave the address. we are told of hurriedly arranged services in the evenings--one in a cart-shed lit by two hurricane lamps, in which church of england and wesleyan chaplains took part, and lieutenant grenfell, r.a.m.c, a wesleyan local preacher, gave the address. another in a deep cutting, safe from shell fire, while overhead the guns were booming, but clear above the noise the music of the hymn--"blessed assurance, jesus is mine." another, which lieutenant grenfell reports, in a farmyard, amid the neighing of horses and the constant tramp of men. strange places these for the worship of god! but with a heart at rest, even amid the strife of battle, the christian turns to god, and there is a deep longing in the hearts of men who cannot call themselves christians for the consolations of religion. corporal chappell, invalided home with a bullet in his leg, illustrates this with some touching stories of the battle of the aisne. as they advanced to the front the road was for some distance lined with orchards. the colonel issued orders that no apples were to be taken, for, said he, "it would be stealing." one man, however, could not resist the temptation, and when for a few minutes they rested, filled his pockets with apples. in a short time they were in the thick of the battle and shells were falling fast and furious. out came the apples from the lad's pockets. he flung them as far from him as he could. "there, i will not have you on my conscience, anyhow!" he said. another lad close to chappell said to him: "chappell, i have a sort of feeling i shall not reach home again. i cannot help thinking of my wife and children." "have you thought of your own soul?" asked chappell. "there is no time for that," was the reply. "oh yes, there is a minute at any rate. pray, lad, pray! your wife and children are in god's hands. pray for pardon now." and so they two went forward praying. a few minutes and a shell almost annihilated the company, and among the rest the lad who had just been pleading "god be merciful to me a sinner" was killed. thank god! no one ever prays that prayer in vain. a few minutes afterwards corporal chappell was himself shot in the leg. as best he could he proceeded to hop into safety. two men of another regiment saw him and carried him to the shelter of a cow-shed and laid him there. it was only some time afterwards that he found that one of the men who had helped to carry him was only less severely wounded than himself. the cow-shed was filthy, the pain severe, he wondered how long he was to lie there alone, and untended. "then," said he, "i remembered that my lord was born in a stable, and i just lay still and went to sleep thinking of him, and i slept on and on until night fell, and the stretcher-bearers found me and carried me to the rear." thus these simple lads help their fellows, preach christ even in the midst of the battle, and when in sore need themselves, find in the thought of their saviour comfort and rest and hope. then came threatenings in flanders, and the daring plan of a german advance on calais. this necessitated the withdrawal of our troops from the lines of the aisne to the yser and their replacement by french troops on the aisne. the transference of our troops was accomplished with the greatest secrecy and skill. it is doubtful if the germans were acquainted with the transference until it was accomplished. it is perhaps one of the greatest deeds of the war, and speaks of supreme skill and daring on the part of our commander. the soldiers took it all in good part. "over incredibly bad roads, often up to the boot tops in mud, they marched with a swing that would have done credit to a royal review on laffan's plain, and as they marched they chanted their war-song, 'it's a long, long way to tipperary.' it seemed hardly possible that for three solid months they had been fighting without a single day's rest. as they crossed the belgian frontier their spirits rose. 'this is better than the last time we crossed it, isn't it, sir? then we was on the run, having got more than we wanted at mons, but now the boot's on the other leg. now if we could only capture 'kaiser bill,' or even 'old one o'clock' (general von kluck), we might get home for our christmas dinners after all.'" then followed the battle of ypres, the bloodiest battle of the winter campaign, and one of the most critical engagements of the war. it was now cold--bitterly cold. rain and snow--snow and rain! the trenches became almost uninhabitable. frost-bite among the men became common. many were invalided to the base suffering from rheumatism. all that could be done for the men was done. warm goat-skin coats were served out, and the men looked more like teddy bears than soldiers. charcoal braziers were sent to the trenches, and, most important of all, the men were well fed. it was only a thin line to keep back the german hosts. how thin a line no one yet is permitted to tell. but it accomplished its task, and by november reinforcements arrived and the situation for the british was somewhat relieved. all through the series of battles the chaplains had been busy with their grim work, caring for the wounded and burying the dead. "bit of an attack on, sir," said the pioneer sergeant, "but they're firing high, and all the bullets are going well overhead; they don't matter. but there's a sniper who seems to have a line on that grave. it's so dark that it's certain he can't see us, but he seems to have a sort of instinct; as sure as we go near the place he begins firing. there you are, sir; he's at it again. lucky he ain't a good shot." but notwithstanding the sniper, the chaplain buried his dead, and then tramped back in the darkness with shells falling all around. the battles now developed into a sort of siege, and for long drawn-out months the british and german armies faced each other in the trenches. by this time the indian contingent had arrived and their chaplains with them. then we had the strangest spectacle of the war--roman catholics, protestants, hindus, mohammedans, in all speaking fifteen different languages, but fighting side by side in a common cause. the fact that, notwithstanding the proclamation by the sultan of a holy war, our indian mohammedan soldiers stood firm by old england, was a sign that no longer could constantinople be reckoned as the headquarters of mohammedanism. the sheik-ul-islam might sound forth his proclamation in great state, but the princes and soldiers of india, egypt, and the sudan heeded not. they knew that under the british flag they had religious liberty, and they were loyal to the core. it was just before the battle of ypres commenced that lord roberts paid his visit to france. he was over eighty years of age, and it was dangerous in the extreme for him to attempt such a journey at his time of life. but he was most wishful to review his much-loved indian troops, and they in their turn were anxious to see their "father," whom they all revered. when the risks at his age were pointed out to him, he replied, "we must do what we consider to be our duty; then we are in god's hands." it was bitter weather, but he reviewed the indian troops, caught cold, and died on saturday, november , . he was the darling of the british army. when the soldiers knew that "our bobs" was coming to their relief in south africa, their delight was unbounded. they had absolute confidence in him; they would follow him anywhere. and something more--they knew that when they read their bibles that was what lord roberts did--was there not a message from him within the cover?--and when they knelt to pray they knew that that also was what lord roberts did. his influence was widespread and was all for good in the army. in the eloquent tribute which earl curzon paid in the house of lords to the memory of earl roberts, he quoted a letter received from him only a fortnight before. "we have had family prayers for fifty-five years. our chief reason is that they bring the household together in a way that nothing else can. it ensures servants and others who may be in the house joining in prayers which, for one reason or other, they may have omitted saying by themselves. since the war began we usually read a prayer like the enclosed, and when anything important has occurred i tell those present about it. in this way i have found that the servants are taking a great interest in what is going on in france. we have never given any order about prayers. attendance is quite optional, but, as a rule, all the servants, men and women, come when they hear the bell." "the man who penned these words," said lord curzon, "even to a friend, was not only a great soldier, a patriot, and a statesman; he was also a humble-minded and devout christian, whose name deserves to live, and will live for ever in the memory of the nation whom he served with such surpassing fidelity to the last hour of a long and glorious life." the army bade farewell to the body of the great field-marshal at st. omer, then the headquarters of the british expeditionary force. the route to the mairie was lined by british and french troops. the coffin, draped with the union jack, was placed upon the gun-carriage by eight non-commissioned officers selected from regiments of which he had been colonel. all the british and french courage was represented in the procession. the prince of wales represented the king. the indian chiefs who honoured and loved him were there. at the service in the mairie which followed, the rev. f.i. anderson, assisted by the rev. c. marshall and the rev. a. helps, officiated. the service, as was fitting, was very simple. the music was led by a choir of soldiers, accompanied by a harmonium, and the hymns sung were "now the labourer's task is o'er," and "o god, our help in ages past." at the conclusion of the service, british bugles sounded the "last post." then the body was reverently borne down the steps and placed in the motor ambulance which was to convey it to boulogne. as this was done the guard of honour once more sprang to the present, french trumpeters blew a fanfare, and the guns of lord roberts' old regiment thundered a salute. thus the british army said farewell to its old chief, and will remember him for ever as a great soldier and a great christian. in the fighting round ypres fell that distinguished british officer, general hamilton. the record of his funeral will show a great contrast to that of lord roberts, but it gives us a weird and pathetic picture of the circumstances under which our chaplains do their work. while standing on a hillock near the village of la couteau in the midst of his staff, the commander of our third division was struck by a fragment of shrapnel and killed. they buried him "at dead of night," and the whole scene recalls the famous lines on the burial of sir john moore. it was a sad and silent party of distinguished french and british officers which followed the coffin up the winding path to the little churchyard, where the grave had been hastily dug, near the shell-battered church. the only light was that of the electric flash lamp used by the rev. e.g.f. macpherson (the senior church of england chaplain) to enable him to read the burial service. [illustration: british trenches in the aisne district. _drawn by d. macpherson._] he had scarcely begun to speak its solemn words when the germans opened a perfect hurricane of fire. but the chaplain never altered the measured dignity of his intonation, though shells were bursting all around and the enemy's bullets were pattering against what remained of the church walls. this weird service over, the officers present had to hurry away to their respective duties with the rattle of german musketry in their ears. as general smith-dorrien also left, he said to mr. macpherson: "a true soldier's funeral, padre. we couldn't fire a volley, but the enemy have given him the last salute for us." aye! a true soldier's funeral, and the one which he would perhaps have preferred to any other. bishop taylor-smith, who tells the story of the funeral, also says that the very next day the same chaplain (mr. macpherson) had gathered the men of a battery into a musty old barn for a short service, when, in the midst of the service, the roof of the barn was lifted right off by a shell which, however, failed to explode. the service came to a summary conclusion, not because of fear, but because the battery must stop that sort of thing, and gallop away into action. further stories by bishop taylor-smith of the period to which this chapter relates show under what weird circumstances the sacrament of the lord's supper is sometimes administered. a jute factory near armentières was being heavily shelled, but down in the cellar, while the shelling was proceeding, the chaplain calmly distributed the elements to one hundred and twenty-eight officers and men of the monmouth regiment. the only light was that supplied by the chaplain's flash lamp. the battalion went into action next day, and several of those who had taken part in the holy communion were killed. on another occasion a celebration was taking place in a house at houplines when shells demolished the houses on either side, and no sooner was the service over than a shell struck that self-same house. close by was the crackling of rifle fire, for a shed in which the ammunition of the west yorks was stored had been fired by a german shell. in the same district an ordinary service--lasting about twenty-five minutes--was held at the o.c.'s request in a barn round which shells were dropping every moment. and yet so powerful was the singing of the men that it almost drowned the din of the bombardment. the chaplain, as he stood there conducting the service, thought how fearful it would be if a big shell dropped into the midst of that company of praying men. after this who will call parsons cowards? i do not wonder that already one of them, the rev. p.w. guinness (church of england), has won the d.s.o., and that mr. macpherson was among those "mentioned in despatches." i shall tell the story of mr. guinness' brave deed in another chapter. one more funeral and this chapter shall draw to a close. the scene is too beautiful to leave out, even if it does mean bringing three funerals into one chapter. it dates from the battle of the marne, and the story is narrated by our old friend the rev. o.s. watkins. no men are braver, and very few render more important service, than the motor cycle scouts. they are, many of them, students from oxford and cambridge. their intelligence, knowledge of languages, and general resource are a great asset to the british army. their work, however, is perilous in the extreme. one of these had lost his way and had actually ridden through two villages occupied by germans when, at douai, a bullet found its way to his heart. when the germans retired from the village, the villagers carried him tenderly into a cottage, straightened the fine young limbs, and covered him with a clean white sheet. they placed a bunch of newly gathered flowers upon his heart. he was carried to his last long rest by the old men of the village--the young men had all gone to the war--and as they passed through the village, the women came from the houses and laid flowers upon the bier. slowly they climbed the hill, with many a halt to rest the ancient bearers, while ahead boomed the heavy guns, and at their feet they could see the infantry advancing to action. at last the hill-top was reached, crowned by the little church, with "god's acre" all around. they laid him in the hastily dug grave, the peasants, with uncovered heads, listening reverently to the reading of the burial service in a language they could not understand. before the service was finished shrapnel shells were bursting over the hilltop, and the peasants quietly moved to the partial shelter of the wall, still with uncovered heads. when the final "amen" was said, the chaplain stood for a moment gazing down into the grave and thinking of all the brilliant possibilities wrapped up in that splendid young fellow "gone to his death," when one of the old men, forgetting his fear of the guns, came forward to the graveside, and cast earth with unconscious dignity upon the body lying there. "you are a brave man," he said, "and our friend. you have given your life for our country. we thank you. may you sleep well in the earth of beautiful france!" and the old men under the shelter of the wall added "amen." thus they go, the grand old field-marshal 'neath the weight of years, the brilliant general in the full tide of useful service, and the young man, his life-work scarce begun! thus they go and the flower of our nation's manhood with them. if that were the end, if death ended all, britain could hardly lift up her head again. but we cheer ourselves as we remember that what we call the end is only the beginning. goethe draws a picture in _faust_ of his hero gazing at the setting sun. as he watches it slowly setting in the west, he longs to follow it in its course-- to drink its everlasting light, the day before him and behind the night. but they may and do. there is always-- the day before _them_ and behind the night. "there is no night there." and so we comfort ourselves with the thought that service broken short off here may be continued yonder, that the old will grow young again, that the o'erthrown fighter will rise conqueror, and life--eternal life--will crown all. the best is yet to be. chapter v thomas atkins in the trenches the original thomas atkins--no infidels in the trenches--in the trenches at night--a salvation army story, and others--man who was digging a trench--they have "kept smiling "--what christ is to the soldier--what a picture!--every place the "house of the lord"--the soldier spirit--the gilts from home--courage has never failed--and the christian soldier? "i tell you what it is, sir, god is jolly near you in the trenches." so spoke thomas atkins to a church of england chaplain. it was just like him to speak thus. a vigorous utterance suits him. but how did he come by the name thomas atkins? the story goes that it dates from the peninsular war. the duke of wellington was directing some operations in the field. an aide-de-camp rode up to him with the outline of a new attestation form, or something of that kind sent out by the war office of those days. it was advisable to fill up the top line in order that those who filled up the following lines might have an example of how it should be done. the question was, whose name should be put in there? the aide-de-camp thought the duke would mention the first name that came into his mind, but not so the duke. he looked at it a moment, and said, "i must think. come back to me in an hour." during that hour he turned over in his mind the deeds of bravery he had seen performed by private soldiers. he thought of the brave deeds of soldiers in the peninsular campaign. and then his mind went back to india, and at last he said to himself, "yes, that was the bravest deed i ever saw performed by a private soldier." and when his aide-de-camp came back he said, "put down thomas atkins." and "thomas atkins" it has been from that day to this. so the title enshrines the memory of a brave man, and i wonder if he, too, felt god "jolly near" him in the trenches. "jolly near!" it is a thought-provoking phrase. "near!" ah! yes, we know that, and if we can look up amidst the bursting shell and see, not the angry, but the smiling face of god, then the word "jolly," if not as we should put it, is at any rate expressive. the "eye-witness" with the british army tells us something of what it is like in the trenches. "after a short outburst of fire lasting perhaps for only three or four minutes the hostile trenches are obscured by a pall of smoke, in the midst of which can be seen the flashes of the shrapnel bursts and the miniature volcanoes of earth where the high explosive common shells burst in the soft clay soil. then, if an infantry attack is to be launched, the cannonade suddenly ceases. there is a moment of suspense, and a swarm of khaki figures springs from our trenches and rushes across the fire-swept zone, possibly yards in breadth. instantly there breaks out the rattle of machine guns and musketry. there is some hesitation as the stormers reach the entanglements, and then, if the assault succeeds, they disappear into the enemy's trenches, leaving a few or many scattered bodies lying in the track of their advance. save at such moments as these there is often no movement whatever in the battle zone, for not a man, horse, or gun is to be seen, and there are periods of absolute stillness when, except for the sight of the deserted and ruined hamlets, the scene is one of peace and agricultural prosperity." yes, it is very quiet in the trenches. not a head must appear over the top or death is the result. quiet, yes; up to the knees, or sometimes up to the waist, in water, eating there, sleeping there, often dying there. we read of some trenches where the water was so deep that the wounded men were drowned. there was no place to put them, and they just fell into the water, and there they died. quiet, until the artillery has done its preparatory work, and then charge, charge, charge! i do not wonder that a wounded soldier said to the rev. t.j. thorpe: "my mates used to tell me in barracks that they were infidels--they did not believe in god--but after their experiences in the trenches they have lost their infidelity. they pray now. _there are no infidels in the trenches._" said another soldier, "we leapt from our trenches singing a rowdy song, but in a minute i was praying as i never prayed before. my mates were praying. we were all praying, and i have been praying ever since." i do not wonder that "there are no infidels in the trenches." the rev. cuthbert j. maclean (church of england chaplain), writing from france on november , , tells us that he had been in the trenches continually under fire for three weeks, and had not even had a rough wash or taken off his boots. he has had several wonderful escapes from death, even being hit in the neck without, however, sustaining any injury. "four days ago," he says, "i spent some hours sitting in my 'funk-hole' in a trench, and then i left for a little exercise. about twenty minutes after i had moved out, a huge shell burst in the exact spot where i had been sitting for hours, and blew up the trench for some twenty yards." it will be seen from this that the trenches are not always waist-deep or even knee-deep in water. it depends upon the weather. at first elaborate precautions were taken to make the trenches as comfortable as possible. they were deep and comparatively wide. all sorts of necessaries and, occasionally, luxuries were kept there. they were drawing-room and dining-room and kitchen. but when the long continued rains came they were almost uninhabitable. men stood in liquid mud, sometimes covered with frost. they stood day after day and suffered sorely. many of them had to be invalided to the rear with rheumatism, and will never recover from the effect of those terrible days. an elaborate system of network communication trenches was formed, communicating with the rear, but in the worst of the weather, the communication trenches became worse than the fire trenches, and in some cases the water in them was up to the necks of the men. it was only when night fell that communication with the fire trenches was possible. then it was that rations were conveyed to the men at the front--only then was it possible--and even in the dark it was a difficult and dangerous task. no light must be shown; to strike a match might be death. says the non-commissioned officer to his men engaged in this hazardous task: "whenever a searchlight is turned on you, or the country is lit up by a flare or a star shell, stand perfectly still. it's movement wot gives the show away. keep still, an' they'll think you're a bush, or a tree, or what not. but as sure as yer move, you're a deader." under these circumstances, christian work in the trenches would seem impossible, but the apparently impossible has been accomplished. the chaplains are from time to time with their men in the trenches. the experience of mr. mclean has already been quoted, and many another might be added. christian men are there also in ever-increasing numbers, and these are themselves unofficial chaplains. we hear of at least one methodist class meeting regularly held in the trenches, and there is many a prayer meeting there. yes, and many a man has found his saviour there, for the lord jesus is very near those who seek him in the trenches. here is a sacred little letter scribbled in the trenches by a man who there gave himself to christ: "to my darling wife and children. daddy fully surrendered to jesus . . at ypres. sudden death--sudden glory. safe in the arms of jesus." a soldier, who has recently returned home for a brief rest after many weeks in the firing line and in the trenches, says that he is quite an altered man as the result of the war. as a boy he was never taught to pray; but in the trenches he began to pray, and prayed regularly. hundreds of men, he says, are doing the same thing day by day. he also says that the men at the front expect and reckon upon the prayers of the people at home on their behalf. and now a salvation army story. one day a man came into a salvation army hall in the east end of london, and when the officers were speaking to him they found that he had never been to a salvation army service before. they asked him what brought him there. "in the trenches," he replied, "i made up my mind that the very first chance i had i'd come. you see, i was fighting next to a salvationist. one morning he was hit and fell fatally wounded. i knelt beside him in the trench and asked if i could do anything for him. "'yes,' he said. 'in my pocket there is the address of my father and mother; if you live to get home, tell them how i died, and tell them that religion was good for me away from home in the trenches, and death has no terror for me.' "i said, 'yes, i'll tell them.' "then he opened his eyes and pulled me down. 'supposing a shot came for you next,' he said, 'how would it be for you?' and although he only lived five minutes longer, he talked to me all that five minutes about my soul, trying to get me converted. "then he closed his eyes and died." yet another salvation army story. it is told in the _war cry_ by "leaguer" john coombs of the st gloucester regiment: "the battle of ---- was in progress, and our trenches were being raked by the enemy's fire. we were expecting any moment to be told that the german guns would have to be silenced, and presently along the line came the order 'charge!' we scrambled into the open and rushed forward, met by a perfect hail of bullets. many of our men bit the dust, but we who remained came to grips with the enemy. i cannot write of what happened then. the killing of men is a ghastly business! "on the way back to the trenches i saw a poor german soldier trying to get to his water-bottle. he was in a fearful condition. i knelt down by his side. finding his own water-bottle was empty, i gave him water from mine. somewhat revived, he opened his eyes and saw my salvation army leaguer's button. "his drawn face lit up with a smile, and he whispered in broken english: 'salvation army? i also am a salvation soldier.' then he felt for his army badge. it was still pinned to his coat, though bespattered with blood. "i think we both shed a few tears, and then i picked up his poor, broken body, and with as much tenderness as possible, for the terrible hail of death was beginning again, i carried him to the ambulance. but he was beyond human aid. when i placed him on the waggon he gave a gentle tug at my coat; thinking he wanted to say something, i bent low and listened, and he whispered: 'jesus, safe with jesus!'" sergeant-major j. moore, king's own yorkshire light infantry, tells us that he had often spoken to one non-commissioned officer on the claims of christ. three days ago, he says, he was walking from his company officer's trench to another part of the company, when a bullet struck through his greatcoat at the right arm, passed through his right service dress pocket, then over his heart, and out through his left pocket. he was not touched himself, but as he dropped into the trench a little bit stunned, and saw how near he had been to death, he then and there lifted up his heart to the lord, thanked him, and gave his life to him. sergeant-major moore tells another story of a lad brought up in a sunday-school. he had had the best mother in the world, he said, but she was dead. he was sure she had gone to heaven. "four days ago," says the sergeant-major, "his home-call came. inside his war pay-book was found an envelope from his wife, and he had written the following while in the trenches: jesus! the name that charms _my_ fears, that bids _my_ sorrows cease; 'tis music in the sinner's ears, 'tis life, and health, and peace. he breaks the power of cancelled sin, he sets the prisoners free; his blood can make the foulest clean, his blood _avails_ for _me_. that was the last he was known to write." sunday-school teachers may take heart of cheer. the work that they were tempted to think was thrown away is taking root and bearing fruit in the trenches. another sergeant-major writes: "we are not able to meet so well, owing to the scattered condition of the battalions. but we have managed, when things are a bit quiet, to steal from the trenches this week, and hold prayer, praise, and testimony meetings, and it would have done your heart good to hear the dear brothers testify to the saving and keeping power of our adorable saviour, and every one felt drawn nearer to each other, and to god." what does a charge from the trenches feel like to a christian "tommy" who is taking part in it? listen to this: "we were in the trenches the whole time. sometimes we had burning sun, at others pouring rain, and at nights heavy dews soaked you. at the end the order came to fix bayonets for a charge; then i just put my hand over my eyes--so--and asked god to help me to do my duty like a man. we rose up and ran forward a little way, and then fell flat while the bullets and shrapnel flew over us like hail; then on again. we hadn't advanced very far before their artillery was cutting us up badly. our adjutant and the two mates either side of me were shot dead. then i was hit in the leg. it made me go right silly like, and i didn't know where i was for a bit. when i came to my mates had gone, so i crawled away as far as i could. i didn't want them germans to get at me, sir. "thank you, sir; i'm just fine now. doctor says i'm doing marvellous. it's through living a straight life, 'e says. there's nothing like keepin' respectable. as you say, sir, the lord heard my prayer, and he must have spared me for a purpose. i hope to be back again soon, and give 'em some more socks." and now it is time that we retired from the trenches and saw these men when they come out. we will not retire far, but just far enough to the rear to see the men as they retire, and watch others who are just going in. here is one who has got a trench to dig, and it strikes me as a very quaint ending to a quaint letter. he has told us in the letter of a comrade of his who, when wounded in the foot by a shrapnel shell, exclaimed, "never mind; thank god, i still have one left." and he concludes by saying, "i could still go on relating my experiences, but i am just about to dig another trench, so i will close now with peter i. , 'who are kept by the power of god through faith unto salvation.'" evidently he was thinking of divine things all the time, and as he dug his trench he might truly sing-- my hands are but engaged below, my heart is still with thee. see them as they come out of the trenches! some of them during the terrible weather about christmas time had literally to be dragged out by their comrades, for they stuck fast in the mud. talk about arctic or antarctic regions! in those regions explorers can at any rate move forward or move back, but to the men in the trenches during the worst of the weather there has been no possibility of movement. they could not even drag one leg out and put it down again. many of them beat their feet with their muskets, or anything that came to hand, to keep _some_ life in them. but their relief time has come. look at them, caked with mud, unshaved and haggard. a few days in the trenches makes old men of them. march! how can they march? they just shuffle along as best they may, comrade helping comrade. but actually baths have been provided; and while a good hot bath is being enjoyed, their clothes are cleaned and sterilised, and then a hot meal and a good sleep, and you would hardly believe these were the same men. but they have never been down-hearted--not they. they have "kept smiling," as they are so fond of saying. [illustration: comforting a dying german. when "tommy" asked what he could do for his late antagonist, the latter replied, "nothing, unless you would be so good as to hold my hand until all is over." _drawn by f. matania._] what stories they have of their experiences. here is one who writes to the rev. j.h. bateson: "i want you to praise and thank god with me for sparing my life last thursday, when i had a narrow escape from death. the enemy started to shell our trenches at p.m. and continued until dark. one shell burst just outside the trench which i occupied with my section, blowing the trench right in and burying me in earth and mud. i was fast suffocating when god heard my prayer, and sent a corporal and private of my company who dug me out alive. four of my section were buried up to the hips, but, praise god, they also were got out safely. further along a shell burst right in the trench, blowing two men out of the trench, who were killed on the spot; a third was buried alive; a fourth was stunned and wandered out in front of the trench, and was shot through the head by the enemy and killed. we have had twenty-five days in the firing line out of the thirty days of november." this soldier goes on to say that, when at last relieved from the trenches, he had held services in barns with some of his comrades, and had even been called upon to bury the dead. he closes his letter with the verse: all the way my saviour leads me; what have i to ask beside? can i doubt his tender mercy, who through life has been my guide? heavenly peace, divinest comfort, here by faith in him to dwell! for i _know_, whate'er befall me, jesus doeth all things well. mr. bateson sends to the _methodist times_ a letter which he received from a christian sergeant at the front in january . i quote it in full because it describes in such vivid detail the experiences of a christian soldier in the trenches and during the charge. only by listening to the men themselves can we fully realise what christ is to the soldier, and how gloriously he is sustained in the most trying times. "we are having some good times in serving the master, both in the trenches and during rest periods in billets. it matters not where we are--we can still laugh and sing the praises of him who died that we might live. during the retirement, at the commencement of the campaign, when fatigued to the utmost, when drowsing or at least stumbling along as best i could, halts were given, and officers, non-commissioned officers and men simply fell down exhausted, you could notice here and there some kneeling in prayer. i have done the same, and after a few minutes in silent prayer, thanking our beloved saviour for preserving us, i have gone off sound asleep, and have awakened and gone on again. then with fresh vigour and a determined effort have managed to pass up and down the ranks under my command, to speak a few encouraging words and turn their thoughts heavenwards. at rest intervals i have managed to get one or two together for a christian song and prayer, thank god for keeping us so well, and ask for strength to endure it all. "now, again, we are in the trenches. it is sunday morning, my thoughts are of all in the homeland, and more so about him who died for us, and as i think of it all out comes my bible, and those who are near join in listening to a passage of scripture; then a few words of prayer, then a chorus or two that we all know. we sing as heartily as if we were at home in our churches. then over comes 'jack johnson.' for a time all is silent, excepting that lips are moving in fervent prayer--not through fear, but with thankfulness and praise. glory! glory! "another time we are in a different part of the country, and called upon to go into the attack. as we go, not seeing any danger, suddenly over us bursts a shrapnel and shells of the 'jack johnson' type, ploughing up the ground, and comrades fall. some are killed outright; others are severely wounded. i rush here and there to assist with a handshake or a 'god bless you.' i pass on to lead those left, and then right into the thickest of the fray with heavy rifle and machine-gun fire. but nothing daunts the british soldier, and on we press until at last the enemy turns and runs in fear. then we thank god for all his goodness in protecting and sparing us, and on we go, administering to the wounded and those whose life is fast ebbing away, and in a few words get the assurance that they hear the saviour's welcome voice. i have felt him so near at such times as these. tears of joy and gladness--maybe of sorrow--well from the eyes. jehovah is present, and after the busy day is done and the shades of night are falling, i again pursue my duties, collecting here and there a few men to establish a firing line and join up the gap between our regiment and those on the right. we start to work to dig ourselves in. when all is complete, we kneel reverently with a heart full of praise and thanks for being enabled to accomplish a little more for king and country, and, above all, to do something for others by grace and strength from on high. "one day we had just finished trenching in a wood; it was sunday afternoon. all was complete. i had been reading to four others in my 'dug-out,' and prayed. we were holding a short service. i had just finished speaking, and we were heartily singing that beautiful hymn, 'all hail the power of jesu's name,' and had got through the third verse, when we were suddenly called to man our rifles, as the sentry had seen the enemy approaching and given us the warning. over us scream harmlessly the big shells; some fall in front, some behind. over comes the shrapnel and bursts over us; then the spurt of rifle-fire begins. but the beauty of it is we are not troubled with fear at all--who could be in the presence of the master?--but go on singing the chorus 'crown him' right on to the finish, although the enemy is only or yards away." "the beauty of it is we are not troubled with fear at all--who could be in the presence of the master?" that sentence seems to sum up the situation. christ is there and he is all-sufficient. strong in his strength the christian soldier goes anywhere and faces anything. how grandly old "diadem" would sound as these christian soldiers sang it in the battle charge--"and crown him, crown him lord of all." there was nothing in the situation incongruous to them. they did not think of the germans--only of their lord and saviour. and so they went right on. some of them were sure to fall, but they did not think of that. the fact of christ dominated them. every other idea was "a grand impertinence." he was with them here, and he would be with them--yonder. sergeant-major moore gives us a picture of the king's own yorkshire light infantry. writing to mr. bateson on december , he says: "last tuesday, that is a week ago, they went into the trenches when it was pouring with rain. they were wet through to the skin, and then had to enter trenches where the water was in the majority of cases up to the knee, and in some as high as the waist. on being relieved some had to be lifted up with drag ropes, and then they had to be helped to walk. others, after taking their boots off, were unable to put them on again, and i saw several who could not walk at all. "i was able to have a few quiet talks with some of the young men and older ones, who during the past month have surrendered to the claims of jesus. their bright faces told very plainly that they have found the pearl of great price, and can say, 'what a friend i have in jesus.'" what a picture!--weary and worn, but not sad. having to be dragged out of the trenches, unable to walk, and yet with "bright faces." it reminds us of what the rev. r. winboult harding says of a wounded man in hospital at cambridge: "he is of the coldstreams and the glory room. he has ten shrapnel wounds in his legs, but he has heaven in his face." now was the time for services. and if no chaplain were available, the men held meetings themselves. writes one, a corporal, to his chaplain: "i thank you for your letter, also for the books for the little services which i hold amongst my comrades when out of the trenches, and in billets, which is not often the case, i am sorry to say. however, if our meetings are not frequent, i praise god my prayers for my comrades are being daily offered for them, in and out of the trenches, and on the march. what a privilege to carry everything to god in prayer! now it is sunday night, the th, and i have just held a nice service among my comrades, who greatly enjoyed the singing and also the address. we came out of the trenches last night, and go in again on monday, so far as we know." after one such little service as these a corporal said to his lads before they lay down to sleep: "if any of you want to lead a christian life, do so; i will see that no one interferes with you." next day that corporal was killed. and now was the opportunity of the chaplains. in the trenches they could only set an example of patient courage to the men and cheer them with words of faith and hope and love. but now they could get among them, hold services for them, and this they did incessantly. chaplains of all denominations were thus engaged. we read of many united services,--a church of england chaplain reading the prayers, the colonel of the regiment the lessons, and the wesleyan chaplain giving the address, or vice versa. as the rev. e.l. watson (baptist chaplain) says: "in the rush of work a chaplain has little time to inquire _re_ denomination; he gives his help where most needed; he comes as a brother man and affords god's own consolation." the psalmist said, "i will dwell in the house of the lord for ever." to him all life was sacred, every place the house of the lord. it is the same at the front to-day, every place sacred--trenches, farmyards, cellars, aye, even pig-sties--the house of the lord. lieutenant grenfell, r.a.m.c, describes one such service where mr. watkins preached his sermon from the door of a pig-sty, while a number of young porkers slept within. the men illuminated the scene with the light from an acetylene operating lamp, and so were able to have a good sing. those were tender moments. the pigs were forgotten, everything was forgotten but the presence of god, and, wearied but not discouraged, they were able to say, "surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and i will dwell in the house of the lord for ever." here, too, was the opportunity of showing kindness to one's enemy, which tommy is always ready to show. many a trembling german fallen into the hands of the british, terrified because of the frightful stories he has been told of british cruelty to prisoners, has been cheered by the kindly words and acts of british soldiers. a young officer writing to the _times_ says: "we are out to kill, and kill we do at any and every opportunity. but when all is done and the battle over, the splendid universal soldier spirit comes over all the men.... just to give you some idea of what i mean, the other night four german snipers were shot on our wire. the next night our men went out and brought one in who was near and get-at-able, and buried him. they did it with just the same reverence and sadness as they do to our own dear fellows. i went to look at the grave the next morning, and one of the most uncouth-looking men in my company had placed a cross on the head of the grave, and had written on it: here lies a german, we don't know his name; he died bravely fighting for his fatherland. "and under that 'got mitt uns' (_sic_), that being the highest effort of all the men at german. not bad for a blood-thirsty briton, eh? really that shows the spirit." it does, and a noble spirit too. god bless you, thomas atkins; here's your country's love to you. now was the opportunity also for the chaplains to dispense the gifts from home to the war-worn men. how delighted the men were with them, and how every gift was regarded as the gift of love! even war has its bright side, and surely one of the brightest spots on the bright side of war has been the spontaneous offering of kindly hearts at home to our soldiers abroad. in almost every home in the land skilled and unskilled fingers have been at work. knitting had almost become a lost art, but now every school-girl knits, and knits not for herself but for the soldiers. and the men who could not knit found the money, and sent their own special gifts. how they rolled in! what delightful work they gave the chaplains and those associated with them! cigars, tobacco, cigarettes, candles, matches, soap, socks, mittens, body belts, gloves--and so we might go on quoting almost every article the soldier needs. "you see," said one tommy, "i've lost all my shirts but one--the one i'm wearing--and that's borrowed. thanks very much, that's just what i wanted." and the indians, too, how they appreciated their gifts! one of them wrote this characteristic little letter to his chaplain--the rev. a.e. knott--who had come with them from india. "honourable and most gracious captain sahib, padre sahib,--we are all delighted with the things you have sent us. sir, may god bless you that you have remembered us. it is very kind of you, and we are very pleased, and for the ladies, our gratitude, who like mothers have regarded us. may no sorrow befall them. from many men, many, many thanks and salaams; also from the writer many salaams." so hearts were gladdened, and bodies made warm, and our soldiers thanked god and took courage when they realised that they were not forgotten by "the old folks at home." and now it is time to sum up this chapter. what is the general impression that it leaves? the whole scene is weird in the extreme. darkness hangs over the trenches. the work is done for the most part at night. when those of us at home are sleeping, our brothers and sons at the front are charging with the bayonet through the deep darkness. others are quietly moving backwards and forwards--backward with the wounded, forward with food and reinforcements. snow and rain and frost! shrapnel, and rifle fire, and "jack johnsons"! day after day, week after week, even month after month! the monotony of the day must be fearful, the horrors of the night recall the descriptions of the _inferno_. i do not wonder that, in some cases, nerves have given way, and men have had to be carried to the rear suffering from complete nervous collapse. but courage has never failed, though nerves have become unstrung. there used to be a story told in aldershot of an officer who was about to take part in his first battle. his legs were trembling so that he could hardly sit his horse. he looked down at his shaking legs and said, "you're shaking, are you? and you would shake more if you knew where _i_ was going to take you to-day, so let us get on." that is the highest courage, which realises and fears and yet goes. this courage our soldiers in the trenches have possessed in the highest degree. the charge brought against them is that they have exposed themselves to the fire of the enemy. i do not wonder. they intend to "get on," however much they fear. and through it all, as tommy would say, they have "kept smiling." wet through to the skin, or nipped by frost; sleepless for days together, only getting provisions replenished by night, comrades falling by their side! but they have "kept smiling." and what about the _christian_ soldier? he has had all these qualities--for to none of his comrades is he inferior in courage. but he has had another--an added quality. something--_someone_--who has given him peace in the midst of privation and danger; someone who has enabled him to exult in the battle. he has had a light in the darkness possessed by none else. as i have written this chapter the words of isaiah have been continually in my mind,--"but there shall be no gloom to her that was in anguish. in the former time he brought into contempt the land of zebulon and the land of naphtali, but in the latter time hath he made it glorious.... the people that walked in darkness have seen a great light, they that dwelt in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined." our soldiers have been called to walk in darkness but they have seen a great light. they, too, have _dwelt_ in the land of the shadow of death, and upon _them_ also hath the light shined. and so there is no "gloom" for them. it may be night all around, but the sun shines upon _them_, and it is always day. the problem of death has been greatly puzzling us at home--the death of thousands of our best young manhood. goethe says, "the spectacle of nature is always new, for she is always renewing the spectators. life is her most exquisite invention; and death is her expert contrivance to get plenty of life." we probe into his meaning, and during these months begin to understand. [illustration: _from the drawing by a. michael._ a "padre" holding a sunday evening service on the field.] but the christian soldier has no difficulty. death is to him but an incident. here and yonder he is in the presence of his king. he advances to his death singing "crown him," and then wakes up astonished to receive his own crown of life. chapter vi christmas at the front the royal christmas message--a christmas communion--services held anywhere--carol singing--the soldiers' christmas day--christmas in the trenches--the unofficial trace--they did not want to fight--strangest story of all--the strangest service. christmas will ever be remembered in this country. the message of peace and goodwill spoken from our pulpits, and yet half the world at war! christmas carols, christmas dinners, christmas presents, and yet our sons out there in the trenches, and our fleet keeping constant watch at sea! it was indeed a strange christmas, and yet we could not forgo it, for the christmas message was needed more than ever before, and the poor and needy and the little children must not be forgotten. for weeks before christmas we had been considering what we could do for our sailors and soldiers on christmas day. our king and queen had been busy sending out christmas cards to their troops, bearing a christmas greeting, and the message, reproduced in facsimile from the king's handwriting, "may god protect you, and bring you home safe." all sorts of organisations had arranged for presents--they were sent from the ends of the earth. the newspapers made appeals to their readers, and arranged for the despatch of christmas hampers and parcels. nearly every church remembered its own men at the front, and sent kindly greetings and appropriate gifts. we were all thinking of those who were fighting our battles, and we strove to give them a bit of christmas in the midst of the war. not that we took any credit to ourselves for this--it was the very least that we could do. they were _of_ us, and they had gone out _from_ us. they were our very own, our best and noblest, and they were doing all that men could do. they were laying down their lives for their country--and for us, that we in peace and plenty might quietly spend our christmas as of yore, "none daring to make us afraid." and they? what of them? well, our presents reached them. not a ship bearing our gifts was lost. they had our presents on christmas day. in the trenches, in the rear of the firing line, in hospital and in camp there was the christmas distribution, and the men looked up and thanked god that they were not forgotten on christmas day. my purpose in this chapter is to tell how that strange christmas at the front was spent. let us first hear our chaplains' stories, and then listen to the men. bishop gwynne of khartoum is again serving as a church of england chaplain with our troops. he shall tell, first of all, how he spent his christmas. "when i woke early on christmas day," says he, "the tiny window in my small room at the farm-house was frosted over, and the rattle of the ammunition waggon on the road sounded like trolleys over an iron way. "our first communion was in the mayor's office (the church was denied us), and was packed to the doors with generals, colonels, and 'tommies.' we sang 'while shepherds watched their flocks by night.' the celebration of holy communion within the booming of the guns, where bodies were being broken and blood shed, brought vividly, as nowhere else on earth, the message and meaning of the sympathy of god in the sufferings of men, and each one was thrilled with the reality of it all, as men of all ranks partook of the holy sacrament, and thoughts turned homeward to those who thought and prayed at the same service, convinced of the reality of the communion of saints. "my next service was under the shelter of a haystack along the side of a road, where a congregation of gunners in a semicircle sang the christmas hymns with real feeling in the keen frosty air. it was too cold to keep them long, but i gave them the christmas message, and wished them every christmas blessing. "a couple of miles further on, i found a congregation of about two hundred and fifty men assembled in the small theatre of a country town. with deep reverence and great heartiness they followed the service. these men were under orders for the trenches, and every word in every prayer seemed so suitable--'defend us thy humble servants in all assaults of our enemies, that we surely trusting in thy defence may not fear the power of any adversaries, through the might of jesus christ our lord.' "as soon as my first lot finished, another lot of two hundred and fifty filled the room for another service. what struck me most was that, though the surroundings were strange, the men showed no more signs of emotion than if they were keeping christmas at home. the sounds of artillery every now and then accompanied our prayers, but we all felt we were in our right place. "i am convinced they envied not the man who sat down in comfort to his christmas dinner at home; they had no wish to change places with those who, in luxury and ease, chose the easiest part in this time of war. in a few hours they would be in the forefront nearest their country's foe, and that was the place of honour this christmas day. their hearts were warmed as i told them how many were thinking of them and praying for them to-day, but they needed no pity. they were where they would be,--where the bravest and best always want to be,--fronting the enemy who threatened their hearth and home. "when the last lot went, i prepared for the holy communion on the theatre stage, and nearly a hundred came back to receive the blessed sacrament--officers, non-commissioned officers, and men kneeling on the muddy floor, remembering, worshipping, receiving into their hearts by faith, the vital power to fight, and, if need be, to suffer and die for the righteous cause. the cross of christ seemed to be so real, and its meaning so clear, to men who are really living away from the world's conventionalities, and up against death and the other life. "on the way back to my billet i found my unit on the road, having orders to move off, and i had to march along with them until dark, when we were all crowded into a farm with outbuildings large enough for our men. we had our goose and plum-pudding at nine p.m., and after a chat round a wood fire, lay down to rest at midnight." i have ventured to quote bishop gwynne's letter _in extenso_ from the _guardian_, as it tells us so delightfully how one chaplain spent his christmas day, and how worthily he earned his christmas dinner. what an insight it gives us also of the power of religion in our british expeditionary force! the rev. e.r. day, m.a. one of the senior church of england chaplains, has a similar story to tell. he says that on christmas day there were no fewer than seven hundred communicants from one regiment and four hundred from another, and the service was held in a ploughed field with a packing-case for the lord's table. he adds that during the war he has conducted these communion services in the back room of a public-house, in a stable, in a loft, in a lean-to shed, and in the open air--anywhere where room could be found. another church of england chaplain, writing to the _church times_, describes an attempt he had made to hold "early communion" at . on christmas morning. he had done his best, with the assistance of the army service corps, to provide all the accessories of a high church celebration, candles, &c., but that was a failure--no one came. we are not surprised, for thomas atkins, as a rule, does not care for these accessories. he succeeded better, later in the morning, on the straw-littered floor of a soldier's billet. as he quaintly says, "it seemed fitting that as he first came among the straw, he should come to his soldiers to-day as they knelt on the straw." the rev. j.d. coutts, wesleyan chaplain with the first division, describes another service. he says: "i preached a christmas sermon, and the men sang as only men can sing when they are having a good time. we went through the whole service in the small red book, the men reciting the responses with enthusiasm. after the service we held a communion service. we took communion in the town hall of an old french town, and it will remain in my memory for a long, long time. two planks on trestles formed our communion table.... an access of solemnity came upon us, and we knew ourselves to be standing in the presence of god. seldom has it been given me to take part in such a service. "this morning in going out to visit the regiment at dressing stations, i met a regiment returning from the trenches. there were not a hundred and fifty of them. the rest were put out of action in taking some trenches; they won their trenches, but were enfiladed. i thought of our communion service, for not one of the men whom i knew did i see." i might go on recording many of these communion services, but these will serve as specimens of similar services held throughout the expeditionary force. we at home and they abroad were one in this act of commemoration and communion. we at home thought of them and they of us, and said "amen" to the prayer contained in the communion hymn, part of which i copy from the united free church of scotland _record_. here with hearts that would be calm in the lifting of the psalm. hearts that would in quiet prayer cast on thee their load of care,-- all our loved ones o'er the sea we remember, lord, to thee. in the trenches, on the field, lord, be thou their strength and shield-- and for them the wine outpour, give them bread from out thy store-- let us feel while here we pray, they are one with us to-day. the rev. owen s. watkins gives us another picture of christmas at the front. the th brigade had gone into the trenches, so those who were left sat disconsolately round the fire on christmas eve, and one of the number said, "well, one thing's certain, we shan't hear any carol singers this year," but the words had hardly been spoken, when there came the sound of singing,--"hark, the herald angels sing," "while shepherds watched their flocks by night," and so on through all the old familiar carols. some of the musical members of the ambulance had formed a carol party and proceeded to serenade the general and the others who were in the village. it made them all realise that christmas was indeed here. mr. watkins then proceeds to describe christmas day: "christmas day dawned bright and frosty, truly seasonable weather, and welcomed by the troops as far better than the pouring rain. for the chaplains it was a busy day. in the course of the morning mr. winnifrith held two celebrations of holy communion, conducted two parade services in the brigade, and performed the last sad rites for three men who had been killed during the night. my work was found in the th brigade, who were resting in the billets we had just vacated, and a good deal of my morning was spent in the effort to keep my horse on his feet, for the roads were like glass, and my journey occupied twice as long as i had anticipated. i had arranged for the service to be held in the village school, but the congregation was far too large for that, and when i arrived i found they had decided to hold the service in the school-yard, which was packed as close as men could stand with a congregation which swayed and made a noise like thunder as they stamped their feet on the stones to keep them warm. "on my arrival the stamping ceased, and we at once began the service--scottish borderers and yorkshire light infantry most of them were--and in spite of the bitter cold, both officers and men joined in the singing with a zest and heartiness which was most inspiring. my address was of necessity brief, but throughout the service there was that influence which it is the preacher's joy to feel. "in the afternoon i held a service in the schoolroom of the village where our ambulance was billeted. it was attended by men of all denominations who had been unable to attend any of mr. winnifrith's services, and was chiefly composed of our own men and gunners belonging to some heavy batteries in the neighbourhood, some of whom had walked a couple of miles to attend the service. once again i realised the joy of leading god's people in worship, and felt that, however unusual the surroundings, the true spirit of christmas was resting upon us. "in the evening the men feasted, had a singsong, and generally made merry, whilst in the officers' mess we also tried to celebrate christmas in the old-fashioned way, but soon settled down to the fireside quietly to talk of other days and other scenes, and to think of those who missed us at this festive season." we have seen how the chaplains spent their christmas day. how did the christian men spend theirs? perhaps one picture will suffice. our old friend sergeant-major moore shall draw it for us. on christmas eve he was occupied nearly all day giving out christmas presents to the men. his regiment had come out of the trenches on the rd, and the men were, many of them, in a terrible condition. they had been standing in the water for days and numbers were frost-bitten. but how they appreciated their gifts! it was indeed good to see a cart-load of gifts, all of them sent direct from the homeland to this one christian sergeant-major for distribution. christmas eve was spent in a barn, and as the sergeant-major spoke to the men, at least one soldier gave himself to christ. christmas morning broke fresh and clear, and the staff-sergeant had a splendid menu for the day, provided so far as extras were concerned by friends from the homeland. breakfast--tea, sugar, and milk (the last a great luxury), bread, english butter, ham, tinned sausages, and cake. dinner--roast-beef, potatoes and cabbage, plum-pudding. tea--tea, sugar, _milk_, bread and butter, ham, honey, sardines, shortbread, christmas cake, and chocolates afterwards. not a bad menu that for men fresh from the trenches! let it not be supposed, however, that all fared so well. the rev. a.d. brown, chaplain with the indian cavalry division, mournfully records: "we spent christmas day on the trek. my christmas dinner consisted of bully beef and bread and butter." but these men of the king's own yorkshire l.i. fared well, and the sergeant-major finishes his characteristic letter by saying: "after tea i had still a few parcels of comforts, chocolates, &c., which you so kindly sent me, and with a few tracts and christmas letters, i visited the barns to find out those lonely ones who had not received a letter or parcel from the homeland, and before i left for my billet again i had the joy of knowing that, as far as i knew, every lad of the battalion had received a parcel of cheer, and many were the thanks, and 'god bless you, sir,' that night. yesterday being sunday we had three services in barns and a few hymns and prayers in a fourth, there not being time for more. it would cheer many a mother to hear her boy out here singing the old gospel hymn she taught him in his childhood days. again, on the part of the men, thanking you for your splendid gift. good-day! !" [illustration: in the trenches.] it is now time we got nearer the firing line and asked how our soldier lads in the trenches spent their christmas. it is a strange sight which meets our gaze. i confess that when i first read the stories of that christmas truce i thought that the reporters were romancing. but there was no romancing after all. truth is stranger than fiction, and this was truth. the french do not seem to have observed christmas day as did the british. the french _eye-witness_ records: "on christmas day the germans left their trenches shouting 'a two days' truce.' their ruse did not succeed. all were shot down." it is evident, however, that on some parts of the field there was fraternisation between even the french and the germans. the british soldiers took the law into their own hands, and unofficially themselves proclaimed a truce. in some cases the initiative lay with the germans, and in others with the british; but in nearly every case, all along the line, the informal truce was accepted, and british and germans fraternised. the angels' song was heard again, this time over the blood-stained trenches, and the bursting of the shrapnel ceased, the whizz of the bullets was heard no more, and, instead, the sound of christmas carols dominated the firing zone. the period of this truce varied in different parts of the firing line. one officer states: "the germans looked upon christmas day as a holiday, and never fired a shot, except a few shells in the early morning to wish us a happy christmas, after which there was perfect peace, and we could hear the germans singing in their trenches. later on in the afternoon my attention was called to a large group of men standing up half-way between our trenches and the enemy's, on the right of my trench. so i went out with my sergeant-major to investigate, and actually found a large party of germans and our people hobnobbing together, although an armistice was strictly against our regulations. the men had taken it upon themselves. i went forward and asked in german what it was all about and if they had an officer there, and i was taken up to their officer, who offered me a cigar. i talked for a short time and then both sides returned to the trenches. it was the strangest sight i have ever seen. the officer and i saluted each other gravely, shook hands, and then went back to shoot at each other. he gave me two cigars, one of which i smoked, and the other i sent home as a souvenir." corporal t.b. watson, royal scots (territorials), says: "we were all standing in the open for about two hours waving to each other and shouting and not one shot was fired from either side. this took place in the forenoon. after dinner we were firing and dodging as hard as ever: one could hardly believe that such a thing had taken place." private j. higham, of the stalybridge territorials, tells of a truce that lasted throughout christmas day. "on christmas day the germans never fired a shot, and we were walking about the trenches. in the afternoon about three o'clock the ----, who were on our right, started whistling and shouting to the germans whose trenches were only four hundred yards away. they asked them to come down.... after about ten minutes two germans ventured out, and the ---- went to meet them. when they met they shook hands with each other, and then other germans came, and so we went up to them.... i was a bit timid at first, but me and a lad called starling went up and i shook hands with about sixteen germans. they gave us cigars and cigarettes and toffee, and they told us they didn't want to fight but they had to.... we were with them about an hour, and everybody was bursting laughing at this incident, and the officers couldn't make head or tail of it. the germans then went back to their trenches, and we went back to ours, and there was not a single shot fired that day." "elsewhere," says a subaltern writing to the press association, "i hear our fellows played the germans at football on christmas day. our own pet enemies remarked that they would like a game, but as the ground in our part is all root crops, and much cut up by ditches, and as, moreover, we had not got a football, we had to call it off." one incident recorded by the _manchester guardian_ from the letter of an officer is surely the strangest of all--the story of a friendly haircut. "at eleven p.m.," says the officer, "on december , there was absolute peace, bar a little sniping and a few rounds from a machine gun, and then no more. 'the king,' was sung, then you heard 'to-morrow is christmas; if you don't fight, we won't,' and the answer came back 'all right!' one officer met a bavarian, smoked a cigarette, and had a talk with him about half-way between the lines. then a few men fraternised in the same way, and really to-day peace has existed. men have been talking together, and they had a football match with a bully beef tin, and one man went over and cut a german's hair." i might multiply these extracts indefinitely, but sufficient has been said to show the spirit in which our lads and the germans spent christmas day. i do not wonder that one soldier, after saying that some german officers took the photographs of our men between the trenches, adds, "i would not have missed the experience of yesterday for the most gorgeous christmas dinner in england." if the strangest incident of that strange christmas day was the cutting of a german soldier's hair by one of our lads, surely the strangest service was that conducted by the rev. j. esslemont adams, chaplain of the united free church of scotland, of whom i have already had occasion to write. i piece the story together from various reports that have been sent to scotland, and then add mr. adams' own brief comments. he is attached to the gordon highlanders, and on christmas morning visited the trenches to wish his men a happy christmas. the gordons had recently relieved the scottish borderers, and there were several dead bodies of the borderers lying midway between the british and german trenches, the result of the last charge. only about a hundred yards separated the trenches. on christmas morning some of the germans astonished the gordons by appearing on the top of their trenches, but the gordons did not fire on them, and instead an officer went out to suggest that, as they had a "padre" with them, and there were also several german dead, they should have a truce for a burial service. it was arranged, and the germans lined up on one side of the chaplain and the gordons on the other. the service began with the hymn "the lord is my shepherd," and then the "padre" prayed. after the burial of the dead, of whom there were about a hundred, mr. adams gave an address, which was interpreted sentence by sentence by an interpreter sent forward by a german officer. the service over, the german officer shook hands with mr. adams and offered him a cigar. mr. adams begged leave not to smoke it, but to keep it as a souvenir of that unique occasion. the officer consented, but said he should like some little memento in return. hardly knowing what to give, mr. adams took off his cap and gave the officer the soldier's prayer he had carried in its lining since the war began. the german officer read it, put it in the lining of his helmet, saying, "i value this because i believe what it says, and when the war is over i shall take it out and give it as a keepsake to my youngest child." then the men gathered together, exchanged keepsakes, and spent their christmas in perfect unity. not a shot was fired that day, nor on the next. it seemed as though each side was reluctant to fire again, after the sacred service of christmas morning. during a brief visit home mr. adams occupied the pulpit of his own church--the west u.f. church, aberdeen. in the course of a sermon full of interest he referred to his strange service on the battle-field. the aberdeen _daily journal_ thus reports what he said: "there had been some weird stories told about christmas day. he was not going to deny these stories. he was not even going to deny the cigar incident, but was going to show the cigar. christmas day made him understand something of the size of god. the day ended for him with the vision of a great german regiment standing behind their commanding officer bareheaded, and not so far distant as one gallery from the other of that church, british officers with their soldiers bareheaded, and between them a man reading the twenty-third psalm. in the name of the one christ, these two foes, the most awful the world had ever seen, held christmas. it was the fear of god--the need of god--that did it all." i have told the story in the simplest language, without any attempt to give it colouring, because it seems to me it speaks for itself. it tells that deep down beneath the uniform, beneath all that makes man true briton or true german, there is the bond of brotherhood. they were scotchmen, these gordons, and i wonder if they thought of the lines of their scottish poet: man to man the warld o'er, shall brithers be for a' that. is it not a grim tragedy that men who can thus fraternise on christmas day should a few hours after be sending each other to their death? we look forward to the day, and pray god it may not be far distant, when war shall cease. here at home and there on the battle-field, christian men unite in the prayer: not on this land alone, but be god's mercies known from shore to shore: and may the nations see that men should brothers be, and form one family the wide world o'er. chapter vii christian heroism a picture in "punch"--tommy's deep-rooted religion--courage of chaplains--a shell in his back--stories of christian soldiers--first clergyman soldier to die--driver osborne--a church parade of four--"tell my wife i am ready "--duty overcomes fear. there was a time when men thought that the reckless devil-may-care man made the finest soldier; that the hard drinker, the hard swearer, the riotous liver came out best in a fight. wellington wrote of his "collection of ruffians" in the peninsula: "it is impossible to describe to you the irregularities and excesses committed by the troops. we are an excellent army on parade, an excellent one to fight, but we are worse than an enemy in the country." how greatly times have changed since then! sir george white once said that recklessness and lawlessness will carry men a certain distance, but when men are half fed, when nights are wet and cold, and when nerves are broken down by shot and shell, then the lawless man disappears. it is when he is called upon to take the place of a comrade shot on a lonely picket that the man who has disciplined himself proves the true soldier. general nogi, who commanded the japanese forces at port arthur, held the same view. his words may well be borne in mind at this time: "only he who has conquered himself in time of peace can aspire to be a fighting man under the sun flag. the brilliant and faithful deeds of the soldier on the battle-field are nothing but the flowering and fruition of the work and training of his daily life in time of peace. a man whose life is in disorder in time of peace would have a rather difficult task if he tried to perform with correctness and success the duties of a true soldier on the field of battle." if we carry these statements on to their issue, then surely the christian soldier should fight best of all. he has not only the discipline and training of the army, but moral discipline and training as well. and he has something more--the spiritual fact which dominates his being and transfigures and transforms him. to him death is not death, he lives and will live, and in the worst of all fiery furnaces there is always with him "the form of the fourth, like unto the son of god." such men as these are unconquerable. they remind us of _punch's_ famous cartoon, "unconquerable"; for _punch_ is not only a humorist, he is a preacher too. _the kaiser_: "so you see--you've lost everything." _the king of the belgians_: "not my soul!" the kaiser has gained his victory and sheathed his sword. belgium is his; there is nothing in that country left for him to conquer. a ruined building is behind him, on his left is the broken wheel of a gun-carriage. in the distance is a belgian family--an aged man, a woman, a child. the woman's husband is not there--most likely he is dead. the king of the belgians has lost his helmet. his uniform is war-worn, his hair untidy. his scabbard is empty, but he has not parted with his sword. he still grasps it in his strong right hand. "you have lost everything," says the kaiser--"liège, namur, brussels, antwerp." "no, not everything. not my soul." but the king of the belgians was not alone in the claim which _punch_ puts into his life. every christian man fighting for his country, and many another, wounded, frost-bitten, dying, can answer "not my soul." you cannot take that from him, it is his own sacred possession, and the consciousness that he possesses it still nerves him to do and dare. as the rev. e.r. day, church of england chaplain at the front, says: "there were men to whom we might almost kneel down in reverence. the bravery, endurance, heroism, and patience of our men at the front are such that french people could not understand it." it is not necessary to claim that these qualities are the sole possession of the christian man. it is, indeed, far otherwise. but the christian graces produce them best of all. mr. day is right when he says, "though apparently careless and light-hearted, one realised that there was a deep-rooted religion in our soldiers, and that it was indeed a fool's game to judge a man by his outward appearance." it is largely because of that "deep-rooted religion" that the qualities of "bravery, endurance, heroism, and patience" are produced. we must remember that our army at the front is made up in no small degree of men from homes in which god is honoured, many of them old sunday-school boys. they have been trained in religion, they have been taught to pray. some have forgotten much that they were taught, but they have not forgotten the old hymns and prayers, and in their time of need that "deep-rooted" religious instinct has asserted itself. as one of them said to me, "i grew too old for sunday-school, and i wandered far away from god. for years i never prayed; but in the battle of the marne i began to pray again, and i have kept on praying. i tell you what it is, sir, most men out there are praying now." yes, there is felt the need for god and so there is prayer. my point is that, all things being equal, the man who prays is the best soldier, because he possesses spiritual power as well as material. [illustration: _central news photo._ the bishop of london at the front at easter. addressing men of the army service corps from a transport cart] i purpose therefore telling in this chapter of the heroism of the men who pray, while at the same time i do not overlook the heroism of the army as a whole. my purpose will be answered if i convince my readers that, instead of religion impairing the courage of our soldiers, it is increased and intensified thereby. may i first speak of the courage of our chaplains? not every one expects a "parson" to be brave. the pulpit has been spoken of by the ill-informed as "the coward's castle," but hundreds of these parsons have been transferred to the forefront of the fight. as i write this, many of them are already fighting in the ranks, and many more will soon be there. but the chaplain is not a fighting man. not a shot does he fire, not a bayonet thrust does he give. he sees the shot and shell bursting round him, but he has not the stimulus of the fight. how have they borne themselves--these men who have been transferred from the pulpit to the battle-field? two hundred of them are there. has there been one lacking in courage? i doubt it. the stories i have already told are stories of conspicuous bravery. let me add one or two more. i have already mentioned the name of the rev. percy wyndham guinness, church of england chaplain, rd cavalry brigade. he has been appointed by the king a companion of the distinguished service order, in recognition of his services with the expeditionary force. the official statement is: "on the th november at kruistraat when major dixon, th lancers, was mortally wounded, he went on his own initiative into the trenches under heavy fire and brought him to the ambulance, and on the afternoon of the same day, being the only individual with a horse in the shelled area, took a message under heavy fire from the th hussars to the headquarters of the rd cavalry brigade." that is the bare official statement, but it is enough. we may read between the lines bravery pre-eminent, and right worthily does he wear the d.s.o. "t.p.'s" _great deeds of the great war_ tells another story. "some of the ministers at the front are doing great deeds of sacrifice. as i was coming away from the hospital, i met one of them accompanied by a corporal. the minister stopped and inquired from me the way to the hospital. naturally enough, i asked the corporal what was the matter with him. before i could get the words out of my mouth, the minister turned round,--and i don't think i could describe the admiration i had for that man. he had walked about a mile and a half with a great lump of shell in his back, the size of a man's hand." that was endurance if you like, and it was the endurance of a padre. i cannot better sum up the heroism of the chaplains at the front than in the words of field-marshal sir john french in his despatch published on february , . "in a quiet and unostentatious manner the chaplains of all denominations have worked with devotion and energy in their respective spheres. the number with the forces in the field at the commencement of the war was comparatively small, but towards the end of last year, the rev. j.m. simms, d.d., k.h.c, principal chaplain, assisted by his secretary, the rev. w. drury, reorganised the branch, and placed the spiritual welfare of the soldiers on a more satisfactory footing. it is hoped that a further increase of personnel may be found possible. i cannot speak too highly of the devoted manner in which all chaplains, whether with troops in the trenches, or in attendance on the sick and wounded in casualty clearing stations and hospitals on the line of communications, have worked throughout the campaign." the day after this statement was published came the despatches mentioning the names of those noted for distinguished conduct in the field, and in this--the second list--we find the names of no fewer than sixteen chaplains, while the hon. and rev. maurice peel (brother of lord peel) has received the new military cross. the stories, however, that i most want to tell are the stories of the soldiers, officers and men. they were all alike, but my stories are confined to the definitely christian soldiers. their spirit is indicated in the following letter from captain norman leslie of the rifle brigade, who has since died for his country. "try not to worry too much about the war, anyway. units, individuals cannot count. remember we are writing a new page of history. future generations cannot be allowed to read the decline of the british empire and attribute it to us. we live our little lives and die. to some are given chances of proving themselves men and to others no chance comes. whatever our individual faults, virtues, or qualities may be it matters not, but when we are up against big things let us forget individuals, and let us act as one great british unit, united and fearless. it is better far to go out with honour than survive with shame." that is the true spirit of the christian soldier--"better far to go out with honour than survive with shame." but again i am oppressed with a superabundance of riches. the stories of christian heroism which could be told would fill this book. the church's roll of honour lengthens rapidly. i choose at random. there is, for example, captain james fergus mackain, th sikh pioneers, a zealous member of the church of england men's society, and before the war honorary secretary of its union in the diocese of lahore. "always bright and hopeful, brave and zealous, ever ready to help anyone in any way he could, and yet so humble and retiring that it was always his beautiful christian character rather than himself that seemed to stand forward. the quality of his handshake won all hearts, and even now one seems to feel his vigorous grasp so characteristic of his thoroughness. a great gentle plaything with the children, a pacifying, controlling influence with boys and lads, a quiet sure leadership with men, is it any wonder that such a man was loved and honoured?" he, too, laid down his life for his country. there was lieutenant david scott dodgson, r.g.a., who was killed in action ten days before his thirtieth birthday. since his death his promotion to a captaincy had been gazetted. he was laying out a telephone cable for the battery--a particularly dangerous and important piece of work--and while doing so was shot. his father served through the indian mutiny and saved the life of havelock at lucknow. like father, like son. there was second lieutenant h. arnold hosegood, th royal fusiliers, who was killed in action near ypres on february . a fine upstanding man, six feet three inches in height, a daring rider, a good shot. "generous, chivalrous, and modest, he had a great gift of friendliness." before the war he was for a time superintendent of the westbury park wesleyan sunday-school, bristol, and secretary of the trinity guild. he was only twenty-three years of age. there was private paul holman of the h.a.c. he was killed while on sentry duty on february . a comrade writes: "his first thought was evidently that he must warn the guard; this he did, becoming unconscious immediately afterwards." his colonel says of him: "he was a splendid type of young englishman and a fine soldier, greatly beloved by us all--officers and men." he had just begun to practise as a barrister before the war broke out. there were second lieutenant j.c. baptist crozier, royal munster fusiliers, nephew of the archbishop of armagh, and captain l.a.f. cane, east lancashire regiment, who died leading his men to capture a trench, and lieutenant compton, royal scots greys, son of the late lord alwyne compton, and scores of other officers, of whom we may say as was said of those of old, "who through faith subdued kingdoms, wrought righteousness, obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the power of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, from weakness were made strong, waxed mighty in war, turned to flight armies of aliens." we expect, however, that officers will set an example of bravery to their men, and though we mourn the large percentage of officers who have fallen in the field, we would not have it otherwise. it is the tradition of the army, and a noble tradition too. perhaps this is the place to record the death of the first clergyman-soldier who has been killed in this war. the combination of minister of the gospel and soldier of the line is so remarkable that the death of the first of these marks an epoch in the church's history. captain lionel fairfax studd, of the rangers, th county of london regiment, died of wounds received in action on february , . he was the son of mr. j.e.k. studd, of the polytechnic, and nephew of mr. c.t. studd. he had been ordained by the bishop of london to a curacy at st. james, holloway, at trinity, . but, on the outbreak of war, he felt it to be his duty, after very grave reflection, to take his place with his old regiment. devoted to christ, he was devoted also to his country. the deeds, however, upon which i wish to dwell in this chapter are the deeds of christian non-commissioned officers and men. i must choose with care, and the stories i tell will, i hope, show different phases of christian courage. let me first tell how driver f.a. osborne won the french v.c. for years driver osborne has been associated with the wesley hall brotherhood, leicester, and although now on the field still counts himself a member. i quote from the _methodist times_. "the story has been slowly imparted to us. in september the gloom of the long and terrible retreat from mons was lifted by the announcement of the capture of ten german guns by the english. then fugitive paragraphs made reference to three men who had fought alone, wounded, but undaunted. only now can the whole story be pieced together, and it is a veritable romance--tragic, heroic, glorious. "it was on september , , in a village near compiègne, that the l battery of six guns limbered up on reveille at . , waiting for a missing order to retire. the french cavalry they were supporting retired unnoticed in the mist, and at . , as the light grew, the germans were perceived, but were thought to be the french. at . their battery of eleven guns and two maxims opened fire. the first shell killed driver osborne's horse, and in three minutes the gun teams were destroyed, only six horses being left. "men fell in droves, but captain bradbury and the men available strove to unlimber the guns, and in five minutes three were ready for action. one was instantly disabled by a german shell, and driver osborne was thrice wounded. a shrapnel bullet deeply grazed his cheek, another caught his shoulder, a third grazed his ribs and inflicted a nasty chest wound. the second gun was shattered in ten minutes, and then for another hour and a quarter one gun fought the german battery. it was an inferno. the screaming dying horses, the shattered groaning men, the shells in hundreds digging holes of four to five feet deep, and shrapnel bullets by thousands searching the ground made it a gehenna. "men fell fast. the officers were killed or wounded, but the one gun fought on. driver osborne, thrice wounded, fetched the ammunition from fifty yards away amidst showers of shrapnel. one shell dropped within six feet, but did not burst; another hit a gun muzzle, but the fragments missed him. he was running behind a shattered gun for ammunition when a shell hit the wheel, and the concussion of the broken wheel knocked his knee up, and he could go no more. an officer started for ammunition instead and was instantly killed. "osborne holds captain bradbury in high honour. 'he was a hero and a gentleman.' his courage, promptitude, and resource inspired his men. one by one the german guns were hit, shattered, silenced, and their gunners fell, under the terrible accuracy of that one british gun. ten guns ceased fire, and the germans fled from the other. the middlesex regiment of infantry arrived at this point and found three men wounded, covered with blood from horses and men, but working their one gun with their ebbing strength. "dashing forward, they captured the german guns, brought out the english battery and rescued the wounded men. the three men, with their fallen comrades, had saved the battery, destroyed the german attack, saved the village beyond, and secured the english rear." for this splendid service driver osborne was rewarded with the médaille militaire for distinguished conduct. this is the french v.c. it is equivalent to the legion of honour in france, and carries with it a pension of a hundred francs a year. driver osborne was also recommended for the british v.c., but it does not yet appear to have been given. the first wesleyan soldier in this war to receive the v.c. was bandsman thomas edward rendle, st duke of cornwall's light infantry. the reward was, according to the official notification, conferred-- "for conspicuous bravery on november , near wulverghem, when he attended to the wounded under very heavy shell and rifle fire, and rescued men from the trenches in which they had been buried by the blowing in of the parapets by the fire of the enemy's howitzers." still another story of christian heroism, the hero of this being a member of the salvation army. i quote from the _war cry_ of october , . "jumping into a carriage of an already moving train the other day (writes a _war cry_ representative) i was seized by a soldier in war-stained khaki, who gave me a tight hand-grip and said, 'good luck to you! god bless you and your people!' "'i'm afraid i don't know you,' i replied. "'perhaps not,' he responded, 'but i know some of your people, and the one i met in the firing line was one of the pluckiest fellows i know of. we had been lying in the trenches firing for all we were worth. on my right, shoulder to shoulder, were two salvationists. i remembered them as having held a meeting with some of us chaps about a week before. as we lay there with the bullets whistling round us these two were the coolest of the whole cool lot! "'after we had been fighting some time we had orders to fall back, and as we were getting away from the trenches one of the salvationists was hit and fell. his chum didn't miss him until we had gone several hundred yards, and then he says, "where's ----?" calling him by name. "i must go back and fetch him!" and off he hurried, braving the hail of shot and shell. i admired his bravery so much that i offered to go with him, but he said, "no, the lord will protect me; i'll manage it!" "'so i threw myself on the ground and waited. i saw him creep along for some yards, then run to cover; creep along, and take shelter again; and, finally, having found his chum, he picked him up and made a dash for safety. "'how the bullets fell around him! into the shelter of some trees he went; out again and in once more; and when he did get into the last piece of clearing i couldn't wait any longer, so rushed forward to help him. "'then i got hit, and was, of course, bowled over. but your man quickly came to me. "'what do you think the brave fellow did? he just put his other arm round me and carried us both off! darkness was fast coming on, and presently he laid us down and bound the wounds, which he bandaged up with strips which he tore from his shirt. i shall never forget that terrible night! "'the three of us struggled on, we two getting weaker and weaker, until just as dawn was breaking we all collapsed. "'how far we had gone i don't know, for the next i remember was that i was in a field hospital. i could find no trace of my brave rescuer nor his chum, and have heard nothing of them since. but he's a brave boy, and if ever i chance to meet him again i'll ask his name, and the _war cry_ shall know it as soon as word can reach you.'" the next story is one altogether different. i quote it from the united free church of scotland _record_. it speaks for itself. "it was a sunday morning in belgium. there had been a sharp engagement, and the british troops holding a village had been hurriedly forced by great masses of the enemy to retire. in the confusion three scottish privates and a corporal had been cut off in the streets and had backed into the first open door they came to. the occupants had fled, and they made their way up a long staircase, intending to find the roof and watch events from there. but it ended in an empty loft, where there was only a skylight beyond their reach. "'better lie low for a while,' suggested the corporal as they stood listening to the terrible sounds outside. the germans were evidently burning, looting, and killing. now and again they heard screams and the discharge of rifles: sometimes an explosion would shake the building, showing that houses were being blown up; while the smell of burning wood penetrated to their retreat. this went on for hours. the soldiers knew they would be discovered sooner or later, and expected no mercy, as the enemy would be sure to invent some excuse for putting them to death. "suddenly the corporal said: 'lads, it's time for church parade: let's hae a wee bit service here; it may be oor last.' the soldiers looked a little astonished, but they piled their rifles in a corner and came and stood at attention. the corporal took out a small testament from his breast pocket and turned over the pages. "'canna we sing something first? try ye're hand at the rd psalm. quiet noo--very quiet.' "yea, though i walk in death's dark vale, yet will i fear none ill: for thou art with me; and thy rod and staff me comfort still." "there wasn't much melody about the tune, but the words came from the heart. "then the corporal began: "'fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear him which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell. are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall on the ground without your father. but the very hairs of your head are numbered. fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows.' "as he read there were loud shouts below: doors banged, and glass was smashed. but he went on: "'he that findeth his life shall lose it; and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it.' "he ended, and his grave face took on a wry smile. "'i'm no' a gude hand at this job,' he said, 'but we maun finish it off. let us pray.' "he stood, with the book in his hand, and the others knelt and bowed their heads. his memory went back to the days of family worship in his father's cottage, and he tried to remember the phrases he had heard. a little haltingly, but very simply, he committed their way to god and asked for strength to meet their coming fate like men. "while he prayed a heavy hand thrust open the door and they heard an exultant exclamation and then a gasp of surprise. not a man moved, and the corporal went calmly on. after a pause he began, with great reverence, to repeat the lord's prayer. "that a german officer or private was standing there they realised: they did not see, but they felt, what was taking place. they heard the click of his heels, and they knew that he also was standing at attention. for a moment the suspense lasted, and then came the soft closing of the door and his footsteps dying away. "the tumult in the house gradually ceased, and soon afterwards the storm of war retreated like the ebb of the tide, and quiet fell upon the village and remained upon it. at dusk the four men ventured forth, and by making a wide detour worked round the flank of the enemy and reached the british outposts in safety." one other story will suffice. sergeant william taylor of the st royal berkshire regiment died of wounds in the herbert hospital, woolwich, on thursday, december . a beautiful character, a devoted christian soldier, he was promoted on the field from the rank of lance-corporal to sergeant for conspicuous bravery. on one occasion he stood over a fallen comrade with bullets whizzing all around, until eventually the comrade was carried to a place of safety. on another occasion sergeant taylor volunteered with others to attack a position held by a strong force of the enemy. the berkshires lost heavily until reinforced, and then the position was carried. he was the ideal soldier--the "righteous man" who is "brave as a lion." the late rev. t.j. thorpe, who cared for him while he was in hospital at woolwich, says: "the lord jesus was very precious to him amidst the agony of his last days, and he died more than conqueror." this grand christian hero was only twenty-four years old. before i close this chapter, let me give extracts from two letters sent home by two baptist chaplains and published in the _baptist times and freeman_. the rev. t.n. tattersall writes: "i have made inquiries as to how the men behave in the trenches. what effect has the imminence of death upon the character of the men? some use language more forcible than polite. some find the black marias and shells a source of entertainment. some turn their feelings into the songs of zion. many vows to god are made on the field of battle, and a christian soldier has a great opportunity of which he is not slow to make use. in a chat with one such, private j. downs, of the welsh regiment, a good baptist, whom i found in hospital recovering from a wound, he told me how he lost his chum. they were sharing a dug-out together, and had agreed, should either fall, to write home the terrible news. his friend said, 'you will tell my wife i am ready, that to god i have given my trust.' just before he fell he sang 'jesus is tenderly calling thee home.' little did he realise how near was his own call. a bullet struck him in the head. last thursday the letter was written." the second is from the rev. e.l. watson, and forcibly depicts to us the highest form of courage--courage that triumphs in spite of fear and triumphs through christ. such courage is the possession of every christian soldier. "at another farm-house in absolute darkness and silence we reached our second dressing station. the regimental medical officer was absent, but the sergeant in charge was ready to deliver over his charge. i stepped into what appeared to be a large living room covered with straw, upon which some fifteen men were lying in absolute silence. no groans, no word of complaint escaped the lips of a single man, no asking for drink, nor claiming first assistance. i felt my way over several, and was able to whisper a word of cheer here and there. one badly wounded man guided my hand to that of a lad near by with the words, 'speak a word to that lad, chaplain, he must need his mother.' out of that darkness one by one they were carefully lifted on to stretchers and put into the ambulances. "one incident impressed me very much that night in that chamber of agony. just as the last man was being carried out i heard a sob near by me, and putting out my hand touched a stretcher-bearer who had become jumpy. poor boy, and no wonder. only seventeen years of age, and away from home for the first time. empty stomach and soaked clothes, bringing in and remaining with the wounded till relieved, with death outside at every step. this first night of his experience with war was trying his strength and testing his nerve. i took his hand, and whispered a message, and i heard him go out with his little company again towards the trenches over a fire-swept area. "men claim that heroism always comes to the front in a crisis, and so it does, but i have learned too that the heroic soul is not always the fearless one. in the case of this lad the sense of duty overcame his sense of fear, and away he went to face death, brave and heroic, in spite of a trembling heart and unsteady hand." yet one more picture of heroism, and it is, indeed, a strange one. there is a touch of unconscious humour in it, but for all that it is grandly heroic. six royal field artillery men, soldiers of the king and of the salvation army too, have been holding daily prayer meetings just behind the guns, and have succeeded in capturing several of their comrades as "trophies." there was no "penitent rail" to which to invite them, and so, notwithstanding the cold, they piled their overcoats together, and kneeling at this improvised "rail" their comrades gave themselves to christ. what a picture it presents of absolute devotion and of the highest christian courage! the guns hardly cool from their deadly fire, soon to belch out death again, the men in the depth of winter caring naught for the cold or for the enemy's shot and shell, using their brief interval to lead their comrades to christ. pray on, salvation army lads! you will fight all the better for your country because of your fight for the king of kings, and if death stares you in the face you will know that you have spent your last moments in pointing your comrades to the lamb of god who taketh away the sin of the world. [illustration: a new form of red-cross work. the red-cross motor field kitchen, under the direction of miss jessica borthwick, dispenses hot soup to the wounded on the battlefield. _drawn by s. begg._] chapter viii at the sign of the red cross regimental aid posts--what night fighting is like--the young doctor--making the grave bigger--field dressing stations--where caution is required--where pluck is shown--when does the doctor sleep?--nothing but tragedy--those grand tommies--winning a v.c. clasp--a dreadful scene--a kitchener's train--devoted nurses--the healthiest war--preventive measures--hospital ships. so complete is the organisation of the red cross at the front that it is possible to indicate its work in four terms--regimental aid posts, field dressing stations, clearing hospitals, base hospitals. add to these the home hospitals, to which the men are finally transferred, and you have the work of the army medical organisation at a glance. during this war the cryptic letters r.a.m.c. and m.s.c. have interpreted themselves into actual glorious service which the british public will ever delight to honour, and it will be borne in mind that most of the christian ministers who have enlisted during this war, have enlisted into this branch of the service. they bear no arms, but theirs is the highest of all service, that of ministering to the wounded and dying. such work as this requires heroism of the highest order. let us glance at each branch of the work, that the service of the red cross may live before us. . _regimental aid posts._--just a little behind the firing line, as near to it as possible, often exposed to shell and rifle fire, is the regimental aid post. it may be in a cottage, possibly in a cow-shed, perhaps only under the partial shelter of a hill, with a doctor and a few men of the r.a.m.c. in charge. to it are brought as quickly as possible the men wounded in the firing line. during recent months, however, it has been impossible to bring the wounded even this short distance during the day. it has only been at night that the men in the trenches could remove their wounded hither, or the stretcher-bearers could go out to seek for them. the fire has been so terrible that no one could venture into the open. the men have had to lie where they fell, often in agony, waiting until they could be carried to the aid post to receive first aid from the doctor waiting for them. but the doctor does not always wait; he goes where he is needed most, right into the trenches, risking his life at every step, and there ministers to those who cannot wait to be brought to him. the rev. e.l. watson (baptist chaplain) vividly describes one such outpost as i have indicated. "in the vicinity of the trenches star bombs were constantly being thrown up, causing whole lines of trenches to be under the weird flare. german search-lights swept the whole of the surrounding country, bringing to light every movement of the troops not under cover. "for one brief moment the shaft of light rested on me as i stood watching the scene of battle. the experience is equal to an unexpected cold douche. night fighting under modern science is, i should imagine, hell let loose, and the surprise to me is that so many should survive the inferno. "from p.m. to a.m. the rush was terrific. in one of the field hospitals no less than seventy odd wounded were treated, about twenty of these requiring chloroform. "be it remembered that each case is hastily but carefully dressed by the regimental doctor at the regimental aid post before coming in to the field hospital for more thorough treatment, then one realises the enormous amount of work that often falls to the men occupying these positions of grave risk and tough work. "these gentlemen are night and day at the call of the man in the trenches, and gladly make any and every sacrifice to render needed medical and surgical assistance. each trip they make to the line of fire means that they carry their lives in their hands; for there is more danger getting into the trenches than actually exists in the trenches, because most of the fire passes over our trenches and sweeps the approaches night and day. "some few days ago, i had occasion to spend some time with a young regimental doctor in his lonely outpost. we were drawn together by common interests and promised ourselves a smoke night together. the first case that met my gaze in the field hospital was my friend the young regimental doctor, fatally wounded whilst going in the rush of work to render help to the wounded. "perfectly conscious, he said as he took my hand, 'you see, padre, they have claimed me at last. i always felt it would come.' "calmly he dictated a brief message to his young wife and child, then bravely waited for the end. he knew exactly the nature of his wound and was quite prepared for the surrender of his soul to god. he accepted his end as nobly as he had striven to do his god-inspired work. the real tragedy of this is in the house yonder in england made desolate by this cruel war." so does the regimental aid post doctor give his life for his country. the rev. owen spencer watkins (wesleyan) gives us another picture of a regimental aid post. "near the trenches in a deserted farm by the roadside is the regimental aid post which last i visited. two regimental doctors have made it their headquarters--captain brown and lieutenant eccles--and thither are gathered the sick and wounded belonging to the manchester regiment and the east surreys. i had been sent for to bury the dead. as usual on such occasions, i went out with the bearers and ambulance waggons after dark, and when i arrived i found three men waiting burial. two as they stood side by side had been killed by the same bullet, the other had been shot whilst issuing rations to his comrades in the trenches. "'you've timed your visit well, padre,' said captain brown. 'there's been a bit of an attack on. enemy evidently got the wind up badly, and have been loosing off wildly in the air. bullets have been falling around the house like hail; half an hour ago you couldn't have got to us. one comfort is that if the bullets were falling here, they must have been going high over the heads of our fellows.' "'yes, we're ready for you as soon as ever the waggons are loaded, but eccles has a man of the east surreys; perhaps the grave had better be made bigger, and then you can make one job of it.' "a few minutes later we were passing through the farm-yard at the back of the house, mud over our boot tops, into a field, in the corner of which a little cemetery had sprung up. 'twenty officers and men, most of them manchesters,' brown said in an undertone. 'winnifrith buried three here last night, and two the night before. no, you need not be afraid to use a light to-night. the weather is too thick for it to be seen by the enemy, and in any case they're busy, for our fellows are attacking. listen.' again the angry voice of the machine-gun, the noise of rifle fire, so heavy that it sounded like the bubbling of water boiling in some gigantic cauldron." . we pass now to the _field dressing stations_. it appears to be only when the fighting is severe that these are needed in addition to the regimental aid posts. sometimes the wounded are taken direct to the clearing hospital from the regimental aid posts; but when the wounded crowd in upon the latter, they can only receive rough first aid treatment there, and are passed back as quickly as possible to the dressing station. this is carefully explained in a letter by staff-sergeant barlow, r.a.m.c., to the vicar of prestwich. "perhaps it would be well to explain where our work as a field ambulance comes in. we are not in the sense of the word a hospital. in the first place a regiment is in the trenches, and in close proximity to the trenches, the regimental bearers carry their wounded to some place of cover or comparative safety, such as a barn or farm-house, or in the case of a town being shelled, cellars are used. these are called regimental aid posts. "as a field ambulance we follow from one to two miles in the rear of the firing line and form dressing stations, using schools or barns for the purpose. our ambulance waggons and stretcher-bearers go out under cover of darkness to collect from the aid posts the wounded soldiers, the waggons halting perhaps half a mile away, while the bearers cross fields and roads to the aid posts where the wounded soldiers are. "this is very dangerous and requires much caution; lights are prohibited, as even the flare of a cigarette becomes a good mark for the enemy's snipers, of whom they appear to have many. "each regiment forms its own aid post. one ambulance unit attends a brigade. after the wounded are brought to the dressing station, the wounds are redressed, and the soldiers are as soon as possible despatched to the clearing hospitals at the base." staff-sergeant barlow proceeds to describe his first impressions of this awful work: "what were my first impressions? you may ask. they were such as i can never forget. we were halted near a farm-house, the tenants of which had cleared out, leaving fowls and pigs unattended. the pigs could not have been fed for several days, as they were shrieking for food; we called it crying. the pigs were fed with food from the lofts. dinner was served to the men (army biscuits and jam), in the midst of which an order came for an ambulance waggon for a wounded man. "we were all astir, and it was the first casualty we had had to deal with. the waggon went out, and later several stretcher squads and other waggons. the remainder had to fall back about half a mile to a small village to prepare a school and church for the receipt of the wounded. "my first thoughts were: what is it like; shall i be able to stand the sight of it? in the evening our waggons began to return, bringing many wounded. the medical officers rolled their sleeves up and set to work. my duty fell to assisting by taking off the dressings from the wounds, the first one being that of a soldier with part of his elbow blown away. it looked awful, but i got over it very well. why? because we had not time to think of it. there were others to attend to, most patiently waiting--and i think it is in such circumstances as these that one can see the true pluck and courage of the british soldier,--with here and there one pleading for attention. "everyone worked hard; the hours passed as minutes, and when all were attended and we looked in solemn silence around, i turned to a comrade and asked the time. he answered it was after a.m. i thought it was midnight. we had dealt with wounded, among whom were several germans. under a shed in the school-yard lay five men who had died after being brought in; they were reverently buried in the local cemetery. since this we have had worse and much of a similar nature, but they have become a conglomeration of events. it is the first night with the wounded that lives, and through it all a voice within me continually saying: 'and this is war.'" . away behind the firing line, in some quiet spot unreached by shell or rifle fire, is the _clearing hospital_. to this spot come the ambulance waggons bearing their ghastly freight of broken bodies gathered from regimental aid posts and dressing stations. the doctors are busily at work. night is their busiest time. we wonder when the doctor at the front sleeps. we wonder with how little sleep it is possible to support life. these men seem tireless. hour after hour through the night they toil on, probing here, amputating there. this is where we see in all its horror the meaning of that new word "frightfulness." i cannot describe the scenes that may be witnessed. i have before me, as i write, copies of _guy's hospital gazette_ from the beginning of the war, kindly supplied me by the editor. it is necessary that descriptions of the horrors should be written for professional eyes, but i will not harrow the feelings of my readers. i turn away from their perusal echoing the words of staff-sergeant barlow--"and this is war." [illustration: a rescue party. systematic search is made for the wounded, who often crawl away in the hope of reaching their own lines. _drawn by sydney adamson._] i will rather let the rev. e.l. watson (baptist chaplain) describe to us, as he saw it, the work at such a clearing hospital. "in the same ward were many wounded upon the floor stretchers, lying still in their soaked and muddy clothes just as they had fallen, with bloody bandages showing up in dreadful contrast against their poor soiled bodies. some delirious, others lying in profound silence, but noble fortitude. in a ward like this one sees nothing but tragedy. "in the receiving room the r.a.m.c. officers were working at highest pressure to save life and limb, by steady hand and cheery manner imparting confidence and hope to every patient in turn. "i could not help expressing admiration for the way in which each piece of work was carried out, but the officer commanding simply said, 'you know, padre, we cannot sacrifice enough for the man who is standing up to this hail of hell for us.' "i was surprised to see such a large percentage of officers among the wounded. no wonder our men are proud of their leaders; where risks must be taken, the officer claims this as his privilege and thus shows the way in every undertaking. one brave major leading his men into the german trenches, when hit, simply shouted "go on!" as he fell wounded in the head. he is being buried to-day, as every brave soldier desires, in his uniform and blanket." it will be perhaps as well to look at a similar scene through a doctor's eyes, and i therefore quote a letter from a medical officer at a receiving base in france published in the _scotsman_. "we get the wounded here at practically first-hand. they are brought in with all possible speed, dealt with at once, and sent out to other hospitals as soon as we can send them, to make room for the others who may (and who invariably do) come. they're wonderful chaps, those tommies. great stuff; too good to lose! they are brought to us at all hours. exhausted, covered with mud, hastily but well bandaged on common-sense principles; and aye the quiet, plucky grin, or the patient, enduring set of the jaw. "'what price this little lot, doctor? '--and the querist indicates where the bullet entered his thigh. 'and me futball leg, too!' growled another one, brought in dripping one night. 'and who will do the schorin' fur the ould tame now? all the same, sir, i schored ag'in' the man that did this, or wan av his side.' man, they're wonderful! they tell us, under the nervous stress in which we usually find them, some things that have made me wish to lay my eye to the sights of a rifle, despite my bay windows. they tell them in such a matter-of-course fashion, too, that they simply sink in. "'when did you get this?' i asked a man wounded in both thighs. "'yesterday morning, at eight, sir; chargin'. dropped between their trenches an' ours. half a dozen of others there too, all wounded, lay there all day. those snipers poured lead into anything that showed signs of life. chap next to me was badly hit, and inclined to move. i warned him twice to lie flat an' not squirm, as the germans were watchin' for every move, an' would plug him, wounded or not. he stuck it steady for four hours. then he tried to roll over, an' showed a shoulder. got it. soon's the snipers couldn't see me after dark, i started to drag myself back, an' met some of the boys out to look for us. it was more than seven to one against us that day.' and so it goes on. "it's a great experience this. as a surgeon, i know its value. but i wish it was over. it's awful. the stream of wounded seems unceasing, and sometimes i ask myself, when i've time to realise it at all, how long i will be able to meet this strain. we must do our work, however, and i'm proud to do it for those grand men the tommies." it is, of course, difficult to single out for mention the names of doctors who are doing this heroic work at regimental aid posts and dressing stations. where all are heroic particular mention would be invidious. there is, however, one outstanding name--lieutenant arthur martin leake, r.a.m.c. i mention him because he has been the recipient of a unique distinction. he served through the south african war and there won the v.c. for conspicuous bravery. having won the v.c. it could not be given to him again, and so a clasp has been added to the cross. the brief official record is as follows: "lieutenant arthur martin leake, royal army medical corps, who was awarded the victoria cross on may , , is granted a clasp for conspicuous bravery in the present campaign. "for most conspicuous bravery and devotion to duty throughout the campaign, especially during the period october to november , , near zonnebeke, in rescuing while exposed to constant fire a large number of the wounded who were lying close to the enemy's trenches." so far as i know this honour is unique. probably lieutenant leake would say that he is no braver than scores of other doctors who are nobly doing their work at the front, but he has had his opportunity and he has used it, and by so doing has brought honour upon the whole medical profession. great is the man who fearlessly "takes occasion by the hand" in the cause of humanity. when all that can be done for the men at the clearing hospitals is accomplished, they are despatched to the rear. those who, in the opinion of the medical staff, can bear the journey to this country are despatched thither direct via hospital train and hospital ship. the majority, however, are taken to the base hospitals, where they lie until they are well enough to be sent home, or death eases them of their pain. in the early days of the war this transit to the base was difficult in the extreme, and the wounded arrived there in a shocking condition. it is as well, perhaps, that we should know what really happened, so i copy a paragraph from _guy's hospital gazette_ of november , . it is from a letter signed "g.h.f.g." "the train has just arrived and even now some few wounded are being removed from the waggons, the gravest of all being given treatment in an improvised hospital by the sidings, others less serious, though bad enough in all conscience, are carried on stretchers to the central goods shed, where the commandant, aided by a large staff of excitable, bearded assistants, directs to what hospital they are to be sent. "for some minutes we watch the unloading of these waggons. preceded by orderlies the officer passes from door to door, entering some, and questioning briefly the men lying full length or sitting in what comfort they can upon the straw-covered boards. as the panel slides back a fetid odour of pus reaches the nostrils; startled by the unexpected brightness a couple of horses tethered at one end of the truck stamp and whinney. carrying an acetylene flare, which makes weird effects of chiaroscuro on the bare walls and floor, an orderly comes in and collects the histories of the men. one man, wounded in the head, persists in taking him for a german, the others laugh and point to their foreheads. a little further on, in second and third-class carriages, men with arms in slings, and less serious body wounds, crowd in the corridors and clamour for food and drink." what wonder after this that we are told that most of the wounds received in those early days were septic on their arrival at the base hospital? how different it all is at the present time! now well-appointed hospital trains move backwards and forwards from the clearing hospitals to the base. for the first time we enter the nurse's sphere. everything changes when the nurse appears upon the scene. she loves order. cleanliness is her life. she is trained in all the little arts of nursing which bring comfort and peace. she can do what no man can do. the doctor is splendid at his own special work, the stretcher-bearer, the ambulance man, and the hospital orderly at his. but it remains for women to do what man can never do, and with her light touch, and tender sympathy, to soothe and comfort and bless. when pain and anguish wring the brow a ministering angel thou. the hospital trains are called "kitchener's trains"--another tribute to the great man who, from his room at the war office, seems to overlook everything and forget nothing. miss beardshaw, writing to her old hospital--guy's--gives a description of one of these hospital trains well worth reproduction here. "ours is known as the 'khaki train '--a kitchener's train; it is half great eastern and half l.n.w. there are beds, stretcher ones, two layers. in between each carriage is a little department, a place for plates, mugs, dressings, &c. the officers' and sisters' part is at one end with their kitchen. dispensary in the middle. patients' kitchen and orderlies' quarters at the other end. there are three medical officers, one army sister in charge of wards a and b and the general run of all our work. i have c, d, and e wards, and miss wilson has f, g, h; a 'london' nurse has the three others. the army sister is an old guy's, so i think we shall be very happy together. there are forty-five orderlies. the paint of the train white, bed frames dark red, curtains green, and blankets dark brown, so the general effect is very pretty. it is kept most beautifully clean, and the orderlies are very proud of their train--the best on the line, they say. we go up and down to the clearing station, so i am greatly looking forward to seeing sisters kiddle and ames. i do hope they will not be moved before we get there. we often take convalescent patients about, often to havre. have been between havre and rouen twice these last few days." what a picture this gives us of organisation at its best! "beautifully clean!" surely this is just what is needed, and we cannot wonder that over sixty per cent. of the wounded are able ere long to return to the firing line. . and then after the journey in the hospital train _de luxe_, there is the _base hospital_, with everything in perfect order, and all that can be done for the wounded men. i have written about the work in the base hospitals in the chapter on "work at the fighting base." it is not necessary, therefore, that i should linger here. i will, however, add a tribute which the rev. r. hall (wesleyan) pays to the nursing sisters. says mr. hall: "i must say a word about the nursing sisters. no braver and truer women ever lived, kind and gentle and brave in the face of disease and death. by day and night they watch and care for our comrades; many a lad's dying hours are made more comfortable by the gentle touch and loving word of these devoted women. "i heard one day that in another hospital seven miles away one of our own men was dying. i went over and found that he was isolated; he was dying of an infectious disease. he was in great agony. a sister stood beside him, and was trying to comfort him and ease his pain, at the same time the tears flowed freely down her cheeks. "i have been profoundly impressed by the work of this branch of the service. we forget sometimes that it is easier to face the shell and the bullet in the excitement of battle than it is to watch hour by hour and tend to those who are suffering from some deadly infectious disease, or from some ghastly wound received in battle." mr. hall's tribute is surely well earned. in this war woman has been as brave as man or braver. she has given of her best and dearest, she has worked and prayed and endured. and away out there among our wounded and dying, far from the excitement of battle, by day and by night she has given herself--all she is and all she has--to the service of her country. and in doing so she has earned the undying gratitude of those to whom she has ministered, and of the land she loves so well. * * * * * i turn now to consider another branch of red cross work at the front--the treatment and prevention of disease. this has been the "healthiest" war ever undertaken by the british army. the great problem of all armies is how to keep out infectious disease, and never before has the problem been solved. if still not completely solved, it is certainly in the fair way to solution. in the campaigns of the forty years previous to this war the proportion of sick to wounded was twenty-five to one, and of deaths through disease to death by shot, shell, or bayonet, five to one. in the south african war the proportion of sick to wounded was over four to one. we all remember the terrible share that enteric had in the wastage of that campaign. how the soldiers dreaded it. "better," they used to say, "three wounds then one enteric." now enteric has almost entirely disappeared. speaking in february the under secretary of state for war said that so far during the campaign there had been only six hundred and twenty-five cases in the british expeditionary force and of these only forty-nine had died--a percentage of deaths less than half as great as that among the victims of typhoid in the forces still in this country. of typhus and cholera there had not been a single case. strange to say, one hundred and seventy-five of the men had had measles, and among these there had been two deaths. one hundred and ninety-six men had had scarlet-fever and there had been four deaths. how far the healthiness of the climate affects these figures it is difficult to say, but it must be remembered that it has been a terribly wet winter. how far inoculation against typhoid has prevented the disease is also an interesting question. the doctors have a note of victory in all their statements on this subject, and the figures seem to justify their satisfaction. certainly preventive measures have counted for much. early in the war the medical officers of the various ambulances acted, so far as time permitted, as sanitary officers, and in later days a well-organised sanitary section has accomplished great things. the cleansing of camps, the appointments of sanitary offices, the provision of baths, and, generally, every possible attention to hygiene, have kept our men exceptionally free from sickness, and no praise can be too high for the men who have accomplished so much for the british soldier. [illustration: on the marne. the pet dog of a french regiment finds wounded soldiers and brings the stretcher-bearers to them. this dog has learnt to dig himself a hole when firing is going on. _drawn by e. matania._] on the other hand, of frost-bite there have been over nine thousand cases. it is questionable, however, if the vast majority of these cases are really cases of frost-bite. medical opinion inclines to the view that most of these are a new disease known as trench foot, caused by standing in the trenches with putties too tight and boots too small. _guy's hospital gazette_ publishes some remarkable figures. "on one occasion a rifle brigade after marching fifteen miles went at once into the trenches, and within forty-eight hours, over four hundred were incapacitated through the foot trouble described in this report. one hundred and eighty men of the cameron highlanders were in the trenches without being relieved for eight days and only three suffered from slight frost-bite. none of them wore anything upon their legs and feet, except boots, which may explain the sparsity of cases." if this be so, then frost-bite of this description is also largely preventable, and the recommendation of the doctors as to large, easy fitting, and water-tight boots, less tightly bound putties, &c., will prevent most of this trouble in future. on the whole, the country can congratulate itself very heartily on the noble and successful work of the various red cross departments. the doctors who have sacrificed their lives will not be forgotten, and will be regarded as heroic as any officers who have led a charge from the trenches. the nurses have earned a debt of gratitude we can never repay. nursing efficiency has gone far since "our lady of the lamp" moved with such tender dignity up and down the wards in the hospital at scutari. we would pay our tribute of admiration to the work of our nurses in this war, and say, "many daughters have done virtuously, but thou--thou modern lady of the lamp--excellest them all." i must not close this chapter without a word about the well-appointed hospital ships which ply backwards and forwards between the french and british coasts, each with its doctors, nurses, and chaplains on board, bearing a freight of suffering humanity, such as our coasts have never seen before. everything in order, everything in the way of comfort and ease provided. it was a dastardly act to aim a german torpedo against the _asturias_. fortunately the attempt failed, but what profit would it have been if this life-giving ship had been sunk? enough surely has been done to take life. the object of such ships as these--ships which cannot be mistaken for any others--is to woo back to life, until their suffering humanity can be tenderly placed in the care of loving hands and hearts at home. here we are waiting for them, and here we have a right to expect them, that, nursed back to health in the hospitals of our land, they may, by and by, greet wife, and mother, and child, and sweetheart in their own homes once more. but oh the cruel work of war! the legacy of broken bodies and broken hearts! we look on, and look up to the city of god even now coming down from god out of heaven. _sursum corda!_ the hour of redemption draweth nigh. chapter ix with the grand fleet always "ready, aye ready"--the deciding factor--one hundred and fifty chaplains--on the "bulwark"--"the church pennant" postponed--sunday on a battleship--the sailor and the thought of death--stories from the fleet--from a torpedo-boat--the shore chaplain's opportunity--christian bravery--"save yourself; i'll let go." everybody is asking, where is the grand fleet? and that is just what the germans would like to know. it has a marvellous facility for appearing and disappearing. occasionally we receive letters bearing the address, "in the north sea or elsewhere," and sometimes we think it is more elsewhere than there. no postmark gives its location away, no newspaper paragraph lets us into the secret. and then suddenly it appears: out of the everywhere into the here, and the germans find to their dismay a part of it off the dogger bank, and the sleepy turk wakes up to find another part in the dardanelles. it is like one of the mysterious powers of nature--unseen, but ever exercising a powerful influence. its existence is always felt--felt by our foes with ever-increasing pressure, and felt by us with influences always beneficial. it sleeps not and rests not. it is always "ready, aye ready." from admiral sir john jellicoe to the grimiest stoker, it is one in purpose and in action. and because it is _there_, we sleep well in our beds at night, and there are few of us, as we lie down to rest, but breathe a prayer for those who seem never to rest-- "god bless our sons upon the sea." we have always been proud of our fleet, but never so proud as to-day. it expresses the genius of our nation. our way has always been "in great waters." we talk of ourselves as "safe circled by the silver sea," but the sea would not save us without our fleet. when the war broke out, we found ourselves asking, "how will it be with us now?" with forty million mouths to feed and only six weeks' supply of food in the country, how will it be with us now? our fleet has solved that problem, and food has poured into the country in plenty and everyone has been fed. it has been in every sea, chasing our enemies off the ocean, protecting trade routes, convoying troop-ships, and at the same time bottling up our enemies in their harbours. never was such a herculean task undertaken and never so well performed. battleships and cruisers, torpedo boats, and submarines, all in their turn have done their work, and done it well. they are waiting they tell us for "the day" of which the enemy boasted so much, and when the day dawns they will be there. we realise that our fleet will be the deciding fact in this war. our soldiers have done splendidly and will continue so to do, but without our ships they would be helpless, and if once we lose command of the sea, the glory of our country will pass away. but we have no doubts and no fears. they are _there_--and _here_--_everywhere_. the nation's gratitude has been shown in many ways during the war. busy hands have worked for it, and numberless prayers have risen to god's throne on its behalf. as an instance of what has been done, i quote the figures of "comforts" sent from _one_ girls' school to _one_ ship--the _ajax_. the school is the girls' grammar school, bury, whose headmistress is miss j.p. kitchener (a relative of lord kitchener). wristlets, ; mufflers, ; body bands, ; socks and stockings, ; sea boot stockings, ; mittens, ; jersey, ; books and magazines, . of course all the articles, except the books, have been made by the girls. in addition to these they have sent articles to the soldiers. i wonder if this is a record for such an institution? this, however, is only a specimen of what has been done. somewhere with that mysterious fleet are a hundred and fifty chaplains. no free church chaplains are afloat. it would be difficult to carry more than one chaplain on a ship, and, of course, many of the ships of war carry no chaplain at all. where there is no chaplain the commanding officer conducts the ship's service. nonconformists at sea have to lose for the time the ministry of their several churches, but when in port landing parties redress this inequality. some ships, especially those belonging to devonport, have a strong nonconformist element in their crews. the naval chaplain as a rule is an entirely different type of man from his brother in the army. he is monarch of all he surveys. he has to face no competition in his work. he partakes of the freedom of the sea. for the most part he is a right down good fellow, but, so far as i can judge, he has not the type of spirituality of which we see so much in the army. he is all sorts of things rolled into one--sea-lawyer, letter-writer, story-teller, lecturer, schoolmaster, game-director, and a host of other things beside. he must be absolutely sincere if he is to be any good at all, for he never gets away from the busy life of the ship, and he of all men "cannot be hid." often he is the friend and counsellor of the men, sharing their joys and sorrows. he is the go-between for officers and men, and if he be efficient--and an inefficient man could hardly remain long on board--he makes himself indispensable. of course he shares all the dangers of the ship, and to-day if a ship be beaten it is also sunk. never were the dangers of the sea so great. dangers _on_ the sea, _under_ the sea, _over_ the sea, crowd around. he never knows when or how suddenly the end may come, and it behoves him to be ready, and brave. we are told that, when the three cruisers were torpedoed in the north sea, the rev. e.g. uphill robson, chaplain of the _aboukir_, went down cheering the men he loved so well. the rev. a.h.j. pitts, the chaplain of the _good hope_, died bravely with sir christopher cradock. a petty officer who knew him in another ship says, "with him compulsory church was quite unnecessary. nobody in the ship would be absent from the service if he could possibly manage to get there." one of the most terrible catastrophes of the war was the blowing up of the _bulwark_ in sheerness harbour. the rev. g.h. hewetson, the chaplain, was on board and perished with the rest. he had only been married a few months. "only the other week," wrote a correspondent of the _church family newspaper_, "i met a stoker, who told me he, mr. hewetson, held meetings for men every evening in his cabin, and he was constantly at their elbow when spells from duty would permit, guiding them in 'the things that matter.' it was also my privilege to know him as chaplain to the royal naval barracks, portsmouth, during his stay of nearly three years, which terminated with his taking up duties on the _bulwark_ at the outbreak of war. he was a man of god, also a sportsman of the highest tone, being an expert fencer, a runner-up in the army and navy championships at olympia two seasons ago. he was a man of some literary ability, for which the chaplain of the fleet made him editor of the _church pennant_, _i.e._ the church magazine of the navy. mr. hewetson was an earnest believer in individual methods, and invariably worked sixteen hours a day, visiting all recruits, detention quarters, sick bay, and held no fewer than five services on sundays." i suppose we include our chaplains when we pray for those who "go down to the sea in ships"; but surely these men who are there, not to fight, but to preach and pray, claim a special interest in our prayers. prayers are read every morning on every large war-ship, and this is, of course, the chaplain's duty, if one is carried in the ship. the life and work of the day depends very largely on how this is done. on sunday there is a sermon--just a quiet, homely talk from heart to heart, and in these days we may well believe that men are thrilled by the message as never before. of course, during the winter storms morning prayers on deck or sunday parades are impossible, for many a great green sea will break over the decks even of a super-dreadnought. at these times service is held below and men attend in relays. on some of the super-dreadnoughts there are little churches. the _queen mary_, for instance, has one. i have asked a few representative chaplains to tell me something of the spiritual work on board their ships. the rev. c.w. lydall, chaplain of the _lion_, which took part in the north sea battle, says: "i can only tell you that in this ship our religious motto has been 'business as usual.' i mean the war routine has interfered as little as possible with our services, which have been attended well. there has been a decided increase in the number of communicants, and in many small ways the men have shown a fuller consciousness of their dependence upon god." the rev. arthur c. moreton, chaplain of the _invincible_, which was engaged in the battle off the falkland islands, writes: "the usual services are held when practicable, and on sunday and wednesday nights i have a prayer meeting with bible-reading in my cabin." the rev. m.t. hainsselin, chaplain of the _ajax_, writes: "the war has made little or no difference to my routine of church work on this ship. the only service i have added has been a second celebration of holy communion in addition to the usual . a.m. one, to enable men to come who could not be present earlier; and the opportunity has been much valued. the other services of morning and evening prayer are continued as usual. "as you probably know, sailors do not as a general rule care much about the parade service at . a.m., but i think i may truly say that since the outbreak of the war they have come far more to realise it as an act of worship due from them, and it has become a deep reality instead of--as it was to many--a formality. "in the men's letters which i have had to censor, i have noticed a very strong current of devout religious sentiment, hitherto unsuspected, which encouraged me to think that one's ordinary teaching is not so much wasted effort, as one is sometimes faithless enough to think it is." how heavy the veil of secrecy hanging over the fleet really is, will be seen from the fact that only one copy of the _church pennant_, which lost its editor in the _bulwark_, was issued between the outbreak of war and easter, and that in february last. the _church pennant_ is the organ of the naval church society, and records the christian work on board h.m. ships. several reports of christian work are given in this solitary issue, but the names of the ships are only indicated by initials. one report states that the place ordinarily used for celebrations and evening service had to be given up to the doctors, but that holy communion has been celebrated in the chaplain's cabin every sunday. on christmas day there were two communions and the number of communicants was thirty-four. "the men in general are pleased to read religious papers, and readily accept prayer cards." another report says: "on board this ship we were able, in spite of now and then roughish weather, to keep up our regular daily prayers and sunday services. on sundays we had stand-up church and two hymns from the hymn cards, and all the responses of matins with one lesson and one of the canticles sung. we had the harmonium to sing to. these services were brief, but very heartily joined in. after stand-up matins we were able always to have our celebration in the captain's cabin--there being no other place in the ship available. the attendance was very good and showed that the old prejudice against coming so far aft is at any rate moribund. sometimes the weather made it a little difficult both for the priest and worshippers, but we soon got used to the necessary balancing.... everyone throughout the ship was merry and bright; we only regretted not having a chance of meeting an opposite number of the enemy." a third report is as follows: "first of all, nightly evensong has been held by the chaplain ever since the war broke out. on account of the smallness of our numbers, we meet in the chaplain's cabin, and there the service is performed. every sunday morning, at o'clock, we have a celebration of the holy communion; and on the second sunday in the month this service is repeated after morning service. our flotilla forms rather a large parish for the chaplain, and to supply its wants we have a service specially arranged whenever it is convenient. after our usual a.m. service, we sometimes proceed on board another ship, and have a celebration, to which all communicants from the other vessels in our company are invited by signal. "the place allotted to us in each instance is the captain's forecabin, which in this ship is as suitable a place as service conditions will allow. on sunday evenings we have evensong at . , followed by hymn-singing, and occasionally we get a good attendance. but this, like other services, suffers for want of good space, which is not always easy to find on board ship.... "conditions on board ship render any efforts with regard to church work very difficult, and this is most marked during these trying times. no doubt many more would join in our united devotions did their duty allow. but we may well be content to go ahead and do the best we can, even if it should be rather disheartening at times. and it will be acknowledged that there has been at least some effort made to continue our duty towards the church of which we are so proud to consider ourselves loyal members. our daily evening service closes with a prayer, in which all are remembered, and this is a means by which all may help. we feel and know that those who are on shore are doing the same, and praying for guidance and protection for us from him who is above all this turmoil and strife, and who alone is able to preserve us from peril." here is yet one more report: "owing to the outbreak of the war the temperance and bible classes in this ship have been discontinued, but the daily prayer meeting has been kept going in almost unbroken line. "the voluntary services on sunday evenings have been well attended, also the weekly celebration of the holy communion is very encouraging." putting the chaplains' letters and these various reports to the _church pennant_ together, it is evident that the "business" of the church has been, so far as possible, carried on "as usual," and that from a church of england point of view it has been satisfactory. it does not, however, satisfy us. we want to get into the men's hearts and minds and find out what they are feeling and thinking in these strenuous times. does the thought of death affect them? have the things of eternity become more real? are they conscious of sin within, and of their need of a saviour? light-hearted and merry as ever, have they the joy of the lord? all around them are terrible armaments. we are told that the -inch guns of the new _queen elizabeth_ can send a shell weighing a ton for a distance of more than twenty miles. the destruction which can be wrought by one of these shells can be imagined when we read of the havoc wrought by one such shell in one of the great forts of antwerp. it was not, of course, from a man-of-war, but its destructive force would be the same. says sir cecil hertslet, our late consul-general at antwerp: "another of these great shells, weighing nearly a ton, fired from a distance of about ten miles, rising three miles into the air, fell upon the cupola of another of the great outer forts of antwerp. it went through the concrete roof of the fort, passed through the great hall where the garrison of the fort was assembled; it went down to the floor and lower still, and at last exploded, and with the explosion swept away everything--forts, guns, garrison, disappearing." are they conscious that they have such terrible engines of destruction on board which on occasion they will use? does the thought of it ever appal them? do they think that all around them are mines strewing the north sea, and that submarines are lurking here and there waiting to launch the terrible torpedo? do these thoughts ever come to a jack tar, and how do they affect him? [illustration: _photo credit, southsea._ a voluntary service on a battleship. the church is "rigged" on the leeward side of a pair of . guns. a most impressive service.] to the real christian death has, of course, no terror. he swings himself into his hammock at night, knowing that to him sudden death will be sudden glory. but to the ordinary man-of-war's man has there come an accession of seriousness, such as has come to the men in the sister service? we can as yet only answer this question in part, and must wait for a full answer until the veil of secrecy is lifted. and in order to get as full an answer as is possible we must turn to the men themselves, and as we do so, we offer for all of them the beautiful prayer which the archbishop of canterbury has put into our lips: "o thou that slumberest not nor sleepest, protect, we pray thee, our sailors from the hidden perils of the sea, from the snares and assaults of the enemy. steady and support those upon whom the burdens of responsibility lie heavily, and grant that in dangers often, in watchings often, in weariness often, they may serve thee with a quiet mind, through jesus christ our lord. amen." we must remember that just as every regiment in our army is to-day leavened by christian men, so is practically every ship in our fleet. the work of our sailors' homes has been successfully done,--such homes, for instance, as those of miss agnes weston, and the homes of the wesleyan church at chatham, portsmouth, and devonport. the previous work of the sunday-schools and of the salvation army has also told, and the men have, many of them, become out-and-out christians. _they_ have no difficulty in speaking: what they have felt and seen with confidence they tell. and theirs is indeed a fascinating story. they have a way of making their presence felt. they cannot keep to themselves the love that has been shed abroad in their hearts, and so they gather their comrades round them, and have "good times" together, while god's blessing rests upon their work. sometimes they meet in the chaplain's cabin, sometimes elsewhere, but night by night they meet, and in their own way worship god. let us listen to a few of their stories. they are most of them methodists or salvationists, so we will turn to the rev. j.h. bateson's reports in the _methodist recorder_ or _methodist times_, and to the _war cry_. mr. bateson says: "it is little that we know of our battleships in the north sea. we know that they are there, because the havoc of war is kept away from our island home. the men, all nelson's men, are doing their duty. a letter from one of them will be read with interest: "'i must tell you we had a grand meeting last sunday. we had thirty present. more would have been there only we were rolling and pitching heavily in a full gale, which lasted five days--the worst i have experienced for many a year. can you just try to picture us trying to keep our feet and clutching at the piano (oh yes, we have one on board), occasionally. we started off with, "all hail the power of jesu's name," had prayer from our blue books, reading from isaiah xlii. - , and a talk on the same, then "rock of ages," prayers, "nearer, my god, to thee," benediction, and doxology. you should have heard us sing! i'm afraid some of the home praise and prayer meetings would be envious! this was our first attempt. i expect ere long we shall have to have the meeting on the upper deck, for the numbers will be too many for our enclosed reading-room. however, we intend to keep the flag flying. 'tis little we feel able to do, but we will do our little best. it may, and should, have good results.'" here is the account of another service sent home by an engine-room artificer on one of h.m. battleships. "it is sunday evening, the time about . , when upwards of seventy men may be seen sitting about the deck, under the fo'castle of one of his majesty's cruisers. outside all is dark, one watch of men are standing by the guns, trying to penetrate the darkness, in case of the approach of the enemy. a watch of stokers and engineers is below, humping the ship along. another is resting, waiting for the time for their next trick to come round. what do we see in the gathering of men under the fo'castle? they have sankey's hymn-books, kindly presented by miss weston. in one corner is an harmonium, assisted by a couple of violins. these supply the music. presently a voice cries out, 'what hymn will you have, men?' and the chorus of replies makes it difficult to select one. this goes on for a while. then all heads are bowed whilst prayer is made. our quartette party renders a few pieces, after which ---- gives the address, and right fine it is. he has some splendid topics, and, being a worthy methodist local preacher, he is listened to with rapt attention. another suitable hymn, and the benediction brings the service to a close. the roughness and simplicity of the service would cause some people surprise. yet the shots get home. to hear the men sing is a treat not easily forgotten. the writer was much impressed by the singing of the hymn, 'some one will enter the pearly gates by and by,' one side taking the question and the other the answer. once during the week about eight gather in a cabin for bible study and to talk of the things of god." what a picture these letters present of christian life upon a battleship! we could multiply them indefinitely, but must condense instead. one young christian sailor on a battleship tells of a bible-class and prayer-meeting, held every thursday, conducted by a naval lieutenant. another tells of a methodist class meeting on board conducted _twice_ weekly. a third sends home the minutes of a meeting held by several of the men, at which it was resolved to hold a meeting every evening to be devoted to bible study, except on saturdays, when the hour would be spent in prayer. the bible study, it was resolved, should begin with the epistle to the romans. we wonder if these sailor lads found any difficulty in that difficult epistle. it was further resolved that every sunday evening a gospel meeting should be held, and that every christian brother should be expected to take part. and, finally, the men's correspondent asks that christian people at home will pray that he and his comrades may witness a good confession, and that they may tell forth "god's wonderful story of christ's redeeming love." a naval officer who is a wesleyan local preacher says: "we are still going on well--class meetings in the cabin and meetings on the sunday night. wouldn't it be fine to have all the service local preachers you could get for a service in the central hall after the war and the platform full of methodist sailors and soldiers?" here is a touching little letter from a torpedo boat. it is full of a simple trust in christ, and pulsates with sweetest fellowship in him. "the winter has been rather a trying one for us in this tiny little craft, but really i never knew the companionship of a present saviour so thoroughly as i have since hostilities began. it would seem almost as if i were his only care, and that he made me a special study. the wonder of it all is the more marked when i remember how poor has been my service to him, compared with all the great benefits with which he daily loads me. in answering my prayers, in subduing the storms just when they were at their worst, in giving me a thorough victory over my usual weakness, and in a thousand other ways he makes me to lie down in green pastures, satisfied and at rest, contrary to all the seeming laws of warfare. these things i tell you, not from any conventional compulsion, but because they really are so, and because i should be thrice unworthy of his name if i forebore to tell out what great things he has done." i will quote one or two sentences, this time with reference to salvation army work. a lance-corporal on board the _centurion_ writes: "the chaps on board h.m.s. _centurion_ expect much from us salvationists these youthful days. there are five of us on this ship, and we are not only engaged in cheering up each other, but we are distributing as much cheer as possible. our ship is called the 'hallelujah ship.'" another writes from the same ship: "we have had some glorious soul-saving times." a salvation army sailor has been given permission by the commander to conduct meetings on the upper deck of the _majestic_. he tells us that he is the only salvationist on board that ship, but that there are fifty christian men there, and that others are giving themselves to christ. we hear of stokers coming up from the stoke-hole grimed with dirt, so anxious to attend the services that they do not stop to wash, lest they should miss the precious hour; of men praying in public who have never prayed before; of heartfelt addresses delivered by men who had no idea they could speak in public for their master. there is no need, however, to multiply instances. we may take it for granted that, in most ships, there is a little band of out-and-out christian men eagerly longing for spiritual fellowship, and finding it in services to which they invite their fellows, and in which they have the joy of leading many of their comrades to christ. when a ship comes into port for a few hours there is the opportunity for the shore chaplain. he holds services on board, distributes "comforts," leaves behind him books and magazines, cheers the christian workers, and in his quiet way works wonders. and when the men are permitted to come on shore what a welcome they receive at the various sailors' homes, and hearts are gladdened and resolutions strengthened, for the return to sea. the work at sea must be trying in the extreme--the constant watchfulness, the eager waiting for the enemy who never comes, the patrolling in the midst of winter tempests, enough to try the nerves of the strongest--but all the time the certainty that the old-time message will receive fresh illustration each day--"england expects that every man will do his duty." the wooden walls have passed away, and steel walls have taken their place, but the men are brave as of old--only better far and nobler. no longer the scum of our seaport towns, pressed into the service against their will, but men who are there because they choose and dare, and who are willing any day to die for their native land. christian bravery, too, is as much in evidence on sea as on land. take this little story as an evidence of that fact. it is full of the joy of glad surrender for another. "a sailor who had just got converted at the sheerness hall, when he rose from his knees at the mercy-seat, with the joy of salvation in his face, said, 'i am glad to be saved. i was on the ---- (one of the cruisers torpedoed) when she sank. i and another member of the crew, a salvationist, had been swimming about in the water for two hours or more, and were almost exhausted, when just as we were about to give up we saw a spar, made for it, and took hold. but, alas! it was not big enough to keep us both afloat. we looked at each other. for a time, one took hold while the other swam, and then we changed over. "'we kept this up for a bit, but it was evident we were getting weaker. neither of us spoke for a while, and then presently the salvationist said, "mate, death means life to me; you are not converted, you hold on to the spar and save yourself; i'll let go. good-bye!" "'and he let go and went down!'" when we have christian men like that on our men-of-war, we need not fear for our country, nor for the kingdom of christ. and so not only now, but when the war is over let us pray: "o! hear us when we cry to thee for those in peril on the sea." i close this chapter with one more quotation. it is from the _methodist recorder_. it may be a comfort to some who lost dear ones in the _hawke_, or in some of the other ships which have met a similar fate. "on the sunday before the _hawke_ met her doom, one of our chaplains conducted divine service on the cruiser. as soon as he went on board he was taken to the cabin of one of the warrant officers--a local preacher--who is one of the few survivors of the disaster. about thirty men gathered together. a few hymns were sung from the little blue books, which have quite captured the sailors' hearts. the chaplain read the latter part of romans viii.--that great message of inseparable love and glowing assurance. he then spoke from the words, 'all things work together for good to them that love god.' the men listened most earnestly to the message. one of them asked that the hymn--which has such sad but heroic associations,--'nearer, my god, to thee' might be sung. the little service closed with prayer by the warrant officer. as the chaplain shook hands with each man, one and another said, 'thank you, sir.' arrangements were made to have another service when the _hawke_ next came into port. but that will never be. to those whose hearts ache for the brave dead of the _hawke_, there is no sweeter message than that which was given to the men on their last sunday morning, 'all things work together for good to them that love god.'" chapter x chaplains describe their work church of england army chaplains' work at the front--permanently commissioned chaplains--hospital ministrations--six parade services on one day--holy communion in strange places--services under shell fire--tonic effect of difficulties--the work of the free churches--the salvation army and the war--one hundred and thirty best rooms--a general's testimony--he plunged down on his knees--in belgium--at hadleigh--send them to the salvation army--s.a. patrols. readers of this book will be glad to have first-hand reports of christian work among our soldiers. i have therefore asked representatives of the different churches and religious organisations to give their own statements of the work attempted and accomplished. i do not purpose, therefore, in this chapter doing more than presenting to my readers the statements received, merely introducing them with a few explanatory words. the first is the church of england report. it is written by the rev. j.g. tuckey, one of the senior church of england chaplains at the front, and has been prepared for me at the request of the rev. e.g.f. macpherson, the senior church of england chaplain. mr. tuckey has had long experience of army work. he served through the south african war with distinction, and has served throughout the present war. few know the british soldiers better than he. i preface his report with a brief extract from a letter received from the rev. e.g.f. macpherson and dated march , . he says: "we are kept very busy. in addition to my work in boulogne, i have to keep in touch with church of england chaplains at the front, and on the lines of communications. i went up to ypres the other day, they were shelling the place, and i nearly got a shell in my car. "the church of england has a large number of chaplains at the front, and they are doing splendid work for god. their number, though, makes it difficult for me to keep in touch with them all." but now for mr. tuckey's report. "you ask me about the church of england work. where am i to begin? how tackle it? it is so vast. as to number of chaplains, all details can be seen by reference to the _army list_. it will be noticed that the very vast majority of permanently commissioned chaplains belong to the church of england. the presbyterians are now the only other body which has permanent commissions. the roman catholics do not now allow their men to accept them. they are only appointed temporarily for five years, and even if re-appointed can never rise above the rank of captain. this, of course, makes no difference to the roman catholic chaplains appointed before the new regulations, but they will gradually die out. as no doubt you know, the wesleyans were offered four commissions and refused. but though we have such a relatively large number of chaplains to the forces, the work is so great that it has to be supplemented by a very considerable and increasing body of acting chaplains. "permanently commissioned chaplains are divided into four classes, the chaplains therein ranking as colonels, lieutenant-colonels, majors, and captains respectively. "now as to the distribution of church of england chaplains on active service. they may be roughly divided into two classes: "( ) those with hospitals at the base or on lines of communication--these hospitals being of three kinds, namely, general hospitals, the largest which are not moved; stationary hospitals, which are supposed to be mobile; and casualty clearing stations for receiving the sick and wounded from the front and forwarding them to stationary or general hospitals, whence they can, if necessary, be conveyed to england in hospital ships. "( ) those with field ambulances. by this term we should understand field hospitals which receive the sick and wounded from their advanced dressing stations, which in their turn receive them from the first-aid posts just behind the firing line. "to these two classes have recently been added another, namely, senior chaplains of army corps, whose duty it is to advise and direct chaplains of the divisions composing the corps in their work. for instance, i am now senior chaplain of the third army corps. "i have now been in each one of these three classes, for i came out with number four general hospital, though i was with them subsequently for only a very short time. "the work of class ( ) consists principally of ministering to the sick and wounded, holding services when possible, especially on sundays, and giving the patients and staff frequent opportunities of the holy communion and other ministrations. it may often happen that chaplains of this class may find troops near to them, who are away from their own chaplain. it will then be their duty to minister to them so far as they possibly can. they, of course, also have to conduct many funerals. "as to the chaplains of class ( ), the field ambulance will be the centre from which the chaplain should work in his brigade, and such divisional troops (r.a., r.e., &c.) as are included in the brigade area. "i was for some time with the eleventh field ambulance in the fourth division, and as i was the senior chaplain in that division, the general asked me to take over the arrangement of things. my plan was that each chaplain in his area should endeavour to hold five or six large central parade and other services on sundays, with perhaps celebrations of the holy communion after two of the ordinary services. "then, chaplains give special attention to particular units on weekdays. here all days are alike and so are all times. so i would arrange with the commanding officer, and would set out on horseback carrying the requisites for the holy communion, for i always, when possible, had a celebration after the ordinary service. my servant would ride behind me with the service books. in this way it was possible to cover the ground in the division fairly well, and to see that each unit had its due. "the ordinary services were taken usually in the open air, though sometimes some large building, a barn, schoolroom, or shed was available. whenever it was practicable i had the holy communion indoors, and for this service i invariably put on my surplice. i have had to celebrate in many strange places--in lofts, kitchens of farm-houses, engine sheds, stables, and even in a slaughter-house. but there has been a devotion and a spiritual uplifting in these most unwonted surroundings which have been good to see, and officers and men have come to the holy communion in large numbers with a reverence and an evident longing for communion with god which one does not always see, even in the most splendid churches at home. "when my stay in the fourth division was drawing to a close, mr. hall, whom you probably know, the wesleyan chaplain at chatham, was posted to the eleventh field ambulance, and came to live with me at my billet. he and i did a great deal of work together, and he would tell you about it, for he is at home now. i shall never forget how we went together one night to a certain battalion which was going into the trenches the following day. we first had the ordinary evening service in an underground place, and afterwards there was the holy communion, to which came officers and men. the room in which we were gathered was very dim, and we felt very deeply the immense solemnity of the hour. "it was all very wonderful and very beautiful. during the actual administration, the commanding officer walked behind me with a lantern, up and down the rows of kneeling men, so as to make sure that all were cared for. "we did not reach our billet until after eleven o'clock that night. the next day some of those who had made their communion on the previous night were killed in action. "very often our service had to be conducted under shell fire. i recall one amongst many instances. i was taking a service one weekday morning for a battery in the garden of a house at houplines. a great number of shells went over us while the service was proceeding. afterwards we had the holy communion in the house. during the service the houses on either side of ours were struck, and, finally, at the close there was a deafening crash and we found that the house in which we were had been hit, though not much damage was done. "these circumstances of difficulty and danger seem to bring out the very best that is in men, and i have been immensely impressed by the craving for spiritual help shown by both officers and men, and their gratitude for anything i could do for them, as well as by the humble reverence and real devotion of all ranks. "there are, of course, many other sides of a chaplain's work: the ministrations to the wounded and dying in the hospitals, and advanced dressing stations of the field ambulance, the burial of the dead--often at night and in strange weird circumstances--the visiting of men in the trenches when feasible, the writing of letters to relatives, the censoring of letters, and a number of other duties. "it is often in a strange sort of place that one witnesses a poor fellow's last dying testimony, in some cellar possibly, where a wounded man has had to be conveyed so as to be safe from shell fire. "in times of comparative quiet, and when troops are resting, i consider it most important that chaplains should try to organise some directly spiritual work, and also recreation daily during the trying hours after dark, until men have to be in their billets. for instance, in this place we have a room and a hall; in the room we have a bible-class each evening, while in the hall there are papers and games, coffee can be procured, and there is an impromptu concert every evening. we have a stage with footlights, and a serviceable piano. on sunday evenings there is a well-attended voluntary service there. both places are well warmed and well lighted, with plenty of seats and chairs. this is most important. "one great difficulty under which the church of england has to labour in this country is that, with very few exceptions, the roman catholic ecclesiastical authorities will not allow us to use their churches. this is, i think, to be deplored, and i cannot understand how people can worship comfortably in their churches, while they know that fellow-christians are obliged to hold their service in the open air, in cold discomfort, or in some quite unsuitable and mean building. "possibly, however, it is for our good that we should have these difficulties. these difficulties and trials are perhaps a tonic for our spiritual life. and after all we learn what every campaign has to teach us, and what i was first taught in south africa, that often the truest worship can be offered in most uncongenial surroundings; and i have been myself strengthened and helped, and i have marked the reverence and devotion of officers and men at some service beneath the sombre skies of flanders, or it may be in some comfortless or even squalid building. "out here one realises more what things really matter, and how to distinguish the essential from the unessential. one has so much to be thankful for and so much to help, strengthen, and inspire." hitherto i have given mr. tuckey's statement in his own words. nearly all the rest does not concern the public, but ere he closes he acknowledges gratefully the kindness of the archbishop of rouen in allowing him the use of two churches or chapels, and speaks most appreciatively of the hospitality of some of the _curés_. we may hope and pray that he may be long spared to do such glorious work as his statement indicates. our next report is from the pen of the rev. e.l. watson. mr. watson is the senior chaplain at the front representing the united army and navy board. this board, recently formed, comprises the baptist and congregational unions, and the conferences of the primitive methodist and united methodist denominations. until the outbreak of the war, mr. watson was minister of the baptist church at west end, hammersmith. his report has been written at the request of the rev. j.h. shakespeare, m.a., secretary of the baptist union of great britain and ireland. i omit from it a few sentences covering ground already dealt with. "the task that great britain has in hand is of such magnitude that the demand for fighting men is without parallel. proud we are of the fact that every individual man now in the greatest army that great britain has ever raised is serving of his own free choice, and happy indeed to be of service to his king and country in the hour of need. "this great body of men is necessarily composed of many types, drawn as it is from all quarters of the british empire, and representing every political opinion and all religious denominations, but co-operating in perfect unity. [illustration: a fight in the air. _drawn by christopher clark._] "every provision has been made for the material comfort of the men, especially those in the firing line. transport arrangements are in themselves a marvel, every modern appliance being requisitioned for the purpose. letters and parcels can be received and posted every day if necessary. in like manner, also, is fresh food supplied, thus saving any unnecessary privation. "equipment is also as perfect as british science and common sense can make it. in these and many particulars the british army has the reputation of being one of the best fed and equipped armies in the field, whilst the spirit of the men is recognised as second to none. "not only has the war office spared neither expense nor pains to place everything that is essential within the reach of the average soldier, but it has also recognised the necessity of keeping the men in touch with those spiritual influences that count for most in the british soldier. "to meet this spiritual need a new army of chaplains, in addition to those already in the regular list, has been appointed and sent forth with befitting rank to minister to their respective denominations. the field is a wide one and unreservedly open to the individual chaplain simply to care for his men as he may see best. where desired and possible every facility is given to the men to attend the means of grace. it is also placed on record in the king's regulations that, without distinction, every assistance is to be given to the chaplains in the performance of their duties. "regimental work where possible is always a satisfactory task, for the fortunate chaplain is then always identified with the men of his regiment, thus getting to know each individual as in a regular congregation. "brigade work is more difficult because of the number of regiments and width of operations, but even in this the work is within the reach of the brigade chaplain. the most difficult and almost impossible task falls to the lot of a nonconformist chaplain who has charge of the whole of a division. besides the three brigades there are the masses of men in the divisional troops. under some circumstances the division may have an area of some three miles of front and reaching back some ten miles to the rear. "to cover this ground and get into touch with my men scattered throughout the whole of the division and keep in touch with them is my task. the demands are so great upon time and capacity that i simply have to shoulder as much of the work as strength allows and pray god that my very best may count for most. "for instance, there are three large and active field ambulances operating in the division, where it will be remembered that most of the collecting of the wounded is done under cover of darkness. consequently the dressing and operations are carried out immediately upon their arrival, the cases rarely remaining more than a few hours in a field hospital, being of necessity hurried away to the base hospitals. thus the time for visiting the sick and the wounded is limited. "there are letters to be written for the badly hit men to the loved ones at home. there are the dying to be comforted and pointed to the saviour. a word of cheer to be spoken to all. it is indeed in the field ambulance where valuable service is rendered to men and staff in a hundred ways. "to keep in touch with most of our men thus passing through the ambulances, each ambulance operating in a different centre, necessitates from four to six hours' duty each night. "besides the work of the hospitals there are pressing day duties to be performed. burials must receive attention. regiments must be visited. many calls are received from anxious and troubled men. even the firing line claims attention at times in the performance of duty. wherever the men are standing to their duty and where the greatest service could be rendered there i have striven to be. identification with the men is the key-note of a chaplain's work. he shares in the recreations, pleasures, dangers, and sorrows of his men, and is looked upon as the soldier's best friend. "the strain is incessant, but the work is most encouraging and filled with unequalled opportunities. "the men prove responsive to the spiritual touch and take full advantage of the means of grace and communion afforded. "the circumstances of the front bring one into closest touch with the men in such a way as is not possible at home, and it is indeed a joy and a reward to feel that one is helping to keep the men in touch with the faith and spirit of their fathers." * * * * * the public imagination has been touched by the part the salvation army has played in this great struggle. its contribution to the fighting line and to organised works of mercy has been striking. i am grateful, therefore, to general booth for the opportunity of including in this volume an authorised account of the salvation army's war work, prepared by brigadier carpenter. "it is impossible to give in the brief space available anything approaching a comprehensive idea of the work the salvation army is accomplishing in the various new situations created by the war. the more outstanding features of its activities can be summarised, but such a statement appears--as do statistics to a lay mind--cold, lifeless, uninteresting, whereas the tangible facts which they represent glow with life and beauty and inestimable worth. "on the outbreak of hostilities general booth held conferences with his chief officers at headquarters in london, to determine upon what lines of action salvationists would be of most service to the authorities and the people in the national crisis. "our naval and military homes at harwich, chatham, plymouth, and dover, and as many of our social institutions and halls as might be found necessary, were placed at the disposal of the government; those not taken for military requirements were offered to local governments for use as relief and industrial centres. "with the formation of the expeditionary forces, general booth dispatched to the continent a contingent of officers to minister to the troops in any way that might be found possible. these officers were placed under the direction of brigadier mary murray, secretary of our naval and military league. it might be mentioned that the brigadier is a daughter of the late general sir john murray. miss murray went through the south african war at the head of a salvation army red cross contingent, and for her services was awarded the south african medal. "when the prince of wales fund was inaugurated, salvation army officers were appointed to most of the local committees formed in the country, their close touch with the poor and their willingness and practicality rendering them of great assistance in the wise administration of the funds. in many centres, leagues were formed for looking out and caring for the wives and families of soldiers and sailors. the women are visited in their homes, difficulties concerning their allowances and other matters are straightened out; they are invited to cheerful meetings held at regular intervals at the army halls, and when the sad news of disaster or death comes with its paralysing sorrow into their homes, the salvationist is at hand with words of comfort and deeds of helpfulness. "one of our first calls to serve the troops of the new army was in wales, when the men poured in from the valleys to enlist. until these men passed the final attestment and had been enrolled, they were not under government responsibility, and arriving in such numbers as they did they could not be immediately dealt with. the military commander at cardiff, explaining the difficulty in an evening paper, requested help. within an hour of the edition leaving the press the salvation army had offered to cope with the emergency, and by six o'clock the next morning had actually commenced operations. the council cookery schools were handed over to us, and during the following days hundreds of men were suitably provided for. not only were their temporal needs supplied, but our officers did much in the direction of advising and helping the men in an endless variety of ways. new testaments and religious literature were distributed amongst them and their letters despatched to friends at home. "more than , salvationists have rallied to the colours. knowledge of the temptations and discomforts to which these men, in company with hundreds of thousands of their comrades in arms, are likely to be exposed in camp strongly appealed to general booth, who determined upon providing as far as possible 'home away from home' for them. thus there are over halls and rest rooms provided for the use of the troops. "during the warm weather the work was carried on under canvas, but with the approach of winter the marquees were replaced by wooden buildings. the men may procure wholesome refreshments, read good helpful literature, write and converse with the officers in charge; and in the evenings bright, interesting meetings are conducted. attached to many of these rest houses is an authorised post office. at some of our huts bathing accommodation has been provided. the rest centres are in charge of experienced married men, and the presence of a good sympathetic, practical woman amongst the troops is of untold value. the wife, ready for any emergency, 'mothers' the men, corresponds for them with wives, parents, and sweethearts, advises them on a multitude of questions. she prescribes for their minor ailments, does bits of mending and various other little kindnesses, which all appeal to the best side of the men. these officers, as a rule, have some knowledge of first aid, and cases of slight mishap are frequently ordered to the salvation huts. "the troops bear hearty testimony to the blessings these havens of rest and happiness have proved to be. lord kitchener himself has expressed appreciation, and there have been many other most generous expressions from highly placed officers regarding the army's efforts on behalf of the men. a general commanding one of the great camps said, 'please do not thank me for arranging sites for your buildings; it is for me to thank general booth and the salvation army for rendering us such service. i know the value of the spiritual and moral influence which the workers of the salvation army exercise over the men.' the senior chaplain of a great camp applied for salvation army officers to go and work amongst the troops, and himself defrayed the cost of supplying and equipping a marquee for the purpose. 'your men go for the soldier's soul; that's why i want them,' he said. "the value of over , salvationists scattered amongst the troops and the fleet can only be faintly suggested here. a salvationist is trained, from the moment he kneels at the penitent form, to confess christ by his life and testimony; and never has he taken a braver stand than he is doing to-day in the barrack-room, on ship deck, and in trench. "the following incident, which has been multiplied a thousandfold, illustrates the power of example. a rough, illiterate salvationist found himself in a barrack dormitory for the first time. cursing, swearing, and ribaldry were going on all around him amongst a crowd of half-drunken, hilarious men. he knew he should kneel and pray, but never before did he understand the full significance of the salvation army song he had so often lustily sung: 'i'll stand for christ, for christ alone.' surely it would be easier to go into action than to kneel and pray in such company! he turned hot and cold by turns, then decided: 'here goes,' and plumped down upon his knees. a few whistles and jeers, a boot, a pillow followed, but he did not move. the cursing gradually died away and there was silence in the room. "next day several men sought him out to confess that they, too, were christians, but had not dared to face that fire alone. next night several of them knelt to pray unmolested, and by degrees the salvationist became the conscience of the company. a military officer of high rank remarked to one of our leading men the other day: 'i really did not know the salvation army until the war, but i have watched your men. now i deliberately place salvationists with the wilder of our spirits, and invariably find that after a week or two the tone of the company has noticeably risen.' "during rest time at the front, salvationists hold meetings behind their guns and at their trenches. these 'unofficial chaplains' have won many souls for christ. during the coldest weather of this winter some took off their greatcoats for their mates to kneel upon, and there, within sound of the enemy's fire, they pleaded with their comrades to turn from sin and seek the saviour. one night twenty-two men responded to this invitation. "the authorities in canada, australia, and new zealand have appointed salvation army officers as regular chaplains to the troops and conferred military rank upon them. these officers are serving with the expeditionary forces in egypt and elsewhere. "in this country and at the base on the continent special facilities have been granted to us for visiting the wounded in hospitals and also the prisoners of war. services are conducted in the german language, and literature of that tongue is distributed amongst the german prisoners by salvation army officers who have been engaged in our work in the fatherland. "it is an interesting fact that sufficient men to form an entire battalion were recruited from our social institutions. without exception, these men came to us in a state of complete physical unfitness. drink and exposure, and in many cases other vices, had robbed them of all the spring and confidence so necessary in the soldier. after several months of good food, steady occupation, and the message of cheer which our homes bring to their inmates, these men, so recently the country's waste, marched out to serve their king and country. two of the number from one home formerly held commissions in the regular army, but lost them through intemperance. both were reinstated. one clever fellow, speaking several languages, was attached to the intelligence department. "to our home-loving nation one of the saddest circumstances of the war is the depopulation of belgium. general booth with his officers was among the first to come forward with offers of help when the destitute and stricken people poured into our country. three of our homes in london were at once thrown open to receive them, and at port towns, such as folkestone and cardiff, where the refugees arrived in such numbers that they could not be distributed, accommodation was provided for thousands in buildings adapted by the salvation army officers. the refugees sheltered in one of our london homes despatched a message in french to his majesty the king at buckingham palace, expressing profound thanks for the kindly reception they had been given in england, and for the way the 'armée du salut' was caring for them. "the value of this effort has been fully recognised by the government, and a communication from the local government board on the subject of the army's work was expressed in the following terms: 'i am directed by the local government board to express the board's appreciation of the action of the salvation army, and its officers, which has been of great assistance to them in dealing with the situation, which for a time presented considerable difficulties.' "the assistance to the belgian people was not confined to those in england. general booth despatched an experienced officer to belgium with orders to visit every centre of salvation army work in that country. he succeeded in his mission and placed financial help with the brave officers who had refused to leave their posts, though many of them were right in the battle area, and had been exposed to the utmost personal danger. thus assisted, they were enabled to succour hundreds of most deserving and starving people, and to continue their spiritual ministrations to the people who clung to them for comfort and support in their terrible experiences. "a work of first importance was also undertaken by the salvation army at the request of the belgian government, viz. the care of the wounded belgian soldiers in this country. when fit to leave the hospital ward, the hospital authorities in whatever part of the country the soldiers were being nursed--from aberdeen to plymouth--communicated with our headquarters in london. the men were brought to the metropolis under salvation army escort and provided for by our officers until they were fit to return to military service, or to civil life should they be permanently incapacitated. our land and industrial colony at hadleigh in essex has proved to be a veritable boon as a convalescent depot for these brave men. more than belgian soldiers in this way have passed through our hands. the efficiency of the arrangements for the comfort and well-being of these men has earned unstinted praise from the officials concerned of both the belgian and our own governments. "on one of the worst nights of this winter a party of canadians, belgians, and a number of russians arrived from across the atlantic to join the forces. they had no place to go to. 'send them to the salvation army' said the military authorities, and to the salvation army they came. coming in such an unexpected number in addition to the hundreds of belgians already under the army's roof, they presented something of a problem, but a little rearrangement soon enabled us to warmly house and feed them all. the next night seventy more arrived and were similarly cared for. "salvationists are a poor people. their only riches consist in love and power to serve. nevertheless, out of their scant means they contributed between three and four thousand pounds to the prince of wales relief fund, and also raised a further £ for the purchase and equipment of a motor ambulance unit consisting of five cars. the unit is manned by salvationists. it is no new thing to send ambulance brigades to the front at war time, but it _is_ a new thing to see that they are all conducted by christian men. "the cars have splendidly stood the severe tests imposed upon them, and the men in charge have borne themselves so well that they have become known as 'the white brigade.' no drinking, no smoking, no swearing amongst them; always on time and carrying out the orders of the medical staff with the utmost satisfaction, it is not to be wondered at that our officer in command of the unit was promoted to the charge of a section--with the management of twenty-five cars. a second unit of six cars was despatched to france in february, with which her majesty queen alexandra was pleased to identify herself by personally dedicating the cars--now known as the 'queen alexandra unit.' "apart from the work of the ambulance party, salvation army officers are exerting themselves for the comfort of the troops in the battle area and at the base hospitals. at boulogne, rouen, and paris our women officers are continually visiting the wounded. in paris alone, they visit seven hospitals for the british wounded. hundreds upon hundreds of letters have been written to anxious relatives and friends, and where husbands have been in distress about their wives in ill-health or poverty at home, a swift message across the channel has been sent to our officer in the town mentioned, who has gladly gone to comfort and assist the distressed ones concerned, and our army sisters have received scores of 'last messages' to wives and children as the brave fellows have been passing away. testaments, papers, stationery, and chocolates are distributed, and a thousand and one of those gentle heart ministries peculiar alone to women, whose hearts are filled with love to christ, are performed. every week two large sacks of clothing made by salvationists in england are sent to the visiting officers in france for distribution amongst the men. "at boulogne, le havre, and abbeville rest rooms, similar to those in great britain, have been established. "passing mention must be made of the patrols of salvation army officers at the great london railway stations, such as waterloo, victoria, &c. the special work of these officers is to care for men stranded on saturday and sunday nights. rooms have been opened in the neighbourhood where the men are provided with blankets and refreshments. some of the men, whose troubles have resulted from drink, have been led to renounce their drinking habits. [illustration: _drawn by paul thiriat._ in the forÉt de la nieppe. an english private and a french sergeant bind each other's wounds, and then faint from loss of blood. both were rescued, being discovered by a dog.] "in this brief review reference has largely been confined to the salvationists in great britain in connexion with the war. this serves as an index of similar efforts which are being actively carried forward by salvationists in every part of the world, especially in france, belgium, switzerland, holland, denmark, sweden, finland, and even in germany. they are caring for those reduced to poverty as a result of the war, caring for the wounded, succouring the refugees, and lending the hand of help in many other ways. "we are unable to more than mention the splendid service rendered by salvationists in the united states, who organised what was termed an 'old linen campaign'; , articles for the wounded--comprising bandages, pads, &c.--in a large variety have already been made up, and after being sterilised and labelled, sent forward to france, belgium, and germany." chapter xi heads of army work at home tell the story of work at the front church of scotland commissioned chaplains--one hundred civilian ministers of scotland offered their services--the rev. w. stevenson jaffray's report--many forms of service at the front--from no. general hospital, rouen--the french decorate our soldiers' graves--report of the st echelon general headquarters--a chaplain's first lesson--after neuve chapelle--the work of the y.m.c.a.--a breathlessly summoned council--six hundred centres--a glorious nine months. i am indebted to the rev. j.a. mcclymont, d.d., v.d., convener of the church of scotland general assembly's committee on army and navy chaplains, for the following account of presbyterian work at the front. it will supplement and bring up to date references to the work of this great church in the earlier chapters of this book. "before the outbreak of the war six ministers of the church of scotland held commissions as regular military chaplains, and all of them, along with four of our indian chaplains, who accompanied their regiments from the east, are now serving with the expeditionary force. the names of the former are revs. w.s. jaffray ( st class), j.t. bird ( st class), f.w. stewart ( rd class), a.r. yeoman ( rd class), j. campbell ( rd class), and d.a. morrison ( rd class); of the latter the names are revs. g.e. dodd, andrew macfarlane, g.c. macpherson, and j.h. horton mcneill. in addition to these, about two hundred civilian ministers of the church have offered their services as chaplains at the front. among them are many eloquent preachers, many distinguished scholars, and not a few accomplished athletes. some have had valuable experience as chaplains in the territorial force, or have served as combatants in that force or in the officers' training corps, while others can produce evidence of experience and skill in connexion with the red cross society, the boys' brigade, or the boy scouts. some of them can preach in gaelic, others have a knowledge of french and german and other continental languages, and a personal acquaintance with the countries in which the war is going on. some have served with acceptance in the boer war or at a military station at home or abroad. keen sportsmen are to be found among them who can shoot, ride, cycle, or drive a motor. "until lately the number of additional presbyterian chaplains allowed by the war office has been much smaller than was generally expected, considering the many thousands of territorials who have volunteered for foreign service, and the immense multitude of recruits who have enlisted in kitchener's army. the ideal arrangement would have been to assign a chaplain to every battalion; but, instead of this, the appointments were at first made to _divisions_ and _hospitals_, the result being that after eight months of the war only eighteen additional chaplains had been appointed for service at the front. recently the number has been increased to thirty-eight, making fifty-four presbyterian chaplains in all; and further additions will soon be made. in the partitioning of these thirty-eight new chaplaincies among the several presbyterian churches, the war office has been guided by the advisory committee on the appointment and distribution of presbyterian chaplains. this committee was created by mr. (now lord) haldane some years ago, and consists of a representative of the church of scotland, the united free church, the presbyterian church of england, and the presbyterian church of ireland, respectively, with lord balfour of burleigh, a trusted elder of the church of scotland, as chairman. the convener of the church of scotland committee on army and navy chaplains was asked by lord balfour to nominate eighteen of the new chaplains, bringing the number of church of scotland chaplains on foreign service up to twenty-eight. the revs. h.y. arnott, b.d. (newburgh), h. brown b.d. (strathmiglo), geo. donald, b.d. (aberdeen), a.s.g. gilchrist, b.d. (applegarth), professor kay, d.d., james kirk, m.a. (dunbar), oswald b. milligan (ayr), a.m. maclean, b.d. (paisley), a. macdonald (glassary), d. macfarlane (kingussie), j. campbell mcgregor, v.d. (edinburgh), c.g. mackenzie, b.d. (methlick), james macgibbon, b.d. (hamilton), j.j. pryde (penpont), d.a. cameron reid, b.d. (glasgow), thos. scott, m.a., t.d. (laurencekirk), patrick sinclair b.d. (urquhart), and geo. thompson, b.d. (carnbee), were so nominated. all of these and the other presbyterian chaplains above referred to, with the exception of three who have gone to the east, are serving in france and belgium under the direction of the rev. dr. simms, k.h.c., a minister of the irish presbyterian church, who, but for the war, would have retired on account of the age limit before the end of last year, but is now the responsible and honoured head of all the chaplains of every denomination at the western seat of war. many grateful tributes have been paid to the faithful services rendered to their countrymen by presbyterian chaplains in this war, and four of them have had the honour of being mentioned in despatches, two of whom are ministers of the church of scotland, namely, the rev. j.t. bird and the rev. a.r. yeoman. so far, only two chaplains have been wounded, namely, mr. yeoman and mr. j.h.h. mcneill, who are both ministers of the national church. before giving a few extracts from letters and reports received from chaplains at the front, it may be well to mention that upwards of twenty ministers of the church of scotland and about fifty university students who were studying, or about to study, in the divinity hall have joined the army as combatants--some of them as officers and some of them as private soldiers--while others are serving with the r.a.m.c. several have done excellent work in connexion with the y.m.c.a., notably the rev. l. mclean watt (edinburgh), who was unable to accept a chaplaincy for the period required by the war office, and the rev. hugh brown (strathmiglo), before his appointment to a chaplaincy. * * * * * "rev. w. stevenson jaffray, senior chaplain to the forces, writes as follows: "'on the evening of october , , i received telegraphic instructions from the war office to join the th division, british expeditionary force and reported myself for duty next day. on sunday, october --the last day and sunday so many hundreds were ever to spend in england--the division was suddenly ordered to proceed to embark. few who were present at the open-air parade service that day are likely to forget the scene of the great square, composed of such famous units as the nd battalion scots guards, nd battalion royal scots fusiliers, and nd battalion the gordon highlanders, gathered together for divine worship. the division--the first british force to land in belgium--was, within a few hours of disembarking, holding in check no less than five german army corps. how the various units added fresh lustre to their glorious traditions is known to all who have read the story of ypres. "'the chaplain's work at the front is thrillingly interesting, frequently dangerous, and often pathetic, and may be briefly described under four heads. "' . _visiting men in billets._ "'the first duty of a chaplain is to get into intimate touch with his men. he can hope to be useful and influence the men when, and only when, by constant visiting he wins their confidence and goodwill. the shyness, stiffness, and indifference so familiar to chaplains visiting barrack rooms in peace time is altogether unknown at the front. on active service the chaplain is welcomed as a comrade and friend. the men are in billets for a fixed number of days, after which they return to the trenches. every endeavour is made to get into personal touch with the men during the periods of rest, and to become acquainted with their difficulties and needs. "' . _visiting wounded and dying._ "'the wounded are removed from the trenches immediately it becomes dark and are brought to the field ambulance. the hospital work extends far into the night--at times all night, for nights in succession, particularly when a big fight is in progress. this is the most important and impressive part of our work. after the patient has been dressed by the medical officer, the chaplain kneels beside the stretcher and gives whatever comfort and cheer he can. the heroic and patient suffering of our men, their thankfulness and eagerness for spiritual help and consolation, their thought for wives and little ones, their absolute selflessness make one grateful and proud to minister to such noble souls. many messages are entrusted to the chaplains. the wounded request a line to be written to allay the fears of loved ones at home. the dying whisper such noble words as these: (actual message) "tell my wife i have merely done my duty." "i have a wife and five little ones, god help them. i never thought i would come to this, but i have done my best for my country." "' . _divine service._ "'sunday services are held whenever possible. when the men are in the trenches on sunday, arrangements are made to conduct service as soon as they return to billets. these services are held in barns or, when weather permits, in the open air. at each service i have endeavoured to give the men a text or thought to strengthen and help them throughout the week. the intense interest taken by all ranks in these services renders them very impressive. "' . _soldiers' clubs._ "'the comfort of men at the front has not been lost sight of. i was requested by divisional headquarters to establish clubs in every brigade area to break the monotony of life during the quiet winter months. these clubs contain reading, writing, and game rooms and a refreshment bar, where the men can obtain hot coffee. my thanks are due to the convener of the army and navy chaplains' committee, who kindly sent me cases of general literature which proved most useful and interesting to the men. friends at home supplied games of various kinds, as well as stationery, pencils, and such useful articles. lectures and concerts have been given, and everything possible has been done to brighten the soldier's life.'" * * * * * "the rev. j.t. bird, m.a., c.f., writing from no. general hospital, rouen, says: "'in accordance with instructions from the principal chaplain i do what i can to minister to presbyterian troops within reach, where no presbyterian chaplain is available. this has usually meant, on sundays, holding a service in a reinforcements camp (infantry or cavalry) in the morning, and two services in hospital: one in the forenoon and one in the evening. one of the hospitals here is the scottish red cross hospital--excellently equipped. i did what i could for this hospital in the way of visitation and sunday evening services up till lately, when the rev. a.m. maclean of paisley abbey was able to undertake these duties in addition to his work at a neighbouring infantry camp. the attendance at my service held at the reinforcements camp, at st. nazaire and here, has varied from about to , according to circumstances. i have found the church of scotland psalm leaflets and the little blue booklet _with the colours_ very useful for all services. during the week one is kept busy visiting sick and wounded in four hospitals; holding occasional week-night services for convalescents and assisting to get up concerts for them; writing letters for patients too ill to write themselves; and distributing gifts of all descriptions (literature, cigarettes; woollen comforts, &c., &c.) sent by kind people at home. "'the sunday evening service has always been a united one (church of england and presbyterian), and the church of england chaplains i have found very willing to co-operate in this way. "'i am glad to state that the number of presbyterians who have died in hospital has not been at all large, considering the large number of patients treated, and this fact i think bears eloquent testimony to the excellent equipment and comfort of the hospitals, as well as to the skill of the medical officers and the great devotion of the nursing staff. the mother of a wounded seaforth highlander, who was lying in this hospital, came recently all the way from inverness with two other friends to see her son, and they all seemed deeply gratified and impressed by the excellence and efficiency of the hospital. all funerals of soldiers are announced beforehand in the french local journal, and here, as at st. nazaire, french ladies attend and reverently place flowers on the grave after the burial service. they specially decorated the graves for easter. such attention must, i think, be gratifying to the sorrowing relatives. the sacrament of the lord's supper has frequently been dispensed, and the number of communicants is always much larger than in time of peace at home stations.'" * * * * * "the rev. professor kay, d.d., a.c.f., writes from st echelon general headquarters, france: "'a chaplain's first lesson, as i have learned it, is to give due honour to the men he serves. all combatants have offered the supreme sacrifice a man can make for any object; how can anyone not of their consecrated number be worthy to say anything at all to them? their great vow is too sacred for words; the loss of comrades and the uncertain future are felt but not discussed. the example of christ which made martyrdom an easy and a right thing for the apostles, the new covenant in his blood, the grace of his redeeming sacrifice--these acquire fresh power and interest. the combatant understands them, if a chaplain be an adequate minister of christ's evangel. "'an army on active service cannot guarantee food and shelter with certain regularity; far less can it provide fixed routine for common worship. buildings, organs, choirs, sabbaths are often unavailable. the army must be always ready to move and to act; it is not possible to set everybody free at one time. hence one has to discover at what times there will be leisure among the various units. recreation in clubs and reading-rooms is often easy to contrive, and hours for worship can also be arranged. in hospitals periodic services are possible. in any regiment there are likely to be various denominations of christians, and minorities must sometimes do without their own type of chaplain. hymns and holy scripture serve as uniting influences, and the fair and friendly feeling among the chaplains in this vicinity makes work easy. work here makes it evident that the church of scotland as by law established is only one of a wide sisterhood of presbyterian churches. canadian, english, irish, welsh presbyterians have been nearly as numerous as those from scotland, and one representative from south africa appeared on the list. "'the battle of neuve chapelle caused a stream of casualties to flow past this point for a week. some died and were laid to rest beside their comrades, their last messages being sent to their startled kinsfolk at home. some who were weary and willing to die took heart again through sympathy and skilful nursing. one boy of seventeen in sore torture was heard half-consciously crying: "ah! bonnie scotland, what i'm suffering for you now"; he slowly recovered and did not grudge his pains. those at home for whom brave men are suffering and dying should be done with tippling and trifling. "'the work at this point includes attendance at three hospitals and the conducting of services for troops as required. during last week there were only four cases "seriously and dangerously ill" and about thirty men sick and wounded. at a rest depot a class was formed to prepare for first communion, and at a special service on good friday eleven soldiers were admitted. the sacrament was administered on easter sunday morning, and there were about sixty communicants. these included a few baptists, congregationalists, and others, who, if members of their own churches, were admitted and invited to this communion. a church parade with an irish cavalry regiment followed at o'clock. in the twilight the largest soldiers' club in the district was crowded for evening service. there the bishop of london--candid as king alfred and persuasive as alfred tennyson--encouraged and blessed us all, and his inspiring words hallowed the great enterprise which brings us here.'" * * * * * the following statement of the work of the young men's christian association at the front and at home has been written by the rev. w. kingscote greenland, at the request of the general secretary, mr. a.k. yapp. "no branch of the religious and social work among our soldiers during the war, both at the front and in the home camps, has been so well known and universally acknowledged and appreciated as that accomplished by the young men's christian association. the press has spread the fame of it far and wide and devoted leaders and columns of details to it. any exhaustive story therefore is as unnecessary as it would be disproportionally large. what makes it imperative, however, that at least a brief summary of its widespread and manifold activities should be included, is that it has been a work of quite interdenominational character--all churches equally contributing both workers and money--and therefore the credit, if credit there is to be, must be shared among all. the fact of it is that the y.m.c.a. has acted throughout as a species of central bureau or clearing-house, by the ready and available means of which anybody and everybody desirous of assisting in the moral and spiritual welfare of our troops could do so without calling into existence new organisation and machinery. "and here it must be mentioned that two facts were, humanly speaking, responsible for the striking emergence of the y.m.c.a. into this unique position. the first fact is that for fifteen years past the association has had great experience of this sort of work by reason of its tents in all the territorial camps every summer, so that the war only meant an extension, though an immense extension, of activities to which it was no stranger. and, secondly, the courageous spiritual statesmanship and moral daring of the general secretary, mr. a.k. yapp, who on the outbreak of war, and in the holiday season too, launched this policy. "the story of that breathlessly summoned council meeting in the headquarters of the national council in russell square on august is a veritable romance. telegrams brought holiday-making secretaries hurrying from the seaside, and in a few hours it was decided to pitch canvas tents wherever the new recruits for kitchener's army were located, and issue a national appeal for the necessary funds. as everybody now knows, this was done--hundreds of tents for refreshments, reading, writing, and rest sprang up as if by magic all over the land; thousands of pounds of money flowed in from high and low; and the young men's christian association was swept forward in the tide from being a semi-disparaged adjunct of the church's care for a certain type of young townsman, to that of a great ally of the nation in its hour of moral, no less than physical, agony. the tale of the swift adaptation of practically the entire premises, resources, and plant of the association to the military and naval emergency, involving almost superhuman hours of thought and skill, can never adequately be told. the whole country was mapped out, committees formed, hundreds of workers engaged, stationery ordered, stores and motor-transport acquired, the patronage of the king and the approval of the war office secured, and in a few weeks the machinery for the safeguarding of the leisure hours of the troops who were flocking to the colours was in working order. "then came the late autumn with its rains and floods, and the necessity for better accommodation than canvas tents. wooden huts were obviously required. but these would cost money--roughly £ at least apiece. a great appeal was issued for the necessary funds, and the response was amazing. several hundreds of thousands of pounds were contributed, many donors presenting a hut and furnishing it, and as winter closed in comfortable and warm and well-equipped huts replaced everywhere the sodden tents. "as the military situation broadened and developed, the association followed suit, and huts were built and opened in the base towns in france, egypt, and india, while many young men were sent on board the troop-ships as lay chaplains to take charge of the soldiers on these journeys and to look after them on their landing in foreign and colonial ports. "and so the situation as it stands at this present time of writing is roughly as follows: y.m.c.a. centres in the home camps, of which are permanent wooden huts. in france centres, of which are huts. in egypt centres in charge of young christian men sent out by the association, and in india centres, manned by association workers. to this record must be added over camp workers, only a very small proportion of whom are paid, and the innumerable ladies who either serve at the counters or are quartered with local committees of management. to this, further, several other inspiring features and items must still be added. under the y.m.c.a. auspices, princess victoria has a number of field kitchens across in france and flanders which supply the men at the actual front. also, and by no means least, scores of clergymen and ministers of all denominations give some, and a few all their time, to conducting services and "talks" in the huts in the evenings, while among the voluntary workers on salisbury plain, at the crystal palace, the white city, harwich and felixstowe, hindhead, milford, southport, alnwick and along the tyne, and scores of other camps, are to be found university professors and students, men from all the theological colleges, retired city merchants, ministers with leave of absence from their churches, business men moved to leave their shops and offices in the care of wives and clerks and managers, and almost every type of christian man and profession and occupation. "all this deals, as it will be seen, with the many externals of the association work, and takes little or no account of the various more directly spiritual agencies. almost every well-known evangelist has given up his time to the y.m.c.a. huts, including such men as mr. w.r. lane, mr. c.m. alexander, and the rev. canon hicks, while the work of the pocket testament league and of temperance has been wonderfully successful. "beginning on the wednesday after easter and continuing for seven days, a special effort was made throughout the camps to make it a decision week for the men of the new army. a pledge of acceptance of jesus christ as saviour and king was to be taken and a war roll signed. it is too early to give the final results, but already many thousands have signed, and the reports of camp workers, chaplains, clergymen, and ministers are most enheartening. "of the actual meetings held, of the conversations that have taken place, of the strange, moving, pathetic and thrilling incidents that have marked this tragic and glorious nine months, much has already been written, and books could be filled. thousands of men of our homes and churches have written and spoken most affectionately of the service rendered to them in the y.m.c.a. tents, and of the lessening of their temptations thereby, while many hundreds of thousands of dear ones have received letters written under the quiet conditions only obtainable in the association's huts, and, be it added, on their millions of sheets of free notepaper. "of the generosity of the public, the kindness and appreciation of the generals and colonels and officers generally, and perhaps, most of all, of the untiring and self-denying labour of those who have manned the huts through these long months, short-handed, overworked, cheery, and eager, in cold and mud, it is impossible fully to speak. let it suffice to say that the young men's christian association is deeply humbled and proud, by reason of the honour god has manifestly conferred upon it in giving it this supreme chance of serving the interests of his kingdom." chapter xii when the men come home clergymen serving in the ranks--a strange burial incident--when the new army comes back--will the churches be ready?--they are coming. the needs of the country led a good many men, already ordained to the christian ministry, to enter the new army. the question whether they should or should not do this was, as i have already indicated, a matter of some dispute, but as the war went on a testimony gathered as to the influence of such as did enlist. thus "d." wrote to the _times_: "at our table, which served for meals and other purposes, sat opposite to me a clergyman of the church of england, to do his best with us to fight and prevent his country being treated like poor belgium. we knew what he was, and what he had given up to join us, and his influence in that hut, and in his platoon, was greater than that of the khaki-clad official chaplain who paid us occasional visits. we all respected him and knew his aversion to things which were often thought lightly of by us, and one look at his good and serious face would often keep back an oath, which would come out naturally to a troublesome steer or a slow and careless sailor, and many a tale which would have been thought appropriate in a smoking-room or round a camp fire remained untold in his presence. this has been my experience of one man, and i am glad to say that in this battalion there are already serving as private soldiers some half-dozen clergymen." [illustration: when the men come home. _drawn by arthur twidle._] let one of them also answer for himself. i do not know his name, but he is a young wesleyan minister who enlisted in the r.a.m.c. last october, and who is, as i write, now at the forefront of the fight. the following extracts from his letter were published in the _daily news_: "the call comes for stretcher-bearers, and i volunteer to go with no. . the medical officer comes out, flashes his torch, and gives the order: 'men to march in front of the waggon. whole party walk--march!' "we are off. ten paces ahead walked the medical officer, a captain; behind him a sergeant and four men of the squad. then comes the ambulance waggon, with the great red cross on both sides, one man driving. inside are the stretchers (one man in the squad carries a surgical haversack), and behind the waggon comes the drag-horse, with a waggon orderly mounted on it. this horse will help us out of a ditch or the mud, if the waggon gets stuck in it. "we head straight for the trenches. it is very dark; light rain splashes on our faces, and there is a cold wind. occasionally the captain flashes his electric torch as we pass an outpost or a belated infantry man returning from the firing line. the rattle of the waggon sounds like the passing of heavy guns in the still night, and we wonder whether we shall draw the enemy's shell fire. a road with a waggon on it is a good spot to drop a 'jack johnson' on now and then. "suddenly the sky is illuminated by a brilliant german star-shell with a long white tail. every figure, every tree, every stone in the road is revealed for one moment to the enemy's snipers and artillery. egyptian darkness follows the flash, and out of it ahead we hear, coming towards us, the tramp of many marching men. their officer stops us. "'i have left two men on the road--ptomaine poisoning. pick them up, will you?' he asks. "'yes. good-night!' "on we go again. the rain pours, the wind is rising to a gale. the road is very narrow. the wheels of the waggon plunge into a deep rut and send a spray of mud up into our faces. soon we pull up before a little building at the side of the road not far from our firing line. it is the dressing station where the wounded are brought until the waggons can come to convey them to the hospitals out of the fire zone. "our captain and the sergeant enter the building, and a corporal in charge of the place whispers, 'sir, we have one dead here.' "'one dead! we did not know that. we have no chaplain.' "the sergeant whispers to the captain that i am a wesleyan minister. the captain calls me. "'are you a minister?' "'yes, sir.' "'can you bury this man?' "'yes, sir.' "'carry on, then!' "what is his religion--the dead man? no one knows. one of the soldiers has a prayer-book on him, so we decide to read the church of england service. "over the road, opposite the building, is a patch of ground--just a cabbage patch. a grave has been dug, just a few minutes previously, and the dead soldier lies in it uncovered, just as he fell in the trenches. his arms are folded on his breast. a piece of cloth hides his face from our sight. he lies two feet from the surface--no more. three of us stand by the grave. the corporal hands me an electric torch, and i begin to read the burial service. "'ping-ping!' a bullet whizzes over us. out goes the torch--and we finish with an extempore prayer. five minutes later two of his mates are filling up this soldier's grave, and another is cutting out a rough wooden cross. ten minutes more and we are away with our ambulance." if they all acquit themselves thus we shall indeed be proud of kitchener's army. the christian work at the front becomes increasingly successful as the months go by, until one wonders whereunto it will grow. we must not exaggerate or make too much of momentary impressions of those at the front, but such scenes as the following, pictured to us by the rev. lauchlan mclean watt in the _scotsman_, will live in our memory. as we read it we can hardly wonder at his closing words declaring that it is resurrection and pentecost through which they are passing in france and flanders to-day. he had been in a deserted billet just behind the firing line, and was about to move on when a couple of soldiers of the black watch appeared on the scene. here is the story he has to tell: "they touched their bonnets, and said, 'we're going off to the front to-night, sir, and we thought we'd like to have the sacrament before we go. can you give it to us?' 'how many?' i asked. 'oh, maybe sixteen,' was the reply. 'well,' i answered, 'at six o'clock in the shed next to this one be present with your friends.' "off went the two with a deepened light in their faces, while i prepared the place that was to be for some of them the room of the last supper. a tablecloth borrowed from the officers' mess and a little wine from the same source helped to meet our preparations. a notice on the door that the place was closed for ordinary use until the communion service was over did not keep us free from interruption, for the room was the ordinary one for the soldiers' 'sing-song,' and men would come and beat upon the doors and clamour for admission, not reading notices nor at first understanding. "the men began to gather, and sat down there as reverently as though the dim, little, draughty hut were the chancel of some great cathedral holy with the deepest memories of christian generations. "'you might wait,' whispered one. 'the camerons and seaforths may be able to come.' so we waited--a hushed and solemn waiting. then quietly some of them began to croon old psalm memories, and quiet hymns, waiting. and at length the others came, stepping softly into the place; and with them comrades, who explained that, though they were of a different country and a different church belief, they yet desired to share in the act of worship, preparatory to celebration. at length about one hundred and twenty men were there, and we began. "it was the rd psalm, the psalm of god's shepherding, the comradeship of the divine in the valley of the shadow, the faith and the hope of the brave. what a power was in it--what a spell of wonder, of comforting, and uplifting in this land of war! they sang it very tenderly, for it spoke to them of times when they had held their mothers' hands, and looked up wondering in their faces, in the church at home, wondering why tears were there. "it means a big thing still, to-day, for our empire, this heart-deep singing of our soldier men. i have never dreamed that i should see such depth of feeling for eternal things. do not tell me this is armageddon. it is not the end of things. it is resurrection and pentecost we are passing through. a harvest is being sown in france of which the reaping shall be empire-wide. there will be angels at the ingathering. "it only needed the simplest words to seal that sacrament. and next morning, in the grey light, the men who had been touched by the thought of home and the dear ones there, and the big throbbing thought of consecration, were marching off to grip the very hand of death, in sacrifice, like christ's for others." the easter visit of the bishop of london to the front is fresh in our memories. what a holy and triumphant progress it was! vast bodies of men have listened to the addresses of the bishop, and joined reverently in the responses to the prayers. how grandly those glorious hymns, "rock of ages" and "jesu, lover of my soul" have swelled forth in the stillness which was only broken by the booming of great guns! the programme of the visit had been arranged with much care. there were all sorts of services. now the bishop was with the flying corps gathered in one of their great hangars, now with the household cavalry massed in the field, now with the army service corps beside their big lorries. to all sorts and conditions of men the bishop spoke, and it seemed as though he had the right word for each man. he passed along the whole british front often within the range of the german guns. at one part of the line, where there had recently been heavy fighting, some five hundred officers, many of whom had only just come from the battle, were present. the service was, of course, voluntary, and the fact that those officers were present because they _wanted_ to be there made the service all the more impressive. veteran generals knelt side by side with newly commissioned subalterns in reverent worship on the hard stoned floor. easter day the bishop spent with the territorial regiment of which he is chaplain. i quote the description of the services from the _manchester guardian_: "the regiment is in a most exposed position, and the bishop motored into the village (a village that has been very much knocked about by shell fire) in pitch darkness, only broken by the weird glare of star shells fired from the german trenches about a mile away. a most enthusiastic reception awaited him from the two hundred and fifty men who were billeted in the village, the remainder of the battalion being in the trenches. "cheer after cheer greeted him as he entered the barn, where a 'sing-song' of the most lively nature was in progress. after giving a short address the bishop went with some of the men to their billets and had a cheery word for each. at seven a.m. on easter day he celebrated the holy communion in a barn, the roof and walls of which had been scarred and shattered by gun fire. over two hundred men communicated. as this service ended we found at least a hundred and fifty men of other regiments outside the building, who had been waiting since seven o'clock, and had been unable to enter the crowded room. for these the bishop celebrated at once. strange as the surroundings were, with guns firing and the crack of rifles distinctly heard, one would doubt if in any church, however beautiful, a more reverent congregation had ever gathered together on an easter morning. on the evening of easter day the bishop preached his final sermon at general headquarters in the presence of sir john french, many distinguished officers, and a large body of men. one heard on every side how much the bishop's presence and his words had inspired and encouraged the gallant men who were present at the services. easter monday saw him leave the front to visit rouen and havre before returning to england." so once more old england greeted her sons across the channel, and commended them to him who died and rose again for their salvation. but we are beginning to look forward to the future. the war will end some day, and then, what then? a new army will come back from the fight, veteran as regards its fighting power, but new as regards its conduct and its spirit. mr. asquith said this was a "spiritual war." it is so perhaps in a deeper sense than mr. asquith meant. there has been "wrestling" out there, not only against "flesh and blood," but against the powers of sin and darkness. and there has been victory--victory over sin, victory in christ. and back they will come to us--these new men who have been transfigured and transformed upon the battlefield. and the question is to what sort of a church will they come? shall the fires of their new love be chilled by the ice of our formality, or shall our worldliness seem strange to these new citizens of the city of god? if we are not ready to receive these new men when they come home, god will send in a terrible account to us which we shall have to pay. woe to the church which quenches the fire of their devotion, to the so-called christian who lives in ease-in-zion instead of in beulah land! now is the time for the churches to prepare. we are told that the enthusiasm of last september is dying out of our churches, that in the busy work of the following months we have forgotten to pray. we are even getting used to the war. let the churches of our land bestir themselves. these men will need our choicest care, as they deserve our most brilliant example. christ has not left britain for flanders. he is here too, and we must seek him in penitence and prayer, that when the lads come home his church shall be found ready for her christian task. what a welcome we will give them when they come! how the great hall will be hung with flags, and the homely hearth will be gay for once! what love light there will be in the eyes of the mother, the wife, and the maiden! how hand will grasp hand, and all the world will seem young again! they are coming--they are coming! but not all are coming,--some have fallen in the fight, and sad hearts will weep in silence, and lives will seem worthless now they are no more. but it will not all be darkness even to those who mourn, for it is great to die with honour and in the service of one's country. and many a home will cherish the memory of its hero, and look forward to a meeting by and by. and britain will emblazon their names on its roll of honour--this man and that man has died for her. they are coming--they are coming, and we greet them one and all--the men who fought for us and endured nobly on our behalf. let us show them when they come a new britain, freed from the curse of drink, purified as by fire--a new britain which has crowned christ as its king, fit mother of such sons as these! * * * * * the cross is still at the front--its power ever widening and developing. it will go wherever our troops go, carrying with it the life which is life indeed. death cannot weaken its influence, it triumphs over death, and many a soldier lad will it draw to itself, and many a dying gaze will be fixed upon it, for it is there--always there--when men need the truths it reveals. * * * * * the cross is still at the front--many crosses. it has become a custom to fix crosses over the graves of our soldiers, most of them rudely and hastily shaped, but crosses still. some of them large and strongly planted, others hardly showing above the earth. not long will many of them last. over some of them the feet of soldiers in the rush of the battle may tread, others may be overthrown by the storms of winter. but they are there now, and some day may be replaced by more permanent structures. whether that be so or not, the truth they symbolise will abide--christ died, christ lives. he died the just for the unjust to bring us to god. he is the resurrection and the life. as we visit those graves by the wayside or in countless little cemeteries, consecrated by our heroic dead, we thank god that over them all is the sign of the cross. o dearly, dearly has he loved, and we must love him too, and trust in his redeeming blood, and try his works to do. _spottiswoods & co. ltd., printers, colchester, london and eton._ _ready shortly._ the roll call of serving women a record of women's work in the war by mary frances billington _illustrated._ large crown vo. cloth gilt. s. d. london: bouverie street. e.c. * * * * * +-----------------------------------------------------------+ | typographical errors corrected in text: | | | | page : 'look the law' replaced with 'took the law' | | | +-----------------------------------------------------------+ * * * * * created from images of public domain material made available by the university of toronto libraries (http://link.library.utoronto.ca/booksonline/).) transcriber's note: minor typographical errors have been corrected without note. irregularities and inconsistencies in the text have been retained as printed. words printed in italics are noted with underscores: _italics_. the daily telegraph war books british regiments at the front cloth /- net each the daily telegraph war books post free / each how the war began by w. l. courtney. lld., and j. m. kennedy the fleets at war by archibald hurd the campaign of sedan by george hooper the campaign round liege by j. m. kennedy in the firing line by a. st. john adcock great battles of the world by stephen crane author of "the red badge of courage." british regiments at the front the story of their battle honour. the red cross in war by miss mary frances billington forty years after the story of the franco-german war. by h. c. bailey. with an introduction by w. l. courtney. ll.d. a scrap of paper the inner history of german diplomacy. by e. j. dillon how the nations waged war a companion volume to "how the war began," telling how the world faced. armageddon and how the british army answered the call to arms. by j. m. kennedy air-craft in war by s. eric bruce famous fights of indian native regiments the triumphant retreat to paris the russian advance _other volumes in preparation_ published for the daily telegraph by hodder & stoughton, warwick square, london, e.c. british regiments at the front the story of their battle honours by reginald hodder hodder and stoughton london new york toronto mcmxiv the author wishes to express his indebtedness to mr. j. norvill for his valuable assistance and suggestions. contents chapter page introductory chapter--nicknames of the regiments and how they were won i. th dragoon guards ii. the carabiniers iii. the scots greys iv. th hussars v. th hussars vi. the grenadier guards vii. the coldstream guards viii. the royal scots ix. the "fighting fifth" x. the liverpool regiment xi. the norfolks xii. the black watch xiii. the manchester regiment xiv. the gordon highlanders xv. the connaught rangers xvi. the argyll and sutherland highlanders xvii. the dublin fusiliers xviii. fuentes d'onoro and albuera xix. balaclava and inkerman nicknames of the regiments and how they were won "the rusty buckles." the nd dragoon guards (queen's bays) got their name of "the bays" in when they were mounted on bay horses--a thing which distinguished them from other regiments, which, with the exception of the scots greys, had black horses. their nickname, "the rusty buckles," though lending itself to a ready explanation, is doubtful as to its origin; but one thing is certain that the rust remained on the buckles only because the fighting was so strenuous and prolonged that there was no time to clean it off. "the royal irish." the th dragoon guards received this title in , in recognition of its long service in ireland since . the regiment also has the name of the "blue horse" from the blue facings of the uniform. "the green horse." the th dragoon guards were given this name in when their facings were changed from buff to green. some time later, after salamanca, they were also called the "green dragoon guards." "tichborne's own." the th dragoon guards, or carabiniers, have been known as "tichborne's own" ever since the trial of arthur orton, as sir roger tichborne had served for some time in the regiment. the name of "carabiniers" has distinguished them ever since , when they were armed with long pistols or "carabins." with these weapons they did signal work in ireland in - . "scots greys." this regiment, the nd dragoons, has been known by many names: "second to none," "the old greys," "royal regiment of scots dragoons," (in , when they were commanded by the famous claverhouse); "the grey dragoons" in , the "scots regiment of white horses," the "royal regiment of north british dragoons" in , the " nd dragoons" in , and the " nd royal north british dragoons" in . associated with them and all their different names is the memorable cry of "scotland for ever"--that wild shout they raised as they charged the french infantry at waterloo. at ramillies they captured the colours of the french régiment du roi and by this gained the right to wear grenadier caps instead of helmets. "bubbly jocks" is a nickname frequently used among themselves--a name derived from the fact that their dress in its general effect is not unlike that of the "bubbly jock" or turkey cock. "lord adam gordon's life guards." the rd hussars received this nickname from the fact that when lord adam gordon commanded the regiment in scotland he kept it there for such a long time--"for _life_" so to speak. when it was raised, in , the regiment was called "the queen consort's regiment of dragoons." in it was known as "leveson's dragoons." in the time of the george's it was called variously "king's own dragoons" and "bland's horse." in it was made a "light dragoon" regiment, and it was not until that it became hussars. "paget's irregular horse." the th hussars received this title on its return from foreign service, when it was remarked that its drill was less regular than that of the other regiments. in it was called the "princess ann of denmark's regiment of dragoons." like the rd it was formed into a regiment of hussars in . "the red breasts." the th lancers, or royal irish, are called "red breasts" because of their scarlet facings. in they were known as the "royal irish dragoons," having been raised to assist at the siege of londonderry in . they became the " th royal irish lancers" in . this regiment has also been called the "daily advertisers," but the derivation of this name is somewhat obscure. "the delhi spearmen." the th lancers received this name from the rebels of the indian mutiny, against whom they used their long lances with such deadly effect. in they were known as the "queen's royal lancers," and "wynne's dragoons." "the cherry pickers." the th hussars were dubbed "cherry pickers" because some of their men during the peninsular war were taken prisoners in a fruit garden while supposed to be on outpost duty. they are known also as "prince albert's own" from the fact that they formed part of the prince's escort from dover to canterbury when he arrived in england in as the late queen's chosen consort. one hears them sometimes referred to as the "cherubims," from their crimson overalls, busby bag, and crimson and white plume. "the supple th." it was at salamanca that the th lancers received this honoured name, because of their dash and rapid movements. "the fighting th." it was at emsdorf that the th hussars won this name, and their feat of arms on that field gained them the privilege to wear on their helmets the following inscription: "five battalions of french defeated and taken by this regiment with their colours and nine pieces of cannon at emsdorf, th july, ." in , at villiers-en-couché, they charged with the austrian leopold hussars against vastly superior numbers to protect the person of the austrian emperor. in recognition of this the then kaiser presented each of the eight surviving officers with a medal. in they received the royal honour of decking their helmets with scarlet feathers. the "fighting th" are also known in history as "elliot's light horse." "the dumpies." the th hussars, together with the th and st, received the name of "dumpies" from the fact that the regiment when formed of volunteers from the disbanded bengal european cavalry of the east india company were short and dumpy. though nowadays there is many a giant among the th, the name of "dumpies" still survives. "the mudlarks." the royal engineers received this name from the nature of their ordinary business in war. in they were called the "soldier artificers corps"; and, in , "the royal sappers and miners." "the gunners." the royal artillery have held this name from their regular formation in . formerly, after the rebellion in scotland, they were known as the "royal regiment of artillery," and, though not in any way formed into a regiment, they date still further back, one might say even to the early days when guns were made of wood and leather. that was before , when the first gun was cast in england. in the master gunner was called the "chief fire master". the honourable artillery company was founded in and is the oldest volunteer corps in great britain. "the sandbags." the grenadier guards gained this peculiar name from their special privilege of working in plain clothes for wages at coal or gravel heaving, and for this same reason they were often called "coalheavers." they seem to have got this name in flanders, where they excelled at trench work. another of their nicknames is "old eyes." in they were known as the "royal regiment of guards," and in as the "king's regiment of guards." "the coldstreamers." the coldstream guards received their name in when monk marched them from coldstream to assist charles ii to regain his throne. they have been called the "_nulli secundus club_," in memory of the fact that charles, before he hit on the name "coldstream guards," wished to call them the " nd foot guards," a thing to which they strongly objected, saying that they were "second to none." "the jocks." the origin of this name for the scots guards is obvious. history is a little uncertain about their record, as their papers were burnt by accident in ; but this is certain, that they were raised as scots guards in and were called later the "scots fusilier guards" and the " rd foot guards," after which, in , they resumed the name of "scots guards." "pontius pilate's bodyguard." this strange nickname of the royal scots regiment is based on an equally strange story. as long ago as , when most other regiments were as yet unborn, a dispute arose between the royal scots and the picardy regiment on the point of priority in age. the picardy regiment claimed to have been on duty the night after the crucifixion. but the royal scots met this with a withering volley. "had we been on duty then," they said, "we should not have slept at our post." this incident caused some wag to dub the royal scots "pontius pilate's bodyguard," and the name has stuck to them ever since. there is another tradition that this regiment represents the body of scottish archers, who for many centuries formed the guard of the french kings. it fought in the seven years' war under gustavus adolphus of sweden, and was incorporated in the british army in . since then, whenever war has been declared, every man of "pontius pilate's bodyguard" has been among the last to stay at home. "the lions." the royal lancaster regiment bears upon its colour the lions of england, disposed, as in trafalgar square, one at each quarter. this distinction was given them by the prince of orange, as they were the first regiment to join him in when he landed at torbay. they have also been called "barrell's blues" from their commander and their blue facings. they received the title of "king's own" from george i., in , and our late king edward became their colonel-in-chief in . our present king is now the colonel-in-chief. "kirke's lambs." the royal west surrey regiment (the queen's) derived this name from kirke and from the paschal lamb in each of the four corners of its colour. the name has also an ironical derivation from the fact that they were employed to enforce the cruelties of "bloody judge jeffreys." another nickname of theirs is the "first tangerines," because they were raised in as the "tangiers regiment of foot," for the purpose of garrisoning tangiers, at that time a british possession. john churchill, duke of marlborough, began his career in this regiment. another nickname, "sleepy queen's" is derived from a slight omission of theirs at almeida, when, through some oversight, they allowed general brennier to escape. but they have so far lived this down that now, _ut lucus a non lucendo_, they are called "sleepy" because they are always very wide awake. "the shiners." the northumberland fusiliers deserve that name because they are always so spic-and-span. they also deserve the name of "fighting fifth" because they have many a time proved their right to it. at the battle of kirch denkern ( ) they captured a whole regiment of french infantry, and, in the following year, at wilhelmsthal, they took twice their own number prisoners. they have also the name of "lord wellington's body guard" because, in , they were attached to headquarters. another name is "the old and bold." on st. george's day the "fighting fifth" wear roses in their caps, but the origin of this is not clear, unless it may be that one of their badges is "st. george and the dragon," and another "the rose and crown." they also wear the white feathers of the french grenadiers on the anniversary of the battle of la vigie, when comte de grasse attempted to relieve the island of st. lucia in the west indies. on that occasion the "old and bold" took the white plumes from the caps of their defeated opponents, the french grenadiers. to-day, the white in the red and white hackle now worn by them refers back to that terrible death-struggle. the th is the only foot regiment which has the distinction of a red and white pompon. it is worth recording here that they formed part of a force which repulsed overwhelming numbers of the enemy on the heights of el bodon ( ) during the investment of ciudad rodrigo. the iron duke spoke of this achievement as "a memorable example of what can be done by steadiness, discipline and confidence." "the elegant extracts." the word sounds like a fashionable chemical compound, but its real meaning is derived from the fact that the officers of the royal fusiliers--except nd lieutenants and ensigns, of which at the time they had none--were "extracted" from other corps. in the eighteenth century they were known as the "hanoverian white horse." those who have lived to remember the crimean war will remember also that brave song, "fighting with the th royal fusiliers"--a song which became so popular that the regiment could have been recruited four times over had it been necessary. "the leather hats." the king's (liverpool) regiment gained their name from their head-gear. they were raised by james ii. in . in the american war an officer and men of the "leather hats" captured a fort held by of the enemy. it is interesting to know that this regiment has an allied regiment of the australian commonwealth--the th australian infantry regiment. "the holy boys." the norfolk regiment has had this name ever since the peninsular war. in that campaign the spaniards, seeing the figure of britannia on the cross-belts of the th, thought that it was a representation of the virgin mary. there is another story to the effect that they derive their name from their reputed practice of selling their bibles to buy drink during the peninsular war. but this i do not believe. another name for them is the "fighting ninth"--a title which no one can refuse to believe. their bravery at the siege of st. sebastian might alone justify it. "the springers." the lincolnshire regiment received this nickname during the american war because they were remarkable in their readiness to spring into action when called upon. it was the first infantry regiment to enter boer territory during the late south african war. their other name of "lincolnshire poachers" has no satisfactory derivation. "the bloody eleventh." there are two stories to account for this nickname of the devonshire regiment. one is that at salamanca they were in a very sanguinary condition after the battle. the other is that when they were in dublin in the regiment's contractor supplied bad meat, on which they swore that if he did so again they would hang the butcher. there was no improvement in the meat, so they hanged the delinquent in front of his own shop on one of his own meat-hooks. it is no doubt the first story that is the true one. another name for the devonshires is "one and all." it was a man in this regiment who wounded napoleon at toulon in . "the old dozen." the suffolk regiment won glory for itself at the siege of gibraltar. it also behaved with the greatest gallantry at minden, and that is why on the st of august (minden day) the "old dozen" parade with a rose in the head-dress of each man. in connection with this they are also called the "minden boys." "the peacemakers." the bedfordshire regiment were first known as the "peacemakers" because at that time there were no battles on its colours. for the same reason no doubt they were also called "bloodless lambs." another nickname of theirs is "the old bucks"--a title justified by their hard fighting in the netherlands under william iii. and also under marlborough. "the bengal tigers." the leicestershire regiment gets its name from the royal green tiger on its badge. this distinction was given it for a brilliant achievement in the nepal war of , when they captured a standard bearing a tiger. they are also called "lily whites," from their white facings. "the green howards." the yorkshire regiment was commanded by colonel howard, and has green facings. they are also called "howard's garbage," and must not be confused with the th foot, also once commanded by a colonel howard, and styled "howard's greens." "the earl of mar's grey breeks." the royal scots fusiliers received this name from the colour of their breeches at the time the regiment was raised in . "the grey breeks" wear a white plume in their head-dress--an honour bestowed in recognition of their services during the boer war. "the lightning conductors." there is some doubt as to how the cheshire regiment acquired this name. but it may be connected in some way with the fact that at dettingen, when george ii. was attacked by the french cavalry, they formed round him under an oak tree and drove the enemy off. in remembrance of this occasion the oak leaf is worn by them at all inspections and reviews in obedience to the wish of george ii. when he plucked a leaf from the tree and handed it to the commander. they are also known as the "two twos" from their number, the nd. another of their names is "the red knights," because, when recruiting at chelmsford in , red jackets, breeches and waistcoats were served out to them instead of the proper uniform. this regiment, under the name of the "soulsburg grenadiers," was under wolfe when he was mortally wounded at quebec. "the nanny goats." the royal welsh fusiliers are known as "nanny goats" or "royal goats" because they always have a goat, with shields and garlands on its horns, marching bravely at the head of the drum. this has been their custom for over a hundred years. a glance at the back of their tunics reveals a small piece of silk known as a "flash." it has been there ever since the days when its office was to keep the powdered pigtail from soiling the tunic. the king is colonel-in-chief of the "nanny goats." "howard's greens." the south wales borderers were at one time commanded by a colonel howard. it was a company of this regiment which achieved immortal glory at rorke's drift, which they defended against , zulus. in africa they gained no less than eight v.c.'s. on the queen's colour of each battalion may be seen a silver wreath. this was bestowed by queen victoria in memory of lieutenants melville and coghill, who died to save the colours at isandlhwana. "the botherers." the king's own scottish borderers--the only regiment that was allowed to beat up for recruits in edinburgh without asking the lord provost's permission--were called "botherers," partly on this account and partly by corruption from "borderers." they bear also the name of "leven's regiment," from the remarkable fact that in they were raised by the earl of leven in edinburgh, in the space of four hours. they are also known as the "k.o.b.s." "the cameronians." the st battalion of the scottish rifles are the descendants of the glasgow cameronian guard which was raised during the revolution of from the cameronians, a strict set of presbyterians founded by archibald cameron, the martyr. the nd battalion is known as "sir thomas graham's perthshire grey breeks." it received this name from the fact that when lord moira ordered the regiment to be equipped and trained as a light infantry corps, their uniforms consisted of a red jacket faced with buff, over a red waistcoat, with buff tights and hessians for the officers, and light grey pantaloons for the men. both battalions now wear dark green doublets and tartan "trews." "the slashers." the gloucestershire regiment derives its name of "slashers" from its achievements in the battle of the white plains in . there is another story, however, that the name arose from a report that, on one occasion, a magistrate having refused shelter to the women of the regiment during a severe winter, some of the officers disguised themselves as indians and slashed off both his ears. in torres straits there is a reef which is marked on the charts as the "slashers' reef" because, after the khyber pass disaster of , the "slashers" were on the way from australia to india when the transport conveying them grounded on this reef. their other name of the "old braggs" is derived from their commander, general braggs, of . in regard to this there is the tradition of an order given by a wag of a colonel when the "old braggs" were brigaded with other regiments with royal titles. the order runs: "neither kings nor queens nor royal marines, but th old braggs; brass before and brass behind; ne'er feared a foe of any kind,-- shoulder arms!" "the vein openers." the worcestershire regiment were dubbed "the vein openers" by the people of boston, (u.s.a.) in , because they were the first to draw blood in the preliminary disturbances before the war. after the peninsular war they were called "old and bold." another name for them is "star of the line," from the eight-pointed star on their pouches--a distinction peculiarly their own. the nd battalion were known as the "saucy greens" from the colour of their facings and, presumably, their extreme sauciness. "the young buffs." the st battalion of the east surrey regiment derived their nickname from a peculiar royal mistake. at the battle of dettingen, king george ii., mistaking them for the " rd buffs," called out "bravo old buffs!" being reminded that they were not the "old buffs" but the st, his majesty at once corrected his cry to "bravo, young buffs!" and the name has stuck to the battalion ever since. the nd battalion was raised at glasgow in and takes its name of "glasgow greys" from that and the facings of the uniform. "the red feathers." the nd battalion of the duke of cornwall's light infantry gained their nickname by a signal act of defiant heroism. during the american war of independence they learned that the enemy had marked them down as men to whom no quarter was to be given. on this the light company, wishing to restrict the full force of this threat to themselves, and to prevent others suffering by mistake, stained their plume feathers red as a distinguishing mark. for this fine act they were authorised to wear a red feather, and this honour is perpetuated in the red cloth of the helmet and cap badge and the red pughri worn on foreign service. their other nickname "the lacedæmonians" has a dash of grim humour in its origin. during the same war, at the time of all times when the men were under a withering fire, their colonel made a long speech to them--all about the lacedæmonians, a brave race enough, but terribly ignorant of rifle fire. "the havercake lads." the west riding regiment (the duke of wellington's) is said to have derived its nickname from the fact that the recruiting sergeants in the old days carried an oat cake on the points of their swords. there is a joke among "the havercakes" as old as their first recruiting sergeant. this enterprising man was in the habit of addressing the yorkshire crowd as follows: "come, my lads; don't lose your time listening to what them foot sojers says about their ridgements. list in _my_ ridgement and you'll be all right. their ridgements are obliged to march on foot, but _my_ ridgement is the gallant rd, the first yorkshire west _riding_ ridgement, and when ye join headquarters ye'll be all mounted on horses." the nd battalion is known as "the immortals," from the fact that in the indian wars under lord lake every man bore the marks of wounds. they were also called "the seven and sixpennies" from their number ( th) and from the fact that seven and sixpence represented a lieutenant's pay. "the orange lilies." the st battalion of the royal sussex regiment was named "the orange lilies" from their early facings, orange, a mark of favour from william iii., in , and the white plume taken from the roussillon french grenadiers at quebec in . they were originally called "the belfast regiment" then "the prince of orange's own." the orange facings were replaced by blue in , and the white plumes disappeared in ; but the white (roussillon) plume is still a badge of the royal sussex. "the pump and tortoise." the st battalion south staffordshire regiment earned half their nickname from their extreme sobriety and the other half from the slow way they set about their work when actually stationed at malta. the nd battalion is known as "the staffordshire knots." "sankey's horse." the nd battalion dorsetshire regiment, under colonel sankey in , arrived at almanza during the battle mounted on mules, hence the term "sankey's horse," applied to a foot regiment. they were the first king's regiment to land in india, in memory of which they have for their motto "primus in indis." in the regiment was popularly known as "the green linnets" from the "sad green" facings of its uniform. the nd battalion acquired the name of "the flamers" from their large share in the destruction of the town and stores of new london, together with twelve privateers, by fire in . "the excellers." this name was fastened upon the st battalion south lancashire regiment from its number (xl the th). it is also known as "the fighting fortieth." until its amalgamation with the nd it had the honour of being next to the royal scots in the number of battle honours on its colour. "the st invalids." the st battalion welsh regiment is set down in old army lists under this name because it was first raised as a regiment of invalids, in . in george ii's, time it was known as "wardour's regiment." the nickname of the nd battalion is a curious play on words--or rather figures. they are called the "ups and downs" because their number ( th) reads the same when inverted. the th are also called "the old agamemnons," a fancy title bestowed on them by lord nelson at st. vincent after the name of his ship, on which a detachment was serving as marines. "the black watch." the royal highlanders won this honoured name from the sombre colour of their tartan some ten years before their highland companies were formed into a regiment known as "the highland regiment." its first colonel, lord crawford, being a lowlander, had no family tartan, so, it is said, this special tartan was devised. the bright colours in the various tartans are said to have been extracted, leaving only the dark green ground. the french, under the impression that in their own mountainous country they ran wild and naked, called them "sauvages d'ecosse." the red hackle in their bonnets was won at guildermalsen in . "the cauliflowers." the loyal north lancashire regiment have this nickname from the former colour of the facings of the st battalion. they are also called "the lancashire lads." after quebec the th were nicknamed "wolfe's own" and to this day the officers of both battalions wear a black worm in their lace gold as a sign of sorrow for their general's death. this is the only regiment that is officially styled "loyal," the nd battalion having been known prior to as the st (loyal lincoln volunteers). "the steelbacks." this is the name applied to the northamptonshire regiment because of the unflinching way in which they took their floggings. while under wellington in the peninsular war one, hovenden, a private, was flogged for breach of discipline. at the twentieth stroke he fainted and this so disgusted his comrades that on his recovery they cut him dead. much annoyed at this hovenden marched up to the colonel and called him a fool, and for this he was ordered to be flogged again. that night the regiment was attacked by the french, and hovenden, evading the guard, arrived on the battlefield in time to see his colonel captured by the enemy. with his musket he shot down the captors and then liberated the colonel and bound up his wounds. after this he returned to make sure of his flogging, but was struck by a bullet and killed. the northamptonshires have also the honoured name, "heroes of talavera," because they turned the tide of battle on that victorious day. [illustration: the "die hards" at albuera. _from a painting by r caton woodville_] "the blind half hundred." the st battalion royal west kent regiment suffered greatly from ophthalmia in egypt in , hence this nickname. they were called also "the dirty half hundred" because the men, when in action in hot weather, used to wipe their faces with their black cuffs, with obvious results. another of their names is "the devil's royals," and yet another "the gallant th"--this last because at vimiera, in , of them routed , of the enemy. "the kolis." the king's own yorkshire light infantry derive their name of "kolis" from their initials. the name often takes the corrupted form of "coalies." "the die-hards." the st battalion duke of cambridge's own (middlesex regiment) were styled "die hards" from the memorable words of inglis at albuera: "die hard, my men; die hard!"--words which were endorsed by stanley at inkerman when he said: "die hard! remember albuera!" the nd battalion are called "the pothooks," from their number ( ). "the royal american provincials." this distinguished popular name was bestowed on the king's royal rifle corps because they were raised in america. "the bloodsuckers." the manchester regiment appear to have acquired this name from general and warlike reasons. the st battalion displayed great courage and steadiness in the defence of ladysmith. the nd battalion was formerly the "minorca regiment" and became part of the line in as the th (queen's german) regiment, becoming later the th foot. "the strada reale highlanders." the gordon highlanders ( nd and th) would propound a riddle to you: what is the difference between the nd and the th? the answer is that the nd are real highlanders, and the th are real(e) highlanders. "the cia mar tha's." the cameron highlanders owe this nickname to sir allen cameron, who raised the regiment. it was his word to everybody: "cia mar tha!" (how d'ye do!) "the garvies." the connaught rangers are called "garvies" because their recruits, when first the regiment was raised, were both lean and raw. now a "garvie" is a small herring. "the blue caps." at the time of the relief of cawnpore, a despatch of nana sahib was intercepted, containing a reference to those "blue-capped english soldiers who fought like devils." these "blue-caps" were the madras fusiliers, then a "john company" regiment, but now the st battalion royal dublin fusiliers. the name was later stamped in perpetuity by havelock, at the bridge of charbagh. the question was put to him by outram as to who could possibly carry the bridge under so deadly a fire. "my blue caps!" replied havelock, and his faith in them was justified, for they carried it against overwhelming odds. the bombay fusiliers (another "john company" regiment) now the nd battalion royal dublin fusiliers, have an equally distinguished record. they have been known as "the old toughs." british regiments at the front the th dragoon guards (cadogan's horse). the th dragoon guards were raised by the earl of shrewsbury to support james against "king monmouth" at sedgmoor. for the same reasons that "britons never, never will be slaves," they refused, on consideration, to support james, and sided with william, for whom they threw in their weight at the boyne. they were also at a former siege of namur, and bore themselves bravely at blenheim. the story is told that, after that battle, a sunday church parade was called, in which the british army deployed to fire a volley of victory, and marshal tallard, who was a prisoner, was reluctantly present on that occasion. after the volley, the duke of marlborough turned to tallard, and asked what he thought of the british army. "well enough," replied tallard, shrugging his shoulders, "but the troops they defeated, why, those are the best soldiers in the world!" "if that is so," said the duke, "what will the world think of the fellows who thrashed them?" all obvious enough, but the duke would never have slept quietly in his bed if he had left it unstated. at salamanca, with the rd and th light dragoons, the th dragoon guards carved their way through a treble thickness of french army columns, under a heavy fire. for this marvellous achievement "salamanca" is writ large on their colours. * * * * * their battle honours, etc. motto.--"vestigia nulla retrorsum." battle honours.--blenheim, ramillies, oudenarde, malplaquet, salamanca, vittoria, toulouse, peninsula, balaclava, sevastopol, s. africa - , defence of ladysmith. uniform.--scarlet, dark green facings, red and white plume. the carabiniers ("tichborne's own.") "it is your sex that makes us go forth to fight.... it is your sex who cherish our memories." _nelson._ there is not a woman in our vast empire who has not good cause to regard with admiration and gratitude those noble protectors and terrible avengers of the honour of their sex--the carabiniers. during the indian mutiny--but first a brief word as to their history. it dates from the time of monmouth's rebellion, when they were raised by lord lumley to support king james. owing to the fact, however, that lord lumley was no supporter of the king's tyrannies, the regiment seceded, and later, when the prince of orange landed, threw in their lot with him whole-heartedly. their title, "the carabiniers," was bestowed upon them in recognition of the great part they played in the battle of the boyne, for william had in mind the famous carabiniers of louis xiv. in the list of the glories of the carabiniers is aughrim. macaulay says about this occasion: "st. ruth laughed when he saw the carabiniers and the blues struggling through a morass under a fire which, at every moment, laid some gallant hat and feather on the earth." "what did they mean?" he asked, and then he swore it was a pity to see such fine fellows marching to certain destruction. nevertheless, at the issue of that business, it was he, and his troops, that reaped the destruction. it was some little time later that the carabiniers saved the situation for king william at landen, by an obstinate stand against his pursuers, while he crossed the bridge. as corporal trim in "tristram shandy" says; "if it had not been for the regiments of wyndham, (_i.e._, the carabiniers) lumley and galway, which covered the retreat over the bridge at neerspecken, the king himself could scarcely have gained it." in three continents the carabiniers have fought their way to an exalted fame. at ramillies they captured the standard of the royal regiment of bombardiers of france. at malplaquet they measured steel and courage with the formidable household brigade of france and came out victorious. and from that time onward their glorious career can be traced through europe, asia and africa in such clear lines that the enemy who runs has read. but it was during the time of the indian mutiny that they performed feats of valour for which we british men, as well as the women, owe them heartfelt gratitude. they were among the reinforcements sent out to stay the terrible tide of massacre and rapine. how they struggled for life and empire at delhi; repulsed the rebels outside lucknow with fearful carnage, with loss of their leader; and, finally, when lucknow had fallen, pursued the rebels with relentless wrath, dealing vengeance with a heavy hand--all this has been written by many pens. it has been the theme to make the driest book most vivid reading. it was the story of stern, ruthless punishment and revenge for the horrible crimes committed by the then unregenerate sepoy against helpless women and children--crimes of torture, murder, wholesale massacre, and unconceivable outrage. one has only to remember the horrible atrocities of the indian mutiny to acquit the carabiniers of any charge of undue ferocity; one has only to remember cawnpore, and the women and the babies, in order to admire their offices of stern, relentless retribution. and all this happened at the very time when all london was celebrating the centenary of the sublime victory of plassey, and the brilliant acquisition of the indian empire under the genius of clive. when, at meerut, on that never-to-be-forgotten sunday, they pursued the fiends responsible for that awful massacre, the carabiniers, together with the th rifles drew a very determined line between righteous revenge and feeble long-sufferance; between just wrath, that ever-potential factor in heroic blood: primitive wrath, and its cognate barbarity of act. "remember the women! remember the babies!" ran through the ranks on that occasion; and, with one heart and mind, the carabiniers and the th, an avenging host, pursued the rebels, and cut them to pieces, right up to the very gates of delhi, imprecating as they slew. and well they might be forgiven for that. never were the lives of the innocent and defenceless so quickly, terribly, yet justly avenged; never has a more awful nemesis from human hands fallen upon the destroyers of women and women's honour. and, remembering all this, we defend it and uphold it, for we know full well that, in this present war, the barbarities and atrocities committed by an unprincipled enemy must again meet with this righteous kind of vengeance. and, if it is the traditional and special aspiration of the carabiniers of to-day to cry "remember louvain! remember the women and babies of belgium!" shall we say "hold and spare!" no! shall we say, "vengeance is god's: god will repay!" yes, with all our heart and soul; and what better agency for repayment than that of our noble carabiniers! they are not of the kind to repay barbarity with barbarity; but they are of the kind to use their swords with singular effect, and like english gentlemen, whose special office it is to wreak proper vengeance to-day as in the past on the destroyers of women and children. at gungaree the carabiniers lost three of their officers, but for this they took a heavy toll. meeting the rebels three days later, they defeated them completely, taking their leaders prisoners. again the terrible work began. hotly they pursued the flying rebels, and put them to the sword without a show of quarter. rebel blood flowed like water for the rebel deeds they had committed against right and honour. * * * * * their battle honours, etc. battle honours.--blenheim, ramillies, oudenarde, malplaquet, sevastopol, delhi, afghanistan - , s. africa - , relief of kimberley, paardeberg. uniform.--blue, white facings, white plume. [illustration: charge of scots greys at waterloo. _from a painting by r. caton woodville._] the scots greys ("second to none") "greys, gallant greys! i am years old, but, if i were young again, i should like to be one of you."--_sir colin campbell at balaclava._ the nd dragoons (royal scots greys), whose motto is "second to none," are pictured to british eyes and imaginations in that wonderful painting, "scotland for ever." the charge of the light brigade, great and glorious as it was, is, and ever will be, is perpetually linked with the charge of the heavy brigade, under scarlett, when, faced with a vastly superior force of the enemy, it offered such heroic assistance, that, had it not been for this, the glory of the immortal six hundred might not have been sung in the same triumphant voice. it was a gallant feat on the part of the "heavies"--a feat which, though somewhat overshadowed by the dazzling "charge of the six hundred," was nevertheless greatly influential in turning the tide of battle. (inseparately connected with the scots greys at the front to-day, is the prince of wales' royal lancers--the th. at salamanca the "supple th" joined in the final charge which routed the french cavalry. at vittoria the greys saw joseph deprived of his crown, and were fortunately present at the conquest of san sebastian. in egypt they won honours under abercromby, and to-day the emblazonment of the mystic sphinx on their standard bears witness to the most heroic deeds. what they have done, that they can do, and their gallant deeds in the present super-war show that while the scots greys are still second to none, the th lancers are among the first in every glorious deed.) the charge of the greys and inniskillings has been graphically described by many writers. perhaps the words "up the hill, up the hill, up the hill," describe most vividly the terrific struggle. but kinglake tells the story tensely: "as lightning flashes through a cloud, the greys and inniskillings pierced through the dark masses of the russians. the shock was but for a moment. there was a clash of steel, and a light play of sword blades in the air, and then the greys and the red coats disappeared in the midst of the shaken and quivering columns. in another moment we saw them marching in diminished numbers, and charging against the second line.... the first line of russians, which had been utterly smashed by our charge, were coming back to swallow up our handful of men. by sheer steel and sheer courage, inniskilliner and scot were winning their desperate way right through the enemies' squadrons." when we read to-day that the th british cavalry brigade, under general chetwode, fought a brilliant action with german cavalry, in the course of which the th lancers and royal scots greys routed the enemy, spearing large numbers in flight, our thoughts fly back to the old days, when the th lancers and the "second to nones" anticipated these feats of valour. it was at ramillies that the scots greys galloped straight through a difficult morass, with an infantry battle raging round them. on they went, till they gained the approach to the heights beyond. then they dashed up the steep acclivity to the heights, and down the other side, where they thundered like an avalanche on the enemy's household brigade. the impact of that sudden crash seemed to shake the battlefield. says one who was there: "the crash of our meeting rose above the noise of battle; it was like sudden thunder." the french fought with the utmost desperation, but they were matched this time, not with nondescript and poorly trained continental troops, but with picked british, and were literally swept away before the scots greys. many battalions of infantry under their protection were cut to pieces by the scots greys and the royal irish dragoons, the predecessors of the th (royal irish) lancers. still the greys pursued their devastating career through autreglise, and, at a point beyond, overtook the french régiment du roi, and secured its surrender. all that night, like flying demons, they pursued the retreating enemy, and what they did is traditionally summed up in the fact that they returned with no less than sixteen standards--truly a noble achievement! again, at malplaquet, the scots greys and the royal irish dragoons came up against their old enemies the french household brigade. in three victorious charges they sustained the honour of their old victories over them, routing them utterly. fate seems specially to have designed the scots greys and the royal irish to combat the french household brigade in days gone by, for, on many occasions when they have met, the pride of the latter has fallen before the valour of the former. not only at malplaquet, but also at dettingen, the greys, having cut their way through the french cuirassiers, launched themselves irresistibly upon the french household cavalry. on this occasion, they swept them from the banks of the river, and wrested from them their crowning glory--their white standard of damask, embroidered with gold and silver, bearing in its centre a thunderbolt above their motto "sensere gigantes." so to-day it may be said that the giants who fell three times before the scots greys are now in the company of the brobdignags. some other battles in which the greys multiplied their glories are as follow:--drouet, oudenarde, bethune, st. venant, aire, bouchain, sheriffmuir, and fontenoy. apart, and not yet apart, from their glorious traditions of battle, the greys have a peculiar romance centring round one of their number, who fought for long years in their midst before it was ultimately discovered that their comrade of many fights was a woman. how, why, and where christian davies (née cavanagh) first entered the army is a matter of some doubt, but we first hear of her in the netherlands as a private soldier, whither, as the story goes, she had gone to find her husband. here she lived the life of the ordinary soldier, and maintained her disguise through everything, even flirting with the dutch girls to such an extent that she was forced to fight a duel with a jealous sergeant, whom she wounded severely. on account of this she was obliged to leave the regiment, but immediately joined the scots greys. while living and fighting with these, she discovered her husband, but, being enamoured of the free soldier's life more than of him, she bade him wait till the conclusion of the war. mean while, at her desire, he and she passed as brothers. it was during the charge of the scots greys at ramillies that christian davies met with a serious wound at the hands of a french dragoon, and, being brought to hospital, she confessed, to the surprise and admiration of all, that she was a woman. on her recovery, she still accompanied the army, as a vivandière, in which capacity she was extremely popular. ultimately, when the terrors of war had made her twice a widow, she returned to england, where queen anne graciously received her in audience, and presented her with a bounty of £ , together with a pension of s. a day. at her funeral in chelsea, in , she was accorded full military honours, and all the scots greys, at least, know well that three full volleys were fired above her grave. it is worth noting that the royal scots greys, who, in the past, have fought fiercely against the russians, have now as their colonel-in-chief h.i.m. nicolas ii., emperor of russia, k.g.--no longer an enemy, but a friend and an ally. * * * * * their badges and battle honours, etc. badges.--the thistle within the circle and motto of the order of the thistle. an eagle. motto.--" ." battle honours.--blenheim, ramillies, oudenarde, malplaquet, dettingen, waterloo, balaclava, sevastopol, s. africa - , relief of kimberley, paardeberg. uniform.--scarlet, blue facings, white plume. th hussars (the king's) ("elliot's light horse.") "merebimur."--_their motto._ one of the most thrilling and romantic episodes in cavalry fighting is the historic achievement of the th hussars at emsdorf. it was in july, , that major erskine halted his troopers near the german village of emsdorf, and bade them pluck the fresh twigs from the overhanging oaks, with a word of exhortation to the effect that they would acquit themselves with the firmness and stubbornness which have always been ascribed to that symbolic tree. not long after this, the th formed part of the prince of brunswick's troops, which had surrounded six battalions of french infantry, together with some artillery, and a regiment of hussars. the enemy eventually broke through, and fled, pursued by the th, who were unassisted. so hot was the pursuit, and so terrible the punishment inflicted by our hussars, that the enemy was forced to surrender no less than officers, , men, nine guns, six pairs of colours, and all the rams and baggage. all england rang with this achievement of the th light dragoons, and never has a squadron received so whole-hearted a eulogy as that contained in the general order issued by the prince of brunswick. for many a day "elliott's regiment" bore "emsdorf" on its guidons and appointments, while upon their helmets was written, "five battalions of french defeated and taken by this regiment, with their colours, and nine pieces of cannon. emsdorf, th july, ." now, as the regiment has become hussars, the helmet has given place to the busby with no inscription; the guidons have disappeared, but the name "emsdorf" may still be seen on the drum-cloth. the th were prominent in all the achievements of our army during the next few years of that campaign. many are the stories of dashing assault, grim fighting and heroic rescue, related of them during that time. when the duke of brunswick was surrounded by french hussars at friedburg, and it seemed impossible to prevent his capture, the th hussars clapped spurs to their horses, and, with a terrific yell, swept down upon the french at full gallop. it was a body of determined men against overwhelming numbers; for, when they had driven back the hussars, they were still involved with the converging squadrons. but, with desperate valour they held their own until they had extricated their leader, and then they rode back, leaving double their number of the enemy dead on the field. the th hussars were in the thick of the fight at waterloo, and they bravely upheld that honour. after suffering great loss in the enemy's fire they made a dashing charge through storms of lead from both flanks against a superior force of cuirassiers, whom they drove back with heavy losses. the official record states: "from this period the regiment made furious charges ... at one moment it was cutting down the musketeers, at the next it was engaged with lancers, and, when these were driven back, it encountered cuirassiers." for this glorious exploit they paid honourably with three officers, two sergeants, and twenty-three privates killed; seven officers, three sergeants and forty privates wounded. the th hussars rendered heroic service in the afghan war of - , when the treacherous shere ali was discovered favouring russian intrigue. many were the brilliant achievements of the th during this war, from ali musjid up to the investment of the sherpur cantonments, the final relief by gough's brigade, and the complete victory at kandahar. * * * * * their badge and battle honours, etc. badge.--the crest of england within the garter. motto.--"merebimur." battle honours.--emsdorf, villers-en-couché, egmont-op-zee, sahagun, vittoria, peninsula, waterloo, afghanistan - . uniform.--blue, scarlet busby-bag and plume. th hussars (drogheda light horse) the generic name of the th hussars (drogheda light horse) was bestowed specifically upon the corps raised in ireland in by the marquis of drogheda, and numbered as the th light dragoons. it was renumbered as the th light dragoons in , became a hussar corps in , and was disbanded as the th light dragoons in . the present th hussars were raised at leeds in , and inherited the honours of the drogheda light horse proper. the silver trumpets used by the drogheda light horse, and now in the possession of the th hussars, were provided out of the proceeds of the sale of the captured horses at the battle of waterloo. the motto of the th hussars is "pro rege, pro lege, pro patria conamur" (we fight for king, law, and country). there is a traditional romance in the annals of the th hussars which has its confirmation in modern history. a beautiful spanish lady, finding herself a refugee with wellington's forces in the peninsula, fell in love with a young english officer named harry smith, and married him. by statesmanship and prowess in war he rose to be sir harry smith, who commanded the forces that defeated the boers at boomplatz. subsequently, the town of ladysmith was so named after his wife. in this way the peninsula is linked with south africa in the annals of the th hussars, not only by equal deeds in each campaign, but by a never-to-be-forgotten romance of real life. * * * * * their battle honours. etc. motto.--"pro rege, pro lege, pro patria conamur." battle honours.--peninsula, waterloo, s. africa - , defence of ladysmith. uniform.--blue, blue bushy-bag, scarlet and white plume. the grenadier guards ("the old eyes") "though old in glory and honour they have yet the vigour of youth." high in the estimation of every son and daughter of britain stands that heroic band, the british grenadiers. their deeds have brought a fine thrill to every heart, and a stirring song to every voice; and, though there have been times when a pall of necessary silence, covering a "certain liveliness," has been imposed by the fog of a world-war, we have felt calmly assured that behind that fog our british grenadiers were doing, or dying, in a way that must awaken the old thrill, and inspire a new song. it has always been one of the greatest aids to success in battle to sum up the daring deeds of the past; the successes against fearful odds; the forlorn hopes bravely led; the breaches filled with our british dead; the stubborn resistance, and sometimes complete annihilation of one part for the success of the whole; the lofty sacrifice of the foremost, so that the hindmost may turn the tide of battle; and the heroic dash to certain death, which has always given birth to victory. and this aid of tradition has been accorded by their own deeds, and by the nation's appreciation, to none more strongly than to the british grenadiers. yet it must be remembered that the grenadier guards, though they share the honour and glory of all grenadiers, were never really grenadiers proper. they won the name at waterloo, where they vanquished the french grenadiers. sharing the name, they share and perpetuate the memory of the song, which in the first place referred to the grenadiers who threw the grenades "from the glacis." but, as a good old british song may gain in volume as it rolls down the years, there is no reason why the well-known air in question should not attach to the grenadier guards. well does the historian say that "their annals indeed may almost be said to be identical with those of the british army, as in every campaign of importance--every campaign which has had a material bearing on the fortunes of the commonwealth--their services have been called into requisition. they have shared in our greatest battles. their serried ranks stood firm at fontenoy; turned the tide of battle at quatre bras; withstood unshaken the assaults of napoleon's brilliant chivalry at waterloo, and ascended with stately movement the bristling heights of the alma." mr. j. j. hart, who was with the grenadiers in the boer war, gives a graphic description of the battle near senekal: "with the advent of quick-firing guns," says he, "the ancient magnificence of armies in battle array has disappeared for ever.... there is no shining armour; there are no waving plumes; and the blare of the trumpet is unheard. watch those grey-clad figures as they silently scatter over the plain. they are the colour of the withered grass of the veldt. no two will walk together lest they should be a more conspicuous mark for those deadly guns. see them as they walk with bent heads. you might compare them to poachers or partridge-shooters travelling over a moor, only their advance is more cautious.... "it was noon, and my battalion had halted on the plain. far away for miles on our right the battle was raging, and, we with our grand fighting history, were left to act the inglorious part of lying on the grass waiting to cut off a possible retreat of the enemy. (col.) bunker stamped and swore and chewed his moustache.... confusion to the general who crushed the flower of the british infantry so; but it was orders, and soldiers must obey. the boers, however, were more generous to us than the general, and, in the working out of a little plan of their own, they were destined to cover us with wounds if not with glory. while we were lying musing on our fate, and thinking if the news of our being left out of the action should ever reach london, what we might expect at the hands of our enemies the cabdrivers, a force of boers, of whose presence on a hill about half a mile in front we were blissfully ignorant, were preparing to open fire on us. they began proceedings by killing bunker's horse with a percussion shell, which dropped right under him, and blew the animal to bits. our artillery soon limbered up and replied to the shot, keeping up a continuous fire for about an hour, when, as they were unable to silence the gun, we advanced to take it by assault. we moved towards the hill in short rushes, lying down every fifty yards to fire a volley. the boer shells which exploded between our extended line did little damage, and it looked as if we were going to make an easy capture of the gun. if there were any rifles on the hill they were certainly very careful about reserving their fire. we had got within yards of the base of the hill, and had risen to make another rush when the rattling noise of a thousand rifle bolts together came to our ears. the whole of the front rank went down at the first volley; evidently the marksmen on the hill had taken very careful aim; then there followed a veritable hailstorm of lead, in the face of which no man could advance and live. we remained lying down and firing in the same position for about five hours. "the shadows of night were falling, and still the firing was kept up without intermission; when a new danger was observed to threaten us. a shell had ignited the long grass in our rear and a light breeze which was blowing soon turned the spark into a conflagration. the boers, observing this, extended their flanks on our right and left, thus completely cutting off our retreat. then followed a scene of tumult which is hard to describe. wounded men who were unable to move ... gazed with wild staring eyes at the flames, which, slowly but surely, crept towards them. our left wing made one desperate rush to charge the boers, but had to fall before the leaden hail. when the flames drew near many of our men made heroic efforts to remove our wounded through the blinding smoke and flame.... others pulled their helmets over their faces and rushed through the fire. in all this confusion i noticed one man who showed rare presence of mind. he was badly wounded, and, being unable to get out of reach of the flames, he took some matches from his pocket and burnt the grass near him. he then crawled on to the black ground, and thus secured for himself a comparatively safe position when the fire approached him. the flames were now upon us, and fighting had ceased. two men picked me up where i lay wounded, and, rushing with me through the flames, threw me down on the other side, and ran.... the fire burned itself out at the foot of the hill, and then all was darkness till the moon, shining out, showed us the blackened bodies of the dead, and men writhing in pain on the burned earth. "now the boers came amongst us, and, passing from one wounded man to another, gave us water from their bottles. then we heard a crackling of whips and a rumbling of wheels. the boers left us, and we knew the ambulance wagons were coming." * * * * * their colours, battle honours, etc. the king's colours.-- st battn., gules (crimson): in the centre the imperial crown; in base a grenade fired proper. nd battn., gules (crimson): in the centre the royal cypher reversed and interlaced or, ensigned with the imperial crown; in base a grenade fired proper, in the dexter canton the union. rd battn.: as for nd battn., and for distinction, issuing from the union in bend dexter, a pile wavy or. regimental colours.--the union: in the centre a company badge ensigned with the imperial crown; in base a grenade fired proper. the thirty company badges are borne in rotation, three at a time, one on the regimental colour of each of the battns. battle honours.--blenheim, ramillies, oudenarde, malplaquet, dettingen, lincelles, corunna, barrosa, peninsula, waterloo, alma, inkerman, sevastopol, egypt , tel-el-kebir, suakin , khartoum, s. africa - , modder river. uniform.--scarlet, blue facings. the coldstream guards ("the nulli secondus club") "sire! this regiment refuses to be known as second to any in the british army."--_monk_ (_to charles ii._) history tells again how, in , charles, distrusting the soldiers in his service, called the st foot guards back to england. following upon this, he speedily dismissed his commonwealth soldiers, and, of all the puritan regiments, he retained but one--the coldstream guards. this was the regiment which monk had marched from coldstream to the king's aid; hence their retention. an interesting story is related about them. it is said that when they were ordered to lay down their arms in repudiation of the commonwealth, and commanded to resume them again, as the nd foot guards, they stood obstinately defiant, on the verge of mutiny. king charles was dumbfounded, but monk was equal to the situation. "sire," he said, "this regiment refuses to be known as second to any in the british army." on this, charles, who was quick to the occasion with unworded gratitude for their timely help in a critical situation, cried: "coldstream guards, take up your arms!" and from that time forward they have been the coldstream guards. who can ever forget the glorious achievement of the coldstream guards at st. amand in ? as soon as the brigade of guards gained contact with our then allies-the prussians and the austrians--general knobelsdorf, of the prussian army, welcomed them with, "i have reserved for the coldstream guards the honour, the especial glory, of dislodging the french from their entrenchments. as british troops you have only to show yourselves, and the enemy will retire." the coldstreamers rather wondered at his flowery flattery. they did not know, and he omitted to tell them, that the honour he had reserved for them was one which had been offered three times to , austrians and three times missed by them, with a loss of , men. the coldstreamers, therefore, prepared for the battle in complete ignorance of the fact that they were expected to do, with rank and file, what , austrians had failed to accomplish in three attempts. not that it would have made much difference, for the british soldier can always count on doing the impossible about fifty times in a century. the coldstreamers, ready and eager, moved to the attack, and the prussian general moved with them as far as safety would permit; then, desirous apparently that they should achieve this "especial glory" without any interference from him, he waved them on with his sword and magnanimously galloped away. hell opened then on the coldstream guards. the wood before them spurted flame. batteries from right and left lumbered up, and, under cover of the undergrowth, tore lanes through them at close range. never, up to that time, in the history of battles, had there been such quick and fearful slaughter of our troops. in a few minutes two of the companies were reduced by one-half. ensign howard went down with the colours, and on every hand rank and file were blown to pieces. sergeant-major darling, one of the many heroes of that awful fight, had one arm shattered by a cannon ball, but he fought on with the other with such tenacity that his deeds were afterwards described as "prodigies of valour." a french officer, seeing so many men go down before him, pressed forward and engaged him in a fierce combat. but darling laid him low and continued his terrible work until another ball carried away one of his legs. thus, bereft of a leg and an arm, he was taken prisoner. general knobelsdorf, the prussian, lived through that day, but many, too many, of the coldstreamers went to their last account, fighting gloriously. you may, under some conditions, beat a coldstreamer, but you will never, never convince him that you have done so. at inkerman the coldstream guards, a few hundred strong, actually stood up to , russians for a time, during which there was the bloodiest struggle ever witnessed. the fight was round the sandbag battery, where british had held their own until reinforced by the guards, and it was of such a nature that each guard must needs be a small battalion on his own account to do any good at all. back to back the coldstreamers fought till their ammunition was exhausted. then they took their muskets and clubbed the pressing hosts in such fashion that they made space enough to form into line. thus, with levelled steel, they charged. the enemy was thrown into utter confusion by their terrific onslaught, and, taking advantage of this, the coldstreamers regained their own lines, having inflicted tremendous loss. and the russian in germany to-day knows all about it. he has not forgotten the coldstreamer of former days, any more than the coldstreamer has forgotten the glorious deeds of the russian; and, no doubt, if they could sit by the same camp-fire, many such a battle story would be told, through the interpreter, of those good old days "when we flew at each other's throats." * * * * * their colours. the king's colours.-- st battn., gules (crimson): in the centre the star of the order of the garter proper, ensigned with the imperial crown; in base the sphinx superscribed egypt. nd battn., gules (crimson): in the centre a star of eight points argent within the garter, ensigned with the imperial crown; in base the sphinx superscribed egypt, in the "dexter" canton the union. rd battn., as for the st battn., and for difference in the dexter canton, the union and issuing therefrom in bend dexter a pile wavy or. the royal scots ("pontius pilate's body guard") "a volley, my lads, and then the steel!"--_their captain at wepener._ the royal scots ( st foot, or lothian regiment) are old in story. several hundreds of years before the battle of blenheim, which is among the first of their honours, the royal scots had traced their earlier glories on the roll of fame. few european battlefields could disclaim acquaintance with them, and there are few on which they have not been responsible for terrific slaughter, and a large share in the crux of victory. their ancestors far back fought under gustavus adolphus: their lineal descendents fight now under king george; and the bridge between that time and this has been held by them heroically. it is interesting to trace their battles from the first. long, long ago, fighting for sweden, they captured and defended rugenwald in pomerania. being wrecked on a hostile coast, with adolphus eighty miles away, these scots were led by munro, with what might seem to us an absurd hope of victory. all day they waited in the caves by the sea shore, starving, wet, and cold--waited for the night, so that, under the cover of darkness, they might bring their desperate plan to fruition. darkness fell; the moon rose, and these hungry scots went forth to the attack. in one stroke they captured rugenwald, and held it against repeated attempts on the part of the enemy to retake it. for nine weeks they gripped this place, and held on tooth and nail till hepburn's men, fighting mile after mile to their relief, came up. hepburn's men! they were scots, every one of them. men who, led by hepburn himself, captured frankfort on the oder. he took them to the attack waist deep through the mud and water of the moat. at the great battle of leipzig, "the battle of the nations," gustavus held these men in reserve. then, when the issue was in danger, he flung them forward. the musketry fire galled them severely, but through it all the pikemen went cheering on, and put the enemy to an inglorious rout. later, in , hepburn, who was somewhat a soldier of fortune, found himself on his way to aid the king of france. in he led his regiments against the austrians and spaniards. here he was joined by scots from france, and scots from sweden. other scots came up from the four quarters of the compass, as if by a gathering of the clans, and three years later there were , of them serving under the king of france. those , are the martial sires of the present royal scots. as to the heroic achievements of the royal scots, we may instance the battle of wynendale. general webb (thackeray's favourite general of "colonel esmond") won that battle with an army of , men against , frenchmen. it was his work to take supplies from ostend to marlborough's army in the field. near the wood of wynendale he detected the preponderating force of the enemy intent on intercepting his mission, but, in order to do this, they must traverse the wood. the odds were nearly three to one against webb, but, relying on his men as much as on his own generalship, he decided to put up a fight of fights. the way of the enemy's approach was a great glade through the wood, and to right and left of this he placed detachments of his troops while he stationed the main body of his army at the point where they must debouch. then he waited. that long wait for the oncoming host has been much described: how for a time they gazed up the long avenue through which the foe must come; how every man felt that tense expectancy, which lends to the simple sounds of nature a meaning of their own, and how , staunch hearts went back to the old folks at home with tenderness, and possible regret, before the descent of an avalanche which threatened to bereave their hearths. but at length the enemy teemed in at the further end of the glade. on they came, warily scanning the wood, but it was not till the royal scots poured a volley into them that the enemy actually realized what was happening. when the smoke cleared away, confusion reigned in their ranks; they rallied, and came on with greater determination, but again they were hurled into disorder and death by the british fire. yet a third time they attempted it, and with all the bravery of the french, but a third time they met with that penetrating fire that none but the british, with their ugly bulldog pertinacity, can stand. they failed to forge their way through the storm of lead, and at last retired in confusion, leaving one third their number of british as victors of the field. the royal scots have more than once been helped out of a difficulty by other regiments. for instance, at schellenberg in , the ultimate victory, after three daring attempts on the part of the royal scots, who fought their way up against a heavy fire from the heights above, was made sure by the scots greys, who dismounted and rushed to their assistance. this engagement cost the french a valuable position, and guns. this help in the time of extreme peril was balanced by the royal scots at the battle of lundy's lane, where they arrived in the nick of time to make up , british against , americans. after a hard fight the enemy was driven back, but they opened again with a devastating fire of musketry and artillery, following it up with a most determined charge. so desperate was their onslaught that the british guns were captured, and immediately following on this, the royal scots performed a deed which is underlined in history. they recaptured those guns, and left the enemy bewildered. this was the closest fight imaginable. in the thick of it, the opposing cannon almost spoke into each others' mouths. so close they were, that neither side could say, "this is my gun." in point of fact, in the heat of the moment a british limber carried off an american gun, and an american a british gun. on that field the contact between british and american was extremely close. in these days it is just as close, but not exactly in the same fierce spirit. one of the foremost of the exploits of the royal scots was the defence of tangier against the moors in . in port henrietta some of the royal scots had been isolated. in order to facilitate their escape their comrades in the town created a diversion by leading a general attack. in the midst of this the scots got as far as the first trench surrounding the fort, but, at the outer one, which was feet deep, they came into close grips with the enemy. there it was sheer knife-fighting, and many royal scots went to the bottom of the pit. one hundred and twenty of them filled it full, and over that bridge of silence forty survivors hewed their way through. the last charge at wepener is described in the history of the boer war as follows "the royal scots saw the boers rushing and their warrior hearts beat quick with joy. shortly, like a man in a dream, their captain gave the word, 'fix bayonets!' it was done in a trice. 'ready!' the men loaded their rifles. 'a volley, my lads, and then the steel! altogether--' the whistle blows, the flame flies along the parapet. then, over the stone wall, sprang the royal scots. once they shouted, once only. then the slaying began.... fifty thousand savage throats swelled the battle chorus. ever since the siege began the black warriors had been gathered in their thousands on the heights, watching with fascinated interest the struggle of the white men. like the spectators of a medieval tournament they had applauded the gallant deeds of the combatants, and, as they saw the british soldiers holding out day after day, night after night, against the assault of numerous odds, they came to have a profound trust and confidence in the 'big heart' of the queen's soldiers. when, therefore, they saw the royal scots launch themselves like a living bolt at five times their number, they held their breath for a time, wondering what the end might be. but when they saw the bloody bayonets of the st foot scatter and utterly destroy the hated dutchman they opened their throats and yelled their applause across the river." * * * * * their badges, battle honours, etc. badges.--the royal cypher within the collar of the order of the thistle with the badge appendant. in each of the four corners the thistle within the circle and motto of the order, ensigned with the imperial crown. battle honours.--the sphinx, superscribed egypt. blenheim, ramillies, oudenarde, malplaquet, louisburg, st. lucia, egmont-op-zee, corunna, busaco, salamanca, vittoria, st. sebastian, nive, peninsula, niagara, waterloo, nagpore, maheidpore, ava, alma, inkerman, sevastopol, taku forts, pekin, s. africa - . uniform.--regular and reserve battns., scarlet with blue facings. [this distinguished corps is the oldest regiment in the army, hence its nickname of pontius pilate's body guard. there is a tradition that it represents the body of scottish archers who for centuries formed the guard of the french kings. it fought under gustavus adolphus, king of sweden, in the seven years' war, and was incorporated in the british army in . since that date it has seen service in every part of the globe.] the "fighting fifth" ("the shiners") the "fighting fifth" (northumberland fusiliers) have a peculiar paradox in their history. they were first raised in by prince william of orange, the dutchman, and, in the last boer war, they were fighting against the dutch themselves. but even stranger things than that have come to pass in these later days when we have good cause to call our old allies our enemies, and our old enemies our allies. the "fighting fifth" derived their regimental name, the northumberland fusiliers, from hugh, earl percy, afterwards duke of northumberland, who commanded the regiment during the american war of independence. for their fighting in the seventeenth century prince william assembled them before the whole army, and publicly rewarded them for their services. it must be remembered that there were still services to come, for, when the prince returned to england, fourteen years later, to deprive his father-in-law of his throne, the "fighting fifth" had not forgotten his kind offices. on this occasion they were regarded by the english with pride and admiration. "even the peasants," says macaulay, "whispered to one another as they marched by: 'there be our own lads; there be the brave fellows who hurled back the french on the field of seneffe!'" the "fighting fifth" gained many laurels in portugal and spain, where, on more than one occasion, they drove the enemy before them in utter confusion. it is in this war that their fighting traditions are chiefly founded. at ciudad rodrigo it was the "fighting fifth" who stormed the approach. afterwards they fought their way with fusil and steel through salamanca, nivelle, vittoria, orthes, and toulouse, right up to paris. one of their greatest achievements was the successful defence of gibraltar, when the spaniards made their first attempt to recover it. since that time there is scarce a page of fighting history up to the time of the napoleonic wars that contains no deed of this bull-dog regiment. their nickname is almost as old as their regiment. it was at the siege of maestricht in , when the regiment was only two years old, that a section of these men, only strong, assaulted the dauphin bastion--an affair out of which, after the most sanguinary combat, no more than fifty emerged. yet maddened, rather than daunted, these fifty, with some few reinforcements, made a further attack on the bastion; and this time they took it, but only to meet with disaster. the place was mined, and a terrible explosion killed a large number, and covered others in wreckage. many, however, emerged, and these proceeded to hold the position. the tale of how they entered badajoz stirs the blood. the nd battalion led the storming party. their way led over a narrow bridge. here, under a terrible fire, the foremost fell in heaps; but their comrades pressed forward over their prostrate bodies, and planted ladders against the beetling walls of the castle. for a time the "fighting fifth" suffered heavily. again and again the desperate attackers reached the summit of the walls, only to be hurled back by the enemy. here they swarmed up like bees, to be swept down again by a raking fire; there, another ladder broken, another overturned, with men everywhere falling and climbing, climbing and falling. the chance of scaling those walls seemed hopeless, and at length the fifth paused, and looked at one another. then, at that psychological moment, the cheering of the enemy above broke the spell. their cheers were answered by a fierce shout from our men, who rushed to the attack with a never-give-in determination that finally gained the ramparts, and drove the garrison out of the castle, out of the town, and into the distance, not without great slaughter. it was at badajoz that the fifth lost their brave colonel, who struck in at that psychological moment, and led the final victorious onslaught. he fell, shot through the heart, at the very moment that victory was assured. "none that night," says napier, "died with more glory; yet many died, and there was much glory." the taking of badajoz was indeed a piece of work which required all the dogged tenacity of purpose to be found in such fearless heroes as the "fighting fifth." * * * * * their badges and battle honours, etc. badges.--st. george and the dragon. in each of the four corners the united red and white rose slipped, ensigned with the royal crest. motto.--"quo fata vocant." battle honours.--wilhelmsthal, roleia, vimiera, corunna, busaco, cuidad rodrigo, badajoz, salamanca, vittoria, nivelle, orthes, toulouse, peninsula, lucknow, afghanistan - , khartoum, s. africa - , modder river. uniform.--regular and reserve battns., scarlet with gosling-green facings. the liverpool regiment ("the leather hats") the liverpool regiment, like the th dragoon guards, was raised to help james, and, like them, it sided with the right against him. when james tried to place roman catholic officers over english regiments, with the help of the liverpool regiment, the colonel and five officers strongly objected. james sent his son, fitzjames, duke of berwick, to portsmouth, to correct them; but on this, and the issue of it, the country rose, saying unanimously that james was wrong, and the "six portsmouth captains" were right. james had to flee from a country which entertained ideas so strange to his way of thinking. in memory of this protest against oppression, the portraits of those "six portsmouth captains" are preserved to this day by the regiment. once having definitely seceded, the liverpool regiment went further in the defence of liberty, and fought fiercely at the boyne. but it was in the netherlands that the "leather hats" performed their first great feat of valour. lord cutts, whom they dubbed "the salamander"--because, where the fire was hottest, there was cutts to be found--ordered them, against all sane strategy, to storm the fortress of venloo. everyone said it was impossible to take it, but the liverpool regiment, who were actually facing the matter, got a different view into their heads. they said nothing, but obeyed commands--and took it. "over bastion, fausse, bray and raveline," says a graphic chronicler, "over trench, glacis and escarpment, cutts led his dare-devils; the ditches were heaped with the dead, till the living walked over them, and--the enemy ran upon the farther side." it was a magnificent feat of arms, and a fitting preface to blenheim, dettingen, lucknow, and their glorious deeds at the front to-day. * * * * * their badges and battle honours, etc. badge.--the white horse within the garter. in each of the four corners the royal cypher. motto.--"nec aspera terrent." battle honours.--the sphinx, superscribed egypt. blenheim, ramillies, oudenarde, malplaquet, dettingen, martinique, niagara, delhi, lucknow, peiwar kotal, afghanistan - , burma - , s. africa - , defence of ladysmith. uniform.--regular and reserve battns., scarlet with blue facings. the norfolks ("the holy boys") "our country will, i believe, sooner forgive an officer for attacking his enemy, than for omitting to do it.... "a norfolk man is as good as two others."--_nelson._ of the norfolk regiment, then known as the th (east norfolk) regiment, napier said, with a happy mixture of blame and praise: "they were guilty of a fierce neglect of orders in taking a path leading immediately to the enemy." indeed, that is exactly what they did at the battle of roliça on the th august, . their intrepidity and fine carelessness in regard to their lives were on that day the subject of unstinted praise on the part of the whole french army, who, in those times it must be remembered, were our enemies. a brief description of the battle will show the stern stuff that the norfolks are made of. the enemy, under laborde, held a very strong position, and it was wellington's object to drive them from it at the earliest opportunity. the norfolks, under brigadier nightingale, came up with wellington's army from obidos, three columns strong. the th occupied the position in the centre, which fronted the enemy in possession of a natural fortress of gigantic crags, looming steep and forbidding against the sky. the only way of ascent was by means of some zigzag tracks, which, at many points, were open to the enemy's fire. under these conditions, it would have been possible for our men to proceed by halt and rush, with a slow but sure caution; but the norfolks, flinging all caution to the winds, hurled themselves forward to get at the enemy as quickly as possible. they swarmed up the heights, giving the foe a hot example of their musketry fire as they swung forward. it is said that their exploit was in full view of both armies as the smoke of their firing marked their passage from crag to crag. the rapidity of their advance was so great that the other regiments of the central column were left far behind. laborde, taking advantage of their prominent position, proceeded to throw the greater part of his army against them, thinking to wipe them out before they could receive support. this was partially successful, for the enemy's fierce onslaught bore the nd battalion back. fiercely; the norfolks contested every inch of the way, and it was a wonder of wonders that they lost so little ground against overwhelming odds before the st battalion came to their assistance. then, with scarce a breathing space, they re-formed their ranks, and, with a hearty british cheer, swept forward and upward again. that heroic and dashing encounter, in which the battle was to the swift--for it will be remembered that they had outstripped the rest of the army--is one that can never be forgotten in the annals of our history. slowly, point by point, they gained the advantage, and finally drove the enemy from the summit. but, having taken the position, they had to hold it again and again against the furious efforts of the enemy to dislodge them. the reckless dash of their ascent could only be equalled by the stubborn resistance with which they held on, and, time after time, laborde's battalions were driven back. finally, the northumberland fusiliers came to their assistance, and the enemy was forced to retire. this was a victory set upon a hill, and, in the same spirit in which it was witnessed that day by thousands of opposing forces, so it is for ever pictured in our minds. with the battle of roliça in their traditions, the norfolk regiment, as we write, are no doubt adding to the list of their brilliant achievements. in this battle a memorable act of heroism glorifies a page of history--a page written in the norfolk blood of sergeant-major richards. at the time when our skirmishers advanced rapidly, and the echo of their quick musketry fire hung reverberating in the ravine and hollow as they ran from cover to cover, two companies crept up two separate passes among the rocks and debouched upon the summit of the ridge. the foremost of the th, on emerging two or three at a time from their narrow passage, were ambushed by the enemy. blake, their brave colonel, was killed, and many of his men fell around him. when the ambuscade rushed forth to grips, sergeant-major richards, though riddled with lead, and bleeding from a dozen bayonet wounds, stood over his beloved commander and fought to the death. this brave fellow, than whom there was never a braver, said, as he was dying, "i should not have cared so much if only our colonel had been spared." in those few words, at such a moment, breathed the true spirit of the norfolks, and that glorious simplicity of thought and singleness of eye--fine, grand, unconsciously sublime--runs through every line of our great book of battles. we are not glad that our enemy of to-day has not written such a book, nor do we trouble to wish he had: the fact is fixed that he has not. indeed, he had never the material for such a book, for it is obvious that the same barbarous hand that struck out an innocent louvain could not insert such an anachronism as the heroic death and noble sentiment of a sergeant-major richards of the norfolks. but roliça, although the most prominent of their honours, is only one among many that have been set to their credit. they have more than once been in a position of extreme peril. when ruffin's brigade at barrosa realised that the norfolks were cut off through an error on the part of our spanish allies, they turned the whole fury of their overwhelming odds upon that single regiment. then it was a case of fighting, and dying, back to back. all fought like heroes, and, like heroes, most of them died. it was only when brigadier dilkes came to their assistance that the few survivors were extricated from their hazardous position. needless to say, the handful that remained joined at once with dilkes' column, and assaulted the enemy's heights. a grim battle ensued, and at length a brilliant victory was gained. in the history of the norfolks is written one of the saddest incidents in the annals of our arms. it was they who, at corunna, at dead of night, buried sir john moore, under the shadow of disaster--a sorrowful ending to an adverse passage which, although it concealed a marvellous achievement, few of us care to linger upon in days when victory is before us, and all thoughts of defeat forgotten. at fuentes d'onoro, a description of which battle will be found in another chapter, the norfolks, in company with many other regiments of our present expeditionary force, fought with all their customary vim; and at salamanca their assault on the enemy was as if they had been let go from a catapult. at a time when they were fully yards in front of our main body of troops, wellington saw the chance of making use of them to capture a particular post held by the enemy. he sent his aide-de-camp scouring up to them with the hurried message: "ninth! you are the only regiment ready; advance!" they required no further indication to grasp what was to be done; in fact, they would probably have done it in the natural course of events, without the order; they charged on, and at the point of the irresistible bayonet the post was taken. many a forlorn hope has been led by the norfolks. one that remains indelibly stamped on our memory is that at san sebastian, headed by a scots lad, named campbell. this poor fellow was terribly wounded in the first onslaught, receiving a bayonet thrust, and a heavy sabre gash. the young hero was not to die of his wounds however. very much on the contrary, he lived to become sir colin campbell, commander-in-chief in india; and, for his splendid services in suppressing the indian mutiny was created baron clyde. having come through many terrible fights with honour and glory, and without a stain, it is naturally the great regret of this famous regiment that they were not at present at waterloo. but, though absent from our greatest field of victory, they were doing good work at the time in canada. yet it has come to their share in these days to reap honours in fields not far from waterloo, and we live to learn that, in the deeds of to-day, and to-morrow, a norfolk man is indeed as good as at least two germans. * * * * * their badge and battle honours, etc. badge.--the figure of britannia. battle honours.--roliça, vimiera, corunna, busaco, salamanca, vittoria, st. sebastian, nive, peninsula, cabool , moodkee, ferozeshah, sobraon, sevastopol, kabul , afghanistan - , s. africa - , paardeberg. heroes of perthshire--regular and reserve battns., scarlet with yellow facings. [raised in . received the title "east norfolk regiment" in , and became the norfolk regiment in . the badge of the figure of britannia was bestowed on the regiment in recognition of its gallantry at the battle of almanza ( ). this regiment was the last of the british forces to embark at corunna ( ), and was entrusted with the burial of sir john moore, in memory of which event the officers of the regiment wear a black line in their lace.] the black watch (royal highlanders) ("heroes of perthshire") "we are but few, but of the right sort."--_nelson._ "highlanders, remember egypt!"--_sir john moore at corunna._ these men need a book to themselves. it is impossible here to give more than a short account of one or two of their most brilliant fights, but, as from the peck you may judge of the barrel, so one will find the invincible temper of the black watch in every line and every word. it was at fontenoy that the black watch first met a foreign foe, and their dealings with that foe were an emphatic earnest of their future honours. the fortune of war was not on their side; they were forced to retreat, covering it in such perfect order that lord crawford waved his hat to them, with the well-remembered approval that they had achieved as great honour as if they had gained an actual victory. the black watch have acquired great reputation in america. they distinguished themselves notably at bushey run, and it was in the war of independence that they contributed their severest and most difficult work. a chronicler of the doings of this regiment writes on this passage in their history: "in every field the black watch maintained their hardly earned reputation," and many are the recorded deeds of individual courage and readiness. here is one instance by the same chronicler: "in a skirmish with the americans in , major murray, of the nd, being separated from his men, was attacked by three of the enemy. his dirk slipped behind his back, and, being a big stout man, he could not reach it, but defended himself as well as he could with his fusil, and, watching his opportunity, seized the sword of one of his assailants, and put the three to flight." the battle of alexandria was perhaps one of the most brilliant in the whole career of the black watch. at a time when the two wings of their regiment stood some yards apart, the invincibles of france, valiant fighters, forced their way between, with one six-pounder. as soon as the highlanders found that they had been, in a sense, caught napping, a roar of wrath rose from their ranks, and swiftly their right wing swung down on the interloping french, broke their ranks and captured their gun. the left wing, facing the other way, wheeled swiftly, and fell like mountain cats on the french rear. the enemy, who had thought to split the nd to some purpose, were thus themselves caught in a death trap. the invincibles rushed helter-skelter for cover in the ruins near by, and after them, terrible in pursuit, went the black watch. the plaided ranks drew together, and charged again and again with fixed bayonets, while the pursued fled before those gleaming points until they were brought to bay in a position where they were forced to turn and fight. it was a brave and memorable fight then on both sides. the courage of despair was on the enemy's side, and the cool, relentless courage of the caledonians was on ours. but in the end the enemy, having lost of their men, were forced to yield. this temporary victory, however, afforded no respite for the black watch. hot upon the action came a strong column of french infantry swiftly advancing, and it was a matter of the utmost importance that they should be attacked at once. the black watch, dishevelled as they were, their great chests still heaving with their exertions, were flung forward by sir ralph abercromby, who, in the urgency of the critical moment, himself hallooed them on. it was a quick passage. after a clashing impact, the black watch broke the french column and scattered it in flight. seeing the highlanders eagerly pursuing, and in danger of being cut off by three squadrons of cavalry, general moore ordered the pursuers to retire. it appears that, in the crash and roar of the battle, this order was lost upon the foremost pursuers, who were dealing death right and left, and they were not aware of what threatened until the french cavalry was thundering down upon them. it was so sudden that the highlanders had barely time to retrieve their scattered state, and rally back to back. thus, raising their fierce northern battle-cry, they fought against fearful odds, a small body of men surrounded on every hand. but even from this they emerged victorious, routing the very flower of the french cavalry. so it was that in one day this regiment won three brilliant victories, each one of which had seemed at first almost a forlorn hope. it must be remembered that the royal highlander has always been a perfect swordsman, terrible with his rifle, and deadly with his pistol. his strength is renowned in history. there have been men among them who have claimed no great superiority over their fellows from the fact of being able to twist a horseshoe, or drive a skeandhu up to the hilt in a pine log. fatigue, hunger, thirst, the extremes of heat and cold--all these are with those men the mere commonplace foes of a spartan existence--foes which have always found and left them silent, patiently contemptuous, where foes of flesh and blood would at once arouse them to anger of the grimmest kind. perhaps no part of the world has seen the black watch in as true a light as the peninsula. from all quarters of it their honours are drawn. they were with moore at corunna on that memorable occasion, when on a sudden he cried out to them: "highlanders, remember egypt!" with reference to this speech, and the moment it was delivered, tradition has clothed it with romance. at many a highland fireside, when the eerie spirit sits in the glen and whispers round the lonely sheilings, it has been said by aged warriors, who had lived on in peace perhaps into the sixties, that, at those words, the men around him, who loved him best, saw, with the uncanny second sight of their race, a misty shimmering shroud enclosing their commander's form, portentous of his coming death. the words "highlanders, remember egypt!" referred to the occasion when, at alexandria, sir ralph abercromby being taken prisoner, and his captor being shot by a royal highlander, the regiment, though broken, continued to fight individually. it is no wonder that sir john moore, who had marvelled at their prowess, should exhort them, eight years later, at corunna, to remember egypt. at toulouse, pack, as he galloped swiftly up with general clinton's orders, drew rein in silence before the black watch. then he spoke calmly, but with elation: "general clinton has been pleased to grant my request that the nd shall have the honour of leading the attack. the nd will advance!" there were who went in, and there were about ninety who came out alive. one can imagine then their terrible passage up to the fatal redoubt, and all the more clearly may be pictured the determination of it from the fact that, when they reached it, the enemy had fled. when they were before the heights of alma, sir colin campbell turned to them, and cried: "men, the army is watching us. make me proud of my highland brigade!" from the future, near and far, the whole wide world watches them, and a great empire has been made proud of them. kinglake tells this part of the story with a fine touch. "smoothly, easily, and swiftly," he says, "the black watch seemed to glide up the hill. a few instants before, and their tartans ranged dark in the valley; now their plumes waved on the crest." the enemy did not stay for the coming onslaught, for, as many said afterwards, they "did not like those men in the petticoats, with their red vulture plumes and their coloured tartans." at ticonderoga, in , they suffered heavily, in blood, though not in honour. of that encounter an officer of the th, who was in the engagement, says: "it is with a mixture of esteem, grief, and envy, that i considered the great loss and immortal glory won by the scots highlanders in the late bloody affair." from all historical accounts it seems that the enemy was very strongly entrenched, in front by ditches, and on the battle side by barricades of felled trees. from this cover they sent volley upon volley into the ranks of the advancing highlanders. "yet," says one chronicler: "the scots hewed their way through the obstacles with their broadswords, and--no ladders having been provided--made strenuous efforts to carry the breastwork, partly by mounting on each other's shoulders, and partly by placing their feet in holes which they dug with their swords and bayonets in the face of the works. after a desperate struggle, which lasted nearly four hours, general abercromby, seeing no possible chance of success, ordered a retreat--an order which had to be _thrice repeated_ before the highlanders would withdraw from the unequal contest!" what the black watch would have done at balaclava and inkerman, had they been there, can be conjectured, but, sufficient to say that sevastopol bears witness to their many deeds of outright bravery. the officers of the black watch have always been, needless to say, the soul of honour of the body of their men. in the following letter--a letter which might form part of a great poem--colonel macleod writes to the sultan tippoo: "you, or your interpreter have said in your letter to me that i have lied, or made a _mensonge_. permit me to inform you, prince, that this thing is not good for you to give, or for me to receive, and if i were alone with you in the desert, you would not dare to say these words to me. an englishman scorns to lie; this is an irreparable affront to an english warrior. if you have courage enough to meet me, take of your _bravest_ men on foot; meet me on the sea shore; i will fight you, and men of mine will fight yours." this has the true epic ring of all time, even back to the state and condition of the heroic savage who, instinct with honour, said: "friend, if i had an axe, and thou hadst an axe, then we should see where the truth stands." but, alas! in some parts of the world where savagery is no longer heroic, the days of the true epic have gone by, its local death warrant being writ upon a "scrap of paper" crumpled in an emperor's hand. but the black watch, though it has fed, as it were, upon the hearts of lions in its immortal traditions of the far past, can live more intimately in the atmosphere of recent glories. evan mcgregor, robert dick, stewart of garth, gordon drummond, hope grant--these are immortal names appended to half its story only. its later history is lit by the fame of the eighth earl of airlie, who was killed at diamond hill in . when he sailed from our shores for south africa, almost his last words were: "remember, if i am killed in action, whatever memorial you put for me, that you say on it i had died as i wished." and, in confirmation of this, after magersfontein: "i like the boers, and am very proud to be fighting against them.... i am very happy." a sentiment which we, in later years, can parallel with the fact that botha's son (aged seventeen years) has enlisted to fight for britain--a step approved by his heroic father. it was the old rd (now the nd battalion black watch) which, under general wauchope, their former colonel, fought so heroically in the boer war, losing their brave commander at magersfontein. the rd was, from to , an ordinary line regiment, the scottish dress and kilt having been abandoned. as such it fought at waterloo, which, among others, it gives as an "honour" to the black watch. in it was made the nd battalion black watch, and resumed the doublet, kilt and feather bonnet. the spirit of the earl of airlie is alive to-day--as much alive as it was in scotland, when the "heroes of perthshire" laid their lives at the feet of him they believed to be their rightful king. then, as since, they lived and died fighting; and, out of their brave deeds from that to this, there has arisen the peculiar significance of those three words--thrilling and dear to british hearts, chilling and terrible to britain's foes--the black watch. * * * * * their badges and battle honours, etc. badges.--the royal cypher within the garter. the badge and motto of the order of the thistle. in each of the four corners the royal cypher, ensigned with the royal crown. battle honours.--the sphinx, superscribed egypt. mysore, mangalore, seringapatam, corunna, fuentes d'onoro, pyrenees, nivelle, nive, orthes, toulouse, peninsula, waterloo, s. africa - , - , alma, sevastopol, lucknow, ashantee, egypt - , tel-el-kebir, nile - , kirbekan, s. africa - , paardeberg. uniform.--regular and reserve batts., scarlet and blue facings. [the st battn. was first formed from the independent companies raised in from the highland clans, and received the name of black watch from the hue of its tartan. the newly-formed regiment greatly distinguished itself at fontenoy and against the french in n. america. at ticonderoga it lost officers, sergeants, and rank and file in killed and wounded, and received the title of royal highlanders in recognition of its bravery. the nd battn., raised in , became a separate regiment in , and it was this battn. a detachment of which was in the wreck of the _birkenhead_. the black watch gained the red hackle during the campaign in flanders ( - ). the nd was one of the four regiments mentioned in dispatches after waterloo. the nd battn. was at magersfontein in , where it lost officers and over killed and wounded. this regiment has a record which is only equalled by one or two regiments in the british army.] the manchester regiment ("the bloodsuckers") "shew me a well authenticated instance of the troops of any other nation gaining and holding an 'impossible' position against fearful odds, and i will shew you a wavering in, or, at least, a qualification of, our national faith that our allied british infantry is the best in the world."--_french daily newspaper, august, ._ it was at elandslaagte that the st battalion of this gallant regiment, together with the gordon highlanders and the light horse, distinguished themselves in a terrible passage of arms. the following graphic account is taken down from the words of a soldier who went through that terrible affair: "it was nearly five o'clock on that day," he said, "when it seemed to be growing curiously dark. and we soon saw the reason. as our men moved forward the heavens opened, and from the eastern sky swept a sheet of rain. with the first stabbing drops the horses turned their heads, and no whip or spur could bring them up to it. it drove through our mackintoshes as if they were blotting-paper; the air was filled with a hissing sound, and underfoot you could see the solid earth pounded into mud, and the mud flowing away in streams of slush. the rain blotted out hill and dale and enemy in one great curtain of swooping water. you would have said that the heavens had opened to drown the wrath of man. "through it the guns still thundered, and the khaki column pushed doggedly on. the infantry got among the boulders and began to open out. the supports and reserves followed. then, in a twinkling, on the stone-pitted hill-face, burst loose another storm--a storm of lead and death. in the first line, down behind the rocks, the men were firing fast, and the bullets came pelting round them. the men stooped, and staggered, and dropped limply, as if a string that held them upright had been cut. the line pushed on, and the colonel fell, shot in the arm. "the regiment pursued their way until they came to a rocky ledge twenty feet high. here they clung to cover, firing, then rose, and were among the shrill bullets again. a major was left at the bottom of the ridge with a pipe in his mouth, and a mauser bullet through his leg. his company rushed on. onwards and upwards--down, fire again--up again, and on. another ridge won and passed, and only one more hellish hail of bullets beyond. more men down. more men hurried forward into the firing line--more death-piping bullets than ever. the air was a sieve of them; they came with unceasing ping, and beat on the boulders like a million hammers; they ploughed the rocks and tore the turf like harrows. another ridge crowned, another whistling gust of perdition. more men down; more men pushing into the firing line. half the officers killed or wounded--the men panted and stumbled on--another ridge taken! god! would this cursed hill never end? it was sown with bleeding and dead behind us; it was edged with stinging fire before. 'fix bayonets!' staff officers rushed up, urging the men on. there was now no line, only a surging wave. devonshires, gordon highlanders, manchester, and light horse all mixed--subalterns commanding regiments, soldiers yelling advice, officers firing carbines--all stumbling, leaping, killing, falling--all drunk with battle. at length we gained the ridge, and saw the boer camp below. the boers were galloping out of it helter skelter, with lancers and dragoon guards spearing and stamping them into the ground. suddenly we heard the bugle call 'cease fire!' and, wondering slightly at such an order at such a time, we began to retire. but we were soon met by a boy bugler rushing forward, who, in reply to our remarks about the order, yelled, 'cease fire be damned!' and then we discovered that the boers, who had learnt our bugle calls, had blown the blast. on this, we turned about, charged again, and so made good the battle of elandslaagte." * * * * * their badge and battle honours, etc. badge.--the sphinx, superscribed egypt. battle honours.--egmont-op-zee, martinique, guadaloupe, peninsula, alma, inkerman, sevastopol, new zealand, afghanistan - , egypt , s. africa - , defence of ladysmith. uniform.--regular and reserve battn., scarlet with white facings. [ st battn. raised in , nd battn. in . the st battn. was formerly a battn. of the th foot, and became the rd regiment in . it served as mounted infantry during the war of american independence, and won great distinction. the nd battn. was formerly the minorca regiment, and became part of the line in as the th (queen's german) regiment. in it became the th (queen's own), and was disbanded in . raised again in . the st battn. displayed great courage and steadiness during the siege of ladysmith ( ).] the gordon highlanders ("scotland for ever") "you have saved the day, highlanders, but you must return to your position. there is more work to be done."--_sir denis pack at waterloo._ sir denis pack's words at waterloo are as true to-day as they were then. the gordons have always saved the day, and now they must return to their position. there is more work to be done and the gordons are there to do it, as before. the following is an extract from a letter to sir walter scott from viscount vanderfosse, first advocate of the superior court of justice of brussels, dated january th, : "since the arrival of the british troops on the continent, their discipline was remarked by all those who had any communication with them. among these respectable warriors the scotch deserve to be particularly commemorated, and this honourable mention is due to their discipline, their patience, their humanity, and their bravery almost without example. constant and unheard of proofs were given of devotion to their country quite extraordinary and sublime; nor must we forget that these men, so terrible in the field of battle, were mild and tranquil out of it." such a testimonial from so high an authority is a treasured document in the hands of the gordons, and many are the accounts received to-day from the front, which go to show that their cheery optimism has not been dimmed by the passage of a century. perhaps there is no regiment that blends so nicely the simple humour characteristic of the scot with the grim determination in which no section of our army is wanting. there are many points which soften to our hearts the fierce homicidal glory of the gordon highlanders. but first in importance is their grim and terrible side. on the eventful night of the duchess of richmond's ball on the eve of waterloo, colonel cameron, and some of the n.c. officers of the gordon highlanders, had been invited to give the guests of different nations there assembled a display of the highland dances. poets have sung the sudden call to arms at the "cannon's opening roar," but it was not until daybreak that the gordons marched off through the namur gate towards the scene of action. on this occasion their panoply of war set everyone a-thrill. with their dark plumes waving in the breeze, and the bright sun shining on their polished accoutrements, they marched to the screel of the bagpipes. never had the spectators beheld a prouder, braver, more athletic body of men; there was not a downcast look among them; only the fearless eye, the undaunted mien, the cheerful bearing-things which tell of strength. in this mood they marched as far as the forest of soignies, near waterloo. thence, as the day advanced, they proceeded towards quatre bras. the heat was intense, the dust suffocating, but, after a wearisome march, they reached genappe, where the people were waiting for the thirsty regiment with large tubs of water, and of milk, from which the highlanders dipped and drank as they passed through the town. hard on this refreshment, as they came into the plain beyond, was a further refreshment to the warlike spirit of the highlanders; it was the sound of cannon that fell upon their ears "nearer, clearer than before." there was a general quickening of pace as the excitement of promised action ran quickly through the ranks, but colonel cameron checked their eagerness, and held them back, though with difficulty. it so chanced, by good luck, or good management, that the gordons arrived at quatre bras just at the very moment they were needed. wellington had come in with full information from blücher as to the position of the prussian army, and a fuller scorn of their tactics in selecting that position--a scorn which was justified by the event. "if they fight here," he said, in his terse and forcible way, "they will be damnably mauled." the duke was a true prophet. they were, in two words, "mauled." the enemy's action began with a fierce cannonade, under cover of which a brigade of infantry and lancers were hurled forward, our belgian-dutch allies fell back, and their retreat was converted into a rout by the enemy, who speedily became masters of the situation. things were critical, but, at that moment, in came the gordon highlanders by the namur road. their march broke into a double, and their ranks opened and overflowed each side of the road, deploying for immediate action. at once came an answer from a battery of the enemy perched on one of the surrounding heights. by this time the duke was amongst the highlanders, giving orders to seek cover in the ditches and behind the banks of the road; he and his staff following their example. they had not long to wait, under a terrible fire, before the french cuirassiers came sweeping through the fields towards them. on they came, with furious cries, a formidable body; but the highlanders under command of the duke, waited in grim silence, reserving their fire. "highlanders!" the duke cried, "don't fight until i tell you," and so the gordons lay, ready for the signal. it came when the charging cuirassiers were within thirty yards of them. then a fierce volley rang out, and havoc lighted on the horsemen. horses and steel-clad riders went down pell mell, and, in the confusion, the survivors turned and fled before the coming steel. many, whose horses were shot beneath them, attempted to cope with the scots, but all their valour was as nothing before the bayonets of the gordons. at another stage of the battle, when the duke of brunswick's hussars were in flight before the red (polish) lancers and french light infantry, wellington, involved in the charge, and carried away in their mad career, was in great danger; but, seeing a way out, he headed his horse for a position that had been taken up by the gordons. as he neared them, at full gallop, he ordered them to lie still; then he leapt the intervening fence clearing, at one jump, fence, trench, and men. with the gordons now between him and the foe, he wheeled his horse to a standstill, and ordered the highlanders to get ready. the brunswickers had passed, severely handled by the french bayonets, and the grenadiers, on the right, retired to the road, leaving the gordons an opportunity to fire obliquely upon the oncoming cavalry. these shared the same fate as the cuirassiers, being met at short distance with a volley which threw them into confusion. those in front were cut off, by dead and wounded, from those in the rear, who retreated in disorder, while the front passed on in their headlong career, which was really a retreat, through the village. meanwhile, the gordons turned their attention to the rest, and put them to rout. now napoleon had impressed upon ney to act in a manner that must prove decisive. the british had to be swept entirely off the field--the fate of france depended upon this. ney's position was a difficult one, especially as he saw that reinforcements were coming up against him. accordingly, he attacked again vigorously, and sent two columns of cavalry down upon the posts held by the gordons. but these met with a similar fate to those who had tried that way before. but ney still persisted and the gordons were suffering heavily. how the day would have gone, and what would have happened to our highlanders had not the guards come up on their left soon afterwards, military experts alone can conjecture; but even with their assistance--and very welcome it was--the gordons were yet to experience a severer trial. it came in this way. two columns of french infantry advanced rapidly, by means of the charleroi road, and the outskirts of the wood of bossu, and occupied a roadside house, with a thick hedge running some distance into a field, a part of their number gaining the cover of a thickly-hedged garden on the other side of the road. the main body of these troops, some , strong, took up a position in the rear of this garden. colonel cameron with difficulty curbed his eagerness to let his men go, but the duke, who foresaw a prolonged struggle, refused to allow it. he was, as usual, waiting for the right moment. when that moment came, and the order was given, cameron leapt the ditch, at the head of his men, with old general barnes at his side, crying, "come on, my old nd!" then, to the shrill piping of the pibrochs, the intrepid gordons leapt from the ditch and fell upon the enemy with an impetus that was irresistible. the bayonet did its terrible work, and the opposing column fell back in confusion. meanwhile other sections advanced upon the hedged garden, the house, and the field hedge, suffering heavily from these points. it was in this advance that the staff of the colour was split into six pieces by three bullets, and the staff of the king's colour by one. it was here, too, that cameron himself was wounded. being shot in the groin, he lost control of his horse, which galloped away with him, and finally stopped suddenly before his own groom, who was holding a second horse. there cameron, in a fainting condition, was thrown out of the saddle violently on to the road. colonel cameron died of his wound late that night, but not before he had learnt that the british arms had conquered--a fact which forms the theme of sir walter scott's immortal verse: and sunart rough, and wild ardgour, and morven long shall tell, and proud ben nevis hear with awe, how, upon bloody quatre-bras, brave cameron heard the wild hurrah of conquest as he fell. meanwhile, the gordons had fully avenged their leader's death. with repeated rushes upon the roadside house, they did deadly work with the bayonet, and, amid the hail of bullets from superior forces of the enemy, they still continued their fierce onslaughts under conditions that would have demoralized soldiers less cool and experienced. in the midst of the appalling fire, they separated and formed up in three parts, one part moving to the right of the house and garden, another part to the left, while a third prepared to assault the garden itself. at a given moment, when the whole battalion was ready, the order to charge was given. then, with a resounding cheer, they rushed forward, "the bagpipes screaming out the notes of the 'cameron's gathering,' as they levelled their bayonets, and charged with the elastic step learnt on the hillside." the enemy stood firm for a little while against the oncoming array of determined men; then they broke and fled, showing their backs as targets for the highlanders, who scattered the passage of their retreat thickly with their dead bodies. in this action many prisoners were taken. the british troops, though in the minority in guns, as well as men, stood like a rock against the searching assaults of the enemy. ebb and flow was the order of battle, until at last the flow of our indomitable troops gained ground, and the enemy finally ebbed away. our last victory in that furious battle was gained foot by foot, and when, in the end, the day was won, and the stars looked down upon , slain, the piper of the gordon highlanders took his stand in front of the village of quatre bras to call the highlanders in. "loud and long blew cameron," says one who heard that call of the highland mountain and the glen, "but his efforts could not gather above half of those whom his music had cheered on their march to the battlefield." our gordons had been through the thick of the fight; at the close of the day they were terribly hungry, and with the cool sang-froid which is the necessary complement to the bravery of such men, they took their supper cooked and served in the cuirasses which had shone in the enemy's forefront of battle some hours before. various writers tell of the extreme kindness received by the gordons after the battle from the inhabitants of brussels and antwerp. the "good and brave scots" came in on drays and wagons, apparently none the worse for the fierce encounter, saving merely the loss of a leg, or an arm or two. "we're a' wantin' a leg or a' airm," cried one from the midst of a wagon-load of wounded, as if it were a kind of fraternal greeting. the good folk, seeing their plight, and not understanding the language, brought them wine in abundance, but the highlanders did not understand the colour of it, and called for "guid sma' ale" as the next best thing to their own "white wine of the north." tales of suffering in those days cannot vie in magnitude with the tales of to-day, but it is interesting to note that the endurance and patience of the highlanders, as they lay on the wagons, or came in on foot, fainting with weariness and loss of blood, called forth the remark, as they passed through the street, "the men of your country must be made of iron." it remains to touch on the highlanders' own account of this battle. it was simple and unpretentious in the extreme. one who had been severely wounded, and was lying on the paving stones, waiting to be attended to, was accosted by an english resident. "how you and your comrades fought!" he said. "your bravery will be the talk of the world. there is no doubt, as the people here say, you and your countrymen are made of iron." "hoots, man," replied the highlander, "need ye mak' sic a din aboot the like o' that? what did we gang oot for but to fecht?" it goes without saying that false reports of any considerable engagement were spread through the countryside, even in those days. a chronicler states that mercer, when making his way to the scene of action, happened on a gordon highlander, toiling painfully along the road, badly wounded in the knee. "halt!" cried mercer. "have you any information? the belgians tell me that our army has been forced to retreat." "na, na," replied the scot; "it's a damned lee! when i cam' awa' they were fechtin', an' they're aye fechtin' yet." with that, he sat down on the roadside and calmly lit his pipe, while a prentice surgeon probed for the bullet in his knee. another incident preserved in the records of the gordons is related by a scotch lady who resided at that time in antwerp. she had heard reports of a retreat from quatre bras, and other mis-statements concerning mont st. jean had also reached her ears, all to the effect that the british had suffered severe defeat; that wellington was dangerously wounded, and that all of any account in our army were either killed or taken prisoners. moreover, thousands of french troops had entered brussels, and that on the heels of death and destruction came panic and dismay. needless to say, this was not true, except in one point only--that , french _had_ entered brussels; but it was in the rôle of prisoners, not victors! on the following day the scotch lady went out in search of news, and was met by a long procession of vehicles laden with the wounded. not a word of victory could she get on any hand, until she observed, in the very last wagon, a group of gordon highlanders, badly wounded, and heavily bandaged. they evidently knew something, for they were throwing their bonnets in the air, and shouting: "bony's beat! hurrah for bonnie scotland! hurrah for merrie england! bony's beat!" recognizing the highland spirit, the lady sought to learn the cause of their excitement, and they told her, between their wild cries of joy, that a rider had just sped by, bringing the glad news of victory. it was not easy for the people of brussels to gather the real import of this news either from the lady or the highlanders, but it began to spread about, in what to them was an unknown tongue, though forcible in vociferation, that "bony was beat and runnin' awa' to his ain country just as fast as he could gang." yet there was no explaining it to them, and it was in vain that a brawny, bearded highlander took a belgian woman to task with the words, "canna ye hear, ye auld witch? are ye deaf? bony's beat, i tell ye! i tell ye, bony's beat, wumman!" it was no good! but the full significance of the fact was soon made known in the city, and then there was wild rejoicing on every hand. in those times the belgian people conceived and fostered a great love for the gordon highlanders, and no doubt the tradition has been handed down to this day that they are the best of soldiers, sweet and gentle in peace, and terrible in war. the part played by the gordons in the repulse of the boer attack on ladysmith, january th, , is never to be forgotten. it was here that lieutenant colonel dick-cunyngham, v.c., fell at the head of his men. it was during the afghan campaign that this hero of the gordons received his v.c., when they were fighting outside kabul in . staggered for a moment by a terrific onslaught on the part of the afghans, the gordons, their leading officer and colour-sergeant being killed, seemed to hesitate, when dick-cunyngham sprang forward, and, by his remarkable coolness and gallantry, saved the situation. in later days, the gordon highlanders have maintained and even added to the reputation thus bravely won. one signal instance is found in their attacks on the dargai heights. on october th, , the gordons formed part of the flanking movement under brigadier-general kempster. the heights were won, but were shortly re-occupied by the enemy. on the following day, a second battle was joined about this position. under sir william lockhart the gordons displayed their usual fighting power. in the "broad arrow" of february, th, , sir william lockhart himself described the part they played: "the gordon highlanders went straight up the hill without check or hesitation. headed by their pipers, and led by colonel mathias, with major macbean on his right, and lieutenant a. f. gordon on his left, this splendid battalion marched across the open. it dashed through a murderous fire, and in forty minutes had won the heights, leaving three officers and thirty men killed or wounded on its way. the first rush of the highlanders was deserving of the highest praise, for they had just undergone a very severe climb, and had reached a point beyond which other troops had been unable to advance for over three hours. the first rush was followed at short intervals by a second and a third, each led by officers; and, as the leading companies went up the path for the final assault, the remainder of the troops streamed on in support, but few of the enemy waited for the bayonet, many of them being shot down as they fled in confusion." supremely heroic on a point of romantic sentiment is our gordon highlander. when cameron fell at quatre bras, he was not only mortally wounded, but pinned down by his horse. in this helpless condition he was recognised by one of the enemy, who swiftly rushed forward to bayonet him. but swifter still came the cold steel of ewen macmillan (the colonel's foster brother) and pierced the would-be murderer to the heart. ewen extricated his leader and bore him off; then, his master safe, he turned back with the set purpose of securing the saddle on which he had sat through many a victorious battle. in the thick of the fight the imperturbable scot, amid a hail of bullets, secured that saddle and returned safely with it to his company, exhibiting it with a fine mingling of triumph and regret. "we must leave them the carcase," he said, "but they shan't get the saddle where fassiefern sat." that was what he had risked his life a thousand times a minute for--the saddle where fassiefern had sat! and not only in stirring deeds of deathless glory have the gordon highlanders shone in the starry sky of britain's fame. in the course of their long career they have been called upon to suffer and endure tests of hardship and privation, which prove the true mettle of the british soldier. they have played many parts in the theatre of war where the limelight did not fall. it was even their fate to take part in the terrible retreat to bremen. mr. w. richards gives a grim description of some of these hardships: "the high, keen wind carried the drifted snow and sand with such violence that the human frame could scarcely resist its power; the cold was intense; the water, which collected in the hollow eyes of the men, congealed as it fell, and hung in icicles from their eyelashes; the breath froze, and hung in icy incrustations about their haggard faces, and on the blankets and coats which they wrapped about them." but, with the gordons, the hardy spirit in which they weathered all this was only a modification of that which carried them into their most glorious triumphs on the field of battle. speaking of hardships and remembering the strong spirit of camaraderie which has always existed between our soldiers of all regiments, we cannot help reminding the gordons that their nd battalion owes the coldstreamers one ration. it happened in this way. when the gordons arrived at fuentes d'onoro both officers and men were literally starving, owing to a faulty commissariat; and no sooner did the guards get wind of this than they volunteered a ration of biscuits, from their haversacks. now, as the coldstreamers will not be able to get those biscuits from the enemy, who appears to have "embarked without them," they may require them again from the gordons and they should insist on having them well buttered. * * * * * their badges and battle honours, etc. badges.--the sphinx, superscribed egypt. the royal tiger, superscribed india. battle honours.--mysore, seringapatam, egmont-op-zee, mandora, corunna, fuentes d'onoro, almaraz, vittoria, pyrenees, nive, orthes, peninsula, waterloo, s. africa , delhi, lucknow, charasiah, kabul , kandahar , afghanistan - , egypt - , tel-el-kebir, nile - , chitral, tirah, s. africa - , paardeberg, defence of ladysmith. uniform.--regular and reserve battns., scarlet with yellow facings. [to the first regiment (the th), raised in , there belong the romances of two notable men. one was the duke's brother, lord william, who afterwards ran away with lady sarah bunbury, and the other was lord george, the future rioter. a further romance belongs to the gordons proper. when, in , the th d. of g. was commissioned to raise a regiment for the king, with the duke's son, lord huntly, as its colonel, his wife jane, "the bonnie duchess," acted as her son's recruiting sergeant. day after day she rode in among them at their gatherings, and with the king's shilling between her teeth, kissed them into the army. "now, lads; whose for a soldier's life--and a kiss o' the duchess jean?" her ambition for her son in the way of masculine counterpoise to the brilliant alliances of her daughters does not matter so much as that the gordons sprang into being at the touch of her lips--which is a legend greatly treasured among highlanders.] [illustration: the connaught rangers at badajoz. _from a painting by r. caton woodville._] the connaught rangers ("the garvies") "rangers of connaught, the eyes of all ireland are on you this day. on then, and at them, and if you do not give them the soundest thrashing they have ever got in their lives, you needn't look me in the face again in this world or the next."--_colonel-in-command at the front._ towards the close of the transvaal war the nd battalion of the connaught rangers performed a heroic feat, which tended to mitigate the peace-with-little-honour feeling which marked the peace negotiations of . lydenberg was garrisoned by some seventy men, fifty-three of whom were connaught rangers, the whole being under the command of lieut. long, a mere stripling lad of twenty-two. soon after brunker's spruit the boers called upon lydenberg to surrender, thinking that the lad of twenty-two would do as he was told like an obedient boy. but they soon found that they were mistaken. long wisely temporised, and made use of a few days thus gained to strengthen his defences. soon came the boers' second demand of surrender, and this time it was scornfully flung back. so, on the th january, the boers' bombarded the place, but the little garrison held out, and, for twelve weeks, the forces of siege, sickness, hunger and thirst failed to break the spirit of the gallant band. then, when peace was declared, the th had no cause to feel ashamed, for in their hands lydenberg had never surrendered. the british flag still fluttered above it. worn and exhausted by terrible hardships and privations, but _still unconquered_, the survivors came forth in peace. * * * * * their badges and battle honours, etc. badges.--the harp and crown. the elephant. the sphinx, superscribed egypt. motto.--"quis separabit." battle honours.--seringapatam, talavera, busaco, fuentes d'onoro, ciudad rodrigo, badajoz, salamanca, vittoria, nivelle, orthes, toulouse, peninsula, alma, inkerman, sevastopol, central india, s. africa - , - , relief of ladysmith. uniform.--regular and reserve battns., scarlet with green facings. [raised in in connaught. both battns. gained undying fame in the peninsula war, the regiment having the honour of forming the forlorn hope at the storming of both badajoz and ciudad rodrigo. the regiment also fought with distinction in the crimea and the indian mutiny. during the boer war of the st battn. formed part of the famous irish brigade in natal, and in it became a battn. of mounted infantry.] the argyll and sutherland highlanders ("the thin red line") "wherever they have lived and fought they have carried with them the fearless picturesqueness of their indomitable mountains." at sevastopol, as at few other battles in the history of wars, was displayed the most magnificent valour of the highlander. the approaches to balaclava were protected by six batteries manned by turks, who, it will be remembered, were in those days our allies. on october th, , the russians made a determined attack on these redoubts, speedily captured three of the batteries, and at once turned them on the rd highlanders, under sir colin campbell, compelling them to seek cover behind a slight ridge. no sooner had they done so than a horde of russian cavalry swept down upon them, whereat sir colin ordered his men to breast the ridge and hold it against them at all costs. "men," he said, "there is no retreat from here; you must die where you stand." "ay, ay, sir colin," was the cool response, "and we'll do that if needs be." the men were only two or three deep, but that "thin red line," bristling with steel, was none the less formidable for that. every heart was staunch and every hand was steady. nearer and nearer came the rolling thunder of the russian cavalry, quickening as it came. they were now at yards. "fire!" the order was given, and the lead went forth, but the russians, though galled, still came on. at yards a second volley rang out, and this time the enemy wavered and could only be rallied by the remarkable determination of their officers. their swerve was headed into a flank attack, but the highlanders stood firm as their native rocks, and met their last onrush with volley on volley. "then had you seen a gallant shock when saddles were emptied and lances broke." the enemy, now in confusion, looked at the cold steel awaiting them, turned in dismay and fled in disorder to the shelter of their own guns. the rd were also at lucknow, and the way they came to the rescue of the hard-pressed garrison of that city makes a thrilling episode. well known is the story of jessie, the scotch nurse, who was within the fortifications of lucknow when the final grip of despair was closing on the beleaguered garrison. sitting musing on the hope of death as against the horrors of surrender, she suddenly raised her head and listened. was she dreaming of the hills and glens of her native land, which she might never see again, or was that the sound of the pibrochs floating on the breeze from far away? she started up, declaring that she heard the wild music of her own country drawing nearer and nearer out of the distance. others listened, but could hear nothing, and thought that jessie was fey. but the simple-living scotch folk are renowned for their second sight and clairaudience, and the event proved that jessie was right; for at that moment, though far beyond the range of physical hearing, the highlanders, under sir colin campbell, were marching swiftly towards lucknow, with cameron striding at their head, blowing his loudest. [illustration: the argyll and sutherland highlanders at balaclava. _from a painting by r. caton woodville._] when they arrived at the city they made no pause, but swept down on the dastardly foe with irresistible force, while the bagpipes screamed and the men cheered wildly. then ensued a running fight lasting some hours, after which post after post was seized and occupied until finally the siege was raised, and sir colin campbell and sir henry havelock met within the city and shook hands on a glorious relief. * * * * * their badges, battle honours, etc. badges.--a boar's head within a wreath of myrtle. a cat within a wreath of broom, all over the label as represented in the arms of the princess louise, and surmounted with h.r.h.'s coronet. in each of the four corners the princess louise cypher and coronet. mottoes.--"ne obliviscaris." "sans peur." battle honours.--cape of good hope , rolica, vimiera, coronna, pyrenees, nivelle, nive, orthes, toulouse, peninsula, alma, balaclava, sevastopol, lucknow, s. africa - , - , , - , modder river, paardeberg. uniform.--regular and reserve battns., scarlet with yellow facings. [ st battn. (argyllshire highlanders): raised in by the duke of argyll. nd battn. (sutherland highlanders): raised by the duke of sutherland in . the st battn. formed the bulk of the heroes of the wreck of the _birkenhead_. the nd battn. were the celebrated "thin red line" at balaclava. the regiment won great distinction during the indian mutiny. it formed part of general wauchope's force at magersfontein ( ).] the dublin fusiliers ("the old toughs") the dublin fusiliers had a large share in writing the red history of india. their prestige has been drawn mainly from the east. indeed, although they have been in existence years, they never set eyes on the white cliffs of dover until the other day, so to speak, in . on their colours stand the royal tiger of bengal, and the indian elephant, together with the honours--plassey, mysore, the carnatic, buxar, and many others gained in india which are unknown to any other regiment. in the conquest of india they were clive's men, warren hastings' men, and "their names are the names of the victories of england." it is scarcely too much to say that indian territory was made british by the dublin fusiliers. the story of how india would have become part of the french empire but for the daring genius of an obscure youth and the indomitable valour of the dublin fusiliers makes thrilling reading. the french had laid siege to trichinopoly, knowing that, with its fall, fell india into their hands; but clive, a young man of twenty-five years, a born genius, without any further acquirement in the way of special training, evolved as if by a heaven-sent inspiration--a sudden plan--the consummate daring of which has not been equalled in the history of any other nation. it was, in brief, to raise the siege of trichinopoly by dealing a sledge-hammer stroke upon arcot, the capital of the carnatic--a city whose population was , , and whose garrison consisted of , trained men. clive proposed to subdue this strongly defended city with dublin fusiliers and sepoys. this unheard-of intention must have had something unseen and undreamt of behind it, as the shadow of the coming event. the issue proved this. with his handful of men, tuned to his own pitch of enthusiasm, he marched boldly on arcot during the night. he was not alone. his allies were the elements. as he neared the gates of the city, they broke loose. the lightning flashed, the thunder roared, and the rain descended in torrents. in the midst of this, he and his little band entered the city as if at the head of an unknown mighty army. these men, who came attended by the artillery of the storm gods, by the lightning's flash and search-light, seemed all too many for the garrison. terrified, they fled in tumult and disorder, and clive by this master-stroke, aided by that which has aided britain many times in a moment of daring extremity, seized arcot, and held it. but this master-stroke required confirmation before it was effective. it yet remained for clive, and his brave band to display the endurance and patience necessary to hold what was won. the besiegers of trichinopoly gathered reinforcements, and beleaguered arcot. ten thousand men enforced that place. in the course of days four officers, nearly dublin fusiliers and over sepoys were lost. says an eye-witness who describes the place, "the ramparts were too narrow to admit the guns, the battlements too low to protect the soldiers." in this siege, which lasted fifty days, elephants were used by the besieging hosts. with the battering-rams slung between them, they were pushed forward against the walls, but the "dubs" sent such a fusilade against them that the beasts turned tail, and trampled hundreds of the enemy to death. the little body of dublin fusiliers and sepoys--it was the first, but not the last time that indian troops have fought bravely by our side--held out, and finally the enemy, after a fierce attack, in which they were worsted, retreated. clive followed them up remorselessly. in that pursuit pondicherry and tanjore were taken, and now, at plassey, were british, and , sepoys, who, in a decisive action, defeated , of the enemy under surajah dowlah. this superiority of a cause which, reinforcing an inferiority of men, has proved, through thick blood and thin, to be at the behest of civilisation, is not without its far-off echo in the present day. it needs to be added that the whole of the honours of the dublin fusiliers, until "south africa, - ," and "relief of ladysmith," were won by the madras fusiliers and bombay fusiliers (east india company's regiments). it was only in that they were given the name "royal dublin fusiliers," and as such, our english, scotch and welsh have never a fault to find with them. it was at arcot that lieutenant trewith, of the madras fusiliers, saved clive's life at the expense of his own, and so, indirectly, yet practically, saved india. at a moment when clive was unaware of danger trewith saw one of the besiegers taking a long, steady aim at him through a small breach. there was no time to do anything in the way of warning. there was merely time to thrust his own body between the bullet and clive's heart--between another power and india. that was a moment as heroic for an individual as it was critical for a nation. from the battle of plassey onwards, wherever there was fighting, there were the dublin fusiliers. at condore and wandiwash, at buxar and sholingur, they were present--not in numbers but in force. it has ceased to be a strange thing regarding the dublin fusiliers that their greatest victories were those in which the odds were against them. at cuddalore the "dubs" saw the first step of a romance which went far in a world of practical reality. it was there that they took no less a person than bernadotte prisoner--bernadotte, the born leader of men, who afterwards married desirée clary (the early love of napoleon), became field marshal, and died king of sweden. little did those practical fighters think, when they treated the young bernadotte kindly at their camp fire that they had actually captured the future father of king oscar of sweden--a monarch who received his name from his god-father napoleon bonaparte, after his favourite hero, oscar of _ossian_. as the almost impossible name of nundy droog has been glorified by the "dubs," one may fairly reason that the glory of a place-name may be derived from what takes place there. nundy droog is a fortress set upon a great crag, nearly half a mile high. the story of the three weeks' siege of this difficult place has a sublime climax in the final and victorious assault of the dublin fusiliers. it was night, and the indian moon shone full upon the giant crag, whose serried points seemed to pierce the sky, casting deep shadows on the rocky facets and gloomy ravines. from far above fell the bugle calls of the defenders, tossed by echo from precipice to precipice, to die away in the dark spaces. then rang out an answering clarion note from below, sounding the assault, and the dublin fusiliers advanced up the sides of that precipitous height. "then," says a chronicler, with a peculiar inversion of metaphorical allusion, "hell opened _above them_, cannon shot ploughed through them, musketry raked them, rockets blasted them, great boulders rolled down from above and carried many away." but, undaunted, the dublin fusiliers climbed on and up, until at last their final dash on the summit was so determined that the enemy fled dismayed. later, standing in pools of blood where lay women of cawnpore, while little baby-shoes floated about them, the dublin fusiliers--strong men, sobbing with grief--vowed vengeance on the perpetrators of the foulest deeds, and saw it carried out. the murderers were captured and blown from the guns, their hands smeared with the blood of their innocent victims, and, according to their own belief, their high-caste souls consequently damned for ever. the dublin fusiliers fought grandly in the boer war, and nothing could hold them back. after colenso they were found to be only strong. in view of their terrible losses it was decided to send them off to frere to keep the communications open. it was at parade that they were informed of this, and they one and all "nabbed the rust" and swore they would be in the fighting line or die. they were expostulated with, but all arguments were of no avail; the fighting spirit was too strong, and these heroic fellows were allowed to remain to have another cut at the enemy. during the battle of colenso occurred a real "irish" incident which is amusing. the "dubs" were advancing on the enemy's left flank under a searching shell and rifle fire, when they paused for cover at a poorly-sheltered spot. here two of the men had a private difference, and, with the battle raging round them, and the bullets whistling through their hair, they set about one another with their fists, their comrades gathering round and looking on with interest. when the matter was satisfactorily settled, and the best man had let the other up, the two shook hands, and, joining common cause against the enemy, coolly resumed the advance, and proceeded about the less personal business of the day. it was at lucknow that tommy atkins, the sentry, when he saw the people flying for the residency, refused to leave his post, and was killed by the sepoys. this proud nickname, tommy atkins, has now come to mean any soldier in the british army, and rightly so, for, be it said, they are all built on the same plan as the one who immortalized their present name. there are two true stories of the dublin fusiliers which will bear repeating; indeed, they are more than true: they are tender and true, and show the noblest form of self-sacrifice in the face of unconquering death. at natal, when captain paton was severely wounded, one of his disabled men crept to his side in the cold, teeming rain, and lay with his arms about him all night long, trying to keep the necessary warmth in his body. and if you remind an old dublin fusilier of this touching story, he will most probably tell you another of eighty years ago, which is like unto it. there were, so the records tell, two foster-brothers in the bombay fusiliers (the nd "dubs")--the younger an officer, and the elder a devil-may-care private. "ye'll be lookin' after the lad," said their mother, when they left for the front. "i will," replied the reckless one; and he did. they were found, years later, upon a mountain-side in india, both dead, lying among dead and wounded. but--and here is the lump in the throat--the younger had been badly wounded, and the elder only slightly; but, dead from exposure, there he lay by his brother's side, stripped to the skin, all his clothes being piled upon his mother's younger son to keep his ebbing life-spark warm. deep down in the devil-may-care bombay fusilier who did that deed was surely the spirit that conquers death, subjecting it to the higher glory of britain. * * * * * their badges and battle honours, etc. badges.--the royal tiger, superscribed, "plassey," "buxar." the elephant, superscribed "carnatic," "mysore." motto.--"spectamur agendo." battle honours.--arcot, condore, wandiwash, scholingur, nundy droog, amboyna, ternate, banda, pondicherry, mahidpoor, guzerat, seringapatam, kirkee, beni boo ally, aden, punjaub, mooltan, goojerat, ava, pegu, lucknow, s. africa - , relief of ladysmith. uniform.--scarlet with blue facings. fuentes d'onoro and albuera "a battle's never lost until it's won."--_old british proverb._ "nothing could stop that astonishing infantry." _napier._ as at balaclava and inkerman, a great number of our expeditionary regiments now contending side by side at the front were present at the victorious battle of fuentes d'onoro, and a new significance attaches to that name from the fact that these regiments were mainly responsible for the victory on that occasion. the battle is also very noteworthy in the annals of british pluck and endurance for the number of times the little village was taken and retaken in the course of the day. in september, , wellington, having beaten regnier and ney at busaco, withdrew to his colossal defences at torres vedras. in the following spring he again assumed the offensive, and marched his army to fuentes d'onoro, where the battle of glorious incident was fought. a highlander who was in the fight has described it in the following picturesque narrative, which as his description is taken from notes written in camp, contains no indication as to his regiment, and prudently refrains from mentioning the names of most of the other regiments, we may preface it with a list of the principal regiments engaged. they were as follow: st (royal) dragoons; th (king's) hussars; th (queen's) lancers; the coldstream guards and scots guards; king's royal rifle corps; the rifle brigade; st and nd battalion highland light infantry; nd battalion gordon highlanders; st battalion royal highlanders (black watch); st battalion south wales borderers; st battalion queen's own cameron highlanders; norfolk regiment; st battalion yorkshire light infantry; st battalion royal irish rifles; st battalion connaught rangers; th lancers; and others. and here is his story, in the course of which the reader must make what he can of the curious fact that the cavalry on both sides were chiefly germans! "our regiment was moved to the village of fuentes d'onoro, a few miles nearer almeida. a great part of the way we moved through a wood of oak trees, in which the inhabitants of the surrounding villages had herds of swine feeding; here the voice of the cuckoo was never mute; night and day its simple notes were heard in every quarter of the wood. "the village we now occupied was in spain.... the site of the village was beautiful and romantic; it lay in a sort of ravine, down which a small river brawled over an irregular rocky bed, in some places forming precipitous falls of many feet; the acclivity on each side was occasionally abrupt, covered with trees and thick brush-wood. three leagues to the left of our front lay the villages of gallegos and espeja, in and about which our light division and cavalry were quartered. between this and fuentes lay a large wood, which, receding on the right, formed a plain, flanked by a deep ravine, being a continuation of that in which the village lay. in our rear was another plain, on which our army subsequently formed, and behind that, in a valley, villa fermosa, the river coa running past it. "we had not been many days here when we received intelligence that the light troops were falling back upon our village, the enemy having recrossed the agueda in great force, for the purpose of relieving almeida, which we had blockaded. on the morning we received this intelligence ( rd may, ), our regiment turned out of the town, and took up their position with the rest of the division on a plain some distance behind it. the morning was uncommonly beautiful; the sun shone bright and warm; the various odoriferous shrubs, which were scattered profusely around, perfumed the air, and the woods rang with the song of birds. "the light division and cavalry falling back, followed by the columns of the french, the various divisions of the army assembling on the plain from different quarters, their arms glittering in the sun; bugles blowing, drums beating, the various staff officers galloping about to different parts of the line giving orders, formed a scene which realized to my mind all that i had ever read of feats of arms, or the pomp of war--a scene which no one could behold unmoved, or without feeling a portion of that enthusiasm which always accompanies 'deeds of high daring'; a scene justly conceived, and well described by moore, in the beautiful song:-- oh, the sight entrancing when the morning's beam is glancing o'er files array'd with helm and blade and plumes in the gay wind dancing! "our position was now taken up in such a way that our line ran along the frontiers of portugal, maintaining the blockade of almeida by our left, while our right kept open the communication with sabugal, the place where the last action was fought. "the french advanced on our position in three columns, about three o'clock in the afternoon, and detached a strong body of troops against fuentes, which was at this time occupied as an advance post by the th regiment ( st battalion king's royal rifle corps), and the light company of our division. the skirmishers were covered in their advance by cavalry, in consequence of which ours were obliged to fall back for greater safety to some stone fences on the outskirts of the village, while a party of our german hussars covered their retreat. "the cavalry now commenced skirmishing, the infantry keeping up an occasional fire. it was rather remarkable that the cavalry on both sides happened to be germans. when this was understood, volleys of insulting language, as well as shot, were exchanged between them. one of our hussars got so enraged at something one of his opponents said, that, raising his sword, he dashed forward upon him into the very centre of their line. the insulting hussar, seeing that he had no mercy to expect from his enraged foe, wheeled about his horse, and rode to the rear. the other, determined on revenge, still continued to follow him. the whole attention, on both sides, was drawn for a moment to these two, and a temporary cessation of firing took place. the french stared in astonishment at our hussar's temerity, while our men were cheering him on. the chase continued for some way to the rear of their cavalry. at last, our hussar, coming up with him, fetched a furious blow, and brought him to the ground. "awakening now to a sense of the danger he had thrown himself into, he set his horse at full speed to get back to his comrades, but the french, who were confounded when he passed, had recovered their surprise, and, determined on avenging the death of their comrade, they joined in pursuit, firing their pistols at him. the poor fellow was now in a hazardous plight; they were every moment gaining upon him, and he had still a long way to ride. a band of the enemy took a circuit for the purpose of intercepting him, and before he could reach the line, he was surrounded, and would have been cut to pieces, had not a party of his comrades, stimulated by the wish to save so brave a fellow, rushed forward, and arrived just in time, by making the attack general, to save his life, and brought him off in triumph. "the overwhelming force which the french now pushed forward on the village could not be withstood by the small number of troops which defended it; they were obliged to give way, and were fairly forced to a rising ground on the other side, where stood a small chapel. the french now thought they had gained their point, but they were soon undeceived, for, being reinforced at this place by the portuguese cacadores, our lads came to the right-about, and attacked them with such vigour that in a short time they were driven back to their old ground. while retreating through the town, one of our sergeants, who had run up the wrong street, being pushed hard by the enemy, ran into one of the houses; they were close at his heels, and he had just time to wrench open the door of a cupboard in a recess and tumble himself into a large chest, when they entered and commenced plundering the house, expressing their wonder, at the same time, concerning the sudden disappearance of the 'anglois' whom they had seen run into the house. during the time the poor sergeant lay sweating and half smothered they were busy breaking open everything that came in their way, looking for plunder, and they had just discovered the concealed door of his hiding-place when the noise of our men cheering, as they charged the enemy through the town, forced them to take flight. the sergeant now got out, and having joined his company, assisted in driving the french back. "no other part of the line had as yet been attacked by the french; they seemed bent on taking the village of fuentes in the first place, as a stepping-stone, and the main body of each army lay looking at each other. finding that the force they had sent down, great as it was, could not keep possession of the place, they sent forward two strong bodies of fresh troops to re-attack it, one of which, composed of the irish legion, dressed in red uniform, was at first taken for a british regiment, and they had time to form up, and give us a volley before the mistake was discovered. "the village was now vigorously attacked by the enemy at two points, and with such a superior force, that, in spite of the unparalleled bravery of our troops, they were driven back, contesting every inch of the ground. "on our retreat through the village, we were met by the st regiment, cheering and led on by colonel cadogan, which had been detached from the line to our support. the chase was now turned, and although the french were obstinately intent on keeping their ground, and so eager that many of their cavalry had entered the town and rushed furiously down the streets, all their efforts were in vain; nothing could withstand the charge of the gallant st, and in a short time, in spite of all resistance, they cleared the village." [this regiment ( st battalion highland light infantry) was always remarkable for its gallantry. the brave cadogan well knew the art of rendering his men invincible; he knew that the courage of the british soldier is best called forth by associating it with his country, and he also knew how to time the few words which produced such magical effects.] "we were now once more in possession of the place, but our loss, as well as that of the french, had been very great. in particular places of the village, where a stand had been made, or the shot brought to bear, the slaughter had been immense. the french, enraged at being thus baffled in all their attempts to attack the town, sent forward a force composed of the very flower of their army, but they gained only a temporary advantage, for, being reinforced by the th regiment--although the contest remained doubtful until night--we remained in possession of it, with the exception of a few houses on the rise of the hill at the french side. the light brigade of our division was now withdrawn, and the st and th regiments remained as a picquet in it during the night. next morning it was again occupied as before. on the th both sides were busily employed burying the dead and bringing in the wounded, french and english promiscuously mixed, and assisted each other in that melancholy duty, as if they had been intimate friends.... during this day, the french generals reconnoitred our position, and next morning (the th), they made a movement to their left with two strong columns. this caused a corresponding movement in our lines, and it was scarcely made, when they attacked our right, composed of the th division, with all their cavalry, and succeeded in turning it, but they were gallantly met by some squadrons of our dragoons, and repulsed. their columns of infantry still continued to advance on the same point, and were much galled by the heavy fire kept up on them by the th division, but in consequence of this movement, our communication with sabugal was abandoned for a stronger position, and our army was now formed in two lines, the light division and cavalry in reserve. this manoeuvre paralysed their attack on our line, and their efforts were chiefly confined to partial cannonading, and some charges with their cavalry, which were received and repulsed by the rd regiment of guards in one instance; but, as they were falling back, they did not perceive the charge of a different body of the enemy's cavalry in time to form, and many of them were killed, wounded, and taken prisoners. colonel hill, who commanded the picquets, was among the latter; the nd regiment (the black watch) also, under lord blantyre, gallantly repulsed another charge made by the enemy's cavalry. the frenchmen then attempted to push a strong body of light infantry down the ravine to the right of the st division, but they were driven back by some companies of the guards and th rifles (now the "rifle brigade.") "while on the right this was going on, the village of fuentes was again attacked by a body of the imperial guard, and, as on the rd, the village was taken and retaken several times. at one time they had brought down such an overwhelming force that our troops were fairly beat out of the town, and the french formed a close column between it and us. some guns which were posted on the rise in front of our line, having opened upon them, made them change their ground, and the th regiment (connaught rangers) being detached from our division, led on by the heroic general mckinnon (who commanded our right brigade), charged them furiously, and drove them back through the village with great slaughter. "some time previous to this, general picton had had occasion to check this regiment for some little plundering affair they had been guilty of, and he was so offended at their conduct that, in addressing them, he had told them they were the greatest 'blackguards' in the army. but, as he was always as ready to give praise as censure, where it was due, when they were returning from this gallant and effective charge, he exclaimed, 'well done, the brave th!' some of them who had been stung at his former reproaches cried out, 'are we the greatest blackguards in the army now?' the valiant picton smiled, and replied: 'no, no, you are brave and gallant soldiers; this day has redeemed your character.' "at one time during the contest, when the enemy had gained a partial position of the village, our light troops had retired into a small wood above it, where they were huddled together without any regularity (a french officer, while leading on his men, having been killed in our front), a bugler of the rd regiment (now st battalion irish rifles) starting out between the fire of both parties, seized his gold watch; but he had scarcely returned, when a cannon shot from the enemy came whistling past him, and he fell lifeless on the spot. the blood spurted out of his nose and ears, but with the exception of this, there was neither wound nor bruise on his body--the shot had not touched him. "the phenomenon here described has been the subject of much discussion among medical men; some attribute it to the shot becoming electrical, and parting with its electricity in passing the body, while others maintain that the ball does strike the individual obliquely, and although there is no appearance of injury on the surface, there always exists serious derangement of the system internally. "we had regained possession of the village a short time after, and got a little breathing time.... after the various takings and retakings of the village, night again found us in possession of it. on the th, no attempt was made to renew the attack, and, as on the th, the army on each side was employed burying the dead, and looking after the wounded. on the th, we still remained quiet, but on this day the whole french army were reviewed on the plain by massena. on the th, the french sentries were withdrawn at daylight, the main body of the enemy having retired during the night to the woods between fuentes and gallegos. on the th they broke up, and retired from their position, and on the th they had recrossed the agueda without having accomplished the relief of almeida." full of interest and significance as was the battle of fuentes d'onoro, it remains that the most sanguinary and glorious battle of the peninsular war, as far as the soldiers were concerned, was that of albuera where, on may th, the skilful soult was defeated by beresford, with tremendous slaughter. just as the battle of fuentes arose out of the determination of massena to save almeida, so that of albuera was owing to soult's desire to save badajoz, which was in siege by beresford. wellington was returning victorious from the north to join beresford, but, before he arrived, the bloodiest battle of the peninsula was over. before the siege of badajoz was well compacted soult came up with a superior force, and beresford decided to raise the siege and stake the issue on a pitched battle. the allies took up their position on the ridge of albuera, some , strong, including , half-trained spaniards, who were something between a hindrance and a help. soult's force consisted of , picked infantry, , cavalry, and fifty guns. it is the very climax and turning point of this fight that interests us here. it came at a time when houghton's brigade, being practically worsted in an assault on the ridge, were failed by beresford, but succored by colonel hardinge, who, on his own responsibility, ordered the advance of general cole's division against the enemy. this, the th division, consisting mainly of british fusiliers, succeeded in turning the tide of battle. cole himself led the fusiliers up the hill, on the crest of which the french with their artillery were stationed in force; and, as if that were not superiority enough, the whole of soult's reserve was advancing in mass to support the columns on the ridge. houghton's brigade held on in what seemed a losing fight. the ground was heaped with dead, and the polish lancers were beginning to gather round the british guns. the brigade saw defeat and destruction staring it in the face. but they endured for sheer tenacity's sake, not knowing that but a few moments more mattered everything. the royal welsh fusiliers swept steadily upwards, attacked the savage lancers, charged their gathering hosts, and put the enemy to rout. it was houghton's brigade that had borne the brunt, but it was the welsh fusiliers that decided the victory. napier has pictured this glorious passage of arms so vividly that it is no man's presumptuous task to describe it independently. "such a gallant line," he says, "issuing from the midst of smoke, and rapidly separating itself from the confused and broken multitude, startled the enemy's heavy masses which were increasing and pressing onwards as to an assured victory. they wavered, hesitated, and then, vomiting forth a storm of fire, hastily endeavoured to enlarge their front, while a fearful discharge of grape from all their artillery whistled through the british ranks. sir william myers was killed. cole, and the three colonels: ellis, blakeney, and hawkshawe, fell wounded, and the fusilier battalions, struck by the iron tempest, reeled and staggered like sinking ships. suddenly and sternly recovering, they closed on their terrible enemies, and then was seen with what a strength and majesty the british soldier fights. in vain did soult, by voice and gesture, animate his frenchmen; in vain did the hardiest veterans, extricating themselves from the crowded columns, sacrifice their lives to gain time for the mass to open out on such a fair field; in vain did the mass itself bear up, and, fiercely arising, fire indiscriminately upon friends and foes, while the horsemen hovering on the flank, threatened to charge the advancing line. nothing could stop that astonishing infantry. no sudden burst of undisciplined valour, no nervous enthusiasm weakened the stability of their order; their flashing eyes were bent on the dark columns in their front; their measured tread shook the ground; their dreadful volleys swept away the head of every formation; their deafening shouts overpowered the dissonant cries that broke from all parts of the tumultuous crowd as, foot by foot, and with a horrid carnage, it was driven by the incessant vigour of the attack to the farthest edge of the hill. in vain did the french reserves, joining with the struggling multitudes, endeavour to sustain the fight; their efforts only increased the irremediable confusion, and the mighty mass, giving way like a loosened cliff, went headlong down the ascent. the rain flowed after in streams discoloured with blood, and , unwounded men, the remnant of , unconquerable british soldiers, stood triumphant on the fatal hill." it must be added to this classic word-picture of the fight on the ridge that marshal beresford in his despatch to lord wellington, dated albuera, th may, said, "it was observed that our dead, particularly the th regiment (the "die hards" of albuera), were lying as they had fought in the ranks, and that every wound was in front." balaclava and inkerman "the cavalry do as they like to the enemy until they are confronted by thrice their numbers.... "our artillery has never been opposed to less than three or four times their numbers."--_sir john french at the front._ the majority of the expeditionary forces now at the front carry in their hearts if not on their standards the glorious legends of balaclava and of inkerman. at a time when it has become so evident that the tendency of the prussian military system is to crush individual initiative, while that of the british system is to encourage it on equal terms with a free and unhesitating obedience to the will of the commander, the battles of balaclava and inkerman are of peculiar significance, for, while balaclava contains a glorious instance of blind obedience, inkerman stands alone as a sanguinary conflict in which, to quote an eye-witness, "every man was his own general." for this reason it has been called a "soldiers' battle," and as such it forms a useful example, not only of the fine behaviour of our soldiers when thrown on the limit of their own individual resources, but also of the self-reliant valour and do-or-die spirit that has brought them through so many desperately prolonged struggles before and since. the fact that inkerman was fought and won in a thick fog makes it all the more wonderful and satisfactory that the units, and even individuals, of our army on that occasion co-operated well within the boundaries of a sound and discreet initiative. many full descriptions have been given of balaclava and inkerman. our space here will not allow of more than a brief account of some of the glorious deeds on those fields of victory. on october th, , the russians made a bold attempt to take balaclava, and the tale of their defeat is the immortal tale of two of the finest cavalry charges ever known in the history of war. immortalised in verse by tennyson, the "charge of the light brigade" is a deed bringing honour and glory for all time; yet the charge of the heavy brigade earlier on the same day was an affair even more deadly to the enemy and more responsible for the final victory. at the first attack of the russians the rd (sutherland) highlanders were called upon to face them and defend the foremost approach. eight squadrons of general scarlett's heavy brigade on the left wing were at once ordered to their assistance. of these the scots greys and inniskillings were diverted to check the advance of a body of russian cavalry , strong, which was descending from the hill into the valley. it all happened on the spur of the moment. as soon as scarlett became aware of the meaning of those , of the enemy he made up his mind in a flash. it was one of the intuitions that determine the fortune of war. "left wheel into line!" and the greys and inniskillings were ready. they saw the cause and understood the intention. they wheeled into line, and as they formed up with quick, cool decision, the russians paused, as if to calculate, some paces away. "charge!" and the greys and inniskillings, with scarlett at their head, thundered forward on the enemy. it was a gallant and almost desperate undertaking, for the two squadrons were greatly out-numbered by the opposing force; but it was so sudden, unexpected and headlong, that the russians were thrown into hesitation and scarcely knew on the spur of the moment the best way to meet it. after the terrible clash of meeting they could do no more than try to close in on the english, and in this, by dint of superior numbers, they must in the end have wiped our men out had it not been that in the very thick of it help came from several sides. first, small detachments of other "heavies" came up rapidly and fell upon the enclosing russians so fiercely that their plan was weakened. then a whole squadron of inniskillings from our right swept down on the enemy's left and completely frustrated its encircling movement. finally, from different quarters, the th and th dragoon guards and the royals came up like a whirlwind, and the result of it all was a fight of the wildest and most terrible kind. in the thick of it were scarlett and his two squadrons, and the enemy were cut up and swept away like chaff before the terrible onslaught within and without, until at last they broke and fled in utter confusion back over the crest of the hill. so, in glorious victory, ended the charge of the heavy brigade, a splendid feat of generalship and valour which, though unsung by laureates, nevertheless throws a tremendous weight of tradition into the spirit of the "heavies" who, with three of their regiments--the scots greys, and the th and th dragoon guards, are to-day repeating such deeds at the front without being aware that they are doing anything extraordinary. the charge of the light brigade is a matter that all the world knows while all the world wonders--in one sense, that it was ever undertaken, and, in another, that mortal flesh and blood could dare so desperate and unwarlike a deed at the behest of discipline and still succeed in turning it to glorious account. what happened is household reading, but who could be restrained from relating it, and who can refrain from reading it yet once more? the light brigade, with the th light dragoons and the th lancers in the first line, the th hussars in the second, and the th light dragoons and the th hussars in the third, was drawn up two deep as soon as the ambiguous order arrived. the heavy brigade was in readiness to support, with lord lucan commanding in person the greys and royals. a brief question as to the meaning of the order and a quick reply that it was no time to question, but merely to obey, and then the trumpet rang out for the charge. it had no uncertain sound and every man prepared to do and die as they went down the hill with lord cardigan at their head at a speed approaching twenty miles an hour. sheets of flame, and a hail of lead, leapt out upon their flanks from the russian infantry. captain nolan darted out across their front, shouting and waving his sword in the futile effort to explain that it was all a mistake. but their minds were made up and they did not heed or could not understand his gestures, at so swift a pace; and then, swifter still, a fragment of shell tore its way through nolan's heart and his horse wheeled and bore him, dead, but still upright, through the advancing ranks before he fell. meanwhile the brigade hurled forward, through the dense pall of smoke before the guns, into that dreadful impact which has shown the nations for ever what our heroes can do. those who passed between the shot and shell passed also between the guns, sabring the gunners as they went, until they launched upon the squadron beyond. then ensued a mighty conflict for the possession of the guns. while those in the first line fought fiercely with the enemy's cavalry the second and third lines thundered in and made their business plain. it was to silence the guns, and with all the courage of their kind they did it. their tracks could be traced next day on the field by the lines of dead whose heads were not left upon their bodies, or were cloven "from the nave to the chaps." the fight was unequal, but they did not seem to realise it, for they fought their way back with a persistency that sent an undying thrill through all the world. these heroes fought on, and would have done so to the last drop had it not been for a timely charge of the french chasseurs d'afrique upon the pressing hosts of the enemy. thus they were extricated--all that were left of them. "then they rode back"--some in formation. when they lined up in their original position and lord cardigan counted them in a glance, he said "men, it was a mad-brained trick, but it was no fault of mine." later, when the french general was asked his opinion, he replied, "it was magnificent, but it was not war." later still, when lord cardigan came home, queen victoria asked him simply, "where is my army?" yet, though critics may speak of "absolute inutility," and calculating militarists of "sheer waste of life," it still remains that the crowning glory of the light brigade, born that day at balaclava, has outlived all the survivors of that deathless fray, and will still live on when the sword of the conquered has been beaten once more into the ploughshare of peace. ask any man of the th hussars fighting at the front to-day what he thinks about the charge of the light brigade, and, whatever he says, he will stand an inch higher while saying it. and so it is with the nation. in these days, from the secretary for war to the latest recruit--even to the humblest non-combatant grimly enduring--we are greater, stronger, more whole-hearted for the memory of that glorious episode. it is far reaching. it is immortal. "when can their glory fade? oh! the wild charge they made! all the world wondered. honour the charge they made, honour the light brigade; noble six hundred!" ten days had elapsed since their defeat at balaclava when the russians planned an over-whelming attack on our besieging army. their objective was mount inkerman, their methods were secret, and their men , . the event shows that they hoped, by sending a strong force to the west of sevastopol and some , men to engage our army in the field, to carry inkerman, and so compel us to raise the siege. through the mists of the cold november morning the russians, stirred to the highest enthusiasm by the priests, advanced on inkerman, and a fight of the most desperate character ensued. our second division, sore pressed by overwhelming numbers, was suffering heavily, when, notwithstanding the fog, the enemy's strategy became apparent, and the rifle brigade were sent hurrying up from the field to their assistance. the th followed, and the battle round inkerman, now a trifle less unequal, eddied and swirled and locked, turning now in favour of one side and now the other. all sides belched flame and in turn were bespattered with lead. here a heap of russian slain, and there, through a rift of the mist, a fitful gleam of serried bayonets. the british broke ranks and formed squares, and, in this formation, every square found work of its own in repelling the fierce and sudden rushes of the enemy. a couple of -pounders were brought up and long gaps were hewn out of the deep ranks of the attacking host. small groups found antagonists by instinct in the mist and fought to a finish on their own. commanders became fighting-men, and every fighting-man his own commander. it rested with each and all who had in common, not only the fog, but a general purpose, to see that they kept their place between anything russian and the summit of inkerman; and, in the process of this, hand-to-hand combats as heroic as any in the trojan war were joined. "a series of dreadful deeds of daring," says davenport adams, "of sanguinary hand-to-hand fights, of despairing rallies, of desperate assaults in glens and valleys, in brush-wood and glades and remote dales, from which the conquerors issued only to engage fresh foes, till the old supremacy, so readily assailed, was again triumphant and the battalions of the czar gave way before our steady courage and the chivalrous fire of france." _wyman & sons ltd., printers, london and reading._ transcriber's note italic text is denoted by _underscores_. obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within the text and consultation of external sources. more detail can be found at the end of the book. ten years in india, and three years in south africa, _in the_ cape corps levies. ten years in india, in the th queen's lancers. and three years in south africa, in the cape corps levies. first afghan campaign. the maharatta war. the sheik war. including battles of ghuznee, cabul, maharajpoor, buddewal, aliwal, sobraon, and kaffir war of - . replete with anecdotes--incidents inseparable from military life--manners and customs of the several indian races, mahomedans, hindoos and kaffir tribes--tales of elephant hunting, etc., etc. by w. j. d. gould, _formerly sergt. th queen's lancers, "the terror of india," afterwards lieut. cape european levies._ toronto: hunter, rose & company, wellington st. mdccclxxx. [illustration: (publisher's colophone.)] entered according to the act of the parliament in canada, in the year one thousand eight hundred and eighty, by w. j. d. gould, in the office of the minister of agriculture. to his excellency, the right honourable john douglas sutherland campbell, k.t., k.c.m.g. marquis of lorne, governor-general of the dominion of canada, &c., &c., &c. this work is dedicated by the author, who, as he has passed the meredian, and is now approaching the limit of his earthly existence, looks back with feelings of pride, on the humble part he took, as one of the old th queen's lancers, in all the memorable engagements in which they participated in india, and not the least of all does he feel the honour conferred in thus granting leave to issue the work under such distinguished patronage. toronto, ontario, . [illustration: (vignette)] preface. the most pleasant memories of my boyhood are clustered around the old family fireplace, in our home in brighton, england, when my father, gathering us all around him, with occasionally a few intimate friends, recounted such tales of war as often made me desire i was a man at once, in order that i might there and then enrol myself as one of my country's defenders. he had served, i believe, with distinction, in the tenth royal hussars, as an officer, both under sir john moore, and the iron duke. he was present at the retreat on corunna, and, as the old man touchingly gave that narrative, i well remember the big tears course down his cheeks, losing all control of himself, his utterances almost ceasing when he pictured the hour when his heart-broken comrades, "buried him darkly, at dead of night." this was not all, however. rising to a pitch of the greatest excitement, his language grew bolder and more fierce as he progressed, bringing us all through salamanca, talavera, duoro, orthes, with the iron duke, down to the "king-making victory,"--waterloo. he may have been too fond of dwelling on his own exploits--the fierce charge on squares--the hand to hand encounters--sabreing this one and then that one--for, as the night's entertainment closed, for such it was considered, his old arm chair would be many yards away from its original position, driven by force of arms and legs, depicting this cut at a trooper's head, that point at a breast, this guard from an intended cleaver, as he called it, and i have often since thought, how wise my mother was in her forethought to hide away his sword at such times, for i verily believe, so forgetful was he on those occasions, some damage would be done to arms or legs, in his enthusiasm of description. it is not to be wondered at, this early training though unintended on his part, had its effect on his son in after life. intended for the profession of a land surveyor, i could brook nothing short of following in his footsteps. the scenes plainly set forth in this narrative occurred mostly in india, during the first afghan war, in , the maharatta war, and the subsequent war in the punjaub, from to , trying times to the army in india. that country is so full of study, in its ancient buildings, mosques, temples, shrines, and manners and customs, that, i have only cursorily glanced at them, and only when positions and incidents are necessary for the full understanding of my movements, i have no doubt, however, that, by a careful perusal of the whole much interest will be created, and more sympathy excited for the men, who, careless of all else, ventured life to uphold the honour of dear old england. in some cases, war is too often employed to further ambition, or in adding some coveted spot to an already overgrown empire. with this, the soldier has nothing to do. the english soldier has been often pitted against great odds, and as there is no retreating in our army, but "to do or die," much more interest centres around him than a soldier of any other country. kind reader, may i ask you to follow me through, while i endeavour to picture to you such battles as ghuznee and cabul, maharajpoor and buddewal, aliwal and sobraon; and i am sure you will be convinced, as was the old king of delhi, that men who carried the red cross banner through such actions as these, were really, as he dubbed my old corps, the sixteenth queen's royal lancers, afterwards, "the pride of england, and the terror of india." toronto, ont., . [illustration: (vignette)] [illustration: (vignette)] contents. chapter i. sixteenth queen's lancers--regiment in india--gravesend--scenes _en route_--embark on board _lord exmouth_--sprung a leak--plymouth sound--passage--passing the line--father neptune--cape de verde islands--becalmed--fishing--cape of good hope--albatrosses--pass st. paul and amsterdam--storm--isle of fraun--sandhead--hooghly--fort william--view of calcutta--disembark--chinasura garden reach--dutch fort--cholera--orders for cawnpore--up ganges in boats--typhoon--swamped--loss of a lady--scenery along the river--benares, the holy city--allahabad--cawnpore--night marching--camp--description of large banyan tree--meerat--regiment--captain havelock--war rumours chapter ii. dost mahomet usurps the throne of afghanistan--meerut division ordered to assemble five miles from delhi--the king inspects our army--pass through maharajah rimjut sing's country--the punjaub--sir h. vane--hindoo koosh--general john keane--cross the attack--sufferings on the sandy plain--valley of shaul--entrance to bolam pass--lieut. imvariety--candahar--crowning shah-soojah--through the pass--first sight of dost's army--battle of ghuznee--storming--col. sale--citadel sacked--feelings after battle--natives--orders received for cabul--march--cabul camp opposite city--enter--supposed some of the lost tribes of israel--proof--affecting scene at the death of colonel arnold--finding of two old tombstones with date --russian ambition--elphinstone left to protect shah-soojah--back to india through the kyber, swarming with kyberees--dost and his commanders prisoners with us--general avetavela escorts us through peshwa--punishment of robbers--crossing the boundary--meerut--memorial chapter iii. native sobriety and european drunkenness--hindoo mahoram feast ceremony--native habits--shooting sandgeese, ducks, parrots, monkeys--report of death of shah-soojah--akbar khan assumes the government--general elphinstone retires--mr. mcnaughton killed--massacre in guddulock pass by akbar khan-- th foot cut to pieces--a few escape to jellelabad--colonel denny--major havelock--colonel sale attacks akbar--denny killed--havelock in command--general pollock pushes on from bengal--doctor brydon--his miraculous escape through the pass--general nott ordered to ghuznee--pollock reinforces sale--lord auckland succeeded by lord ellenborough--the gates of the temple of somnuth--the maharajah of lahore pays his respects to lord ellenborough--durbar at delhi--review before the king and indian princes--meerut again--my comrade jaco--the spaniel and jaco chapter iv. rio scinde having died, his throne usurped by the rannie or queen of gwalior--ordered to join lord gough's army at agra--the palace of agra--the ancient seat of the moguls of delhi--lord ellenborough rewarding pollock and nott--the targ or marble tomb of akbar's favourite daughter--march through the country of the ryots--grain-fields--religious superstition--the white bull--women--the chumble river crossed--no enemy in sight--nature of ground before maharajpoor--christmas morning--general grey and his division to arrive at gwalior--disposition of troops--march to battle--wheat-shocks filled with sharpshooters--battle--push on to within fifteen miles of gwalior--the raumi comes out to meet us--unconditional surrender--gwalior a formidable place--the queen and her army surrenders--grey joins us rd january--reinstatement of the young king--grand review--incident on a shooting excursion--"bob, don't go, bob, don't go"--break up camp, rd february--ordered back to meerut--passage of the chumble--frightened game--a chase with a stag--through agra and delhi to meerut chapter v. old companionship at meerut--general arbuthnot and the th--grand turn out--a bet won-- th leave for home-- th lancers for umballa--natives with tattoo bring in fruit and vegetables--description of the mango--sedanna--the begum or queen, a pensioner of the company--something of her life--persuades the rajah to fly--feigning assassination caused him to stab himself--proclaimed queen by her army--marries a french adventurer--visit to our camp--her palace--rumours of an invasion of our territory by the shieks near ferozepoor--lord gough at umballa--news from the punjaub--the rannie or queen had dethroned dulep sing--ordered to punjaub--sketch of the sing dynasty--three french officers revolutionize the army and bring under the french model--they possess the whole of the punjaub peshwa--an eye on bengal--advised to become allies--treaty with lord auckland--the queen makes away with the three eldest sons--her paramour, lal sing--confines the youngest in the harem--lord gough at mudkee sir r. sale killed--ferusha-- th and nd foot--ignorance at meerut of all their movements--march on the sutledge--sad evidences _en route_ of late havoc chapter vi. hureka gaut--sir harry smith ordered to intercept rungour sing--joined by th foot--march--view of buddural--opened fire-- th to hold ground while infantry push on--too weak to fight yet--baggage cut off--some of st foot made prisoners--treatment of their sergeant by the enemy--push into loodianna--news of their retreat--ordered to intercept--arrival at fort--harem--finding two bags of rupees--reinforced and advance--order of troops--battle of aliwal commenced--sir harry's telescope cut in two--"lancers, three cheers for our queen"--charge--a square of guards--corporal newsom--bravery--killed--green flag in his hand--"immortalized th"--fearful loss--join another squadron--pursuit to river--destruction--wounded to village--march to join lord gough--two hundred cannon belching together--sobraon th february--description of battle--british flag planted--the bridge blown up--charge the entrenchments--victory and end of sikh war--losses--labour--chiefs bring out the young maharajah--reception in lord hardinge's marquee--terms--crowning the young king--proud sikhs--retort on our sepoys chapter vii. sir h. lawrence--orders for home--re-cross sutledge--jerosha--scenes of previous engagement--meerut--leave for calcutta--down ganges--col. cureton's farewell--dum dum--calcutta, city, grand ball--sights--embark for home--bay of bengal--ascension--st. helena--doru cliffs--boats coming off--relatives--march to canterbury--furlough--london--meet sisters and mother--deal--battle--anniversary--buckingham palace--reviewed by her majesty--claim discharge--causes--take ship for south africa chapter viii. the religion of the hindoos--castes--brahmins--kshatriyas--vaisyas--sudras--sub-division by mixed marriages--the triune godhead: brahma the centre, vishnu the preserver or sustainer, and siva, the destroyer--the hindoo pantheon--brahmin place of worship--the sacred cow--transmigration of souls--degrees of punishment for various sins--the fate of the murderer, the adulterer, the unmerciful chapter ix. delhi the ancient capital of the mogul empire--general description, population, &c.--the king's palace--embattled walls and guns--martello towers--jumna musjeed, or chief mosque--the tombs of the humayoon, and of sefjar jung--the shelima gardens--the ancient patons, or afghan conquerors of india--the celebrated cattab minar--the tomb of humayoon--the aqueduct of alikhan--college for orientals and europeans chapter x. cape of good hope--first sight of--inhabitants--descent and other particulars--sir harry again--sandicea in rebellion--war rumours--join a volunteer corps--off for frontier--east london--army at fort william--join them--gazetted lieutenant--the jungle--kaffir women-- rd regiment--arrangements--enter the gaika tribe country--the huts--the kraal-- rd, th and th lancers--general somerset--fort beaufort--colonel fordyce shot--buffalo post--capture cattle--pursuit of kaffirs--sardillas' horse shot--bridle neck bush--time-expired men--back to recruit--the hottentot--east london again chapter xi. transferred to fingoe service--fingoe character--ordered to kye river--chief krielle--colonel eyre--through the bush--the chief's position--battered by big guns--cattle captured--on return march--harassed by enemy--one month on march bring in head--sir harry called home--sir george cathcart--sandilla surrendered--chief moshusha--attack his stronghold--surrenders--back to fort william--disbanded--off on elephant hunt--provisions for--plan to capture--kill four--trading with chiefs and their wives--precautions against lions--elephant's spoor--excursion often fatal--back to grahamstown--stiles' hotel chapter xii. west to clanwilliam--mr. shaw--productions of farm--back to the cape--open an hotel--pleasures of cape life--ships put in for australia--imports--market day--arrangements--waggons--fish--lobsters--off to port elizabeth--whale fishing--sea elephants--manner of killing--the penguin--habits of the bird--back to the cape--english church at newlands--the bay--wreck of a baltimore vessel--loss of two children, captain's wife, and the mate--habits of hottentots--manner of living--a marriage--a present and its return--loss in business by partner absconding--leave the cape--east india docks--buckinghamshire--relatives at home--station master--accident detailed--near rugby--exonerated and promoted--liverpool--brighton--to canada--farewell address [illustration: (vignette)] ten years in india. chapter i. sixteenth queen's lancers--regiment in india--gravesend--scenes _en route_--embark on board _lord exmouth_--sprung a leak--plymouth sound--passage--passing the line--father neptune--cape de verde islands--becalmed--fishing--cape of good hope--albatrosses--pass st. paul and amsterdam--storm--isle of fraun--sandhead--hooghly--fort william--view of calcutta--disembark--chinasura garden reach--dutch fort--cholera--orders for cawnpore--up ganges in boats--typhoon--swamped--loss of a lady--scenery along the river--benares, the holy city--allahabad--cawnpore--night marching--camp--description of large banyan tree--meerut--regiment--captain havelock--war rumors. though now fast approaching the valley we all must enter, i feel a certain degree of pride when i remember the saturday in november, eighteen hundred and thirty-seven, which made me one of her majesty's sixteenth queen's lancers. the regiment was then in india, and, as maidstone in kent was at that time the centre for all depôts whose corps were abroad, i was sent thither. i am not going to trouble the reader with all the minutiæ of drill, horse and foot, always necessary to make a man perfect for his profession, suffice, it was long and arduous, borne with pleasure, so as to get as quickly as possible ready for service abroad. for this purpose i joined, and for this i done my utmost to prepare. [sidenote: embark on board "lord exmouth."] in february, the following year, i, with members of my own and other corps, left maidstone for gravesend en route for calcutta. i need hardly detail any scenes which may have occurred in our progress to the port of embarkation. they are often witnessed in england, and once seen can never be forgotten. preceded by a band playing patriotic airs, brings to the windows and doors all the inhabitants on the line. the soldiers answer cheer with cheer, for their spirits must have vent, and they can read goodwill and godspeed on the faces of all the people they meet. at this time there was a rumour in england of approaching trouble in afghanistan. the people as they looked on us, seemed to understand this, and some may have been thinking, "poor fellows, how many of you will come back, but no matter, they are glad to go, and fight too." british soldiers always are; and in this, a draft for active service differs from those that are sent off in times of peace, when a man would be glad to skulk if he could get the chance. arrived at gravesend, we go aboard the _lord exmouth_ transport, and as the ship's bell announces the hour for weighing anchor, cheer after cheer bursts forth again from the men all along the docks, caught up by the sailors on the yards, and again by the crowd of spectators ashore, and the ship carries us out of port, away from the land which has seen thousands and thousands of heroes go forth to make britain what she is. the confusion for the while is very great, but with willing hands all soon get righted--the golden rule on board a troop ship is rigidly adhered to, "a place for everything, and everything in its place." all now settle down to life aboard. on the fifth day out, our ship in a fog struck a rock, sprung a leak, and we were obliged to put into plymouth sound; in three days all was again righted, and we started on our voyage. nearing the cape de verde islands, we pass the line, and as it may be interesting i will here give a description of the customary honours paid to old father neptune while passing the equator. all who had not crossed this imaginary line before, which, of course, in our case were few, had to be shaved, or pay a fine to father neptune. the boatswain acted as the redoubtable father; over the side under the bowsprit; he first challenges, then comes on board attended by his sea-nymphs, riding on a gun rigged for him; a board is placed over a large tub of sea-water; the men who have not paid their respects before--crossed the line--are ranged along the board, lathered with a tar brush, and shaved with an old iron hoop, then soused into the tub of salt water, amid roars of laughter. [sidenote: cape of good hope--storm.] passing cape de verde islands, the first land we saw for six weeks, we were becalmed--not a breath of wind, the heat in the tropics intense. we spent some of our time in fishing; we caught several beneta--a beautiful fish--and some dolphins. we now got a good breeze, rounded the cape of good hope far to the west, and entered the pacific ocean. here we encountered some rough weather, when calmed we caught many albatrosses with pork; this is a splendid bird, measuring eighteen feet from tip to tip of wing, all white, and strange to say, when they are brought on deck, they get giddy, and cannot fly, though free to do so. passing the barren, rocky islands of saint pauls and amsterdam, we approach the indian ocean. just before entering these waters, the sky had every appearance of a storm, and sure enough the day after we noticed the indication, we encountered a perfect hurricane, carrying away fore-mast, main and mizzen, long boat, our good cow and sheep, and seven pigs, leaving us a perfect wreck. this lasted two days and nights. we were drifted about one thousand miles away from land, but captain warren rigged jury masts, and the day after we sighted a french ship. after passing signals the captain promised to keep by us till we got to the mauritius. in five days we sighted the isle of france, here our vessel was overhauled, everything made right to enable us to continue our voyage. all went well until our arrival at the sandheads off the mouth of the hooghly river. here we signalled for a pilot, and soon made the hooghly, one of the many branches of the ganges. passing tiger island, many of the natives came off in dingies, almost naked, to see us. at first we supposed they were women, from having their hair tied up and fastened with a comb on the top of the head. diamond harbor was also passed, until we made fort william, where we anchored. just five months' sail from england. [sidenote: disembark--dutch fort.] when viewed from on board ship, calcutta, in the bright morning sun, presents a beautiful picture; the city rises high from the edge of the grand old river with imposing majesty. the marvellous line of architecture in every possible variety of form--countless numbers of temples, small and great, and over-topping these, fortress-looking stone and marble palaces--certainly nothing could be more unique than such a first glimpse under a bright sun, and blue sky, of forms so fantastic--brightest lights and shadows numberless; of balconies, verandahs, towers, cupolas, projections, recesses, galleries endless and undescribable; and again, the costume of the natives who came to see us, merchants, nabobs, chinese, parsees, people from bengal, bombay, madras, in fact from every place under the sun one would imagine. on the following day we disembarked, and proceeded to chinsura, about twelve miles along the river. this is a large fortress, built by the dutch. as we proceeded we saw the governor-general's palace, built of white marble. garden reach must be a most beautiful place to reside, with its villas on the banks, and delightful palaces, and cocoanut trees sloping to the water's edge. it is here generally the european merchants reside. we found the dutch fortress or barracks a most spacious building, with lofty rooms, each capable of holding one hundred men. the twenty-sixth cameronians, and part of the forty-ninth foot were here awaiting orders for china, and detachments of the third light dragoons, thirteenth and forty-fourth infantry, waiting orders, as we ourselves were also, to proceed up the country to join their respective regiments. [sidenote: scenery along the ganges.] while waiting at the fort, before proceeding to join the regiment, the cholera broke out among the troops, and for the time it lasted we suffered severely--as many as twenty falling victims in one day. in july we received orders to proceed up the ganges to cawnpore, embarking on the fifteenth in large boats with thatched roofs, looking like floating houses; each boat's crew consisting of seven sailors in charge of a jemida, or captain. i learned after these men were pressed from the surrounding villages, as many of them ran away, and, indeed, no wonder, for the work must have been very laborious, pulling by ropes along the bank, and at this season the current was all against them, as the river had lately overflowed its banks. nearing ghazapoor, we encountered one of those severe typhoons, so common, and which come on so suddenly in india. this one broke with terrific force, capsizing the boat i was in, and giving all hands a baptising in the raging river. the sergeant-major, his wife, and myself were washed to a sand bank. one young lady, going up the country to join her father, a captain in one of the regiments, was lost--we suppose, as the river was full of alligators, she was captured by one of them. the jamida and his crew we never could find; but suppose they ran away. the other boats had gone ahead, and as soon as i found my way clear--being a good swimmer, i shot out for the bank, ran along for more than a mile, until i reached the rest. they sent back aid and rescued the man and his wife. if this was to be my experience of the ganges, give me before it half a dozen ocean voyages. [sidenote: allahabad--cawnpore.] the beauty of the scenery along the ganges is hard to describe--fertile valleys innumerable, indigo plantations--here and there flocks of beautiful parrots; monkeys by the hundreds, capering about, particularly in the tarmarand trees, pulling and throwing cocoa-nuts about, and as we moored at night the trees would be swarmed, grimacing and yelling, such an unearthly noise--add to this, all around seemed spotted with fire from the innumerable fireflies, while the chorus the monkeys made, and the noise from the flocks of flying foxes, almost scares a stranger. as the face of the country alters, so the extent of the overflow can be best seen. in some places, where the land is low, five or six miles in breadth is covered with water; in others between high rocky banks, confine its course, and here the flow of water is very great, trying enough on the boats, and the unfortunate men pulling them. at benares we stayed one day. this is the holy city of the hindoos, as jerusalem to the jews, or as mecca to the mahommedan. this city contains from nine hundred to one thousand temples, and thousands of images of the many gods worshipped by its people. the highest ambition of the hindoo devotee is, although he may be tottering with age or sickness, and almost crawling on the earth through deformity, to visit the shrines at benares, and walk for fifty miles around its sacred territory. here they come from all parts of india, as it is considered a sure passport to glory to die within it. the temples have all their gods; some of them ugly looking monsters. the people prostrate themselves and strike a bell, which is in every one of them, and then depart. at certain great festivals, thousands assemble from the city on the banks of the river--a great bell is struck--horns are blowed by the priests, then these fanatics, thousands of them, men, women and children, rush headlong into the deep water, and hundreds are drowned. from benares we went to allahabad. here the waters of the jumna unite with the ganges. this is also considered a very sacred place; the water from here is taken to all parts of hindostan in bottles, as holy water. it was here lord clive gained such a decisive victory over the great mogul of delhi, as secured bengal to the east india company. from allahabad, we proceeded to cawnpore, where we arrived on the fifteenth of october. disembarking, we went into tents, and soon after joined the camp waiting for us. i merely rambled through this city to get some things at the bazaars. the goods were all exposed to view without shop-windows, as at home. the merchant sitting, tailor-fashion, on the boards. of money changers there was plenty; heaps of gold and silver coin on small tables. the sugar dealers, or rather confectioners, had large coppers boiling, making jillavies, a mixture of butter and sugar. there is also a goodly number of bungalos and gardens, residences of rich merchants. early in the morning, generally at three o'clock, when the march of troops commences, one is surprised at the number of animals required for the several conveyances. elephants and camels for tents and baggage; bullock hackerys for women and children. married soldiers are well provided for in india, a fund provided by lord clive allows every woman five, and every child three rupees per month, almost enough to keep them comfortable. the first day's march was over by eight o'clock in the morning, when tents were pitched, and breakfast prepared by black servants. after this, what time you don't want for rest may be spent as one chooses. the weather being intensely hot, we found shade under plenty of orange and mango trees, occasionally issuing from cover to shoot pigeon, or chase monkeys. birds of all plumage filled the air with their beautiful notes; the mocking bird was particularly favourable to us soldiers, as numbers of them followed us. we were now on our march to meerut, where the head quarters of my regiment were stationed, and i felt more than anxious till i joined them. on the fourth day from cawnpore we halted under a famous banyan tree, which on some previous occasion had shaded five thousand troops. this idea may seem preposterous; but when you take into consideration the length of time it has been growing and spreading, it seems simple enough, each branch on rising a certain height, drops, takes root again, rises again, and again drops, and so on for ages, until from the one parent root, branches and roots covered acres of ground. [sidenote: meerut--regiment--captain havelock.] meerut is at last reached on the th of november. this is a frontier station. the military cantonments were extended on an open plain three miles in length. the most beautiful barracks, like villa residences. the english church side by side with the theatre, standing between cavalry and infantry lines. here i found my regiment, and having acted as provost _en route_, i was introduced by captain havelock--afterwards general--who came out with us, to his brother charles, who was adjutant of our regiment. now commenced my service in india in earnest. what was rumoured in england proved here a fact, of an army being got ready for afghanistan. captain havelock left to join his regiment; all who had known him, and experienced his kindness on board, and on the march to this station, felt the parting much, as he was invariably kind and very good to all his men. [illustration: (vignette)] chapter ii. dost mahomet usurps the throne of afghanistan--meerut division ordered to assemble five miles from delhi--the king inspects our army--pass through maharajah rimjut sing's country--the punjaub--sir h. vane--hindoo koosh--general john keene--cross the attack--sufferings on the sandy plain--valley of shaul--entrance to bolam pass--lieut. imvariety--candahar--crowning shah-soojah--through the pass--first sight of dost's army--battle of ghuznee--storming--col. sale--citadel sacked--feelings after battle--natives--orders received for cabul--march--cabul camp opposite city--enter--supposed some of the lost tribes of israel--proof--affecting scene at the death of our colonel arnold--finding of two old tombstones with date --russian ambition--elphinstone left to protect shah-soojah--back to india through the kyber, swarming with kyberees--dost and his commanders prisoners with us--general avetavela escorts us through peshwa--punishment of robbers--crossing the boundary--meerut--memorial. [sidenote: meerut division.] the order for marching for active service at last came, and on the th november, we left meerut to join the force assembling under general sir henry vane, to proceed to afghanistan to replace shah-soojah on the throne usurped by dost mahomet. the force he was to have under him consisted of the entire meerut division--three brigades of cavalry--three of artillery--and three regiments of infantry--the th queen's lancers were commanded by colonel robert arnold, and were eight hundred strong. our route lay through the city of delhi, so famous in all indian annals--the city, beautiful as we passed through, must have been almost a paradise before being sacked and plundered by nider shah, the persian adventurer--he and his army are reported to have carried off one hundred and fifty camel loads of treasure, consisting of gold and silver--jewels and articles of great value. the principal street running through the city is called chan-de-la-gore, a stream of water dividing it all through, with orange and tamarand trees on each of its banks,--the bazaars were crowded with people, and goods for sale, chiefly jewellery, silverware, and in some, costly apparel, such as the gorgeous cashmere shawl, and elegant persian carpet. i must reserve a full description of delhi to another part of my experience. the army, under the commander-in-chief was to assemble on a plain five miles from delhi, and was to number thirty thousand men of all arms. to this rendezvous we marched. the following day we were reviewed before the king of delhi, he and his court could not help but be well pleased with the dashing fellows that passed before them, we then continued our march through the protected sikh states, until we arrived at the sutleg river, where we halted until a formal permission to proceed was secured from the maharaja runjiet sing in order to pass through his country, the punjaub. at this time the maharaja or king was very powerful, had a large army, with four french generals in his service--avitavula--ventura--la court and belasses. permission was granted to pass through to upper scinde. [sidenote: sufferings on the sandy plain.] at this distance of time, and looking back on the misery endured in that dreadful march. the country is very sandy--the heat is intense, and days without water. eventually, after much suffering we reached attack, or the upper waters of the indus near hyderabad. here we halted a while and refreshed, sir harry vane refusing to proceed through those sterile mountains of the hindoo koosh without strong reinforcements to keep his communications open with the rear. general sir john keene was ordered up with a force from bombay, consisting of the th light dragoons, accompanied by artillery and infantry. sir harry vane, through illness, not feeling able to continue in command, resigned, left for home, but died on the passage. crossing the attack river, on the th january, new horrors presented themselves thick and fast; the country still continued very sandy, in fact a desert, no appearance of anything around or ahead of us to instil a hope of comfort; again we had great suffering through want of water. before we proceeded far it was deemed advisable to send back the elephants, and as for the poor camels they dropped off by scores for lack of food, the tents and a great part of the baggage and forage had to be burnt, the men were attacked with dysentery in its worst form, and many died. this may be allowed was an auspicious commencement of my military life in india. did our men regret, or get faint-hearted?--no. did we think of home and all its comforts, and the little thought there of the endurance of her soldiers?--we did; but there was no such thing as repining--though we did think too much was expected. endurance has an end,--and that those who plan such designs, should be obliged to accompany the army through this country, and put up with, and be content with all we had to put up with, without a sign of discontent. [sidenote: candahar--crowning shah-soojah.] through much suffering we reached the valley of shaul, through beloochistan to the entrance of the bolan pass. this gradually rises to an elevation of something like , feet. it appears as if some convulsion of nature--and i have no doubt of it--split the mountain completely in two. at this time no doctor russell or archibald forbes ever thought of such a mad freak as to accompany an army--they are free to do so now, because perhaps, in many particulars the army is better equipped and provided for--comforts unknown to us, are supplied now--and so it should be--for the soldiers who fought for england half a century ago, must have been hardier, and possessed of greater endurance, to do as they did on hard rations, and often half rations, with less formidable arms, no possible comfort, and discipline almost carried to extremes. in passing through the valley we were obliged to dismount, and actually pull or drive our horses along, they were so used up. while camped in the pass, lieutenant inverrity strayed from his regiment, was surprised by a party of beloochees, and cut and hacked to pieces. after losing many horses and men, and having undergone much privation and suffering, we arrived at candahar, here we rested to somewhat recruit our health--procure fresh horses, and here we crowned shah-soojah. the rest we had here was very acceptable, and after all we endured on the sandy plains, and through the valley--the refreshment, plentiful here for the inner man--was in abundance--grapes and pears were very large, and vegetables without stint--the cabbage here is about the size of an ordinary wash-tub, very sweet and good. the inhabitants vied with each other to please us, as we were the first british troops they ever saw. the city, like all places of note in india, is very attractive, the houses flat-roofed--any woman you meet in the street all belong to the low caste, very heavily veiled--the high caste women are never seen out. on the th of june we broke up camp and started for ghuznee, our way lying through the bolan pass. as we approach, its appearance is formidable, the mountains at each side seem to reach to the clouds, they have an ascent of , feet. arriving at ghuznee on the st july, we observed on the hills, hadjie khan the commander of dost mahomet's army encamped with twenty thousand men. ghuznee is strongly fortified--cut out of solid rock, on the slopes of a hill, surrounded by a moat. as the enemy commenced firing on the nd with heavy shot, our commander thought better to move the camp back about two miles. [sidenote: battle of ghuznee--storming.] on the morning of the rd, we moved up at three o'clock, and got into position. one division of cavalry opposite the gate on the cabul road; one part of our force moved off to our left, to watch the enemy on the hills, and make a feint attack on their position on the opposite side, so as to draw their attention from us. we were occupied in placing batteries so as to command the gate; at the same time colonel thompson, of the engineers, was laying a chain cable to throw a bridge across the moat. when this was accomplished, a mine was laid under the stone buttresses, and at a quarter to six o'clock the mine was opening, and up went the gates with a terrific crash. the storming party, consisting of the th light infantry, under colonel robert sale; the nd or queen's, under sir thomas wiltshire; when the bugle sounded, commenced their attack under a heavy fire--the th had the honour of leading. the enemy every where made a terrific resistance. colonel sale was knocked off his horse and trampled upon, still he ordered the bugler to sound a retreat, instead of which, whether intentional or not, the advance was sounded. nothing could daunt the ardour and bravery of the men. they soon gained a footing inside, where hand to hand encounters was carried on in its most relentless form, and in half an hour, both regiments were firmly established inside the walls. by day light the british flag was mounted on the citadel, many of the enemy having thrown themselves therefrom, rather than surrender, to the moat below, a distance of feet. we were ordered to enter and seize the horses, which were running wildly without riders, which we did after some hard work, and brought them to the prize agent outside. we were annoyed, however, very much, through having to encounter the worst of firing, as many of the afghans popped at us from loop-holes and windows in every street of the city. when the sun rose on the hills the infantry could plainly be seen ascending the greatest heights of the citadel, far above the city; here they got into the bank, and loaded themselves with money. many of the enemy were trying to escape to the valley away on our left; these, and the force on the mountains, kept our troops in that direction busy. by o'clock, p.m., all was over, and ghuznee was in possession of the british. [sidenote: feelings after battle.] when all opposition ceased, and one went through the city, now filled with sounds of wailings, he cannot but be struck with the dreadful havoc war brings with it. this was my first general action, and although when in the heat of it, i felt no pity for any one, at least i cannot remember feeling so, still, when the desolation is complete, and you are met everywhere with its sad effects, property destroyed, mutilation of brutes, horses, camels, &c., dead, and writhing in pain from wounds; wounded men and women every where begging for mercy or succour, the dead piled all round, the most hardened must give way to sadness. shah-soojah, our newly crowned king, was busy on our right, hanging and shooting traitors, some of them leading chiefs who had fallen into his hands. the whole of the th was occupied in burying the dead, and on the following day hadjee kan came in, and gave up his sword, a beautiful one, the hilt studded with costly gems; for its possession the officers had a race, which was won by the th light dragoons. the horses captured, all of them valuable arab or turcoman were sold by auction, the proceeds appropriated as prize money. we halted here three weeks, sending out detachments to scour the country for dost mahomet's troops. during this time the inhabitants began to be much familiarized to us, and brought on all the supplies we required. we had much trouble, however, in striking bargains, as they do not speak hindoostanee; but this we did experience, their great liking for us, over the regular indian troops, our sepoys. on the nd february we received orders to prepare for an advance on cabul. colonel cureton was to proceed with two troops of the th lancers and three troops of heavy artillery as an advance, my troop was one of these. on the rd, our way lay through high rocky passes, these we had to ascend, not without great difficulty, and on the second day's advance, we came upon four guns planted so as to command a lead in the road. they were loaded, but abandoned. the artillery unloaded them, blowing up the timbrels, one of the men through accident having his arm blown off. our march through the gorges and passes was very tedious till we arrived at cabul, the capital. [sidenote: cabul--camp opposite city--enter.] as we approached, the inhabitants gathered to greet us, and a right hearty welcome we got, as we were the body guard of the king, and the first british soldiers they ever saw. encamping opposite the main gate, we were supplied with all the dainties of the city--milk, bread and fruit in any quantity. they were very kind, particularly to us horsemen, and would take no money in return. as we had two days before the headquarters with general keene would arrive, i had many a stroll through the city and the bazaars; but as cabul has come into great notoriety since i was there, and has been described over and over again, i will not enter into much detail. the inhabitants are mostly mahomedans, some armenians and hindoos, who are generally merchants. they strike one on first appearance with the jewish type of features, and it would not, perhaps, be risking too much to say they are descendants of one of the lost tribes of israel, for we read in the th chapter, st book of kings, that king solomon gave to king hiram, in exchange for wood brought to build the temple, twenty cities, and he called them the land of cabul unto this day. we found at that time plenty of russian money and goods, showing that that nation then, as lately, had an avaricious desire for possession of the country. the people are mostly of fair complexion, and the women are certainly very fine looking, of the circassian type. after the arrival of general keene, we commenced forming batteries and trenches. one sad occurrence overtook our regiment, which caused more profound regrets, more heart-felt sorrow, than anything else that could possibly befall us, and that was the death of our old esteemed colonel arnold. he was fully half a century in the army, loved his men as a father his children,--a splendid cavalry officer, six feet two inches high. feeling he could not live much longer, he desired to see his regiment before he died. his cot was brought out, he, having all the appearance of death, propped in it. the regiment was formed on foot, three deep. we then marched slowly past him, giving one sorrowful look, and that a long one, at our poor colonel. tears filled all eyes. the officers, as their troops passed, fell in at the side of the cot, and when all had passed through, his lips were constantly moving, seemingly muttering some farewell, he audibly exclaimed "my poor, dear fellows," fell back and expired. his remains were interred with great military and masonic honours in the moslem cemetery. [sidenote: elphinstone to protect shah-soojah.] while we remained at cabul, his grave was often visited, and many a deep regret was expressed over it. while looking about the many stones marking the place of the departed, i was struck with a stone erected to the memory of two english people, dated . how they came to cabul, or anything about them, no one could inform me. it was certainly an early period--nearly two centuries ago. the object of the expedition became now a matter with which every one was acquainted. shah-soojah, an ally of our government, was placed on the throne, to counteract russian ambition to our indian empire, russia at the time was engaged in war in circassia. towards the end of september, leaving general elphinstone with a small force to protect the king, the remainder of the troops, under sir john keene, left cabul on our march towards india, _via_ the guddulek and kyber passes, taking dost mahomet and his commander-in-chief as prisoners of war. the th lancers acting as body-guard, had also the care of the prisoners. the force now consisted of my regiment, two troops horse artillery, one regiment native infantry, with skinner's irregular horse. our route lay towards the gillum river; this our horses had to swim. colonel curston, now commanding the th, nearly lost his life. as his horse rolled over in the current, one of his men ran along the bank, and, although heavily booted and spurred, jumped in, caught him by the hair, and thus pulled him out. the first week in october we entered the kyber pass, and although the mountains on both sides swarmed with kyberees and ghysaltees, they made no hostile demonstration, and allowed us to pass. had there been any attempt at a rescue, we had previous orders to shoot the king, now captive, and his commander-in-chief. after a tedious march through the rugged pass, we reached the fort of jumrood, which stands at the mouth of the plains of peshwa, and the french general avetavela was governor of that district for the king of the panjaub. he came to meet us and pay his respects to sir john keene, and escort us through the province of peshwa. here we halted five days, during which time i saw thirty bodies hanging in trees, and was informed that was the punishment meted out by the french general to robbers, mostly hill tribe men. [sidenote: crossing the boundary--meerut.] the panjaub is a very fertile country, abounding in game, wild boar, deer and pea fowl. we killed no bullocks on our march, out of respect to the inhabitants, as they are mostly brahmins and worship the bull as sacred. we crossed the sutledge, the british boundary, and arrived at meerut in complete rags, horses and men worn and jaded; what clothes we had, patched with sheep and goat skin. we left just sixteen months before, in all the ardour of youth, bright scarlet and gold lace, now sad-looking spectacles--brown as mahogany, and faces covered with rough hair. our losses during that time were very great. besides our colonel, we left two hundred officers and men behind, almost all through hardship and fatigue. the loss during the campaign in horses alone was , , in camels , . on arriving at meerut we subscribed a week's pay each, had a handsome marble monument erected to our departed comrades in the churchyard. we now required some rest, and we had it. as the recruits from england were awaiting us, they relieved us from duty for awhile, and having a large amount of pay and battier money due us, we gave ourselves up to rest--recreation such as one can have in a hot country--and general enjoyment. the area of india is about , , square miles. from the northern extremity of the punjaub to cape cormoran in the south, it measures miles; its greatest breadth is about the same; its population is about , , . [sidenote: the prevailing religions.] the prevailing religions are buddhism, brahminism, and mahommedism. the first contains many excellent moral precepts and maxims, but practically it is a religion of atheism. the doctrines of merit teach its devotees to believe in the transmigration of souls. "if any man sin" it tells him to build a pagoda, or carve an idol, it threatens him with degradation into a soulless brute, it leaves him without hope, without a god in the world. brahminism is idolatry in its most debasing forms. it has three hundred millions of gods, but no creed; sun, moon, and stars are deified; sticks, stones, or a lump of clay smeared with red paint, are convertible into objects of superstitious reverence. the rites which it imposes are impure, and sensual. mahommedanism differs from the other two in that it is not idolatrous. it professes a reverence for the supreme being, but like all human systems of religion it is unsatisfactory, it recognizes no divine mediator between god and man; maintained by the sword, it exercises a cruel and despotic sway over the minds of its votaries, it is remorslessly intolerant and persecuting, deprives men of liberty, upholds slavery and polygamy, and degrades women to the level of the brutes. it is one of the most powerful anti-christian systems in the world, holding under its iron sway one hundred and seventy-six millions of the human race. a tradition prevails that christianity was first introduced by saint thomas the apostle. however that may be, when the portuguese arrived in india, a.d. , they found a large body of professing christians with upwards of a hundred churches, who traced their history for thirteen hundred years through a succession of bishops to the patriarch of antioch. the hindoos resisted all attempts of the portuguese priests to convert them to the roman catholic faith. "we are christians," said they, "and do not worship idols." many of them were seized and put to death as heretics. many missionaries went to india in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. but the east india company did not encourage the mission work, as they seemed to keep the natives ignorant of christianity, and by keeping the hindoos and mahomedans antagonistic to each other it aided them in their conquests and growing power. but recently a great many colleges have been built in bengal, bombay, and madras by rich parsee merchants, and the hindoo youth are deriving great benefit, and since steam has opened up the rapid passage and the voyage shortened through the suez canal they have more frequent intercourse with the european, his manners and customs. [illustration: (vignette)] [illustration: (vignette)] chapter iii. native sobriety and european drunkenness--hindoo mahoram feast ceremony--native habits--shooting sandgeese, ducks, parrots, monkeys--report of death of shah-soojah--akbar khan assumes the government--general elphinstone retires--mr. mcnaughton killed--massacre in guddulock pass by akbar khan-- th foot cut to pieces--a few escape to jellelabad--colonel denny--major havelock--colonel sale attacks akbar--denny killed--havelock in command--general pollock pushes on from bengal--doctor brydon--his miraculous escape through the pass--general nott ordered to ghuznee--pollock reinforces sale--lord auckland succeeded by lord ellenborough--the gates of the temple of somnuth--the maharajah of lahore pays his respects to lord ellenborough--durbar at delhi--review before the king and indian princes--meerut again--my comrade jaco--the spaniel and jaco. i have often been ashamed in india, when called a christian, to see an officer or a man under the influence of liquor. both mahomedans and hindoos are very abstemious--never touching anything that intoxicates. i had now more proof of this than at any other time, there being so many attendants allowed soldiers, indeed as many followers as men, i could well judge their aversion to drink. of all the native cooks, belt-wallas, scyses for horses, and grass-cutters, i never knew one to drink ask them, they grimace and turn away. during the time we were recruiting our strength the hindoos had a festival called the mahoram. they assemble by thousands from all parts, with richly dressed elephants and camels, and gorgeously dressed princes and nabobs. the common folk go through a sort of sham-fight with bladders. a large image made of wicker work and filled with combustibles is elevated some seventy feet high. two beautiful children are drawn in a car richly dressed by two sacred bulls. these children fire two arrows each at the image, and are then taken to the temple, and, as i was informed, sacrificed in the evening amid a great display of fire-works. [sidenote: shooting sand-geese, ducks, etc.] all the natives sleep during the great heat of the day, and are up all night around the fires made of horse and cow manure, which keep off mosquitoes. they make a horrid din, beating a drum called tum, tum, and singing, so that with the noise all through the bazaars, the drumming and the mosquito chorus, a foreigner has little rest. our men enjoyed plenty of shooting, sand-geese, ducks, parrots, and peacocks; although dangerous to shoot the latter, the hindoos holding them as sacred. we had almost everything to beguile our time; drill and field-days at early morning, besides a good library, ball-alley, racket, quoits, cricket, and a theatre, named the victoria. returning to quarters one evening, after a shooting excursion, and the day having been intensely hot, many were enjoying a cool nap on the cot outside the door of the camp. apart from all the rest, by himself, was an old crusty sergeant, nicknamed "old nick,"--a bath, there being plenty about for the use of the men, stood near him, and after a moment's consultation, as he snored away, we decided to play him a trick. our party being all of the same rank, (four sergeants) even if we were discovered, it would not be deemed so bad as if it were done by inferiors, but this we thought nothing of. lifting him very carefully, and so gently as not to disturb his heavy snoring, we conveyed our friend "old nick" to the bath, laid him evenly and gently as possible, looking round seeing each our way clear for a good run--let go, and soused he fell into the water. splutter, splutter, occasionally as we ran, a fierce yell and a curse. we were in bed in five minutes, in fact before he had time to properly shake himself, and although enquiry and enquiry was made, and a reward for the miscreants offered by himself, no one ever learned who did it for years after. we were not to remain long at peace, war broke out again on the death of shah-soojah. akbar khan had seized the reins of government of afghanistan, shot mr. mcnaughton, the agent, had prevailed on general elphinstone to retire, who was weak enough to do so, instead of holding his position until aid arrived; and as soon as akbar got him into the guddulock pass, commenced an indiscriminate massacre. the th regiment was almost cut to pieces; some were taken prisoners with the officers' wives, including lady sale; some few escaped to jellelabad, at the entrance of the kyber pass, where general sale, colonel denny, and major havelock were with the th light infantry. when the winter was far enough advanced to march, akbar wanted to attack sale, but he, not wishing to be caught, marched out and met him in battle, and fully routed him and his army. poor colonel denny being killed, havelock then assumed the command. [sidenote: doctor brydon--his miraculous escape.] in the early spring general pollock was pushed on with a force from bengal. before i proceed farther i will here give the following incident which occurred at the time of the massacre in the guddulock pass, in :-- when the slaughter was nearly complete, a doctor brydon endeavoured to escape; among the survivors was a native assistant, who, seeing brydon sorely pressed, called to him, saying, "doctor saib, i cannot possibly escape, i am dying of cold and hunger, take my pony and do the best you can for yourself." brydon tried to encourage him, but no, he was dying. brydon mounted, and through the confusion, forced his way to the front. reaching all safe, he found a group of mounted officers, who knowing they were just at the end of the pass where it opens on the plain where jellelabad stands, determined to make a bold push for life. seeing brydon on a wretched pony, they declared they could not wait for him, mounted as he was, and any delay would be sure to cause their immediate destruction. on they went, leaving brydon slowly toiling after them. the afghans saw the group advancing at full swing, met them and slew them every man, and thinking no one else was coming, went back to the hills; just then brydon jogged past unobserved. news of elphinstone's force was anxiously waited for at jellelabad. towards evening one man slowly riding a worn-out pony was descried at the entrance of the pass,--cavalry were immediately sent to bring him in--it was brydon. as he entered the gate he fell senseless from fatigue. when restoratives were applied, at least such as were at hand, he revived, and the first question he asked was about his pony, the pony that had saved his life--it was dead. brydon was with general sale during the gallant defence of jellelabad, and lived to take part in the defence of lucknow. [sidenote: gates of the temple of somnuth.] pollack pushed through the kyber pass to the relief of sale. another force under general nott marched from bombay towards ghuznee, to the relief of our troops hemmed in there--the two divisions were to meet at cabul as an avenging army. both pushed on as rapidly as possible, and after long and arduous marches, reached cabul, rescued the prisoners, and burnt the capital to the ground. general elphinstone having died, completely broken down through this sad disaster, lord auckland was called home, and lord ellenborough replaced him as governor-general of india. in january, , an army of observation was formed on the banks of the sutledge, to meet generals nott and pollock on their return through the kyber pass, bringing with them the gates of the temple of somnuth, from in front the mahomedan mosque, at ghuznee,--carried off eight hundred years before, on the conquest of india and subjugation of the hindoos--and now restored after that lapse of time by british valour, and thereby conciliating the original possessors of hindostan. these gates were made of sandal-wood, each one drawn on a waggon by twelve bullocks; they were also covered with crimson curtains fringed with gold. the maharajah of lahore came down with six thousand cavalry as an escort to pay his respects to lord ellenborough. we marched towards delhi on the first of february, through the protected sikh states. arriving at delhi we encamped on the race course. lord ellenborough had summoned all the rajahs and petty princes to meet him and the king at a durbar; along with the king of delhi was the rajah of burtpoor, the rajah of jypoor, the rajah of puttealea. all the indian nobility gave a grand dinner to the governor-general, lord gough, and all the british officers. a large place was built of wicker-work, covered with flags, banners, streamers, and variegated lamps; and tables were laid for five hundred guests; the service was of silver and gold. the governor-general and staff went down in three carriages, escorted by two troops th lancers--my troop happened to be one of them--when the cavalcade arrived, a royal salute was fired, and salvo after salvo almost shook the air; the crowd was so dense we could almost ride over turbaned heads. after dinner there was a grand presentation to lord ellenborough,--a gold salver full of jewels, two elephants, richly caparisoned, and four arab horses--then came such a display of fireworks as never has been equalled since. it was twelve p.m. before we started for camp. [sidenote: meerut again.] the day following all this display a grand field-day was held, in order to show these native princes the power of britain, and what good soldiers she boasted of. in all the movements, the troops sustained their traditional name; the th made a dashing charge, covering the infantry, who had fallen into square; we astonished the king and the several princes by the quickness of our movements, they calling us the lall goral wallas, or bullam wallas. we broke up in a few days afterwards, each regiment marching to their respective stations, the th back to meerut, where we arrived on the th of march. [sidenote: my comrade jaco.] i might have introduced to the reader before this an inseparable companion i had while in cantonments, and one who not only shared my bed and board, but one who, during many hours of serious thought and fretfulness about all at home, mother and sisters, made me laugh and forget what i had been thinking about a few moments before; this creature was jaco, my monkey; where he was born, or where he originally sprung from, or his race, i cannot tell. i am no darwinian, but positively, the amount of tact and knowledge displayed by jaco, often since has led me to consider our possible relationship well. i purchased jaco for a small sum from a native, intending, if he remained with me, to train him well and keep him as a companion; i took him to my quarters, and as a first lesson to teach him subjection and obedience, tied him to the handle of my trunk; here, i kept him sufficiently long, that, by kind treatment, i thought i had weaned him from any bad tricks he had learned; he, of course, got quite used to a sword, a carbine, and of my dress; i made him a nice-fitting scarlet jacket, blue pants, and a cap with gold lace, and, dear me, how i laughed to see my tiny mock soldier strutting about; this pleased him well. my comrade had a spaniel dog. jaco and the spaniel got quite friendly. this creature was also very biddable, and on both, my comrade and i commenced a series of drill, providing jaco with a wooden sword. in a short time they got so advanced, that on the word "mount," jaco would stride the spaniel, and away out with either of us to parade for guard mounting; this they continued to do, till mounting guard became an every-day's duty, creating a great amount of laughter, and they were never absent. if i happened to be tired, and lying down getting a little rest, jaco would jump on the table, make faces at himself in the glass, then, to annoy me, or get me up, as he knew he was disturbing me, get pen and ink, as he had seen me do, and destroy any paper that lay about with his scrawling; if i took no notice, and he found it was no use teasing me that way, he usually licked the pen, spitting out several times, made ugly faces, all the time looking at me, i pretending to sleep. i don't know that he had one bad habit, but thieving, and this he was expert at; if i had received a paper, or was sending one home, and left it on the table, nothing pleased poor jaco better than to make away with it. his usual plan was to leap on my table, watch me well for a time, to make sure i was asleep, he gently came on the bed, above my head, put his finger softly to my eyes and try to open them; this was done, i suppose, to see if i would stir, then with a bound away on the table, seize the package, and away to the woods, where he generally remained till night, when he quietly came back, getting into bed at my feet. jaco was a great pet all over the cantonment. i intended, if i had been fortunate enough in keeping him, to bring him home: he, however, often got me into blame for his thieving tricks, and one day returned to my tent with a broken arm; how he got it i could never make out; i applied splints, and he seemed to recover the use of it, but i fancied the pain drove him mad, for he went to the woods one day, and never came back. [illustration: (vignette)] [illustration: (vignette)] chapter iv. rio scinde having died, his throne usurped by the rannie or queen of gwalior--ordered to join lord gough's army at agra--the palace of agra--the ancient seat of the moguls of delhi--lord ellenborough rewarding pollock and nott--the targ or marble tomb of ackbar's favourite daughter--march through the country of the ryots--grain-fields--religious superstition--the white bull--women--the chumble river crossed--no enemy in sight--nature of ground before maharajpoor--christmas morning--general grey and his division to arrive at gwalior--disposition of troops--march to battle--wheat-shocks filled with sharpshooters--battle--push on to within fifteen miles of gwalior--the raumi comes out to meet us--unconditional surrender--gwalior a formidable place--the queen and her army surrender--grey joins us rd january--reinstatement of the young king--grand review--incident on a shooting excursion--"bob don't go, bob don't go"--break up camp, rd february--ordered back to meerut--passage of the chumble--frightened game--a chase with a stag--through agra and delhi to meerut. peace was not of long duration. the old king of rio scinde having died, the british government, by treaty with him, were bound to see his son established on his throne. it was now usurped by the rannie of gwalior, who deposed the rightful heir. the th lancers were ordered to join the army summoned to assemble at agra to meet the governor-general and lord gough, on the th november. the cawnpore division, under general grey, were moving up on the other side. the meerut division consisted of ourselves--three troops horse artillery, th and th regiments, three regiments of native infantry, a battery foot artillery, three companies sappers and miners. we were received by lord gough, who lately arrived from england as commander-in-chief, with sir harry smith as adjutant-general, and colonel havelock, my old friend, as persian interpreter. [sidenote: country of the ryots.] agra was at one time the summer residence of the moghul of delhi--it stands on the jumna river, whose waters lave the walls of the palace. on the marble slab in front of the throne, where in days gone by stood many a proud mahometan, when the rajpoots lorded over the conquered hindoos, stood lord ellenborough, representative of proud england, surrounded by her warriors and heroes of many a hard-fought battle, and knighted generals pollock and nott by her majesty's command for bravery. in agra also is the tomb or targ of the great and mighty ackbar's favourite daughter, built of white marble, and looked upon as one of the wonders of the world for its unsurpassing grandeur--it was erected years ago. under the immense dome are two slabs, covering the mausoleum, inlaid with precious stones. the dome is flanked by four marble minarets feet in height--the garden approaching the tomb is full of orange and lemon trees--the sacred lotus flower perfumes the air--every spot around it is sacred to the mahometan. the order to march was issued on the th of november. this is the most delightful time of the year in india--not so hot during the day--mornings and evenings lovely and cool. the country of the ryots through which we marched is certainly a beautiful one, judging at this time of the year. they are mostly hindoos, are quiet, harmless and industrious. it looked strange to us, now so near christmas, to see hundreds of acres of golden wheat ready for harvesting--no hedges or fencing here, but as far as the eye can reach one field of waving yellow, mixed with red poppy. the hindoos are firm believers in transmigration, consequently never eat any animal food. the brama or sacred bull, mostly white, with a hump on his shoulders, his head hung with garlands of flowers, is allowed to range where he likes, and is fed out of flour or sugar-barrels, and none dare molest him. the women are most degraded--never educated,--they are not supposed to possess souls--they never eat with men, and among the high caste they are not allowed to be seen by another man. after marriage, which is contracted when about twelve years of age, they are old and ugly when thirty is reached. when i have seen a group of these girls waiting with their lamps at the four corners of the road for the bridegroom, i have often thought of the parable of the ten virgins. [sidenote: the chumble river crossed.] our march was generally finished by nine in the morning. after guards and pickets have been placed, i have nearly always visited the nearest village, having learned some hindoostanee. i could make them understand. i always found them civil and kind, but afraid of soldiers, some europeans being very insulting, and even i have heard complaints of being robbed of fruit, poultry, or anything suitable to them. the followers of an indian army being all natives, but of course of different parts of india, are generally great thieves. naturally an army _en route_ is very destructive, so many animals to feed--elephants, camels, horses. the government profess to pay for everything used, especially if camped in a grain or cotton field. [sidenote: march to battle.] we arrived at the river chumble on th december, and moved as follows:-- th lancers in front, th following, up to their armpits in water, next the artillery, then the th, and so on. we had information before crossing that the enemy would probably oppose the landing, as they were in the neighbourhood, but we saw none of them. we were ordered to gallop to the front and reconnoitre. as we advanced about five miles we saw the enemy's camp at a distance between two villages. we halted allowing the column to come up. the ground here was very rough, and interspersed by ugly ravines. between us and them was a very deep nulla, with only two places to ford it, five miles apart. wet as we were from our recent fording the chumla, i had to go on in charge of the advance guard and remain all night. our baggage, or tents, not having come up--what was worse the commissariat had not arrived, and we felt hungry. the enemy's cavalry were reconnoitering on our front, and during the night a very strict watch was kept up. morning at last dawned, beautiful as weather could make it--christmas morning and all--and a pretty plight it found us in, hungry, wet clothes, and if we wanted to drink we had plenty muddy water. about four o'clock, p.m., i was ordered to mount again, take twenty men, and strengthen the outlying pickets. we had not taken off boots or clothes for four days, nor had the saddles been off the horses during the same time. i was further directed by the officer in charge of the picket, after i had reported to him, to take six troopers to the front as an extra look-out on the ford, patrolling myself between my post and the main picket every half-hour. about twelve at night a rocket went up from a village within our lines, and was answered immediately by a light from the enemy's camp. the village was at once surrounded, and every man in it made prisoners. i suffered fearfully that night, being so long in the saddle with wet trousers; my legs were as raw as a piece of beef. give me fighting--fair open fighting, at once--in preference to such torture. we waited here, without attacking, three days, expecting some of general grey's division, mainly from cawnpore, towards gwalior. on the night of the th we got orders quietly to turn out at o'clock in the morning, th december, to march without baggage or other incumbrance, with one day's cooked rations. we fell into line exactly to time, when lord gough with lord ellenborough and staff rode along the front, speaking words of encouragement to each corps. [sidenote: battle.] sir joseph thackwell, who had only one arm, commanded the light division, consisting of the th lancers, body guards, three troops horse artillery, outram's irregulars. the centre division was commanded by colonel vallient, comprised the th foot, two batteries foot artillery, two corps of native infantry, one company of engineers. the left division consisting of th foot, five native cavalry, two regiments native infantry, and one company of sappers under sir harry smith. each division crossed the ravine within one mile of each other. they were in position between three villages--maharajpoor in the centre, juna on the right, and chuna on the left. we marched until seven o'clock, when we halted. the enemy at once opened fire from their half-moon battery. nothing could be more welcome; we hurrahed several times and shouted lustily, "there goes the prize-money," showing, without doubt, the general feeling of our army,--there was no such thing as failure. the trumpeter now sounded for us "to horse, to horse," and away we went at a swinging trot to the front, preceded by quarter-master general churchill, as it is that officer's business to learn the position of an enemy, and the nature of the ground, we advanced in close column of troops. our route lay through a cotton plantation, and on nearing the enemy we were received by a discharge from a six-gun battery. a six-pound shot took my horse in the heart, and we both rolled over. i was extricated by some grenadiers of a native regiment just passing, much bruised. i was not long without a horse, as peppering had been going on by the advanced picket, a horse, minus the rider, fully accoutred, which had belonged to the enemy, passed. i seized it, and soon came up with my troop. we formed in line, in front of us being a field of wheat standing in shocks; these we found occupied by the enemy's sharp-shooters, quite concealed. a shot from one of these picked off general churchill; as he fell, colonel somerset, an aide, dismounted to assist him; he was nearly as unfortunate, as a shot from one of their batteries broke his leg, killing his horse on the spot--poor churchill died as he was being taken to the rear. the battle now became more fierce. the centre division, led by the th, under colonel vallient, charged, and at the point of the bayonet took the village of maharajpoor. just then, the enemy's cavalry were coming down like a dark cloud upon our guns, when the th, my regiment, and the body guards were ordered to charge; this we were quite prepared to do, as soldiers, at least so far as my experience teaches, do not like to be onviewers, or watchers. charge we did, but to our astonishment, as soon as they saw our movement, retreat was their order, and we afterwards heard they never stopped until they reached gwalior. at noon the battle was over, the enemy fled, leaving all their camp equipage, guns, and about six thousand dead on the field. their force was estimated , , while ours only numbered , , in having left , to protect our camp and hospital. our loss was , officers, rank and file. [sidenote: the queen surrenders.] the following day we pushed on, halting some fifteen miles from gwalior. here we camped for a time. the rannie, or queen, came down with a strong guard, four thousand cavalry, to pay her respects, and make terms of peace with lord ellenborough. he would not hear of any only an unconditional surrender. the day after the rannie's visit we marched on the capital, reaching gwalior about nine a.m. of all the fortified places ever i had seen, this was the most formidable. a large rock in the centre of an extensive plain, the city built in the middle, and so surrounded by the rocky wall, as to leave only one ascent, and that a zigzag one. the walls all round were loop-holed and bristled with cannon. our first thought was--we are done now. but, of course, engineering skill and brave hearts laugh at stone walls. all was got ready to storm, as if taken, it must be taken at a dash, and as is always the case, a flag of truce was despatched to warn of our intention of giving them one hour to choose between unconditional surrender or the consequence of a refusal. in half that time the ranee and her army marched out, a battalion of our infantry entered, and hoisted the british flag on the walls. we remained in gwalior until joined by general grey on january rd. this division had marched from cawnpore, and consisted of the th lancers, rd buffs, three regiments native infantry, brigades of artillery, and the th foot, under command of colonel anderson. they had been engaged with other portions of the enemy at punneah on the same day we were fighting at maharajpoor. on the th, the day following, the entire army was paraded to do honour to the young king, who had been reinstated on his throne, the ceremony being performed before all the people, in front of the city--and on the following day we were reviewed by lord gough, in presence of his majesty, lord ellenborough, and the king's ministers. in the governor-general's address of thanks to the army, he promised us a medal in shape of a star for the capture of gwalior, and the ranee, though now deposed, gave one crow of rupees. this was given directly, and a squadron of the th and one of the th lancers escorted it in bags, carried by fourteen camels, to the commander-in-chief's camp. in any part of india i have ever been, i have always seen plenty of game, but the territory of gwalior can certainly boast of more than any other. the gardens were laid out beautiful. fruit of every kind was abundant. the principal people here are half portuguese. [sidenote: "bob, don't go, bob, don't go."] the following incident occurred on one of my shooting excursions. three of us went out looking for pea-fowl, as they make a beautiful dish. we reached a mango grove, and sat under a tree. a stream of water ran a few yards away from us, beautiful in appearance to bathe in. robert prichard, a corporal in the regiment, one of us, took it into his head to bathe. i remonstrated with him, urging probably the presence of venomous snakes or serpents, very numerous in the bengal presidency. he would go, and go he did. my last words were: "bob, don't you go." as he started, immediately there came the same words--"bob, don't you go"--"bob, don't you go," again came more rapidly. bob did turn back rather afraid, still he persuaded himself he was no coward, away he went again, and again the same words came thick and fast, "bob, don't you go," "bob, don't you go." on looking up we discovered a number of brown birds, similar in appearance to thrushes, in the trees, and as we rose to leave the cry went on, "bob, don't you go," "bob, don't you go," but bob did bathe, and was bitten by a venomous snake, and died that evening. i have previously stated that the hindoos are very superstitious, and do not kill anything--not even the poisonous snake. this part of india is not much travelled over by europeans, and all sorts of dangerous reptiles and wild beasts live on undisturbed to kill man. the th lancers had by this time completed twenty-two years' service in india, and naturally enough, many looked forward for the order to bring them back to england. it was not to be yet, however, although we all thought that the th had come out to relieve us. on the third of february we broke up camp, and commenced and marched back to our several cantonments. on our way the time passed pleasantly enough. after camp-pitching for the day, if a village was within easy distance, i generally went thither, accompanied by some companion. generally the villagers will shy away when they get a glimpse of a soldier, they are afraid of being plundered, but the most reasonable excuse is, i think, to be found in their religion being insulted, at least here, for almost everything is sacred. their former rulers, the rajahs, plundered unmercifully, and allowed their men to commit the vilest of crimes. [sidenote: frightened game.] so full is this country of game as we neared the river chumble, where i had on my way up got such a severe wetting in crossing, as to fasten a severe cold on me for some days. one morning at sunrise, geese, duck, and other water-fowl rose off the water in such a large dense cloud as to darken the air, as if a thunder-storm were coming on. no one with us ever saw such a multitude. like every other living thing, they are never disturbed, but live on and multiply. no matter what our position in life--either high or low--or whatever our tastes for a variety of food, no men feel the loss of satisfying this desire more than soldiers on a campaign, always confined to the same diet. i have heard old soldiers say they remembered they had such an abhorrence for hard biscuit, and such an appetite for fresh bread, impossible to get at the time, that if a year's pay could get one fresh loaf, they would give it. we felt now something of this feeling, and all ranks longed for a change of some sort, either in bread or meat. here was a fine opportunity, and it was availed of to the full extent, as far as the animal food could do it. three of our officers, captain meek, lieutenant patterson, and the veterinary surgeon, respectively nicknamed--meek, the hair trunk; patterson, black jack; and the veterinary, hot-water jack--were sitting together engaged in mending their jackets and pants, one occasionally rising to feed the fire over which was pinioned on the sticks a leg of a stag or of mutton, i could not say which, and no doubt, as they felt hungry, anticipating a nice feed, when all of a sudden we were startled by shouts and hurrahs and roars of laughter. a dog had stolen unawares, when they were engaged in their tailoring, and making one bounce, seized the roasting limb, and away with him. the three, with jackets pants and flannels flying from their arms, after the poor hungry brute, shouting with all their might--"stop thief! stop thief!" it was relished after all, notwithstanding the extra handling and dog-bites it got. [sidenote: through agra and delhi to meerut.] after passing the river and ascending the hill on the opposite bank, we came suddenly on a herd of antelopes. so astonished did they seem, on perceiving horsemen, they actually stood staring at us, until nearing them, they started at a bound, some dashing through the ranks of our squadron. one of our men gave chase to a splendid buck, as he ran towards a village, near which we knew was a pond. the stag took to it; the man followed, having jumped off his horse, and seized him by the horns. the stag was the strongest, and dashed the man away in the water; still he held on until an officer coming on the scene, stabbed him, and, amid roars of laughter, the corporal emerged, covered with green slime and chick-weed. that day we had venison for twelve, the officers taking the rest. agra and delhi was at last reached, then meerut on the th march, having been five months on that campaign, and lost fifty men from the regiment. here we passed the hot season, from the middle of march to the beginning of may, as what are called the hot winds blow from eight in the morning till between four and five in the evening, no one in that time can stir out of doors--not even the natives can stand the scorching heat. the torment, the mosquitoes, are busy humming all this time. i have seen men almost blinded with their swollen faces; however, there is one relief, every soldier can have a native to fan him, and keep them off. another pest during this season is found in the numbers of jackalls who run in packs at night, and actually bold enough to get under the beds. [illustration: (vignette)] chapter v. old companionship at meerut--arbuthnot and the th--grand turn out--a bet won-- th leave for home-- th lancers for umballa--natives with tattoo bring in fruit, vegetables--description of the mango--sedanna--the begum or queen, a pensioner of the company--something of her life--persuades the rajah to fly--feigning assassination caused him to stab himself--proclaimed queen by her army--marries a french adventurer--visit to our camp--her palace--rumours of an invasion of our territory by the shieks near ferozepoor--lord gough at umballa--news from the punjaub--the rannie or queen had dethroned dulep sing--ordered to punjaub--sketch of the sing dynasty--three french officers revolutionize the army and bring it under the french model--they possess the whole of the punjaub peshwa--an eye on bengal--advised to become allies--treaty with lord auckland--the queen makes away with the three eldest sons--her paramour, lal sing--confines the youngest in the harem--lord gough at mudkee--sir r. sale killed--ferusha-- th and nd foot--ignorance at meerut of all their movements--march on the sutledge--sad evidences _en route_ of late havoc. [sidenote: general arbuthnot and the th.] old companionship of regiment is never forgotten in the service. we had beside us now in cantonment the fortieth foot, a corps that had served in times gone by with the th in the peninsular wars and at waterloo. they had now been four years in afghanistan, were present at kilat, gilzie and candahar. having plenty of money on hand, after our late campaign, we often fraternized with them, and indeed were boon companions as far as we could in the pleasures and enjoyments of camp life at meerut. dinners and parties, at which i am sorry to add much intoxication prevailed, was an every-day occurrence. so much was revelling carried on that on general arbuthnot coming to the station to assume command, and when at dinner with the colonel, the state of the regiment was the subject of discussion. this was the question, "what would you do, colonel, if your regiment was required to-morrow morning for immediate service; they are all drunk and wandering about anywhere." this matter was soon settled by a heavy wager--i suppose merely in name--by the colonel, who stated the regiment would be out at daylight in the morning--it was then ten o'clock--and if any man was absent, or should fall off his horse, the bet was forfeited. the adjutant, lieutenant dynon, gave orders at once to sound "boot and saddle," the regiment to turn out half-an-hour before daylight. the trumpeters did their duty, galloped all over the lines sounding the alarm; the men tumbled in from all directions. the hour named for the parade arrived--the regiment, complete, not a man absent, stood out on the plain awaiting the general and his staff. they, accompanied by a number of ladies, put in an appearance. the roll was called in front of them, and with the exception of ninety-seven men, invalids in hospital, every man of the corps was present. to test the regiment more thoroughly, twenty-four difficult movements were gone through at a gallop, then we advanced in review order, every horse covered with foam. the general, of course, could do nothing after losing his wager, and witnessing our splendid movements, but compliment us most highly. as we marched back to cantonments we were wildly cheered by native and european regiments, and as a reward we received from the colonel a few more days' leave for enjoyment. dinner parties and suppers commenced again, and continued well up to the time the fortieth were ordered to calcutta, to embark for england. [sidenote: th lancers for umballa.] in july the rainy season commences. it falls in torrents three weeks at a time, forming deep nullas or ravines, which make it difficult, indeed dangerous, to get about, and this lasts till after the middle of august. in november, the ninth lancers came up from cawnpore, and as we had not met them, or at least the two regiments had not been together since eighteen hundred and eighteen, what could be expected than that another fraternization as had taken place with the fortieth would be repeated. this i need hardly say occurred, and continued till the th marched for umballa. we now enter the months when fruit and vegetables get ripe, and many a visit we had from the natives to our camp, driving or rather leading their tattoos on poneys laden with luxurious fruit. the mango is here very plentiful, and it may be interesting to describe it, the most delicious fruit in the world. the tree is about the size of a large oak; the fruit, when ripe, is of a greenish yellow, with reddish cheeks, the skin, when removed, presents a sort of jelly; a small stone, the size of a peach stone, in the middle. we eat them out of a large pan, in which is first placed some cold water. we had also plentiful supplies of guava, custard fruit, plantain, bananna, and water-melon of the size of an english beer-barrel for three pice, or a penny. [sidenote: queen marries a french adventurer.] some five miles from meerut cantonments is a town called sedanna, where the begum or queen resided, who was once the monarch of this district, subject only to the once powerful mogul of delhi, but at this time a pensioner of the east india company. there is a curious story told of this extraordinary woman, and i will here give it. she was the favourite of a rajah who reigned some years back. she was instrumental in raising a revolt, and then urged him to fly, which he did. she, of course, accompanied him, but carried in a palanquin. while in this conveyance she pretended to stab herself, and screamed wildly. when the rajah heard it, thinking she had been assassinated--not a very uncommon thing in india--he plunged a poniard into his heart, and died on the spot. no sooner was the rajah dead than she jumped on a horse, galloped back, surrounded by her guards, collected the army, harangued them, saying she would now lead them to victory. they cheered. she did lead them against a powerful enemy, and by her perseverance--a second joan of arc--conquered. she was established in the favour of her army, who confirmed her queen. subsequently she married a french adventurer, sombra dyce, and made him general. he, being a roman catholic, converted her, at least nominally, built a chapel, which i have been in, and in which she had a tomb erected to the memory of the old rajah, her first husband. there is also another to that of sombra dyce, her second. she had two sons by her second marriage, who were always at law with the old east india company, claiming some possessions of their mother; but i could never learn the result, as the appeals were frequent to the home government. she was now getting old, but frequently came to our cantonment, as she was friendly with our colonel, and loved to see the th lancers. she has even been to our theatre, and whenever, in passing, she saw any children, always threw them handfuls of silver coin. a number of her people had embraced christianity, who were ministered to by a regular priest. whenever we strolled out to her palace we were received very kindly, were allowed the use of her billiard tables, as all the furniture was of european make, and many a good picnic we enjoyed in the mango grove of the palace. on sunday, the thirteenth november, , as we were marching from church, news soon spread that war had again broken out, and the meerut division were to make forced marches to join lord gough, who had pushed on from umballa, as the sikhs had crossed into our territory in large force near ferozepoor. the cawnpore and delhi divisions were also to move up in haste. this was astounding news to men so long in india as most of the th had been, but nevertheless all felt glad--in fact rejoiced--at the prospects of another good campaign, so eager were our men for it that the sick in hospital, such as were convalescent, would persuade the surgeon they were well enough, and begged to be let go with the regiment. [sidenote: sketch of the sing dynasty.] before starting, we had learned a civil war had broken out in the punjaub. the rannie had dethroned dulep sing, the rightful heir, the army was divided--one half for her, and the other against--and this state of things had been going on for several months; we then, the army of her majesty, as is always the case, had to set matters right. before entering upon any further particulars, a short history of the sing family will not be out of place. runjeit sing was the founder of the dynasty; he was a powerful chief, having conquered all the smaller chiefs around him, established himself as maha rajah at lahore. in time, two french officers came along from persia, soldiers of fortune, as such men are to be found everywhere, ready for anything as long as they get good pay. these men had served under the first napoleon. one of them offered to raise a regiment to imitate the old french imperial guards, and the other made similar offers to raise one of cavalry. the offer was accepted. both regiments were risen to the satisfaction of the rajah; he made the first a general, the second a colonel. to one, the general, he gave one of his daughters to wife. subsequently, another frenchman came into the county, named la court, and his services were accepted, so that between the three old french soldiers the rajah raised a powerful and well-equipped force; and having defeated a powerful neighbouring chief at rungier, or the seven-hilled city, he became master of the whole punjaub, or country of five rivers. after these successes he attacked the afghans, drove them out of pesheva, and took possession of the entrance of the kyber, where he built the fort alluded to previously in this work, called junrood. runjeit sing signifies, in their language, fierce lion. when he succeeded thus far in his conquests it became apparent he had an eye on bengal, and thought he could drive the british back to the sea. his french generals, however, told him different, advising him not to interfere with them, or he might lose all. craftiness, and perhaps fear, caused him to become an ally, as he made a treaty with lord auckland, signing it on the banks of the sutledge river, bringing very valuable presents to be sent to our queen. four sons survived him, named currick sing, nunihall sing, sheer sing, and dulep sing. the first three were easily made away with by assassination, by the favourite queen, who had the youngest, dulep, placed in the harem, where old runjeit had five hundred wives and concubines. having accomplished all this, she united the contending parties under her paramour, lal sing, meditating an attack upon the east india company territories. they assembled at the fort of umritsa seventy thousand strong, crossed the sutledge before our government were aware of their doings. [sidenote: lord gough at mudkee.] [sidenote: sad evidences of late havoc.] their first action was with lord gough, at mudkee, th december, , where he was encamped. the men, when surprised, were preparing their morning meal; they soon, however, got in fighting trim, some in their shirt-sleeves. the rd light dragoons, assisted by the fiftieth foot and others, gained a complete victory over them. it was here general sir r. sale got killed. lord gough pushed on that night, st december, and came on the main body encamped at ferusha, fought them all that day, nd, and but for a ruse would have been surely defeated. ammunition falling short, a troop of horse artillery galloped off to ferospoor for a supply. the enemy's cavalry, seeing them through a cloud of sand, imagined their retreat was being cut off, panic-stricken, they bolted, when the rd light dragoons and th native cavalry charged under a heavy fusilade from the infantry-- th and nd--completely routed them from their position. in this charge, colonel somerset, aide to lord gough, was killed. the meerut division knew nothing of all this until we arrived at muddkee on the st january, when the sights we met confirmed our suspicion. at first we came across dead camels, then, on approaching the village, several of our native regiment soldiers came out to greet us. a sad sight indeed--some bandaged almost from head to foot; arms and legs off. all left behind in the hurry to keep up with the enemy. on laying out our picket guard with the quarter-master general, as i was in the advanced guard, we came upon a heap of sand, out of which part of a man's hand projected; also, a little further on, part of a hand and wrist, with so much of the cuff of a coat as showed a th button. we, of course, performed the duty of burying all such, as the pursuing army had no time. making a reconnaisance with my captain, we entered a kind of park-like enclosure, and here we found traces of the fearful work of gough's engagement. men, horses, and camels lay in heaps unburied, vultures in hundreds feasting on them; none had been touched, all lay as they fell. the sikhs lay in heaps under their guns, the light dragoons as they fell from their horses, the tents of the blind half-hundred still standing, knapsacks around in all directions. the guns we secured, and fatigue parties performed the sickening duty of burying the dead. [illustration: (vignette)] [illustration: (vignette)] chapter vi. hureka gaut--sir harry smith ordered to intercept rungour sing--joined by th foot--march--view of buddural--opened fire-- th to hold ground while infantry push on--too weak to fight yet--baggage cut off--some of st foot made prisoners--treatment of their sergeant by the enemy--push into loodianna--news of their retreat--ordered to intercept--arrival at fort--harem--finding two bags of rupees--reinforced and advance--order of troops--battle of aliwal commenced--sir harry's telescope cut in two--"lancers, three cheers for our queen"--charge--a square of guards--corporal newsom--bravery--killed--green flag in his hand--"immortalized th"--fearful loss--join another squadron--pursuit to river--destruction--wounded to village--march to join lord gough--two hundred cannon belching together--sobraon th february--description of battle--british flag planted--the bridge blown up--charge the entrenchments--victory and end of sikh war--losses--labour--chiefs bring out the young maharajah--reception in lord hardinge's marquee--terms--crowning the young king--proud shieks--retort on our sepoys. [sidenote: joined by the th foot.] after this melancholy duty was performed, we pushed on to the sutledge river, to overtake lord gough, and on the th january reached hureka gaut, encamping on the right of his lordship's division. we lay here till the th, when general sir harry smith was ordered to intercept rungour sing, he having crossed the river higher up, and burnt loodianna, one of our stations. on the third day's march sir harry sent back for reinforcements, and the th lancers, with a troop of artillery, was sent to him. we made forced marches in order to overtake him, which we did at jugram; here we were joined by the th, having been pushed up from calcutta. on the evening of the th we received orders to leave all our tents and baggage; subsequently the order to take all was given, and we mounted at o'clock next morning, stopping at eight to roll our cloaks. as we were doing so, some of the look-out descried the enemy's cavalry. we remounted, and, as usual, i was sent on the advance picket. [sidenote: arrival at fort.] a large body of cavalry-men were moving in front, parallel with us. soon we made a sand-hill, and on going up it saw the fort heavily mounted with cannon, thousands of bayonets glittering in the morning sun. this was buddiwal, a village lying between us and it. we halted till the body of the regiment came up, when a battery opened on us. the st foot behind could scarcely travel up--the sand was so deep. sir harry rode to our colonel, telling him to keep ground with the artillery till all the infantry had passed on, as he did not intend to fight them that day, but would pass on to loodianna. they were , strong, we only about , . here was evidently some error, or some order neglected, for the baggage was too far in rear instead of being well up behind the column. as soon as these flying columns of cavalry saw the unprotected state of the baggage, they who had been seen moving parallel with us, dashed like a thick cloud, cut off our camels with the tents, bedding, money-chests, capturing also the guard of the st regiment, a sergeant and twelve men. that night was one of debauch over the spoils. they cruelly treated their prisoners. the sikh soldiers run a red-hot iron through the sergeant's body. this treatment they would all have received, but it came to the ears of their general who stopped it. we, pushing on, got to loodianna, and found great havoc had been committed. the barracks and mess-house had been burned, after the th left to join the army. what few troops we found there were our native soldiers, and they were shut up in the fort. here we remained till the rd, until some of our elephants with tents and baggage, who had escaped from the raid and gone a long way round, came up. on rd january, sir harry received intelligence; the enemy were in full retreat from the fort, and cavalry and horse artillery went off at a gallop to intercept them. sir harry was too late; when we got to the fort it was deserted--they had the start of us. ordered to dismount and enter the fort, we found they had burnt the bedding, money-chests and tents, taking with them all of value, and it was quite apparent they hurried away, fearing we would come down on them from loodianna. the town also bore the marks everywhere of a quick departure. on entering the palace, we found it undisturbed, profusely furnished with european furniture; and on going into one of the best rooms, my comrade and i heard some women scream. rushing to where the sound proceeded from--an adjacent room--we saw some of our native cavalry ill-treating two women--circassians--who had belonged to the rajah's harem. they were forcing their jewellery off them. on seeing two white soldiers, they ran to us. by persuasion, and at times by threats, they showed us where some money was hid. taking us into the seraglio, they pointed out a black stone near a fire stove. the floor of this apartment was made of marble, chequered black and white. on lifting the stone pointed out, we discovered two bags containing rupees. counting them in camp, one had three hundred, the other four hundred and fifty. the girls were beautiful circassian slaves, and could not have cost less than one thousand rupees each. they were much obliged to us, saying, "company dewoy, thank you, thank you." we had great fun that night in camp, appropriating anything found of use. we killed cows and sheep, made cakes, had plenty of milk, and, besides, the two young circassians attended on us. [sidenote: battle of aliwal.] reinforcements of infantry constantly arriving from lord gough, on the th we numbered , fighting men, and on the th we were to march to meet the enemy, who had re-crossed the sutledge, and added to their number , men, making them , in all. we marched in solid square; cavalry in front, then infantry, artillery in centre, and cavalry in rear. the enemy were in sight, as reported by our advance picket, at eight o'clock. as we got near, they moved out of camp, and deployed into line. the th lancers, with the th native cavalry and two troops of horse artillery, were ordered to the left. two regiments of native cavalry, with horse artillery and st and th foot in centre, all flanked by four regiments of native infantry. the enemy commenced the action at half-past eight, opening a heavy cannonade from the village of aliwal, their centre--their line reaching three miles from right to left. very soon the st and th stormed the village. colonel cureton, of the th, brigadier of cavalry, turned the enemy's left by a rapid movement of cavalry and artillery. on the right a large body of choice sikh troops were coming down through a wood to outflank us. on this being apparent, our left wing--the th lancers and the th native cavalry--charged, putting them to the route. i was acting as orderly to sir harry, and just where we stood a shell from the enemy, as it flew above us, burst overhead, a piece falling and cutting his telescope in two, as he took it from his eye. this seemingly vexed sir harry, for he immediately despatched me to major smyth, commanding the right wing, with orders to take that battery. as i delivered the order i fell in with my troop. in front was a battalion of the rajah's guards in square. major smyth shouted, "boys, three cheers for the queen."--"lancers charge." away we went as fast as horses could gallop, right through the square, and away to the battery of guns, sabering the gunners, and captured and spiked the guns. an incident is here worthy of recording. the square was just broken by a corporal named newsome, leaping his horse right into it. as he jumped he shouted, "here goes, boys; death or a commission!" unfortunately for the country, and the service, to which he was an ornament, he was killed, and when found, after the square was broken, he had nineteen bayonet stabs on his body, with the green standard of mahomet in the grasp of his hand. my lieutenant was wounded, and the cornet killed here, the sergeant-major severely wounded. we were separated from the wing. i gave the word "about," and as we came back, it was as bad as going to the front. the enemy were scattered, firing in every direction. our major fell from his horse wounded. him we brought to the rear, when we met the general, who shouted: "well done th, you have immortalized yourselves to-day." missing so many officers, he added: "where are your officers--all wounded or dead?" [sidenote: "immortalized th."] on being informed, he desired me to take the remnant of the troop and join the squadron going over the hill there, pointing them out. i had men out of . we joined the other squadron just in time; it was commanded by major beer, and was just about charging another square, enfiladed by artillery; having done so, a retreat of the whole enemy was the result. we followed in pursuit to the river; our guns cut their bridge of boats; the flying enemy took to the water--and such a sight!--men, horses, camels, artillery all swamping together. our gunners, in addition, shelling them from the shores. this was the last of glorious aliwal. we formed on the bank, cavalry and artillery. sir harry passed along our front as we gave a ringing cheer, his hat in hand. "men," said he, "it is i should cheer you, for you did the work. your queen and country shall know of it." then another ringer. and now for the melancholy part of the work. [sidenote: wounded to the village.] we had not tasted meat or drink since six o'clock in the morning; it was now evening. we had five miles to go over to collect the wounded, and bury the dead. the carnage was fearful; horses, dead and mutilated most fearfully, as they plunge very much when wounded. several were trying to get about on three legs; we killed these outright. where the fighting was close, as in square, men's bodies were thickest; wounded in all conceivable ways; jaws shot away; often heads; some disemboweled. but enough--it is not pleasant to remember, particularly some who were near comrades; we lost in all seventy-six officers and men killed, seventy-seven wounded, and one hundred and sixty horses. five thousand of the enemy had been killed, besides a number drowned in the river on the retreat. we captured fifty pieces of artillery and all their camp. it was laughable to see a man of the st lugging to his camp an elephant, by a piece of rope tied to his trunk, and another with three camels tied together. in the evening i was ordered to take some wounded to the hospital at the village, two miles back. on getting there, the wounded were laid out on straw down the centre street, the surgeons busy in their shirt sleeves amputating arms and legs by the light of torches. riding back in the dark we could plainly hear the groans of the wounded and dying sikhs; we could not help them, and even if we attempted, they have been known, even when almost dead, stretching out their hand and stabbing a sepoy or one of our own, who may have been near them. however, all of ours were collected; when we got back the army was preparing to bivouac for the night on the field. the following day was spent in preparing lists of wounded and killed, and seeing the former as comfortable as possible under cover of tents. on the th the wounded and the guns captured were sent to loodianna. during the charge of the th lancers through the squares of the imperial guards, a sergeant of my troop received a musket shot in the left side, and his horse also was shot dead. then he was attacked by four sikhs; he defended himself bravely with his sword, having cut down three. the fourth was about to finish him when a little ghoorka at a distance levelled his rifle and shot the foe, thus saving the sergeant. yet he died a few days after. these ghoorkas are small hill-tribe men. under the company there are three battalions, officered by british officers, and good soldiers they are, loyal and brave. they carry three formidable knives in the shape of a sickle, and they have been known to kill a bear or tiger single-handed. they are recruited from the tribes in the himalaya mountains beyond simla and nina tal. the officers and merchants, who reside on the hills during the hot season, keep a number of these small hill men as servants to carry the jompam, or fetch wood and water, each family dressing them in highland costume. they are very honest and industrious. numbers of them come in from the valleys with walnuts and other fruits for sale. [sidenote: march to join lord gough.] the scenery at the stations on the hills north of bengal is grand. simla and missuri, , feet above the sea level. the air is pure and bracing, far above the mountains tower to , feet. when the sun is setting in the west the view is splendid, as you see the glaciers reflecting a thousand different colours. then to look down into the valleys below, far below, the roads are cut around the sides of the hills, and you journey up from hill to hill, like going round so many sugar loaves. rose trees grow here to the size of oaks. the birds are of gorgeous plumage, such as the argus pheasant, the mango bird. the bantam fowl are numerous in the woods. strawberries and nectarines are in abundance, growing on the sides of the hills. the natives bring in numbers of leopard and bear skins, also bears' grease. butterflies are beautiful also; beetles of a large size, such as the elephant and stag beetle. i have made up cases of each that went at rupees or shillings. the mule is the only carrying animal who can travel round these roads with any safety. the ladies are conveyed in jampanns, by four natives, a sort of palanquin, which swings on a pole. all being arranged, the following day we marched to join lord gough, who with the main body are at hureka gaut. as we marched along the villagers generally welcomed us with salaams. [sidenote: battle of sobraon.] lord ellenborough had been succeeded as governor-general by lord hardinge. he, with general gough, come out to meet sir harry and his division. we halted, and both rode along our front, giving us great praise for our victory at aliwal on the th. we marched into camp, and occupied a position on the right of the army. here we waited five days, worried with picket and guard duty, waiting for the siege guns being brought from delhi by elephants. the enemy, we learned, were in a strong position, well fortified, a sort of half-moon, each horn resting on the sutledge, with a bridge of boats in their rear, either to bring up supplies with, or to retreat by--under the command of lall sing, the queen's favourite general. on the morning of the tenth of february we formed, an hour before daybreak, not a sound of trumpet or drum being heard. all was done silently. at daybreak our mortars opened the ball by sending shell into the enemy's position. at six we were answered, and over two hundred pieces of ordnance roared away on both sides. a thirty-two pound ball, spent, struck one of our elephants, and as it was the first we saw wounded, we could not help laughing--indeed, the entire army burst into laughter--though to laugh in such a scene seems almost incredible. he had been hit on the rump, and to see him cantering and galloping over that field, upsetting everything almost he came across was indeed a sight. on the same field a fox started between the two armies, and as the soldier's dog always follows him, one followed the fox, but from the confusion at the time i lost sight of them, though the fox stood some time confined, not knowing what way to get clear. at nine the infantry began their work by firing all along the line--the st ordered to charge at a break made by our guns. they did, and were repulsed by a heavy discharge of grape and canister. the th were then ordered to advance and take part, and in a short time both regiments, vieing with each other, made an entrance at the point of the bayonet, one of the st mounted on the breastwork with the british flag. it was completely perforated with shot, yet the man was charmed, for he was not touched. he afterwards got a commission. the th lancers with a battery of artillery, were ordered up to command the bridge. the battery put in red-hot shot and destroyed the bridge. the centre boat forming the bridge was filled with combustibles. it was their intention, had they to retreat, to draw us away after them, and then blow us up. now commenced hot work. we and the infantry got into their intrenched position. all fought like tigers, the sikhs disputed every inch of ground down to the river bank, and into it while they could stand. they fought till about two o'clock, when the battle was ours. the river was all bloody and choked with bodies now added to those that had by this time floated down from aliwal; and, strange, the water had risen two feet through the jamming caused by this obstruction. thus ended the battle of sobraon, and with it the sikh war of - . our loss was one hundred and fifty officers and eight hundred rank and file. general dick was killed. the enemy left , dead and wounded on the field. [sidenote: reception in lord hardinge's marquee.] our engineers, on the th of february, constructed a bridge. we crossed over and marched towards their capital, lahore. the country was in a deplorable state through the previous civil war. the agricultural and mercantile classes were ruined. as we neared the city, after a seven days' march, not knowing how we would be received, the principal chiefs and ministers made their appearance, bringing the young heir, dulep, a boy, with them, and to make terms with the governor-general they were received in his lordship's marquee, with a troop of the th and one of the th around inside the tent. they begged hard that the british flag should not float on the walls of lahore, when his lordship asked what compensation was to be had for the blood of his countrymen shed, when they, without provocation, invaded the company's territory, "yes," he added, without reply, "the flag of england shall float over your walls," he would crown the young maharajah and take the doab, the territory on the banks of the sutledge up to loodianna, as compensation for the expense such acts had entailed. on the st we marched on to the plain in front of the city, and encamped opposite the gate called delhi gate. the city is surrounded by high walls flanked by towers mounting one hundred guns of large calibre, the whole surrounded by a deep moat. the river ravie flows through the city. the most beautiful building was the seraglio, the residence of the rungeets, six hundred concubines. many a fair woman was in there at that time, mostly from circassia, captured by the turcoman horse, in their raids among the circassian villages, and brought to the fairs held in india every seven years for that purpose near the source of the ganges. [sidenote: departure of the french officers.] on the th of february the young maharajah was crowned in the presence of the british army and an immense throng of natives. the day following, lall sing came in with , of his troops and surrendered. they laid down their arms as they marched past us, our sepoys boasting they had defeated them. they retorted, saying, "no, you black pigs, but it was the europeans who had. the english were brave, and they had fought them well." the sikhs are a fine body of men--tall, good looking, and very proud. they had mostly been organized and drilled by french officers in rungeit sing's time, but after his death and the civil war commenced, the frenchmen left, crossing to the company's territories, some going home to france. it is certain avitavoolie took his wife, who was the daughter of the rungeit, and his daughter to paris, to have them educated. [illustration: (vignette)] [illustration: (vignette)] chapter vii. sir h. lawrence--orders for home--re-cross sutledge--jerosha--scenes of previous engagement--meerut--leave for calcutta--down ganges--col. cureton's farewell--dum dum--calcutta, city, grand ball--sights--embark for home--bay of bengal--ascension--st. helena--doru cliffs--boats coming off--relatives--march to canterbury--furlough--london--meet sisters and mother--deal--battle--anniversary--buckingham palace--reviewed by her majesty--claim discharge--causes--take ship for south africa. [sidenote: orders for home.] peace was proclaimed on the th march, and sir henry lawrence was appointed to remain as resident, with a few of our troops, to protect the young king. on the following day sir harry smith told us the commander-in-chief would now send us home, and volunteering would be opened for two regiments, the rd light dragoons and th lancers. any of us who chose might remain, however. under the influence of arrick, a mad drink, the th got one, and the rd got ninety, of our men. the remnant, with the st foot, left on the th of march for calcutta. before leaving, we were highly complimented by lords hardinge and gough, and wished a safe voyage. our bands struck up "home, sweet home," and i remember how sweet the very sound of that air seemed so far away from home,--when one thought of the dear old land, and those dearer still who were uncertain as to whether most of us were living or dead. [sidenote: calcutta. grand ball.] pushing on now, on a different errand, we re-crossed the well-known sutledge river, came to ferusha, where we fought on the nd and rd december, ; and, after pitching tents, rambled over the field, one we had left in hot pursuit of the enemy. words cannot be found to describe our horror on finding all around was still as death; not a living soul to be seen, the village completely deserted, heaps of men, horses and camels lying there for three months unburied; the infantry, just as they fell, clothed complete; the dragoons the same way accoutred and spurred; the horses and camels in the ditch just as they fell. we did as much as we could, and went on towards meerut, where we arrived on the nd may, being met by the band of the th light dragoons, who played us to the station. we were seven weeks from lahore. giving up our horses, we made all preparations for home by calcutta, miles from meerut. we now sold our library, distributing the proceeds, together with the benevolent and canteen fund, among the men. this, with our prize money, after being separately awarded, was sent to our army agents in london, to be drawn when we reached home. on the th of may we started on foot for gurmatesa gaut, on the ganges, just three days' march, where we were to take boats for calcutta. before embarking on the ganges, a despatch was received from lord gough appointing our colonel, cureton, adjutant-general of the army in bengal. he bade us a sorrowful good-bye, saying he came out with the regiment in , hoped to go home with them, but this promotion frustrated that. "all the honours i have," said he, "and all the promotions i have received, i attribute to the brave men of the th." all shook hands with him, some went so far as to embrace him, and tears were shed, for he was a father to his men. we had a strange voyage down the ganges, the water being low at this time of the year, and our men did almost as they pleased, so joyful were they at the prospect of going home. few officers accompanied us, as many went over land to england. sailing at night was dangerous, our boats were therefore moored; sandbars, stumps of immense trees, and an accumulation of rubbish met us everywhere. our time was generally passed shooting flying-foxes, monkeys, alligators. we as often shot dead bodies as living, the hindoos consigning all the dead to the waters of their goddess, ganga. we reached dum dum, twelve miles from calcutta, on th july, , and as the ship at calcutta was not ready, while she was getting so we took up quarters in the artillery barracks at this station. here we had a grand ball given by the citizens, and at which our newly-appointed colonel and a sergeant's wife made the only couple who came out with the regiment. we had all the grandees of calcutta up at it. every tree for miles was illuminated; dancing was kept up all night. at this ball i met a young friend, who had been a comrade of mine, when he was one of us, but who, fortunately, had got married to a wealthy heiress, and was now settled near calcutta, in a most beautiful mansion. i have introduced the reader before to calcutta, but it was only a bird's-eye view from on board ship; now, however, as i had leisure to visit it and walk through its streets, i may give a more detailed description of it. most of the wealthy people live outside, in the suburbs, such as the dum dum or barrackpoor road. the city itself covers an area of sixteen square miles, and has some fine streets; the principal ones, at each corner have stands, where you can hire a pallankeen for a rupee, or two shillings, a day, to go shopping or visiting; four waiters carry it, two in front and two behind. they are beautifully got up, lined with silk cushions and generally have a crimson blind. the old city is of bamboo structure, thatched roofs, mostly inhabited by the lower order of natives. in the city proper the buildings are large and handsome, built mostly of brick, some of stone and marble. the brick houses seem very old, as if they had been built at a very early period. it is quite common to see elephants, mostly bearing some wealthy rajah in his howda, georgeously attired, towards the water front. they are quite commonly used drawing heavy burdens, logs, &c. it is hardly credible, but they are so sagacious as to be used in bringing messages. i mean such as going alone for water. camels may be met in strings bringing goods from all points of india. in the evening, the mall of calcutta is the common cool resort. here you may see all the fashionables, and people from all parts of the earth. the bazaars are very numerous; in any of them you can purchase for a small sum any article you require. there are also some very fine hotels. [illustration: the monkey temple at benares.] [sidenote: embark for home.] [sidenote: march to canterbury.] on the th of august we marched to calcutta to embark, two hundred and eighty-seven men all told. this was the remnant of eight hundred who marched to the panjaub in . the hottest day ever known in india was the day we embarked. twelve men fell dead from the excess of heat; indeed, the authorities were blamed for ordering us out on such a day, on account of having some men who had been wounded, and a number of women and children on board. the captain put to sea at once, to avoid, if possible, any further sickness. on the th we got clear into the bay of bengal. the monsoons set in, and we had a succession of storms for three weeks. we cleared in good time point de galle; rounded cape of good hope in the beginning of october, and ran for st. helena. here we took in fresh water. a french man-of-war, with troops from the island of bourbon, anchored alongside of us. of course, we fraternized as well as we possibly could, but the associations connected with st. helena and england were not then as well smoothed down as now. the island stands alone like a large rock in mid-ocean. passing the island of ascension, nothing particular occurred till our arrival in the british channel, on rd december, . by daylight we looked on the land we loved, and saw patches of snow here and there, and as we had seen none for fifteen years, it was a sight we enjoyed. we felt all warmed up, and hearts beat high when we saw the white cliffs of dover. we waited off deal for a pilot, and being surrounded by bumboats, we found a difference in the desire to cheat with exorbitant prices for bread, butter or cheese, to what we had been used to by native indians. the ramsgate tug came off and took us to gravesend, where we arrived on the evening of the th. hundreds of boats put off, filled with relatives--mothers, sisters, brothers and old sweethearts--to welcome the living heroes, or hear some sad talk of the absent. the sight was heart-rending in some instances. one poor mother, hearing of her son having been killed at sobraon, threw herself into the water, frantic, and with difficulty was rescued. in the afternoon two war steamers took us aboard for herne bay, to save us the march, as our station was canterbury, and it was distant from the bay only seven miles. on landing, one of the men fell out, and actually knelt and kissed the ground, a bystander in the crowd saying, "bless his soul, how he loves the old sod;" and many came and shook hands, not only with him but with all within reach. omnibusses and waggons were ready for the sick, and women and children. we got leave to breakfast for a short time, and what a rush for the hotels. storming an enemy's fort was nothing to it. assembling at nine, we marched to canterbury. here, the mayor and corporation, accompanied by two bands, came to meet us. between laurel branches in profusion, music from two bands, crowds of ladies and gentlemen in carriages, citizens on foot shouting, huzzahing and handkerchief-waving, we got a right royal reception in the famous old city; and as the officers commanding considered it no use to close the gates, or attempt to confine us within walls, we were allowed two days' leave, to do as we pleased. [sidenote: "home, sweet home."] on the first of january i received my month's furlough. i started for london. the day was very cold and snowing; how pleasant for me, just home from the hottest spot on earth. a cab soon brought me to westminster, where my parents resided; i reached home at half-past eleven a.m. my sisters, when i left, were children, in those few years had grown women. one of them opened the door in answer to my knock, and fainted on seeing one of the th, not perhaps that she recognized me, as i was bronzed with the sun and heavily bearded. this brought my mother; dear old mother, how one does get fond of mother, when separated from her, and away, as i was in india, from her kind care. ah, mother, i remember you yet, though i am old now, as you fell into my arms, and almost swooned. my sisters had to remove her, till by the aid of restoratives they got her round; then, such a look, sadness and joy combined. it was me, though the many reports of the fearful suffering of my regiment, she could believe until she saw me herself, whether her eyes would ever see her son again. yes, mother, thy image is still--the dearest impressed on my heart, and the tablet so faithful--in death must be still ere a trace of that image departs. my father was, of course, rejoiced to see me, and so were all my old friends and acquaintances. the charges of aliwal and sobraon were in every one's mouth, and as i was the only man on leave near my home, i had many an enquiry how i felt, and how this and that was done. in this way, a month, the extent of my furlough, was not long in passing, and i had to rejoin my regiment. i might have stated before, i was in full charge of my troop all the way home; we had no officers, and i was the senior sergeant. the reader will therefore be as much surprised as i was, on joining my corps, to find the vacancy of troop serjeant-major filled by the promotion of a man from the depôt, without any fault whatever to me, as i was fully competent in every respect, but merely to please the whim of some depôt officer. i was very much stung to think i was the only serjeant left alive at aliwal, had brought my men home, and that one who had never crossed the english channel should be promoted over me. from canterbury we went to deal, as a riot was feared at the election. here we met our old comrades, the st foot, just home from india. in may, , we were ordered to brighton, in sussex. our route lay through battle, near hastings, where william the conqueror defeated harold, paying a visit to the abbey. here the king (harold) was buried; his tomb is over-grown with ivy. an ancient painting of the battle may be seen in the great hall, with two statues of saxon warriors on each side. we reached brighton on the seventh of may. in this fashionable watering-place we commemorated the second anniversary of aliwal with a grand ball, at which were the duke of wellington, prince albert, the officers of all the guards regiments, and the fashionables from the metropolis; the pavilion was filled on the occasion--twenty of our troopers, medal-men, lining the grand stairway. one entire regiment went to the theatre, where jenny lind sang. [sidenote: reviewed by her majesty.] fearing a chartist riot in london, at a great meeting to be held on kensington common, we were ordered up on the th april. we stopped two days, and then proceeded, three troops to ipswich, five to norwich. here we remained till the spring of , breaking young horses, and getting ready for a grand review by her majesty. in may we got the route for hounslow, one troop to kensington, to do royal escort duty. i had the honour of being one of the escort of her majesty on the th may, from nine-elms station to buckingham palace. on the th following, before the iron duke, prince albert, her majesty, and a host of the aristocracy, we paraded and went through a field-day, charging as we did at aliwal, and only stopped with the horses' heads over the carriage of her majesty. here, after the review, she pinned on our breasts the medals for the punjaub. not feeling exactly pleased as to the way i was treated, after many days' serious consideration, i determined to leave the regiment, as i could now claim a free discharge, having completed twelve years' service. i might have remained till my time of double service had expired, when i would be entitled to a pension. stung by seeing a man my serjeant-major who should not be, and knowing i had earned the step well, i applied for my discharge at once. the colonel met me with apologies and excuses, promising to recommend me for a commission, and so on, but feeling the position, if i did get it, would be more than i could manage, on the pay which i would have to support my rank on, i declined, and in time got what i asked for, leaving the corps almost heart-broken. [sidenote: take ship for south africa.] in july following i got the appointment of steward, east india united service club, in london, and entered upon those duties immediately. in june, , a gentleman whom i saw at the club was going to settle in south africa. he intended to breed horses, and had selected a large tract of land at georgetown, on the nysena river, for that purpose. with him i made an engagement, sailing on the good ship _devonshire_, on the th july, and as i was fortunate in india to arrive on the breaking out of hostilities, so the reader will find i was equally fortunate on reaching the cape, though a civilian, to find men were wanted to stem the insurrection and rebellious spirit of the kaffirs, which is portrayed in the next chapter. [illustration: (vignette)] [illustration: (vignette)] chapter viii. the religion of the hindoos--castes--brahmins--kshatriyas--vaisyas--sudras--sub-division by mixed marriages--the triune godhead: brahma the centre, vishnu the preserver or sustainer, and siva, the destroyer--the hindoo pantheon--brahmin place of worship--the sacred cow--transmigration of souls--degrees of punishment for various sins--the fate of the murderer, the adulterer, the unmerciful. before proceeding further in this work, it will be interesting to the reader to understand something of the religion, what it springs from, and the certain peculiarities in the intermixture of the several hindoo families, giving rise to the several castes and ranks to which each is born to, and in which they must continue, or progress by marriage in the higher scale when allowed by their code of laws. i have been to a great deal of trouble in procuring this information, as it is not found in many writings of that country, and will, therefore, be new to a great many. [sidenote: division of the hindoo races.] from the earliest period of which any records are extant, the hindoo races have been divided as a people into four distinct classes or castes, designated brahmins, kshatriyas, vaisyas and sudras, originating with the creation of the world. brahmins, according to their mythological creed, proceeding from the mouth of brahma, the creator, the chief person of their theological belief--his mission was to rule and instruct. he formed the caste distinguished by the name kshatriyas, which means sprung from the arms--of brahma: and this deity's duty was to protect. vaisyas, from his thighs; and the province allotted to this emanation of the deity was to trade, and cultivate the earth. sudra, the most abject, as produced from the feet of brahma, was doomed to be the servant or slave of the superior caste; the four forming the yet existing classes or castes of priests--soldiers, husbandmen or traders, and labourers. the division of these four classes are, however, extended; and in the fourteenth century b.c. the number of mixed classes recognized by their laws of menu had become very considerable. of these we may mention the classes which have sprung from the marriage of a man of the upper caste with a woman of an inferior class. st, murdhabhishicta, by a brahmin with a woman of the kshatriya class: his duty is to teach military exercises. nd, ambastha, by a brahmin from a woman of the vaisya class or caste: he is a medicine man. rd, nishadhu, by a brahmin from a woman of the sudra class: his occupation is to catch fish. th, mahishya, by a kshatriya from a woman of the vaisya class: his profession is music, astronomy and attendance on cattle. th, ugra, by a kshatriya from a woman of the sudra class: his duty, according to menu, is to kill or confine such animals as live in holes: he is also a bard or poet. th, carana, by a vaisya from a woman of the sudra class: he is an attendant on princes, or secretary. [sidenote: sub-division of the hindoo races.] the classes which have sprung from a marriage of a woman of the upper caste with a man of inferior caste is again sub-divided, and the offspring of such is considered inferior than the other, and also illegitimate. st, we will say sota, by a kshatriya from a woman of brahmin rank: his occupation is managing horses and driving carts. nd, vaidscha, by a vaisya from a woman of the brahmin class: his occupation is a waiter on women. rd, chandola, by a sudra from a woman of the brahmin class: he is regarded the most impure of the whole race, and his business is to handle dead bodies, execute animals, and to officiate in the most abject employment. th, mahada, by a vaisya from a kshatriya woman: his profession is, according to menu, travelling with merchandise; he is also an economist or bard. th, asygara, by a sudra from a woman of the vaisya class; he is a carpenter. and there is another class, kohatti, by a sudra from a kshatriya woman: his occupation is killing or confining animals who live in trees. there are also other classes descending in the scale of impurity from mixed marriages. one of those most known is that of pariahs; they are subject to labour of agriculture and to the filthiest duty of scavengers. with these there is no intercourse allowed, nor can one show the least sympathy for them, no matter how low or depressed they may be. [sidenote: hindoo deities.] the faith of these several castes centres in a triune godhead, brahma the centre, vishnu the preserver or sustainer, and siva the destroyer. brahma, the superior, always remains in holy solitude in the distance of the caste profound of measureless space, and is beyond the reach of superstition to profane by even ideal similitude; vishnu and siva are supposed to have been many times incarnate, and hence the imagination of the hindoo has clothed them with a variety of visible forms, and each has become a distinct deity, to whom worship is daily addressed. the hindoo pantheon also includes a host of inferior deities or divinities. nothing can be done without supernatural intervention, in consequence of which the elements, and every variety of animated nature, are placed under the immediate guardianship of one of the crowd of deities that throng the brahmanical heaven. the goodly company is further augmented by myriads of demi-gods, many of whom are of the most wretched description. thus, a little red paint smeared over a block of wood, a shapeless stone, or a lump of clay, makes it a deity, and a number of such monstrocities collected together indicate a brahmin place of worship, and invite to some act of worship as debasing in its nature as its object is monstrous in conception. among the animals which are the objects of hindoo worship or adoration, and one that i shall have to refer to often, is the cow. this is the most sacred in most parts of india. the cow is frequently termed the "mother of the gods," and many are kept by the well-to-do hindoo for the sole purpose of worship. circumstances are, however, at times even stronger than superstition itself, and then the poor, who derive their chief support from the labour of this useful animal so venerated, do not hesitate to work it hard and to feed it very sparingly. besides the peculiar notions entertained by the hindoo relative to superior beings and the worship to be paid them, those that refer to a future state form a prominent part of their theological system. here the doctrine of transmigration of souls is a distinguishing feature. no people appear to have formed loftier ideas of its nature independently of its connection with matter. they carry the idea to so extravagant a height as to suppose the souls of both men and brute animals to have been originally portions of the supreme mind, and consequently as participating in its eternity. the highest destiny to which a mortal can aspire is therefore reabsorbed into the divine essence, where the hindoo's idea of supreme felicity receives its perfection, and the mind reposes on an unruffled sea of bliss. but to such a state only the most rigid ascetics who have spent a life of self-inflicted torture can aspire, the best deeds of an ordinary life cannot excite a hope of raising their author higher than one of the various heavens over which their multiplied divinities separately preside. but few are allowed to cherish the expectation of ascending to even the lowest of these, and the great body of believers have only to anticipate the consolations that flow from the transmigration of souls. [sidenote: punishments for sins.] as regards punishment, a series have been devised to suit the capabilities of the people and the irregular propensities of life. the institutes of menu affirm that he who steals grain in the husk becomes a rat--should he take water, he is to be a diver--if honey, a large gnat, and if flesh, he is transformed into a vulture. the next birth of one who steals a deer or elephant is into a wolf, and if a carriage, the thief is sure to become a camel. when once sunk from the human to the brute creation, the parana's assert that he must pass through many millions of births before he regains the human form. their system of punishment is not however confined to these terrestrial transgressions. the all-multiplying system of the hindoo theology has created a hundred thousand hells for those whom inferior evils could not deter from the commission of more heinous crimes. when the fatal moment arrives which changes their present position, they are hurried away through the space of , miles among the faithful rocks and eternal snows of the himalaya mountains to the judgment seat of yoma, where the god messengers await to convey them to their respective places of punishment, and here, too, the state of retribution is adapted to the nature of the crime. the murderer is fed on flesh and blood; the adulterer is to be embraced by an image of red-hot iron, and the unmerciful to be unceasingly bitten by snakes. having endured this state of "penal servitude" for a period proportionate to the magnitude of their crimes, the first step to restoration is to pass a long series of ages in the form of some degraded animal, whence they ascend to the scale of being already described. [illustration: (vignette)] [illustration: (vignette)] chapter ix. delhi the ancient capital of the mogul empire--general description, population, &c.--the king's palace--embattled walls and guns--martello towers--jumna musjeed, or chief mosque--the tombs of the humayoon, and of sefjar jung--the shelima gardens--the ancient patons, or afghan conquerors of india--the celebrated cattab minar--the tomb of humayoon--the aqueduct of alikhan--college for orientals and europeans. delhi being the ancient capital of the mogul empire, i will here give a description of it, as, having a few days leave from cantonment, i found it in my visit. it is situated on the eastern bank of the jumna, and some miles from calcutta. it is walled and fortified, and has a population of somewhere near , . it is between seven and eight miles round it, and may be about two miles across. the palace inhabited by the king stands in a very commanding position. the entire city is built on a rocky range of hills, and, as said, is surrounded by embattled walls and guns, with intervening martello towers facing along the whole extent with good masonry, moats and glacis. its chief houses are built of brick, the streets narrow; the principal avenues all wide and handsome, and for an asiatic city, very clean. the bazaars along the avenues look remarkably pretty; formerly the city had some noble wide streets, but these have been divided by buildings all along the centre, and now spoil their appearance. the next principal buildings to the palace is the jumna musjeed, or chief mosque. the tombs of the emperor humayoon, and of sefjar jung, and cuttub menir; and within the new city are the remains of many palaces. these structures are nearly all of red granite inlaid and ornamented with white marble; the general style is elegant, yet simple. the palace, as seen from a distance, is very high, with gothic towers and battlements rising above any other building. it was built by shah jehan, and seems some sixty feet high, with two noble gateways. it is allowed by travellers to far surpass the kremlin, in moscow, in magnificence, or any other kingly residence. i thought, on looking at it, of our old windsor castle, and asked did any of them making the comparison ever see it. to my mind old windsor surpasses it, except in its material. [sidenote: the shelima gardens.] the gardens known as the shelima, and mentioned in lalla rookh, were formed by the same potentate, and are said to have cost the immense sum of , , pounds; but they are now wild and allowed to go in ruins. the mosque-musjeed is considered the largest and most elegant temple of worship in india, it cost sixty lakhs of rupees, and shah jehan was six years in building it. it stands on a rocky eminence scarped for the purpose. a flight of thirty-five steps brings you to a beautiful gateway of red stones, the doors of which are covered with wrought brass. the terrace on which it is built is about yards square, and surrounded by an arched collonade with pavilions at convenient distances. in the centre stands a large marble cistern supplied by machinery with water from the canal. on the west side of the mosque proper, of an oblong form, say feet in length, its entire front is coated with large slabs of white marble, and compartments in the corner are inlaid with arabic inscriptions in black. the mosque is approached by another flight, and surrounded by a marble dome at the flanks, as at all mosques, are minarets about feet high, each having three projecting galleries of black marble and red stone alternately, their summits crowned with light pavilions of white marble. the ascent is by winding stairs of steps of red stone. it is truly a noble structure, well worth this unequal description--for it must be seen to realize its beauty. it is said this mosque is maintained by a grant from our government. not far from the king's palace is another of red stone, used i suppose by that personage and his princes for intermediate times of worship. this one is surmounted with three gilt domes. altogether there is some fifty mosques in this city, of more or less grandeur, some bear marks of great antiquity. one other, however, deserves a note in passing, and that one was erected in by the daughter of the great and mighty arungzebee, and in which she is buried. perhaps the oldest is the one erected by the ancient patons or afghan conquerors of india. it is of dark coloured granite, and of a different design, but exactly like the arab mosques. [sidenote: cattab minar--the paton.] the prospect south of the shulnia gardens, as far as the eye can reach, is covered with the remains of extensive gardens, pavilions, sepulchres, all connecting the town of cattab with the capital, and through their neglected appearance, exhibiting one of the most striking scenes of desolation to be witnessed. the celebrated cattab minar is a very handsome round tower rising from a polygon of twenty-seven sides, in five different stages, gradually diminishing in circumference to the height of feet, its summit crowned with a majestic cupola rising from four arcades of red granite is reached by a spiral staircase of steps, and between each stage a balcony runs round the pillar. the paton, erected by the old conquerors is almost in ruins, it was once a solid fortress, its architecture not sinking, but there remains a high black pillar of metal of hindoo construction, originally covered with inscriptions. i have before alluded to the tomb of humayoon the conqueror, which was erected by his daughter. it is of gothic architecture, and stands in an immense garden with terraces and numerous fountains; everything about it bears marks of decay. the garden is surrounded by an embattled wall and cloister, and in its centre, on a platform ascended by a flight of granite steps, is the tomb itself, a square building with circular apartments, surrounded by a dome of white marble. from the top of this building the ruins all round can best be seen--where indrapat once stood--extending almost over a range of hills seven or eight miles distant. [sidenote: manufactures of delhi.] the soil in the neighbourhood of delhi seems singularly devoid of vegetation. the jumna annually overflows its banks during the rainy season, but its waters, in this part of its course, are so much empregnated with natron that the ground is almost barren. in order to supply water to the royal gardens, the acqueduct of ali-khan was constructed through the chief avenue, by which the pure and wholesome water was brought from the mountains, over one hundred and twenty miles off. this channel, during the troubles that followed the decline of the mogul empire was stopped by rubbish, but when the english got possession they cleared it, and it is now the sole source of supply of delhi. this was done in , and is still remembered by the inhabitants with, i trust, some degree of gratitude. it was, at least, on the opening of the channel, for the inhabitants then turned out, with drums beating, to welcome the water, throwing flowers, and ghee, and sweetmeats in the current as it flowed along; for this they called down all manner of blessings on the british. but for this dearth of water, delhi would be a great inland mart for the interchange of commodities between india and the countries west and north. cotton, cloth and indigo are manufactured here, and there is also a large persian shawl factory, with weavers from cashmere. the bazaars rival any others in wealth and beauty. at the south of the city stand the ruins of an observatory, erected by jye singh; it formerly contained several instruments, but, like the building, long ago partially destroyed. there is also a college in this city, with two departments--orientals and english--and the number of pupils are . i have dwelt rather long on this description of the famous city, but i feel any picture i can give will be far short of the reality. it is said seven cities, at different times of the earth's history, have stood on the same site. indraput was the first; then the patons, or afghans; then sultan balun built and fortified one, after destroying the patons; then mozes-ud-deem built another nearer the jumna; this destroyed, another nearer cattal; and lastly, shah jehan, towards the middle of the seventeenth century, chose the present site for his capital. i might add that the census of any place in india is hardly ever taken, for the reason of so much superstition in the inhabitants--they could not be made to believe anything else but that it was intended for their destruction. the estimate of the population i have given was then considered as nearly as possible correct. calcutta. [sidenote: the black-hole.] calcutta presents a remarkable instance of what may arise from small beginnings, if i might so speak. in the english obtained permission to erect a factory at the ancient town of hooghly, on the opposite bank of the river. in the emperor aurungzcebee allowed them to remove to the pretty village of govindpoor, and in the following year to secure it by erecting a fort. so slow was the progress of the new settlement that up to the site of the present city of palaces remained an assemblage of huts, wretched indeed, with only a few hundred inhabitants. in it had not more than seventy houses in it occupied by the english. an attempt had been made in to defend the place from the invasion of the maharattas, by surrounding it with a ditch, a precaution, however, which availed but little against the attack, in june, , by suradja-ud-douhal, or viceroy of bengal. in consequence of this attack, apparently a surprise, the factory was deserted by the governor, the commandant and many of the european functionaries and residents. a memorable catastrophe of a most lamentable nature ensued. such of the english as had remained for its defence were seized and thrust into a small uninhabited dungeon called the black-hole, and of one hundred and forty-six individuals who were thus shut up at night, one hundred and twenty three perished under the most frightful sufferings ere the arrival of morning. the black-hole was afterwards converted into a warehouse, and upon an obelisk, fifty feet high at its entrance, were inscribed the names of the unhappy victims. [illustration: the ascent to the temple of parbuttee, near poona.] early in the following year a squadron of five ships brought , troops under lord clive up the hooghly from madras, they retook the town of calcutta, from which the garrison of the subidhar retired after an attack of only two hours duration. the population now amounts to some , . [illustration: (vignette)] [illustration: (vignette)] chapter x. cape of good hope--first sight of--inhabitants--descent and other particulars--sir harry again--sandicea in rebellion--war rumours--join a volunteer corps--off for frontier--east london--army at fort william--join them--gazetted lieutenant--the jungle--kaffir women-- rd regiment--arrangements--enter the gaika tribe country--the huts--the kraal-- rd, th and th lancers--general somerset--fort beaufort--colonel fordyce shot--buffalo post--capture cattle--pursuit of kaffirs--sardillas' horse shot--bridle neck bush--time-expired men--back to recruit--the hottentot--east london again. favoured with beautiful weather, and nothing having occurred to mar our passage, we sighted the cape on the twentieth of october. as the high land comes first to view, it has all the appearance of a lion couchant--the flag-staff rising from the lion's tail, creeping round the point to a narrow entrance, the whale rock and robin island come in view, then cape town stretches before you, in a sort of basin. table mountain at the back, the town sloping up from the bay, with the blue berg mountains away to the east. at this time of year summer commences in the cape. we had, therefore, a summer christmas before us. landing on the twenty-sixth, we took up quarters in the pier hotel. steamers did not venture on such long voyages in those days, and the influx of visitors was not so great as now. living we found very cheap; a bottle of wine, and very good at that, cost fourpence; british brandy, sixpence, it was called "cape-smoke;" meat was twopence per pound; peaches, pomegranates and grapes, one shilling per basket--bushel. the villa residences on the outskirts are very pretty--the fences surrounding them are either rose or geranium bushes, standing as high as six feet; or cactus, or prickly pear. the inhabitants of the colony are mostly of dutch descent, or malays. originally it was a slave settlement. hither they were brought from batavia--but on the british government assuming control, slavery was abolished. the descendants of these are now the most industrious, as they are the wealthiest inhabitants. their principal occupation is, or was then, whaling and seal-fishing, with some tradesmen among them. the aborigines of the cape, or hottentots, are a low, degraded, idle class. [sidenote: sir harry smith again.] [sidenote: gazetted lieutenant.] our old east indian friend and general, sir harry smith, i found here as governor-general and commander-in-chief of the colony of south africa--and it was here, and at such a time, too, such an experienced soldier was required. sandilla, a gaika chief, had commenced hostilities on the frontier, and his kaffirs had burnt over twenty farms, butchered the farmers and their families, and carried off all their cattle. though now free from the service, it was but natural, after my previous service, i should feel interested in anything concerning military movements or threatenings of war, and i soon made myself acquainted with all the particulars. the entire british force in the colony consisted of three infantry battalions. these were scattered in detachments all over the country, only the head-quarters of the rd were at cape town. the governor and his staff, taking these, left for the scene of disturbance, and levies were ordered all over. besides the atrocities mentioned, the kaffirs had murdered all the men in the three military villages of auckland, wobown and joanisburgh. i could not be expected to remain long unknown, as, having seen service in the sixteenth lancers in india, was surprised by a request from the colonial secretary to assist in raising levies, who offered me a command as lieutenant in the second corps of europeans. a draft of two hundred men, with seventy-eight horses, was ordered up to east london, and having given my consent, i was sent in charge. on the first of february i went on board the war steamer _hermies_, with that number, and left for the frontier. on reaching east london, we found we could get no nearer than about two miles. anchoring, surf-boats were brought alongside, and in these, after immense trouble, all were safely landed. well, i had seen many towns and forts, and i have been in towns since called after our beautiful capital, but such a place as this aspiring to the great name, surprised me. the whole place consisted of one building, called a hotel; four huts; four commissariat houses; and a small fort, with a dozen or so kaffirs, apparently friendly, standing round-about naked, fine, manly-looking fellows, copper coloured, and all six feet high or thereabouts. we found the army was encamped at fort william, eighteen miles from east london. i marched in charge of my detachment of men and horses, to which was added a convoy of thirty-six waggons loaded with provisions. we halted at fort murry, half-way. captain mclean, of the th foot, was in charge here with one company. we were now in a friendly chief's country; his name was patto. having been detained longer than was expected by the slow travel of the bullock waggons, it was late next afternoon when we reached the camp at king william fort. the next day being sunday, i was ordered to parade my men before general sir harry smith--after which, and being quite satisfied with his inspection, and some conversation about old times, he ordered my rank to be confirmed as lieutenant, nd corps cape town levies. having had some time to rest, i was enabled to scan about me, and see a little of the place and people. here i had an opportunity of seeing that dreadful bush so much spoken of--kaffir land--and it is a bush--so dense, and thick, and so full of the momossa tree, with its long thorns, it is almost impossible to penetrate. as one moved any distance round, plenty of women and girls might be seen; they come up the valleys with immense pumpkins, corn, or milk, to exchange for beads, buttons, or, in fact, anything strange. as they don't know the use of money, an old brass ring would buy all one wanted for a day. they were quite as oblivious of dress as the men we had first seen, only a small apron of deerskin around their waste. some had blankets. they looked horrible, so full of red clay for paint, and they were disgustingly dirty. the hottentots or aborigines' worth is all in cattle. the women feed them, build their own houses, sow the corn, and do all the drudgery. the men do nothing but hunt, and in war time fight. the boys are not allowed to associate with men until after circumcision, which takes place at eighteen; then they may sit round the council fire with the men. [sidenote: enter the gaika tribe country.] i found our army composed of volunteers from cape town district, mossel bay and grahamstown--in all some , europeans, hottentots and fingoes, besides the british th and rd regiments. the cape mounted riflemen had, a few days previous to our arrival, most of them at least, gone over to the enemy, taking their horses and arms. they had intended to massacre all the rd regiment the night previous, while they were asleep; this was frustrated through a friendly chief giving information to sir harry smith, and it was thought strange that all the hottentots of wesleyan mission stations remained loyal, when those situated east, under missionaries of other denominations, joined the insurgents; these proved our worst foes, being such good marksmen. [sidenote: buffalo post--capture cattle.] all arrangements being completed, we broke camp and marched towards the river kiskama, then crossed into the gaika territory to hunt up sandilla. here we remained three weeks, engaged in skirmishing and picket duty, the kaffirs troubling us much at night, firing from the bush. this kind of warfare is most disliked by the soldier--every bush containing an enemy, and no sooner you made one than they were off to another. in fact, they were always near us, particularly at night, and yet we could get no chance of having a good shot at them. the kraal, better known now than ever before, is a collection of huts, made in the form of large beehives, placed in a circle--the cattle in the middle--we invariably burned them. they were erected in some sheltered place, on the sides of hills or mountains. we were now on the territory of the most powerful chief, sandilla, head of the gaikas. reinforcements joined us here from england--the rd foot, th rifles and th lancers; and general sir harry smith, considering he had troops sufficient, ordered an advance on fuller's-hook, and the water-kloof where he had learned sandilla had massed some thirty-thousand warriors. general somerset was at this time at fort beaufort. at fuller's-hook we had some terrible bush fighting, but succeeded in driving them into water-kloof. the intricacies of this place, and the dense bush, it is almost impossible to describe. here we remained some six weeks, and were joined by the th from grahamstown, under colonel fordyce, who was shot on the top of the kloof. our advancement during that time in the progress, of the war was very little, as we could get no open field-fight, they proving as able as their opponents in bushwhacking. sir harry, seeing little progress marched us back to king williamstown. here the general sent for me, and ordered a start at twelve that night with men--fingoes--and fifty of armstrong's horse, to capture head of cattle in the buffalo. port sandilla was said to be with them. with my command, i made a rapid march so as to reach before daybreak the place appointed, and arrived at the foot of the mountain half-an-hour before sunrise. the buffalo port i found a deep basin in the hills, the ascent very difficult and dense with bush. this basin had an outlet called the gether goolie, or wolf's throat. with my men, i ascended the hill as best i could, leaving some mounted men at the pass to hold the cattle. on the word "charge," down the hill we went, amid a volley from the kaffirs, who were almost indistinguishable. i received a cut from an assaigai, knocking me off my horse, stunning me for a time. soon, however, i recovered sufficient to stay the wound--remounted and joined my men, who by this time had joined the men below at the pass. here, too, the fingoes had the cattle. handing them over to the mounted men, we hurried on to the yellow-wood--pursued by the kaffirs. on the following morning we reached king williamstown, having lost two men killed and nine wounded. during that day's engagement we were hard pressed. it, however, nearly cost the kaffirs their leader, sandilla--as one of our men had shot his horse, and nearly captured himself. there was a £ , on his head. in july i was ordered, with fifty europeans and lieutenant fielding with one hundred hottentots levy, to the bridle neck bush, on the road to east london, to protect convoys of prisoners coming by sea. the enemy, knowing this, lay in ambush to attack the waggons, and on returning we had to build stockades by cutting huge trees and sinking them four feet in the ground, leaving them four feet out, with the waggons inside for the night. this was trying work, and watching all night against a surprise. however, the duty was well done, and the convoy escorted safe through the dense bush. [sidenote: back to recruit.] the time of the men who had joined for six months having more than expired, i was ordered to take some five hundred of them to cape town, on the war steamer _styx_. i had orders to raise and bring back as many mounted men as i could get, at a bounty of twenty-three pounds and free rations, finding their own horses, and rations were to be given them. it was chiefly expected my contingent would consist of farmers' sons, and such like, who, for their own interests, would join the army formed for the protection of their own homes. after seeing the discharged men paid, i started on my recruiting errand, and soon got together sixty men from wooster, swellingdam and clanwilliam, mostly sons of europeans. the affricandas, as they are called, are good riders and fine shots. when at clanwilliam, i stayed with mr. shaw, and while out with him one day, we came across the greatest herd of deer i ever saw. we came on the opening of an immense plain, and for miles one could see swarms of gnu, elands, heart-beasts, rye-buck, bonti-buck, blue-buck, and other common deer. it was explained to me when there is a drought and scarcity of provisions in the karoo they are driven down to seek water and the salt licks. they are as bad as locusts to the farmer, not leaving a blade of grass where they visit; consequently, they turn out and destroy them as best they can, take their skins off, remove the best of the beef to dry it for home use, leaving the carcase for the wild dogs and lions. the farmers in south africa generally hold from ten to twenty thousand acres of land, with large flocks of sheep, and numbers of brood-mares; in the eastern part, and in the western, they mostly cultivate the grape for wine. there being no hotels in the country parts, and the farm-houses conseqent on their large holdings, very far apart, during the long rides the screeching of the guinea fowl, together with the cooing of the turtle-dove, constantly salute the ear. when you stop under the shade of some trees to make coffee, it is easy to have a dainty bit of some wild bird to satisfy hunger, by going a few yards and killing one. in my travels going east, i have met dozens of waggons at a time going to cape town with wool, hides, horns, bitter aloes, and gums. the hottentots employed as shepherds by these farmers seem fit for nothing else, an idle, lazy, indolent race. some are squatted on every farm for that purpose, acting as shepherds. on my journey i came across packs of wild dogs. these animals prove a great enemy to the farmer--worrying his sheep. it may not seem truth, but there are in this part of the country people of very small stature, wild, almost savage, at least bordering on the brute called bosjesmen, living in holes in the rocks, who are adepts with bow and arrow, the latter of which they poison when at war. they live chiefly on the wild dog; snakes do not come even amiss to them. europeans class them between the ape and the man. darwin may have founded his theory on them--evolution. we will leave it with him, as beyond our solution. [sidenote: east london again.] as soon as i procured all the recruits i could, i started for cape town, and embarked on board the war steamer _styx_, captain hall, for east london. on arriving we were soon joined by one hundred horses and men from port elizabeth, and again left for headquarters with one hundred and twenty waggons of stores and ammunition. while _en route_ we learned of the loss of the steamer _birkenhead_, as she was coming out of simon's bay with troops, drafts mostly for our army. very few escaped that fearful wreck. arriving at the headquarters of the army, the corps was named the "montague horse," in compliment to the colonial secretary, sir john montague. many of these men were independent farmers. [illustration: (vignette)] [illustration: (vignette)] chapter xi. transferred to fingoe service--fingoe character--ordered to kye river--chief krielle--colonel eyre--through the bush--the chief's position--battered by big guns--cattle captured--on return march--harassed by enemy--one month on march bring in head--sir harry called home--sir george cathcart--sandilla surrendered--chief moshusha--attack his stronghold--surrenders--back to fort william--disbanded--off on elephant hunt--provisions for--plan to capture--kill four--trading with chiefs and their wives--precautions against lions--elephant's spoor--excursion often fatal--back to grahamstown--stiles' hotel. [sidenote: cattle captured.] in february, , i was transferred to the fort peddie fingoe levy, under captain fainton. the fingoes are a tribe formerly conquered and kept in bondage by the amagahekas, but released by the british, and located at the fort of that name, near grahamstown. they are very loyal, industrious, and make fine farm servants to the scotch settlers on the frontier. so trustworthy are they, many are employed as police. understanding the traits of the kaffir character, they are very useful, particularly as they hold a grudge against their old oppressors. sir harry smith, having learned the enemy had sent all their cattle across the kye river to chief krielle, colonel eyre, of the rd, was ordered, in conjunction with a squadron the th lancers, under major tottenham, two troops montague horse, with all the infantry, consisting of rd, rd, and th rifles, and my company of fingoes, to capture them, punishing the chief krielle for his deception, as he had given his adhesion to the british. the montague horse, knowing the country so well, were advanced as guides and picket, and hot work we had of it. when we got to the kye, our passage was strongly opposed, even without any opposition. it looked a fearful place. the river flowed rapidly down a deep gully, between two rugged, jagged mountains, a dense bush to the water's edge. one thousand good men could keep twenty thousand from crossing if so disposed; but as nothing ever stopped the progress of british troops, if forward was the word, we forced the passage, after some fighting, and the mounted force, under tottenham, pushed on to intercept the cattle before they drove them to zululand, where pandee was chief. after seven days' hard marching, we reached the umzuvoola river in front of them, and now, as we had the river behind, and the cattle in front coming up, we expected some severe bush fighting. this we accomplished, seizing , head, besides sheep and goats. many of these cattle had been stolen from our settlers, comprising their entire wealth, and by capturing these we were injuring our enemy as much as in actual war, as the less they had the sooner would they make peace. on returning, they were separated into three droves, with infantry on the flanks, cavalry in rear, fingoes driving. one drove a day behind the other, one to the left, one to the extreme right on account of the grass, and when halting at night, we lighted fires all around to prevent a stampede, the enemy following us, firing all night, to get a run. in approaching the river kye, we had great trouble in keeping them together. they had no water two days, and naturally enough, the brutes were running over each other to get at it. then the rush down to the water, the confusion caused by the presence of so many, the shouting of all the men in their different dialects, swimming across the river, clambering over rocks on opposite side, the barking of dogs, sheep and goats bleating, hundreds lying down dying, the chasing of others along, trampling on the fallen--such a bedlam and confusion of noises i never before experienced, and heartily wished it all over. after one month's marching, not all so bad, but nearly, as i have just described, we reached headquarters at king william's town, short , cattle and sheep, eaten up by the lions, wolves and wild dogs following in our track. as soon as the saved were rested, and it became known to the farmers, all were sold to the farmers at a nominal sum. shortly after this affair, sir harry smith was called home, sir george cathcart having arrived to take his place. sandilla, feeling the immense loss of the cattle, came in and surrendered. [sidenote: attack chief moshusha's stronghold.] the relief which this movement of sandilla occasioned lasted only a few weeks, news arriving of the uprising of another chief, moshusha, of the basautees' country. no news could be more unsatisfactory, as the men hated bush fighting, never having a chance of open, man to man warfare. pleasant or unpleasant, we marched for his territory. his stronghold we found in a high hill, standing almost alone in a plain, but so covered with prickly pears and cactus as to seem almost impossible to reach. getting our big guns in position, we played on his fortress with such good effect, it was soon abandoned, and down they came on the plain where the th lancers, after some hard fighting, intercepted their retreat to the transvaal. finding it was useless to continue the struggle, their chief capitulated, terms of peace were arranged, and the volunteers returned to fort william, were disbanded, and returned to their respective homes. many had died of dysentery, brought on chiefly through lack of flour for bread. our living on this route was chiefly on fresh meat and roasted corn cobs--no vegetables, and bad water. one instance of the filth and dirty habits of the kaffirs i saw on this expedition which i may mention. on the slaughter of a bullock for our use, when the paunch was exposed, filled with green food or fodder, it has invariably been seized and devoured as a luxury, just as it was, hot from the carcase. [sidenote: off on elephant hunt.] this last surrender of the basantees' chief put an end to the war. all the native and european levies were disbanded, the officers receiving six months' pay for the losses of effects. each farmer returned to his farm, the merchant to his legitimate business, and the local magistrate, as we had many with us serving in the ranks, to his business. i, with five others, planned an excursion to the vaal river, intending to trade with the natives for ivory, skins, gum, or anything we could obtain of value, also intending to try our hands at elephant shooting or hunting. this we found easy to commence, as the merchants of grahamstown supply all necessary articles for an outfit to the amount of two hundred pounds, should the party pay one-half of the sum provided on the return you trade the articles you received with them. we were supplied with a waggon, fourteen oxen loaded with articles to carry on our traffic. each man mounted a good nag, with a rifle slung across the shoulder, and a hottentot as a driver of the waggon. we had in it a barrel of flour, a case of brandy, also quinine. our guns would supply all the animal food required. on approaching a tribe, our policy was to show great respect to the chief, making first for his kraal, and as his wives approached, giving them presents of trinkets, such as a string of beads, or a piece of red cloth, this being understood as a friendly offering. we found they are always pleased to meet the trader, and will do all they can to protect him, in hopes of his coming again. then, again, by acts of kindness such as these, you secure a guide from the chief to conduct you to the next. after crossing the vaal, it became necessary to light fires at night, to protect our horses and ourselves from the great number of lions in the country. one always remained on watch, he being relieved once during the night. it is well known lions will not attack an animal tied up for fear of being trapped, nor will they approach a fire, as it dazzles their eyesight. they, however, use an expedient by roaring terrifically, scaring any cattle or horses, expecting a general stampede. this also we had to prepare against, by being always ready to hold the animal in fright. on reaching the elephant track a bushranger is procured. the best to be got are from the macatee tribe of kaffirs. he starts on a hunt for the spoor or footprint of the beast. we had two of these men, who now took us to the ground most likely to find the herds. on reaching their feeding ground we outspan the oxen; two men stop to guard the waggon, the remaining four start in pursuit of game. as soon as we came on the herd, browsing in a sort of park or plain, the males were on the outside, the females and young in the centre. our first care was not to be scented; to avoid this we rode to the leeward, and then we drew lots for our separate posts. number one goes in first; next number plants himself near a tree in sight of number one, and within reach if necessary; the next a certain distance from number two, and so with the last, near number three. [sidenote: elephant hunting.] when all are posted, number one moves out stealthily, as near as possible to the greatest male with large tusks--previously i should have said, dismounted--and, without any noise, delivers the shot at the most vulnerable part of his body. as soon as hit, this one blew his trumpet as an alarm and a defiance. number one then shows himself more distinctly in front of him, he stamped his feet in wild rage and made a charge. number one was quickly on horseback, leading on to number two, who delivers his shot, then jumps his horse and leads on to number three. the elephant each time going for the one who last fired, and is on foot, thus follows all in succession, giving the first who fired time to reload. he now, having four different enemies, gets baffled, goes for each separately, till tired, he crushes through the jungle or dense bush on his way, and is easily shot down, falling with an awful thud. marking the spot where he lays, the herd is followed, now some miles away, and the same planning is gone through till the hunters have all they require. this is not done without a great deal of danger; coolness is indespensable, also a good horse and guides. when we had thus killed our fourth, we returned to each in succession, cut out the tusks, loaded them on our waggon, and left the carcase for the lions. our larder, while out, was supplied with plenty of antelope and birds, which swarm in the african jungles. on our return we again visit our tribes, gathering skins, horns, or anything they have for barter, and made tracks for grahamstown. the hottentot holds that the lion never kills a man at once when he has struck him down, unless he is irritated. this would appear to be true, in general, as the following incidents may prove. i may add, there is nothing absolute in history on the subject. [sidenote: precautions against lions.] my comrade had one day wounded a lion which had been sneaking after our bullocks, and was in the act of reloading when the lion sprung on him. he stood on ground a little elevated, the animal caught him on the shoulder, and both tumbled to the ground, the lion bellowing heartily close to his head; he then shook him with as much ease as a terrier would a rat. he, remembering after, and as he related it, this shaking produced a sort of stupor, a sort of dreaminess in which he neither felt pain nor terror, though quite conscious of his position and all that was happening. whatever was the cause of this he could never make out--no sense of horror whatever on seeing the beast, and he in his power. it led me to think if this unconscious state is produced on all animals who are killed by the carnivora, it is a wise provision of providence for lessening pain. the animal's eye was directed towards me, as i raised my piece to shoot him at a distance of about fifteen yards. my gun missed in both barrels as he sprang on me. leaving his fallen victim he was despatched by a spear in the hands of a kaffir, one of our attendants. a farmer told me that while unyoking his oxen, a lion made a plunge and killed two outright by breaking their spine. now it seems by this the lion takes quite a different course in despatching the larger animals, and i have thought what can be the reason. man inspires him with fear, and the lion's natural prudence causes him to suspect some ambuscade, even when man is in his power. even the africans allow themselves, the lion's knowledge between the different colour of europeans and themselves, they are very cautious of the whites. these excursions often prove fatal to many. numbers have never been heard of. whether they fell a prey to the numerous wild animals, whether they were prostrated by fevers so prevalent, or their oxen got the tongue sick from the tyse flies or other insects so numerous, i could never learn, but many leaving on this sport have never returned. travelling in the wilds of africa during the day the scenery all around is grand in the extreme, and so wild; the different-coloured foliage in the sunbeams, the wild craggy hills covered with thick bush, the roar of the lion occasionally as he scents some antelope or zebra near a river or stream, birds of every colour, monkeys innumerable, while the dense gloom that settles on all at night in the great solitude is indescribable. on arriving at grahamstown, our merchant received all our articles, and we retired to stile's hotel to talk of our adventures and enjoy ourselves as christians should, making some arrangements as to our future movements. while here we came across many who lived in this way; they are called winklere; some, by continuing and being lucky, have realized a considerable amount of money, while others, as i have before stated, go, but have never returned. [sidenote: dutch boers of south africa.] the kaffir's memory is remarkable. he will not forget a bullock he has once seen, and two or three years afterwards he will identify it at once, and without difficulty; they will also remember a white man the same. during the war a man of the macomos tribe was brought in a prisoner; two years after, when i was through that part of the country and visited macom, that man recognized me, and spoke of the good treatment he got when a prisoner. the dutch boers of south africa have become so nomadic in their instincts that even when they are permanently settled in villages they still sleep in their clothes. moreover, they never dream of indulging in the luxury of candles, but turn in with the setting sun, as they did in their waggons, and they detest the british since the abolition of slavery. they are truly patriarchal, living in large families, and having large flocks of sheep, and herds of cattle. the minister of the lutheran church travels from place to place, stopping a month at each, when they have camp-meetings. then the neighbours assemble from all the surrounding farms, bringing waggons, women and children, also hottentot servants with them. [sidenote: british heroes.] when my memory carries me back to the battles in the north-west of india, and i think of the bravery displayed by my comrades in arms, what need to go back to greek history for heroes. where is there a nation that has produced greater men than great britain, on the field of battle, or in the council. go back to poitiers and agincourt, blenheim and malplaquet. then in the peninsula, generals moore, nelson, wellington, picton, ponsonby; then again, in india: lords clive, gough, hardinge, sir harry smith, havelock, lawrence, sir colin campbell--a long list of heroes whose names are handed down to future generations. then go back to the crimea for a cathcart, who fell at inkerman; the gallant charge of the th lancers through three squares of infantry, at aliwal; and the sikhs were no mean foe; they acknowledged the prowess of the british; also the death ride of the gallant at balaclava; the guards and light division, at inkerman, against fearful odds. the british soldiers have in most critical times, been surrounded when there seemed no hope of deliverance, yet they have cut their way out, often with heavy loss. let me remind the reader of the indian mutiny, of the rebels that had been pampered by the east india company, how they massacred women and children without mercy, and all hope of saving india seemed gone. yet that noble man lawrence went and raised a body of sikhs and afghans, our old foes, and with them aided the few europeans to crush the rebellion, and at the siege of delhi gained the crowning victory. yet there are other heroes as brave. the pioneers in this new country, who have had to face innumerable difficulties, such as the lurking indian, the wolf, bear and panther in the wild bush, opening up the country and making the wilderness blossom as the rose. i have often been surprised during my residence in canada, at the little interest the people here take in our affairs in other parts of the globe. very few seem to know the extent of the british empire, or the geographical positions of bengal, australia, or the cape colony, and seem to forget that the settlers in those other parts of the empire are brothers of the same flesh and blood, and all from the old sod, english, scotch and irish, and that the sun never sets on the british dominions, and the english language is spoken in every land. where shall we find the land that has sent forth these heroes. look at the map of the world and you can hardly trace the little spots called the british isles; yet they are gems in the ocean, and how many good christian heroes have they sent forth to every clime to battle for the cross; and the word of god has been printed in every language. [illustration: (vignette)] [illustration: (vignette)] chapter xii. west to clanwilliam--mr. shaw--productions of farm--back to the cape--open an hotel--pleasures of cape life--ships put in for australia--imports--market day--arrangements--waggons--fish--lobsters--off to port elizabeth--whale fishing--sea elephants--manner of killing--the penguin--habits of the bird--back to the cape--english church at newlands--the bay--wreck of a baltimore vessel--loss of two children, captain's wife, and the mate--habits of hottentots--manner of living--a marriage--a present and its return--loss in business by partner absconding--leave the cape--east india docks--buckinghamshire--relatives at home--station master--accident detailed--near rugby--exonerated and promoted--liverpool--brighton--to canada--farewell address. i now left the east, after mature consideration, and went west to clanwilliam, where i found mr. shaw, who has before been introduced in these pages. he had been engaged in the war, having three hundred hottentots under him. he was a magistrate, lived in a fine brick house, had ten thousand acres of land, was a bachelor, and a jolly good fellow at that. on being asked how he could live alone, his answer immediately was, "jolly times, jolly times." "i am monarch of all i survey." visitors were constant at his place from cape town on shooting excursions, game being plentiful and choice on large farms. besides the raising of cattle, his farm produced fine oranges, wheat, indian corn, and grapes. home-made wine and brandy were in abundance. stopping with him three weeks i started again for the cape, stopping at night in farm houses, where they gladly receive a visitor. most of the farms along to the cape are wine farms, the soil mostly sandy, and the weather being very hot, unfits it for grazing land. i found, on arriving, that i had been reported as killed in the mackazana bush. not having any fixed purpose as to my future movements, and meeting here with a comrade officer who, like me, had nothing to do, we, after duly weighing all matters, determined to erect and open an hotel. at this time the australian gold-fields were drawing largely on the population of europe, and as the cape would be the coaling and watering place for vessels on passage, we christened it "the australasian." soon after opening the _great britain_ put into port, with seven hundred passengers for melbourne. of these we secured one hundred and seventy-six as boarders for the time being. next along came the _sarah sands_ from london, with three hundred, after her, the _west wind_ from new york, with six hundred. of all these we had a good share of boarders, giving them pleasure jaunts to the wine farms of constancia and the pearl, and took them around the mountain to see the beautiful scenery in this land of the myrtle and the vine. [sidenote: imports--market day.] there is a weekly market held on wednesday at the cape, at which articles brought from europe are sold. wines and brandies from spain and portugal; perfumes and silks from france; linens, calicoes, and broadcloths, also, ready-made clothing from england. this market commences at six in the morning. farmers' waggons arrive during the night before. everything is sold after the dutch fashion. waggons are arranged in line according to the article for sale. grain, first line of waggons; vegetables, second; and fruit of all kinds in the third line. the hottentot boys are the drivers of the yoke, having for an ornament in their caps splendid ostrich feathers. ostrich eggs or feathers can be had from these boys for sixpence each; they picking them up on the sand can afford to sell cheap. fish at the cape is very plentiful and good, and easily caught by line. lobsters, by dozens, can be brought up by putting a piece of liver in a basket weighted with stones, attached to a rope--lower, in five minutes pull up. i have done this myself. [sidenote: the penguin--habits of the bird.] off port elizabeth a large business is done in whale oil. taking a trip in a boat belonging to a firm engaged in this business, named seawright, i saw the whole process of catching and extracting the oil. the bird islands are in the mosambique channel, and here the sea elephant, as it is called, is plentiful; the animal is amphibious. the men go out at night when it is time for these animals to quit the sea for the shore; when well up on the sand, they noiselessly creep between them and the water, then they are attacked with clubs and beaten to death; if he escapes to water again he carries with him anything in his way, but only to secure a good ducking. thirty or forty will thus be killed in one night by eight or nine men; the blubber is boiled down into oil, and sent to the cape. these animals are the size of a good land pig, with tusks like elephants--a species of whale, though commonly called sea elephants. the island abounds with rabbits and goats, and a curious bird may be found here called the "penguin." they never use their wings, but march upright in flocks like a company of soldiers. seeing them at a distance, as they are large, and having a red spot on the breast, they might be taken for a company of soldiers. if, in walking, you meet with a thousand they never get out of the way, you may do as you please, but they only peck at you. i stayed at the islands three days while the ship was being freighted with oil, and on returning to the cape i mightily enjoyed the sail on the beautiful calm sea in this southern hemisphere--the whale spouting, and the golden dolphin swimming around the boat. as we neared the cape, better known to me now, and as it was after four in the afternoon, no one could be seen on the streets, but many under the stoops of their houses, in the cool, sleeping. all outdoor work is over at ten in the morning; after five in the evening all is bustle and life again--ladies promenading the kesingraf, or ladies' walk. the road from the town leading to newlands through rondebosch, is very pleasant--trees on both sides for eight or nine miles. the clergyman of the english church at newlands showed me a collection of animals he had for the then lord derby, some fine specimens of eland, giraffe, and gazelle, the smallest of the deer species; he had also a lion and a panther. the heavy rolls from the atlantic set in early in winter, and during the season no vessels venture into the bay; if they got safely in there they should remain until spring. the weather on land is very pleasant during this time--much like an english autumn. in november, a bark from baltimore, in the states, bound to bombay, came ashore on robbin island a wreck; a number went off to assist the crew; on reaching the rocks the captain and a number of sailors had got ashore--his wife, two children, and the mate were missing. the captain was nearly out of his mind through the loss, they were found the next day--two beautiful girls--and i can never forget the man's looks as he saw them laid out for burial. the wife was found under the keel of the vessel, and the mate jammed between the casks of porter in the hold. it was a melancholy funeral. [sidenote: habits of hottentots] i will now revert to my travels in kaffraria, to mention some things interesting which i omitted then. in commencing, i may say that the meaning of kaffir is thief, by calling men of some tribes who know this, they are very indignant. they generally have from three to six wives, who do all the laborious work, even to building the hut for herself, my lord going into which he pleases. they do all the gardening, sow corn, plant pumpkins and other vegetables, milk cows and cook, the boys helping, and are never allowed to eat with the men; these latter attend to the cattle until eighteen, when they are circumcised and allowed to sit with the warriors and hunt with them. when he has arrived at the period of manhood to marry, he selects a wife, the chief and councillors set a price on her according to her charms, say, two cows or three heifers, and if he does not possess so much he will steal from the nearest settler or from another tribe; this occurring often is the cause of much war between the several tribes. one day a fine young fellow named magesa, a chief's son of the patos tribe, came to me, pulling a long face. he said he wanted a girl of another tribe, but he had not her value, nor would his father give him the cow and two heifers he required, as he wanted to buy another wife for himself. this boy previously had done me a good turn, and feeling for him, as well as to prevent him from stealing, i got the required cattle which he accepted. he brought his bride afterwards to thank me. i was surprised, however, when he made a request for a row of beads to decorate her neck, and also for a plug of tobacco with which to console himself. these i gave him, and in return the high favour of kissing the newly married lady was imposed upon me. their clothing being very scant, and all procured by hunting the deer, don't cost much, but their begging propensities are very great, for a chief with four wives and five hundred head of cattle would beg as this lad had done. [sidenote: leave the cape.] there is very little emigration to the cape, the reason is, capital is required. labour is so cheap, no white man will engage in it for a living. land can be purchased, worked to advantage, either in grain, or stock-farming, and this requires means. the principal export is merino wool. the native sheep are like goats, with hair. they have extraordinary large tails, all fat. i have seen a tail as large as the carcase. in consequence of the loss of my wife and child by small-pox, brought to the cape in a slaver captured on the west coast, and the defalcations of my partner in the hotel business, through which he absconded to australia with one thousand pounds of our money, i was compelled to resign my business and return to england. a vessel on her way from calcutta, putting in for water, i took passage, and bid good-bye to the cape. the voyage was a rough one, we encountered many storms, arriving safe at the east india docks on th march, , after a voyage of ten weeks. i immediately left for buckinghamshire, where my family had removed during my absence, and found, to my great sorrow, my poor mother had been dead just two months, her last words were: "oh, that i could but see my dear son before i am called away." my father, feeling this affliction deeply, having lived together some forty-six years, soon followed her, and i had had that consolation of being present when he died, and laid him beside my dear angel mother. after arranging some family matters at our old home, i left for london, expecting to get a commission in the turkish contingent, from lord panmure. while waiting for this, peace was proclaimed, and the troops ordered home from the crimea. notwithstanding all the excitement caused by that war, my services were not forgotten, though, perhaps, in the eyes of some, the famous charge of the six hundred, had eclipsed aliwal and sobraon, still i had a good friend in the marquis of chandos, who gave me the appointment of station-master on the london and north-western railway below rugby, where i remained till . [sidenote: railway catastrophy.] in the month of november, , a serious accident occurred on my section of this road, which might have been more serious for me, as i was only recently appointed, had i not used the caution on the moment i did, showing my training as a soldier was useful even on a railroad. about three in the afternoon, the midland express, twenty minutes overdue, a mineral train came along. i cautioned the driver to get clear as quickly as possible, which he did, till about three hundred yards from the station he broke down. i immediately telegraphed "line blocked." soon the express, late, came in sight, thundering along under two engines--twelve carriages and two guard vans. trying all means, i could not stop it, danger signal was up, waved red flag, still on she came at a rate of seventy miles an hour. as they passed me, still waving and shouting, they screwed down to twenty miles; but on she went into the mineral train, smashing the engine and telescoping the carriages. fortunately a down train for aylesbury had just passed the freight train, or it would have been much worse. as it was, i felt much worse than ever i did when charging up to the mouth of a big gun at magarajpoor, or charging square of sikhs, at aliwal. there were many of the passengers wounded, one, a lady's maid, was killed. the wounded were removed to a gentleman's residence near by. lord and lady byron were slightly injured. the board of directors of course had an investigation to which i was summoned, but completely exonerated from all blame, as it was proved the station-master below me had neglected his duty, in not seeing my telegraph "line blocked." i received great praise from the london papers, and was promoted by the board to a more responsible and lucrative post. still i never could feel happy on my post. my wife--having married again--constantly fretted for fear of a repetition, and as it was a worry to my mind, i resigned as i have before stated, in . i then went to liverpool to fill an appointment as drill instructor to the exchange corps of volunteers, under captain bright, and in that city i remained, until the opening of the great exhibition, in , when i got an appointment in the first great world's show. when it closed i went to hampstead, where i was college drill-master until , when i left for brighton, my birthplace, as superintendent of the grand hotel. so many early associations connected with this place, and as i had lost all my relatives nearly, i made up my mind to remove to america along with an old friend of mine, who determined, like me, to anchor at last in the new world. [sidenote: farewell address.] having now reached the point of the story of my life when i must bid farewell to my reader, i feel refreshed--life renewed almost in having gone over the history of my early connection with the army, and the subsequent perils, combats, and adventures in which i was engaged. i can scarcely credit, on looking back, that all such has occurred, and that i am the same who, so many years ago, toiled under great disadvantages through the hot sands of india, parched with thirst, and ill-provided with food fit for such a climate. i sometimes think if it is possible, or is a long-past dream--the charges on sikh squares at aliwal and sobraon, the storming of huge works, the capture of citadels, the marching in triumph through many a proud eastern city, after teaching their arrogant rulers that treachery or treason could not be tolerated by the british. did i once stand on the steps of the throne of the once powerful moguls of delhi, and assist at the capture, and escort, after toilsome marches, some of the turbulent princes of india; and in all these had the honour of serving under such soldiers as hardinge, gough, pollock, nott, smith, havelock, and a cathcart. apart from this, in another continent, hunting the huge elephant in the jungles, the slow, stealthy creep to the leeward of the beast--the shot--the roar--the crash into the thicket--the double shot--and eventually the heavy thud with which he falls to the earth almost lifeless. it has often been said, "once a soldier, always a soldier," and another common saying equally as true, "it runs in the blood." these assertions are true as far as my experience has led me to judge. i am but a poor example of the truth. one has only to read over the names of our country's heroes, and, tracing them for generations back, their ancestors have mostly belonged to either branch of her majesty's service. i am now in the sere and yellow leaf, but would to-morrow, if not so incapacitated heartily join my old comrades--"the pride of england--the terror of india," ready to go over the same ground again. this cannot be, however. we all have our day; young men are coming to the front every day, animated with the same spirit, but, it seems to me, possessed with more caution. they, no doubt, when called, will emulate the example of their predecessors in deeds of bravery. the peninsular war, ending at waterloo, produced brave and heroic men, who have left their names on the scroll of fame. the sikh war added another long list, in which aliwal and sobraon heroes figure conspicuously, as did also the maharatta war. again, the crimea, with its terrible charge of the six hundred, and the dreadful sufferings through the severe winter of and , will never be forgotten. then the indian mutiny, where our countrymen's names come in with those of sir colin and havelock, for a high meed of praise--all showing that in the breasts of the sons of the "three kingdoms" there is born a living fire, which, when kindled on the cry of the oppressed or down-trodden of earth will burn till liberty and freedom is enthroned. god save the queen. transcriber's note italic text is denoted by _underscores_. obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within the text and consultation of external sources. except for those changes noted below, misspelling by the author, and inconsistent or archaic usage, has been retained. for example, body guard, body-guard; daylight, day light; everywhere, every where; headquarters, head-quarters. p. viii duplicate 'and' removed from 'this one and and'. p. xiii 'incideut' replaced by 'incident'. p. xiii, 'wheat-shooks' replaced by 'wheat-shocks'. p. 'eighteeen' replaced by 'eighteen'. p. 'mauritus' replaced by 'mauritius'. p. 'governor general's' replaced by 'governor-general's' for consistency. p. 'aligators' replaced by 'alligators'. p. 'though' replaced by 'through'. p. 'though' replaced by 'through'. p. , 'p. m.' replaced by 'p.m.' for consistency. p. duplicate 'and' removed from 'city and and'. p. 'shah shojah' replaced by 'shah-soojah'. p. 'elphinston' replaced by 'elphinstone'. p. 'souse' replaced by 'soused'. p. 'couse' replaced by 'cause'. p. 'khyber' replaced by 'kyber' for consistency. p. 'make ugly' replaced by 'made ugly'. p. '--' added after 'jack'. p. 'grand turnout' replaced by 'grand turn out' for consistency. p. 'meet' replaced by 'meat'. p. duplicate 'the' removed from 'squares of the the'. p. 'ferosha' replaced by 'ferusha'. p. 'kshadriya' replaced by 'kshatriya'. p. 'bath' replaced by 'birth'. p. 'baths' replaced by 'births'. p. 'lacks' replaced by 'lakhs'. p. duplicate 'and' removed from 'and and twenty'. p. 'attrocities' replaced by 'atrocities'. p. , 'gaiku' replaced by 'gaika'. p. 'poictiers' replaced by 'poitiers'. p. 'maharratta' replaced by 'maharatta'. many occurences of 'sing' have been retained; probably should be 'singh'. for consistency: several occurrences of 'shah soojah' replaced by 'shah-soojah'; several occurrences of 'affghanistan' replaced by 'afghanistan'; two occurrences of 'alliwal' replaced by 'aliwal'; two occurrences of 'jellalabad' replaced by 'jellelabad'. * * * * * +-----------------------------------------------------------+ | transcriber's note: | | | | inconsistent hyphenation in the original document has | | been preserved. | | | | obvious typographical errors have been corrected. for | | a complete list, please see the end of this document. | | | +-----------------------------------------------------------+ * * * * * the irish at the front the irish at the front by michael macdonagh _author of "irish life and character"_ _with an introduction by_ john redmond, m.p. hodder and stoughton london new york toronto prefatory note this narrative of the more signal feats of the irish regiments in france, flanders, and at the dardanelles, is based on letters of regimental officers and men, interviews with wounded soldiers of the battalions, and those invalided home, and, also, in several cases, on the records compiled at the depôts. the war is the greatest armed struggle that the world has ever seen, and when we think of the heroism and resolution shown in it, the trials and the sufferings, the victories and the disasters, and then turn to the bald and trite official despatches, the dissimilitude of things, the contrast, is most abrupt and jarring. but so it is, and probably we must continue to rely upon the accounts given by the men in the fighting line for any real appreciation of the nature of the war. michael macdonagh. contents page prefatory note v a dauntless battle line ix the irish regiments and their war honours introduction by mr. john redmond, m.p. ireland's part in the war chap. i.--the retreat from mons how the munsters saved the guns and got ringed round with fire ii.--battle of the rivers rally of the irish guards to the green flag at the marne iii.--contest for the channel coast impetuous dash of the leinsters, and royal irish, and grim tenacity of irish guards and rifles iv.--asphyxiating gas and liquid fire charge of the liverpool irish at festubert; a night surprise by the inniskillings v.--the immortal story landing of the dublins and munsters at the dardanelles vi.--the th irish division in gallipoli landing at suvla bay and capture of chocolate hill vii.--in the rest camp how the leinsters caught a glimpse of the narrows viii.--fight for kislah dagh gallant stand and fall of the th dublins ix.--for cross and crown death in action of father finn, of the dublins, and father gwynn, of the irish guards x.--the great push at loos historical football charge of the london irish, with the german trenches as goal xi.--the victoria cross a noble band of irish heroes, officers and men xii.--"for valour" stories of other v.c.'s, including michael o'leary, who upheld ireland's tradition of gallantry a dauntless battle line the irish regiments and their war honours ireland is represented in the fighting forces of the empire by a regiment of foot guards, eight regiments of the line, each of two regular battalions, and with several linked battalions of the special reserve, or old militia, and many service battalions raised for "kitchener's army." altogether, these various battalions of the irish regiments number fifty-four. there are two dragoon regiments and one regiment each of hussars and lancers. the volunteer or territorial system has not been extended to ireland. still, the country is not without representation in the auxiliary forces. she has raised two yeomanry regiments, the south irish horse, and the north irish horse, and in england there are two predominantly irish territorial battalions, the london irish rifles ( th battalion of the london regiment) and the liverpool irish ( th battalion of the king's liverpool regiment), both of which have "south africa, - " as a battle honour. there are also tens of thousands of irishmen in the english, scottish, and welsh regiments, the artillery, the engineers, the army medical corps, as well as in the royal navy. the following are the irish infantry and cavalry regiments, with their badges and battle honours:-- irish guards. in acknowledgment and commemoration of the brave and honourable part taken by the irish troops in the boer war an irish regiment of foot guards was added to the brigade of guards in by command of queen victoria. unlike the scots guards, which are largely english, the irish guards are almost exclusively irish. badges: the cross of the order of st. patrick and the shamrock. recruiting area: all ireland. royal irish regiment. the harp of ireland, with the motto _virtutis namuriensis præmium_ ("the reward of bravery at namur"), surmounted by a crown and enwreathed with shamrocks. recruiting area: the munster counties of tipperary and waterford, and the leinster counties of kilkenny and wexford. depôt: clonmel. the sphinx, superscribed "egypt." the dragon, superscribed "china"; "namur, "; "blenheim"; "ramillies," "oudenarde"; "malplaquet"; "pegu"; "sevastopol"; "new zealand"; "afghanistan, - "; "tel-el-kebir"; "egypt, "; "nile, - "; "south africa, - ." royal inniskilling fusiliers. a grenade with the castle of inniskilling flying the flag of st. george inscribed on the ball. motto: _nec aspera terrent_ ("the harshest trials do not affright us"). recruiting area: the ulster counties of donegal, derry, tyrone, and fermanagh. depôt: omagh town. the sphinx, superscribed "egypt." "martinique, "; "havannah"; "st. lucia, , "; "maida"; "badajoz"; "salamanca"; "vittoria"; "pyrenees"; "nivelle"; "orthes"; "toulouse"; "peninsula"; "waterloo"; "south africa, , - "; "central india"; "relief of ladysmith"; "south africa, - ." royal irish rifles. the harp and crown, with the motto _quis separabit?_ ("who shall divide us?") on a scroll beneath, and a bugle with strings, the symbol of a rifle regiment. recruiting area: the ulster counties of antrim and down, including the city of belfast. depôt: belfast. the sphinx, superscribed "egypt." "india"; "cape of good hope, "; "talavera"; "bourbon"; "busaco"; "fuentes d'onor"; "ciudad rodrigo"; "badajoz"; "salamanca"; "vittoria"; "nivelle"; "orthes"; "toulouse"; "peninsula"; "central india"; "south africa, - ." royal irish fusiliers. a grenade with a french imperial eagle and a wreath of laurel on the ball, surmounted by the gaelic motto, _faugh-a-ballagh_ ("clear the way"), the whole being set in a wreath of shamrocks and surmounted by the plume of the prince of wales. recruiting area: the ulster counties of armagh, monaghan, and cavan, and the leinster county of louth. depôt: armagh town. the sphinx, superscribed "egypt." "monte video"; "talavera"; "barrosa"; "java"; "tarifa"; "vittoria"; "nivelle "; "niagara"; "orthes"; "toulouse"; "peninsula"; "asia"; "sevastopol"; "tel-el-kebir"; "egypt, , "; "relief of ladysmith"; "south africa, - ." connaught rangers. the harp and crown, with the motto, _quis separabit?_ recruiting area: all the counties of connaught--galway, roscommon, mayo, sligo, and leitrim. depôt: galway. the elephant. the sphinx, superscribed "egypt." "seringapatam"; "talavera"; "busaco"; "fuentes d'onor"; "ciudad rodrigo"; "badajoz"; "salamanca"; "vittoria"; "pyrenees"; "nivelle"; "orthes"; "toulouse"; "peninsula"; "alma"; "inkerman"; "sevastopol"; "central india"; "south africa. - - "; "relief of ladysmith"; "south africa, - ." leinster regiment. the plume of the prince of wales, encircled by a wreath of maple leaves, and surmounted by a crown. recruiting area: the leinster counties of longford, meath, westmeath, king's county, and queen's county. depôt: birr. "niagara"; "central india"; "south africa, - ." royal munster fusiliers. the shamrock and a grenade with the royal tiger on the ball. recruiting area: the munster counties of cork, kerry, limerick, and clare. depôt: tralee. "plassey"; "condore"; "masulipatam"; "budara"; "buxar"; "rohileund, "; "sholinghur"; "carnatic"; "rohileund, "; "guzerat"; "deig"; "bhurtpore"; "ghunzee, "; "afghanistan, "; "ferozeshah"; "sobraon"; "chillianwallah"; "goojerat"; "punjaub"; "pegu"; "delhi, "; "lucknow"; "burma, - "; "south africa, - ." royal dublin fusiliers. a grenade with the motto, _spectamur agendo_ ("we are known by our deeds"), surmounted by a crown; also the arms of the city of dublin set in a wreath of shamrocks. recruiting area: the leinster counties of dublin, kildare, wicklow, and carlow. depôt: naas. the royal tiger, superscribed "plassey"; "buxar." the elephant, superscribed "carnatic"; "mysore"; "arcot"; "condore"; "wandiwash"; "pondicherry"; "guzerat"; "sholingbur"; "nundy droog"; "amboyna"; "ternate"; "banda"; "seringapatam"; "kirkee"; "maheidpoor"; "beni boo alli"; "asia"; "aden"; "mooltan"; "goojerat"; "punjaub"; "pegu"; "lucknow"; "relief of ladysmith"; "south africa, - ." th (royal irish) dragoon guards. the harp and crown, and the star of the order of st. patrick. "peninsula"; "balaklava"; "sevastopol"; "tel-el-kebir"; "egypt, ." th (inniskilling) dragoons. the castle of inniskilling with the st. george's flag, and the word "inniskilling" underneath. "dettingen"; "warburg"; "willens"; "waterloo"; "balaklava"; "sevastopol"; "south africa, - ." th (royal irish) lancers. the harp and crown with the motto _quis separabit?_ "blenheim"; "ramillies"; "oudenarde"; "malplaquet"; "suakim, "; "defence of ladysmith"; "south africa, - ." th (king's royal irish) hussars. the harp and crown with the motto _pristinae virtutis memores_ ("we are mindful of our ancient glory"). "leswarree"; "hindoostan"; "alma"; "balaklava"; "inkerman"; "sevastopol"; "central india"; "afghanistan, - "; "south africa, - ." the irish at the front introduction "though i am an englishman, i must say the irish soldiers have fought magnificently. they are the cream of the army. ireland may well be proud of her sons. ireland has done her duty nobly. irishmen are absolutely indispensable for our final triumph."--letter from brigadier-general w.b. marshal, of the th division, on service at the dardanelles. "your irish soldiers are the talk of the whole army.... their landing at suvla bay was the greatest thing that you will ever read of in books. those who witnessed the advance will never forget it.... god! the men were splendid."--captain thornhill, of the new zealand force. "as you know, i am not irish. i have no irish connections whatever. in fact, i was rather opposed to the granting of home rule; but now, speaking honestly and calmly, after having witnessed what i did--the unparalleled heroism of these irishmen--i should say nothing is too good to give the country of which they are, or rather were, such worthy representatives. my god! it was grand. it filled one with admiration and envy.... i have no religion, but it was most charming and edifying to see these fine chaps with their beads and the way in which they prayed to god. we are all brothers, but to my dying day i bow to the irish."--letter from a scottish soldier at gallipoli. "tell ireland she may well be proud of the irish division. no men could have fought more gallantly or achieved better results. more of our countrymen are required to beat the germans. i am certain that ireland will respond as enthusiastically now as she has always done throughout her past history. eire go brath!"--lt.-general sir bryan mahon, commanding the th (irish) division. it is these soldiers of ours, with their astonishing courage and their beautiful faith, with their natural military genius, with their tenderness as well as strength; carrying with them their green flags and their irish war-pipes; advancing to the charge, their fearless officers at their head, and followed by their beloved chaplains as great-hearted as themselves; bringing with them a quality all their own to the sordid modern battlefield; exhibiting the character of the irishman at its noblest and greatest--it is these soldiers of ours to whose keeping the cause of ireland has passed to-day. it was never in worthier, holier keeping than that of these boys, offering up their supreme sacrifice of life with a smile on their lips because it was given for ireland. may god bless them! and may ireland, cherishing them in her bosom, know how to prove her love and pride and send their brothers leaping to keep full their battle-torn ranks and to keep high and glad their heroic hearts! i find it hard to come within the compass and key suitable for a preface when i am asked to write a few pages to introduce a book about our irish soldiers. too many things surge up demanding expression--gratitude, appreciation of the significance of what they are doing, anxiety that ireland may play the part to them that history has assigned to her. i must only do the best i can and select a few points to remark upon. and, first, let me remark upon this point about which there is now universal agreement. the war has brought into view again what had been somewhat obscured of late: the military qualities of the irish race. there are now, throughout the armies in the field and throughout the world which follows their fortunes, no two opinions upon this point. i quote among the words at the head of this preface the tribute of an english general at the dardanelles which i have seen in a recent letter, because it is typical of the military opinion one hears on every hand, and because for his generous praise he has found an expression which well sums up the general verdict. the irish soldiers, he says, are "the cream of the army." on the western front i heard the same idea put in another pointed phrase; "we always look upon an irish regiment as a _corps d'élite_." the war, in short, is proving anew the experience which other wars--and other armies under other flags--have so often tested, and which makes it a maxim with british generals, as it was in sir ralph abercrombie's day, always to try and have some irish troops included in their commands, if possible, to be on hand for work about which no risks of failure can be taken and for which an inspiring lead is essential. it is proving again that the irish people, like their racial kinsmen the french, are one of the peoples who have been endowed in a distinguished degree with a genuine military spirit, a natural genius and gift for war which produces born soldiers and commanders, and which is the very reverse of the brute appetite for slaughter. irish soldiers may be few in comparison with the scale of modern armies. they bulked larger in the armies of wellington, of which they formed the backbone, when the proportions of population were different. they may be comparatively few, but their quality is admittedly precious. as the english general above quoted says, they are an "absolutely indispensable" ingredient. i shall have to talk about the irish soldiers in this preface; and i want any comrade of theirs who is not irish who may chance to see these lines, and any other reader who is not irish, to bear in mind that it is about irish soldiers i am intended to talk here, and not about others; that that is my business here; and i would beg them to understand that in fulfilling this duty i am not overlooking for a moment the renown of english, scottish, welsh, or dominion soldiers. also, i would like to tell them this: that it is from the irish soldiers--and i have listened to it from their lips again and again--you will hear the heartiest and warmest tributes to the valour and staunchness of their british and dominion comrades. these gallant comrades, i know, will be the last to begrudge us the pious task of making some record of the irishmen's work who have fought and died by their side, and of trying to add, as her sons would wish, to ireland's honour through their deeds. the official record has not been copious, and ireland may be pardoned the watchfulness of a mother's pride. let me turn from the soldiers themselves for a moment to look at the significance of the part they are playing before history. it is important for ireland, and i am sure it is also important for the british empire, and perhaps for america as well, to appreciate the part taken by the irish troops in this war. the war, which in a night changed so many things, offered to ireland a new international place, and her brave sons, not hesitating, acting upon a sure and noble instinct, have leaped forward to occupy it for her. after long struggles the irish people had won back from england a series of rights--ownership of the land, religious equality, educational freedom, local self-government--an advance which had coincided with and been helped by the emancipation and rise of british democracy. the culmination was reached when in the session of the imperial parliament passed the act to establish national self-government. ireland had said, "trust me with this, and i will wipe out the past and be loyal to the empire"; and the answer--somewhat long delayed, no doubt, but still it came--was the king's signature to the government of ireland act. thus when the war arrived ireland had at once a charter of rights and liberties of her own to defend, and, like botha's south africa, her plighted word to make good. the war by a most fortunate conjunction united in a common cause the defence of england against a mighty danger and the defence of principles for which ireland, to be true to herself, must ever be ready to raise her voice or draw her sword. besides her honour and her interest--her interest, always the last thing to move her, but now happily involved in the same cause--human freedom, justice, pity, and the cry of the small nationality crushed under the despot's heel appealed to her. these things she has followed throughout her history, mostly, up to now, to her bitter loss, but not to the loss of her soul; in that is her distinction now. her sons, fighting for her honour and her interest, are fighting for these things too. it is for these things--honour, justice, freedom, pity--she will stand in that new place of influence she is winning in the world's councils. there, acting with and through her sister democracies, canada, australia, new zealand, south africa, and great britain--in all of which, as in the great republic of the west, her children are a potent leaven--her spirit will help to bend the british empire to a mission of new significance for humanity. that is the heritage of her tradition. it was in that spirit her sons went throughout europe influencing the world of a thousand years ago. that is the spirit her sons are illustrating upon the field of war to-day. ireland has chosen this path. i would pause for a moment further to ask people to think a little on this: suppose she had, as well she might with her history, and as some of her sons both at home and in america have wanted her to do, chosen a different alternative? ireland's strength as an international factor is not to be measured only by her political position at the heart of the empire or her strategic position in the atlantic, or by the size of her population at home, but also by the millions of her kin throughout the empire and america, whose deep and enduring sentiment for her, linked as it is with their distinguished and never-tarnished loyalty to the new lands of their adoption, is one of the striking facts of modern history. germany understands this factor; and keeps on making unceasing and ingenious efforts, especially in the united states, to make her account with it. for ireland to have chosen the opposite alternative, or to be flung into it by the fortune of war, would in my opinion be for her an unmixed calamity, the worst in her history. her fate as a possession of germany, as germany's western fortress, naval base, heligoland of the atlantic, would from the nature of the case be far worse than that of prussian poland, schleswig, and alsace for the last forty years. only those who are ignorant of prussianism and its most recent methods--methods followed long ago by every tyrannical power, including the england of the past, but which prussia still maintains as a menacing anachronism in the age of democracy--have any illusions upon this matter. the irish people, with a few insignificant exceptions, have no such illusions. they have, for the first time in their history--a memorable fact--put a national army into the field, a glorious army! and they have put that army in the field for the express purpose of defending ireland from such a fate and of doing their share in helping to rescue the unfortunate and heroic peoples who have already fallen under it. with the irishmen already serving, or who obeyed the call as reserves when war was declared, and those who have volunteered since the war, the irish army in the field has amounted to , men to this date, and this number is being increased and replenished at the rate of about a thousand men a week. more than a hundred thousand have volunteered since the war, and before the year is out it is our hope that at least half another hundred thousand will have followed their example. to these may be added for ireland's credit the officially acknowledged irish units in great britain, such as the "london irish," the "liverpool irish," the "tyneside irish" (a brigade). but account cannot be taken, though their existence may be noted, of the many thousands of irish in english and scottish regiments and in the canadian and australian forces. there are some special irish colonial units, too, apart from the irish, in practically every colonial battalion, such as the vancouver irish fusiliers and the quebec irish regiment. a short time ago general botha's wife at capetown presented green flags to a south african irish regiment. but it is the army raised in ireland itself which is our more special concern here, for that is the army which it is ireland's privilege and duty to maintain at its full strength in the field; and that consists of the regular battalions of the historic irish regiments and of three specific new irish divisions with "service" battalions of the same regiments. each of the new divisions is under the command of a distinguished irish general. the three together would constitute an army corps. the formation of these three irish divisions is a fact of great note. it is the first time ireland is officially represented in the field by a larger unit than the regiment. it is to be noted that this book only deals with the achievements of the old irish regiments, and one of the new irish divisions, namely, the th. the th irish division, the th irish division, and the tyneside irish brigade have only recently gone to the front. from letters home from men and officers, from the speeches of generals delivered immediately after an action, and sometimes sent home in a letter or an order of the day, from the spontaneous testimony of onlookers of other corps rather than from official reports, the record, so far, of these irish levies, old and new, is put together. official mentions are scant. the official account given by admiral de robeck of the landing and taking of "v" beach, with its sunken wire entanglements, one of the most extraordinary of deeds, and valuable in results in spite of the appalling cost to the irish battalions who accomplished it, for it rendered the landing of the troops that arrived later safe--a feat which general sir hunter weston next day declared to be "without parallel in the history of feats of arms"--did not even mention the names of the glorious irish regiments--although the names of the regiments concerned in all the other landings were given with eulogies. general hamilton, in explanation of his meagre references to the tenth division at suvla, says he found it difficult to obtain "living human details." i do not refer to this by way of complaint, though i hope this omission may yet be officially set right. the thing is past, and there is going, we hope, to be a great change in such matters in future. besides, the facts get known. such deeds cannot be hidden--they are too great. i refer to the matter to explain why it is that books like this, imperfect as it is, have to be compiled. other volumes like it will have to supplement the tale. we irish are determined that henceforth the doings of our armies in the field shall not be in vain in any sense. piously shall we glean the record, whether official or unofficial, and what our men, our officers, and our generals think ought to be known shall no longer, so far as we can help it, remain unknown. our brave lads in the battle-line may rest assured that their country is lovingly and proudly watching them, and that the sacrifice they make in her name will, as they wish it--for their wish is the same as the dying sarsfield's on the field of landen--go to her profit. the record so far brings ireland great honour. and this excites no jealousy in the army--for it is from the other corps in the army itself comes the most generous testimony to the work of the irish soldiers and the most comrade-like regret where it is thought there has been lack of recognition. what stands out is that on every front, and whether new levies or regulars, the work of the irish troops has not only been of great merit in every instance, but of exceptional merit, and they have to their credit some of the most splendid and astonishing achievements. the irish guards at mons, the royal irish regiment at ypres, the london irish at loos (dribbling a football before them as they charged--the boys in the trenches, before the charge, holding out the matches with which they had lit their cigarettes to show each other that their hands were not shaking), the regular battalions at "v" beach, the new "service" battalions of the tenth division at sulva, i name out of a long list to illustrate this statement. to general mahon's division, composed exclusively of new levies who were civilians when the war began--thousands of nationalist families in leinster, munster, and connaught represented its ranks--the terrific open fighting at suvla bay (which began with the shelling of the lighters at the landing and the bursting of chains of contact mines as they set foot on shore) was their first experience of being under fire. undismayed, their coolness undisturbed, they formed for attack as if on the parade ground. these were the "freshies" spoken of in the letter partly quoted above of captain thornhill, himself a representative of those magnificent australian and new zealand troops whose prowess has been another of the revelations of the war. "the empire can do with a heap more 'freshies' of the irish brand," he writes. "their landing at suvla bay was the greatest thing you will ever read of in books by high-brows. those that witnessed the advance will never forget it. bullets and shrapnel rained on them, yet they never wavered.... god! the men were splendid. the way they took that hill (now called dublin hill) was the kind of thing that would make you pinch yourself to prove that it was not a cheap wine aftermath. how they got there heaven only knows. as the land lay, climbing into hell on an aeroplane seemed an easier proposition than taking that hill."[ ] it may be well to point out, for it bears upon one of the popular fallacies about irish character, that it is not only in the desperate charge or the forlorn hope that irish soldiers have proved their worth in this or other wars. they have shown it equally in the tenacity, grim yet cheerful, with which for days and weeks and months difficult positions are held and bitter hardships borne. again, let it be noted what this whole young tenth division proved itself fit for after its months at gallipoli. when it was decided to occupy salonika and to march to the aid of the serbian army it was to the irish division, under their splendid irish commander, general sir bryan mahon, that the place of honour for this desperate enterprise was given. coming straight from their hard service in the peninsula, they performed in the serbian mountain passes above lake doiran what general sarrail, the eminent french commander, the vanquisher of the crown prince's army at verdun, has pronounced to be one of the most striking feats of arms of the whole war. acting as a rearguard against an army ten times their number, they did what was neither expected nor counted upon. but their instinctive military genius, as well as their courage and determination, came into play, and they held up the overwhelming enemy for so long and with such skill that the entire french and british forces were able to withdraw safely to their defensive positions without the loss of a single gun or a single transport wagon. one seems to be verging on exaggeration in these accounts, but the thing is bare truth, and i am striving to bring out what has been done for ireland by the character of these troops. i have indicated their martial quality. but they have brought another quality into the field which is equally characteristic and therefore should at least be mentioned here, and which, perhaps, in the circumstances of the time, deserves a special reference. that is, their religious spirit. everybody has remarked it. the irish soldier, with his limpid faith and his unaffected piety, his rosary recited on the hillside, his mass in the ruined barn under shell-fire, his "act of contrition" in the trench before facing the hail of the assault, his attitude to women, has been mostly a singular impression. and his chaplain! the irish battalion must have its chaplain as well as its colonel, and both must be of the best. the chaplains of every denomination and of every corps have made a noble name for themselves in this war; but i am speaking here only of the irish chaplains--of the men like father finn, killed at "v" beach, refusing to stay behind on the ship because, as he answered, "the place of the chaplain is with the dying soldier"; and like father gwynn, of the irish guards, killed at the french front, of whom his battalion commander, a protestant irishman, writes these words: "no words of mine could express or even give a faint idea of the amount of good he has done us all out here, or how bravely he has faced all dangers, and how cheerful and comforting he has always been. it is certainly no exaggeration to say that he was loved by every officer, n.c.o. and man in the battalion. the irish guards owe him a deep and lasting debt of gratitude, and as long as any of us are left who saw him out here, we shall never forget his wonderful life, and shall strive to lead a better life by following his example." this quality of our soldiers appears to have impressed observers, as well as their fighting quality. it is referred to again and again, and the same transference of thought from the character of the men to the cause of their country, as appears in one of the letters above quoted from a scottish soldier, a spectator of "v" beach, occurs repeatedly: "the race that can produce such men, who did such glorious work for the empire, has the most perfect right to get the freedom of its country and the right to rule it.... there is not a man in the service but who would willingly do anything now for the irish people--yes, the irish catholics." thus we see that our irish troops in this war are fulfilling a mission. as i said at the outset, it is into their keeping, with the eyes of the world upon them, that the cause of their country for the time being has passed. the influence of their action upon her fortunes will extend far beyond the immediate effects which will appear the moment the war is over. no people can be said to have rightly proved their nationhood and their power to maintain it until they have demonstrated their military prowess; and though irish blood has reddened the earth of every continent, never until now have we as a people set a national army in the field. i have written vainly if i have not shown, moreover, that never was a people more worthily represented in the field than we are to-day by these irish soldiers. it is heroic deeds entering into their traditions that give life to nations--that is the recompense of those who die to perform them--and to fontenoy, cremona, fredericksburg, and the rest, these soldiers of the irish people to-day have added mons, ypres, loos, "v" beach, suvla bay, lake doiran. how do the irish people regard their armies in the field? how do their brothers at home regard these brothers in the battle line, who, at the call of danger and national opportunity, by passing into the soldier's panoply have lifted the name of irishmen to a new plane in the world's eyes, and opened to their country's cause a new outlook? to themselves the same opportunity of ennoblement comes. the ranks of their brothers in the field are thinning under the wastage of war. will they keep them filled? aye, will they! i have given my lifetime, such as it has been, to the service of ireland in a deep faith in the essential nobility and wisdom of the irish people. i should be untrue to that faith if for a moment i had any doubt on this matter--if i could harbour for a moment the idea that the young men of ireland could think unmoved of the wistful bewildered faces of their noble brothers while they held back, could watch the ranks of the irish armies thinning, and the glorious regiments, brigades, and divisions gradually filling up with others than irish soldiers until their character as irish armies finally vanished and ceased to exist--and something, i fear, would go with that character which ireland might never get back. no, the irish race has not changed, as these very soldiers have proved. chivalry is of its essence, and nations who do not want to die, but to live, as ireland does, must act through their essential qualities. those brave sons in the field need not fear for the honour they have won for their country. their brothers are coming to them. ireland's armies will be maintained. j.e. redmond. _february, _ footnotes: [ ] one is reminded of tributes to meagher's brigade at fredricksburg in the american civil war. "braver men," writes horace greely, in his "american conflict," "never smiled at death. never did men fight better or die, alas! more fruitlessly than did hancock's corps, especially meagher's irish brigade, composed of the rd, th, and th new york, th massachusetts, and the th pennsylvania, which dashed itself repeatedly against those impregnable heights, until two-thirds of its numbers strewed the ground" (vol. ii., p. ). in the same book greely quotes the following from the correspondent of the london _times_, watching the battle from the heights, and writing from lee's headquarters: "to the irish division commanded by general meagher was principally committed the desperate task of bursting out of the town of fredricksburg and forming under the withering fire of the confederate batteries to attack marye's heights. never at fontenoy, albuera, or at waterloo was more undoubted courage displayed by the sons of erin than during those six frantic attacks which they directed against the almost impregnable position of the foe." chapter i the retreat from mons how the munsters saved the guns and got ringed round with fire regular battalions of all the irish regiments were included in the british expeditionary force which left for france, at the outbreak of war, in the early weeks of august, . for its size it was the finest army that the world has ever seen, in equipment, discipline, and martial ardour. it was commanded by field-marshal sir john french, the scion of an irish family long settled in roscommon, of which lord de freyne is the head, and a soldier who made a brilliant reputation as a cavalry leader in the south african war. on the morning of sunday, august rd, two of the three army corps which composed the force were extended along a front of twenty-five miles east and west of mons, a belgian town of , inhabitants and the centre of coal mining, iron, and glass works. in the first corps, under sir douglas haig, were the st irish guards, the nd munster fusiliers, and the nd connaught rangers. the second corps, under sir horace smith-dorrien, included the nd irish rifles and the nd royal irish regiment. the th royal irish dragoons were with the cavalry. an irish trooper of that regiment on outpost duty had the distinction of opening the great war between england and germany by firing the first shot, which brought down a uhlan officer, in the early hours of saturday, august nd, fifteen miles beyond mons, on the road to brussels. the battle of mons, the first encounter in force between the british and the germans, commenced at twenty minutes to one o'clock on sunday, august rd. not a german was then in sight. but an enemy aeroplane hovered overhead, like a hawk peering for prey in the fields and hedges, and there was a burst of shrapnel over the british lines, followed by the booming of distant artillery. an attack so soon was unexpected. the bells of mons had been ringing for the sunday services, as usual, all the morning, and the cathedral was crowded with worshippers at the high mass when the sound of the german guns broke startlingly in upon their devotions. it was a beautiful day, and many of the men in one of the irish regiments billeted in a farmyard close to the town were bare but for their trousers--availing themselves of the warm sunshine to wash and dry their shirts and socks after their long tramp in france and belgium--when the bugles rang out "stand to arms." the germans were unseen, but having on saturday beaten the french at charleroi--to the british right--they were advancing in overwhelming numbers, under von kluck, in the cover of the woods, railway embankments and hedgerows. soon the sharp crackle of musketry was added to the cannonading of the guns, and the sabre and lance of cavalry gleamed in the sun. the first of the irish regiments to exchange shots with the enemy's infantry were the nd rifles, who suffered severely, holding a position in the suburbs of mons. the nd royal irish regiment defended a village behind the town, and on the main road leading south. a gordon highlander named smiley says the irish were "fearfully cut up" when his company, about two miles behind, were directed to advance to their relief. the gordons crept up the road, and reached the trenches of the irish at dusk. another gordon says:--"when we got to the trenches the scene was terrible. the irish were unprepared for the sudden attack. they were having dinner when the germans opened on them, and their dead and wounded were lying all around." the irish guards, who lay to the east of mons, on the british right, had, as the regiment's first experience of warfare, to meet the shock of a cavalry charge. one of the most popular recruiting posters in the early days of the war was a picture of a comical-looking tommy on the field of battle. he was represented striking a match to light his pipe, and saying, with a devil-may-care glint in his roguish eye, "half a mo', kaiser," while german horsemen in the background were charging towards him. the idea was suggested to the artist by an incident in the encounter between the irish guards and the germans at mons. "i am told," says an english newspaper correspondent, "that when the german cavalry were only yards away one irish guardsman momentarily put down his rifle and begged a cigarette of a comrade, which he coolly lit. then they 'prepared to receive cavalry,' and did it in better order and with much less excitement than if they had been about to witness the finish of a st. leger." in this we have an example of the easy bearing in the presence of the advancing foe for which, by all accounts, the irish are remarkable. such imperturbability springs not so much from contempt of the enemy, as from confidence in their own prowess. the two front ranks were kneeling, and presenting a double row of steel. their virgin bayonets, seen now for the first time on a field of battle, glittered as sharp and terrible as if they had around them the halo of a hundred victories. standing behind were two other ranks who poured a stream of rifle fire into the german horsemen. so the irish guards met the whirlwind of galloping horses and flashing swords, and drove back the survivors in a ragged, straggling line. they were eager to start winning battle honours for their banners, and mons is a brilliant opening of a list that promises to be lengthy and crowded before this great war terminates. then came the order for a general retreat of the british forces. in the evening sir john french found out that he was vastly outnumbered in men and guns-- , germans to , british--and saw that if his army were to escape being outflanked and annihilated they must retire until they got behind some substantial line of natural defence which they could hope to hold against such fearful odds. the retreat lasted twelve days. it was one long drawn-out rearguard action. the fighting took place along a line of about twenty-five miles and backwards for a distance of about eighty miles, which was covered by forced marches at night as well as by day. hardly for an hour were the british permitted any rest or respite. they were continually harassed by enormous masses of the enemy who by thundering at their heels and striking at their flanks sought to turn the retreat into a rout. in that the germans completely failed. the retirement was a splendid military achievement. it was also an episode of intense dramatic interest, and though i am necessarily concerned only with the part taken by the irish regiments in the ordeal, it was made memorable for all time by feats of unparalleled heroism and endurance by every arm of the service, and each and all of the nationalities represented in it. the british rearguard frequently gave battle to their pursuers, holding them in check or sending them staggering back with the vehemence of the blow. on wednesday, august th, the first stand was made on the cambrai--le cateau--landrecies line. here it was that the nd connaught rangers gave the germans another unpleasant taste of the fighting quality of the irish. "it was a grand time we had, and i wouldn't have missed it for lashin's of money," says a private of the regiment in a racy account of the episode. "the germans kept pressing our rearguard all the time. they were at least five to one, and we were in danger of being cut off. at last the colonel could stand it no longer, so the word was passed round that we were to give them hell and all. 'rangers of connaught,' says he, 'the eyes of all ireland are on you to-day, and i know you never could disgrace the old country by allowing germans to beat you while you have arms in your hands and hearts in your breasts. up, then, and at them, and if you don't give them the soundest thrashing they ever got you needn't look me in the face again in this world--or the next!' and we went for them with just what you would know of a prayer to the mother of our lord to be merciful to the loved ones at home if we should fall in the fight. we charged through and through them until they broke and ran like frightened hares in terror of hounds." that same day one division of the third army corps was brought hurriedly up by train to le cateau. in it were three other irish regiments-- st irish fusiliers, nd dublin fusiliers, and nd inniskilling fusiliers. they went straight into action to protect one of the flanks of the resumed retirement. in a fight near le cateau the inniskillings lost many officers and men. the dublins were at cambrai. they appear to have been uproariously and outrageously irish. a few weeks later the london correspondent of the _manchester guardian_ gave some interesting extracts from a letter written by an english officer of the dublins. he said that while the men were waiting for the germans they sang "the wearing of the green" and "god save ireland." one of the officers remarked, by way of a joke, "we have heard enough all day of your damned fenian songs, boys; give us something else." the boys then struck up, the officer says, a song called "dear old ireland." this ballad, by t.d. sullivan, tells in stirring verses and chorus, set to a rousing air, of some of the habits and customs of ireland, and of the affection she inspires. one verse runs:-- "we've seen the wedding, and the wake, the pattern and the fair, the well-knit frames at the grand old games in the kindly irish air; the loud 'hurroo,' we've heard it, too; and the thundering 'clear the way!' ah, dear old ireland, gay old ireland, ireland, boys, hurrah." it was not the first time that the song was heard on a field of battle. on that night in december, , in the american civil war, when the federals and confederates were bivouacked on the banks of the rappahannock awaiting the dawn to commence the bloody fight for fredericksburg, an irish regiment in the service of the north sang the song as they sat by their camp fires. was that a tremendous echo that came across the river?-- "for ireland, boys, hurrah; for ireland, boys, hurrah! here's dear old ireland; fond old ireland-- ireland, boys, hurrah!" the irishmen of the north listened intently. then it came upon them with wild surprise that the chorus had been taken up by an irish regiment in the service of the south! the officers of the dublin fusiliers at cambrai were not scandalised, nor did they put on a severe air, when they heard these rebelly songs, survivals of a dead past, and yet deeply moving for the national memories clustering round them. on the contrary, like good regimental officers, they welcomed them, as they would probably have welcomed anything that helped to raise the hearts of their men in their hour of trial. "as my old brother-officer observes," says the writer of the letter, "'these confounded fenians can fight. four times within one hour my blackguards drove a charge home with the bayonet.'" that day was a most critical one for the british. the second army corps was streaming southwards. but von kluck was making a determined effort to outflank and envelop the first army corps. the corps escaped the net with the loss of one of their finest regiments, the nd munster fusiliers, killed, wounded, and made prisoners. it was the most tragic event of the retreat. a day or two previously the munsters were entrenched behind six guns of field artillery. uhlans swept down upon the battery and killed the gunners. then two companies of the munsters charged with fixed bayonets, and put the germans to flight. but what was to be done with the guns? all the horses had been killed, and time was pressing. were the guns to be lost after all? the thought never entered into the heads of the munsters. by putting themselves into harness, with a few light cavalry horses which they had captured from the uhlans, they pulled the guns away. "as we had not enough horses," said a wounded munster in hospital at tralee, "we made mules of ourselves, for we were not such asses as to leave the guns to the enemy." the guns were brought back five miles, where horses were available to relieve the munsters. on the night of august th the regiment were rearguard to the retiring first army. they held two cross-roads between chapeau rouge to the north, and fesney to the south, and had orders to keep watch over these important positions until they got word to fall back. it is said the word was sent not once, but thrice--the first during the night--but only one reached them the following afternoon, and then it was too late. the other despatch-riders lost their way, or were shot or made prisoners. the result was that the munsters were left in the lurch while the mass of the first corps, unaware of their comrades' desperate position, were hurrying away to the south. at dawn, as the regiment lay concealed behind the hedgerows and in the beet fields of the farmsteads and in the orchards laden with fruit, they were discovered by a german patrol. the enemy at once surrounded them on three sides and attacked with vastly superior forces. "the germans came at us from all points, horse, foot and artillery and all," said one of the survivors, "and the air was raving with shouting, screaming men waving swords and rifles and blazing away at us like blue murder." to add to their troubles the rain was falling in torrents, drenching the men to the skin. the officers decided to withdraw to the village of etreux, a few miles back, where they hoped to find the shelter of a position of defence which might help them to hold up the germans, despite the terrific odds on the side of the enemy. the battalion retired by companies--two companies covering the withdrawal of one another in turns. in fighting these rearguard actions the men sought cover wherever they could find it--crouching in farm buildings, and behind wagons, walls, and heaps of stones, firing at the ever-advancing germans. the munsters were grimly silent until it came to bayonet fighting between khaki and grey, and then the air was rent with yells of rage and hate, shrieks of pain, and the low wailing sobbing of the irish keen. during the retirement a despatch-rider reached the munsters. he had a message for them to retire "at once." it was not timed, but it was probably the last of the three orders sent from headquarters, and was therefore written hurriedly. it seems also to have been written many hours before it was delivered, as the bearer said he had been compelled to hide for a long time from the germans. but it was too late. the munsters were encircled by a ring of fire. the enemy had worked round to their rear and now barred the way to the village of etreux. major paul charrier, described as a hearty, genial kerryman, was in command of the munsters. three times he gallantly led his men in an attack upon the key of the german position, a large mansion that was loopholed and turned into a fortress. he was twice wounded, yet he continued to lead, and in the last assault he fell to rise no more with a bullet in his head. eight other officers were also dead. six of the survivors were disabled. between four and five hundred of the rank and file were killed or wounded. ammunition was run out. not another cartridge was to be found by the men in the bandoliers of their dead and dying comrades. it was then p.m. the men listened for sounds of approaching relief, but none was heard. there was nothing left for the remnant of the battalion, reduced to four officers and non-commissioned officers and men, but to surrender. only men got out of the trap, and most of these belonged to the regimental transport. it came out afterwards that the munsters had been engaged against seven battalions of german infantry, three batteries of artillery, many cavalry, and many maxim guns. so impressed were the germans by the bravery of those irish lads that they paid every respect to the living and the dead. captain h.s. jervis, the senior surviving officer, in letters written to the bereaved wives and mothers of his fellows, states that the next day the germans allowed him to send out a burial party of his own men. "they found paul charrier lying as he had fallen, head towards the enemy," he tells mrs. charrier. "the sergeant told me he looked as if he were asleep. they buried him, with eight other officers of the regiment, in a grave separate from the men." more than that, when the germans learnt that their prisoners were irish and catholic they sent for one of their own catholic chaplains to read the service for the dead at the graveside of the rank and file. sir conan doyle, in a lecture on "the great battles of the war," delivered in london, made the remark: "if ever surrender was justifiable it was so in these circumstances." that was said before full and authentic reports of what happened, including the composition of the overwhelming forces that surrounded the munsters, had come from the officers imprisoned in germany, which will be found in a little pamphlet called "the munsters," written by mrs. victor rickard, the widow of a brave man who afterwards commanded the battalion and fell at rue du bois. the military lesson of the episode, in the opinion of conan doyle, is that great attention should be paid to making known the real situation to troops operating at a distance, and the miscarriage of the messages sent to the munsters makes pertinent the telling here of a story, on the authority of a wounded corporal of the gloucestershire regiment, of a splendid example of irish resolution and endurance in the operations on the aisne later on in september:-- "orders had to be given to a battalion holding an advanced position to fall back. the only way was to send a man with orders through a murderous fire. volunteers were asked for from the royal irish fusiliers. all wanted to go, but by tossing for it a selection was made at last. he was a shock-headed lad who did not look as if there was much in him, but he had grit. ducking his head in a way that made us laugh, he rushed into the hail of shot and shell. he cleared the first hundred yards without being hit; but in the second they brought him down. he rose again and struggled on for a few minutes, was hit once more, and then staggered a bit before finally collapsing. "two more men of the irish fusiliers dashed into the fire and rushed across while the germans were doing their best to pink them. one picked up the wounded lad and started back to the trenches, and the other, taking the despatch, ran ahead. just as the wounded man and his mate were within a few yards of our trenches and we were cheering them, there came another hail of bullets, and both went down dead. meanwhile, the man with the despatch was racing for all he was worth. he got through all right till the last lap, when he was brought down. he was seen from the other trenches, and half a dozen men ran to his aid. they were all shot; but the man with the message was now crawling towards the battalion in danger. with assistance he reached them and the object was gained; they were withdrawn to a new position before the germans succeeded in their plan of cutting them off." by august th the british had fallen back to the line compiègne-soissons, before the german hordes. the weather generally was intensely hot, making the retreat still more trying to the army. the situation was further complicated by the flight southwards of almost the entire population, thronging and blocking the roads. when the british fell back the inhabitants had just commenced the saving of the harvest which, undreaming of war, they had tended with solicitude and saw growing with joy. but the corn and grass were to be garnered by a dissolute and predatory foreign soldiery whose hands, in many instances, were red with the innocent blood of those who had sown them. so, accompanied by tens of thousands of fugitives--wailing women and children for the most part, distracted by the dread and terror of this calamity which had so incomprehensibly fallen upon them--the british hastened on towards paris. on tuesday, september st, the th guards brigade--grenadiers, coldstreams, and irish--had to sustain at villers-cotterets the brunt of another of these fierce onslaughts which the germans delivered against such of the british troops as attempted to stem the pursuit. the brigade had had little rest since the commencement of the retreat with the enemy ever at their heels. only the day before, august st, the irish guards had the longest and most trying of their forced marches. hardy, wiry, and fleet-footed, they covered thirty-five miles with very little food, as their transport had to keep far in advance of the column to avoid capture. at a parade of the battalion on the roadside at villers-cotterets on the morning of september st, the commanding officer, lieutenant-colonel morris, addressing them on horseback, congratulated his men on their grit and vitality. he made the very interesting statement that whilst a substantial percentage of the other regiments in the guards' brigade had succumbed to the heat and fatigue of the march, only five men of the irish guards had fallen out from exhaustion. then all of a sudden, as the tale is told by private stephen shaughnessy of tuam, the men got orders to "fix bayonets." the news was brought that the germans were approaching under cover of the woods which abound in this part of france. colonel morris rode through the ranks, shouting, "irish guards, form up! remember you are irishmen!" the irish guards entered one of the woods and almost immediately caught sight of the germans. both sides blazed away at one another with the rifle, through the trees and undergrowth, and frequently came into grips at the point of the bayonet. sergeant patrick joseph bennett, in a letter to his sister at thurles, gives another instance of the unruffled mood and quiet confidence of the men during the three hours of fighting in the wood. "the irish boys," he says, "were very cool when the shots were flying round us. they were calmly picking blackberries." in the end the germans were beaten off, but at the heavy loss to the irish of of the rank and file and several of the officers. morris was among the fallen. the last that private shaughnessy saw of the colonel was on the road beside the wood giving orders, mounted on horseback and smoking a cigarette. he was the younger son of lord morris and killanin, a famous irish judge and humorist, and brother and heir-presumptive of lord killanin. he left a son, michael, who was born ten days before his father left for the front, and was just a month old when his father fell on the field of honour. colonel morris was of the finest type of soldier, and was long mourned by the regiment. a good idea of the dangers and hardships of the retreat, apart from the fighting, and also the humours which relieved it, is given by a private of the nd irish rifles:--"it wasn't the fault of the germans if we got away alive. they were after us night and day," he says. the greatest trouble of the regiment was to find their way through woods and strange country by night. "we got on like the babes in the wood, holding each other's hands, so as not to lose touch with each other. we dare not light a match or make a sound that would betray our presence, and when we saw lights in the distance twinkling like will-o'-the-wisps, we had to send our scouts to find out the meaning before we approached." sometimes it was the germans, and then the scouts did not get back, and the regiment had to dodge the enemy as best they could. "once when they were looking for us their searchlight played in the open just where we were, only we were in the shade, and if we had moved another inch our shadows would have been seen. we heard them talking and shouting to each other, but they gave no chase, thinking we had got away in another direction. we had no food for hours, except such fruit as we could pick up on the way." does it not read as if the pursuers and the pursued were playing some monstrous game of hide-and-seek? by september rd the marne was crossed, and the long retreat of the british was brought to an end without any grave disaster. french had out-generalled and out-marched von kluck. but the germans were also over the river by the th and practically at the gates of paris. the british army then fell back upon the seine. so black did the prospect appear that the french government and legislature thought it prudent to remove from paris to bordeaux. chapter ii battle of the rivers rally of the irish guards to the green flag the british expeditionary force was driven through northern france before a mighty and irresistible wind of steel and lead, but the tempest did not overtake and disperse them, as it might have done--such was its roaring fury--any less disciplined and stubborn troops. at the end of it all the british were weary from want of sleep and plenty of hard fighting, but not badly shaken, and certainly with spirits undaunted. so marvellously quick did they recover that on september th, within a few days of the end of the retreat, they had the great joy of joining with the french in turning upon the germans and rolling them from the gates of paris back over the rivers marne and aisne. the battle of the rivers consisted of a series of almost continuous engagements, lasting till the end of september, principally with strong rearguards of the enemy who were holding the fords and bridges of the marne and aisne, and their tributaries, the grand morin and the petit morin, and the villages, farmlands and orchards of the intervening countryside. between the different british regiments there was an emulation to outshine each other. it was a splendid vanity, for everything done to realise it tended to the confusion of the common enemy. this phase of the war was therefore crowded with incidents showing the bravery of the soldiers of all the nationalities within the united kingdom. from the irish point of view the most remarkably dramatic was the rallying of the irish guards round the green flag. "it is only a square piece of cloth, but its colour is green, and on it is the harp of ireland and inscribed in a wreath are the words: 'eire go brath,' once bright and clear, but now faded and obliterated almost beyond recognition. that is the flag the irish guards obtained when they received information that they were for the front, and from the moment they set foot on foreign soil that treasured emblem of irish nationality has been displayed at the head of the battalion, the pride and admiration of the regiment." so writes corporal michael o'mara of the irish guards. the first occasion upon which the flag was produced was when the marne was crossed, and on september th the irish guards had to advance for miles across rather open country, swept by shot and shell, to dislodge the germans from a commanding position south of the aisne. the irish as soldiers have two qualities which, though widely different in nature, are really each the concomitant of the other. the first is imperturbability, springing from indifference to danger, of which the retreat from mons supplied some choice examples, as i have recorded. this attribute is displayed while they are waiting for the shock of an advancing attack, or for the command to launch themselves upon a foe shooting at them from behind entrenchments. the clash comes or the order to charge is given; and then it is that, showing the other quality, they give vent to the fire and force of their passionate temperament, which, as often as not, impels them to attempt strokes more daring and rash than the occasion quite demands. in the course of the advance between the marne and the aisne on september th the changeful fortunes of the conflict seemed to make the final issue doubtful. the line of the advance of the irish guards was a hill upon which the germans were strongly posted with several machine-guns, each pouring forth a terrible stream of bullets a minute. men were dropping on all sides. then it was that the towering form of an irish guardsman was seen running well on in front of the first line flourishing the green flag, which he had tied round the barrel of his rifle, and shouting "ireland for ever." the men roared at the sight. on they swept, with redoubled speed, after the darling flag, in one of their furious, overmastering irish charges, made all the more terrible by their vengeful yells. a thunderstorm was raging at the time. the gleam on their bayonets may have been the flash of the lightning, but it was more suggestive of a glint of the flame of love of country that glowed in their eyes. "it was all over in ten minutes," writes private h.p. mulloney to his sweetheart in ireland. "they absolutely stood dumfounded, with white faces and knees trembling. i shouldn't like to stand in front of that charge myself. our men were drenched to the skin, but we didn't care; it only made us twice as wild. such dare-devil pluck i was glad to see. 'back for those guns,' roared an officer, 'or i'll have every one of you slaughtered.' the men didn't want telling twice. we proceeded to line up the prisoners and collect the spoils, which amounted to about prisoners, six maxim guns, and , rounds of ammunition." even in these rude passages we find expressed the rapture of the irish guardsmen with the tumult and the passion of the fight. the hill was surmounted and the machine-guns taken. afterwards the advance was continued for five miles, over a country covered with dead germans and horses, and blazing homesteads. the irish rested for a time in a field, and then pushed on again until they reached the banks of the marne. they captured germans, including many officers and eight machine-guns. but if the advance was swift, sure, and triumphant a bitter price had to be paid for it, as is the way of war, for many a fine and stalwart irish youth found his grave between the rivers. the man who produced the green flag was corporal j.j. cunningham from dublin. he bought it in london before the irish guards left for the front. it became a prized possession of the regiment. "you may be surprised to hear that the irish flag i bought from the pedlar before parting with you i have still got," cunningham, who was made a sergeant, says in a letter to a friend in london. "it has been carried through all our engagements, and with god's help i will carry it back to england. clay from the trenches has made the harp on it very dirty, but, thank god, that is the only disgrace it has suffered. i did not think when we were buying it that it would go through so much." i am told, indeed, that in a far later stage of the war, at another critical moment, it was flourished by the earl of cavan, an irishman, then in command of the guards' brigade, to egg on the irish to an enterprise before which other units had excusably quailed. he knew of the episode between the marne and the aisne. he had probably heard also a story of the american civil war. an irish regiment on the side of the north carried a green flag bearing a harp in the glow of a sunburst, and so noted were they for their wild and reckless daring that a confederate general, seeing the dreaded colour surging forwards, and borne proudly aloft through the battle smoke and the hail of bullets, cried out to his men, "steady, boys, steady. here's that infernal green flag again." the germans, on the day that lord cavan waved the improvised flag of the irish guards had reason also to curse it if they but knew--for the loss of valuable trenches. on september th the main forces of the germans retired to the high ground two miles north of the aisne and entrenched themselves. as the british also dug themselves in, this was the beginning of trench warfare. but the combatants did not settle themselves down to it entirely for some months afterwards. there were still surprise attacks and counter-strokes, in which cavalry took a part, as is seen from an adventure of the nd irish fusiliers as told by lance-corporal casement. "one night," he says, "after a very hard day in the trenches, when we were wet to the skin, and had lighted fires to dry our tunics, we heard firing along our front, and then the germans came down on us like madmen. we had to tackle them in our shirt-sleeves. it was mainly bayonet work, and hard work at that. they were well supported by cavalry, who tried to ride us down in the dark, but we held our ground until reinforcements came up, and then we drove the enemy off with a fine rush of our horsemen and footmen combined." one of the most inspiring of the deeds of self-sacrifice which the war has produced was done by an irish soldier. in the churchyard of a village near the aisne is the grave of a private of the royal irish regiment marked by a cross without a name, but with the arresting inscription--"he saved others; himself he could not save." the story of how this unknown hero gave his life to save others was told by a wounded corporal of the west yorkshire regiment in an hospital at woolwich. on september th, in the concluding stage of the struggle for the aisne, the battalion was sent ahead to occupy a little village near rheims. "we went on through the long, narrow street," says the narrator, "and just as we were in sight of the end of it a man in khaki, to our great surprise, dashed out from a farmhouse on our right and ran towards us shouting a warning. immediately we heard the crackle of rifles in front, and the poor chap fell dead before he reached us." the west yorkshires ran to cover, and ultimately drove the germans out of the houses they occupied at the outskirts of the village. then they discovered that an ambush had been prepared into which they would have moved to their doom but for the warning given by the man in khaki at the cost of his life. he was a private of the royal irish regiment-- nd battalion--who was taken prisoner the day before and confined in the farmhouse, but his identification disc had been removed by the germans, and there was no means of discovering his name. "we buried him with military honours," concludes the narrator; "and there was not a dry eye among us as we laid him to rest." at this early period of the war, while the cavalry--not yet transformed into infantry by the adoption of trench warfare--were still being used as horsemen, irish troopers were distinguishing themselves. i have noticed in the newspapers, from time to time, disputes as to which unit of the auxiliary forces was the first to come under fire. the honour had been claimed by the london scottish, who entered the field at neuve eglise in the first days of november, and allowed until it was established that the northumberland yeomanry had been in action before the london scottish left home. but the northumberland hussars have in turn to yield to the south irish horse. this section of the irish yeomanry went to france early in august, . they were attached to the guards' brigade, and were with the irish and coldstreams when they turned in the little town of landrecies to hold back the germans on august th, the second day of the retreat from mons. the north irish horse arrived in france on august th, and pushing forward at once reached the french and belgian frontier in time to relieve the pressure on the retreating forces. they had their baptism of fire near compiègne on september st, and fought again a few days later at le cateau. these little side details or footnotes of history are not without their interest. often, indeed, they excite the mind even more than the big, decisive events. during the battles of the marne and the aisne both the north and the south irish horse were employed rounding up parties of uhlans in the woods, and scouring the isolated villages and deserted farmhouses for stragglers. the uhlans, by all accounts, were contemptible as foes. "they run like scalded cats when they see you," writes captain n.g. stewart richardson, of the north irish horse, to a friend in belfast, "and are always in close formation as if afraid to separate. i had a grand hunt after twenty (there were five of us), and we got four dead, picking up two more afterwards. we came on them round the corner of a street, and they went like hunted deer." the duties were discharged with varying good luck and bad. corporal fred lindsay tells how the north irish horse discovered one of those minor tragedies of war and lost troopers jack scott of londonderry and w. moore of limavady. "with a sergeant hicks they were sent to patrol as far as a ford in the river which, unknown to us, was held by a german force with a machine gun. when the three reached the ford they found a british officer dead across his motor-car and some of his men dead around the car. they were about to dismount to investigate when the machine-gun fired upon them, instantly killing the two troopers. sergeant hicks escaped on moore's horse, his own being shot under him." on another day, the same troop came upon a force of uhlans in a wood near a village, and succeeded in killing some, taking a good many prisoners, and capturing a number of horses. "in this action," corporal fred lindsay relates, "trooper m'clennaghan, of garvagh, accounted for three uhlans and took two horses single-handed; and two others and myself, firing simultaneously at an escaping uhlan, brought both horse and rider down at yards' distance. sitting on the roadside later eating biscuits and bully beef with the rest of us viscount massereene complimented us, saying, 'boys, you have done a good day's work. if we only had an opportunity like this every day!'" subsequently the north irish horse had the distinction of forming the bodyguard of sir john french. the south irish horse took service, like the cavalry, in the trenches. there is also to be told a story of a clever ambush and capture of a long scattered line of german transport wagons loaded with food by a party of the th (royal irish) lancers after the battle of the marne. commanding a bridge over a stream, by which the convoy had to pass, was a coppice in which the lancers were able to conceal themselves and the horses. they waited until the head of the column was straggling across the bridge, and then they emptied their carbines into them along a wide front that gave the impression of a great force being engaged in the attack. one who was there thus describes what followed:-- "the germans were taken completely by surprise. their horses started to rear and plunge, and many men and animals went over into the stream, being carried away. the motor wagons could not be stopped in time, and they crashed into each other in hopeless confusion. into this confused mass of frightened men and horses and wagons that had run amok the lancers now charged from two separate points, setting up the most awful cries in english where they didn't know any other language, but as some knew a little french and others more irish they joined in, and all that added to the confusion of the germans, who must have fancied that the whole allied army had come down on them. the lancers made short work of the escort at the head of the column, and the officer in command agreed to surrender all that was under his direct control, though he said he couldn't account for the rearguard." chapter iii contest for the channel coast impetuous dash of leinsters and royal irish, and grim tenacity of irish guards and rifles it had become evident that the design of the germans, then hacking their way through belgium, was to reach calais and boulogne so as to cut the direct communication of the british with the channel coast of belgium and france. with the view of frustrating these plans, sir john french, early in october, withdrew his forces from the orchards and woodlands by the banks of the aisne to french flanders, on the north-west, a mingled industrial and agricultural country. the british commander had also hoped to be in time to outflank the right wing of the enemy, but in this he was disappointed by the fall of antwerp, which enabled the germans to sweep quickly round to ostend, higher up the belgian coast. the british lines now ran, first from the historic french city of st. omer in a south-easterly direction to the smaller towns of bethune, givenchy, and la bassée, towards the great french manufacturing city of lille, prominent on the landscape with its forest of tall chimneys; and, secondly, from st. omer again north to ypres, the ancient and beautiful capital of flanders. here, for months to come, many most desperate and critical battles were to be fought, in an extraordinary tangle of railways, canals, roads, industrial villages, mills, breweries, dyeworks, machine-shops, brick-fields, lime-kilns, and intervening patches of intensive agriculture--the most densely crowded area in the world--with the ultimate result that the advance of the germans to the channel coast was stopped by impregnable lines of british trenches. in these operations both the st and nd battalions of the leinsters, the connaught rangers, the irish rifles, the irish fusiliers, and the irish regiment took part, with the nd battalions of the dublins, munsters, and inniskillings, whose first battalions--as we shall see later--were destined for more terrible enterprises against the turks at the dardanelles. it is not easy to get from the official despatches the correct proportion of the main events in france and flanders, not to speak of being able, by the impersonal generalities of these documents, rightly to estimate the worth of the services of particular battalions. my purpose, therefore, is to attempt to depict the war on the western front, as seen through the eyes, not of the commanders, but of the men in the ranks and the regimental officers, and in doing so i confine myself necessarily to episodes happening here and there over the far-spreading field of conflict in which irish regiments and individual irish soldiers distinguished themselves. there were two tremendous and prolonged struggles for the possession of ypres. the chief battle, that of ypres-armentières, lasted from october th to november th, . one of the first movements of the british was to dislodge the enemy from positions they held near lille. in these engagements national impetuosity led to the advance of two irish battalions too far without supports, and their practical annihilation. on october th the nd leinster regiment was part of a division which chased the germans out of the french town of hazebrouck, about twenty-five miles north-west of lille, and pursued them beyond armentières, a town on the river lys, within nine miles of lille. the leinsters were about a mile in advance of the main body. they pushed on to a french village called premesque, still nearer to lille, and there entrenched, when the germans surrounded them. for a day and a half the leinsters held out until they were relieved by french troops. the french commander thanked them for saving the village, but it cost the battalion more than men and officers. at the same time another irish battalion was engaged on a similar enterprise in the same field of operations with more disastrous results. "on october th," says sir john french in his despatch on the battle of ypres-armentières, "the royal irish regiment, under major daniell, stormed the village of le pilly, which they held and entrenched. on the th, however, they were cut off and surrounded, suffering heavy losses." as the possession of le pilly threatened their communications between la bassée and lille, the germans made a determined effort to capture it. it was evident to the royal irish that their position was most precarious. they held on, however, and beat off a succession of attacks, hoping that assistance would come before they were completely isolated. german riflemen crept up and ensconced themselves in farm buildings on the outskirts of the village on one side; and machine-guns were brought to a little wood on the other, so that the royal irish were enfiladed to the left and right. the fight was still going on when darkness fell. "all night we could hear the firing up there," writes gunner p. hall, royal field artillery, who was with his battery on a hill some miles from le pilly; "and desperate efforts were made by our tired troops to regain the ground the royal irish had left uncovered, but the job was too big for men so exhausted as they were." what exactly had happened was but a matter for surmise. for hours after the village had been surrounded by the germans the crackle of rifles and the rapid volleying of the machine-guns told that the royal irish were yet unsubdued. then there came an ominous silence; and in the early hours of the morning a few survivors of the battalion staggered more dead than alive into the british camp. "they got a rousing cheer, for we had given them all up as lost," says gunner hall. for the rest, some weeks later, a long official list of names of the royal irish regiment appeared under the heading "missing." but the vast majority of them will never be found until the day of judgment. the royal irish regiment had ceased to exist as a fighting force. the battalion may be said to have been defeated. the enemy, no doubt, boasted of it as such. but they set thus early in the war a shining example of dash, resolution, and endurance in facing fearful odds which must have had as much moral effect as a victory to our arms. the most terrific phase of the great battle was from october th to november nd, immediately to the south of ypres, east and west; and the most critical hours were, as sir john french says, on october st when the germans broke through the british lines at gheluvelt, a village on the road leading from ypres south-east to menin. on november nd the germans were everywhere repulsed. the brigadier-general, lord cavan, commanding the th (guards) brigade, paid the following remarkable tribute to the work of the irish guards on that momentous occasion in a letter to the officer commanding the battalion, colonel proby:-- "i want you to convey to every man in the battalion that i consider that the safety of the right flank of the british section depended entirely on their staunchness after the disastrous day, november st. those of them that were left have made history, and i can never thank them enough for the way in which they recovered themselves, and showed to the enemy that irish guards must be reckoned with, however hard hit." lord cavan, in a report dated november th, further states:--"on october st, november st and th, the irish guards lost officers and other ranks in disputing yards of ground with superior forces." private stephen shaughnessy supplies an account of the incidents of november th, when the irish guards were overwhelmed. he says:--"at this time the enemy's strength was two to one. we endeavoured to hold the enemy by machine-guns and rifle fire, until they succeeded in penetrating the french line about two or three miles on our right, and managed to come behind our rear line." then he gives an instance of the desperate duels that were fought between the slowly retiring irish and the hotly pressing germans. "while retreating," he says, "captain king-harman was the only officer i saw alive. he was then standing up and firing with his revolver on the germans, who were only yards away. i, or anyone else in our battalion, did not see him alive afterwards." he adds:--"the only comrade i found within reasonable distance was private birmingham, of clonmel, formerly of the royal irish constabulary. we discussed the situation. he got over the trench to fall back to the troops reforming in our rear. as i was getting out of the trench, a rifle bullet came through my great coat, penetrated my cardigan jacket without touching my body. we formed up again, and were reinforced by the life guards, notwithstanding which we were unable to regain our lost territory. when darkness came, we were brought back a mile behind the line for a rest and refreshments. the roll was called, and only of the battalion answered." the worst was over; and sir john french indirectly, at least, extols the irish guards for helping to avert a disaster, by his praise of their brigade commander, lord cavan. in his despatch on the battle of ypres-armentières, the field-marshal says:--"the first corps commander (sir douglas haig) informs me that on many occasions brigadier-general the earl of cavan, commanding the th guards brigade, was conspicuous for the skill, coolness, and courage with which he led his troops, and for the successful manner in which he dealt with many critical situations." another irish regiment to obtain one of these rare and therefore much coveted recognitions by a commander of an army corps was the royal irish rifles, who were fighting round the village of neuve chapelle, to the south, from october th to october th. "during an attack on the th infantry brigade," runs an order issued by sir h. smith-dorrien, the commander of the nd corps, "the enemy came to close quarters with the royal irish rifles, who repulsed them with great gallantry with the bayonet. the commander wishes to compliment the regiment on its splendid feat, and directs that all battalions shall be informed of the circumstances of his high appreciation of the gallantry displayed." on october th the germans gained possession of the northern part of the village, but towards evening the british had partially recovered the lost ground when fresh hostile reinforcements were brought up, and the entire village was captured by the enemy. the germans would have made a bigger advance were it not for the gallant stand of the irish rifles against overwhelming odds. a sergeant of the battalion supplies some details of the feat:--"one morning after we had had several days of awful shelling in the trenches the germans came to attack us. they advanced into view through the rain and mist, and though they were ten times our strength we held our ground until the necessary dispositions could be made in other parts of the field to withstand their onslaught." as will be seen from many an incident in the course of this narrative the irish fight best when it comes to the real crisis--the two antagonists engaged in close and relentless contest, man to man and bayonet to bayonet. at first it was furious smithing, gleaming thrust and parry, stab and hack, hack and stab, with the irish in the trenches and the germans above; and, in the end, it was the germans running away and the irish speeding their departure with rifle fire. "we did not think there was anything very wonderful about what we did," says the sergeant modestly, "but everyone went wild about it. one staff officer said we ought all to have two victoria crosses each, and we had the satisfaction of being splendidly praised by the general in command." "nothing," says napier in his "peninsular war," "so startled the french soldiery as the wild yell with which the irish regiments sprang to the charge." we are also told by napier that at barrosa and bussaco the heroes of marengo and austerlitz reeled before the thunder shout of _faugh-a-ballagh_ ("clear the way") raised by the royal irish fusiliers and the connaught rangers. what is more likely is that the french gave way before the irresistible bayonet charge that swept like a flame in the thunder of that haughty battle-cry. the great war shows that both these historic regiments maintain the ancient tradition of raising a wild, terrific yell when they dash forward, a yell which sends the creeps down the back, and impels the foe irresistibly to turn and fly for fear of what is to follow. the irish fusiliers were the first to enter armentières (on the occasion that the leinsters impetuously pushed forward to premesque), and they did so shouting their old irish slogan, _faugh-a-ballagh_, and enforcing it by driving the enemy from their positions behind every tree and at every turn on the road leading into the town. private h. dawson, a west port boy in the st connaught rangers, tells how a company of the battalion frightened a big force of germans out of their trenches, and out of their senses also, no doubt, by the blood-curdling yells they gave vent to as they advanced with the bayonet. it was on the night of november th, , in the neighbourhood of neuve chapelle. the company was ordered to attack the german trenches, two platoons to do the fighting and the two others to follow after with shovels, to fill in the trenches, if they were taken. "at midnight," writes private dawson, "we moved forward with such cheers, shouts, and cries that the germans, thinking that a whole brigade was advancing, evacuated the trenches and fled. the moon was shining, and when the germans afterwards saw the handful of men that routed them they returned in greatly increased numbers and made a murderous onslaught on us." they can sing, too, as they advance, these connaught rangers, as private robert mcgregor of the gordon highlanders relates in a graphic letter to his father at parkhead, scotland. on december th, , the germans attacked the trenches in front of them at a particular point. the gordons who held the trenches got out to meet the enemy as they came on in the open. there was a close fight with varying fortunes, but the germans were reinforced, and as there were only about of the gordons left it seemed as if they were bound to be annihilated. "but just at that moment," writes private mcgregor, "we heard the sound of singing, and the song was 'god save ireland.' it was the connaught rangers coming to our relief. well, i have seen some reckless irishmen in my time, but nothing to match the recklessness and daring of these gallant rangers. they took the germans on the left flank. the germans now probably numbered about , against connaughts and of us, but were they , i don't believe in my soul they could have stood before the irish. the connaughts simply were irresistible, and all the time they kept singing 'god save ireland.' one huge red-haired son of erin having broken his rifle got possession of a german officer's sword, and everything that came in the way of this giant went down. i thought of wallace. four hundred and seventy huns were killed and wounded, and we took prisoners. had it not been for the irish i wouldn't be writing this, and when it comes to a hand-to-hand job there is nothing in the whole british army to approach them. god save ireland and irishmen." chapter iv asphyxiating gas and liquid fire charge of the liverpool irish at festubert; a night surprise by the inniskillings many a desperate engagement has been fought from ypres in the north to la bassée in the south. neuve chapelle, st. eloi, st. julien, festubert, givenchy, hooge--to mention a few of them--are places that will stand for all time in history as the scenes of most bloody and tragical battles. they do not all spell british victories; but every vowel of them represents british bravery, suffering, endurance, resolution; and linked with them in enduring fame are the dublins, munsters, inniskillings, leinsters, connaughts, irish fusiliers, irish rifles, and the irish regiment. an irish battalion of another kind makes a splendid entry into the history of the war at this stage--the liverpool irish. they all had to face the new and most infamous methods of fighting introduced by the germans, clouds of asphyxiating gas and sheets of liquid fire, the opening, literally, of "the mouth of hell" in warfare. but these horrors were encountered and overcome by the irish battalions with the same valour as had previously rendered vain the more legitimate weapons and methods of the enemy. neuve chapelle is a rural village, with many enclosed gardens and orchards, four miles to the north of la bassée, and on the road between bethune and armentières. fierce engagements for its possession were fought in october and november, . the germans were driven out of it on october th. it was retaken by them at the beginning of november; and though strongly entrenched and barricaded by the enemy it was finally captured by the british on march th and th, . the nd royal irish rifles took part in the severe fighting around the village at the end of october, , and, as i have already stated, were highly praised by smith-dorrien for their valiancy in holding up a big german attack. they lost heavily on that occasion, but their dead were avenged by the help the battalion gave in inflicting so serious a defeat upon the enemy as the victorious reoccupation of neuve chapelle. the first glimpse we got of the royal irish rifles in the battle is in a letter written by an officer of a battalion which was closely co-operating with them, captain and adjutant e.h. impey, of the nd lincoln regiment. "the irish rifles came through us," he says, referring to proceedings on march th, "and we cheered them lustily. lieutenant graham was rallying his men round him with a french newsboy's horn, giving a 'view-hallo' occasionally just as a master collects his pack." captain impey states that on the next day, march th, the lincolns were ordered to support the irish rifles, "owing to some mistake," he says, "the irish rifles attacked before their time, and so got no artillery support. they lost very heavily in officers and men." it was on this day that the battalion suffered the grievous loss of their commanding officer, lieut.-colonel george brenton laurie. on the first day colonel laurie seemed to have had a charmed life. "he deliberately walked up and down, giving orders and cheering the men on amid a flood of fire," says sergeant-major miller of the battalion. "he seemed unconscious of the fact that a great bombardment was taking place. it was a wonderful sight to see him there, his big military figure standing out boldly in presence of his soldiers." colonel laurie was killed by the terrific shell fire which the germans poured on the advancing british. "it was brutal. we were lying in a wood. the bullets were whistling over us in millions, and the screeching of the shells was terrific," says bugler jack leathem in a letter to his mother at downpatrick. "the trees were flying about like chaff and the fellows getting blown to pieces. i do not know how some of us escaped. someone must have been praying for us. you know i am not very nervous, but i was not sorry when it was over. it was four very hard days, fighting both day and night, with no sleep and no trenches to protect us, only the ones we dug ourselves with our entrenching tools. they saved us from the bullets, but it was impossible to get out of shell-fire." "you would hardly credit it," adds bugler leathem, "but every time we lay down to take cover out came our pipes and 'fags.' you would have thought we were on a manoeuvre parade at home instead of in one of the fiercest of battles." this was the spirit that brought the battalion to neuve chapelle. about one o'clock in the afternoon of march th the nd lincolns proceeded up the road into the village, or, as captain impey says, "the ruins of what was once a very pretty village," and found the irish rifles there before them. "we lay in support in this village," captain impey writes, "while the irish rifles fought the enemy in front. a company was sent in close support just behind them along a hedge." one of the most interesting documents relating to the irish regiments in the war is a letter written by father francis gleeson, chaplain of the nd munster fusiliers. in it he states that each of the four companies of the nd munsters carries a green flag with a golden harp in the corner, the royal tiger in the centre, and "munster" inscribed underneath. "the irish flags are being highly honoured," he says. "the french people are awfully kind to and fond of the munsters, because they are so irish and catholic. it is really true to say that in us, the 'munsters,' they recognise the children of the men who fought for them at fontenoy and landen. they know that we are old, old friends, indeed. their histories tell of ireland's brave sons having died for their country here." moved by these memories of the irish catholic brigade in the service of france from the fall of the stuarts in england until the fall of the bourbons in france--and regularly recruited for a hundred years from ireland--the french people recognise the distinct and separate nationality of the irish regiments. "we are 'les irlandais,' and not 'les anglais'" says father gleeson. "our flags have done that." "the french priests are very fond of us," he goes on to relate, "and give us the use of their beautiful chapels. the people wept after the munsters the other day when we left a village where we were billeted for a rest." he proudly adds, "on all sides the munsters are being congratulated for their magnificent behaviour. this is due to the men's faith! they are the best conducted battalion of all the armies engaged in this world-war, because they are the most irish, the most catholic, and the most pure." the nd munsters have been in the thick of the fighting ever since the outbreak of war. of the men who landed in france in august, , there are but few survivors. the bones of many are mouldering in the soil of france and flanders. others are prisoners at limburg-an-lahn in germany, captured in the rearguard actions during the retreat from mons. the gaps in the ranks have been filled up by other lads from limerick, cork, kerry and clare. always uncertain are the chances of life, but how strange and fantastic they sometimes appear! who of these boys ever imagined in that within a year they would be serving in the british army, much less fighting against germany on the continent? fresh from the towns and villages of munster, and new to soldiering and warfare, their racial qualities were put to the test at rue de bois, close to neuve chapelle, on sunday, may th, , when the third infantry brigade were ordered to attack the trenches that had been held by the germans since october. the story of the fight brings out the services of the chaplain of the battalion; and the sustaining courage which the men derive from their religious observances and their green flags, the embodiment of that ancient irish inspiration--"faith and fatherland." i have compiled my narrative from the accounts written by mrs. victor rickard, widow of colonel rickard, the officer in command of the regiment, who was killed gallantly leading his men on that memorable day; and sergeant-major t.j. leahy, of monkstown, co. cork, who took part in the engagement. it is worthy of note that sergeant-major leahy, in an earlier letter, mentions that he served mass for the chaplain, and was known to father gleeson as his "altar boy." he corroborates what father gleeson has written of the high moral conduct of the battalion by saying, "prayers more than anything else console me, and every fellow is the same, so the war has been the cause of making us almost an army of saints." in his description of the battle, sergeant-major leahy states that on the preceding day, saturday, may th, close on men received holy communion at the hands of father gleeson, and wrote their names and home addresses in their hymn books. when evening came the regiment moved up to take their places in the trenches in front of rue de bois. "at the entrance to rue de bois," writes mrs. rickard, "there stands a broken shrine, and within the shrine a crucifix. when the munsters came up the road, major rickard halted the battalion. the men were ranged in three sides of a square, their green flags--a gift from lady gordon--placed before each company. father gleeson mounted, colonel rickard and captain filgate, the adjutant, on their chargers, were in the centre, and in that wonderful twilight father gleeson gave a general absolution." sergeant-major leahy supplies other particulars of that moving scene. "on the lonely, dark roadside," he says, "lit up now and then by flashes from our own or german flares, rose to heaven the voices of men, singing that glorious hymn, 'hail, queen of heaven.' there were no ribald jests or courage buoyed up with alcohol; none of the fanciful pictures which imagination conjures up of soldiers going to a desperate charge. no, there were brave hearts without fear; only hoping that god would bring them through, and if the end--well, only a little shortened of the allotted span. every man had his rosary out, reciting the prayers, in response to father gleeson, just as if at the confraternity at home, instead of having to face death in a thousand hideous forms the following morning." he mentions also that after the religious service father gleeson went down the ranks, saying words of comfort; bidding good-bye to the officers, and telling the men to keep up the honour of the regiment. at dawn the german position was bombarded for seven minutes in order to cut gaps in the barbed-wire entanglements through which the munsters might pass to the enemy's trenches. then, as sergeant-major leahy relates, the order was given by the officers--"are you ready, lads?" "yes," came the response. "then over the parapet, like one man, leaped forms, the four green company flags leading." the intervening plain measured three hundred yards. it was swept by the close-range fire of the germans, like rain from thunder-clouds. hundreds of the munsters fell in the charge; but "the green flag was raised on the parapet of the main german trench, and in they went," says sergeant-major leahy. mrs. rickard states that the regiments on the left and right, being unable to get near the line where the munsters were fighting, the position became that of a forlorn hope; and the battalion was ordered to retire. "you were the only battalion attacking to penetrate and storm the german trenches, although under a hellish fire," said the commander of the brigade, subsequently addressing the munsters. "you have added another laurel to your noble deeds during the present campaign. i am proud to command such a gallant regiment." "so the munsters came back after their day's work," writes mrs. rickard; "they formed up in the rue de bois, numbering men and three officers." "it seems almost superfluous to make any further comment," she adds. father gleeson was in the trenches during the answering bombardment by the germans. "it was terrible," said private danaher; "houses, trees, and bodies flying in the air. still, father gleeson stuck to his post attending to the dying munsters, and shells dropping all around him. indeed, if anyone has earned the v.c., father gleeson has. he is a credit to the country he hails from, and has brought luck to the munsters since he joined them." the liverpool irish leaped into fame and glory at the first chance afforded them. that was at festubert on june th, . the battalion, then in reserve, was rushed up to the trenches. a big surprise movement by the french was arranged for that night, and the liverpool irish were to create a diversion by an assault on the enemy's trenches that fronted them, so as to attract reinforcements to the spot in the hope that the lines to be attacked by the french, away to the right, might thereby be weakened. it was what used to be called "a forlorn hope" in ancient warfare, such as the storming of a breach, from which the chance of a safe return was small, but which, if it did no other good, would weaken the arm of the enemy in encountering the main onslaught. the detachment of the liverpool irish selected for this desperate enterprise had an ideal leader in captain herbert finegan, dashing, combative, and resolute. the son of the late dr. j.h. finegan, a well-known irish physician in liverpool, he was educated at stonyhurst, had a brilliant career at liverpool university, and, with his uncommon gifts of mind and tongue, seemed destined for distinction in the law courts and the house of commons, when war broke out and diverted him to a wholly different arena of activity. he was given charge of the attack. his company was the first over the parapets. "come on, irish. show them what we can do!" he cried in his impetuous way as he thrust forward his head menacingly towards the german lines. when the men were out of the trenches, a sergeant of the company exclaimed, "it's sure death, boys, but remember we are irish." he was immediately blown to bits. the germans, seeing the movement, met it by scourging the advancing lines with shell fire. lord wolseley has said that almost every officer who has led a storming party across the open in full view of the enemy would acknowledge that his one anxiety from first to last was, "will my men follow me?" captain finegan had no misgiving of the kind. he did not need to look over his shoulder to see if his men had rallied to his cry. they pressed round him as he ran across the open, these liverpool irish, most of whom had never seen ireland, and yet were as eager to maintain her reputation for valour as the irish guards, the munsters, the dublins, or the connaught rangers, born and reared at home. capt. finegan was shot dead at the edge of the german trenches. fired by this example, the men pressed onward, and did not stop or stay even when they had done what they had set out to do. "it was a job to make them come back when we got the order to retire," said one of the officers. the forlorn hope had unexpectedly blossomed into a victory. the liverpool irish took a german trench for themselves, along with helping the french to make a rapid advance which resulted in the capture of three miles of trenches of the enemy's lines. they got congratulations on their achievement from the commander, sir henry rawlinson. many of them shared the fate of their gallant leader. it was a fate that capt. finegan had anticipated. "i will either go home with the victoria cross, or stay here with a wooden one," he once remarked to sergeant maccabe, of his company. at festubert also the nd inniskilling fusiliers carried through with complete success an enterprise notable for wild daring and stern valour. one attack on the german trenches had failed. the ground between the opposing lines was strewn with the british dead. a second attack was ordered under cover of darkness. the nd inniskillings were to lead the van in the principal sector. in spite of the pitchy blackness of the night, it was certain that the german machine-guns and rifles would take heavy toll before their trenches were reached. but the inniskillings mix brains with their bravery. so soon as night fell, about p.m., they crept over the parapet, one by one, and squirmed on their stomachs towards the german lines. slowly and painfully they crawled through a sea of mud, from dead man to dead man, lying quite still whenever a star-shell lighted up that intervening stretch of yards. by this method, platoon after platoon spread itself over the corpse-strewn field, until the leading files were within a few yards of the german trenches. then came the hardest task of all--to lie shoulder to shoulder with the dead until at midnight a flare gave the signal, "up and into the german trenches." but the inniskillings held on with steady nerves through all the alarums of the night. occasionally bullets whistled across the waste, and some who had imitated death needed to pretend no longer. but the toll was not heavy. at least it was infinitesimal by comparison with the cost of an open tumultuous charge from their own trenches. when at last the flash blazed up the leading platoons were in the german trenches before the enemy had time to lift their rifles. the inniskillings caught the germans in many cases actually asleep. many of the grey-coats woke up just in time to find british bayonets at their throats. the entire force was confused and demoralised by this sudden appearance in their trenches of khaki and the deadly bayonet, and were quickly overthrown. the inniskillings paid less for the capture of the first and second lines of trenches than they might have done by an open attack for the first alone. they made it possible for the whole division to sweep on and to score a victory where another division had previously found defeat. chapter v the immortal story landing of the dublins and munsters at the dardanelles the most terrific thing in the bombardment of the southern end of gallipoli by the british fleet, from the Ægean sea, on sunday morning, april th, , was the roar of the _queen elizabeth_--the mammoth vessel of the navy and armed with the mightiest guns--sending forth at each bellow and flash a ton of high explosives. it inspired awe and dread to the uttermost, that concentration of fire from all the ships of the fleet. what living being, or work of nature or man, could survive it? those on the ships who were searching the peninsula with the most powerful telescopes could see no sign of life. houses and walls disappeared, and clouds of sand and earth and smoke arose where the turks were supposed to be entrenched. there was no reply to the cannonade, not even the crack of a rifle. the allied fleets of england and france had failed to batter open the gates of the dardanelles from the sea in march; and now there was to be an attempt to invade gallipoli by making a number of separate but simultaneous landings of british troops on the southern and western sides of the peninsula. the object was to seize the turkish positions defending the straits, which was to be followed, if all went well, by an advance to constantinople by both land and sea, and the dictation of terms to the paralysed ottoman empire at st. sophia. english, scottish, australian, new zealand, and indian troops, as well as irish, were engaged in this grand enterprise. they all acquitted themselves nobly, especially the lancashire regiments, with their very large irish element; and the dominion forces, in which ireland was also well represented; but to the irish regiments was allotted what proved to be the most desperate part of the invasion, as will be found fully admitted in the official despatches of sir ian hamilton in command of the army and admiral de robeck of the navy. the british troops consisted of the th division under major-general hunter-weston. in it were battalions of three irish regiments, st dublin fusiliers, st munster fusiliers, and st inniskilling fusiliers. they had been brought from india and burma to england at the outbreak of the war, and having rested for some months in the midlands, around coventry, left avonmouth for the near east on st. patrick's day, . along this western side of gallipoli, washed by the Ægean sea, the yellow cliffs of sandstone and clay, clothed in scrub, seem to rise, in an undeviating line, clear out of the waters to a height of from two to three hundred feet. but there are points where the line is really shoved back, as it were, and here and there, at these places, flat semicircles of sand lie between the water and the base of the cliffs. it was on half a dozen of these small beaches that the troops were to be landed under the cover of the bombardment by the fleet. the dublins and the munsters were to land at "beach v" immediately below the castle and village of sedd-el-bahr, strongest of the turkish positions. in this particular landing very remarkable use was made of a steamer called the _river clyde_, turned into a troopship. she had about , troops on board, all munsters and dublins, save two companies of the hampshire regiment, who formed part of the same brigade, the th. so closely packed were the men that they could scarcely move. the plan was to run her ashore, full steam ahead, and when she was beached the troops were to emerge through openings cut in her sides, on the lower deck, and passing down narrow gangways make a dash for the shore over a bridge to be formed of some lighters which accompanied her. the _river clyde_ was beached about yards from the castle of sedd-el-bahr, which rose above the high ground to the right; and the bridge of lighters was also successfully run in towards the shore from the gangways jutting from the improvised doors in the port and starboard bow of the vessel. while the preparations were in progress three companies of the dublins were being brought ashore in open boats drawn by steam pinnaces, five or six boats in each tow, and over thirty men in every boat. no sign had yet been given that any of the enemy were about on the cliffs and hills, shrouded by the dust and smoke caused by the shells of the fleet; and it looked almost as if the landing would be unopposed. but the enemy were there in their thousands, lying low with rifles and machine-guns. the turks have shown on many a field of old their fine fighting qualities. they had been trained in all the newest tricks of warfare by german officers. they were animated also by two of the most powerful emotions--defence of their native land against unbelieving dogs of christians; and the firm conviction that death in such a cause was but the opening of the gates to the sensuous delights of paradise. so they were biding their time, and the hour for action struck when the boats crowded with the dublins were about twenty yards from the shore. the furious reception they gave to the landing parties was astounding, having regard to the terrific preliminary bombardment by the fleet which had lasted several hours. the turks were as ready for the invaders as if the explosives of the _queen elizabeth_ had gone wide of the mark, or else as if she had contented herself with pelting the entrenchments with boiled potatoes or roasted apples. the scene of the landing was, in configuration, like an amphitheatre with the beach as a stage. the beach itself is a strip of powdery sand about three hundred yards long and ten or twelve yards wide. behind it is a steep rising ground of sandstone and clay grown with prickly scrub. sir ian hamilton calls it a "death trap." he could not have given it an uglier nor yet a truer name. barbed wire entanglements were cunningly concealed in the shallows of the foreshore. the turks were posted with artillery on the heights, and had sharpshooters and also machine-guns ensconced in holes made in the face of the cliff less than a dozen yards from the sea. when the picket-boats, or steam pinnaces, got to within two hundred yards of the shore they cast off; and the cutters, with the dublins, continued on their way towards a narrow strip of rock jutting out from the beach, which made a natural landing-place. then it was that the turks concentrated upon the boats a most destructive fire of rifles, and machine-guns from the amphitheatre, and shrapnel from the fort at sedd-el-bahr. the attacking party was practically wiped out. only a few passed through this tornado of lead unscathed. colonel rooth, of the dublins, the adjutant, captain higginson, and the chaplain, father finn, were killed. sergeant j. colgan, who was in the boat with these officers, says:--"only six of us got away alive out of a boat-load of thirty-two. one fellow's brains were shot into my mouth as i was shouting to them to jump for it. i dived into the sea. then came the job to swim with my pack, and one leg useless. i managed to pull out the knife and cut the straps and swim ashore. all the time bullets were ripping around me." here is another individual experience supplied by a private of the dublins:--"i jumped into the sea with my gun, and made towards the shore. when i got up on the rocky place i had my first bullet in the side. i felt as if i was struck with an iron bar in the back. it knocked me down. i put up my right hand to my head with the pain, when i got a bullet through that also. i had thus two narrow escapes. the first bullet just missed my lung and spine; it made a big hole in my back. the second one just missed my head." extremely rare were such miraculous deliverances from death. many of the dublins who got safely out of the boats and attempted to swim or wade to the shore were entangled in the barbed wire and drowned. the few who reached the shore crawled on their stomachs, or ran, reeling and staggering, to the shelter of a narrow ridge of sand, about four feet high, which fortunately stretched across the beach not far from the cliff. most of the boats were destroyed. others, with their ghastly loads of dying and dead, drifted out to sea, where they were picked up by the fleet. an officer of the dublins who was in one of these boats says:--"shrapnel burst above our heads and before i knew where i was i was covered with dead men. not knowing they were dead, i was roaring at them to let me up, for i thought i was drowning. the guns still played on us till we got back to a mine-sweeper. i was simply saturated all over with blood, and i could feel the hot blood all over me all the way across. when they pulled these poor fellows off me they were all dead, and the poor fellows under me were dead also. the boat was awful to look at, full of blood and water." meanwhile the landing of the munsters from the _river clyde_ was about to commence. three of the lighters were placed in position to serve as a pier from the vessel to the shore. they covered but a part of the distance. then out of the holes cut in the sides of the steamer were thrust wooden gangways leading to the lighters. the munsters caught glimpses from the lower deck of the appalling scenes of tumult and slaughter attending the landing of the dublins. they saw the boats drifting by loaded with the mangled bodies of their fellow-countrymen. they saw corpses floating on the sea. they saw the waters, as smooth as glass, turned from blue to crimson. as the dublins set out for the shore they cannot have had any adequate conception of the withering tempest of lead that awaited them. the munsters witnessed the whole horrid tragedy. the task before them was every whit as desperate, and fearsome, and knowledge of its nature added to its terrors. it was enough to make the blood curdle in the veins, and fear to clutch at the heart with an icy grip. man clings to life tenaciously. many of these hitherto gay and irresponsible young munsters had become very serious, and their eyes had a deep, inward look as if they were pondering over some great thing. were they sad for their shattered dreams of a safe return to ireland; and of a peaceful home life with a girl of blue eyes, red lips, and black hair as its alluring central figure? an officer passed among them saying, "our time has come, boys, and we must not falter. remember we are munsters; and, above all, remember ireland." the men were thrilled by this double appeal to pride in their gallant regiment and love for their dear native land. at the words their spirits mounted high. so that when it was discovered that one of the gangways had been shot away by a shell, and a delay was suggested in order to see if it could not be rigged up again, and one of the officers stepped forward, and shouted, "volunteers for the first dash," there was an instant response, "we are ready, sir." i am told one of the munsters made the racy reply:--"let us at them, sir; sure it's as aisy a job as we can strike." it is the way of the irish to make light of troubles. "there's nothing so bad but it could be worse," runs one of their sayings. they will seek to pluck contentment from the most desperate of situations. the officer stepped through the hole on to the gangway, with the men pressing close behind him. at the moment the bullets were rattling like diabolic hailstones against the steel sides by which the hull of the vessel were strengthened. what happened then is graphically described by private timothy buckley, of macroom, county cork. lying wounded in a military hospital in england, he said:-- "the captain of my company asked for volunteers, and as i was in his company i volunteered. we got ready inside on the deck, and opened the buckles of our equipment, so that every man might have a chance of saving himself if he fell into the water. he gave the order to fix bayonets when we should get ashore. he then led the way, but fell immediately at the foot of the gangway. the next man jumped over him, and kept going until he fell on the pontoon bridge. altogether men were killed outright and wounded. i was about the twenty-seventh man out. i stood counting them as they were going through. it was then i thought of peaceful macroom, and wondered if i should ever see it again. when my turn came i was wiser than some of my comrades. the moment i stood on the gangway i jumped over the rope on to the pontoon. two more did the same, and i was already flat on the bridge. those two chaps were at each side of me, but not for long, as the shrapnel was bursting all around. i was talking to the chap on my left, and saw a lump of lead enter his temple. i turned to the chap on my right. his name was fitzgerald. he was from cork, but soon he was over the border. the one piece of shrapnel had done the job for the two." thus men in khaki poured out of the side of the _river clyde_ and raced down the gangway or jumped from it at once on to the first lighter. two men out of every three fell. the commanding officer of the munsters, colonel monck-mason, was wounded and put out of action early in the proceedings. soon the first and second lighters were piled high with wounded and dead, twisted into all sorts of horrid shapes, and the men who escaped being instantly shot were to be seen stepping and jumping and even walking over the bodies of their fallen comrades. many of these flung up their arms, spun round, and, with a cry of agony, went splash into the sea never to rise again. then the horrors of the situation were added to by a most unfortunate mishap. the lighter nearest to the beach gave way in the current and drifted backward into deep water. the men in it jumped out in the hope of being able to swim and wade to the shore. most of them were drowned by the weight of their equipment. but the munsters never quailed. all the time they continued emerging from the _river clyde_, in an unbroken stream, two men out of every three still dropping on the gangway or on the bridge, and the survivors still pressing forward with their faces dauntlessly set for the land. those who got to the shore rushed to join the dublins under the scanty cover afforded by the low sandy escarpment. the first of the munsters to gain the beach was sergeant patrick ryan. he swam ashore in his full kit; and got the distinguished conduct medal for "showing under heavy fire the greatest coolness and powers of leadership." mr. h.w. nivenson, one of the newspaper correspondents with the mediterranean expeditionary force, mentioned in a lecture on the operations which he delivered in london, that he and others saw the landing through their glasses from a ship some miles out at sea. one of the party, seeing the men who had landed dropping on the beach, and not understanding the tragic nature of the scene, remarked to mr. nivenson: "why are our men resting?" the beach was, in fact, strewn with maimed men, or men on whose sufferings the oblivion of death had mercifully fallen. pinnaces which had towed the boats of the dublins hung about picking up the dead and wounded from the sea, and members of their crews heroically landed on the beach to carry off the disabled living. officers and bluejackets suffered death while engaged on this work of mercy. consequently most of the wounded could only be removed when it was dark. they lay on the beach all day, in the hot sand under the broiling sun, in agonies of pain and thirst, till nine o'clock at night. surgeon barrett, of the royal navy, a cork man, who was on the _river clyde_, says:--"i had some of the wounded back on board--chaps whom i had seen half an hour before well and strong--now wrecks for life. it was awful. they were very cheery and dying to be back again at the turks. it was very strange. i would see a poor chap dying, and asking him where he came from, the answer would be 'blarney street, cork'; another 'main street,' and one poor sergeant, who had five bayonet wounds in his stomach, came from 'warren's place.' he died that night, and was cheery to the last. they are fine fellows, and won the admiration of everyone." surgeon peter burrows, r.n., another irishman, though severely wounded, remained on the _river clyde_ until april th, succouring the injured. he attended to disabled men while suffering great pain himself, and being quite incapable of walking during the last twenty-four hours of his continuous duty. the distinguished service order was given to surgeon burrows. altogether more than , men had left the _river clyde_ by o'clock in the morning. two-thirds of them had been shot dead, drowned, or wounded. the landing was then discontinued. it was resumed under the shelter of darkness, when, strange to say, the , men remaining on the _river clyde_ got ashore without a single casualty. in fact not a shot was fired against them. but before they were landed a night attack was made by the turks on the remnants of the dublins and munsters crouching on the beach under the protection of the bank. lieutenant henry desmond o'hara, of the dublins, took command, all the senior officers having been killed and wounded. he was awarded the distinguished service order and promoted to be captain for his initiative and resource in restoring the line when it had been broken by the turks, and organising a successful counter-attack which caused great loss to the enemy. captain o'hara died soon afterwards of wounds received in action. he was the only son of mr. w.j. o'hara, resident magistrate, ballincollig, co. cork, and a nephew of dr. o'hara, bishop of cashel. in the morning an assault was made upon the fort and village on the heights. the dublins advanced, with the munsters on their right and the hampshires on their left. through the prickly scrub or brushwood of the hill ran three lines of trenches and a network of entanglements made of barbed wire of an unusually strong and vicious kind. out of these entrenchments the machine-guns poured a devastating stream of lead. to attack such a position seemed almost to match in madness the landing of the day before. i do not think there is any sound of battle more appalling to the soldier who has to face it than the devil's tattoo of the machine-gun sending forth its six hundred bullets by the minute. "it was up the hill and back again, up and back," writes a kildare man in the dublins, "till we began to wonder if the turks would not drive us into the sea." lord wolseley said that one of the most difficult things for an officer to do is to induce a line of men who, during an advance under fire, have found some temporary haven or shelter, or have lain down, perhaps, to take breath, to rise up together and dash forward in a body upon the enemy's position. here, however, there were deeds of bravery of the highest order. corporal william cosgrave got the v.c. for pulling down, single-handed, the posts of the high wire entanglements. in order to give encouragement to his men sergeant c. cooney, of the dublins--afterwards awarded the distinguished conduct medal--freely exposed himself in the open, though the turks were lying within seventy yards of him. this conspicuous contempt of danger had the effect the gallant sergeant desired. the men charged with a daring and fury that swept the turks out of the trenches, at the point of the bayonet, and had them back in the village by o'clock. in the streets the irish were held in check for hours and suffered more heavy losses from the fire of the turks strongly posted and concealed in the ruins of the houses. but at noon the final rush was made, and the munsters and dublins stood triumphant within the captured fort. most of the turks had retired during the last stages of the attack; but in the fort were captured of the enemy with several machine-guns. the first man to enter the fort was a dublin fusilier, private t. cullen, who got the distinguished conduct medal for conspicuous gallantry. the landing at "beach v," gallipoli, is one of the most terrible and heroic episodes to be found in the annals of the british army. the turks and the germans were amazed at its audacity and mad recklessness. by all the rules of war it was doomed to disastrous failure. von der goltz, the german general, who designed the defences, boasted that the landing was impossible. it succeeded because of the unconquerable bravery, determination, and self-sacrifice of the troops. yet the part taken by the irish regiments is meanly ignored altogether by admiral de robeck, and but scantily recorded by sir ian hamilton. ten lines to the dublins; less than twenty to the munsters! how inadequate and bald the account of the general appears in the light of the full immortal story! but tributes to the magnificent bravery of the irish have been paid by others. major-general hunter-weston, commanding the th division, made a stirring speech to the st dublin fusiliers on their relief from the firing line after fifteen days of continuous fighting. "well done, blue caps!" he cried. the dublins are known as "blue caps." during the indian mutiny a despatch of nana sahib was intercepted in which he referred to those "blue-capped english soldiers that fought like devils." these were the predecessors of the dublins. "well done, blue caps!" said general hunter-weston, "i now take the first opportunity of thanking you for the good work you have done. you have achieved the impossible. you have done a thing which will live in history. when i first visited this place with other people of importance, we all thought a landing would never be made, but you did it, and therefore the impossibilities were overcome--and it was done by men of real and true british fighting blood. you captured the fort and village on the right that were simply swarmed with turks with machine-guns, also the hill on the left, where the pom-poms were. also the amphitheatre in front, which was dug line for line with trenches, and from where there came a terrific rifle and machine-gun fire. you are indeed deserving of the highest praise. i am proud to be in command of such a distinguished regiment, and i only hope, when you return to the firing line after this rest (which you have well earned), that you will make even a greater name for yourselves. well done, the dubs! your deeds will live in history for time immortal. farewell." brigadier-general w.b. marshal, of the th division, writing in november, , to his friend mr. james o'regan, grand parade, cork, says:--"i am now one of the very few survivors of those who landed with the th division on april th, . nearly all the rest have been killed, wounded, or invalided, so that i may count myself very lucky after eight months of strenuous work, i should be glad of a change." he adds some very striking passages:--"though i am an englishman, i must say the irish soldiers have fought magnificently. they are the cream of the army. ireland may well be proud of her sons. ireland has done her duty nobly. irishmen are absolutely indispensable for our final triumph. if i am spared to return at the end of the war i shall make my future home in 'dear old ireland,' which has always had a warm corner in my heart, for in no part of the world have i met more generous, warm-hearted, or braver people than in the emerald isle." trooper brennan, of the australian light horse, writing from anzac to his father in kilkenny, says he received an account of the landing of the dublins and munsters from men of the royal scots; and goes on to make this comment:--"somehow, it's a funny thing how nearly every account of an irish regiment's prowess comes from a scotchman--i remember it was a highlander who told of the munsters at mons. at any rate, i tried to get some particulars from a few of the dublins and munsters themselves, and i failed miserably. they were all talking of poor johnny this and that who got shot, or paddy something-or-other, or the bad water, or the failure of the rum issue, so i came to the conclusion that an irishman's fighting is somewhat like his temper or dislikes--no sooner dispensed with than forgotten." here, sure enough, is a scot who was at gallipoli, and saw the landing, writing in glowing terms of the irish in a letter published in january, , by _the tablet_, who took it from a scottish paper:-- "i am astonished that glasgow folks--and i have met quite a number since my return from that 'hell' out there--seem to be unaware of the extraordinary bravery which was displayed by the irish soldiers, especially the munsters and the dublins. as you know, i am not irish, and have no irish connections whatever--in fact, i was rather opposed to the granting of home rule; but now, speaking honestly and calmly, after having witnessed what i did--the unparalleled heroism of these irishmen--i say nothing is too good to give the country of which they are, or rather were, such worthy representatives. "my god, it was grand! it filled one with admiration and envy; because certainly no soldiers could show greater daring and bravery than these fine boys did in face of an awful fire and destruction. aye, the race that can produce such men, supermen, as those chaps were, to do such glorious work for the empire has the most perfect right to demand and, what is more, to get the freedom of its country and the right to rule it. yes, it is but the merest truth to state that there would be no dardanelles campaign heard of to-day if it had not been for the extraordinary services of these irish troops, white men every one, and i have no doubt but that god has taken them to himself." the scottish soldier then goes on to bear remarkable testimony to the deep religious fervour of the irish troops:-- "oh, but they deserve a rich reward! what surprises me is that the papers have not been full of their praises. i would have expected that it would have been made widely known that the irish boys had at least saved the situation and displayed a bravery the like of which was never equalled. it is a shame and a scandal, because i can tell you there is not a man in the service who is aware of the great gallantry but who would willingly do anything now for the irish people--yes, the irish catholics. i have no religion, but it was most charming and edifying to see these fine chaps with their beads and the way in which they prayed to god. we are all brothers, but to my dying day i bow to the irish." many an irish home was made desolate. ireland mourned for her young men; but there is an uplifting sorrow, the sorrow that is mingled with pride, and of that kind was the sorrow of ireland. chapter vi the th irish division in gallipoli landing at suvla bay, and capture of chocolate hill at the dawn of saturday morning, august th, , the Ægean sea and the gulf of saros, to the north-west of gallipoli, were swarming with the most variegated collection of shipping, of all sorts and conditions--transports, cruisers, torpedo-boat destroyers, trawlers, barges, ocean liners, steam pinnaces, rowing boats, and tramp steamers. a fresh landing, at suvla bay, had been in progress all through the night. the first great landing, on april th, at sedd-el-bahr, at the toe of the peninsula--in which the first battalions of the dublin and munster fusiliers won imperishable renown--had secured a foothold in gallipoli, but the hills and forts which guarded the passage up the dardanelles to constantinople, on the east, were still held by the turks. now a new and stupendous effort was about to be made to break the enemy's grip on the peninsula. the date, august th, , should be ever memorable in the history of ireland, and also in that of the whole united kingdom. on that day a division of the new armies raised for the war--"kitchener's armies," as they are popularly called--was brought under fire for the first time, and collectively engaged in battle. these citizen soldiers were irish. irish professional soldiers have always fought most gallantly for england in all her wars. but on that day, for the first time in the long and embittered relations between england and ireland, a distinctively irish division (the th), voluntarily raised in ireland and composed of , young men of fine character and high purpose, representative particularly of the nationalist and catholic sections of the community, were found on the side of england. the th irish division was formed in the autumn and winter months of . they left ireland at the end of april, , to complete their training in the great camp of aldershot. at the end of june they embarked from england as part of the mediterranean expeditionary force. on friday evening, august th, they parted from the olive groves and vineyards of beautiful islands in the Ægean, off the coast of asia minor, where they had been stationed a couple of weeks, and were brought up to gallipoli. here, then, were clerks from offices and counting houses, assistants from drapery and grocery shops, civil servants, public school boys, artisans, labourers, farm hands--a heterogeneous collection of youths from all walks in life--and officered chiefly by barristers, solicitors, engineers, and university students, who had only been a few months in training, and who before this call to arms suddenly rang through the empire, seemed destined for peaceful and secure careers in civil life. now, within a few hours of hearing, for the first time in their lives, a shot fired in anger, they were to be plunged right into the fiery and bloody whirlpool of war. gallipoli, as it looked from the decks of the troopships, even in the wonderful dawn of that august saturday morning, had a mysterious and sinister appearance. the men saw yellow clayey cliffs, rising almost sheer from intensely blue water, and beyond these a huddle of pointed and desolate hills, to which no access seemed visible. to their right they could see achi baba--a head and shoulders, with two arms extending on each side to the sea--dominating the end of the peninsula, like a chinese idol, inscrutable, and disdainful of the shells from the battleships which raised clouds of smoke and dust about its face. the general objective of all the troops engaged in this new enterprise--english, scotch, and welsh territorials, as well as the irish division of the new armies--was the capture of the anafarta hills, a network of ravines and jungles to the north of the high mountain of sari bair, the key of the situation in this upper part of the peninsula. the australians, new zealanders, and maoris had been attacking sari bair since dark on friday night, from their position at anzac, lower down the peninsula. the th division was wholly irish, save for one english battalion, the th hampshire regiment. the th brigade, composed of the th connaught rangers, th leinsters, th irish rifles, and the th hampshires, was detached from the division, and landed at anzac, to co-operate with the dominion forces. but the other two brigades were entirely irish. these were the th, consisting of the th and th dublin fusiliers, th and th munster fusiliers; and the st, consisting of the th and th inniskilling fusiliers, and the th and th irish fusiliers. in addition, there was the pioneer regiment, the th royal irish regiment (colonel, the earl of granard, k.p.), the purpose of which was to facilitate the progress of the troops by removing obstructions, but which also took part in the fighting. these two brigades had orders to clear the turks out of the heights of karakol dagh, a long ridge fronting the gulf of saros, to the north; and to take a particular hill a few miles to the south, about three or four miles inland from suvla bay. this hill is known to the turks as yilghin burnu. it was called chocolate hill by the invading army as part of its surface had been burnt a dull brown by shell fire. the division was under the command of general sir bryan mahon, a galway man, who saw much service in egypt and the soudan, and in the south african war led the column which relieved mafeking. in a way, it is a pity that things were not so arranged as to have brought these unseasoned and unhardened irish troops gradually to the great and searching test of war, that they were not afforded the opportunity of feeling the land of the foe under their feet, and becoming somewhat familiar with its extraordinary geographical conditions and climate, before they had to rush into battle. in warfare all that depends, usually, upon unforeseen circumstances, and the chance disposition of the forces. but it may have happened by special direction in this case; and, if so, it was a compliment to the th division. "it is true they are new and untried, but they are irish," it was probably said at headquarters, "and being irish, they may be relied upon, however hard and tough their job." in any case, both brigades were successful in the enterprises to which they were set. the disembarkation was carried out under fire from the turkish batteries on the hills. the men were taken from the transports in steam-driven barges, and though the barges had sheltering sides of steel, several men were killed and wounded by exploding shells even before they reached the shore. half of the th brigade, consisting of the two battalions of the munsters, to whom was allotted the task of capturing karakol dagh, were landed to the north of suvla bay, just under the ridge. "how i wish that their fathers and mothers could know more of how these brave fellows fought and died!" writes the commanding officer of one of the munster battalions in a letter to his relatives. "they, alas! for the most part just see the names of their dear ones in a casualty list, and can learn nothing further. the beach on which we landed was sown with contact mines, and as we crossed it to form up under cover of a small hill, many a poor chap was blown to bits--not very encouraging for those approaching in other boats. but they never wavered, but landed, and formed up as quietly and steadily as they used to do on the parade ground at the curragh. i asked one poor chap who was slightly injured how he had got through, and he said, 'all i could think of, sir, was how anxious you must be to see how we would behave.' that is the spirit that one likes to see in a battalion." the landing place of the other half of the th brigade, the th and th dublins, with the inniskillings and the irish fusiliers, was to the south of suvla bay, at niebruniessi point, under the hill, lala baba. the men climbed the cliffs to the sand dunes. leaving their packs behind them, they carried nothing but what was absolutely necessary--a rifle and rounds of ammunition per man, a water bottle, and rations for two days in a bag, consisting of two tins of bully beef, tea, sugar, biscuits, and tablets of compressed meat. thus equipped, with loosened girths and wearing their big brown sun-helmets, the troops advanced in eight or ten long lines, with two paces between each man. the th dublins, the famous "pals," flower of the youth of dublin, were in the van. colonel geoffrey downing, in command of the th dublins, as the senior colonel of the battalions in the attacking line, got a message from headquarters that it was imperative that chocolate hill should be taken before sunset. his reply was: "it shall be done." as the crow flies chocolate hill is no more than four miles from the sea line. but to reach it the irish troops had to make a wide enveloping movement, so that the ground actually covered in the advance was from ten to twelve miles. to the north of the point where the landing took place is a long and broad but shallow lagoon, called salt lake. the intense summer heat had dried it up and turned its bottom into a flat stretch of sand and dust, covered with a slight crust of salt which glistened in the sun. the irish troops first proceeded a considerable distance ahead between the sea and salt lake, moving thereby parallel to chocolate hill, which lies east of the lake. at one point they had to pass over a long spit of sand, not twenty yards wide, that divided the sea and salt lake. the enemy had its exact range. many a man was brought down as he attempted to cross it at a run. then colonel downing, of the th dublins, came upon the scene. he paused, lit a cigarette, and walked over the narrow ridge as coolly as if he were doing grafton street, dublin. after this experience the troops wheeled to the right, and marching south-east across salt lake faced the rear flank of their objective. crossing salt lake in the open, they presented a clear target to the enemy, and were raked with machine-gun fire, shrapnel and high-explosive shells. it is an ordeal that strains to the uttermost all the physical and mental qualities. one of the most common experiences of men who go through it for the first time is a distracting indecision whether to advance, halt, or retreat. but the successive lines went steadily on in short rushes, the men falling on their stomachs between each rush. there was no shelter. the expanse was unbroken even by a rock. the men sank almost to their knees in the soft sand. very heavy, slow and tiring was the going. all the time turkish explosives were bursting on every side, and comrades were dropping out of the ranks killed or disabled. one instance will show the steadiness and resolution of the troops. a shell burst in the middle of a platoon that was marching in rather close formation. five men were blown to pieces. the platoon opened out and continued their advance. high over their heads the shells from the british cruisers and monitors out at sea went shrieking on their way to find the turks. the land seemed to tremble with the din and vibration caused by this long-range artillery duel. the men were bodily shaken. but they were also greatly heartened to see, now and then, clouds of earth thrown into the air, telling how the explosive shells from the ships were rending the entrenchments behind which the enemy lay concealed. after this ordeal in the open sandy plain, the irish reached a totally different kind of country--an inextricable jumble of hills and gullies, strewn with boulders, overgrown with a thick prickly scrub, and wholly trackless. here some shelter was afforded from the high explosives of the turks, but not from their machine-guns and rifles, and the progress was still more slow and difficult. the nature of the country gave a tremendous superiority to the enemy, on the defensive behind their entrenchments. what a hopeless, heart-breaking task it seemed to get free of this entanglement of rocks and scrub, which tore the clothes and lacerated the flesh, and force a way up these steep hills, on hands and feet to the turkish positions. men were falling on all sides. how soon would the end of the fiery furnace be reached? would anyone get safely through? such were the thoughts that occupied the mind of many a man, expecting that the next bullet or shell would strike him down. the battalions were broken up into unrelated sections, or else were mixed together. the nature of the ground, the gullies and ravines, the scrub and the rocks, split them up into fragments, each with its independent command. this kind of fighting was quite to the liking of the irish troops. it gave play to individual personal courage and qualities of leadership. what they all desired was to get into close grips with the turks. how they hungered for the wild exultation of the bayonet charge, the shock of man to man in deadly encounter, the pursuit of a vanquished foe! the evening was well advanced before the end came in sight. major harrison gallantly led the th dublins and men of other units in the final attack. "fix bayonets, dublins, and let's make a name for ourselves," was his cry. the hill had not only natural advantages for defence in rocks, scrub, and trees. it was also a network of trenches. from behind this double cover the turks threw hand grenades at the irish, now approaching with a rush and yelling fiercely. soon they got a taste of bayonet and clubbed rifle administered by irish hands. the turks are brave fighters, but they quailed before the irish onslaught and sought safety from it in precipitate flight. at half-past o'clock, just as it was growing dark, chocolate hill was taken. there is some dispute, i understand, between the dublins and inniskillings and irish fusiliers as to which battalion the men first in the turkish trenches belonged. but does it really matter? are they not all irish? probably men of all the battalions were in the last overwhelming rush. there is no doubt that the dublins get most of the credit for the feat. the battalion was specially complimented by headquarters for their heroism and endurance. and well they deserved it. what a baptism of fire it was for those inexperienced irish lads! and what a confirmation of suffering. over ten hours of continuous open fighting against machine-guns and artillery, and on a day of scorching heat! "we have gained a great name for the capture, and for the splendid regiment which i have the honour to command," says colonel downing. the general of the division, sir bryan mahon, speaking of all the battalions, said he had never seen better work by infantry. the fact that the hill was widely known afterwards among the troops in gallipoli as "dublin hill" tells its own tale. but there is another side to war, and tragic though it be, it must not be ignored, even now that the victory has been won. at the last phase of the fight the hills and ravines were flooded with crimson and purple and yellow, as the sun, in regal splendour, went down into the western sea. those vivid colours were appropriate to the scene--the raging hearts of the opposing forces of men engaged in a death-grapple, the bitter humiliation of the defeated, and the glory of the victor's triumph. then the night fell and the darkness was softly lit by a multitude of stars in a cloudless and almost blue sky. it seemed to speak most soothingly to the exhausted men of peace, silence, tranquillity, and the lapping coolness of running streams. oh, to be able to get away from this terrific din, this intimate contact with throngs of fellow-men, these devilish instruments of death hurtling through the air--away into loneliness and quietude, only for a little while. but there was no respite. the enemy were still close at hand. it would be dangerous to succumb to the almost irresistible inclination to lie down and sleep. there might come at any moment a counter attack by the enemy. most of the men, therefore, had to "stand to arms" through the night. the wounded had also to be attended to. some of them, totally disabled, had lain where they fell, out on the open sandy plain under the burning sun. they were tortured by thirst. as their comrades in the reserve lines passed them by they could be heard moaning in pain, calling for mother or wife, craving for a drink to moisten their parched mouths. it was forbidden the men to fall out of the lines for the purpose of succouring the wounded. that is the duty of the stretcher-bearers, following behind, and to them, the orders are, it must be left. but the th division were new soldiers, and humanity had not been quite suppressed by discipline in the ranks. the cry of stricken comrade was irresistible. "water; a drop of water for the blessed virgin's sake," they gasped, with mouths open and eyes starting from their heads, as if startled by the sight of something dreadful. so the men stopped for a minute to put a water-bottle to the lips of a mangled friend; and often the murmured thanks stiffened out into rigidity and silence. some of the wounded succeeded in crawling into the rocky gullies. others lay in the thickets of scrub. they were sheltered from the fierce rays of the sun, but were in danger of the equally terrible fate of death by burning. on every side, throughout the day, fires were blazing. the dry scrub and bushes were set alight by petrol bombs. as a line of the inniskilling fusiliers were moving forward behind the dublins, news was brought to them that there were some wounded men in an extensive patch of scrub that had just caught fire. signaller john wilkinson and another member of the battalion plunged into the thick smoke and brought out seven men. there was a burst of shrapnel, and wilkinson, at the crowning point of his noble display of humanity, was killed. when the wounded were brought down to the beach for conveyance in lighters and mine-sweepers to the hospital ships anchored about a mile and a half from the shore, the dead awaited reverent disposal. of all the tasks that had to be performed that night in the starlight this was the pitifulest and most poignant. they were buried side by side, at the foot of dublin hill. with the death of these young lads in gallipoli the light went out in many a home in far away ireland. mothers were weeping in sorrow and disconsolation. the country was torn by the conflicting emotions of pride in her sons and grief for their loss. it can be truly said that these young irishmen gave their lives for civilisation and the freedom of nationalities. but the immediate inspiration of their bravery was love of ireland, and the resolve which sprang from it, that there should be no occasion for a word to be spoken in prejudice of the fighting qualities of the race, of the valour which irish regiments have displayed on the battlefield at all times and in every clime. chapter vii in the rest camp how the leinsters caught a glimpse of the narrows for five days and nights the irish troops who took chocolate hill, or dublin hill, on saturday, august th, lay in the captured turkish entrenchments before they could be relieved. the men were in the highest spirits over their exploit. but they felt stiff and sore and very, very dirty. they had sand in their clothes, sand in their hair, sand in their eyes, sand in their mouths and nostrils, and their faces and hands were black with the grime of powder and the smoke of the bush fires. and now, upon all that, they had to endure the particular discomforts and hardships which attend a campaign in a dry and torrid land. the greatest trouble arose from the scarcity of fresh water to mitigate the tropical heat. the wells were few and far between, and being within range of the turkish guns, were, all of them, constantly shelled. the quantity of water that could be brought to dublin hill was totally inadequate to satisfy the demand. the supply was strictly reserved for drinking purposes. water was too scarce and precious to be wasted on personal ablutions. better a filthy face than a parched mouth. the dirtiest water was drunk with a relish. a dublin fusilier sighed for a draught of the cool and crystal water from the wicklow hills. "vartry water," exclaimed another; "i'd be quite content with a bucketful from the liffey, even off the north wall." food was also hard to get. the commissariat had not yet been evolved out of the disorganisation attendant upon the landing. under such a scorching sun the eating of the bully-beef in the men's ration bags was unthinkable. so their meals consisted chiefly of biscuits. then there was the pest of myriads of flies. the gallipoli flies were having the time of the life-history of their species. big, ferocious, and insatiable freebooters, they would not be denied joining the troops at their meals and getting the bigger share of the scanty rations into the bargain. the worst affliction of all, however, was the stench of the half-buried and rapidly decomposing corpses in the captured trenches. during the week which thus elapsed between the capture of chocolate hill and the still fiercer series of battles for the heights of kiretsh tepe sirt, to the north, and of sari bair, to the south, which were to follow, regiments of the irish division were constantly engaged with the enemy on the foothills. sari bair was the strongest strategical position of the turks in this part of gallipoli. like achi baba, towards the lower end of the peninsula, it commands the dardanelles, and especially the great military road along the shore of the straits, over which the turks were enabled quickly to send reinforcements of men, munitions, and stores from one point to another. one irish battalion actually gained a point on sari bair, from which they caught a glimpse of the dardanelles. this was the th royal leinster regiment of the th brigade, which, as i have already mentioned, was separated from the th division and sent south to co-operate with the forces from the dominions. on monday, august th, a party of new zealanders had fought their way up to a ridge of sari bair, but were unable to hold it; and as they came retreating down to the place where the th leinsters were in reserve, they shouted: "fix your bayonets, lads; they're coming over the hill." sergeant-major t. quinlan, of the leinsters, lying wounded in hospital, tells the story. "everyone ran for his rifle and fixed his bayonet, picked up a bandolier or two of ammunition, and charged up the hill like a pack of deers, some without boots or jackets. i bet you the turks never ran so quick in their lives, for our rifle fire and plunging bayonets, as we charged, were too much for them to stand. we regained the lost position in almost twenty minutes." and down below them, to the east, they could see that narrow ribbon of water which was the object of all this horrible killing--the dardanelles glistening in the sun. the positions held by the irish regiments around chocolate hill were regularly bombarded. on august th lieutenant d.r. clery, of the th dublins (a fine young dublin man, very popular as a footballer), was missed. captain j.j. carroll, of the battalion, writing to a relative, says: "i know that he was in the very front of the firing line on august th, and one of our men told me on the ship coming home of dan's magnificent conduct in carrying man after man out of danger. the man i refer to said that in saving others dan had seemed utterly regardless of danger to himself." it was also in one of these outbursts of turkish artillery that on tuesday, august th, captain james cecil johnston, adjutant of the th royal irish fusiliers, was killed. before the war captain johnston--a county fermanagh man--was master of the horse to the lord lieutenant of ireland. second lieutenant r.s. trimble, who was wounded on the same occasion, describes the incident in a letter to his father, mr. w. copeland trimble, of fermanagh. he was standing between his colonel and his adjutant in conversation when a shell came along. it tore the colonel's arm to pulp, and though it passed mr. trimble, who was slightly out of the line of fire, the concussion of it dashed him violently to the ground, and then exploding, it blew captain johnston literally to pieces. the irish troops were greatly harassed by the enemy's sharpshooters. these snipers assumed all sorts of disguises and occupied every conceivable hiding place--up in the dwarf oak trees, lying prone in the scrub thickets, down in the rocks of the gullies--so that it was very difficult to spot them. among those discovered was a peasant woman--the wife of a turkish soldier--who lived with her old mother and her child in a little house near the irish lines. she was a fine shot, and apparently confined her attention to stragglers, whose bodies she rifled; for several identification discs and a large sum of money were found in her possession. the daring and resource of the sharpshooters made them a deadly peril. one man caught in a tree wore a head covering and cloak formed of leaves. another was found in a khaki uniform, stripped from a dead british soldier. the most perplexing feature of the sniping was that shots often came from the scrub behind. one of the victims of these tactics was lieutenant e.m. harper, of the th royal munster fusiliers, who, while advancing with his company on august th, fell from a rifle shot fired from the rear. the men of all the irish battalions suffered from this game of hide-and-seek with death as they lay in the trenches on dublin hill. relief came to them in the early hours of the morning of friday, august th. they left at . , and marched seven miles to a rest camp in a gully of karakol dagh running down to the gulf of saros, which they reached at . , and a footsore, sleepy, haggard, unkempt, bedraggled, hairy, unwashed, and unshaven crowd they were. they owed this bivouac to the success of the munsters and royal irish regiment in expelling the turks from part of the ridge. when dismissed in the camp every man, officer and private alike, flung himself down in the open where he was and as he was, and had his first undisturbed sleep for a week. in the morning they had the luxurious experience of getting out of their clothes and plunging into the sea. how they revelled in it, after that awful week of forced marches, battle, flies, smoke, stench, and sweat! what laughter and splashing! the shouts and the merry jests and their accents made the scene just such a one as might be witnessed at home in a swimming pool under howth or bray head. afterwards the chief desire of all was to write home. as the men lay almost naked on the warm sands, under the scorching sun, many a letter was written to loved ones in ireland, each telling how he got safely through his baptism of fire--the best news he could possibly send--and what a grand name his battalion had made for itself. words of comfort and cheer are freely used in such of the letters as have been made public. "i'm happier than ever i was; it's just the sort of life i like." "you can't realise what high spirits i am in when i'm fighting. i feel as if it were all one long exciting rugger match." "don't you fret, i'll get through it all right; and even if i fall, sure we'll all meet again in the next world after a few brief years." to call the camp a "rest" camp is, perhaps, a misnomer. it certainly afforded no refuge from the flies. "there is a fellow near me doing nothing but killing them in millions," writes one of the dublins. "i had ten in a mug of tea as soon as it was handed to me," says another. this place of shelter was not safe even from the turkish guns. as many as twenty-five men were knocked out by a shell. but such as the camp was, the stay of the irish in it was very brief indeed. on the morning of sunday, august th, they were ordered to take up positions on the ridge above them, and wait for the word to go forward and attack. though "burned like a red herring, and just as thin and thirsty," as one of the officers of the th dublins said, describing himself and giving a comic picture of them all, they were again in good physical condition. and they had need to be. for they were now assigned a task that was to demand of them more fortitude and resolution and a bigger toll of life than even the taking of dublin hill. it was fortunate, then, that on that very sunday, august th, the great irish catholic festival of our lady's day, the catholic members of the forces were able to reinforce themselves with that sustaining power which the mass and holy communion impart. the services were held by father w. murphy, one of the chaplains, under the sheltering hill, in the open air, not only within sound of the guns, but within sight of the bursting shells. it was a rudely improvised altar--a stone laid on trestles, a crucifix, and two candles--and the priest in his khaki service uniform under the vestments. many of the men thought of the village chapel at home on that fine sunday morning. they saw the congregation, all in their sunday best, gathered outside, and while waiting for the bell to stop, exchanging gossip about the war, and inquiring of one another what was the latest from the dardanelles, about tom, and mike, and joe. the familiar scene was distinct to their mind's eye, and their beating hearts kept time to the measured tones of the chapel bell. after the mass they were given the general absolution. "it was very impressive," says sergeant losty, of the th dublins, "to see father murphy standing out on the side of the hill, and all the battalions, with their helmets off and holding up their right hands, saying the act of contrition and he absolving them." at this point it is appropriate that i should refer to the cordial and intimate relations which existed between the protestant and catholic chaplains of the th division. an officer of the th brigade, consisting of the th and th dublins and the th and th munsters, gives the following pleasant picture of father w. murphy, catholic priest, and the rev. canon mcclean, church of ireland minister:-- "this morning father murphy said mass in the trenches, where bullets, etc., were falling like hailstones. oh! he is a splendid man. the canon, a dear, good irishman from limerick, holds his services side by side with father murphy. they put a great spirit into the men, who love them both; in fact, almost adore them. i personally think that nothing i know of is half good enough for those two noble gentlemen. catholic and protestant are hand-in-hand, all brought about by the gentleness and undaunted courage displayed by these two splendid soldiers of christ. never since the landing has the roar of battle, be it ever so ferocious (and god only knows it is bad here at times), prevented these clergymen from forcing their way into the firing line and attending to our gallant sons of ireland. canon mcclean is over fifty years of age and father murphy is forty-eight. you can imagine them, even though of such an age, never off their feet, as they go to and fro daily to their duties." both have been mentioned in sir ian hamilton's despatches. brigadier-general nicol, in command of the th brigade, writes in the warmest appreciation of their services. "we of the th brigade are never likely to forget your fearless devotion to your duty," he writes to canon mcclean. "with you and father murphy we were indeed fortunate; and it was so nice to see you two the best of friends working hand in hand for the common good. you both set us a fine example." canon mcclean is rector of rathkeale, county limerick. chapter viii fight for kislah dagh gallant stand and fall of the th dublins the objective of the new operations was the last crest of kiretsh tepe sirt, or, as some call it, kislah dagh--a continuation of the karakol dagh, which the munsters had taken--beyond which it dips and swings southward. telegraphing from alexandria, on august th, the special representative of the press association says, in the vague way then enjoined by the censor, "the attacking troops were a division which was almost wholly irish, and which had already the capture of chocolate hill to its credit." the battalions engaged were, as a fact, entirely irish. the munsters and th dublins, advancing from different sides, commenced the attack about midday. "in two hours we had not advanced twenty yards, so heavy and well directed was the fire of the enemy," writes the colonel of one of the battalions of the munsters. "our second in command, most gallant of officers, was mortally wounded, and many others had fallen. two companies, however, under cover of some dead ground, had managed to get some yards ahead of the rest of the line, and these companies were now ordered to make a strong demonstration up the hill in order to try to weaken the resistance on the top. fixing bayonets they rushed up with a wild irish yell, and so great was their dash that they actually reached the crest. the turks, appearing from behind every rock and bush, flung down their arms, and held up their hands. many prisoners were taken, but the charge did not stop. on it swept along the ridge, and the last peak of all was captured before the enemy could make a stand." here is an equally spirited account of the final charge, written by a man in the ranks, private jack brisbane, of buttevant, co. cork: "the th munsters charged with the bayonet. you often heard a shout in the hurling field. it would not be in it. they were like so many mad men. go on, munsters! up the munsters! even the sailors in the harbour heard it, and climbed up the rigging to try to get a view of it, and shouted themselves hoarse. up the munsters! it was grand. i am proud to be one of them. father murphy, our priest, said the evening after, when he came to give the boys his blessing: 'well done, munsters; you have done well,' so says the general. father murphy is a fine priest. his last word is: 'boys, i'm proud i'm an irishman.'" lieutenant neol e. drury, of the th dublins, who before the war was a partner in a dublin firm of papermakers, supplies the following spirited account of the action of his battalion in the operations:-- "about o'clock everything seemed ready for a charge, so 'fix bayonets' was the order, and, by jove, the sight in the sun was ripping. there were several warships lying along the font of the ridge, and all the crews were lining the decks watching the fight. when the flash of the bayonets showed up in the sun a tremendous cheer came up to us. 'cheer, oh! the dubs!' everyone yelled like mad, and charged up the remaining piece of ground as if it had been level. the bhoys put it across the turks properly, and i can tell you there were not many shining bayonets when we finished. we drove them off the ridge, helter skelter, and they fairly bunked, throwing away rifles and equipment wholesale. when we got to the top we had five machine-guns playing on them as they ran down the other side, and as our chaps watched them from the summit they cheered and waved their helmets like mad, all the other troops back along the ridge and the ships' crews joining in." "throughout the night the enemy, strongly reinforced, delivered counter-attacks, one after another," writes the same commanding officer of the munsters. "the fighting was severe and bloody, but we held on, and the morning found us still in possession of what we had gained, though our losses had been terribly heavy." he goes on: "i wish i could retail half the acts of individual heroism performed during those hours--how one sergeant and one corporal, the former i believe had been destined for the priesthood, the latter only a boy, threw back the enemy's hand grenades before they could burst one after another, and failing these threw large stones. alas! before morning they had both paid the penalty of their gallantry. in the morning we were relieved, but the roll call was a sad revelation. my observer, who had been my groom when we had our horses, shot through the body in the charge, refused to be removed until the doctor promised him that he would personally tell me that he was wounded, fearing that i might think he had not followed me. the doctor faithfully fulfilled his promise, though it cost him a long walk at night. such was the spirit of all ranks. other units, of course, were equally gallant." an extract from another letter must be given here, as it reveals one of the little tragedies of war, and the endurance and resolution of the men. sergeant gallagher, of d company of the inniskillings, which was transferred to the munsters and went into action with them, got a bullet in his right eye and was made stone blind. "i have a confession to make," he writes from hospital to the recruiting officer at strabane, "i deceived you when you enlisted me. i had a glass eye, and now i have lost the other. i hope to be back in strabane soon, but i shall never see the glen again, and watch the trout leaping behind the bridge. but i am happy, and we showed these turks what irishmen can do. no matter what happens i have done my bit, and i would not exchange with the best man at home." the casualties among the other units were equally severe. on sunday, late in the afternoon, the th dublins got the word to push on to the crest of the hill and relieve the battalions that had captured it. they advanced in the mode of progression which alone was possible--slowly, in single file, crawling through the thick prickly scrub, sinking in the sand, stumbling over the rocks. it was laborious and exhausting work. all the time they were harassed by snipers. on the way up their commanding officer, colonel downing, was twice hit, and, being disabled, had to be left behind. gaining the top of the hill, they relieved the munsters and the th dublins, and entrenched themselves as best they could, under the ridge, on the near side by working hard throughout the night. at dawn on monday morning, weary as they were from unremitting toil and want of sleep, they had to meet an attack by a large force of bomb throwers and riflemen. the turks were at least three to one. under cover of the night they had crept up the far side of the hill; and hiding, just under the ridge, behind rocks and bushes, hurled hand grenades across the twenty yards of rocky summit. the dublins could not answer back. rifle fire was of little use against a concealed enemy. there were no hand grenades. a few of the turkish bombs which had not exploded, being wrongly timed, were hurled back, their long fuses still alight. numbers of the dublins were falling, wounded or killed. major harrison decided to try the effect of a bayonet charge. this was the action which, at the moment, was just what the men most desired. for them it was maddening to be held behind entrenchments whence they were unable to exchange blow for blow--and more--with those who were dealing death to their ranks. they were aflame with that bloodthirsty rage of men in battle to get at the throats of their opponents, to crush them, if need be to tear them to pieces. so when the order to charge was given the dublins sprang up into the open. the first line was led by captain poole hickman, of d company, who came of a well-known clare family and was a barrister by profession. he never returned from the charge. as the dublins appeared at the summit there was a splutter of fire along the opposite ridge, which was lined by turkish marksmen. the men wavered and swayed uncertainly for a minute or two before the shower of bullets. hickman was well in front, waving his revolver and shouting "on, dublins!" that was the last that was seen of him alive. the turks made a horrid din, shouting and shrieking, as if further to intimidate their antagonists. but the irish can yell, too, and wild were their outcries as with fixed bayonets or clubbed rifles they scrambled across the rocky summit. many of them did not go far. as they dropped they lay strangely quiet in clumsy attitudes. among them was their superb leader, major harrison. others passed scathless over the open ground, only to disappear for ever behind the ridge. these charges and hand-to-hand fights commenced about seven o'clock. the turks fought with tenacity. it was eleven o'clock before they gave way to the repeated irish onslaughts. during those four hours magnificent courage and daring were shown by the officers of the th dublins. many a young irishman of brilliant promise was lost that day. they led their companies into the fray and were the first to fall. captain michael fitzgibbon, a law student, and son of mr. john fitzgibbon, the nationalist m.p., captain r.p. tobin, son of surgeon tobin, of dublin--a gallant youth of twenty-one--and second lieutenant edward weatherill, an engineer, were killed. they were of priceless worth to their country and the beloved of their family circles. major m. lonsdale, of the th dublins, writing to mr. fitzgibbon, of the death of his son, says he died gallantly, leading part of a company. his death was instantaneous. all the other officers belonging to his company were also killed. "it was a desperate fight," adds major lonsdale, "and i do not think any but irish soldiers could have stood up against the losses we suffered that sunday and monday." lieutenant ernest hamilton, of d company, writing to surgeon tobin, states that when harrison and hickman fell captain tobin took command of the company. "our men at this time," he says, "were getting badly knocked down. paddy and i took up a position on the top of the knoll, and from there he controlled the fire and steadied the men. such gallantry and coolness i have never witnessed. we fought like demons against three times our numbers, and held on, too. our knoll came in for at least six attacks. during one of these your son was killed, shot through the head. he caught me by the shoulder, and when i turned round he had passed away. i carried him back some distance and placed him under shelter, but had to get back to my position to try to follow his magnificent example. his death affected the men so much that i thought all was finished. they fought for another hour as they never fought before. then they were relieved." similar scenes were being enacted in other parts of the field of operations. the casualties among the officers of all the irish regiments engaged were very heavy. captain w.r. richards, of the th dublins, a dublin solicitor, and lieutenant j.j. doyle, an engineering student of the national university, were killed. so, too, was lieutenant w.c. nesbitt, of the same regiment. before he enlisted mr. nesbitt was in the service of the alliance gas company, dublin. his company had captured a ridge when he was shot in the side. some of his men ran to his aid and raised him up. at the same instant he was struck a second time and killed. among the officers of other regiments who fell was second lieutenant hugh maurice macdermot, th irish fusiliers, eldest son of the macdermot of coolavin, co. sligo. writing of the officers of the th irish regiment, father peter o'farrell, chaplain to the battalion, says: "nothing could excel, if anything could equal, the conduct of the company and platoon commanders on the th. some stood on the ridge waving their revolvers and pointing out the enemy to their men. of course they sacrificed their lives, for scarcely a man appeared over the ridge but went down to the well-directed fire of the turkish snipers. these brilliant men, however, feared nothing. they even sang irish tunes and shouted 'up, tip,' to encourage the irish soldiers." many gaps were made that day in irish sporting and professional circles. only a few more names of the dead can be given out of the many who showed splendid devotion to duty and supreme self-sacrifice: captain dillon preston, of the th dublin fusiliers; captain george grant duggan, of the th irish fusiliers; lieutenant j.r. duggan, of the th irish regiment. the th munster fusiliers lost on august th alone four captains and two subalterns killed out of the thirteen officers who had survived the previous engagements. among them were two dublin men--captain john v. dunne, solicitor, and lieutenant kevin o'duffy. lieutenant ernest m. harper, of the same battalion, who was also killed, was a demonstrator in chemistry in queen's university, belfast. lieutenant h.h. mccormac, th irish fusiliers, killed, was on the clerical staff at the limerick offices of guinness, the brewers. the famous d company of the th dublins, led by captain poole hickman and captain tobin, was practically wiped out. it was composed altogether of young men distinguished in football and cricket and other forms of sport. many of them had ample private means, all belonged to the professional middle class of dublin, and they felt it a high honour to serve in the rank and file of the army. sir bryan mahon, the general in command of the th division, sent a message to his troops saying that ireland should be proud to own such soldiers. ireland, indeed, is proud, though what happened was no more than what she expected. when the th dublins were congratulated upon the stand they had made, their answer was: "and what the blank, blank, did you think we would do?" but with all her exultation in the valour of her sons, ireland cannot close her ears to the cry of the colonel of the th munsters on seeing the few officers who returned from the fray: "my poor boys! my poor boys!" there was a continuous series of desperate fights for the command of sari bair until the end of august. on the st of the month a general offensive took place on a grand scale, in which the forces of all nationalities that landed at suvla bay were engaged. to strengthen the attack of these inexperienced and unseasoned but most gallant troops the veteran th division was brought up from cape helles. in that division were the survivors of the st regular battalions of the dublins, munsters and inniskillings who took part in that most frightful and glorious episode of the campaign--the landing at sedd-el-bahr on april th, under the murderous fire of the turkish batteries stationed on the cliffs. the new irish battalions again distinguished themselves in the battle of august st. the th connaught rangers made a famous charge for which they were specially thanked by the australian commander of their division. "the rangers," writes an officer of the battalion, "issued out to attack and capture the kabak kuzu wells and the turkish trenches in the neighbourhood. it did not take them long. the men poured out from a gap in the line, shook out to four paces interval, and with a cheer carried all before them, bayoneting all the turks in the trenches, capturing the wells, and even capturing some ground on the kaiajik aghala. all that night the position was consolidated, and in the morning was still held by the rangers. the next day we were thanked by three general officers and congratulated on the magnificent charge." the th dublins had to advance across an open plain under the heights of sari bair. an australian soldier who stood on a neighbouring hill told me that while english battalions cautiously crossed in a series of rushes--falling flat on their stomachs at each outburst of the turkish guns--the dublins made their way over the uneven, hillocky ground at a run. to move slowly, with proper caution, would be torture to their irish nature, impatient and ardent, in such circumstances. one of the old regular battalions in the th division, the st inniskillings, also greatly added to their renown by their dauntless resolution on august st. the battalion pushed up to the top of hill , or scimitar hill, but were unable to maintain their position, owing, as the brigadier-general of their brigade states, "to the unavoidably inadequate artillery support and complete preparedness on the part of the enemy, resulting in heavy cross-fire from shrapnel, machine-guns and rifles." again they climbed the hill and again were driven back. they made a third charge up the hill, and after a desperate struggle were compelled once more to yield ground that was now thickly strewn with their dying and dead. the brigadier-general mentions that the inniskillings undertook the two further assaults entirely on their own initiative. he adds: "had there been any appreciable number of survivors in the battalion, and had captain pike been spared to lead them for a fourth time, they would have continued their efforts to secure complete possession of the hill." the operations failed in their main purpose. sari bair remained in the possession of the turks. mistakes made by some of the generals of divisions are said, by sir ian hamilton, the commander-in-chief, to have been largely to blame for things going wrong. but the fighting was not altogether barren of results. the most desperate engagements in the last days of august had for their object the capture of hill , close to sari bair. an attack by the th connaught rangers on august th secured its possession. the battalion was again congratulated on its gallantry by three different general officers. one of them, general sir a.j. godley, in command of the new zealanders, sent the following message to colonel jourdaine, of the th connaughts:-- "heartiest congratulations from the new zealand and australian division on your brilliant achievement this evening, which is a fitting sequel to the capture of kabak kuzu wells, and will go down to history among the finest feats of your distinguished regiment. personally as an irishman who has served in two irish regiments it gives me the greatest pride and pleasure that the regiment should have performed such gallant deeds under my command. stick to what you have got and consolidate." but all was in vain. gallipoli had to be abandoned. the british withdrew from the peninsula in january, . the cost of the invasion in men, killed, wounded and missing, was , . the casualties in the th irish division were cruel. at least a third of the forces were killed, disabled, or invalided by bullets, shells and dysentery. gallipoli had become a place of shadows and phantoms to the th irish division. as they looked back upon it they could not but think of the maelstrom of thick and prickly scrub, yielding sand, rocky defiles, and steep hills of that roadless country; of strong turkish entrenchments, the continuous roar of guns, bullets, shells, concealed snipers; of broiling heat, sweat, thirst, tormenting flies, lack of water, and dysentery, into which they were plunged on august th; of scrambling and bloody fighting; and of the want of foresight and imagination in their high commanders that followed. it was a soldiers' campaign, in which the bayonet and the man behind it counted for everything, and the brains of the generals--if indeed there were any--for nothing. the whole network of memories made a horrid nightmare of confusion, agony, and sacrifice of life unparalleled in the history of the british army, relieved only--but how magnificently relieved--by the endurance and gallantry of the troops, unequalled and unsurpassable. yet the th division were loth to leave that dread peninsula, which, like a fearful monster, had devoured the young men of ireland. they were sorry to go, because the purpose of the campaign was unachieved; still more sorry to part from their dead comrades. because of those dead gallipoli will ever be to the irish race a place of glorious pride and sorrow. well may that huddled heap of hills between suvla bay and sari bair be haunted by the wraith of irish tragedy and grief; well may the wailing cry of the banshee be ever heard there. chapter ix for cross and crown death in action of father finn of the dublins and father gwynn of the irish guards in which mood do soldiers generally go into battle--devotional or profane? an observer of authority, mr. j.h. morgan, professor of constitutional history at university college, london, who had a long stay at the front, in france and flanders on government duty, commits himself to the curious statement that most men go into action, not ejaculating prayers, but swearing out aloud. however that may be as regards the non-religious soldier, it certainly is not true of the catholic irish soldier. by temperament and training the average irish soldier, like most of his race, is profoundly religious at all times, and the experiences of the chaplains to the catholic irish regiments show that at no time is the irish soldier more under a constant and reverent sense of the nearness of the unseen powers, and his absolute dependence upon them, than at the awful moment when, in the plenitude of his youth and physical strength, he is confronted by the prospect of sudden death or bodily mutilation. of course, if a soldier does swear on the battlefield, that circumstance must not necessarily be accepted as proof either that he is destitute of religious feelings and principles, or that there is any thought of impiety in his mind. most likely the swearing is done quite unconsciously. at a time when the mental faculties are distraught and the tension on the central nervous system reaches almost to the breaking-point, it is probable that men no more know what they say than they do when they are under an anæsthetic; and that, in the one state as in the other, incongruous expressions--wholly inconsistent with the character of the patient--come to the lips from the deeps of subconsciousness. there is nothing like constant nearness to death to make men generally turn their thoughts to things serious and solemn. the experiences of catholic chaplains tell how widely the sense of religion--the vanity of earthly concerns, the importance of eternity, the wish to be at peace with god--has been stirred by the war even in breasts that probably had not harboured in the years of peace a thought that there was any other world but this. ah, the eagerness of the irish catholic soldiers to have sin washed away by confession and the absolving words of the priest! the irish are the most religious soldiers in the british army; and it is because they are religious that they rank so high among the most brave. the two characteristics, religious fervour and fearlessness of danger, have always been very closely allied. in the average irishman there is a blend of piety and militancy which makes him an effective soldier. largely for the reason that he is a praying man, the irish catholic soldier is a fine fighting man. his religion gives him fortitude in circumstances of unmitigated horror, resignation to face the chances of being mangled or killed at the call of duty; and from this ease of mind spring that bravery and resolution in action which are the most essential characteristics of the soldier. in order that the catholic soldier may thus show himself at his best, it is necessary that he should have ready access to the rites of the church. he wants the priest to be near him, and though the catholic army chaplains appointed for active service are comparatively few, though their movements are frequently impeded by the ever-changing developments in the military situation, the priest is usually close at hand at his service. thus the irish catholic soldier goes into battle stimulated by the services of his chaplain, praying that god may bring him safely through, or for a merciful judgment should he fall. extraordinarily varied and trying as have been the experiences of the priesthood in the mission-field, it is probable that never has it been subjected to so severe a trial of nerve and endurance on its physical side as it is in the present war of nations. as to the kind of men best suited for the service, the rev. william forrest, an irish catholic chaplain himself, writes:--"priests between thirty and forty, not afraid of some rough and tumble, with, perhaps, an adventurous vein in their composition, and with plenty of zeal and sympathy, would be the most suitable--riders and good horse-masters rather than ponderous theologians and professors, though, indeed, these would have much to learn, and would very greatly profit, by their experience." certainly the record of catholic army chaplains shines gloriously for its zeal, self-sacrifice, and heroism; and its sanctifying light illumines the awful tragedy of suffering and woe that has befallen the human race. the catholic chaplain has also various duties to perform when his men are resting in billets, on guard in the lines of communication, or lying wounded or ill in the base hospitals. he goes about in khaki, like the other officers of the battalion to which he is attached, save that he wears the roman collar and black patches on his shoulder straps. his equipment or kit is usually heavy. it contains the stone for the altar, the vestments, the sacred vessels, the candles, the crucifix, and other requisites for the mass. on his person he always carries the holy oils and the viaticum for the last sacrament of all, when the soul of the mortally wounded soldier is about to take flight into the eternal. services are held in all sorts of places and on every possible occasion. lieutenant c. mowlan, medical officer to the st irish fusiliers, writes:--"we have mass out in the open, and it is most gratifying to see the long line of men waiting for confession, and at mass the devotion with which they attend, and tell the beads of our blessed lady, a devotion so dear for many reasons, historical as well as devotional, to the heart of the catholic irishman. a large crowd attended communion." a door laid upon two trestles or a packing-case often serves as an altar, with the two burning candles, and a few hastily gathered evergreens for decorations. mass is frequently celebrated in the very early hours of the morning before the dawn begins to creep into the sky. and a strange and wonderful spectacle it is! black darkness, save for the two candles; the priest offering up the sacrifice at the rudely improvised altar; the soldiers, each with his rifle, and weighed down with his kit and ammunition, grimed with the mud of the trenches and the smoke of battle, kneeling in a circle round the light. they receive the final blessing with bowed heads, then, crossing themselves, they stand up for the last gospel, their haggard and unshaven faces all aglow with religious exaltation. but perhaps the most moving and inspiring scene of all is that of giving the general absolution to a battalion ordered to advance immediately into action. father peal, s.j., of the connaught rangers, enables us vividly to see it in the mind's eye. the regiment were in billets in bethune when one winter's morning at three o'clock they received instructions to make an attack. before the men left, father peal got the colonel's permission to speak to them. they were drawn up in a large square behind a secular school, called "collège de jeunes filles," when their chaplain, mounting the steps of the porch, thus addressed them in the dark: "rangers, once again at the bidding of our king and country you are going to face the enemy. before you go, turn to god and ask of him pardon for your sins. repeat the act of contrition after me." then the square resounded with the fervent ejaculations of the men. "in the name of the father, the son, and the holy ghost. oh, my god, i am heartily sorry for having offended thee. i detest my sins most sincerely, because they are displeasing to thee, my god, who art most worthy of all my love; and i promise never to offend thee again." "i shall now," says the priest, "give you absolution in god's name. 'dominus noster jesus christus vos absolvat et ego auctoritate ipsius vos absolvo a peccatis vestris, in nomine patris et filii et spiritus sancti. amen.' may god almighty, father, son, and holy ghost, bless you and lead you to victory. amen." as the priest blessed them, the men again made the sign of the cross. no wonder that men of such deep faith and so heartened by the services of their chaplains should fight valiantly. the tireless care and solicitude of the catholic chaplain for his men is seen in the fine record, during a long and arduous campaign, of father francis gleeson, of the nd munster fusiliers, who has been in flanders and france since the outbreak of the war. if you meet a man of the nd munsters, just mention the name of father gleeson, and see how his face lights up. "father gleeson, is it!" exclaimed one whom i encountered among the wounded at a london hospital. "he's a warrior and no mistake. there's no man at the front more brave or cooler. why, it is in the hottest place up in the firing line he do be to give comfort to the boys that are dying." "and, do you know," he added with a laugh, as he recalled the chaplain's playful and sportive ways, "father gleeson brought us mouth-organs, and showed that he could play 'tipperary' with the best of us." another man described a meeting with father gleeson in a village close to the first line of trenches, where the chaplain was waiting to attend to the wounded. "it got so hot with stray bullets that he gave me absolution as i stood in the street of the ruined village. it was very dramatic, i covered with mud and standing bareheaded, and he blessing me. i'll never forget it." i gathered, too, that father gleeson is the counsellor of the battalion as well as its chaplain. the men go to him with their temporal troubles of all kinds, and never fail in getting sympathy, guidance, and help. the chaplains of all denominations are equally devoted. but the catholic priest has a special impulse to self-sacrificing duty for two reasons--first, the desire that catholics have to die shriven and anointed; and the softening of the bereavement of parents and relations which comes from the knowledge that paddy, jamsie, joe, or mike had been to his duty before the battle, or had the priest with him when he died. accordingly, no consideration of danger to himself will deter the catholic chaplain from going into the firing line to administer the last rites. in the circumstances, it was to be expected that though the chaplains of all the denominations are zealous and brave in the discharge of their sacred duties, the first chaplain of any denomination to give his life for his men should be an irish priest, father finn, of the st royal dublin fusiliers, who fell in gallipoli. a tipperary man, serving on the english mission in the province of liverpool, father finn joined the st dublins on their arrival in england from india for active service, in november, . the dublins, with the st munster fusiliers, took part, as i have already described, in the first landing of british troops on the peninsula, at sedd-el-bahr, on sunday, april th, . on the saturday morning father finn heard the confessions of the men on board the transport, off tenedos, said mass, and gave holy communion. then on sunday morning he asked permission of the commanding officer of the battalion to go ashore with the men. colonel rooth tried to persuade him to remain on the transport, where he could give his services to such of the wounded as were brought back. "you are foolish to go; it means death," said the officer. "the priest's place is beside the dying soldier; i must go," was father finn's decisive reply. for these and other particulars of the gallant action of the priest, i am mainly indebted to the rev. h.c. foster, church of england naval chaplain, who was in one of the warships engaged in the bombardment of the peninsula at the landing, and highly esteemed father finn as a friend. father finn left the transport for the shore in the same boat as the colonel. when the boats crowded with the dublins got close to the beach a hail of shrapnel, machine-gun fire, and rifle fire was showered upon them by the turks, hidden among the rocks and ragged brushwood on the heights. numbers of the dublins were killed or wounded, and either tumbled into the water or dropped on reaching the beach. this fearful spectacle was father finn's first experience of the savagery of war. it terribly upset him. he at once jumped out of the boat and went to the assistance of the bleeding and struggling men. then he was hit himself. by the time he had waded to the beach his clothing was riddled with shot. yet disabled as he was, and in spite also of the great pain he must have been suffering, he crawled about the beach, affording consolation to the dying dublins. i have been told that to give the absolution he had to hold up his injured right arm with his left. it was while he was in the act of thus blessing one of his men that his skull was broken by a piece of shrapnel. the last thought of father finn was for the dublins. his orderly says that in a brief moment of consciousness he asked: "are our fellows winning?" amid the thunder of the guns on sea and land his soul soon passed away. he was buried on the beach where he died, and the grave was marked by a cross, made out of an ammunition box, with the inscription--"to the memory of the rev. capt. finn." gallipoli is classic ground. it is consecrated by the achievements of the ancient greeks over the persian hordes at the dawn of western civilisation. it is now further hallowed as the grave and monument of that warrior priest, father finn, and the gallant dublins and munsters. the next catholic chaplain to lose his life on active service was father john gwynn, s.j., of the st irish guards, who was killed in the trenches near vermelles on october th, . born at youghal, and reared in galway, father gwynn entered the society of jesus in . at the outbreak of the war he was one of the governing body of university college, dublin, and volunteering for active service he was attached, the first week of november, , to the irish guards, as their first war chaplain. a big, handsome man, and soldierly in appearance, father gwynn was fitting in every way to be chaplain to so splendid and almost wholly catholic body of irishmen as the irish guards. his experiences at the front--the devotion he showed to his duties and the risks he ran--prove more than the truth of the old saying that every irishman is born either a soldier or a monk, for they establish that often he is born both. father gwynn was the first chaplain of any denomination attached to the british expeditionary force to be wounded. that was during the memorable engagement at cuinchy, on february st, , when michael o'leary won the victoria cross. what a moving picture of piety it presents! the task of the irish was to retake positions in the brickfields captured by the germans from the coldstream guards. eager to retrieve the position the coldstreams first advanced, but being met by a heavy fire from the enemy, they showed signs of wavering. then a company of the irish guards were ordered out. they had received absolution and communion behind the trenches, a few days before, from father gwynn, and their chaplain was still with them at the supreme moment. now, before advancing, they knelt in silent prayer for a minute. then, each man making the sign of the cross, they sprang to their feet, and dashing in wide open order across the exposed ground, swept by the enemy's fire, they hunted the germans from the brick-fields. we all know that when the story of michael o'leary's achievement that day became known, half the world stood up bare-headed in acknowledgment of his gallantry. i have been told that the incident which was most talked of from end to end of the british lines was that of the guardsmen kneeling down in prayer before the charge. nothing like it ever occurred before. at least it is unprecedented in the history of the english army of modern times. those who saw them say that, as the irish guards dashed across the plain, they had an expression of absolute happiness and joy on their faces. surely an episode that will live in the crowded annals of this war. it was then that father gwynn was wounded. he said the last thing he remembered was seeing the irish guards get to the top of their trench when a lurid blaze seemed to flash into his eyes with a deafening crash. he was hurled back five yards or so and lay unconscious for some minutes. when he came to he felt his face all streaming with blood and his leg paining him. he was suffocated, too, with a thick, warmy, vile gas, which came from the shell. "a doctor bandaged me up," he goes on, "and i found i was not so bad--splinters of the shell just grazed my face, cutting it; a bit, too, struck me an inch or so above the knee and lodged inside, but in an hour's time, when everything was washed and bandaged, i was able to join and give extreme unction to a poor irish guardsman who had been badly hit." i have before me a number of letters written by father gwynn. they are all most interesting. in every one of them he has something to say in praise of the catholicity and valour of the irish guards. "we have to have mass in a field," he writes in one letter, "the irish guards are nearly all catholics, and we are at present the strongest battalion in the guards' brigade. the men then sing hymns at mass, and it is fine to hear nearly a thousand men singing out in the open at the top of their voices. you have no idea what a splendid battalion the irish guards are! you have sergeant mike o'leary, v.c., with you. i often have a chat with him when he comes to see me. but do you know that there are plenty of men in the irish guards who have done as bravely as o'leary, and there's never a word about it." in another letter, written a few weeks before his death, he says:--"it would have done your heart good to hear them last night in the little village church where we are just for the moment, singing the 'o salutaris,' 'tantum ergo,' 'look down, o mother mary,' and at the end the 'hail glorious st. patrick.' a grenadier officer who happened to be present, having ridden over from where the grenadiers are, said it was worth coming ten miles to hear. i feared for the roof of the church, especially when they came to the last verse of the hymn to st. patrick." throughout the morning of the day he received his mortal wound, father gwynn had had a most arduous and anxious time in the trenches. it was during the fighting round hill , after the battle of loos. an irish guardsman writes:-- "i saw him just before he died. shrapnel and bullets were being showered upon us in all directions. hundreds of our lads dropped. father gwynn was undismayed. he seemed to be all over the place trying to give the last sacrament to the dying. once i thought he was buried alive, for a shell exploded within a few yards of where he was, and the next moment i saw nothing but a great heap of earth. the plight of the wounded concealed beneath was harrowing. out of the ground came cries of 'father, father, father,' from those who were in their death agonies. then as if by a miracle father gwynn was seen to fight his way through the earth. he must have been severely injured, but he went on blessing the wounded and hearing their confessions. the last i saw of him was kneeling by the side of a german soldier. it was a scene to make you cry." shortly after this scene father gwynn was at luncheon with four other officers in the headquarters' dug-out when a german shell landed in the doorway and burst. captain lord desmond fitzgerald (brother of the duke of leinster) was slightly hit. colonel madden was so severely wounded that he died some days afterwards. father gwynn received as many as eight wounds. one piece of the shell entered his back and pierced one of his lungs. he was sent to hospital at bethune, and died there the next morning. in the bethune cemetery his grave is marked by a marble monument which bears these two inscriptions:-- "r.i.p. rev. father john gwynn, s.j. attached to the st irish guards. he died at bethune on october th, , from wounds received in action near vermelles on october th, . aged years. this monument has been erected by all ranks of the st bat. irish guards in grateful remembrance of their beloved chaplain, father gwynn, who was with them on active service for nearly twelve months from nov., , until his death, and shared with unfailing devotion all their trials and hardships." the wonder, indeed, is that many more catholic chaplains have not been killed. father james stack, of the redemptorist order--a county limerick man--had a narrow escape from being killed by german rifle fire as he was attending to a dying irish soldier between the opposing lines. the soldier was heard in the british trenches calling for a priest. father stack crept out to him, heard his confession, anointed him, and lay by his side praying until he passed away. while he was engaged on this sublime errand of mercy the priest was fired on by the germans, but he got back unhurt. he was mentioned in sir john french's valedictory despatch. a dramatic story is also told of another dauntless catholic chaplain. one bitter winter's night eight men left a british trench to bomb the germans. none of them returned. their comrades wore consumed with anxiety as to their fate. were they prisoners, were they dead, or were they lying wounded in the mud and the slush? the catholic chaplain of the battalion volunteered to go out in front and try to learn what had become of them. after some hesitation his request was granted. "donning his surplice and with a crucifix in his hand the priest proceeded down one of the saps and climbed out into the open," writes a staff correspondent of the central news at the front. "with their eyes glued to periscopes, the british line watched him anxiously as he proceeded slowly towards the german lines. not a shot was fired by the enemy. after a while the chaplain was seen to stop and bend down near the german wire entanglements. he knelt in prayer. then with the same calm step he returned to his own lines. he had four identity discs in his hand, and reported that the germans had held up four khaki caps on their rifles, indicating that the other four were prisoners in their hands." father j. fahey, a tipperary man, made a lasting reputation among the dominion forces in gallipoli by his services as chaplain to the th australian battalion. the archbishop of perth (australia) got a letter from an officer in gallipoli which said: "you are to be congratulated for sending us such an admirable chaplain as father fahey. he is the idol of the th battalion, and everyone, irrespective of creed, has a good word to say for him." dr. mcwhae, one of the medical officers, puts in a different way the estimation in which father fahey is held: "he is one of the finest fellows in the world, and everybody swears by him. he landed at gallipoli with the covering party, and spends his time in the trenches." before the troops left lemnos island for the first landing at anzac on april th, , the brigadier went round and told the chaplains of all denominations that they could go aboard the hospital ships if they wished. father fahey and father mcmenamin, a chaplain with the new zealand forces, said they would go in the transports with the men and also accompany them into the trenches. and, sure enough, these two priests were the first of the chaplains in the firing line looking after their men. "the 'padre,' as he is called by his battalion," writes the officer in his letter to the archbishop of perth, "fills in his spare time carrying up provisions to the men at the front, and helps the wounded back, and i can tell you he is not afraid to go where the bullets fall pretty thickly," father fahey has done more in the way of utilising his spare time--he has led the men in a charge against the turkish entrenchments. on an occasion when all the officers had been killed or disabled he called on the remnants of the company, "follow me, and though i have only a stick, you can give the turks some western australian cold steel." father fahey himself gives the following racy account of the discomforts which attended the discharge of his duties in gallipoli:-- "i have had my clothes and boots off only once during the past month. i had a wash twice, and one shave, so i can assure you i do not look a thing of beauty. i am cultivating a beard, and in another month i expect to look as fierce as a bedouin chief. water is scarce; we only get enough to drink and cook, but none to wash; so we are not too clean. i have had several narrow escapes, so many, in fact, that i wonder why i am still alive. i had four bullets in my pack, one through a jam tin out of which i was eating, which spoiled the jam and made me very wild. one through my water-bottle; one through a tobacco-tin in my pocket; one took the epaulette off my tunic, and once i had nineteen shrapnel bullets through a waterproof sheet on which i was lying only a few minutes previously. i have lost count of the shells that nearly accounted for me; i hardly expect to get through the business alive, but seeing that i have been lucky so far i may." the last i heard of father fahey was that he was lying wounded in an hospital at malta. writing of his work as a priest, he says: "i have heard confessions in all kinds of weird places, with the shrapnel bursting overhead and bullets whizzing around. i go along the trenches every day in case anyone might want to see me. it is all so strange and uncanny. passing along the trenches, a soldier with his rifle through a loophole and one eye on the enemy may call me to hear his confession; while it is being done the bullets are plopping into the sandbags of the parapet a few inches away. it is consoling and satisfactory work, if a little dangerous." the part of the chaplain's work that is most harrowing to him personally, but most consoling to those whom he serves, is that of ministering to the wounded at the hospital clearing stations nearest to the firing line. "sometimes when i hold them up on the stretcher to try to get them to take a drink," writes father l.j. stafford, one of the chaplains to the th irish division in gallipoli, "i think that christ must have foreseen this awful slaughter and borne it in his passion as part of the sorrows of mankind, and i try to associate myself with the feelings of his virgin mother." the acts and the thoughts of the priest blend together in perfect harmony like the words and music of an inspired hymn to the almighty. well might father stafford add: "i am in great peril, but doing my duty fearlessly. could man wish for more?" as the priest kneels down by these dying irish youths he receives many last messages to send to the loved ones at home, a sacred trust which he is most scrupulous faithfully to discharge. there are thousands of mothers in ireland grieving for darling sons lying mouldering in flanders, france, and gallipoli. if anything can ease the gnawing pain at the heart of these bereaved mothers, it surely must be the receipt of one of those beautifully sympathetic and healing letters which they receive from the irish catholic chaplains. i have had the privilege of reading numbers of them, and happily in none have i come upon any heroics about the nobility of the youth's self-sacrifice and the grandeur of the cause for which he died. to the irish catholic mother such phrases bring no consolation. his death tells her that her son has done his duty; that is enough; and her sole concern is with his eternal salvation. it is on this point that the chaplain is at pains to reassure her. "i saw him last at . p.m. on july th. he was very exhausted, and i could see that he would not last long. he tried to give me his mother's address, but failed. all he could say was: 'not weep. with god.' i told him i should tell his mother not to weep because he would be with god, and he shook his head in consent. he then said: 'good-bye, father. god bless you.'" so does father felix couturier, o.p., describe the death in hospital at alexandria of lance-corporal wilkerson, th dublin fusiliers, wounded at gallipoli. then there is the consoling letter of father o'herlihy, chaplain in egypt, to mrs. kelleher, cork, telling of the death of her son, patrick, a private in the st battalion royal munster fusiliers, also wounded in gallipoli. here is an extract from it:-- "i've seen many in pain and suffering since the war began, but few have i seen to bear it all so willingly and so patiently as your son, paddy; for god and his blessed mother were helping him a lot. about, a week after the operation his sufferings increased, and on sunday morning last, when i said holy mass at the hospital, he again asked me to bring him holy communion, as he was confined to bed. you could see the happiness in his features, when our blessed lord came to him again to give him new strength and grace to bear up. he said to me after: 'father, every time you'll say holy mass here, you will bring me holy communion again, won't you? i don't like to trouble you, but i long so much to receive.' poor paddy! he was such a good boy! i know, dear mrs. kelleher, you have long since put your son in god's holy hands, leaving him entirely to god. and god and mary will now, i know, reward you and give you help and grace to bear for the love of them the sorrowful news it's my hard lot to be the first to send you, perhaps. your poor paddy passed away to the god whom he loved so much, and for whom he bore all so patiently. don't fear for paddy. he is happy now, poor lad, after many sufferings." could there be anything more precious to an irish catholic mother than such an account of the last hours of the son of her heart--_a vic mo chree_--dying of battle wounds in a far foreign land? chapter x the great push at loos historic football charge of the london irish, with the german trenches as goal what a stirring story of irish gaiety and resolution is that of the charge of the london irish rifles in the great advance upon the mining village of loos, on saturday, september th, ! "hurrah, the london irish, hurrah!" the shout ran along the british lines on tuesday, september th, as the battalion, with many gaps in their ranks, returned after the splendid stand against the terrific german counter-attack which followed the charge, when, according to the general of their brigade, they helped to save the th army corps. "the lucky irish!" that is one of the names they are known by at the front. they are given posts of difficulty and danger, and so well do they acquit themselves that the company officers get military crosses, and the distinguished conduct medal is liberally distributed among the rank and file. yet their casualties are remarkably low. the jealous and the profane in other london battalions account for it, i am told, by reviving the ancient gibe about the devil always taking special care of his own. it is true the london irish are up to all sorts of "divilment"--as we say in ireland--whether in the trenches or in billets. i have heard no more delicious war anecdote than that which tells of a fine trick they played on the enemy. their telephone linesmen happened to find two live german cables on the ground behind their trenches. the linesmen, without as much as saying "by your leave" to the germans, promptly fitted wires to the cables, and for many weeks they had a most serviceable electric installation at the battalion headquarters, officers' dug-outs, and dressing-stations, with power "milked" from the enemy. that is the irish kind of "divilment," and it is "divilment" that the devil himself would disown, for it tends to spoil the knavish designs he has in hand when he uses the germans as his fitting instruments. the london irish, as a matter of fact, are noted for their religious devotion and practices. i read in the _spectator_ an interesting correspondence round the question whether the anglican chaplains were of any earthly good at the front. nothing was said, i noticed, about their heavenly uses. but a woman sent a remarkable letter she had received from her son in the trenches. "there is another man who has great influence out here," he wrote. "he is a priest attached to an irish regiment. he insists upon charging every time with the men, and no one dare protest. he is absolutely the idol of the regiment." this is father lane-fox, the chaplain of the london irish, who joined in the famous charge of the battalion at loos, absolving those who were shot as they fell, and arriving in the german trenches with the foremost. and many of the men will tell you that they are "the lucky irish," because of the comfort and reassurance they derive from the prayers and self-sacrificing services of their chaplain. the battalion are also able to warm their hearts and fire their blood with the strains of the ancient irish war-pipes. this old barbaric music has magic in it. it transforms the gael. it reawakens in the deeps of their being, even in this twentieth century, impressions, moods, feelings, inherited from a wild, untamed ancestry for thousands of years, and thus gives them, more than strong wine, that strength of arm and that endurance of soul which make them invincible. so the london irish were ready when the great day came. three divisions of the th army corps took part in the battle of loos. the london irish were in a division exclusively composed of brigades of london territorials, and they had the honour of being selected to lead that division in the attack. as the result of the battle a double length of trenches were carried along a line of four miles, and to a depth, at its greatest, of four miles. the whole of this area, amounting to at least twelve square miles, around the village of loos, between hulluch and lens, was a desperate network of trenches and bomb-proof shelters. on the night of september th the london irish received their orders and marched out to take up their allotted positions. "what a sight!" writes one of the men. "almost pitch dark, as light near the firing line must not be--just a few glimmers here and there to mark cross roads, and those are lanterns, mostly on the ground, in charge of one or more soldiers, according to the importance of the posts, whose job it is to control the traffic. now and again a more or less lurid illumination comes from the star shells that are used between the trenches while searchlights sweep across the sky. artillery flashes continuously and the roar of the guns is added to the crash and rattle of the traffic on the roads." at a point in the march brigadier-general twaites was standing to see the battalion go by. he shook hands with the officers and wished them "good luck." he told the men that he was expecting great things of them. "remember," he said, "that the london irish has been chosen to lead the whole division." the trenches were reached about midnight. it was an inclement and dreary time. rain was falling in torrents. for over six hours the men had to wait in sodden clothes in a trench of slush for the order which would mean death to many, to others racking and disabling wounds, and to all who survived the heartache for loved comrades gone for ever. yet how cheerful they were! to say that none of them were afraid would be to convey that each was a bloodless abstraction. whatever else an irishman may be he certainly is never that. he is a hot-blooded human creature, with more than his share of the passions and desires which agitate the heart of man, and so he is prone at times to have fits of depression and despair. it is possible, then, that the minds of some were darkened by gloomy forebodings. but as an instance of the general stout-heartedness of the men, an officer told me that many of them took out cigarettes, and, having lighted them, held the burning match at arm's length to see if their hands were steady as they waited under the shadow of death. just at the last moment, too, the liveliest interest was aroused by a rumour which ran along the trenches. it was said that some particularly bright spirits in the battalion had arranged to make the coming charge for ever memorable by an act of unparalleled daring. what is it to be? the question was eagerly put. but those in the secret would not say more than the remark that the nature of it no one would ever guess even if he were to sit down and give all his life to it, and work overtime as well. at half past six o'clock in the morning the signal came from major beresford--a shrill note of the whistle and the cry, "irish up and over." gas had been turned on some little time before to help in clearing the ground for the advance, and as the wind was slightly favourable it drifted, a mass of dark vapour, towards the german trenches. but as there was a danger that the cloud might be overtaken, if the charge were successful and rapid, most of the men put on their gas helmets, and fearful and wonderful monsters they looked as, in obedience to the company officers' order, "over you go, lads," they mounted the parapets. over they went by platoons, with half a minute's interval between each, and though the enemy immediately opened fire they formed up in four splendid lines, with bayonets fixed and rifles at the slope before they charged. then it was that the grand secret was disclosed, a thing almost incredible and unthinkable, indeed. a football was dropped by members of the london irish rugby club in the ranks, and as they charged they kicked it before them across a plain as flat, grassy, and bare of cover as the fifteen acres in the phoenix park, or the upper stretch of wimbledon common. a game of football on the border line between life and death! what a fantastic conception! no wonder that the french troops who were watching the advance were astounded by the spectacle. "it is magnificent, but it is not war!" possibly the french at loos had the same thought that the french at balaclava had when they saw the charge of the light brigade. but, wait a while. despite the apparent oddity and inconsequence of the incident, we shall see that behind it there was a grim and dread purpose well befitting the occasion. on the rugby playing fields the rush and dash of the irish are famous. who that was there will ever forget the glorious international match that was played at twickenham between england and ireland the year before the war, with the king and prime minister among the tens of thousands of fascinated spectators of the finest game that ever was seen? several of the grand young fellows who superbly contended for the mastery of the ball on that great day are buried close to where they fell in france and flanders, gallantly leading their men as company officers (the thought of it is enough to make one weep), and they played the game on these different fields, according to their separate national characteristics--equally clean-handed and chivalrous, both, as sportsmen, incapable of a mean trick or taking an opponent at an unfair advantage; disciplined, resourceful, dexterous, and deft the english; light-hearted, frank, ardent, and dare-devilled the irish. so, too, at loos the london irish dashed forward with the same rapture in the game that they used to display in a match on their grounds at forest hill, shouting their slogan, "on the ball, london irish!" they kicked the ball before them, not this time in the face of an opposing english, welsh, or scottish pack, but against unceasing volleys of shrapnel and rifle fire which brought many of them down, dead or disabled. one man who was in the charge told me that at first he had a confused sense of a clamorous hubbub and of comrades falling around him. afterwards he saw dimly--as if still in a bad dream--the football being kicked, and there came vaguely back to his mind the talk in the trenches as they waited for the whistle. then he had a shock of surprise which brought everything into sharp reality; and the exhilaration of the episode restoring him to normality and confidence, he followed the ball with the others until it was kicked right into the enemy's trench with a joyous shout of "goal!" thus this exhibition of cool audacity--unparalleled, perhaps, in the annals of war--instead of retarding the advance added immensely to its go. it will be historic, that game of football amid the thunders and the lightnings of the field of battle, with the german trenches for the goal; and soaring up from the very depths of the awful tumult of the fight will ever be heard, "on the ball, london irish!" so the first line of german trenches was reached. the barbed wire entanglements had been blown to pieces by shell fire before the attack. another effect of that terrific bombardment, which lasted nineteen days, was the cowed and dazed condition of the germans. they were so easily and quickly disposed of by the first line of london irish that the other lines pressed forward, scrambling across the trench over the bodies of killed and wounded enemies; and, as they did so, catching glimpses through the smoke of the haggard and frightened faces of the grey-clad survivors making but a feeble resistance or surrendering without striking a blow. the advance to the second line of german trenches was not so easy. here was an inferno of tangled wreckage strewn over mud, smoke-dimmed, and torn with shrapnel, through which the men could advance but slowly, with stumbling feet and gasping breath, while their ears were assailed with horrid noises--screaming, yelling, crashing, pounding, cheering, screeching. major beresford, who led the charge, fell with a bullet through his lung on the way to the first german trench. four officers were killed on the same piece of ground. but the men went steadily on, though bereft of most of their leaders, and at the second line trench of the germans, more strongly held than the first, were inspired for the ordeal before them by the sight of captain and adjutant a.p. hamilton, who, though shot through the knee and suffering great pain, guided the operations as he moved from place to place, limping heavily. there was desperately fierce hand-to-hand work here and bomb firing parties were hard at it, clearing out every corner. one man performed a particularly brave act and a shrewd one to boot. he came alone into a german communication trench beyond the reserve line. in a minute a bright thought struck him, and as quickly as possible he bundled the sandbags down into the trench, and so formed a barricade. the germans came back, just as he had anticipated, and as they clambered over, so he shot them. we got rid of thirteen in this way, and the enemy gave up that passage and retired captain hamilton remained in this second line trench reorganising and encouraging the men until the consolidation was well advanced. he was awarded the military cross for his services. the official record says, "he had to be ordered back for medical attendance." indeed, the only way that could be found to prevent captain hamilton from stubbornly going on till he bled to death was to place him under arrest. the london irish had thus magnificently succeeded in the task allotted to them--the capture of a section of the german second line trenches. carried away by their excessive impetuosity, they also helped to clear the germans out of the village of loos, which they were among the first to enter. they were still untroubled and unperplexed. "when the village was about half cleared," says rifleman t.j. culley, in a letter to sister celestine, of the homes for destitute catholic children in london, "could you have peered into one of the estaminets which was still inhabited, you would have perceived one of the irish calmly asking a most attractive and business-like madame for a _café au lait_, and being served amid torrents of shot and shell; and when he was finished he slung his arms and calmly walked on to do further death-dealing deeds." culley adds that when the village was eventually cleared some of the new army passed through the thinned ranks of the territorials to carry on the advance. "you may have noticed in the papers," he says, "that the credit of capturing the village went to the new army. this is not so. the territorials, with the london irish among their leaders, should be given the honour." but the real trial of the london irish was now to begin. the germans on the sunday launched a tremendous counter-attack. would the london irish be able to beat it back, and hold on to the trenches they had taken until relief came? again and again, there seemed to be no possible escape from the destruction which imminently menaced them. "all monday passed and still no relief came," writes a rifleman of the battalion. "indeed, it was a question whether any minute we should not be blown to atoms and the line swamped with a rush of the enemy. we could hardly stand from fatigue, having been in action steadily since saturday morning. 'fight on, lads,' said an officer who was afterwards killed. 'remember the division looks to you. this is bound to end sooner or later. let it be in a way that will never be forgotten when they hear of it at home in london and ireland.' so we fought on, and never a single german got nearer than a dozen yards from our lines. soon we got the word that we should be relieved early tuesday morning under cover of the darkness. the announcement sent a thrill of joy through us, for then we knew we had won." as soon as they got to the back trenches in safety a huge cheer went up from all the others, "the london irish--hurroo!" "they shook us by the hands and took our rifles from our grasp and the kits from our backs in their eagerness to show their gratitude," says the same rifleman. the general in command of the brigade who stood and watched the battalion on their way to battle on friday night, addressed the remnant afterwards and said: "not only am i proud to have had the honour of being in command of such a regiment, but the whole empire will be proud whenever, in after years, the history of the battle of loos comes to be written, for i can tell you it was the london irish who helped to save a whole british army corps. you have done one of the greatest actions of the war." thus the london irish raised themselves on the pinnacle of a notable and conspicuous triumph. thus they earned for themselves the name of "the footballers of loos." chapter xi the victoria cross a noble band of irish heroes, officers and men that plain cross of bronze, with the simple motto, "for valour," is the most honoured and coveted military decoration in the world. it has been won in the present war, down to the end of , by as many as twenty-one irishmen, who have splendidly sustained their country's inspiring heritage of bravery on the battlefield. courage, bravery, valour, are, in a way, mysterious attributes. we all understand what they mean; we all regard them as noble and heroic; we all desire to be possessed of them. yet we know that only to the few comparatively do they belong; and in a puzzled mood we ask ourselves--why is it that in the face of death in warfare one man should be fearless and another timid and faint-hearted? it is supposed that most men are naturally cowards. i remember hearing a remarkable statement made by archibald forbes, a famous war correspondent of the past, in a lecture on his experiences as a journalist on the field of battle. he said there is infinitely less steadiness in the soldier of any nationality under fire than the civilian imagines. he had watched the conduct on the field of the armies of eight european nations, and there was never an engagement in which he did not see what he called "a stampede," or, more explicitly, soldiers flying in the wild disorder of terror. forbes did not attempt to explain why this was so. he simply recorded the fact. to me it seems as if the quality which is commonly called cowardice is but a form of fear, and fear is an instinctive emotion which is to be seen displayed throughout the entire animal kingdom. it shows itself at a very early age in the shrinking apprehensiveness of the infant. the purpose of it appears to be that of self-protection and self-preservation. one of its first impulses is to avoid the danger which threatens by running away from it. we see that in the action of a horse harnessed to a vehicle which, by reason of a sudden fright, breaks from human restraint, and dashes wildly through the streets, endangering itself and everyone that crosses its course. man is also prone to take flight under the pressure of fear for his life. unlike the horse, he controls his actions by reason, more or less. but to fly from danger is, in most circumstances, allowable to the civilian, under the law of self-preservation. he can run away without any hurt to his self-esteem, or any risk of being called a coward. it is a crime for a soldier on the field to turn his back on danger. of course there is nothing despicable in a retirement under orders when faced with overwhelming odds. we can see wellington at salamanca, caught in the _mêlée_ of a british flight before a dashing charge of french cavalry--as maxwell saw him, "with his straight sword drawn, riding at full speed, and smiling." he fled that he might live, and win the battle. but the soldier must stand firm when the shells are bursting terrifically around him and the bullets whistle their death tune in his ears, or advance undauntedly towards the hidden enemy, who thus menace him with death and mutilation, until a command or a bullet stops him. yet even in the soldier to shrink from pain, danger and death is a natural impulse, for it is one of the instincts of which no amount of training and discipline can entirely divest humanity. president abraham lincoln was very reluctant to sanction the execution of soldiers for cowardice during the american civil war. he used to say it was impossible for a man always to control his legs. "how do i know," he would ask, "that i should not run away myself?" happily there are things which help to sustain and embolden the soldier in that terrible trial. some of these enheartening influences are external to the soldier himself. his country's cause and the reputation of his regiment help to brace him for the ordeal. the companionship of his comrades in a common danger and the fury and tumult of battle are also very animating. but in the last resort the soldier must rely upon his own innate qualities, both mental and physical. for bravery lies in the blood, and courage in the mind, and valour is the combination of the often thoughtless fire and dash of the one, and the calculated enterprise and determination of the other. bearing these considerations always in mind, let us never cast the contumelious stone, or say a bitter word, against any regiment, or party of men, who in war are overborne by the black terror of apprehension suddenly arising; but rather let us ever give the greater honour and glory to those rare beings, those supermen, who without a thought of self, dash into the fiery blast to save a stricken comrade, or who strike a ringing blow for their cause under the jaws of horrid death, whose hands are stretched out to clutch them. in the light of these general reflections on human nature let us consider first the achievement of drummer william kenny, who, though serving in the nd battalion of the gordon highlanders, is a drogheda man. near ypres, on october rd, , he exposed himself to heavy fire on five separate occasions, in order to rescue wounded men. twice previously he saved machine-guns by carrying them out of action. "also on numerous occasions," says the official record, "drummer kenny conveyed urgent messages in very dangerous circumstances over fire-swept ground." what makes kenny's heroism very remarkable is that it was not displayed in a single instance, by one act; but was, as we see, repeated over and over again, and in a variety of ways. he is a very modest as well as fearless man. i saw him at the mansion house, london, one day in march, , when he was presented with a gold watch by the lord mayor, on behalf of the musicians' company. the first thing that caught my attention in his appearance was the mingled kindliness and resolution expressed in his face. it was obvious, from his shy manner, that he was greatly embarrassed, if not made quite miserable, indeed, by being so much noticed, and would have rather remained in the background. "thank you all," was his simple acknowledgment of the company's expressions of admiration and regard. he is also a reticent man. not a word did he say to anyone about his exploits until the announcement that he had been awarded the victoria cross appeared in the newspapers. even then, he declined to be regarded as a hero. "it was just what anyone would do in the circumstances," he said. "there are many others out there who have done the same thing, only nobody knows it. you see some of your pals lying out in the open under fire. you know it is they or you; so you just go out and fetch them in." it was the same in regard to his single-handed action in saving the machine-guns. "the maxims had to be fetched," he said; "and i did it. that's all." as a case of unobtrusive and, indeed, unconscious heroism that of drummer kenny would be hard to beat. his native town of drogheda has reason to be proud of kenny, and it showed its esteem in a splendid way. on st. patrick's day, , the mayor and corporation went to high mass with kenny, who was accompanied by his mother and father; and afterwards, at a public meeting in the square, attended by an enormous crowd, the noble fellow was presented with a cheque for £ , and the freedom of the borough. when he wrote his name on the roll of drogheda's freemen, kenny found among the preceding signatures those of such famous historical personages as the duke of ormond ( ); henry grattan ( ); sir arthur wellesley ( ); isaac butt ( ); charles stewart parnell ( ), and sir garnet wolseley ( ). the deeds of three other irishmen who have won the victoria cross were, like those of kenny, deeds of mercy--the rescue of wounded comrades. for a full appreciation of them it is necessary to understand the awful plight of the soldiers who are stricken down on the unsheltered open ground between the opposing trenches. when the engagement in which the men fell is over this space is swept, on the slightest movement, by volleys from rifles and machine-guns. it is often impossible, therefore, to bring timely help to the wounded. at night only, in the sheltering darkness, some of the least disabled wounded may be able to crawl back to their trenches. otherwise they have to lie out there in the open while life ebbs away to the most bitter torments. that is, unless there are at hand men moved by the unselfish and tender emotion of pity, men susceptible to suffering, men of refined and imaginative minds; and therefore able to project themselves by the power of thought into the cruel situation of their tortured and helpless mates, and feel to the full all the horror of it; and men, too, whose high ideal of duty and right conduct impel them irresistibly to go out to succour, even at the risk of meeting the same terrible fate themselves. of such noble men are drummer kenny, and also lance-corporal joseph toombs, st battalion king's liverpool regiment, who comes from warrenpoint, co. down; private robert morrow, st royal irish fusiliers, a native of co. tyrone, and private john caffrey, nd york and lancaster regiment, who was born at birr, king's county, and has his home in nottingham. the official account of the achievements for which toombs was awarded the victoria cross is as follows:-- "for most conspicuous gallantry near rue du bois on june th, . on his own initiative he crawled out repeatedly under a very heavy shell and machine gun fire to bring in wounded men who were lying about one hundred yards in front of our trenches. he rescued four men, one of whom he dragged back by means of a rifle sling placed round his own neck and the man's body. this man was so severely wounded that unless he had been immediately attended to he must have died." morrow got the v.c. "for most conspicuous bravery near messines, on april th, , when he rescued and carried successfully to places of comparative safety several men who had been buried under the debris of trenches wrecked by shell fire. private morrow carried out this gallant work on his own initiative and under very heavy fire from the enemy." i am able to supplement this official record by a statement made by one of the men who was saved by morrow: "the enemy opened fire unexpectedly. a shell fell in the trench, burying over a dozen men, of whom i was one, in the wreckage. those who were able ran to shelter, for that shell was followed by many more; and the trench having been laid bare, the enemy opened a hot rifle and machine-gun fire upon it. at the same time the enemy was making an attack in force. accordingly it was a risky thing to be there. morrow didn't mind. he came up to where we were pinned under the remains of the parapet and a dug-out. he dragged me out and carried me on his back to a place of safety. then he went back to look for others. he made the journey six times, bringing all the men that were alive. it was slow, laborious work, and all the time morrow was under heavy fire from the germans." on the same day that the notice of private morrow's distinction was published, his death was announced in the list of casualties. he was killed on april th, , at st. julien, while in the act of again succouring the wounded. his widowed mother, at newmills, dungannon, received the victoria cross that was awarded to her gallant boy with an autograph letter of sympathy from the king. private john caffrey got the victoria cross for a gallant display of bravery and humanity near la brique on november th, . a man of the west yorkshire regiment had been badly wounded, and was lying in the open, unable to move, in full view of, and about to yards from, the enemy's trenches. corporal stirk, royal army medical corps, and caffrey at once started out to rescue him, but at the first attempt they were driven back by shrapnel fire. soon afterwards they started again, under close sniping and machine-gun fire, and succeeded in reaching and bandaging the wounded man, but, just as corporal stirk had lifted him on private caffrey's back, he himself was shot in the head. caffrey put down the wounded man, bandaged corporal stirk, and helped him back into safety. he then returned and brought in the man of the west yorkshire regiment. "he had made three journeys across the open, under close and accurate fire," says the official record, "and had risked his own life to save others with the utmost coolness and bravery." no more moving story of the devotion of a private to an officer, to whom he was regimentally attached, is to be found than that enshrined in the record of the deed for which the victoria cross was given to private thomas kenny, th (service) battalion durham light infantry, part of "kitchener's army." kenny, aged thirty-three, was living with his wife and seven children, and following the occupation of a quarry-man, at hart bushes, a hamlet two miles outside wingate, county durham, when on the outbreak of war he joined the army. his battalion was sent to the front on august th, . on the night of november th, , kenny won the victoria cross near la houssoie, for conspicuous bravery and devotion to lieutenant brown of his battalion. the deed is finely described in a letter written by major c.e. walker, of the th durham light infantry:-- "i just want to write to you to tell you how proud we all are of your husband, pte. t. kenny, for the magnificent pluck and endurance he showed under very heavy fire when lieut. p.a. brown was wounded. your husband was what we call 'observer' to lieut. brown--that is to say, he acted as a sort of shadow to his officer, who never moved anywhere without him. the lieutenant went out in front of our trenches in a thick fog to superintend a party of our men mending our barbed wire, kenny, as usual, accompanying him. they over-ran our wire and lost their bearings in the fog. finding that they were on unfamiliar ground they sat down to listen for sounds to guide them. after a while they decided to go back. as soon as they rose a rifle was fired from a listening post about yards away. (they were only about yards from the enemy trenches, and a listening post runs out from their front line.) lieut. brown fell, shot through both thighs. kenny at once went to his assistance, and although lieut. brown was a good-sized man, got him slung on to his back and started off with him. "the germans in the listening post--there are generally four to six there--opened rapid fire at him. he therefore dropped to his hands and knees and began crawling, with the officer still on his back. lieut. brown was hit about . . kenny carried him in this manner, under heavy fire from the enemy every time they heard him, for over an hour in spite of the wet, clinging nature of the ground. at last he came to a ditch he recognised, and being utterly exhausted, he made the lieutenant as comfortable as he could and then started off for our lines for help. he found an officer and a few men of his battalion at a listening post, and having guided them back to where he had left his officer, lieutenant brown was brought in still living, but died at the dressing station. his last words were, 'kenny--you're a hero!' the general is delighted with the pluck, endurance, and devotion shown by your husband, and has recommended him for the victoria cross. kenny is a splendid fellow, and you may well be proud of him." lieutenant brown's mother wrote from beckenham, kent, to kenny, expressing her deep gratitude for his services to her son: "i am thankful to feel that he died among friends and that he was able to thank you," she says. "i know you will value his last words. he had often mentioned you to me in his letters home, and talked of 'my observer kenny, a very nice irishman from co. durham, who goes with me everywhere.' his life had been a very different one before this dreadful war, but he gave up everything for pure patriotism." these are rare, fine, and noble actions. they are not necessarily actions which only a true soldier could accomplish. they are the outcome of fortitude, that spirit which supports a man to go through with a tremendous task, involving pain of body and trouble of mind, but a task from which his sense of duty will not permit him to turn aside; and fortitude is a quality found not uncommonly in the ordinary daily round of civil life as well as on the battlefield. the other awards of the victoria cross to irishmen were made for deeds of quite a different character; real soldierly deeds, bold, dashing, and intrepid; deeds, if not of reckless bravery, certainly of bravery reckless of life for the attainment of the purpose in view. in a word, they are deeds more representative of the traditional fiery fearlessness of celtic valour. there is the case of private edward dwyer, of the east surrey regiment, who was born at fulham, london, of irish parents, his father being a galway man and his mother a native of omeath. i saw him one sunny day in july, , coming down the strand at the head of a recruiting procession, and his appearance gave me at first a shock of surprise. i do not know why it should be so, but it is the fact that we usually associate intrepidity and resolution with men of powerful physique and demeanour that suggests fearlessness. perhaps the illusion has taken its rise from misty recollections of the heroes of the fiction-reading of our youth. that illusion has been dispelled, for me, at least, by those v.c.-men of the war whom i have seen, and i have seen several of them. in all of them, without exception, i should say it was the mind that told and not so much the body. dwyer looked quite a boy, and one of small stature, too, as he walked that day between two burly sergeants, to whose shoulders his head just about reached. but i could see the victoria cross of dark bronze and its red ribbon on the left breast of his khaki tunic. his hearty laughter and smiles told of his pride and joy in the demonstration, of which he was the central figure--silk-hatted men baring their heads to him; women, young and old, pressing forward to kiss him; and the air filled with shoutings and the blare of brass instruments. then, from the plinth of the nelson monument in trafalgar square, standing between two of landseer's great lions, he made a sprightly recruiting speech. "i promise you this," said he, "a drink and a cigar for the first ten recruits to come up here. age is nothing. i was only sixteen when i joined. i think the recruiting-sergeant must have been a little short-sighted on purpose, because he enlisted me without any trouble. out at the front there are men who are grey-headed. doesn't it shame you?" he cried, turning sharply to the young men in the crowd. what was it that was done by this youngest of the v.c.'s this stripling of eighteen who, before he enlisted, was a messenger-boy to a greengrocer? he displayed "most conspicuous bravery and devotion to duty" at hill on april th, ; and he did so in a very singular way. "when his trench was heavily attacked by german grenade throwers," says the official record, "he climbed on to the parapet, and although subjected to a hail of bombs at close quarters, succeeded in dispersing the enemy by the effective use of his hand grenades." those vague, general terms do not enable us to see the episode. it discloses itself vividly in the terse sentences of dwyer himself:-- "all our chaps were either killed or wounded. i was the only unwounded man left in the trench. the germans were in a trench only fifteen yards away, so close that i could hear them talking in their lingo. i knew that if they took the trench i was in it would be a bad job for our trenches behind. so i collected all the hand grenades left in our trench until i had about a hundred in all. there were three steps leading up to the parapet of the trench. for a while i sat crouched on the middle step. then i found myself on the parapet hurling grenades at the germans. shells and hand bombs were bursting all over and around me, but nothing touched me at all. i kept on throwing until help came and the trench was safe. i was pretty well done up when i jumped down into the trench, mad with joy and without a scratch. the relieving party chaffed me a lot, and called me 'the king of the hand grenades.'" dwyer gives an interesting account of his sensations in battle. as a rule, introspection in such circumstances is almost impossible, for the mind, when concentrated solely on the existing situation and strained with excitement almost to the cracking point, cannot well observe itself; but dwyer is made of uncommon stuff mentally as well as physically. "fear is a funny thing," he says. "it gets at you in all kinds of curious ways. when we've been skirmishing in open order under heavy fire i've felt myself go numb. then the blood has rushed into my face--head and ears become as hot as fire, and the tip of my tongue swollen into a blob of blood. it isn't nice, i can tell you; but the feeling passes and one's nerves become steadier." he added what showed his real mettle: "i've never expected to get out of any fight i've ever been in. and so i just try to do my bit, and leave it at that." dwyer made a most successful recruiter for the irish regiments, in which, on account of his nationality, he specially interested himself. turning now for a while from the irish privates to the irish regimental officers who have won the v.c., we find the same pluck, endurance, and devotion to duty displayed. second lieutenant george arthur boyd-rochfort, of the st battalion scots guards, is a type of the irish gentry who have contributed to the british army so remarkably large a number of gallant regimental officers and distinguished commanders, from the duke of wellington to viscount french of ypres. he had done no soldiering before the present war. the eldest son of the late major r.h. boyd-rochfort, of the th hussars, he succeeded to the family property at middleton park, westmeath. aged thirty-five, and the head of his family, all his interests centred in the work of the estate. yet when the war broke out mr. boyd-rochfort felt it his duty to join the army, so that he might serve his country along with his younger brothers--captain h. boyd-rochfort, of the st lancers (now brigade-major of the st cavalry brigade), and lieutenant cecil boyd-rochfort, of the scots guards. to qualify himself physically for a commission in the scots guards he had to undergo two operations, which confined him to hospital for close on five months. he got his commission in april, , went to the front in june, and won the victoria cross on august rd, in the trenches between cambria and la bassée. lieutenant boyd-rochfort was afterwards wounded in a single-handed fight with two germans--he knocked one down with the butt-end of his empty revolver and the other with his fist--and was invalided home, when the whole countryside turned out to do him honour. he gave the following account of his exploit:-- "it was at break of day, just before we were ordered to 'stand to,' we were working in the first line of trenches, and a trench that was nothing more than a graveyard. the first german trench was no more than fifty yards away, and their mortars and rifle grenades were simply spilling into us. our trench was getting badly knocked about by the flying missiles. you must distinguish between these mortars and shells, because the mortars have a time fuse which explodes them without striking. i was just raising my head over the front of the trench, and, hearing the whiz, i said to my men, 'look out.' down they went. the bomb landed, and started to roll down from the top of the trench. i dashed forward and seized it, and threw it over the top of trench. scarcely had it left my hand and reached the outside of the trench than it exploded with a terrific report. we were all buried under falling earth, but fortunately no one was hurt, although my cap was blown to pieces. my men were very appreciative of my action, and cheered and thanked me. afterwards they wrote and signed a statement of what i had done, which they handed to the colonel." another gallant meath man was the late lieutenant maurice james dease, th batt. royal fusiliers (city of london regiment), who fell during the retreat from mons, and was the first officer to gain the victoria cross in the great war. he was the only son of mr. edmund f. dease, culmullen, drumree, meath, and heir-presumptive to his uncle, major gerald dease, of turbotston, westmeath. he was born september th, , and was educated at stonyhurst and at the army class, wimbledon college. he entered the royal military college, sandhurst, and was gazetted second lieutenant in the royal fusiliers in february, , becoming lieutenant in . in the same year he was appointed machine-gun officer to his regiment, and it was whilst in command of this section at nimy, near mons, on august rd, , that lieutenant dease was killed and awarded the victoria cross. the official record is as follows:-- "during the action the machine-guns were protecting the crossing over a canal bridge, and lieutenant dease was several times severely wounded, but refused to leave the guns. he remained at his post until all the men of his detachment were either killed or wounded and the guns put out of action by the enemy's fire." from the south of ireland came the late captain gerald robert o'sullivan, st royal inniskilling fusiliers, who won the v.c. in gallipoli. a son of the late lieutenant-colonel george ledwill o'sullivan, st argyll and sutherland highlanders, and of mrs. o'sullivan, of rowan house, dorchester, he was born at frankfield, near douglas, county cork, and spent most of his boyhood in dublin. he passed into sandhurst in , and was gazetted to the inniskillings on may th, . captain o'sullivan was awarded the v.c. for conspicuous gallantry on two occasions, the official record of his deeds being as follows:-- "for most conspicuous bravery during the operations south-west of krithia, on the gallipoli peninsula. on the night of july st- nd, , when it was essential that portion of a trench which had been lost should be regained. captain o'sullivan, although not belonging to the troops at this point, volunteered to lead a party of bomb-throwers to effect the recapture. he advanced in the open under very heavy fire, and in order to throw his bombs with greater effect got up on the parapet, where he was completely exposed to the fire of the enemy occupying the trench. he was finally wounded, but not before his inspiring example had led on his party to make further efforts, which resulted in the capture of the trench. on the night of june th- th, , captain o'sullivan saved a critical situation in the same locality by his great personal gallantry and good leading." this gallant officer is believed to have been killed during the attack on hill , or burnt hill, at suvla bay, on august st, . he advanced at the head of his men to the second line of turkish trenches, where he fell. the body was not recovered. from the north of ireland came the late captain anketell moutray-read, of the st northamptonshire regiment, who was killed on the night of september - th, , at the battle of loos, and was posthumously awarded the victoria cross. he was the youngest son of the late colonel john moutray-read, of aghnacloy, county tyrone, and one of his ancestors was high sheriff of the county as far back as . owing to casualties in the northamptons captain moutray-read was in temporary command of the battalion when he fell. the official record of the award of the victoria cross is as follows:-- "for most conspicuous bravery during the first attack near hulluch on the morning of september th, . although partially gassed, captain read went out several times in order to rally parties of different units which were disorganised and retiring. he led them back into the firing line, and, utterly regardless of danger, moved freely about encouraging them under a withering fire. he was mortally wounded while carrying out this gallant work. captain read had previously shown conspicuous bravery during digging operations on august th, th, and st, , and on the night of july th- th he carried out of action an officer, who was mortally wounded, under a hot fire from rifles and grenades." in all the theatres of war representatives of that famous fighting stock, the irish gentry, are to be found defending the british empire by maintaining the martial reputation of their race. at shariba, mesopotamia, the late major george godfrey massy wheeler, th hariana lancers, indian army, won the victoria cross for "most conspicuous bravery." he was a descendant of general sir hugh massy wheeler, whose son, john george wheeler, was married to a miss massy, of kingswell house, tipperary. "on april th, ," says the official record, "major wheeler asked permission to take out his squadron and attempt to capture a flag which was the centre point of a group of the enemy who were firing on one of our pickets. he advanced and attacked the enemy's infantry with the lance, doing considerable execution amongst them. he then retired while the enemy swarmed out of hidden ground and formed an excellent target to our royal horse artillery guns. on april th, , major wheeler led his squadron to the attack of the 'north mound.' he was seen far ahead of his men, riding single-handed straight for the enemy's standards. this gallant officer was killed on the mound." in another far-distant and remote field of operations, the german protectorate of the cameroons, west africa, a scion of the same stock of irish gentry likewise achieves glory, leading blacks against blacks led by germans. there the hero is captain john fitzharding paul butler, of the famous butlers of ormond, tipperary, attached to the pioneer company, gold coast regiment, west african frontier force. "on november th, ," says the record, "with a party of thirteen men, he went into the thick brush and attacked the enemy, in strength about one hundred, including several europeans, defeated them and captured their machine-guns, and many loads of ammunition. on december th, , when on patrol duty with a few men, he swam the ekan river, which was held by the enemy, completed his reconnaissance on the further bank, and returned in safety. two of his men were wounded while he was actually in the water." bald as the story is, thus officially told, it kindles the imagination, and we can picture the wild and hazardous life led by this adventurous irishman in that mysterious land of mountain and forest. the brookes of colebrooke have been settled in fermanagh since the time of queen elizabeth. if you look through burke's "peerage and baronetage" you will see that in every generation the family have given sons to the army and navy. lieutenant j.a.o. brooke (grandson of the late sir arthur brinsley brooke of colebrooke, baronet), nd gordon highlanders, has crowned the martial reputation of the family by winning the victoria cross. near gheluvelt, on october th, , he led two attacks on the german trenches under heavy rifle and machine-gun fire, and regained a lost trench at a very critical time. he was killed at the moment of success. "by his marked coolness and promptitude on this occasion," says the official record, "lieutenant brooke prevented the enemy from breaking through our line at a time when a general counter-attack could not have been organised." two victoria crosses have thus been won for the gordon highlanders by irishmen--drummer kenny and lieutenant brooke. chapter xii "for valour" stories of other v.c.'s, including michael o'leary, who upheld ireland's tradition of gallantry in order to be able rightly to appreciate the honour and glory of the victoria cross, it is necessary to know the conditions regulating its bestowal. a tradition has been established in the services, though there is nothing in the institution of the victoria cross really to warrant it, that the decoration is to be given only for a deed not done under orders. the deed must be a signal one in every respect--exceptionally daring, and difficult, of the highest military value, particularly in the saving of life, and, with all this, absolutely voluntary. nevertheless, it will be noticed that in none of the deeds of all these bold, brave, and intrepid irishmen is there the slightest suggestion of seeking fame and glory at the cannon's mouth. "i almost gasped," said private dwyer, "when i was told i was awarded the v.c." each of the others appears to have been likewise unconscious of his heroism. he did not go and do what he did, thinking of being mentioned in despatches or decorated. he was concerned only about doing what at the moment he felt to be his duty. fame and glory were probably never farther from his thoughts than at the very time he was winning them for ever. for the roll of the victoria cross, on which his name and deed are commemorated, is imperishable; and his glorious memory will shine as long as great britain and ireland endure. for sheer daring, contempt of risks, resourcefulness, and extraordinary physical powers, a high place must be given to the action by which corporal william cosgrave, st royal munster fusiliers, won the victoria cross in gallipoli. it took place on april th, , the day after the famous landing of the dublins and munsters at "beach v," when the survivors of these battalions were advancing to the attack on the turkish positions on the heights of sedd-el-bahr. the first defensive obstacles encountered were barbed wire entanglements of exceptional strength and intricacy, behind which was a trench of enemy riflemen and machine-guns. "those entanglements," says sir ian hamilton, "were made of heavier metal and longer barbs than i have ever seen elsewhere." a party of the munsters were sent forward to cut them down, but the men's pliers had not strength and sharpness enough to snip the wires. then it was that cosgrave, a giant in stature and vigour-- ft. in. in height and only twenty-three years of age--"pulled down the posts of the enemy's high wire entanglements single-handed, notwithstanding a terrific fire from both front and flanks thereby greatly contributing to the successful clearing of the heights," to quote the official record. the deed has a distinction peculiarly its own, for it is the only thing of the kind to be found in the long roll of the victoria cross. cosgrave was wounded in the bayonet charge which subsequently carried the trench. a bullet struck him in the side, and passing clear through him splintered his backbone. he was invalided home to aghada, a little fishing hamlet in county cork, where he was born and reared and worked as a farm boy until he enlisted in . seen there, he told the story of his exploit, as one of the party of fifty munsters ordered to rush forward and remove the entanglements:-- "sergeant-major bennett led us, but just as we made a dash a storm of lead was concentrated on us; sergeant-major bennett was killed with a bullet through his brain. i then took charge and shouted to the boys to come on. the dash was quite one hundred yards, and i don't know whether i ran or prayed the faster. i wanted to succeed in my work, and i also wanted to have the benefit of dying with a prayer in my mind. some of us having got up to the wires we started to cut them with the pliers, but you might as well try to cut the round tower at cloyne with a pair of lady's scissors. the wire was of great strength, strained like fiddle strings, and so full of spikes that you could not get the pliers between. heavens! i thought we were done; i threw the pliers from me. 'pull them up!' i roared to the fellows; and i dashed at one of the upright posts, put my arms round it, and heaved and strained at it until it came up in my arms, the same as you would lift a child. "i believe there was great cheering when they saw what i was at, but i only heard the scream of bullets and saw dust rising all round me. where they hit i do not know, or how many posts i pulled up. i did my best, and the boys that were with me did every bit as good as myself. "when the wire was down the rest of the lads came through like devils and reached the trenches. we won about yards' length by twenty yards deep and yards from the shore. we met a brave, honourable foe in the turks, and i am sorry that such decent fighting men were brought into the row by such dirty tricksters as the germans." in sir ian hamilton's despatch describing the storming of "beach w"--close to "beach v"--by the lancashire fusiliers, there are some striking passages relating to men of the battalion who rushed forward to cut passages through the entanglements. "again the heroic wire-cutters came out. through glasses they could be seen quietly snipping away under a hellish fire, as if they were pruning a vineyard." for his gallantry in this undertaking private william keneally, one of the many irishmen in the lancashires, got the victoria cross. the distinction is greatly enhanced by the fact that keneally was selected by his comrades in the ranks as the one among them best entitled to it. the official record says:-- "on april th, , three companies and the headquarters of the st battalion lancashire fusiliers, in effecting a landing on the gallipoli peninsula to the west of cape helles, were met by a very deadly fire from hidden machine-guns which caused a great number of casualties. the survivors, however, rushed up to and cut the wire entanglements, notwithstanding the terrific fire from the enemy, and, after overcoming supreme difficulties, the cliffs were gained and the position maintained. amongst the many very gallant officers and men engaged in this most hazardous undertaking, captain willis, sergeant richards, and private keneally have been selected by their comrades as having performed the most signal arts of bravery and devotion to duty." precedents for the choice of a comrade by his fellows to wear the v.c. on their behalf are to be found in the records of the indian mutiny, and it is an interesting fact that in each case the man chosen was an irishman serving in an english or scottish regiment. in september, , the cross was awarded to private john divane, of the th king's royal rifles, for successfully heading a charge against the trenches at delhi. divane was elected by the privates of his regiment for the distinction. in november of the same year lance-corporal j. dunley, rd highlanders, the first man of the regiment to enter the secundra bagh with captain burroughs, whom he supported against heavy odds, was similarly chosen by his comrades for the v.c., and likewise lieutenant a.k. french, rd regiment, who showed distinguished gallantry on the same occasion, was elected by his brother officers to wear the decoration. keneally was born in parnell street, wexford, in . his father, colour-sergeant john stephen keneally, served for twenty-four years in the royal irish regiment. in keneally's parents removed to wigan. the father got work as a miner in the wigan coalfield, and the son, at the age of thirteen, started in the same life as a pit-boy. william afterwards joined the army, served for six years, and on returning to civil life worked again in the pits. on the outbreak of war he rejoined his old regiment, the lancashire fusiliers, and was then one of five brothers serving with the colours. the brave fellow did not survive to enjoy the honour of having the v.c. pinned to his breast by the king. he was wounded on july th, , in the course of an attack on a turkish position, which was repulsed, and was never seen afterwards. "it is a matter of sincere regret to me," says the king in a kindly letter to the hero's father, "that the death of private keneally deprived me of the pride of personally conferring on him the victoria cross--the greatest of all military distinctions." for quite a different achievement the victoria cross was awarded to sergeant john hogan, nd battalion manchester regiment, an irish lad who was brought up at oldham, lancashire. on october th, , hogan and second lieutenant leach (who also got the v.c.) recaptured unassisted a trench that had been lost by the regiment. two attempts to retake the trench in force having been repulsed, leach and hogan voluntarily set out one morning to try to recover it themselves. the trench was about sixty yards' distance from the nearest german trench. it did not run in a straight line, but took a zig-zag course, consisting of a number of traverses in this form:-- ------+ +------+ +------+ +------ | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | +------+ +------+ +------+ though it was held by the germans, its connection with the other british trenches was not cut off. starting at one end of the trench, leach and hogan drove the germans out of each traverse, one after the other, by putting their right hands round each corner and firing their revolvers, while they kept their bodies concealed. it happened that the germans were armed only with rifles, and those weapons they could not use without exposing themselves to the revolver fire of their attackers. thus favoured, leach and hogan advanced by crawling on their stomachs, capturing corner after corner, and section after section, until they got near to the other end of the trench, when they heard a voice exclaiming in english, "don't shoot; the germans want to surrender." the speaker was one of their own men, who had been taken prisoner by the germans when they captured the trench. altogether leach and hogan killed eight germans, wounded twenty, and took sixteen prisoners. it was a peculiar exploit, cleverly planned, and daringly executed. the story of how private john lynn, nd lancashire fusiliers, a county tyrone man, won the v.c., is inspiring for its bravery and endurance. near ypres on may nd, , as the germans were advancing behind their wave of asphyxiating gas, private lynn, although almost overcome by the deadly fumes, handled his machine-gun with very great effect against the enemy, and when he could not see them he moved his gun higher up on the parapet, which enabled him to bring even more effective fire to bear, and eventually checked any further advance. the great courage displayed by this soldier had a fine effect on his comrades in the very trying circumstances. he died the following day from the effects of gas poisoning. "it's a long, long way to tipperary," says the soldier's favourite song. but, long as it is, sergeant james somers, st royal inniskilling fusiliers, brought there the victoria cross from gallipoli, when he came home invalided to stay with his parents at cloughjordan, in september, . naturally, the tipperary village was decorated, and the hero was received by tipperary crowds, with bands and banners; and, better still, war loan stock to the value of £ , subscribed for by as many as , of the local tipperary community, was presented to him at a public meeting by major-general friend, commander of the forces in ireland. at the meeting mr. b. trench, secretary to the reception committee, made the remarkable statement that out of a total of eighty victoria crosses then awarded for services in the war eighteen had been won by irishmen. "if the people of great britain had done as well," said mr. trench, "they ought, according to their population, to have received victoria crosses." sergeant somers is a well-built, good-looking young fellow of twenty-one, full of high spirits, and was boyishly delighted with all the attention paid to him in ireland. his father was for several years sexton in the parish church, belturbet, county cavan; and he himself was a footman in bantry house, county cork, before he joined the inniskilling fusiliers in . like dwyer, of the east surreys, he got the v.c. for a daring bombing exploit. the official record of the award is as follows:-- "for most conspicuous bravery. on the night of july st- nd, , in the southern zone of the gallipoli peninsula, where, owing to hostile bombing, some of our troops had retired from a sap, sergeant somers remained alone on the spot until a party brought up bombs. he then climbed over into the turkish trench, and bombed the turks with great effect. later he advanced into the open, under heavy fire, and held back the enemy by throwing bombs into their flank until a barricade had been established. during this period he frequently ran to and from our trenches to obtain fresh supplies of bombs. by his gallantry and coolness sergeant somers was largely instrumental in effecting the recapture of portion of our trench which had been lost." recounting his experiences, sergeant somers said that the turks advanced to the trenches and compelled the gurkhas and the inniskillings to retire. he alone stopped in the trench, refusing to leave. he shot many turks with his revolver, killed about fifty with bombs, and forced them to retire. the enemy, however, rushed into a sap trench, and he commenced to bombard them out of it, but twice he failed. just before dawn he stole away for the purpose of getting men up to the trench to occupy it. some of the officers said it was impossible to put the turks out; but somers returned to the position, taking with him a supply of grenades, under rifle and maxim-gun fire, and eventually succeeded in bombing the turks out of the sap trench. he had one narrow escape on the morning of july nd--a splinter struck him across the spine, but he rained in the bombs until he fell from loss of blood and fatigue in the afternoon. by that time, however, the trench had been recaptured. the turks retreated crying, "allah! allah!" and "we gave them la la," said somers with great glee. somers tells all about it with great enthusiasm, and constantly recurring in his stories is the phrase, "i did my duty," or "general sir ian hamilton told me when he made me king's sergeant on the field that i did my duty"; and again, "i want to get back to duty." that was the main idea in this young irishman's mind. "for helping to bring the guns into action under heavy fire at nery, near compiègne, on september st, , and, while severely wounded, remaining with them until all ammunition was exhausted, although he had been ordered to retire to cover." this is the brief and cold official account of the thrilling deed for which the victoria cross was given to sergeant david nelson, l battery, royal horse artillery, a native of derraghlands, stranooden, county monaghan. in all retreats the artillery is seriously handicapped, and it was so with the british artillery in the retreat from mons. still, they made many a gallant fight. one which stands out most conspicuously is that of l battery, which fought for hours with one gun, and although outnumbered eight to one, succeeded in silencing the german artillery. the battery of six guns had camped for the night by a farmhouse. at dawn, as they were watering their horses before continuing the retirement, they were shelled by a german battery of eight guns posted on a height overlooking the farm, not yards away. this hill had been evacuated during the night by french cavalry without having given notice to the british. so fierce and destructive was the fire of the germans that four guns of the l battery were disabled, and many of the men and officers were stricken down within a few minutes. the survivors rushed to the two other guns and brought them into action. the fifth gun was quickly silenced by the killing of its entire detachment. it was the sixth gun, served by nelson and three other men--sergeant-major dornell, gunner derbyshire, and driver osborne--that, despite all the painful and distracting incidents happening in the farmyard, was worked with such speed and cool and deadly accuracy that the germans were compelled to depart. the british gun was crippled and almost completely shattered, but it was saved. all the heroic gunners were badly wounded, and all were decorated. nelson had one of his ribs so crushed in that it pressed upon his right lung. on his recovery he was promoted to a second lieutenancy. the official record of the services of the st canadian division in flanders shows that the late company sergeant-major william hall, th canadian infantry, who won the victoria cross near ypres, was a native of belfast. hall was awarded the coveted distinction in the following circumstances: "on april th, , in the neighbourhood of ypres, when a wounded man who was lying some fifteen yards from the trench called for help, company sergeant-major hall endeavoured to reach him in the face of a very heavy enfilade fire which was being poured in by the enemy. the first attempt failed, and a non-commissioned officer and a private soldier who were attempting to give assistance were both wounded. company sergeant-major hall then made a second most gallant attempt, and was in the act of lifting up the wounded man to bring him in when he fell mortally wounded in the head." sir max aitken, m.p., who has written the official record, states that hall was originally from belfast, but his canadian home was in winnipeg. he joined the th battalion at valcartier, quebec, in august, , as a private. finally we come to the epic of michael o'leary, of the irish guards, which remains the finest and most amazing feat of the war. i remember well that afternoon of friday, february th, , when the announcement of the award of the victoria cross to o'leary was given to the public. it was sent out in the afternoon, so that it first appeared in the evening newspapers. the record was one of a dozen, each of which told a tale of thrilling adventure. yet all the london evening papers with one accord seized upon the exploit of o'leary's capture, single-handed, of two enemy barricades--thus saving his comrades from being mowed down by a machine-gun--and killing eight germans in the process, as the "splash" line for their contents bills. "how michael o'leary won the v.c." "how michael o'leary, v.c., kills eight germans and takes two barricades." "the wonderful story of michael o'leary, v.c." thus the streets of london flashed and resounded with the name of michael o'leary--that name which sounds so musically, and so irresistibly suggests the romance and dare-devildom of the irish race, and under its spell people rushed to read the story of his deed. what appealed to the imagination was the touch of strangeness and fantasy in the exploit. how curious it all is, when one comes to think of it! as one is walking along a london street a name suddenly emerges out of the unknown, and lo! it is fixed in the memory with a halo for ever. it was in the brickfields at cuinchy, on february st, , that michael o'leary won his enduring fame. taken by surprise, the coldstream guards had lost a trench and failed to recapture it. the irish guards, who were in reserve, were told to have a try. no. company, in which o'leary was lance-corporal, formed the storming party. they were only too glad of any excuse to get out of the mud and slush of their trenches. before the main body advanced across the open ground--a brickfield, with here and there a stack of bricks--o'leary, who, in fact, was off duty, and need not have joined in the attack at all, slipped away to the left towards a railway cutting. he had set out spontaneously on his own initiative to give the enemy a bit of a surprise. what would be the nature of the surprise, o'leary himself did not quite know at the moment. it would all depend upon the development of the situation and the actual circumstances when the time came for him to decide. but for days before as he lay in the trenches he had brought his powers of observation into play, and having grasped all the essential details of the geographical situation and the military position, he reasoned out a plan with himself. according to that plan, the first thing he had to do was to get into the railway cutting on his left. this he did with all speed, and very soon afterwards he re-ascended to the top of the embankment and found himself almost in a direct line with the first german barricade, one of the brick stacks, about twenty or thirty yards square, and about twenty feet high and solid. with five shots he killed as many of the german defenders. then seeing the headlong and irresistible dash of his comrades across the field he came to the conclusion that the remaining germans had no chance of escape. so he quickly disappeared down the railway cutting once more, and again came up to the top on the right front of the second german barricade. here there was a machine-gun. in fact the officer in command had just slewed round the gun on the irish guards still busy at the first barricade, and had his finger on the button to let go the hail of lead upon them when he was dropped by a bullet from o'leary's rifle. michael also shot two other germans, and the remaining five surrendered by putting up their hands to the deadly, unerring marksman on the embankment. thus it happened that when the no. company of the irish guards got to the second barricade without a single casualty, instead of, as they had expected, serious loss of life, their surprise was turned into amazement on seeing o'leary there before them in sole and complete possession of the place, with a german machine-gun and five prisoners as spoil. "how the divil did you get here, mike!" such was the exclamation of o'leary's intimate comrades. mike only realised that he had done something of importance and value, as well as of splendid gallantry, when officers and men crowded round him to shake his hand. the commanding officer, major the hon. j.f. trefusis, promoted him full sergeant on the field. there must always be an element of chance or luck in such an abnormal achievement. but it is the man that is the thing. all the good fortune in the world would be without avail if the man were not of an exceptional type, possessed of perfect courage, marvellous self-confidence, and supreme resolution. not less wonderful than what o'leary did was the deliberate and efficient way in which he accomplished it. he knew that death might come at any moment. but he put the fear immediately aside lest it might in the least unnerve him in the pursuit of his purpose. everything showed that he was in full possession of all his faculties. what the united kingdom thought of the deed was expressed by london in the tumultuous welcome which it gave to sergeant michael o'leary, when, in his war-stained uniform, he drove through the streets with mr. t.p. o'connor, to speak in hyde park on saturday afternoon, july th, . there was terrific crushing and rushing on the part of hundreds of thousands of people eager to catch a glimpse of the hero--a slim youth of twenty-five, in khaki, with fair hair, and a pleasant smile lighting up his blue eyes and freckled face. no wonder, indeed. as conan doyle, the novelist, remarked: "no writer of fiction would dare to fasten such an achievement on any of his characters." and only a few years before michael was helping to mind his father's stock on a little farm at inchigeela, county cork. so they made him an officer, lieutenant o'leary, of one of the tyneside irish battalions of the northumberland fusiliers. and rightly so, for he proved himself to be possessed of all the qualities of a leader--observation and reasoning, quick to receive impressions, and quick to act upon them--resource, daring, and yet discretion, coolness and self-mastery in an enterprise of difficulty and danger. the two most damnable drawbacks on the field of battle are unpreparedness and slowness in officers, and stolidness and lack of initiative in men. well, michael himself was never able fully to appreciate the gallantry of his action. what could be more modest than his letter to his father and mother on the subject:-- "dear parents--i know you will be glad to hear that i am awarded the victoria cross for conspicuous gallantry in the field. hoping all are well, as i myself am in the best of health. from your fond son.--michael." there is the same simplicity, with a touch of humour, in the remark he made when being seen off at victoria station after all his glorification in london:--"it's glad i am to be going back to the trenches for a bit of a rest." and the only man in the whole wide world to show any desire to disparage michael's exploit was michael's father himself. the old man was asked if he was surprised at his son's bravery. "surprised, is it!" he exclaimed. "what i am surprised at is that he didn't do more. sure often myself i laid out ten irishmen with a stick coming from macroom fair when i was a gossoon like mick--irishmen, mind you, an' stout hearty lads at that same. an' it was rather a bad fist mick made of it that he could kill only eight germans, and he having a rifle and bayonet." how is that for the old irish spirit? the end printed in great britain by r. clay and sons, ltd. brunswick street stamford street, s.e. and bungay, suffolk. _mr. john e. redmond, m.p., and mr. r. barry o'brien have issued an address in behalf of the irish nuns of ypres, some extracts from which we publish below._ the irish nuns of ypres an appeal the story of the irish nuns of ypres is bound up with the story of ireland. they represent not only a religious order, but the national ideal as well. they stand for faith and fatherland. more than two hundred years ago an irish benedictine community of nuns was established in big ship street, dublin. then came the war of the "revolution" and the renewal of the international struggle between england and ireland.... the dutchman whom the english made king offered security to the irish benedictine nuns, should they elect to remain in their own land; but, as if visions of the future passed before them, they trusted him not. they sought an asylum beyond the seas, where, amid the vicissitudes of fortune, they ever turned their thoughts to ireland, and in the days of her agony ceased not to pray for her redemption. they took up their abode in belgium; they made ypres their home; and their convent, in its turn, became the refuge of many irish exiles driven by injustice and oppression from the land of their birth. wars swept over europe. belgium was desolated, even as she has been desolated to-day. irish soldiers, too, played their part in those wars as they play their part in the struggle which is now convulsing the world--the part of valour and renown. fifteen years after the irish nuns had settled in ypres a great battle was fought at the other extremity of belgium, on the famous field of ramillies. in that fateful fight the irish brigade, in the service of france, held the village of ramillies. the fight surged and raged around it, but the irish kept their ground. two of the flags which they had taken from the foe were deposited in the irish convent at ypres, and a part of one of these flags was preserved by the faithful irish nuns down to our own day.... once more war clouds gathered over europe. once more belgium was fated to become the victim of calamities which she did not provoke. the armies of germany wantonly invaded her territory and cruelly devastated her homes. ypres was bombarded and destroyed. the irish convent, often destined to escape the fury of the storm, now perished in the general ruin. the charred remains of its hospitable walls alone recall the historic memories with which its name shall for ever be associated. penniless, bereft of everything except the hope and determination to retrieve their fortunes, the nuns fled from belgium and took refuse in england.... in their trouble, anxiety, and distress they sought counsel with irishmen to aid them in considering the best way of finding a suitable home in the old land. providentially such a home offered itself in merton house, macmine, county wexford. recently the mother prioress and one of the nuns visited the place, and were pleased with it. acting on the advice of their friends they resolved to purchase it. we now venture to appeal to irishmen and irishwomen in ireland and abroad to help us in collecting the necessary funds. we make this appeal with confidence. the nuns have told the story of their flight from belgium in the book, _the irish nuns at ypres_, published by messrs. smith, elder, of london. the tale is an epic which will live in the history of those fearful times to the honour of the religious order and the glory of womanhood. fidelity to religious and national ideals has been their badge of distinction in every eventuality. they shall have their reward. the heroism, the self-devotion, the religious faith, the christian zeal and charity of those irish nuns in a terrible crisis in the history of the order will, we venture to say, command universal respect and admiration, mingled with pity for their fate, and an earnest desire, among all generous souls, to help them in retrieving their fortunes. j.e. redmond, m.p. r. barry o'brien. subscriptions to "the irish nuns of ypres fund" will be received by j.e. redmond, m.p., aughavanagh, aughrim, co. wicklow; r. barry o'brien, sinclair road, kensington, london; the right rev. abbot marmion, o.s.b., edermine, enniscorthy; mr. m.j. o'connor, solicitor wexford; and the _freeman's journal_, prince's street, dublin. _february, ._ * * * * * +-----------------------------------------------------------+ | typographical errors corrected in text: | | | | page : wiliam replaced with william | | page : apointed replaced with appointed | | page : "as far back at " replaced with | | "as far back as " | | page : a.k. ffrench replaced with a.k. french | | | +-----------------------------------------------------------+ * * * * * g. h. q. (montreuil-sur-mer). [illustration] g. h. q. (montreuil-sur-mer) by "g. s. o." with a map and thirty-two illustrations. [illustration] london: philip allan & co., quality court, chancery lane, w.c. . printed by whitehead bros., wolverhampton. to the people at home whose unbending resolution and ungrudging generosity upheld the soldiers' confidence this book is gratefully dedicated by the author. contents. chapter page i.--before g.h.q. went to montreuil the first stages of the war--"trench war," a good german invention--the battle of eyes--waiting for the big push--the loos disappointment--moving g.h.q. to montreuil. ii.--montreuil and the montreuillois how the montreuillois once learned to hate the english--early history of the famous town--its link with the early roman-british empire--a border town in the anglo-french wars--when g.h.q. was bombed. iii.--g.h.q. at work the functions of g.h.q.--the varying conditions to be met--the working hours--the organisation of a branch--the chief's system. iv.--g.h.q. at play the walks on the ramparts--the "monks" of montreuil had little time for sport--precautions against "joy-riding"--the jolly officers' club--watching the map--ladies at g.h.q. v.--the munitions of the war the shell shortage--when relief came--the dramatic tanks--bombs--some ammunition figures--the ingenious inventor. vi.--the medical services the magic-workers of the war--fighting the germans--concerning the victorian primness of conversation and the present popularity of "v.d." as a theme for small talk--the army and "v.d."--the etiquette of hospitals and the ways of matrons--the war against trench feet--mustard gas in . vii.--the animals of the force a happy lot--the mud season in flanders--the effects of mustard gas--the character of the mule--forage difficulties--the french object to our horse ration--the americans side with us--the animal record in . viii.--the financial services the generosity of the british people--g.h.q. was not a spendthrift--the pay system--curiosities of banking in the field--claims of the civilian inhabitants--the looted rabbit. ix.--the economy services what the german submarines taught us--the salvage organisation--o.c. rags, bones and swill--agriculture's good work and hard luck--the forestry directorate--soldiers learn economy in a stern school. x.--the comforts of the force--spiritual and other the padres--the semi-religious organisations--e.f.c. comforts--studying the fighting man--the great beer save. xi.--the labour auxiliaries the queer ways of the chinks--how to bury a chinaman properly--the q.m.a.a.c.s and their fine record--other types of labour auxiliaries--the labour directorate. xii.--g.h.q. and the "new army" what g.h.q. thought of the "temporaries"--old prejudices and their reason--the material of the "new armies"--some "new army" officers who did not play the game--the regular army trade union accepts its "dilutees." xiii.--g.h.q. and the dominion armies our parliament at the club--a discussion of the dominions, particularly of australia--is the englishman shy or stand-offish?--how the "anzacs" came to be--the empire after the war. xiv.--educating the army the beginning of an interesting movement--the work of a few enthusiasts--the unexpected peace--humours of lectures to the army--books for the army--the army printery. xv.--the winter of our discontent the disappointments of and --the collapse of russia--the cambrai battle--the german propaganda--fears of irresolution at home--reassurances from home--effects of the submarine war--an economical reorganisation at g.h.q.--a new quartermaster general--good effects of cheerfulness at home. xvi.--enter the americans how the germans were misled about the americans--early american fighters--the arrivals in may, --american equipment--our relations with the americans and what they thought of us--the portuguese. xvii.--the german spring of was g.h.q. at fault?--where we could best afford to lose ground--refugees complicate the situation--stark resolution of the french--all pas-de-calais to be wrecked if necessary--how our railways broke down--amiens does not fall. xviii.--the motor lorry that waited how a motor lorry waited at the ecole militaire to take away the maps to the coast--the motor lorry reserve--an "appreciation" of the position--germany lost the war in the first three months--some notes of german blunders. xix.--the unity of command was it necessary?--was a french generalissimo inevitable?--our share in the guiding of the last phase of the campaign--points on which the british had their way. xx.--the coming of victory the june position--german attempts to pinch out our lines of supplies--the attacks on hospitals--the glorious last weeks--g.h.q.'s share. list of illustrations. to face page the chief _frontispiece_ the boulogne gate the cavÉe saint firmin outside the ramparts the market lt.-gen. the hon. sir h. a. lawrence lt.-gen. sir g. h. fowke the grande place the ramparts the theatre in the officers' club the place gambetta the fosse a by-way a royal visit: december, the east ramparts the army commanders major-gen. sir c. a. bray major-gen. l. b. friend an army poster brig.-gen. the earl of radnor at forestry h.q. brig.-gen. e. g. wace the boulogne gate (from the town) major-gen. c. bonham-carter lieut.-col. d. borden turner captain h. p. hansell on the ramparts lieut.-gen. sir travers clarke the ecole militaire at the chief's chateau "somewhere in france" map at end foreword. that fantastic life at g.h.q., so greatly detached from the normal--the life of the men whose words had power to send armies into and out of action, to give this division rest and surcease from the agony of the struggle, to assign to that division the stress of a new effort; the men into whose hands the nation poured millions without stint and at whose call the whole world moved to spin or dig or forge--will it be of interest now to recall some of its memories, to attempt an intimate picture of its routine? fantastic the life was truly. one man of imagination, who had done his work in the line so well as to win a reputation for great courage and administrative ability, and had carried through with a quiet skill and a simple dutifulness the responsibilities of the "small family" of a regiment, found, when he was transferred to g.h.q., that the sense of responsibility was too great for his temperament. he was not a very important cog of the machine. but the feeling that the motion which his hand started set going so great a series of actions got on his nerves to the extent that he could neither sleep nor eat with comfort, nor decide the simplest matter without torturing doubt as to whether it were right or wrong. he "moved on" within a few days. fortunately that sense of vision was rare. the average man was content to "carry on" with his task with what good judgment heaven gave him, deciding as the established routine, or the common-sense shift of a new emergency, dictated. but looking back, reflecting on all the woeful results that might have sprung from a careless blunder, from too great haste, from too deliberate hesitation, from over fear or over confidence, it is to be seen how fantastic, how abnormal was the life centred in that little walled town of montreuil, the focus of a spider's web of wires, at one end of which were the soldiers in their trenches, at the other the workers of the world at their benches. yet we ate, drank, slept, played a little and talked, very much as if we were workers in some commercial house, directing coffee from a plantation to a warehouse and then to a breakfast table, instead of dealing in blood and tears, drawing without stint on human life and human hope so that the idea of right and liberty might be saved in the world. it is well that imagination went to sleep, or was lacking. for so the work could be done and the war directed to its safe conclusion. but a record of the life we lived seems now, in retrospect, almost indecorous. it is as if we should not have munched food, talked trivialities, while before our eyes and under our hands was played out the greatest tragedy man has known; as if it would have been more fitting if we had gone from uneasy couches, tight-lipped and anxious, to our desks, haunted always by a sense of doom. it was not like that. and, such as it was, i attempt to record it--a serious enough life in any sense of the word, monkish in its denial of some pleasures, rigid in discipline, exacting in work, but neither austere nor anxious--such a life as studious boys might live in a public school, if there can be imagined a public school in which sport was reduced to the minimum essential to keep one fit for hard "swotting." but a life with some relaxations, and some pleasures, cheerful, actually light-hearted. questions of the conduct of the war must obtrude somewhat in this book, but it will be only in so much as they are a necessary background to the story of the life of g.h.q.--of g.h.q. in its later phase when it had moved from st. omer to montreuil and had become what it was in the final result, a capable board of directors of as glorious a company of soldiers as the world has known. there will be no attempt at a history of the war, no battle pictures, which are usually vain efforts to measure the immeasurable. yet it is hoped that the reader will get from it some idea of the character and the complexities of the struggle. already fogs of controversy are obscuring many of the facts of the war. there is a controversy whether the first commander-in-chief should have been recalled when he was; about the merits of the second commander-in-chief; about the "unity of command" decision; about the relative merits of a strategy which would concentrate everything for a supreme effort in france and a strategy which would seek a "back door" to the german citadel; about the actual cause and duration of the shell shortage. in accordance with our british custom we are mostly taking sides, following some leader and putting our faith in his views, and all his views, implicitly. thus are formed parties. i claim with honesty, and perhaps with correctness, not to belong to any of the parties. i have set down these observations on g.h.q. without a thought of whether they may support this view or that view on the conduct of the war. the author. [illustration: the boulogne gate] chapter i. before g.h.q. went to montreuil. the first stages of the war--"trench war," a good german invention--the battle of eyes--waiting for the big push--the loos disappointment--moving g.h.q. to montreuil. it was the task of general headquarters to try to see the war as a whole, to obtain a knowledge not only of the strictly military situation but, to an extent, also of the moral and the political situation of the enemy and of our own forces. in the later stages of the campaign that task was being done, _pace_ all the critics, with an efficiency that was wonderful, seeing that before the great war the british nation did not allow its army any chance at all of war practice on a big scale. our generals, whatever skill they might have won in studying the theory of war, had had no opportunity to practise big movements. they were very much in the position of men trained in the running of a small provincial store who were asked suddenly to undertake the conduct of one of the mammoth "universal providers." it is of g.h.q. in the later stages of the war that i write, not g.h.q. of the earlier stages, when our army was finding its feet. but a slight generalisation regarding those earlier stages is necessary to an understanding of the subsequent growth of the army organisation and of its board of directors at g.h.q. the small army which crossed to france in was organised as an expeditionary force for a war of movement. it did gallant work in the first phase, as all have admitted. when the war of movement stopped and the struggle settled down to the war of the trenches, though that gave a good opportunity of recruiting, it brought up an entirely new set of problems, for which our organisation had made no provision at all and in which british natural gifts did not have the best chance of display. indeed our training system at home refused in - to "recognise" trench war. the new armies were trained on the same lines as the old regular army, but of course more hurriedly, more intensively, less efficiently. they learned trench warfare--an almost entirely different game--when they got out to the front. a reversal of the process--to have taught the much simpler trench warfare in the home camps and left the teaching of movement warfare to training intervals in france--was an obviously more economical system, and it was that adopted at a later stage. when a considered history of the war comes to be written, probably it will give to the german high command high praise for this period of "trench war." it was the one conspicuously good invention of the enemy. it enabled him almost completely to stop the war in the one theatre where he had to meet troops superior to his own, whilst his forces ranged round europe winning cheap victories and finally (though too late as it proved) vanquishing opposition elsewhere. there is no doubt that the trench war device baffled our side for a time. i like the story of marshal joffre explaining the position to an american war correspondent and adding: "you see there is nothing to be done." "no. i suppose nobody could do anything?" "nobody." "not even napoleon?" but marshal joffre paused at that, and after a moment's reflection said: "yes, i suppose napoleon could do something." finally the "something" came in the shape of the "tank." when field marshal earl haig took over the chief command he adopted the system of frequent "raids" to give to the trench war some of the character of moving war, and that proved a highly useful step. still, this trench war was not of the genius of our people; and it was very dull. if i were seeking the fit adjective which could be applied to it in its superlative it would certainly not be "exciting" nor yet "dangerous." the life was exciting and it was dangerous--a little. it was, however, neither very exciting nor very dangerous. but it was very, very curious. trench war had its moments, its hours of high emotion, of intense excitement, of crowding dangers. its routine--on the western front--was laborious, almost to the point of tediousness, demanding a sober and constant carefulness in detail, and--provided you watched the minutes and the winds, the twigs and the sky, had eyes, ears, and nerves always on the alert--it was reasonably safe. trench war exciting? no; you could not allow it to be. the moments were rare (to the majority of officers they never came) when the call was for a gallant shout and a forward rush in which leadership took its most obvious and its easiest form. the hours were always when, with cool, suspicious, deducting mind, you were watching a sector, awaiting the enemy's raiding attack or directing your own. stalking and being stalked, it was interesting, absorbing, but you could not allow it to be exciting, or you would not do your work properly. war was robbed, in that phase of the struggle, of most of its fascinations by the spectacled germans who had spent the previous half-century in the counting house, the laboratory, and the cellar, preparing to destroy the humanities of civilisation. trench war was a grubbing kind of business. dangerous? naturally, to an extent. but not nearly so dangerous as one might judge from the lurid accounts of imaginative writers. it had its hours of peril, of horror. but it was not all the time dangerous. for six days out of seven, on an average, a soldier, if he observed the strictest caution, was "following a dangerous trade," nothing more. on the seventh day--i speak in averages--he had his risk about doubled. on very rare occasions he had to take the risk of a fireman who goes into a blazing house to rescue a child, or a policeman who stops a madly bolting horse. ordinarily one had to be careful "to watch the traffic;" that was all. if you wished to take a long lingering look at the enemy's trench you used a periscope. for a brief glance (to get a wide field of view) you looked over the parapet. there were differing estimates of the length of time it was safe to show your head over the parapet. some said five seconds, others twenty-five. "the german is slow in the up-take," remarked the officer who insisted that twenty-five seconds was quite a safe time to look over the parapet. behind the parapet it was almost as safe--and on dry days as pleasant--as on a marine parade. a solid fortification of sandbags, proof against any blow except that of a big high-explosive shell, enclosed on each side a walk, drained, paved, lined with dug-outs, in places adorned with little flower beds. i write, of course, of the trench war in its "settled" stage--not of those grim struggles around ypres in the autumn of . not exciting, not as dangerous as one would imagine, the trench war was more curious, more "uncanny," than it is possible to describe. try to imagine the huge ditch, some miles long, from the north sea to the swiss lakes, which was our trench, facing another ditch which was their trench, all lined with eyes, thousands, millions of eyes. all day, all night, these eyes stare and stare. at night the hands serving them break up the dark with star shells, and the brains behind them welcome the day, only because it makes the scrutiny of death more easy. on the front edge of each ditch the eyes are thick in line; farther back, in every possible post of observation, are groups of eyes, and eyes soar up into the air now and again to stare into the secrets concealed on the other side. there are eyes of infantry, eyes of artillery, eyes of airmen. the scrutiny never pauses for an instant. let an eye blink a moment and it may mean catastrophe, a stealthy rush on a trench or a flood of poisoning gas. the great dark gutter stretching across belgium and france was fringed with staring eyes; and every eye had to record its message to g.h.q. carefulness, tedious, monotonous carefulness, absolute punctuality, and grave attention to every detail--these were the warrior qualities in the trench war period. the minutes had to be watched, the grass watched lest you trod down a path and gave away some secret to the eyes yonder. all the minute details of life were hedged in with precautions and penalties. this tedious trench war was not the game for british blood, though on the whole it was done well, especially after loos when the raiding policy was instituted. but it was tedious; and very clearly it was impossible to win while it lasted. for victory the germans had to be turned out of those trenches. so, during the tedium of the trench war we would comfort ourselves with the thought that very soon the big push must come. often the most definite news came that it was fixed for the next month. this very definite news was usually traced back to some signaller who had overheard something on the telephone. perhaps divisional h.q. had a member of parliament (doing a "cook's tour" of the front) to dinner and peremptory messages were going down to the coast asking for lobsters to be sent up. now a guileless signaller would never imagine that generals and the like were interested in lobster. if he thought of their diet at all he probably imagined they lived on trench maps--of which the consumption was certainly huge. thus the signaller, hearing strange peremptory messages about lobsters, might conclude that this was some very secret code, and, the big push being in all our thoughts, that it would have reference to that most certainly. but for many months it was not the big push; it was only the lobster, which was the standard of gaiety and dissipation at a mess dinner. at the time of the loos attack it did really seem that the big push had come. but we were disappointed. perhaps at the front we were as impatient at the result as the people at home, but we could soothe our impatience with the thought of the greatness of the technical difficulties of arranging an advance with a battle-line hundreds of miles in length, all entrenched (difficulties which did not occur to those gentlemen who wrote weekly expert articles, to show how it should be done). it was clear that if we could push forward a little at certain vital points, a rich reward would be reaped. we knew that what would seem the obvious thing--to press along the whole line and break through in the weak parts--would have only landed us in a number of advanced salients which would be hard, or impossible, to defend when they came under enfilade fire. there were scores of places in which the german would willingly have let us through; to destroy the advanced party afterwards. we had to aim to push in wedges at our own selected points where the salient thus formed could be defended and could seriously threaten a german line of communication. it was not easy, for the number of those points was limited and the german knew them all. loos showed very plainly what we were "up against." there was a long pause for further preparation, a pause which seemed unendurably long at the time when the french were taking such a hammering at verdun and we were going on with tedious trench war and still more tedious preparations behind the lines. criticism of the british military effort at this stage of the war was fairly general and sometimes very hostile. some assumed that we had tried our last blow at loos and that we would never do more than hold a trench sector until the french could finish the war. at home there were critics who argued that the british military effort would have been more wisely directed if, in the first stage of the war, the british expeditionary force had been kept at home and used as the nucleus for training a great continental army, ignoring the pressing circumstances of august, . undoubtedly in that way a great british army could have been far more quickly raised. undoubtedly, too, the task of forming the new british army was very seriously handicapped by the draining away to france of practically all the fully-trained men of military age in great britain. but with a choice of two courses great britain took the more daring and the more generous one; and that in human affairs is generally the better one. the material help which the five divisions of the british army gave to the french was not negligible. the moral help was much greater. the lack of those divisions might have lost paris to the french and left the germans in control of all france north and east of the seine; and that event might have ended the war--it would certainly have prejudiced seriously the french recovery. the risk taken by great britain in stripping her own territory of its only efficient army was not inconsiderable. direct attack by germany was seriously feared then. a bolder german naval policy, indeed, might have secured an invasion of england. plans were drawn up in england at one time on the supposition of a german descent on our coasts being successful in its first stages, and it was proposed to meet this by converting a wide coastal section of england into a desert. criticism was to be silenced in time, for presently we were to open that giant battle which was not to finish until november, , and which was then to finish with the british army the most important force in the field. g.h.q. moved to montreuil on march st, . on the same date, it may be said, the british army in france came to man's estate. it had been up to this an "auxiliary army" holding a small section of the front, and a "training army" getting ready to take over--as ultimately it did take over--the main burden of the war; for, counting its captures of prisoners and guns from august, , to november th, , the british army's share in the final victory was almost equal to that of the french, american and belgian forces combined. g.h.q. came to montreuil because st. omer, the old g.h.q. town, was no longer suitable as the centre for the vast operations pending. it had served well enough when we formed the left wing of the french battle line. now we were to be the spear-head of the thrust against germany. look back upon the little british army of at first four and then five divisions, which in took rank alongside the french by mons, and fell back fighting until the rally of the marne; and then upon the army of of ten times the strength, which was directed from montreuil. the growth shows as marvellous, and especially so to those who understand how an army in the field is comparable to an iceberg at sea, of which the greater part is unseen. for every rifleman in the trenches and gunner in the gun-pits there are at least three other people working to keep him supplied with food, clothing, ammunition, and on communications. so an army's growth demands a growth behind the line three times as great as that in the line. and this growth is not merely a matter of the multiplication of riflemen and gunners and auxiliaries, a heaping up of men. it must be an organic growth to be effective at all; an adding one by one of highly complex and yet homogeneous units. a "division" is the integral unit of any army, and a division must have in the field its infantry battalions, cavalry or cyclist companies, field batteries, signallers (with "wireless," telephone and telegraph service), engineers, transport and supply services, medical and ambulance services. all told, it numbered about , officers and men at the close of the war, but in the strength of a division was nearer to , . and this body of , was not a mob, nor a crowd, nor yet even a simple organization such as a band of factory employees. it was a nation in microcosm, its constituent numbers covering almost the whole of the activities of life. it had to be organised to fight, to keep up communications, to manufacture and repair, to feed itself and its horses, to keep good health conditions in its camps and to succour its sick and wounded. besides fighting men it had doctors, vets., sanitary engineers, mechanics of all kinds, chemists, electricians. behind the line the division's supports, its munition and clothing factories, its food providers, had to be organised just as carefully. nothing can be made without making mistakes, and in the carrying out of this giant task of making the army of the british empire there were many mistakes of detail. it is in the nature of the human mind to see such mistakes in high relief, as the human eye sees small patches of stone stand out from a vast field of snow. but, making the worst that can be made of the mistakes, if they are seen in proper perspective they cannot blur the dazzling brilliance of a marvellous achievement. most of the mistakes, moreover, were direct consequences of that innocence of warlike intention and that passion for human right and liberty which was common to great britain as to the rest of western europe, and on which, clearly, the german powers had counted as sufficient to paralyse effective resistance to their deliberate and designed preparation. hindering those good qualities of peacefulness proved to be, but not paralysing. after all, the task was done. that most dangerous first rush of german militarism was stayed. the powerful beast was kept within bounds whilst weapons were forged for his destruction. in vain were all his efforts, backed by the skill of half a century of preparation and spartan discipline. * * * * * montreuil was chosen as g.h.q. for a wide variety of reasons. it was on a main road from london to paris--the two chief centres of the campaign--though not on a main railway line, which would have been an inconvenience. it was not an industrial town and so avoided the complications alike of noise and of a possibly troublesome civil population.[ ] it was from a telephone and motor transit point of view in a very central situation to serve the needs of a force which was based on dunkirk, calais, boulogne, dieppe, and havre, and had its front stretching from the somme to beyond the belgian frontier. [footnote : the population of montreuil in was , .] a great general, asked to define in a phrase what was wanted for a headquarters, said "a central remoteness." it was urged that this seemed an oxymoron. "well then, if you like, a remote centrality." the finality of that allowed of no further argument. montreuil provided both a central position and a position remote from the disturbances and distractions of traffic, of a large population, of gay social interests. the great ecole militaire offered accommodation for the chief offices. there was sufficient billeting accommodation in the town houses and the neighbouring chateaux. [illustration: the 'cavÉe' saint firmin] g.h.q. of course was never a great camp. its total military population was never more than , , including those g.h.q. troops who were needed for guards and who were drawn first from the artists' rifles, then from the honourable artillery company, then from the newfoundland regiment, and finally from the guernsey regiment. accommodation at montreuil was reinforced somewhat by hutments in - , but on the whole the town was big enough for its purpose. chapter ii. montreuil and the montreuillois. how the montreuillois once learned to hate the english--early history of the famous town--its link with the early roman-british empire--a border town in the anglo-french wars--when g.h.q. was bombed. military convenience alone dictated the choice of montreuil as the site of the general headquarters of the british expeditionary force in france as soon as that force reached to such a strength as to take its full share in the campaign. but the choice might well have been influenced by a sentimental desire to make this town, which was so intimately associated with the old enmity between england and france, the centre of the great reconciliation. montreuil and the montreuillois for many centuries cordially hated england, and not without good reason. in april, , they chased the english from the town with hoots of "_a la queue, à la queue les anglais._" after years, in april, , they saw the british g.h.q. leave montreuil with what different feelings! very curious is the way in which montreuil has been linked up with anglo-french history. in the days of the roman occupation of gaul the roman empire had a naval station close to, or actually on, the great fortress rock which guarded the mouth of the canche and which was then a peninsula jutting out into the sea. this station, no doubt, julius cæsar used in his expedition against britain. later carausius, a roman briton, revolted against the roman empire and, by winning the command of the channel with his fleet, maintained for a time an independent britain. he assumed the state of cæsar and founded a roman-british empire. the _classis britannica_ of the roman empire had had its chief station at or near montreuil. with the revolt of carausius there was no longer a "british fleet" of the roman empire, and the _classis samarica_ (the fleet of the somme) was organised to hold the coasts of gaul for the roman power against the british rebel, carausius. this fleet of the somme had a station on the canche, at or near montreuil. doubtless in those very early years of the christian era there was many a naval action between the british sea forces and those of the romans stationed on the canche. of any actual roman buildings on the hill of montreuil there exists to-day no trace. but it may be accepted as certain that the gauls had fortified this great hill at the mouth of the canche and that the roman conquerors did not neglect its strategical advantages. it is well within the bounds of the historic imagination to picture carausius, the man who first taught england that her fate depended on the holding of the narrow seas, looking with vain hostility on a well-fortified roman naval station at montreuil which often sent harassing expeditions against his coast. in later years of anglo-french enmity montreuil was montreuil-sur-mer only in name, for the sea had retreated ten miles, and etaples was the port at the mouth of the canche; but in the roman days and for some centuries after, montreuil was a good harbour for trade or for war. when the barbarian invasions overwhelmed the roman empire, montreuil disappeared from history until the seventh century, when the monk st. saulve (subsequently bishop of amiens) built a monastery on the great hill. from this monastery, without much doubt, the name of montreuil comes; for in all old french manuscripts it is spelt "monstereul," which is an easy step from "monasteriolum," "the place of the monastery." in st. saulve's day montreuil appears to have been a bold promontory at the edge of the sea, with the river canche running close to its base and a thriving village at its foot. according to some accounts, st. saulve's first monastery was built on the ruins of an earlier castle; if so it would probably have been a castle of roman origin. montreuil became a famous shrine, and reports came from it of many miracles. the saints omer, riquier, bertin and josse, whose names are kept on record in st. omer and other neighbouring towns and villages, were monks of the montreuil monastery. there is a forest of josse just near montreuil, and i regret to say that some american officers were persuaded to believe that it got its name from being the site of a chinese labour joss-house, to the lessening of the glory of st. josse. with the ravages of the pirate northmen another period of darkness falls upon the town of montreuil until the th century, when the famous count hildgood (that is to say "hold-good," a stubborn man in the fight) resolved to make head against the northmen, and in defence of his county of ponthieu built on montreuil hill a strong fortress. traces of this fortress still exist in the town. the hotel de france (which was a meeting place for officers of g.h.q. when a dinner away from mess formalities was desired) stands on part of the site of "hold-good's" fortress. count hildgood was something of a statesman as well as a soldier, and encouraged a civilian population to collect at the foot of his fortress, and used the glory of st. saulve's monastery to attract to the place other religious communities from brittany and elsewhere. montreuil became thus a famous strong-point. it developed on the familiar lines of a mediæval city with its well-established local rights, those of "the peers of the peerage of montreuil." the ravages of the northmen in the surrounding country continued, but montreuil was too strong for them and grew into a city of refuge, giving hospitality to many religious refugee communities even from as far away as brittany. it remained without dispute a part of the county of ponthieu until , when, as related by the monkish historian richer, it was coveted by the count of flanders and captured through the treachery of the governor, robert le chepier. (one of the towers of the existing fortifications still bears his name). the children of the count of ponthieu were taken captives and sent to the english court to be held as prisoners--giving rise to one of the first of the many grudges that the good montreuillois had against england. the count of ponthieu appealed for help to the then duke of normandy (william of the long sword). the help was given, montreuil was wrested from the flemings, and handed back to the count of ponthieu according to some accounts, held by the normans according to other accounts, which have a greater air of reasonableness, for the normans were good at taking and slow at giving back. [illustration: outside the ramparts] but all disputes as to the possession of montreuil between the counts of ponthieu and flanders and the duke of normandy were settled by the king of france, hugo capet, who made the town part of the royal domain of france and built a great fortified château by the side of the old citadel. a part of this château still remains, "the tower of queen bertha," so-called from the unhappy fate of bertha, queen of philip i. of france. she was the daughter of the count florent i. of holland, and had borne philip three children when he became enamoured of the wife of the count of anjou and shut his own wife up to die in montreuil. to quote the old chronicle: "il la mist en prison en un fort chastel qui a nom monstereul-sur-la-mer." the poor lady seems to have been most harshly treated, and was left dependent on the charity of the townsfolk for her food. the children of montreuil recall the story to this day when begging for money for the churches with the cry "give, give, to your queen." by this time the norman conquest had given england a place in european politics. the th century brought montreuil under the english crown. jeanne, countess of ponthieu and montreuil, had married the king of castille and leon. their daughter eleonora of castille married edward i., king of england, and part of her dowry was montreuil. edward i. came over in to take over his new possession, and promised the montreuillois to safeguard all their local rights and privileges. but the good folk of the town did not like the english of that day, and disputes were constant. they rejoiced when war broke out between france and england (a war in which the french had the scots as allies and the english the flemings); for the king of france exempted montreuil from her feudal duty to the english king. that war was stopped by the intervention of pope boniface, and a peace conference assembled at montreuil. one of the peace conditions was that the prince of wales should marry the daughter of the king of france, and this marriage was celebrated with great magnificence at boulogne, the young princess passing through montreuil to the wedding. she received as her pin-money from her husband the revenues of ponthieu and montreuil. but that marriage did not make for peace. on the contrary its fruits were a new series of wars interrupted by an occasional truce or brief peace. crécy and agincourt were both fought almost in sight of montreuil. the district round was ravaged again and again by the english forces, and several times the town itself was besieged in vain. after crécy, edward tried to take it and failed. an incident of one of the peace treaties was the visit of chaucer, the poet, to montreuil as an english plenipotentiary. an incident of one of the wars was the passage through montreuil of the funeral procession of king henry v. so through the years montreuil was in the very heart of the struggle between english and french. it was in a manner the border town between the territory in france which was admitted to be english, and the disputed territory. thus it learned a deep hatred of the english. often as a condition of peace it was handed over to english domination; never was it content with that destiny. finally, the ambition of the english kings to add france to their realms--an ambition which was as bad for england as it was for france--was definitely frustrated. montreuil, passionately french in spirit, "the most faithful town in all picardy," as henry of navarre called it, was no more to be vexed either by english governors or english marauders. but montreuil cherished its dislike of the english, and probably had never been so happy for centuries as when in it was the headquarters of the left wing of napoleon's army for the invasion of england. general ney was the officer in command at montreuil, and his brilliant receptions brought back to the town some of its middle ages pomp. it was from montreuil that in general ney addressed to napoleon a memorial begging him to take the imperial crown for the sake of france. napoleon himself visited montreuil more than once, and a house in which he slept is still shown in the place verte. little or nothing of this was in the minds of our staff in deciding upon montreuil as a site for g.h.q. it was convenient (as its choice in old times for peace conferences between england and france clearly shows) to london and to paris. it was off any main traffic route, and promised quiet for telephone services. the feelings of the inhabitants were presumed to be friendly, and the presumption was justified, though curiously enough there was in a slight revival of the old anti-english feelings, and i even heard whispered again "_à la queue les anglais_." it all arose from what must be admitted to have been rather an undignified incident. there used to be a fable--no one was fonder of giving it circulation than the red tabs--that there was a mutual agreement between the germans and ourselves that g.h.q. on both sides was to be spared from air raids. "the arrangement is a classic instance of our stupidity," the red tab humorist would remark, "for the german scores both ways." "how is that?" "well, his staff is spared, which is valuable to him. and our staff is spared, which is also valuable to him." staff officers, b.e.f., could afford to pass on gibes like that in - when british staff work was the model which the new american armies set themselves to imitate. but as a matter of fact in the summer of g.h.q. was bombed pretty regularly by the enemy. those who lived there had unhappy proof of that. there were several deaths from bombs in and near the town. after the first bombing attacks orders were issued that no soldier, except sentries and officers on night duty, was to be allowed to sleep in montreuil. the whole garrison was to go into the woods at night, or to take refuge in the deep dug-outs which were tunnelled under the city. hardly a night passed without a bombing raid, until the tide of battle turned and the german bomber had neither heart nor means for nocturnal wanderings. there was no doubt that a good motive inspired the orders for the nightly evacuation of the town by officers and soldiers except those actually on duty. it was thought that the germans had discovered g.h.q. and had resolved one night to "wipe it out." a really determined raid concentrated on a small walled town might have effected that. but the nightly march out of the troops did not impress favourably the inhabitants, who mostly had to stay. some of them openly jeered; others made less parade of their feelings, but had them all the same. "where are the english?" "the english are in the woods of wailly." that was a favourite street-corner gibe. most officers who did not get direct orders to leave the town of nights kept to their billets, but all the rank and file were marched out, or rather driven out by motor lorries. the officers' club closed early of evenings so that the q.m.a.a.c.s might be evacuated to a camp outside the town. at this camp they evidently did not have the same conveniences as in the town for dressing their hair and so on; and they had to start off very early in the morning to be in time to wait at breakfast. tempers as well as coiffures were a little ragged in consequence. [illustration: the market] one advantage that we won from the bomb 'scare' (if that word is justified) was that it gave a stimulus to archæological research in the town. there was at g.h.q. at the time, as a major, r.e., that fine "sport" professor david of sydney university. professor david has a great celebrity as a geologist. his birth year was , so he is not exactly a youngster except in heart. but the spirit of adventure and patriotism which sent him out to the south pole with the shackleton expedition in - sent him from australia to this war. he did useful work with an australian tunnelling company in connection with the famous messines mine, and his knowledge as a geologist was afterwards of great use to g.h.q. in matters of mines, of water supply, and the like. now he was asked to take in hand the task of providing good under-ground dug-outs for the montreuil garrison. his researches disclosed some very interesting old galleries or quarries under the citadel. passages were cut through to these from points in the ramparts, and i believe that even the good citizens of montreuil did not disdain to take advantage of the english "dug-outs" when the german bombs began to fall. all the same, when that nightly march out of the town was dropped we were all very glad; and our relations with the townspeople were restored to their old serenity. at the worst the hostile section was not a very large one. many officers who were at g.h.q. have memories of warm personal friendships with some of the french residents, who did all that was in their power to make them feel that france was a second home. at one residence (where i was billetted for a time, that of m. laurent and his wife) the lady had established a homely little _salon_, which was quite a student's centre not only for officers but for other ranks. mme. laurent spoke english well, and it was her hobby to teach french to any willing pupil of the british army and to interest soldiers in the history of the old town. there were many others who took the same kindly interest in our mental welfare. the good montreuillois of certainly did not hate the english as their ancestors had done. they considered that the five years since had washed out all old injuries.[ ] [footnote : see appendix.] chapter iii. g.h.q. at work. the functions of g.h.q.--the varying conditions to be met--the working hours--the organisation of a branch--the chief's system. to the very end of the war, no doubt, an occasional young regimental officer could be found who knew exactly what g.h.q. did: "they swanked about in red tabs and cars: had a gorgeous 'mike,' and, to keep up a show of work, issued all kinds of fool orders which nobody in the trenches had any time to read." this theory of the functions of g.h.q. had quite a vogue in "regimental circles" at one time. it was not, of course, founded on any mental process or it would be deeply interesting to investigate how these gentlemen came to think that ammunition and supplies could arrive fortuitously, that a concentration of troops or of tanks could "just happen." [illustration: lieut-general the hon. sir h. a. lawrence (chief of the general staff)] but, apart from that sort of thoughtless talk, there was, even among senior officers, some lack of knowledge as to what exactly the hermits of montreuil did. they knew of them as issuing general routine orders in the name of the commander-in-chief (some , of these g.r.o.s were issued in the course of the war); as circulating, more privately, secret orders and instructions, and perhaps of making occasional appearances on the battle-field, though probably the majority of regimental officers never saw a g.h.q. officer. in brief summary, the more important functions of g.h.q. were: . g.h.q. was the link between the b.e.f. and the british government. the war cabinet sitting in london was the supreme authority. the secretary of state for war was its spokesman and, with the war office staff, its adviser. the commander-in-chief was the army's spokesman and, with his g.h.q., the negotiator with the secretary of state for war. in the final result the b.e.f. had to do what it was ordered to do by the secretary of state, but the commander-in-chief was usually consulted beforehand, and had always the right of discussion and of remonstrance. the relations between the home government and the army were recognised as the most important matter dealt with by g.h.q., and war office letters had a special priority. no one except the commander-in-chief communicated directly with the war office. . g.h.q. was the link between the british army in the field and the allied armies--the french, american, belgian and portuguese. relations between these were maintained through military missions, we keeping a mission with the g.h.q. of the allied army, they keeping missions with our g.h.q. there was, quite apart from big questions of operations, discussion of which was confined to the chief of the general staff and the heads of the foreign missions, an immense amount of technical transport, supply and finance work between the allies. there was hardly an officer of g.h.q. who did not in some detail come into relations with the foreign missions. . g.h.q. had to decide the strategy of the campaign in its relation to the british sector. after the unity of command there was a somewhat lessened responsibility in this matter, but the work was practically the same. the commander-in-chief, in consultation with his chief of staff, his quartermaster-general and his adjutant-general, decided when and with what forces we should attack, when adopt a defensive policy. to come to those decisions a close and constant study was necessary by the various branches of g.h.q. of the state of the enemy's forces, our own numbers and _morale_, our possibilities of transport and supply. . g.h.q. had to arrange the supply, from home and from its own workshops and local civilian workshops, of all the wonderful equipment of the forces, from a tank and a -inch howitzer to a tin of dubbin; all the ammunition and all the food supplies to man and beast. there came to the ports of france every month for the b.e.f. about , tons of stuff. the men to be fed totalled over , , and the animals to be fed about , . a month's supply of ammunition weighed about , tons. . g.h.q. managed a transport system which used constantly about half a million horses and mules and about , motor lorries, running over , , motor miles per month; which carried on its light railways about , tons a month and ran every day trains on broad gauge lines. . g.h.q. was constantly building new railways and new roads, and developing new harbour facilities. it ran big canal and sea services, forestry and agricultural services, repair shops, laundries, etc., on a gigantic scale. . g.h.q managed the vast medical services for wounded and sick, the veterinary services, the laboratories for the defence of our men and animals against poison gas and for the gas counter-offensive. it was responsible for the organisation of the chaplains' services, for educational work and the amusement of the men. such was the work of g.h.q. it was carried on under these varying conditions: . maintaining a stabilised position. this was comparatively easy. wastage of men, horses and material could be calculated with some certainty and replaced by a routine process. . preparing for a big attack. this made the greatest strain on transport and supply, and the necessary conditions of secrecy added complications and difficulties. in preparing an offensive the traffic more than doubled per division. the necessary making of new railways and new roads and the accumulation of defence material to fortify a new line were responsible for most of this. but the accumulation of a big head of ammunition was also a factor. on a quiet sector two divisions could get along with about three trains daily. for the purposes of a big attack ten divisions might be concentrated on that sector and those ten divisions in the preparatory stage of the attack would need about supply trains a day, and during the offensive about trains a day. put the problem into terms of civil railway administration. tell the manager of the london to brighton line that next week he must carry times the normal traffic for a number of days and that it is extremely important that people observing his termini and his lines should not notice anything unusual. . resisting a big attack. the most difficult element of this was its unexpectedness. the total provision needed for it was less than for an offensive. the amount of supplies necessary to go up by train per division from base would be per cent. less than in the case of the preparation of a big attack. we always carried a good reserve stock of ammunition, food, and engineering stores close behind the line, and a further reserve of ammunition already loaded on trains at appropriate railway centres. in case of emergency, ammunition could start moving up in just the time necessary to hitch a locomotive on to a standing train. experience of the german offensive in showed that we carried near the front line too great reserves, and we lost a good deal of food, stores and ammunition in consequence. that big attack indeed disclosed several chinks in our armour. it showed that in some cases during trench war units had allowed themselves to become immobile. (to give one example, many casualty clearing stations had burdened themselves with surgical stores and equipment which should be reserved for stationary hospitals. thus burdened, they were tempted to evacuate too soon). there were weaknesses, too, in ammunition columns, and the railway system was not nearly elastic enough. but we pulled through, largely because the british officer and soldier has always a bit in reserve and never thinks so quickly or acts so bravely as when in a tight corner. . carrying on a general offensive. this was the supreme test of the british staff from august, , to november, . it called for an effort that put in the category of easy things all that had gone before. the effort was gloriously successful. the british army succeeded where the german army in , under far more favourable circumstances, had failed. i have given only the most important of the functions of g.h.q. and a very inadequate idea of the conditions under which it had to carry on its tasks, yet for all this there were only officers at montreuil and officers at the outlying directorates. it did not leave much chance for idleness! at g.h.q., in my time, in my branch, no officer who wished to stay was later than a.m. at his desk; most of the eager men were at work before then. we left at . p.m. if possible, more often later. on saturday and sunday exactly the same hours were kept. "an hour for exercise" in the afternoon was supposed to be reserved, in addition to meal-hours; but it was not by any means always possible. during the worst of the german offensive in the spring of staff officers toiled from . a.m. to midnight, with half-hour intervals for meals. i have seen a staff officer faint at table from sheer pressure of work, and dozens of men, come fresh from regimental work, wilt away under the fierce pressure of work at g.h.q. the extreme character of the strain at g.h.q. used to be recognised by a special allowance of leave. a short leave every three months was, for a long time, the rule. with pressure of work, that rule fell in abeyance, and a g.h.q. staff officer was lucky to get a leave within six months. in the case of the big men at the head of the departments leave was something to be talked of, dreamt of, but never realised. compared with conditions at g.h.q. regimental work was care-free and pleasant. g.h.q. was organised in this fashion. at the head was the commander-in-chief and his personal staff consisting of an assistant military secretary, a private secretary, a medical officer, an officer in charge of escorts and five a.d.c.s. attached to this personal staff were an american and a french staff officer. there was one officer of the dominions on the chief's personal staff, captain botha, a son of the late general botha, prime minister of south africa. with his personal staff the commander-in-chief was quartered at a château near montreuil. one rarely saw "the chief." he seldom had occasion to come to the offices in the ecole militaire, and it was only the highest officers who had to go to confer with him. but his presence was always felt. there was no more loyal band of brothers than the grand staff of the british army in , and the humblest member at g.h.q. expressed the spirit of the commander-in-chief, and, within his sphere, was trying to do exactly as the commander-in-chief would do. when "the chief" did appear at montreuil all felt they had the right to desert work for five minutes to go to a window to catch a glimpse of him as he passed from one side of the ecole militaire to the other, or stopped in the great courtyard to chat for a moment with one of his officers. under the chief the staff was divided into branches. there was the "military secretary's branch," a small branch under major-general h. g. ruggles-brise, whose duties were to look after honours, promotions, etc. there was the general staff branch, under lieut.-general the hon. sir h. a. lawrence, divided into the operations section, under major-general j. h. davidson (having charge of the actual strategy and tactics in the campaign); the staff duties section, under major-general g. p. dawnay; and the intelligence section, under brigadier-general g. s. clive (having charge of the collection of information as to the enemy's movements, dispositions, intentions, etc.). there was the adjutant-general's branch, under lieutenant-general sir g. h. fowke (having charge of discipline). there was the quartermaster-general's branch, under lieutenant-general sir travers clarke (having charge of supply and transport). finally there were certain officers with special duties attached to g.h.q. but not directly under any of these branches, such as the officer commanding royal artillery, the inspector of machine gun units, the engineer-in-chief, the officers in charge of mines and searchlights, the inspector of training, the chief chaplains, the provost marshal, and the deputy judge advocate-general. [illustration: lieut-general sir g. h. fowke (adjutant-general, b.e.f.)] of the branches of the staff, the quartermaster-general's was far the greatest, for under it came all the transport and supply services. this was the formidable list: director of agricultural production (brig.-gen. the earl of radnor). director of army postal services (brig.-gen. price). deputy controller of e.f. canteens (col. e. benson). director of engineering stores (brig.-gen. sewell). director of forestry (brig.-gen. lord lovat). director of hirings and requisitions, and president of claims commission (major-gen. rt. hon. l. b. friend). controller of labour (brig.-gen. wace). director of ordnance services (major-gen. sir c. m. mathew). paymaster-in-chief (major-gen. sir c. a. bray). director of remounts (brig.-gen. sir f. s. garrett). controller of salvage (brig.-gen. gibb). director of supplies (major-gen. carter). director of motor transport (major-gen. boyce). director-general of transportation (major-gen. crookshank). director of veterinary services (major-gen. moore). vice-chairman imperial war graves commission (major-gen. ware). director of works (major-gen. sir a. m. stuart). nor does that finish the list, for subsidiary directorates under the director-general of transportation were: director of construction (brig.-gen. stewart). director of docks (brig.-gen. wedgewood). director of inland water transport (brig.-gen. luck). director of light railways (brig.-gen. harrison). director of railway traffic (brig.-gen. murray). director of roads (brig.-gen. maybury). the transportation directorate was, so to speak, a sub-branch of the staff. it had a great standard-gauge railway system which kept locomotives running, which in one day could send trains from the bases to railheads (this irrespective of trains on lateral lines) and in one week once moved , troops and in one month , , troops. its railway system was constantly being pushed forward, being duplicated, and being furnished with "avoiding lines." further, transportation had a light railway system which carried , tons a week. those were only two of its activities. on inland waterways, transportation carried , tons a month, and it worked, in addition, a coastal barge traffic, a cross-channel barge service, and a cross-channel ferry. of roads, it maintained about , miles and was always making new ones; and it took , tons of material--much of it imported by sea--to make a mile of new road. these figures are impressive enough in themselves and yet give little real sense of the full task of the transportation services. that can only be realised when it is kept in mind that practically all the work had to be carried out under conditions of shock and violent movement. it was not a matter of peacefully carrying on a routine business. at every point there was a constant liability to interruption and destruction by enemy action. at every hour there was some new development requiring some change of method, of destination. the vast machine had to be as elastic as it was powerful. yet that was only one sub-branch of the staff. it will be of interest to note how all the directorates of the q branch of the staff were co-ordinated so that the man at the top could keep control and yet not be smothered under a mass of detail. under the head (lieutenant-general sir travers clarke) of this branch of the staff were two deputies (major-general ford and major-general may). under these deputies were five brigadier-generals, and under them nine lieutenant-colonels, and these lieutenant-colonels divided between them subjects. a table showing the distribution of these subjects was circulated throughout the staff, and most matters got to the right officer from the beginning, and if they were of a routine nature were dealt with at once without further reference. very important matters, or new questions arising, went up to one of the deputies and were referred, or not, to the q.m.g. as the circumstances dictated. attached to the branch and directly under its head was an officer who had charge of all orders and all publications. nothing could be sent out as an order from the q.m.g. branch, or nothing printed as an instruction from the branch, until it had gone through his hands; and it was his duty to see that one section of the branch did not tread on the toes of another, that orders and publications did not overlap, and that an order in which several directorates were interested was drafted in accordance with the views of all of them. other branches of the staff did not call for such elaborate organisation, for their duties were not so various. but all worked on very much the same plan--of delegating authority so that once a line of action on any particular point was decided upon, a comparatively junior staff officer could "carry on" without worrying his superiors by frequent references. a g.h.q. officer was distinguished not only by his red staff badges but by a red and blue arm-band. an "attached officer," _i.e._, an officer who was working with the staff as a learner or a helper and was perhaps graded for pay, etc., as a staff officer, did not wear these distinctions until he was actually appointed to the staff. [illustration: the grande place] the red and blue arm-band was a chromatic outrage--its glaring colours of course had a purpose--and quite spoiled the appearance of a tunic. but it was dearly prized and as a rule was worn on leave, though it had then no usefulness. in the field the distinguishing arm-band was of great use, to indicate to officers and men the officials to whom they could appeal in case of need. there were all sorts of arm-bands with various colour symbols and initials in addition to the g.h.q. one. a list of them will indicate the complexity of the task of a modern army in the field. special arm-bands of different designs were authorised to distinguish: general headquarters. army headquarters. army corps headquarters. corps machine gun officers. r.a.f. headquarters. cavalry divisional headquarters. divisional headquarters. tank corps staff. tank headquarters. tank brigade. cavalry brigade. infantry brigade. cavalry divisional artillery headquarters. divisional artillery headquarters. g.h.q. troops headquarters. lines of communication. provost marshal and his assistants. signal service. military police. railway transport officers. embarkation staff. staff, directorate of light railways. " " roads. " " docks. " " transportation. " " inland water transport. " " broad gauge railways. light railways district superintendent. " inspector. " yardmaster. " controlman. " guard. officers, staff inspector war trophies. servants to military attaches. stretcher bearers. all medical personnel. press correspondents and servants. train conducting officers. checkers. town majors. traffic control. agents de police special. instructors of machine gun school, lewis gun school, and machine gun corps base depôt. h.q. corps heavy artillery. special brigade. area commandants. billet and camp wardens. corps chemical advisers. divisional gas officers. instructors of divisional gas schools. camouflage officers attached to corps. salvage corps. civilian platelayers. intelligence police. sanitary sections. belgian civ. rly. staff. m.l.o. staff at ports. n.c.o.s and men of intelligence corps. n.c.o.s and men of dock directorate. sentries on examining posts. interpreters, indian labour corps. interpreters, chinese labour corps. the military police were supposed to be able to keep all these in memory and an officer in the field had to know the chief ones; and he took care to know at least that for g.h.q., for it represented the ultimate source of honour and blame. nothing important could happen to him except through g.h.q., and that ugly red and blue arm-band always demanded attention, sometimes, no doubt, mixed with a little resentment, because of the idea that g.h.q. had nothing much to do except to bother the unhappy regimental officer. we all tried to "live up to" our arm-bands in the crude stained-glass-window colours. the commander-in-chief set a high example by choosing his men carefully, giving them their particular jobs and trusting them. he was not one of those fussy souls who want to oversee every detail. the men who worked under him knew that whilst they did their work conscientiously and carefully he would back them against any niggling criticism and against any back-biting. it was a good policy judged by its results. g.h.q., b.e.f., france, in the summer of had probably reached as high a summit of soldierly scientific skill as the grand staff of any army in the world. the business of improvisation which had been begun in was finished, actually finished. from g.h.q. was directed day by day a fighting force which met the chief brunt of the last german attack, held it; then, while it absorbed a great flood of recruits and helped to equip and train the american army, prepared to take the chief part in the final victorious offensive. chapter iv. g.h.q. at play. the walks on the ramparts--the "monks" of montreuil had little time for sport--precautions against "joy-riding"--the jolly officers' club--watching the map--ladies at g.h.q.? there was precious little play-time at g.h.q. but there was some. it was spent very innocently; not to say stodgily. a walk on the ramparts was the chief recreation of the great majority of the officers. what a boon those ramparts were! within a minute from the ecole militaire one could get on the broad walk which crowned the old walls and could follow it round the whole circuit of the town for a mile or more. from every point there was a rich and ample prospect; southward over the swelling downs and little copses towards the forest of crécy; westward over a richer and more luxuriant plain towards the sea; northward across the woods and marshes of the canche; eastward along the valley of the river and its bordering hills. on a fine day at the coming up and the going down of the sun, and every hour between, there was a constant festival of light and colour. stormy and rainy skies gave another beauty to the wide prospect. to see a storm march up in grand procession and pass with its sombre pomp was a fearful joy; and there was a wild beauty, too, in looking out from the walls on the beating of the obstinate rains against hill and plain. painters from all over the world used to come to montreuil to attempt to put on canvas the glow of its summer scenes, the wild grandeur of its winters. no day was without its special beauty, and the beauty was ever renewed afresh. in the early spring the chinks and crannies of the old walls burst into bloom of gillyflowers which hung them with tapestries of gold and red and brown, contrasting gaily with the bright green foliage of the trees growing at the base of the ramparts and throwing their branches up to their very top. as the season advanced the birds came to build in the trees, and you might peep down into their nests and hear their indignant chirrups at being so closely overlooked. with summer and autumn came new colours, but always splendour and glow and movement. the country around carried that wide variety of crops in which the french peasant's thrifty and careful culture delights. there were beans and oats and wheat and corn and flax and mustard and bits of pasturage, and of fodder crops, weaving their many colours into a delightful carpet pattern which changed with every day of the year and almost with every hour of the day. [illustration: the ramparts] had it not been for those rampart walks the toilsome life of g.h.q. at montreuil would have been hardly possible. the road from anywhere to anywhere, if time allowed, was by the ramparts. going from the ecole militaire to the officers' club was three minutes by the street, seven minutes by the ramparts, and most went by the ramparts unless work was hideously pressing. for those with a little more time to spare there were enchanting rambles around the base of the ramparts along the canche valley or in the old fosses of the fortifications. riding was not a common exercise. horses were scarce. very few officers had their own chargers; and those who had could not find time to exercise them properly. so most of the horses at g.h.q. were pooled, and an officer having time and inclination took what horse was available. there were many pleasant rides, the favourite one being a shady stretch along the bank of the river. at one point of the fortifications an old fosse had been converted into hard tennis courts, and these were used a little, but not much. it seems tiresome to be always repeating the same fact but really there was not time to follow tennis or any other sport. at the officers' club there was not such a thing as a billiard table; and i never saw a game of cards played there. in some of the private messes there was a feeble attempt to keep up a bridge or a poker circle. but to begin to play at cards at p.m. with the knowledge that the office is calling for a clear rested brain by nine the next morning, needs far more than ordinary enthusiasm. i can remember playing cards only three nights during all my time at montreuil. there was a theatre at montreuil, usually given up to cinema shows but occasionally visited by the variety companies which were organised for the amusement of the troops and occasionally also converted into a lecture hall. it was well patronised on special occasions, but in the course of a year made little total demand on officers' time. when, as was usually the case, the theatre was given up to "the pictures" it was filled by "other ranks." the non-commissioned officers and privates who were clerks in the various departments had generally just as little leisure as their officers, but some of the military population had more time to spare; what section i do not know, for even the grooms and the batmen had not easy places. officers junior to the rank of lieutenant-colonel were not allowed a batman to themselves, but one soldier acted for two or three officers and had various fatigue duties in addition. [illustration: the theatre] just outside the town, g.h.q. recreation ground provided a lumpy football ground and a still more lumpy cricket ground. both our national games languished, however, for the stock reason--want of time. there were teams, and occasional matches, and sometimes an enthusiastic sportsman would send an urgent whip round to call attention to our deplorable neglect of the games that made england great. he would get a few half-hearted promises of reform, but there was no hope in fighting against the great obstacle. it was like a college in which every one was a "swotter." so the or so monks of montreuil lived their laborious lives. the balance of g.h.q. staff, some , scattered about the environs of montreuil with their offices at paris plage or le touquet or the forest of crécy, could follow a somewhat milder discipline. they were "second echelon" mostly. current operations had not much concern for them and it was possible to take horse-back exercise, to keep up football and cricket and even tennis and golf. at le touquet, which was a well-known pleasure centre before the war, there were good golf links and some excellent tennis courts. on occasions the commander-in-chief decided to think out his problems over a round of golf, and a little bungalow was maintained at le touquet for his convenience. paris plage was a splendid beach, but so far as g.h.q. officers were concerned its attractions were wasted. occasionally an officer having business at one of the directorates near by would spare an hour for a swim, but it was not possible on a hot saturday or sunday to suspend the battle, or the preparation for the battle, in progress and adjourn as a body to the seaside. not only time but transport was lacking. the only means of getting down to the beach--a distance of about twelve miles--was by motor-car, and regulations against "joy-riding" were strict. not only were there regulations; there were also precautions to see that the regulations were kept. a car could go out from g.h.q. garage only on an order from the officer in charge of cars, and it was his business to get a chit as to what was the reason for the journey. occasionally police patrols would be stationed on the roads with instructions to stop every car and examine its papers. this was excused as a precaution against espionage. it was designed more to be a precaution against waste of petrol or "joy-riding," as a few officers found to their cost. so the life of the montreuil officer resolved itself ordinarily into this simple routine: he worked and he walked on the ramparts. but there was one fine relief to tedium for the majority--a dinner-party every night. the big generals, because they had to, and a few unwise souls, because they chose to, favoured private messes and confronted at dinner at night the same men as they met in the office all day; and, without a doubt, found it rather monotonous. the majority of the officers messed at the officers' club, which had a couple of hundred members and could rival the old reputation of the house of commons as "the finest club in europe." the qualification for joining the officers' club was to be an officer of the british army or of an allied army stationed at montreuil. the subscription was five francs per month, and for that and a ridiculously small sum per day the club gave members three square meals a day and afternoon tea. the club kept up a good cellar, and to the very last, when good wine was almost unprocurable in london or paris except at exorbitant prices, the officers' club, montreuil, could sell a vintage claret or burgundy at nine francs a bottle, a decent wine at five francs a bottle, and champagne at fifteen francs a bottle. the expeditionary force canteens were the caterers, and aimed at only a nominal profit. once a week there was a fixed guest night and a band, but members could bring guests at any time. waiting was done by q.m.a.a.c.s, neat deft little ladies who brought a hint of home to the exiles. custom was against forming coteries. so there were constantly differing dinner-parties, and the conversation was rich in variety and interest. the backbone of the mess were the regular army officers, the majority of them colonels, with a sprinkling of brigadiers, a few majors and a few captains. the majority in the mess, however, were temporary officers, a few of senior rank, mostly staff captains or attached officers. there were always some visitors, a politician or some other personage from home, staff officers from the war office or from the various armies, regimental officers having business at g.h.q., guests from the various private messes at montreuil. talk ranged from the most serious shop to the most airy nothings. there were experts there in almost every department of human knowledge, men who had seen many cities and known the minds of many men. the representatives of the allied nations gave an extra note of variety. you might sit at the same table with an american one night, an italian another, or a frenchman or belgian or portuguese. the majority of men present were distinguished men either in the service or in some civil profession or business. travel, science, art and literature, were all well represented. [illustration: in the officers' club] smoking was prohibited in the officers' club until a certain hour, and the q.m.a.a.c. waitresses had no difficulty in seeing that the rule was kept by all ranks. at an earlier date, when a sergeant-major with men orderlies had charge of the waiting, discipline on this point was not so easily maintained. any junior officer lighting up before the hour was promptly checked. but a sergeant-major found it difficult to take "disciplinary action" against an officer of general rank. one evening a very lofty general indeed, a visitor to the mess, started a huge cigar at o'clock. smoking was not allowed until . . the sergeant-major was a man of resource. bringing in a ladder, he mounted to the mess clock and solemnly set it on to . . a general was smoking, therefore it must be . . as i have said, they fed us very well at the mess. but of course we grumbled at the food and found one point of criticism in the fish. montreuil being practically a seaside town, the fish was naturally not good, authority having transferred to this english colony in france the invariable tradition of british seaside resorts to send all the fresh fish away and consume the refuse. our fish was always plaice, and it was often plaice that had known better days. one wag spoke of it as the "vintage plaice," professed to know that it had been "laid down" the year the war started, and that the "bins" would not be exhausted until the war ended. but the plaice was never a really serious grievance. it gave opportunity, but not valid cause, to grumble, and discussion of it died away after an officer one night quoted mock heroically: ah, friend--had this indubitable fact haply occurred to poor leonidas how had he turned tail on thermopulai! it cannot be that even his few wits were addled to the point that, so advised, preposterous he had answered--"cakes are prime, hearth-sides are snug, sleek dancing-girls have worth, and yet for country's sake, to save our gods their temples, save our ancestors their tombs, save wife and child and home and liberty,--i would chew sliced-salt-fish, bear snow--nay, starve if need were--and by much prefer the choice!" after dinner the routine was to go and look at the map before settling down again to work. military intelligence, in one of its rooms, kept up-to-date hour-by-hour a map of the fighting front, and after dinner we would crowd to this room to see the latest official news put up on the map and to hear the latest unofficial stories which embroidered the news. one evening, as a great advance on our part was marked up on the map, the clerk, moving the flag-pins, announced: "they say the enemy cleared out so quickly that they left the hospitals behind, and the australian corps has captured german nurses. they report that they are looking well after them." a titter went round the group of officers. it happened to be the night after the story had circulated--a story which president wilson has since adopted among his family of anecdotes--that the australians, having the americans to co-operate with, had had to remonstrate with them for their undue rudeness to the germans. the australians had a reputation for being quite direct enough in their method of teaching the boche not to be a boche. the titter, perhaps, had an injurious inference to some ears, for a general officer remarked, a little sternly: "gentlemen, the australians are a gallant race. the german--er--ladies will be quite safe with them." so, of course, it proved. it was fiction that any colonial troops showed an undue sternness to prisoners. the average german knew that he was quite safe in the hands of any british unit--whether it was from australia, canada, or the motherland. the after-dinner peep at the map was a great finish to dinner. when the armistice was signed officers were disconsolate for the loss of their ten minutes in the m.i. room. "i miss," said one, "our pleasant daily habit of advancing ten kilomètres on a front of fifty kilomètres." no, life at g.h.q. was sober and strenuous, but it was not dull or tedious. if a man has good work to do, lovely aspects of nature to look upon, interesting company at his meals, he has all the real essentials of contentment; well, most of them. * * * * * ladies at g.h.q.? an almost accurate chapter might be written on this point on the lines adopted in that exhaustive and conscientious book on iceland, which had a brief chapter: _the snakes of iceland._ there are no snakes in iceland. there were no ladies at g.h.q., not at any rate in the sense that would be in the mind of the average inquirer. on the too rare occasions when i was able to get a leave from g.h.q., or was sent over to london on a task, the civilians i encountered in london exhibited a considerable interest in the ladies that were thought to haunt g.h.q. this was by no manner of means an entirely or indeed a mainly feminine curiosity. many people have an ineradicable idea that an army on a campaign ravages the hearts of all the female population of the occupied territory, as well as drawing on the beauty of its own land to recruit charming camp followers. i can recall, on returning from a small war some time before , attending a dinner-party in london and being tremendously flattered at the fact that as soon as the ladies went upstairs all the men (some of them very distinguished men) crowded round me in a spirit of inquiry. with all the resources at my disposal i framed in my mind a brief and vivid appreciation of the campaign. but--they did not want to know why the turkish army failed or the serbian army succeeded. someone rather well known in london had got into a scrape in the course of the campaign, and there were some very scandalous details alleged. my eager inquirers wanted to know all those scandalous details, and were obviously disappointed to learn that there was no reasonable foundation for them, and at once lost all interest in the campaign. my "appreciation" had not the chance to be uttered. probably they concluded i was rather an unintelligent person not to have discovered all the horrid details. certainly those to whom i told the truth about the ladies and g.h.q. thought i was either very sly or very unobservant. indeed one very hearty old gentleman, with a great passion for horrid details, patted me on the back publicly. "that's right, that's right. i admire you for sticking to your friends. but of course we do not believe you." categorically, it is _not_ a fact that "beautiful leaders of british society" constantly graced g.h.q. with their presence. in the very early stages of the war some of the "smart set" considered it rather the thing to get over to the battlefields and make a week-end sensation of a glimpse at the calvary of civilisation. they usually got over through the influence of political friends, and most often by way of the belgian section of the front, which was not so sternly guarded as the british or french sections. military authority discountenanced these visits--however "fashionable" and beautiful the visitors--and soon put a stop to them. after , except nurses and q.m.a.a.c.s it was very rare for a woman to enter british army areas. those few who did come had very definite business and were expected to attend very strictly to that business and then to move off. there was a suspicion that some few, a very few, "workers" were in france not so much for work as because they found it amusing. these got no further than the base ports as a rule, and were not officially encouraged. the vast majority of the women workers in france were there for patriotism's sake, attended strictly to their business, and had no time (or inclination, presumably) for frivolity. all this is very disappointing, i am aware. but it is true. the life we lived at g.h.q. was truly monastic. we never saw an english woman unless she were a nurse or q.m.a.a.c. or some other uniformed fellow-officer or fellow-soldier. [illustration: the place gambetta] nor was there any idle local feminine society to take the thoughts of officers from the stern tasks of war. montreuil was very, very prim and dull even for a small french provincial town. there may still be some people whose ideas of french social life are based on those quarters of paris whose theatres, books, newspapers, restaurants, manners are shaped by the wishes (or fancied wishes) of the floating population of visitors and of a small section of idle and worthless french. but i fancy that in these days such people are few; and most people know that the average of french life is not at all like montmartre or the latin quarter, which are less typical of france than, say, piccadilly circus is of england. for thorough straight-laced respectability there is nothing to beat a small french provincial town. montreuil was the most respectable place one could imagine before the war. it sheltered a small colony of artists in the summer, attracted by the wonderful panoramas from the ramparts; but they came to work, and did not bring with them what is supposed to be the atmosphere of the latin quarter. the local population was exceedingly decorous and rather inclined to be clerical in sympathy, for montreuil was a great centre for schools. during our occupation of the town as the home of g.h.q. there might be noted occasionally the arrival from paris, or elsewhere, of some gay young lady or couple of ladies who, having heard that the british army had its headquarters there, had decided, from motives of patriotism, of _camaraderie_, or from less admirable motives, to come and enliven the dullness of the place. departure would follow with ungallant promptitude. the same day, or the next, the lady would move away, with a gendarme to see that she did not miss her train. the monastic severity of life at g.h.q. relaxed a little, i think, when the immediate environs of montreuil were passed. then you had got out of the area of first echelon g.h.q. and were in that of the second echelon, which was largely made of subsidiary services not so directly concerned with the administration of the fighting army. life was a little less strenuous, and perhaps aphrodite was not altogether neglected for ares. here conditions reflected the average attitude of the british army administration in the matter of morals, which was practically that of british civilian life, with somewhat more precaution and guardianship but no grandmotherly supervision. the female personnel of the army was very carefully safeguarded. the male personnel, if it were absolutely bent on it, could find opportunities for mischief in some of the base towns. g.h.q. itself--partly perhaps because of the necessity of extreme safeguards against espionage--was expected to lead a strictly single life; to conform to the perfect standard that was supposed to rule in the provost marshal's branch. that rigour, of course, was dictated not by an exceptional prudery in the p.m. authorities but by military convenience. ordinarily, outside of g.h.q. and the provost marshal's branch, there was a margin allowed for human error. paris plage, the jolly beach at the mouth of the canche near montreuil, was for a long time "out-of-bounds" to all british troops. paris plage had, in pre-war days, rather a "montmartre" reputation in paris. it was the beach for the cheap tripper. it was the beach to which the hardworking _bourgeois_ of the city who had to stick to his bureau during the summer sent his wife, and came down to see her on sundays. it was also the beach for the don juan of modest means to visit with his temporary juanita. not this paris reputation reacting on the traditional british hypocrisy caused the long-standing ban on paris plage, but practical sanitary reasons. it had not then a good reputation from the point of view of health. but as the size and the activities of g.h.q. increased and it was necessary to find places for new departments near montreuil, paris plage had to be utilised. after being subjected to a drastic sanitary inquisition it was thrown open to the troops and became the headquarters of several minor departments. but of course the old gay life did not return. it was no longer a suburb of montmartre. still it preserved a certain air of rakishness. going through there in a car one day with another staff officer we noticed a little shop in the windows of which were displayed very coquettishly two or three filmy articles of feminine _dessous_. a lightning glance through the door showed that there was quite a bevy of fair shop assistants--about three assistants to each item of merchandise. in the window there was this simple device, in english: cheques cashed. we dared not investigate further. a g.h.q. car is so clearly recognisable as such that it could not stop outside, and the subterfuge of drawing up at the directorate of inkstands and making a reconnaissance on foot we felt to be _infra dig_. it was only possible to pass the shop slowly on the return journey, and to look out for it the next month when going that way again. it was still open, still bore its artless device. it was a little bit of the old life of paris plage that had escaped the shocks of war. in very truth we were a dull lot from one point of view. even the conversation at meals was ordinarily wanting in that type of anecdote which--as walpole said when he was asked why it was rife at his table, where sat the greatest men of europe, who should have had something better to talk about--is popular "because every man understands it." perhaps the propriety of our conversation was partly due to the fact that there was nearly always a padre within earshot. perhaps i may dare the explanation of the general absence of "sex interest" in our lives, that here were gathered together a band of men with very exacting and very important work to do, and that they simply had not time nor inclination to bother about what is usually an amusement of idle lives. chapter v. the munitions of the war. the shell shortage--when relief came--the dramatic tanks--bombs--some ammunition figures--the ingenious inventor. as soon as any subject is involved in political discussion the facts about it are apt to be distorted in the interests of some particular view. the "shell shortage" in the early stages of the war has become in a sense a political issue; and that i do not intend to discuss. but some facts about munitions supply must be given--for that was the very pivot of the war--irrespective of what political case they help or harm. the british force at the outset of the war suffered from a shell and gun shortage as compared with its enemy, because it had been trained and equipped for a different type of warfare from that which actually came. it had very little high explosive shell, and what it had was rarely "high explosive" in the real sense of the term. the patient search for a foolproof fuse had been so successful that our h.e. shell was comparatively inoffensive when it reached the enemy's lines. it spluttered off rather than shattered off. all this was put right in time. but the difficulties which the munitions supply department had to face at the outset were enormous. there were, considered in the lights of the needs of this war, practically no shells, no guns, and no machinery for making them. essential material was lacking in many cases, and the only source of quick supply was germany, which alone in the world had organised for war. but all difficulties were overcome. how great the growth some comparative figures will show. the production of high explosive in was almost negligible. the year's supply would not keep the guns of going for a day. in we began to produce high explosive on a large scale, and in amounts which made the output seem contemptible, but still in quite inadequate quantities. in we had increased the amount sevenfold. in we had increased that amount fourfold. from march, , to march, , the increase was twenty-eight fold. of machine-guns we made samples in and we began to manufacture quantities in . in we made twenty times as many as in . of aeroplanes the figures mounted in steep flights. in we seemed to be producing vastly. in the rate of production for the first six months had increased fourfold as compared with the previous year, and another great acceleration was in progress. in the end we were enormously superior to any other army in the field in the matter of munitions. to the very day of the armistice improvements in the quality and rate of productions were still going on in preparation for the spring, , campaign, which it was anticipated would end the war. the german threw up the sponge before then. if he had waited he would have been literally blown out of his trenches and his chief cities. in one sense, of course, we never had enough, but if i were asked to name a date on which a serious shortage of munitions ceased i should say september th, , on the eve of the battle of loos. on that date, a year after trench war began, word was passed around to the batteries of the british line in a phrase copied from the provision shops of london: "ammunition is cheap to-day." every gun-pit stocked up with shell. the gates of the dumps were opened and shell fairly poured out. battery commanders, who knew the days when one shell per gun per day was the limit allowed, saw with joy thousands of shells, and, as they began eagerly to fire them off, thousands more coming. on the rd of september a regular bombardment of the whole german line facing the british line began. the artillery was undertaking the preliminary work of wire-cutting and parapet pounding. the -pounders with shrapnel, the howitzers with high explosive, started at dawn, and all through the day systematically smashed away at the german's defences. that went on for two more days. the fourth day we intensified our shell-fire. along many sections of the front the german wire was down, and the parapet of the german trench breached. the enemy increased his artillery fire, too, attacking our trenches and searching for our observing stations and batteries, but on the whole getting the worst of the artillery duel. on the morning of the th the final artillery duel began. it was the greatest artillery bombardment in history up to that date, though afterwards so eclipsed by the records of the somme, the ancre and of messines as to be remembered as a mere splutter. but at the time it was vastly impressive. the morning was dull but the flashes of guns were so continuous as to give a light which was almost unbroken. it flickered, but it never failed. the earth itself quivered and shook with the repeated shocks of the guns. the air became a tattered hunted thing, torn wisps of it blown hither and thither by the constant explosions. the battle of loos did not give us the break-through we expected, but, in so far as my observation is worth anything, the reason was not lack of munitions. loos showed that the task was a more complicated one than merely smashing down the front line of enemy trenches. "trench war" was resumed, whilst the british army prepared for the next phase opening in july, , with the first battle of the somme. by then munitions supply had grown gigantically and in the mechanics of war we were far ahead of the germans. this was not only in artillery but in infantry equipment and in our unique weapon the "tank," which was the mechanical contrivance having the most decisive results on the issue of the war. these appeared in september, , two years after "trench war" had begun, and were ultimately destined to make that sort of war impossible, a task which the german poison gas had failed to accomplish. as a race we are never consciously dramatic, or i would have imagined on that september morning that the arrival of the tanks on the somme front had been carefully timed and stage-managed. the morning was dull and misty. over the seared and terrible land little wisps of fog rose and fell. all likeness to our gentle mother earth had been battered out of the fields, which were rubbish-heaps of churned-up débris of bodies, dust, weapons--hideously pock-marked by the eruption of the shells. where had been villages were dirtier patches of desolation. where had been woods, groups of splintered stumps. it was an abomination of desolation, like as when the earth was first formed out of the void. in the midst of this desolation out of the mist came, crawling uncouthly, the tanks, like prehistoric saurians. the german forces were obviously frightened by the tanks, which climbed over their trenches, and impervious to rifle bullets, smashed up machine-gun emplacements and redoubts. but that tank of was nothing like the perfected machine of . its rear steering wheel was a weak-spot liable to be shot away. its pace was too slow for it to keep up with charging infantry. no real tactics had been evolved for its use. but, such as it was, that tank at first brought alarm to more than the enemy. in going to and from the battle front it "got the wind up" many a british dug-out. here is an artillery officer's yarn of the first "tank night": "our 'mess' was a roofed-over shell-hole a mile or so in front of martinpuich. the roof would keep out shrapnel bits but was no use against a direct hit from a shell. i was orderly dog for the night and it was my business to take action, when, outside, a strange spluttering, growling, scratching, spitting sound broke into the steady barking of the guns. it was like a thousand cats, a hundred dogs, and a sea-sick elephant or two scrambling and squabbling together in a dust-hole. i went to investigate. a tank wandering home was within ten yards of our mess, heading straight for it. with all the _insouciance_ i could command at such a crisis i begged the tank to stop; urged that our roof was designed to keep out splinters only and was neither shell-proof nor tank-proof; pointed out that if it persisted in its course seven artillery officers, some of whom had wives and children, and all of whom had mothers, would be pulped. then i became calmer and told the tank that there was some wine in the mess and even some whisky and soda, if the tank would now stop and have a drink. fortunately a tank is a slow mover and my cooler arguments had effect by the time it had got within five yards of our roof-tree. then it backed water and we were safe. the tank is a noble animal, but it adds a little to the anxieties of life underground." [illustration: the fosse] "the tank" was the great mechanical find of the war, and it was an all-british find. high authority had many fine name-proposals for the useful monsters, but tommy took the matter into his own hands and coined the word "tank," and "tank" it remained. those who are interested in matters of language may note that the french do not use the word "tank" but describe a "tank" as a _char d'assaut_, which is accurate, but has a weak look. it is an illustration of their jealous and admirable care of their language. they will not allow foreign words to intrude if that can be avoided. we, on the other hand, are quite careless about our language. the orders of our army in france were bespattered with french words and phrases for which there were quite good english equivalents. (_gare régulatrice_ for "distributing station" is one of the many scores of cases in point.) it is a pity that we are so careless in regard to our mother tongue. i made an effort once to persuade g.h.q. that british army orders and instructions should be put out in english without any foreign admixture, but met with little sympathy. the intrusion of french words was not so bad, but german words had an almost equal degree of hospitality. * * * * * but to return to our munitions. the hand bomb was a weapon which by we had allowed to fall out of use. the british grenadiers no longer threw grenades. but trench war brought back the bomb as a weapon, and our bomb was soon better than the german bomb. at the first somme battle ( ) we showed a definite superiority in bomb supply and bomb use. this development was altogether in our favour. the bomb--beastly weapon as it is, and beastly as are the wounds it inflicts--lends its favour to the quicker brain, the prompter courage, the keener leadership. the football field and the cricket green both give a good foundation for the murderous art of bombing. as soon as we had the bombs our bombing superiority grew with every day. an instance to illustrate bombing: for the taking of the village of contalmaison ( ) a preliminary task was the capture of horse shoe trench. the attack on this was prospering when it was held up at a critical point by the unmasking of a german machine gun on our right flank. to the fire of this gun we were fully exposed, and its effect was murderous. a young cricketer rose to the occasion. single-handed he rushed the gun with a bag of bombs, got to his distance and destroyed it with a couple of "hot returns from the outfield." in using ammunition the b.e.f. put up some startling records. on august th, , when our big final thrust began there were used , tons in a single day. on september th, , there were used , tons. here are some other big figures: date. battle. amount. / / somme , tons / / vimy , " / / arras , " / / messines , " / / ypres , " / / } polygon wood , " / / } in the depôts in france we kept a reserve of , tons of ammunition, and the issues in a normal month ran to about that figure though it varied a good deal month by month. thus the average expenditure during the last months of was: may, , tons daily; june, , tons daily; july, , tons daily; august, , tons daily; september, , tons daily; october, , tons daily; november, , tons daily. on november th, the last day of the war, we used tons of ammunition. different varieties of ammunition had widely different rates of use. the gigantic -inch howitzer on some days did not fire a single round. it was a "big day" when it fired fifty rounds. it was just as well that it was not a gun which indulged in thousands of rounds, for a ten-ton broad-gauge railway truck would only take twelve rounds for it. the -pounder field guns would shoot , rounds on a normal day, and on a heavy day would use , rounds. the cost of ammunition was, in a time of heavy fighting, up to £ , , _per day_. a heavy item in munitions was for defence against poison gas and for our own poison gas service. we entered with extreme reluctance into the ghastly business, but once we started we soon made the german sorry that he had brought that element into the war. our gases were more potent and more plentiful than his. for lack of material he could not give his men perfect gas protectors, while to our men we could and did. the last loathsome trick of the enemy in this direction was the introduction of mustard gas, a powerful corrosive which was discharged from shells. the use of mustard gas by the enemy raised a number of problems for supplies as apart from the medical staffs. the disinfection with chloride of lime of ground contaminated with the gas, a prompt change of clothing and bath treatment for men affected, proved efficacious in dealing with mustard gas. there was, too, safety in protective overalls of oilskin. mustard gas affected the veterinary service heavily, there being many casualties to horses and mules through passing over ground infected with the gas. * * * * * the inventive spirit was naturally strong in the army, and some of the most useful of the new ideas in the way of munitions or equipment came from men in the field. these ideas were tested in the army workshops, and occasionally there was a certain amount of waste owing to the same idea, or nearly the same idea, being experimented with simultaneously in more than one army. so an army order from home recalled the king's regulation that war office approval must be obtained before experimental work was done in regard to any invention. but this, it was urged from g.h.q., would act prejudicially to the interests of the force in france, since many very useful inventions regarding stores and material had come from officers and men of the force and it was not in the best interests of the public to put any obstacles in the way of future inventions. this was recognised, and a subsequent army order gave authority to the commander-in-chief of any expeditionary force to authorise trials of inventions; but precautions were taken in regard to duplication and overlapping. there were not in the field so many foolish inventors as at home. no such merry idea came to g.h.q. as that anti-submarine device with which the admiralty was plagued--a liquid air shell which on being exploded anywhere in the vicinity of a submarine formed an extensive iceberg (through the lowering of the surrounding temperature by a release of the liquid air from pressure). on this iceberg the submarine would be brought to the surface. the next step would be easy: open with an oyster knife, sprinkle with pepper and salt and a dash of lemon juice, and serve. the b.e.f. had never anything quite so naive as that. its limit was the inventor who claimed to be able to project an x-ray from an electric battery so that it would kill anything within , yards. this invention would have been a great war-stopper. it would have been only necessary to set up a sufficient number of the projectors along our front, switch on the current and march on to berlin. it was offered at a time when inventions were rather the fashion, and it needed courage to scoff at even the most curious notion. so it actually got to the stage of a trial with a high authority present. the inventor set up his projector; an animal was let loose within its deadly range and, surely enough, dropped dead. unfortunately for the inventor a medical scoffer subjected the animal to a _post mortem_ examination and found that it had evidently resolved on suicide, for it had taken a large dose of strychnine. this discouraged further trials of the x-ray device. the inventor with a "wireless" device for exploding enemy magazines also cropped up. you projected a wireless ray and it blew up a dump. this invention could be very convincingly demonstrated within your own lines. all that was necessary was to provide in the dump a certain amount of loose explosive, a fulminate, and a receiver tuned to receive your wireless message. we were not on sufficiently good terms with the germans to persuade them to arrange their ammunition depôts in this way for our convenience. there was a close _liaison_ kept up between the b.e.f. and the ministry of munitions. when mr. winston churchill was minister of munitions he was over in france so frequently that a small château was kept up for him at g.h.q. he was wont to come into the officers' club for his meals. there was always an air about him that he would have liked to be in the jack-boots of his famous ancestor and give the world a spectacle of another marlborough winning victories in flanders. chapter vi. the medical services. the magic-workers of the war--fighting the germans--concerning the victorian primness of conversation and the present popularity of "v.d." as a theme for small talk--the army and "v.d."--the etiquette of hospitals and the ways of matrons--the war against trench feet--mustard gas in . probably more than half the men at g.h.q. had been "crocked" at one time or another during the campaign, from wounds or one of those fevers of the battlefield born of mud and filth and fatigue. some came to work on the staff whilst still under medical treatment, and there was a local hospital at montreuil which was a boon to those out-patients needing massage for their scars or quinine for their fevers. apart from the doctors of this hospital only the very big men of the medical services appeared ever at g.h.q. it was a pleasure not easily won to persuade them to talk over their work. but when they did talk, what wonders they had to tell of! [illustration: a by-way] socrates in prison, when the fetters were taken off his legs, as he rubbed them to make the blood run freely again, speculated on how pleasure always followed pain, so that the two seemed to be linked together by some unbreakable bond. one would like to hear socrates to-day, as his limb, injured in flanders, was rubbed back to usefulness, talking to his masseur on the good that will follow the evil of the great war as surely as if the two had been linked together and one was the consequence of the other. matter for a fine homily there from the stubborn old hero with the divinely clear mind! those optimists who thought that a new heaven and a new earth would come at the end of the war, and that even all politicians would become sincere, alert, and vigorous in the public service, were perhaps not reasonable and may be disappointed in some measure; but no one can observe closely the phenomena of the war without being sure that from its sacrifices and lessons much good will come. the dreadful fire that had to be kindled to burn out the cancer of germanism burned out evil too in the nations that were the instruments of vengeance. peoples who went into war iron will come out steel ultimately; for the war, as well as being preservative, will prove regenerative. there is no better proof of this than in the tale of our campaigns against the germs, those pitiless enemies who are always attacking human content and happiness. it was a wonderful part of the war, that defensive and offensive against disease, with its trench systems which hold up foes whom we cannot destroy with our present weapons; its intelligence department, spying with a thousand microscopes into the designs and dispositions of the enemy; its clever diplomatic service, always raising up allies in our blood against germ invasion; its long illustrious roll of heroes who have given up life or health to hold positions against odds or to go out on forlorn hopes. in this the benefits springing out from the great war show splendid and palpable. in the process of beating the germans we made such great advances in the war against the germs that we greet peace as a definitely healthier people, organised to save, in a generation or two, for service in this world, more than the total of all those who went to a higher service from the fields of france and belgium. because the war has given a sounder national discipline, because it has cleared so many obstacles from the path of medical organisation, the world's death-rate, according to sound calculations, will in future years show a substantial decrease. the toll taken by the germans will be more than made up by the lives saved from the germs. the british medical service, following in the path of the victorious british army, and wielding an authority that it never knew before, carried on a war against disease in europe, asia, and africa that is now saving thousands of lives, and will save millions in the ultimate result. enteric, cholera, dysentery, scurvy, small-pox, beri-beri, malaria, phthisis were fought successfully. even that national british disease, rheumatism, was pushed back from some of its trenches and compelled to surrender not a few of its ridges. fascinating as a fairy tale, absorbing as a good detective story, stimulating as the records of a stubborn battle, will be the record of british medical work in the great war when it comes to be written. it will not be a story merely of drains and drugs and dressings, but also of kindly amulets and beneficent golden fishes; of wicked germs who chalk their throats to deceive with soft talk little red corpuscles; of fairy princes who destroy wicked enchantments with spells from tiny glass tubes. those attentive gentlemen experimenting with neck ribbons smeared with potent charms have not come to their second childhood; they are on the track of the perfect cimicifuge which will keep lice off the body and, keeping off lice, will reduce the range of typhus and other diseases. a great tank of little live fish sent out to a malaria front does not mean that we are relapsing into the old chinese school of medicine (which prescribed a live mouse to be swallowed whole as a remedy for one complaint), but that these little fish love to eat the eggs of the anopheles mosquito, which spreads malaria. it lays its eggs in ponds; the fish eat the eggs; the eggs don't hatch; the mosquitoes don't come; and there is less malaria. if your mind is more attracted by detective stories than by fairy tales, turn to a bacteriological laboratory and watch the tracking down of the hidden hand that is responsible for odious diseases; for example, that one known popularly as spotted fever, a very deadly disease of over-crowding. a cunning criminal is the spotted fever germ, and he has not yet been quite fully identified and convicted. a victim of spotted fever has in his throat and spinal fluid the causative germ; but this germ hides behind a smoke cloud of other germs and must be placed quite definitely before it can be destroyed. it was found that it is a germ shaped like a double bean, that it is to be distinguished from other germs of the same shape by the fact that its hide is impervious to a certain stain which those other germs will absorb. it was further found that this spotted fever germ would not increase and multiply at a warmth of degrees c., whilst otherwise similar germs would. there certain knowledge stopped for a time. other double-bean, non-staining, non-growing at degrees c. germs existed, among whom the real criminal lived and hid. finally, four bad brother germs were found and are now being dealt with, and the disease is no longer a serious menace. the divine purpose for good that runs stubbornly through life and has made it impossible for the murderous german plans to thrive in spite of all our neglects and stupidities, crops up insistently in the story of the british medical campaign in this war. thus, chlorine gas came into the field first as the poison gas of the germans; it remained in the field on the british side chiefly as a means for purifying water. * * * * * one interesting result of the war which we noticed at g.h.q. was the abandonment of the early victorian primness in conversation in england. soldiers going home on leave noticed it from onwards; and on the balance of the evidence i do not think they were at all responsible for it. they would go away from boulogne, after an extra careful bath and the putting on of a clean tunic, with a steady resolution to put away from their thoughts and their tongues all the coarseness of the camp; and find themselves at their first dinner party in england tackled by some young lady in her teens on the subject of lice; or by some matron not yet in the thirties on the subject of venereal disease at the front. they would come back often with a distinct feeling of shame-shock, to welcome the comparative reticence of mess conversation. it was my duty once to see the representative of an organisation that wished to have lectures delivered to all the soldiers on the subject of "v.d." to my surprise the representative proved to be a lady--and a young and attractive lady at that. she plunged into her subject without the least trace of embarrassment. she wanted lectures, with pictures, in every recreation hut of the b.e.f., france, and was firm to brush away the objection that "the men might not like it," and scornful of the reservation that if the lectures were permitted they were not to be "parade lectures," _i.e._, the men were not to be compelled to attend. finally, discovering that though the lady wanted "pictures" she had not the pictures but expected the army to supply them, i took refuge in a subterfuge. "very sorry, very sorry indeed, but there is no vote out of which we can get the pictures." but the lady was insistent. she knew that there were cinematographs provided for the soldiers. "oh, but that is not my department. that is amusements." "very well," she said firmly. "i'll see amusements." and she went away to convince some other staff officer that universal lectures on v.d., with pictures, would be an appreciated amusement. i do not know where the idea sprang from that v.d. was very common in the army. so far as my observation went, and from what inquiries i made of medical officers, the opposite was the case. among the officers with whom i came into touch during the campaign--many hundreds in the aggregate--i only heard of one case. among the men of my battery before i was on the staff i never heard of one case during months of regimental life. the army's standard of health in this respect was better than that of the average of the civilian population. there were some tragic outbreaks--one in cairo, another (of much less seriousness) with amiens as its focus--but on an average the record was good. british ideas did not favour the degrees of regulation and interference in this matter that other countries tolerate. but the soldier had some safeguards which the civilian had not. for instance it was the duty of the assistant provost marshal of a division, whenever a man reported sick from v.d., to go to the hospital, interview the patient and try to find out the _fons et origo_. if his mission were successful the person responsible was promptly expelled from the army area. one of the dominion corps adopted the method of advising prophylactic precautions (and supplying the means of prophylaxis). the british army on a whole did not follow that course, though in the later stages of the campaign the means of prophylaxis were available if applied for. but enough on that point. it was the surgical rather than the medical side of the r.a.m.c. that interested g.h.q. so many had "taken a knock" and put in a spell at a hospital. opinion was practically unanimous that "hospital" was a place of real human sympathy as well as devoted skill, and that "sister" was the best pattern of womankind. it is etiquette in the army to call her always "sister," though technically "sister" is an intermediate grade between "nurse" and "matron." matron is a great dignitary. she has, in the language of the bar, "taken silk," and when her silk gown rustles into the room it is etiquette for officers to stand up, provided they have legs and strength to stand up. otherwise you "come to attention" by smiling as well as you can; a respectful, cheerful, but not an hilarious or free-and-easy smile. it should convey the message that you are having the time of your life in the best possible of hospitals under the best possible of matrons. the sister whose patient you are will be very much hurt if you do not smile properly at matron. "sister" is of many different grades of skill, but of an almost unvarying grade of devotion, the highest. a "strafer," in hospital language, is a sister who by ten years or so of hard anxious work and self-denial has reached to the height of an office boy's wage and a professional skill which saves lives daily and cuts weeks off one's stay in hospital. you are always glad when she has gone away from your wound, but at the back of your gladness is the knowledge that you want her for next dressing. a good "strafer" goes over a wound with the enthusiasm of a thrush with a large family going over a lawn for worms. she examines, searches, squeezes, probes, looking out for shed pieces of bone, for "proud flesh," for odd corners where inflammatory matter might lurk. she is looking for mischief, and any mischief found is promptly "strafed." if it is bad she calls in the doctor; if it is minor she has her own little armoury of mischief-breakers, scissors, pincers, nitrate of silver, and the like. matrons are easily offended. at a certain hospital in france the king was half expected as a visitor. the matron at once had a bad attack of decoration fever. as i was a lightly-wounded that time i assisted her policy of deceiving his majesty into thinking that the hospital was always a fairy bower by going out and "finding" some flowers. then matron had clean quilts on all the beds, and the order went forth that these were to be kept creaseless and smooth. but one patient would persist in crooking up his knees. matron argued with him. he disloyally pleaded that he was much more comfortable that way. now, having got the flowers for the ward, i thought i had the right to give advice as a sort of accomplice, and i suggested mildly: "better break his knees, matron." she was offended. then the king did not come after all; and i think she was inclined to blame me for that. but matrons are not altogether an evil; like the staff and adjutants and brigade majors, they are at the worst necessary evils, at the best quite good sorts. but there is one matron-habit that should be dealt with sternly by regulation. if a very pretty nurse were posted to a hospital, matron generally tried to assign her to the sick sisters' ward. obviously that was bad strategy. the prettiness of their nurse would have no cheering effect on sick sisters, but to sick officers a pretty sister irresistibly suggests the wisdom of getting well quickly. fortunately the supply of pretty sisters is too great to allow of their all being absorbed in wards for sick sisters. [illustration: a royal visit, december ] what reconciles one to matron is the discovery sooner or later that, despite silk gown and awe-inspiring manner, she is at heart still "sister," ready with skilful aid and encouraging sympathy in case of need. it is a nice etiquette that makes the title "sister" general, for it is just sisterly affection which makes the atmosphere of a military hospital so cheering and recreating. distinctions of rank are abrogated in a military hospital to a large extent. the officer of general rank has a special quarter where he meets only other highnesses; but, for the rest, colonel and "pip-squeak" (the odious term which is vainly designed to lessen the self-importance of the second lieutenant) usually fraternise in a common cheerfulness. there are no rank badges on pyjamas. but one distinction has intruded--that between surgical cases and medical cases. the medical case must bear himself very humbly if he gets into a ward where there are surgical cases. even that kindly authority "sister" will in some unguarded moment, unless she is very, very careful, refer to him as "_only_ a medical case." one medical case, taught cunning by circumstances, discovered when he was being moved from one hospital to another that a special sort of headache he suffered from could be relieved by a large, impressive bandage. with this head adornment he successfully deceived us at ---- hospital. a rumour went around that he was a trepanned case, and as rumour stalked from bed to bed the size of the silver plate in his skull grew and grew until it was almost the size of a dinner plate. his shameful secret was at length discovered; he was only a fever or a heart or something, and, whilst we were all sorry for him, he no longer disputed favour with our ward pet--a delightfully cheerful pip-squeak whose body was so be-stitched that we felt sure they had a sewing machine in the operating room for him. it is etiquette in a military hospital to be very much interested in one's neighbour's wounds and to affect to hold lightly one's own. it is very bad form to hint that your lot is more severe than his lot. "oh, i am all right, thanks," (you say in answer to his first advances); "except for a bit of my liver and a few yards of lung blown away, i'm as fit as can be. but that looks an awful leg of yours." "not at all, not at all. it is almost certain now to stay on. but it must be horribly interesting to have a body wound." and so the ghoulish chat goes on. quite half of g.h.q. had hospital reminiscences to exchange; indeed a spell in hospital with a bad wound was often the clinching argument leading to "red tabs" if an officer were qualified for the distinction; and medical boards in england were quite willing to certify a man as fit for france if he was marked for a staff appointment even though his category was "light duty." * * * * * "trench feet" gave the medical services more trouble than any other single disease, and almost as much trouble as the shells of the enemy. in the winter of a pilgrim to flanders (supposing him to have a military permit) might have observed in the rest camps behind the british lines companies of men with bare feet, and officers bending down anointing them. and he might have perhaps concluded that this was some religious ritual of humiliation, such as the theatrical washing of beggars' feet by the late austrian emperor once a year. but such a conclusion would have been wrong. the proceeding was religious certainly, in the highest sense, but in no way theatrical. it was "trench feet" treatment. the disease known as "trench feet" was one of the most serious developments which the army on the western front had to face when the germans, beaten in the field, "dug in," and trench war began. the struggle with the disease was a long and strenuous one, taxing to the utmost the resources of the british army medical service. the causes of the disease were not plain at the outset, and inquiry proved them to be various. everybody knows that it is uncomfortable and, to a certain extent, unhealthy to stand for too long at a time. (the social legislation that shop employees must be allowed seats is an indication of this). the soldier in the trenches must often stand for long periods. that makes him to some extent liable to foot trouble. again, tight boots and tight bandages round the legs are bad for the blood circulation, and can make foot trouble without any other cause. the soldier used to be rather careless as to whether his boots were of a proper fit, and he was apt to bind his puttees too tightly. here were the beginnings of "trench feet." to have the feet wet, to have the feet cold for long spells, will cause chilblains, _i.e._, local inflammations showing first as red itching lumps, afterwards if neglected, developing into open sores. long periods of standing, and any constriction of the circulation from tight boots or tight puttees, help cold and damp to cause chilblains; and chilblains used to be almost invariably neglected by the soldier. then came the final aggravating cause--the filth of the flanders mud getting into the sores of the broken chilblains, and, behold, a typical case of trench feet. in the early days cases were often of dreadful severity, sometimes leading to amputation. in one of my billets at montreuil was a french soldier who had lost both his feet from this cause. later, both treatment of the disease and, more important, the prevention of it, were so perfected that really bad cases were rare. the story of the fight against "trench feet" is one of the many fine stories of the war. in the main it was, of course, a story of medical skill and devotion, but also it was a story of unstinted generosity on the part of the war office, and of admirable and intelligent service on the part of regimental officers. the medical staff told me that it would have been impossible to carry on to success the campaign against "trench feet" if they had not been intelligently and perseveringly backed up by regimental officers, and if the war office had not poured out very many thousands of pounds sterling for the furtherance of every approved preventive measure. preventive measures covered a wide field; precautions against tight boots and tight puttees; increased provisions of socks; increased bathing facilities; provision of waterproof rubber boots for men while in the trenches (these boots were of the high wader type); paving of the trenches with "duck-boards" which gave a dry standing; more frequent reliefs in wet trenches. these were material provisions. to second them there was an active propaganda in personal hygiene, and here the regimental officer and non-commissioned officer were enlisted to help the medical staff to make the men understand that the smallest sign of a chilblain was to be met with prompt treatment. a whale oil ointment was provided both as a prophylactic and as a curative for mild chilblains. when necessary this was reinforced by spirituous lotions. on officers was put the responsibility of seeing that their men's feet were kept clean and well anointed with oil, and that any breach of the skin tissue was promptly treated. so officers became chiropodists, and you might see enthusiastic company commanders assisting their men to wash and anoint their feet, to show them how it should be done. the winter of - put to a severe test the precautions against "trench feet," for in almost every part of the western front the british had pushed the germans back, and there was no longer the old organised trench system. nevertheless the british hospital records show that the disease was held. it was still a trouble; but, thanks to the plentiful supply of comforts and preventatives, and to the scrupulous care demanded by regimental and medical officers, it was no longer a grave menace. * * * * * the fight against mustard gas in was another fine achievement of the medical services. but this subject of the medicine of the war calls for a volume to itself. let me only add here that the successful medical results won in this war were largely due to the fact that--contrary to the system of other wars--the doctor had a real influence and power at g.h.q. in his own department he was supreme. so were solved successfully the vast medical problems which the great war presented. the greatest armies known to history grappled in a continuous and furious struggle, not for a day or a night or a week, but for months. the wounds caused by hand grenades and high explosive shells were often of terrible extent. the battlefield to a depth of five miles was under constant shell fire, and transport of the wounded for that distance was therefore always under fire, and roads were torn up almost as soon as made. conditions of infection were extraordinarily favourable. traffic regulation had to overcome the most serious obstacles, since railways, roads and tracks had to provide for the constant reinforcements, for the frequent passage to and fro of relieving divisions, for food and water for men and horses, and also for ammunition unprecedented in quantity. chapter vii. the animals of the force. a happy lot--the mud season in flanders--the effects of mustard gas--the character of the mule--forage difficulties--the french object to our horse ration--the americans side with us--the animal record in . no two officials at g.h.q. had a better right to be proud of their departments than the director of veterinary services (major-general moore) and the director of remounts (brigadier-general sir f. s. garratt). these two were responsible for the welfare of the half million animals of the b.e.f., and there was never a collection of war animals that had a better time. it was a commonplace of german criticism of great britain's military position before that the possibilities of a big quickly-trained british army were negligible, because, whilst rank and file might be raised quickly enough, three things could not be improvised in a hurry: knowledge of staff work, of gunnery, and of horse-mastery. the german now knows that he was wrong, and in no particular was he more wrong than in regard to horse-mastery. it is admitted over all the continent of europe that horse-mastery in the "improvised" british army reached the highest standard of the campaign. in this matter the horse markets of europe spoke after the armistice with no uncertain voice. when the british army was disposing of its superfluous horses, everybody rushed to buy them. prices touched a truly extraordinary level. the unhappy taxpayer amid all his burdens saw a golden stream flowing into the treasury, because his army was a humane, conscientious, and skilful horsemaster. the military advantage to transport through keeping the army's animals fit and well is so obvious that it need not be dwelt upon. the advantage to the _morale_ of the men is not so generally appreciated, but was none the less real. it helped to keep our men in good heart that the animals who worked with them, and for them, were in good heart and condition. to british men with their fine tradition of humanity to animals it would have been demoralising to have seen their brutes hungry and suffering. finally, the world markets came forward with their evidence that the british army policy of kindness to its animals was not only good for transport and good for _morale_ but also good for business. by the spring of we had sold out of the army , animals (horses and mules), of which , were sold for work and , for meat. the total realised was £ , , , of which £ , , was realised from the working animals and £ , for those animals which, because of old age or disablement, it was more merciful to send to the slaughter-house. in addition a small item of £ , had been realised from by-products, for our army administrators, whatever might be thought to the contrary, did study economy, and the animal which fell by the wayside was usually put to some use. at least its hide was saved, and, if transport were available, its fat and bones also figured in a "salvage" return. this money was mostly foreign money, too. it was the policy of the army not to "profiteer" in the united kingdom. indeed, within our home borders it was rather to help the small farmer with cheap animals than to seek to get the best out of the market. * * * * * the mobilisation of the horse strength of great britain in was wonderfully assisted by the willing and instructed patriotism of farmers, landowners, and hunting men. it yielded far better results than were anticipated. one calculation makes it that per cent. of the total civilian horse strength of the country was mobilised. but, of course, there was a tremendous gap between this result and the needs of the new armies. a wise prescience at the very outset decided to reinforce horse strength with mule strength. before the end of mules imported from abroad were being tried as substitutes for horses in the army. some of the experiments did not give promising results. the mule, for example, did not prove possible in gun teams. but it established itself in a very wide range of general utility and materially helped to win the war. the improvisation of remount depôts and of training centres for horses and for men who for the first time had to handle horses was the first big problem. the winter of - was a hard time. but extraordinary results were won by the cordial co-operation of the "horsey" men of the country. the hunting, coaching, and racing stables were great pillars of strength. by the spring of the position in the united kingdom was good. in the winter of - most of the difficulty had to be faced by the b.e.f., france. we had a great concentration of troops in flanders. the mounted units were made up in the main of men new to horse-management. the animals had to be nursed through a winter in what was the wickedest country conceivable for horses. stable accommodation was, of course, absent. not per cent. could be housed in existing stables. labour and material were lacking for the building of new stables. most of the animals spent the winter in the open. the mud was a cruel enemy. in that highly manured country a horse standing out in the mud had its hoofs attacked at once. a "greasy heel" soon became a purulent sore. the "mud season" opens in flanders in october and lasts until june; and flanders mud has a body and aroma all its own. a great french marshal of a by-gone age committed himself without reserve to the opinion that "flanders was no place to fight in." thomas atkins, as he pushed obstinately and irresistibly through the mud towards some pill-box objective, has endorsed that high strategical judgment. perhaps in a future war, if there is going to be a future war, flanders will be a closed area and no army will be allowed to go there to fight under penalty of a _procès-verbal_. that should be done if only for the sake of the horses. [illustration: the east ramparts] as every civilian stay-at-home knows, the army is an entirely foolish organisation with no knowledge of practical affairs. but i doubt whether any civil organisation would have carried the same number of horses through the same conditions with the same small percentage of losses. the army did not tackle the problem in any hide-bound way. a good deal was left to the initiative and enthusiasm of individual officers. some general principles were set down. within the boundaries of those principles there was wide scope for personal ingenuity, and as the good thing that one officer worked out soon became the property of all the division, a very high standard of horse-management was reached. will it shock some old retired officers to hear that authority, the highest authority, abolished the clipping of horses that year in flanders? horse-clipping was once a sacred institution, with its fixed dates and ritual, in the army. that year in flanders horse-clipping was abolished, and the horses became wild and woolly but withal happy. i used to love to see their flowing locks streaming in the cold wind as they stood out in the lines, coated like st. bernard dogs, and quite comfortable. "stables" became more arduous as horse-coats became longer, but the horses flourished in the open with just break-winds, and sometimes thatch rain-shelter overhead. i would never want to see a finer lot of horses than those of the early spring of . they were hairy and they were lean, and they would eat their nosebags, if given a minute's grace after the feed was finished; but they were full of heart and of work. the enemy was the mud. we found that if the horses were given good standings and their feet kept out of the mud the rain did not trouble them at all, and the wind troubled them little. but once off the pavé roads all flanders was semi-liquid, and the problem at horse-lines was first to secure a solid "standing," next to secure a solid road in and out to that standing, and finally to secure a solid road to and from a solid watering place. a unit that built for its horses elegant brick standings in the middle of a field, and forgot the rest, found after the first rain that its lines were surrounded by a sea of mud. then the horses had to be given temporary refuge in the paved street of an evacuated town, whilst a saddened unit faced scorn and obloquy and the necessity of constructing another brick standing on another site, _not_ an island site this time. standings were usually made of bricks, and the army requisitioned all the brick yards in the occupied area. shell-ruined villages were another source of brick supply. rubble brick was of no use for standings; the bricks had to be set properly; rubble was lost in the soil within a day. one officer got excellent results by preparing a well-sloped bed; enclosing it with great logs, treating it with a thin layer of straw, and close-setting the bricks over that. it seemed a poor use to put straw to, but that stand lasted out the winter wonderfully well. the difficulty of getting good accessible watering places was very great. water, of course, there was in abundance, but the horses would ordinarily have to go up to their bellies in mud to get at it. to set up troughs accessible by some firm road was necessary, and the site of the troughs had to be soundly paved. one pioneer officer settled his watering problem ingeniously. he had secured a pump and some hose, and he sank a little well just on the edge of his horse-lines, and was able to water by troughs set up on the brick standing. watering by bucket was forbidden except on the road, for the reason that there was never any certainty by bucket watering that a horse would get enough to drink, and a horse kept short of water for long is soon a lost horse. losses from enemy action were not very high among the horses until the last phase. there was, on the whole, little cavalry work except at the end of the campaign and at its very beginning. our air supremacy usually saved horse-lines in the rear of our lines from very severe shelling. but horse and mule losses increased greatly when the enemy began to use mustard gas. that proved deadly to animals. the ground where a mustard gas shell had fallen was infected for many hours afterwards. if horses were picketed on it, or even passed over it, casualties were high. the irritant poison of the gas attacked their skins wherever the hair was thin, and caused the most dreadful wounds. precaution, however, was prompt, and an effective curative treatment was found in a dressing, the chief ingredient of which was chloride of lime. from the spring of the british army horse had to suffer severe attacks from the air. we had by then established a very great transport superiority, and the enemy devoted a good deal of his air strength to bombing attacks on our horse-lines, with a view to lessening our transport strength. at first these attacks were very deadly. but the position was soon met. horse-lines were cleverly concealed. the animals were separated into small groups. the lines were protected by bomb-proof traverses of earthwork, which localised the effects of explosions. in the summer of the wastage of animals had been cut down to the lowest percentage reached in the whole campaign. this meant that battle losses were being compensated for by a very low sickness rate, achieved by careful and skilful horse-mastership. the british army, which had been always an army of horse-lovers, was now also an army of skilled horse-masters, and in spite of bombing raids, of long-distance shelling, and of poison gas, the death rate kept dwindling. at this time forage difficulties were acute, but there had been close organisation to grow fodder in army and line of communication areas, and our animals always had a decent ration. but it was through the unsparing work of the men, with brain and hand, that the horses were so happily situated. the public at home can never express sufficient gratitude for that work--work which had little glamour or hope of reward, but which was as necessary to victory as that of rifleman and gunner. the final triumph of our army horse administration was in the summer of , when it was able to take up a big part of the burden of horsing the american units arriving in france. that, again, was a factor of victory. without transport or gun-horses the american troops could not have given their magnificent help in the last stages of the campaign. in the sum the story of the british army horse in the great war is a thrilling one. our home horse-lovers opened the chapter gloriously. the british navy followed up by making it possible to transport remounts from all parts of the world. then the men of the old army and of the new armies showed what grit and resource and kindness could do. so we rode home to victory. the record of the animals of the b.e.f. should do something to dissipate the marked prejudice against the mule in great britain. people here do not understand its virtues as a draught animal. granted that the mule is not suitable for heavy draught work and may prove a serious nuisance on a farm if it cannot be kept within its proper bounds--for a mule has an omnivorous appetite--still there is a very wide field of usefulness for this animal in city work, such as bread and milk and parcel carriage and light van work generally; also as a transport animal for the small farmer. the mule eats much less than the horse, has a longer working life, is less liable to disease, needs less attention. the mule's rough commonsense, which teaches him to be very careful of himself, is a positive advantage. given decent treatment, a mule is a reliable, good-natured, and likeable animal. he has not the same charming manners as a well-trained horse, but he has plenty of character, and it is mostly good character. the wicked mule does exist, but he is the exception, not the rule. one champion wicked mule i can recall. he was as big as a horse, black in colour, and on the near side had a blood-shot fiery eye which was a good danger signal. on the off-side he had a white eye. this was a deceptive white-flag signal, for the beast kicked with equal viciousness on both sides. likewise he bit from all points of the compass. the one thing that soured his life was the fact that he couldn't sting with his tail. to groom belial--that was his name--he had to be put in slings. but he was an easy animal to shoe. hold a shoe with the nails fixed in the proper position, and the animal would attach itself firmly to the shoe with one kick. an occasional belial excepted, the mules were a pleasant lot. the mule is a hard worker but a sensible worker. he will not try to overtax his strength, and he goes on strike firmly if asked to do too much. "i may be a bit of an ass," the animal tells you, "but none of this heroic business of the arab steed breaking his heart with a mighty effort for _me_." this attitude is not poetic, but it is practical. and the mule compensates by standing mud better, eating less, and putting up with poorer food than the horse. the mule, however, is very particular about what he drinks. water that the horse will swallow greedily the mule will turn up his roman nose at. if you are watering mules and horses at the same stream, the mules must have first drink, for they will not touch the muddied water, though horses have no objection to it. g.h.q. during the last stages of the campaign had a hard task to keep the animals of the b.e.f. properly fed. at the outset of the war the horse ration erred, if anything, on the generous side, and a good deal of it wandered into the mangers of the civilian animals of the country, much to their contentment. as the war dragged its exhausting length along, money became scarce, food supplies scarcer still, and transport facilities scarcest of all. then the ration of the animals had to be cut to a point which represented just sufficient and nothing more. even so, it was a much better ration than the french gave their horses, and there were repeated efforts by the french authorities to persuade us to come down to their animal ration. those efforts naturally had a much greater chance of success when the union of the command made marshal foch the generalissimo of all the armies in france. but our high command was stubborn in its championship of the animals. there was a very strong representation of the cavalry on the staff; and, besides, the british as a race have a sentiment about animals which is not shared to the full by the latin races. the average british soldier would as soon go short of food himself as see his animals hungry. at one time the british war cabinet yielded to the strong representations that were being made that the british army wasted resources and transport in its feeding of the animals, and ordered a heavy reduction of the horse ration. even then the british command in the field did not give up the cause for lost, continued to argue the matter, and by pointing out that a vast amount of extra work was just then being thrown upon the animals by the reduction of field artillery ammunition teams from six horses to four, secured a compromise decision which made a much smaller reduction in the ration. [illustration: the army commanders] the french authorities without a doubt honestly believed they were in the right and that we were "coddling" our brutes, for they made another effort to get "unity of animal ration" as a kind of logical sequel to "unity of command." this time they made an agreement with the americans that the latter should come down to their scale of animal ration. without a full knowledge of what they were doing, the americans agreed at first; and it looked as if the british horse also would have to have his ration reduced. but with more complete knowledge of the facts the american army reversed its previous decision and decided that it could not come down below the british animal ration. a whinny of joy would have gone round the british horse lines at this decision if it had been promulgated in horse language, for it saved the situation. i am honestly of opinion that it had its effect, too, in bringing the campaign to its triumphant conclusion. in the last stages between august and november, , i do not think that the rapid pursuit of the enemy would have been possible if the horse ration had been reduced further than it was in july, . as it was, that reduction put a stop to the decline in the sickness rate and caused it to increase slightly. g.h.q. did its best to make up for the reduced ration by organising local growth of fodder crops wherever there was a chance, and there was instituted an inspectorate of horse feeding and economies. the i.q.m.g.s. had to oversee all animals, except those on charge of director remounts and director veterinary services, to advise on all matters of forage, to seek means of economy and generally to supervise the "horse-mastery" of units. horse-masters can best judge the rights of the fodder position for themselves by noting the actual animal ration. taking an average of , horses, light _and_ heavy, the weight of the rations at the time of the controversy was: lbs. american . british . french . twenty-two pounds weight of food per day is not excessive for a horse doing hard work; and that was the _average_. after the heavy horses had their higher ration the light horses had to be content with less. probably the french never saw our point of view and suspected that there was not much more than english obstinacy in this determined stand for the welfare of the dumb beasts. but the controversy was carried on with good humour all the same, and in the end "those curious english" had their own way. whenever questions such as this arose between the allied forces it proved in practice that the americans usually had the deciding voice. perhaps it may be recorded without hurting anyone's feelings that the american as a matter of instinct was inclined usually to take the french side, because his stronger sympathy was in that direction; after experience he was inclined usually to take the british side, for his manner of thinking was more on our lines. the animal record for the last year of the war was a fine one. the sickness rate was brought down to a figure practically as low as that of a big stable under peace conditions, and this--the result of good horse-mastery--helped to make up for battle casualties and casualties from bombs. (it was in january, , that the enemy first instituted a definite policy of searching out our horse-lines and subjecting them to aeroplane attack in order to cripple our lines of supply). in june, , the sickness rate was actually lower than at any period in the history of the force ( . per cent. as against . per cent. in may, ). losses of animals in battle showed a marked reduction. the general reduction in losses was partly due to a decrease in the losses from enemy bombs, as a great deal of work had then been done to conceal and protect horse-lines from aircraft attack. in july, , the horse situation was even better, and the sickness rate for the month was . per cent. (compared with . per cent. in june and . per cent. in may). unfortunately it was necessary that month to reduce the hay ration by one lb. per day. (a more considerable reduction proposed was abandoned, as i have pointed out). the shortage in the supply of animals as compared with requirements, a shortage principally due to the needs of the new american units, was met by various expedients. nearly , animals were made available by reductions of the horse strength of artillery units. a further , were saved by giving -inch howitzer and some -pounder batteries mechanical transport. another means of economy in horse-flesh was worked out--the setting up of a "category b" in animals. those which were not quite fit for arduous work with a fighting unit were withdrawn to units whose demands on them were less exacting. in august, , when our great attack began, the animals with the force had heavy losses. battle casualties were high, partly because of the large employment of cavalry, partly because of the intensive war from the air against horse-lines. the precautions against this kind of attack which we had developed could not be kept up during the rapid advance, and horses in the fighting line suffered severely from bombs as well as shell fire. but that was part of the necessary price of victory. what was a matter for real regret, however, was the increase in the sick rate which accompanied the revival of intensive operations. we all felt sorry that the forage ration had been reduced, even though slightly, for there was reason to think that even this slight reduction in the forage ration had made it impossible in some cases to keep the animals up to the best standard of condition. very hard work was being done on a ration which was cut very fine. after november th, when the armistice was signed, our animal sickness rate was only per cent., and later, as we began to sell off our animals, the advantage of humane treatment told in the market rates. chapter viii. the financial services. the generosity of the british people--g.h.q. was not a spendthrift--the pay system--curiosities of banking in the field--claims of the civilian inhabitants--the looted rabbit. the financial side of the b.e.f. was one of the triumphs of g.h.q. "yes, in spending money," someone may remark, thinking gloomily over his income tax assessment. but the triumph i refer to is in the dealing with vast sums with so little loss from peculation or from mistake. an army in the field should not be pinched for money if it is to work with confidence and economy of life. very often in the history of war a "ragged army" has done wonders, and the praise of those wonders has led to some minds confusing raggedness with heroism, thinking that desperate impoverishment is a good thing for an army. it might have been sometimes in the old days, when the sack of the enemy's country was the reward of victory and it was a case of fight or perish. in modern times it is a sound principle of warfare that the better an army is supplied with the means of warfare the less will be the cost of life in achieving its purpose. the soldiers of the british army in france have reason to feel grateful to the people of great britain that there was never any sparing of money at the expense of their comfort and safety. no army at any known period of the world's history was more lavishly provided for in food, clothing, munitions and pay. to illustrate on one point only, that of munitions. in the british army , men in a day used tons of munitions, in the french army the same number of men in a day used tons. part of the disparity might be accounted for by superior economy on the part of the french. most of it was due to the fact that the british people were able to supply, and did supply, their troops with far greater quantities of shell, etc., so as to take as much of the burden of war as possible off the flesh and blood of the soldier. the taxpayer for his part can be comforted with the knowledge that, so far as the army in the field was concerned, there was an honest effort to guard against waste. of course war is a wasteful business, essentially, and no possible precaution can guard against some losses. often the position is that a great amount of material has to be devoted to a certain purpose though it is very likely to be wasted, because the alternative is to incur a greater risk of life. it was always the british system, a system which parliament insisted upon equally with the generals in the field, that any sacrifice of money and material was to be preferred to a useless sacrifice of life. in peace times the finance branch of the war office had a long-standing reputation for artful meanness. it was accused of working on the principle that an officer in the army was always possessed of abundant private means and therefore never really wanted any army money, and that a private soldier was clearly a fool and a failure for being in the army at all and therefore deserved little or no consideration. if he were allowed money to spare he would waste it on dissipation. certainly f. branch war office showed itself time and again very sharp at construing the pay warrant to the benefit of the treasury, but it was never quite as bad as that. in the field the spirit of economy had to give place to the spirit of efficiency and of _morale_. nevertheless, a very tight check was kept on the money-bags to prevent dishonesty or extravagance. the financial adviser at g.h.q. was a potentate of great ability and of enormous authority. no order which involved the spending of money could go out without being referred to him and winning his approval. he had the right of access to the commander-in-chief at all times. it was said that since as a civilian he did not get prompt and full respect from sentries, or from officers who did not understand his position as chancellor of the army exchequer, he was made a general in a single day, and that when he first walked abroad as a general and sentries presented arms to him he was greatly perturbed, thinking that this might be the first step in an outbreak of personal violence. but that was by way of _persiflage_. all officers who came into contact with him recognised a man of ability and of sympathy. it was the army pay department that most closely touched the lives of the soldiers in france. it had to pay a total of about two and a half million people of all kinds--officers who were either affluent or careful and gave no trouble at all; officers who were neither and whose impecuniosity had to be guarded against; a very few officers who were actually dishonest; "other ranks" in whose pay there were infinite complications due to separation allowances and the like; and furthermore the women of the various auxiliary corps, the labour corps of various nationalities, civilian auxiliaries and the like. as the war progressed "pay" had to act as money-changer, dealing with almost all the currencies of the world, and as a savings bank and as liquidator of all kinds of claims and as a third party in those highly convenient transactions in which an officer bought clothes and other necessities from "ordnance" at a price which was sometimes less than half that charged by london stores. the army pay department in the field was not the final paymaster. it gave advances on account only, leaving the final adjustment to the pay office at home. but during the war and up to the end of (by which time demobilisation had broken up most of the units in france) it had paid out nearly four thousand million francs, and its total losses from forgeries, war losses, bad money, etc., were quite insignificant. at one period in when an analysis was made, it was found that the bad money passed off on to the pay department had averaged only eight francs per week. the financial arrangements of the old regular army had to be modified very considerably, especially in regard to officers, as the war continued, though at first an attempt was made to apply them in their entirety. the army pay agents soon found out that a number of the new officers who had come into the service had little or no sense of financial responsibility, and the pay department had to tighten the reins considerably. exceedingly liberal arrangements had been made at the outset to meet the convenience of officers. thus any branch of the bank of france would cash an officer's cheque up to £ , and any field cashier--each division had a field cashier--would cash his chit to the same amount. also, he might draw his allowances by cheque monthly, and this cheque was good at any field cashier's office. some early developments were startling. there is a tale of one officer (he was in a position which gave him a wide range of movement) collecting £ in one day before going on leave. he had a "good leave" presumably, but he had at the time only £ due to him at his army agent's, and it took some time for him to make up the balance on his pay as lieutenant. to meet the case of gentlemen "raising the wind" on this scale there was instituted an "officer's advance book," the conditions of obtaining and using which were gradually tightened, so that it was only possible for an officer below "field" rank to obtain three advances in a month of francs each. that still left one loop-hole for improvidence or dishonesty--cashing cheques at a bank of france after drawing the three advances. but not very many officers could get to a bank except during a "leave," and a certain "overrunning of the constable" was expected then and could be adjusted afterwards. officers who consistently drew beyond their means after warning were looked upon as having dishonest intentions and were put on a "black list." they could not draw cheques, and were deprived of their "advance books" until they were in credit again. there was no serious amount of financial delinquency. at the worst the "black list" just crept over the limit. one incorrigible spendthrift, having been deprived of his advance book, tried to obtain another from a field cashier in another centre on the plea that his previous book "had been captured by the enemy." it was very human, the pay department, for all its strictness, and in my experience never refused an officer who was going on leave a "bit extra" if he had a good financial name. one of its very kind customs was to arrange for wounded officers evacuated to "blighty" to be met in england by pay agents who pressed on them change of a little cheque to meet possible incidental expenses in hospital. it had, too, a nice habit of watching the tactical situation and acting accordingly. after the great german onrush of the spring of many hundreds of officers were destitute, their kits abandoned to the enemy. pay department promptly relaxed all its rules to enable them to outfit again promptly; and, of course, there was ultimately reimbursement to the officers of the value of their kits. up to the conclusion of the war "pay" reimbursed nearly , officers for loss of kit. [illustration: photo by j russell & sons major-general sir claude a. bray (paymaster-in-chief, b.e.f.)] "pay" changed any sort of money into french currency; and it had to deal with many varieties. serbian, egyptian, nova scotian, greek, kruger money (from south africa), australian bank notes, italian, russian, american, canadian, local french "bank of commerce" notes (which were monetised in some cases by the bank of france), mexican dollars--all came to its counter and were duly honoured. but it turned up its nose at american confederate bank notes and assignats of the first french republic (both useless except for wall paper). various currency problems had to be solved by "pay." the bank of france was always in a state of worry over the huge consumption of francs notes by the british army. these were the most favoured units for paying the men; they seemed to disappear from currency at a quick rate, and they were expensive to print. the situation was improved by the adoption of the suggestion of "pay" that a -francs note should be issued. probably the bank of france would have been quite content if they had thought that the francs notes were destroyed. but they knew that they were being hoarded up by the french peasants, who absorbed every bit of silver as soon as it was put into circulation, and, after silver, favoured for their hoards notes of small denominations. at the time of the german advance in the spring of "pay" had a curious illustration of the hoarding ways of these french peasants. that advance let loose a flood of silver coinage. the people who lived in districts which might have to be evacuated changed their hoarded silver for notes, which would be more handy to carry away. "pay" at an early stage of the war put forward an interesting proposal--the issue of international army notes in various denominations which would be good in any one of the allied countries. the proposal was never carried through, but its idea is being revived in the financial world to-day by the proposal for an international bank to take over some or all of the war debts of the allies and issue a paper currency good in any one of the allied countries. the encouragement of thrift among the soldiers was part of the work of "pay." in august, , it secured soldier subscriptions to the war loan to the extent of £ , . the next year it established savings banks, and in it set up agencies at all army post offices for the sale of war savings certificates. but its greatest achievement in the way of thrift was the chinese savings bank, which was started in august, , and in a fortnight had deposits of , francs. the last welcome task of "pay" was to establish field cashiers in germany and to fix a rate of exchange for german money, which was started at five marks= s. d. the claims commission (established in december, ) was another branch of the financial organisation. its business was to decide upon claims for damage done by the british army to the property of civilians, french or belgian. the british army paid for everything, even to an orchard tree that an army mule had nibbled at. claims made were sometimes ridiculous in character and in extent. in my regimental experience i remember a market gardener claiming francs on account of damage done by a horse which had wandered into his potato patch for a few minutes. the claim was very amicably settled on the spot by the payment in cash of two francs. on an average, "claims" paid about one fourth of the total asked for, and the civilian population did very well indeed on that. in the very early days of the war the civil population of france, filled with relief and gratitude at the arrival of the british force, of whose coming they had almost despaired, greeted officer and soldier with the most generous hospitality. indeed as the "old contemptibles" marched through boulogne women stripped off their rings to give them to the marching soldiers. wine, fruit, and other delicacies were pressed on everybody without payment. that generous enthusiasm could not last through a four years' war, but to the very end the best of the french population recognised a duty of hospitality to their british guests. it was only natural, however, that many of the peasants and small traders, hard hit by the war, should take advantage of their opportunities to make profit out of our army. this was particularly noticeable after the coming of the colonial troops, who were just as lavish in spirit as the british tommies and had a good deal more pay to spend. [illustration: major-general l. b. friend (president of claims commission)] the claims commission, which in the later stages of the war had its headquarters at paris plage and le touquet, did its work to the satisfaction of everybody. at first its responsibilities were confined to paying claims for damage done. later it took over all the financial adjustments in connection with the hiring and the requisition of civilian land and property. its tasks called for a great deal of tact and a wide variety of resourcefulness. in the spring of the abandonment in evacuated areas by civilians of wine and portable property caused trouble. the events at amiens illustrate the position. as soon as the city came under enemy shell fire the civil authorities left, and with them most of the respectable inhabitants. less respectable people remained, and probably were guilty of some excesses. the british army authorities, however, were prompt in taking over control, and on april rd the city was quiet and orderly. but very serious reports of damage by british troops were put into circulation. on investigation by the claims department the actual cases resolved themselves into two: in one house three doors had been broken down; in the other case the british army had stolen a rabbit "which had been abandoned by its owners." these were the only two charges definitely preferred. but it was, seemingly, a fact that in some villages outside of amiens regrettable incidents arose from the fleeing civilians abandoning stores of wine or disposing of them to the troops at sacrifice prices. the french authorities were asked to assist in forbidding the importation by civilians of intoxicants into threatened areas. towards the end of the war some of the french towns which had been sheltering large numbers of british troops raised the question of the payment of octroi duties on the goods consumed by the troops. as i suppose is well known, french towns have local customs duties (called octroi because the right to collect them for local purposes was originally a concession from the king). all food, etc., coming into the town pays a small tax. supplies for the british army did not pay this tax, and the towns complained of the loss thus caused to their municipal revenues. g.h.q. willingly conceded the payment of octroi. a lump sum was allowed for the past period, and an arrangement made for the future payment of so much per head every half year for each soldier billetted within the town boundaries. the _per capita_ charge varied greatly. a few french towns refused to make any claim, saying that they were well content to make that concession to their british guests. on the whole the financial record of the british army in france is something to be proud of. we paid justly--sometimes generously--for everything, and no civilian was left with a legitimate grievance. chapter ix. the economy services. what the german submarines taught us--the salvage organisation--o.c. rags, bones and swill--agriculture's good work and hard luck--the forestry directorate--soldiers learn economy in a stern school. there is a sort of grim pleasantry in the fact that the german submarine war, which was to bring great britain to her knees, only brought her to a school of economy where she learned some lessons which will be very useful in the future, once the after-the-war phase of reckless extravagance has passed away. when the cumulative effect of the unlimited submarine war made itself felt in it did not stop operations, though it may claim some of the responsibility for the extent of the german success in the spring of that year, which might have been much more limited if we had had full supplies of wire and other defence material. what it did do was to set g.h.q. to devising valuable economies. the german was in effect too late with this, as with his other desperate steps. at the outset of the war, with an inferior sea power, germany had yet the chance of using sea forces with great, and perhaps decisive, effect by raids on the british supply routes with light cruisers and converted merchantmen. she had prepared for this but neglected the one necessary act of forethought and daring by not sending out to sea her commerce destroyers. such a sea policy would, of course, have been ruthless; but it could have been made effective without violation of sea law and without outrages on neutrals. after august, , germany sought vainly to repair her initial lack of sound naval sense by the submarine naval war, in which every canon of sea law and every sentiment of justice and humanity were violated. the more the submarine war showed signs of failing the more atrocious and reckless it became, until in its final shape it set almost all the world against the german empire. yet withal the u-boat atrocities went for nothing. the german people must see now that their prussian masters put them very much in the position of the innkeeper of the old creepy german story. he and his wife resolved to kill in his sleep and rob a chance traveller who had come to their inn. they killed him and found that his purse was empty and that he was their own long-lost son. on the debit side, as a result of the german submarine war we had in a lack of certain material--particularly of chocolate, biscuits, and tinned fruits in the canteens. on the credit side we had those fine economy organisations, salvage, agriculture and forestry, the effect of which was not only to make savings at the time but also to teach the soldier a fuller appreciation of his civil duties. "salvage" explained itself very clearly in its official publication: "the world shortage of almost every kind of raw material used for war supplies makes salvage an important administrative service. without a well-organised and thorough salvage system, the full maintenance of our force in the field would be made difficult. "the co-ordination of all salvage work is in the hands of the controller of salvage at g.h.q. his duties include the inspection of executive salvage work, the arrangements for the disposal of salvage material, the investigation of methods for recovering bye-products, and keeping of statistical records showing the amount of material salved and disposed of and the resultant gain to the state. "the salvage organisation is not intended to take the place of, or in any way discourage, a consistent effort on the part of every supply department to recover for repair and re-issue its own articles and its own empties. it is intended to supplement that effort; to collect and put to use what would otherwise become derelict; to ensure that nothing utilisable is allowed to go to waste. "to this end it is necessary to arrange, in the first place, for the collection of unserviceable or derelict material, and, in the second, for its disposal so that it may be brought again into use with the least delay and to the best advantage." [illustration: an army poster.] "salvage," in order to secure a practical interest in its work, used to issue statements to the soldiers showing how salved articles were utilised. some examples: clothing: cleaned and repaired locally. if beyond repair, sent to the united kingdom as rags. sacking: sent to the united kingdom. entrenching tools: heads cleaned and sharpened. if irreparable, disposed of as scrap. steel helmets: cleaned and relined. if irreparable, indiarubber pads in lining removed and utilised for lining serviceable helmets. chin strap sold as old leather, and helmet disposed of as scrap steel. rubber (gum boots, sent to paris for classification tyres, etc.): and repair. if irreparable, sent to the united kingdom. mess tins, camp cleaned in caustic soda, kettles, field reblocked, resoldered if kitchen boilers: necessary, and retinned. if irreparable, disposed of as scrap steel. water-bottles: old felt removed--bottles cleaned, recovered with new felt and recorked. old felt sent to the united kingdom. water-bottles not fit for re-issue as such are used for packing small quantities of oil or paint for the front. web equipment, broken into component cotton bandoliers, parts--dry-cleaned on etc.: motor-driven brushes, darned and repaired. if irreparable, sent to the united kingdom as cotton rags, after brass or metal fittings have been removed. leather equipment, broken down into component harness, saddlery, parts, washed with etc.: soft soap in lukewarm water, dried in a drying cupboard at deg. f., treated with fish-oil and repaired. if irreparable, sent to united kingdom as old leather after brass or metal fittings have been removed. boots: classified, repaired and passed through fish-oil baths. the uppers of irreparable boots as far as possible made into shoe laces or heel lifts and used for filling. "salvage" had to suffer much from kindly "ragging." it was known as "rags and bones," and as "swill." it was the favoured sport of the humourist to devise new salvage dodges, one of which i recall as holding the record for sheer asininity. it drew attention to the fact that the little circles of paper, punched out of folios so that they could be put on files, might be collected and sold as confetti! but with all this "ragging," g.h.q. had a very real respect and liking for brigadier-general gibbs and his salvage corps, and recognised fully the solid and practical patriotism which made them devote a passionate interest to the recovery of solder from old tins, to collecting waste paper, old boots, nails, horseshoes, rags and buttons. "there is nothing of the débris of the battlefield which we cannot put to some use," general gibbs announced; and by his personal enthusiasm he made salvage collection quite a popular sport in the army. some of the items of salvage value from a return will show the wide range of the department: swill for piggeries, value , francs; solder from old tins, value , francs; cotton waste, , francs; tin-plate (won by unrolling old biscuit tins, etc.), , francs; old lead, , francs; various bye-products , , francs. the old rags collected did a great deal to help the cloth shortage at home, as they made the best kind of shoddy. the old bones collected helped to find the glycerine for explosives. but perhaps the moral effect of the salvage department was even more valuable than its excellent material results. war is a wretchedly wasteful business and must inculcate in soldiers a spirit of waste. but in the final phase of this campaign every soldier had brought home to him most urgently the wisdom of saving and the real value of what seemed to be waste bye-products. many of them must have learned the lesson and carried it home with them to the advantage of the general community. agriculture was another economy organisation that we owed to the german submarine war. it had begun in a small way towards the end of ; indeed its germ was alive before then, for from the first our units had helped the french with labour and horses during harvest time, and some units enjoying a certain security of tenure had established flower and vegetable gardens. but in december, , the world's food position suggested an earnest effort to utilise spare labour and spare land within army areas in france to grow food. major-general ellison and dr. keeble came over to g.h.q. from the war office, and a scheme was drawn up to cultivate , acres of land. in january, , an agriculture directorate was formed under brigadier-general the earl of radnor, and search was made for a suitable area for a big farm. the quest was not a simple one. we could not poach on land that the french might want. we wished to avoid selecting an area which might be needed for a manoeuvre ground for our troops in the carrying out of the next big push. in seeking to avoid these two rocks we landed on a worse one. the area selected around roye-nesle was the area which the germans were going to over-run in their spring offensive. all unconscious of that, we began ploughing in february, . the home authorities had supplied an abundance of excellent machinery, and labour was quickly collected and trained. by march st we had got up to a record of ploughing acres per day and a total of , acres had been turned over. then the german came. [illustration: brig-general the earl of radnor (director of agricultural production)] by a fine feat of organisation and courage the agriculture directorate saved most of its machinery. some of the agricultural tractors came in useful as aids to the heavy artillery in the retreat. others, charging for home at their best speed, were mistaken for german tanks and in one or two cases fired on by our troops. despite that unlucky experience with the big farm, agriculture put to its credit some useful work. it had promoted vegetable gardens in base camps, and the total area of those gardens was , acres and their products did much to help out the rations. soon, too, "agriculture" found that though it had not sown on its big farm it might still reap in other quarters. the german onrush had brought a great area of french cultivated land within army areas, some of it actually within the zone of fire. since every ear of wheat was precious, agriculture organised to save this part of the french harvest, and actually reaped the product of , acres. it was gallant work, done mostly by fighting men in the intervals between their turns in the trenches. sometimes the area to be reaped was under the fire and the observation of the enemy, and the crop was cut at night. the enemy used gas shells to prevent this work, and the reapers had to work in gas masks. one area of six acres of corn was so close to the enemy trenches that the idea of saving it seemed a desperate one. but volunteers were found, and one night seventeen men with scythes cleared the whole six acres, in the three hours of darkness that were available. i own that such acts of heroism impress me more than deeds done in the heat and ardour of battle. in the autumn of the enemy were in full run for the rhine, and the agriculture directorate resolved to make another attempt at cultivating a big farm. an area of , acres was chosen, this time near corbie. the site had been desolated by the somme battles, and the work of preliminary clearing (which was done by prisoners of war) was the hardest part of its preparation for agriculture. but when ploughing began with tractors other unexpected difficulties cropped up. the big armour-piercing shell with delay-action fuse, when it missed the emplacement for which it was designed and struck the ground, penetrated to a great depth, exploded there, and often formed a big subterranean cavern without showing any crater on the surface. a heavy tractor going over one of these caverns would break through and disappear. digging it out would then be a laborious task. when the armistice came the corbie farm was, in accordance with the wishes of the french government, passed over to it. so the agriculture directorate never got in a big crop of its own sowing. but it had done excellent work on its farm gardens and in saving the french crop within the battle area. forestry was another department which we owed to the german submarine war. in shipping losses were already so great as gravely to prejudice the prospects of bringing in timber from scandinavia. it was scandinavia which felt the earliest effects from the submarine campaign; norway, especially, which with fine courage had refused to allow its mercantile shipping to take refuge in harbour. the norwegian paper _tidens tegn_ published an optimistic statistical review of the position as regards germany's submarine war on october th, . this, covering a wide period and dealing with a mercantile service which the german pursued with particular venom, attracted great attention at the time. pointing out that for the week ending october th not one norwegian vessel was sunk by german submarines, the _tidens tegn_ commented that this was the first time for a year that such a thing could be said. it gave then in detail the record of u-boats' ravages on norwegian shipping from may, , until october, , the record showing a steady decrease of losses. but the sad truth was that the norwegian shipping had suffered such terrible losses that there was not much left of it to destroy. as early as november, , owing to the difficulties in getting scandinavian timber, we had decided to draw our timber supplies chiefly from the french forests and from switzerland, spain, and great britain. our forestry department started with a canadian lumber-men's unit. brig.-gen. lord lovat was director. in october, , a fresh agreement was made with the french government for the exploitation of french forests for the benefit of the allied armies. the magnitude of the operations can be gauged from the fact that the forestry directorate grew to officers and , of other ranks, and employed in addition about , prisoners of war. but perhaps the public, with whitehall departments in its mind's eye, may object that employment figures are no sound indication of work accomplished. but the production figures admit of no cavil. from november, , to november, , the forestry department produced from french forests , , tons of timber. this was four-fifths of the total needs of the army. reference will be found in a subsequent chapter to our shortage of barbed wire in the winter and spring of . forestry did a great deal to fill the gap, producing , tons of defensive pickets between february and may, . [illustration: at forestry h. q., the king and a mascot] in addition to its productive work forestry was a valuable directorate in the teaching of economy in forest exploitation. if the lessons it inculcated are not wasted, british forestry should benefit greatly in the future. * * * * * salvage, agriculture, and forestry were the three chief "economy directorates" of g.h.q.; and if their spirit can be carried back into civil life by the demobilised soldier it will prove of real value in making up for the economic wastage of the war, vast as that has been. i wonder if those people who are celebrating peace with a long-drawn-out carnival of slackness and extravagance recognise as clearly as we were made to do at g.h.q. in the extent to which the world is short of everything! of course it is difficult for those who are not accustomed to give close attention to the problems of production to appreciate how deeply a world war of four years' duration affects every industry; and especially so when on one side the war was waged on the principle of destroying everything that could be got at, whether it was military or civil property, whether it was an enemy or a neutral possession. germany, making a ruthless and unlimited war on "sink without trace" lines, forced practically the whole world to band against her in self-defence; and over practically the whole world labour and capital were largely withdrawn from production for purposes of defence. in the days when the builders of jerusalem worked with the trowel in one hand and the sword in the other, it may be concluded that progress was slow. for years a great deal of the world had the rifle in one hand and the gas mask in the other, figuratively or literally. it could do little in the way of normal production, because its chief energies were taken up with defence. in regard to any industry, trace step by step the effect of a war such as this war. the first and most palpable loss is that of the labour directly withdrawn for armies and navies. that would be serious enough if it were the sole loss. but it was only one of many losses. a modern industry depends as much almost on capital as on labour. capital was withdrawn from production and devoted to destruction at an appalling rate. that meant that industry was starved of machinery, of communications, of nutriment generally. like a human body deprived of proper nourishment, it began to suffer from debility. every neglect to replace machinery, to repair roads or to open up necessary new roads, every draft, too, made on the administrative staff, is just as much a weakening of an industry as the direct loss of hand workers. a healthy industry should be able to withstand for some time these losses, just as a healthy human body should be able to withstand some period of privation and even of actual starvation. but there is a limit to the power of endurance in both cases. it is quite clear that in many world industries (and most particularly in those industries which are connected with the great staples of human comfort, the food industries, the clothing industries, the transport industries) that limit was reached long before the war was over, and the world began to suffer from a constitutional enfeeblement of its powers of production; something more serious than the temporary interruption of production, something which makes now a restoration of prosperity difficult and tedious. all this is so true as to be truism. but it does not seem to be so clearly recognised by the people who stayed at home as by the people who went to war. perhaps as the returned soldier makes his influence felt more strongly he will have his value in bringing the nation to a sense of the duty of economy. it was not possible to have two views about the need of economy when you had to forage the battlefield for old bits of metal and rags. chapter x. the comforts of the force--spiritual and other. the padres--the semi-religious organisations--e.f.c. comforts--studying the fighting man--the great beer save. "there has never been an army that had more chaplains, or that needed them less." that was the verdict of one american observer on the british army--a sound one. the british army was notably well supplied with chaplains--"padres" as the soldier knows them; but this was not in answer to a call for spiritual leaders to combat a special degree of wickedness. quite the contrary. the army was a very well-behaved, sober-minded institution on the whole, as if it recognised the solemnity of its task and fitted its conduct accordingly. to this fact the french population can bear witness. the french villagers among whom the british soldiers have been quartered came to a view of them which was once eloquently expressed: "they are lions in the trenches and lambs in the villages." so the padre went out for duty with the troops having no task of leading a forlorn hope against ramping wickedness. his trouble was rather in the other direction. "i don't see how i can have the 'front' to preach to these men," said a padre attached to an artillery division one day: "i'd rather they preached to me." it really was a difficult task--that of the padre at the front, and only the best type of clergyman made a success of it. his attitude to life had to be manly, his character brave. but the padre who ran risks just for the sake of running them was often more of a bother than a help. the best padre's spirit was that of the careful soldier who will face any danger that comes in the way of duty, but will not go looking for danger in a spirit of bravado. the padre could make two mistakes. he could take things too easily and just be a parson available to conduct divine service when he was wanted to; or he could try to do too much, to interfere too much and become a nuisance in the fighting line. the good padre struck the happy mean. he had the knack of being there when he was wanted, but he recognised that the army's first duty was to fight, and he did not get in the way of its fighting activities. above all he did not try to arrange a church parade for the morning after tired troops from the line had reached rest billets. one of the most successful padres in france was known as "the lost sheep." he had a mess to which he was properly attached and this mess was responsible for having a comfortable billet for him. but he was rarely "at home." he wandered all over the district, picking up a meal here and there and sleeping wherever he found himself after dinner. at first it was thought to be fecklessness on his part. as a matter of fact it was artfulness. moving about as he did, taking a meal and a bed anywhere, he got to know everybody and found out who needed him as padre. the actual organisation of the padre service was a little difficult for the layman to understand. the "principal chaplain" with the forces was a presbyterian clergyman, the rev. j. m. simms. under him came all the padres, including roman catholic priests, except the padres of the church of england, who had a separate organisation under a deputy chaplain general, bishop gwynne, who had been bishop of khartoum before the war. what was the exact reason for the division of authority i could never quite make out. there was no ill-feeling at all or jealousy between the various padres. the principal chaplain had his headquarters at montreuil and was a regular visitor to the officers' club. the deputy chaplain general had his headquarters at paris plage. of the typical padre it was said that he was responsible for at least as many sports meetings in rest camps as divine services, but was a genuinely spiritual man withal. there was credited to one the aphorism that the men did so much worshipful work in the trenches that in rest camps the first thing to be rightly thought of was relaxation. g.h.q. staff i fear were poor church-goers. the commander-in-chief set a good example by attending divine service almost every sunday at montreuil, but most of the staff officers followed the maxim "_laborare est orare_" and were at their desks on sunday. the padres understood the position and there were no reproaches. at meals at the officers' club there were always a few padres. we were not expected to make too much concession to "the cloth" in the way of conversation, and the average padre stood his chaffing with the best of them. i noted one, who had a rather pontifical manner (though he was a thoroughly good fellow at heart), take a hard hit in a sporting fashion. the conversation had turned on lord roberts' campaign before the war to try to arouse the british people to a sense of the imminence of the war and the necessity of preparation. the padre blundered in with: "it seems to me that lord roberts and his friends must have been singularly lacking in clearness of argument and persuasiveness seeing that, knowing the truth as they did yet they were not able to convince the people." "yes," retorted an officer, "arguing on the same lines, quite a number of excellent gentlemen seem to have been singularly lacking in clearness of argument and persuasiveness for nearly , years, seeing that, knowing the greatest truth of all, they have not yet been able to convince the world." the padre took it in the right spirit and owned that it is not necessarily a reflection on a preacher if his hearers will not listen. lord roberts' name was venerated by most officers, and the army was glad that when the time came for the good old man to lay down his sword it was from among old comrades at g.h.q. that he passed away. * * * * * in addition to the padre service the british soldier in the field had a great number of semi-spiritual organisations looking after him. these followed a sound rule, generally, of providing hot coffee and harmless recreation as the best missionary work. g.h.q. recognised the y.m.c.a., the church army and the salvation army as semi-religious agencies, and all these bodies did excellent work in providing rest huts and reading and recreation rooms for the troops, and thus keeping them out of mischief when they had idle times. satan, when he came roaming round, found the british army well dug in, and plenty of wire out. to some proposed forms of guarding the welfare of the soldier g.h.q. had to refuse sanction. there were many cranks with very curious notions on this point. perhaps the most remarkable proposal was that which came from a lady, the goodness of whose intentions was obvious but who had "a marked moral strabismus," as a scots doctor pawkily observed. she wanted to form an organisation of ladies (and said she could do so) to meet soldiers at the ports of disembarkation and take them to homes where would be provided all the comforts of domesticity. i believe that some such organisation once actually existed in an eastern country whilst it was at war. but so far as the b.e.f. was concerned it had to be discouraged. the last line of entrenchments against ennui and discomfort was provided by that wonderful organisation the expeditionary force canteens. it provided for officers and men cheap shops, good rest and recreation centres, and for officers excellent hotels. the officer thus had never to wander to strange places. from the expeditionary force canteens during the greater part of the time you could buy cigars, cigarettes, chocolate, sweets, all kinds of canned goods and so on, duty free, and at prices far lower than those of the london shops. whisky and beer could be bought, too, duty free, under some restrictions. the e.f.c. was, in short, the great comfort-bringer to the soldier at the front. i say comfort-bringer, for all necessities were supplied by rations. just consider what tommy got from the country he was serving: an ample supply of meat (fresh meat in the main), and bacon and cheese, of bread, and of biscuit; a fair supply of vegetables, of butter, of jam, of tea, milk and sugar; a moderate supply of tobacco and cigarettes; a small ration of rum. i know from my own experience that one could live excellently on the men's rations. nothing was actually needed to supplement them. but comforts, well, they were comforting; and the e.f.c. by bringing them almost up to the front trenches (as they did) helped materially to win the war. the expeditionary force canteens organisation was formed early in for the supply of canteen facilities to the troops in the field. its operations commenced in france, but were subsequently extended to all theatres of war. the undertaking was from its commencement conducted by sir alexander w. prince and colonel f. benson, both of whom patriotically gave their services. in due course the organisation took on various other functions, but its canteen business alone made it by far the biggest shopping concern in the world. the "supplies and shipping" department of the e.f.c. had for canteens alone an average annual turnover of approximately , , francs. from three to four thousand lines appeared on the stock sheets, ranging from a packet of pins to officers' equipment. the tonnage handled was enormous, and during the month of november, , it reached nearly twelve thousand tons, representing , cases. but the record week was that ending march th, , just prior to the great german offensive, when , tons of canteen supplies were landed, and a turnover amounting to , , francs was reached. the tonnage off-loaded for the year was , tons, and comprised over three million packages. here is a table of figures of total sales at canteens and depôts:-- half-year ended francs. june, , , december, , , june, , , december, , , june, , , december, , , june, , , december, , , ----------- total to end of december, , , ----------- the e.f.c. was in business for the good of the troops, not to make profits for anyone. all profits that were earned will go back to the soldiers. but profits were kept to a strict minimum. by a happy decision prices for the same goods were the same on every front. you bought a tin of tobacco at baghdad for the same price as at boulogne. thus the soldier on the more comfortable nearer-home fronts was able to feel that the little percentage of profit charged to him was helping his mate in mesopotamia. yet another fine feature of the e.f.c. work was that it served the man in the front line first and the man at the base second. in - the shipping position was so bad that economies had to be effected in every possible direction. e.f.c. supplies had to suffer with the rest, and the complaint came that what supplies did come over were largely absorbed at base and on lines of communication, and the men in the front line got very little. the q.m.g. got rid of that complaint very simply. an order went out that: ( ) certain luxuries which were in very short supply should go only to front area canteens and not at all to the base; ( ) other goods should go in the proportion of four to front areas and one to the base. as a consequence our montreuil canteens were very poorly stocked, for g.h.q. of course did not count as a front area. but the simple justice of the step was recognised. in , the home government was forced to the conclusion that the shipping position was so bad that no more beer could be consigned to the troops. beer was a very bulky article and its shipping space must be saved. g.h.q. did not like the prospect of stopping the soldiers' beer just at a time when they had plenty of other troubles. perhaps g.h.q. remembered a much earlier b.e.f. in flanders in the reign of henry viii., which did very badly until that great war minister, cardinal wolsey, took the matter of supplies in hand and saw that the army was well supplied not only with arrows but with beef and beer. thereafter that early b.e.f. retrieved its reputation. it occurred to g.h.q., b.e.f., , that whilst beer is a very bulky article, most of the bulk is water. accordingly the q.m.g. took over, in part or in whole, breweries in our army areas and arranged to brew beer locally, importing only from england the malt and the hops, which were not particularly bulky. i do not know whether the decision of the home government was in part a concession to teetotalism and in part only governed by shipping considerations. if so the teetotallers were disappointed. the british army in continued to number beer among its comforts. on the whole ours was the most comforted and comfortable army in the field, as all _liaison_ officers from allied units agreed. the americans were as well off in most respects, but being a "dry" army interfered somewhat with the comfort of its majority. the average american was not a teetotaller and did not object to wine and beer or even an occasional whisky. at his own canteens he had to be. the french of course always had a wine ration, but in other respects their "comforts" were not up to our standard. the privilege that was extended to french _liaison_ officers of dealing at our canteens was very highly appreciated. chapter xi. the labour auxiliaries. the queer ways of the chinks--how to bury a chinaman properly--the q.m.a.a.c.s and their fine record--other types of labour auxiliaries--the labour directorate. the great war revived, to a degree that few dream of, methods of very old campaigns, when the hero had his attendant myrmidons and the spartan foot soldier his helots. study a "ration strength" return of the b.e.f., france, , and discover how the actual fighting men in trench or gun-pit had to be supported not only by base soldiers but by british non-combatant labour companies, by french civilian labour companies, by q.m.a.a.c.s, by prisoner-of-war labour companies, by indian, west indian, fijian, and chinese labour companies. it was a big business, this organisation of the labour behind the fighting area. chinese labour was of very notable help to the british army. at its best it was the most efficient and hard-working force imaginable. at its worst it was at least a good source of fun. the chinaman came over to the war with very definite ideas of making as good a thing out of it as possible. "i sell my labour" was his formula in signing the contract, and, though he probably would not recognise as his own the old british law formula _caveat emptor_, that was the principle on which he acted. if the buyer of his labour was fool enough to pay the price and not get the work that was the buyer's look-out. every chinese coolie on arrival (as we soon found out) was "put wise" by the representative of his secret society, his "tong," that "this is a good place. you have only to pretend to work." he acted on that, and unless the people in charge knew how to deal with chinese, so little was done as to make the most finished british exponent of "ca-canny" go green with envy. but, given an officer who knew his business, knew how to get the chinese headmen to get the chinese coolies to work, and the results were splendid. the chinaman knew that by his contract he was not to suffer war risks, that he was not supposed to work under shell-fire, and he was soon sufficiently advanced to interpret an occasional air bombardment as "shell-fire," and to give it as a reason for demanding more pay. as a rule he was willing to take risks, if he were paid extra. when sick or wounded he was a great nuisance, for if a chinaman died of sickness whilst in charge of the white man the conclusion was that he had been done to death. ordinarily a sick chinaman demobilised two workers--himself and some member of his own secret society who had to accompany him to hospital to see that all was fair. the most earnest effort was therefore made to keep the chinaman from dying, not only from ordinary motives of humanity, but because as a corpse he was an even greater nuisance. a british soldier might be buried in a blanket, but the chinese dead had to have wooden coffins, and their graveyards had to be chosen with great care--preferably in a valley with a stream running through it. all this to satisfy the spiritual world of the chinese, which seems to be very exigent in such matters. the official instructions regarding chinese graves stated: "the ideal site to secure repose and drive away evil spirits is on sloping ground with a stream below, or gully down which water always or occasionally passes. the grave should not be parallel to the n.s.e. or w. this is specially important to chinese mohammedans. it should be about four feet deep, with the head towards the hill and the feet towards the water. a mound of earth about two feet high is piled over the grave." in matters of finance the chinaman was also a little bothersome. he had to have his pay right down on the nail; he distrusted any white man's savings-bank or any system of deferred pay. in time chinese savings-banks were instituted, and these solved the difficulty that the chinaman would not let the white paymaster keep his money for him, and if he had it in personal custody gambled it away. keener even than his passion for gambling was the chinaman's passion for decoration. was it in a sense of real fun on his part or was it an accident that his taste for decoration culminated in the two "grand passions"--an australian hat and a scotsman's kilt? if either of these came within his reach the chinaman knew real bliss. one chinaman who managed to get hold of both at once, and paraded a base town in their joint glory for a full half-hour was the legendary hero of all the chinese coolies in france. of course to be in possession of an unauthorised article of military equipment was an offence, and the chinaman going out in a kilt or an australian hat, or a general's red-haloed cap, knew that he was in for severe punishment. that was no deterrent if his ingenuity could secure, by theft or purchase, such glory. as often as it did the chinaman was quite willing to stand the subsequent racket. one chinese coolie used to light up a quarter of boulogne with a decoration that challenged military discipline successfully. he had secured one of those brass basins still used in places as barbers' signs, had fixed this on his ordinary coolie hat, polished it resplendently, and sported it with celestial pride. his was the brassiest hat of any brass hat in france; but the basin was not an article of military equipment, and authority decided to wink at it. in a hot sun you had to wink with both eyes. discipline was good with the chinese coolies if the controlling officers knew their business and took care to "save face" of the headmen of the gangs. an officer had to see that the headman did not fool him or ill-treat the coolies and then to back up the headman always. if the coolies got to think that the headman was out of favour with the white boss nothing could be done with them. in matters of prohibitions the chinese language showed a strange inadequacy. it was decided to forbid smoking in labour camps, and a notice "smoking is prohibited," was printed in english, german, and chinese, to be affixed in the compounds. after some months a distinguished visitor, who was (or thought he was) skilled in the chinese language, pointed out to high authority that the literal translation of the chinese notice was "do not get caught smoking." the educated chinese who had drawn up the notice originally was sent for. he blandly insisted that that was the only way to say "smoking is prohibited," in chinese, and that the chinese coolie would understand nothing else. on the whole the chinaman was a cheerful soul. he organised his own theatrical companies and enjoyed those interminable chinese operas which are familiar to travellers in the east and to visitors to the chinese quarters of american or australian cities. the "chink" gambled as much as the regulations allowed him to. but he could stand up to a hard day's work with constant cheerfulness, and, apart from his craze for some prohibited military decoration, contrived to make his uniform picturesque enough. the barber was an important unit of every camp, for chinese head-dressing is a matter of complicated ritual. taking one consideration with another, chinese labour in france was a success. it released many scores of thousands of men for the fighting line. if the germans had not thrown in their hand at the time they did, it is probable that another , coolies would have been recruited in china for france, though most other types of coloured labour were being dispensed with as not being worth while. chinese labour has a way of cropping up in british history. it might have lost the mother country a whole continent of colonies at one time, when sir henry parkes, a leonine norfolk peasant who had become prime minister for new south wales, dared great britain to veto australian exclusion of chinese immigrants. later it loomed, with vast possibilities of mischief, over south african history. in the great war chinese labour appeared again, but this time with no sinister threat of trouble, but very helpful in matters of railway-building and ship-building, and lightening, with a touch of celestial humour, the grim business of putting the german in his place. the labour directorate had control not only of chinese labour but of all other non-combatant working units, except the w.a.a.c.s (or q.m.a.a.c.s as they came to be called when, as a reply to base gossip about their morals, queen mary took nominal command of the corps and they became queen mary's army auxiliary corps). distinctly cruel--though it was probably not meant to be cruel and was only thoughtlessness--was the gossip about the w.a.a.c.s. according to some london scandal-mongers a very large proportion of the corps qualified for a maternity hospital almost as soon as they got to france. as a matter of fact the standard of conduct among them was very high. they represented at least the average of british womanhood, probably they were ahead of the average, and it would be a libel on our race to discredit them with a charge of looseness. nor was it a fact that the w.a.a.c.s were in a position unusually open to temptation; it was quite the contrary. they were busy. the soldiers among whom they worked were busy, and it wasn't a case of the devil having idle hands at his mercy. further, the system of supervision was well thought out and excellently administered. the w.a.a.c.s had better guardianship than in the average british home. they lived in settlements, with their own recreation rooms. these settlements were strictly out of bounds for soldiers. all private houses, cafés, restaurants, etc., were "out of bounds" to the w.a.a.c.s. nor could a w.a.a.c. "walk out" with a soldier in her leisure time except by permission of her officer. at g.h.q. there were very few w.a.a.c. clerks or telephone orderlies; but there was a little band of w.a.a.c. waitresses at the officers' club. a better set of girls it would be hard to find, and it is hardly necessary to say that they were always treated with respect and courtesy by the officers. a saying at g.h.q. was that if you wanted to be sent away suddenly there were two short courses to that undesirable end: one, to curse your general to his face in public, the other to be caught winking at a w.a.a.c. g.h.q. did not wink at the w.a.a.c.s. we had too much respect for them, too much gratitude for the spirit of sportsmanship and patriotism that led them to come out to france to lead a dull and laborious life for our comfort. it is difficult to imagine what a touch of "england, home and beauty" those deft young women gave after experience of soldier orderlies as waiters. from personal knowledge i can only speak of the w.a.a.c.s at g.h.q. but i had the best of means of judging their general standard of conduct throughout france. in case of a lapse from grace a w.a.a.c. was retired from the corps, her uniform was withdrawn and she had a grant of £ to enable her to buy a civilian costume. there were not many cases of that £ being paid. but the w.a.a.c.s, as i have said, did not come under the labour directorate but under their own administrator. every one else whose job was to work rather than to fight did, and that made "labour" an extraordinarily interesting department. it had under its control: (_a_) the labour corps, including: (_i_) labour companies. (_ii_) divisional employment companies. (_iii_) area employment companies. (_b_) canadian labour battalions. (_c_) middlesex (alien) labour companies. (_d_) south african native labour corps. (_e_) cape coloured battalion. (_f_) egyptian labour corps. (_g_) chinese labour corps. (_h_) fijian labour detachment. (_i_) indian labour corps. (_j_) non-combatant corps. (_k_) prisoner of war companies. (_l_) french and belgian civilian labour. the core of the organisation was british loyal labour, men who were too old or too decrepit to fight but who "did their bit" behind the lines, making roads or working at various army jobs. these were excellent stout fellows, and as they did not object to taking the risk of death for their country, they could be, and were, employed in areas of danger. another type of british labour, not so admirable, were the conscientious objectors. a few groups of these were employed in france as burial parties, etc. yet another type was known as the middlesex contingent--why that county should have been associated with them i know not. they were men british-born but of german parentage, whose loyalty was suspect. they could not be trusted in the army; they were used for some types of labour, but were not allowed near ammunition dumps or other points where they might do mischief. second in order of merit came french and belgian civilian labour, men too old or decrepit for the fighting line, but willing to work for a wage. it was a condition of their employment that they should not be stationed within range of long-distance shell fire, but this condition was sometimes relaxed at their own wish and with the consent of the french government. at first the british army insured these french workers against accident, illness, and death through the french state insurance department. subsequently it was found more economical to insure them directly. german prisoners of war labour was under the labour directorate, and in the organisation of it some very good work was done. prisoners were very plentiful from onwards, and the labour directorate, when a new push was mooted, made its plans to have skeleton prisoners-of-war companies ready to be filled by the new prisoners as they arrived. i think the record was in one case when three days after some germans arrived at our "cages," they were at work on the roads at the rear of the army. it was the law that prisoners of war should not be employed anywhere near the firing line, and on the british side this law was very strictly observed. my impression of the germans as road labourers was not very favourable. they seemed to loaf as much as they could. but some of the german prisoners of the artisan class did excellent work in our various shops and factories at base. in tailoring shops, motor repair shops, etc., there were many german prisoners who seemed to take a delight in intelligent industry. german prisoners were very well treated and got on very well with their guards. now to the various classes of coloured labour. the chinese i have already dealt with. they were quite the most satisfactory on the whole. the indian labour was willing enough but did not stand the climate so well. kaffir labour proved on the whole unsatisfactory, and so did egyptian labour. a west indian contingent did fairly good work. a model lot were the fijians, all volunteers (and all christians, by the way), and wonderfully good stevedores. unfortunately there were very few of them and they did not stand the climate well. one of the fijian labour corps left his studies at oxford university to join up. the labour organisation had two main objects: (a) to release the fighting soldier for his legitimate work. (b) to assist the services and departments to carry out their tasks. nine hours was the normal working day, exclusive of the time occupied for meals and for going to and from the place of work. if the distance from the place of parade to the work was more than - / miles, the time taken to march the excess distance was deducted from the hours of work. for labour of low medical category the normal working day was eight hours. excellent work was done by the labour corps. its _morale_ was carefully studied and it was part of the instructions to officers that: all ranks should have briefly explained to them the object of the work, for what, and by whom, it will be used, what purpose it will serve, and, especially, that all the work is being done for the prosecution of the war and is not merely a "fatigue." a few minutes spent in rousing the men's interest in their work is usually time well spent. a healthy spirit of emulation should be created by pointing out the quantity of work of any kind which should be done per day, and the amount done by other and better companies. above all the men must be made to understand that whether they are working on time, or on task work, no slacking can be allowed. the men in the fighting line depend on the men of the labour corps to keep them supplied with all they require. our allies are just as anxious for victory as we are. the french and the belgians have suffered more than we have, but, in spite of it, never complain. hence they should receive every consideration at our hands. as we are in their countries we should respect their customs and wishes as much as we can. in all our relations with any of our allies, it is obviously desirable for us to be polite and courteous in our dealings with them. it must be borne in mind that every misunderstanding or unpleasantness tends to weaken our alliance and to help the enemy. the labour directorate, with many different races to manage, their religions and food habits to study, had one of the difficult tasks of the war; and carried it out on the whole very well. the chiefs of the directorate in my time at g.h.q. were colonel (now general) e. g. wace, lieut.-col. s. g. l. bradley, and lieut.-col. h. a. h. newington, with colonel fairfax as adviser, chinese labour, and colonel pritchard as adviser, south african labour. the staff was about equally divided between big business men and typical oxford men. it was always a pleasure at dinner to sit at the same table with the "labour" people. they hunted, or rather dined, in couples as a rule, a leading light of the commercial world pairing off with one of the "oxford group." so one could always reckon on good talk and argument from opposite points of view. at the summit of its strength the labour corps mustered , , a great army in itself, and it had representatives of almost every european nationality, chinese, west indians, pacific islanders, kaffirs, zulus, burmese, egyptians, maltese and almost every indian race including nagas, pathans, chins, manipuris, bengalis and santals. and the labour corps' patriotism cost it dear at times; for sometimes it had over a thousand casualties in a month. [illustration: photo by bassano ltd. brig-general e. g. wace (controller of labour)] chapter xii. g.h.q. and the "new army." what g.h.q. thought of the "temporaries"--old prejudices and their reason--the material of the "new armies"--some "new army" officers who did not play the game--the regular army trade union accepts its "dilutees." what did g.h.q., whose view may be taken as the authoritative one, think in of what used to be known as "the new army?" g.h.q. in represented in the main the pick of the old regular army. nearly all its senior officers were "regulars." the majority of the junior officers were "temporaries." what was the feeling between them after the mutual knowledge that the years had brought? often i talked this over at dinner, sometimes with men whose opinions i had known in and . there was h----, for instance, who, in those early years of the war, was an unsparing critic of the "new army" which was, he used to say then, slovenly and a makeshift sort of show and could not salute properly, and suffered, and always would suffer, from the "non-military mind." the non-military mind, according to him, was an affliction which was born in one, like original sin, and could only be exorcised by going to a military academy and becoming a regular soldier. i used to be very meek and long-suffering with him (he was senior to me) and only occasionally mentioned people like blake (a civilian whom cromwell made a general, and afterwards an admiral, and a right good general and a right better admiral he was) or non-militarily-minded men like botha and smuts. but to what argument i did venture upon he was impervious. i noted that fact for him and quoted it as, perhaps, a characteristic of the mind which was _not_ non-military. and altogether we had some charming quarrels, as amusing, almost, as those of old men in their clubs, who if they could not bicker could not digest their dinners, and then where would they be? now h---- takes it all back. he is at last convinced that the new army is all right. of course it is. why should it not be? is not the british empire all right? and is not the new army a sort of representative assembly of the british empire? g.h.q. in saw clearly enough that never before in the history of any empire was such splendid raw material for an army gathered together as in great britain in - . there were things to offend dainty tastes in the recruiting campaign of which the new armies were the harvest. but nothing can spoil the value of the result, that many hundreds of thousands of the best men who ever served in an army joined the colours. judge the new army by the standard of the "regulars." the soldiers of the first expeditionary force (the "regulars," the men who, despite the booming of certain special units, did the greater part of the heroic work of lord french's command up to loos) have proved themselves so nobly that it is possible to say now, without fear of offence, that if they had been judged as individuals before they joined the army, they might not have been held to represent the best average of the british people. there is nothing ungracious in saying this now, when even the furious and blinded foe is compelled to admit their excellent virtue. the men of the old regular army themselves would admit almost unanimously that it was the army that made them, and that they occasionally took the king's shilling for lack of prospect of another shilling. the people of england must confess, on their part, that they rather boasted of "not being a military nation" and were content with an army system which did not seek to levy fairly upon the average manhood of the nation but trusted chiefly to the patriotism and instinct for rule of an officer class. the material of the ranks was not bad material, nor even poor material. the british blood is a good brew. for it has tapped the most adventurous and hardiest veins of the celt, the anglo-saxon, the scandinavian, and the norman; and this british blood learned by some subtle alchemy to draw always fresh savour and wholesomeness from the girdling sea. put out of consideration a few criminal degenerates, and the mentally emasculated politicians who used to preach the gospel of no nationalism, and no british stock is actually bad stock, as can be seen from the superb young nations that have sprung, partly from its lees, in the dominions. but the raw material of the new armies represented a great improvement on the raw material from which was built up the old army. other things being equal, therefore, the new armies could be expected to beat the expeditionary force. other things, unfortunately, were not equal, such as officers' education and time of training. but in all the circumstances the new armies, after some blooding, might be expected to attain, and actually did attain, the high standard set in the field by the british regular. the material of the new armies was such as no recruiting sergeant in could have hoped to secure. in a fairly typical batch of recruits which i had to take over one day were engine-fitters, brass finishers, coal miners, agricultural labourers, gamekeepers, two foremen, one compositor, one valet, one pugilist (a champion), one stud groom, one cycle mechanic, one clerk. the wages of these men before they joined was high, and only two out of thirty-eight had been of the "usually unemployed" class. among these men, accustomed to the discipline of the workshop, many of them with experience as gangers or foremen, possible non-commissioned officers were sprinkled thickly. i have seen batches of recruits for the old army just when they joined, and they looked usually rather forlorn--men accustomed to be unemployed, men at a loose end, disappointed men, with just a sprinkling of eager men taking to the soldier's life for the love of it. only after three months of the wholesome life, the wholesome food, the kindly discipline of the army, would they fairly compare in physique, manhood, and intelligence with the recruits of the new armies. a well-marked stream coming to join the flood of new army recruits was that of british men from overseas. the british blood is strangely responsive to the magic of the seas. send a careless young englishman abroad to australia, south africa, or to some foreign land such as china or the argentine, and the salt air of the seas as he traverses them seems to set tingling in his blood a new keenness of imperial pride. his outlook comes closer to that of the elizabethan englishman. perhaps it is from the first actual consciousness of what it means to be one of a nation which is mistress of the seas. perhaps one must seek deeper for a more transcendental explanation, finding it in something analogous to the greek myth of the giant who renewed his strength whenever he touched mother earth. let the reason be what it may, the fact is clear enough. of british men abroad--i speak now of british born, not of those born citizens of the dominions--one can dare the guess that ninety-nine out of a hundred turned their thoughts at once to the joy of service on the outbreak of this war. in a city of china i know there were young englishmen in various commercial houses. of them came away home to the war. in most cases it meant abandoning their positions and all their future prospects. money was scarce, and the little band travelled steerage. to realise how great a sacrifice that was, one must know the tropics and the disgusts of having coolies for fellow-travellers. from the argentine, from canada and the united states, from new zealand and australia, the english streamed home to serve. from such a place as the argentine there was almost a stampede of british men of fighting age. starting with a big handicap of quality in their favour, the men of the new armies very soon found that it was all necessary if, within the much briefer time allowed them to become fit for the fighting line, they were to succeed in keeping level with the soldiers who would be their comrades. the recruits of the old regular army before the war came into an organisation which was officered, from brigade generals down to junior subalterns, by specialists. officers were drawn mostly from a class with a tradition of rule, and were given a very close training. those who came in as officers from circles which had not that tradition were in a minority, and during their course of training learned to conform to the pattern set. very much of the success of the british army has been due to the qualities of courage, coolness, and _noblesse oblige_ of the officers. as a class they gave the best of leads--a far better lead than did the generally domineering, sometimes brutal, german officers. the recruits to the new armies did not have the advantage of coming to an organisation fully officered by men with this tradition of command and technical knowledge of their work. they had to rely for officers on material which was slightly poorer on the average. the officers of the new armies came from five sources:-- . a few officers spared from units at the front and devoting themselves to the dull but glorious duty of helping on the new men. these were usually first class. . "dug-outs." a "dug-out" is not a form of entrenchment or shelter but an officer who, having completed, as he thought, his soldier's work, volunteered back to service in the new army. some of the dug-outs were up to the standard of the regular army and, having kept abreast of modern military progress, were able to "take post" from the outset. other dug-outs were more or less behind-hand with modern military science. a few were frankly deplorable. but the "dug-out" in the majority of cases made an excellent officer after a little schooling (sometimes without). lots of him were at g.h.q. sometimes he proved valuable only for the preliminary work of regimental organisation, and was then remorselessly passed over when his unit was finally put into shape for the front. he bombarded the war office with furious protests, then took up the licking into shape of another raw unit. . promoted non-commissioned officers from the regular force, nearly always proficient in their technical work, and in the majority of cases with also a sound instinct of leadership. . recruited officers from the universities and the public schools. almost invariably they had a sense of leadership. they had learned a tradition of rule. in most cases they soon learned the technical part of their work. . recruited officers from the bulk of the community: in many cases very good; sometimes just passing muster; in a few cases distinctly poor. the necessity of a weeding-out was soon recognised. summing up in regard to the officers of the new armies it has to be admitted that they came below the standard of the expeditionary force, but not much below the standard: and that they got to the standard of the territorials. put to the test of getting a post at g.h.q., which was supposed to be the crowning test of efficiency, the new army officers did not do badly. i made a rough poll one night at the club dinner. more than half the officers present were "new army" men. in what may be called "specialist" branches new army men predominated. the very wide sweep of the net which gathered in recruits gave the new armies a very varied stock of knowledgeable men to draw upon. the ideal army officer should be, besides a gentleman and a skilled tactician, a good horse-master, a good house-keeper, and a clever mechanician, able to train men, to repair a telephone, a saddle, a cooking-pot or a wagon. no one man can have all that knowledge in perfection, but with the new armies it was possible to get within a unit men trained in civil life to every form of skill wanted. a regiment, with average luck, would have recruits from the most varied industries and trades, and the picked specialists in time got to "staff jobs" as a rule. * * * * * the "regular" in and early was, i suppose, pretty generally convinced that there was not much hope in the "temporary." especially was this conviction firm in the mind of the very junior regular. the "shop" boy, the young second lieutenant just from woolwich, had a blighting scorn for the "temporary," whom he called a "kitchener" and often affected to regard as not an officer at all but some sort of stranger whom you had to admit to mess and tolerate in uniform because authority said so, but who obviously was not a "pukka" military man, for he could not talk about his "year" or exchange stories about wonderful "rags." the average senior regular probably thought very much the same sort of thing, but, having cut his wisdom teeth, did not allow it to show so palpably. there was a certain amount of justification for this feeling, for the advent of the huge number of "new" officers made a vast change in the social conditions of the army. it soon became obviously necessary that the temporary "pip-squeak" should come under a severely motherly eye--that of the war office and of various private philanthropic agencies who would have us all dull and good (and if we cannot be both we can be the one at least). that eye then also glared upon the temporary lieutenant and other temporary officers of more exalted grade, and also, to their intense disgust, on permanent officers, who professed to understand why the "temporary" should be the victim of sumptuary regulation, but not the "pukka commission" man. all these officers agreed that it was the wickedness of the temporary second lieutenant (otherwise mr. pip-squeak) that had caused all the trouble, and could not understand why authority did not recognise this view and make their new rules apply only to the most junior officers. but the rain of rules fell on the just and the unjust alike, and some of the just were wroth. i could sympathise a good deal, even if i laughed a good deal more, at the officer who found himself "treated like a child," as he put it. the dignity of the position of a british officer in the old regular army _qua_ officer was remarkable. his officer's rank gave him the confidence of his banker, of his tradesmen, of society generally. to see a british officer in uniform with doubtful company or under doubtful circumstances was almost unknown. the tradition of the officer clan was jealously guarded by the system of training. when at last, having got his commission, mr. regular pip-squeak reported to his regiment in the old days he found himself still very much in leading strings. until he had won six months' standing his safest attitude, even in mess, was that of "don't speak unless you are spoken to." justice he could expect from his brother officers, and sympathy too, but the sympathy was tempered by severe snubbings to restrain any tendencies to effervescence. above all things, he was trained to respect his uniform; and as he had generally the right to wear mufti when off duty, this high respect was more easy than in war time, when uniform had to be almost constantly worn. with the first recruiting of the new armies, commissions were freely issued to men with no training, and in some few cases with no manners. for a little while a bewildered public did not appreciate the change, and bankers, tradesmen, hosts, had some unhappy experiences. but what may be called the "commercial" aspect of the question was soon put right. officers' rank ceased to give credit rights. socially, the readjustment was far less easy. the war office was at last compelled to assist that process of readjustment with various restrictive orders. "we have been asking for it," commented one officer grimly when some particularly repressive regulations were published. and without a doubt we had been asking for it--that is to say the conduct of some officers had made not merely advisable but necessary a degree of motherly (or grandmotherly) supervision. exhortation preceded regulation by many months. afterwards commissions were only granted after some service or a cadet term of training. but the stringent regulations, which offended the dignity of some "regulars," remained. it was not that a milk-sop standard was aimed at. it was not the case that leave was only given to go out to mothers' meetings, sewing circles, and high teas in presbyteries. it was recognised that boys will be boys. but there is a time when parents must be parents; and the war office was in this case _in loco parentis_. * * * * * but all that in was an old tale and mostly a forgotten tale. at g.h.q. there was no scorn at all left for the temporary who had done his share of fighting, even when he joined the scarlet-tabbed ranks of the elect. he was accepted as a brother officer with the fullest cordiality. "very much more interesting show, the army is now," confessed one regular colonel to me. "talk in mess now _is_ talk. you've no idea how solemn and stuffy a regular mess could be, say in india or in a garrison town." there remained a little good-humoured chaff still for the temporary who had jumped to a high appointment without any real soldier life at all. brigadier-general ----, the eminent expert in ----, who became a general very suddenly, was reported to go around partly in dreadful, partly in proud anticipation of a guard turning out for him when he wandered from g.h.q. area. the chaff was good-humoured. it was never put under the nose of its object. so it did not do much harm. in truth i was struck by the general good temper with which the trade union of officers ultimately took its "dilutees." but without a doubt the officers' trade union, or rather the amalgamated society of officers, non-commissioned officers, and men of the regular army, was rather inclined to give the cold shoulder to the "dilutees" in lord kitchener's time. these new army people had not put in their proper term of apprenticeship, had not paid their union fees. should they be treated as full members of the society? but that feeling died away as the blood-bond of a stubborn campaign broadened and stiffened. it could not even be kept alive by the somewhat silly advertisement in some quarters of territorial units and new army units and colonial units at the expense of their regular brethren. [illustration: the boulogne gate from the town] chapter xiii. g.h.q. and the dominion armies. our parliament at the club--a discussion of the dominions, particularly of australia--is the englishman shy or stand-offish?--how the "anzacs" came to be--the empire after the war. it was quite a little parliament in its way, the officers' club at montreuil, and one of its pet subjects of discussion was the dominion soldier and the effect that the campaign would have on british imperial relations. the talk covered a wide field and was sprinkled with anecdotes; it came up many evenings out of all sorts of incidents. "the dominion men, many of them, are too touchy," says an officer who has come back from a _liaison_ visit. "a canadian officer--the talk arising out of i do not know what incident--complained to me to-day: 'the canadians do not seem to take on with the english.' 'well, the canadians have a very taking way with them at the front,' i replied, hoping the allusion to vimy ridge would soothe him. but it didn't. i hear from the australians, too, the same complaint--that the english people 'do not like them.'" "what greedy young men they are," comments another. "what more do they want than the abject anzac-worship and canadian-worship among the british people? if anything ever went to the heart of the old mother country and dimmed her spectacles for her, it was the way in which the colonial troops came into the fighting line." a dominion officer at the table hazards that the british do seem "stand-offish" until you know them. a british officer explains that the english are a shy people and a people with a high ideal of personal liberty and individualism; that the englishman loves a corner seat in a train not so much because it is more comfortable but because it leaves his shyness, and his desire to keep himself to himself, safe on one side; that he does not like to be bothered, that he is very shy from the fear of bothering other people. "those cold english passing you awkwardly by, my huffy australians or canadians, are very proud of you, and they do not go up to shake you by the hand and say so because they fear you would take it as a liberty." a staff officer who did _liaison_ work between australians and the british during the first battle of the somme thinks that one of the results of the somme was the moulding during its course of a truly imperial army. forces of differing types went into the cauldron. one type came out. all did a full share in the offensive, and by what they taught and by what they learned had their influence in moulding this "imperial" force. he blamed some newspapers for having devoted well meant but mischievous energy to spoiling the work of this amalgamation. a good deal of newspaper effort, if it had been taken seriously, he says, would have fostered among the various troops a spirit of third-class theatrical jealousy, as if they were a mob of people competing for public favour and public notice: "since the issue has been raised in other quarters, let it be said that between dominion troops and british troops there was a fine emulation in skill and courage, and that no sound judge could give the palm to any one section over another. there were differences in method of courage and skill, no differences in degree." we all agreed on that; and that the spirit of comradeship between all was firm. someone noted as a curious thing that there seemed to be an understanding that what is known among soldiers as "chipping" should be dropped in inter-imperial relations. a durham might explain--with no real but all apparent seriousness--how lucky it was for the yorks to have the durhams to lean upon; and the yorks would respond in kind. in the next trenches a new-south-waler might, with a vigour that concealed well the want of earnestness in his _blague_, explain the hopelessness of the victorians. but between british, canadian and australian this "chipping" was dropped. they were good comrades, but felt that their mutual intimacy had not yet grown to a stage which allowed of "ragging" or "chipping." * * * * * officers' club g.h.q. was inexhaustibly interested in the "anzacs." they were frequently under discussion. there was far more talk of them than of their fellow colonials, the canadians. they seemed to have more dramatic interest. their rakish hats challenged notice, and their rakish actions. almost every day there was some fresh yarn of the anzacs, a yarn of some fine feat told admiringly, a yarn of some classic bit of impudence told tolerantly. one tells a tale of the anzacs' curious ideas of discipline. another caps this with the reminder that the australian corps has the best salvage record in the army--that is to say is the most industrious in rag-picking, shell-case gathering, waste-paper collecting, and so on. "i don't wonder," the first speaker retorts. "they're always after records. they'd go over and raid the boche trenches for salvage sooner than play second fiddle." "they did marvels saving the french harvest this year under shell-fire." "yes, they are all right if you keep them busy. but they are the very devil in rest camp. now in cairo----" but the table refuses to hear the story of cairo again, because it is not a very pleasant story. the conclusion i came to is that the british officer had really a very soft spot in his heart for the "wild colonial boys"--canadians and australians. i was always being appealed to, as knowing australia, to "explain" the anzac, which i did at great length on various occasions, and here is the substance of it all: the anzac striding--or limping--along with rakish hat and challenging glance, for the first time brought australasia actually home to the mother country. these australasians, the men of the bush, were as remarkable, as significant almost, as the dacians in the army of another imperial nation two thousand years ago. easily can they be picked out. they walk the streets with a slightly obvious swagger. when they are awed a little, it is a point of honour not to show it. when they are critical a little, it peeps out. two by two, they keep one another in countenance and are fairly comfortable. catch one alone and you may see in his eyes a hunger for a mate, a need for some other anzac. for all his _bravura_ air, the anzac has no great self-confidence; and he has a child's shy fear of making himself ridiculous by a false step. the same fear makes him difficult to know. he will often set up, as a protective barrier against a real knowledge of him, a stubborn taciturnity, or a garrulous flow of what australasians call "skite" and londoners call "swank." in pre-war days an australian in england might have felt himself a little of the barbarian in so smooth a comity, where people loved moderately and hated very moderately; walked always by paths; were somewhat ashamed of their own merits and suavely tolerant of others' demerits; and were nervous of allowing patriotism to become infected with the sin of pride. but england at war understood them better--the anzacs, the young of the british. the young of the british, not of the english only, though that is the master element of the breed. the anzac is a close mixture of english, scottish, irish and welsh colonists, with practically no foreign taint. there is, however, a wild strain in the mixture. one of the first great tasks of australasia was to take the merino sheep of spain and make a new sheep of it--a task brilliantly carried out. a concurrent task was to take black sheep from the british isles and make good white stock out of them. the success in this was just as complete. the "rebels" of the mother country--scottish crofters, irish agrarians, english chartists and poachers--mostly needed only full elbow room to become useful men. even for the micawbers a land of lots of room was regenerative. was it charles lamb's quip that the early population of the british colonies should be good "because it was sent out by the best judges?" that was a truth spoken in jest. the first wild strain was of notable value to a new nation in the making. it came to australasia not only from the original settlers but also from the rushes to the goldfields. and--note here the first sign that the anzac people were to be dominated by the british spirit and were to keep the law even while they forgot conventions--there was never a judge lynch in an australasian mining camp. the king's writ and trial by jury stood always. the anzac started thus with good blood. to carry a study of the type to the next stage, to note how the breed was influenced by environment, it is necessary at the outset to put away the idea that the australasian people are engaged, to the exclusion of all other interests, in the task of subduing the wildnesses of their continent. they have done, continue to do, their pioneer work well, but have always kept some time for the arts and humanities. to ignore that fact is, i think, a common mistake, even in the days when every european opera-house of note had heard an australasian singer or musician, every european salon had shown australian pictures, and there was even a tiny representation of australian art in pre-war montreuil. "does anybody in australia then have time to read greek?" a schoolmaster's wife in england asked once with surprise. she was answered with another question: "who is the great greek scholar of the day?" "professor gilbert murray." "well, he is an australian." it was a specious argument, for one swallow does not make a summer. but the truth--that australasia produces at a high rate mental as well as physical energy--could have been proved categorically. the australian is not only a pioneer wrestling with the wilderness. he is a creature of restless mental energy, keenly (perhaps with something of a spirit of vanity) eager to keep in the current of world-thought, following closely not only his own politics but also british and international politics; a good patron of the arts; a fertile producer and exporter of poetasters, minor philosophers, scientists, writers, and artists. there is nothing that the anzac, nationally, resents more than to be regarded as a mere grower of wool and wheat, a hewer of wood and digger of minerals. he aspires to share in all the things of life, to have ranches and cathedrals, books and sheep. above all, perhaps, he has a passion for _la haute politique_. all this was in the blood. the "wild strain" was not only of men who found in the old country a physical environment too narrow. it was partly of men who desired a wider mental horizon. some very strange minor elements would show out in a detailed analysis of early australasian immigration--disciples of fourier who gave up great possessions in england to seek an idealistic communism in the antipodes: recluse bookworms who thought they could coil closer to their volumes in primitive solitudes. but one element was strong--the political and economic doctrinaire; and the conditions of the new country encouraged the growth of this element particularly, so that australia soon won quite a fame for political inventions (_e.g._, the "australian ballot" and the "torrens land title"). but the general growth of what may be termed a "thinking" class was encouraged by the very isolation which, it would seem at first thought, should have an opposite effect. whilst other young countries lost to older and greater centres of population their young ambitious men, australasia's antipodean position preserved her from the full extent of the drain of that mental law of gravity which makes the big populations attract the men who aspire to work with their brains more than with their hands. australasia will always be claiming attention not only as a producer of wheat, wool and well-knit men, but also of ideas. the ideas of this young nation of the british, nurtured in the australasian environment, would strike the pre-war england of five years ago as naively reactionary. the anzac, faced by natural elements which are inexorably stern to folly, to weakness, to indecision, but which are generously responsive to capable and dominating energy, had become more resourceful, more resolute, more cruel, more impatient than his british cousin. the men who followed the drum of drake were much akin to the australasian of to-day. australian imperialism, in truth, must have had for some years past a fussy air to the cooler and calmer minds of england; though the good sense and good humour of the mother country rarely allowed this to be seen. when new south wales insisted on lending a hand in the little soudan war she was not snubbed. nor was victoria, pressing at the same time a still more unnecessary naval contingent. in the south african war australian eagerness to take a part was more than generously recognised, and when australia next insisted on giving help also in the suppression of the boxer rising, room was patiently found for her naval contingent. about this here is an illustrative story, which is welcomed as "quite australian." when the australian gunboat "protector" arrived in chinese waters the british admiral went on board to pay his compliments and was not stinting in praise of australian military and naval prowess. thereupon the australian band is said to have struck up with a tune from "the belle of new york:" "of course _you_ can never be quite like us." it is perhaps a true story; certainly possible. there is a touch of gay impudence in the australian character which an ex-governor confessed he loved "because it was so young." always one comes back to that word "young." it is the key to an understanding of the anzac--youth with its enthusiasms, rashnesses, faults, shynesses; youth, raw, if you will, but of good breed and high intentions. australasian life leads to a certain hardness of outlook. life is prized, of course, but its loss--either of one's own or of the other fellow's--is not regarded with any superstitious horror. certainly it is not regarded as the greatest evil. to go out with a mate and to come back without him and under the slightest suspicion of not having taken the full share of risk and hardship would be counted greater. living close up to nature (who can be very savage with tortures of fire and thirst and flood), the back-country anzac--who sets the national type--must learn to be wary and enduring and sternly true to the duties of mateship. the bedouin of tradition suggests the anzac in his ideals of mateship and of stoicism. the anzac follows the same desert school of chivalry in his love for his horse and dog and his hospitality to the stranger within his gates. he will share his last water with the animal he is fond of; and in the back-country the lonely huts of the boundary riders are left open to any chance caller, with a notice, perhaps, as to where to find the food stores, and to "put the treacle back where the ants cannot get to it." it is, of course, a point of honour not to take except in case of need. * * * * * an english padre who put in two years in the "back of beyond" of australia as a "bush brother" confesses that his first impression was that the anzac of the bush was cruel and pagan. his last impression was that the anzac was generally as fine a christian as any heaven for human beings would want. an incident of this parson's "conversion" (he related) was the entry into a far-back town of a band of five men carrying another on a stretcher. the six were opal miners with a little claim far out in the desert. one had been very badly mauled in an explosion. the others stopped their profitable work at once and set themselves to carry him in to the nearest township with a hospital the distance was forty-five miles. on the road some of the party almost perished of thirst, but the wounded man had his drink always, and always the bandages on his crushed leg were kept moist in the fierce heat of the sun. one of the men was asked how they had managed to make this sacrifice. "it was better to use the water that way than to hear the poor blighter moan." * * * * * many a night we speculated to what degree the different dominion types will approximate as a result of this war. certainly when the dominion and british troops were in contact tidal currents of knowledge flowed to and fro which left both the gainers. points which had been particular property became common: regarding economy in the use of the water-bottle, the art of making a bed in a shell-hole, informal methods of acquiring horses, the best tracks towards the soft side of ordnance, the true dignity of salutes, sniping as a sport, the unpatriotism of recklessness, and other matters. slang was pooled and trench language much enriched. in all things the essential kinship of the british race was disclosed. we agree that after the war, the british empire will have more of a general likeness. colonial ideas will have penetrated more strongly into the mother country. british ideas will have permeated the colonial restlessness and impatience. what an ideal race the british could be with a constant coming and going from the mother's home to the children's houses; an exchange of good grey wisdom with eager enthusiasm, the equable spirit of green and cloudy england mingling with the ardency of the dominions. finally a dominion officer sums up:-- "i do not think an empire managed on the old british lines could survive another great shock. it is charming to be so equable and good-tempered and to love your enemy as yourself and to do good to those who hate you. but it brings a nation too close to the fate which overcame the peruvians under the incas (they were a charmingly equable and good-tempered and confiding race). yet those who hope for an empire managed on canadian lines, or on australian lines, leave me cold. i want good wheat crops and cathedrals, the best of the new and of the old spirit. and just as the sole real advantages of being rich are that one can be honest and generous, there would be no use at all in being a great empire and yet not feeling strong enough to 'play the game' fairly and chivalrously. i hate hearing the talk--which is the swing back from the excess of british tolerance--of a cold-blooded and merciless efficiency as the ideal of national life. better to perish than to be a german empire trampling on the faces of women and babes to the throne of power." chapter xiv. educating the army. the beginning of an interesting movement--the work of a few enthusiasts--the unexpected peace--humours of lectures to the army--books for the army--the army printery. in the last phase of the war g.h.q. saw a remarkable new development in army organisation: the inclusion of civic education as part of the soldier's army course. before this war, of course, there had been army schoolmasters, and these in peace time did valuable work in teaching illiterate soldiers. cobbett, we know, owed his education to the army; so did one of the famous generals of this war, sir william robertson; and once we had as a visitor and lecturer at g.h.q. an american university professor whose first education had been won as a ranker in the british army. but the new education scheme had a much wider scope than the old army schools. the plan in brief was to make civic education a definite and compulsory part of army life, so that every man joining the army should have a course of humane and technical or professional education. the plan is now in course of being carried on to successful fruition, and in the future the army will be a continuation school as well as a defence service. this may prove to be one of the most useful results of the war. it was due to the enthusiasm of a little band of soldiers and civilians, the leaders of which were colonel borden turner, major-general bonham-carter, colonel lord gorell and sir henry hadow. the army educational movement had a small beginning with the organisation of lectures. after the fighting of it was felt that something more than the usual round of cinema shows and the performances of divisional theatrical troupes was necessary to help to recreate the fighting value of the army, and that what was required was something more solid and intellectual, something that would raise an interest in civic subjects quite apart from the war. it was therefore decided to get as many scholars as possible to come out and give lectures to the men. during the previous winter the y.m.c.a. had arranged for a few lecturers to come out and lecture in back areas, and they had machinery already existing for looking after them in france. the y.m.c.a. now again undertook the work of housing, feeding, and transporting the lecturers in france, and for all arrangements for getting them to the country. major-general bonham-carter persuaded some of the government offices, viz., reconstruction, food control, pensions, labour, education, to send out men who could help the movement; and lieutenant-colonel (then captain) borden turner came to g.h.q. to supervise the details. all arrangements for lectures were made by the general staff with the y.m.c.a. lecturers were sent to units in the fighting areas rather than to the lines of communication. [illustration: major-general c. bonham carter] later on it was decided that we must have an organisation to carry out a big scheme of general education directly an armistice was declared, so that the time of the men might be profitably employed while waiting for demobilisation after the fighting was over. this decision was made in december, . major-general bonham-carter and captain borden turner worked out a scheme with this idea, and sir henry hadow, an educationalist of great renown, gave his assistance. already efforts in this direction had been made in england and in the canadian corps and elsewhere by individuals, to provide facilities for education and hold classes, and a few voluntary classes were being held by the y.m.c.a. there was, however, no organised effort anywhere except in the canadian corps. in january, , it was decided to get the scheme started as early as possible and not wait for the armistice. but at that time there was a great shortage of men, and naturally any scheme which demanded new establishments met with objections. for this reason things moved slowly. however, a scheme was got ready, waiting for the favourable moment to arrive. it arrived sooner than was expected. at an historic dinner one night at lord haig's château his personal enthusiasm was aroused, and he gave orders for the preparation of a scheme for general education throughout the army in france with the object ( ) of making men better citizens of the empire, by widening their outlook and knowledge, ( ) of helping them by preparing them for their return to civil life. lord haig approved of the scheme that had already been prepared, but it was put into force slowly, because very few men could be spared from fighting and lines of communication work to fill the establishments required. but a start was made. the scheme arranged for the work to be administered by general staff officers and attached officers in all formations, but on the lines of communication the y.m.c.a. carried out all teaching work as agents of the general staff. in april, , it was realised that the efforts in france would be greatly hampered if they were not co-ordinated with those in england and elsewhere. the war office was therefore urged to undertake this co-ordinating work. lord gorell, who was at that time working under major-general bonham-carter in the training branch at g.h.q., was appointed to the war office for the purpose. the army education movement had warm sympathy from those at the head of affairs. the commander-in-chief when once it was put before him was enthusiastic. so was lord milner, then secretary of state for war; and sir travers clarke, q.m.g. and major-general daunay (staff duties) gave it every support. but it was a movement from below rather than from above, a movement springing from a widely-spread feeling amongst the soldiers that they should win some better outlook on life from their term in the army. if one man more than another should be singled out in this movement, which really sprang from spontaneous generation, it would be borden turner. he had the crusading spirit and preached education to every authority until what was a vague aspiration came to be a concrete fact. certainly borden turner was a scarcely tolerable friend to many of the already over-busy officers at g.h.q. he was always urging them to give lectures, to take on classes. at this time there was practically no "establishment," and the only hope was to get officers to give spare time to educational work. they had no spare time, but at the remorseless urging of borden turner they stole hours from sleep or from the ramparts and gave lectures or took classes. before the armistice the organisation of the education branch had progressed to some extent. lord gorell had gone to london and found a sympathetic leader in major-general lyndon bell, the director of staff duties, war office, and s.d. was established, having as its chief officers under lord gorell, sir henry hadow, colonel sir theo. morrison, major basil williams (the writer of a famous life of chatham), and major frank fox. general bonham-carter and lieutenant-colonel borden turner remained in france, and the work of the new branch was being established and co-ordinated with that of the y.m.c.a. and with the canadian, australian, and new zealand army education schemes when the german unexpectedly threw in his hand. a feverish rush for demobilisation at once set in. as a consequence of newspaper agitation the original demobilisation plans were seriously upset, and one of the worst sufferers was the army education movement. still an amount of useful work both on the humane and the technical side was effected. best of all, the principle was firmly established that if a nation takes away a young citizen from civil life it owes it to him that when the time comes to send him back to civil life it will not be into a blind alley; his term in the army will be employed to make a sound citizen of him and to give him training in some vocation. [illustration: lieut-colonel d. borden turner] the army education organisation set itself to search out teaching talent in the army before calling in outside assistance, and it made some interesting finds. many a university don was discovered in a very humble position. a gentleman described as "one of the most learned men in europe" was a bombardier in a battery. n.c.o.s and rankers who were fellows of famous colleges were common enough. most of them were drawn into the education organisation. one of the officers taken by education from g.h.q., where he was a staff captain in the adjutant general's branch, was captain hansell, who had been the prince of wales' tutor in his student days. hansell, in addition to his scholarship, is a sagacious urbane diplomat with a deep and sympathetic knowledge of french life. he would have been best placed on the military mission to the french army. but that would have been a serious loss if it had taken him away from g.h.q., where his after-dinner talk cheered the seniors and his artful unobtrusive tutelage helped the juniors. captain hansell took charge of the lecturers' headquarters for education, and the task must have made a very heavy demand on his tact. lecturers of all kinds were being sent out to france to address the troops, some of them with very vague notions of what was required of them in the way of kit. one lecturer vastly pleased his soldier audiences, but imposed a heavy strain on transport by always appearing on the platform in full evening dress. another lecturer went out--in a flanders winter--with a frock-coat as his warmest garment, "and it was the thinnest frock-coat in christendom," observed a sympathiser. of course a very great deal of "roughing it" was the lot of the lecturer going from unit to unit to troops living under active service conditions. moreover organisation was not perfect at the time. at one period a steady stream of lecturers was arriving at lecturers' headquarters but none was going out to lecture, because all transport for the time was absorbed in a particularly heavy phase of demobilisation. the lecturers, on whose damask periods idleness was as a cankering worm in the bud, got into a sad state of impatience and were threatening to lecture one another, or do something else desperate, when the position was saved by a timely visit to them of the prince of wales and his brother, prince albert, who had tea with them, chatted over their work, and convinced them that they were not out on a fool's errand. shortly afterwards the transport situation was relieved, and the lecturers rushed to their audiences and peace reigned again. but it is dreadful to think of what might have happened if there had not been the urbane and diplomatic captain hansell smoothing over troubles. a mutiny of lecturers would have afforded some puzzling problems to the provost-marshal. [illustration: captain h. p. hansell] before the army education organisation was born a great number of men in the army did some good solid reading. the camps libraries organisation in england sent out to every unit parcels of books. most of these were of the opiate class, light magazines and light stories intended to bemuse and not to educate the mind. but a proportion of good books slipped in and were warmly appreciated by some. * * * * * the army itself had a very fecund printing press, but it was devoted almost solely to the production of books of orders and regulations and text books. regimental annuals of a humorous kind existed but were not encouraged. as a rule they were printed in england, not in france, and the conditions of censorship--more perhaps than the taste of writers and readers--confined them as a rule to somewhat feeble japes. there were very often mooted proposals for a g.h.q. monthly. it might have drawn on a very distinguished band of writers. but authority contrived that these proposals should never come to maturity. the expenditure of time and material was grudged, and g.h.q. was naturally very nervous on points of "intelligence." there are a thousand and one ways in which military secrets can be given away with quite harmless intent. an intelligence general's aphorism on this point ran: "we find out far more from the stupidity of our enemies than from the cleverness of our spies." it is clear that silence is the one sound policy. if a man says nothing, nothing can be discovered from him. if he will speak, even if it is only with the intention of deceiving, he may disclose something. british diplomacy abroad (which was not such a foolish show as some critics say, or else how comes it that the british empire, from the tiny foundation of these islands, has come to its present greatness?) was always the despair of the inquisitive foreign correspondent, for it never said anything. an embassy or ministry which would tell a lie, especially an elaborate lie, was far preferable, for from something you may deduce something; from nothing, nothing. g.h.q. acted with a sound discretion in smothering all proposals for a g.h.q. monthly. the army did most of its own printing, of maps, orders, forms, and training books. maps were done by the r.e. mapping section, other printing by the army printing and stationery services under colonel partridge. this was a highly efficient department with printing presses of the most modern type at boulogne, abbéville, and elsewhere. a.p. and s.s. printed daily general routine orders and, as occasion demanded, poured out in millions army forms, posters, pamphlets, and books. both the french and americans used its services. it could print in chinese and arabic as well as in european characters, and some of its achievements in the way of quick and good printing would do credit to a big london printing house. the boulogne printing press, which was under the care of major bourne, was a particularly up-to-date establishment much praised by the americans and the french as well as by our own army. it put a strain once, however, on the politeness of the french. the french mission at g.h.q. wanted a book printed giving a record of its organisation. a.p. and s.s., in the right spirit, did its best to make the book a handsome one, and designed a special cover with _fleur-de-lys_ decorations. the french mission, with tact but with firmness, pointed out that france was now a republic and a monarchical symbol could hardly be permitted on an official publication. it might give rise to a suspicion that the army contemplated a _coup d'état_. the printers regretted and tried again. the second cover design bore the good old roman republican device of the lictors' fasces. but they were shown reversed. the french were desolated at being so exiguous, but could something else be tried, just plain type? the printers were determined, however, to give the good french something to show what an artistic people we english really are, and made a third effort at a decorated cover. this showed a really charming design in which the gallic cock strutted triumphantly along a rose-point border. the french were enchanted, so enchanted that they found reason to have another book, an annexe to the original book, printed with the same cover. american army publications were normally somewhat more solemn and staid than our own. occasionally, however, the american humour broke out, as in the gas warning leaflet, which had not, perhaps, the sanction of american g.h.q. but was widely (and usefully) circulated in the trenches. it began:-- in a gas attack there are only two crowds the quick and the dead be quick and get that gas mask on! after the armistice, the printing services, no longer so much pressed with other army work, were able to undertake some purely educational printing. but by this time demobilisation was sweeping away the classes, and the best of the opportunity had passed. chapter xv. the winter of our discontent. the disappointments of and --the collapse of russia--the cambrai battle--the german propaganda--fears of irresolution at home--reassurances from home--effects of the submarine war--an economical reorganisation at g.h.q.--a new quartermaster general--good effects of cheerfulness at home. the somme campaign, , had been begun with very high hopes. the main conception of it was a sound one, to attack the german line at the point of junction between the french and british forces, the point where, according to all the accepted principles, the allied line should have been weakest but actually was not. that was the only way to bring an element of the unexpected into a grand attack in those days of long and laborious artillery preparations. (the tank did not appear on the scene until the battle of the somme was two months old and did not develop its usefulness as a substitute for artillery preparation until nearly a year later). for the somme battle an enormous artillery concentration was made, and a special "army of pursuit" was trained in the rear of our lines to follow through when the german line had been breached. then there was a preliminary bombardment of the german positions from the sea to beyond the somme, and, amidst many feint attacks, the british and the french offensive north and south of the somme was launched. the first battle of the somme made the walls of jericho quake but just failed to bring them down. the army of pursuit was given no chance of pushing to the rhine; its energies had to be diverted towards sustaining the attack. the fighting season closed in with the germans still holding their main defences but convinced, so far as the reasonable section of their leaders were concerned, that the game was up and that the best thing to do was to work for a peace on the best terms possible. [illustration: on the ramparts] thus was a somewhat disappointing year; was even more so. the fighting season, that year, closed with the allied cause in a worse position than in and with germany correspondingly encouraged. there would have been some reasonable excuse if in the winter of - tails drooped at g.h.q. the weather was particularly vile. every day the winds that howled over the bleak hill-top seemed to have come straight from russia and germany, bringing with them a moral as well as a physical cold. the casualty lists of the autumn were not cheerful to ponder over; and it was singularly depressing to hear from home that in some political circles those casualty lists were being conned over with the idea of founding on them a case against the army. nobody was inclined to try to represent the late autumn campaign as altogether satisfactory. but it was felt by the soldiers that "they had done their durn'dest, angels can do no more;" and that there was not sufficient appreciation of the fact at home that with russia down and out, france in a very bad way, italy tottering, the british army had had to step into the breach, had had to take a gruelling without being able to accomplish much more than defence. it had seemed in that the time had arrived for germany to pay the penalty. but a triumph not of a military kind came to her rescue. the german methods of espionage and civil corruption were on the whole as blundering and as disastrous as her other methods during the great war. they helped to alienate practically all the civilised neutral world. but in russia--mystic, generous, trusting russia--they had an unhappy success. in the autumn of this first showed. roumania at that time joined in the war against germany, and this new accession of strength apparently marked the near end of the war. but russia mysteriously collapsed owing to the effects of german corruption. roumania was left "in the air," and a large part of her territory was over-run. from this date, though many of the gallant soldiers of russia made heroic efforts to safeguard their country's honour, that great ally was practically out of the fight. by the winter of - she was quite out. the french had had grave troubles. the italians had had to send out an s.o.s. signal. we should have been more cheerful if the cambrai attack, , had had the full success it deserved. that really was in its conception and execution a very fine affair. at the time germany was drawing troops and guns from the russian front and pouring them on to our front in wholesale fashion. both france and great britain had had to send armies to the help of italy. our battle of passchendaele was not exactly flourishing. to undertake a new battle was the last development the enemy expected of us; and to do what is absolutely unexpected is to do the big thing in war. the british command collected an army ostensibly for italy, made a great secret assemblage of tanks, and suddenly attacked the germans in the strongest part of their hindenburg line. their line was particularly strong at that point. it comprised three series of defences each one covered by triple barriers of wire from to yards deep. a system of dug-outs (constructed with the labour of russian prisoners) at a depth of feet below the surface made an underground city with water and electric light installations, kitchens, drying-rooms and the like. above the surface the houses were closely packed with the earth removed from the excavations, and thus became great earthworks indestructible by any shell-fire. all this the british third army, in a surprise attack carried out by the tanks and the infantry, over-ran and captured in a day's attack. so fierce was the british advance and so feeble the german defence _when taken by surprise_ that we almost got into cambrai. if that centre had been won the german front in the west would have been deprived of its central pillar. the german defence, however, rallied in time to avoid absolute disaster. when the german military mind was given time to think it could always make a good show, and the _riposte_ to our cambrai attack was a good one. we lost most of the fruits of a dramatic _coup_. it was more than annoying to think that just when we had successfully solved the problem of a break-through we had not the means, owing to commitments elsewhere, to push the thrust home. * * * * * cambrai was a good deal "boomed" in the english press at the time on "popular" lines. but i do not think that the skill of generalship and organisation that it showed were quite appreciated. the favourite british pose of being a complete ass, altogether inferior to the "other fellow," used to be pushed to the extreme point in regard to military matters. the british had a quaint humility in respect to their military skill. in a shame-faced kind of way they admitted that their soldiers were brave; but for examples of military genius they always referred to the "other fellow." yet one may be daring enough, perhaps, to say something on the other side; and to suggest that in the great war the german was really surpassed in most points of military skill by the british. the difference was not always great, but where the difference was greatest was just in those points of invention, of new tactics and new strategy, which show the better brain. heresy it will seem; but the truth is that from to the british military system showed itself superior to the german in resource and sagacity. perhaps it would be better to say the british-french military system, for it is difficult to separate the achievement of one from the other. consider one by one the main features of the great campaign. the warfare in the air was its most dramatic feature. everything of air tactics and strategy that the german used he copied from the british and french. it was the british who originated aeroplane attack with incendiary bullets on captive balloons, aeroplane escort of attacking infantry, aeroplane sallies at low altitude on enemy trenches, and the various combinations of observing machines with fighting machines. in the first battle of the somme, when the british and french first disclosed their sky tactics, the german was absolutely driven out of the air. he had then to learn to copy all our methods; and he originated none of his own. another dramatic feature, the complicated and terribly effective artillery curtain fire, was evolved by the british-french command. it was copied by the germans, who themselves contributed nothing new to artillery science during the war. yet another leading feature was the tank, the tank which made its real value first felt at cambrai. this was a purely british invention, evolved during this war for the needs of this war. * * * * * our "winter of discontent" was not made any sweeter by the suspicion that existed of a possible yielding on the part of the political powers at home to german propaganda. this german propaganda took the form of blazoning the preparations for a sensational spring offensive in ; it was trumpeted like a fat woman at a fair, and supplemented by an almost equally strident advertisement of a gigantic defensive. in addition to preparing a great on-rush in which calais, paris, rome, and perhaps london were to be captured, the german high command wished the world to know that it was also preparing a mighty series of defensive positions back to the rhine. wonderful showmen! they had not only the most marvellous fat woman, but also a miraculous skeleton man. and the prize they wished to win, by bluff if not by fighting, was agreement to an inconclusive peace. the soldiers were not affected much by these tactics. they took solid comfort from two facts. the first fact was expressed in the homely proverb "much cry, little wool." had the germans been confident that they could smash through the steel wall which barred them on the west from the sea, from the capitals of civilisation, and from the supplies of raw material for which they were starving, there would have been no preliminary advertisement. the effort would have been made, and germany's enemies would have had to abide by the result. there would not have been any compunction at the consequent cost in blood. the mere extravagance of the advertisement of the german plans was proof to the soldiers at g.h.q. that those plans were recognised not to have a solid enough military foundation, and had to be reinforced by showy bluff. the second fact which gave solid comfort was that in any comparison at all of forces the german group was inferior to the west european-american group. there was not any doubt at g.h.q. indeed the more the germans protested of what they were going to do in the spring of the more firm was g.h.q. in believing that the enemy was at last coming to the end of his resources and was anxious to "bluff" a peace rather than "show" a weak hand. but it was feared that the people at home might take the other view, and it had to be admitted that the german put up a very strong bluff. perhaps its cleverest form at the time was in the discussion of "peace terms"--a discussion in which it was presumed that the german would impose a victorious peace before the summer of . a characteristic discussion--g.h.q. kept a close eye on the german press and minutely examined every german paper published during the war--would begin with some prince pointing out the minimum indemnity that germany should exact from her foes, and explaining in what form it should be exacted. germany's need, it would be pointed out, would be for raw materials, food, cotton, wool, rubber, tobacco, silk and the like. it was these that must be supplied to germany by way of indemnity. they would have to be supplied not free, but at a price per cent. lower than the current market price, and the annual value of this discount would only reach the modest sum of £ , , a year. to have had to provide yearly a tribute of any kind to germany would of course have taken away the independence of the allies completely. they would have been put in the position of admitting a german suzerainty, and would have become as the oppressed christian provinces of the old turkish empire. but to provide this tribute of raw material, the discount on which at per cent. would be £ , , a year, would have been to engage to send to germany yearly raw materials of her choice to the value of £ , , . this would have been the first call on the farms, the mines, the shipping of the allies, and only after that call was met would the allies have been able to begin to supply their own larders and their own factories. that was one direction the german peace propaganda took. the idea of it was, presumably, to strike terror into our hearts, to make us welcome with something like relief the actual official terms of a peace negotiation when they came to be promulgated. then someone in germany would take the other side. assuming with absolute cock-sureness that germany must win the war in the spring of , this publicist would affect to regret the savage terms of peace imposed upon russia. these terms, it was argued, did not represent the considered wishes of the german people. but in war the wisdom of the statesmen was pushed aside by the eagerness of the soldiers. the german politicians were overwhelmed in regard to the russian peace because the russian had allowed things to go too far. but if only the western powers would agree to negotiate for peace _now_, the "reasonable german politicians" would be able to assert their authority. there would be no ruthless military conditions such as were imposed upon russia. sweetly and moderately the germans would frame their terms; but the powers of the entente must "put the war into liquidation at once." delay would mean that the "reasonable german politicians" would lose their power to restrain the military party. g.h.q. remembered the old fable about certain trustful animals being invited to pay friendly visits to the cave of a beast of prey. one wise animal noticed that whilst there were many tracks of visitors going into the cave there were no tracks of visitors coming out. we had noticed that a free russia went into negotiation with germany to conclude a friendly and reasonable peace on terms of "no annexations and no indemnities." no free russia came out. but g.h.q. was honestly alarmed for a time that resolution would be shaken at home, and welcomed with joy (as the germans did with rage), the firm declarations of the versailles council of the allies and the unshaken confidence and resolution shown in the speech from the throne at the prorogation of the british parliament. as soon as the home political situation was seen to be clear, g.h.q. set about preparing for the "wrath to come" with a good deal of cheerfulness and with some amusement that the german propaganda should, as a final kick, make a strong though forlorn effort to revive the old story that great britain contemplated the seizure from france of calais and the department of pas-de-calais. "even," said the german wireless about this time, "if it is not openly admitted that the english will never voluntarily evacuate the french port of calais, which they have occupied--" etc., etc. this lie revived in our mess between british and french _liaison_ officers an old topic of humorous conversation. for when this particular lie was burdening the german wireless some time before, a british general was showing to a french general the arrangements of the british base at etaples. he exhibited with pride the great bath houses for the men, built of concrete and "good for a hundred years." "ah yes, very solid--good for a hundred years," said the french general, laughing. then they both laughed. * * * * * christmas, , was celebrated with the usual british merriment at g.h.q., and on new year's day everybody's cheerful greeting was "that this year may see the end of the war." but i think there were few officers of standing who thought that a peace christmas was possible in . no one would contemplate the possibility of losing the war, of stopping on any terms short of a german surrender; but few could see any possibility of victory near ahead. there were thick clouds all round the horizon. russia was finished. italy was not cheerful. france was recovering but not yet showing sure signs of emergence from that fit of depression out of which m. clemenceau was to pull her--the soul of a richelieu in his frail body. the worst symptom of all from the point of view of the british army was the threat of a shortness of supplies. just when the collapse of russia had allowed the enemy to concentrate his full strength on the western front, the great reservoir of british wealth, which was the main financial resource of the alliance, showed signs of not being inexhaustible. there was a call at the same time for greater preparation and greater economy. from the beginning of there were two great cross-currents of correspondence between g.h.q. and the home government, one demanding new weapons, new defences, new equipment, the other demanding rigid economy in steel, in timber, in shipping space, in food, in oil, in expenditure generally. this was partly due to actual lack of money and of credit. but in the main it was the result of the submarine war. it was at the end of that the german admiralty prepared a memorandum arguing that if unrestricted submarine war were adopted as a policy (_i.e._, sinking everything, hostile or neutral, warship or passenger ship), then great britain would be compelled to sue for peace within six months. the memorandum gave various statistics regarding food supplies, tonnage, etc., to prove this hypothesis. the memorandum was forwarded to the imperial chancellor, and by him sent to dr. helfferich, secretary of state for finance, for a report. dr. helfferich reported adversely. he was not convinced that great britain would be brought to her knees. he feared the effect upon neutral nations of such a policy. the german admiralty persisted in its view. thereupon the matter was submitted for report to ten experts representing finance, commerce, mining, and agriculture. these experts were asked to advise ( ) as to the probable effect upon great britain ( ) as to the probable effect upon germany's relations with neutrals and ( ) as to how far the situation in germany demanded the employment of such a weapon. all these experts agreed that the effect on great britain would be to force her to sue for peace within six months or less. indeed, herr müller, president of the dresden bank, thought that great britain would collapse within three months. all the experts also agreed as to the third point of reference, arguing that germany's position was so difficult that the most desperate measures were necessary to end the war. herr engelhardt, of mannheim, councillor of commerce, thought the economic position of germany so bad that a few weeks' delay might render even ruthless submarine war useless. on the second point, the effect on relations with neutrals, the experts were divided. some thought that the united states would be driven to war, others thought not. in all cases they did not see a reason against ruthless submarine war in their possible relations with any neutral. but the fateful decision was not taken until february, , when the destruction of peaceful shipping, whether of enemy or of neutral countries, was ordered. it did not end the war in six months, nor in twelve months; but by the beginning of there were some very serious difficulties of supply just when the strictly military position demanded the most generous effort. i wonder if those experts who bandy to and fro explanations and accusations in regard to the german break-through in the spring of ever have looked at the matter from the point of view of supply, of the supply, say, of one sternly necessary item of defence, wire? at a careful computation we wanted , tons of barbed wire in january, , and , more tons in february, , to give our men a reasonable chance of holding the line which we knew to be threatened. of that total of , tons we actually got , tons, _i.e._, per cent. of what was needed. i do not quote this fact to start another quarrel, shuttle-cocking blame from soldier to politician. i am more than ready to believe that the people at home were then doing their best (as, _pace_ all grousers, i believe they did their best from august, , to november, ). but you cannot spin out wire like you spin out talk, especially barbed wire. the british soldier can, with his mere flesh and blood, and that gay courage of his, do wonders in the way of making up for want of material. but he could not hold up the attacked sector in the spring of against overwhelming odds; and one of the reasons was that he had not enough wire in front of him. he had not the wire in front of him because it had not been, _could not be_, supplied. how anxious was the task of g.h.q. at the dawn of may be illustrated with these heads of correspondence, in and out. to g.h.q. from home. the greatest economy in steel is urged. the position in regard to shipping is serious; the strictest economy in everything is necessary. lubricants are hard to get. we urge the greatest economy. from g.h.q. to home. more machine-guns are urgently needed. there is a shortage of blankets; there is a shortage of , tons of barbed wire. new searchlights are needed; , box respirators are needed for the american forces. i could fill many pages with matter of the same sort. the poison of the submarine war began to have its cumulative effect just when we were getting the most peremptory reminders that supply was going to be the determining factor of the final struggle, that war had become more and more a matter of striking at the enemy's life by striking at "the means whereby he lives." munitions, food, equipment, railways, roads, ships--these had become the most important factors, and victory would incline to the force which could best concentrate the means to maintain an overwhelming force at some particular point, which could best develop, conserve, and transport its material. the field for the strategist had moved more and more from the front line towards the base. fortunately, the british army in france had for its q.m.g. at this crisis a man with the courage and the knowledge to carry through a drastic reorganisation of the supply and transport services. lieutenant-general sir travers clarke, who took over as q.m.g., france, at the end of , was a daring experiment on lord haig's part; for he was a comparative youngster to be put into a post which was then the most anxious and onerous in the army, and his actual substantive rank was that of a major; but he was an acting major-general with a fine record in a minor theatre of the war. lord haig knew his man well, though, and, what was just as necessary, knew how to back his man. he put sir travers clarke in the saddle and kept him there in spite, i have no doubt, of many thunderous protests from influential quarters, for sir travers clarke was a ruthless reformer and a stubborn upholder of any course of action he thought necessary. a character sketch of him that appeared in the _morning post_ in is worth quoting in part: [illustration: lieut-general sir travers clarke] "'that big young man,' was a leading american officer's term to describe sir travers clarke after he had met him in france in conference, and had not caught his name. british g.h.q. perhaps only learned to appreciate the q.m.g. fully from the comments of foreign officers who came into touch with him in . the masterful man took his power so quietly, came to big decisions with such an air of ease, such an absence of anything dramatic or violent, that it was a little difficult to understand his full strength. "'t.c.'--as often before remarked, the british army must reduce everything and everyone to initials--as a regimental officer in the 'nineties never seemed to get an opening. nor did his early staff work bring him much recognition. but an officer of his to-day, who was a clerk under him when he was first a staff captain, insists that he always gave the impression of great power in reserve. 'he believed in the british army, in hard work, and in himself.' that was the foundation of the career of a man who, once an opening showed, forged ahead with marvellous speed to his destiny. "it took 't.c.' ten years to become a major; within the next ten years he had become lieutenant-general and quartermaster-general to the british armies in france. one year in that post, a year in which were crowded all the experiences that a great army could have, marked him as a great leader of men and a superb organiser. how much the allied victory owes to him a grateful country will not appreciate fully until not only the british but also the french and american campaigns are analysed. "'t.c.' had the ideal personality for a military leader. you were always dreadfully afraid of him and sincerely fond of him. no general ever made sterner demands on his officers and men. if you could not stand up to a gruelling day's work and come up smiling for the next day's and the next day's, until the need had passed, you were no use, and you moved on to some less exacting sphere. but you were working under a worker, and you found yourself part of a massive machine which was rolling flat all obstacles. that made it easy. further, there was the most generous appreciation of good work and a keen personal sympathy. "sir travers clarke has one rule to which he never permitted an exception: that it is the fighting man who has to be considered first and last. in france he was quite willing that the staff should labour to the extreme point of endurance to take any of the load off the man in the trenches. he did not like about him men, however clever, who had not seen fighting. it was the first duty of the staff, he insisted, to enter with the completest sympathy into the feelings and the difficulties of the fighting man. 'bad staff work mostly arises from not knowing the differences between an office and a trench,' was one of his aphorisms." * * * * * this is not a history of the war; nor a contribution to any of the numerous war controversies; it is merely a sketch of life at g.h.q. as it appeared to a staff officer; but i cannot help obtruding a reply to some current criticisms of lord haig: that he was too inclined to stand by his officers, that he was reluctant to "butcher" a man, and that in consequence he did not get the highest standard of efficiency. faithfulness to his friends and servants was certainly a marked characteristic of lord haig as commander-in-chief. he chose his men cautiously and, i believe, with brilliant insight. having chosen them he stood by them faithfully in spite of press or political or service thunderings, unless he was convinced that they were not equal to their work. it is a characteristic which, even allowing that there was an odd case of over-indulgence, of giving a man a little too much benefit of the doubt, worked on the whole for the good. men do not do their best work with ropes round their necks; and i believe that a great newspaper magnate whose motto at first was "sack, sack, sack," very soon found out that it was a mistake. in this particular instance i suppose the commander-in-chief had powerful urging often enough to "butcher" his q.m.g., who did things of so disturbing a character. he did not; and the event proved him right, as it did in practically every one of his great trusts during the war. * * * * * reorganisation of supply and transport filled the attention of g.h.q. during the early months of . over a curiously wide range of subjects swept a wave of reform and retrenchment. as i have already told, there was a definite organisation to collect the salvage of the battlefields, an organisation which saved millions of money in rags, bottles, waste-paper, swill, bones and grease as well as in the more obvious matters of shell-cases and derelict arms and ammunition. an agricultural directorate was set to work to grow potatoes and oats and vegetables and other food stuffs behind the lines. rations were judiciously reduced, a substantial difference being left in favour of the man in the actual fighting line as compared with the man at the base. the supply of certain luxuries at the e.f. canteens was stopped or limited, but it was provided that the man in the fighting line should suffer less from this than the man at the base. weekly conferences were instituted to discuss the most economical use of labour, of material and of plant. every matter great and small had searching attention, and the british army began to be run like an up-to-date competitive business. some of the injudicious laughed. they christened the general in charge of salvage "o.c. swills" and "rags and bones." they could not "see" a colonel whose mission in life was to cut down laundry costs and arrange for the darning of the men's socks when they came out of the wash. but all these things had to do with the winning of the war. it is a fact that if the lavishness of - - - had been carried into we could not have won the war, because we should have been bankrupt of material. g.h.q. at the dawn of the spring of was very serious in mind, but not so much so as to fail to get some amusement as well as interest out of the various new ideas in military administration; and fully confident now that the people at home were going to stick it out. in this connection there was often mentioned with cheerfulness a london bye-election towards the end of for an area which had had special attention from the german air-raids. some rather expected to see a candidate come forward from among the little group known as "pacifists," who would seek votes on the plea that the best way to stop air-raids quickly and to get out of the discomforts of the war would be to meet half-way the proposals of the germans who were trying for an inconclusive peace. what actually happened was quite different. a candidate came forward under the banner of the government, pledged to the government's programme of carrying on the war until german militarism was crushed and germany made reparation for the ruin she had wrought in europe. this candidate had the support of both the old political parties. against him there came out another candidate. did this candidate seek to win votes by pleading for a friendly consideration of germany's hypocritical peace proposals? he did not. from what one could gather of the feeling of the electorate, if he had done so he would have been ducked in the nearest pond. no, his appeal was based on the plea that the government candidate did not go far enough in hostility to germany, and that that gentleman was not fully in favour of carrying to german homes the dastardly air-war which germany waged on a civilian population. then a third candidate appeared on the scene. he was not for any half-hearted policy. his cry to the electors was that neither of the other two candidates was sufficiently earnest in regard to the war against germany. his programme was of one clause only, the necessity of bombing germany out of her barbarism. he did not believe that any method of sweet reasonableness was of any use. a thousand tons of bombs daily on berlin, and a ration in proportionate scale on other german towns, was his idea. women speakers came to take part in the contest. did they advocate making concessions to the german desire to sneak away from the consequences of the crime of ? they did not. they were more vigorous than any of the men speakers in demanding a full measure of reprisal on germany. no one throughout the whole contest whispered "peace." it was altogether inspiriting. here was a chance to see what the people of england, the people who stood behind the army and the navy and were our ultimate supports, felt about the war. we could see that they were utterly resolute, with not a sign of weariness, nor of fear, nor of tolerance for a craven peace. their message was "fight on, fight on. bring us home a real peace. we will put up with everything the boche can do; we will carry on. but no palter, no surrender. finish the job you are at." the english people terrorised? not a bit of it. they were only getting their blood up. and g.h.q. saw that and was comforted. there was also a good deal of solid comfort in the way that london took the bitter experience of "rations." we never had any food scarcity in the army and, going on leave, officer or soldier had a food card that guaranteed him a good holiday supply. so we were in the best position to appreciate the cheerful way in which great britain took the very thin gruel of ration times. every officer coming back from leave expressed his glowing admiration of civilian patience. those german agents in london who relieved the tedium of the war for the allies by reporting to berlin such "happenings" as the battle of oxford street and the destruction of whole quarters of london by air attacks, set out, for the fooling of the german public, some fine accounts of dismay and discontent caused by food tickets. but as a matter of truth, london on rations surprised and gratified the most cheerful optimists. the old city "took her medicine" not only with patience but with an actual gaiety. to sum up: between the close of the fighting season of and the beginning of that of , g.h.q. was at first a little depressed at the thought that political developments would prevent the army from seeing the job through in a satisfactory way; was subsequently reassured as to the feeling of the civilian population; and thereafter faced the future with complete confidence. chapter xvi. enter the americans. how the germans were misled about the americans--early american fighters--the arrivals in may, --american equipment--our relations with the americans and what they thought of us--the portuguese. there are many claimants for the honour of being the war winner. when i was in italy in february, , i found a very genuine belief there that the italians were the genuine war winners; that they brought the decisive weight to bear. without denying the very useful effect that italian neutrality had in the first stages of the war, and italian participation at a later date, i think it would be hard to convince, say, the french of the soundness of the italian claim. the british might be more inclined to agree; for they still keep up the curious pose of being a poor feckless people who never do anything or know anything. another claimant for the pride of first place in the grand alliance is greece; and i believe that portugal has some idea of putting in a claim. but on the whole, taking all the circumstances into account and reckoning not war services only but war effect, the actual final blow to the germans' hopes was delivered when the united states of america declared war. it was when germany made that declaration necessary, in spite of the sincere wish of the americans to keep out of the war, that all hope vanished of germany securing an arranged peace. from that moment it was clear that ultimately she would have to take exactly what was handed out to her at the conclusion of the war. it is hard to believe that the german leaders ever seriously believed the stuff and nonsense that they gave out to comfort their people on the subject of american participation in the war. but having blundered by bringing the united states in they had to try to cover up their blunders. german diplomacy was not without successes of a kind in the preparation and prosecution of the war. if it is the function of diplomacy to plot murders and strikes and arsons in neutral countries, to bribe oriental despots such as those of turkey and bulgaria into betraying their people, german diplomacy had a proud record. but concerning the sentiments and opinions of honourable communities german diplomacy showed always an abysmal ignorance. in no respect was this more clear than in its dealings with the united states of america. at first german diplomacy adopted the idea which was embodied in the german phrase "those idiotic yankees"--the idea that the united states was a kind of wild west show, whose simpleton rulers could be fooled without trouble by the intelligent, the super-intelligent, germans. when that idea was exploded, the next to take its place was equally foolish--that anyhow the antagonism of the united states did not matter, for she would not make war, and if she made war the effort would be so feeble as not to be worth considering. then when the grim shadow of the great american preparation was already over the german despotism, and the greatest single white nation of the world was seen preparing its mighty strength to the full, the german people were asked to take comfort from yet another delusion, that the american nation would prove to be a "quitter," that it would be frightened off the field by the german offensive of the spring of . the _hamburger echo_ voiced that delusion when it announced: "it is curious that at this critical moment american war experts are reported to be planning an inspection trip of the front. it looks as though american capitalists were growing nervous. the dollar-republic has stolen ships which ensure her a great fleet, but american capital is not unlimited, hence the liquidation of the war may be contemplated." how different the truth about that "inspection trip" which had the effect, certainly, of impressing the american staff with the extreme seriousness of the campaign, but led to the result not of "quitting" but of brigading the american troops temporarily with those of the allies. it was an instance of a sensible sacrifice of national vanity that has probably no parallel in history--that decision of the americans to allow their soldiers to fight under british and french flags while they learned their business. unhappy german people to have been fed by their leaders with such delusions! the united states a "quitter"! had any german read the history of the th and th centuries--heard of washington, of hamilton, of lincoln? if the german had searched back only so far as he would have found that the nation which he was told might throw up the sponge at the first hint of hardship and danger, faced a war which probably, for nerve strain and call for grim resolution, surpassed even this great war. the united states had then to fight not a foreign foe but domestic discord. it had to set its teeth through a series of great military disasters. it had to hold firmly to a forlorn hope, whilst it was faced by the ever-present prospect of foreign interference. no nation in modern times has been put to a harsher test of courage and resolution than the united states in and the following year. no nation in history showed a more indomitable courage. and this was the nation that the german leaders would fain persuade their people was likely to prove a "quitter!" i ventured to say at the time that before the german military despotism was through with the war it would recognise that the reluctance of the united states to enter the war would be matched by the reluctance of the united states to go out of the war until its purpose was finally accomplished. * * * * * to tell the story of the american participation in the war does not come within the province of this work, but some of the facts can be told of that most dramatic feature of the last stages of the great war. there was a very elaborate and very successful mystification of the enemy over the time, the extent, and the equipment of american arrivals on the western front. the american "intelligence," in co-operation with our own and the french intelligence branches, managed to surround these matters with so much mystery that some of our own high staff officers never knew the exact position, and strangely over-estimated the strength of the american force on the western front. there is good reason to believe that the german high command was completely deceived and found its difficulties increased accordingly. from almost the first day of the war there were a few individual americans fighting for the allies. in september, , i encountered two personally with the british army, and i suppose the actual total number was some hundreds. later a great many came over with the canadian contingents; and there was also a flying unit, which made a fine reputation for itself. this began with a small group of americans in the foreign legion of the french army. in the spring of the formation of an american squadrilla was decided upon. at first the french minister of war was not inclined to sanction the proposition, but afterwards decided that no international law prevented americans from enlisting voluntarily, in spite of their country's neutrality. the squadrilla was to be known as the "escadrille américaine," and to be commanded by a french captain. on november th, , colonel barès, chief of the french aviation at general headquarters, decided that the name "escadrille américaine" must be dropped and the official military number, n , used in future. the reason given was that bernstorff had protested to washington "that americans were fighting on the french front, that the french _communiqués_ contained the name 'escadrille américaine,' and that these volunteer americans pushed their brazenness to the point of having a red sioux indian in full war-paint depicted on their machines." captain berthaud, at the ministry of war, suggested the adoption of the name "escadrille de volontaires," but the name finally adopted was "lafayette escadrille." more than american volunteers entered the lafayette escadrille before america joined in the war. some remained in the squadrilla, others were transferred to various french units, where they frequently distinguished themselves by the brilliance of their exploits. all these troops, however, were strictly unofficial and of course discountenanced by the american government. after the american declaration of war, american help was confined for a long time to labour units, forestry and railway workers. it was not until may, , that there was any really considerable american fighting force in france, and not until june, , that it began to have any weight in the fighting line, and then only as units brigaded with british and french troops. it was the usual plan--a plan made possible by the admirable and business-like lack of false pride among the americans--to split up their troops among other troops, allow them thus to be "blooded," and after experience as platoons, companies, brigades, to retire to their own training grounds and form "pukka" divisions of their own. by april th, , there were , american troops in our lines in france, by may th , , by june th , . then the second army corps was formed and absorbed , men. the may, , programme provided for the arrival of six american divisions within the british zone of operations, and there actually were , american troops attached to the british army at the end of that month. the british army took responsibility for the feeding and equipment of these troops. the system was adopted of assigning to each american division as it arrived a british "mother" division, to see it through its early troubles of transport, equipment, food and accommodation. the system worked admirably and there was very little friction in connection with the settling down of the americans. yet the task of adjustment was not easy. the american troops had to be equipped with almost everything except uniforms, badges and caps. the things they had were almost as much a cause of trouble as the things they had not. the american troops had to be gently separated from huge kits of unnecessary articles at the same time as they were provided with necessities. judging from the mountainous kits of the american soldiers as they arrived it was thought that each man carried a roll-top desk, a typewriter, and a dictagraph in his roll. it was found impossible for the men to march with their kits, though they were splendid physical types and full of keenness. i saw one division disentrain at a station on lines of communication and begin a march to its camp, a distance of about ten miles. before half the distance had been covered a great proportion of the men had had to give up their kits to be stored by the road side. one american camp was formed at samer near montreuil; and the town's name was pronounced near enough to "sammie" to make it easy to persuade some of the soldiers that it had been named in their honour. the americans at first had a natural love for their own methods and their own wonderful kit; but they were very soon convinced of what were the practical needs of the campaign and came in time to a whole-hearted admiration of british methods, which was perhaps the finest testimonial that g.h.q. could have had. these americans coming from a great business country confessed quite frankly that the "effete" britisher had "got them all beat" on questions of supply and transport; and they took over our system in almost every detail. perhaps some of the points that arose will be of interest. the great underclothing controversy was one of the most amusing. the british army had evolved a very practical system of keeping the troops in clean underclothing without adding to the weight of their kits. a soldier went up to the trenches or to his unit wearing a clean suit of underclothes. on the first opportunity, usually within a week, the soldier went back (on relief if he were an infantry man, on roster if he were a special unit man) to the baths which were set up in every divisional area. here he stripped for a hot bath, and whilst he was in the bath his uniform was cleaned, deprived of any insect population, and pressed, and his underclothing was taken away to the laundry. he never saw that underclothing again but drew a new suit, or a clean suit, as he went out of the baths; and so he marched off spruce and smart. the suit of underclothing he had left behind was thoroughly disinfected, washed, repaired if necessary, and went then into the general stock to be issued again. at first the americans could not see that such a system would work. their idea was for every man to carry three suits of underclothing, one on his body two in his kit. presumably he was expected to change in the midst of the ghastly mud of a flanders trench. also presumably he was expected to carry about his dirty suits with him, which showed a curious degree of trust in human nature. it was objected to the british system that "all men were not the same size," and in response it was pointed out that neither were all the suits of underclothing kept in stock at divisional baths, but that with a fair attention to the law of averages and a reasonable surplus allowance no thin man had to go away with a fat man's suit and no tall man with a short man's. the british system was finally adopted and won full american approval. boots caused another difficulty. the british issue was one pair per man; the american, two, the spare pair being carried in the kit. the americans finally agreed that if they could get for their men boots of british quality (which was conspicuously better than the american quality) the one pair issue would suffice. it would be impossible to praise too highly the common-sense and civility of the american _liaison_ officers who had to argue out these points with our officers. they were never unreasonable, and were very prompt in crediting our officers with politeness and good-will. that americans and british can get on very well together this campaign has proved. i think that in every case where an american and a british division were thrown together they parted company with a marked increase of mutual good-will and respect. optimism was the prevailing fault in the american organisation. they thought that the fighting was a much simpler matter than it actually proved to be. they thought a man could and would carry an unduly heavy pack. they were very optimistic in the matter of accoutrements and were anxious to use their own accoutrements when they had a barely sufficient supply for the strength of a unit, and no reserve. they were ultimately convinced that accoutrements in warfare have a way of disappearing, and without a strong reserve no item of accoutrement can be kept up. when there was no reserve of some item, british accoutrements were substituted. it is a testimony to the quality of british equipment that the american troops showed a desire to be provided with british articles in substitution for their own, even when the change was not necessary. british puttees and british breeches were cases in point. the american troops got british rations, except that coffee took the place of tea. one coffee-grinder per men was provided. perhaps civilian england was puzzled over the fact that in it was impossible to buy a coffee-grinder in this country. now they know why. they had all been bought up for the american troops. in all things g.h.q. did its very best for the americans. they had a fancy for an increased scale of machine-guns; the machine-guns were found for them, though they were a precious and scarce commodity at the time and we could not give our own divisions the increased scale. to provide horse transport for the americans we stripped our field artillery of two horses out of every ammunition team of six. the general principle was that if the americans wanted anything it had to be found somehow and found in a hurry. probably we won an undeserved reputation for slickness in some matters (such as printing army publications), for it was the established rule to give american orders priority. american _liaison_ officers at g.h.q. "made good" with the british staff very quickly. they had a downright earnestness of manner which was very engaging. the american staff seemed to have been chosen strictly for efficiency reasons and, there being no obstacles of established custom to overcome, the best men got to the top very quickly. the appointment of mr. frederick palmer, the famous war correspondent, to a high post on general pershing's intelligence staff was an example of their way of doing things. colonel palmer as war correspondent had seen much of this and of many other wars. for his particular post he was an ideal man. but it would be difficult to imagine him stepping at once into so high a position in a european army. american rank marks were puzzling to british officers at first. an american _liaison_ officer obliged me with a mnemonic aid to their understanding. "you just reckon that you are out to rob a hen-roost. right. you climb up one bar; that's a lieutenant. you climb up two bars: that's a captain. when you get up to the chickens, that's the colonel" (the colonel's badge was an eagle on the shoulder-straps). "above the chicken there's the stars" (a star was the badge of a general). to the same officer i was indebted for a flattering summing up of british character. "i don't say you british people are over-polite. but you are reliable. go into a pow-wow and a british officer may strike you as a bit surly. but if he says he'll do a thing you can reckon that thing done and no need to worry. some other people are very polite; and they say awfully nicely that they'll do anything and everything you ask; and six months after you find nothing has been done." * * * * * the americans, when they got into action, first as auxiliaries of british and french divisions, then in their own army organisation, were fine fighters. their splendid physique made them very deadly in a close tussle, and they had a business-like efficiency in battle that did not appeal to the boche. a favourite american weapon at close quarters was a shot gun sawn off short at the barrel. it was of fearful effect. the enemy had the sublime impudence to protest against this weapon as "contrary to the usages of civilised warfare." this was cool indeed from the folk who made us familiar with the murder of civil hostages, the use of civilians as fire-screens, and the employment of poison-gas as methods of warfare. the americans answered the impudent protest with peremptory firmness, and kept the shot gun in use. it was stated, too, and generally credited, though this matter did not come within my personal observation, that the american divisions in their sector set up and maintained a law in regard to machine-gun fire. they did not consider it fair war that a machine-gunner in an entrenched position should keep on firing to the very last moment and then expect to be allowed to surrender peaceably. the americans played the game, but they did not play it on "soft" lines, and the enemy soon got a very wholesome respect for them. there was, in the early stages of the american participation, an evident attempt on the part of the german intelligence to encourage an "atrocity" campaign against the americans. german atrocities had a way of casting their shadows before. a usual method was to accuse germany's foes in advance of doing what the germans proposed to undertake themselves. that was the way in which germany ushered in her lawless use of prisoners of war in the firing line, and her enslavement of the civil population of occupied belgium and france. when the german press engaged in "propaganda" work on the subject of the american forces coming into action, it took the line of representing the americans as altogether despicable and murderous adventurers, who had come into the war to kill germans without any reason whatsoever and when taken prisoners wondered "that they were not shot on the spot, as the french had told them they would be." as one german paper put it: "to the question why america carries on the war against germany they knew no answer. one can feel for our soldiers who become enraged against this alien hand which fights against us for no reason. our men believe the french fight for glory and to wipe out the stain of , that britain struggles for mastery on the sea and to prove which of the two giants is the stronger. but the american! our field-greys despise him and do not recognise him as a worthy opponent, even though he may fight bravely." but that sort of talk was soon dropped--as was the suggestion that american prisoners should get "special treatment" when captured. it was rather amusing to watch from our intelligence side the manoeuvres of the well-drilled german press on the subject of the americans. early in there was a general disposition in the german papers to write of the americans as tomahawkers and "scalpers" and so on. then we learned from our tapping of german field reports that officers commanding german units complained that this sort of propaganda was having such a bad effect on their men, that they "got the wind up" as soon as they knew that americans were in front of them. as a result a great silence suddenly fell upon the german papers on this point. after the americans had formed their own army system we did not hear so much of them at montreuil. but they were naturally always in close touch with g.h.q., and to the very end the british administrative services were able to give a helping hand to the american allies. * * * * * the portuguese contingent remained with the british army to the end, and it did very well, as might have been expected; for as a race the portuguese have a proud record of heroism and knightly adventure. in the indies, the south pacific, and the americas, portuguese valour has left imperishable monuments. the british empire in particular owes much to such great sea captains as the portuguese vasco di gama (who discovered the sea route to india), torres (who discovered and named australia), magellan, quiros, and menezes. we heard much amusing gossip at g.h.q. from the soldiers at the front, who, after a critical weighing of the facts, arrived at the conclusion that the portuguese were "good sports." that conclusion was not come to all at once. the british soldier is very conservative, and he was inclined to be, for some reason or other, critical of his new allies at first. in time "tommy" forgave the portuguese for having names "that sounded like blooming prayers," which was one of his early reasons for doubt. here is one incident that helped to determine a favourable verdict: a forward post held by the portuguese was subjected to a furious bombardment late one afternoon by the germans. after a while a polite note came down from the portuguese officer in charge of the sector informing the british commander that: "the enemy are heavily bombarding our position. accordingly we have evacuated it." there was some inclination to criticise; it was not the withdrawal; the best soldiers on earth have to withdraw sometimes. but the polite little note with its "accordingly" suggested what it was not intended to suggest, and what was not the fact at all. however, plans were at once put in hand for artillery action, preparatory to restoring the position next morning. but some time after nightfall those plans were put aside on receipt of another polite little note: "the enemy has ceased bombarding our position. accordingly we have re-occupied it." when the full facts of the incident came out there was a cheer for the portuguese. it seems that the officer in charge was a bit of a tactician and knew his men well. the post he had to hold was very advanced and poorly fortified. when the enemy began to flood it with shells he withdrew his garrison to a safe spot that he had selected, and waited until nightfall. then, without any artillery preparation, he led his men forward and, with the bayonet and those deadly little daggers that the portuguese soldiers carried, restored the position. an earlier incident of the portuguese co-operation was humorous in another way. "tommy" had, of course, found a name for the new arrivals, a name which was more humorous than respectful. like all tommy's word-coinages it was a good one and spread into common use. high authority, fearful that offence would be given, issued an order, a very portentous order, which noticed with reprobation "the habit which had grown up" of referring to "our noble allies" as "the ---- ----." the order concluded with the usual warning of disciplinary action. it was to be circulated secretly by word of mouth from officer to officer, but some unfortunate adjutant circulated it in battalion orders so that all could read--including the portuguese. chapter xvii. the german spring of . was g.h.q. at fault?--where we could best afford to lose ground--refugees complicate the situation--stark resolution of the french--all the pas-de-calais to be wrecked if necessary--how our railways broke down--amiens does not fall. to affirm that a great german attack was expected in the spring of , and that the site of the attack was not altogether unexpected, seems to imply a very serious criticism of g.h.q. that being so, why did the germans succeed in breaking through and winning such an extent of territory and coming within a narrow margin of gaining a decisive advantage? the question is natural, especially as one soldier in high command has stated--or is reported to have stated--that he knew exactly the spot where the germans were going to attack. some day there will be an exhaustive inquiry into all the circumstances of the spring of . probably as a result it will be found that no serious blame can be attached in any quarter, but that what happened was the result of a series of events which were mostly unavoidable. for the first time germany could concentrate her whole strength on this front. yet our strength was at the lowest point it had reached for many months and, since we had just taken over a new sector of the line, our defence was thinner on the average than it had ever been since . further, we were definitely short of some essential defence material. if we had strengthened the sector where the chief attack came we should have had to weaken another sector. then the germans would have attacked that sector. they chose, and chose naturally, the point where our line was thinnest. if it can be shown that the sector where our line was thinnest was the sector in which we could best afford to lose ground, it will have to be admitted that, in the main, g.h.q. had made the best dispositions possible with the means at hand. a glance at the map of france will show that pretty clearly. put in a phrase, the german plan was to push the british army into the sea. in the north our line was dangerously close to the sea. our most northern port, dunkirk, was actually under shell-fire and in consequence could be very little used. a very small gain of territory by the germans in the north would have brought calais and boulogne under shell-fire. then our existence as an army north of the somme would have become impossible. we could not have kept an adequate force there in supplies. in the north every yard of territory was of the greatest strategic value. as our line ran south the french coast bulged out. we had more room to manoeuvre there; loss of ground was not so vital. if the germans had won on the line ypres-armentières the same depth of territory that they won on the line arras-péronne, we should have had to evacuate all france north of the somme. in short we took the biggest risk of loss of ground where the loss was least dangerous to the vital plan of the campaign. in the light of the man-power available it was probably the best course that could have been pursued. we knew we had to lose ground, probably a good deal of ground, and decided to lose it where it mattered least. we had very good ideas as to where. for proof of this look up the representations as to civilian evacuations which were made by g.h.q. to the french authorities in february, . those representations, by the way, were not given any attention at all in some cases; at the best only perfunctory attention. the result was that when the german attack came, civilian refugees added to our difficulties and anxieties. if the prompt and complete evacuation of all civilian refugees from threatened areas and from areas close behind the front line, which were urgently needed for the accommodation of troops, could have been effected, the army's tasks would have been much simplified. but that proved impracticable. civilians were generally unwilling to abandon their homes voluntarily. the french authorities were reluctant to enforce evacuation. a civilian quitting his home voluntarily was responsible for his own keep. a civilian forced to quit became a charge on the french civil authorities. this naturally led to a wish that civilians as far as possible should be compelled to quit their homes by force of circumstances rather than by order of the authorities. as far back as february, , pressure was brought to bear on the french authorities to agree to defined measures to meet the emergency of a withdrawal of part of our line, which was then foreseen as a probability. but it was not found possible to secure prompt assent to the steps which were necessary. there were all sorts of complications. for one thing it was feared that to set up the machinery of evacuation would spread dismay among the french civilians. another obstacle was the financial one which i have already mentioned. yet another was that created by the status of the miners in threatened areas. these were mobilised men under french military command; their wives and children were civilians. if their wives and children were evacuated the miners would not stay. later, arrangements were agreed to between the british force and the french authorities for the systematic evacuation, with their live stock and supplies, of civilians in threatened areas. but the early difficulties considerably hampered operations. i mention this not at all by way of a tilt against the french authorities, whose reluctance to make provision for evacuations was natural enough, but to show that g.h.q. was not "caught napping," and to illustrate also the difficulties which an expeditionary force operating in a friendly country has to meet. there are, of course, many advantages springing from the fact that the country in which you are quartered is friendly. but i am not sure that the disadvantages are not almost as great. in an enemy country you know at any rate where you are; military safety, military convenience are the supreme law; and the civilian population have only to be considered to the degree that the laws of war and the dictates of humanity decide. in a friendly country, where the old civil government remains in operation, an army is hampered at many points. there are various actions which military convenience prompts but which cannot be taken without the assent of the civilian authorities; and perhaps cannot be urged with the weight of the full facts on those civil authorities. this evacuation difficulty is an instance in point. if g.h.q. had had its way the germans would have won far less material in their advance; and perhaps their advance would have been stopped at an earlier stage if our operations had not been hampered to some extent by the crowding of the road with civilian refugees. still, on the big issues the french were splendid. what, for example, could have been more heroic than the decision they came to a little later: that, in case of the german advance continuing, the whole of the pas de calais province was to be destroyed, the harbours of dunkirk, calais and boulogne wrecked, the dykes and locks destroyed so that the country would have been generally inundated? to some degree defensive inundations were actually carried into effect, but with fresh water only. the responsibility in the main rested with the british army which was holding the threatened territory. the only saving stipulation made by the french, who thus offered in the cause of the alliance to give up for half a century the use of one of their fairest provinces, was that before the sea was let in to devastate the land, marshal foch should give the word. it was on april th, , that the allied commander-in-chief gave orders for defensive inundations to stop the germans from getting to the dunkirk-calais region; and on april th the governor of dunkirk began to put these into effect. there were two schemes of inundation, one for a modified flooding with fresh water of certain limited areas; the other for a general flooding, with sea-water as well as fresh water, of all low-lying areas around calais and dunkirk. it is impossible to praise adequately the stark courage that agreed to this step. it was courage after the antique model, and it showed that france was willing to make any sacrifice rather than allow the wave of german barbarism to sweep over civilisation. the effect of letting the sea in on pas de calais and destroying the canal locks and the harbours would have been to make this great province a desert for two generations. the effect of allowing it to fall into german hands, with all its canal and harbour facilities, would have been to give new life to the submarine war, to make the bombardment and ultimately the invasion of the english coast possible. at one time it seemed almost certain that an evacuation of at least part of pas de calais would have to be carried out; and arrangements were made in detail: that in any area which was evacuated, either deliberately or in consequence of direct enemy pressure, the most thorough destruction should be carried out to deny to the enemy any stores of material or facilities of transport. the method of every destruction and the unit responsible for it were arranged in advance. the main lines of a policy of destruction were laid down in the event of:-- . a withdrawal to the calais--st. omer defensive line; . a withdrawal to the line of the somme; . an enemy advance along the line of the somme, cutting off flanders and pas de calais from the south. provision was made for the using up or removal of all possible stores; for the destruction of the remainder; for the destruction of all railroads, water-ways, signalling systems, factories, etc. where british and french troops were operating together in a fighting zone, their respective responsibilities were delimited. arrangements were also made, in case of withdrawal, to clear from certain water-ways all canal craft which might serve the enemy as bridge material over inundations. * * * * * certainly it was not "gay," as the french say, this preparation for destroying the property of an ally. but we took comfort from the fact that after all the position was better than in . then a german victory seemed possible. now in the only question was what sacrifices we should yet have to make before achieving victory. in , after years of intensive preparation, the german had rushed upon an unsuspecting europe. he neglected nothing in preparing for victory. he threw overboard every scruple in order to secure a rapid triumph, violating the neutrality of belgium and luxemburg merely because by so doing he gained a better field of deployment. his objective was paris, and, according to authoritative accounts, his plan on reaching paris was to divide it up into twelve quarters and burn down a quarter every day that the french army delayed to surrender. the terms of surrender were to include the giving up of the french fleet and the french ports for use in an invasion of england. the danger at that time was very real. germany was the only country adequately armed and organised. the british people had had to sacrifice in great measure the regular army to stay the first german onset. france was strained to a point which to any other country would have meant exhaustion. we could recall the preparations that had to be made to meet the imminent fear of an invasion of the british coast; the desperate shifts and expedients which had to be adopted in the first stages of the organisation of the new armies; the peremptory demands for guns and shells when there were no factories to make either in anything like the quantity demanded. that was a time when it needed the highest of moral courage to remain calm and confident. the spring of is not a pleasant thing to think about; but it is hardly endurable, even now in safe retrospection, to think on the position of great britain at home or in the field from october, , to september, . it was that of an unsuspecting man before whose feet suddenly a pit of destruction opens. he falls scrambling, struggling down, and at last reaches a little ledge which gives a momentary safety. but it is still a desperate task merely to hang on. far up, remote almost as a star, shines safety. below are his friends of civilised europe, all worse situated than himself, some at the point of complete destruction. from above a fierce storm of missiles rains on his head. from below come piteous appeals for help. to hold on to his little ledge, to help the friends below, to climb up and throttle the foe above--he has all these to do and little time to think before he acts. hardly endurable, yet necessary to think over, so that the greatness of the danger into which the world was plunged by german militarism can be gauged. in an occupation of the french channel ports with england almost entirely unarmed might have been a very serious thing. the serious view taken of it in great britain can be judged from the preparations which were made to devastate a great area in the south and east of england so as to give to the germans only a desert as a foothold. in if the germans had got pas de calais they would not have got any ports with it, and an invading force arriving in england would have met a force at least equal to it in equipment and war experience. so we waited in some confidence for another marne to follow another mons, and smiled a little grimly at the change of tone in germany. the kaiser, cock-a-whoop again, was declaring now for a "strong german peace." in one office, side by side with the "situation map" which showed from day to day the depth of the german advance, there were stuck up in derision extracts from the most vituperative of the german press. here is one from the _deutsche zeitung_: "away with all petty whining over an agreement and reconciliation with the fetish of peace.... away with the miserable whimpering of those people who even now would prevent the righteous german hatred of england and sound german vengeance. the cry of victory and retaliation rages throughout germany with renewed passion." this from _germania_: "there can be no lasting peace and no long period of quiet in the world until the presumptuous notion that the anglo-saxons are the chosen people is victorious or defeated. we are determined to force with the sword the peace which our adversaries did not see fit to confide to our honest word. we germans are an incomparably strong nation." these horrible threats remained on the notice-board until long after the tide of battle turned and the german was in full retreat back to his lair. and we rather liked the story which the german press had to the effect that a deputation of german business men had put before hindenburg in february the gloomy prospects of the country's food supplies, concluding: "in may, germany will be almost without food." hindenburg thereupon replied: "my reply is that i shall be in paris on april st." the date chosen seemed so appropriate! still, it would be foolish to say that we had no anxieties. some of our stoutest fellows were up at "advanced g.h.q.," a temporary h.q. near amiens, from which most of the really exciting work was done. at montreuil we had not the exhilarating feeling of being within the sound of the guns, but had to face perhaps the hardest of the toil. it was rare for an officer in some branches to leave his room before midnight, and the usual hour for starting work was . a.m. meals ceased for a time to be convivial affairs. one rushed to the table, ate, and rushed back to work. the work was so overwhelming because of a combination of circumstances. the character of the war had changed from stationary to moving over almost all the british front, calling for a return to the mobile system of supply and for new classes of material. british reinforcements were arriving from other fronts, sometimes without their full supply train and without the full equipment for our front, and not familiar with its system of working. there were large movements of french troops into british areas, and in some cases these french troops relied upon british sources for some of their supplies and transport, and in all cases their line of supply had to be dove-tailed in with ours. american troops were moved into british areas and relied upon british sources for many items of equipment, transport and supplies. british administration was thus being called upon for supplies to british, french, american and portuguese troops, at the same time as our lines of supply had to be re-organised and co-ordinated with the new french lines of supply. further difficulties were created by the necessary frequent changes of railheads and the great movements on the roads of civilian refugees. territory threatened by the enemy had to be evacuated as far as possible of civilians, and of civilian goods and stock likely to be of use to the enemy in case of capture. the extent of this accumulated difficulty from a transport point of view can be gauged from the fact that a british army needs on a day of intense fighting , tons of supplies of all kinds _per mile of front_. * * * * * the railways came as nearly as possible to a complete breakdown under the strain. after the first battle of the somme, our military railway system in france was thoroughly reorganised by civilian experts. it was a reorganisation which followed, i believe, the best models of the great railway companies of england, and it coped with the very heavy traffic during the period of fixed or trench war quite well. unfortunately it was not a system adapted for moving warfare. a civilian railway expert would doubtless find many reasons for amused criticism in a military railway system in the running. it would appear to be rather haphazard, to be run a good deal on the principle of a train getting there if it could, and to be very faulty in the matter of time-tables and so on. well, the german advance in its brutal practical way simply riddled with holes that admirable railway reorganisation which the civilian experts had conferred on the b.e.f., france. perhaps it was only to have been expected. trench war in its railway requirements was deceptively like peace. you had your railway termini, and the requirements of a division were fairly stable. you ran so many trains a day and, except for an occasional rush on some sector when fighting warmed up suddenly, there were no problems that differed greatly from those say of the london, brighton and south coast railway. in moving war it is different. then a railway system must be elastic enough to stand such a series of shocks as would be conveyed to the l.b. and s.c. manager if at p.m. he were told: "it is bank holiday to-morrow. provide for carrying , extra passengers, about , horses and , carriages." then at p.m. he learned: "you can't shunt any trains at lewes; and you can only run trains through with luck. it is under heavy shell-fire." then every half-hour subsequently he got a new order, diverting traffic from one point to another, changing the destinations of his trains and so on. the transport situation for the moment was saved by the motor transport. but the commander-in-chief had to act promptly and set up a "jury-mast" arrangement for railway control to tide over the crisis. in effect he took the supreme control of the railways out of the hands of the transportation directorate and put it under a "board of directors" meeting daily, at which the q.m.g. presided. a later development made the chief of general staff chairman of this board. then, when things settled down, the system that had been set up by the civilian experts was largely scrapped. military railways were again put under the control of the quartermaster-general. the "stupid soldiery" did rather well with them, not only in the period of pause that came between the german advance and our great counter-attack, but in the gigantic task of following up our advance. the task of pulling together the railways was not an easy one. the enemy advance had caused a direct loss of some light railway systems, and on the broad-gauge systems important engine depôts were lost, and our front lateral line was brought at several points under the fire of the enemy's artillery. use of this front lateral line had thus become precarious. the results of this were felt in every part of the railway system. good circulation is the essence of railway working; and a block at any point has an effect similar to that of an aneurism on a human artery. because of the loss of engine depôts, and the hindrances to circulation on the front lateral line, the back lateral line along the coast became seriously congested. this congestion reduced the capacity of every engine by an average of per cent. further, our rear lateral line had two particularly vulnerable points, one at etaples, where it crossed the canche, and the other at abbéville, where it crossed the somme. upon these points enemy aircraft made frequent attacks, imposing delays, occasionally causing minor destruction, always adding to the effects of the existing congestion. an excellent piece of work reduced very considerably the effect of one successful enemy air-raid. half an hour after midnight, one night in may, the canche railway-bridge at etaples was damaged. at once an avoiding line--constructed for such an emergency--was put into operation, and trains were running through at a.m. on one of the worst nights of the german advance, when we went up to the situation-map without any enthusiasm, half afraid of what we should see, young captain hannibal napoleon deepened our gloom by declaring oracularly: "if we hold on to amiens we shall be all right. if amiens falls to the germans it is goodbye to montreuil, and no more paris leave for a few years." hannibal napoleon (that, of course, was not his name) was very junior and very confident of his strategical genius. it was a favourite amusement to "pull his leg" and draw from him an "appreciation" of the situation, which he was always willing to give with the authority of a commander-in-chief. this oracle was displeasing, because on the appearance of things that night we had not an earthly chance of holding amiens. but the unexpected happened. not very many hours afterwards the news came through that a successful stand was being made in front of amiens; and young hannibal napoleon was able to crow like a gallic cock over his profound strategical judgment. chapter xviii. the motor lorry that waited. how a motor lorry waited at the ecole militaire to take away the maps to the coast--the motor lorry reserve--an "appreciation" of the position--germany lost the war in the first three months--some notes of german blunders. one night in the spring of a mysterious motor lorry drew up in the yard of the ecole militaire at montreuil. its driver reported and was ordered to stand by. he stood by all that night; and in the morning was relieved by another driver. but the empty lorry still waited. at night a relief driver came on duty. but the empty lorry still waited. [illustration: the ecole militaire] lorries in those days were precious. because the german had seized many of our light railways, had put under his shell-fire our main front lateral line and had brought our whole railway system to a point perilously close to collapse, the fate of the british army was to a great extent dependent on its motor lorries. by an intuitional stroke of genius, or of luck, the new quartermaster-general had just brought to completion one of his "gyms"--the building up of a g.h.q. reserve of motor lorries. there had been all kinds of explanations of that reserve--mostly of the humorous-malicious order. it had been said that they were intended to carry about the baggage of the g.h.q. generals; that the reserve had no other reason for being than to find a soft job for some potentate near to the golf links of the coast. but whether it was just a guess or a bit of far-seeing on the part of sir travers clarke, that g.h.q. motor lorry reserve had been built up; and it was available to rush into the breach when the railways could not face the task of supply. very nobly the motor transport--including that reserve--did its duty. there were drivers who held the wheel for thirty-six hours at a stretch, and were lifted from their seats fainting or asleep; a few--who carried on until no longer able to see through their bloodshot and torturing eyes--ran their cars into trees or walls or ditches. there were many casualties, but the situation was saved. it was just at this time, when a motor lorry was above rubies in value, that an entirely healthy, well-preserved example, with driver attached, was ordered to remain in the yard of the ecole militaire. everyone wanted to know the reason why. the position was then at its very worst, so the humourist who surmised that it was "waiting for the wine orders of the ---- mess," for once found his jape fall flat. the truth was for a long time known only to a select few. that motor lorry was told off to carry away the maps and important papers from montreuil to the coast, since the evacuation of the town and of all france north of the somme was possible at an hour's notice. so critical was the position for some days that that motor lorry was never off duty night or day. but g.h.q. went about its work unperturbed to all outward seeming, and there was not a whisper of losing the war, not even from those who knew what would be the full consequences of evacuating pas de calais. one officer--he would not like his name to be published even now--spoke with the most frank recognition of facts and yet with a robust confidence that was distinctly comforting: "if we go behind the somme it will give the germans the coast from the canche right up to the scheldt for their submarines. that is the most serious factor. we won't leave them much in the way of harbour works, of course; but still they will be able in a year or two to restore things a bit." "in a year or two? but will it last...?" "oh yes, you can give the war another ten years at least in that event. for there won't be any american army to speak of; no port to land them or supply them from. our british army will have to come down in strength for the same reason. you can't keep a bigger army anywhere than you can keep supplied with food and shells. look at the ports and the railways. there will be havre, brest, cherbourg, bordeaux as ports of supply and the railways from them as the channels of supply to the front line. no good talking of millions of americans pouring in. they can't pour. funnel's too narrow." but there wasn't in that officer's mind a hint of the possibility of failure. "it's only a question of organising to get at them. in time weight must tell. the germans and their friends are, say, , , in population. the allies who are in the war against them have , , of population and another , , of reserve population if japan came in fully, and china, and brazil. i count russia on neither side, but she is still a liability more than an asset to the germans. in money and resources the odds against them are even greater. i like to go back to the simple basis of arithmetic sometimes. of course weight doesn't tell against skill. but now the skill is about even. the germans had their one and only chance at the beginning, the very beginning, of the war; because they were ready and no one else was. they had to win by christmas, , or not to win at all." he went on to sketch vividly the story of the war up to that date, the very nadir of our depression. he argued that the enemy had obviously committed some tremendous blunders. the prussian military leaders had been very clever in securing spectacular victories (generally after a preliminary corruption of some weak section of their opponents) and thus the military position was not easy to see in its true proportion. but even a surface consideration must show that whilst germany was always announcing victories, she was never really within sight of victory. "in the first instance the prussian empire had made no sound reckoning of the forces she had to meet. that was the first elementary duty of the strategist. the man who goes out to fight ten thousand and finds he has to fight twenty thousand has blundered irreparably. in prussia calculated that great britain would not participate in the war, and would consent not only to the destruction of france but to the betrayal of her obligations towards belgium. the bewildered dismay with which germany learned that great britain would not look upon the treaty with belgium as a 'scrap of paper,' the wild hatred toward england which found one expression in the 'hymn of hate,' were the screams of a savage creature caught in a trap. "she had then one slender chance, a rush attack on paris. but the battle of the marne killed that chance. then the only hope of saving germany was to make peace. but she had made the ghastly blunder of the belgian atrocities. "when a man goes out to fight ten thousand and finds himself confronted by twenty thousand it is common prudence to strive to make the stakes as low as possible, the penalty of failure as small as possible. there was a chance that, if that policy had been followed, the war would have come to an end soon after the battle of the marne, an end not favourable to prussian ideas of european domination, giving those ideas a severe check, but still not wrecking them irrevocably nor exacting a very heavy penalty. but the prussian spirit added blunder to blunder. having launched a hopeless war it set itself to give that war an 'unlimited' character. instead of going through belgium as a reluctant trespasser, the prussian army trampled through as a ravaging devastator in full blast of frightfulness. by the time prussia had fought and lost the battle of the marne she had steeled her enemies to an inflexible resolution against a compromise peace." prussia, he argued, thus early by two blunders of the first magnitude ( ) entered into a campaign against an alliance which ultimately could command vastly superior forces, and ( ) embittered the conditions of the campaign so that her withdrawal from it was made exceedingly difficult. several blunders of a lesser order marked the first stages of the campaign. belgium having been attacked and liége taken, the prussian army showed a strange hesitancy and lack of enterprise when faced by the little belgian army on the line haelen-tirlemont-namur. precious days were lost in pottering. whether it was expected that the belgian nation would give way after one defeat, or it was thought that french and british armies had been pushed up into belgium, the german millions were held up an unduly long time by the belgian thousands. at mons the german army neither crushed the french-british force nor pushed it back so quickly that the main deployment was harassed. whether this failure of the german army was due to its bad handling or to the excellent virtues of the french-british force, did not matter. but the battle of mons frustrated the only hope that was left to germany at that time--a successful rush on paris opening the way to a quick peace. it proved that there was no military genius at the head of the german invaders. then the army which had been delayed in belgium was defeated on the marne and had to fall back on the aisne. the explanation for this given in some german quarters was that the army had outstripped its big guns and ammunition supplies. that was as good as any other. no explanation would clear the prussian military command from the stigma that it failed when there was that one remaining desperate chance of success. and having failed on the marne and retreated to the aisne the german strategic plan lost all coherency. true, the war was lost so far as any hope of winning european dominancy was concerned. but there was still as a possible objective a peace which would secure prussia something in return for the territory which she had overrun. such a peace had been made difficult by the cold rage inspired by prussian frightfulness. but it was the only possible aim left and, from a military point of view, it could only be pursued in one way, by a definite hammering at some vital point to secure a decisive result, with a defensive stand in other quarters. a defensive campaign in the east with a determined offensive in the west, or a defensive on the west with a resolute offensive on the east. the prussian vacillated between the two; his effort was always shuttlecocking east to west, west to east, getting a decisive result nowhere. like a baited bull in the arena prussia was constantly making sensational rushes here and there, gratified often by the sight of fleeing foes, but never breaking out of the arena of doom, and always losing blood. "the first three months of the war," he concluded dogmatically, "were decisive. they do not redound to the military glory of prussia. during those three months the disciplined and trained devotion of the german troops worked wonders in the battle line. but indecision at headquarters prevented the proper concentration of their efforts. prussia had failed to conquer europe unprepared. she was afterwards face to face with the task of conquering europe prepared; and her indecision increased. she was always looking for success in a new quarter and never finding it. recklessness and vacillation and impatience are not sound military qualities, but they mark the whole military history of germany since november, . recklessness of ultimate consequences was shown in such matters as the bringing of poison gas into use. vacillation was shown by the effort which was organised to take the french channel ports at all costs, and, failing, was diverted to the eastern front, and back again to this front, and then again to the balkan front, and back to this front and then to the italian front and finally back to this front. impatience was shown in the general failure to push any effort to its logical conclusion, and in details, such as the haste with which poison gas was put into use on a small and ineffectual scale instead of being kept in reserve for a great and possibly decisive effort." "take it year by year," this officer concluded, "it has been always the same. germany has added always to the area of destruction. she has never got nearer to victory. it will be the same with this push. if that motor lorry has to carry away the maps from montreuil it may be another ten years before we beat the germans, but we will beat them." "but if france gives in?" "france won't give in. look at her now, ready to smash up all pas de calais--to blow up every harbour and canal and road. that does not look like giving in. even if she were forced to it we could go back to our island and carry on the fight from there." then we talked of lighter things. going out from dinner my friend reverted to the war position. "anyhow that lorry is not going to take the maps. i bet you a cigar to nothing." he was right. going up to the map room on the intelligence side we heard that our troops were holding in front of amiens. we had actually passed the lowest point of our fortunes, and within a week the motor lorry had gone. i asked one of the drivers detailed to it, who either did not know or wisely professed not to know what he had been kept in waiting for, what he thought about it all. he replied with that sound philosophy of the british soldier: "it was a splendid 'mike,' sir." "mike," it need hardly be explained, is a trade term in the army for a soft job. chapter xix. the unity of command. was it necessary?--was a french generalissimo inevitable?--our share in the guiding of the last phase of the campaign--points on which the british had their way. the "unity of command" achieved in the spring of caused hardly a ripple of comment at g.h.q. some days after it had happened we learned that lord milner (then secretary of state for war) had been over, and that, with the approval of lord haig, field marshal foch had become commander-in-chief of the allied armies. i suppose that in their secret hearts many officers felt a little sad that the honour of the united command had not fallen to a british general. but there was no question as to the wisdom of the choice nor as to the wisdom of the step itself. it was one of the early misfortunes of the campaign that the british government in had insisted very strongly on keeping our army as an absolutely independent unit in france. the reasons, one may presume, were political rather than strategical; and that there was still some remnant of the old prejudice against "continental entanglements." i do not suppose that if the issue had been left to the soldiers themselves there would have been any doubt but that the small auxiliary british force would have "reported to" the main french army and acted under its direction. that would have been the natural military course. but the position became more difficult as the importance of the british army grew. at the time that the united command was achieved the british army was in fighting force an equal unit to the french. two questions are often raised in connection with this decision of : was it necessary? was it inevitable that the united command should go to marshal foch? both questions may be answered with "yes;" though in each case the "yes" needs to be qualified with some explanation. [illustration: at the chief's chateau] it is, for instance, hardly correct to say that the decision to unite the command "won the war;" though it is probably correct that it hastened the date of victory. before it was achieved there was good co-operation, though not perfect co-operation, between the allied forces. after it was achieved there was maintained a certain independence of outlook and of policy on the part of the british command which was a great factor in the speedy consummation of victory. if that independence had not been maintained, the operations of would, almost certainly, not have been so gloriously decisive. this aspect of the final campaign has never been discussed to my knowledge, yet a knowledge of it is important if the events of are to be viewed in their proper perspective. i suppose the average "man in the street" takes the view that early in , the british army, which had been blundering along up till then, was put under french command and straightway the war was won. but it was not at all like that. the british army command, whilst giving the most loyal support to the french generalissimo and bowing to his decisions when they were finally made, read it as its duty still to keep a share in the conduct of the campaign; and in many most important conclusions it upheld its own view as against the french view. the final result in some matters showed that the british view was the right view, and that if it had not been taken the victorious advance would not have been possible. in an earlier chapter i have given the facts about the forage ration. it was not exactly a matter of the first importance, some may say. but if the french view had been accepted and the british and american horse ration had come down to the french level our horse transport would not have been able to carry on as wonderfully as it did from august to november, . as things were, it had nothing to spare during the last week, as our pursuing troops can tell. the french with their logical minds argued that if their horses could do with a certain ration, ours could. in this case the apparently logical conclusion was not the sound one; for it left out of consideration some factors--as to whether we did not use our horses more, and as to whether our men could get, or would try to get, the same work out of ill-fed horses. in this matter it was well for the allied cause that the british had their way. in another matter logic threatened to lead to a step which might have proved disastrous. the french saw, as the logical corollary of the united command, a union, a pooling of all the supply and transport departments. not only should the armies fight under one strategical direction but they should share and share alike all their resources. a decision to this effect was actually come to, the americans agreeing with the french view. it was logical without a shadow of doubt. but british common-sense recognised that if this radical reorganisation were attempted in it would be before the alliance would have been ready for a great push. the british army--let it be confessed with appropriate candour and shamefacedness--was much more exigent in its demands than the french. it needed, or thought it needed, more food, more clothing, more comforts, more ammunition, more transport. it had evolved for itself during the campaign a system of "housekeeping" which was over-liberal, perhaps, as compared with the french, but which was mainly a result of the generosity of the home people, and was so deeply rooted in our army organisation that to have torn it up in would have caused all kinds of trouble. in june, , the "executive inter-allied committee on supply" was formed by an agreement between the french and the american governments, to which the british government at first (apparently) assented. it was to take over control of all supply, storage, and transport, and to have executive functions, _i.e._, its decisions would be binding on all the armies. the british command at once saw that this was impracticable--that it was impossible in the very midst of the preparations for the great push to throw into a common pool so much of the actual equipment of the army. the allied command was very stubborn in supporting its plan. but in time british common-sense proved stronger than abstract logic, and in july all was made happy by a decision that the functions of the board were to _advise_ on matters of supply and storage and methods of utilising material, as far as practicable, for the common benefit of the allies. the board, in short, was to have its scope in assisting to maintain the excellent understanding which already existed between the armies of the allies in regard to supplies and services. the position was not at all that the british army wanted to wallow in luxury whilst its allies went short, for it was always willing to help in every possible way; but that its command knew that the essentially national system of "housekeeping" which had been set up, could not be thrown down at an hour's notice without grave danger. the same sort of problem was always cropping up on a smaller scale in areas where french troops were fighting with the british. the french had at first a logical aspiration for an identity of supply systems. our view was that when british and french troops were operating together, it was not possible to serve both from a common stock, nor by a common railway service. ammunition and supplies differed in almost every respect, and the systems of supply could not be identical. except in regard to a few items, one army could not supply the other satisfactorily. therefore, each army should have its own depôts, railheads, and--for the sorting of supplies--its own regulating stations, which would receive from base full trains loaded with particular items of supply and send out to divisions full trains loaded with the necessary assortments of different items. something could be done in the way of pooling bulk stores, such as forage, coal, and petrol; but for most things there must be different channels of supply. british policy was that a british force in a french area should provide completely for its own maintenance, and organise its supply lines and depôts accordingly. ultimately it was recognised on both sides that this was the only possible policy, and that the trouble of providing separate regulating stations, separate railheads, and depôts must be faced. any half-way policy was seen to be fraught with too many possibilities of dangerous failures. to cite yet one more instance of the british policy proving the sounder: in july, , there were very strong indications that the german power of offensive had passed its zenith and that the enemy might be forced shortly to a great withdrawal. there was set on foot in the british army at the earliest opportunity an examination of the measures of transport and supply which would become necessary if the germans were forced to withdraw their line. in - the enemy had been able to avoid, to a great extent, the consequences of his defeats on the somme and the ancre by retiring his line; a promptly effective pursuit was hindered by lack of the necessary material on our part. a foreseeing preparation would enable a better harvest of victory to be reaped if the position of - were reproduced in . we wanted to be sure of being able to follow up with about , tons of supplies per day per mile of front to carry our troops over the hindenburg line. there was found to be a divergence of view as to the best means of following up. the french were inclined to put their faith chiefly in light railways. the british idea was that light railways could be overdone; that there was not a full appreciation of the modification in the rôle of the light railway consequent on the change from trench to moving warfare; that there was a tendency for light railways to attempt to duplicate the work of broad-gauge railways; and a hint of a tendency to look upon light railways as a substitute for, instead of a reinforcement of, roads in the forward area. the british "pursuit policy," to put it briefly, was to concentrate all available labour on pushing forward with the broad-gauge railways and the roads forward from them, trusting to motor transport and to horse transport to pick up the burden from broad-gauge railhead. this was maintained to be a superior policy to concentrating on light railways, which could not allow so much freedom in lines of advance. the british view prevailed in our sector, and in the great pursuit it proved to be sound. the germans were followed up on our sector of the front in really fine fashion. in the somme sector of the front between august th and september th our broad-gauge railheads were pushed forward an average of miles. to these new railheads, all kinds of traffic could go direct from the base to meet there our motor transport (and, of course, light railways; these were not neglected but given secondary importance). it was at first the french idea to "sandwich" the various divisions of the two armies, to have a british division or corps side by side with a french wherever possible. this again would have been a beautifully logical illustration of the complete identity and fraternity of the two armies, but it was not business. it multiplied difficulties of administration, and it was finally abandoned, much to the advantage of the common cause. these matters i cite not with the idea of deprecating the french general staff--there were presumably as many instances in which their view was right and ours was wrong--but to show that it is not fair to our g.h.q. to assume, as many do assume, that the british high command had little or nothing to do with the planning of the great victory. marshal foch is prompt to resent that view when it is obtruded. he would, without a doubt, agree that the british were most loyal in service, and also very independent and stubborn (and often prevailing) in council. probably looking back upon the great victory which was won under his _bâton_ he is profoundly grateful that the british were so forthright in helping to keep the allied operations on the best track. the other question, asked at the beginning of this chapter, needs to be explained. was it inevitable that marshal foch should be chosen as generalissimo? it is quite certain that no other choice was possible in view of all the circumstances. there is no need to come to the question of who was the more renowned soldier, or to argue that if lord haig had been given the same chance he would probably have achieved the same result. personally i think that the british army in was in respect of generalship as in other respects equal to any in the field. but that was not the issue. we were fighting on french soil and had to demand great sacrifices from the french civilian population, which a french generalissimo could best get. it was quite certain that the british army would fight with exactly the same enthusiasm under a french generalissimo; it was not possible to be so certain that the french army would under a british generalissimo. there was no contested election for the post. lord haig as well as general pershing supported marshal foch's claims. it was the work and not the glory of the work which was the first consideration. [illustration: "somewhere in france"] chapter xx. the coming of victory. the june position--german attempts to pinch out our lines of supplies--the attacks on hospitals--the glorious last weeks--g.h.q.'s share. by june, , it was fairly evident that the german attack to drive the british to the sea had exhausted itself. the enemy had attempted to push through along the somme line, separating the british and the french armies. foiled in that by the stubborn defence in front of amiens, he tried a push towards the channel ports, which really gave more anxiety at g.h.q. than the earlier move, for there we were working on such a very narrow margin of safety that every yard lost was a grave peril. the final effort of the enemy was to pinch us out of territory which he could not push us out of, and this effort, though it led to no great battles, was a very serious menace. during the month of june there was not a day's respite from the pertinacious efforts of the enemy to strangle our arteries of supply. having arrived, at some places, within range of our front lateral railway line, the enemy sought by continuous bombardments to stop or at least hamper traffic, at the same time constantly attacking with aircraft our rear lateral railway line at its most sensitive points, the somme and the canche crossings. the ports of entry and the supply depôts were also repeatedly attacked. inconvenience--serious at times--and loss followed from these attacks, but there was never an actual stoppage of essential traffic. provision had been made to prevent any blows that the enemy was able to deliver being really effective alternative avoiding lines took up promptly the task of broken channels of traffic, and strenuous work in repair and good emergency organisation prevented congestion ever reaching the stage of paralysis. at one time during this month it was necessary to stop for a few days all but absolutely essential traffic from north to south. that was the limit of the enemy's success, though he was aided in some degree by an influenza epidemic (which sadly reduced the supply of labour for railway and dock work). one line of german tactics at this time was rather "over the edge" as tommy put it. that was to attack the base hospitals by aircraft. one at etaples was set on fire and destroyed. there is, i admit, some room for a shadow of a doubt as to whether the german deliberately attacked the hospitals or only accidentally. that shadow of a doubt must be granted, because it was a fact that several of our hospitals were near to large railway junctions and camps, though always clearly marked and separated from other military installations. i am not prepared to question the good faith of those who give the germans the benefit of the doubt, though i cannot agree with them. the attacks on the hospitals came in june, just when the germans concentrated their strategy on trying to cripple our means of supply. they inflicted grave embarrassment on our resources, for, at a time when material was very short and lines of transport fearfully congested, we had to construct new hospitals and move patients and staffs. a note made in july on the point reads: "good progress is being made with the transfer to other areas of hospitals which were rendered necessary by enemy aircraft attacks. though there is very little doubt possible that the enemy does not intend to respect hospitals, wherever they may be sited, in his bombing raids, the precaution is being taken of choosing new hospital sites well away from any point of military importance. no hospital will be established near military camps, important railway junctions, or bridges." if it was by a series of accidents that the germans succeeded in hitting a number of hospitals in june, , they were singularly fruitful accidents for him. the difference, from a "results" point of view, in bombing a camp and a hospital is this: if you bomb a camp you kill a few men but the camp does not move; if you bomb a hospital you kill a few patients, nurses, and doctors, and you force the hospital to move, if it can move, to an apparently safer place. * * * * * in june there was cause for anxiety in the whole supply position. seeing that the existence of the armies depended on maintaining to the full the huge rate of supply which modern war demands, and that the enemy was obviously trying immediately behind our lines the policy (which was exactly the same as the policy of his submarine campaign) of pinching out lines of supply, it was judicious to try to extend the margin of safety. one way of effecting this which was explored was to extend "lines of communication" to england, and to keep in england at places handy for shipment to france one half the reserve stores of the army. in most items the army worked on a month's reserve margin. the storing of this month's reserve in the comparatively narrow strip of france which we held, subject to constant bombing, was becoming a matter of extreme difficulty. the retreat of the germans began, however, before any definite steps in the direction of setting up reserve stores on the coast of england were taken. there was no idea that the enemy was going to collapse so suddenly. g.h.q. expected to drive him back to the hindenburg line in and to finish him off in . in the middle of july, , the matter was before the general staff with the discussion of plans founded on the postulate that the germans might withdraw to the hindenburg line, and that a prompt following up in full force was intended. an instruction to the director general of transportation asked for facts as to new railway material that would be needed in such a contingency. the problem of effective pursuit, it was recognised, would be largely one of supplies and transport. if our army could be brought up to the new german line promptly, and maintained there with all the means of vigorous attack, all kinds of pleasant results might be hoped for. but nobody really was so optimistic as to think that the enemy would throw in his hand before the winter. but we prepared for the best as well as for the worst. the task of getting ready to put pas de calais in ruins in case of a german advance was pleasantly interrupted by the now more urgent task of getting ready to follow up the enemy with horse, foot, artillery, and with some scores of thousand of tons of supplies daily. the fruits of this were reaped in august, when all agreed that the troops had been well followed up. cases of real hardships were very rare. some admirably prompt work was done in railway construction, road restoration, and canal clearing. one great main road was opened to traffic two hours after its capture. traffic on the albert line was restored to corbie and heilly the day after capture. the water supply difficulty was great, and in many cases water for both men and horses had to be sent up by motor and pack transport. but on the territory won our old water bores were found in most cases intact, and were promptly restored to usefulness by the r.e. baths and laundries followed in close contact with our advancing troops, and with them in some cases harvesting machinery to win from waste the crops. but that, whilst preparing for all possibilities, we were not such optimists as to believe in an autumn victory, is shown by the fact that arrangements were well in hand to secure suitable training areas for the british troops during the winter, - . for the previous two years, circumstances had not allowed the british forces adequate opportunities for re-training. but, with the character of the war changing radically, it was thought necessary that they should have opportunities to carry out extensive training programmes in offensive operations of quick movement during the winter. adequate manoeuvre areas for each army close behind its front were sought. it is a coincidence that just after this matter was put in hand military experts on the enemy side were comforting their newspapers with arguments that the new style of tank attack evolved by the british required very special training of the infantry, and that it could not be expected that any large proportion of the british army had, or could have, the necessary training. g.h.q., when the critical history of the war comes to be written, will surely win high praise for its work. it took a hard knock in the early spring and was faced simultaneously with the tasks of holding on, of re-organising a shattered railway system, of training and equipping reinforcements from america and from our own distant fronts, of preparing for the effective destruction of pas de calais, and of organising new lines of supply in case a further retreat was inevitable. from these tasks it had to switch off suddenly to prepare for a great pursuit instead of a great retreat, and did so with such skill and care as the result showed. how wonderfully, too, the successive blows of the british army were timed and driven home! as marshal foch recognised, it needed supremely good staff work on the part of the british to control that deadly rhythm. beginning on august th, , in four days the british army cleared the enemy from the amiens front. that restored our old lateral line boulogne-amiens-paris and added enormously to our transport strength. we could now hit towards the north, and from the st to st august we fought the last and most happy battle of the somme, driving the enemy to the east of the river. his position then was attacked concurrently from the north, and by september rd he was back on the hindenburg line, and our army, flushed with victory and its supply lines working admirably, simply could not be stopped. the bustled enemy did his best to make a stand on the hindenburg line, and shortened his front so as to allow of a stronger holding there, leaving to us without a battle all of belgium that he had won in the spring offensive. but that gave us a new railway advantage, and on september th, , the battle of epéhy carried the advanced posts of the hindenburg line. quickly the home thrust followed. between september th and october th the german centre was shattered and the rest of the campaign on our front was merely a matter of "mopping up." from august th to november th the british army took , prisoners and , guns. (the french, american and belgian armies combined took , prisoners and , guns during the same period). when the armistice was signed on november th, the british army was still full of fight and it had still the means for a further advance, though its horse transport was very weary and the men were having a really hard time in regard to rations and water. but it is safe to say that it was in better plight than any of the other armies. how different november, , from november, ! in so far as the british nation at large was concerned it was a time of desperate shifts and expedients. the lame and the halt and the blind who had fallen out of the regular ranks in olden days had come back to train recruits for the new armies. a great new industry of munition-making was being founded. it had to make its machines and its tools before it could make guns and shell. so far as the army in the field was concerned it held on against heavy odds and with the scantiest supply of shell to answer the well-supplied german artillery. whilst the germans could send a deluge of shells over we could reply with a bare sprinkle. and we had our cooks and batmen fighting in the trenches whilst the germans were confidently calculating that the plan of training a new british army had been irretrievably compromised by the heavy losses which the british regular army had suffered, and that a descent on the english coast with a very small force would be sufficient to occupy london and end the war. there is a legend that the german military plan from the battle of mons to the battle of the marne in was prejudiced by the "political" consideration of a desire to crush the british army out of existence; that to the attack upon the british detachment were devoted forces and energies out of proportion to its military importance. a part, though not an essential part, of this legend is the story of the kaiser's reference to the "contemptible little army" of britain. perhaps the truth or otherwise of this legend will be established when there is a full disclosure of events from the german side. it is not unreasonable in itself, for the presence of the kaiser with the german army, and the presence of his sons, without a doubt interfered often with the military dispositions of his generals. in an earlier campaign (that of napoleon against russia in ) a condition precedent to the ultimate russian success was that the czar alexander should leave his army to its commanders, because he could not act as general-in-chief himself, and whilst he was with the army no one else could. the german kaiser's emotional hatred of the british might well have led to an unbalanced effort against the british force. in it was not the vanguard of a "contemptible little army" that heard the "cease fire" at mons. it was an army divisions strong, and in all the fighting from august th, , to november th, , those divisions had been winning great battles from superior numbers of german divisions. at the battle of amiens we had divisions to the german's divisions; at the battle of bapaume our divisions faced german divisions; at the decisive battle of cambrai-st. quentin our divisions, with two american divisions, drove german divisions out of the hindenburg line. november th, , saw the culmination of a great military achievement. of the glory of this achievement the chief share must go to the british soldier, whose cheerful and imperturbable courage and individual intelligence made him a perfect instrument of warfare; but a large share remains for the guiding brain of british generalship in the field, with its centre at g.h.q. the end. printed by whitehead bros., wolverhampton. appendix. m. henri potez, in a farewell article in _le journal de montreuil_ ( th march, ), paid the following eloquent tribute to g.h.q.:-- "we know indeed that quite a host of painters, coming from beyond the channel, have sung the praises of our familiar surroundings, of our clear and happy countryside, of our changing light. montreuil, little by little, was becoming a kind of english barbizon. "then the war broke out. the presence of the general headquarters of our allies made of montreuil, so to speak, the brain of the british army. what with telegraphic and telephonic lines, and wireless telegraphy installations, a whole collection of nervous threads radiated from montreuil, carrying incessantly news and orders. for some months we have been one of the mysterious centres of the great epic. and the silhouette of the supreme chief has often been marked on our vast horizons. our heroes have appreciated the loyalty and the bravery of our allies on the fields of battle. side by side the two nations have withstood the most terrible trials in defence of the same ideal. the two great liberal peoples of the west have been the martyrs of right and of civilization. at the time of the heavy offensives in artois, we have seen the splendid troops, who, having set out full of animation and enthusiasm, returned to their camps reduced to mere handfuls of men. these are the memories that can never be forgotten. "behind the front, the civilian populations have, on many occasions, praised the affability of our friends, their courtesy and their liberality. war has its exigencies; but it must be recognised that they have shown the best of goodwill to mitigate them. their kindness on several occasions towards the old people and the children, who had flocked here before the tempest of war, has often been manifested. "let us not forget, either, in our farewell compliments, and our wishes for a safe return, those of our allies who have been represented here by the missions--americans, italians, and belgians. it is more than desirable, it is necessary, that the great union of the west should outlast the war. it is necessary that the differences and divergencies which may be brought about by the settlement of this crisis should not be allowed to embitter or envenom; but that they should be treated, governed, and regulated with moderation, kindness, and a reciprocal generosity. in that lies the future of humanity. "'you live at montreuil,' a university man who was employed as an officer interpreter at lille, recently remarked to me; 'the english speak of it as if it were a kind of magnificent country, a dream city ... they like its peace, its originality, its memories.' many of those who have lived amongst us propose to pay us a return visit. we shall receive them cordially. we also hope to see again, in closed up ranks, the pacific army of the olden days, that army which carried easels as its bucklers, and pencils and brushes as its lances and halberds." henri potez. [illustration: map--victory year, the successive british fronts] philip allan & co., publishers, _to be published shortly._ an invaluable reference book. a concise chronicle of events of the great war by r. p. p. rowe, m.a. (oxon), captain, late of the royal west kent regt., and of the military intelligence directorate. this is a standard work, which will find a place on every desk and every shelf of reference books. the compiler has had access to official records, both naval and military, and to sources not available to the general public. a feature is the very complete index, and the appendices contain the verbatim texts of the most important documents of the war. large post vo. ( - / × - / ), s. d. net. quality court, chancery lane, w.c. . philip allan & co., publishers, a fine novel. the barber of putney by j. b. morton. "a faithful image of certain enduring human characteristics, affection, comradeship, simple endeavour.... mr. morton has written with a refreshing simplicity."--_the times._ "a direct tale, grim, humorous, shrewd by turns, instinct with right feeling throughout ... art is also brought to it by mr. morton, whose hand is almost unfailingly sure and sincere."--_the morning post._ "it is one of the best novels which has been written about the war."--_the globe._ "there is a simple directness of observation and description and a quiet breath of feeling about this story ... that give it a distinction of its own."--_the westminster gazette._ "i own that i began the barber of putney with much doubt and misgiving. but before i had gone far i found myself held by a description ... as good as anything of the kind i have ever seen. curly, the 'old sweat,' the mons man, is an excellent portrait. tim's adventure with the german sniper, whom he bayonets, is admirably described.... the retreat is given in a very vivid and credible way; and the scenes out of the line and in billets are equally good.... mr. morton has written an excellent and readable book."--_land and water._ "a fine piece of work."--_the birmingham post_. quality court, chancery lane, w.c. . transcriber's note apparent printer's errors have been retained, unless stated below. punctuation, capitalization and accents have largely been made consistent. page , "montrueil" changed to "montreuil" for consistency. (in later years of anglo-french enmity montreuil was montreuil-sur-mer only in name) page , "gun" changed to "guns". (the -pounder field guns would shoot , rounds on a normal day, and on a heavy day would use , rounds.) page , "cilicifuge" changed to "cimicifuge". (they are on the track of the perfect cimicifuge which will keep lice off the body) page "humourous" changed to "humorous" (annuals of a humorous kind) page "suzerainity" changed to "suzerainty" (of admitting a german suzerainty) page "barrés" changed to "barès" ( colonel barès, chief of the) https://archive.org/details/withscottishregi viviuoft the daily telegraph war books with the scottish regiments at the front at the front series * * * * * cloth /-net each the daily telegraph war books post free / each how the war began by w. l. courtney, ll.d., and j. m. kennedy the fleets at war by archibald hurd the campaign of sedan by george hooper the campaign round liÈge by j. m. kennedy in the firing line battle stories told by british soldiers at the front by a. st. john adcock great battles of the world by stephen crane author of "the red badge of courage" british regiments at the front the glorious story of their battle honours the red cross in war by m. f. billington forty years after the story of the franco-german war. by h. c. bailey with an introduction by w. l. courtney, ll.d. a scrap of paper the inner history of german diplomacy by e. j. dillon how the nations waged war a companion volume to "how the war began," telling how the world faced armageddon and how the british army answered the call to arms by j. m. kennedy air-craft in war by eric stuart bruce hacking through belgium by edmund dane famous fights of indian native regiments by reginald hodder the retreat to paris by roger ingpen the russian advance by marr murray the submarine in war by c. w. domville-fife motor transports in war by horace wyatt the slav nations * * * * * with the scottish regiments at the front by e. charles vivian author of "passion fruit," "divided ways," etc. hodder and stoughton london new york toronto mcmxiv printed in great britain by hazell, watson & viney, ld., london and aylesbury. contents chapter i page the guards and the greys chapter ii the royal scots chapter iii the royal scots fusiliers chapter iv the king's own scottish borderers chapter v the black watch chapter vi the gordon highlanders chapter vii the seaforth highlanders chapter viii the cameron highlanders chapter ix the argyll and sutherland highlanders chapter x the highland light infantry and the cameronians chapter i the guards and the greys if one should ask any man, of any regiment of the british army, what was the quality of the regiment to which he belonged, the answer would be to the effect that his was the best regiment in the service, without any exception. if any other answer should be returned to such a query, it might be assumed that there was something wrong with that particular man; he ought not to be a soldier, for every soldier worthy of the name firmly believes that his regiment is the best. the scottish regiments are not exempt from this belief, and surely, judging by their regimental histories, they have good cause. certain peculiar honours are theirs, too: they form the only kilted force of regular troops in the world, for one thing; and for another thing the oldest regiment of the british army is scottish--for the royal scots, with definite history dating back to , lay claim to direct descent from the scottish archers who were kept for centuries as guards for french kings. putting legend and tradition aside, it is certain and beyond dispute that john hepburn led the royal scots under gustavus adolphus, the great swedish champion of liberty, as early as ; and in , with eight years of hard work on continental battlefields to season their ranks, the royal scots were definitely and officially included in the british army, seeing service under marlborough at blenheim, ramillies, malplaquet, and oudenarde. there is a story of blenheim to the effect that the commander-in-chief of the french army, taken prisoner by marlborough, congratulated the latter on having overcome "the best troops in the world." the duke caustically requested him to "except those troops by whom you have been conquered." prominent among these were the royal scots. but, although senior in point of age, the royal scots is not "the right of the line" in the british army. this proud distinction is held by the royal horse artillery, which probably numbers as many scotsmen in its ranks as men of any other nationality. the artillery, however, knows no nationalities in its nomenclature. one is first a gunner, and then either english, scotch, welsh, or irish--the guns count before territorial distinctions. next to the r.h.a., if ever the line of the whole army were formed, would come the brigade of guards, and here the scots guards find a place, very near the right of the line, when the length of that line is considered. it is possible, to a certain extent, to trace the history of each unit of the army, as far as the present european war is concerned, by means of the letters sent home by the men of each unit. such histories are necessarily brief and scrappy, but they afford some idea of what the various regiments are doing on the field; and the object of this book is, to some extent, to show how each scottish regiment has contributed to the glory of scotland and the fame of the british army since august of . some reference to the earlier exploits of scots on other fields may perhaps be pardoned, for there are some stories--like that already quoted regarding the duke of marlborough--that never grow old. of the scots guards, few records have as yet come to hand, beyond those that are common knowledge. the regiment has nearly three hundred years of history, having been raised as the "scots fusilier guards" in . nineteen years later they became the "scots guards," and in the closing years of the seventeenth century they fought in flanders, subsequently serving with distinction under the duke of marlborough. from "dettingen" through the napoleonic and crimean wars up to "modder river" the battle honours on their colours range, for like the great majority of british regiments they had their share of south africa in the last campaign there. personal records of their deeds in the early stages of this present war are scarce, but certain it is that there were scots guards at the battle of the marne, although the official dispatches are chary of mentioning the names of regiments engaged in definite actions or at definite points. for, previously to the battle of the marne, there was a guardsman of kilmarnock of whom a story is told. he was on duty with a comrade when two mounted men approached, and on challenging the riders the scots found that one of them was a uhlan--who made off with all speed. the kilmarnock man advanced on the other rider, whom his comrade had covered with his rifle, but the horseman made a motion with his left hand toward his revolver. thereupon the kilmarnock man, being tall and powerfully built, struck out with his fist and knocked the man from his saddle, ascertaining subsequently that he was a german scout officer, and that he carried a diary which gave particulars of the movements of the brigade to which the scots guards were attached, from the time of its leaving havre almost up to the time of the officer's capture. there were in the diary frequent allusions to "those hellish british"--which comment speaks for itself. later, along the position of the aisne, the first battalion of the guards were busy. on a certain sunday afternoon the guards and the black watch were in the thick of the fighting, and that night they were ordered to the trenches--and the germans had the position of the trenches ranged to a nicety, so that they were able to drop shells with wicked precision all night. next morning the german infantry retreated for a matter of a mile, uphill, and there waited for the inevitable advance of the guards and the black watch. the retreat was a trap, for on the advance the two british battalions were subject to shell as well as rifle fire, and out of one section of fourteen men only one was left. this one, a corporal, was badly cut about the face, and had one knee severely damaged, but with a field dressing tied round his leg he remained in the firing line all day, going over to the black watch, since he had drifted too far away from his own battalion to rejoin it at once. "i had to stick it in the field all day," he says, "and the fighting was awful. the germans had all their big guns firing at us, and we could not get our own guns up to fire back at them. i never expected to get out of it alive. well, after lying half the night wet in the open, among the dead germans and our own dead, i got strength enough to crawl back, and managed to find a hospital about twelve o'clock at night, nearly dead. i never got any sleep that night, but guess what the germans did in the morning! they blew the hospital up in the air. i happened to be near the door, so i got away all right; but i got another bit in the back that flattened me out for awhile. i missed all the ambulances through this. the next carts that came along were the ammunition ones. the driver helped me on to the back of one, but i had hardly enough strength to hang on. the germans shelled all these carts for miles, and the horses of the one i was on got hit with a shell, and i had not the strength to climb on to another one. the drivers were hurrying away for their lives, so i had to scramble along for two miles on my own to a big barn, which they called a field hospital." and there the record ends. it makes a scrap of history of the guards, though when the regimental histories of this war come to be written it will be found that such stories as these are only scraps of the whole, for the battles of the aisne and of the coast do not mark the end. with regard to the scots greys, their work in the early days is well known now, for from mons down through the three weeks of the great retreat they upheld the honour of scotland so well that on the th of september sir john french addressed the regiment in words that officers and men alike will remember. he came on them while they were resting, and these were his words, as given by a man of the regiment: "i am very sorry to disturb you from your sleep, greys, but i feel i must say a few words to you. i have been watching your work very closely, and it has been magnificent. your country is proud of you, and i thank you from the bottom of my heart. it is not the first time i have had the pleasure of thanking you, and i hope it will not be the last. there are no soldiers in the world that could have done what you have done." this, it must be pointed out, is as it is told by a soldier of the regiment; it is worth while to make the contrast between it and a letter said to be from a man of the greys to his wife, in which he says: "i was in the retreat from mons. we were told to go out and draw the enemy, and before going all our officers and generals said, 'good-bye,' so you can bet we felt all right." "a couple of chaps in my troop went through the south african war, but after the mons fighting said the medals they got in africa were not worth the keeping. they saw more shot and shell in one day here than they saw in three years in south africa. "the inhabitants go fairly mad when they see us, as they know they will be cared for by us." the writer of that letter _may_ have heard a german shell in the air--and he may not. queries rise in one's mind as to whom the "officers and generals" said good-bye to, and also a query rises as to how many generals the scots greys have in their ranks--these points come up automatically. it is not the custom in the british army, after the order for an advance has been given, to give time even for the "officers and generals" of a regiment to wander round with last messages; and, if ever the greys played this game in the fighting in france, there can be little doubt that the inhabitants of the country went "fairly mad" over the regiment. the letter looks like a fraud, but it is typical of some that are finding their way into print nearly every day. circumstantial and bearing the impress of truth is the account of the doings of the regiment given by one private ward, who came home wounded from the aisne. he tells, all too briefly, how from the second day after landing in france the regiment was continually in action. the work for the most part, however, was in the nature of a grand artillery duel, and the greys were mainly employed in scouting, with an occasional charge "thrown in." in the battle of the aisne the greys supported the king's own scottish borderers and the argyll and sutherland highlanders in the crossing of the river; and, after the infantry had all crossed, the greys went in single file, with sixteen feet between man and man, over a pontoon bridge that was under shell fire from the german guns, placed on the heights in front. many of the horses were killed, and ward himself was struck in the leg with a piece of shell, causing so severe a flesh wound that he had to be taken to the field ambulance, and thence home. and thus the story of the greys ends, so far as this record is concerned. it is a regiment of great traditions, as british cavalry regiments go. alone among the cavalry the greys wear the bearskin in place of the metal helmet in parade dress, and they are nearly as old as the scots guards, having been raised as a regiment in , and forming the oldest regiment of dragoons in the service. originally they were known as the "royal regiment of scots dragoons," a title that was subsequently changed to "grey dragoons," from which their present title of "scots greys" was evolved. unto this day the sergeants of the regiment wear the badge above their chevrons that commemorates the taking of the french eagle of the famous régiment du roi; and at waterloo they charged with the gordons clinging to their stirrup leathers, while cavalrymen and gordons alike yelled--"scotland for ever!" to napoleon they were known as "_ces terribles chevaux gris_," and out of the charge of the heavy brigade in the crimea they brought back two victoria crosses. no record of the doings of scottish regiments in this present war can be compiled without mention of the scots guards and the greys, but their history properly belongs to that of the guards brigade and of the cavalry respectively--and in these two counts they must be reckoned for a full recital of their doings. the foregoing mere incidents will serve as compromise, lest it should be thought that the two regiments had been overlooked. as for the royal artillery, it knows no more of territorial distinctions, as already mentioned, than it does of battle honours--for every battle in which a british army has fought might be inscribed on the colours of the gunners, if they had colours. it is probable that, when the relative populations of the four nationalities are taken into account, scotsmen will be found to preponderate in the r.a., for the scot is always a little mechanically inclined, and the working of the guns needs most mechanical knowledge of any of the three arms. of infantry of the line, there are ten definitely scottish regiments, and an effort will be made to trace their histories in the great european campaign--or rather, in the first days of that campaign, as far as personal narratives will admit. blanks and gaps there must be, but the stories that officers and men have to tell will, when collated and set down in some sort of order, enable us to conceive of the nature of the work in which scots are well maintaining the honour of their regiments. chapter ii the royal scots one of the titles bestowed on the royal scots, that of "pontius pilate's bodyguard," marks the claim of the regiment to antiquity. under marlborough, in the french war in america, at corunna, through the peninsular war with wellington, at quatre bras and waterloo, in india, the crimea, and in china, have the battalions of the royal scots upheld the honour of the british army; and it stands to their credit that in the south african campaign, in which they were engaged practically from start to finish, there was not a single case of surrender of a party of the royal scots. the history of the regiment in the present war begins at landrecies and mons, and it is worthy of note that the first story of a man of the regiment that comes to hand concerns the bravery of men of other units. the man in question was twice wounded himself before being invalided home; but, declining to talk about himself, he remarked that for real british pluck he had never seen anything to equal that of the middlesex regiment. he saw them digging trenches near mons when a mass of germans, who seemed to come from nowhere, came down on them. he conjectured that the germans had been apprised of the position of the middlesex men by an air scout, and he saw how the germans came on the middlesex, who were totally unprepared in the matter of equipment, and had to face fixed bayonets with no apparent means of reprisal. but the sergeant of a company set the fashion by the use of his fists, and "downed" two of the attacking germans; the whole of the company followed suit, but they were badly cut about by the germans, and the sergeant was bayoneted. near by were the connaughts, who, after six guns had been taken by the germans, charged down on the enemy and took back the guns, with the aid of artillery fire. but, regarding the doings of the royal scots at the time, the man of the regiment who tells this story has never a word to say. a corporal of the st royal scots tells how lieutenant geoffrey lambton, nephew of the earl of durham, died. it happened in the third rearguard action after mons that the lieutenant was in charge of his men in a wood, and was directing fire from a mound. before and beneath the scots the germans were in strong force, and were preparing to attack, when lambton gave the order to fire, and, picking up a rifle himself, set the example to his men. fatally wounded by a german bullet, he knew that he had not long to live, so handed over to the corporal his pocket-book, note-book and sketch-book, to take back to his people. another corporal of the regiment testifies to the spirit of its men at landrecies, where in company with about fifty others he was cut off from the main body, and engaged in desperate street fighting. the party joined up with the grenadier guards, and in the streets of landrecies german officers called on them to surrender, but the officers answered that "british never surrender--fix bayonets and charge!" so well did they charge that the streets were piled with german dead. the royal scots were heavily engaged at landrecies, and accounted for a great number of the enemy there. graphically is the story of the retreat told by one private stewart, who was invalided home after the battle of the marne. "after mons," he says, "the hardships of fighting on the retreat began. we had little time for sleep; both day and night we retreated, and as they marched the men slept. if a man in front of you happened to stop, you found yourself bumping into him. i didn't have my clothes off for six weeks, and my kit and overcoat have been left on the field. at one place where we halted for the day the lady of the farmhouse was washing, so some of us took off our shirts to have them washed. while they were hanging up to dry the order came that the troops had to move on, and the wet garments had to be put on just as they were. mine was dry next morning. two of my mates were killed in the trenches by one shell, which burst close to them. we were not deeply entrenched, and the german artillery fire was so heavy that we had to lie on our sides like pitmen and dig ourselves in deeper. we had a chance to look up occasionally when our guns replied. another time the royal scots were having a meal by the roadside, when we got orders that we must be finished in five minutes. in less than that time the germans opened fire, but fortunately the side of the road was an embankment, and so formed a natural trench. we lay there during the rest of the day and the greater part of the night, keeping off the attack by constant fire. my company captured about forty german cyclists, who offered no resistance--this was after the marne, when the germans retired. the british had been blazing away for some time at what appeared to be the helmets of the men in the trenches, when an officer saw that the helmets were not moving. he gave the order to advance, and when we got up we found that the germans were retiring, and had left their helmets as a blind. many prisoners were taken that day." brief as an official report is this story, and as pithy, giving as it does an outline of the work in which the royal scots have been engaged from the time of landrecies onwards. for it is not what is actually written that counts in such a sincere piece of writing as this, but the facts that appear between the lines. the brief reference to the hardships of the retreat, the queer washing day, and the interrupted meal, are chapters of war in themselves, reported with a brevity and conciseness which stamp the document as authentic. another man of the regiment was in the first of the fighting at landrecies, and went on to the positions of the marne and the aisne, returning wounded from the latter, with four splinters of shrapnel in his back, one in his ribs, and a bullet wound in his head--surely enough to send any man back from the firing line. at landrecies he and his fellows encountered a looting party of germans, who carried large quantities of jewellery, clothing, and other articles: practically every account of the first of the fighting tells of german attention to details of this kind. at the position of the aisne, the royal scots had a stiff struggle in the holding of a pontoon bridge, and the man who tells this story was wounded there during a rain of shell fire to which his battalion was subjected. after he was hit, he lay unconscious for seven hours, and in order to escape after regaining his senses he had to propel himself, feet first, along a sort of furrow or ditch. it was a weary business, and, exposing himself momentarily, he was hit again on the head by a bullet, though the lead failed to penetrate to any depth; and during his journey he was for a time between the fire of germans and british. he came on a german trench full of dead men, and was struck by the elaborate arrangement of the trench, for there were tables and chairs, and a quantity of champagne bottles, both full and empty--the trench was well stocked with wine. previously to being wounded, this man made one of a party that captured a number of germans, one of whom spoke english well, and told his captors that he had a wife and five children in glasgow, and that the only way to get back to them was to court capture. this german had been in employment in glasgow, and was called up _five months_ before the war broke out--a significant fact when it is remembered how german statesmen are still insisting that britain made the war. a man of the royal scots has told how captain price of the regiment died. while in the trenches, and under a hot fire, captain price ran forward to help a corporal who had been shot in the arm, and in kindly fashion the captain was preventing the corporal from seeing his wound--shielding the injured arm while it was being dressed. while so engaged captain price was struck in the head by a piece of shrapnel, and he died while being carried to the field hospital. on the testimony of the men of the regiment, a braver or kindlier officer than captain c. l. price, d.s.o., has never worn uniform. with regard to the work of the regiment in the trenches of the aisne, and the enemy they have had to face, one man of the regiment speaks. "the germans are good range finders with their big guns," he says, "and their fire is very effective--but you could get boys to give them points with the rifle. one thing has made an impression on me, and that is that the enemy has no respect whatever for the red cross. our men were proceeding along a road, when they came on a red cross waggon lying on its side, with several red cross men lying dead beside it. there was one brave incident i witnessed, and although i do not know the name of the fellow who showed such pluck, i know he belonged to the royal scots. i saw him carry one of his comrades across a field for about three hundred yards, though the fire from the german ranks was simply awful at the time." here, again, is an instance of the way in which the men tell of each other's deeds but make no mention of their own. the french soldier, as a rule, knows when he has done a brave action, and talks about it--the quality does not make him less brave, but it is one that is inconsistent with british character. the average british soldier is usually quite unconscious that he has done anything worthy of note, and, even if he knows the value of what he has done, he is very shy of speaking about it, and usually prefers to talk about the things somebody else has accomplished. a certain private kemp, invalided home to berwick, testifies to the way in which tobacco and cigarettes have come to be regarded by the men in the firing line. he tells how, when out scouting, he was captured by three uhlans, who took away his arms and equipment, and were just about to take him away as a prisoner when a shot was fired, and the uhlans took to their heels. kemp, wounded in the leg, fell, and after lying for an hour and a half, he was picked up by advancing british troops. "one great hardship," he says, "was the lack of tobacco all the time. i and many of my comrades have been reduced to smoking dried tea-leaves wrapped in old newspaper. a real smoke would have been a blessing." one officer of the regiment, wounded while out in front of the trenches studying the position of the enemy with field-glasses, was carried back into shelter, and laid in the trench until the field ambulance should come to remove him to the rear. "he lay there smoking cigarettes," says one of the men, "and shouting--'good old royal scots--well done!' whenever anything came off." and in this and incidents like it lies the spirit that makes the royal scots what they are--it is the spirit of men who do not know when they are beaten, who will never admit defeat. it is the spirit that findlater showed at dargai. yet another private of the regiment, writing with no address and no date to his letter, says: "in the last scrap i was in we had a terrible time one way and another. after marching from the sunday to the tuesday night, we got anchored near a farm, and the next morning, just when breakfast was ready, we had to leave it lying and get stuck into our trenches, as the germans had come on us. we could see them moving up on our front, and our artillery were not long in getting their range and sending them out of it. our big guns were going finely until the afternoon, when they seemed to stop all at once, compared with the guns the germans had brought up. they started to shell a village behind us with their siege guns, and they just blew holes in it. we had a church for a hospital, and that went up too--but that is their usual dirty game. they have no respect for a red cross waggon, and, as far as i can see, they seem to take them for targets. we had to retire after being shelled for about eight hours, and we lost a good few men, but had the consolation of knowing that, as usual, the enemy had lost a good many more. we are having a rest now, and have not seen the battalion for two weeks. it is a very sad sight to see the people here going about homeless; most of them are of the poorer class, and it must be an awful time for them." writing later, the same man says: "we have come through four days' hard fighting, and have been relieved--we drove the germans out of all their positions. at one place the french were trying to shift the enemy, so our lot were brought up to assist; and although we lost a good few men in the open fields, our chaps stuck it well. general smith-dorrien sent along a message--'good, royal scots!' and then when we took the other side of the bridge he said 'bravo, royal scots!' so we have not done so badly." and there, for the present, the record of this oldest regiment of the service must be broken off. it tells of work from mons and landrecies, through the great retreat to the position of the marne, and on to the aisne--and there it ends, for the present. we know that many of the regiments along the line of the aisne have been moved up to assist in the great flanders battles, and in all probability there have been royal scots in that flanders line as well as along the aisne. there is one story of this first regiment of british infantry which, though it is nearly fourteen years old, should always be told in any account of the deeds of the regiment. it concerns a certain sergeant g. robertson, placed in command of a party of about twenty men who were acting as railway escort to a train from pretoria. the train was bound for the eastern transvaal, and, on reaching pan, it was stopped by boers blowing up the line. the boers attacked in force, being concealed in a trench a few yards from the train, and the escort at once, under orders from sergeant robertson, opened fire. the boers, who greatly outnumbered the escort, called on robertson to surrender, but he answered--"no surrender!" almost immediately afterwards, he was shot through the head. a similar case concerns major twyford, an officer of the royal scots, who in april of was attacked by a commando under jan de beers in the badfontein valley. twyford and his party numbered eight all told, mounted men, and they took up a position among the ruins of a farmhouse which afforded some shelter from the fire of the enemy. the commando of boers closed in on them, and, having in mind the enormous disparity of the forces, called on them to surrender. major twyford declined to do so, and went on firing on de beers' commando until shot dead by the enemy. captain price, of whom mention has already been made, was a lieutenant at the time of the south african war, and was recommended at that time for the victoria cross for especial gallantry in leading "e" company at the action at bermondsey. three of the non-commissioned officers and men were specially mentioned for their gallantry in this affair, a certain corporal paul was promoted sergeant for his bravery, and lieutenant price, recommended for his v.c., obtained the d.s.o. france saw him brave as ever, and the regiment will keep his memory as that of one of its most gallant officers. but, if one begins to tell the story of the deeds of the regiment of royal scots in previous campaigns, the story is without end, and space will not admit of it. it were unwise to say that the royal scots are first in bravery in action, as they are first in seniority among line regiments; but at least, in the matter of courage, they are equal with any, as the present campaign in france has proved. chapter iii the royal scots fusiliers the titles of regiments are apt to be confusing to the lay mind, and it is difficult at first to distinguish between the royal scots and the royal scots fusiliers, on paper. in old time the fusiliers were the "twenty-first" regiment of infantry; they were raised in scotland in for service under charles ii, and served under william iii in holland and flanders, as well as under the great duke of marlborough and under george ii when the latter commanded his troops in person at the battle of dettingen. their history in previous campaigns to this of france and belgium is a long one. at blenheim, malplaquet, and ramillies the scots fusiliers won particular distinction--the brigadier who led the principal attack at blenheim was a colonel of the scots fusiliers. at dettingen and fontenoy, again, the fusiliers were well to the front, and in the last-named engagement the regiment suffered so severely that it became necessary to move it to flanders. in the scots fusiliers took part in the capture of belle isle, and later, in the american war of independence--bolstering up a bad cause--they underwent intense privations, and, foodless and minus ammunition, capitulated with general burgoyne at saratoga to a force five times the strength of that which burgoyne commanded. saw them engaged in capturing the islands of the west indies from the french, and in they formed part of the second expedition to egypt. then at messina the fusiliers alone were responsible for the capture of over a thousand officers and men out of a force which attempted to land there, and up to the time of the abdication of napoleon the regiment was engaged in active service. in st. giles' cathedral, edinburgh, are deposited the tattered colours carried by the regiment in the napoleonic campaigns. in the crimea the fusiliers again lost their colonel; at inkermann, where the colonel fell, the regiment was in the very front of the battle throughout the day, fighting throughout the battle without food, and calling for more ammunition. they were present throughout the great siege and at the fall of sevastopol, and the colours borne in that campaign--presented to the regiment in by king william iv--cost the life of one officer and led to two more being severely wounded at inkermann, while n.c.o.'s and men who acted as escort were either killed or severely wounded. these colours were subsequently deposited in the parish church of ayr, the depot headquarters of the regiment. in africa against the zulus and basutos, as well as against the boers in the first war of the transvaal, the fusiliers fought next after the crimean campaign; and then they took part in the subjugation of king theebaw in burmah. in the nd battalion embarked for south africa, and was set to form a part of the th fusilier brigade. from colenso they brought away a victoria cross, awarded to private ravenhill for conspicuous gallantry in saving guns from which the gunners had been shot away. to the fusiliers fell the honour of being the first british regiment to enter the transvaal during the war, and they took part in the hoisting of the british flag at christiana, the first transvaal town to be captured. a little later, the colonel of the regiment, with a force of under men, went on to potchefstroom, and there hoisted a british flag that had been buried there at the time of the peace of , and, after being disinterred, had been kept in the possession of the family of a former commanding officer of the scots fusiliers. so distinguished was the conduct of the regiment in the south african campaign that, on the representation of colonel carr, c.b., the commanding officer, the white plume that had not been worn since by the fusiliers was given back to them, as a recognition of their services. to a civilian this may seem a very little thing, but the regiment regards it far otherwise. as for the campaign in france, there are very few authentic records of the men of the regiment to hand at the time of writing, but from those few one can reconstruct a good deal of the work of the royal scots fusiliers. one man tells that the germans captured all the transport, which contained all the kits of the men, who were thus left with only the clothes they stood in for a matter of five weeks. since this account came through in the latter part of october, it may safely be assumed that the regiment was concerned in the great retreat to the marne, though no letter of those received tells of doings at mons, landrecies, or the very early battlefields. still, it is not safe to assume that the regiment--or some part of it--was _not_ engaged in the first actions. one may picture what the men looked like from the account sent by one of them. "i got a bit of a shave a week ago," he says, "but i have not had a wash for over a fortnight." kipling's "i wish my mother could see me now" fits the case admirably. again, evidently concerning the retreat, the same soldier writes: "we got an order to stop a motor car one day, and as the driver pulled up a man tried to escape on the opposite side, and i collared him. he got into an awful state, and started pulling photos and papers from his pockets and talked in a very excited manner. he was taken away, and i believe he was shot the next morning as a spy." this might possibly have been at the position of the marne, or between that time and the holding of the line of the aisne, but it is far more likely to have occurred at the time of the retreat, when motorists on the roads were plentiful, and spies could do good work for their employers. there are various stories which go to describe the work of the fusiliers at the aisne, and the monotony of life in the trenches is well portrayed in one letter. the writer says: "as we can't always be killing germans we are sometimes hard put to it to kill time in the trenches. _next to religion_, i think football is the thing that interests us most, and we are always eager to hear news of our teams at home. the papers that reach us have not got much news of that kind in, and it would be a godsend to us if only somebody would take in hand to start a paper for circulating among the troops giving nothing but the latest football news." on the more serious side is a communication from a man of the regiment who was wounded at the position of the aisne. he stated that "the men have come through an awful time," and added that he himself was stuck in the trenches for seven days without a break, while he went for fourteen days without being able to wash his face. the german way was to attack in order to draw the british fire, and then to retire, after which would come a terrific artillery bombardment--but the british stuck to their ground always. finally this man was hit in the head by shrapnel, while his particular chum was shot in the stomach, and they both went into a french hospital. by these simple records one may trace the regiment from the great retreat to the aisne; and then another letter takes the story on very nearly to the great coast battle, where, by what the writer says, the second battalion of the scots fusiliers have been from the beginning of the german attempts on calais. the writer, in describing how the german spies adopt the very old trick of assisting artillery fire by the use of the hands of a steeple clock, locates his story at ypres, where some of the fiercest fighting of the whole war has taken place. "it was at the town of ypres--a name, by the way, that gets many quaint pronunciations from our men--and the hands of the steeple clock stood at . . when the men of the battalion had been in the place a quarter of an hour, such shelling began as they had never known before--and then somebody pointed out that the hands of the clock had been altered to indicate . . thereupon a search was made of the clock tower, when three germans were found and taken prisoners, much to the disgust of the men who had seen their comrades suffering from the shell fire. they would willingly have given these spies shorter shrift than mere capture, but of course the rules of war had to be observed, even in such a clear case of espionage as this." there is one man of the second battalion who, wounded and sent home from the battle in the north-west of france, speaks of the fighting there as "past description." he had seen hard fighting in india, but reckoned the work against the germans as beyond words to express it. "germans came on in solid masses, urged on by the officers with the points of their swords, and on over the bodies of their dead comrades. this," producing a german forage cap, "belonged to one poor devil i sent to his long home; and this," producing a rosary, "was given to me by a frenchwoman in return for helping her to get her daughter away to a place of safety, out of the way of the germans." little things, these, but the contrast afforded by the two trophies goes to prove that the men of the fusiliers are fighting in the right way and with the right spirit. there is little doubt, however, that the second battalion of the regiment has lost very heavily in the flanders fighting. one report--an unofficial one, it is true--speaks of the battalion as being reduced to less than officers and men. this may mean anything, for companies are sent away on detached duties, bodies of men get cut off from their battalions and join up with others--all sorts of things may happen in addition to real casualties to reduce the strength of a battalion in such a series of actions as has been fought between lille and the coasts of france and belgium. but, whatever may have happened in this way, there can be no doubt that the royal scots fusiliers, of which the second battalion certainly took part in these battles, has maintained the honour of the regiment to the full, and such of its officers and men as have fallen have rendered good account of themselves. chapter iv the king's own scottish borderers if legend may be believed, the scottish borderers came into existence with a strength of a thousand men in four hours of the th of march, , a recruiting record which stands unbeaten in subsequent history. the regiment was raised by the followers of king william iii, and within four months of the time of its formation was facing "bonnie dundee" at the pass of killiecrankie. general mackay, the officer commanding the king's troops, testified that only two regiments of his force bore themselves as they ought, and of these two one was the king's own scottish borderers. when it is remembered that the regiment had only been formed four months, this fact will be seen in its true light; and for over two centuries the borderers have maintained the reputation given them by mackay. having settled the authority of king william in scotland, the borderers were sent over to ireland, where they helped in driving out james and his irish and french adherents from the united kingdom, and consolidating the rule of the orange king. thence, in the service of william, the regiment went to flanders, where they took part in the siege of namur, and lost twenty officers and men by the explosion of one of the mines of the enemy. it was here that the borderers were first made acquainted with the practice of fixing the bayonet alongside the muzzle of the musket instead of into it, for up to that time fixing bayonets had involved thrusting the bayonet into the barrel, when the weapon could not be fired. seeing a french regiment advancing with fixed bayonets, the colonel of the borderers ordered his men to fix theirs, and calmly awaited the result, confident in the superiority of his men over their opponents in this class of fighting. but at short range the french amazed the scots by pouring in a volley, for they had their bayonets fixed round the muzzles of their muskets instead of in them. recovering themselves, the borderers charged and routed the enemy, and learned from one of the french muskets left on the field how this apparent miracle had been accomplished. thenceforth british troops fixed their bayonets on instead of in their muskets. when, in , the treaty of ryswick put an end to the campaign which included the taking of namur, the borderers returned home. their next notable exploit was at vigo, in , where they destroyed the stores collected for an invasion of england. thirteen years later the regiment was among the defending force at gibraltar, and withstood the attacks of a force of , men, who were eventually obliged to retire, leaving the rock in british hands. then came fontenoy, where the borderers lost officers and men; and later minden, where sixty squadrons of french cavalry charged again and again, only to be broken against the defence of six british regiments, of which the borderers formed one. having thus accounted for the cavalry, the six regiments put to flight two french brigades of infantry, and virtually annihilated a body of saxon infantry, being the whole time under heavy artillery fire. returning in from the many continental fields in which it had taken part, the regiment buried with full military honours at newcastle-on-tyne the fragments of the colours carried from victory to victory for twenty years. there followed nineteen years of peace service, and then the borderers were sent to gibraltar as reinforcements, arriving in time to assist in the final discomfiture of the besieging force. in the borderers were transformed into marines, in which capacity they came in for a share of the prize money accruing from the capture of a ship valued at a million sterling, and then took part in the victory won by lord howe over the french fleet at brest. there were borderers, too, at the siege of toulon, where napoleon i, at that time only an artillery lieutenant, was wounded by a british soldier's bayonet. in the napoleonic wars the borderers were faced with more hard work than chances of glory. they went to the campaign in holland in , and took part in the expedition to egypt in , while eight years later they were at the capture of martinique, a name borne on their colours. but for the rest of the time up to waterloo they were engaged mainly in inconspicuous garrison duty, with no chance of adding to their reputation. their luck held to a similar course through the nineteenth century, up to the outbreak of the last south african war, for they were set to deal with a boer insurrection at the cape in , sent to canada at the time of the fenian raid in , and engaged in the afghan campaign of - . they fought in the egyptian war in , and then went to work on the indian frontier, where is much fighting and little glory for most regiments that take part. in the tirah campaign alone the borderers were in action twenty-three times--yet who remembers the tirah campaign to-day? as for the south african campaign, it has been placed on record that the borderers "put in as much hard work in marching and fighting as any body of troops in the whole campaign." paardeberg, poplar grove, and karee spruit were three notable actions of this war in which the borderers took part, they having been allotted to the th division of the army of south africa. at the last-named action eighty-three officers and men of the borderers were killed or wounded. later, at vlakfontein, the borderers and the derbyshires shared the honour of saving general dixon's column from utter disaster, and recapturing two british guns which had been taken by the boers. now, as for the war in france, the record of the borderers is fairly complete. it begins with the account of the adventures of a maxim-gun section during the first week of the war, as related by a man of the gun section who was invalided home very early in the campaign. he states that at mons his gun section were located inside a house at mons, firing from one of the windows, while germans in considerable numbers were searching the surrounding houses. it took the germans four hours to locate the maxim gun, and then, as they riddled the house with bullets, the plaster and laths began to come down on the heads of the borderers' men, whereupon the latter thought the time had come to clear out. under fire they dismounted their gun and scrambled out from the back of the house, whence they got under cover from the german fire, and, when night fell, they were able to make their way back to their own lines. "while we were in action on tuesday," the record continues, "a shell struck the limber of the gun and almost blew it to bits. i was struck on the shoulder by a piece of shrapnel. on another occasion we were firing from an isolated position when a company of germans surprised us by appearing about a hundred yards away. we were thirteen strong--one officer and twelve men--so we put up the gun and made for cover. we had about two hundred yards to run across a field, but every one of us escaped without a scratch." on the th of september the war office report of "missing" included the names of men belonging to the borderers, and of these many went to doberitz camp of prisoners. one man, writing from doberitz, stated that he had been captured on august th, and was being fairly well treated. which recalls the fact that colonel stephenson, the commanding officer of the borderers, had the misfortune to be wounded and captured in the very early stages of the war. it was at le cateau that the colonel was wounded, and, although the wound was not exceptionally serious, it was enough to put colonel stephenson out of action for the time. he was assisted to an ambulance waggon and got inside, but afterwards he came out of his own accord in order to make way for men more seriously injured. almost immediately afterwards the retreat was continued, and according to one account the colonel was found lying wounded by the germans. another account states that the four horses of one of the ambulance waggons were lost during the retreat, and fifteen men of the borderers were ordered to replace the horses in drawing the ambulance waggon, with the result that the whole party, including colonel stephenson in the waggon with other wounded, were captured. major leigh, d.s.o., another officer of the borderers, was wounded at mons and captured by the germans, according to all accounts, while three other officers are reported to have been taken prisoners in the first weeks of the war. it was at mons, too, that young lieutenant amos, of the borderers, who had only received his commission five months before, went out to the front and brought back a wounded man much bigger and heavier than himself. a few days later lieutenant amos led out his platoon of men in face of the enemy's fire, when he was shot down, and the men of the platoon thought at the time that he was only wounded. "when night came on," said one man of the platoon, "i went out to look for him, and just as i had got to where he was lying and had lifted his head, the moon shone out full from behind the clouds, and i saw he was quite dead. he had been shot through the heart." whatever dispatches may say with regard to individual officers and men, it is usually safe to take the opinions of the men themselves with regard to their officers. an instance of this is the case of lieutenant hamilton-dalrymple, of the borderers, who was described by his men as "a very daring man." he had excelled in patrol work and scouting, especially at night, and on the retreat was placed in charge of four platoons, which he led out for an attack. he had led out no. platoon, and went back for no. , and, when leading these men out, he was shot in the leg by a german sniper and had to be carried to the rear. the man who told this story of his officer was subsequently hit by a splinter from a shell which accounted for five men. near le cateau the borderers buried lieutenant amos and twenty-one of the men of the regiment. throughout the day, while an artillery duel had raged, the dead had lain out on the battlefield, and a long grave was dug for them by their comrades. in this the bodies were laid, each covered by a waterproof sheet, and an officer recited a brief funeral service. while, during the next day, the artillery duel went on, the borderers cut out in the grass that covered the grave of their comrades the letters "k.o.s.b.," and filled in the blank letter-spaces with small stones, completing their work by fashioning and erecting a small cross of wood to mark the place of burial. there was one youngster of the borderers in these first days who, at mons, received a flesh wound while trying to cross two planks across a canal that was being peppered with machine-gun fire. colonel stephenson gripped him to save him from falling into the canal, and--"you had better go back to the hospital, sonny," said the colonel. but the youngster got little rest or respite in hospital, for the germans shelled the hospital building, after their fashion, and the patients had to beat a quick retreat. later, this same youngster came to the engagement at béthune, one of the fiercest of the campaign, and one night he was on sentry duty at a wayside shrine. just at the time the reliefs were coming round he saw germans in the distance, and fired at them once or twice, "for luck," as he phrased it, considering that he was entitled to a last shot before going off duty. but the glare of his rifle fire must have betrayed his position, for almost immediately he received another wound in the body, and this time it was a sufficiently serious matter to cause him to be sent home. by means of such letters as these one may trace the regiment through the first, and in some respects the worst, of the fighting. at the position of the aisne, the accounts of the borderers grow numerous, and it appears that the second battalion of the regiment was in the thick of things. one account describes the crossing of the aisne under shell fire from the german guns. the second battalion got their orders to cross very early one morning, and turned out in a cold, rainy dawn; "but we got our pipes set going, and were all right then." on reaching the river, it was found that there were no bridges, but some rafts had been constructed by the engineers, and these rafts were loaded each with six men, and hauled across to the opposite bank of the river with ropes. with the weight of men and equipment, the rafts were submerged so that the men were up to their knees in water while they crossed, but such incidents as that were regarded as trifling. on the far bank of the river, the german shell fire was hotter than ever, and many men of the battalion were wounded, mostly in the arms and legs. "you bet we took all the cover we could get," says the narrator. "some time after this three of us were lying in a field, and i was smoking my pipe, while my chum was puffing at a cigarette. the man next to my chum hadn't a match, and wanted a light badly, so he got up to get a light from my chum. as soon as he rose the poor beggar was hit by a fragment of shell and killed. my chum had got hold of a trench-making tool. it's like a spade at the one end, and like a pick at the other, and he stuck the pick end into the ground and lay down behind it, covering his head with the spade end. every two or three minutes you could hear the bullets spattering against the iron of the tool." later, they got into the trenches, where some of the men were standing knee-deep in water, and others were submerged up to their waists. "it was no picnic, but they were a bright lot, cracking jokes or making remarks about the 'black marias,' or 'jack johnsons,' as they call the big german shells." although, in the first days on the aisne, the first line of german troops were opposed to the british, the latter had a very poor opinion of their opponents. the general view was that the germans were not very keen on fighting, and a number of them when captured said that they were forced by their officers to fight. in one case, when the men had refused to fire, their officers had turned on them and shot them--as might have been expected in any army. one wounded and captured german, placed in the next bed in hospital to a wounded borderer, spoke broken english, and in the course of a chat was asked what he thought of the british. "british artillery," he said, "no good--not enough. british infantry--_mein gott!_" his expression as he spoke completed the comment. a borderer wounded at the aisne had fought beside the french, whom he described as very plucky, but rather slow. their artillery, however, won his admiration, and he declared it the best he had ever seen. he was emphatic in his appreciation of the way in which the french people treated the british troops, supplying them with food and fruit, and in many ways expressing their sympathy. "my chum and i came to a village one day," he said, "and wanted to get some bread and tobacco. we met a peasant woman in the village, and i said '_du pain_.' she took me by the arm and pushed me into a dark room, but i couldn't see where i was, and called for my chum, who came in as well, though we were both afraid it might be a trap. then we noticed some food and wine on a table. it struck us, when we came to look round, that nearly all the furniture in the house was smashed. 'the prussians,' the woman told us. and it's the same in every village you go into--these germans smash everything but us. they're trying hard to smash us too, but they can't manage it." "it is a grand thing," says another man of the regiment, "to shoot at germans--they make such a lovely target. we can't miss them, and, poor things, they are wishing it was over. every prisoner we take says they are starving, and they look it, too. well, never mind, we are there to kill, and kill we do. they are frightened of us, and say we shoot too straight--the french and british are finishing them off in thousands." as regards the flanders battle, the last sentence of this letter may be taken literally, but the rest of it is open to question. the dogged resistance on the aisne, and the tremendous attacks up by ypres and along the coast, were not made by men starving and utterly miserable--the work has been too fierce for that to be possible. the reserve troops of the german army have no liking for their work, and, newly taken from comfort to the rigid discipline and severe conditions of the firing line, are naturally inclined to complain at what the first-line troops regard as mere everyday inconveniences; and doubtless it was some of these that were referred to in this letter. but, to revert to the position on the aisne, there is yet another borderer's story that is worthy of reproduction. the narrator states that during the battle two german women, masquerading as nurses, went about the british lines by motor, accompanied by a chauffeur. among the british soldiers on outpost duty they freely distributed cigarettes, which were afterwards found to be inoculated by poison. before any fatal results had accrued, the nature of the cigarettes was discovered, and the pseudo-nurses were rounded up and shot. the story may be true, but it seems a little improbable that _no_ ill results should have attended the distribution of these cigarettes before discovery of the trick. the man who tells this story adds that two scottish pipers held up and captured eight germans in a wood near crecy. the pipers had become detached from their division, and carried no arms, but on coming on the germans they assumed a firing position and pointed the long drones of their pipes at the enemy, calling on them to surrender. the germans at once threw down their rifles, and were taken prisoners. let it be remembered that both of these stories are told by the same man, and that both are on the face of them improbable--and then the reader must form his own conclusion. the next missive takes us on to the work in the trenches around béthune, after the opposing lines had crept up to the north-west of france. "there were few breathing-spaces," says the writer. "ground would be gained, and our troops then had to resort to the expedient of digging themselves in: at parts of the line about a hundred yards divided our trenches from those of the enemy." the man who tells of this fighting exposed himself to get a shot at precisely the same moment that a german out in the opposite trenches took aim, and both pulled their triggers almost simultaneously. the german bullet passed right across the borderer's scalp, but in the firing line it was impossible to get immediate medical attention, and the wounded man had to be in the trench for hours before nightfall gave him the chance to get back to the field hospital under cover of darkness. it fell to the lot of the borderers to witness the first charge of the indian troops, and evidently the dark men enjoyed themselves. "when they got the order to advance, you never saw men more pleased in all your life. they went forward with a rush like a football team charging their opponents, or a party of revellers rushing to catch the last train. they got to grips with their enemies in double-quick time, and the howl of joy that went up told us that those chaps felt that they were paying the germans back in full for the peppering they had got while waiting for orders. when they came back from that charge they looked very well pleased with themselves, and they had every right to be. they are very proud of being selected to fight with us, and are terribly anxious to make a good impression. they have done it, too. "i watched them one day under shell fire, and was astonished at their coolness. 'coal boxes' were being emptied all round them, but they seemed to pay not the slightest heed, and if one of them did go under, his chums simply went on as though nothing had happened. they make light of wounds, and i have known cases where men have fought for days with wounds that might have excused any man for dropping out. when the wounds are very bad, i have seen the men themselves dressing them in the firing line. one day i questioned one of them about this, and he said, 'we must be as brave as the british.' it's amusing to hear them trying to pick up our camp songs. they have a poor opinion of the germans as fighting men, and are greatly interested when we tell them of the horrors perpetrated on the belgians and french." thus writes a wounded sergeant of the borderers. now the official account states that the first charge of the indians was made to recover ground and trenches that had been taken by the germans by sheer weight of numbers from british troops--so we may safely conclude that the borderers, probably the second battalion, were among the men holding those trenches, and probably were in the section of the line that was forced back. and there, beside the indian contingent, we may leave them, certain that in all the fighting in flanders and for the recovery of belgium they will acquit themselves like men. chapter v the black watch though the royal scots can claim to be the oldest regiment of the british army, the black watch can claim--and do claim--to be the oldest corps of highlanders. the regiment, known in old time as the "forty-second," was originally formed out of the independent companies raised in to keep the peace in the hills of the scottish highlands, and the first parade as a regiment took place near aberfeldy in , when the regiment was numbered " ." this was subsequently changed to " ." five years later the regiment saw its first active service abroad at fontenoy, when its men charged with such spirit that they were described by a french writer as "highland furies." in the black watch went to america, and at ticonderaga the loss in killed and wounded amounted to officers and men. so conspicuous was the bravery of the regiment on this occasion that the king conferred on it the title of "royal," and unto this day the black watch are "the royal highlanders." the regiment was in at the capture of montreal, and later took part in the american war of independence, when, in spite of the offers of heavy bribes, not a single man could be induced to desert from the ranks, bad as was the cause in which the british troops were fighting then. in the second battalion of the black watch was raised, to begin its active service in india. it was constituted a separate regiment in , and named the "perthshire regiment," numbered " ." (two officers and fifty-three men of this battalion were among the heroes who went down with the _birkenhead_.) it was nearly a century later that the perthshire regiment was again joined to the black watch as its second battalion, and thenceforth the battle honours of both battalions have been borne on the colours of the regiment. the campaign in flanders in and the following year gave to the regiment the "red hackle" that is still worn in the full-dress feather bonnet. again the black watch went to the front for the egyptian campaign of , and at alexandria sir ralph abercromby called on the highlanders for the effort that won the battle. the next great event in the history of the regiment was corunna, where sir john moore bade the highlanders "remember egypt!" on to the siege of toulouse the black watch took their part in all fighting that was to be had, and at toulouse itself they lost over officers and men in driving back the french army into the city. just on more officers and men fell in the three days' fighting of quatre bras and waterloo, and the royal highlanders were mentioned specially in dispatches by the duke of wellington--an honour accorded to only four of the regiments that took part in the final overthrow of napoleon. from then on to the middle of the nineteenth century the life of the regiment was uneventful, for europe slept, and it did not fall to the black watch to engage in the little frontier and colonial wars of the empire. but brought the crimean war, and the royal highlanders took the field again as the senior regiment of sir colin campbell's famous highland brigade. the brigade took part in the charge on the heights of the alma, and was also in at the taking of sevastopol on the th of september, . the end of this war brought but little respite, for under their old chief, sir colin campbell, the regiment took part in the suppression of the indian mutiny. the battle of cawnpur, the siege and capture of lucknow, and the battle of bareilly, found the royal highlanders well to the front, and the name "lucknow" is borne on the colours of the regiment. a sculptured tablet in dunkeld cathedral commemorates the names of those of the black watch who fell in the mutiny. in the ashanti war the black watch took the leading and most conspicuous part, and shared in the capture and burning of kumasi. then, in , the regiment went to egypt to take part in the storming of the entrenchments at tel-el-kebir. at suakim, el teb, and tamai, such was the conduct of the regiment that lord wolseley sent them a telegram of congratulation, and in the first battalion went up the nile to the battle of kirbekan. then, in , the second battalion went out to south africa as part of the ill-fated highland brigade under general wauchope. on the night of sunday, the th of december, in that first year of the boer war, the black watch led the brigade in the memorable attack at magersfontein. when the inferno of fire and barbed wire stopped the advance of the brigade, no less than highlanders fell, killed and wounded, including wauchope himself. throughout the monday the survivors of three companies of the black watch held to their places in front of the boer trenches and entanglements, while the remainder of the men of the battalion were engaged in attempting to turn the flank of the boer position; but at nightfall it was found that the position was too strong, and the troops were drawn back. as already remarked, the brigade lost in killed and wounded, and of these more than half were men of the black watch. in a little more than two months the survivors of the battalion had their revenge at paardeberg, when cronje was forced to surrender with , men. here, again, the losses of the black watch amounted to casualties among officers and men. the first battalion did not come in for the earlier fighting in south africa, but arrived in the country in time to take part in the "drives" with which lord kitchener put an end to the campaign. poplar grove and driefontein, retief's nek and the surrender of prinsloo at wittebergen, were mere incidents to the black watch after the terrible work of magersfontein and paardeberg, and the conduct of the regiment as a whole during the war may be judged from the fact that no less than thirteen medals for distinguished conduct were awarded to its non-commissioned officers and men. as usual, the black watch were among the first regiments to take the field in the fighting in france, and they went up to mons with the rest of the british troops who took part in the great retreat. never during the whole of the south african campaign, said one man who had been through it, was anything experienced like the three engagements in which the black watch took part round mons. the shell firing of the germans was terrific, and the hastily constructed trenches of the british afforded very little protection against the german shell fire. yet, though on the retreat the british troops had to undergo forced marches, some of them with very little food except such fruit as they could get by the way, they displayed splendid stamina and pluck, and the discipline maintained in this trying time, so far as the royal highlanders were concerned, was admirable. even when the loss of officers was heaviest, movements were still carried through with parade-like precision and coolness. when nearing soissons in the course of the retreat, the black watch were the object of an encircling movement by the enemy, and while the regiment was cutting its way through to rejoin the rest of the brigade, colonel grant duff gave his orders with bullets humming round him, and went up and down the line of his battalion looking after wounded men. with the aid of the th battery of r.f.a. the black watch succeeded in rejoining their brigade with a loss of only four men. the work of the early days is epitomised by a man of the first battalion of the regiment. "we went straight from boulogne to mons," he said, "and were one of the first british regiments to reach mons. neither of the opposing armies seemed to have a very good position there, but the number of the germans was so great that we had no chance of holding on from the first. we were in hard fighting all day on the monday, and as the french reinforcements which we were expecting had not arrived by the tuesday, we were given the order to retire. "i should judge that, altogether, we retreated quite eighty miles. we passed through cambrai, and halted at st. quentin; the germans, straining every nerve in the effort to get to paris, had never been far behind us, and when we came to st. quentin we got the word that we were to go into action again--and the men of the battalion were quite joyous at the prospect, for they had been none too well pleased at the continued retirement from the enemy. they started to get things ready with a will, and the engagement opened in lively fashion, both our artillery and the german going at it for all they were worth. we were in good skirmishing order, and under cover of our guns we kept on getting nearer and nearer to the enemy, till, when we were about a hundred yards of the german lines, orders were issued for a charge, and the black watch charged at the same time that the scots greys did. not far from us the th lancers and the cameronians joined in the attack, and it was the finest sight i ever saw." the writer continues with a description of the charge, in which, he says, the men of the black watch hung on to the stirrup-leathers of the greys and went through machine-gun fire on to the german lines, and thence through to the guns of the enemy. "there were about , of us in that charge against , germans, and the charge itself lasted about four hours. we took close upon , prisoners, and captured a lot of their guns. in the course of the fighting i got a cut from a german sword--they are very much like saws--and fell into a pool of water, where i lay unconscious for nearly a day and night. i was picked up by one of the th lancers." there the story ends. it is circumstantial and well borne out by other accounts of the doings of the black watch up to the time of st. quentin, but one fears to accept the story of that charge in its entirety. if the men of the black watch advanced to within a hundred yards of the enemy under cover of their own artillery, then where did the greys come from? for surely no artillery ever kept on firing at the enemy until _cavalry_ were within a hundred yards of their objective in a charge. it is curious, too, but this is the only account that has come to hand--the only personal account of a participator--with regard to that charge of the greys with black watch men hanging on to their stirrup-leathers. the story is given as told, for what it is worth. several accounts concur in the assistance rendered to the regiment by the th battery of r.f.a., and one especially details how, when the black watch were subjected to overwhelming rifle fire, the guns were turned on the german riflemen with terrible effect. but there are some newspaper errors in connection with this event which are almost amusing. one of them states that, with regard to a driver of the th battery--"the highlanders were being subjected to a terrific rifle fire, when the artilleryman heroically advanced, and, getting his gun in position, put the german riflemen to flight." this was more than heroism, for a gun weighs the better part of a ton, altogether, and a driver has but a very elementary knowledge of the firing mechanism of the weapon--his business is with the horses. that one driver should get the gun into position and then proceed to load and fire it, a business which occupies about a dozen men, as a rule, is well worthy of comment. these discrepancies with known fact are unfortunately rather plentiful where the black watch are concerned. another of them, though it does not credit artillerymen with the strength of elephants, tells of things that happened "on the th of august, at the battle of the aisne,"--whereas on the th of august the great retreat was still in progress, and the battle of the marne had not been fought, let alone that of the aisne. "i only know," says the author of this account, "that we lost close on of the regiment, killed and wounded, the same day that i was wounded. that was on the th of august, at the battle of the aisne. it was terrible, men falling on either side. the germans were very treacherous, firing on our ambulance men as well. i was in two hospitals which we were shelled out of. all the men who could walk were told to go off as soon as possible. there were four of us left in the place all the forenoon, and the shells landing round about. i managed to crawl away when there was no firing, and i had to go about five miles to the next place. i don't know what i would have done had not an officer passing in his motor seen me and taken me to the hospital." another of the same kind: "on one occasion i had become detached from the main body, and met four germans. i disposed of three of my adversaries with three successive shots, and was about to deal with the fourth, when the bolt of my rifle became jammed. the german fired, but only slightly wounded me, and i adjusted my rifle, charged my magazine, and put the man out of action." more heroism, almost equal to that of the gunner just quoted--and newspapers are publishing such "letters from the front" as these every day. to come back to the real work of the regiment, a further account deals with the battle of the aisne, where, on the th of september, the men occupied some high ground, and were discovered by the enemy, who set to work to render the position untenable by means of artillery fire. a patrol, sent out to get into communication with the northamptons, had to take cover from the german artillery fire, which was so fierce that it was only in darkness they were able to return. in taking german trenches later, the black watch and the camerons, who advanced together, came across numbers of dead germans, proving that their own fire had been quite as deadly as that of their enemies. apparently the timing of the fuses of german shells was none too good. "the artillery fire of the germans was good, but their shells did not do nearly the same damage as those fired from the british guns. the british shells when they exploded covered a radius of something like a hundred yards, but the german shells on bursting seemed to send all their contents in a forward direction." "but the aisne has been a cause of heavy loss to the black watch," said another member of the regiment. "we lost heavily in taking up position, and the men were saddened by the loss of so many officers. one day we lost three--a captain killed, a senior captain very severely wounded, and a lieutenant killed. then, later, the men had to deplore the loss of their commanding officer, colonel grant duff--one of the bravest and best officers the regiment ever had. he died bravely. he was hard pressed and doing execution with one of his men's rifles when he fell with a mortal wound." another officer eulogised by his men was captain green, who was wounded at the aisne. hot fighting was kept up in the trenches from five in the morning until night had fallen, and throughout the night the men waited in their trenches. shortly after four o'clock of the following morning firing was heard in front, and with the remark, "i am going forward, anyway," captain green went out to the front, his object being to get the range for the men, if possible. he got the range, but was hit in the head, and bandaged the wound himself, keeping his place in the trenches and declining to go into hospital. the german fear of cold steel is emphasised in many accounts given by men of the black watch. "they wouldn't look at the bayonet, and we ruled the roost with very slight losses," says one; and another--"the germans are awfully frightened of the cold steel, and when they get a stab it is almost invariably in the back, for they run away from our boys when the bayonet appears." once in a while there comes an account of humanity on the part of the germans; and one man of the black watch tells how he lay out in the open at the position of the aisne for hours, wounded, and at last a german came along and bound up his wound under heavy fire. the german made the wounded man quite comfortable, and was about to retire from the danger area, when a stray bullet caught him, and he fell dead beside the man he had befriended. such stories as this last are welcome, and form a relief from the numberless stories of german barbarity that have appeared. not that they disprove the stories of brutality, but they go to show that the policy of ruthlessness is a calculated one, and that the individual german might be a kind-hearted man at times if his officers would let him. the instances of cruelty and wanton destruction that have been related all point to organised cruelty, organised destruction--it is more a matter of policy than of the conduct of individuals. the stories quoted here form a fairly connected record of the work of the black watch up to the time of the battle on the aisne; of what came after, there is as yet no definite record. we know, from the casualty lists, that the royal highlanders are still making history in france, but in this first week of november we know no more than that, and a great story must still wait telling until the oft-quoted "fog of war" has lifted from the actions in flanders and the north-west of france. chapter vi the gordon highlanders formerly known as the th and nd line battalions, the gordon highlanders form a comparatively young regiment. the first battalion was formed at stirling in under colonel robert abercromby, and was sent to india for fourteen years of active service in mysore and southern india. the "royal tiger," worn on the badges of the regiment, commemorates the part they played at the taking of seringapatam in . the great scottish house of gordon raised the second battalion of the regiment near the end of the eighteenth century, and this battalion was first named "gordon highlanders" in , when it was embodied at aberdeen, with the marquis of huntly as its first colonel. in the egyptian campaign of , the gordons played a conspicuous part in driving napoleon out of egypt, and won the "sphinx," inscribed "egypt," as a badge, which is now worn on all the officers' buttons. in the regiment took part in the expedition to copenhagen, and a year later they were with sir john moore on the retreat to corunna. later, in the peninsular campaign under wellington, the gordons won the admiration of their enemies and the approbation of their chief. in one action alone, that of the maya pass, the regiment lost over officers and men killed and wounded. on to the end of the campaign the gordons were in the thick of things, and then, in , they sailed for belgium in may, arriving in brussels at the end of that month. at quatre bras, where they were under the eye of the duke of wellington, the nd (now the nd battalion of the gordons) lost heavily, and then at waterloo itself the battalion was reduced to men before the memorable charge took place. the official account of that charge, as given in the history of the regiment, is worth quoting in its entirety. "about two o'clock in the afternoon of that memorable day, the enemy advanced a solid column of , infantry towards the position of the regiment. the column continuing to press forward, general sir d. pack galloped up to the regiment and called out--"ninety-second, you must charge, for all the troops to your right and left have given way." three cheers from the corps expressed the devoted readiness of every individual in its ranks, though its numbers were reduced at this time to less than men. "the french column did not show a large front. the regiment formed four-deep, and, in that compact order, advanced till within twenty paces, when it fired a volley and instantly darted into the heart of the french column, in which it almost became invisible in the midst of the mass opposed to it. while the regiment was in the act of charging, and the instant before it came in contact with the enemy, the scots greys came trotting up in rear of its flanks, when both corps shouted "scotland for ever!" the column was instantaneously broken, and in its flight the cavalry rode over it. the result of this dash, which only occupied a few minutes, was a loss to the enemy of two eagles and two thousand prisoners." the total losses of the gordons at waterloo were officers and men killed and wounded, and what remained of the regiment went on to occupy paris, returning to edinburgh in . in the crimean campaign the gordons had bad luck, as they did not land till after sevastopol had fallen. they had their turn in the mutiny, however, for they fought their way from ambala to delhi, and sat on the "ridge" under great john nicholson from june to september, taking part in the final assault and storming the kashmir gate. later, they marched to the relief of lucknow, and then saw general service in the many engagements that took place in the north-west provinces before the mutiny was finally quelled. then came twenty years of peace for the regiment, after which it was again called to action in afghanistan, and took part in the ever-memorable march from kabul to kandahar. in the egyptian campaign of , the regiment was included in the highland brigade that fought at tel-el-kebir, and then went up with the expeditionary force to the relief of khartoum and general gordon--a fruitless errand. from that time onward to the end of the century, the gordons saw frontier fighting in india. "chitral" is one of the names emblazoned on the regimental colours, and in the tirah campaign the gordons won undying fame at the storming of the dargai heights--which, however, was but one incident in seven months of strenuous fighting. in the south african war, the gordons shared in the privations of the siege of ladysmith, and in the fierce attack made by the boers on the ladysmith defences, on the th of january, , the gordons sustained some of the fiercest of the fighting. thus one battalion upheld the credit of the regiment, while the other, in smith-dorrien's nineteenth brigade, placed the name "paardeberg" on the regimental colours. "during the four months and a half of its existence the nineteenth brigade had marched miles, often on half rations, seldom on full. it had taken part in the capture of ten towns, had fought in ten general engagements, and on twenty-seven other times, and was never beaten." up to the end of the war the gordons were doing brilliant work. by the end of the regiment had thirteen victoria crosses to its credit. with regard to their work in france in the very early days, the men of the gordons have shown some reticence--that is, as regards the alleged cutting off and cutting up of the regiment. it may be, so curious is the information that reached this country in september, that the men of the regiment had not heard of this cutting off and cutting up. certain it is that they were in several tight corners in the first actions of the great retreat--but then, so were other units, and there is plenty of evidence to prove that gordons came through to the marne and the aisne, though, unfortunately, they came without their colonel and some of their officers. round about mons the gordons were heavily engaged, and found the german infantry firing weak, but their artillery work not to be despised. the greatest damage was done by the shrapnel, and not by rifle fire--a statement which concurs with practically all accounts of engagements on the great retreat. "the losses of the allies," said a wounded corporal of the gordons, "were nothing to those of the germans, who came on in a solid mass and were mowed down like sheep--close formation was their method of attack all along. the men themselves said they were driven to it by their officers at the point of the revolver, and they simply tried to be taken prisoners by the british. we passed through plundered villages, and saw windows smashed, furniture thrown out on the streets, and churches and other buildings destroyed." another wounded non-commissioned officer speaks of "what was left of the battalion after mons" being in the firing-line, when an order was given for a general retreat. a dispatch rider gave the message to a part of the division to which the gordons belonged, but on his way to them he was killed by a shell, and the gordons, not having received the order, stuck to their position. "the germans advanced in such force that we were at last compelled to retire, and lost a lot of jolly good fellows. i doubt if any of us would have been left if it had not been for the th battery of field artillery. they covered our retreat, sending out such a terrible fire that the enemy were afraid to approach any nearer." this stands as the most circumstantial account of the cutting-off of the gordons that has come to hand among personal letters and accounts of the men who were there, and, unlike so many letters purporting to be from "the front," it bears the stamp of authenticity. a piper of the regiment corroborates it by saying that "the germans came on in great masses, driving us back all the time." he tells of being left only with a revolver, his sword having snapped, after which he crossed a river, and made a stand in a church. "eight hundred of us entered that church, the majority never to come out again, for the germans' big 'jack johnsons' shelled us out." there was, apparently, an officer in charge, and when he saw how the shells were causing fatalities he gave the order for all men who could to bolt for the road and save themselves. "the people at home will not think any the worse of you, lads, for it," he is alleged to have said. according to the piper's account, some sixty or more got away to safety in one rush, in which he himself was wounded in the arm. the work of signallers has not come into much prominence in the fighting in france, but one of the signallers of the gordons, at least, has had occasion to use his flags. it happened that his battalion had been in a tight corner for some time, and was running short of ammunition, in consequence of which the signaller was ordered by his company officer to signal to the army service corps for a further supply. he stood up facing to the rear, and, raising his flags, signalled--"from captain----" when the message was cut short by his arm being wounded in two places. as he was trying to bind up the wounds, another piece of shrapnel came along and lodged in the same arm. a good general account of the fighting is given by one non-commissioned officer who went out at the end of august, and was first engaged in the fighting which took place immediately before the advance from the marne to the aisne. here the gordons were engaged near a village held by the enemy, and under very hot fire. the british troops had a hard job in getting the germans to leave their trenches, but eventually the artillery fire from the british guns proved too much for the germans, who got up and ran. the gordons reached the village after the enemy had fled, and were billeted there for the night--and in this connection the non-commissioned officer responsible for this account remarks that the german rifle fire is almost useless, though their machine-gun fire is good. "besides, when once they think they are beaten they are off, and one can scarcely get at close quarters with them. our party never got within half a mile of them." in this last sentence, it must be remembered, the writer refers to the german troops who had come down on the tremendous advance which ended at the position of the marne. official reports leave it beyond doubt that these german troops had undergone three weeks of the severest strain that has ever been imposed on fighting men, and that their _moral_ was so far impaired that, after the wheel made by von kluck's army away from paris, the whole of them had to be drawn back and replaced by other troops. since they had been reduced to this state by their exertions, it is hardly to be wondered at that they would not face their enemies at close quarters. the narrative, proceeding, states that on the advance of the british to the trenches the enemy had occupied, it was difficult to estimate the number of german dead, for the trenches, filled with bodies, had been covered in with earth. one german was found by the gordons still standing in his trench, with his rifle to his shoulder, quite dead. he had evidently been shot while in the act of taking aim, and had been left by his retreating comrades. on the advance, it was noted that the work of the british artillery had been particularly deadly, especially among the woods through which the men advanced. the part of the regiment to which the narrator of these events was attached was sent back to headquarters in charge of several hundreds of prisoners, their places in the firing line being taken by others for the time being; and, after a turn at headquarters duty, the gordons were sent on to lille and la bassée, opposite to a part of von kluck's force, which had in the meantime moved out to the north-west to keep pace with the extension of the allied line. while the gordons were lying in an open field, taking part in an attack, the order was given to retire; but it was unheard by the men of some sections, and the enemy advanced so near that the position of some of the men became very critical. but the wretched fire of the german infantry proved their salvation, for sixteen of the gordons made their way across perfectly level, boggy ground, with the germans less than , yards away, and only two were wounded. the first days on the aisne, according to another of the gordons, must be counted as one of the fiercest examples of warfare under modern conditions. for days the gordons were subjected to such a hurricane of shrapnel fire that they were compelled to lie in their trenches, merely awaiting developments; and many of the men who were wounded by shrapnel never fired their rifles, for the enemy was too far off for rifle fire to have any effect. one man was struck fourteen times by the shrapnel fire, and still came out from the trenches to recover. it was not until the british artillery was reinforced that the infantry were able to advance. "we were kept so busy," says one man of the gordons concerning this time, "that for three days and nights we had no time to issue the mail. the men felt the want of a smoke more than of food, and i have seen more than one man trade away his last biscuit for a cigarette or a fill of tobacco. when the heaviest of the shelling was going on, our men were puffing away at 'fag-ends.'" from such accounts as these one may glean some idea of what the gordons underwent up to the time of the transference of the main battle to the flanders area. as for this last, one non-commissioned officer states that the men were hardly ever out of canals and wet ditches. one day a section of men lay waist deep in water from nine in the morning till three in the afternoon, patiently waiting for dusk to come, that they might get a chance to dry their clothes. "the germans generally cease operations at dusk, and on these occasions the same old order comes along the line--"dig yourselves in, men." and, on the day that they lay in water so long, no sooner had they dug themselves in than the order to advance was given!" apparently authentic is the account of the death of captain ker of the gordons, who, it is stated by eyewitnesses, was in command of men whom he led up in face of the enemy's fire at béthune. the men gained the shelter of a natural rise in the ground, but before they reached this point captain ker was struck in the head by shrapnel, and was killed instantly. the men lay for some time in the position they had won, but eventually found that it was too dangerous to retain, and risked the enemy's fire in place of capture. they doubled back across a couple of fields to their old position, and eighteen of the twenty-one in the party got safely back--but only seven of them escaped being hit. captain ker was later picked up and buried on the field. with regard to colonel gordon, v.c., it appears from one account that he was taken into a barn after having been wounded, but almost immediately afterwards the barn caught fire, and it was thought that he had been trapped in the flames. it seems, however, that the wound was only a body one, and the colonel was able to get clear, though he was afterwards taken prisoner. "keep your heads up, men!" one of the officers of the gordons shouted to his men on one occasion. "they can't hit you"--pointing to the snipers up a tree; and with that remark he showed his own head above the trench. "none of us cared to follow his example, but his cheery way bucked us up," says one of the men present at the time. yet again the same officer inquired--"any man wanting to earn a glass of claret?" and received several enthusiastic affirmatives. "well," he said, "catch me that hen running across the road." the offer was not accepted, for the german fire was hot at the time. another account refers to a battle which took place about the middle of october, the nd battalion being the one referred to. "i left the trenches on saturday night for hospital," says the writer. "on friday afternoon we had a terrible battle with the germans, who turned all their artillery and machine guns on our trenches in an attempt to break through them. it was hell while it lasted, but we gave them more than they wanted. about three hundred yards in front of our trenches was a ridge running parallel with them, and every time the germans mounted this ridge in mass they were blown into the air. ten times they were blown away, losing battalions each time--it was sickening to see them. towards night they retired; and my company lost pretty heavily, five men being killed and thirteen wounded. our captain and lieutenant were also wounded. throughout all that battle i never got so much as a scratch--i have been very lucky on two or three occasions." this man went into hospital at the finish with a poisoned hand and head, caused by a graze sustained three weeks before the fight of which he writes. in his letter, as in all the accounts quoted here, is noticeable an absolute lack of doubt as to the final result of the titanic struggle. not that any one of the men actually voices confidence, but from the way in which they tell of the doings of their regiments one may gauge their spirit, and understand that they see only the one end to this war of world-forces; that there is no fear of defeat, no thought of other than a steady driving on to a fixed end--the overthrow of german militarism. many of them--many gordons, without doubt--have never given the matter a thought, for they fight, as the gordons and as the whole british army always fights, with a belief in themselves and their leaders that amounts to such conviction as needs no words for its expression--a settled knowledge that in good time their task will be accomplished. for behind all these men are the traditions of those who cried "scotland for ever!" men who knew not the meaning of defeat. chapter vii the seaforth highlanders the st battalion of the seaforth highlanders originally bore the number subsequently allotted to the nd battalion, for in the st battalion was raised as the th infantry of the line by the earl of seaforth, and with that as its official number it went to jersey to defend the island against a french attack, and subsequently to india. the voyage to india occupied ten months, and cost the life of the earl of seaforth and men of the regiment; the remainder landed safely, and underwent the campaign which ended in the overthrow of tippoo sahib: the seaforths led the attack on the fortifications of bangalore, and assisted in the taking of seringapatam. then the seaforths took ceylon from the dutch. in the st battalion (as it is at present known) was renumbered " nd," and in the present nd battalion of the regiment was formed as the " th foot." after work in holland and at the cape, the th went to india to fight under the future duke of wellington in the mahratta war. for valour at assaye the th was granted the elephant, inscribed "assaye," as a special badge, and also a third colour to bear. these distinctions were well earned, for the th defeated a force ten times as strong as itself in the course of the battle. the warlike quality of the material from which the seaforths were obtained may be estimated from the fact that two "second battalions" were formed in succession and sent out to join the original th raised in . in the second expedition to egypt in , and in the disastrous walcheren expedition, the battalion took part, losing heavily in officers and men in both cases--three companies were practically annihilated at el hamet in the egyptian campaign. after walcheren, the seaforths had little chance of winning distinction in the napoleonic wars, but in and the regiment was engaged at the cape in kaffir wars, and the next incident of note in the history of the seaforths was their work in the mutiny, when they served under havelock, marching from allahabad to the relief of cawnpur and lucknow. four battles were fought and won before the force reached cawnpur--too late; and they went on to lucknow. tennyson has told how the sound of highland music gave intimation of relief to the sorely pressed lucknow garrison, and, regarding the work of the regiment at that time, their commander told them--"i have been forty years in the service, i have been engaged in actions seven-and-twenty times, but in the whole of my career i have never seen any regiment behave so well as the th highlanders. i am proud of you." the nd, the present st battalion of the seaforths, was also engaged in the suppression of the mutiny, though not with havelock, and they helped largely in suppressing the final flames of rebellion throughout india. then followed nearly twenty years of peace service for the regiment, after which it took part in the campaign in afghanistan, and shared in the memorable march from kabul to kandahar. the bravery of the regiment in this campaign is attested by the fact that no less than five names connected with the two years of fighting are emblazoned on the regimental colours. the seaforths were in the charge at tel-el-kebir, and in the second egyptian campaign of the first battalion was engaged both at atbara and khartoum. in between these two wars the regiment saw much service in the two hazara wars and the campaign of chitral. in south africa the seaforths formed part of the highland brigade at magersfontein, and lost no less than officers and men killed and wounded in that disastrous action. magersfontein was avenged at paardeberg, where the seaforths took part in the rounding up and capture of cronje, following up this with the action at poplar grove and that of driefontein. in the next great capture of the war, that of prinsloo in the wittebergen, the seaforths played an active part, and from then on to the end of hostilities the regiment was actively engaged, both in blockhouse work and in the rounding up of the boer forces. up to , the regiment had won no less than eleven victoria crosses, while its distinguished-conduct medals are too numerous to count. for the campaign in france and belgium, the seaforths were brigaded with the irish fusiliers, the dublin fusiliers, and the warwickshire regiment, under command of brigadier-general j. a. l. haldane, d.s.o., who made a memorable escape from pretoria during the last boer war. that the regiment is keeping up its traditions is instanced by the case of one man who was found retiring to the rear, wounded in nine different places. he wanted no sympathy, and asked for no help; all he wanted to know was--who had won the st. leger! one of his comrades, wounded also, remarked that the seaforths had "fairly made the germans hop out of their trenches when they charged with the bayonet." the enemy had no idea that the british were so close on them till the seaforths marched out of a farmyard right into the firing line, and then the germans did not wait, but ran like cattle chased by dogs. "after marching for four days, during which time we did not know where we were, we got into motor cars and were taken to a position right under the very noses of the germans, who got the surprise of their lives when they saw the 'ladies from hell,' as they called us on account of our kilts, advancing on them." further, a man of the dublin fusiliers bears testimony to the fighting qualities of the seaforths. "it keeps up your spirit to be fighting with such fellows," he says, "and they have fairly put fear into the germans with their bayonet charges. when there was any close fighting, and it came to using the cold steel, the germans ran from them like hares. most of the 'jocks' now have beards, and with their kilts flying when they charge they are a wild-looking lot." the writer of this adds his evidence to the testimony that the germans have no liking for bayonet work. "they are big chaps, most of them, but have not got the heart for it," he observes. the actual route taken by the regiment, in the moves made by the british forces since the war began, can be traced pretty accurately by means of various personal accounts. the first of these accounts states that the seaforths were first engaged at agincourt, where an advance party of germans took the regiment by surprise, and they were hotly engaged. the germans lost heavily, but were in very strong force, and at night the seaforths drew back to get a rest. two days later, at guise, the german cavalry tried to break through the column which included the seaforths, but they were met with fixed bayonets and driven back, though the british suffered heavy casualties. then "at la-musa we had a stiff engagement with the german crown prince's army on the right wing, and by the aid of their aeroplanes the german gunners found our trenches, on which they kept up a heavy cannonading for almost three hours. an attack was made by the german cavalry, but our artillery mowed them down like hay--the slaughter was something awful. we had to retire, however, and for twenty-eight miles we marched without food before we got out of range of the enemy's guns. after three hours' rest we advanced in an opposite direction to our line of retreat, and proceeded to la ferte, with the german cavalry in pursuit. crossing the river there we had a thrilling time, and just crossed the bridge in time for the royal engineers to blow it up and prevent the germans crossing--a number of the engineers were killed in the explosion. "we afterwards marched to mons, having several skirmishes on the way, and managed to capture a number of germans and a field hospital. we saw many signs of german barbarism on our march, and one sight i shall never forget was that of a father and mother with a baby about two months old, lying stabbed to death by bayonets on their doorstep. frequently we took women and children into the trenches for safety, and always they had a terrible dread of the uhlans. we seaforths were on the right flank at mons, and one morning the germans suddenly opened fire on us at three o'clock. we fixed bayonets, and followed the guards in skirmishing order, passing over heaps of dead, and capturing german guns. but we could not keep our positions, for the germans were entrenched in masses farther on, and we had to retire." this account is rather muddled, for the writer speaks of days of fighting and marching with skirmishes before the action at mons. one must sort out the various engagements mentioned and compare them with the official account of the first engagements in order to arrive at an estimate of the position in which the seaforths began their fighting. on the whole, however, the writer conveys a very good idea of the work of those first few days--he was wounded in the retirement from mons, and thus his narrative ceases there. the story is taken on by a man of the regiment who was captured during the fighting on the oise, and was sentenced by the enemy to be shot, but managed to escape. having lost his regiment, he attached himself to a french unit, and kept with them for three weeks, in which time he saw only three englishmen, all lost like himself, and they commiserated each other on not knowing the french language, and consequently being unable to converse with their comrades in the firing line. in the town from which the writer posted his letter, the germans had looted all the shops previous to the french reoccupation, while the british had blown up a bridge, and the germans in turn had sunk a number of french boats in the canal to form a temporary bridge. the writer adds his evidence on the subject of german cruelty. concerning an engagement on the aisne, on the th of september, one of the seaforths who participated tells how his company had been resting for the night in a farmhouse after having been on the move for seven or eight days, and in the morning they went forward a march of three or four miles, which brought them into range of the enemy's position, a mile to the front. the regiment was ordered to take the german position, and advanced in extended order across a clear field of fire, when, fortunately for the attackers, the enemy's fire was so bad that the losses were very slight. the advance was steadily maintained, until at yards' distance from the position the order was given to fix bayonets. at that, "the germans did not wait to say 'good night,' but simply ran, as they won't face the cold steel at any price." still, a number of the seaforths were put out of action in the business, in which the regiment gained all that they had been ordered to take. "it was a great charge," says the man who tells of it. "no wonder so much is thought of the highland regiments, for it would have done your heart good to hear the cheer that went up when the order was given to charge, and the germans did run. all i can say is that if we had been in their position we should have waited for them to come upon us, and none of them would ever have reached us, as i think our rifle fire is good enough to stop any charge that might be made." the same man tells of "a low, dirty trick" that the germans played in the course of this fight. some of them put up a white flag, and when about fifty of the warwickshires went out to take the surrendered men they opened fire with a machine gun and slaughtered the warwicks. "that is the kind of warfare the germans like to carry on." thus runs the account of the th of september, and on the following day, according to several accounts received, the colonel of the regiment, colonel sir evelyn bradford, was killed--he has since been mentioned in dispatches. the most circumstantial account is as follows: "it was in the battle of the aisne, when the seaforths had taken up a position near a wood, that the germans began a heavy fire. the colonel was standing with two other officers surveying the field of operations, when he was struck by a shell and killed instantly. a lieutenant of the gordons, who was attached to the battalion, was killed, and a number of the men were struck and wounded--in all, there were about thirty wounded by the one explosion. they attempted to bury the colonel the same night, but were prevented from their task by the heavy and continuous shell-fire from the enemy." at about nine in the evening, however, a burial party set out to lay the dead commander to rest up on the face of a hill, near a large farmhouse which was the headquarters of the force for the time. "poor colonel bradford!" comments a member of the party; "i cannot tell you how great our loss is. he was a brave commander, and was killed while trying to safeguard his regiment. we could not fetch his body in while daylight lasted, but at midnight we laid him, with two other officers, to rest on their field of honour, on a hill-side overlooking a valley of the river. it was a sad but glorious moment for us to stand and hear the padre tell us that they had not shrunk from their duty, and had fallen for the sake of their comrades. the next day i found some scotch thistle growing close by, and i plucked the blooms to form a cross over the dead chieftain's grave." concerning this action of the th of september, another participant tells that the british troops were steadily driving the germans back, and the company of the seaforths to which he belonged had crossed the river two days before, and were holding a ridge, though the enemy had a great advantage in point of numbers. this man sent home a transcript of a german officer's diary, which makes very interesting reading. "_july ._--at last the day! to have lived to see it! we are ready, let come who may. the world race is destined to be german. "_august ._--our losses to-day [before liége] have been frightful. never mind, it is all allowed for. besides, the fallen are only polish beginners, the spilling of whose blood will spread the war lust at home--a necessary factor. "_august ._--and now for the english, used to fighting farmers. [a reference to the boer war.] to-night wilhelm the greater has given us beautiful advice. you think each day of your emperor, and do not forget god. [note the order in which the two are mentioned.] his majesty should remember that in thinking of him we think of god, for is not he the almighty's instrument in this glorious fight for right? "_august ._--this is clearly to be an artillery war, as we foresaw. infantry counts for nothing. "_august ._--the conceited english have ranged themselves up against us at absurd odds, our airmen say. [this, it must be remembered, was written concerning the time of the great retreat, when the german forces were in overwhelming numerical superiority.] "_august ._--an english shell burst on a red cross wagon to-day--full of english. ha-ha! serve the swine right. still, they fight well. i salute the officer who kept on swearing at germany and her emperor in his agony--and then to ask calmly for a bath! these english! we have scarcely time enough to bury our dead, so they are being weighted in the river." the writer of this diary was captured, so his entries extend no farther. the way in which his views of "the conceited english" altered as time went on is worthy of note. a r.a.m.c. officer attached to the seaforths gives an idea of the way in which the regiment conducted its daily business. each morning the regiment would "stand to arms" at about three o'clock, and at four or five o'clock the men would move on, either with or without breakfast--which consisted of tea and biscuits, and bacon if there were time to cook it. sleeping accommodation varied in quality and extent from night to night, ranging from a ploughed field or an orchard to the floor of a deserted house. often the men were so sleepy that they lay in the road--quite contentedly, since they were allowed to lie. "i am doing less than the men," adds the writer. "just think of them: march, march, march, and then when we sleep it falls to the lot of many to guard the outposts with no chance of shelter, and then go on marching through the next day, wet, and hoping to dry as they go. only the highest praise can be given to these men. "at present [on the aisne] we are entrenched. our first day in this place, where we have been for five days, was awful, for we were under fire the whole of the day, with practically no protection, and our total of killed and wounded amounted to seventy. the men never wavered, and gaps were always filled. grand are the highland men, and grander still will be the account they will render; i am lucky to be with such men." these various accounts of the work of the regiment form a fairly detailed description of the work at the aisne. of how the regiment was moved up to the flanders front there is no account to hand, but the work done on the new front has been fairly fully described. first of all comes the account of captain methven's death, which took place in the fighting round lille, where captain methven and his company were set to drive the germans from their trenches with the bayonet. the german trenches were at the top of a steep little hill, and up this hill captain methven rushed, with his men following. he paused at the edge of the enemy's trenches and turned to wave the men on--they saw him silhouetted against the skyline for a second, and then he fell, shot through the heart at what must have been point-blank range. but the trenches were won, the small force of germans who had been holding them surrendered--captain methven had not died in vain. "i had read about this single-handed taking of a position," writes a spectator, "but until i saw captain methven's action i thought these things only happened in story-books." a little later the brigade of which the nd seaforths formed a part was engaged in the storming of a position, an action in which they drove back the enemy for several miles. for the greater part of the day the british position had been commanded by the fire of the enemy, who held a position on a hill in the neighbourhood and maintained a steady fire on the british brigade. the brigade commander saw that if the enemy were given time to bring up heavy artillery they would render their own position impregnable and that of the british force untenable--the height had to be taken that day, if at all. so the "charge!" was sounded, and the brigade advanced across the intervening ground, with the men cheering and shouting as they rushed forward--and above all the rest of the cries rose the "caber-feidh," the rallying-cry of the seaforths. the german position was taken in about a quarter of an hour--and in rear were a fleet of motor vehicles, in which the retreating germans decamped. pursuit was out of the question, and there was only snap-shooting at the flying enemy by way of consolation. beyond this the records of the regiment do not take us at present. there remains, however, one record of "b" company of the nd battalion and its work on the night of the th of october, a statement that may well be included in this record of the doings of the seaforths. it tells how the company had to charge the enemy out of his trenches at the bayonet point, which was done with some considerable loss of killed and wounded, and the writer comments--"there was not a coward among us." "but that was nothing to what we had last tuesday [oct. ]. we were digging trenches when we heard a volley of rifle fire come right over us, and we got the order to stand to arms and advance. their trenches were situated in a row on a rise in a field, and we could not get our range on them. in a minute the signal to charge went, and we all scrambled up the hill to get at them. the first to get up was our company officer, and he was hit. we all dived into their trenches at the point of their rifles, shooting and stabbing, and then came the onslaught. some of them were too terrified to get out, while others rushed out and were shot down, and the remainder sought refuge in a house. they showed the white flag in a doorway, but we got the order not to take any notice of it until some of their officers came out, and we waved them in. about fifty surrendered. i am proud to say that we were only one company. i shall never forget that charge as long as i live. the general said--'bravo, seaforths! it was a grand charge.'" which forms a fitting final word as far as the seaforths are concerned. chapter viii the cameron highlanders mr. alan cameron, a gentleman of scotland in the eighteenth century, fought a duel over which he was obliged to leave the british isles, whereupon he found employment in an irregular cavalry corps which assisted the british in the american war of independence. when the war ended he returned to england, judging that the storm had blown over, and at the time of the french revolution he offered to raise a corps of highlanders for the british army. the offer was accepted, and cameron raised of his clansmen in inverness-shire, a body which became the th foot, and had its title altered in to the cameron highlanders. the first active service undergone by the men of the regiment was in holland, where in under the duke of york they fought against an enemy greatly superior in numbers. five years later the regiment again went to holland, to distinguish itself at the action of egmont-op-zee, a name borne since that time on the regimental colours. this was followed up by the expedition under sir ralph abercromby to egypt, whence napoleon and his army were driven out by the british. the sphinx, with "egypt" inscribed on it, is borne by the camerons, in common with some other highland regiments. copenhagen, at the capture of which the camerons assisted in , was overshadowed as an exploit by the work of the "light company" of the camerons at corunna in the following year. talavera was a field in which the camerons had a share, as was busaco, and the regiment helped in holding the "lines" of torres vedras through the winter in which wellington lay at bay against napoleon's marshals, to emerge in the spring and force the french to retreat. at fuentes d'onor, after holding the village in company with two other regiments against attack after attack by the french, the camerons were forced out by the flower of the french army, the imperial guard. when the fight was at its fiercest a french soldier shot dead the colonel of the regiment, and at that the highlanders raised a cry of vengeance and swept away the famous guard of france. from salamanca to toulouse the camerons fought on through the rest of the peninsular campaign; they fought through quatre bras, and were among the four regiments specially mentioned in dispatches by wellington after waterloo. from that time, until called them to the crimean campaign, the men of the regiment had only peace service; but, in the highland brigade under sir colin campbell, the successors of the highlanders who had distinguished themselves at waterloo proved that the valour of the regiment was as great as ever, and at the battle of the alma the camerons did gallant service. almost immediately after the crimea came the mutiny, and the camerons were among the first regiments to oppose the mutineers. at mahomdie over a hundred men of the regiment went down with sunstroke, and then at lucknow the mutineers had to be driven from house to house by bayonet work--in which scottish regiments have always excelled. for the nine months that followed the work in lucknow, the regiment was almost constantly engaged with the enemy, especially at the battle of bareilly and the crossing of the gogra and rapti rivers. the mohmund and kumasi campaigns came next, and in queen victoria presented the regiment with new colours and conferred on it the title of the "queen's own." then in came the egyptian campaign, and at tel-el-kebir a man of the camerons was first to fall in the dawn hour at which that action began. the charge of the camerons on the enemy's lines is a feat that has been often described, and lieutenant-colonel leith's cry of "come on, th!" has become historic. in the attempt to rescue gordon, and again in , the cameron highlanders continued their work in egypt, and in lochiel of cameron unveiled at inverness a monument to the brave men of the regiment who had fallen in egypt. four years later a second battalion was raised, and in the st battalion again went up the nile to assist in the final dervish overthrow. with "remember general gordon" as their watchword, the camerons shared in the battle of the atbara, at which mahmoud's army was annihilated and mahmoud himself taken prisoner. sharing in the onward march, the camerons were present at omdurman, where the power of the khalifa was finally broken, and the battalion attended the memorial service held in khartoum on september th of that year in memory of general gordon. thence one company of the regiment went up to fashoda, and had the unique honour of representing the british army there at the time of the incident, now nearly forgotten, which so nearly led to war with france. it was not until march of that the camerons landed at east london to take part in the south african campaign, and they were then incorporated in the st brigade under general bruce hamilton. they shared in the general advance to pretoria, in the crossing of the zand river, the battle of doorn kop, and the engagement at diamond hill. later, they shared in the capture of prinsloo in the wittebergen, and in the reliefs of winburg and ladybrand. up to the end of the war the camerons were in the thick of things, and the men received the personal thanks of general sir horace smith-dorrien for the work they had performed while serving under him, and, what was more, for the fine spirit in which that work had been done. the most that can be done with regard to locating the camerons in france is to state that they formed a part of the first division, and that when the allies took the offensive the camerons took the place of the munsters; also that they have acted in very close conjunction with the black watch, with whom, it is highly probable, they were brigaded. at mons the black watch formed the first line, and, as they lost a considerable number of men, the camerons were moved up by way of support, when thirteen men of the battalion were killed and wounded. in the course of the great retreat there were as many as men missing at one time, but parties of ten and twelve came in later and reduced the apparent losses. when nearing soissons in the course of the retreat, the black watch were made the object of an encircling movement by the enemy, but they escaped with the aid of the th battery r.f.a. and that of some of the camerons. one man of the black watch had crossed the aisne in the retreat, and was wounded while lying out in the open to fire, and a cameron man stood by him and assisted him to the rear at the cost of three wounds to himself. these slight incidents are all that can be gleaned with regard to the actual movements of the camerons at the time of the retreat. several minor incidents, however, have come to light, and of these many bear on the german abuse of the white flag and of all the recognised rules of war. on one occasion germans were seen walking between the trenches--their own and the british--carrying stretchers; and, under the assumption that they were carrying wounded, firing was stopped for the time. it was discovered, however, that instead of wounded the supposed ambulance men were carrying machine guns on their stretchers, and at the same time they showed the red cross flag. on the other hand, such of the enemy as have been taken prisoners by the camerons on the retreat told their captors that they expected to be shot at once, having been told by their officers that that would be their fate if they fell into the enemy's hands. it appears that there is plenty of humour among the cameron men on the battlefield. "it's very funny," says one of them, "to hear a frenchman try to sing 'tipperary.' it fairly stumps them, but they do their best. the two favourite songs with our boys are 'tipperary' and the marseillaise. you should see a frenchman when he hears that--he goes fairly daft. these frenchmen seem terribly loungy to look at, but they are good fighters, for all that. they go smashing into it, and their artillery is the best out there. but our officers are a fine lot, the best set of men i ever came across. they do their share." thus, discursively, a wounded cameron man told of the incidentals of the fighting in france--the earlier days. then comes a fairly detailed account of the battle of the marne, in which the first three days, saturday, sunday, and monday, are described as "pretty much preliminary," but on tuesday the brigade of which the camerons formed a part went out to meet the enemy, and drove them back, capturing about six hundred prisoners and eight guns. the ground was sodden with rain, and the camerons lay out in the harvest fields taking cover behind the standing sheaves of corn, while the german artillery rained out shells on them, not even stopping when their own infantry advanced on the british troops. "we got it very rough, and a man beside me--one of our battalion--went out to help an officer who was badly wounded, but just as he got up to the officer he dropped. our fellows were falling all round, and at about ten in the morning i got my dose. during the day the fighting round where i was lying fell off a bit, but i had to lay on the ground until dark, when another chap, who saw i couldn't move, came over to make me a bed of straw and get me comfortable. but before he could get my bed made a bullet got him through the spine, and he tumbled over in a heap--stone dead. i was lucky to get out of it, for the germans were firing on our ambulance men. they had snipers lying among our wounded, and that night, when stretcher bearers came out to carry in the wounded officer, three of the bearers were shot. it was wednesday morning before i was picked up by a picket of the coldstream guards." at the beginning of the battle of the aisne, the camerons were brought up to advance in skirmishing order under shell fire, when one man was wounded by shell fire, and fell back behind a haystack. some other wounded also sought the shelter of the haystack, whereupon the germans immediately began to shell it, and the wounded men sought other shelter, to fall in with a convoy of thirty german prisoners. finally they found the transport column, and were taken back to a hospital established in a village in rear of the firing line--but this hospital was already full up. no less than thirty-two shells were aimed directly at this hospital, though it had a red cross flag flying over it all the time. this hospital was cleared, and two hours after the patients had been removed it was utterly destroyed by shell fire. another account relates that the enemy occupied the positions on the aisne that they had taken up in , and their guns were all placed in concrete positions, carefully prepared against the event. after the camerons took up their position, the distance between the opposing forces was about a thousand yards, with fairly open ground between, and the regiment was ordered to attack the trenches held by the enemy. the whole brigade advanced under heavy shell fire until within yards of the enemy's position--and then the man who tells of this incident was struck down by shell fire and rendered unconscious, so that he did not see the result of the advance. he knew, however, that it must have been successful, since he was still behind the british line when he recovered consciousness. it was later on, when the battle of the aisne had taken on the nature of a siege action, that the cave disaster occurred which caused the deaths of over thirty officers and men of the regiment. near the firing line was a large, spacious cave, which was used partly as a collecting base for the wounded, and partly as the regimental headquarters; and on the th of september, while the german artillery was shelling the british positions, the roof of the cave was struck by one of the big german shells, with the result that it fell in, burying thirty-five officers and men. the cave was some yards behind the firing line, so that the incident went unobserved for some time--though it is doubtful if anything could have been done even had prompt action been taken, since the fall of rock and earth was so heavy that most of the men in the cave must have been killed instantaneously. four of the occupants, however, were able to shout for help, being pinned down by masses of rock at the back of the cave when the roof fell in; and, nearly two hours after the accident, other men of the regiment heard the shouts of those imprisoned, and set to the work of rescue. three men had been liberated, and while the rescuers were at work getting out the fourth man another shell landed in the same spot, covered in the pinned man, and blew his would-be rescuer to pieces. but this wounded man, though buried anew, was still alive, though he lost consciousness after two hours. an officer and three men of the scots guards finally dug him out, after he had been buried for about six hours, and he was sent away to hospital and recovery. the camerons came, with the greater part of the british force in france, to the fighting in the north-west which foiled the german attack on calais, and from this part of the battle line one account has come through. "we were fairly giving it to the germans," says a wounded man from this quarter. "in the morning we started advancing in single line by sections at three paces interval across open fields at the double, and the shells were landing all round us as fast as the enemy could fire them, but we managed to get into our positions. we had a bad time of it there, but we managed to put a stop to the german advance, and then we took up another position, and held it. when the enemy were within about eighty yards of us the officer in charge of the company gave the order to fix bayonets, and we charged, at which the germans ran away. we opened fire on them, and at about two o'clock on that day i was wounded. i was lying in a hollow of the ground which we had just cleared, and i had to lie there for hours until the enemy were driven back by a british regiment. shortly after i was wounded the germans gained the crest of a hill, and one of the scots guards lying there wounded put up his hands for them not to shoot, but one of them came to within two yards of him and shot him through the stomach, and he rolled over again and died about two hours afterwards." against this cold-blooded savagery must be set the account given by an officer of the st battalion of the camerons, who states that he was shot through the leg just before the enemy charged in great numbers and drove the british out of their trenches. one of the men tried to get the officer along in the retirement, but could not do so, and he was made a prisoner. "they banged me about a bit at first, and tied my hands behind my back, and tried to get me to walk, but of course i could not. at last one splendid german came forward and took me off to their own wounded in a farmhouse. he stayed by me the whole time, and was most wonderfully good to me. they dressed my wound and got me some water, and did what they could for me. next day, at two in the afternoon, my company charged back at the house and drove the enemy back, rescuing me and the one or two other wounded prisoners in the house." another officer writes, concerning the time on the aisne: "the way the germans treat property is disgusting. while passing through a village not long ago the greater part of the furniture of all the houses had been dragged out and broken up, all the crockery smashed, all the bedding dragged out into the open street, and there left to be soaked by the rain. it is awful to see the poor peasants wandering about, homeless and starving. "everywhere is the fearful smell of dead horses. it seems to saturate the atmosphere, and one marches through miles of it." carrion and ruin! and "one splendid german," who stands out from among his fellows because he exercised the simple instincts of humanity! surely in this one incident is as great accusation against the german race as in the other and worse accounts. meanwhile the camerons fight on, with the courage that their regiment has shown from the time of abercrombie's campaign in egypt unto this day. chapter ix the argyll and sutherland highlanders the threat against britain by the french republic in led to the raising of the st battalion of the argyll and sutherland highlanders, the battalion having been formed in that year by the then duke of argyll, under the title of the st regiment of foot. the present nd battalion was raised by the earl of sutherland six years later, and numbered the " rd foot." these two battalions were united under their present title in . active service was first seen by the nd battalion at the cape, where its men played a prominent part in the defeat of the dutch army of , men engaged in the defence of capetown. the turn of the st battalion came during the peninsular campaign, when the argylls formed the rearguard at corunna and were seven times engaged with the enemy. later, they joined wellington in spain, and were conspicuously engaged at the nivelle, at the crossing of the nive, and on to the siege of toulouse. the nd battalion formed part of the force that courted disaster at new orleans in , and no less than officers and men fell in that fatal attack--futile as fatal. missing waterloo, the regiment next won distinction in the kaffir wars at the cape, where it underwent five years of active service. there were " st" men on the _birkenhead_ in , and though the name of the ill-fated vessel is not borne on the colours of any regiment it might well be inscribed on those of the argylls. their next active service was in the crimean campaign, where the nd battalion formed part of sir colin campbell's highland brigade, and took the heights beyond the alma under as destructive fire as a british regiment has ever faced. at balaclava the highlanders were in deadly peril, but their coolness saved them for work in the trenches before sevastopol, and for a share in the final assault. still under sir colin campbell, their chief in the crimea, the highlanders took part in the suppression of the mutiny, and marched to the relief of lucknow, avenging the tragedy of cawnpur at the action of secundra bagh, where with the loyal sikhs they piled up a heap of , dead sepoys. on the same day the regiment took a hand in the capture of the shah nujjif, a strong building that was taken by desperate hand-to-hand fighting. from the top of the building the regimental colour of the highlanders, waving, announced to the sorely pressed lucknow garrison that relief was approaching--and the rest of the story of the relief is an oft-told one. zululand and frontier work in india next claimed the attention of the regiment, and then in the st battalion sailed for south africa, to join lord methuen's force and take part in the battle of the modder river, at which the argyll and sutherland men lost heavily. joining general wauchope's highland brigade, the battalion marched on to magersfontein, where the commanding officer was among the killed. with the rest of the brigade the argylls moved on to paardeberg and the capture of cronje and his force; and from that time onward to the end of the war the record of the battalion is one continuous story of marching, fighting, and the general work of the campaign, up to the time of the signing of peace at vereeniging. the total of marching accomplished by the battalion during the course of the war was not less than , miles. seven victoria crosses had been won by members of the regiment up to . the deeds of the regiment are rather scantily told by its men in france. the personal accounts begin with an appreciation of the bravery of the hon. r. bruce, master of burleigh, in the retreat from mons. "he was too brave for anything," says a private who saw him at that time. "he simply wanted to be at 'em, and at 'em he went. i don't know where his sword was, but he hadn't it when i saw him--he had a rifle with the bayonet fixed, just like the rest of us. i saw him at the time he was wounded, and he just fought on gamely till he and his party of brave fellows were cut off and surrounded." the next account concerns the battle of soissons, on the aisne--a place variously pronounced by the troops, many of whom gave it the name of "scissors," as being a near thing to the real method of pronunciation. "for about a week," says the narrator, "it rained night and day. you may imagine us marching all day, from daylight in the morning till dark at night, and then having to lie down in a field on the wet ground--nothing to cover ourselves with and nothing underneath us--and living on biscuits and corned beef. i feel sorry for the poor french people, and you may be thankful you are living in england. we passed through village after village on the march, and there was not a living soul in the houses; doors and windows were smashed open, and everything was broken in the way of furniture and fittings. we passed one house where the two women who lived in it had just returned after the germans had passed. as we went by they gave us a drink of water--it was the only thing the germans had left them." another man of the regiment, speaking of the earlier engagements, remarks--"you would think you were in hell." he tells of the adventures of lieutenant campbell of the argyll and sutherlands, who went out with eleven men to reconnoitre in the early days of the campaign. as none of the dozen returned, and careful searches failed to reveal any traces of the party, they were given up as captured. to the surprise of their comrades, however, they all turned up safe and sound some eleven days later. it seemed that the party had unwittingly penetrated through the german lines, and, managing to escape notice, had eventually found their way out again. this story is supplemented by one which tells of a trick played by the french during the german retreat from paris. the argylls were located about thirty miles away from paris, and in rear of them a large body of the enemy were encamped in a wood. during the night, according to this account, the french crept up to the wood without being observed by the german sentries, and placed bundles of straw among the trees, setting fire to the straw before they retired. the timber in the wood was very dry, and the trees caught fire, causing a fierce blaze in the course of a few minutes. the enemy were thrown into confusion, which was completed by the artillery fire searching the wood and making rout of the german retreat. there is one letter concerning the doings of the argyll and sutherland men which is worthy of quotation, and calls for some question. the writer says: "we have distinguished ourselves a good many times since we commenced operations here, and we have lost heavily, an occurrence much to our sorrow. it is not my place to speak of the honour that has been conferred upon us as a scottish regiment for our bravery, and at one time we saved the british army from defeat. we are fortunate to have any one left to relate the experience. the kindly eye of providence has overlooked me, and i am thankful. i don't know yet how i escaped. once i was lying in a line of sixteen men, eight of whom were killed or severely wounded by the shell fire of the enemy." this letter comes undated, with the place of origin suppressed. it is curious, if the argyll and sutherland highlanders--either or both battalions--"saved the british army from defeat," that there should be only this one account of the affair--which must have been tremendous. british soldiers, as a rule, are very quick to acknowledge the bravery of their comrades, and it is strange that no man of any other regiment has yet recognised that the whole of the british army has been saved from defeat by this one regiment--or possibly by one battalion of this regiment. on the whole, one is tempted to regard the letter as a hoax, though its solemn tone would go far to dispel that idea. one other letter there is, worthy in a different sense of full quotation, for it tells of individual bravery and resourcefulness on the part of a member of the regiment. "we had worked our way up to within eighty yards of the german trenches," says the writer, "and then got the order to charge, which we did with effect. one fellow belonging to the argyll and sutherland highlanders made a lunge with his bayonet at an opponent, and his intended victim promptly warded off the blow, but, much to the german's astonishment, the canny scot brought the butt end of the rifle to the jaw like a flash, and, felling him like a bullock, finished the job with the bayonet. it was the work of a moment, done without hesitation, and is typical of the bravery and resource of the highlanders generally." these few records of the men of the regiment go to prove that the argyll and sutherland men went down from mons to the aisne, fought at soissons--and that is all. of their presence in flanders there is no evidence so far, and at the time of writing they may still be living the life of cave-dwellers down where the old german front is still maintained against the thinned franco-british line, or they may be round arras, in those fierce struggles whence the wounded come back by the hundred and many men come back no more. not till the "fog of war" has cleared utterly away will all their story be told, but we may rest assured that the story will not be one of which the argyll and sutherland highlanders need be ashamed. chapter x the highland light infantry and the cameronians the highland light infantry--a title shortened in the army to a colloquial "h.l.i.," were originally known as "macleod's highlanders," and were raised as the rd foot in , being embodied at elgin in april of . lord macleod, after whom the regiment was named, was its first commanding officer, and under his command the original members of the rd went to madras in , their voyage lasting no less than twelve months. the valour of the regiment in those early days of its history may be judged from the fact that between the time of landing in india and , a matter of only twenty-six years, there were emblazoned on the regimental colours no less than six names--those of carnatic, sholingur, mysore, hindustan, seringapatam, and cape of good hope. to these might well be added that of perambaukum, for in that first action in which the h.l.i. took part the flank companies were cut to pieces in a truly heroic stand against irresistible odds. after the formation of new flank companies came the principal battles of the carnatic, and in the attack on cuddalore the h.l.i. lost half their strength of officers and men, and won the grateful thanks of their commander-in-chief. in the regiment became the " st," and their next spell of active service was in the mysore campaign, where they took part in all the principal engagements, including the storming of bangalore and seringapatam. they went from india to the cape, and thence formed part of general whitelock's expedition to buenos ayres, in which, through no fault of the highlanders, who captured the city, britain definitely lost a footing in south america--the result of the expedition led to whitelocke being court-martialled and dismissed from the service. for their gallantry in the capture of buenos ayres the h.l.i. were specially commended by lieutenant-general floyd on the occasion of the presentation of new colours to the regiment. their next exploits were in the first peninsular campaign, through which they came to corunna. they were at torres vedras, at the fierce encounter of fuentes d'onor, and they took a prominent part in the battle of vittoria, where they routed the enemy and lost their commanding officer, who fell dying while leading his men in the attack. like wolfe, the commanding officer of the h.l.i. had a last thought for the defeat of the enemy, and died happy in the knowledge that the battle was practically won. near on four hundred of his men fell with him on this field. no less than sixteen special medals were presented to men of the highland light infantry in the peninsular campaigns for special personal bravery, and then at waterloo they shared in the last attack on napoleon's imperial guard, with which the day ended. earlier in the day the highland light infantry formed the square in which the duke of wellington had his place at the time the french cavalry charged. the regiment took part in the crimean campaign, serving in the trenches before sevastopol, and in the expedition to yenikale. in the central indian campaign of the h.l.i. were heavily engaged, and at the morar cantonments engagement the first victoria cross of the regiment was won. the history of the nd battalion of the regiment--the old th, is very similar to that of the st battalion, including as it does the storming of seringapatam, the principal engagements of the peninsular campaign, and--here the history diverges--the sinking of the _birkenhead_ off the cape. the two battalions were first definitely named "highland light infantry" in place of their old-time numbers in , when the territorial system came into being as regards the regular army. the nd battalion of the regiment took part in the egyptian campaign of , and won a victoria cross at tel-el-kebir. in the malakand campaign of and again in crete in , the regiment saw active service, and in the south african war the st battalion went through the action of modder river and on to magersfontein, where another victoria cross was won by corporal shaul of the regiment. together with the rest of the highland brigade, the h.l.i. were "in" at the capture of cronje at paardeberg, and at the capture of prinsloo they played an important part. no less than eighty-one officers and men were left behind by the regiment at the close of the south african campaign. four victoria crosses are reckoned to the credit of the regiment, but to these must be added the sixteen special medals for gallantry won by the h.l.i. in the peninsular war, before ever such a thing as a victoria cross was instituted. of medals for distinguished conduct, there are many in the h.l.i. personal accounts of the fighting in which the regiment has been engaged in france are few, up to the present time. a definite account has been received of the death of lieutenant sir archibald gibson craig. it is stated that the lieutenant had told his servant some time previously that, in case of his death on the field, the servant was to take charge of all his personal belongings; and at a place not named--or a place of which the name has been excised--he was in charge of a party of sixteen men, who were proceeding to a rather steep hill, when they came in contact with a large number of the enemy, estimated by the highlanders at between and . the men had not been aware that they were so near the germans, but when the lieutenant saw the position in which they were placed he drew his sword and shouted, "charge, men! at them!" his men fired at the german force, and then charged with fixed bayonets, at which the enemy thought the british party was far stronger than it was in reality, for they began to retreat. the highlanders, however, had to retire, since two of their number were killed and three wounded, which left a dangerously small force of effectives. they retired in good order, carrying their dead and wounded, but sir archibald craig was shot through the mouth, and killed instantaneously. this is the most circumstantial account that has come to hand regarding the work of the regiment, so far. another story of a wounded man states that during the fighting on the aisne, in the village of vera neuil, he received two pieces of shrapnel in the chest. "we were not safe anywhere, not even in the hospital, as the germans shelled that too. i was wounded on tuesday, september , when i was eating a biscuit at the time i was shot." an officer of the h.l.i. gives an account of the way in which the germans are conducting their fighting. "an officer dressed as a french officer went up to some coldstream guards and asked if bulkley, the machine-gun officer, was in that battalion. he then shot the officer he was talking to. others dress up as british staff officers, and drive about in motor cars, and when they meet transports of convoys shout at them--'the germans are advancing on you from just ahead,' which causes a stampede. that happened to us, for a long column of transport was ahead of us as we were retiring, and all of a sudden a supposed french officer came galloping down the road the reverse way, shouting 'les allemands, les uhlans!' all the transport was thrown into confusion, and some of the waggons came back at a gallop. we were just behind, but mercifully the road was broad. there was a little confusion at first, but they rallied splendidly when i shouted to them, and we all advanced up the road with fixed bayonets, to find absolutely nothing. "the germans actually dress themselves up in our men's great-coats to disguise themselves, get close, and then shoot." these accounts demonstrate the presence of the highland light infantry on the great retreat, and also at the battle of the aisne. from the latter position they may have gone on to flanders--the more likely alternative--or they may have remained as part of the thin defensive line left along the aisne positions. * * * * * the present "cameronians" were formed from the old-time " th cameronians," from whom the regiment takes its title, and from the " th perthshire light infantry," the first of which regiments fought for religious liberty against the king's troops at bothwell bridge in old days. until the revolution which placed william of orange on the throne they stuck to their principles, and then in one day there was enrolled from among them a regiment to support the cause of "dutch william," a regiment which, under the earl of angus, held dunkeld against a force four times their own strength. they fought at landen, and lost their colonel, the earl of angus, at steinkerk; they shared in the capture of namur, and then in marlborough's battles they so fought as to be able to emblazon the names of blenheim, ramillies, oudenarde, and malplaquet on the regimental colours. they shared in the defence of gibraltar in , fought and endured through the american war of independence, and served under sir john moore at corunna. meanwhile the nd battalion, formed by thomas graham (subsequently lord lynedoch), served under sir ralph abercrombie in driving out napoleon's "invincible army" from egypt, and captured a french eagle at guadeloupe. in the chinese campaign of the cameronians st battalion took a share, being first to scale the walls of amoy. the nd battalion saw service against the kaffirs of south africa in and the following year, and went on to the crimean campaign, having among its officers a certain lieutenant wolseley, who was destined for great things. in the mutiny the nd battalion formed a part of havelock's force at lucknow, and subsequently assisted in stamping out the last traces of the great rebellion. the st battalion took the field in abyssinia in , and went on with napier to magdala. another famous british officer shared in the exploits of the st battalion in the person of sir evelyn wood, during the strenuous work of the zulu campaign of , when the battalion fought from inhlobane to ulundi, where cetewayo was overthrown. the cameronians shared in buller's advance through natal in the south african war of - , forming part of general lyttleton's brigade at colenso, reinforcing the lancashire brigade in the action of spion kop, sweeping the boers off vaalkrantz, and sharing in the furious charges at pieter's hill--until the way to ladysmith lay open. through the fighting for laing's nek, and in the guerilla warfare that lasted out the rest of the campaign, the cameronians played their part nobly. no less than three south african campaigns are commemorated on the colours of the regiment. of their work in france, less personal accounts are to hand than concerning the work of any other scottish regiment. there is one statement by a wounded man with regard to a german ruse of driving on sheep in night attacks on the trenches. the sheep were heard moving in the darkness in front of the trenches, and while the cameronians opened fire on them, the germans tried to get round their flank--but two maxim guns drove them back with a loss of over dead. the incident is related with no reference to place or date. a non-commissioned officer of the regiment speaks of the secrecy of movement that has to be maintained. none are made aware of probable movements, destinations, or reasons for any plans, and commanding officers are not informed of what is about to be done until it is absolutely imperative that they should know. the reason for this lies in the great number of german spies who are arrested in all kinds of disguises, british and french uniforms, civilian clothes, chauffeurs' uniforms, and all possible forms of dress. "the leakage of information is astounding," says the writer, "and we quite appreciate the necessity for secrecy in all our doings, and fully understand its wisdom, as we have been saved from complete destruction more than once through this secrecy." even of things that took place months ago, however, there is no record yet. of how the gordons were cut off, and of what the cameronians have done and where they did it, we know little or nothing--concerning all things that individual units have accomplished there is scarcely more record than the stories collected here, which make no pretence at giving a full history of the doings of the scottish regiments at the front, but simply stand as detached records of the deeds of brave men. and as for the london scottish and their bravery, that story belongs to the record of territorial regiments at the front, in which it will in due course be told. _printed in great britain by hazell, watson & viney, ld., london and aylesbury._ lord roberts' message to the nation by field-marshal earl roberts v.c., k.g. london john murray, albemarle street, w. contents introduction part i peace and war a speech to the citizens of manchester letter to the _manchester guardian_ part ii the territorial force introductory note: the national service league and the territorial force the mansion house speech: lord haldane's scheme examined part iii the national service league and working men introductory note: mr. blatchford's criticism of the manchester speech letter to the _times_ on compulsory service and the social condition of the working classes part iv territorial officers and the present crisis address at the annual dinner of the kentish men and the men of kent introduction my recent speech in manchester has been so widely discussed, and, in certain quarters, so gravely misrepresented or misunderstood, that, in the interests of the cause which i there defended, i am impelled to place before the public a complete text of that speech with such notes and supplementary matter as seem necessary to make my meaning unmistakable except to faction or to prejudice. no one who has followed with attention the efforts of the national service league has any right to imagine that we desire a strong army solely in order to invade the territory of european or more distant states; or that we wish to root out the territorial force in order to establish in its place an army system modelled on the army system of germany; or, again, that we have the ambition of resuscitating once more medieval blood-lust, anarchic plunder, and delight in war! what, then, are our aims? we desire, in the first place, that all patriotic men within this empire should be made to see and to feel that from one cause or another england, by neglecting her armaments, has drifted into a position which it is impossible to describe otherwise than as a position of danger. we desire further that all patriotic men should, without either insincerity or delay, put to themselves the questions: how are we to arrest that drifting, and how are we to evade or overcome that danger? and, in the third place, with regard to foreign nations or empires, our ambition is simply that states well-disposed towards us, whether near or distant, may have it in their power to mix with their friendliness respect, and with their goodwill esteem. in the following pages i have stated in brief the solutions of these problems which, after some experience of peace and war and after some deliberation not free from anxiety, i have come to look upon as the only workable solutions, as the only solutions consonant with our honour and our continuance as an empire. and in view of the discussion and criticism which this speech has provoked, and still provokes, i may be permitted to add, that, in whatever i have said in this speech as in other speeches, i have had in sight but one purpose--the good of this nation and the safety and greatness of this empire. it is for my fellow-countrymen to judge between me and those who, during these past few weeks, have willingly or unwillingly misinterpreted my purpose or misstated my words. it is also for my countrymen to decide upon a far mightier issue; for in this self-governed, free, and democratic state of england it is for all its citizens to assert whether, in this matter of war and preparedness for war, they shall face the facts, resolute to see things as they are, or whether they shall continue indifferent to the history of the past and obstinately blind to the warnings of the present, even to such beacons as are now aflame on every hill from the balkans to the dardanelles! and i appeal above all to the young men of this nation, to our young men of every rank and social status, to the young men of every trade and profession and calling of any kind; for it is they who, in victory or in disaster, will have to meet the consequences of this tremendous decision. it is they, in a word, who now are england. young men, young men of british birth, is it possible that you can shirk the issue, that you can fail to hear, or that, hearing, you can fail to respond to your country's summons, to the memories of the past, to the hopes of the future? lord roberts' message to the nation part i peace and war a speech to the citizens of manchester, october , . my lords and gentlemen, this is only the second occasion in a long life on which i have had the privilege of speaking in your city; and it is with no inadequate sense of the value of that occasion and of the responsibility attaching to the position which, for the past ten years, i have taken up towards this empire and its armies that i come before you this afternoon. for in the upbuilding of that empire what city in our dominions has taken a more conspicuous part than this city, made illustrious almost since its foundation by commercial enterprise and by its political sagacity and spirit in affairs? in the eighteenth century your merchants aided the designs of the elder pitt, and of the statesmen who followed him, in founding that power in india and the east which to-day is the envy and the admiration of the nations. in the nineteenth, within my own memory, your city, under the unforgotten leadership of john bright, richard cobden, and milner gibson, gave a great watchword[ ] to a great and still living party, and by its resolute effort forced through parliament the repeal of the corn laws, one of the most momentous and revolutionary measures in this nation's history. nor, in more recent times, has manchester abated her zeal or her vital energy in every phase of english political life. the greatest, most temperate, and statesmanlike liberal newspaper in england is night by night printed within your walls; so that, at least in one phase of our national life and amongst one group of our fellow-citizens--the liberal party, that is to say--it is literally true that what manchester thinks to-night london thinks to-morrow. and a certain election the other day, and the overflow meetings which, i understand, have been held in favour of tariff reform within the sacred precincts of the free trade hall itself, give a further proof that here in manchester you are not petrified in your opinions, but that the stream of your political life flows fresh and from the fountain-head. judge then, gentlemen, whether it was not with some concern that i looked forward to this occasion; judge whether it was not with some searching of the heart that i reflected upon what i have this afternoon to say to you. for does it not appear at first sight as if what i have to say is not merely antagonistic to the teaching of the two greatest names of the manchester school, john bright and richard cobden, but is in every way the contradiction of the characterizing ideas and the traditions associated with this city itself? for i come before you to-day to advocate the necessity of national service; to affirm once more that the "nation in arms" is the only worthy and sure bulwark of this empire and these islands.[ ] cobden, on the other hand, has left it on record that he considered it the glory and the exceeding great reward of all his labours that he had contributed, in however small a degree, to that universal disarmament of europe, which, he sanguinely hoped, would be the result of free trade and of expanding commerce and the organization of labour. and john bright, his great colleague, in one speech after another, added the lustre of his eloquence to that same high and flattering anticipation. i can remember easily the ardent and sympathetic reception which those anticipations met in the france of louis napoleon; i can remember also the added weight which france's enthusiasm gave to those happy anticipations here in england. war, indeed, seemed at an end. to-morrow, it seemed, we should be turning our barracks into granaries and our arsenals into banking houses. gentlemen, i am, i trust, doing no wrong to the memory of these statesmen when i point out that in the very years--nay, in the very months--that they were cherishing these illusions of peace and universal disarmament, in those very months the mightiest and most disciplined force that this earth has ever contained was silently being drilled in that wide region from the rhine to the elbe and the oder, and from the north sea to the bavarian frontier, until, the right hour having struck, that army disclosed itself in all its prodigious and crushing mass and in all its unmatched capacity for destruction and war. and, amid those auspicious dreams of peace, for what was that army being trained? koeniggrätz, metz, st. privat, and sedan are the answer. nor did that army pause until upon the ruins of the empire of the third napoleon--upon the ruins, i may say, of france, unprepared in peace, and in war scattered and dismayed--it had reared a new empire, the empire of william i., of frederick i., and of william ii., for whose personal character, noble and imaginative patriotism, and capacities as a ruler, i yield to no man in my admiration. such, gentlemen, was history's ironic comment upon john bright's and richard cobden's eloquently-urged enthusiasm. let me not increase by any word of mine the crushing weight of destiny's criticism. now, gentlemen, at the present day, now in the year , our german friends, i am well aware, do not, at least in sensible circles, assert dogmatically that a war with great britain will take place this year or next; but in their heart of hearts they know, every man of them,[ ] that, just as in and just as in , war will take place the instant the german forces by land and sea are, by their superiority at every point, as certain of victory as anything in human calculation can be made certain. "germany strikes when germany's hour has struck." that is the time-honoured policy of her foreign office. that was the policy relentlessly pursued by bismarck and moltke in and ; it has been her policy decade by decade since that date; it is her policy at the present hour. and, gentlemen, it is an excellent policy. it is, or should be, the policy of every nation prepared to play a great part in history. under that policy germany has, within the last ten years, sprung, as at a bound, from one of the weakest of naval powers to the greatest naval power, save one, upon this globe. but yesterday, so to speak, the british fleets did not feel the furrow of a german war-keel on the wide seas. to-day every british warship and every british merchant vessel thrills in all her iron nerves to that mighty presence. just as in , by the massing of her armies towards this frontier or towards that frontier, prussia controlled the action of austria, so germany constrains the action of england at the present day. do you wish for proofs? i point to the gradual displacement of the british fleet before the german menace. i point to the mediterranean, bereft of british battleships, and to the gradual narrowing, year by year, of our once far-flung battle-line. we may stand still: germany always advances, and the direction of her advance, the line along which she is moving, is now most manifest. it is towards that consummation which i have described--a complete supremacy by land and sea. she has built a mighty fleet; but, as if nothing were done so long as anything stands between her and her goal, still she presses on--here establishing a new heligoland, for every available island in the north sea has been fortified--there enclosing holland in a network of new canals, and deepening old riverbeds for the swifter transport of the munitions of war, whether to her army or her fleet. contrasted with our own apathy or puerile and spasmodic efforts, how impressive is this magnificent and unresting energy! it has the mark of true greatness; it extorts admiration even from those against whom it is directed! but, it is urged by the advocates of universal peace, how monstrous is this expenditure of human strength and human ingenuity, if unused, and how yet more monstrous the waste of human life if actually used in war![ ] and how much more sane is the policy of cobden and of bright and of their imitators or followers at the present day! gentlemen, arguments which prove the folly and criminality of war are, at the present stage of history, like the arguments which prove the folly and criminality of ambition and of the love of glory. even those who argue most eloquently against glory do, by that very eloquence, seek to win glory; and those who argue most forcibly against war do, nevertheless, live, and for long will continue to live, under an invisible power which has made war an inseparable portion of human polity. much, during the autumn of , was said and written upon arbitration. america's action in the panama canal, and the impotence of diplomatists in the balkan crisis,[ ] are again history's ironic comment in the autumn of ! arbitration most certainly is more humane than war; but, at the present stage of the polity of nations, arbitration again and again refuses to extend itself to some of the most vital and essential questions--questions which, to a nation or empire sensitive alike to its honour and to its abiding interests, make war unavoidable. again, we have heard much during the current year of the power of labour in international politics. the german socialist, it is said, will not make war upon his french or his english comrade. gentlemen, it is to the credit of the human race that patriotism, in the presence of such organizations, has always proved itself superior to any class or any individual. love of country has on the actual day of battle always proved itself superior to love of profit. that law has not been abrogated, and if war broke out to-morrow the german working man would quit himself like a german, and the british working man, i hope, like a briton. hence, gentlemen, the mistrust with which i have always viewed the proposals of british ministers for a limitation of armaments. emanating from great britain, such proposals must always, i imagine, impress a foreign observer as either too early or too late in english history. for how was this empire of britain founded? war founded this empire--war and conquest! when we, therefore, masters by war of one-third of the habitable globe, when we propose to germany to disarm, to curtail her navy or diminish her army, germany naturally refuses; and pointing, not without justice, to the road by which england, sword in hand, has climbed to her unmatched eminence, declares openly, or in the veiled language of diplomacy, that by the same path, if by no other, germany is determined also to ascend! who amongst us, knowing the past of this nation, and the past of all nations and cities that have ever added the lustre of their name to human annals, can accuse germany or regard the utterance of one of her greatest chancellors a year and a half ago,[ ] or of general bernhardi three months ago, with any feelings except those of respect? gentlemen, other world-powers besides germany have arisen and are arising around us; but there is one way in which britain can have peace, not only with germany, but with every other power, national or imperial, and that is, to present such a battle-front by sea and land that no power or probable combination of powers shall dare to attack her without the certainty of disaster. that is the only reply worthy of our past and wise for our future which we can or ought to make to those unparalleled efforts which i have described. and there is a way in which england can have war; there is a way in which she is certain to have war and its horrors and calamities: it is by persisting in her present course, her apathy, unintelligence, blindness, and in her disregard of the warnings of the most ordinary political insight, as well as of the examples of history. and what is the lesson which history enforces? of two courses you must choose one: you must either abandon your empire, and with it your mercantile wealth; or, in the world as it is at present, be prepared to defend it. but, you will say, are we so unprepared? have we not a fleet? have we not an army? we have a fleet, but that fleet is rapidly becoming unequal to the fleets by which we may be opposed, and by the inadequacy of our land forces it is maimed and hampered in its very nature as a fleet. for the essence of a fleet in such an empire as ours is the utmost mobility: it must have complete freedom of action. but if, in addition to its own duties, our fleet has to perform the role of an army of defence, what must follow? it becomes a "wooden wall" indeed, unmoving and inert, anchored around these shores. it is helpless to protect our food-supplies, without the regular arrival of which we must starve. a paramount navy we must possess, whether of two keels to one or three keels to two. that is a self-evident truth. but if this empire is to keep abreast of the rapid and tremendous developments amongst the world-powers around us, something more is necessary, and the necessity increases with every year, almost with every month. it is the necessity for an army strong enough to insure the mobility of our navy, and strong enough also to make our strength felt on the mainland of europe, should we ever appear there as the armed ally of another power, as we were on the verge of doing last autumn. that also is, or ought to be, self-evident. what, then, is my plan, and what is my ultimate counsel to the nation and the message to my countrymen that at this solemn hour i would utter? it is the message burnt into my mind twelve years ago during the crisis of the south african war; it is the message which every hour of that protracted and not too glorious struggle made me feel to be more and more necessary; and, i am compelled to say frankly, it is the message which events, some quite recent and some remoter, have compelled me to regard as more pressing in than in - . gentlemen, that message is: "arm and prepare to quit yourselves like men, for the time of your ordeal is at hand." a long interval has been allowed us for preparation; for in this era of rapid evolution twelve years is a big space in human affairs. twelve years have been given to us, and in those years what have we done? we have modified and remodified the effete voluntary system; we have invented several new names and a new costume. but as regards efficiency and as regards preparedness for war, we are practically where we were in .[ ] for, so far as the choice between the voluntary system and some form of national service is concerned, what have these twelve years demonstrated, except the futility and positive danger of any and every other system except some form of compulsion? there has, i say, been much juggling with words and names. the old militia and volunteers have disappeared, and the special reserve and the territorials have taken their place; there has been much complimentary and interested or disinterested laudation by members of parliament, and, i regret to say, by some few officers of the army. the fact remains, that in the opinion of every impartial soldier with any experience of modern war--in the opinion, i say, of every soldier, whether british, german, or french, who has given any attention to the subject, this great empire is wholly unprepared for war. as a european power, as a continental power, we do not exist--for war. our army, as a belligerent factor in european politics, is almost a negligible quantity. this great empire, indeed--and the more we exalt its greatness and its unrivalled character, the more astounding does our recklessness appear--this great empire is at all times practically defenceless beyond its first line. such an empire invites war. its assumed security amid the armaments of europe, and now of asia, is insolent and provocative. for remember that war does not begin, nor does it end, on the day of battle. there is a kind of war which goes on silent and unperceived amid apparent peace. that is the war which undermines commerce, which profoundly affects a city like your city. if once you permit any one state to be your undisputed superior by sea and land, that hour, even if not a shot be fired, you cease to be a free nation. you are no longer an empire. your commercial greatness is vanished. you hold your very lives by the sufferance of another, and would have to submit to any terms he might dictate. such, gentlemen, is the origin, and such the considerations which have fostered in me the growth of this conviction--the conviction that in some form of national service is the only salvation of this nation and this empire. the territorial force is now an acknowledged failure--a failure in discipline, a failure in numbers, a failure in equipment, a failure in energy.[ ] i have so often demonstrated this thesis; i have so often analyzed the contradictions[ ] in the arguments of the supporters of the territorial movement; i have so often exposed their vamped-up statistics, and the rewards and encouragement offered by politicians to every soldier or civilian willing to say a word in praise of that scheme--i have done all this so often that there seems nothing left for me to say. to you, as practical business men, i will merely repeat this one statement--a statement the truth of which is known to every experienced soldier--that so long as the territorial force is based on voluntary enlistment, it is impossible to give its members a sufficiently lengthy and continuous period of training to insure a discipline which will stand the severe test of modern war. in saying this, i am making no aspersions against the zeal or intelligence of the patriotic men who compose the force; neither they nor their employers can afford the necessary time, so long as all men in this country are not treated alike, and all compelled to serve their apprenticeship in the national forces.[ ] and, unless i am misinformed, the majority of the territorials are now in favour of compulsion. gentlemen, only the other day i completed my eightieth year, and to some of you, doubtless to many of you, i am indebted for one of the moments of the deepest gratification in my life, and the words i am speaking to-day are, therefore, old words--the result of earnest thought and practical experience; but, gentlemen, my fellow-citizens and fellow-englishmen, citizens of this great and sacred trust, this empire, if these were my last and latest words, i still should say to you, "arm yourselves!" and if i put to myself the question, how can i, even at this late and solemn hour, best help england?--england that to me has been so much, england that for me has done so much--again i answer, "arm and prepare to quit yourselves like men, for the day of your ordeal is at hand." i have commanded your armies in peace and in war. in my early years, as in my middle life, and now in these my latest years, i have felt to the quick the glories accompanying the armies of the past across every battlefield. what made the valour of those armies so distinguished? one thing at least: it was that, in officers exclusively, and in the ranks mainly, they were composed of men who regarded citizenship as incomplete unless it involved soldiership. gentlemen, you have been enfranchised, many of you, by the great acts of and . i say to you, the young men of this city and of this nation, that your enfranchisement is not complete until you have become soldiers as well as citizens, prepared to attest your manhood on the battlefield as well as at the election booths. much has been said recently of the rights and the power of the workers of this nation. we all, i hope, belong to that class--workers--but the artisan class of the nation has been urged--and to you, the working men of manchester, i now specially address myself--you have been urged, i say, to refuse to do your duties in war until your rights in peace are granted. gentlemen, i say to you, that is not the policy either of britishers or of men. i will go further: i say to you that it is not by declining or shirking duty that you will extend your rights. he who diminishes the power and vital resources of great britain diminishes the power and the vital resources of every britisher. how can you most easily and most securely better yourselves as britishers--as working men? by making england better, by making it better worth your while to be a citizen of, and a worker in that nation! if you seized by violence or by act of parliament all the accumulated capital of the centuries, you might have a madman's holiday for a time; but in the end you would emerge bankrupt and starving. you yourselves are the capital of the nation--the life-wealth of the nation--its manhood. weapons, however perfect, will not make an army. men are necessary--men of spirit, men of energy, loving their country, not merely loving their class or themselves. and on you, in turn, that discipline and those duties will confer unreckonable benefits. a tyranny imposes an exterior restraint; but you, in your free democratic constitution, should consider it as your privilege to impose upon yourselves from within that discipline and those sacred duties. i say to you, therefore, assert your rights as britishers by demanding the greatest, the highest of all civic and of all national rights--the right to be taught to defend your country--the right, that is, to defend your own honour as britons and your liberties as citizens of this empire. thus, and thus only, shall you be worthy of that empire's great past and of the dignity which that past confers upon every man of you, whatever your position in life may be. [ ] apart from free trade and unrestrained competition, there are three other doctrines, or political principles, associated with the manchester school: ( ) to maintain peace at any cost; ( ) strictly to avoid all interference with the internal affairs of foreign powers; ( ) to subordinate as far as possible all other interests to the interests of industry. the complete organization of industry was to have, as its immediate consequence, the abolition of war. these principles crystallized later into the familiar watchword of liberalism: "peace, retrenchment, and reform." [ ] succinctly, by "the nation in arms" i mean that every able-bodied citizen has patriotism enough to take his place in the firing-line to repel invasion; and, secondly, that he has common sense enough to undergo the discipline to make that self-sacrifice effective. in the second part of this book i have indicated what that preparation means. here i may only observe that when lord haldane speaks of "the whole nation springing to arms at the call of duty" he is once more forgetting the part which discipline plays in modern war. a nation may "spring to arms," but if it is not disciplined, and thoroughly disciplined, its very courage will only serve to hasten its destruction. within the last few weeks tens of thousands of brave ottomans have sprung to arms, but with what dire results! [ ] it would be easy, i am informed on good authority, to illustrate this from passages in the works of german writers from treitschke, the great exponent of bismarckism, to writers of the present day. and i may quote a paragraph in support of my thesis from an unexpected source, that of mr. h. m. hyndman, in a letter to the _morning post_ of november , nearly three weeks after my manchester speech. mr. hyndman, i need not remind my readers, not only enjoys a wide experience of german socialism, but of many phases of german politics and political life. he writes: "i cannot for the life of me understand what sir edward grey hopes to gain by rebuking lord roberts for stating that which the whole continent knows perfectly well to be the truth. the german fleet is being strengthened now, as it has been increased up to the present time, in order either to attack us in the north sea, when the german government thinks it safe to do so; or, by threats of what will occur, to force us to accept german policy, and allow the german empire to do what it pleases with holland, belgium, denmark, and switzerland, after having crushed or arranged with france. if germany is not hostile to this country, why does the whole pan-german party (and press), to which the heir to the german throne openly belongs, declare that she is? why is it that 'england is the enemy' is the common talk all through german middle-class circles? or, on the other hand, if the relations between the two nations are so excellent as our foreign minister assures us they are--thus leading many sober frenchmen to believe that our _entente_ with france only means that we shall betray the french republic the moment it suits us to do so--why are we fortifying rosyth as a naval base, why have we withdrawn our fleet from the mediterranean to concentrate it in home waters, and why was every journal in this country discussing the issues of peace and war with the german empire when the late german ambassador came to this country? more important still, why have we given way to a worse government than that of germany--the russian government, to wit--on matters of the first importance in persia and elsewhere? are the english people mere children thus to be fed on the pap of fatuous pacificism and convenient party misrepresentation at one of the most serious crises in the history of our race?" [ ] it is, or ought to be, superfluous to rebut the frantic accusation brought against myself and the national service league by a leading liberal weekly on october --that of blood-lust. can there be englishmen--or men bearing english names--in whom all sense of personal honour is so decayed, that to resent a national affront or to defend their fatherland from foreign aggression appears a duty from which they recoil in shuddering apprehension? [ ] since these words were spoken, with what an unparalleled rapidity has event crowded upon portentous event in the near east! i have no wish to establish hasty analogies or to draw premature inferences; but what englishman can consider the events of these past three weeks and remember without a pitying smile lord haldane's naïve assurance that with six months' training our territorials would be ready for war! did ever dilettantism so give itself away? [ ] in march, , when every pulpit and every newspaper, under the influence of president taft's message, promised us within a brief period universal peace and disarmament, the german chancellor, herr bethmann-hollweg, had the courage and the common sense to stand apart, and, speaking for his emperor and his nation, to lay it down as a maxim that, at the present stage of the world's history, the armed forces of any nation or empire must have a distinct relation to the material resources of that nation or empire. this position seems to me as statesmanlike as it is unanswerable; but in applying the principle to our own country, i should be inclined to modify it by saying that the armed forces of any nation or empire ought to represent, not only its material resources, but the spirit which animates that nation or empire--in a word, that its armed forces should be the measure of the nation's devotion to whatever ends it pursues. [ ] for a more complete examination of this subject, i must refer the reader to the first part of "fallacies and facts," published two years ago in answer to lord haldane's and sir ian hamilton's "compulsory service." [ ] since these words were spoken a remarkable series of letters in the _daily mail_, emanating from every grade in the territorial army itself, has illustrated and demonstrated this position point by point. [ ] see, for example, my speech at the mansion house, which forms the second part of the present publication. [ ] as an illustration, let me quote a letter which i received from an important firm of manufacturing chemists in reply to a request from the secretary of the national service league to be allowed to speak to their men on the subject of universal military training: "we regret that our manager at hounslow is not in favour of your going there, for fear territorial enlistment may be encouraged. our business is of a peculiar nature, and is already quite seriously interfered with by the training of the appreciable number of territorials in our employ. the difficulty is that ours is very skilled labour; in many cases we have no duplicate men, and outsiders cannot temporarily take up and discharge the duties of these men. when service is compulsory we shall be on equal terms with everybody else, and willing to bear an increased burden." additional note englemere, ascot, berks. november , . to the editor of the "manchester guardian." sir, my attention has been drawn to the leader in your issue of the th instant, in which you deal with a passage in my speech in manchester. i am too much accustomed to adverse criticism in my efforts to arouse the nation to a sense of its unpreparedness for war to resent in any way the attacks of my opponents. but when a paper of such standing as that of the _manchester guardian_ completely misconstrues what was certainly a salient passage in my speech, i feel bound, in justice to the cause which i have at heart, to explain my meaning more fully than was possible when i was dealing with the whole question of national defence in relation to our position as a world-power. it is true that i pointed out the striking process by which germany has developed from a loose congeries of petty federated states to the united empire which arouses the admiration of the world to-day. before the german states, under the scarcely-established leadership of prussia, were surrounded on every side by jealous rivals or hostile neighbours, and it seemed doubtful whether the unity which was the dream of stein in , and of the revolutionists in , could ever be attained, except by a policy of blood and iron. certain it is that bismarck, the architect of united germany, saw in the policy of successful war the only means of realizing german nationality, and of constructing the edifice of national greatness so firmly that it should stand "foursquare to all the winds that blow." the three hammer strokes of , , and , were needed to achieve this result, but the strength and precision of those hammer blows were prepared by long years of patient, self-sacrificing labour, during which the german forces were made "as certain of victory as anything in human calculation can be made certain, by their superiority at every point." of this process and development, inspiring the whole nation to manful effort and to individual sacrifice for the common fatherland, even if it be in preparation for death or victory on the battlefield, i said that "it is an excellent policy. it is, or should be, the policy of every nation prepared to play a great part in history." and i repeat that statement to-day, when the glorious achievements of the younger nations in arms have lent point to its truth, while they have established their claims to nationhood and the gratitude of hundreds of thousands of their kinsmen. but to suggest that i am urging upon england that it should be her policy, first, to arm herself better than germany, and then to make war on germany, with or without a just cause, with or without even a quarrel, simply because england thinks herself at that moment able to win a war--this is a suggestion so strange and so repugnant to my mind that i am utterly at a loss to understand how it could be attributed to me, or elicited from my speech. a moment's reflection will show the vast difference between the position of germany, with which i was dealing, and that of england to-day. while germany, owing to her rapidly expanding population and vast economic development, is impelled to look for means of expansion in a world which is already for the most part parcelled out, we, on the other hand, do not require or seek another square mile of dominion. our object must be to develop the resources of our empire, commercially, industrially, and socially. but in order to be able to do so we must be in a position to defend ourselves successfully against aggression, and so to remove the temptation which a wealthy but ill-defended empire must always offer to a strong and virile people, proud of its achievements and conscious of its fitness to fill a greater place amid the nations. my whole speech was directed, therefore--as are all my efforts--to impressing upon my fellow-countrymen the terrible danger which is involved in the present situation, in which we alone find ourselves, as a nation, untrained, unorganized, and unarmed, amid a europe in which every people, not only great powers like russia, germany, and france, but the smaller states--bulgaria, servia, greece, norway, sweden, and denmark--stand as armed nations, providing a balance of forces which, while it strengthens each one of them physically and industrially, makes for peace with honour--or for the triumph of the right. yours very truly, roberts, f.m. part ii the territorial force introductory note. the controversies raised by my manchester speech prove that there is still much misapprehension, not always involuntary, in regard to the position of the national service league towards the territorial force. i therefore insert in this place a statement of that position which i made in a speech delivered in the mansion house in july last. as an introduction to that speech i may be permitted to quote from a statement which, as president of the league, i published in the _times_ in january, : "it is not infrequently asserted that the league is hostile to the territorials, that we have discouraged recruiting for them, and that, were our programme adopted, the territorial force would disappear. nothing is further from the truth. from the date of its formation we have constantly praised the territorial force as an organization; we have again and again borne willing witness to the patriotism of those who joined its ranks. thus in , lord milner, speaking at the annual dinner of the league on june , said: "let us hold up high the standard of efficiency for the territorial army as we have got it, and let us back up those who have originated that army and who are trying to make the best of it; let us back them up in all their efforts to make it as like a real army in training and in equipment as it is possible to make it. that, i believe, is the proper course for us to pursue." in our official statement issued in february, , these words occur: "the national service league has consistently given the warmest support to the territorial force from its inception, recognizing the great superiority in organization and capabilities that this force provides as compared with the old volunteer force." and, during the past year ( ), in his volume, "fallacies and facts," the president of the league, whilst criticizing lord haldane's and sir ian hamilton's deductions, allots the highest praise to the public spirit alike of employers and employees who support the territorial movement. in addition to this, our members have actively helped the territorial force by working on the county associations and by obtaining recruits. we are represented on the majority of the county associations, and nearly one-fourth of the members of these associations are also members of the national service league. again, many of our members are enrolled in the territorials, and lord haldane himself, speaking at the headquarters of the th city of london rifles on december , , said there were numbers of the national service league who had assisted in the work of recruiting for the territorial force, and he "took this opportunity of thanking them." moreover, it is to be observed that the whole programme of the national service league is now based on the maintenance and expansion of the territorial force. our programme, far from involving the disappearance of that force, or of any part of that force, accepts it in its entirety. all that it does is to change the system of recruiting, and thus enable the training to be given before and not after war breaks out. were the league's proposals adopted, not a single unit of the territorial force would be reduced, nor a man called upon to leave its ranks. the whole organization and personnel would be preserved, and their services would be invaluable in bridging the difficult period of transition from the old system to the new. the territorial force would be increased to an adequate strength, made efficient as a military machine, and would rest on the firm basis of universal military training of the manhood of the nation, instead of--as at present--on insufficient service given with difficulty by a patriotic minority. the above, we trust, will be sufficient to dispose of the idea that there is, or ever has been, any antagonism on the part of the league towards the territorial force as a body. we contend that all able-bodied men should be trained in it. but, whilst we have from the beginning praised the organization of this force, whilst we have admired the patriotism and self-sacrifice of those who have joined it, and encouraged our members to support it, we do not conceal our opinion that, resting as it does on voluntary enlistment alone, it can never become a force on which the country can rely for its protection in time of peril. every year that passes emphasizes the correctness of this view. the territorial force is in the fourth year of its existence, and, despite the large measure of support given to it and the unwearied labour of one of the ablest war ministers we have ever had, what is its condition? its strength in round numbers should be , . it is , . all its members should do fifteen days' drill in camp every year. only , have done so this year. it should have , territorial officers. it has only , . finally, officers and , men were absent from camp this year without leave. we ask any open-minded man whether a force thus constituted is an army at all, much less an army to which this country can entrust its existence as a great nation? we do not bring these facts forward in order to discredit lord haldane's courageous efforts or to depreciate the patriotism of those now serving in the force. we bring them forward simply in order to demonstrate the impossibility of constructing a defensive army equal to this country's needs on a basis of voluntary enlistment. if lord haldane, backed by the hearty support of king and country, has failed--and by his own admission he has failed--who is likely to succeed? not many weeks ago this country was on the verge of a gigantic war. and it was a war which, if it had come, would have come unexpectedly and suddenly. what would have been our position? all the soothing fallacies which pass current in time of peace--the belief that our expeditionary force can at the same time be sent abroad and yet kept at home to cover the training of the territorial force; the belief that this force is sure of six months' unmolested leisure in which it can fit itself for the serious business of war--would have been shattered in twelve hours. the expeditionary force--to be of any use at all--must have been despatched abroad without a day's delay; and, for the defence of these islands, we should have had to rely upon a handful of regulars left behind in the depots as "unfit"; such of the special reserve as may not be required for the expeditionary force, and the national reserve; but mainly upon a territorial force,[ ] nominally , strong, untrained for war, and further weakened by a shortage of , officers! now, making every allowance for the immense resisting power which in moments of supreme peril nations and cities have occasionally derived from enthusiasm or despair, is it either fitting, we ask, or even prudent, that, in the twentieth century, great britain should repose her trust in so problematical and hazardous a presumption? for the transformation of the most heroic enthusiasm into an effective weapon of war demands time, exactly as the transformation of the territorials into an efficient army demands time. but when war comes it will come with great suddenness; the essential crisis will be on us in an instant, and for great britain--as lord salisbury in his latest utterances significantly warned us--the stake is not to be reckoned in millions of a war indemnity; the stake is our very existence as an empire. when lord haldane cites the exploits of untrained or semi-trained forces, when he speaks of "a whole nation springing to arms at the call of duty," he has his eyes fastened upon other circumstances and upon other times than ours. under the conditions of modern war, discipline alone can confront discipline on a field of battle. "we appeal to our countrymen to join us in our effort," i went on to say. "we appeal, above all, to the officers and men of the existing territorial force. we are working to insure that their sacrifice to patriotism should not be made futile, nor their devotion thrown away. we are working to make the army to which they belong a reality--that is to say, a home army efficient and sufficient; an army which shall always be ready to take up the defence of these islands, and leave our regulars free and our fleets free to fight our battles elsewhere. we ask them to assist us in our efforts to introduce a system of compulsory training, the only system under which the safety of the country can be secured and the territorial force made really effective." [ ] on june , , lord (then mr.) haldane said: "in the event of a great war breaking out ... the territorials would be embodied, not for immediate fighting, if it could be avoided, but for their war training." the territorial force lord haldane's scheme examined _speech delivered in the mansion house, july_ , . my lord mayor, my lords, and gentlemen, it is seven years, almost to the day, since i had the honour of addressing a meeting of city men in this historic house on the subject of imperial defence. on that occasion i prefaced my remarks by saying: "i have but one object in coming before you to-day, namely, to bring home to my fellow-countrymen the vital necessity of their taking into their earnest consideration our unpreparedness for war." i then affirmed that the armed forces of this country were as absolutely unfitted and unprepared for war as they were in - . and, my lords and gentlemen, i grieve to have this afternoon to repeat to you that we are now scarcely better fitted or better prepared to carry on a war to-day than in . the experience that we gained in the boer war has had little effect upon our general military policy. we have neglected, except as regards the regular army, to profit by the lessons which that war ought to have taught us. what are the causes of this indifference and this deep-seated apathy? the causes, i think, are not far to seek. in the first place, if you will permit me as a soldier to speak with the frankness of a soldier, it is one of the most dangerous tendencies of a nation, especially a democratic and self-confident nation, devoted to commerce and industry as we are, to ignore so disturbing and apparently so remote a contingency as our being forced into war. but there is another more immediate and a more particular cause, and it is to this that i mainly wish to direct your attention this afternoon. those who are responsible for our defences--and i must include in this category the late minister for war--are, i maintain, either so blind to the lessons of history, or so enamoured of their own schemes, that they have deliberately lulled the nation into the belief that our present system is adequate, and that we are amply prepared to meet any dangers which come within the sphere of consideration by practical men. thus the very men who ought to declare the facts in the plainest terms to the nation, the very men who ought to be endeavouring to rouse the nation from its fatal apathy, are the men who are fostering that spirit of indifference and self-confidence to which the nation of itself is already too prone. a democracy like ours will never take the necessary measures to safeguard itself so long as ministers and a partisan press proclaim that we are as a nation perfectly safe, when, as a matter of fact, our position is precarious in the extreme. this is a serious statement; but, if you will have patience with me, i hope to convince you that it is well founded, and it can be demonstrated from the principles of imperial defence which lord haldane has so frequently, and, it must be admitted, so plausibly, urged upon us. my lords and gentlemen, i have on many occasions paid a tribute to lord haldane's services. he has placed the problems of national defence upon what is, for a british minister, a new and comprehensive basis; and he will go down to posterity as the first british statesman who, in theory, embodied in an actual scheme the idea of a national army, "a nation in arms." this conception is so important to my whole subject this afternoon that it is worth while to recall some of lord haldane's expressed ideas with regard to it. speaking at newcastle-on-tyne in september, , lord haldane said that we must have a highly trained nucleus in time of peace, and must look for a great expansion in time of war, "and for that expansion we must go to the nation, and ask for the co-operation of the nation," adding: "a nation in arms is the only safeguard for the public interests," and that "this idea has been neglected in our military contemplation. the problem," he went on to say, "is not a problem of the regular forces nearly so much as the problem of the nation in arms, of the people as a whole, with all the forces of the country welded into one." such an expression of opinion by the newly-created secretary of state for war was to many of us an augury of great hope. it seemed that at last great britain might have an army adapted to modern conditions of war; that we had at last a minister who not only understood, but had enunciated in a clear and masterly manner our own conception of a nation in arms. from that time forward, we imagined, the nation in arms would be regarded as a vigorous trunk from which the regular army and the personnel of the navy would spring forth as branches, drawing their sap and the vigour of their life from the qualities--mental, moral, and physical--of the nation itself. for that, and no other, is the real meaning of the phrase "a nation in arms." such, my lords and gentlemen, was lord haldane's language in september, --less than six years ago. might it not be imagined that he was speaking as president of the national service league, addressing a meeting such as i am addressing to-day? nor can it be denied that, in his subsequent description of the functions to be fulfilled by the forces which he has substituted for the volunteers, lord haldane has correctly kept in view the relationship which ought to exist between the branches and the trunk, between the navy and the regular nucleus on the one hand, and the "national army lying behind" them on the other. in his memorandum on the army estimates for - , when the territorial force was created, lord haldane said that it was "designed-- " . to compel any hostile power which may attempt invasion to send a force so large that its transports could not evade our own fleets and flotillas. " . to free the regular army from the necessity of remaining in these islands to fulfil the functions of home defence. " . and," he said, "a further result will be to permit greater freedom to the navy." elsewhere lord haldane protested that the "essence of the duty of the territorial force is to protect us against invasion"; and he pointed out that the territorial force might have to be entrusted with the defence of these shores after the whole of the regular army had left the country. you will see, my lords and gentlemen, that an efficient territorial force is thus made the fundamental condition of the effectiveness of our whole defensive system, and the question immediately arises, can the territorial force perform the functions assigned to it? if it cannot perform those functions, the whole defensive system, of which it is the central pillar, must fall to the ground. what, then, is this system? it consists, for an empire such as ours, of three parts-- . a supreme navy, the standard for which has been laid down by the present government as that of a per cent. superiority over the next strongest navy. . a regular army, to act as a garrison and police force to our empire in time of peace, and as a striking force in time of war. . a home army of such a character as regards numbers and training as would enable it to free the navy and the regular army from the primary duties of home defence by providing direct security against an attempted invasion of these shores, and at the same time to form a potential reserve which could supply by voluntary effort in a national emergency powers of expansion to the regular army when fighting for the very existence of our empire abroad. does our territorial force, as it stands to-day, provide us with a home army of this character? i have no hesitation in answering this question in the negative. the territorial force is not and, under the conditions of voluntary service, never can be fit to perform the functions allotted to it by lord haldane himself. my lords and gentlemen, three conditions must be fulfilled in order that an army may be efficient. these conditions are-- . sound organization. . sufficient numbers. . adequate training. to the soundness of the organization established by lord haldane i have frequently testified. he wisely followed the advice given by the royal commission on the auxiliary forces, and there is, therefore, as regards organization, nothing to criticize. with regard to numbers, i have reminded you that, when the scheme was first put forward, lord haldane talked of a "nation in arms," and the figures he gave--"seven, or eight, or nine hundred thousand"--showed that he contemplated the training of a home army of a strength which would correspond in a measure to that phrase. at that time, too, he declared his intention of including in his scheme a comprehensive plan for the training of boys in cadet corps, which would have contributed materially to broaden the basis of the home army, and might have shortened the period of training for those who joined the territorial force, had that period in itself been adequate. but this most useful proposal he dropped at the outset at the bidding of a small section of his political supporters. and, my lords and gentlemen, in actual numbers what do we possess? the establishment of the territorial army is , . on april , , the numbers obtained (a large proportion being mere boys) were , --that is to say, four years after the scheme was started the force is about , short of the establishment laid down, but more than , short of the smallest number that lord haldane originally hoped for. can it be pretended for a moment that such a number provides the home army which mr. asquith described as necessary, if we are to be able to guard against a successful invasion of even , men? i say nothing at this point of the danger of believing that no force larger than , may have to be dealt with; but i must point out that, in order to deal with an invasion of even , highly-trained soldiers, a field force of at least , partially-trained men are required, in addition to some , men needed for the protection of the naval bases and arsenals, and to garrison the principal places in great britain and ireland. it is important that you should realize the facts: that the number asked for was quite inadequate; that even that number has not been obtained, and that the age and physique of a considerable proportion of those who have come forward are not up to a satisfactory standard; for lord haldane has been concentrating all his efforts and the attention of the public on securing, at almost any cost, the number of men for the territorial force--that is, the total of , men, to which his ideal of a nation in arms has shrunk. but even in this he has failed. these frantic efforts to secure a nominal success are designed to distract attention from the far more serious question of the training of the territorial force, and to create the impression that the scheme is a masterpiece which is beyond criticism, and which has, once for all, made it quite unnecessary to discuss the question of compulsory service for the home army. so much for organization and numbers; now for the third condition--namely, the _training_ of the territorial force. in discussing this question i must try to avoid misinterpretation by saying that, in stating plain facts, i am not criticizing the officers or men of that force. on the contrary, i honour them for their patriotism, and for the admirable example they are setting to their apathetic fellow-countrymen. it is the voluntary system that i condemn, and the politicians who are hoodwinking this nation into the belief that that system is adequate and sufficient for our needs. and surely i need not apologize for examining the standard of training laid down for the territorial force. lord haldane himself, in , declared, "it is preparedness for war which is the key to the sort of organization we ought to have in peace"; and on another occasion he said, "the contemplation of large numbers by the people of this country, who are unable to take into account questions of war efficiency and war organization, necessarily promotes dangerous national illusions." it is against such "dangerous national illusions" that i wish to warn my fellow-countrymen in the following analysis of the training of the territorial force. the territorial soldier can be enlisted at seventeen years of age, and the engagement is for four years. in the first year he must do a minimum of forty drills of an hour each, and a minimum of eight days or a maximum of fifteen days, in camp. in the next year he must do ten drills of an hour each, and the same camp training. the musketry standard can hardly be described as high, seeing that each man is only provided by the state with rounds per annum, and in some cases this number is disposed of on an enclosed range on one day in the year. this is simply ludicrous, considering that, in modern war and with the modern rifle, the soldier who cannot use this weapon with skill and confidence is absolutely useless.[ ] such is the minimum peace training laid down for the territorial force. it is less than the minimum training in any army or militia in the world. i am aware that many officers and men do a great deal more as individuals. but what is far more important--and i ask you, my lords and gentlemen, most earnestly to realize the fact--a large number do not reach even this minimum amount of training. the proposal to give six months' training after war breaks out is so amazing as to be unworthy of consideration, and it is difficult to believe that it was made seriously by its talented author, seeing that readiness for war is the purpose aimed at by every european nation; and now-a-days, when war breaks out with the greatest suddenness, and the stake at issue between two great nations going to war would be so gigantic, the temptation to secure the advantage of the initiative and to commence hostilities without declaration of war could hardly be resisted.[ ] but it may be urged that, although the territorial force is evidently not fit to perform its functions without a proper course of recruit training, surely it would be possible to secure that training in time of peace, instead of postponing it until the outbreak of war, as lord haldane proposed. if the nation still hugs this delusion, i hope it will abandon it before it drags us down to disaster. for one hundred years the voluntary system for home defence has been tried and found wanting. under it a sufficient number of men have never been forthcoming, and can never be forthcoming, to devote enough time in peace to render the army fit for war. discipline cannot be acquired by homeopathic doses; nothing but a considerable period of continuous training can give individual soldiers and military units that self-confidence and cohesion which are essential to success in war; and no modification of the voluntary system, no amount of lavish expenditure, no cajolery, no juggling with figures, will ever produce an adequate and efficient home army. this truth was clearly expressed by the duke of norfolk when he said, with reference to the report of the royal commission on the auxiliary forces, of which he was the president: "the breakdown is in almost every case attributed essentially to the nature of the voluntary system itself, which makes it impossible to demand a reasonable standard of efficiency without greatly reducing the forces." curiously enough, lord haldane, speaking of the territorial force, seems to have recognized the correctness of this conclusion, for in the house of commons on march , , he said: "because it is a voluntary army on a voluntary basis, you can only give it just so much training as volunteers are able and willing to take...." can anything be more condemnatory of the value of a force, which will assuredly be required the moment war breaks out? and to quote the duke of norfolk again: "if you trust the present organization ... you will be leaning on a prop which will fail when the day of trial comes." what would be the result is simply this--for six months the striking force could not strike. the regular army could not leave these shores to assist our fellow-countrymen in india and the oversea dominions, or to reinforce our friends and allies in accordance with the obligations of honour and mutual interest which we have undertaken. for six months the navy would be hampered and shackled in performing its traditional duties of seeking out the enemy's fleets--it would, in fact, be deprived of that "greater freedom" which the territorial force was intended to give it. but, my lords and gentlemen, we have not had to wait for war to see the effects of this pernicious policy; its evil effects are already upon us, though nominally we are at peace with all the world. year by year, during the past decade, the ocean area over which the british flag floats has been steadily narrowed, and within the past three months, the most presageful, the most ominous narrowing of all, has taken place. we have abandoned the mediterranean sea. but yesterday that great sea was like a british lake; to-day not a single british battleship disturbs the blue of its waters. could any more significant, more startling warning ever be given to a government not wilfully deaf, or to a nation not wedded to luxury and self-indulgence, indifferent alike to its past glories and its present security? what better exemplification could be imagined of the truth of mahan's axiom that "a fleet charged with the care of its base is a fleet so far weakened for effective action"? and what does this whole process of the withdrawal of the british flag from one sea after another and its concentration in home waters indicate? it indicates just this, that while "the british navy a hundred years ago was superior to the combined navies of all europe," it is to-day little more than equal to the next largest european navy, and is quite inadequate in proportion to the interests it has to guard. this revolution in our relative strength at sea is mainly owing to the want of foresight on the part of successive lords of the admiralty, and it is incidentally an additional condemnation of our retention of the old voluntary system of our land defence. while we are standing still, germany is moving, and we have this year the announcement of a new and larger programme, a programme which goes much beyond the navy law of , and will, when completed, give germany--the greatest military power in the world--a group of battle fleets in the north sea calculated to make us consider whether even our concentrated naval strength will be sufficient to cope with them. my lords and gentlemen, in mentioning germany in this connection i want to make it perfectly clear that i do so in no spirit of hostility, with no wish to stir up any feeling of resentment or enmity against a great people bent upon working out their own salvation. i have not the slightest sympathy with the press controversies carried on in both countries, which have done so much to embitter the feeling between what are really two branches of the same race. what i desire to point out to my fellow-countrymen is simply this: great britain has attained to the limits of her territorial expansion. she neither requires nor seeks another square mile of dominion. her object should be to develop the resources of her people commercially, industrially, and socially, and to maintain the traditions of religious and political freedom which have been the main cause of her greatness. at the same time there is germany, a great homogeneous state, with a population of , , , which is consciously aiming at becoming a world-power with "a place in the sun," where its vigorous progeny may develop a german life, actuated by german thought and ideals. this nation has already built up, in an incredibly short space of time, the second navy in the world, not, moreover, scattered over the seven seas, but concentrated like a clenched mailed fist in the waters of the german ocean. who is there with any knowledge of the history of nations, or of the trend of european politics, but must see in these plain facts a danger of collision, no one can say when, but within a limit of time indicated by the convergence of the lines of destiny of the two peoples, and which at any moment may be accelerated by some misunderstanding or some conflict with the friend or ally of either country. to one whose sole desire is to see his country safe and at peace, pursuing the path of her destiny to even greater heights than she has as yet reached, it is simply amazing that anyone can imagine that the conflict of which i have spoken can be permanently averted merely by denying that there is any danger, or by abandoning our preparations for defence as an amiable invitation to germany to do the same. germany--indeed the whole world--is well aware of the real feebleness underlying the proud appearance of our naval and military strength. she knows that the efficacy of armaments to-day, even more than a hundred years ago, depends essentially upon their being founded upon the nation itself, and drawing their strength of mind and muscle, of courage and inspiration, from the very heart of the whole nation. such armaments can be attained by one means only--the training of all the able-bodied men of the state. this alone will give a basis, solid as a rock, to all machinery of war; this alone will enable the nation to bring to bear, in support of the national will, the whole might of the nation's power. but, my lords and gentlemen, our statesmen still assert that the country will never stand compulsory training. is that so certain? i am persuaded it is by no means certain. on the other hand, it is certain that so long as our fellow-countrymen are soothed and flattered by their leaders into believing that the territorial force, as at present constituted, gives all the backing that is necessary to the navy and regular army, they can see no need to consider compulsory training, and are not to be blamed for their belief. but if our leaders would have the honesty and courage to tell the people the truth--the truth being that we are on the eve of a great crisis--a crisis without parallel certainly during the past hundred years, and that our national forces are unfit to meet the strain that may be put upon us with any assurance of success--then i feel confident that the present generation of britishers would willingly adopt the first necessary reform, the substitution of universal training--compulsory upon all, high and low, rich and poor, from the son of a duke to the son of a labourer--as the foundation of our territorial force, instead of the present foolish and unfair method of basing it on a voluntary enlistment. the real difficulty is to move our leaders to take the people into their confidence and tell them the truth about this vital matter. my lords and gentlemen, when i consider the certainty of the struggle in front of us, its probable nearness, and the momentous issues at stake, i am astounded that the nation should be kept in the dark as to the dangers we have to cope with, and for which we most certainly are not prepared. but if our political leaders will take no part in putting our true position before the people, all the more necessary is it for those who love their country, and who have great commercial interests at stake, to help us in our efforts to prevent great britain falling from her high estate, and to preserve for her the blessings of peace. with all the strength and earnestness i possess, i want to impress upon you, gentlemen of this great city, that this aim cannot be fulfilled unless we are to have a navy strong enough to insure our supremacy at sea, and an army strong enough to prevent invasion, and free the navy from the necessity of being tied to these shores. [ ] in the course of the controversies raised by my manchester speech the fallacy of the superiority of the volunteer to "the unwilling conscript" has once more reappeared. i must here repeat what i said in the house of lords in april, , that much of this talk about "one volunteer being worth two pressed men" is nonsensical. the truth is that one man, whether pressed or not, if well disciplined and carefully trained, is worth at least half a dozen undisciplined, insufficiently trained volunteers. no doubt, if i had to lead a forlorn hope requiring men determined to carry out the job, no matter what the odds against them might be, i would rather have half the number of men who volunteered than double the number ordered to perform it, provided all were equally well trained; but if it were a question of soldiers versus untrained volunteers, i would infinitely prefer to have ten well-trained and well-disciplined soldiers than fifty ill-trained and ill-disciplined volunteers. i could give many instances from history in support of this view--the opinions of great commanders like washington and napoleon--but i will here cite only one incident from my own experience of war: during the franco-german war of - , the french, from having an army without any means of expansion, were forced, after the first few weeks, to employ hastily-raised levies. these levies, even in greatly superior numbers, were no match for the highly-trained german soldiers. on one occasion towards the end of the war, , german soldiers found themselves engaged with a force of these recently-raised levies, numbering between , and , . they had been given such training as was possible while war was going on, for four and a half months. they were brave men fighting for their own country, and in their own country, and what happened? within a month , of them were killed, wounded, prisoners, or missing, while the remaining , were driven over the swiss frontier and there interned. [ ] and as regards the much-needed six months' training, supposing, for argument's sake, that we could calculate on being given six months' warning, can we feel absolutely certain that the few patriotic employers who have allowed their men to join the territorial army, and are good enough to spare them for a week's or fortnight's training yearly, would or could consent to their being taken away for six months, during which time their business would go to pieces, while their competitors in trade, who have refused to allow their men to serve their country, would be reaping great benefit from their selfishness and want of patriotism? part iii the national service league and the working classes introductory note. i here insert a letter on the political situation, which i wrote to the _times_ a year ago. this letter, i hope, will serve to show that the national service league has at least considered the effects which national service in arms would have upon the working men of this country. the assertion advanced by mr. blatchford in criticizing my manchester speech, that the working men of great britain will never hear of compulsory service because they distrust the ruling classes, rests upon a misconception of the english constitution almost too obvious to require exposure. this subject has already been dealt with in part iii. of "fallacies and facts" (pp. - ), and to that work i must refer the reader. i shall only observe in this place that in a democratic nation the working classes are themselves the ruling classes, and that the interests of england and of the empire are their interests. does mr. blatchford really imagine that the working men are so blind that, rather than defend those interests like men, they will prefer tamely to hand them over to germany or to any other foreign power? for this, and this only, is the logical consequence of his assertion, that he and his fellow-workers prefer invasion to universal compulsory service. in former times, when the ruling classes of this nation consisted in very deed of the men of birth and property, that class considered it as its sacred right and inalienable privilege to serve the nation in war. now, in the twentieth century, when the working men of this country have by the gradual extension of the franchise succeeded to the political influence and supremacy of the old aristocratic class, is it too much to hope that, as their condition of life improves, they will seek in the same spirit to secure that right and that inalienable privilege--service in war? for such service is the only mark of the true and perfect citizenship. surely that were a greater path and to a nobler goal than the path and the goal prescribed to the workers of this nation by the criticism in the _clarion_, to which i have just referred. national service and social reform. to the editor of the "times." sir, the notification in the _times_ that lord selborne will shortly address a meeting in london on imperial unity has caused me to reflect very seriously on what imperial unity means to us, and on the disastrous effects that must follow any diminution on the part of the oversea dominions in the splendid feeling of loyalty to the mother country of which we have quite recently had such a convincing example. personally, i have had sufficient proof of the strength and practical value of that loyalty to make me feel that we should do all in our power to strengthen and foster it; and to this end, and in order that we may retain undiminished the confidence of our distant fellow-subjects, we must begin to put our own house in order, and show the peoples of the oversea dominions that we are determined to grapple with the several problems with which we are confronted and with which they are immediately concerned--that our government, for instance, is established on a firm and constitutional basis; that our fiscal policy is sound; and that our navy and army are strong enough to defend our own interests, and to give the dominions such help as they may require in time of trouble. yet, what is the present condition of affairs in this country? we have just passed under the domination of a single chamber. tariff reform, which occupies the chief place in the unionist programme, is supported only in a half-hearted manner by the leaders of the party, and is opposed by some of its most powerful members. our navy is being rapidly approached by other navies in the number, speed, and power of their warships. our army is quite unfitted to meet the demands that may at any moment be made upon it. how and by whom is this all to be changed? it can hardly be changed by the party now in power. that party has declared openly enough its policy, alike in regard to a second chamber, to tariff reform, to the army and navy, and therefore also in regard to our position as a first-rate european power. the men to whom, on account of their high public character and culture, the nation looked for a steadying influence on the ultra-radical and socialistic sections of the party, have not fulfilled those expectations, and seem prepared to make any concessions that their most advanced supporters may demand. on the other hand, is the unionist party in a condition to bring about the changes that are absolutely necessary before we can take up the question of imperial unity in any practical manner? has that party placed before the country a definite policy upon those primary and all-important problems to which i have referred? is it doing anything to make clearer to the people of this country what these mean to them? or is it endeavouring to deal with them in a business-like way? i confess i can detect no indications of such a policy, and am not surprised, therefore, that a large number of the most earnest and most thoughtful unionists have become disheartened and discontented. it seems to me that the only way the desired end can be attained is for the prominent members of the unionist party at once to place before the country a constructive policy; above all, as to the two problems that are the most pressing and the most vital--social reform and national defence. these two problems are intimately connected, and a satisfactory solution of them must precede any real strengthening of imperial bonds. the question of social reform has been very fully discussed in the public papers during the last few months, and one of the writers on this subject has happily explained it as meaning "securing for the slum-dwellers good air, good housing, good food, good clothes, and good education." the conditions amid which millions of our people are living appear to me to make it natural that they should not care a straw under what rule they may be called upon to dwell, and i can quite understand their want of patriotic feeling. again, by social reform i mean a reform which includes essential changes in our primary schools. no other civilized nation leaves its young boys and girls to shift for themselves, as we leave ours when they are thirteen or fourteen years of age. nor is the education they receive an education calculated to make them lovers of their country. they are never told anything of its history, or taught to be proud of their country and its past. they are not given any idea of what their duty is to their country or what they owe to it. in some schools, indeed, it is even forbidden to hoist the union jack. much of the teaching has no bearing upon actual life, and it comes to an end at the very age at which boys are most receptive of tuition, be it good or evil, and most require to be under some kind of control. our oversea dominions are wiser in this respect than we are. by means of cadet corps the boys are looked after until they reach the age of manhood, and the ground is thus prepared for the formation of a reliable citizen army. the same excellent results are obtained to some small extent in this country by training-ships, homes such as the gordon boys' home, schools like the duke of york's and the royal hibernian military schools, and societies like the church lads' and boys' brigades. why are the failures in after-life amongst the lads brought up in these institutions so remarkably few? it is simply owing to the habits of order, obedience, and discipline they have been taught in their youth. and the scout movement has already produced remarkable results. but such organizations are too limited in scope and too few in number, and, with the exception of the two royal schools, they depend almost entirely upon private enterprise, and to a serious government or a serious nation they are only signposts to the true policy. they should be an integral part of our national education. social reform is a preliminary to any thorough system of national defence. "my country right or wrong; and right or wrong my country!" is the sentiment most treasured in the breast of anyone worthy of the name of man. nevertheless, with how much more confidence should we be able to appeal to the young men of this nation and the empire to do their duty as citizen soldiers if we had the certainty that they regarded england, not as a harsh stepmother, but as a true motherland, sedulously nurturing its youth, and not indifferent to their welfare in manhood or in age, and if we could further appeal to them to defend the nation and the empire, because within its bounds they can live nobler and fuller lives than on any other spot on earth! yet recent unimpeachable evidence makes it clear that, to tens of thousands of englishmen engaged in daily toil, the call to "sacrifice" themselves for their country must seem an insult to their reason; for those conditions amid which they live make their lives already an unending sacrifice. will the unionist party realize the gravity of this state of affairs? the liberal party, by the act for payment of members, has fulfilled to the letter the trust committed to it by the rising democracies of the 'forties. that act, the last of the five points of the charter, ends an epoch of which i can remember the beginnings more than sixty years ago. but the radical-liberal party has no longer a policy of construction; it seems only to have given the democracy enfranchisement in order to lead it to the disintegration of a time-honoured constitution and the gradual dismemberment of a great empire. is it too late to hope that the unionist party will come forward to lead the millions that wait for a leader? no party can long continue in power which relies for its prestige solely upon fomenting class hatreds--that is, by dividing the state against itself. but before a great national sacrifice to patriotism can fitly be demanded, a great act of national justice must be performed. the unionist party missed its opportunity with respect to granting old-age pensions on a contributory basis. now in it is confronted by larger issues; by problems affecting the industrial life of the entire nation, and touching, so to speak, the very fountain-head of the empire's life. is it too late? i am, sir, your obedient servant, roberts, f.m. part iv address at the annual dinner of the kentish men and men of kent introductory note. whilst seeing the present little book through the press an opportunity unexpectedly offered itself to me of speaking to some officers of the existing territorial force in regard to the dilemma in which they are placed between their duty as patriotic citizens and their growing conviction of the inadequacy of the territorial force to perform the task imposed upon it in the event of war. i therefore subjoin the address which, on the invitation of the officers themselves, i delivered at the annual dinner of the kentish men and the men of kent, on november , . in that address i was able to state more fully than at manchester my reasons for criticizing the territorial force with regard to discipline, numbers, equipment, and energy. address at the annual dinner of the kent territorial association, london november , . gentlemen, words fail me when i try to tell you what a great pleasure it was to me to be able to accept the invitation of the kentish men and the men of kent to their annual dinner. i was more than gratified by their invitation, for i felt that i should not have been asked to be their guest had they interpreted my comments on the territorial force in my manchester speech in the way some people have done, as an attack upon the members of the force. indeed, i am profoundly grateful for this opportunity having been given to me to explain my views about the force more fully than it was possible for me to do at manchester. well, gentlemen, if i am right in feeling that you acquit me of any desire to disparage the officers and men who compose the territorial force, and that you will believe me when i repeat, what i have often said before, that i am second to none in my admiration of the patriotism and self-sacrifice displayed by them in their endeavour to make lord haldane's scheme a success--you will not, i am sure, misunderstand me if i now express my views quite frankly to you. at the manchester meeting i gave it as my opinion that the territorial force is a _failure in discipline_, a _failure in numbers_, a _failure in equipment_, and a _failure in energy_. let me say a few words on each of these supremely important points. _failure in discipline_.--gentlemen, only those who have taken part in war, or have carefully studied the history of wars, can, i am persuaded, realize to its full extent the significance of discipline as applied to war. they alone can know that it is by discipline, and discipline alone, that bodies of men can be relied upon to work together in times of great difficulty and danger, and to withstand the disintegrating effect of war; for they have learnt that it is discipline alone which prevents panic seizing upon men when unforeseen circumstances arise. they alone know that amongst untrained or ill-trained troops panic spreads with lightning rapidity, and that when there is no sense of discipline to be appealed to and to keep the men together, defeat is the inevitable result. it is discipline alone which gives the soldier confidence in himself, reliance on his comrades, and belief in his officers. it is discipline alone which gives him the courage to face vastly superior numbers; to continue marching, though worn out with fatigue and want of food, ready to fight again, and yet again. it is discipline alone that supports him under the strain of lying still for successive hours in the punishing fire zone--one of the most trying of the many exacting conditions of modern warfare. it is discipline alone which makes the soldier obey the word of command, even under such circumstances as i have described. clear understanding of and prompt obedience to an order become an instinct to the properly trained soldier, whereas the imperfectly trained man, when he finds himself in an unfamiliar and trying position, frequently misunderstands the word of command, and, when matters become acute, he does not heed or even hear it. gentlemen, when i tell you that discipline is the backbone of an army, i ask you whether it is possible for that essential quality to be instilled into the ranks of the territorial force with the amount of training that is given to them. _failure in numbers_.--gentlemen, despite the untiring efforts of the territorial associations--a large proportion of whose members are staunch supporters of the national service league--the territorial force is still far short of its established strength of , men. possibly this is a blessing in disguise, for if men had come forward in sufficient numbers to bring the force up to its establishment, politicians would have assured the country, even more fervently than they do now, that our home defence army is in all respects what is needed. the truth is that the number , has no relation to our real requirements. it was fixed upon because the experience of fifty years had proved that a larger number could never be forthcoming under the voluntary system. as with the regular army, so with the home defence army, the strength is governed by what is known to be the limit obtainable by voluntary effort. it has no relation to the requirements of war. it solves no known problem. again, therefore, gentlemen, i ask you whether it is possible to regard the territorial force as fitted, in respect to numbers, for the defence of the united kingdom. _failure in equipment_.--in common with the regular army the territorial force is armed with a rifle inferior to the rifle possessed by foreign nations, and with a less deadly bullet than is used by them. but the territorial rifle is even inferior to the present regular army rifle in range, in trajectory, and in stopping power. then the gun in use with the territorial artillery is a mere makeshift. it is distinctly inferior in power, range, and rapidity of fire to the gun of any first-rate state, and it is not too much to say that, if our regular soldiers were armed as the territorials are armed, they could not keep the field against the troops of any european nation. if this is so, how unfair, how disastrous, it would be to ask territorial troops to undertake a task which their seasoned and disciplined comrades of the regular army could not face. then as regards mobilization arrangements, supply and transport services, ammunition columns, trains, horses, vehicles, harness, even boots for the men--in none of these essentials are the territorials, as a force, complete. i therefore repeat that _failure in equipment_ is not an unfair statement. _failure in energy_.--by failure in energy, i do not for a moment mean to imply that individual members of the territorial force are wanting in energy. i know how earnestly many of them have striven to learn and to do their duty under adverse circumstances. my criticism applies to the force itself--to its corporate energy--if i may use such an expression. and even those who are the firmest believers in the force must, i think, admit that, under existing conditions, it is not practicable for it to attain that combined action, that alertness, that intensity and vitality, all of which are essential to success in war. but, gentlemen, in addition to the shortcomings of the territorial force which i have enumerated, there is one defect in its conception which would alone show its unfitness for what you all know is its primary duty--that is, to defend these shores from invasion. that defect lies in the strange condition which is an essential factor in this scheme--a condition unprecedented with any army in the world--namely, that the force is to receive six months' training, after war has broken out, before it is even supposed to be capable of dealing with an invading army. can any scheme for the defence of any nation be more madly conceived? we have been given an object lesson in the near east as to the insanity of the idea that our citizen army will be given six months to prepare after war has been declared. on october montenegro declared war, and in four weeks the turks were beaten in all directions and were making their last stand within a few miles of constantinople. gentlemen, i am told by my opponents that it is unpatriotic of me to express these opinions, and that by doing so i am discouraging the territorial force. but which is really the more unpatriotic course, to tell the truth about the force, so that the people of this country may insist upon its terrible deficiencies being remedied, or to gloss over these deficiencies and thus to expose to certain disaster the few patriotic men who have joined it, and who are asked to be prepared with a force untrained, under-officered, and under-manned to cope with a highly-trained enemy. i venture to think, gentlemen, that i am doing you no disservice in speaking plainly about the territorial force. my hope is that when its grave condition is no longer concealed from our countrymen, they will realize the folly of trusting the defence of these shores to a make-believe army, that they will take to heart the false position in which the patriotic members of the force are placed, and that they will insist upon a law being passed by which all able-bodied men must be prepared to take their place in the citizen army. the territorial force must either be made efficient in all respects, or it will speedily cease to be a force even in name. i hope, gentlemen, you will understand that i am thinking and speaking of the territorial force as a force that must be prepared to move and live, to march and fight as an army. i am not thinking of individual men, or companies, or batteries, or squadrons, but of a force which, if it is ever called upon to take the field, will have to deal as a whole with highly-trained picked troops. what, then, gentlemen, is right for the territorial officers to do? it seems to me that a tremendous responsibility rests upon those officers. if they agree with me that neither they themselves, nor the men they command, are sufficiently trained to take the field against first-class soldiers; if they agree with me that neither in discipline nor in numbers, neither in equipment nor in vital energy, can the territorial force be reckoned as a modern army; if they agree with me that no great improvement either in efficiency or numbers can ever be reached under the conditions necessarily imposed upon all citizens who enter a voluntary force; if they agree with me that the safety of these islands, and therefore of our empire, is endangered by this state of affairs--then their course of action is clear. while still giving of their best to the force to which they belong, while still setting the fine example which they have consistently done, they should make the government and the nation distinctly understand that, in their opinion, they are unable to carry out the duties entrusted to them, and that unless they are given the trained assistance of the manhood of the country, they can never guarantee the safety of these islands and the integrity of the empire. such a warning, coming from such men, will awaken the country in a way that i can never hope to do. such an announcement, coming from the men who alone in the country have obeyed the call of duty, and who, at the cost of convenience, time, and money, have tried to fit themselves for the defence of their country and the security of the empire--such a summons, i say, will arouse the people, and they themselves will call upon the government to enact a law which shall impose upon all citizens of a military age the noble duty of defending the country and the empire to which they have the glory to belong. the end billing and sons, ltd., printers, guildford. german influence on british cavalry by erskine childers author of "war and the arme blanche," "the riddle of the sands," "in the ranks of the c.i.v." editor of vol. v. of "the 'times' history of the war" london edward arnold [_all rights reserved_] _printed in great britain_ preface this essay is meant to be read in connection with the facts and arguments adduced in my book of last year, "war and the _arme blanche_," with its introduction by field-marshal lord roberts. from the nature of the case i have not been able to avoid a small measure of repetition, but i have done my best to confine myself to new ground. a word about my object in writing again. contemporaneously with the publication of "war and the _arme blanche_," general von bernhardi published in germany his "reiterdienst," and an english edition, translated by major g.t.m. bridges, d.s.o., under the title "cavalry in war and peace," appeared simultaneously in this country. like its predecessor, "unsere kavallerie im nächsten kriege" (translated under the title "cavalry in future wars"), this new book by general von bernhardi was headed with a highly laudatory preface from the pen of general sir john french, who commended it to military students in this country as a brilliant and authoritative treatise on the employment of cavalry in modern war. it was included in the valuable "_pall mall_ series" of military books, published by hugh rees and co.; and, in short, unless the critical faculties and native common-sense of englishmen can be aroused, it is likely to become a standard work. there exists, be it remembered, no similar work, modern and authoritative, by a british author. my object in this essay is to arouse those critical faculties and that common-sense. without any disrespect to general von bernhardi, who writes, not for englishmen, but, as a german reformer, for what he regards as an exceptionally backward cavalry, i wish to show, not only that we have nothing to learn even from him in the matter of cavalry combat, but that, if we only have the pluck and independence to break off the demoralizing habit of imitating foreign models, and to build on our own war experience and our own racial aptitudes, we have the power of creating a cavalry incomparably superior in quality to any continental cavalry. the indispensable condition precedent to that revival is to sweep away root and branch the tactical system founded on the lance and sword, and to create a new system founded on the rifle. i shall endeavour to show, using von bernhardi's "reiterdienst," with sir john french's introduction, and our own official manuals, as my text, that in the matter of modern cavalry warfare no principles worthy of the name exist among professional men. the whole subject is in a state of chaos, to which, i believe, there is no parallel in all the arts of war and peace. and the cause of that chaos is the retention in theory of a form of combat which is in flagrant contradiction with the conditions exacted by modern firearms, and is utterly discredited by the facts of modern war. the excellence of the translation furnished by major bridges has made it unnecessary for me to introduce into this essay the various terms and phrases used in the original german text. after a study of that text, i am satisfied, if major bridges will permit me to say so, that, obscure as the author's exposition often is, no part of the obscurity is due to the translator. i have not found a technical term of which he has not given the correct english equivalent, or a passage where he has not accurately interpreted the original sense. let me add that i have been encouraged further to write this essay by the keen and instructive controversy which followed the publication of my book of last year. incidentally i have taken the opportunity in this volume to reply to some of the criticisms against its predecessor, and to clear up some points which i think were not fully understood. e.c. _march, ._ contents chapter page i. introductory i. the german model ii. "cavalry in future wars" ii. sir john french on the arme blanche iii. the british theory of the arme blanche iv. cavalry in combat i. instruction from history ii. general principles of combat v. tactics against the various arms i. the purely cavalry fight ii. the charge upon infantry iii. the dismounted attack by cavalry vi. the fight of the independent cavalry i. german views ii. the british view vii. the battle of all arms i. german views ii. the british view viii. reconnaissance i. weapons ii. the preliminary shock-duel iii. divisional reconnaissance iv. screens ix. the rifle rules tactics i. general von bernhardi on south africa ii. views of the general staff iii. other cavalry views x. the moral german influence on british cavalry chapter i introductory i. the german model. impartial observers of the recent controversy upon the merits of the lance and sword as weapons for cavalry must have been struck by one singular circumstance--namely, that there exists in our language no standard modern work upon the tactics and training of cavalry in modern war, written by a cavalryman, accepted by cavalrymen, and embodying and illustrating the lessons of the two great modern wars waged since the invention of the long-range, smokeless magazine rifle. without such a work, controversy is seriously hampered. the need for it is beyond dispute. whatever the extent of the revolution brought about by the magazine rifle, a revolution, by universal admission, there is. since a serious firearm has been substituted for the old carbine formerly carried by the cavalry, and the cavalry manual has been rewritten, with increased stress on the importance of fire. it is also the fact that, from whatever causes, the lance and sword have proved, both in south africa and manchuria, almost innocuous weapons. these facts demand, to say the least, serious recognition from those who still hold that the lance and sword are the most important weapons of cavalry. angry letters to the daily press, desultory and superficial articles in the weekly and monthly press, are not enough. what is wanted is some comprehensive and authoritative exposition of what cavalry functions are in modern war, how they have been modified by the firearm, and why, with chapter and verse, not by way of vague allegation, the only great wars in which that firearm has been tested are to be regarded as "abnormal" and uninstructive. for illumination and confirmation on these matters, we are constantly referred, in defence of the lance and sword, by our own cavalry authorities to foreign countries whose armies have had no experience at all of modern civilized war as revolutionized by the modern magazine rifle. we are referred, above all, to germany, and, in particular, to the works of a german officer, general von bernhardi, who ( ) writes exclusively for the german cavalry, without the most distant reference to our own; ( ) whose own war experience dates from , when he fought as a lieutenant, and who has not seen the modern rifle used in civilized war; ( ) who believes that no wars, ancient _or modern_, except the american civil war of - , afford an analogy to modern conditions, and that the modern cavalryman must base his practice on "speculative and theoretical reflection"; ( ) who states that the german cavalry, owing to indifference to the revolution wrought _by the modern firearm_, and excessive adherence to "old-fashioned knightly combats," is at this moment wholly unprepared for war and is trained on regulations which, though quite recently revised, he makes the subject of stinging and sustained ridicule; ( ) who is so ignorant of the technique of fire-action by mounted troops that he renders it, unconsciously, more ridiculous even than shock-action; and ( ) who firmly believes in the lance and sword, and in the shock-charge as practised "in the times of frederick the great and napoleon." in this strange list of qualifications the reader will see the makings of a pretty paradox. and a pretty paradox it is, a bewildering, incomprehensible paradox; not so much, indeed, that a german author, born and bred in a german atmosphere, should be so saturated with obsolete german traditions that even in the act of denouncing them he can subscribe to them, but that british cavalrymen, headed by sir john french, our foremost cavalry authority, men who have had three years' experience of war with the modern magazine rifle, who have _seen_ the _arme blanche_ fail and the rifle dominate tactics, and who, eight years before the german cavalry even stirred in its sleep, acquiesced in changes in cavalry armament and training directly based on that experience--that these men should acclaim the works of the aforesaid german author as the last word of wisdom on the tactics and training of modern cavalry, and represent them as such to young british cavalrymen, is a circumstance which almost passes belief. still, it is a fortunate circumstance. we have a body of doctrine to grapple with and controvert. if we succeed in dissipating the myth of german superior intelligence on cavalry matters, we go a long way towards dissipating the whole of the _arme blanche_ myth, which in the opinion of our greatest living soldier, lord roberts--an opinion founded on lifelong experience of war--is as mischievous a superstition as ever fettered a mounted military force. the whole of the material is here--and it is unexceptionable material for controversy--for sir john french himself contributes his own views on the subject in the form of laudatory introductions to both of general von bernhardi's works. i propose in the following pages ( ) to criticize general sir john french's views, so expressed; ( ) to analyze and criticize general von bernhardi's recently published work, "cavalry in war and peace," and to contrast his teaching with that of our own service manuals; ( ) to try to show that each general refutes himself, that both refute one another, and that sir john french is, by a strange irony, far more reactionary than the german officer to whom he directs us for "progressive" wisdom; ( ) to expose the backwardness and confusion in every department of cavalry thought, here and in germany, as a direct consequence of the attempt to found a tactical system upon obsolete weapons; and ( ) incidentally to put forward what i venture to suggest is true doctrine. this doctrine, briefly, is that the modern cavalry soldier is, for practical purposes, represented by three factors--man, horse, and rifle--and that it is only by regarding him strictly and constantly as a mounted, that is to say, an especially mobile, rifleman, as distinguished from the less mobile foot-rifleman, that we can establish his war functions on a simple, sound, and logical basis. i ask the reader to hold that clue firmly as a guide through the perplexities and obscurities of the topic and the obsolete terminology and phraseology which not only disturb reasoning but distort and enfeeble practice. at the outset let the reader grasp the following historical facts as to the efficacy of swords and lances in civilized war: . franco-german war of - : six germans killed and wounded by the sabre and clubbed musket counted together. no separate figures for the lance. [total german casualties from all weapons, , .][ ] . south african war, - : no statistics as to _death_. about fifty boer casualties through lance and sword together, and about fifty more prisoners taken. [total boer and british deaths, and wounds from all weapons, about , .] . russo-japanese war, - : no exact figures, but apparently not more than fifty casualties from lance and sword together. [total casualties in action, over , .] ii. "cavalry in future wars." two works by general von bernhardi have been translated into english, and widely circulated among our military men. i propose to say but little about the first, "cavalry in future wars," because i have already endeavoured to criticize it in detail in my own book, "war and the _arme blanche_." it is the second work, "cavalry in war and peace," published only in , that i wish to make the basis of discussion in this volume; but in order to explain the history of german influence on british cavalry, it is necessary to recall briefly certain features of its predecessor. "cavalry in future wars" was first published in german in , before the boer war broke out. there was a second edition in , when the boer war was drawing to a close, and this second edition, headed by general french's introduction, was translated and published in england in . it was a strange work, strangely sponsored. the keynote was fire-action for cavalry, the moral drawn by the english sponsor shock-action for cavalry. the chapters on fire-action, urging the adoption of a firearm even better than the infantry rifle in substitution for a mere pop-gun, formed in themselves a complete refutation of shock; while the chapters on shock, so illogical and self-contradictory was the method of exposition, formed an equally complete refutation of fire-action. it is true that the spirit of fire predominated, that fire was the general's message to his lethargic brother-officers, but the message was so strangely expounded that it is no wonder that for ten years they turned a deaf ear to it. instead of telling them at the outset that if they themselves adopted a good firearm, and learnt to use it properly, they would immensely enhance the value of cavalry for all the purposes of war, he opened his argument with a melancholy dirge over the departed glories of the cavalry owing to the adoption by other classes of troops of the deadly modern firearm. they must recognize, he told them, that they had been "driven out of their place of honour on the battlefields of the plains"; that they could henceforward only attack infantry who were already so shattered and demoralized by the fire of other infantry as to have reached the point of throwing away their arms, and much more in the same sense. never was such a tactless prophet! and the pity of it was that he did not really mean all he said. what he meant was that the ancient glories of the _arme blanche_, when pitted against the firearm, were gone past recall--a circumstance scarcely worth an elegy, one would imagine, from a scientific soldier. war is business, not romance, and if the same or better results can be produced by an intelligent and dashing use of the firearm, it is waste of breath to lament the decay of the lance and sword. it was the main purpose of the general's work to prove that these results could be so obtained, and whenever he warmed to his subject, and fell into temporary oblivion of the romantic weapons, he proved his point well enough, in theory. but, unfortunately, his oblivion of the lance and sword lasted only as long as he was criticizing the action of cavalry against troops not armed with those weapons. when he came to the action of cavalry against cavalry, both by hypothesis armed, not only with the lance and sword, but also with the best modern rifle obtainable, the principle he had just established--namely, that the rifle imposes tactics on the steel--disappeared, and the opposite principle--that the steel imposes tactics upon the rifle--took its place. i say "principle," but in this latter case no reasoned principle based on the facts of war was expounded, because it seemed never to occur to the general that cavalry in combat with cavalry would have the bad taste to use their rifles. needless to say, it was impossible to sustain this daring paradox with any semblance of logic and consistency throughout a book dealing with all the phases of war. war is not a matter of definitions, but of bullets and shells. and, in fact, the general threw logic and consistency to the winds. in his fire-mood he unconsciously covered shock-tactics with ridicule, but in his shock-mood (no doubt, much to the relief of the victims of his wrathful invective in germany) he conclusively demolished the principle of fire. this was easily explicable. in the first place, the general was a german writing exclusively to germans, to whom the bare idea of relying on the prosaic firearm seemed sacrilegious. merely to implant that idea in their heads, to persuade them that the rest of the world was moving while they were asleep, was a vast enough aim for a german reformer--too vast an aim, indeed, as the event proved. in the second place, the general, so far as the effect of modern firearms was concerned, was working wholly in the realm of theory. when he first published his book those weapons had not been tested in civilized war. the most recent relevant war experience was that of and of the other european wars of that period, when the firearm was exceedingly imperfect. but even then, as he frankly and forcibly stated, it was in consequence of their neglect of this firearm, imperfect as it was, that the european cavalry, the german cavalry included, gave such a painfully poor account of themselves. he looked farther back, just as colonel henderson and many other critics in our own country looked back, to the brilliant achievements of american cavalry in the civil war of - , mainly through the agency of the firearm. but here the firearm was still more primitive--a fact of which general von bernhardi took no account. it was enough for him that inter-cavalry shock survived through the civil war, though the steel came to be wholly ineffective against infantry. that forty years of scientific progress might have produced a weapon which would have banished shock in any form did not occur to him. nevertheless, there seemed to be good ground for the hope that, when he came seriously to collate and examine the phenomena of the first great wars since the invention of the modern rifle--those in south africa and manchuria--he would find in the exact confirmation of his views on fire, and in the complete falsification of his views on shock, ground for a drastic revision of his whole work, with a view, not perhaps to a complete elimination of the steel weapons, but to their complete subordination to the rifle. it is true that the omens were not very favourable. between and , when his second edition was published, a great mass of south african information became available, not in finished historical form, but in a form quite suitable for furnishing numberless instructive examples of the paramount influence of fire and the futility of the lance and sword. but the general made no use of these examples. he confined himself to a general allusion to the "very important data obtained in south africa as to the employment of dismounted action by cavalry" (p. ), and in a later passage (p. ) to some commendatory remarks on the "brilliant results" obtained through mounted charges made with the rifle only by the boers in the latter part of the war. unfortunately, it was plain that he had given no close technical study either to these charges or to the "important data" vaguely alluded to; otherwise he would have saved himself from many of the solecisms which abound in his work. still, the fact remained that the war was unfinished when his second edition was published, while another great war broke out only two years later. it seemed not unlikely that mature reflection upon the incidents of these wars would ultimately tend to clarify and harmonize his views on shock and fire. meanwhile the english edition was published, with its introduction by general sir john french. by this time ( ) the events of our own war were fully collated and recorded, while the manchurian war had also taken place. instead of supplying a really useful commentary upon the german work, written from the point of view of british experience, instead of drawing attention to its deficiencies and errors, and pointing out how inevitable they were under the circumstances of its composition, general french hailed the work as a complete, final, and unanswerable statement of cavalry doctrine. von bernhardi, he said, "had dealt with remarkable perspicuity and telling conviction and in an exhaustive manner with every subject demanding a cavalry soldier's study and thought." how sir john french's readers reconciled this effusive eulogy with the contents of the book remains a mystery. as i have said, the only really important feature of the book was the insistent advocacy of fire-tactics--and not merely defensive, but offensive fire-tactics--for cavalry. this feature was minimized in the introduction. in its place was a vehement attack on the advocates of fire-tactics in england, the truth of whose principles had just been signally demonstrated in our own war. there was not a word about the "important data" to be derived from the war; not a word about the boer charges, of whose terribly destructive effects sir john french knew far more than general von bernhardi. on the contrary, the war was dismissed in a few slighting and ambiguous sentences, as wholly irrelevant to the _arme blanche_ controversy, in spite of the fact that, in direct consequence of the war, our cavalry manual had been rewritten and the cavalry firearm immensely improved--facts which would naturally suggest that the war had been instructive. praise of von bernhardi, singular as the form it took, was by no means academic. in the next revision of our cavalry manual ( ) the compilers borrowed and quoted considerably from "cavalry in future wars." and yet every sound principle in that work had years before been anticipated and expounded far more lucidly and thoroughly in the fascinating pages of our own military writer, colonel henderson, whose teaching had been ignored by the cavalry of his own country. footnotes: [footnote : report of german medical staff. no french figures available.] chapter ii sir john french on the arme blanche so the matter stood until, early in , general von bernhardi produced his second work, "cavalry in war and peace." an admirable english translation by major g.t.m. bridges promptly appeared, again with an introduction by sir john french. it must, one might surmise, have given him some embarrassment to pen this second eulogy. the previous book had been "perspicuous," "logical," "intelligent," and, above all, "exhaustive and complete." two wars, it is true, had intervened, but neither, according either to sir john french or, we may say at once, to general von bernhardi, was of any interest to cavalry. what fresh matter, either for german exposition or for british eulogy, could there be? that is one of the questions i shall have to elucidate, and i may say here that the only new fact for general von bernhardi is the recent promulgation of a revised set of regulations for the german cavalry, regulations which, in his opinion, though "better than the old ones," are still almost as mischievous, antiquated, and "unsuitable for war" as they can possibly be, and whose effect is to leave the german cavalry "unprepared for war." but this is not a new fact which could properly strengthen sir john french in recommending the german author to the british cavalry as a brilliantly logical advocate of the lance and sword, and it is not surprising, therefore, that the tone of his second introduction is slightly different from that of the first. for the first time there appears a reference to the german cavalry regulations, from which the english reader would gain an inkling of the fact that general von bernhardi is not a prophet in his own country, and that all is not harmony and enlightenment among the "progressive" cavalry schools of europe. on one specific point--raids--sir john french "ventures to disagree" with general von bernhardi, and he writes, also in quite general terms, that he does not "approve of all that the german regulations say about the employment of cavalry in battle." but even this latter note of criticism is very faint and deprecatory; nor is there anything to show that the writer, except on the one point mentioned, is not thoroughly at one with the german author's principles. the main purpose of this introduction, as of the earlier one, is to claim that bernhardi's book is a triumphant justification of the lance and sword. it is a "tonic for weak minds," an antidote against the "dangerous heresies" of the english advocates of the mounted rifleman, whose "appeals from ignorance to vanity" deserved scornful repudiation. once more, and in warmer language than ever, the general protests against the pernicious tendency to attach value to the lessons of south africa; but this time, fortunately, he gives some specific reasons for regarding the war as "abnormal," and i shall devote the rest of this chapter to an examination of these reasons. they are four: ( ) that the "boer commandos dispersed to the four winds when pressed, and reunited again some days or weeks later hundreds of miles from the scene of their last encounter." this curious little summary of the war shows to what almost incredible lengths of self-delusion a belief in the _arme blanche_ will carry otherwise well-balanced minds--minds, too, of active, able men like sir john french, who have actually been immersed in the events under discussion. one fails at first to see the smallest causal relation between the phenomena of the war as he sets them forth and the combat value of the lance and sword, but the implied argument must be this: that these weapons could not be given a fair trial in combat because there was no combat, or, rather, only combat enough to cause the hundred casualties and prisoners for which, by the recorded facts, the lance and sword were accountable. we figure a bloodless war, in which at the mere glimpse of a khaki uniform the enemy fled for "hundreds of miles"--at such lightning speed, moreover, that one of the chief traditional functions of the _arme blanche_, pursuit, was wholly in abeyance. who would gather that there had been a "black week"; that botha and meyer held the tugela heights for four months against forces between three and four times their superior in strength; that ladysmith (where there were four cavalry regiments) was besieged for four months, kimberley for the same period, and mafeking for seven months; that for at least nine months no "dispersion" took place even remotely resembling that vaguely sketched by sir john french; and that during the whole course of the war no tactical dispersion took place which would conceivably affect the efficacy of the lance and sword as weapons of combat? a mere statement of the fact that the net rate of boer retreat, even during the purely partisan warfare of - , was almost invariably that of ox-waggons (two miles an hour on the average), that until the last year of the war the boers were generally accompanied by artillery, and that from the beginning of the war to the end not a single waggon or a single gun was ever captured through the agency, direct or indirect, of the lance and sword, shatters the hypothesis that these weapons had any appreciable combat value. but that is only the negative side of the argument. we have to deal with a mass of plain, positive facts in favour of the rifle as an aggressive weapon for mounted troops. the boer rifle caused us , casualties, over guns and , men taken in action--losses which, to say the least, are evidence that some stiff fighting took place; for men who, when "pressed," run for "hundreds of miles" cannot take prisoners and guns. we have before us the details of some hundreds of combats, in which cavalry as well as other classes of troops were engaged, and the only effective way of testing the value of the steel weapons is to see what actually happened in these combats. the result of this inquiry is to show that the lance and sword were practically useless both in attack and defence, whatever the relative numbers and whatever the nature of the ground. no serious historian has ever attempted to make out any case to the contrary. no responsible man at the time would have ventured publicly to assert the contrary. it was patent to everybody--leaders and men--that the boers were formidable because they were good mounted riflemen, and that our bitter need was for mounted riflemen as good as theirs. it is only when years of peace have drugged the memory and obliterated the significance of these events--melancholy and terrible events some of them--that it is possible to put forward the audacious claim that the lance and sword had no chance of proving their value because the boers invariably ran away from them. it must be evident that if this first reason for the failure of the lance and sword given by sir john french is valid, it would be needless to proffer any others. and the others he does proffer only demonstrate further the weakness of his case. "secondly," he says, "the war in south africa was one for the conquest and annexation of immense districts, and no settlement was open to us except the complete submission of our gallant enemy." such a campaign, he goes on to say, "is the most difficult that can be confided to an army," etc. perfectly true--we agree; but what bearing has this obvious truth on the combat value of the lance and sword? the issue before us is this: is a certain mode of fighting possible in modern days? is it practicable for men to remain in their saddles and wield steel weapons against men armed with modern rifles? "no," answers sir john french, "it is not practicable, if your aim is annexation and the complete submission of a gallant enemy." poor consolation for the unhappy taxpayer who pays for the maintenance of exceedingly expensive mounted troops, and commits himself to a scheme of conquest and annexation in the faith that these troops are efficient instruments of his will! where would sir john french's argument lead him, if he only followed it up and supplied the missing links? but that is the worst of this interminable controversy. such nebulous arguments never are worked out in terms of actual combat on the battle-field. thirdly, says sir john french, the horses were at fault. "we did not possess any means for remounting our cavalry with trained horses...." "after the capture, in rear of the army, of the great convoy by de wet, our horses were on short commons, and consequently lost condition, and never completely recovered it." this is an old argument, expressed in the old vague, misleading way. the war lasted nearly three years, beginning in october, . the period referred to by sir john french was in february, . long before this, when there was no complaint about the horses, the futility of the lance and sword, and the grave disabilities under which the cavalry laboured owing to their inadequate carbine, had been abundantly manifest. the steel weapons may be said to have been obsolete after elandslaagte, on the second day of the war. at the particular period referred to by sir john french--the period of the operations against cronje and kimberley--heat and drought did undoubtedly play havoc with all the horses in both armies, with those not only of the cavalry, but of the mounted riflemen and artillery on both sides. in february, , a third of cronje's small force was on foot, a pretty severe disability, since his whole force was scarcely equal to our cavalry division alone, with its gunners and mounted riflemen included, while it was less than a quarter as strong as the whole army at the disposal of lord roberts. sir john french makes use of a misleading expression when he says that "the cavalry horses lost condition, and never completely recovered it." nine-tenths of the horses here referred to succumbed altogether within a few months, and the cavalry, like nearly all the mounted troops engaged in the operations in question, were completely remounted in june, for the grand advance from bloemfontein to pretoria. during the succeeding two years of warfare all the mounted troops, cavalry included, were several times remounted. so were the boer troops, who, of course, had no remount organization at all for "trained" or untrained horses, and had to be content with anything they could pick up on the veldt. yet, besides imposing fire-tactics on the cavalry in every type of combat alike, they invaded the traditional sphere of cavalry (and were imitated to some extent by our own colonials and mounted infantry) by developing on their own account a most formidable type of mounted charge, which during the last year of the war alone cost us guns and , men killed, wounded, and prisoners. these charges were made with little rats of starveling ponies, whose extreme speed was scarcely that of the slow canter of an ordinary cavalry charger. if sir j. french were to descend to statistics and facts, he would find it impossible to trace any causal relation between the efficacy of the lance and sword and the condition of the horses from time to time. the phenomena are precisely the same under all conditions from first to last. everywhere and always the rifle is supreme. the better the horse, the better help for the rifle--that is all. in point of fact, he is quite aware that the principal success of the regular cavalry was achieved when the horses were at their worst--that is to say, in the very period he refers to, when the cavalry headed off cronje and pinned him, purely by fire-action, to the river-bed at paardeberg. another good performance--though it was by no means specially a cavalry performance; for mounted riflemen and infantry were associated with the cavalry--was the prolonged screening operations in front of colesberg (november to january, ). there was no complaint about the horses then, but the sabre never killed or hurt a boer. it was only once drawn from the scabbard, and was speedily resheathed, owing to hostile fire. i pass to the last and strangest of sir john french's reasons for regarding the war as abnormal in the sense that it gave no opportunity for the use of the lance or sword. it is this: that, "owing to repeated and wholesale release of prisoners who had been captured and subsequently appeared in the field against us, we were called upon to fight, not , or , men, but something like double that number or more, with the additional disadvantage that the enemy possessed on his second and third appearance against us considerable experience of our methods and a certain additional seasoned fitness." here again is a proposition which alone is sufficient to destroy the case for the lance and sword. if, as a defence of those weapons, it means anything, it must mean that the cavalry, by means of their steel weapons, were perpetually taking prisoners, to no purpose, because these prisoners were constantly released. gradually the enemy learnt "experience of our methods," that is, of our shock-methods with the lance and sword, and, armed with this experience and the "seasoned fitness" produced by successive spells of fighting, they eventually countered or evaded those shock-methods, with what result we are not told. but such an interpretation is inadmissible. what sir john french surely should say is precisely the reverse of what he does imply--namely, that we started the war in an ignorance of the boer methods which cost us scores of millions of pounds; that we slowly learnt experience of those methods, and ultimately conquered the boers and ended the war by imitating those methods. that is the plain moral of the war, as enforced by every historian. observe that, for the sake of argument, i am accepting as historically accurate sir john french's statement about the advantage possessed by the boers owing to the release of their prisoners. it is almost superfluous to add that the statement, in the sense he uses it, has no historical foundation. the truth is exactly the opposite. the advantage was immensely on our side. the boers took many thousands of british prisoners, but permanently retained none, because they had no means of retaining them. during the last year of the war prisoners were released on the spot. a large proportion of these men fought again, some several times. no boer prisoner of war--that is, captured in action--was released. in december, , we had about , in our possession; in may, , about , . it was mainly by this attrition of the boer forces that we reduced them to submission. the element of historical truth in sir john french's proposition is this: that in , after the fall of bloemfontein, a considerable number of boers surrendered voluntarily, not in action, and were dismissed to their farms under a pledge not to fight again--a pledge which they broke, under circumstances into which we need not enter. there are no exact statistics as to the numbers of these men, but at an outside estimate they cannot have amounted to more than per cent. of the total number of boers engaged in the war. in any case, the point is totally irrelevant to the question of shock-tactics. that is a question of combat, and in combat, as sir john french is aware, the boers were, nine times out of ten, greatly outnumbered. such are sir john french's reasons for the failure of the lance and sword in south africa. they constitute an instructive revelation of the mental attitude of the advocates of those weapons. is it not plain that we are dealing here with a matter of faith, not of reason; of dogma, not of argument; of sentiment, not of technical practice? the simple technical issue--what happens in combat?--is persistently evaded, and refuge sought in vague and inaccurate generalizations, which, when tested, turn out to throw no light upon the controversy. sir john french himself manages to demonstrate in this same introduction that the question is really one of sentiment. it is a seemingly incurable delusion with him that the whole campaign on behalf of the rifle is an attack of a personal nature on the war exploits of himself and the regular cavalry, instead of being, what it really is, an attack on the lances and swords carried by the cavalry. this delusion carries him to the strangest lengths of professional egotism. in the whole of this introduction there is not a line to indicate that any british mounted rifleman unprovided with steel weapons took part in the war, or that the tactics and conduct of these men have the smallest interest for englishmen or the smallest bearing on the present controversy. no one would gather that our colonial mounted riflemen led the way in tactical development, and frequently, brief and rough as their training had been, excelled the cavalry in efficiency, simply because they were trained on the right principles with the right weapon. "even in south africa," says sir john french, "grave though the disadvantages were under which our cavalry laboured from short commons and overwork" [as though these disadvantages were not shared equally by our mounted riflemen and by the boers themselves!], "the boer mounted riflemen acknowledged on many occasions the moral force of the cold steel, and gave way before it." then follows a concrete instance, taken from the action of zand river in may, . anyone familiar with the history of the war must have felt deep bewilderment at the general's choice, for purposes of illustration, of this action, which has not generally been held to have reflected high credit on the cavalry. it is needless to discuss the battle in detail, because the accounts of it are set forth clearly and accurately enough in the "official" and _times_ histories, and, _inter alia_, in mr. goldman's work, "with french in south africa." as a very small and unimportant episode in the battle, there was certainly a charge by a whole brigade of regular cavalry against some boers whom the _times_ history describes as a "party," and whom mr. goldman, who was present, estimates at in number; but it is perfectly clear, from all accounts, ( ) that the casualties resulting from the charge were too few to deserve record; ( ) that the charge had no appreciable effect upon the fortunes of the day; ( ) that the cavalry on the flank in question suffered serious checks and losses at the hands of a greatly inferior force; and ( ) that sir john french's turning force, like general broadwood's turning force on the opposite flank, completely failed to perform the supremely important intercepting mission entrusted to them by lord roberts, and failed through weakness in mobile fire-action. sir john french's version of the action teems with inaccuracies. all the cardinal facts, undisputed facts to be found in any history, upon which the judgment of the reader as to the efficacy of the steel must depend, are omitted. there are no figures of relative numbers, no times, no description of the terrain, no statement of casualties. i will instance only one, but the greatest, error of fact. he writes that "the rôle of the cavalry division was to bring pressure to bear on the right flank of the boer army, in order to enable lord roberts to advance across the river and attack the main boer forces." this is a highly misleading account of roberts's tactical scheme for the battle. eight thousand boers, disposed in a chain of scattered detachments, held no less than twenty-five miles of country along the north bank of the zand river, their right resting on the railway, which ran at right angles to the river. we had , men, including , mounted men, of whom , were regular cavalry. to have used the mounted arm merely to "bring pressure to bear" upon the boer flanks would have been a course altogether unworthy of lord roberts and the great army he controlled. he set no such limited aim before the cavalry. he planned to surround and destroy the enemy by enveloping movements on both flanks, and gave explicit orders to that effect. french, with , men, had orders to ride round the boer right flank, and seize the railway in their rear at ventersburg road. the same objective was given to the turning force under broadwood, , strong, on the boer left. both enveloping operations failed. to "press" the boers into retreat was nothing. they must have retreated anyhow, in the face of an army five times their superior. the point was to _prevent_ them from retreating into safety, to cut off their retreat, and with mounted turning forces together nearly equal to the whole boer force this aim was perfectly feasible, given one condition, which was not fulfilled--that our mounted troops, headed by our premier and professional mounted troops, the cavalry, could use their rifles and horses approximately as well as the boers. now let us come to the heart of the matter. let us waive all criticism of the accuracy and completeness of sir john french's narrative, and test the grounds of his belief that it was owing to their fear of the sword that the boers gave way when dickson's brigade charged. the cavalry carried firearms as well as swords, and outnumbered the party charged by at least five to one. we cannot apply the test of casualties, because there were so few. the only test we can apply is that of analogy from other combats. conditions similar to those of zand river were repeated, on a smaller or larger scale, thousands of times. do we find that steel-armed mounted troops had greater moral effect upon the enemy than troops armed only with the rifle? did the presence of the lance and sword on the field of combat make any difference to the result? the answer, of course, is that it made no difference at all. anyone can decide this question himself. we know precisely what troops were present, and how they were armed, in all the combats of the war. we can detect many different factors at work, psychological, technical, tactical, topographical; but there is one factor which we can eliminate as wholly negligible, and that is the presence of the lance and sword. the same phenomena reappear whether those weapons are there or not. for example, during buller's campaign for the conquest of northern natal (may to june, ) very little use was made of regular cavalry. during the first phase, the advance over the biggarsberg, the six regiments of cavalry at buller's disposal were left behind at ladysmith. the mounted work throughout was done mainly by irregulars. was it of a less aggressive and vigorous character on that account, by analogy, say, with the mounted operations during the advance of roberts from bloemfontein to pretoria? we find, on the contrary, that the results were better. the total relative numbers on the boer side and our side were about the same: we were about four to one. but while roberts had , mounted men, of whom , were cavalry, buller had only , mounted men, of whom , were cavalry. do we find that when the steelless irregulars mounted their horses, as dickson's brigade mounted their horses, and made a rapid aggressive advance--"charged," that is--the boers were any less inclined to retreat? on the contrary, they were more inclined to do so. witness, for instance, dundonald's long and vigorous pursuit with his irregular brigade over the biggarsberg on may . or take the bloemfontein-pretoria advance, in which zand river itself was an incident. can we trace any further this alleged "terror of the cold steel"? allowance must be made for the brief and inadequate training of the mounted infantry and colonials; but, even with this allowance, a study of the facts shows that they did as well as the cavalry, and sometimes better. the only effective local pursuit was made by hutton's australians at klipfontein (may ), where a gun was captured. these men had no steel weapons, yet they charged, and rode down their enemy. take plumer's brilliant defence of rhodesia with mounted riflemen. take the relief of mafeking, one of the most arduous and finely-executed undertakings of the war. did the troopers of the imperial light horse who carried it out suffer from the lack of swords and lances? they would not have taken them at a gift. did their work compare unfavourably with that of the cavalry division, , strong, in the relief of kimberley? on the contrary, when we contrast the numbers employed, the opposition met with and the distance covered ( miles in eighteen days), we shall conclude that the achievement of the irregulars was by far the more admirable of the two. an infinity of illustrations might be cited to prove the same point, but, in truth, it is a point which stands in no need of detailed proof. the _onus probandi_ lies on those who defend weapons which palpably failed. it is the cavalryman's fixed idea that "mounted action," as the phrase goes, is associated solely with steel weapons; that soldiers in the saddle are only formidable because they carry those weapons. mounted riflemen are pictured as dismounted, stationary, or as employing their horses only for purposes of flight. these fictions were blown to pieces by the south african war, and the irony of the case is that sir john french gratuitously brings ridicule on the cavalry by reviving them. if they are not fictions, the cavalry stand condemned by their own pitifully trivial record of work done with the steel. but this is to slander the cavalry. they do not stand condemned; their steel weapons stand condemned. they themselves, like all other mounted troops, did well precisely in proportion to their skill in and reliance on the rifle and horse combined. their lances were soon returned to store; their swords, after rusting in the scabbards for another year, were also, in the case of nearly all regiments, abandoned; a good infantry rifle replaced the weak carbine, and the cavalry became definitely recognized as mounted riflemen. no one has ever regarded sir john french himself as otherwise than a leader of conspicuous energy and resource. but, so far from owing anything to the lance and sword, he suffered heavily from the almost exclusive education of his troops to those weapons, and from the inadequacy of their firearm. chapter iii the british theory of the arme blanche and now, what in great britain is the real theory on this question? let us go to sir john french again. the south african war, he says, is no guide for the future. it is abnormal, for the reasons stated above. the manchurian war he has also stated to be abnormal. where, then, is the theoretical advantage of the lance and sword over the modern rifle? we are left in ignorance. the physical problem is untouched. all we have is the bare dogmatic assertion that the steel weapon can impose tactics on the rifle. this is how sir john french expresses the theory on p. xi of his introduction: "were we to do so" (_i.e._, to "throw our cold steel away as useless lumber"), "we should invert the rôle of cavalry, turn it into a _defensive_ arm, and make it a prey to the first foreign cavalry that it meets; for good cavalry can always compel a dismounted force of mounted riflemen to mount and ride away, and when such riflemen are caught on their horses, they have power neither of offence nor defence, and are lost." eight years have elapsed since the boer war. memories are short, and it is possible now to print a statement of this sort, which, if promulgated during the dust and heat of the war itself, when the lance and sword fell into complete and well-merited oblivion, and when mounted men on both sides were judged rigidly by their proficiency in the use of the horse and the rifle, would have excited universal derision. the words which follow recall one of the writer's "abnormalities" already commented on: "if in european warfare such mounted riflemen were to separate and scatter, the enemy would be well pleased, for he could then reconnoitre and report every movement, and make his plans in all security. in south africa the mounted riflemen were the hostile army itself, and when they had dispersed there was nothing left to reconnoitre; but when will these conditions recur?" when, indeed? there was nothing, it seems, to reconnoitre, because the enemy always "scattered and dispersed." and the generals were "well pleased"! "nothing left to reconnoitre"! one can only marvel at the courage of sir john french in breathing the word "reconnoitre" in connection with cavalry work in south africa. he ought to admit that cavalry reconnaissance was bad, and that the army suffered for it. no historian has ever defended it. it was the despair of generals who wanted information as to the position of the enemy. wits apart, the rifle ruled reconnaissance, as it obviously always must rule it. _ceteris paribus_, the best rifleman is the best scout. the cavalry were not good riflemen, and were therefore not good scouts. not a single boer scout from the beginning to the end of the war was hurt by a sword or lance. those weapons were a laughing-stock to foe and friend alike. and sir john french's proposition is, not so much that the reconnaissance was good--presumably, that goes without saying--but that there was nothing to reconnoitre, thanks, apparently, to the terror spread by the lance and sword. such a travesty of the war may be left to speak for itself. but it is very important to comprehend the root idea which underlies it, an idea which, as we shall see, reappears in a less extreme form in general von bernhardi's writings. it is expressed in the words "we should invert the rôle of cavalry, turn it into a defensive arm." the rifle, it will be seen, is regarded as a _defensive_ weapon, in contradistinction to the lance and sword, which are offensive weapons. to sustain this theory, it is absolutely necessary, of course, to proceed to the lengths to which sir john french proceeds--to declare, in effect, that there was no war and no fighting; for if once we concede that there was a war, study its combats and compute their statistical results, we are forced to the conclusion that the rifle must have been used in offence as well as in defence. abstract reflection might well anticipate this conclusion by suggesting that a defensive weapon and a defensive class of soldiers are contradictions in terms. there must be two parties to every combat, and, unless there is perfect equilibrium in combat, one side or the other must definitely be playing an offensive rôle; and, even in equilibrium, both sides may be said to be as much in offence as in defence, whatever weapons they are using. the facts mainly illustrate the abstract principle. the boers could not have taken guns and prisoners while acting on the defensive. talana hill, nicholson's nek, spion kop, stormberg, sannah's post, nooitgedacht, zilikat's nek, bakenlaagte, were not defensive operations from the boer point of view. nor were magersfontein, colenso, elandslaagte, paardeberg defensive operations from the british point of view. whether the rifles were in the hands of infantry or mounted troops is immaterial. a rifle is a rifle, whoever holds it. it is just as absurd to say that the boers who rode to and stormed on foot helvetia and dewetsdorp belonged to a defensive class of soldiers as it is to say that the infantry who walked to and stormed pieter's hill belonged to a defensive class of soldiers. it is still more absurd to say that the boers who charged home mounted at sannah's post, vlakfontein, bakenlaagte, roodewal, blood river poort, and many other actions, and the british mounted riflemen who did similar things at bothaville, were performing a defensive function, while the cavalry who pursued at elandslaagte were performing an offensive function. take this action of elandslaagte, the solitary genuine example of a successful charge with the _arme blanche_. by whom was the real offensive work done? by the infantry and by the imperial light horse acting dismounted, and by the artillery. after hours of hard and bloody fighting, these men stormed the ridge and forced the boers to retreat. in the act of retreat they were charged by the cavalry, who had hitherto been spectators of the action. it might be objected that i am taking a verbal advantage of sir john french. he is guilty, it may be argued, only of the lesser fallacy--that of thinking that the rifle is a defensive weapon for mounted men as distinguished from infantry. not so. he perceives the logical peril of admitting that the rifle is an offensive weapon for any troops, and in another passage, when deprecating attacks on the "cavalry spirit" (p. vii), makes use of the following words: "were we to seek to endow cavalry with the _tenacity and stiffness_ of infantry, or take from the mounted arm the _mobility and the cult of the offensive_ which are the breath of its life, we should ruin not only the cavalry, but the army besides." (the italics are mine.) it may be pointed out that, but for their firearms and the mobility and offensive power derived from them, the cavalry in south africa would indeed have been "ruined" beyond hope of rehabilitation. but let us look at the underlying principle expressed. infantry are "stiff and tenacious" (that is, obviously, in _defence_). cavalry have the "cult of the offensive." those are the distinctive "spirits" of the two arms. the bitter irony of it! which arm really displayed the most "offensive spirit" in south africa? study the lists of comparative casualties in the two arms during that period of the war in which infantry were mainly engaged. if at talana, the battle of ladysmith, colenso, dronfield, poplar grove, karee siding, sannah's post, zand river, doornkop, or diamond hill, the cavalry in their own sphere of work had shown the offensive power displayed by the infantry in the battles on the tugela, or in methuen's campaign from orange river to magersfontein, or at driefontein, doornkop, bergendal, and diamond hill, the war would have showed different results. there was no distinction in point of bravery between any branches of the services. fire-power and fire-efficiency were the tests, and lack of a good firearm and of fire-efficiency on only too many occasions fatally weakened the offensive spirit of the cavalry. and what of the "tenacity and stiffness" with which we must not "seek to endow" cavalry? ominous words, redolent of disaster! have not they fully as much need of those qualities as infantry? imagine our cavalry doing the work that the boers had to do on so many score of occasions--to fight delaying rearguard actions against immensely superior numbers, with no reserves, and a heavy convoy to protect. we shall be fortunate if, through reliance on and skill in the use of the rifle, they display as much tenacity and stiffness as botha's men at pieter's hill or koch's men at elandslaagte against forces four times their superior in strength, to say nothing of such incidents as dronfield, where boers defied a whole division of cavalry and several batteries; of poplar grove and zand river, where small hostile groups virtually paralyzed whole brigades; or of bergendal, where seventy-four men held up a whole army. there was nothing abnormal tactically or topographically about any of these incidents. any function performed by the boer mounted riflemen may be demanded from our cavalry in any future war. suppose them, for example, vested with the strictly normal duty of covering a retreat against a superior force of all arms; suppose a squadron, like the seventy-four zarps at bergendal, ordered to hold the cardinal hill of an extended position, and their leader replying: "this is not our business. we are an offensive arm. we cannot entrench, and we have not the tenacity and stiffness of infantry. our business is to charge with the lance and sword." would the general be well pleased? the reader will ask for the key to this curious discrimination between the "spirits" of cavalry and infantry. it is this: the lance and sword, _when pitted against the rifle_, can, if they are used at all, only be used in offence. men sitting on horseback, using steel weapons with a range of a couple of yards, plainly cannot defend themselves against riflemen. even the cavalry tacitly admit this principle, and if they accepted its logical consequence, a logical consequence completely confirmed by the facts of modern war, they would admit, too, that the sword and lance cannot be used for offence against riflemen in modern war. but they will not admit that. "tant pis pour les faits," they say. "all modern war is abnormal. our steel weapons dominate combat. without them we are nothing." in these circumstances they are forced to set up this strange theory--that cavalry is a peculiarly "offensive" arm, a theory which the reader will find expressed in all cavalry writings. on the face of it the theory is meaningless. it is a mere verbal juggle, because, as i said before, there are two parties to every combat, and defence is the necessary and invariable counterpart of offence. all combatant soldiers, including cavalry, carry firearms, and if cavalry choose to use these firearms in offence, by hypothesis they will impose fire-action on the defence, whether the defence consists of cavalry or any other class of troops. conversely, if they use their rifles in defence, as by hypothesis they must, they will impose fire-action on the attacking force, be it cavalry or any other arm. in other words, the rifle governs combat. that is why the lance and sword disappeared in south africa. both in offence and defence the boer riflemen forced the cavalry to accept combat on terms of fire. and what kind of cavalry do our cavalrymen count upon meeting in our next war? they count, incredible as it seems, upon meeting cavalry not superior, but inferior, to the boer mounted riflemen, inferior because, as i shall show from von bernhardi, they defy science, shut their eyes to the great principle of the supremacy of fire, are prepared deliberately to abdicate their fire-power, and hope to engage, by mutual agreement, as it were, and on the understanding that suitable areas of level ground can be found, in contests of crude bodily weight. and what of the action of cavalry against other arms? we know sir john french's opinion about mounted riflemen. they will gallop for their lives "defenceless" at the approach of "good" cavalry. but infantry, riflemen without horses, who cannot gallop, but can only run? their case, it would seem, must be still more desperate. they are not only defenceless, but destitute even of the means of flight. and yet even sir john french credits them, if not with an offensive spirit, at least with "tenacity and stiffness," derived, of course, from their rifles. but their mounted comrades, armed with these same rifles, lack these soldierly qualities. we arrive thus at the conclusion that the horse, which one would naturally suppose to be a source of immensely enhanced mobility and power, is a positive source of danger to a rifleman unless he also carries a lance or sword. here is the _reductio ad absurdum_ of the _arme blanche_ theory, and i beg for the reader's particular attention to it. of course, the conclusion is in reality too absurd; for sir john french himself does not really believe that infantry are a defensive arm. in point of fact, no serious man believes that infantry in modern war have anything whatever to fear from the lance and sword, and their training-book is written on that assumption. nor does sir john french really believe that mounted infantry are a defensive arm who run from cavalry; otherwise, he would never rest until he had secured the complete abolition of our mounted infantry, who are now, under his official sanction, designed to act, not only as divisional mounted troops against steel-armed continental cavalry, but to co-operate with, and in certain events take the place of, our own regular cavalry in far wider functions, and are presumably not going to be whipped off the field at the distant glimpse of a lance or sword. and i may say here that the reader can obtain no better and more searching sidelight on the steel theory than by studying the mounted infantry manual ( ) for the rules given about similar and analogous functions. nor, if sir john french went the whole length of the theory, would he, as inspector-general, have permitted our colonial mounted riflemen to think that they might be of some imperial value in a future war. it is only in order to sustain his _a priori_ case for the steel weapons that he finds himself forced into the logical _impasses_ to which i have drawn attention. there is one further point to deal with before leaving sir john french's introduction. he admits the necessity of a rifle for cavalry, and we may presume him to admit that the boer war proved the necessity for a good rifle and the futility of a bad carbine. when, in his opinion, is this rifle to be used? "i have endeavoured to impress upon all ranks," he writes on page xvii, "that _when the enemy's cavalry is overthrown_, our cavalry will find more opportunities of using the rifle than the cold steel, and that dismounted attacks will be more frequent than charges with the _arme blanche_. by no means do i rule out as impossible, or even unlikely, attacks by great bodies of mounted men against other arms on the battle-field; but i believe that such opportunities will occur comparatively rarely, and that undue prominence should not be given to them in our peace training." (the italics are mine.) this is a typically nebulous statement of the combat functions of cavalry in modern war, and, like the generality of such statements, will be found to contain, if analyzed, a refutation of the writer's own views on the importance of the _arme blanche_. we ask ourselves immediately why he thought it necessary to account for the failure of the _arme blanche_ in south africa by the elaborate accumulation of arguments for "abnormality" developed a few pages earlier. after all, it seems, the war, in its bearing upon the efficacy of weapons, was normal. the boers had no "cavalry" in the writer's use of the word--that is, steel-armed cavalry. what he assumes to be the primary and most formidable objective of our own steel-armed cavalry was, therefore, by a fortunate accident, non-existent. there was no need to "overthrow" it, because there was nothing to overthrow, and our cavalry was free from the outset to devote its attention to the "other arms"--that is, to riflemen and artillery--assumed evidently by the writer to be a secondary and less formidable objective. but here, apparently, "opportunities" for the _arme blanche_ are to occur "comparatively rarely" in any war, european or otherwise, whether the riflemen show "tenacity and stiffness" or "disperse for hundreds of miles"; whether the horses are perennially fresh or perennially fatigued; whether we outnumber the foe or they outnumber us; whether annexation or mere victory is our aim. if only, we cannot help exclaiming, this principle had been recognized in ! we knew the boers had no swords or lances: we had always known it. if only we had prepared our cavalry for the long-foreseen occasion, trained them to fire, given them good firearms, and impressed upon them that opportunities for shock would occur "comparatively rarely," instead of teaching them up to the last minute that fire-action was an abnormal, defensive function of their arm, worthy of little more space in their manual than that devoted to "funerals," and much less than that devoted to "ceremonial escorts." the root of the fallacy propounded by sir john french lies in his refusal to recognize that a rifle may be just as deadly a weapon in the hands of cavalry as in the hands of "other arms," and, indeed, a far more deadly weapon, thanks to the mobility conferred by the horse. if, for example, infantry can, as he tacitly admits they can, force cavalry to adopt fire-action, _a fortiori_ can cavalry, if they choose, force cavalry to adopt fire-action. in other words, the rifle governs combat, as it did, in fact, govern combat in south africa and manchuria. but cavalry operating against cavalry, according to sir john french, are not so to choose. we can only speculate upon what may happen if one side is so unsportsmanlike as to break the rules and masquerade as another arm. the stratagem is simple, because the rifle kills at a mile, and the orthodox cavalry may be unaware until it is too late that the unorthodox cavalry is playing them a trick. meanwhile the best riflemen, whether they have horses or not, _will win_, and horsemen who have spent or per cent. of their time in steel-training will have cause to regret their error. but sir john french contemplates no such awkward contingencies. we may surmise, however, that it is owing to an uncomfortable suspicion of his own fallacy that in this paragraph and elsewhere he is so careful to isolate inter-cavalry combats from mixed combats, and to postulate the complete "overthrow" of one cavalry--an overthrow effected solely by the _arme blanche_--before permitting the surviving cavalry, in kipling's words, to "scuffle mid unseemly smoke." he has a formula for the occasion. in this paragraph it is "when the enemy's cavalry is overthrown." on page xiv, speaking of raids, which he deprecates, he says: "every plan should be subordinate to what i consider a primary necessity--the absolute and complete overthrow of the hostile cavalry"; and on page xv: "if the enemy's cavalry has been overthrown, the rôle of reconnaissance will have been rendered easier," a truism upon which the boer war throws a painfully ironical sidelight. if the reader is puzzled by this curiously superfluous insistence on the "overthrow" of the enemy analogous to the equally superfluous insistence on the "offensive" character of the cavalry arm, he will once more find an explanation in the anomalous status of the _arme blanche_. no one would dream of repeatedly impressing upon infantry, for example, as though it were a principle they might otherwise overlook, that their primary aim must be the absolute and complete overthrow of the hostile infantry. but the advocate of the _arme blanche_ is always on the horns of a dilemma. he dare not admit that the rifle in the hands of cavalry is as formidable a weapon as in the hands of infantry, if not a far more formidable weapon. he therefore instinctively tends to picture steel-armed cavalry as perpetually pitted against steel-armed cavalry. both sides are always in offence until the moment when one is "completely and absolutely overthrown." then some other rôles, very vaguely delineated, open up to the victor. needless to say, this picture bears no resemblance to war. troops are not, by mutual agreement, sorted out into classes, like competitors in athletic sports. every arm must be prepared to meet at any moment any other arm, _and any other weapon_. nor do these "complete and absolute" obliterations of one arm by its corresponding arm ever, in fact, happen. that they could ever happen through the agency of the lance and sword is the wildest supposition of all. compared with rifles, these weapons are harmless. even the most backward and ignorant cavalry, trained to rely absolutely on the lance and sword, would, if it found itself beaten in trials of shock, or, like the japanese cavalry, greatly outnumbered, resort to the despised firearm, imitate the tactics and vest itself with something of the "tenacity and stiffness," as well as with the aggressive potency, of those "other arms," which, by hypothesis, must be attacked with the rifle; and in doing so it would force its antagonist to do the same. chapter iv cavalry in combat i. instruction from history. i have gone at considerable length into the opinions of sir john french, as expressed in his introduction to von bernhardi's work--partly because it is more important for us to know what our own cavalrymen think than what german cavalrymen think, and partly because it will be easier for the reader to estimate the value of the german writer's views if he is already familiar with sir john french's way of thinking. we should expect, of course, to find identity between the views of the two men, since sir john french acclaims the german author as the fountain of all wisdom; but on that point the reader would be well advised to reserve judgment. i shall now discuss "cavalry in war and peace," and first let me say a few more words on a very important point--the circumstances of its composition. when general von bernhardi wrote his first book, "cavalry in future wars," he did not take the current german cavalry regulations as his text, because they were too archaic to deserve such treatment. he condemned them in the mass, and, independently of them, penned his own scheme for a renovated modern cavalry. after about nine years of complete neglect, during which the two great wars in south africa and manchuria were fought, the german authorities decided that some recognition of modern conditions must be made. they have recently re-armed the cavalry with a good carbine, and issued a new book of cavalry regulations. these circumstances induced the general to write his second book, "cavalry in war and peace," and to throw it into the form of a direct criticism of the official regulations, which he constantly quotes in footnotes and uses in the text of his own observations and constructive recommendations. what is the result? the first point to notice is that he regards the new official regulations, "though better than the old ones," as thoroughly and radically bad. his writings, he says, "have fallen on barren soil." he condemns them almost invariably for precisely the same reason as before, namely, that they virtually ignore the rifle in practice, and continue the ancient and worn-out traditions of the steel, with mere lip-service to the modern scientific weapon. but a disappointment was in store for those who had hoped that the mental process involved in criticizing concrete regulations, as well as the vast mass of instructive phenomena presented by the two wars which, when he wrote first, were still "future wars" to him, would arouse the general himself to a realization of the inconsistencies in his own earlier work. these hopes have been falsified. the fascination of the _arme blanche_ was proof against the test, and the result is one of the strangest military works which was ever published. bitter satire as it is on the official system of training, any impartial reader must end by sympathizing, not with the satirist, but with the officials satirized. they at any rate try to be logical. their concessions to fire are the thinnest pretence; their belief in shock undisguised and sincere. whatever follies and errors this belief involves them in, they pursue their course with unflinching consistency, sublimely careless of science and modern war conditions. their critic, on the other hand, keenly alive to the absurdities inculcated, has not the mental courage to insist on the only logical alternatives. faced with the necessity of proving their absurdity, he refuses to use the only effective weapon available, gives away his own case for fire by weak concession to shock, and succeeds in producing a work which will convince no one in germany, and the greater part of which, as a practical guide to cavalrymen, in this country or any other, is worthless. a mist of ambiguity shrouds what should be the simplest propositions. we move through a fog of ill-defined terms and vague qualifications. we puzzle our brains with academical distinctions, and if we come upon what seems to be some definite recommendation, we are pretty sure to find it stultified in another chapter, or even in the same chapter, by a reservation in the opposite sense. the key to each particular muddle, to each ambiguity, to each timid qualification, to each confusing doctrinaire classification, is always the same--namely, that the writer, from sheer lack of knowledge of what modern fire-tactics are, at the last moment shrinks from his own theories about their value. what has happened is exactly what one would expect to happen. in germany the general admits his failure, and in england he is hailed by sir john french, who politely ignores his blunders about fire-action, as the apostle of the steel, instead of what he really is, the apostle, though the ineffectual apostle, of the rifle. let us first be quite clear as to his opinion of the present german cavalry. "while all other arms have adapted themselves to modern conditions, cavalry has stood still," he says on the first page of his introduction. they have "no sort of tradition" for a future war (p. ). their training creates "no sound foundation for preparation for war." it is "left far behind in the march of military progress." "it cannot stand the test of serious war." it is trammelled by the "fetters of the past," and lives on "antiquated assumptions" (p. ). its "mischievous delusions" will result in "bitter disappointment" (p. ). many of the new regulations "betoken failure to adapt existing principles to modern ideas" (p. ); others "do not take the conditions of reality into account"; or "cannot be regarded as practical"; or are "provisional"; and of one set of peculiarly ludicrous evolutions he uses the delightful phrase that they are "included in the regulations with a view to their theoretical and not for their practical advantages" (p. ). he stigmatizes "the formal encounters," the "old-fashioned knightly combats," the "_pro forma_ evolutions," the "survivals of the dark ages," the "spectacular battle-pieces," the "red-tape methods," the "tactical orgies," the "childish exercises," and "set pieces" of peace manoeuvres. the origin of the trouble, he says, is "indolent conservatism" (p. ). "development in our branch of the service has come to a standstill" (_ibid._). the officers do not study history or the progress of foreign cavalries. and he reiterates again and again his general conclusion that the cavalry is unprepared for war. such is the material which forms his text. and we may ask at once, is a book based on such an appalling state of affairs, and addressed exclusively to a cavalry described as being given over to ancient shibboleths, mischievous delusions and antiquated assumptions--is such a book likely to deserve the effusive and unqualified praise of our own foremost cavalry authority? is it likely to be worthy of becoming the bible of a modern and progressive cavalry, such as sir john french considers our own cavalry, trained under his own guidance, to be? is it likely to be "exhaustive," "convincing," "complete"? to suppose so is to insult the intelligence of our countrymen. we do not teach the abc in our universities. our natural science schools do not assume that their pupils belong to the "dark ages," and waste two-thirds of their energy in laborious refutations of such extinct superstitions as witchcraft. the education of our sailors to modern naval war is not conducted on the assumption that the navy consists of wooden sailing-vessels whose inadequacy to modern conditions must be elaborately demonstrated. a gunnery course--and the reader will note the analogy--does not consist mainly of arguments designed to prove that the cutlass is no longer so important a weapon as the long-range gun and the torpedo. nor--in the military sphere--are our infantry and artillery instructed with a view to weaning them from the cult of the pike and the catapult. so, too, we may be quite sure that there is something radically wrong when our cavalry, in their search for an authoritative exposition of modern cavalry tactics, are reduced to relying on a foreign writer who writes for a cavalry ignorant of the elements of modern cavalry tactics, and a good half of whose work is taken up with scoldings and appeals which from our british point of view are grotesquely redundant. all that is good in what von bernhardi says about fire-action we know from our own war experience. all his errors about fire-action we can detect also from our own war experience. we should expect sir john french to comment on these facts, to warn his readers that the book under review was written for a cavalry unversed in modern war and blind to its teaching. we should expect some note of pride and satisfaction in the fact that his own national cavalry did not need these scathing and humiliating reminders that war is not a "theoretical" and "childish" pastime, but a serious and dangerous business; some hint to the effect that perhaps we, with our three years' experience of the modern rifle, may have something useful to tell general von bernhardi about principles which he has framed in the speculative seclusion of his study. not a word, not a hint of any such warning or criticism. the topic is too dangerous. once admit that south africa counts--to say nothing of manchuria--once begin to dot the "i's" and cross the "t's" of the german's speculations, and the _arme blanche_ is lost. instead, we have the passionless reservation from sir john french that "he does not always approve" of those german regulations, so many of which von bernhardi thinks prehistoric and ludicrous, and at the end of his introduction we have a fervent appeal to the british cavalry not to "expose our ignorance and conceit" by overvaluing our own experience, but to "keep abreast with every change in the tendencies of cavalry abroad," and to "assimilate the best of foreign customs" to our own. "keep abreast!" what an expression to use in such a connection! "best foreign customs!" where are these customs? there appears to be only one answer--namely, that these customs are in reality the very customs which von bernhardi attacks with such savage scorn, and yet by such ineffective and half-hearted methods that he leaves them as strong as before. his qualifications and reservations give sir john french a loophole, so that what, read through english eyes, should be a final condemnation of the steel becomes to him a vindication of the steel. the link between the two writers is that both disregard the facts of modern war. since these facts are fatal to the steel theory, both are compelled to disregard them. what wars, then, according to the german expert, are the uneducated german cavalry to study? he deals with this point on page . he dismisses the wars of frederick the great and napoleon. he dismisses the franco-german war of - , as we might expect from his earlier work, where he pointed out how meagre and feeble were the performances of the cavalry compared with those of other arms. he dismisses the russo-turkish war for the same reason, and, by implication, the austro-prussian war of . all these wars, he says, "present a total absence of analogy." then, entirely disregarding the whole period in which science perfected the firearm, he dismisses the wars in south africa and manchuria. and he comes back to what? the american war of secession of - , which "appears to be the most interesting and instructive campaign for the service of modern cavalry," but which is "almost unknown" in germany. in any other branch of study but that of cavalry an analogous recommendation would be received with a compassionate smile. the element of truth and sense in it--and there is much truth and sense in it--is so obvious and unquestioned as not to need expression for the benefit of any well-informed student. the american horsemen discovered that the rifle must be the principal weapon of cavalry, and through that discovery made themselves incomparably more formidable and efficient in every phase and function of war than the european cavalries, who ignored and despised the american example in the succeeding european struggles. so far the writer is on the sound ground of platitude. but has nothing notable happened since ? a very important thing has happened. the civil war firearm is now a museum curiosity. science has devised a weapon of at least five times the power--smokeless, quick-firing, and accurate up to ranges which were never dreamt of in . even the american weapon reduced shock to a wholly secondary place, and gave fire unquestioned supremacy. the modern weapon has eliminated shock altogether, and inspired new and far more formidable tactics--just as mobile, just as dashing, just as fruitful of "charges," but based on fire. von bernhardi cannot bring himself to contemplate this result. he must have his lances and swords, and is compelled therefore to go back to , when the death-knell of those weapons was already being sounded; and in doing so he writes his own condemnation. this is how his book opens: "the great changes which have taken place in military science _since the year _ have forced all arms to adopt new methods of fighting. it was first and foremost _the improvement in the firearm_ which wrought the transformation on the battle-field." (my italics.) since the year ! and yet the cavalry are to go back to a war prior to that year for their instruction, and are to neglect the only wars in which the improved firearm has been tested! in point of fact, general von bernhardi shows no sign of having closely studied even the american war of - with a view to finding out how the americans used their firearms in conjunction with their horses. on this vital technical matter he writes throughout from a purely speculative standpoint, without a single allusion to the american technical methods, much less to the methods of our own and the boer mounted riflemen of - . we must add in fairness that the general seems to be conscious that a war half a century old cannot be implicitly relied on for instruction, and he concludes his historical remarks, therefore, by the depressing conclusion that "there remains, then, nothing for us--with no practical war experience to go on--but to create the groundwork of our methods of training from theoretical and speculative reflection." on this question of the most instructive war for cavalry study sir john french preserves an eloquent silence. he dismisses south africa and manchuria, but he does not echo the recommendation as to america. thereby hangs a tale. for years before the south african war, for years before von bernhardi was heard of in england, the ablest military historian of our time, the late colonel henderson, had been dinning the moral of america into the ears of our cavalry authorities, without producing the smallest effect. his prophecies were abundantly justified--more than justified, for he wrote on the basis of the rifle of , and the rifle of totally eliminated the shock-tactics which were still practicable in . he died in , before the boer war was over, but in one of the last essays written before his death he told the cavalry that shock was extinct. "critics of the cavalry work in south africa," he says, "do not seem to have realized that the small bore and smokeless powder have destroyed the last vestiges of the traditional rôle of cavalry" ("science of war," p. ). it can be readily understood, therefore, that to refer our cavalry of the present day to colonel henderson's brilliant and learned writings upon the american civil war, would be a course highly dangerous to the interests of the lance and sword. sir john french confines himself to urging his subalterns to read such "acknowledged authorities" as sir evelyn wood and general von bernhardi. but why is sir evelyn wood singled out? eminent as he is, he has not the requisite modern war experience. why not lord roberts, who has, and who is the only living british officer with a european reputation? general von bernhardi himself has not been on active service since , when he served as a lieutenant in the war against france. sir john french will not advance the cause of the _arme blanche_ in that way. he cannot stifle knowledge by an index. he need not agree with lord roberts, but to ignore him when speaking of "acknowledged authorities," to accuse him by implication of making "appeals from ignorance to vanity," is unworthy of sir john french. if he believes in his cause, let him urge the cavalry to hear both sides; it can do no harm. for my part, i would most strongly urge every cavalry soldier to read von bernhardi and sir john french. ii.--general principles of combat. to return to the book under discussion. is it possible to gain from it any clear and definite idea of the respective functions and the relative importance of the rifle and the lance and sword as weapons for cavalry? unfortunately, no. we have to deal with hazy generalizations scattered over the whole volume, each with its qualification somewhere else. it is true that warnings against the use of the steel greatly preponderate; and although, by selecting quotations from various chapters, each party to our controversy could easily claim the general as an adherent to his cause, the advocates of the rifle could certainly amass more favourable texts. the following passage might almost be regarded as conclusive--"we must be resolute in freeing ourselves from those old-fashioned knightly combats, which have in reality become obsolete owing to the necessities of modern war" (p. )--if its teaching were not weakened by such a maxim as this: "the crowning-point of all drill and of the whole tactical training is the charge itself, as on it depends the final result of the battle" (p. ). but let us get closer to his actual argument. the reader should carefully study pp. to , where, under the heading "b.--the action of cavalry" and sub-heading " .--general," the author discusses in close detail the action of "cavalry in the fight." the reader may wonder why he should have to wait till the hundredth page for this discussion. with the exception of some introductory pages, whose general sense, on the question of weapons, is against the lance and sword, the greater part of the first hundred pages are devoted to "reconnaissance, screening, and raids," functions none of which, least of all the third, can be performed without fighting, or at least the risk of fighting, while fighting cannot be performed without weapons. the reason probably is that the author, in arranging his scheme, instinctively tended, like all cavalry writers, to regard reconnaissance as a sphere where cavalry can confidently rely on meeting only cavalry of exactly the same stamp as themselves, and where combats will as a matter of course be decided in the old knightly fashion by charges with steel. such a state of things has no resemblance to real war. raids, for example, are invariably levelled against fixed points and stationary detachments. the author himself is acutely aware of this truth, as we shall see hereafter; but the postponement of the topic of weapons until the middle of the book is typical of the confused arrangement of the whole, a confusion attributable to the ubiquity of the rifle in all combats and the insuperable difficulty of supposing it to be an inferior weapon to the steel. it is impossible, therefore, to adhere strictly to the order in which the author arranges his treatise. i shall begin with the general chapter just referred to, and proceed, as far as possible, according to his own order from that point onwards. first of all, he finds it necessary to reject the plan of "dividing tactical principles according to the idea of the pre-arranged battle and the battle of encounter," a course which gives one an insight into the lifeless pedantry he has had to combat in the branch of military science he has made his own. unfortunately, his own classification, so far as it bears upon weapons, is little better. he distinguishes the "great battle," in which "the fighting is always of a pre-arranged nature," from "the fight of the independent cavalry," where "it is possible to distinguish between an encounter and an arranged affair." this is vague enough, but what follows is vaguer. one infers that there is to be little or no shock in the "great battle," where the cavalry "must conform to the law of other arms in great matters and small." and then he goes on: "but the fight is deeply influenced even in the former case [_i.e._, in the combats of the independent cavalry] by the co-operation of these other arms, and i believe that only in exceptional cases will a purely cavalry combat take place--at all events, on a large scale. when squadrons, regiments, and perhaps even brigades, _unassisted by other arms_, come into collision with one another, the charge may often suffice for a decision. but where it is an affair of large masses, it will never be possible to dispense with the co-operation of firearms, and in most cases a combination of cavalry combat, of dismounted fighting, and artillery action, will ensue." what lies behind this ambiguous language, which, remember, is the outcome of pure "speculation"? what principle is he trying to express? let us proceed: "we must not conceal from ourselves the fact that in a future war it will be by no means always a matter of choice whether we will fight mounted or dismounted. _rather by himself seizing the rifle will the opponent be able to compel us to adopt dismounted action._ on our manoeuvre grounds the charge on horseback is always the order of the day, as against artillery or machine-guns. the umpires continually allow such attacks to succeed, and the troops ride on as if nothing had happened. equally fearless of consequences, do they expose themselves to rifle-fire; but there are no bullets. in real war it is different." it is needless to point out that the words i have italicized destroy the whole case for the steel. they are an admission of the true principle that the rifle governs combat, whether the rifle is used by men with horses or men without horses. it is characteristic of the author that he cannot bring himself in this perilous context in set words to include cavalry among those who "seize the rifle"; but the words themselves imply it, for we do not speak of infantry "seizing the rifle." at a later point the author is a little bolder in the development of his meaning. "our probable opponents, too, will certainly often advance dismounted. at all events, they are endeavouring to strengthen cavalry divisions by cyclist battalions and infantry, _and perhaps by mounted infantry_, and thereby already show a remarkable inclination to conduct the fight, even of cavalry, with the firearm, and only to use their horses as a means of mobility, as was the custom of the boers in south africa"--and he might, of course, add, of the british mounted riflemen and of the british cavalry. if only the author, who has advanced thus far on the path of common sense, would just for one experimental moment assume an open mind on the question of the steel, assume that it may perhaps be not merely partially, but wholly obsolete, and study the boer war with real care from that point of view! he evidently thinks there is something in this idea of using horses as a means of mobility and the rifle as the operative weapon. he expressly warns his cavalry that their probable enemy is showing ominous signs of adopting this system, and that their adoption of it will force the german cavalry to conform. now mark that magical word "mobility." it is the germ of a new idea, a faint effort to escape from the dupery of phrases. hitherto he has always spoken of "dismounted action" as distinguished from "mounted" or "cavalry" combat. these phrases are always used by cavalry theorists. they take the place of argument, implying as they do that the use of the rifle reduces horsemen to the condition of infantry, robbing them of mobility and all that glamour of dash and vigour which illuminates the mounted arm. the truth lies in the contrary direction. without rifle power cavalry lose all effective mobility. they can ride about _in vacuo_, so to speak; but directly they enter the zone of rifle-fire they are paralyzed, unless they can use their horses and their rifles in effective combination. then they can do what they please. then, if necessary, they can even charge mounted, though that function is no more inseparably associated with their action than the charge at the double is inseparably associated with the action of infantry. but is it not somewhat ludicrous to describe as "dismounted action," in contradistinction to "mounted action," a charge which ends, as the boer charges ended, within point-blank or decisive range of the enemy and culminates in a murderously decisive fire-attack? the worst of it is that general von bernhardi will not analyze his own warnings and suggestions and see what they really lead him to. he appears to see in these troublesome hordes of "cyclists" and "mounted infantry" who menace the old order of things and are forcing cavalry to conform to fire by fire, only auxiliaries to the orthodox cavalry. but cavalry themselves carry the very weapon which is promoting the revolution; nor should any self-respecting, properly trained cavalry need to fortify itself from these external sources. at a later stage i shall have to show, from our own mounted infantry manual, how grotesque are the results obtained by the theoretical co-operation of steel and fire in two different types of troops. and sir john french? he has read these passages, and with one word of manly pride in the war experience of his own countrymen, home and colonial--experience bought at terrible cost, and not without bitter humiliation, in three years of "real war"--he could set the speculative german author right, illuminate the tortuous paths in which his reason strays. so far from taking this course, he proves himself more reactionary than his foreign colleague; for the reader will see at once that the spirit of passages quoted above is quite different from the spirit of sir john french's introduction. von bernhardi is alarmed by the prospect of meeting mounted riflemen who, as he knows and expressly admits, will impose upon his cavalry fire-tactics of which they are contemptuously ignorant. he is alarmed at the prospect of the hostile cavalry themselves "conducting the fight with the firearm." sir john french, as i have shown, believes, and says, that our mounted riflemen and our cavalry, if they act as such, will "become the prey of the first foreign cavalry they meet," running defenceless and helpless from the field. this is an example of the way in which cavalry science proceeds, and it is a wonder that collaborators of the eminence of general von bernhardi and general sir john french do not see the humour of the thing, to use no stronger expression. one watches with amusement the process by which the german author endeavours to soften the shock of the revelations he has just made to a cavalry acutely sensitive about its ancient traditions. one of his plans, here and in many other parts of the book, is to play with the words "offence" and "defence," which, as i pointed out in commenting on sir john french's introduction, have such a strangely perverse influence on the cavalry mind. "it lies deeply embedded in human nature," he says (p. ), "that he who feels himself the weaker will act on the defensive"; and on the next page: "in general, it may be relied upon that defence will be carried out according to tactical defensive principles, and that with the firearm." here is another example (italicized by me): "mounted, the cavalry knows only the charge, and has no defensive power, _a circumstance which strengthens it in carrying out its offensive principles by relieving its leader of the onus of choice_" (p. ). observe the idea suggested by these passages--namely, that the rifle is only a defensive weapon. subtle indirect flattery of those who carry those terrible weapons of "offence," the lance and sword! but, alas! what he calls the "offensive spirit" must accept the terms imposed by the baser weapon. "it requires an enormous amount of moral strength," he says, "to maintain the _offensive spirit_, even after an unfavourable conflict, and continually to invoke the ultimate decision anew." there is a romantic atmosphere about this which might appeal to his hearers. spent with charges, brilliant, but perhaps not wholly successful, they must resign themselves eventually to more sober, if less "knightly," methods. but this is not what he really means. he has just said that even in combats of the independent cavalry the shock-charge will occur only "in exceptional cases." the probable opponents are to "_advance_ dismounted"--in other words, to _attack_ dismounted. this, he warns the cavalry, will necessitate fire-action on their part. why talk, then, about "relief from the onus of choice"? what is to happen when both sides are at grips on terms of fire? is there a mutual deadlock, both remaining in "defence"? in that case there would be no battles and no necessity to go to war at all. surely the common sense of the matter is that the rifle rules tactics, and that, _ceteris paribus_, the best riflemen will attack and win. at heart the general believes this--his whole book is a witness to this fact--but how can he expect to get his beliefs accepted if he continually stultifies those beliefs by soothing ambiguities about the "offensive spirit"? nor does he confine himself to ambiguity. take a passage like this from p. , at the very outset of his chapter on "reconnaissance, screening, and raids": "the very essence of cavalry lies in the offensive. mounted, it is incapable of tactical defence, _but in order to defend itself_, must surrender its real character as a mounted arm, and seize the rifle on foot." (the italics are mine.) conceive the mental chaos which can produce an expression of an opinion like this at the beginning of a work designed to reform the backward german cavalry. here, stated in formal, precise terms, is the very doctrine upon which that cavalry works; which, as the author himself a hundred times assures us, is the source of all its "antiquated assumptions" and of its total unpreparedness for real war. the framers of the regulations have only to point to this passage, and then, with perfect justice, to consign all the general's tirades first to mockery and then to oblivion. sir john french, again more reactionary than his german confrère, seizes on this passage, to the exclusion of all which contradict it, and triumphantly produces his own analogous formula. to neglect the steel, he says, is to "invert the rôle of cavalry, and turn it into a defensive arm." while sir john french sticks to his point, and elaborates it even to the implicit denial of an offensive spirit to infantry, general von bernhardi is perfectly conscious of the absurdity of maintaining that it is only "in order to defend itself" that cavalry "seize the rifle" on foot. we obtain, perhaps, the best insight into his method of reasoning in a ii. ("attack and defence"). on p. he says that cavalry should "endeavour to preserve their mobility in the fight, and that mounted shock-action, _therefore_, should be regarded as its proper rôle in battle." this quotation is an excellent one for the advocates of the steel, but it would reduce to impotence any cavalry which acted upon it. and we ask immediately, what is the sense of calling shock the "proper rôle" of cavalry, when, according to the author himself, it is only to be used in exceptional cases, even in fights of the independent cavalry, and when riflemen, who advance dismounted, can render it impracticable? why not say at once that the proper or normal rôle of cavalry is fire-action, and the exceptional or abnormal rôle shock-action? the fallacy, of course, lies in the word i have italicized, "therefore," implying that mounted action and shock-action are synonymous, and that there is no mounted action without shock-action. it is natural enough that the author should turn his back on south africa and manchuria when he has to maintain such a proposition as this; but how does he reconcile it even with the facts of the american civil war, which he holds up as the most valuable guide to modern cavalry? stuart, sheridan, wilson, and the other great leaders, would have laughed at it, and they used wretchedly imperfect firearms. they rode just as far and to just as good purpose whether they used the firearm or the steel, and they fought to win, with whatever weapon was the best weapon at the moment. the general himself expresses the right idea when he says in another passage "that it is not a question whether cavalrymen should fight mounted or dismounted, but whether they are prepared and determined to take their share in the decision of an encounter, and to employ the whole of their strength _and mobility_ to that end." that is plain common sense; but how is he to get it acted upon by a cavalry to whom the very idea is strange if he calls shock the "proper rôle" of cavalry, and contrasts the "offensive spirit" inherent in it with the defensive use of the rifle? yet he redeems the rifle handsomely enough in numbers of other passages. "it must be kept in view," he says on p. , "that it is the _offensive_ on foot that the cavalry will require," and he condemns the regulation which inculcates the opposite principle and deals with the fire-fight only as a method of action from which cavalry "need not shrink." he shakes his head gravely over the ominous suggestion in the same regulation that cyclists and infantry in waggons are to be added to the army cavalry, in order, by fire, to "overcome local resistance." in a flash of insight he perceives the possibility of those heretical mounted infantry masquerading as the hostile cavalry, and necessitating cyclists and infantry in waggons to dislodge them before the "knightly combats" can be brought about. "it is a matter of significance," he solemnly observes, "that infantry in waggons may be detailed to accompany the strategic army cavalry." there will soon be a demand, he prophesies, "for infantry from the army cavalry when there is any question of a serious attack on foot, and herewith the free action of the cavalry will be limited once and for all." is there no lesson from south africa here? the fact is that the kind of thing he fears happened from the first, and continued to happen until the cavalry abandoned steel weapons and became mounted riflemen. during the first year of the war there was no independent cavalry force operating strategically without the assistance of mounted riflemen. there could not have been, because the fire-power of the cavalry was insufficient, and there is and can be no independence in modern war without a high degree of fire-power. cavalry leaders usually asked also for the tactical assistance of mounted riflemen. the theory, surviving even now in the current manuals, was that those troops were to form a "pivot" for the shock-action of cavalry. the theory, of course, was exploded from the first, and sometimes the mounted riflemen became the most effective and mobile portion of the composite force. mounted riflemen were a truly independent arm. they never asked for the assistance of cavalry on the ground that cavalry carried steel weapons. the rifle was all they cared about, and they had good rifles of their own, while the cavalry had bad carbines. the only big independent cavalry enterprise during the first year of the war--the divisional march across the eastern transvaal in october, --was a fiasco. the cavalry formed but an escort to their own transport, and developed no offensive power. von bernhardi, just now thoroughly in his fire-mood, strongly condemns the theory of dependence on other arms, which will "tie the cavalry" to the very troops from which they expect support. "the army cavalry, then, can only preserve its independence if it can rely upon its own strength even in an attack on foot." he goes on to criticize regulation no. , which lays down that "cavalry must endeavour to bring dismounted attacks to a conclusion with the utmost rapidity, so that they may regain their mobility at the earliest possible moment." the regulation, which has its counterpart in the british manual, indeed, is laughable to anyone who has seen modern war. troopers who spend per cent. of their time on exercises with the steel will necessarily attack badly, clumsily, and slowly on foot, and it is a cruel jest to tell them to attack quickly and brilliantly. in a fire-contest the best riflemen will attack the quickest and do the best. but the general wastes his breath in scolding the regulations. they are more logical than he is, because they do not seriously contemplate this derogatory work of fire. he says, indeed, that unnaturally accelerated attacks on foot by men who do not know how to attack on foot only succeed in peace, and will "lead inevitably to defeat in war," and that to set a time limit to a fire-attack is absurd; but by interspersing qualifying phrases about loss of mobility and loss of time he himself nullifies his own warnings. "the result of an attack on foot," he says (p. ), "must, of course, justify the lives expended and the time occupied, _which must both be regarded as lost in estimating the further operative value of the force_." men who read that will say: "why waste time at all, then?" it is in flagrant contradiction, of course, with his previously expressed principle that hostile fire imposes fire-action on cavalry; that there is no choice; that, whether they like it or not, they _must_ engage in this rôle, which, nevertheless, is not their "proper rôle." the clue to the confusion, as always, is his view, founded on mere word-play, that mounted action is unthinkable without shock with steel weapons. at the end of this section on "attack and defence" he continues to play into the hands of the framers of the regulations which he denounces. here is an immortal phrase: "the same holds good of the defence. _cavalry will only undertake this when absolutely obliged._" this is the kind of maxim which one finds scattered broadcast through cavalry literature--as if there could be any offence without defence, between or against whatever classes of soldiers. fancy telling infantry or artillery in so many words that they should only undertake defence when absolutely obliged! and yet they are just as much offensive arms as cavalry, and by the light of historical facts during the last century a great deal more so. i need not go into the reason again. the general is in his steel-mood, and is unconsciously limiting offence to the steel weapons. the next instant he is in his fire-mood, pointing out that, however much cavalry in defence may yearn once more for "free movement" (he means shock), they must be prepared on occasion to defend themselves--_i.e._, with fire--to the last man. and he very aptly illustrates from the manchurian war (which at an earlier point he had said to be without interest for cavalry), pointing to the stubborn defence of sandepu by a japanese cavalry brigade. we cannot help wishing that sir john french would quote and confirm an opinion like this, flatly contradicted though it is a little later,[ ] and use his influence to erase from our own cavalry manual (p. ) that disastrous injunction that the defences of a position which cavalry have to hold should be "limited to those of the simplest kind." if the words "attack" and "defence" have a fatal fascination for both the german and the british authors, general von bernhardi is equally influenced by another verbal formula, and that is "the combination of cavalry combat" (or, what is the same thing to him, mounted combat--that is, shock-combat) "with dismounted fighting." "the rôle of cavalry in the fight will then apparently consist," he says on page , "of a combination of the various methods of fighting." it is a tempting formula, tempting by its very vagueness, and calculated on that account to appeal, perhaps, to the less hopelessly conservative german cavalry officers; but it remains throughout his book literally a formula. how the thing is to be done in practice, how shock is to be "combined" with fire, he never attempts, even from a speculative point of view, to explain. it may sound perhaps easy enough. in the war of - , which he professes to take as his model, it undoubtedly was possible, if by no means easy. but times have changed. the modern rifle, whose profound influence on combat he admits, has made impossible the old formations. in his own phrase, it has revolutionized war. it enforces a degree of extension which renders impracticable those sudden transformations to close mass which alone can lead to shock, while the zone of danger it creates is so far-reaching that these mass formations on horseback cannot subsist. the conditions which used to permit leaders to resolve on shock have vanished. the fire-zone used to be so limited that bodies of cavalry could hang on its outer limit, and seize the rare opportunities which might arise for a short gallop ending in shock. now we have to deal with artillery and rifles of immense range and deadliness. and if by a miracle you do get into close quarters in your mass formation, you find--crowning disillusionment!--nothing solid on which to exert shock. you used to find it a century ago, because men used to fight in close order, but science has altered that. however, that point does not immediately arise from the question of "combination." the narrow issue there is how to effect the transition from fire to shock, and there is not a word in this volume to elucidate the point. there is not a word in our own cavalry manual. the thing has never been done in modern war. the combination of shock and fire tactics is an academical speculation. what we know is that shock has failed, and that the open-order rifle-charge, which has superseded the shock-charge, is evolved naturally from the fire-fight. you must, in the words of lord roberts, fight up to the charge, if charge there be; but you can win, as infantry can win, without any mounted charge at all. footnotes: [footnote : see _infra_, pp. - .] chapter v tactics against the various arms i.--the purely cavalry fight. ("_das rein reiterliche gefecht._") these two sections which i have been criticizing will give the reader a general idea of the way in which von bernhardi regards the action of cavalry in modern war, and of the perplexities which beset him through mingling of the old philosophy and the new. let us follow him through subsequent sections of head b ("action of cavalry"). the third section deals with "cavalry in combat against the various arms, mounted and dismounted," and he first deals with what he calls the "purely cavalry fight," which he now assumes to be a fight with the steel against other cavalry. we must remember that if either side elects to use the rifle; or if the ground is unsuitable (and on page he argues at length that "possible european theatres of war are but little suitable for charges," and that suitable areas are only found in peace by deliberate selection); or if either side, from numerical weakness or choice, is acting on the "defensive" (defence with the steel being _ex hypothesi_ impossible), this steel combat will not take place. under the circumstances it seems scarcely worth while to talk about it, but let us waive that objection. we at once become impressed with a very remarkable fact--namely, that after all the centuries, extending far back into the mists of time, during which the mounted steel-combat has been used, its most learned and enthusiastic advocates cannot at this day agree upon the elementary rules for its conduct. observe that i am excluding the modifications caused by missile weapons. following the author, i am assuming a combat between two bodies of cavalry who decline to use their firearms, and mutually agree to collide with steel weapons on horseback, outside the zone of fire, on a piece of level ground without physical obstruction. for this type of combat the conditions are the same as in the year one. the three factors--horse, man, and steel weapon--have undergone no appreciable change, and by this time the rules ought to be fixed. yet we find the general at once falling into tirades against erroneous systems, and bitterly denouncing the regulations of his own army. "the lance," we learn on page , "is the cavalryman's most important weapon," yet the drill laid down for the lance the author declares to be worthless. "no one would fight in this manner in war; how this is to be done our men are not really taught." what a confession after all these ages, from the crusades onwards! and if the lance is really the most important weapon, and if sir john french really believes, as he says he believes, in the infallibility of general von bernhardi, why has he not seen to it that all british cavalry regiments are armed with lances? it would seem to be mad folly to permit our hussars to go into battle destitute of their "most important weapon." but let us look a little closer into the characteristics of this terrible weapon. on page we learn that "in the close turmoil of the fight it is very difficult to handle with success, besides which it easily becomes unserviceable on striking an object too heavily. should it pierce a body at the full speed of a horse's gallop, it will generally bend on being drawn out (if, indeed, the rider in his haste extricates it at all), and then becomes unserviceable." so there must be a sword also, which is to be drawn, apparently, on the instant after the impalement of the first hostile horseman. our own authorities take a brighter view. in their manual the trooper is bidden to impale the foe through and through with his lance, but he is to "withdraw it with ease from the object into which it has been driven." on the other hand, the object in question is to be represented in peace by a sack filled with chopped hay or a clay dummy, neither of them objects of a texture quite adequate to the purpose (see "cavalry training," pp. - ). it is almost cruel to lift the veil from these domestic mysteries and differences, and, indeed, i am almost afraid my readers will suspect me of quoting, not from eulogies, but from skits on the _arme blanche_. but the words are there for anyone who cares to look them up, and i ask, is not it almost inconceivable that serious soldiers in the year of grace , when war is a really serious matter of scientific weapons, should solemnly call a weapon with such characteristics the most important weapon of the cavalryman? needless to say, the author himself refutes his own proposition in a hundred passages of this very work. but sir john french ignores those passages, and in his own introduction pens a warm defence of the lance; though whether he believes in the "pin-prick policy" which the german authority seems to advocate, or in the plan of "striking the object heavily" at all costs, he does not inform us. after all, it matters little. the taxpayer need not quail at the expense of providing fresh lances to every regiment after every charge. the rest of the world looks on with languid interest while the cavalry authorities carry on their solemn controversies as to the relative merits of steel weapons used from horseback. even in the franco-german war the killing effect of lances and swords was negligible. six germans were killed by the sabre, and perhaps as many by the lance. of the total of german casualties from the sabre and clubbed musket, were in the cavalry, whose total losses by fire and steel combined were , . in the great civilized wars since the invention of the smokeless magazine rifle the casualties from lance and sword have reached vanishing-point. but if lances and swords are harmless to the enemy, they are emphatically harmful to those who carry them. they not only inspire the wrong spirit, but they mean extra weight and additional visibility. sir john french (p. xvi) cheerfully defies physical laws. he scouts the idea that "a thin bamboo pole will reveal the position of a mounted man to the enemy." that is one of the fond illusions of peace. and in peace even a short-sighted layman could prove the contrary by ocular demonstration, and digest the moral, too, by watching lancers operating among the lanes and hedges of england. in war there are field-glasses--and bullets. it is the same with tactics as with weapons. the german author is for the knee-to-knee riding of frederick the great, as opposed to the looser stirrup-to-stirrup riding which has been introduced because "the modern firearm obliges us to take refuge in broken country, where the closest touch cannot always be kept." a pretty sound reason, we should imagine, but the general will have none of it, and i think this passage is the only one in the book where he disagrees with the regulations in the matter of a concession to the modern rifle. generally it is the other way, and, indeed, it is a most bizarre paradox to hear him calling upon the shades of "frederick the great, seydlitz, and the prominent napoleonic leaders," after saying at the beginning of the book that the wars of these heroes "presented a total absence of analogy" to modern cavalry students. reverting suddenly to common sense, he goes on to denounce the rally from the mêlée, which all cavalry, including our own, assiduously practise in peace. the motive for this wonderful manoeuvre is "that troops may quickly be got in hand ready to be led against a fresh foe." "it is astounding," he complains, "that we should give way to such self-deception." rallies are "delightfully easy in peace," but an "absolute impossibility in war." the troops who have charged are apparently to be useless for any purpose whatever for an indefinite period, and strong supporting squadrons immediately behind them must carry on the fight. but the new regulations do not allow for these supports. what do they enjoin? we are not told here, and have to look in another part of the book under "depth and echelon" (p. _et seq._), when, calling once more upon frederick the great and napoleon, he attacks in unmeasured terms, as the offspring of mere "peace requirements," the german system of echelon formation, which leads to "tactical orgies" at manoeuvres. echelon apparently is designed to permit of easy changes of front, but in war the opportunity for such changes "never--literally never--occurs." and yet somehow we sympathize with the framers of the regulations. read their inimitable disquisition on echelon, quoted as a footnote on page . "in the collisions of cavalry" there is going to be "uncertainty as to the strength and intentions of the enemy." but cavalry acting against cavalry (supposing, we wonder, they turn out _not_ to be cavalry?) never demean themselves by dismounting to reconnoitre. they reconnoitre for one another in mass, and gain the necessary "flexibility" by echelon--if need be, by a double echelon. when they find the enemy, they can at the last moment, if necessary, change front completely, and have at them. "if this did occur," says the general, "it would presuppose the entire failure of reconnaissance, and the corresponding incapacity of the leader." he proceeds to a pitiless exposure of the puerilities and unrealities of the system; but, to tell the truth, the exposure excites only a feeble interest. insensibly he trenches on the realms of fire, and immediately stultifies his own appeals to frederick the great and napoleon. after pages of obscure lucubration about cavalry combat, he suddenly envisages (p. ) what is, of course, the invariable case, when "total uncertainty prevails as to whether the combat will be carried out mounted or dismounted," and says that in such cases there can be no "stereotyped tactical formations either of units or of smaller bodies within them." "cadit quæstio," we exclaim, with relief. why appeal to frederick the great? in "formations for movement" (pp. - ) he continues his unconscious _reductio ad absurdum_ of shock. "movements in such close formation right up to the moment of deployment" (and he describes those enjoined by the regulations) "cannot go unpunished upon a modern battle-field." the regulations "cannot be regarded as practical," and are "pretexts for hidebound drill enthusiasts." it is all very well, but these hidebound gentlemen are perfectly right in their own way. they are following his own models, frederick the great and napoleon, in whose days such movements were perfectly possible. they _believe_ in shock and minimize fire, and their regulations, if unpractical, are at least logical. ii.--the charge upon infantry. so much for the "purely cavalry fight." we come on page to the mounted charge upon dismounted riflemen, whom, in the manner usual with cavalry writers, he assumes to be infantry, though it is obvious, of course, that they may be unconventional cavalry, who, from a sense of fun or a sane instinct for fighting, have determined to play a practical joke on devotees of the pure faith. here both he and the regulations are up to a certain point in harmony with one another. as a concession to modern conditions, the charge is to be in _extended order_. here the general has changed his views since writing "cavalry in future wars." there the principles of frederick the great were supreme in all charges, with just a faint concession towards a "loosening of the files" in a charge against infantry. now "wide intervals" are to be employed. sir john french ignores the change of view on an absolutely vital point of tactics, but allows us to infer that he, one of the very men who saw the imperative necessity for the new view, favours the old view; for he described von bernhardi's first book as absolutely complete and faultless. to return, however, to the german author. it is amazing that, having reached this point, he should not trouble to investigate the phenomena of modern war with a view to finding out what actually happens in an extended change of this sort. he writes in the clouds, just as though there were not a mass of experience bearing on the point. the experience, which a child can understand, amounts to this: if you extend, and, _a fortiori_, if your enemy is extended also, you lose all hope of "shock," that is, of physical impact; and with the loss of this impact you lose the fundamental condition precedent to the successful use of steel weapons on horseback--the condition which frederick the great's leaders had, but which ours have not. you also lose momentum, speed, because the modern rifle, by immensely widening the bullet-swept zone, necessitates a far longer gallop for the charging force. the german regulations realize this, for they enjoin a slower pace, expressly on the ground that "impact" is not to be aimed at. very well: no shock; comparatively low speed. what is going to happen? your steel charge is useless. individual troopers, bound by their code of honour to remain in the saddle, and pitted against individual riflemen on foot, are helpless, an object of derision to gods and men. our own infantry manual openly treats them as helpless and negligible, and in a few curt lines gives directions, proved in war to be sound, for the event of such a charge, should it take place. but, in fact, it does not take place. our cavalry in south africa had literally thousands of chances of making such charges, supposing that they were feasible. but they were not; instinctively the leaders felt that they were not, and ceased to think of making them. at the time when, if ever, any given leader should have made up his mind to charge, he was, unfortunately, as a general rule, in that condition of painful "uncertainty as to the strength and intentions of the enemy," to which the german regulations allude. he could not, in the german fashion, ride about in mass to reconnoitre, because the boers, perversely refusing to believe in the tactics of frederick the great, did not co-operate in the game. he had, therefore, the choice between idleness and fire-action. he chose fire-action, and once engaged in fire-action, he found that he had to stick to it. it was physically impossible to "combine" fire-action and steel-action, even if there had been an opening for steel-action, which there was not. that is the whole story, and sir john french, if he chose, could tell general von bernhardi all about it. i believe sir john french himself never saw a boer or british mounted riflemen's charge, but he ought to know the evidence on the point; it is extensive and precise.[ ] it goes to show that it is sometimes possible, even against the modern rifle, to charge in widely extended order, even at a canter, and even into close quarters, on horseback; but it can be done only by fighting up to the charge in the normal way of fire-action, and by casting to the winds the ancient notion that it is beneath a trooper to dismount. sooner or later he has _got_ to dismount, so as to use effective aimed fire against the riflemen opposed to him. they will not mind his sword, whose range is a couple of yards, while their weapon is of any range you please, and squirts bullets like a hose. frederick the great's infantry firearm was another matter. even in - , as von bernhardi would discover if he cared to look close enough into his own chosen war, steel-charges by cavalry against infantry eventually became extinct. the confederate infantry used to jeer at the futile efforts of the federal cavalry. needless to say, the german regulations only touch the fringe of what is practicable. it is only the leading line, they lay down, and not necessarily the whole even of that, which is to adopt wide intervals. von bernhardi easily shows the folly of these half-measures, and of the "arbitrary assumption that a line of cavalry , or , yards wide can cross a mile of country stirrup to stirrup at the regulation pace of the charge" (p. ). iii.--the dismounted attack by cavalry. we pass to the dismounted attack by cavalry, and the reader will realize now, if he has not before, that it is due to unfamiliarity with the technique and true possibilities of fire-action that the general clings to the discredited tactics of frederick the great in defiance of his professed enthusiasm for the rifle. for the dismounted attack by cavalry, "the principles," he says, "are the same as for an attack by infantry" (p. ). but the led horses render the business "considerably more difficult." "there is also a certain difference according as the opponent is cavalry or infantry"; for in the former case he may charge your led horses. it is here and in the pages which follow that the reader can get the clearest insight into the mental attitude of cavalrymen towards that arbiter of modern war, the rifle. all turns on the magical word "cavalry," which derives its significance from the _arme blanche_. those weapons give cavalry their "proper rôle." if under stress of fire they "abandon" this rôle, they become infantry; but they are worse off than infantry, because they are embarrassed by their led horses, which present difficulties from which infantry are free. the horse becomes a danger and an encumbrance, just as sir john french tacitly assumes it to become, when he says that mounted riflemen always flee defenceless before good cavalry, while infantry show "tenacity and stiffness." no wonder, then, that cavalrymen grow indignant at the criticism of their steel weapons. it is bad enough to be converted into a hybrid between good cavalry and bad infantry, but it is worse still to undergo a metamorphosis into a pure type of bad infantry, that is, into mounted riflemen. if we once grasp this point of view, we bring light into this tangled controversy, and we can bring into sharp contrast the rational point of view, as the facts of war demonstrate it. we perceive instantly the falsity of the antithesis between the weapon and the horse. the mounted rifleman is a foot rifleman plus a horse, and the horse is not an embarrassing encumbrance, but a source of enhanced power. it is the intrusion of the steel weapons, not the intrusion of the horses, which introduces "difficulties." witness von bernhardi's own scathing exposure of the german regulations for combat with the steel. space forbids me to follow him far into his remarks upon his bugbear, the led horses. there are probably about , persons now living who, by war experience, know more than he does about this purely technical question; yet he spins feverish dreams about it out of his own brain, without a glance at the rich and varied material provided by three years of war in south africa; without a glance at manchuria, where the japanese cavalry converted themselves into excellent mounted riflemen; without a glance even at the american methods of - , where the problems that worry him were successfully solved. as usual, he has no difficulty in exposing the absurdities of the regulations, but his own comments and suggestions are sometimes even less admissible. behind the incubus of the horse we perceive that additional incubus, the lance. he pictures the unhappy horse-holders wrestling ("a practical impossibility") with armfuls of lances, as the regulations bid them (p. ), and concludes that if you are to make these men guardians, not only of the horses, but of these precious but exacting impedimenta, it will not do to detail only one man out of four to act as horseholder. on the other hand, if you detach more, you weaken the firing line so much that the whole business becomes scarcely worth while. and yet, if you don't weaken the firing line, how are you to guard the led horses against attack from some other quarter? they, it appears, must have a complete firing line of their own. but, disregarding this necessity, the regulations contemplate reinforcing the main firing-line from the horse-holders (p. ), so making the armfuls of lances still bigger. and then what is to happen if, in a "real fight," the brigade wants to advance and the brigadier is told it can't, because some of the horse-holders are fighting, and the lance-encumbered remnant cannot move? and so on. he seems, so far as i understand him, eventually to throw up in despair the problem of keeping the led horses "mobile," and to fall back on the plan of "immobility," a plan which he himself in several passages admits can be used only when there is no likelihood whatever of any sudden call upon the led horses either for advance or retreat. if the regulations, as he says, are "not suitable for real war," neither is his counsel of despair. the chapter is quite enough to cure the most liberal-minded cavalryman of his last lingering inclination towards fire-action, even though he is told that fire-action _must_ be used in all but "exceptional cases." "abandon my proper rôle for this?" he might answer. "no. my proper rôle is good enough for me, as it was good enough for frederick the great." there is worse to come; but let me comment here upon the astounding fact that sir john french should regard chapters like this as sound instruction for war. our cavalry profess, at any rate, to have now solved the lance-problem during fire-action by their latest method of carrying the lance. but that is a minor point. it is the ignorance of, and pessimism towards, fire-action, as disclosed in this and subsequent chapters, which ought chiefly to strike english readers. and all sir john french has to say is that "we expose our ignorance and conceit" in accepting the teaching of our own war experience, and that our duty is to assimilate the best foreign customs. footnotes: [footnote : see "war and the _arme blanche_," chapter xi.] chapter vi the fight of the independent cavalry i.--german views. from his general remarks on the action of cavalry, mounted or dismounted, against the various arms, mounted or dismounted, the author passes to "iv.--the fight of the independent cavalry" (p. ), and the reader almost at once finds himself straying in a fog caused by the author's refusal to face straightforwardly the simple dominant fact that "cavalry" are also riflemen. what does "independent" mean? one would naturally assume it to mean what it means in our own cavalry's phraseology, the "strategical" cavalry which operates on a self-supporting independent basis, as distinguished from the divisional cavalry, which is attached to, and dependent on, the various infantry divisions. and this is the signification which the author gives to it in the opening words of the chapter. "such fights," he says, "will occur during the offensive reconnaissance of the cavalry, in screening, and in enterprises against the enemy's communication and lines of approach" (that is, in raids), functions which are classified in the same order in the early part of the book as the normal functions of the independent cavalry, operating, in the first instance at any rate, against a hostile independent cavalry of the same stamp and vested with corresponding functions. we expect, accordingly, to hear a great deal about the "purely cavalry fight," or shock-combat; but, to our bewilderment, after less than a page of exceedingly obscure reference to the "exceptional cases," where, owing to the absence of "other arms," such combats occur, the author proceeds to examine what he evidently regards as the normal case, "when the co-operation of other arms can seriously be counted on," and the whole of the forty-eight pages which follow implicitly assume that other arms, whether in the shape of artillery, infantry, cyclists, or what he vaguely calls "partisans," are present. artillery alone are enough, he says, to scatter to the winds "purely cavalry tactical principles," and "to set the stamp of fire upon the development of the fight" (p. ). the unfortunate cavalry subaltern must feel the ground sinking under his feet. the book he is studying, "cavalry in war and peace," is a treatise for cavalry on purely cavalry tactical principles, and yet these principles cease to exist if even artillery are on the scene, as in most normal cases it is assumed to be on the scene. both in germany and in england horse artillery is a recognized and integral part of the independent cavalry force whose functions the author is now considering. what is more, rifles are an invariable factor in the same force, german or english, or, indeed, in any force of cavalry of whatever size, and however engaged, because they are carried by the cavalry troopers themselves. and rifles, as the author will soon explain, make still worse havoc of purely cavalry tactical principles. in other words, there _are_ no such principles. we may cut the matter short by merely advising the reader to solve his perplexities in the succeeding chapters by substituting for the word "cavalry," whenever it occurs, the words "mounted riflemen," which, steel weapons apart, are what cavalry are. there he will have a key to most of the contradictions and ambiguities, and can form his own opinion on the lucidity and force of the injunctions laid down. the truth is that the general, in speaking of "other arms," really means not only other arms of the service (_i.e._, infantry and artillery), but other _weapons_, as distinguished from lances and swords, carried by cavalry themselves--that is, _rifles_. armed with this clue, let us begin. we must classify, says the author, with his critical eye on the regulations, "for if we take all the various principles evolved from different tactical situations, and jumble them illogically together, or discuss them from points of view which are not closely based on the probable happenings of reality, we run a danger of confusing the judgment instead of clearing it." he proceeds himself to involve our judgments in irremediable confusion. first of all, fights, according to the old phrase, are either offensive or defensive. offensive fights are of two sorts: "battles of encounter," where the "enemy is also pressing forward," and "attacks against localities or positions." defensive fights are of only one main character: they require the defence of localities, positions, and defiles. then, in quite a separate category, comes a third class of fights--namely, "surprises, which merit separate consideration"--a consideration, it may be noted, that they never get. the author forgets all about them. it matters little. his classification as it stands is as far removed from the "happenings of reality" as any classification could be; and to divorce surprise, generally supposed to be the soul of all mounted action (because horses mean high mobility) from "battles of encounter," "attacks on localities," and other sorts of fights, is only to supply the crowning element of unreality. it must be remembered that his most comprehensive classification (of which the above is a subdivision) distinguishes between "the fight of the independent cavalry" and the "action of cavalry in battle," by which latter phrase he means the great battle of all arms; and that battle, he has said, is "always of a pre-arranged nature"--that is, lacking in opportunities for surprise. one would have imagined, therefore, that if he wanted an antithesis between surprise and something else, he would oppose the pre-arranged battle to the fight of the independent cavalry. not so. "surprises" are left out in the cold and eventually forgotten. and what of these other sorts of fights defined under their various heads? perhaps i had better take them in detail, rather than attempt a general diagnosis. what is the battle of encounter? i have collected all the allusions i can find to this battle, in the hope of supplying an intelligible definition, but have to admit failure. on page it is distinguished from an "arranged affair," a distinction which in peace suggests those carefully-planned "knightly combats" on level pieces of ground, but which in war does not carry us very far. on page , however, the special case of a battle of encounter where "an opponent is unexpectedly met with," receives separate consideration. on page it seems to denote the case "where the enemy is also pressing forward," again a somewhat nebulous description, for it is the common way of enemies to press forward. on page one thinks for a moment that it is to be confined to "lesser bodies of cavalry, unaccompanied by other arms"; but one speedily finds allusion to "larger bodies of cavalry, accompanied by a proportion of other arms," and the co-operation of other arms becomes the predominant feature of the whole discussion. yet on page , in discussing the action of the army cavalry on the flank of a great battle, the author speaks of a battle of encounter between the rival cavalry masses, as though this type of fight were confined to cavalry. again, on page it is held to include the passage of defiles, though the defence of defiles, a function which is the necessary counterpart of the passage of defiles, is, as we have seen, regarded as belonging to a separate type of combat. we have noted also the distinction between the battles of encounter and "attacks of localities," and between these latter and the defence of localities (as though there were any antithesis between an encounter on the one hand and an attack or defence on the other!). but what is a "locality," an attack on which is distinguished from a battle of encounter? here is a fresh mystery. a "locality," on page , is distinguished from a "prepared position," which cavalry, he says here, are never to attack or defend,[ ] and it appears, in fact, to be simply a place on which troops are (a "place within the meaning of the act," we cannot help exclaiming). in the first words of the section on "attack of localities" this attack is explained as one upon "an enemy who takes up a defensive attitude." if, therefore, in a battle of encounter, when both sides are "pressing forward," one side or the other halts temporarily (without preparing or entrenching a position), the other side is in the position of attacking a locality; and if the former party repulses the attack and resumes its advance, then the position is reversed. or if there is a temporary equilibrium in the fight, when neither party can make headway, then both are attacking and both are defending localities. but some such phenomena as these are common to all combats. where, then, is the battle of encounter? this is no idle question, and these are no hair-splitting criticisms, because the rules are held to differ in important respects in these various types of combats. in the battle of encounter there are some exceedingly dim indications of an opening for the steel, but an attack upon a "locality" "_can obviously only be carried out dismounted_" (p. ). pass by the old fallacious antagonism between mounted action and rifle action, and regard the essence of this proposition. once again you have the refutation of the steel theory. the sentence means "fire governs combat." he who fires compels his enemy to accept combat on terms of fire. but "where am i?" the harassed student may exclaim. "what of these steel-charges against extended infantry (and, by inference, against dismounted cavalry), whose fire enforced extension in the attacking cavalry?" well, let him read on. there is hope yet. for immediately after saying that an attack upon an enemy who takes up a defensive attitude can obviously only be carried out dismounted, he adds the sinister words: "it must be a matter, therefore, for serious consideration, whether such an operation shall be undertaken or not." the truth is that he has suddenly remembered those tiresome led horses. "there must be considerable numerical superiority to insure success." there must be a dismounted reserve for fire purposes, and a mounted reserve to secure the safety of the led horses, and "for reconnaissance and for operating against the enemy's flank and rear"; and then follows an acrimonious wrangle with the regulations on the question of making one reserve, and that mounted, perform incompatible and contradictory functions. but, as usual, our sympathies are with the regulations. "should the cavalry commander not have at his disposal sufficient force to meet all these demands," says the general, "he will be generally better advised to abstain from the attack and to carry out his mission in some other manner...." "it is only when conscious of great moral and tactical superiority, or when there is any prospect of surprising the enemy, that an attack should be dared without the necessary numerical preponderance" (p. ). in other words, after his _reductio ad absurdum_ of the steel, the writer in the next breath proceeds to an equally conclusive _reductio ad absurdum_ of the rifle. any cavalry leader who acted on the general's principles would be instantly sent home in disgrace. according to these principles, numerically equal bodies of cavalry cannot fight one another at all unless in those "exceptional cases" where the ground is favourable for the "purely cavalry fight," when there are no other arms to complicate the situation, and where neither side even for a moment "takes up a defensive attitude" for any purpose whatever. if any one of these conditions is unsatisfied, the numerically equal forces are mutually paralyzed, and each must seek to "carry out its mission in some other manner." but, alas! by hypothesis there is no other manner. "the attack obviously can only be made dismounted." presumably, then, these cavalries are to do nothing at all in modern war. i am not making an unfair use of isolated passages. in later portions of his work the general frequently repeats his warnings against fire-action without great numerical and moral superiority, though not, perhaps, so frequently and emphatically as he inveighs against impracticable shock-action. under "viii.--the various units in the fight" (p. ), we learn that a "squadron is generally too weak to carry out an offensive fight on foot." by the time you have abstracted horse-holders, "mounted and dismounted reserves," and "patrols and sentries," there is nothing left with which to fight. similarly, a squadron must never "undertake a defensive fight on foot unless absolutely necessary, or when the led horses can be disposed in a safe place in the neighbourhood, where the flanks cannot be turned, or where the arrival of reinforcements can be relied on." observe that there is no limitation here as to the strength of the enemy, no demand for numerical or moral superiority. the rule is almost absolute. a squadron can only charge on horseback. so that in average enclosed country, where charges cannot be arranged, two opposed squadrons must maintain a masterly inactivity. we think of the isolated "zarps" at bergendal in their desperate defence against enormous odds, and of the griqualanders who defied a division of cavalry for a whole day at dronfield. but the general is far from stopping with the squadron. "the _regiment_ will seldom be called upon to fight independently, but will operate in more or less close co-operation with other troops." it can act dismounted, but only "against weaker hostile detachments." in defence, however, it is "formidable," because--strange reason--it can detach two whole squadrons to guard the led horses! well, it is no wonder that the author neglects and discourages the study of modern war. supposing de wet, for example, had acted on his principles! his brilliant intervention at paardeberg was made with men. or go to manchuria. naganuma's masterly raid of january to february, , when he rode round the russian army and blew up the great bridge of hsin-kai-ho, was made with cavalrymen, who acted throughout solely by fire, and would have been impotent without it. the author professes to admire the exploits of the americans in - . what does he suppose their cavalry leaders would have thought of his theories? the brigade of two regiments, we learn next, is almost as feeble a unit as a regiment. "it cannot," he says vaguely, "engage an opponent of any strength who may have to be dealt with by mounted or dismounted action, or the two in combination." "in view of its small offensive power, it will run a great risk of suffering defeat, _especially when dismounted_." in defence, "if the led horses do not require too large an escort," etc., it "may be an important factor of strength." the division of six regiments (of men per regiment) is a somewhat more useful unit. "if its full strength can be employed in the charge," it "represents, even against troops using the rifle" (what troops? of what strength?), "a considerable fighting power." nevertheless, it can attack "only weak detachments with a prospect of success." "the resistance of a body of equal strength" (a body of what? how composed?) "when circumstances demand a dismounted attack can never be overcome." mounted, however, and "charging in close formation," it can attack even a stronger enemy (what sort of enemy?), "regardless of consequences." finally, a corps of two divisions "can aim at decisive results," and, alone of all units, can engage in "independent strategic missions," which we may suppose, without further explanation, to mean raids. but in these "fire-power is an important factor," and it is hinted that even the corps will not have enough fire-power. the general complains that his writings "fall on barren soil." well they may. antiquated as the methods of the german cavalry are, they at any rate intend to fight. a cavalry educated on the maxims of the author might as well be left at home. and this is the author that sir john french, who knows what our own mounted riflemen did in south africa, holds up as a model to our cavalry. he has not one word of criticism, not a single reservation, to make on any of the passages i have quoted. on the contrary, he tells our men, in general terms, that it is all true, and implies that the greatest of his compatriot soldiers, lord roberts, makes "appeals from vanity to ignorance." a perusal of this chapter, and of sir john french's effusive eulogy, ought to make every british soldier, home or colonial, indignant. its conclusion (pp. - ) is not the least remarkable part of it. "it will seldom be possible," says the general, conscious, seemingly, that his counsels have not been vividly luminous, "and generally unnecessary to undertake or carry out the very best course of action, for we may certainly count on numerous errors and vacillations on the part of the enemy, _especially in the case of cavalry warfare_." well, we may heartily endorse the words i have italicized. then, as a last desperate resort, come high-sounding generalities. "the indomitable will to conquer carries with it a considerable guarantee of success ... and the offensive is the weapon with which he [the cavalry leader] can best enforce his will." offensive! the reader may infer from the passages i have quoted that it is not necessary to examine in close detail the general's instructions for the "battle of encounter" and the "attack of localities." he will trip at every ambiguous sentence, baffled by contradictions or qualifications somewhere else, and perpetually befogged either by the vague word "enemy" or the implied distinction between "cavalry" and "other arms"--a distinction which is generally irrelevant, since all arms are linked together by that great common denominator, the firearm. i have already noted how the presence of artillery dissipates "purely cavalry tactical principles." modern artillery fire, he says, necessitates deployment at , yards from the enemy at least. that is nearly four miles away, and the questions at once arise, who are these invisible troops with artillery? what is their strength and composition? have they some of those troublesome cyclists and infantry, or some of those unorthodox mounted infantry or cavalry acting improperly as mounted infantry, who will make an additional complication in a situation already compromised by artillery? the german regulations are superbly indifferent to these questions, and accordingly come in for fresh condemnation. cavalry are supposed to know at four miles what the composition, strength, and intentions of the enemy are, and if the enemy is cavalry (the cyclists and infantry prescribed by the regulations themselves are ignored), the echelon system (previously outlined) is to provide for all contingencies. the author pitilessly dissects this childlike scheme. "in peace manoeuvres," he remarks caustically, "there is always a tacit understanding that the enemy is no stronger than one's own force." in war it is otherwise. to clear up the situation "energetic contact with the enemy by fire-action is necessary." "only by a protracted action can the enemy be forced to disclose his strength and intentions," and "a protracted fight can only be carried out by fire-action." perfectly sound, we agree; and then we remember, with a start, those terrible led horses, and the doctrines founded on them. "it is only when conscious of a great moral and tactical superiority, or when there is any prospect of surprising the enemy, that an attack should be dared without the necessary numerical preponderance." in other words, the author once more categorically contradicts himself. after first saying that fire-action--and "protracted," "energetic" fire-action--is the only means of forcing the enemy to disclose his strength and intentions, he adds in the next breath that such action is on no account to be undertaken unless the enemy's strength is already known, and he is known to be greatly inferior, either numerically, or tactically and morally! is it any matter of surprise that the germans are slow to listen to general von bernhardi? the same deadly instinct for self-refutation dogs the general through his satire on the regulation method of "passing a defile" (p. ). in peace "one side is kept as far from the defile as possible, in order that the passage on the other side may be possible," and that both may have the luxury of a knightly combat. these practices the general prophesies will lead to "enormous losses in war," and he pleads for a modicum of commonplace fire-action. "whether," he gravely remarks, "the attack be undertaken mounted or dismounted will depend upon the attitude of the enemy and the attendant circumstances." yes, but we know from other sources what that means--namely, that if the enemy shows a "defensive attitude," the attack will be by fire; but that there will be no attack at all, even so, unless he is greatly inferior, either morally and tactically or numerically. later we have a condemnation of regulation no. , which directs the army cavalry, not only to drive the hostile cavalry from the field, but to press back or break through "detachments of all arms." "i cannot conceive," says the general, "any real case in which cavalry can break through hostile detachments of all arms." poor cavalry! if mounted riflemen laboured under such a disability, there would have been no south african war at all--literally none. then regulation no. falls a victim. it is certainly an easy prey. "personal observation [_i.e._, by the commander] is always the best, and is _essential in the case of offensive action against cavalry_." the regulations, of course, assume that both cavalries disdain to use their rifles, and whirl about in huge ordered masses up to the moment of contact; but the author plaintively argues that fire rules the situation, and makes the zone of combat such that it is utterly impossible for one individual to have ocular perception of all that is going on. "one brigade will often fight on foot, the other mounted," he complains, "so that a handling of a division according to rule is practically impossible." true comment, but how futile! then, conscious (as he so often is conscious) that his counsels may have a damping effect on his hearers, he ends in a burst of poetry. "the enemy's fire must not paralyze the idea of offensive action" (he means shock, though he does not like to say so). "we must act 'regardless of consequences,' 'wrest victory,'" etc., according to the hackneyed cavalry phraseology, upon which modern war throws such a pitilessly searching light. the next section, "attack of localities," needs little further comment. this attack must be done exclusively by fire, but in practice it can never be done. that is the only deduction we can arrive at. but there is one highly important point. at the end of the section the bewildered reader finds himself involved in a lengthy discussion on the sword and lance in mounted combat--a discussion from which i have already quoted, and which arises out of a radically false analogy between those steel weapons and the bayonet carried by the foot-soldier. if cavalry have to do the same work as infantry, should not they carry bayonets? that is how the debate arises. it is an interesting debate, on which anyone must frankly admit there may be legitimate difference of opinion. even for infantry the bayonet is somewhat under a cloud, as the general himself contends; and mounted infantry, or cavalry acting as such, have powers of surprise and envelopment derived from the horse which may perhaps be held to compensate them for the doubtful advantage of a bayonet. instead of reasoning thus, the general treats the bayonet only as a possible _substitute_ for the sword, and rejects it on that ground. but what has the sword to do with the bayonet? the sword is meant for use on horseback; the bayonet is fixed to the rifle, and is used on foot as a factor in fire-tactics. the essence of the whole controversy we are engaged upon is whether it is any longer possible in modern war to fight on _horseback_, and whether the rifle should not be the weapon _par excellence_ of mounted troops. whether you reinforce it with the bayonet or not is a distinct question, which has no relation whatever to the value of the sword and lance. it seems absolutely hopeless to get this distinction grasped. over and over again in the letters and articles on this controversy the same old fallacy recurs, and, as i shall show later, it influences the german general more deeply than he realizes. the section on "defence" (p. ) is short, and mainly consists of the elaborated truism that all defence should have an offensive character. the general seems to think that this maxim applies especially to cavalry. it is the old delusion that cavalry is a more offensive arm than infantry, and it leads him inexorably to the fatal conclusion that cavalry cannot be trusted to undertake a "completely passive defence." they will only attempt to do so--but observe the comprehensive breadth of the exceptions--when it is a case of "holding a crossing over some obstacle, defending an isolated locality, or gaining time." in these cases a retirement may be involved "which is difficult to carry out on account of the led horses, and _should only be attempted in very favourable country_. it demands that the fight shall be broken off--always a difficult matter, and, to cavalry _encumbered_ by these led horses, one of considerable danger." "remounting when pressed by the enemy is always a critical matter." it makes one hot to hear this sort of thing commended to british soldiers by sir john french. it spells disgrace in war. troops who cannot break off a fight cannot fight at all. "colonel x., be good enough to cover my retreat with your regiment. defend that crossing, please, or that locality, and gain me time." "very sorry, sir, but the ground is unfavourable, and my led horses encumber me." supposing our gallant colonials had said that at sannah's post? they found, indeed, how "critical a matter" it is to remount when pressed by the enemy, for the boers charged right into them again and again; but they did not flinch, and they saved their column from ruin, while the cavalry engaged, equally brave men, but ignorant of their true rôle in war, failed in the task set them. but all this is "abnormal," sir john french would say. a respectable hostile cavalry would have summoned us to knightly combats with the steel. and then (on p. ) we come, as usual, to the corresponding _reductio ad absurdum_. "in mounted combat [_i.e._, with the steel] the breaking off of the fight is quite impossible. troops once engaged must carry the fight through. even when retreating from the mêlée fighting cavalry has no means of extricating itself. it is then entirely dependent on the enemy, and can only retire at the most rapid speed," etc. "whoever expects to rally a beaten cavalry division after a mounted fight by blowing the divisional call lays himself open to bitter disappointment." no wonder so much stress is laid on the offensive character of cavalry! ii.--the british view. we have now completed our review of the author's theories on the action of the independent cavalry, and i must ask the reader for a moment to compare with his views the instruction on the same topics contained in our own manual, "cavalry training." the same fundamental error vitiates the whole of this instruction, but in an infinitely more mischievous form. the german author makes both shock and fire equally absurd, but his respect for shock never deters him from telling in his own strange way home-truths about fire which at least force the reader to construct for himself cosmos out of chaos. our authorities, conscious that the intermingling of shock and fire will create difficulties only too apparent to englishmen with any knowledge or memory of south africa, divorce them completely from one another. in their manual, cavalry _acting against cavalry_, whatever the terrain or other circumstances, are assumed never to employ fire-action, whose results are described as "negative," but only to employ shock. if the reader will turn to pages - , which deal with the independent or strategical cavalry, he will observe with what really remarkable ingenuity the compilers manage to avoid even the remotest recognition of the fact that cavalrymen carry rifles. the word "fire" is not breathed, though to the intelligence even of the most ignorant layman it must be plain that fire must dominate and condition the functions described, especially those beginning with the "approach march when within striking distance of the hostile cavalry" (p. ). the various problems bravely but confusedly tackled by general von bernhardi are here quietly ignored. everything is so arranged as to lead up without hitch to the physical collision on horseback of the two opposing cavalry "masses." there is no echo of von bernhardi's rule about early deployment in view of artillery fire. our own artillery, it is true, is to "throw into confusion" the enemy's cavalry--a compliment which no doubt the enemy may return (p. ). but, confusion or no confusion, the climax is to be the purest of pure cavalry fights. scouts and patrols are to observe the enemy and to prevent our own commander from "engaging his brigades on unfavourable ground" (note that pregnant warning); but there is no suspicion or suggestion of von bernhardi's "protracted fire-fight" in order to discover the strength and intentions of the enemy, especially in view of the possibility that the enemy may, with unsportsmanlike perversity, choose ground which is "unfavourable to our brigades." our cavalry commander (p. ), it is to be inferred, is to perform the physical impossibility enjoined by the german regulations, and criticized by von bernhardi (pp. - ), of personally overlooking the whole of the attack and the ground which it is to cover. needless to say, there is not a whisper about those sinister prophecies of the german author that "one brigade will often fight on foot, the other mounted"; that it will be impossible "to put a division into the fight (_i.e._, shock-fight) in proper cohesion"; that, in view of fire, "the situation during the rapidly changing phases of the cavalry fight will often be quite different from what was expected when the tasks were allotted"; and that, fire apart, european topography is such that opportunities for the "collisions" of cavalry masses will be very rare. with our authorities all goes by clockwork on frederician and napoleonic lines. "the enemy should be surprised," so that the charge may follow immediately after the deployment. the attack is to be on the echelon system ridiculed by von bernhardi, but the encounter, nevertheless, is not to be "broken up," but is to be by the "simultaneous action of all brigades." the artless enemy co-operates, allows himself to be surprised upon the right piece of "favourable" ground, and courteously presents an objective which may be struck simultaneously. the artillery of both sides ceases fire, fascinated by the sublime spectacle of the "collision"; the machine-guns, which have been "affording a means of developing fire _without dismounting_," also retire from business, and the knightly combat rages on its appointed level arena. then comes the pursuit (p. ). troops are either to "pursue at top speed in disorder," or to "rally at once at the halt"; and on page elaborate directions will be found for the practice of this "rally," which von bernhardi says is an "absolute impossibility in war," and that it is "indeed astounding that we should give way to such self-deception." is the rally, we wonder, one of the "best foreign customs" which sir john french urges us to assimilate, or one of the worst, which he has accidentally overlooked? it is only when our authorities have finished with the pursuit, which is to "completely exhaust and disorganize the beaten enemy," and when, the hostile cavalrymen vanquished, our own cavalry has been safely launched on its reconnoitring duties (p. ), that they consider, under quite a distinct heading, and without a hint that it may have anything to do with what precedes, the dismounted action of cavalry against what is described with judicious vagueness as an "enemy" (pp. - ). then we have the same demoralizing injunction that von bernhardi, in his fire-mood, so strongly combats--namely, that a "fire-fight is not to be protracted"; and the same equally vicious suggestion that von bernhardi, in his steel-mood, acquiesces in--namely, that defence in any shape is a somewhat abnormal function of cavalry; that they are not supposed to conduct stubborn defences ("tenacious" is sir john french's own term); and that they should never demean themselves by constructing anything serious in the way of entrenchment (p. ). but it is scarcely necessary to add that the led horses are not the nightmare to our authorities that they are to von bernhardi, and that we do not yet stultify our own directions for fire-action by warnings about the minimum size of units, and the imperative need for moral, numerical, and tactical superiority. yet these warnings are regarded, according to his own account, as inspired wisdom by sir john french, whose own introductory remarks are conceived in an even more reactionary spirit than those of the "acknowledged authority" whom he recommends to british readers. the finishing touches to the comedy of the shock-duel are given in the revised mounted infantry manual of ; for, although in this connection the cavalry manual never breathes a word about its sister arm, it is, as i have before mentioned, one of the regular duties of the mounted infantry to co-operate with the cavalry, not only in reconnaissance, but in battle. under the heading "co-operation with cavalry when acting offensively against hostile cavalry," the mounted infantry are to "seize points of tactical importance from which effective rifle and machine-gun fire can be brought to bear on the flanks of the opposing cavalry before the moment of contact." we picture an amphitheatre, like olympia, both rims of the horseshoe lined with hidden riflemen, and two solid blocks of cavalry galloping towards one another in the arena below, and we are alarmed for the fate of the horsemen, exposed in such a formation to a sleet of bullets. but we come to a fortunate reservation. "fire will rarely be opened upon the hostile cavalry or artillery until contact is imminent. the object aimed at is the defeat of the hostile cavalry, and a premature opening of fire is liable to cause it to draw off and manoeuvre, in order to bring off the cavalry encounter outside effective rifle-range." surely some humorist of the mounted infantry, coerced by the general staff into finding a rôle for his arm which should not trench upon the sacred preserves of the cavalry, penned these exquisite lines by way of stealthy revenge! what delicate consideration for the "knightly" weapons! what an eye for theatrical effect! what precautions against the disturbance of the collision by the premature discharge of vulgar firearms! and what a tactful show of apprehension lest these reminders of the degenerate twentieth century should scare away the old-world pageant to regions beyond "effective rifle-range"! it will be noticed that even the artillery of the enemy is to be immune until "contact is imminent"--a somewhat doubtful risk to take without a written guarantee from the enemy that his artillery will reciprocate the courtesy. (for the gunners' view, see below, p. .) finally, with what unerring neatness, under his veil of genial irony, does our humorist manage to expose and satirize the futility of the lance and sword and the deadly pre-eminence of the rifle! he recognizes that it is only by the indulgence and self-restraint of riflemen that swords and lances can be used, and he knows, as we all know, that it is physically impossible for modern cavalry, in war or peace, to find any spot on the globe which is "outside effective rifle-range"--unless they take the unsoldierly course of throwing away their own rifles. in peace, of course, as von bernhardi constantly reminds us, rifles may be, and frequently are, ignored, even if they are not left in barracks; but in "real war" there is no use for troops who can only fight outside effective rifle-range. i need only add that the ideal cavalry combat, as envisaged by our authorities, is precisely the combat which von bernhardi stigmatizes in peace manoeuvres as a "spectacular battle-piece." mounted infantry to him represent a force which, by "seizing the rifle," will "compel" the opposing cavalry to "advance dismounted." the case imagined is what he regards as the normal case of "co-operation with other arms," and it will be remembered that "he can conceive no case in which cavalry [_i.e._, using the steel] can break through a hostile detachment of all arms." one stands in awe before the almost miraculous tenacity of a belief which can give birth to such puerilities as i have quoted from our manuals without perishing instantly under the ridicule of persons conversant with war. if the thing described had ever once happened, it would be different, but it never has happened, and never can or will happen. in war no commander-in-chief would tolerate even a tendency towards such child's-play. otherwise, in pessimistic moments, one might tremble for the navy. supposing our dreadnoughts were trained to withhold their fire so as to decoy hostile wooden three-deckers into collisions with our wooden three-deckers, and encounters settled by cutlasses on the lines of salamis and syracuse? the parallel is not discourteous to the cavalry. when they will it, they can be dreadnoughts. but their shock-charge is as obsolete as sails and wood in naval war. footnotes: [footnote : "with them [the cavalry] it will never be a case of prepared positions--which cavalry as a rule will neither attack nor defend--but of actions resulting from a battle of encounter." this is directly contradicted on p. , where it is laid down that "attacks on an enemy in position," as explicitly distinguished from "battles of encounter," are said to be "very necessary in time of war," and should be "repeatedly practised" in peace. the same injunction is repeated on pp. and . this is a typical example of the textual self-contradictions in which the book abounds.] chapter vii the battle of all arms i.--german views. we have now come to the exposition of the part cavalry will play in the great battle of all arms, which, says von bernhardi, is always "pre-arranged." but it will occur to the reader at once that, so far as our inquiry about fire and the steel in combat is concerned, there can be nothing new to be said. there are firearms in all warfare, and the tactical principles they enforce will be approximately constant. every great battle takes the form of a series of "attacks on localities," or "battles of encounter," however we interpret those phrases. if an enemy, to whatever arm belonging, who takes up a "defensive attitude" can only be attacked by fire in a fight of the independent cavalry, he can only be attacked by fire in a pre-arranged battle; and if the led horses are a paralyzing encumbrance in the one case, they are equally so in the other. the great battle, it is true, presents a more positive and obvious example of the co-operation of the various arms; but, as we have seen, the co-operation "of other arms" has been regarded by the author as a normal incident of the combats he has already described, and the "purely cavalry fight" as an altogether exceptional incident. and since even the purest cavalry carry the rifle, they can at any moment sully the purity of the said fight by resort to that sordid but formidable weapon. the author, as we might expect, only dimly appreciates the universality of his own principles--if the mutually destructive propositions which he alternately lays down can be properly termed principles. he constantly confuses tactics with combat. different rules, of course, must always govern the action of mounted troops and horseless troops, because the one class is more mobile than the other; but it is impossible to lay down any lucid and intelligible principles for modern war until we realize the ubiquity and the supremacy of the missile weapon, rifle or gun. the army cavalry, he tells us, as distinct from the divisional cavalry, "must be engaged _en masse_, and not in detail." "it must simultaneously engage its whole fighting strength," as an undivided entity (p. _et seq._), and its proper position is forward of one of the flanks. we have no sooner grasped this principle than we find a separate chapter devoted to the action of "those portions of the cavalry which find themselves behind the fighting-line, not on the exposed flank." this subdivision, we are vaguely told, "may be the result of circumstances," but there is no indication of what those circumstances are. but this is only one infraction of the principle of unity. in spite of the distractingly vague use of terms such as "front" and "flank," "enemy," "hostile forces," "troops within hostile reach," we are able to distinguish the following functions for the cavalry mass during the battle: it must conduct ( ) a "far-reaching exploration" on the enemy's extreme rear and "probable lines of approach and communication," so as to give warning of the approach of fresh reserves; ( ) an "immediate tactical reconnaissance," evidently of the whole battle-front--though the vague expression "against such hostile troops as may be within tactical reach" might mean almost anything. but we are told explicitly later that during the whole course of the battle the cavalry mass "must in all cases prevent the enemy's patrols from making observations as to the disposition of our own _army_, while, on the other hand, its own reconnaissance should never cease" (p. ). we receive a sort of mental dislocation, therefore, when the author resumes: "screened by these various measures, the cavalry mass now advances fully deployed for the fight." were "these measures," then, only to screen the cavalry mass? but how can detachments, perhaps twenty miles away on the other flank, be said to screen the cavalry mass? ( ) the mass is to provide for the occupation of "defiles and other important places to the flank and front of the main body" (_i.e._, of the main _army_). let us pause and think. supposing the initial battle-front is thirty or forty miles in extent. even in the boer war it was frequently thirty miles, while in manchuria the fronts were sometimes enormously more extensive--at mukden nearly miles. how in the world is the entire cavalry mass, _posted outside one flank_, to provide for the continuous reconnaissance, close and distant, of such a front, the occupation of advanced points, and for the maintenance of a reserve behind the front, while remaining a practically undivided force for united action? what is the enemy's cavalry supposed to be doing? in theory, we are told, they will do the right thing, that is, post themselves by instinct outside one flank exactly opposite our own mass. but supposing they do not. whatever they do, they have got ( ) to be "driven from the field" (the reader will recollect the well-known formula), which will involve dispersion, if they disperse. but the author is not nearly so strong on the formula as sir john french. it is a very small matter (p. ), this driving of the hostile cavalry from the field. "it has a certain value, but is comparatively useless for the main issue of the battle, unless, further, the possibility is gained of intervening in the decisive battle of all arms." is not the reader conscious of an extraordinary artificiality and unreality in the terms employed? why speak of cavalry driving the hostile cavalry off the field, with more emphasis than of infantry doing the same to infantry? presumably, because cavalry, as we have already learnt, cannot break off the fight either in their pure or debased capacity. but on page the beaten cavalry is to "seek shelter behind occupied points of support," where it is to be attacked by the greatest possible fire-power, words which seem to imply that hitherto the attack has been by shock. yet we have had it laid down as an axiom that neither party to a shock-combat can be used as a manageable unit for an indefinite time. ( ) the indivisible mass is now subject to fresh disintegration. "all portions of it not required for the pursuit" just described are to "regain their tactical cohesion" (an admission that the whole has lost its tactical cohesion), and, leaving their comrades to carry on the fire-fight, which may, of course, last for a week or more, are "to prepare for fresh effort." they are to occupy "localities" near the ground won, and "garrison" them with dismounted men--a direction we can scarcely take seriously when we recollect the crushing disabilities under which cavalry acting in passive defence have been supposed by the author to labour (see _supra_, pp. - ). ( ) what is left of the mass now "takes up a position of readiness" secure from the view and fire of the enemy, and disposed in what the author calls "groups of units." the expression seems to lack precision, but "this is the most suitable formation." subsequent action is to be according to the "circumstances of the various cases," and it is here that the reminder is casually interpolated that a protective and offensive reconnaissance along the whole battle-line is to be a continuous duty of the mass. but this action is "not to be regarded as sufficient." "the mass is to insure its own advance to that portion of the field where the decisive battle will probably take place, so that the charge will not meet with unexpected resistance and obstacles when the moment comes to ride it home. when this crisis of the battle approaches, the cavalry must be ready to intervene.... as the crisis approaches, endeavours must be made to get as close to the enemy as possible, in order to shorten the distance that will have to be covered in the charge." observe how naturally, how mechanically, the author associates the "crisis" with a gigantic cavalry charge, and with what simple trustfulness he believes that unexpected resistance and obstacles will melt away, if only the mass can insure its advance to the right spot in time. as i shall show, he ruthlessly shatters his own hypothesis in the next breath; but consider, in the light of "real war," the utter futility of all this so-called instruction for the "pre-arranged battle," with its pre-arranged crisis. note the complete neglect of all the really important factors, the tremendous power of modern rifles and guns, and the vast extent and duration of modern battles, as contrasted with the limited physical powers of the horse and the small proportion which cavalry in all armies bears to other arms. take liao-yang, the sha-ho, mukden, battles which lasted ten days, two weeks, and three weeks, and try and find from the author's remarks any practical, tangible guidance for such situations. fancy one indivisible mass maintaining a continuous reconnaissance over such distances, occupying defiles and "localities" to the front, leaving a reserve behind the battle-front, driving the entire hostile cavalry from the field, and utterly destroying its power of further action; garrisoning points in the ground won, and at the same time advancing towards the "probable" point of crisis. but this point may be two days' march from the flank, where the mass--or what remains of it--was posted, and when it gets there it will certainly find that the crisis is centring round some strong, defensible position where lances and swords will be less useful than bows and arrows. no such picture as the author draws occurred in the franco-german, austro-prussian, or russo-turkish wars. it did not occur at vionville, the only battle in which a situation came about even approximately resembling the circumstances he outlines. so far as there was a crisis there, and so far as it was dealt with by a cavalry charge, the circumstances have radically altered, and there is a "total absence of analogy," as the author himself expressly states. bredow's steel-charge was made against unbroken infantry and artillery, flushed with the hope of victory. such charges, he has told us with truth, are utterly impossible in modern war. "i cannot conceive any real case in which cavalry can break through detachments of all arms" (p. ). "nowadays, when infantry can cover the ground to a distance of , or even , yards with a hot and rapid fire, and offer in their wide extension no sort of objective for shock-action, an attack on unshaken, steadily-firing infantry, which has any sort of adequate field of fire, is _quite out of the question_" (p. ). it seems odd to have to recall these matters, for the author, as i said before, shatters his own hypothesis in the paragraphs immediately following his pages on the crisis and the charge. "however important and desirable it may be to contribute to the great decision by a glorious cavalry charge, it should be borne in mind that the possibility of this will occur in very rare cases." he goes on to insist emphatically on this point, saying nothing here about the vastly enhanced effect of the modern rifle, but basing his argument on terrain. great charges, he says, were almost impracticable in the franco-prussian, russo-turkish, and manchurian wars, and "possible european theatres of war are but little suitable for charges, owing to the extent to which they have been cultivated." peace operations are of no practical significance, because uncultivated country is expressly chosen. and so on. then, why, we ask, all this reasoned instruction about cavalry making its way to the crisis and delivering its charge? why not have said at the outset that their normal action must be something quite different? instruction for remote improbabilities is practically useless. what the commander wants to know is what to do as a general rule, especially when a wrong decision may, owing to the extent of the battle-field, involve him in ignominious impotence. such is cavalry literature. serious men in any other walk of life would not tolerate exposition of this sort. we discover now that the cavalry are not, after all, to make their way to the crisis and charge. that was conventional rhetoric. in reality they are to _act on the rear of the hostile army_, "upon the reserves, the column of supply, the heavy artillery, etc." "it is here that opportunities for decisive action must be sought." well, obviously that is a different proposition altogether. why not have begun with it? habit--just the irresistible habit of associating cavalry with shock, and of calling shock their "proper rôle," although it is only their "exceptional" rôle. for, of course, such action as the author now indicates is purely a matter of fire. that is why no such decisive attack upon the rear of a great army has ever in recent times been accomplished by european cavalry. the cavalries of the sixties and seventies in the last century were absolutely incapable of such action, owing to their lack of fire-power. he is no doubt thinking of his model war, the american struggle of - , and if he were truly candid, he would tell his countrymen that the brilliant exploits of the civil war leaders in raiding communications and "hostile reserves" were performed solely through the rifle. the author is perfectly aware that the modern rifle has five times the power of the rifle of , but he has not the courage of his own opinions, and descends to misty compromise. "such action must, of course, be conducted with a due co-operation between mounted and dismounted action." what is the use of a rule like that? "against intact hostile reserves the firearm will be principally used." why "principally"? will not these intact reserves, to say the least, "take up a defensive attitude," and therefore render a fire-attack, according to his own repeatedly formulated rule, absolutely indispensable? "against columns of waggons it will be well to commence by fire-action." why "commence" only? is there no lesson from south africa here? on what single occasion were lances and swords of the smallest value in attacks on transport? not on one. and on how many occasions did mounted riflemen, destitute of these weapons, capture transport and guns and rout reserves? we all know--sir john french knows--what our troops suffered in this way. why does he not warn his countrymen, instead of telling them that these german speculations are brilliant, logical, conclusive, complete? look once more at the great manchurian battles. observe, for example, the great battle of mukden, (with its awful record of massacre by firearms), when a japanese cavalry brigade, acting with nogi's turning force, endeavoured to operate on the russian rear. it was miserably weak numerically, and it failed to accomplish anything "decisive"; but it did wonders, as it was, purely through fire. has any critic, however enamoured of the _arme blanche_, ever suggested that, however strong, it could have accomplished anything with the lance and sword? the very suggestion is preposterous. fire ruled that terrific struggle from first to last. look at mishchenko's pitiful cavalry raid on the japanese communications in january, ; and observe the shame which overtakes cavalry who cannot fight on foot: whole brigades paralyzed by squads of isolated riflemen, reminding us only too painfully of dronfield and poplar grove; cossacks pathetically charging stone walls with drawn swords; disaster and humiliation clouding the whole sordid drama. sir john french's contribution to our enlightenment on the manchurian war, in his introduction to bernhardi's first book, "cavalry in future wars," was that the cossacks failed through excess of training as riflemen. he has not repeated that statement in his introduction to the second book. he scarcely could. all the world knows the truth now--namely, that the cossacks, as one who rode with them said, "once dismounted, were lost." they did not know how to handle rifles, and all their humiliations may be traced to that fact. nor did the japanese cavalry at first, and they were equally impotent. but they learnt, and learnt to admirable purpose, as the records show. if he cannot repeat and confirm what he said in his first introduction, why is sir john french altogether silent on the point in his second introduction? well, it was an awkward dilemma for him; for bernhardi himself (p. ), in his chapter on raids, alludes to mishchenko's raid in highly significant, though characteristically obscure, language. and if he follows up the clue, the reader may understand why it is that only on this one solitary question of raids, out of all the multitude of topics dealt with in the two books, sir john french "ventures to differ" from the german author, pronouncing, for his own part, against them. von bernhardi expressly founds his advocacy of the raid on the american civil war. "the idea," he says naïvely, "is taken" from that war. as though the boers who made the raids of , of which he never seems to have heard, took their ideas from that war or any other! their ideas were the fruit of their own common sense. now, the civil war is particularly dangerous ground in england for advocates of the _arme blanche_, although it is safe enough ground in germany, where nobody studies it, and where there has been no henderson to immortalize the exploits of the great cavalry leaders. fire, and fire alone, rendered the american raids possible. i need scarcely say that there is no incongruity in discussing together the raid proper and the attack on the reserves and communications of a great army from which my digression originated. the weapon factor is precisely the same in both. rifles are rifles and lances are lances, whatever the strategical or tactical scheme which bring them into play. we turn lastly to the rôle of that portion of theoretically indivisible cavalry mass which is maintained as a "reserve behind the front" (p. ). the author's method is the same: first, to expound at length the duties and powers of this body as though they were its normal duties and powers, and then to state that these normal duties and powers--in other words, the "proper rôle"--of the force concerned are, in nine cases out of ten, impracticable and visionary. he first represents the great mounted charge as the primary object, the great mounted charge, moreover, against _infantry_; for in this case there will be little chance, he says, of having "to deal with the hostile cavalry." he proceeds to lay down the truly delightful maxim that the force is to mass behind "that part of the fighting line where the ground is adapted for a charge of large masses," though he has taken great trouble to show in the previous chapter, quite correctly, that this is precisely the kind of ground upon which important struggles will not centre. then, in flat defiance of all he has said about charges against infantry, he advocates what in effect is our old discredited friend the "death ride" against unshaken and victorious infantry (p. ), "in order to relieve our own exhausted infantry," etc. the cavalry are to "ride through the hostile infantry, and fall upon the artillery," although we know already that the author "can conceive no case in which cavalry can break through detachments of all arms," and that an enemy who takes up even a defensive attitude can only be attacked by dismounted action. but in a flash of recollection of a prior maxim, he enjoins that not only the preliminary deployment, but the formation for attack in widely extended order, must take place "beyond the effective range of the enemy's fire"; for "once outside this zone ... nothing else can be done but to gallop straight for the front." beyond the effective range of the enemy's fire! what is that range? he has told us before that it must, for average purposes, be reckoned , yards, or nearly four miles. conceive a charge of four miles, begun out of sight of the enemy, and in the blissful confidence that at the end of it the "ground will be suitable" for fighting on horseback with steel weapons! he proceeds in this strain for four pages, elaborating his topic with detailed tactical instructions, and then comes the usual nullifying paragraph: "it must be clearly understood that in this case, as in the other where the cavalry is on the flank of the army, there will seldom be an opportunity for a charge." what, then, if not a charge? half a page of fervid generalization. "the first essential is that victory shall be won.... the cavalry must not shrink from employing its whole force on the fire-fight." we are bidden, rightly enough, to study the ancient lesson of fredericksburg. but it is now . and we know what the author's views of the fire-fight for cavalry are--that, owing to the burden of led horses, it is never on any account to be attempted, unless there is an assurance of complete moral, tactical, and numerical superiority. _cadit quæstio_ once more. our reserve becomes a dummy. there remain two topics in connection with the great pre-arranged battle of all arms--"pursuit and retreat" and the "rôle of the divisional cavalry." i shall take the latter first, and, with little comment, merely appeal to the reader's sense of humour. "in the battle of all arms," says the general, "as soon as fighting contact has been established with the enemy, and the close and combat reconnaissance is then probably at an end, the divisional cavalry must endeavour to gain touch with the army cavalry in order to strengthen the latter for the battle. in so doing it must not, of course, lose all connection with its own infantry division." remember that the army cavalry is, by hypothesis, well outside our flank of a battle area which may be of any extent from ten to seventy miles. picture the various divisional cavalries along this front endeavouring to "gain touch" with the army cavalry, while not losing connection with their own respective divisions. it may be that this particular injunction has aroused merriment in germany. that is not our business. but that sir john french, with undisturbed gravity, should solemnly pass it on to englishmen as the last word of military wisdom--that is extraordinary. observe that, as usual, the _arme blanche_ is responsible for the aberrations of the german writer. in the succeeding sentence this becomes clear. "when this cannot be done, and _when no other chance of mounted action offers_, the divisional cavalry must seize the rifle, and act as an immediate support for the infantry." the words i have italicized show that the physical feats contemplated in the original injunction are to be performed in the interests of shock, and that, if in the cold prosaic light of day they daunt the imagination of the leaders on the field, there is nothing left but to "seize the rifle." "pursuit and retreat" is a chapter which almost defies any brief analysis. only those who are thoroughly acquainted with the curiously ambiguous vocabulary which hampers cavalry writers at every turn can fully appreciate the bankruptcy of the steel weapons as disclosed in these pages, and, at the same time, the disastrous effect of these useless bits of steel upon the reasoning faculties of those who still believe in them. the first few pages leave us only the impression that both pursuit and retreat are very dubious topics for cavalry. we approach the kernel of the matter at p. , where the writer deprecates "direct frontal pursuits," which "will generally yield but meagre results against the masses of the modern army and the firearm of the present day." the enemy will occupy "localities, woods, and the like," and "bring the cavalry pursuit to a standstill." "only when completely demoralized troops are retreating in the open, and cannot be reached by fire" (what this last clause means i cannot conceive), "will a charge be feasible." very good; but why not have followed the same principle in earlier chapters, instead of talking of cavalry charging infantry under cover, etc.? "frontal pursuit is essentially a matter for the infantry, who must press the retreating enemy to the utmost." this seems a fairly definite rule, but we have no sooner grasped it than it is cancelled. "on the other hand, it is, of course, the duty of the cavalry to maintain touch with the enemy under all circumstances. with this object in view, it must continue the _frontal pursuit_, sometimes even without seeking to draw on a fight, by day and night." how one can continue a _frontal_ pursuit by day and night without seeking to draw on a fight i leave the reader to guess. we turn to "retreat," which is, of course, the counterpart of pursuit, only to be involved in a fresh tangle. whether the enemy's cavalry is assumed to be conducting a frontal pursuit by day and night in spite of its "meagre results," or whether our own infantry are bearing the brunt of the retreat in the face of the frontal pursuit of the enemy's infantry--a pursuit which is "essentially" their business--we are left in uncertainty. all we have are vague heroics about the "maintenance of morale" (the writer seems to be very nervous about the morale of cavalry), about never renouncing a "relentless offensive," and about attacking the "enemy," wherever possible, with the cold steel. we find ourselves wondering how it is that "completely demoralized troops retreating in the open" (by hypothesis the only proper subjects for a steel-charge) can be, nevertheless, conducting a victorious pursuit, and our only escape from the entanglement is that in the case now considered by the author "enemy" means "cavalry," who are, apparently, so far inferior to infantry (though they carry the very weapon which makes infantry formidable) that they can be "relentlessly attacked," even when they are not completely demoralized. one soon ceases to be surprised at anything in this species of literature, or one would gasp with amazement at the levity with which cavalrymen throw ridicule on their own arm. suddenly and very tardily we come upon an indication of the alternative to that frontal pursuit which gives such meagre results and yet must be continued day and night. "thus, when it becomes no longer possible to show a front to the pursuing cavalry in the open, measures must be taken to block the routes upon which his _parallel_ pursuit is operating," etc. does not the reader feel his brain going when he reads a sentence like this? what antithesis can there be between cavalry "pursuing in the open" and cavalry conducting a "parallel pursuit"? there is no more or less probability of open ground in a parallel than in a frontal pursuit. it is the old story. one half of the writer's brain is back in the days of frederick the great; the other half is in working in the medium of the present. that is the key to this chapter, from which a cavalry leader could not gain one concrete, definite rule for his guidance in real war. on pursuit, as on many other topics, the author was more clear and instructive in his earlier work, "cavalry in future wars" (chapter iv.), where he was not hampered by having to consider regulations with any pretence to modernity, and where he accordingly spoke with freedom on the absolute necessity of fire-action in pursuit; though he could not even then wholly grasp the corollary, the absolute necessity of fire-action in retreat. ii.--the british view. let us now, as in the case of the fight of the independent cavalry, contrast the directions given by our own authorities for the great battle of all arms ("cavalry training," pp. - ). one point of difference we may dispose of at once. the divisional cavalry (who are mounted infantry) and the "protective" cavalry (to which there is no german counterpart) behave rationally. they remain with, or drop back to, their respective main bodies, and there make themselves generally useful. the rules for the independent or army cavalry, on the other hand, present a curious study. on the german model, this main mass is, generally speaking, to be posted forward of one of the flanks. (there is no suggestion of a "reserve behind the front.") but we notice at once, with some surprise, that nothing is said about the corresponding hostile cavalry mass, which, according to von bernhardi, should be the primary objective, and whose "absolute and complete overthrow" is, according to sir john french (p. xiv), a "primary necessity." the explanation is that one of the opposing cavalry masses is assumed to have been already absolutely and completely overthrown--that is, during the pre-battle reconnaissance phase, whose central incident, as described in pp. - and - of the manual, and criticized by me in the last chapter, is the great shock-duel of the two independent cavalries--a duel which is to result in the annihilation of one side or the other, and to which i shall have to return once more in the next chapter. the thread is resumed on p. with the words, "once the independent cavalry has defeated its opponent," etc., and from that point onwards nothing is heard of the hostile independent cavalry. the explanation of sir john french's expression is the same. on p. xv he, too, assumes that _before the battle_ the hostile cavalry has been disposed of, and says, somewhat vaguely, that the "true rôle of cavalry on the battle-field is to reconnoitre, to deceive, and finally to support"--functions which he distinctly suggests should be carried out mainly through fire-action by troops "accustomed to act in large bodies dismounted." and we seem to recognize this view in the functions outlined in the manual on p. . "reconnoitre," it is true, disappears. we find no echo of von bernhardi's chimerical conception of a double reconnaissance, distant and close, along the whole battle-front; nor, we may add, of his injunction to "occupy defiles and other important places to the flanks and front" of the army. the rôles suggested for the flank cavalry mass are: . to "act against the enemy's flanks." . to combine _fire_ concentrically with the main attack. . to pursue on parallel lines--a function which it is laid down on p. is to be performed mainly with the rifle. . to force the enemy away from his direct line of retreat; which is merely a corollary of no. . so far, good; but the _arme blanche_, as we might expect, is not going to be suppressed in this summary fashion, and when we pass from pious generalization to the actual "crisis," which "offers the greatest opportunities for cavalry action," we breathe once more the intoxicating atmosphere of the great shock-charge, not against cavalry now (for they are _ex hypothesi_ extinct), but against infantry and artillery. there is a mild caution about the "modern bullet," but it is evidently not intended to be taken very seriously. the relation between the "flank" phase and functions and the "crisis" phase and functions is passed over in silence. von bernhardi's difficulty about deployment and advance under modern fire is surmounted by the simple direction that for what is called the "approach" surprise is essential; yet in the next breath "fire-swept zones" are envisaged which are to be passed over in a "series of rushes from shelter to shelter in the least vulnerable formation"--a process exclusive of surprise; and on the absolutely vital point of the formation for the actual attack one can positively watch the compilers struggling to reconcile cromwellian principles with modern facts, and embodying the result in studiously vague and misleading language. the front of the cavalry is not to be "too narrow," but the imperative necessity insisted on by von bernhardi of _wide extension_ in the whole attacking force is implicitly denied by the direction that "squadrons in extended order may be used to divert the enemy's attention from the _real attack_." then, there is to be the stereotyped rally, which is to be in "mass," and the resulting mass is apparently to escape from further fire by using "another route." when will our soldiers base their rules on war facts? as i have said, the facts show that it is still possible, in certain conditions, for men on horses, big target as they are, to penetrate a modern fire-zone, and attack and defeat riflemen and artillery; but it is impossible to do so if they insist on conforming their methods to the assumption that they are to do their killing work by remaining in the saddle and wielding steel weapons. that idea is fatal. it is that idea which promotes these rules about not too narrow fronts, these grotesque mounted rallies in mass, and this pregnant silence about the real point of interest--what actually happens when a line of horsemen, stirrup to stirrup, or in extended order, wielding lances and swords, impinges on an extended line of dismounted riflemen. we know from war experience that such a charge, stirrup to stirrup, is as extinct as the dodo, and is advocated in set terms by no rational being. it has not even been tried or contemplated since . we know that the widely extended type has shared the fate of the other, because, with the loss of physical "shock," the steel weapons have lost their whole historical _raison d'être_. the only practicable mounted charge known to modern war is that of the mounted riflemen, who _fight up to the charge_, and use the only weapon which is effective against riflemen--namely, the rifle, fortified, if need be, by the bayonet. this charge is not an essential to victory. heaven knows we lost guns and men and transport enough in south africa without any mounted charging. the very object of a missile weapon is to overcome distance in a way that the lance and sword cannot overcome it. for all we know, even the mounted rifle charge may wholly disappear as science improves the firearm. but that improved firearm will itself rule combat, and banish into still remoter realms of memory the reign of the lance and sword. i have excepted the case of the "utterly demoralized" enemy--utterly demoralized, of course, by _fire_. he is, naturally, fair game for any weapon, and experience proves that the firearm once more is incomparably the best weapon. lances and swords are, relatively, slow, cumbrous, and ineffective. a magazine pistol used even from horseback is a better weapon than either. nothing is said by our authorities as to attack during the battle upon the enemy's reserves and transport, enterprises in which von bernhardi, after dismissing as a rare exception the great shock-charge, concludes that cavalry are to seek their decisive opportunities. we may assume that, like raids on communications, they are ruled out. but no alternative to the shock-charge at the crisis is suggested, for the parallel pursuit is, of course, a subsequent phase. there is only the ominous reservation that, if the _ground_ is not favourable to the shock-charge, the "cavalry commander must look for his chance elsewhere, _or wait for a more favourable opportunity_" (p. ). that is just what we have to fear. that was the old, narrow, ignorant outlook of the continental cavalries, who were always waiting for favourable opportunities, and accounts for the idleness and lack of enterprise which von moltke stigmatized in , and for the paltry character of their performances as a whole, which von bernhardi recognizes and condemns. it accounts for the miserable failure of the cossacks in manchuria, and explains the success of the japanese cavalry, once they realized the worthlessness of their german instruction and textbooks, and discovered for themselves the worth of the rifle as a stimulus to activity and mobility. von bernhardi says (p. ): "the greatest imaginable error ... is to adopt a waiting attitude ... in order that the possibility of a great charge might not slip by unutilized." that error is precisely what we have to fear. teach cavalry that their lances and swords are their principal weapons, and that the rifle is a defensive weapon; tell them that the "climax of training" is the steel charge, "since upon it depends the final result of the battle"; found their "spirit" on the steel; make it in theory their "proper rôle"; give it a vocabulary of stirring epithets, like "glorious," "relentless," "remorseless," and all the rest, and they are only too likely, eager for battle as they are, to "wait for favourable opportunities" which will never occur, when they ought to be busy and active with their horses and rifles. the sections on pursuit and retreat are modelled on similar sections in von bernhardi's earlier book, "cavalry in future wars," and escape therefore some of the contradictions of the later work. since they lay predominant stress on fire, we can only hope that their obvious blindness to the true reasons for fire does little harm. pursuits, whether by infantry or cavalry, be they frontal, parallel, or intercepting, will always be governed by fire. the thing that really distinguishes cavalry from infantry is that they have horses, which give them a vast scope for a class of intercepting tactics which infantry cannot undertake so easily. but even infantry will be better at any form of pursuit than a purely shock-trained cavalry. sir john french would have intercepted the boers, not only at paardeberg, but at poplar grove, karee siding, dewetsdorp, and zand river, if his cavalry had understood the rifle as well as they understood the horse. retreat is the counterpart of pursuit, and the same principles apply. cavalry ought to be able to fight a rearguard action better than infantry, because, thanks to their mobility, they can choose defensive points more freely, hold them longer, and fall back to others quicker. but if they are taught that it is beneath them to entrench and to defend a fire-position with stubborn tenacity, and that their proper rôle is to be performing frederician fantasias with the lance and sword, then they are likely, "in real war," to be relegated to a sphere "outside effective rifle-range," and to find their place usurped by infantry and mounted riflemen. there is very little to be known about rearguard actions which the boers have not taught us, and yet they were, in cavalry parlance, "defenceless"--in other words, steelless riflemen. chapter viii reconnaissance i.--weapons. i come lastly to the author's chapters on "reconnaissance, screening, and raids." as i explained before, it is the critic's simplest course to leave them to the last, because, although they come first, they almost ignore the subject of weapons and combats, on the assumption, apparently, that the opposing cavalries, at any rate in the first two of the functions in question, will, as a matter of course, fight with the lance and sword in the pure and proper fashion. but we have now considered and tested the worth of the author's views on combat and weapons, and can apply our criticisms to these chapters. combat and weapons are not wholly overlooked. at the very outset comes the maxim which i quoted further back, to the effect that "the essence of cavalry lies in the offensive," and that for defence they are to "abandon their proper rôle and seize the rifle on foot." the reader can appreciate now the value of this maxim, when we are dealing, as the author in these chapters is dealing, with two opposing cavalries who are assumed to be acting against one another independently of other arms. to tell both these cavalries that their essence lies in the offensive is, to say the least, a superfluous platitude. to say that it is only in defence that they are to "seize the rifle" is to say something wholly meaningless. unless by seizing it they can force their antagonists also to relinquish shock as useless and to seize the rifle, they might as well not seize it at all. if they can force their antagonists to seize it--and the whole mass of modern experience shows that they can and do--then their antagonists, whether we call their rôle proper or improper, are acting in _offence_ with the firearm, and the maxim is stultified--as, indeed, any maxim which applies medieval language to modern problems must be stultified. experience shows that if you arm men with long-range, smokeless, accurate missile weapons, whatever their traditions of etiquette and sportsmanship in peace, they will in war use those weapons to the exclusion of lances, swords, battle-axes, scimitars, and the various other weapons which were highly formidable before the days of gunpowder, but which have steadily declined since the invention and the progressive improvement of arms of precision. besides this general maxim upon the functions of the rifle and the steel, there are a few incidental allusions which must be noticed. the reader will remember the rule as to the powerlessness of the squadron as a unit for fire-action. the rule is anticipated here in directions for reconnoitring squadrons (p. ), which, even by night, are only to fight with the _arme blanche_, "because dismounted action is generally dangerous, and, on account of the weakness of the force, usually leads to failure"; and we wonder again how _both_ of two opposing reconnoitring squadrons can "fail," and how such a situation is actually to be dealt with on such principles in "real war"--say in the hedge-bound country which covers two-thirds of england. we are also told (p. ) that patrols, "on collision with the enemy's patrols," are to take action "in as offensive a spirit as possible, but after due reflection." "should a charge promise any kind of success, the opponent must be attacked in the most determined way." nothing is said about fire, but we are left with the impression that a fire-attack can be neither "offensive" nor "determined," and for the rest we have to be content with guidance like the following: "it does not promise success to attack the front of an advancing squadron under the apprehension that it is a single patrol." one day's personal experience of modern war would teach the author the perilous futility of all these "speculative" conjectures. has he forgotten altogether the power and purpose of the modern rifle--the rapidity, accuracy, and secrecy of its fire--when he speaks of patrols indulging in due reflection about their determined offensive charges? it is to be feared that at the hands of any but utterly incompetent troops his own contemplative patrols would receive short shrift. and the lesson of south africa? it is hard to see why, in the matter of patrols at any rate, those three years of war should be regarded as abnormal. yet it is the fact, as i must repeat, that no cavalry patrol or scout from the beginning to the end of the war ever used the lance or sword; that in reconnaissance no boer ever came near being hurt by those weapons; and, furthermore, that the cavalry were consistently and thoroughly outmatched in reconnaissance, which was governed universally by the rifle. it was exactly the same in manchuria. instead of reminding his german _confrère_ of these facts, sir john french complains that the difficulty of the cavalry in south africa was that they had nothing to reconnoitre, while he implicitly approves and applauds the conception of the reflective charging patrol. to clinch the matter, we need only remind ourselves that our own divisional mounted troops, whose sole weapon is the rifle, are entrusted not only with reconnaissance for their own division, but, in certain events, with exactly the same duties as the independent and protective cavalry. in these duties they will be pitted (in the event of a continental war) against steel-armed cavalry. if steel weapons were of any use, this would be criminal. such are the scanty clues as to combat which we obtain from the chapters on reconnaissance. it remains to ask, what is von bernhardi's view upon the great question of the employment of the army or independent cavalry (as distinguished from the divisional cavalry) in the most important of all its functions in modern war--reconnaissance? i defy anyone to answer that question. so far as it is possible to construct any positive view from a series of obscure and contradictory propositions, it appears to be a view which is in direct conflict with that of sir john french and of the cavalry manual which presumably he approves, while approving equally of general von bernhardi. anyone familiar with cavalry literature will know of the old controversy between the theories of concentration and dispersion. is the army cavalry at the opening of a campaign to concentrate and "drive from the field" the enemy's army cavalry, or is it from the outset to begin its work of exploring the various lines of approach of the various hostile columns over the whole front--an enormously extensive front--upon which great modern armies must develop their advance? ii.--the preliminary shock-duel. in view of the great size and vast manoeuvring areas of modern armies and of the small numbers and transcendently important reconnaissance duties of cavalry, that question would, i think, be decided in favour of dispersion, were it not for the fatal influence of the _arme blanche_. but cavalrymen must have the gigantic shock-duel which i described and criticized in chapter iv., . the idea of dispersion for sporadic bickering and scouting before this imposing tournament has been arranged is unthinkable to them. our manual therefore (pp. , ) sets forth in all its naked crudity the idea of the preliminary shock-duel between the _concentrated_ masses of the two independent (or strategical) cavalries--a duel that cannot, it is expressly laid down, be conducted by fire-action, which is negative and inconclusive, but which, conducted with the steel, is assumed to result in the complete and final "overthrow" of one party or the other. one side, in the words of the manual, is "disposed of," and the surviving party proceeds to disperse and reconnoitre undisturbed in the vast area of war.[ ] needless to say, the theory is purely academic. such things have never happened in any war, ancient or modern, and assuredly never will happen. one cavalry or the other may be depended upon in the future to act at the last moment with common sense. if it does not at once set about its work of reconnaissance, it will, at any rate, shiver to pieces with fire the massed shock-formations of its opponent. general von bernhardi seems to be conscious of the weakness of the theory, though he cannot bring himself to shatter it outright. there are, of course, two distinct questions involved: ( ) should the independent cavalries concentrate at the outset? ( ) if so, should the resulting collision be a shock-collision? number is at any rate open to debate. number is not, but it always confuses the discussion of number . the general could dispose of number merely by references to other parts of his own work--to the passages, for example, where he says that not only in the great battles of all arms, but in the contests of independent cavalries, shock-charges are only to be "rare" and "exceptional" events. for "squadrons, regiments, and even brigades, _unassisted by other arms_, the charge may often suffice for a decision. but where it is an affair of larger masses, it will never be possible to dispense with the co-operation of firearms" (p. ). and there is the passage about modern european topography where he shows the physical difficulty of bringing about these combats. on the broader question (no. ) he speaks with two voices. in direct contradiction of sir john french's introductory remarks and of our own manual, he says (p. ) that the strategical cavalry is not necessarily "to seek a tactical battle"; that it is "by no means its duty under all circumstances to seek out the enemy's cavalry in order to defeat it," because "by such conduct it would allow the enemy's cavalry to dictate its movements." "on the contrary, it must subordinate all else to the particular objects of reconnaissance," etc. it is clearly in his mind that, since the various corps or columns which are the objects of reconnaissance may be "advancing to battle" on a total front of to miles (this is his own estimate, p. ), it will be advisable to explore their zones of approach at once. but there are other passages which support the opposite principle: for example, on page : "the circumstances of modern war demand that great masses of mounted men shall be used as army cavalry and concentrated in the decisive direction.... the front of the army, therefore, can never be covered throughout its entire length by the army cavalry," etc. on page also he is quite decisive in the same sense: "the universal principle most always good for cavalry, that when a decisive struggle is in prospect all possible strength must be concentrated for it"--an unexceptional truism, applicable as it stands to all struggles, great or small, by land or sea, but in its context only too suggestive of the gigantic shock-duel.[ ] but on the whole he stands committed to nothing more definite than the following: "it remains for the leader to make his preparations in full freedom, and to solve the task confided to him in his own way." profoundly true, but not very helpful in an instructional treatise on war. iii.--divisional reconnaissance. the chapter on "divisional reconnaissance" is still less intelligible. it would be interesting to know how sir john french would sum up its "logical" and "convincing" doctrines. the divisional cavalry are in all cases to "cleave to the infantry" (p. ) of their respective divisions, yet they are to take the place of the army cavalry "when a concentration of that force in a decisive direction takes place" (another hint of the gigantic preliminary shock-duel), and are even to indulge in "strategical exploration" (pp. - ). in fact, these amazing super-cavalry are to perform physical feats in reconnaissance analogous to the feats designed for them in the pre-arranged battle of all arms (_vide_ p. ). yet they cannot "fight independently" even with the hostile divisional cavalry, nor clear the way for their own patrols, nor find their own outposts (pp. - ). and then we come to a passage which, quite parenthetically and as it were by accident, throws a searching light upon the many dark places of this volume. the divisional cavalry, _inter alia_, is to perform the "close reconnaissance along by far the greater part of the front of the army." but the close reconnaissance, owing to the range of modern firearms, is "considerably more difficult." "it thus becomes possible for the cavalryman in general to get no closer to the enemy than his rifle will carry" (p. ). "_his_ rifle," be it noted. and the hostile cavalryman (surely an "enemy") is presumably in the same case. what, then, of the charging patrols and squadrons? i suppose i should add that only two pages later (p. ) the author, in a fit of remorse, rehabilitates the charging patrol. "rude force can alone prevail, and recourse must be had to the sword." rude force! the tragi-comic irony of it! iv.--screens. as to the chapter on screens, we can only respectfully appeal to sir john french to explain it. the ordinary reader can only give up the problem of elucidation in despair. what is the connection with his previous chapters on reconnaissance? is the "screen" something different from or supplementary to the normal reconnoitring, patrolling, and protective duties of the army and divisional cavalry, as described under the headings, "main body of the army cavalry," "reconnoitring squadrons," "distant patrols," "divisional reconnaissance," etc.? one would infer from the opening paragraph that it is something wholly different. "the idea of the screen," runs the opening sentence, "is first touched on in the 'field service manual' of ; it is also, however, demanded by the conditions of modern war"; and from what follows we gather that the screen means an inner and purely _protective_ cordon of cavalry, as distinguished from a distant offensive reconnoitring cordon. the same distinction is drawn in page of the first chapter of the book. this is the kind of distinction drawn by our own manual, which, though it does not speak of a "screen," divides the cavalry into three bodies--one "independent" or "strategical," the second "protective," while the third is the divisional cavalry. logically, of course, the distinction has but a limited value, unless, indeed, one regards the protective force as merely a chain of stationary outposts or sentries. all reconnaissance must obviously be defensive as well as offensive, because it represents a conflict between two opposing parties. if the protective cavalry are pressed, it is their duty, as the manual does, in fact, lay down, not only to resist the scouts and patrols of the hostile force, but to find out the strength and disposition of that force, and even in certain cases, explicitly provided for, to take the place of the independent cavalry; just as it is the duty of the independent cavalry, not only to pierce the hostile independent cavalry and inform themselves of the strength and disposition of the hostile army, but to resist similar action on the part of their opponents. these principles would be taken for granted, with a vast improvement in the simplicity of regulations, if it were not for the influence of the _arme blanche_, impelling cavalry writers to call their arm a peculiarly _offensive_ arm, and inspiring the grotesque idea of the great preliminary shock-duel for the opposing independent cavalries, who are both presumed to be perpetually in offence as regards one another. still, within reasonable and well-understood limits, the metaphorical term "screen," as denoting the protective aspect of a widespread observing force, is both useful and illuminating. to regard it, as general von bernhardi does, as a brand-new idea, the result of "reflection and experience" on the needs of modern war, is to convict himself of ignorance of war. screens of a sort there always have been and always must be: the only new factor is the vastly increased efficacy of modern firearms; and if he could bring himself to concentrate on that new factor, of whose importance he shows himself in other passages to be perfectly aware, he would be able to convert into an intelligible, practical scheme his strange medley of inconsequent generalizations. he is, of course, handicapped by the official regulations, which, unlike our own, do not formally provide for a "protective cavalry" as distinguished from the divisional cavalry, and which seem to be more than usually obscure and confused in their theories about "offensive" and "defensive" screens, and in their hazy suggestions as to what troops are to perform the respective functions; but he cannot or will not see the fundamental fallacy which, like puck in the play, is tricking and distracting the minds of those who framed the regulations, and so he himself makes confusion worse confounded. the protective aspect of the screen is no sooner insisted on than it is forgotten, and we have a disquisition on the offensive screen, which appears to be only another name for the normal activities of the army cavalry, behind the "veil" formed by whom a second screen is to be established by the divisional cavalry (p. ). this, however, is disconcerting, because in the previous chapter (p. ) we have been told with emphasis that the army cavalry "in the most usual case" will not be able to reconnoitre the whole army front, but will be "concentrated in a decisive direction," and that the divisional cavalry in such cases, in spite of their unfitness for the task, will have to do the "distant reconnaissance" and "strategical exploration" at all points not directly covered by the main cavalry mass. and, sure enough, the "veil" just alluded to now disappears in its character as veil, and reappears as a "concentrated" mass. "the principal task of the offensive screen is to defeat the hostile cavalry, and for this object all available force must be concentrated, for one cannot be strong upon the field of battle" (p. ). it is amazing that serious exponents of any _métier_ should write in this fashion. a concentrated screen is a contradiction in terms. once committed, however, the general persists. all cyclist detachments and patrols are "to be brought up to the fight" from everywhere. roads are not to be blocked (in accordance with the screen idea) until the supreme cavalry struggle, with its conventional "complete overthrow" of the hostile cavalry, is over; and all this in flat contradiction of at least two-thirds of the earlier chapter on the army cavalry, where it was laid down that reconnoitring squadrons were from the first to be pushed forward from the "various groups of army cavalry," and were to be allotted reconnaissance zones; that a separation of cavalry force was far the most probable line of action; and that reconnaissance was "an every-day task of the cavalry," its "daily bread," a "duty which should never cease to be performed" for a single moment. and yet on page we come to the staggering, if cryptic, conclusion that "the army cavalry will only undertake an offensive screen when the army is advancing and where the country does not afford suitable localities for the establishment of a defensive screen." the writer then enlarges on the merits of the defensive screen, and, now that his mind is occupied with the idea of defence, makes it perfectly clear that the rifle is absolute master of the situation for the patrols, troops, squadrons, or any other units of both belligerent parties. your defensive screen acts by fire, and obviously, therefore, whoever tries to pierce your screen must act by fire. these pages reduce to nullity all the romantic hints elsewhere about the charging patrol or squadron, with its "rude force" and its "determined" and "remorseless" attacks. and what of illustrations and examples from modern war? not one. nothing but "speculative and theoretical reflection." for anyone who cares to study them, the facts are there--plain, hard, incontrovertible, convincing facts. sir john french knows all about the south african facts. screens, on a small or great scale, were matters of daily experience. he himself, with a force of all arms, sustained a screen for two months--primarily protective, but tactically offensive, as all screens must be--in the colesberg operations of november-january, - . he knows perfectly well that lances and swords, for all the use made of them, might as well have been in store, and that the cavalry engaged acted on precisely the same principles as the colonial mounted riflemen engaged. during most of the operations from bloemfontein to pretoria, and from pretoria to komati poort, our great force of all arms was pitted against what (if we consider relative numbers) was little more than a mounted screen, and every day's operations exemplified the fighting principles involved. the rifle was the great ruling factor. if the rifleman had a horse, so much the better--he was a more mobile rifleman; but lances and swords were useless dead-weight. precisely the same phenomena reappear in manchuria. on the japanese side much excellent screening work was done by infantry, against whom the cossack scouts and reconnoitring squadrons, trained solely to shock, were impotent. infantry move slowly, but their rifle is a good rifle, and it is not the horse which fires it, but the man. no infantry patrol of any army--certainly, at any rate, of our own army--is afraid of the lances or swords of a cavalry patrol. it is only--strange paradox!--cavalry patrols who are taught to fear the lances and swords of other cavalry patrols. i am reminded here of some remarks made in a letter to the _times_ of march , , by the military correspondent of that journal, whom i had respectfully reproached with having abandoned his old hostility to shock. cavalry patrols, unless they are to be "trussed chickens," must, he now said, have lances and swords in order, _inter alia_, to be able, when meeting other cavalry patrols "in villages and lanes, or at the corner of some wood," to "tear the eyes out of" them! these "oedipean evulsions" form a picturesque improvement even on von bernhardi's "rude force," and strike a decidedly happier note than the patrol "charging after due reflection." but why, i asked, could not the act be performed on even one single occasion in three years of war in south africa? why not in one single recorded case in a year's war in manchuria? well, one must admit that the "corner of the wood" was an ingenious touch. it suggested a close, blind, wooded district of england, so prohibitive of shock in large bodies and for that reason so unlike south africa and manchuria. yet there were many similar obstacles in both those regions: there were hundreds of villages; there were hills, mountains, ravines, dongas, sharp rocky ridges, river-beds, clumps of bush and trees, farm buildings; there were the great tracts of bush-veldt in the transvaal, the tall millet of northern manchuria, and so on--quite enough, certainly, to lead to the tearing out of the eyes of at least one careless scout or patrol. colonel repington knows these facts as well as i do, and once more, in view of his great--and deservedly great--influence on contemporary thought, i beg him to return to his earlier manner, and speak once more in his old slashing style about the futility of "classic charges and prehistoric methods." after all, this is the very language used by von bernhardi, whom, in the letter i have been alluding to, colonel repington described as a "very eminent authority." i have the letter before me, and it is with a somewhat grim satisfaction that i observe the nemesis which overtakes publicists who are rash enough to recant opinions founded on national experience and confirmed by the most recent facts of war. it was written just before von bernhardi's book was published, and a large part of it took the form of an eulogy on the german cavalry, whom he defended hotly from my charge of "sentimental conservatism," whose new regulations about fire-action he quoted with admiring approval, and whose revivification he distinctly associated with the name of that "very eminent authority" general von bernhardi. the very eminent authority spoke a few weeks later, and said that his "writings had fallen on barren soil." his language about the sentimental conservatism of the present german cavalry beggared any i had used. he made his own colonel repington's epithet "prehistoric"; his phrase "old-fashioned knightly combats" is surely an adequate counterpart to "classic charges"; in many a passage of biting invective he deplores as literal truth at the present moment what colonel repington scouted as a libellous myth invented by me--namely, that in peace manoeuvres "solid lines of steel-clad cavalry are led across open plains"; and, as i have shown, he regards as utterly unprepared for war a cavalry which colonel repington holds up as an example to his british readers of "the best modern cavalries," and which, if we do not imitate their methods, would, he thinks, in the event of a war, tear the eyes out of ours. as to fire-action, perhaps colonel repington had not studied the german regulations with a very critical eye before he praised them to the point of asking, "could botha or delarey or de wet ask for more?" in the light of von bernhardi's strictures and of his still stranger alternatives, the topic, i am sure, will need different handling if colonel repington returns to it. finally, i repeat once more that, for englishmen, one of the best practical criteria of the steel theory, in regard both to reconnaissance and battle functions, lies in the existence of our mounted infantry force. their revised manual ( ), reticent and incomplete as it is sometimes in the interests of the sacred shock theory, is, in effect, a crushing indictment of that theory. they are trained to do precisely the same work as the cavalry. they are not only to act as purely divisional mounted troops, but, like the german divisional cavalry, are intended to co-operate with and, in circumstances which must constantly happen, act as substitutes for the independent cavalry. this is criminal folly if, from the lack of a sword or lance, they are "trussed chickens," whose morale, in the words of colonel repington, will be "destroyed" by steel-armed cavalry. thank heaven, they listen with indifference to this language--language which would indeed be calculated to destroy the morale of any force with less self-respect and less splendid war traditions behind it. they know in their hearts that their methods are in reality not despised but feared by continental cavalry, for the reasons frankly and honestly set forth by general von bernhardi. their leaders now are the sole official repositories of what is really our great national tradition for mounted troops in civilized war; for the steel tradition is a legend dating from balaclava, a battle which is scarcely more relevant to modern needs than crécy--and crécy, by the way, was one of the greatest of all the historic triumphs of missile weapons over shock. it was not the lack of swords and lances, but the possession of swords and lances, which tended to turn men into "trussed chickens" in south africa and manchuria. it was the rifle in both cases which made cavalry mobile and formidable. it is melancholy to think that our true principles and sound traditions of mounted warfare are embodied in so small a force, organized on such an illogical system, provided with a training of altogether inadequate length, and hampered by nominal subservience to a steel-armed cavalry whose theories of action have been proved in two long and bloody wars to be obsolete. it is perhaps even more melancholy to see so many yeomanry officers agitating for an opportunity to ape the worst features of the cavalry, while neglecting the best features of the very force whose exact tactical counterpart they are; dreaming sentimental nonsense about bredow's charge at vionville, while under their eyes lie the pitiless records of idleness and failure on the part of those whose aim it was to imitate bredow, and the still sadder story of the penalties paid in south africa for inexperience in the rifle by the yeomanry themselves. i sometimes wonder if houndsditch will open the eyes of the public to the unrealities of cavalry manoeuvre. how many cavalry, _condemned to remain in their saddles_, would it take to disable or capture a patrol of determined men using automatic pistols (to say nothing of magazine rifles) either in a "village or lane or at the corner of some wood," or on the rolling downs of salisbury or lambourne? footnotes: [footnote : see "cavalry training," p. . "it will thus gain freedom to carry out its ultimate rôle of reconnaissance." see also p. , where the principle is repeated with emphasis, an exception being made in favour of the case where the enemy's cavalry is outside the zone of operations!] [footnote : yet on page he contrasts action _en masse_ in the battle of all arms with previous action "in detail."] chapter ix the rifle rules tactics ("_die feuerwaffe beherrscht die taktik_") i.--general von bernhardi on south africa. "the rifle (or literally, the firearm) rules tactics." the phrase was originally my own, but the general has done me the honour of adopting and sanctioning it, and i may fitly bring this criticism of his writings to a conclusion by briefly noting the occasion and origin of this remarkable admission. my book, "war and the _arme blanche_," was published in march, , a month before the publication in england of his own second work, "cavalry in war and peace," whose consideration we have just concluded. in the course of the summer of the general published a series of articles in the _militär wochenblatt_ criticizing my book, and those articles were translated and printed in the _cavalry journal_ of october, . the critic covers limited ground. he makes no rejoinder or allusion of any sort to my own chapter of detailed criticism upon his own earlier work, "cavalry in future wars." he scarcely notices my discussion of the manchurian war. he confines himself almost wholly to the south african war, and makes it plain ( ) that his knowledge of that war is exceedingly deficient; ( ) that his principal explanation for the comparative failure of our regular cavalry in that war was that they were timidly led; ( ) that he had misunderstood the nature of the case which i had endeavoured to construct against the _arme blanche_, and that, so far as he did understand it, he agreed with my conclusions. . internal evidence shows--what one would naturally infer from the extraordinary conceptions of the technique of fire-action for mounted troops developed in his book--that the general[ ] has never studied closely the combats of our war, except, perhaps, in such publications as the german official history, which leaves off at march, , practically ignores the mounted question, regards the boers throughout as infantry (presumably because, though mounted, they did not carry lances and swords), and, as a result of this method of exposition, is of no value towards the present controversy. unfamiliar with the phenomena of our war, the general nevertheless taunts me, who argued solely from the facts of war and went not an inch beyond the facts, with being a "speculative theorist"--a taunt which comes strangely from an author who declares in his current volume (p. ) that "the groundwork of training" for modern cavalry can only be created from "speculative and theoretical reflection." he proceeds further to obliterate my humble personality by remarking that i am "naturally devoid of all war experience," and that he would never have taken the trouble to discuss the subject at all if lord roberts had not declared his agreement with what i had written. the personal point, of course, is wholly immaterial, and i welcome his perfectly correct choice of an opponent. but his spontaneous allusion to war experience raises a somewhat important point. until reading the words, i had never dreamed that my own war experience was a serious factor in the discussion. i have never alluded to it or argued from it; but since the point is raised, let me say to general von bernhardi that, in common with some hundreds of thousands of my countrymen here or in the colonies, i have had, in a very humble capacity, a certain kind of war experience, of which he, as a reflective theorist, stands in bitter need. we have _seen_ the modern rifle at work in what he calls "real war." we have _seen_ what he has only reflected about and imagined--the revolution wrought by it on the battle-field since the days of . he has not; and if he had, he would have avoided many of the painful solecisms and blunders which disfigure his work, enlightened as that work is by comparison with the retrograde school he attacks. . timid leading.--the boers, says the general, were a "peasant militia," who were "tied to their ox-waggons," "incapable of assuming the offensive on a large scale," in "disappearing smaller numbers against greatly superior numbers," "not often strong enough either to charge the english cavalry or to attack the english infantry," "directed by halting leadership," and so on--altogether, according to the general's standards, a most contemptible foe, hardly worthy of the steel of a respectable professional cavalry, and certainly not the kind of foe to force such a cavalry to abandon its traditional form of combat. but there was the rub. our cavalry, it seems, was even more contemptible. they "made no relentless pursuits, despite the lack of operative mobility in the enemy"; "they did not attack even when they had the opportunity"; and "one could scarcely find a european cavalry which was tied down to such an extent during the big operations as the boers, or one which, against such little resistance, did not try to overcome it as the english." he cites the action of dronfield,[ ] where sir john french was in command, as a specific instance, and in as plain language as it is possible to use without penning the word "cowardice," accuses the cavalry present of that unpardonable crime. "mr. childers," he remarks with perfect truth, "relates the story without any spite to show the little value of english cavalry equipment and training. _i think it shows much beside._"[ ] (the italics are mine.) i do not know if this kind of thing will finally compel sir john french to examine more thoroughly the foundations of his own belief in the lance and sword, and to apply more searching criticism to the works of the "acknowledged authority" whom he lauds to the skies as a model and mentor for british cavalrymen. i should hope that, on their behalf, he now resents as hotly as i resent the contemptuous patronage of an officer holding and expressing the view that "any european cavalry"--and he afterwards expressly names the german cavalry--would have shown more aggressive spirit in south africa than our own--more aggressive spirit, be it understood, _with the lance and sword_; for if that be not the meaning, the general's lengthy appreciation of the worth and exploits of the rival forces in south africa is, in its context, as part of a hostile criticism of my work, either destructive of his own argument or meaningless. sir john french refuses to read through british eyes the plain moral of the war for cavalry. this is his reward, and it is of no use to pretend that he does not deserve it. anyone who throws the dearly-bought experience of his own countrymen to the winds, and runs to foreigners who have no relevant experience for corroboration of an outworn creed, gratuitously courts the same humiliation. perhaps i make too much of a point of pride. let sir john french at any rate see the amusing side of the situation. he has set forth[ ] his own four reasons for the failure of the lance and sword in south africa: ( ) the lightning speed of the boers in running away from combat--a habit which left our cavalry nothing even to reconnoitre; ( ) the fact that our military object was nothing less than the complete conquest and annexation of the enemy's country; ( ) that, owing to the release of prisoners who fought again against us, we had to contend with double the number of men nominally allowed for; ( ) the condition of the horses. the last factor the german author does not pretend to take seriously as an explanation of the failure of the cavalry; and with regard to the first three his view, as far as it receives clear expression, is diametrically the reverse of that of sir john french. so far from alleging that the boers "dispersed for hundreds of miles when pressed," he dwells repeatedly on the immobility imposed by their ox-waggons, says that they were "tied down" to an unparalleled extent, and censures the cavalry for what he regards as their unparalleled slackness in attack against such a vulnerable and unenterprising enemy. so far from agreeing that there was "nothing to reconnoitre," he points out that the cavalry "did not understand reconnaissance by cavalry patrols," a statement true enough in itself, but valueless without the reason--namely, the mistaken armament and training of the cavalry--a reason which would, of course, have applied with infinitely greater force to "any other european cavalry," because no cavalry but our own would have had the invaluable assistance of colonial mounted riflemen, armed and trained correctly. so far from finding an excuse for the failure of the lance and sword in the fact that our aim was conquest and annexation, he appears in the last page of his article to argue that, had these weapons been used more "relentlessly," the british nation would not now be in what he evidently regards as the degrading situation of having boers on a footing of political equality with british citizens! finally, so far from pleading the abnormal accretions to the boer army through the release of captured prisoners, he makes a particular point of our vast numerical superiority and of the "disappearing smaller numbers" of the enemy. but the climax comes when he coolly tells sir john french that the german cavalry, whose backwardness and "indolence" he condemns in the very book which sir john french sponsors, whom he regards as absolutely "unprepared for war," whose "prehistoric" tactics, "old-fashioned knightly combats," "antiquated regulations," and "tactical orgies," he is at this moment satirizing, would, twelve years ago, with still more antiquated regulations, with still less education, and with a far worse armament, have taught the boer peasants lessons with the steel which our faint-spirited cavalry could not teach them! all patriotic feelings apart, and merely as a military experiment, one would like to have seen the german uhlans of , with their popgun carbine and frederician traditions, and without a vestige of aid, inspiration or example from colonial or mounted infantry sources, tackling the boers at talana or zand river, at colenso, diamond hill, or magersfontein, at ladysmith or sannah's post, at roodewal or bakenlaagte. at the last two episodes the general is quite certain that they would have done far more marvellous feats with the steel by means of an old-fashioned knightly combat than the boers did with the rifle. serious students of land-war, anxious only to elucidate the purely technical question as to whether horsemen in modern days can fight effectively on horseback with steel weapons, look on in amazed bewilderment, while high authorities on the affirmative side conspire to render themselves and one another ridiculous by dragging in political, psychological, strategical, and even lyrical factors which have nothing whatever to do with the simple issue of combat. there, as i have often said, is the reader's clue through the labyrinth of contradictions. neither sir john french nor general von bernhardi ever really discusses at all the real point at issue. that is why they succeed in agreeing upon it, while differing radically in their logical processes. as the reader probably realizes now, nearly everything the latter general writes is either susceptible of two constructions or is subject to subsequent qualification. this critical essay on the opinions of lord roberts and on my book, "war and the _arme blanche_," is only another illustration of the same mental habit. though he is explicit enough on what he regards as the feeble initiative of the british army in general and the british cavalry in particular, he never attempts to trace any direct causal connection between this topic and the topic of the lance or sword. he dare not. remote insinuation is his only weapon. yet, for the purposes of his article, that specific link is the only thing worth talking about. so far as he does touch the question of physical combat--as, for example, where he says that the boers "fought entirely with the rifle, and this the mounted troops of england had to learn," "that the boers were far superior in the fire-fight," that the absence of "cavalry duels" in south africa was caused (mark this deliciously naïve admission) by the fact of the armament and the numerical weakness of the boers--he is on my side. and i need scarcely add that the reader will find it easy to demolish the general's whole dream of the lost opportunities of the lance and sword in south africa or manchuria, or of its golden chances in any future war, by passages from the general's own work, criticized in this volume, as when he implores his own cavalry to remember that they may have to meet mounted riflemen, or even heterodox cavalry, who, using their horses only as a means of mobility in the boer fashion, will, in defiance of the german text-books, advance dismounted, and force the german troopers to do the same; or when he lays down that the attack or defence of any "locality," entrenched or unentrenched, and by whomsoever defended or attacked, must be accomplished through fire-action. it is true that the theoretical limitations he sets to fire-action, from sheer ignorance of what fire-action by mounted troops is, reduce that form of combat also to a nullity; but on that point anyone can test his views by facts. although it is quite possible to prove from his premisses, if their truth be postulated, that the south african war never took place at all, without going to the trouble of proving that it was "abnormal" in the matter of the futility of the lance and sword, we know that it did take place, why lances and swords were futile, and why fire was supreme. . so in reality does general von bernhardi himself, and in the title of this chapter is crystallized his explicit statement of the truth. faithful to his habitual system of alternate adhesion to two incompatible theories, the general, after clearly enough condemning the british cavalry for their timidity with the steel, makes the following remarkable _volte face_: "in one particular, however, i will own he [_i.e._, mr. childers] is correct: the firearm rules tactics. that is indisputable. nobody can with the _arme blanche_ compel an opponent on his side tactically to use the _arme blanche_." (this last is a very dark saying, for the boers had no _arme blanche_; but it does not affect the general sense.) "to the laws of the fire-fight everything must be subordinated in war." well, that is precisely what lord roberts, the greatest soldier living, and many humbler persons, including myself, have contended for. _cadit quæstio._ why not have begun "cavalry in war and peace" with these illuminating axioms? why not have them placed in the forefront of our own cavalry manual, in the approaching revision of that important work? why give the dominating operative weapon only or per cent. of the time of the cavalry soldier, and make it officially subordinate to steel weapons which can only be used by its indulgence? but i am going a little too fast. the general, as usual, has a qualification. what is it? "but as a necessary corollary from this, to say that there can be no fight with the _arme blanche_ is a mischievous sophism." again we agree--in the sense, that is, in which the author now elects to use the phrase "_arme blanche_." for he means the bayonet. "every infantryman carries a bayonet, because he requires it for the assault. even lord roberts will not take this away," etc. no; and no one in the world, so far as i know, wants to take away the bayonet from the infantryman. but, as i asked at page , what has the bayonet got to do with the lance and sword? the bayonet is fixed to the rifle, and used on foot as an element in fire-tactics. the lance and sword are used from horseback in tactics which are diametrically opposite to and absolutely incompatible with fire-tactics, and every word lord roberts or i have written has been directly aimed against this antiquated system of fighting on horseback with the lance and sword. if the cavalryman, because, by universal consent, he has constantly to do work similar to that of infantry, requires a bayonet, by all means give it to him. i discussed the question in my previous book, and ventured to regard it as an open one, for reasons which i need not repeat now. but i over and over again took pains to point out the fundamental distinction between the bayonet and the lance and sword. on another point the general misrepresents me. because i showed by illustration from war the marked physical and moral effects of rifle-fire from the saddle, he treats me as advancing the specific plan of substituting rifle-fire on horseback for the use of the lance and sword on horseback in what his translator calls the "collision of the mounted fight" (handgemenge zu pferde). this is a perversion of my meaning. the collisions he is thinking of are obsolete. though i think that for all conceivable purposes a pistol would be better than a lance or sword, i adhered to the facts, and pointed out that saddle-fire in south africa was used _before_ contact, and that in order to consummate their destructive rifle-charges, the boers dismounted, either at close quarters or within point-blank range. ii.--_views of the general staff._ i wish to lay special stress on these two misrepresentations, because both have been also made by our own general staff. in a review of my previous book, whose general fairness and courtesy i gladly recognize, the _monthly notes_ of july, , took exactly the same erroneous points, and, for the rest, adopted the strange course of ruling out all the remarkable south african charges with the rifle by quietly assuming that they would have been done better with the sword or lance. he takes as an example the action of bakenlaagte, and convinces himself that cavalry "as ably led" would, by sticking persistently to their saddles, have done better with the steel than the boers who inflicted such terrible punishment with their rifles upon benson's brave and seasoned troops. this is an unintentional slur not only upon benson's men but upon our cavalry, who, on the reviewer's assumption, ought certainly to have inflicted similar punishment upon the boers on scores of occasions where the tactical conditions were approximately the same as those at bakenlaagte. the reviewer arbitrarily begins his imaginary parallel at the moment at which botha's final charge started, and pictures the steel-trained troops already in full career like the fire-trained troops who actually made the charge. war is not so easy as all that. he ignores the characteristically clever fire-tactics which for hours before had been leading up to the requisite situation, and forgets that steel-trained troops would never have had the skill or insight to produce and utilize that situation. moreover, their training manual not only does not contemplate, but renders prohibitive any such instantaneous transition from fire to shock as would have been required. but the reviewer surpasses himself when, having triumphantly brought his steel-trained troops through the preparatory phase and the charging phase (with the incidental riding down and capture of several detached bodies of men), he pictures them confronted with the objective ultimately charged--namely, benson's rearguard of guns and riflemen on gun hill. these men had had just time to rally, and were lined out on a long ridge in open order and in splendid fighting fettle. their fire hitherto had been masked by the rearmost sections of their own men, who were galloping in with the boers at their heels. what the boers now did was to fling themselves from their ponies, by instinct, in the dead ground below the ridge, and to charge up it on foot, where after a brief and desperate encounter they exterminated benson's heroic rearguard and captured the guns. this action the reviewer regards as clumsy and dilatory. his lancers, disdaining to dismount, would have ridden up the hill--painfully vulnerable targets for the rifles on the ridge--and, arrived on the top, would either have gone riding about among the scattered defenders trying to impale with lances or reach with swords riflemen who would have laughed in their faces at this ineffectual method of fighting, or (and the reviewer favours this alternative) would have been content to impale a chance few _en passant_, and, without drawing rein, would have galloped on towards the main body and convoy, leaving "supporting squadrons," whom he coolly invents for the occasion (for the boers had none), to "deal with" the rearguard in the knightly fashion aforesaid. sweeping on, and again disdaining to dismount on reaching the next objective, our lancers would have "spread havoc and consternation" among the convoy. would they? you cannot stampede or disable inspanned oxen and mules or their drivers by brandishing swords and lances. and surely one does not "charge" ox-waggons with those weapons. what you want for these occasions is the bullet, whether for beasts, drivers, or escort. by bitter experience of our own on only too many occasions we know all about the right way of spreading havoc and consternation among convoys. lances and swords never produced these effects in a single case in three years. and the escort and main body? why, a few dozen steady men with rifles would turn the tables on, and, in their turn, spread havoc among a whole brigade of lancers who insisted on remaining in their saddles. one falls, i must frankly admit, into profound discouragement when one meets arguments of this sort coming from a quarter where arguments lead to rules and regulations. it is quite true that this important review, in its moderate tone and in its tacit avowal that there was need of some reform in the present regulations, bore no resemblance to the criticisms which proceeded from some individual cavalry officers. there were indications--reliable, i hope--that the old knee-to-knee knightly shock-charge, now regarded officially as the "climax of cavalry training," was doomed, and that the open-order charge with the steel, presumed to be analogous to the open-order charge with the rifle, was the utmost now contemplated. but in truth, as i pointed out in chapters iv. and vi., there exists no such analogy, or the war would have demonstrated it. if such steel-charges were possible, our cavalry had innumerable chances of carrying them out under far more favourable conditions, owing to our permanent numerical superiority, than the boers ever obtained for their attacks, by the charge or otherwise. the steel-charge, close or open, was the traditional function of our cavalry; it was the only form of combat that they really understood when they landed in south africa, and they were supremely efficient in it. the point is that in practice they _could_ not charge with the steel, except in the rare and well-nigh negligible cases which are on record. they ceased altogether to try so to charge, because to fight with the steel on horseback was physically impossible. their steel weapons were eventually returned to store on that account. and they profited by the resulting change of spirit, and by the acquisition, late as it came, of a respectable firearm. to say that the fire-charge invented and practised by the boers as early as march, , when lances and swords were still in the field, and imitated to some extent by our own colonials and mounted infantry, could, after all, have been done as well and better with the lance and sword, is conjecture run mad. sir john french has never used the argument. he could not, with any shadow of plausibility, combine it with his complaint about the lightning flights of the boers and the absence of anything to reconnoitre. it is, i grant, the most impressive official testimonial ever given to the _arme blanche_, but it is not business. one might as well argue that the work done by togo's torpedo-boats would have been done better by the beaks of triremes. we _know and have seen_ what actually happened. we had nearly three years in which to arrive by experiment at tactical truths. in the name of common sense let us accept the results, especially when they are corroborated by the results of the other great modern war, that in manchuria. iii.--other cavalry views. directly or indirectly, i think that in the course of this volume i have replied to most of the criticisms which my previous book, "war and the _arme blanche_," drew forth. but i should like to make a brief reference to an interesting discussion of the subject conducted mainly by cavalry officers on october , , at the royal united service institution. a reader of the report in the _journal_ of november, , must feel that the proceedings would have gained in clarity and harmony had von bernhardi's belated maxim that the "firearm rules tactics" been made the basis of the debate. strange things were said on the side of the _arme blanche_. one officer urged that cavalry should not have a rifle--that arbiter of tactics--at all, should use shock alone, and should not be "frittered away as scouts." another complained that, in arguing mainly from the south african and manchurian wars, i "could not have selected two worse examples." i am not to blame. it is not a case of selection. these are the _only_ great civilized wars since the "revolution" (to use von bernhardi's phrase) wrought by modern firearms. the close-order shock-charge has never even been tried or contemplated in civilized war since , and even then it was moribund. yet the lecturer argued from waterloo, and, unconscious of the slight upon his arm, was at great pains to claim that even now cavalry kept in reserve for the occasion could attack two-year conscripts who had already been reduced to "pulp" by several days of fire and fatigue. "_if_," he said, "they could stick their lances into quite a large proportion," the rest "would have the most marked reluctance to remain upon the ground." perhaps. von bernhardi also claims that infantry, who under stress of fire have reached the point of throwing away their arms, may be attacked successfully with the steel. let us allow the claim, only remarking that experience shows a rifle to be a far more destructive weapon for such circumstances than a lance or sword. but, instead of idly awaiting these not very glorious opportunities for the steel, would it not be better for the cavalry to be mobile and busy from the first in using the same formidable weapon which originally reduced the infantry to pulp, using it in that limitless sphere of envelopment, interception, and surprise to which the possession of horses gives them access? another extraordinary feature of the discussion was the dissociation of moral effect from killing effect by some of the cavalry officers present, who really seemed to think that riflemen in war are afraid of horses, irrespective of weapons, whereas in fact they welcome so substantial a target for their rifles, and fear only the rider's weapon _in direct proportion to its deadliness_. these officers were convinced that their arm, trained to charge as it now is, exercises great moral effect, yet they agreed that the importance of killing the enemy with the steel is at present neglected, and that the art of so killing is not even taught. the lecturer argued that our cavalry would be a "more terrifying weapon than it is at present" if every trooper could be brought to "understand that he has to stick his sword or lance into the body of his opponent." another officer urged that "each horseman in a charge should be taught that he must kill at least one adversary"; and the chairman strongly emphasized "the necessity of training the men to kill." "the reason," he said, "that a man had a sword or spear was to kill." the truth is that some arts perish from disuse. this art cannot be exercised in war, so wars come and go, and the very tradition of its exercise disappears, and in peace is replaced, as the chairman said, by "piercing yells" and the "waving of swords." a horse artillery officer threw a bombshell into the debate by complaining that his arm was often forbidden at manoeuvres to open fire on the hostile cavalry masses (_vide supra_, pp. and ), in order to allow the collision to take place on "favourable ground," and asked for guidance. the chairman replied that the artillery could be trusted to be "loyal." but can they, in this particular matter? let us hope not. a small minority ably upheld the case against the _arme blanche_, and the discussion, as a whole, was of considerable value. general sir r.s. baden-powell went to the root of the matter when he confessed that a "policy had never properly been laid down" for the cavalry, and that they "wanted a policy to begin with before they commenced training." that is the literal truth, and i hope to have proved that no rational, clear, consistent policy ever will be laid down until the rifle is made in peace-theory what it already is in war-practice--the dominant, all-important weapon of cavalry--and until the axiom that the rifle rules tactics is accepted and systematically acted upon. i claim that von bernhardi's writings, and the manner of their acceptance in this country, prove conclusively that that is the condition precedent to a sound policy. he has no policy; we have no policy. we have not even a terminology suitable to modern conditions. i believe it correct also to say that the principal cause of the persistence of the _arme blanche_ theory in this country is its retention by foreign cavalries who are without war experience, and who, on account of its retention, are backward in every department of their science. in sir john french's words, we try to assimilate the best foreign customs, and we choose for assimilation the very customs which we ourselves have proved in war to be not only valueless, but vicious. i have not thought it worth while to deal with other continental cavalries. in the matter of the lance and sword, the austrian and french cavalries may be regarded as more backward than the german. both would regard von bernhardi as a fanatical heretic. count wrangel, for the austrians, states that it is impossible to train cavalry to the use of two weapons so different as the sword and the rifle, and, in deciding for the former, frankly admits that, after the experience of manchuria, cavalry have no business within the zone of fire. the views and practice of the french cavalry may be learnt from the scathing exposure to which they have been submitted by general de négrier. our cavalry, excessive as its reliance on the steel is, stands, of course, in the matter of fire-action, ahead of all continental rivals. relying too much on foreign practice in peace, we also exaggerate foreign exploits in bygone wars where conditions were radically different. i scarcely think it too much to say, after a close study of the criticisms of my book, that, if one could only succeed in proving to present-day cavalrymen that von bredow's charge at vionville was not a valid precedent for modern war, more than half the battle for rational armament and tactics would be won. quite half my critics threw that famous charge in my teeth, and some accused me of not even knowing about it, since i had not mentioned it. why should i have mentioned it? i was not aware at the time i wrote that it was seriously accepted as relevant to present conditions. von bernhardi, whom i was taking as a representative of the most enlightened cavalry views on the subject of the steel-charge, does not mention it in either of his works, and in his first work went to some trouble to show how the german and french cavalry at mars-la-tour frittered away time and opportunity by hanging about in masses which "mutually paralyzed" one another, instead of using golden chances for fire-action. he expressly says that the war of "presents a total absence of analogy," and, as i showed above (p. ), his own limitations for the steel-charge in modern war absolutely preclude the possibility of any such charge being repeated. those limitations have for long been accepted by cavalry in this country also--in theory. but the immortal fascination of that charge! next door to von bernhardi's article on my book in the _cavalry journal_ of october, , is an interesting descriptive account of it, with maps. and the author ends thus: "the days of cavalry are not over. for they 'can ride rapidly into the danger that infantry can only walk into.'" these two little sentences typify perfectly, i believe, the state of mind of those who cling to the _arme blanche_ out of sentiment and without scientific justification. nobody supposes that the days of cavalry are over. far from being weakened, cavalry, if properly equipped and trained, have potentialities immensely greater than the cavalry of , because they now possess--in our country at any rate--the weapon which, united with the horse, qualifies them to tackle any other arm on their own terms. and as the writer of this article truly says, they can ride into the danger that infantry can only walk into. south africa proves that, to a certain point. but, alas! that is not the moral that the writer means to draw. he forgets that the rifle of is, as i remarked before, a museum curiosity, and that, feeble as it was, it nearly cut to pieces bredow's regiments on their return from the charge. he draws the wrong moral--that cavalry can still make charges by remaining indefinitely in their saddles and wielding steel weapons from their saddles. in that sense the days of cavalry are indeed over. nobody should regret it. what is there to regret? but let me repeat one last caution. it is a harmful result of this otherwise healthy controversy that we tend to argue too much in terms of the "charge," meaning the mounted charge, culminating in a fight at close quarters, or even in a mêlée. for all we know, future science, by making it a sheer impossibility to get so large an object as a horse through a fire-zone, may eventually render such an attack by horsemen, in whatever formation and with whatever weapon, altogether impracticable. what will there be to regret in that? sailors do not mourn over the decay of the cutlass and the ram. _so long as we win_, it does not matter whether or not we charge on horseback, or how near we can ride to the objective before we begin the fire-fight. and, come what will, the horse, by the correct use of ground and surprise, will always be a priceless engine of strategical and tactical mobility. footnotes: [footnote : note, for example, his reiteration of the phrase, whose falsity anyone can demonstrate, that the boers showed "no offensive power," with the implied inference, never explicitly worked out, but left in the realm of vague insinuation, that this failure was in some way connected with their lack of lances and swords, weapons which they would not have taken at a gift, and could not have used if they had had them.] [footnote : see "war and the _arme blanche_," pp. - .] [footnote : conscious, apparently, of the gross personal discourtesy to sir john french, he adds that "since general french was there, lack of energy cannot be imputed to the attack." this not only stultifies what precedes, but is untrue. the attack was painfully unenergetic; nobody has denied it. the point is that the lack of energy was due to the fact that the cavalry were not armed and trained for such an occasion. of their three weapons, two, the lance and the sword, were useless, and the third was a trumpery little carbine, which in peace theory had been regarded as an almost negligible part of their equipment. what they needed was the fire-spirit, a serious firearm, and training in mobile fire-tactics.] [footnote : see _supra_, pp. - .] chapter x the moral the moral is simple and inspiring--self-reliance, trust in our own experience, as confirmed by the subsequent experience of others. by all means let us borrow what is good from foreigners, and i should be the last to deny that, on topics unconnected with combat and weapons, there are many valuable hints to be obtained from general von bernhardi's writings, and those of other foreign cavalrymen. but let us not borrow what is bad, nor lose ourselves in the fog which smothers his cavalry principles, when our own road to reform is plain. some measure of reform, if report is true, is to take shape in the next revision of the cavalry manual. i end, as i began, with expressing the hope that reform may be drastic. but reform cannot end with the cavalry manual. it is absolutely necessary to introduce clearness, consistency and harmony into the four manuals: "cavalry training" (with its absurd postscript for yeomanry), "mounted infantry training," "infantry training," and "combined training." at present the contradictions between these official manuals is a public scandal. but i suggest that the task of reconstruction is absolutely impossible unless the basis taken be that fire, by whomsoever employed, is absolute arbiter of tactics, and that the cavalryman is for practical purposes a compound of three factors--man, horse, and rifle. the lance should go altogether. whether the sword is retained, as the american cavalry retain it, rather as a symbol than as a factor in tactics, or is dispensed with altogether, as our divisional mounted troops and our colonial mounted riflemen dispense with it, is a matter of very small moment, provided that the correct principle be established and worked out in practice. it was because i doubted the possibility of establishing the correct principle in this country without abolition that in my previous book i advocated abolition, on the precedent of the south african war. the adoption of a bayonet or a sword-bayonet is, in my own humble opinion, an interesting open question. the end billing and sons, ltd., printers, guildford selections from mr. edward arnold's list of new and recent books. * * * * * unexplored spain. by abel chapman, author of "bird-life of the borders," "wild norway," "on safari"; and walter j. buck, british vice-consul at jerez. _with more than illustrations from drawings by the authors, joseph crawhall, and others, and from photographs, including some by h.r.h. philippe, duke of orleans. volume super-royal vo._, s. net. "a very striking volume, full of good things from cover to cover; and illustrations well worthy of the text."--_illustrated london news._ "'wild spain,' produced by the same authors in , seemed to leave little room for this volume, but riper experience, a wider survey, and keener analysis have brought justification for the hopes engendered by the praise accorded to the earlier work. moreover, the previous book gives an added interest to this one, and a faith in its authors that will enable readers to accept, without pause, statements which might otherwise cause a little hesitation, for it must come as a surprise to some when they are told that in spain there are wildfowl by the million, wild camels, and wild men. the numerous illustrations, which have been perseveringly sought, are excellent, and add to the charm of this fascinating book."--_daily chronicle._ "every sportsman and naturalist who reads it will be grateful for one of the best works of the kind published in recent years."--_daily graphic._ * * * * * london: edward arnold, & maddox street, w. the end of the irish parliament. by joseph r. fisher, b.a., author of "finland and the tsars." _demy vo._, s. d. net. the period dealt with by the author comprises the last thirty years of the irish parliament. the system of dual government--that "vulture gnawing at the vitals of the empire," as lord rosebery has called it--was then on its trial. it had already broken down in scotland, and in ireland the irrepressible conflict between closer union on the one hand and complete separation on the other went steadily on to its destined end. the crisis came when england found herself at war; a french invasion of ireland was attempted, and a fierce rebellion broke out. the causes that led to this rebellion, its failure, pitt's decision that only in complete union could a remedy be found for the desperate evils of the country, and the means by which the union was carried, constitute an important chapter in irish history, and one not without its bearing on current problems. german influence on british cavalry. by erskine childers, author of "war and the arme blanche," "the riddle of the sands"; editor of vol. v. of "'the times' history of the war in south africa," etc. _crown vo._, s. d. net. in the course of the keen and widespread controversy aroused by the author's book, "war and the arme blanche," published last year with an introduction by field-marshal lord roberts, it became clear that foreign influence--and especially german influence--was the principal cause of our adherence to the obsolete tactics based on the lance and sword. this impression has been confirmed by the recent appearance of a translation of general von bernhardi's latest work, "cavalry in war and peace," with a commendatory preface from the pen of general sir john french, our foremost cavalry authority. no modern work of this same scale and character, by a british cavalry writer, exists, and it is this work, therefore, which mr. childers, in his coming volume, "german influence on british cavalry," submits to close analysis and criticism. the life of the right hon. cecil john rhodes. by the hon. sir lewis michell, member of the executive council, cape colony. _ volumes, illustrated_, s. net. 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"'howards end' is packed full of good things. it stands out head and shoulders above the great mass of fiction now claiming a hearing. the autumn season has brought us some good novels, but this is, so far, the best of them."--_daily mail_ (from a special article headed "the season's great novel"). "there is no doubt about it whatever. mr. e.m. forster is one of the great novelists. all will agree as to the value of the book, as to its absorbing interest, the art and power with which it is put together, and they will feel with us that it is a book quite out of the common by a writer who is one of our assets, and is likely to be one of our glories."--_daily telegraph._ _by the same author._ a room with a view. s. the return. by walter de la mare. s. "one of the most curiously interesting and original books that it has been our fortune to come across for a long time."--_morning post._ anne douglas sedgwick's latest novel. franklin kane. by anne douglas sedgwick, author of "valerie upton," "amabel channice," etc. s. "a figure never to be forgotten."--_standard._ "there are no stereotyped patterns here."--_daily chronicle._ "a very graceful and charming comedy."--_manchester guardian._ a stepson of the soil. by mary j.h. skrine. s. "mrs. skrine's admirable novel is one of those unfortunately rare books which, without extenuating the hard facts of life, maintain and raise one's belief in human nature. the story is simple, but the manner of its telling is admirably uncommon. her portraits are quite extraordinarily vivid."--_spectator._ the dudley book of cookery and household recipes. by georgiana, countess of dudley. handsomely printed and bound. fourth impression. s. d. net. common-sense cookery. based on modern english and continental principles worked out in detail. by colonel a. kenney-herbert. over pages. illustrated. s. net. _by the same author._ fifty breakfasts. s. d. fifty luncheons. s. d. fifty dinners. s. d. the book of winter sports. with an introduction by the rt. hon. the earl of lytton, and contributions from experts in various branches of sport. edited by edgar syers. fully illustrated. demy vo. s. net. the cottage homes of england. charmingly illustrated in colour by mrs. allingham. with coloured plates. vo. ( - / in. by in.), s. net. also a limited _edition de luxe_, s. net. ruthless rhymes for heartless homes. by colonel d. streamer (captain harry graham). with illustrations by g. gathorne hardy. paper boards, s. d. net. "billy, in one of his nice new sashes, fell in the fire and got burnt to ashes; now, although the room is growing chilly, i haven't the heart to poke poor billy." london: edward arnold, & maddox street, w. book was produced from images made available by the hathitrust digital library.) _confidential!_ _for official use only_ specimens of british trench orders army war college [illustration] washington government printing office war department, document no. . _office of the adjutant general._ war department, washington, _may , _. the following specimens of british trench orders are published for the information of all concerned. ( , a. g. o.) by order of the secretary of war: h. l. scott, _major general, chief of staff_. official: h. p. mccain, _the adjutant general_. canadian corps trench orders. contents. subject. paragraph. duties sentries rifles, equipment, and ammunition "stand to" bombs and grenades, care of machine guns firing at aeroplanes trench sides, undercutting of sanitation time-tables and organization of work log books and trench store books communications alertness rum arrangements in case of attack working parties on front trench working parties outside the front trench precaution when our mines are exploded ration parties when found from front trenches rations and cooking vermorel sprayers reliefs: general points to be noted by company commanders guides smoking and talking rate of march to trenches procedure on arrival in trenches engineers chilled feet and frostbite, prevention of canadian corps trench orders. = . duties.=--(_a_) one officer per company and one n. c. o. per platoon will always be on duty. (_b_) by night the officer and n. c. o. on duty will frequently patrol the trench line to see that the sentries are alert and to inquire whether they have any information to report about the enemy.[ ] (_c_) the n. c. o. coming on duty will go round and post new sentries with the n. c. o. coming off duty. (_d_) the length of each tour of duty will depend on the number of officers and n. c. o.'s available in the company. _normally_ each tour should be, by night hours, by day hours, day commencing at morning "stand to," and by night commencing at evening "stand to." in inclement weather it may be advisable to reduce the tour to hour. (_e_) n. c. o.'s after posting sentries will report "all correct" or otherwise to the officer on duty. (_f_) the officer on duty will be responsible for sending in the reports required by battalion headquarters, unless there is anything unusual to report, when this duty will be performed by the company commander. (_g_) men will be warned for duty by the platoon n. c. o. on duty. this will be done at evening "stand to." (_h_) on being detailed for duty a man will be informed at which hours he will come on duty. (_i_) when possible to do so, notice boards will be placed in each section's trench, on which will be pinned daily all orders regarding working parties, and a list of the men in the section, giving the times at which they will come on sentry and other duty. (_j_) except under special circumstances, such, for instance, as a sentry being killed or wounded, no sentry will be relieved by another man unless the relief is properly carried out in the presence of a n. c. o. = . sentries=--=by night.=--(_a_) sentries will be posted every hours, except under bad weather conditions, when the length of the tour of sentry duty may be reduced. (_b_) from evening "stand to" till morning "stand to" one sentry to every four men will be posted. if wiring or digging parties are out in front, or listening posts are numerous, this number may be reduced. (_c_) the next relief will remain within reach of the sentry. (_d_) every sentry is to be regularly posted by a n. c. o., who will explain to him his duties and the front to be watched, and ascertain that the sentry and his relief are aware of the position of the section and platoon commanders, the sentries on either side, and whether there are any patrols or working parties out in front. should there be salients in the line, the sentry will be carefully instructed, so as to avoid any possibility of him firing toward his own trenches. (_e_) by night or in places which have the reputation of being dangerous, _i.e._, where enemy are suspected of mining, advanced posts, etc., no man should ever be posted alone. there should either be a double sentry post or the next relief should rest within kicking distance of the sentry. =by day.=--(_f_) the number of sentries required depends on the proximity of the enemy's trench line and whether a good view to the front can be obtained; normally one to every four days is sufficient. (_g_) every sentry will be provided with a periscope. (_h_) well-protected "look-out" posts for sentries will be built along the front trench line. (_i_) _sending out of patrols._--patrols will never be sent out without definite orders as to what is required of them. patrols will go out via a listening post (if such exist). all listening posts will be warned of the strength of the patrol and the approximate hour of departure and return. word will be passed _quietly_ along the line of sentries that a patrol is out in front. (_j_) as little challenging as possible will be done by sentries, and then only in a low tone of voice. = . rifles, equipment, and ammunition.=--(_a_) _carrying and wearing of._--equipment will always be worn by men in front trenches. (_b_) ration and carrying parties, orderlies, etc., will wear bandoliers and carry rifles. (_c_) parties at work between the front-line and reserve trenches may be permitted to "pile" or "ground" arms. wiring and digging parties out in front of the fire trench will sling the rifle. (_d_) _loading of rifles._--except when it is necessary to shoot, a round will _never_ be kept in the chamber. cut-offs will always be "in" and the safety catch "back." (_e_) the magazine will be kept charged with five rounds. (_f_) bayonets will always be fixed in front-line trenches. (_g_) _care of rifles._--rifles and ammunition will be inspected at morning and evening "stand to," and rapid loading will also be practiced. (_h_) covered rifle racks will be constructed in each bay where rifles will be kept. breech covers will be kept on the rifles. (_i_) in very cold weather sentries will occasionally work the bolt of the rifle to prevent the striker becoming frozen. for the same reason, in cold weather men will sleep with their rifles close to the body. (_j_) all loading will be from pouch or bandolier; no ammunition must ever be placed on ground or parapet. (_k_) _disposal of rifles, equipment, and ammunition._--wounded and men going sick will, if able to walk, wear their equipment and carry their rifles. the rifles and equipment of men unable to carry them and also those of dead men will be sent back to the dressing station. all other rifles, however badly damaged, and equipment damaged or not required will be sent back to the quartermaster. damaged cartridges and empty cases will be collected and returned to the quartermaster under company arrangements. (_l_) _ammunition._--every man will have rounds in his possession. (_m_) platoon commanders will report at evening "stand to" whether their ammunition is correct or otherwise. = . "stand to."=--"stand to" will take place hour before daylight and hour before dusk. at this parade every available man will be present. rifles, ammunition, equipment, clothing, etc., will be inspected. rapid loading will be practiced. the firing position of every man will be tested, to see whether he can hit the bottom edge of our wire. gas helmets and respirators will be inspected in accordance with the orders in force. orders will be issued and steps taken to see that the men understand them. after "stand to" in the morning and before "stand to" in the evening rifles will be thoroughly cleaned and oiled. = . care of bombs and grenades.=--(_a_) only a small percentage of bombs will be kept in the front trenches. these will be kept in a well-protected and dry bomb receptacle. (_b_) bomb stores will be built in the end of communication trenches in the support line. (_c_) detonators and fuzes, except in the front lines, will normally be kept in tins and not in the bomb. (_d_) the battalion grenadier officer will make frequent inspection of all bombs and grenades. (_e_) the alarm posts for grenadiers will be close to where the bomb stores are placed. (_f_) no one, other than a grenadier, will interfere with the bombs and grenades. (_g_) ammunition boxes in the trenches will be examined frequently to see if the lids work easily. = . machine guns.=--(_a_) the concealment and protection of machine-gun emplacements is important--for this reason, except in case of emergency, machine guns will not be fired from their regular emplacements. (_b_) unless emplacements are well concealed, guns will not be mounted except between evening and morning "stand to." (_c_) two men per detachment will always be on duty with the gun. (_d_) before dusk, while there is still sufficient light, each gun will be laid on some particular spot either in or behind the enemy's front line. (_e_) range cards will be prepared and kept with each gun. (_f_) _machine guns in the front line should be reduced to a minimum sufficient to cover the front._ = . firing at aeroplanes.=--firing at aeroplanes will not be permitted except by order of an officer. = . undercutting trench sides.=--(_a_) the undercutting of trench sides to make shelters is forbidden. (_b_) when shelters are made the required space from the ground level downward will be cut out and a roof supported on reliable posts will be made. = . sanitation.=--(_a_) the importance of strict attention to sanitation should be impressed on all ranks. (_b_) empty tins or other refuse will be collected in receptacles kept for the purpose in the trenches and buried in a refuse pit. (_c_) latrines will be constructed in trenches leading from communication trenches. where the bucket system is employed, chloride of lime or creosol will be freely used. the soil will be removed at night and buried in a deep pit well away from the trenches; these pits will be filled in when nearly full and labeled. (_d_) the commanding officer is responsible for sanitation in his unit and the medical officer will advise him in sanitary matters, making daily inspections of latrines, refuse pits, and water arrangements. under the medical officer latrines and refuse pits will be attended to by the regimental sanitary men and water duties by the r. a. m. c. details attached. = . time-tables and organization of work.=--(_a_) a time-table will be drawn up by each company commander. in this time-table he will allot hours of work, rest, and meals. (_b_) working parties will be properly organized. definite tasks will be allotted. each commander of a working party should know what work is expected from his party before the hour appointed to commence, so that no time is wasted in getting to work. (_c_) unless it can not be avoided, men should never be taken for sentry duty without having had a reasonable period of rest, and when this becomes necessary a report should be made to the c. o. = . log books and trench store books.=--(_a_) each company commander will keep a log book in which will be entered up daily the work done. this log book will be handed over from one commander to another on relief. (_b_) a trench store book will also be kept in which will be entered up all trench stores issued to the company. on relief, the incoming company commander will give a receipt to the outgoing commander for all trench stores taken over. (_c_) commanding officers are personally responsible that no trench stores, bath mats, etc., are used as firewood. = . communications.=--(_a_) artillery lines will be laid on one side of a trench. infantry lines on the opposite side. (_b_) the infantry brigade signal officer will exercise general supervision over all lines in the brigade area, and will notify the orderly officer of the artillery brigade when any artillery lines require attention or relaying. he will assist the artillery whenever it may be possible to do so. (_c_) lines will be laid as low as possible, preferably not more than inches from the bottom of the trench. they will be picketed into grooves cut into the side of the trench, the pickets being securely driven in at every reentrant bend and at every yards along the straight. (_d_) lines will be clearly labeled at every yards and at every junction with another line. (_e_) all lines will be carefully patrolled at least once daily. (_f_) one telephonist will always be on duty. (_g_) telephone communication to battalion headquarters and the company on each flank will be frequently tested. (_h_) all "dead" lines will be reeled up at once. (_i_) every man is to know the position of his platoon commander's shelter and the company headquarters. (_j_) at least two men per section of the support and reserve companies must be able to act as guides to all the company headquarters of the battalion. (_k_) all officers must know the shortest route from their own headquarters to those of the company on their flanks and to their own battalion headquarters. (_l_) it is the duty of every officer or man to fasten any loose wire that he may see which has become temporarily detached. = . alertness.=--anything seen or heard in connection with the enemy, such as movements of individuals, transport wagons, troops, working parties, etc., is to be reported to the nearest officer. = . rum.=--(_a_) rum will always be kept under the personal charge of the company commander. (_b_) the best time for a rum issue is in the early morning. (_c_) no issue of rum will be made except in the presence of an officer; any rum left over will be handed back to the charge of the company commander. (_d_) men undergoing punishment for drunkenness will receive no issue of rum for days after the offense, unless it is necessary for medical reasons. = . arrangements in case of attack.=--(_a_) company commanders will insure that all ranks know what to do in case of bombardment, gas, or attack by the enemy. they will occasionally test their arrangements by practicing an alarm. (_b_) all officers' servants, grenadiers, orderlies, etc., will have duties allotted to them in case of attack. = . working parties.=--(_a_) all work on a fire trench will be carried out by the garrison of the trench, assisted, if necessary, by the garrison of the support and reserve trenches. (_b_) all work in rear of fire trenches will be carried out by the garrison of the support and reserve trenches. (_c_) if possible, working parties will consist of complete units, i.e., section, platoon, or company. each unit will be commanded by its own commander. (_d_) even when working under engineer supervision, infantry officers in charge of working parties will be responsible that the work done satisfies tactical requirements. = . working parties outside the front trench.=--(_a_) a covering party will always be provided for digging and wiring parties outside the front trenches. = . precaution when one of our mines is exploded.=--in the event of one of our own mines being exploded, a clear space of yards will be kept on either side of the mouth of the mine shaft. = . ration parties when found from front trenches.=--usually, rations and stores will be carried up to the trenches by supports and reserves. if this is not possible and it is necessary that men from the front trenches have to be employed, not more than per cent of the men in the firing line are to be away from the trenches at the same time. = . rations and cooking.=--(_a_) ration parties from the support and reserve trenches will be made up in complete units as in (_c_). (_b_) the company quartermaster sergeant will accompany the ration parties for his company and report his arrival to the company commanders. (_c_) great care is to be taken that ration and carrying parties make as little noise as possible. (_d_) cooking, if possible, will be done behind the front-line trenches and should be concentrated by sections or companies. steps must be taken to ensure that as little smoke as possible is made by the cooks' fires. (_e_) unused rations will be returned to the quartermaster. (_f_) waste in any form will be discouraged. (_g_) arrangements should be made to ensure that soup or some hot drink should be available for the men between midnight and a. m. = . vermorel sprayers.=--(_a_) vermorel sprayers form part of trench stores. they are provided for clearing gas out of trenches and shelters after an attack, and for respraying helmets if necessary during a prolonged gas attack. (_b_) they will be distributed at easily accessible points in the trenches and protected from shell fire. (_c_) they must be kept one-third full of water. six gallons of the following solution to be used in them must be kept in corked rum jars close to each sprayer. it must not be kept in the sprayers owing to its corrosive nature: water, gallons (one large bucket). sodium thiosulphate (hypo), lbs. (two piled mess tins). sodium carbonate (washing soda), lbs. (one mess tin). (_d_) each company will have a squad of men in charge of an n. c. o. trained in the care and use of sprayers. (_e_) on taking over trenches, the n. c. o. in charge of sprayers will take over from the outgoing n. c. o. and will see that each is in order and provided with solution. (_f_) a man will be told off to each sprayer; he will be responsible for testing it every day, and in case of a gas attack he will stand by to use it when ordered. reliefs. = . general.=--(_a_) prior to taking over a new line of trenches the commanding officer, adjutant, machine-gun officer, signaling officer, and company commanders will reconnoiter the trenches. (_b_) machine guns will not be relieved at the same time as the infantry. = . points to be noted by company commanders.=--(_a_) number of men holding line to be taken over and distribution. (_b_) shelter accommodation. (_c_) work being done and proposed. to ensure a continuity of work an officer of the incoming battalion should go over line in daylight. (_d_) condition of the wire and defenses generally. (_e_) information as to the enemy, his habits, snipers, the work he is doing, &c. (_f_) water supply. (_g_) artillery support. (_h_) communications. (_i_) dangerous points. (_j_) lines of advance to be used in a counter attack. (_k_) position of "shell trenches" or "feathers," or other cover from enemy artillery fire. = . guides.=--(_a_) arrangements will be made between the c. o. of relieving and about to be relieved battalions as to places where guides will be provided by the latter to conduct the incoming troops to the trenches. (_b_) one guide per platoon, one for each company headquarters, and one for battalion headquarters will be provided. these guides must know the exact spot where they will meet the relieving troops and the best and safest way to the trenches. = . smoking and talking.=--after leaving the rendezvous there is to be no smoking or talking till arrival in the trenches. = . rate of march to trenches.=--the rate of marching to the trenches from billets will not exceed miles an hour. = . procedure on arrival in trenches.=--(_a_) the troops being relieved will not leave the trenches until all trench stores have been handed over and receipts received, all the relieving troops are in position, and new sentries have been posted and orders to move have been received from the company commander. (_b_) platoon commanders will at once personally examine all firing positions and satisfy themselves that each man can fire on the foot of the nearest part of the wire entanglement. (_c_) they will examine the ammunition and bomb magazines, vermorel and other sprayers, and antigas solution vessels. (_d_) when the relief is completed o. c. companies will report to that effect to battalion headquarters. (_e_) men will not be dismissed till the o. c. company has received reports from all his platoon commanders that everything is in order. = . engineers.=--(_a_) to insure continuity of work a few sappers should live permanently in the trenches. (_b_) daily requisitions for engineering material required will be forwarded by company commanders to battalion headquarters. (_c_) the battalion commander will apply to the field company for the material required through the brigade headquarters and will arrange for carrying parties to take it in. = . prevention of chilled feet and frostbite.=--(_a_) before marching to trenches, feet and legs will be washed and rubbed with antifrostbite grease or whale oil under platoon supervision. boots should be large enough for two pairs of socks, and puttees must be put on loosely. (_b_) the march to the trenches will be in ankle boots, every man will carry two pairs of spare socks, spare grease, and towel. (_c_) on arrival at the trenches, take off ankle boots and wet socks, dry and grease feet, put on dry socks, gum boots (trench stores) or paper stockings and ankle boots. (_d_) during the tour in the trenches, circulation must be kept up by movement; the restriction of the circulation of the lower limbs is the principal cause of chilled feet. (_e_) boots and puttees will be removed at least once in every hours, feet and legs will be dried, rubbed, and greased, and dry socks put on. (_f_) gum boots will be taken off before troops march out on relief and will be handed over as trench stores to the relieving unit. (_g_) on arrival in billets, feet will be washed and rubbed; dry socks, hot drinks, and food will be provided under battalion arrangements. (_h_) warming braziers made from and gallon oil drums will be provided, and a daily allowance of lbs. coke and / lb. charcoal per man in the trenches. an extra pea-soup, tea, and sugar ration will also be issued. (_i_) c. o.'s are responsible that all trench pumps on charge are kept in good repair and made use of to the fullest extent. the drier the trenches are the fewer will be the cases of chilled feet. c. h. harrington, _b. g. g. s., canadian corps_. october , . footnotes: [footnote : the officer should remember that he is in the same position as is the officer on watch on board a ship.] specimen of battalion trench standing orders. . trenches are usually divided up into a certain number of bays; the number of men to defend these bays depends on the length of trench allotted to each company. each section is detailed to guard a certain number of bays. . n. c. os. and men must always wear their equipment by day and night; a man found not complying with this order commits a "crime." . every company will stand to arms daily half an hour before dawn, and half an hour before dusk and will remain so till dismissed by o. c. company. . the enemy's trenches are so close that it is very important for the men to have their rifle sights always at "normal," so that there will be no necessity to alter the sights in case of alarm. . by night all bayonets are to be fixed, and per cent of the men on duty in the trenches are to be sitting on the firing platform with their rifles by their sides. . in case of an attack, especially at night, it should be impressed on the men that they should fire low; for one bullet that goes too low, at least go too high. a bullet that goes too high is wasted, whereas a bullet that goes too low is a ricochet and is often more dangerous than any other kind of bullet. . section commanders are responsible that the men under their command have sufficient standing room for the purpose of firing over the parapet. it is very important to insure that the men have a clear field of fire, and are able not only to see the enemy's trenches but also the ground in the immediate vicinity of their own trench. it is of the greatest importance to arrange that the men can fire comfortably from the parapet and that they can get the butt comfortably into the hollow of the shoulder when the rifle is resting on the parapet. . when making new trenches it should be impressed on the men that the parapet must be at least feet thick at the top in order to be bullet proof. . if any part of the parapet requires repairing or altering, the matter should be reported at once by the section commander to his platoon sergeant, who will in turn report the matter to superior authority. . the general work of repairing the trenches, fatigues, etc., will be carried out either by day or by night according to company arrangements. certain hours will be alloted for these tasks, and no man in the company is to be employed in any kind of work out of these hours, unless permission is obtained from o. c. company. . no man should ever leave his post in the trenches either by day or by night, without the permission of the n. c. o. in charge of that post. . as a general rule, by night there should be at least one sentry post to each ten yards of parapet. . by night double sentries should always be posted, if possible, and no sentry should be kept on duty for a longer period than hour at a time. it should be so arranged that when one of the sentries is doing his last / hour on sentry, his comrade will be doing his first / on duty. . sentries by night should always have their rifles resting on the parapet ready to fire at moment's notice. . as few sentries as possible should be posted by day, so as to give as much rest as possible to the remainder of the men. . by day any existing loop holes may be used by a sentry for observation purposes, but this is strictly prohibited at night, =when the sentry must look over the parapet=. . if a sentry is continually fired at, the section commander will take steps to post him in another position, but not far away from the original position. . by night arrangements must be made in each platoon for a n. c. o.[ ] to be continually on duty for the purpose of visiting the sentries, etc., etc. he will report to his company officer at odd hours and to his platoon officer at even hours. . cases have occurred of men going to sleep on sentry duty. this is the most serious crime a soldier can commit on active service. the g. o. c. has clearly stated that in future, if any man has been convicted by court-martial for this offense and sentenced to be shot, he will confirm the sentence. there is no excuse for a man going to sleep on sentry duty; if he is feeling too ill to perform this duty he should report the fact to the n. c. o. on duty of his platoon, who will in his turn report the matter to superior authority. . if an armed party of the enemy approaches the trench under a flag of truce, they should be ordered to halt at a distance and lay down their arms, and the matter should be reported at once to the o. c. company. if the party fails to halt when ordered to do so, or does not convey a flag of truce, they should immediately be fired upon. an unarmed party should be halted the same way at a distance, and the matter be reported to the o. c. company. . by night it is not necessary to challenge anyone in advance of the trenches, but fire should be opened at once. if, however, the company is sending out listening, working, or covering parties, these orders should be modified, and special instructions issued to meet the case. . men will be specially picked from the company for listening patrols and as sharpshooters. these men will be given special privileges and their work is such that they will be afforded greater opportunities of being mentioned in dispatches. . it is the duty of officers and n. c. os. to check men talking loudly during the night, as this practice makes it impossible for the sentries to hear any movement in front of the trenches. the germans take advantage of this talking by the british soldier during the night to send listening patrols quite near to our trenches, and even build trenches on clear moonlight nights close to our lines without our knowledge. . all working parties must wear their equipment and carry their rifles, but when actually working they can lay these on the ground close to them. . all picks and shovels after use will be returned to the company store. . ration parties and parties carrying material for repairs, etc., need not wear their equipment or carry rifles, but should be accompanied by a fully armed n. c. o. as an escort. . not more than twenty men are to be away from the company at the same time. n. c. o. and men per platoon. . every soldier must remember it is of the utmost importance to keep his rifle clean and in working order whilst in the trenches. his very life may depend upon this, as he is liable to be rushed at any moment, either by day or by night. the dirty rifle means probably a jammed one after the first round. . the first duty of a soldier, therefore, is to clean his rifle every morning as soon as there is sufficient light to enable him to do so; an hour will be appointed by o. c. company for this purpose. the platoon sergeant will be responsible that section commanders superintend this work, and inspect the rifles of their section. any man who is found with a dirty rifle will be made a prisoner. . all rifles by day to be in racks, except those used by the sentries, and arrangements should be made by section commanders to improvise racks if they are not provided. . great care is to be exercised to keep the trenches clean and in a sanitary condition. platoon commanders will be responsible for the latrines in their section of the trenches. any man fouling the trenches will be severely dealt with. no water is to be taken for drinking or cooking purposes except from the water cart or tanks provided for this purpose. disregard of this regulation will probably cause an outbreak of typhoid or dysentery amongst the men of the company. . stretcher bearers will be stationed at a place appointed by the c. o. if a man is wounded, information should be sent at once to these stretcher bearers, whose duty it is to carry wounded to the aid post or dressing station. men should not be taken from the firing line for this purpose. . no soldier is to be buried nearer than yards from the trenches. . in each platoon a n. c. o. will be detailed for duty by day. this n. c. o. will do no night duty, but will get a full night's rest. his duties are to post the day sentries and to see that they are alert and carrying out their duties correctly. he will be generally responsible for the cleanliness of his lines and will frequently visit the latrines. it is part of his duties to see that any loose ammunition lying about is collected. . the platoon sergeant will always send, if possible, a n. c. o.[ ] to draw the rations, and this n. c. o. will be responsible for their safe delivery. this especially applies to the issue of coke. the c. s. m. will, prior to his day of relief from the trenches, always collect the articles of trench equipment supplied for his company and make out a list of the same. these articles will be handed over to the company sergeant major of the relieving company. . the system of passing down messages by word of mouth, man to man, must not be used. if an officer or n. c. o. has anything important to report he should do so in writing. if there is no time to do this, a special messenger should be intrusted with a verbal message which should afterwards be confirmed in writing. . special instructions have been issued as to precautions against gas. these are to be strictly followed. footnotes: [footnote : an acting n. c. o. will not be employed on this duty.] brigade standing orders for the trenches. = . reliefs.=--(_a_) when a battalion is taking over a new line of trenches the company commanders will invariably visit the trenches on the day previous to that on which the relief takes place. they will gain as much information as possible from the company commanders they are relieving. (_b_) an officer of each company should proceed in advance to the trenches on the day of the relief to take over, during daylight, all trench stores, ammunition, etc. mutual receipts for these will be signed. (_c_) machine gunners, bombers, snipers, and signalers will not be relieved on the same day as companies. they should proceed to the trenches hours before their battalions, and take over their posts during daylight. (_d_) the strictest march discipline will be maintained by all parties proceeding to or from the trenches. an officer will march in rear of each company to ensure that it is properly closed up. (_e_) reliefs will be carried out as quietly as possible. no smoking or lights will be allowed after reaching a point to be decided on by battalion commanders. (_f_) guides at the rate of one per platoon, machine gun, or bombing post will invariably be arranged for by brigade headquarters when battalions proceed to the trenches. likewise, when battalions are being relieved, a similar number of guides will be detailed by them to meet relieving units. (_g_) on taking over a line of trenches a company commander will at once get in touch with the companies on his right and left; he will ascertain the position of the nearest supporting troops, of the reserve ammunition, of any machine guns or bombing posts, and of his battalion headquarters; he will ascertain the best and quickest means of obtaining artillery support, and he will have all wires, including the artillery wire, if there is one, tested. when his platoons have taken over, and he is satisfied that all is correct, he will inform his commanding officer by telephone that the relief of his company is complete. (_h_) the actual relief of trenches should be carried out in the following manner: the platoon being relieved gets on the firing step. the relieving platoon files in behind and halts. on the word "pass," which will be given quietly, being passed along, the relieved and relieving platoons will change places. the company commander of the relieving company will then supervise the posting of sentries by his platoon commanders. he will satisfy himself that each post is properly relieved and that the orders for the post are correctly handed over. the greatest care and attention to detail are necessary in this. the exact frontage for which each platoon commander is responsible will be clearly defined. before dismissing his company the company commander will ensure that each man has an alarm post from which he can use his rifle freely and fire at the bottom of our own wire entanglements. each man must also know the position of company headquarters, the reserve ammunition, and latrines. every company commander in the front line will have control of the grenadiers employed on his front. (_i_) within hours of taking over a new line of trenches a company commander will forward a report on his trenches as follows: garrison of trench. field of fire. distance from enemy's trench. general condition of trench. whether every man has a post from which he can fire at the bottom of our own wire entanglements. number of efficient loopholes. whether the parapet is bullet proof throughout. whether sufficient traverses. state of our wire. state of enemy's wire. drainage. number of boxes of reserve ammunition. number of bombing posts and of bombs with each. number of rounds of very pistol ammunition. number of vermorel sprayers. number of gongs. a rough sketch showing the position of bombers' posts, machine guns, grenade stores, and reserve ammunition should accompany the report. (_j_) before handing over trenches, officers commanding companies will draw up a statement containing all available information on the following points: our own trenches and wire. the enemy's trenches and wire. habits of the enemy. any part of trench which receives more than ordinary attention from the enemy's guns. number of bombing posts and bombs at each. number of machine guns on company's front. work in hand or contemplated. what artillery covers the front, and how it is best and quickest obtained. a list of trench stores, ammunition, etc., will also be drawn up ready for handing over. all stores should be carefully stacked in a convenient place. ammunition, very lights, sandbags, etc., sufficient for at least hours consumption, should invariably be handed over to the relieving unit. (_k_) the following constitute trench stores and will be handed over on relief: s. a. a. shovels. picks. loophole plates. balers. fixed rifle batteries. sniperscope rifles. braziers. catapults. grenade throwers. rifle racks. rifle grenade firing stands. hand grenades. rifle grenades. very pistol cartridges. gongs, bells, and alarms. vermorel sprayers. pumps. reserve rations. the following will not be handed over: very pistols. pistols, illuminating, - / inch. telescopic rifles. periscopes. telephones. battalion entrenching tools will not be taken to the trenches. should the existing tools in the trenches be considered insufficient, application should be made to brigade headquarters for a further supply. = . sentries.=--as a general rule, the following numbers of sentries will be posted: _by day._--one sentry for every bays, exclusive of bombers, snipers, and machine gunners. _by night, in a fog or snowstorm._--one double sentry for each bay, exclusive of bombers and machine gunners. sentries will invariably be posted and relieved by a n. c. o. under the orders of the platoon commander. it must be recognized that no fixed rules can be laid down as regards the number of sentries that are necessary and battalion commanders will use their discretion in the matter. the number required will depend on the proximity of the enemy, the tactical situation, and, above all, on the state of our own wire entanglements. = . officer and n. c. os. of the "watch."=--in every company in the firing line the company commander will arrange for his officers to take it in turns to be on "watch" throughout the twenty-four hours. likewise in each platoon the platoon commander will detail a n. c. o. of the watch. the officer and n. c. os. of the watch will visit all sentries, bombing posts, and machine guns within the area of their command once every hour by day and by night. at night the officer of the watch will carry a very pistol. very lights should be used sparingly, as they are often difficult to obtain. the time when lights are most required is when the germans are not sending any up. = . standing to arms.=--troops will always stand to arms one hour before daylight and one hour before dark. they will remain under arms in the first instance until the enemy's lines are visible, and in the second instance until darkness comes on. at these hours company commanders will arrange for the inspection of arms, ammunition, and equipment by platoon commanders. the latter will satisfy themselves that each man is in possession of two smoke helmets; ammunition will be made up to rounds per rifle when troops stand to arms. whenever men stand to arms company commanders will order the parapet to be manned to insure that every man has a post from which he can fire at the bottom of our own wire. at the inspection of rifles at the hours of standing to arms platoon commanders will satisfy themselves that the bolt action is working freely. a thorough inspection of arms will be held at midday, at which hour men will be washed and shaved. = . gas attacks.=--(i) it is to be impressed on all ranks that the smoke helmet issued to them affords complete protection against all forms of gas used by the enemy. (ii) all ranks will invariably carry on their persons smoke helmets. instruction is to be given in the method of adjusting smoke helmets rapidly, condemned helmets being used for this purpose. (iii) smoke helmets will be inspected at morning and evening "stand to." (iv) the direction of the wind will be studied and special precautions taken when it favors a gas attack by the enemy. (v) on the first sign of gas, whether it is detected by sight or smell, the sentries will sound the alarm gongs and bells which are hung up at intervals throughout the trenches. on hearing this alarm every officer and man will at once adjust his smoke helmet and fall in on his alarm post. nobody will remain in dugouts. to make certain of the warning reaching everybody the order "put on smoke helmets" will be passed from man to man throughout the trenches held by the ---- division. (vi) the officers in command of the trenches opposite the section of the enemy's line from which the gas is proceeding will send the s. o. s. call to the artillery, and will order rapid fire to be opened on the enemy trenches. neighboring sectors of defense will be at once warned. (vii) when the gas cloud is sufficiently thick to hide the enemy's front parapets, machine guns and rifles will open fire in short bursts on fixed lines covering the enemy's trenches, in order to inflict casualties, pierce gas tubes, and break up the density of the enemy's gas cloud. (viii) garrisons of trenches on the flanks of the front threatened will be prepared to open a flanking fire on the enemy should he attempt to advance from his front line. (ix) as soon as the s. o. s. call has been sent to the artillery, messages will be sent to brigade h. q. and the artillery "gas trench(es)________________________________." (x) rifle bolts and machine-gun crank handles to be worked backwards and forwards while gas is about, to prevent the gas from impairing the action. (xi) vermorel sprayers to be used in trenches and dugouts in the affected area as soon as the gas has passed over, in order that gas helmets may be taken off. (xii) measures will be taken to prevent stragglers. = . fixing of bayonets.=--bayonets will always be fixed during the hours of darkness, during a snowstorm, or thick mist, or when the proximity of the enemy renders this course advisable. = . counter attacks.=--as soon as possible after taking over a new line battalion commanders will draw up and submit to brigade headquarters their scheme for counter attacking the enemy should he gain possession of any part of their line. in framing this scheme it must be borne in mind that in every line of trenches there are certain points which would be of value to the enemy if captured by him, whereas there are others which would be of little use to him. should the enemy attack and occupy any portion of our trenches he will be immediately counter attacked and driven out by the nearest body of troops. all ranks must clearly understand that counter attacks made at once and without hesitation will usually be sucessful, even if made by small numbers, but that a counter attack, once the enemy has been given time to establish himself, is a very difficult and costly operation. = . mines.=--should the enemy fire a mine in or near our trenches the crater thus formed will be immediately occupied by the nearest troops. this order will be made known to all ranks. = . firing by day and night.=--by day men will only fire when a target offers itself. if the enemy is in the habit of showing himself at any particular point, the attention of the platoon commander should be drawn to it. the latter will inform the battalion sniping officer, who will tell off a sniper's post to watch the spot. by night all firing must be organized. if the enemy is believed to be working on his trenches or wire, the company commander will give directions to his platoon commanders to fire five rounds rapid at certain stated times. he will first ascertain that no patrols from neighboring companies will be out at these hours. a certain number of fixed rifles will be placed in every trench and fired by the sentries. these rifles will be laid on certain selected spots. indiscriminate firing by day or night is forbidden. if the enemy attacks, rapid fire will be opened without waiting for orders. = . company meetings.=--officers commanding companies will hold meetings of their platoon commanders and n. c. os. each evening in the trenches. only a few officers and n. c. os. should be present at each meeting. at these meetings the following points should be discussed: work required to place our trenches in a better state of defense and to improve the comfort of the men. work to be done during the next hours. it is essential that all work which has to be carried out at night is explained to all noncommissioned officers in daylight. any alterations noticed in the enemy's trenches or wire. what steps can be taken to annoy and harass the enemy. action in case of attack. = . work on trenches.=--work on trenches should as far as possible be carried out during daylight. = . garrisons of trenches.=--it is an invariable rule that during daylight the front-line trenches should be held as lightly as is compatible with safety. at night the garrison must be strengthened. the actual strength of garrisons will be governed by the tactical situation and by the number of support and communicating trenches at hand. with proper support and communicating trenches only sentries and snipers should be in the front-line trenches during daylight. to these will be added bombers if there are any old communicating trenches leading to the enemy's lines or if the proximity of the enemy demands their presence. = . discipline.=--(_a_) sleeping in the front line trenches will not be allowed unless there is an absence of support trenches. (_b_) no dugouts will be constructed without the permission of the battalion commander. all dugouts must be made splinter proof. work on them will not be commenced until sufficient material is at hand. if it can be avoided dugouts will not be constructed in the fire trenches. (_c_) no man will leave the trenches without permission from an officer. this order will be made known to all ranks. (_d_) cooking should not take place in the front-line trenches. whenever possible cooking will be done under company arrangements in order that the men may have their meals at regular hours. washing and shaving should be carried out in support trenches when possible. (_e_) all parties moving within the trench area will be correctly marched by an officer or n. c. o. (_f_) orderly room should be held daily in the trenches unless circumstances render this impossible. (_g_) sentries are strictly forbidden to wear any covering over the ears. (_h_) an officer will always be present when an issue of rum takes place. (_i_) equipment will never be taken off in the front-line trenches except in the case of working parties, when equipment may be removed by order of the company commanders. in support trenches equipment may be removed at the discretion of battalion commanders. (_j_) sentries will remain standing at all times unless the height of the parapet renders this impossible. (_k_) all parties, with the exception of stretcher bearers, moving in the trench area will wear their arms and equipment. orderlies may be excused wearing their equipment at the discretion of commanding officers. (_l_) the wearing of cotton bandoliers by working parties and orderlies is forbidden, nor are these bandoliers to be hung up in the trenches. (_m_) ammunition must be kept in a thoroughly clean state. if the ammunition is not clean jambs will occur. ammunition will be frequently inspected. (_n_) the "undercutting" of trenches is strictly forbidden. drains will always be cut down the center of a trench and not at the sides. (_o_) when mining is in progress in any of the trenches occupied by the brigade the sandbags filled with earth from the mine will on no account be used in the front trenches or other points which are visible to the enemy. = . reconnaissance and patrolling.=--the best security against attack is active patrolling and constant observation of the enemy's lines, so that he can not undertake any new work without steps being taken to prevent its continuance. the enemy's wire will be constantly patrolled to insure that he has cut no gaps in it with a view to launching an attack. patrols will also frequently visit our wire to insure that it is efficient. the front of our own fire parapet should be examined nightly. = . information.=--every effort will be made by means of patrols, field glasses, etc., to ascertain information about the enemy, his trenches and wire. any alterations in the enemy's lines must be reported, and if any of the enemy are seen a report will be sent in stating what dress they were wearing. the importance of forwarding all such information will be impressed on all ranks. = . sniping.=--in every battalion a sniping section will be formed, consisting of officer and n. c. o.'s and men. the officer will carry out the duties of intelligence officer to his battalion. he will render a daily report to his commanding officer containing the following information: number of casualties known to have been inflicted on the enemy. number and location of snipers' posts. any alterations in the enemy's trenches or wire. number of telescope rifles in possession. number and location of fixed rifles and rifle batteries in action. any activity by the enemy. battalion sniping officers will get into close touch with artillery observing officers within their sectors, and will give every assistance to them. = . artillery support.=--as a general rule, a forward observing officer of an -pounder battery will be quartered at or near battalion h. q. requests for retaliation should be made to this officer, and brigade h. q. should be warned of the action taken. fire from howitzers and heavy batteries can, except in the case of the s. o. s. signal, only be obtained through brigade h. q. if retaliatory fire is required from howitzers, it must be stated on what point it is wished that the fire should be directed. any trench mortaring by the enemy should be immediately reported to the officer commanding our trench mortars. = . "s. o. s." and "test" signals.=--in the event of an infantry attack by the enemy, a mine being fired, or other emergency, the s. o. s. signal will be sent by the quickest route to the field artillery battery covering the trenches concerned. _the signal will be followed by the number of the trench, e.g., "s. o. s. b ."_ the signal will be repeated to battalion h. q., who will transmit it to brigade h. q. on receipt of the s. o. s. signal all batteries covering the trenches concerned will open a concentrated fire on the enemy's front line. when necessity for fire no longer exists, a message to this effect will be sent to the artillery and to brigade h. q. in order to test the efficient working of the artillery lines, "test" messages will frequently be sent from the trenches to the supporting battery. the number of the trench will always be sent, e.g., "test a ." the test will consist of one round of shrapnel fired on the "night line" of the battery. no target will be given by the officer in the trenches. the time taken from the handing in of the message until the shell bursts will be carefully noted and reported to battalion h. q. the o. c. battalion will enter the result of all tests in his daily report. he will give the exact time at which the test was sent and will state whether it was a "direct" or an "indirect" test. a "direct" test is from trench to battery. an "indirect" test is from trench via battalion h. q. to battery. = . vermorel sprayers.=--one man will be detailed to look after each sprayer. a spare tin of solution will be kept with each sprayer. medical officers will periodically inspect both sprayers and solution. = . hostile artillery fire.=--in reporting activity by the enemy's artillery it is necessary to state: (i) the time at which shelling began and when it ceased. (ii) your own position. (iii) whether howitzer or gun. (iv) direction from which shells arrive. compass bearing should be given if possible. (v) whether shells burst in the air or on "graze." in reporting results of our own fire, state: (i) your own position. (ii) estimate distances short, over, right, or left, in yards. avoid vague statements. (iii) whether gun or howitzer. (iv) whether shrapnel or high explosive. if shrapnel bursts in the air, judge whether range is correct by the splash of the bullets on the ground and not by the burst. = . aircraft.=--on the approach of any of the enemy's aircraft three blasts will be blown on a whistle. this will be the signal for all ranks to keep perfectly still. one blast on a whistle will indicate that the aircraft has moved away. all aircraft belonging to the enemy will be heavily fired on by machine guns and rifles as long as they are within range, but no firing will take place without the order of an officer, who will first satisfy himself that the aircraft is hostile. directions should be given to the men as to how many lengths in front of the aeroplane aim should be taken. if a "zeppelin" is sighted, a "priority" message will be sent to brigade h. q. reporting the fact and stating approximately where the "zeppelin" was seen and in what direction it was proceeding. = . maps.=--maps with our own trenches marked on them will not be taken into the front-line trenches. = . telephone messages.=--no messages regarding the action of our own artillery or other matters of an important nature will be sent by telephone to the fire trenches. such messages will be sent by orderly. this is necessary because it has been found that the enemy has, at times, read our messages by induction. = . signalers.=--the brigade signaling section is responsible for the maintenance of communication between brigade h. q. and battalions. battalion signalers are responsible for communications within the battalion. all wires must be pinned in to the sides of trenches. infantry wires on the s. and e. sides and artillery wires on the n. and w. sides. pins for this purpose can be obtained from brigade headquarters. all wires will be labeled with the name of the battalion at least every yards. officers in charge of battalion signalers are responsible that all disused or unlabeled wires within their areas are reeled up. all wires will be patroled at least once every hours. = . medical officers.=--medical officers attached to battalions will, in addition to looking after the sick and wounded, be responsible for the sanitation of the trenches generally, paying particular attention to the water supply and latrines. battalion sanitary sections will work under the orders of the medical officer. the medical officer will accompany the commanding officer periodically on his visits round the trenches. stretcher bearers are responsible that the rifles and equipment (including field glasses, wire cutters, etc.), of all men who are wounded are taken with them to the dressing station. the medical officer will instruct the n. c. o. i/c stretcher bearers to see that this order is carried out. the arms and equipment of wounded men will be sent to the field ambulance with them, the ammunition having first been removed from pouches and magazines. field glasses, wire cutters, etc., will not be sent to the field ambulance but will be sent to battalion headquarters. the arms and equipment of men who are killed will be collected at battalion headquarters and handed over to the quartermaster for return to the base. = . ration parties.=--parties to carry rations, water, and material to the companies in the front line will be detailed from the companies in reserve. = . empty cartridge cases and rubbish.=--at intervals throughout the trenches sandbags will be hung up as receptacles for empty cartridge cases and chargers. others will be hung up for the collection of rubbish. sandbags to be labeled accordingly. all empty cases and chargers thus collected will be sent each evening to battalion h. q. for transmission to the base. = . dress, etc.=--men must be properly dressed at all times and as smart and clean as circumstances will allow. all men must shave daily. discipline as regards saluting, standing to attention, etc., will receive as much attention in the trenches as in billets. = . prisoners.=--should any prisoners be captured they will be immediately searched, and all documents found on them will be forwarded to brigade h. q. without delay. germans usually carry all documents in the skirt pockets of their tunics. a telephone message will be dispatched to brigade h. q. stating to what regiment the prisoners belong. all ranks will be warned that should they find themselves in the hands of the enemy it is only necessary for them to give their number, name, and regiment. no other information whatever will be given. = . returns.=--the following returns are due at brigade h. q. daily when in the trenches:-- at . a. m.--situation and wind by telephone. at . a. m.--strength and casualty return " daily report on typed form by orderly. artillery intelligence report " at . p. m.--situation and wind by telephone. at . p. m.--intelligence report by orderly or telephone. at . p. m.--return of material required for trench construction to be sent up the following evening by telephone. activity by the enemy's aeroplanes will always be reported. _______, _brigade major, ______ brigade_. th (west lancashire) division trench orders. this book is not to be taken beyond the front trenches. every officer, and every noncommissioned officer in command of any body of troops, is to be in possession of this book and to be thoroughly conversant with its contents. j. k. cochrane, _lieut. colonel, general staff_, _ th (west lancashire) division_. january, . contents. section. duties sentries patrols alertness stand to arrangements in case of attack machine guns cooperation between artillery, etc method of dealing with crater formed by mine explosion reliefs-- (_a_) reconnaissance (_b_) points to be noted by company commander (_c_) guides (_d_) smoking and talking (_e_) rate of march to trenches (_f_) procedure on arrival in trenches wiring organization of work on defenses log books undercutting trench sides communications ration parties from front trenches firing at aeroplanes rifles, equipment, and ammunition precautions against gas attacks action during enemy gas attack action after enemy gas attack action during gas shell bombardment discipline with regard to carrying small box respirators vermorel sprayers sanitation rations and cooking care of grenades steel helmets issue of rum chilled feet and frost bite th (west lancashire) division trench orders. = . duties.=--(_a_) one officer per company and one n. c. o. per platoon will always be on duty. during their tour of duty they will not be in their dugouts. they will frequently visit all trenches occupied by their units. every listening post will be visited, if possible, by an officer once during his tour of duty. (_b_) the officer on duty will, when his tour of duty is finished, inform the officer relieving him and report to him the situation, work in progress, and any other information of use. (_c_) by night the officer and n. c. o. on duty will frequently patrol the trench line, to see that the sentries are alert and to inquire whether they have any information about the enemy to report. (_d_) the n. c. o. coming on duty will go around and post new sentries with the n. c. o. coming off duty. (_e_) the length of each tour of duty will naturally depend on the number of officers and n. c. o.'s available in the company. normally each tour should be, by night hours, by day hours, day commencing at morning "stand to" and night commencing at evening "stand to." in inclement weather the tour of duty must be reduced. (_f_) n. c. o.'s after posting sentries will report "all correct" or otherwise to the officer on duty. (_g_) men will be warned for duty by the platoon sergeant on duty. this will be done at evening "stand to." (_h_) on being detailed for duty a man will be informed at which hours he will come on duty. (_i_) except under special circumstances, such, for instance, as a sentry being killed or wounded, no sentry will be relieved by another man unless the relief is properly carried out in the presence of a n. c. o. (_j_) when possible to do so, notice boards will be placed in each sections' trench, on which will be pinned daily all orders regarding working parties and a list of the men in the section giving the times at which they will come on sentry and other duties. (_k_) the company commander will be responsible for sending in the reports required by battalion h. q. = . sentries.=--(_a_) the number of sentry posts required depends on the propinquity or otherwise of the enemy, the strength of obstacles, the ease with which sentry posts can be reinforced, and other local conditions. there must be sentries enough to insure that the alarm is given promptly in case of attack, and that local resistance is sufficient until support can arrive. brigade commanders are responsible that these requirements are met. (_b_) sentries will be relieved every two hours, except under bad weather conditions, when the length of a tour of sentry duty will be reduced. (_c_) the next relief will remain within arm's length of the sentry. (_d_) every sentry is to be regularly posted by a n. c. o., who will explain to him his duties and ascertain that the sentry and his relief are aware of the position of the section and platoon commanders, and of the sentries on either side, and whether there are any patrols or working parties out in front. (_e_) in important places, i.e., where enemy are suspected of mining, advanced posts, etc., no man should be posted alone. there should be a double sentry. (_f_) no man who has been on work during the day will be placed on sentry till he has had at least hours for rest, unless it is unavoidable. (_g_) when the line is held by small posts at a considerable distance apart, a visiting patrol will also be maintained. this patrol will be responsible for the passing of orders along the line of posts. (_h_) all orders are to be passed along the line by one platoon n. c. o. on duty to the next n. c. o. on duty. (_i_) every sentry is to report when an officer passes his post "all correct" or otherwise. (_j_) during daylight no more sentries should be posted than are actually necessary to insure that the whole front to be watched is kept under efficient observation. (_k_) every sentry by day will be provided with a periscope. = . patrols.=--(_a_) it is the duty of troops holding the front line to establish a command of the ground in front of their parapet up to the enemy's wire. this can only be done by active and constant patrolling by night and reconnaissance by day, so that the ground is thoroughly well known to as large a proportion as possible of officers and other ranks, and so that no enemy can move or remain in it by day or night without fear of death. (_b_) every patrol must have definite orders as to its mission; broadly speaking, patrols may be divided into two classes: ( ) reconnoitering patrols; ( ) fighting patrols. (_c_) the first duty of _reconnoitering patrols_ is to obtain the information for which they are sent out. they fight only in self-defense, or if an especially favorable opportunity presents itself of inflicting loss on the enemy without prejudice to their mission. they usually consist of from to men under an officer. (_d_) fighting patrols are sent out with the express purpose of causing loss or damage to the enemy by such means as engaging enemy patrols or working parties, or by raiding saps, listening posts, or trenches. for identification purposes they should always endeavor to secure at least one prisoner. their strength depends on the nature of the resistance they are likely to meet with. (_e_) battalion commanders are responsible for the orders given to patrols, subject to any instructions which may be issued by higher authority. they are also responsible that all troops whom it concerns are warned when and where patrols will be out, and of the point to which they will return. (_f_) the information gained by patrols is of little value unless transmitted quickly to those whom it concerns. patrol reports will be made out by the commander of the patrol immediately on his return and dispatched at once by way of the battalion h. q. to brigade h. q., unless orders to the contrary have been given. = . alertness.=--anything seen or heard in connection with the enemy, such as movements of individuals, transport wagons, troops, working parties, etc., is to be reported to the nearest officer by anyone who observes it and at any time. = . stand to.=--"stand to" will take place one hour before sunrise and at sunset. at this parade every available man will be present. rifles, ammunition, equipment, clothing, etc., will be inspected. firing steps will be tested as soon as it is dusk to see that each man can fire on the foot of the nearest part of the wire entanglements immediately to his front. they are not to be tested at "stand to" in the morning. rifles, ammunition, and equipment will be inspected after "stand down" in the morning and at "stand to" at night. orders will be issued and steps taken to see that the men understand them. gas helmets and other protective appliances will be inspected in accordance with the orders in force. the time for "stand to" will be fixed weekly by brigade headquarters. = . arrangements in case of attack.=--(_a_) the action to be taken in case of attack is laid down in defense schemes, divisional, brigade, and battalion, with reference to each form of attack which is considerable probable. (_b_) in addition, minor defense schemes will be drawn up for each company front, based on battalion defense schemes, and platoon commanders also will keep up schemes based on that for the company and dealing specially with the action of their respective platoons. (_c_) all the above schemes, divisional, brigade, battalion, company, and platoon, will be handed over at each relief to the relieving formation, unit, etc. they will be made out in consultation by the formations, units, etc., habitually occupying the defenses with which they deal. (_d_) the object of defense schemes is to insure that every officer, n. c. o., and man knows what to do in case of attack, and does it instinctively and promptly. the minor schemes must therefore be detailed and exact, and each officer and man must have his duties thoroughly explained to him by his immediate superior. all defense schemes will be rehearsed once in each relief. (_e_) at each relief of a battalion, company, or platoon the commander of it will report to his immediate commander that he has taken over and understands the defense schemes for the position he is occupying. (_f_) all officers' servants, bombers, orderlies, etc., will have duties allotted to them in case of attack. = . machine guns.=--(_a_) the concealment of machine-gun emplacements is important; consequently it is only in case of attack that machine guns will be fired from their defense emplacements. (_b_) unless emplacements are well concealed guns will not be mounted, except between evening and morning "stand to." (_c_) the guns and their crews will be tactically under the orders of the battalion commander in whose subsector they are located, but no alteration will be made by him in their disposition or arcs of fire; he will, however, bring before his brigade commander any suggestion for improvement in the machine-gun dispositions for defense. (_d_) two men per gun will always be on duty with the gun. (_e_) at dusk, but while there is still sufficient light, each gun will be laid on the center line of the zone alloted to it. (_f_) range cards will be prepared and kept with each gun. (_g_) officers will live in close proximity to their guns. they will daily inspect their guns, emplacements, and ammunition. they are responsible for the cleanliness and maintenance of the emplacements. (_h_) the machine-gun company commander is responsible that his guns are always ready for action, that the emplacements are clear of all material except such as is required for the service of the gun, that embrasures or loopholes are kept clear of all obstructions which may interfere with fire or view, and that the ammunition is in good condition. = . cooperation between artillery, infantry, machine-gun companies, and trench mortar batteries.=--the defense of any line depends largely on the cordial cooperation of all officers responsible for the different means of defense. every opportunity is to be taken by officers of artillery, infantry, machine-gun companies, and trench mortar batteries of becoming personally acquainted with each other and gaining a knowledge of each other's methods. the artillery liaison officer with a battalion is to be looked on as temporarily a member of battalion h. q. = . precautions when one of our mines is exploded.=--(_a_) in the event of one of our own mines being exploded, a clear space of yards will be kept on either side of the mouth of the mine shaft. (_b_) on any front where enemy mining exists, or is suspected, detailed schemes of action will be prepared, under the direction of the brigade commander, to deal with any case of a mine being blown within or without our trench line; and specially organized parties will be kept in immediate readiness for prompt occupation of the crater, where this is advisable (as in the case of a crater within or near our trench line), or for dealing with enemy action. all stores required for consolidation will be kept handy at a special dump in instant readiness and made up into man loads. the orders for action, down to the minutest detail, will be incorporated in the defense scheme and made known to every individual who may have to carry them out. = . reliefs.=--(_a_) =reconnaissance.=--prior to taking over a new line of trenches, the commanding officer, adjutant, and company commanders of battalions, and the commanders of m. g. coys. and trench mortar batteries, will reconnoiter the trenches. (_b_) =points to be noted by company commanders.=--_the following, among others, are points to be specially noted by company commanders before taking over trenches_: (i) number of men holding line to be taken over and distribution. (ii) shelter accommodation. (iii) work being done and proposed. (iv) condition of the wire and defenses generally. (v) information as to the enemy, his habits, snipers, the work he is doing, etc. (vi) water supply. (vii) artillery support. (viii) communications. (_c_) =guides.=--(i) arrangements will be made between the c. o.'s of incoming and outgoing battalions as to the rendezvous where guides will be provided by the latter to conduct the incoming troops to the trenches. (ii) one guide per platoon, one for each company h. q., and one for battalion h. q. will be provided. these guides must know the exact spot where they will meet the relieving troops and the best and safest way to the trenches. (_d_) =smoking and talking.=--after leaving the rendezvous there is to be no smoking or talking till arrival in the trenches. (_e_) =rate of march to trenches.=--the rate of marching to the trenches from billets will not exceed miles an hour. strictest march discipline is to be enforced on the way to and from the trenches. (_f_) =procedure on arrival in trenches.=--(i) the troops being relieved will not leave the trenches until the relieving troops are in position and new sentries have been posted, all trench stores have been handed over and receipts received, and orders to move have been received from the company commander. (ii) platoon commanders will at once personally examine all firing positions and satisfy themselves that each man can fire on the foot of the nearest part of the wire entanglement. (iii) they will examine the ammunition and grenade stores, vermorel sprayers, and antigas solution. (iv) battalion h. q. will report to brigade h. q. as soon as relief is completed. when the relief is completed company commanders will report to that effect to battalion h. q. when shelters are some way behind the fire trench they should not be used during the first night of relief. (v) men will not be dismissed until the company commander has received reports from all his platoon commanders that everything is in order. on taking over trenches the garrison will "stand to" at alarm posts before being dismissed. _the following are some of the many questions a platoon commander should ask himself on taking over a trench and at frequent intervals afterwards_: . i am here for two purposes: to hold this line under all circumstances and to do as much damage as possible to the enemy. am i doing all i can to make this line as strong as possible? am i as _offensive_ as i might be with organized snipers, sniperscopes, rifle grenades, etc., and patrols? . do i connect up all right with the platoons on my right and left? do i know the position of my nearest support? . does every man know his firing position, and can he fire from it, over the parapet, at the foot of the wire? . where are my s. a. a. and bomb stores? are they under cover from the weather? . do all my men know their duties in case of attack--bombers especially? . are all my rifles and ammunition clean and in good order? have all the men got rifle covers? are the magazines kept charged? . is my wire strong enough? . are my parapets and traverses bullet proof everywhere? . where are my sally ports and gaps in my wire? . where are my listening posts? are my listening patrols properly detailed? . what points in front particularly require patrolling at night? . are my sentries in their right places? are they properly posted by n. c. o.'s? have they received proper instructions? . have i got the s. o. s. message in my pocket, and do i know the orders regarding its use? . are the trenches as clean and as sanitary as they might be? are live rounds and cases properly collected? are my bags for refuse and empties in position? . are my trenches as dry as i might make them? . am i doing all i can to prevent my men getting "trench feet"? . how can i prevent my parapets and dugouts from falling in? . have i carefully studied the ground in front and noted all places where germans expose themselves or are likely to do so? have i taken advantage of suitable spots in the ground in front of my parapet or behind my trenches to make "snipers'" lairs, besides making loopholes in the parapet? . have my men always got their box respirators on them, and are they in good order? . are the arrangements, in case of gas attack complete and known to all ranks? . are the orders as to wearing equipment carried out? . are my men using wood from the defenses as firewood? . are my men drinking water from any but authorized sources? are the arrangements for cooking and the care of rations as clean and sanitary as they can be made? are dugouts and shelters kept clean and tidy? . i am here for two purposes: to hold this line under all circumstances, and to do as much damage as possible to the enemy. am i doing all i can to make this line as strong as possible? am i as _offensive_ as i might be with organized snipers, sniperscopes, rifle grenades, etc., and patrols? = . wiring.=--(_a_) each company will have a party of n. c. o. and men who will be specially trained in wiring. they will go out nightly and repair and improve the wire along the company front. the definite duty allotted to trained wirers will not preclude the use of other men to increase the amount of wire along the front. (_b_) the wire defenses of the front must be such as to preclude the enemy from throwing bombs into our trench from the outer edge of our wire. the nearest wire to our parapet should be yards from it, and should be yards at least in depth. = . organization of work on defenses.=--(_a_) the infantry brigade commander is responsible for the maintenance of the front line system of trenches, under direction of the division and with the advice and assistance of the field company commander. (_b_) one field company will usually be allotted to each brigade area for work under the c. r. e. (_c_) the o. c. field company will act as technical adviser to the infantry brigadiers, and with his officers will visit frequently the front line trenches and other trenches in the area, and be responsible for the technical quality of the work done in them; if necessary he will supply r. e. personnel for supervision, but this will be done sparingly, for the infantry should be trained to do all ordinary maintenance and repair work, such as repairing wire, rebuilding of parapets, fixing u frames and revetment hurdles, construction of ordinary dugouts, keeping trenches drained, etc., without r. e. assistance or supervision, leaving the r. e. free for work requiring technical skill, such as-- new works. concrete dugouts and machine-gun emplacements. main drainage, etc. (_d_) the pioneers will be employed under the c. r. e. on special jobs under their own officers, such as-- construction of new trenches. repair of communication trenches. preparation of camps, etc. (_e_) the battalion commander is responsible for all work done in his subsector, and is, under the brigade commander, responsible for drawing up a time-table allotting hours for work, rest, and meals. time-tables will be submitted in the first instance to brigade h. q. for approval, and will then remain in force till altered, any alteration being submitted in the same way as the original. the following table is an example: _instructions for working party._ [to be used by all officers requiring or detailing a working party.] working party from___________________________________________________ officers__________________________ o. r.______________________________ rendezvous________________________ time______________________________ guide will be furnished by___________________________________________ tools_____________________________ _____________________________ to be drawn from__________________ _____________________________ stores____________________________ ____________________________ to be drawn from__________________ ____________________________ instructions on the work from________________________________________ time party will stop work____________________________________________ whether haversack rations are to be brought__________________________ (_f_) all work on the fire trench should be carried out by the garrison of the trench, assisted, if necessary, by the garrison of the support and the reserve trenches. (_g_) all work in rear of the fire trenches will be carried out by the garrison of the support and reserve trenches. (_h_) efficiency of work depends, firstly, on _organization_, and, secondly, on _supervision_. without these, effort is wasted and work is unsatisfactory. (_i_) _organization_ demands forethought. every officer charged with the execution of any work must-- (i) think out beforehand exactly how it is to be performed, and how many men are necessary to carry it out, including any carrying parties that may be wanted. (ii) appoint a place and time (if this is not already fixed by routine) for the assembly of the party. (iii) ensure that the necessary tools are forthcoming, and that they are either brought by the party to the place of assembly, or are available for them there. (iv) ensure that the necessary materials are at hand or arrange for their conveyance to the place of work by the working party or by a separate carrying party before the working party arrives there. (v) parade the working party at the place of assembly, and tell each individual off to his task, or, in the case of larger parties, tell off their respective tasks, and appoint a n. c. o. or soldier in each squad to be responsible for the work. (_j_) _supervision_ demands energy and watchfulness. the officer charged with the execution of the work will always personally supervise it. working parties will, as far as possible, be detailed by companies, platoons, or sections, and will be accompanied by all officers and n. c. o.'s belonging to them, who will remain with the party and be responsible for the continuance and direction of the work of their own men during its execution. (_k_) unless work has to be performed with equipment on, jackets should be taken off (except in inclement weather) while men are actually working and put on at once when they stop. (_l_) the best work is obtained from men when they are given certain definite tasks, proportionate to the time they are to work, and allowed to fall out when the task is finished. if this can not be done, a fair task must be exacted and men who idle given extra tasks after the rest are dismissed. (_m_) a working party which is too big for the task in hand is worse than one which is too small, since one man who has no job generally makes several others idle. (_n_) all officers and other ranks must be made to understand that working is as useful and important as fighting; that good work deserves as much credit as good fighting, and that bad work brings discredit on himself and his battalion. (_o_) a covering party will be provided for digging and wiring parties outside the front trenches. when such parties are being employed an adequate garrison will be left in the front trench. (_p_) the word "fatigue" will never be employed in connection with work in the trenches or other defences. = . log books.=--each company commander in front line or support trenches will keep a log book (army book ) in which will be entered-- (i) work done; (ii) number of men working; (iii) hours worked; (iv) information obtained from patrols, sentries, or other sources, as to the enemy, his habits, and his trenches. _the above will be entered daily._ (v) work projected or ordered, in order of importance; (vi) a list of trench stores. the log book will be inspected daily by the battalion commander and frequently by the brigade staff. = . undercutting trench sides.=--(_a_) the undercutting of trench sides to make shelters is forbidden. (_b_) when shelters are made the required space from the ground level downwards will be cut out, and a roof, supported on reliable posts, will be made. = . communications.=--(_a_) artillery lines will be laid on the north and west sides of trenches. infantry lines on south and east. (_b_) the infantry brigade signal officer will exercise general supervision over all lines in the brigade area, and will notify artillery brigades when any artillery lines require attention or relaying. he will assist the artillery whenever it may be possible to do so. (_c_) all essential lines should be buried to a depth of at least feet. lines in the communication trenches should be reduced to a minimum. (_d_) lines will be clearly labeled at every hundred yards and at every junction with another line. (_e_) all lines will be carefully patrolled at least once daily. (_f_) one telephonist will always be on duty. (_g_) telephone communication to battalion headquarters and the company on each flank will be frequently tested. (_h_) all "dead" lines will be reeled up at once. (_i_) every man is to know the position of his platoon commander's shelter and of the company headquarters. (_j_) at least two men per section of the support and reserve companies must be able to act as guides to all the company headquarters of the battalion. (_k_) all officers must know the shortest route from their own headquarters to those of the company on their flanks and to their own battalion headquarters. (_l_) it is most important to maintain always visual signaling communications from the front line as far back as brigade headquarters. brigade signal officers will be responsible to brigades that this is done. one message by day and one by night will be sent daily over each visual signaling route. these will be checked by the brigade staff at least once a week to insure that they are transmitted promptly and accurately. (_m_) pigeons when relieved by fresh ones will be flown back, each with a test message to brigade headquarters. times taken from battalion headquarters to brigade headquarters will be checked in each case by the brigade signal officer, and once a week at least by the brigade staff. (_n_) the brigade signal section while with the brigade forms an integral part of brigade headquarters. the brigade commander is responsible to higher authority for the communications within his brigade sector and must have full knowledge of them. he exercises control over his signals through the brigade signal officer. it is the duty of the brigade signal officer to bring to the notice of the brigade commander, as well as of the officer commanding divisional signal company, any defects which exist or any improvements which can be made. = . ration parties found from front trenches.=--usually rations and stores will be carried up to the trenches by supports and reserves. if this is not possible, and it is necessary that men from the front trenches have to be employed, not more than per cent of the men in the firing line are to be away from the trenches at the same time. = . firing at aeroplanes.=--will not be permitted except by order of an officer. = . rifles, equipment, and ammunition (carrying and wearing of).=--(_a_) equipment will always be worn in the front trenches. haversacks, water bottles, packs, and entrenching tools need not be worn. in the support and reserve trenches equipment will be worn at the discretion of the brigade commander. (_b_) ration and carrying parties, orderlies, etc., will wear equipment and carry rifles unless otherwise ordered in special cases by an officer. permission to discard equipment, and particularly to discard arms, should be sparingly given. (_c_) _loading of rifles._--except when it is necessary to shoot, a round will _never_ be kept in the chamber. cut-offs will always be "in" and the safety catch "back." (_d_) the magazine will be kept charged with five rounds. (_e_) in the fire trenches, bayonets will be fixed at night. (_f_) _care of rifles._--all rifles and ammunition will be inspected by an officer at least twice a day, viz, at morning and evening "stand to." they must be kept scrupulously clean at _all_ times, and any mud or grit removed _at once_ without waiting for the next inspection. breech covers will always be kept on rifles, and so fixed that they can be immediately cast loose. each platoon will have its full complement of "breech clearers" in charge of men fully instructed in their use. (_g_) noncommissioned officers and men in firing line and support will at all times be in possession of their rifles and bayonets. the rifles of men in support reserve trenches or dugouts may be placed in protected racks, so that they can be seized quickly. not more than six will be in one rack. (_h_) in very cold weather sentries will occasionally work the bolt of the rifle to prevent the striker becoming frozen. (_i_) on no account is the rifle to be used for the purpose of carrying camp kettles and other loads. (_j_) ammunition boxes in the trenches will be examined frequently to see if the lids work easily. they will not be needlessly broken into. each box will be placed on its side in a recess, protected from the weather, with the lid facing outwards, and with the broader end of the wooden lid uppermost. (_k_) every man will have rounds in his possession. (_l_) platoon commanders will report at "stand to" whether their ammunition is correct or otherwise. (_m_) except in cases of emergency no bandoliers will be issued to men in the trenches. (_n_) _disposal of rifles, equipment, and ammunition._--men wounded and going sick will, if able to walk, wear their equipment and carry their rifles. the rifles and equipment of men unable to carry them, and also those of dead men, will be sent back to the dressing station. all rifles, however, badly damaged, and equipment damaged or not required, will be sent back to the quartermaster. damaged cartridges and empty cases will be collected in sacks hung up in the trenches for the purpose and returned to the quartermaster. = . precautions against gas attack.=--when "_wind dangerous_" is ordered, the following arrangements will be carried out: (i) all small box respirators and p. h. helmets will be carefully inspected; such inspections will be carried out daily during the "_wind dangerous_" period. (ii) within a mile of the front line the small box respirator will be worn in the "_alert_" position on the chest with flap unbuttoned, but protecting the respirator from the wet. (_a_) the small box respirator will be worn in the "_alert_" position outside all clothing. (_b_) nothing will be carried slung across the body in such a way as to interfere with the adjustment of the box respirator. (iii) where for any reason a man is not in possession of a small box respirator, he will wear his p. h. helmet pinned to the shirt in the "_alert_" position. (iv) the chin strap of the steel helmet will on no account be worn under the chin to impede the adjustment of the mask. (v) detached parties of men moving within a mile of the front line will strictly observe the precautions laid down in (ii), (iii), and (iv). commanding officers will be held responsible that this is done. (vi) the duties of sentries are: (_a_) to give warning; (_b_) to adjust immediately the curtains of gas-proof dugouts. (vii) all working parties east of the line poperinghe--bailleul--estaires will have a sentry posted to give instant warning of a gas attack. (viii) a sentry will be posted at each strombos horn or similar alarm and instructed in its use. (ix) a sentry will be posted at every tunnel dugout or other dugout holding more than men. (x) a sentry will be posted to each group of two or three small dugouts. (xi) a sentry will be posted on each headquarters, signal office, and independent body of men east of the line poperinghe--bailleul--estaires. (xii) men sleeping in rearward lines, works, or rest billets where they are allowed to take off their equipment will sleep with their small box respirators round their necks, and must know exactly where their p. h. helmet is to be found. (xiii) company gas n. c. o.'s will report to company headquarters in readiness to assist the company commander should a gas attack occur. (xiv) medical officers will be responsible that a proper proportion of the ammonia capsules issued to them are with stretcher bearers in the front line in readiness for their immediate use after a gas attack. (xv) company gas n. c. o.'s will inspect daily all antigas apparatus--strombos horns, flapper fans, vacuum bulbs, and stores of combustibles for clearing dugouts. they will see that gas-proof dugouts are kept in good order and the curtains sprayed. (xvi) an officer on duty will be detailed from each company in reserve, except resting battalions. (xvii) commanders of units in billets east of the line poperinghe--bailleul--estaires will organize a system of giving the alarm and rousing the men in cellars or houses. = . action during enemy gas attack.=--in the event of an enemy gas attack the following action will be taken: (i) the alarm will at once be given by all means available; by telephone, gongs, strombos horns, and, if necessary, by orderly, and in accordance with paras. (iv) and (v). (ii) there should be as little movement and talking as possible. all ranks will at once adjust their small box respirators. in front lines, and wherever the tactical situation demands, they will stand to arms. in rear lines, where there are large gas-proof dugouts, there is no objection, provided the tactical situation allows it, to men, with the exception of sentries and officers and n. c. o.'s on duty, remaining in the gas-proof dugouts. in any case small box respirators will be adjusted immediately the alarm is given and before the men leave the dugout. (iii) on the alarm being given, all bodies of troops or transport on the move will halt, and all working parties cease work until the gas cloud has passed. (iv) should the gas cloud be unaccompanied by an infantry attack, the message "gas attack, trench ________________," but not the s. o. s. signal, will be sent. (v) should an infantry attack develop, the normal procedure of s. o. s. will be carried out. (vi) troops in the front line not affected by gas must be warned to be prepared to bring a cross fire to bear on the enemy when he attempts to advance against a gassed portion of the trench. (vii) if a relief is in progress, units should stand steady as far as possible until the gas cloud has passed. (viii) supports, and parties bringing up ammunition and grenades, will only be moved up if the tactical situation demands. (ix) the blanket doorways of protected dugouts will be properly adjusted. (x) men in charge of combustibles and fans will prepare to use them as soon as the gas cloud has passed, so as to admit of helmets being removed. (xi) helmets will not be removed after a gas attack until permission has been given by the company commander, who will ascertain from officers and n. c. o.'s trained at the divisional gas school that it is safe to do so. trenches will be fanned clear of gas with fans and sandbags. (xii) in order to guard against the danger of a subsequent gas cloud, all ranks, as soon as the gas is clear and permission has been received to remove their masks, will replace them in the "_alert_" position. a sharp lookout will be maintained as long as the wind continues in a dangerous quarter, and men will sleep on the fire step, within reach of a sentry. a subsequent gas cloud is always likely. (xiii) dugouts will not be entered for at least four hours after a gas attack, and should be ventilated freely. ventilation (natural or by means of fires and antigas fans) is the only sure method of clearing a dugout. if dugouts have to be entered owing to heavy shelling, this should be done with the utmost caution, and gas helmets put on at the slightest trace of gas. the clearing of dugouts should not be carried out by men who have been even slightly affected by gas. dugouts can be efficiently ventilated by means of a small fire burning in the center of a dugout or cellar for minutes. this method has been proved by experiments to be effective, but should be employed with due regard to the danger of smoke being visible to the enemy. dry wood or other combustibles will be kept in readiness for the purpose. (xiv) special arrangements will be made by corps for warning the civil authorities who are responsible for the protection and warning of all civilians within the corps area. = . action after enemy gas attack.=--(i) smoking will be prohibited for a period of three hours after the gas has ceased. (ii) after a gas attack troops in the front trenches will be relieved of all fatigue and carrying work for hours by sending up working parties from companies in rear. horses should not be worked for a similar period if it can be avoided. (iii) no man suffering from effects of gas will be permitted to walk to the dressing station. (iv) rifles and machine guns should be cleaned immediately after a gas attack; oil cleaning will prevent corrosion for hours, but the first available opportunity should be taken to clean all parts in boiling water containing a little soda. = . action during gas shell bombardment.=--(i) small box respirators will be put on in the shelled area. (ii) in the event of a sudden and intense bombardment with gas shell a local alarm will be given in the front-line system of trenches by orderlies; in reserve trenches and battery positions this local alarm may be given by french shunters' horns. in order to avoid false alarms of a gas attack the french shunters' horns should not be used in infantry front-line trenches. (iii) all dugouts in the vicinity will be visited and any sleeping men aroused. = . discipline with regard to carrying small box respirators.=--small box respirators will always be carried within miles of the front line (_i.e._, in advance of the line elverdinghe--vlamertinghe--dickebush--kemmel hill--neuve eglise--nieppe--laventie) whatever the direction of the wind is. p. h. helmets will always be carried in corps areas whatever the direction of the wind is. ="wind-dangerous" period.=--orders as to the position in which the above are worn in "_wind-dangerous_" period are contained in section . ="wind-safe" period.=--when the wind is safe working parties during work and at the discretion of the officer in command may take off their box respirators, provided the latter are placed conveniently at hand for use in case of a sudden gas-shell attack or change of the wind. the p. h. helmet will always be carried. = . vermorel sprayers.=--(_a_) vermorel sprayers form part of trench stores. they are provided for spraying the blankets of gas-proof dugouts and shelters. (_b_) they will be stored in the gas-proof dugout or in a protected position close at hand. (_c_) they must be kept one-third full of water. six gallons of the solution given below to be used in them must be kept in corked jars or petrol tins close to each sprayer. it must not be kept in the sprayer owing to its corrosive nature, and after solution has been used the sprayer must be washed out with water: water.-- gallons (one large bucket); sodium thiosulphate (hypo).-- - / lbs. ( / mess tin); sodium carbonate (washing soda).-- lbs. (one piled mess tin). (_d_) vermorel sprayers will be in charge of company gas n. c. o.'s, who will detail and train men in their care and use and superintend all spraying. the blankets on all gas-protected dugouts will be inspected and sprayed at the commencement of a wind-dangerous period and as often as is necessary to keep them in a moist condition during it. (_e_) company gas n. c. o.'s will take over vermorel sprayers from outgoing n. c. o.'s. (_f_) vermorel sprayers in the line will on no account be used for clearing gas from trenches or dugouts after an attack. against the present gas used by the enemy these chemicals have no effect, and ayrton fans and fires are the means to be used. the sprayers at medical aid posts are provided with a chemical solution which will clear any gas that may have entered their protected posts. = . sanitation.=--(_a_) the importance of strict attention to sanitation will be impressed on all ranks. (_b_) the commanding officer is responsible for sanitation in his unit, and the medical officer will advise him in sanitary matters, making frequent inspection of cook houses, latrines, refuse pits, and water arrangements. under the medical officer latrines and refuse pits will be attended to by the regimental sanitary men and water duties by the r. a. m. c. details attached. (_c_) latrines will be constructed in trenches leading from communication trenches. where the bucket system is employed, chloride of lime or creosol will be freely used. the soil will be removed at night and buried in a deep pit at least yards from the trenches; these pits will be filled in when nearly full and labeled. (_d_) empty tins and other refuse will be collected in receptacles kept for the purpose in the trenches, and returning carrying parties will be used to carry these back to the incinerators in rear. = . rations and cooking.=--(_a_) ration parties from the support and reserve trenches will be made up in complete units. (_b_) the company quartermaster sergeant will accompany the ration parties for his company and report his arrival to the company commander. (_c_) great care is to be taken that ration and carrying parties make as little noise as possible. (_d_) where cooking is done individually, definite times should be allocated for the purpose. (_e_) unused rations will be returned to the quartermaster. (_f_) waste in any form will be discouraged. (_g_) arrangements should be made to insure that soup or some hot drink is available for the men between midnight and a. m. (_h_) all cooking places and appliances will be kept scrupulously clean and inspected daily by an officer. = . care of grenades.=--(_a_) grenades in the trenches will be kept in waterproof boxes placed in recesses in the parapet. (_b_) the brigade bombing officer will frequently inspect all grenades and posts, and will see that the proper number of grenades is kept up in each post and store; that they are protected from weather; that a sufficient number of bombers are present and understand their duties; that the grenades are in good condition; and that waistcoats or carriers are available. = . steel helmets.=--steel helmets will be worn at all times in the trenches (including all communicating trenches). in addition, they will be worn elsewhere than in the trenches as may be ordered from time to time by divisional or brigade headquarters. = . rum.=--(_a_) rum will be issued by an officer, who will see that each individual drinks it in his presence. (_b_) it is not to be issued in the trenches after "stand down" in the evening or before "stand down" in the morning, except with the special permission of the battalion commander. (_c_) men undergoing punishment for drunkenness will receive no issue of rum for fourteen days after the offense unless it is necessary for medical reasons. = . chilled feet and frostbite.=-- . these conditions are caused by-- (_a_) prolonged standing in cold water and mud; (_b_) the continued wearing of wet socks, boots, and puttees; (_c_) constriction of the lower limbs. . they can be prevented or diminished by-- (_a_) the wearing of long gum boots; (_b_) improvements to trenches and provision of dry standings, and warmth; (_c_) reduction of time spent in the trenches as far as the military situation permits; (_d_) good battalion arrangements to insure that men enter the trenches warmly clad with dry boots, socks, and trousers, and with the skin well rubbed with whale oil or antifrostbite grease; (_e_) taking to the trenches a pair of ankle boots, in addition to the long gum boots, and changing from one into the other when possible, at the same time putting on a pair of dry socks. n. b.--the effect from being wet through from perspiration is just as bad as that from water. therefore, change your socks. (_f_) taking exercise. work is the best specific against trench feet. men who are kept moving are kept warm, with their blood circulating properly, and do not get trench feet. (_g_) providing warm food at least once a day in the trenches and shelter. = . commanding officers will be held personally responsible that the following instructions are implicitly carried out under the strictest supervision by officers=: (_a_) previous to a tour of trench duty, men's feet will be well rubbed with oil or grease and dry socks put on. it is not sufficient to apply the oil or grease, it must be _thoroughly rubbed in until the skin is dry_. (_b_) in addition to those worn, another pair of socks will be carried by each man and used as directed in section , paragraph (_e_). (_c_) battalion arrangements will be made for the reissue of one dry pair of socks to each man daily in the trenches. (_d_) puttees are never to be worn with long gum boots. socks can be prevented from creeping down under the sole of the foot by fastening them to the trousers by means of safety pins. on no account will anything in the form of a garter be worn, as it impedes circulation of the blood. (_e_) hot food will be provided at least once a day for men in trenches. hot boxes will be available for carrying this. (_f_) when the feet are affected on no account is hot water to be used, nor are they to be put near a fire. (_g_) regimental rest posts are to be instituted in close proximity to the trenches, where attention can properly be given to men who show signs of exposure. (_h_) on return from the trenches the long gum boots are to be dried inside. = . divisional or brigade arrangements for=: (_a_) provision of the necessary accommodation for the washing and drying of socks in large numbers, and their supply, to battalions in the front line, in exchange for wet ones. (_b_) drying and brushing of clothes. . long gum boots are issued solely for the use of men in the trenches, either in the forward or backward lines. they are not to be issued to or used by men under any other conditions. trancribers note: the following printers errors have been corrected, otherwise spelling is as in the original. sperior/superior certatin/certain sumbitted/submitted words, letters surrounded by equal signs were bold in the original. _bell's indian and colonial library_ wellington's men _uniform with this volume_ by w.h. fitchett, b.a., ll.d. in paper covers or cloth deeds that won the empire. historic battle scenes. with portraits and plans. fights for the flag. with portraits and plans. how england saved europe. the story of the great war, - . four volumes. with portraits, facsimiles, and plans. wellington's men some soldier autobiographies _kincaid's "adventures in the rifle brigade"; "rifleman harris"; anton's "military life"; mercer's "waterloo"_ edited by w.h. fitchett, b.a., ll.d. author of "deeds that won the empire," "fights for the flag," "how england saved europe," etc. [illustration] london george bell & sons and bombay _this edition is issued for circulation in india and the colonies only._ contents page the soldier in literature i. from torres vedras to waterloo-- i. a young soldier ii. retreats and pursuits iii. some famous battles iv. the imminent deadly breach v. in the pyrenees vi. quatre bras vii. the rifles at waterloo ii. one of craufurd's veterans-- i. the king's shilling ii. in the peninsula iii. when the fight is over iv. a memorable retreat v. stern scenes vi. some famous soldiers vii. the "tommy atkins" of a century ago iii. a royal highlander-- i. about soldiers' wives ii. fighting in the pyrenees iii. the hillside at toulouse iv. the nd at quatre bras v. the highlanders at waterloo iv. with the guns at waterloo-- i. waiting for the guns ii. on march to the field iii. quatre bras iv. the retreat to waterloo v. waterloo vi. after the fight the soldier in literature wellington's men the soldier in literature this volume is an attempt to rescue from undeserved oblivion a cluster of soldierly autobiographies; and to give to the general reader some pictures of famous battles, not as described by the historian or analysed by the philosopher, but as seen by the eyes of men who fought in them. history treats the men who do the actual fighting in war very ill. it commonly forgets all about them. if it occasionally sheds a few drops of careless ink upon them, it is without either comprehension or sympathy. from the orthodox historian's point of view, the private soldier is a mere unconsidered pawn in the passionless chess of some cold-brained strategist. as a matter of fact a battle is an event which pulsates with the fiercest human passions--passions bred of terror and of daring; of the anguish of wounds and of the rapture of victory; of the fear and awe of human souls over whom there suddenly sweeps the mystery of death. but under conventional literary treatment all this evaporates. to the historian a battle is as completely drained of human emotion as a chemical formula. it is evaporated into a haze of cold and cloudy generalities. but this is certainly to miss what is, for the human imagination, the most characteristic feature of a great fight. a battle offers the spectacle of, say, a hundred thousand men lifted up suddenly and simultaneously into a mood of intensest passion--heroic or diabolical--eager to kill and willing to be killed; a mood in which death and wounds count for nothing and victory for everything. this is the feature of war which stirs the common imagination of the race; which makes gentle women weep, and wise philosophers stare, and the average hot-blooded human male turn half-frenzied with excitement. what does each separate human atom feel, when caught in that whirling tornado of passion and of peril? who shall make visible to us the actual faces in the fighting-line; or make audible the words--stern order, broken prayer, blasphemous jest--spoken amid the tumult? who shall give us, in a word, an adequate picture of the soldier's life in actual war-time, with its hardships, its excitements, its escapes, its exultation and despair? if the soldier attempts to tell the tale himself he commonly fails. in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred he belongs to the inarticulate classes. he lacks the gift of description. he can do a great deed, but cannot describe it when it is done. if knowledge were linked in them to an adequate gift of literary expression, soldiers would be the great literary artists of the race. for who else lives through so wide and so wild a range of experience and emotion. when, as in the case of napier, a soldier emerges with a distinct touch of literary genius, the result is an immortal book. but usually the soldier has to be content with making history; he leaves to others the tamer business of writing it, and generally himself suffers the injustice of being forgotten in the process. literature is congested with books which describe the soldier from the outside; which tell the tale of his hardships and heroisms, his follies and vices, as they are seen by the remote and uncomprehending spectator. what the world needs is the tale of the bayonet and of "brown bess," written by the hand which has actually used those weapons. now, the narratives which these pages offer afresh to the world are of exactly this character. they are pages of battle-literature written by the hands of soldiers. they are not attempts at history, but exercises in autobiography. so they are actual human documents, with the salt of truth, of sincerity, and of reality in every syllable. the faded leaves of these memoirs are still stained with the red wine of battle. in their words--to the imaginative and sympathetic hearer, at all events--there are still audible the shouts of charging men, the roll of musketry volleys, the wild cheer of the stormers at ciudad rodrigo or badajos, the earth-shaking thunder of waterloo. passages from four of such autobiographies are woven into the pages of this book: captain kincaid's "adventures in the rifle brigade in the peninsula, &c."; sergeant anton's "recollections of service in the nd"; the tale of "rifleman harris" in the old th; and mercer's experiences in command of a battery at waterloo. all these books are old; three, at least, are out of print, and form the rare prizes to be picked up by the fortunate collector in second-hand bookshops. anton's book was published in , kincaid's in , and is endorsed "very scarce." captain curling edited "rifleman harris" in . mercer's "journal of the waterloo campaign" was written in , and published as late as . but it consists of two volumes, in which the story of the great battle is only an episode, and it has never reached any wide circle of readers. yet mercer's account of waterloo is the best personal narrative of the great fight in english literature. all these books are thus of rare interest and value. they belong to the era of "brown bess," of the peninsula, and of waterloo. each writer represents a distinct type of soldiership. kincaid was a captain in one of the most famous regiments in british history--the rifles in craufurd's light division. harris was a private in another battalion of the same regiment. mercer commanded battery g--fondly described by its captain as "the finest troop in the service"--at waterloo. anton was a scottish soldier in that not least famous of scottish regiments--the nd, or royal highlanders. they all took part in that chain of memorable victories, which stretches from roliça to waterloo, and they were all--though in widely different ways--fighting men of the highest quality. kincaid led a forlorn hope at ciudad rodrigo. harris was one of the unconquerable, much-enduring rearguard in moore's retreat to corunna. anton shared in the wild fighting of the nd at toulouse. mercer fought his battery at waterloo until, out of fine horses in his troop, lay dead or dying; while of the men not enough survived to man four guns; and these, as the great battle came to its end, fell, smoke-blackened and exhausted, in slumber beside their blood-splashed guns. each writer, too, had, in an amusing degree, an intense pride in the particular body to which he belonged. the army with him counted for little, the regiment was everything. kincaid says, with entire frankness, if anybody who had not the good fortune to belong to the "rifles" expects to be named in his book, he was "most confoundedly mistaken." "neither," he adds, "will i mention any regiment but my own, if i can possibly avoid it. for there is none other that i like so much, and none else so much deserves it. for we were the light regiment of the light division, and fired the first and last shot in almost every battle, siege, and skirmish, in which the army was engaged during the war." kincaid admits that the rd and nd--the other regiments that formed the immortal light division--deserved to be remembered, too; but the most flattering compliment he can pay them is to say, "wherever we were, they were." "whenever it came to a pinch," he adds, "we had only to look behind to see a line"--consisting of these two regiments--"in which we might place a degree of confidence almost equal to our hopes in heaven. there never was such a corps of riflemen with such supporters!" harris, again, cherishes the comforting persuasion that his particular battalion could outmarch, outshoot, outlaugh, outdare--perhaps even outdrink--any other in the british army. "we were," he says, "always at the front in an advance, and at the rear in a retreat." he praises the army as a whole, but it is only for the sake of erecting a pedestal on which some new monument to the glory of the "rifles" can be placed. he recalls the memory of the british army as it approached salamanca. "the men," he says, "seemed invincible. nothing, i thought, could have beaten them." yet the cream of it all was the "rifles"! harris's working creed, in brief, consists of three articles: ( ) that the finest army in the world was that which wellington led; ( ) that the finest regiment in that army was the th; and ( ) that the best battalion in the regiment was that his major commanded! "we had some of as desperate fellows in the rifles as had ever toiled under the burning sun of an enemy's country in any age. there never were such a set of devil-may-care fellows so completely up to their business as the th. they were in the mess before the others began, and were the last to leave off. it was their business to be so.... there was, perhaps, as intelligent and talented a set of men amongst us as ever carried a weapon in any country. they seemed at times to need but a glance at what was going on to know all about its 'why and wherefore.'" sergeant anton, again, has all a good scotchman's austere pride in the superiority of a scotch regiment over any other that ever carried muskets. he has nothing but an imperfectly disguised pity for those unfortunate people who have the bad taste to be born south of the tweed. any scotch regiment, he visibly holds, is necessarily better than any possible regiment not brought up on porridge. and if amongst the scottish regiments there was any quite equal to the royal highlanders, sergeant anton, at least, would like to know the name of that surprising body. in the same fashion captain mercer, the one educated man in this cluster of soldier-scribes, plainly cherishes a hearty belief that battery g has the finest horses, the best equipment, the smartest men, and the most perfect discipline, not merely in the british army, but in any army known to history! pride in the regiment to which the soldier happens to belong is a fine element of military strength. under modern short-service conditions it grows faint; but amongst wellington's veterans it had almost the fervours of a religion. it may be added that these writers are curiously distinct, and look at war through very diverse eyes. kincaid represents a type of officer in which the british army of all days is rich; and whose qualities explain some of the failures, and most of the triumphs of that army. he was gallant in every drop of his blood; cool, hardy, athletic, a fit leader of the fighting line. he had been reared in luxury, accustomed to feed daintily every day, to lie softly every night; he was full of the pride of his caste; yet in the actual business of fighting, kincaid, like all officers of the type to which he belonged, could outmarch the privates in the ranks. he fared as hardly as they, shared their scanty rations, lay like them on the wet soil, endured in every way as much, and grumbled less. he was not only first in the charge, but last in the retreat, and took it all--hunger, wet, cold, perils--with smiling face, as part of the day's work. harris, who views his officers through a private's eyes, is never weary of dwelling on their hardihood, as well as their pluck. "the gentlemen," he says, "bear it best." "it is usually found," he adds, "that those whose birth and station might reasonably have made them fastidious under hardship and toil, bear their miseries without a murmur; while those whose previous life might have better prepared them for the toil of war, are the first to cry out and complain of their hard fate." kincaid belongs to this fine type of officer; but he had all the limitations of his type. he knew nothing of the scientific side of his profession. he fought by the light of nature, and looked on a battle as a game of football. he was a true product of the english public schools; gay, plucky, hardy, reckless. he lived under the empire of great feelings--of patriotism, honour, &c.--but tortures would not make him use great words to describe them. a shy and proud self-disparagement is the note of kincaid's type. they are almost more afraid of being detected in doing a fine thing than others are of being proved guilty of doing a base thing. kincaid himself describes how ciudad rodrigo was carried, but omits to mention the circumstance that he volunteered for the forlorn hope, and led it. the tone of his book is that of the officers' mess, bright, off-hand, jesting at peril, making light of hardships. he tells the tale of heroic deeds--his own or others'--with the severest economy of admiring adjectives. the only adjectives, indeed, kincaid admits are those of a comminatory sort. harris is a fair sample of the unconquerable british private of the peninsular age, with all the virtues, and all the limitations of his class. he is stocky in body, stubborn in temper, untaught and primitive in nature. he seems to have had no education. his horizon is singularly limited. he sees little beyond the files to right and left of him. the major who commands the battalion is the biggest figure in his world. his endurance is wonderful. laden like a donkey, with ill-fitting boots and half-filled stomach, he can splash along the muddy spanish roads, under the falling rain, or sweat beneath the spanish mid-summer heats, from gray dawn to gathering dusk. he will toil on, indeed, with dogged courage until his brain reels, his eyes grow blind, and the over-wrought muscles can no longer stir the leaden feet. harris is loyal to his comrades; cherishes an undoubting confidence in his officers; believes that, man for man, any british regiment can beat twice its numbers of any other nation; while his own particular regiment, the th, will cheerfully take in hand four times that ratio of foes. harris has no hate for a frenchman; he respects and likes him indeed, but he always expects to thrash him, and having shot his french foe he is quite prepared to explore his pockets in search of booty. for the british private in the peninsula was by no means an angel in a red coat. his vices, like his virtues, were of a primitive sort. he drank, he swore, and alas, he plundered. if the valour which raged at the great breach of badajos, or swept up the slope of rugged stones at san sebastian, was of almost incredible fire, so the brutality which plundered and ravished and slew after the city was carried, was of almost incredible fierceness. harris had no education or almost none; yet he learned to write, and write well. his style, it is true, is that of the uneducated man. he is most sensitive to things that touch himself. he is conscious of the weight of his knapsack, of the blisters on his feet, of the hunger in his stomach, and he drags all these emotions into his tale. yet harris had, somehow, by gift of nature, an unusual literary faculty. he sees, and he makes you see. it is true the area of his vision is narrow. it is almost filled up, as we have said, by his right- and left-hand files. it never goes beyond the battalion. but on that narrow canvas he paints with the minuteness and fidelity of a dutch artist. sergeant-major anton is really an economical and domestically inclined scotchman, whom chance has thrust into the ranks of the royal highlanders; and who, finding himself a soldier, devotes himself to the business with that hard-headed and unsentimental thoroughness which makes the lowland scot about the most formidable fighting man the world knows. for anton is a lowlander; heavy-footed, heavy-bodied, dour, with nothing of a highlander's excitability or clan-sentiment. a story is current of how, in storming a kopje in south africa, a highland soldier dislodged a boer, and, with threatening bayonet, brought him to a stand against a wall of rock. as he lingered for the final and fatal lunge, another eager scot called out "oot o' the way, jock, and gie me room tae get a poke at him." "na, na, tam," shouted his frugal and practically-minded comrade, "awa' wi' ye and find a boer tae yersel'." there is a touch of this severely practical spirit in anton, and in this, no doubt, he reflects his regiment. given a french battery to be stormed, here are men who, with bent heads, wooden faces, and steady bayonets, will push on into the very flame of the guns, and each man will do his separate part with a conscientious thoroughness that no foe can withstand. the story of the fight on the hillside at toulouse illustrates this stern quality in scottish soldiership. but the domestic side of anton's nature is always visible. he was one of the few married men in his regiment, and he is never wearied of describing what snug nests he built for his mate and himself in the intervals betwixt marching and fighting, or when the troops had gone into winter quarters. the value of anton's book, indeed, lies largely in the light it sheds on the fortunes and sufferings of the hardy women, sharp of tongue and strong of body, who marched in the rear of wellington's troops; and who, to their honour be it recorded, were usually faithful wives to the rough soldiers whose fortunes they shared. anton, it is amusing to note, is the only one of the group who makes deliberate--and, it may be added, singularly unhappy--attempts at fine writing. he indulges in frequent apostrophes to the reader, to posterity, to his native country, and to the universe at large. in his many-jointed sentences linger echoes of ancient sermons; far-off flavours of the shorter catechism are discoverable in them. anton, however, can be simple and direct when he has an actual tale of fighting to tell. he forgets his simplicity only when he moralises over the battle-field the next day. mercer is much the ablest and most accomplished writer of the four. he belonged to the scientific branch of the army, the artillery, and he had studied his art with the thoroughness of a scholar. that mercer was a cool and gallant soldier of the finest type cannot be doubted. he has, indeed, a fine military record, and rose to the rank of general, and held command of the th brigade of royal artillery. but mercer was a many-sided man in a quite curious degree. he was a scholar; a lover of books; a country gentleman, with a country gentleman's delight in horse-flesh and crops. he was, moreover, an artist, with a ruskinesque, not to say a turneresque, sense of colour and form. a fine landscape was for him a feast, only rivalled by the joy of a good book. he lingers on the very edge of quatre bras, while the thunder of cannon shakes the air, and while his own guns are floundering up a steep hill path, to note and describe the far-stretching landscape, the glow of the evening sky, the salvator-like trees, the sparkle of glassy pools, &c. mercer is so good an artillery officer that he sees every buckle in the harness of his horses, and every button on the uniforms of his men; and yet he is sensitive to every tint and change in the landscape through which his guns are galloping. on the morning after waterloo, his face still black with its smoke, and his ears stunned with its roar, he picks his way across the turf, thick with the bodies of the slain, into the garden of hougoumont. the bodies of the dead lie there, too; but mercer is almost intoxicated with the cool verdure of the trees, with the chant of a stray nightingale, and even with "the exuberant vegetation of turnips and cabbages," as well as with the scent of flowers! it is this combination of keen artistic sensibility with the finest type of courage--courage which, if gentle in form, was yet of the ice-brook's temper--which makes mercer interesting. here was a man who might have fished with izaak walton, or discussed hymns with cowper, or philosophy with coleridge; yet this pensive, gentle, artistic, bookish man fought g battery at waterloo till two-thirds of his troop were killed, and has written the best account of the great battle, from the human and personal side, to be found in english literature. here, then, are four human documents, of genuine historic value, as well as of keen personal interest. they have their defects. there is no perspective in their pages. to rifleman harris, for example, the state of his boots is of as much importance, and is described with as much detail, as the issue of the battle. these memoirs will not give the reader the battle as a whole; still less the campaign; least of all will they give the politics behind the campaign. but a magic is in them, the magic of reality and of personal experience. they seem to put the reader in the actual battle-line, to fill his nostrils with the scent of gunpowder, to make his eyes tingle with the pungency of ancient battle-smoke. it may be added that these books give pictures of such battle landscapes as will never be witnessed again. they belong to the period when war had much more of the picturesque and human element than it has to-day. "brown bess" was short of range, and the fighting-lines came so near to each other that each man could see his foeman's face, and hear his shout or oath. war appealed to every sense. it filled the eyes. it registered itself in drifting continents of smoke. it deafened the ear with blast of cannon and ring of steel. it adorned itself in all the colours of the rainbow. the uniforms of napoleon's troops, as they were drawn up on the slopes of la belle alliance, were a sort of debauch of colour. houssaye gives a catalogue of the regiments--infantry of the line in blue coats, white breeches, and gaiters; heavy cavalry with glittering cuirasses and pennoned lances; chasseurs in green and purple and yellow; hussars with dolmans and shakos of all tints--sky-blue, scarlet, green, and red; dragoons with white shoulder-belts and turban-helmets of tiger-skin, surmounted by a gleaming cone of brass; lancers in green, with silken cords on their helmets; carabineers, giants of six feet, clad in white, with breastplates of gold and lofty helmets with red plumes; grenadiers in blue, faced with scarlet, yellow epaulettes, and high bearskin caps; the red lancers--red-breeched, red-capped, with floating white plumes half a yard long; the young guard; the old guard, with bearskin helmets, blue trousers and coats; the artillery of the guard, with bearskin helmets, &c. such a host, looked at from the picturesque point of view, was a sort of human rainbow, with a many-coloured gleam of metal--gold and silver, steel and brass--added. and colour counts at least in attracting recruits. harris joined the th because his eyes were dazzled with the "smartness" of its uniform. lord roberts has told the world how he joined the bengal horse artillery purely because he found their white buckskin breeches, and the leopard skin and red plumes on the men's helmets, irresistible! napoleon, it will be remembered, turned the spectacular aspect of his army to martial use. on the morning of waterloo he brought his troops over the slope of the hill in eleven stately columns; he spread them out like a mighty glittering fan in the sight of the coolly watching british. to foes of more sensitive imagination the spectacle of that vast and iris-tinted host might well have chilled their courage. but the british--whether to their credit or their discredit may be disputed--keep their imagination and their courage in separate compartments. they are not liable to be discouraged, still less put to rout, by the most magnificent display of what may be called the millinery of war. but that aspect of war has faded, never to revive. khaki kills the picturesque. battle has grown grey, remote, invisible. it consists of trenches miles long, in which crouch unseen riflemen, shooting at moving specks of grey, distant thousands of yards; or in guns perched on hills five miles apart bellowing to each other across the intervening valleys. it is not merely that in a battle of to-day a soldier cannot see the features of the man he kills; he probably does not see him at all. the highlanders at the modder marched, panted, thirsted, killed, and were killed, for eight hours, and never saw a boer! the soldier to-day sees neither the pin-pricks of flame nor the whiff of grey smoke which tell that somebody is shooting at him. for these are days of smokeless powder and long-range rifles. the man shot at only learns that circumstance as he catches the air-scurry of the passing bullet, and the atmosphere about him grows full of what one half-terrified war correspondent calls "little whimpering air-devils." the interest of these books is that they bring back to us living pictures, as seen through living human eyes, of the great battles of a century ago--battles which have grown obsolete in fashion, but which changed the currents of the world's history, and of whose gain we are the heirs to-day. it is curious, in a sense even amusing, to note how diversely their famous commander impressed these four soldiers, each occupied in recording for the benefit of posterity what he saw. anton apparently never sees wellington. the human horizon for the scottish sergeant is filled with the colonel of his regiment. harris gravely records how he saw the great duke take his hat off on the field of vimiero; for the rest, he held the ordinary view of the rank and file of the peninsula that the duke's long nose on a battle-field was worth , men. kincaid says he was so anxious to see the duke when he joined the army that, as he puts it, "i never should have forgiven the frenchman that killed me before i effected it." he was soon gratified, but seems quite unable to give any description of the great soldier. he contemplated him with the sort of frightened awe with which the youngest boy at eton would look at "the head" arrayed in his official robes; a vision to be contemplated from a safe distance, without the least desire for a nearer and personal acquaintance. mercer came closer to the great duke, and regards him with a cooler and therefore a severer judgment. mercer had boundless confidence in wellington as a battle-leader, but not the least affection for him as a man, and it is plain he had no special reasons for affection. wellington had many fine moral qualities, but anxious consideration for other people, or even calm justice in his dealings with them, is not to be included in their catalogue. the famous general order he issued after the retreat from burgos is an example of the undiscriminating harshness with which wellington could treat an entire army. and that element of harshness--of swift, impatient, relentless discipline that could not stay to discriminate, to weigh evidence, or even to hear it--was one great defect of wellington as a general. about his soldiers he had as little human feeling as a good chess-player has about his pawns. mercer never came into intercourse with the duke but with disaster to himself, a disaster edged with injustice. when his troop was in france, mercer says he ran an equal risk of falling under the duke's displeasure for systematically plundering the farmers, or for not plundering them! if a commander of a battery allowed his horses to look in worse condition than those of another battery he was relentlessly punished. "the quick eye of the duke would see the difference. he asked no questions, attended to no justification, but condemned the unfortunate captain as unworthy of the command he held, and perhaps sent him from the army." but the official amount of forage supplied was quite insufficient for the purpose of keeping the horses in high condition. other troops supplemented the supply by "borrowing" from the farmers, and there was no resource but to imitate them, or to risk professional ruin by presenting at parade horses inferior in look to those of other troops nourished on mere felony. wellington forgave neither the unlicensed "borrowing" of the officers nor the want of condition in their horses. yet one fault or the other was inevitable. the duke, it seems, "had no love for the artillery," and all his harshness was expended on that branch of the service. "the duke of wellington's ideas of discipline," says mercer, "are rigid; his modes of administering them are summary, and he is frequently led into acts of the grossest injustice." thus the owner of a building where some of mercer's men were quartered--a thorough rogue--complained to the duke that the lead piping of his house had been plundered and sold by the guilty british gunners. wellington made no inquiry, took no evidence. a staff officer rode to mercer's quarters one day with a copy of this complaint, on the margin of which was written in the duke's own hand-writing: "colonel scovell will find out whose troop this is, and they shall pay double." this was the first intimation the unfortunate mercer had received of the charge against him. the frenchman pretended to estimate his loss at francs, and mercer was advised, in high quarters, to pay this sum in order to escape the duke's wrath. mercer appealed to sir george wood, who told him his only chance lay in evading payment as long as he could; then the duke might be caught in a more amiable mood. the actual thief--one of the french villagers--was discovered and convicted; but this circumstance, mercer records, "has not in the least altered my position with the duke of wellington; for none dare tell him the story; and even sir edward barnes, who kindly attempted it, met with a most ungracious rebuff!" the french scoundrel, meanwhile, was dunning mercer to get his francs. the situation remained thus for weeks, till the audacious frenchman ventured on a second interview with the duke. the duke had dismounted, as it happened, in a very ill humour, at the door of his hotel, and the frenchman pursued him up the grand staircase with his complaint. the duke turned roughly upon him, "what the devil do you want, sir?" the frenchman presented his bill with a flourish, whereupon the duke exclaimed to his aide-de-camp, "pooh! kick the rascal downstairs!" the frenchman and his bill thus vanished from the scene; but mercer's comment is "that i eventually escaped paying a heavy sum for depredations committed by others is due, not to the duke's sense of justice, but only to the irritability of his temper." on another occasion sir augustus fraser, meeting him, said, "mercer, you are released from arrest." mercer stared: but on inquiry, discovered that he had been officially under arrest for a fortnight without knowing it. at a review, just before passing the saluting point, a horse in the rear division of his battery got its leg over the trace. the limber gunners leaped smartly off, put things straight, and jumped to their places again; but the division, with their -pounders, had to trot to regain place, and were just pulling up when they reached the saluting point. the precise and rhythmical order of the troop was a little disturbed, and wellington, in a burst of wrath, put sir augustus fraser himself, who was in command of all the artillery, the major in command of the brigade, and mercer, the captain of the guilty troop, under arrest, where--happily all unconscious--they remained for a fortnight. later mercer wished to apply for leave of absence, but sir george wood declined to present the request, as he said, "'it would not be prudent just now to remind the duke of me in any way.' rather hard and unjust this," is mercer's comment. mercer, however, tells one story, which shows that the duke of wellington was capable of sly satire at the expense of the french. an english officer walking on the boulevard was rudely pushed into the gutter by a french gentleman, whom the englishman promptly knocked down. the frenchman, it turned out, was a marshal. he complained to the duke, but could not identify the officer who had knocked him down. the duke thereupon issued a general order, desiring that "british officers would, in future, abstain from beating marshals of france." i from torres vedras to waterloo i.--from torres vedras to waterloo kincaid, the author of "adventures in the rifle brigade," was born at dalheath, near falkirk, in . he held a lieutenant's commission in the north york militia, but in when only twenty-two years old, joined, as a volunteer, the second battalion of the famous th--the "rifles" in the immortal light division. his first military service was of an unhappy sort. he took part in the walcheren expedition, and, spite of a cheerful temper and a good constitution, fell a victim to the swamp-bred agues and fevers which destroyed that ill-led and ill-fated expedition. he emerged from his first campaign with shattered health and no glory. in his battalion was ordered to the peninsula, and with it kincaid marched and fought from the lines of torres vedras to waterloo. in the hard fighting of those stern days the rifles played a brilliant part. kincaid kept guard in the great hill-defences of torres vedras, joined in the pursuit of massena, when that general fell suddenly back, shared in the fury of the breaches at ciudad rodrigo, and in the yet wilder assault on the great breach at badajos, and took part in all the great battles of those years from fuentes to vittoria. he survived the stubborn and bloody combats in the pyrenees, fought at toulouse, quatre bras, and on the famous ridge at waterloo. his battalion stood almost in the centre of wellington's battle-line on that fierce day, and the most desperate fighting of the day eddied round it. kincaid was thus a gallant soldier, in a gallant regiment, and played a part in great events. but his promotion was slow; he only received his captain's commission in . he was more fortunate, indeed, after he left the army than while he served in it. he was given a place in the yeomen of the guard in , was knighted in , and died in , aged seventy-five. kincaid's "adventures in the rifle brigade" is a book of great merits and of great faults. it is brisk, stirring, and picturesque, and paints with great vividness the life of a subaltern in a fighting regiment and during fighting times. but the book lacks order. dates are dropped into it, or are left out of it, with the most airy caprice. it has no intelligible relationship to history. it never gives the reader a glimpse of the history-making events which serve as a background to the marching and the fighting of the rifles. kincaid, in a word, races through his campaigns as a youth might race across the hills in a harrier-chase; or, rather, as a boy with a lively sense of humour, might saunter through a fair--without a plan, except to get all the fun he can, and stopping, now to laugh at a clown, now to stare at a mimic tragedy, now to exchange a jest with some other boy. his choice of incident is determined absolutely by the "fun" they include--the flavour of humour, or the gleam of the picturesque, which he can discover in them. he makes no pretension, that is, to connected and adequate narrative. but his record of adventures is always amusing, often vivid, and sometimes has a certain thrilling quality which, after the lapse of so many years, yet keeps its power. kincaid's tale is best served by re-grouping its incidents under distinct heads. in his earlier chapters, for example, he gives curiously interesting sketches of what may be called the non-fighting side of a soldier's life--the marches, the bivouacs; the gossip of the camp fires; the hardships--of muddy roads, of rain-filled skies, or of dust and heat and thirst, of non-existent rations, and of sleepless nights--which the soldier has to endure. so the reader gets a glimpse the orthodox historians quite fail to give of the hardy, resourceful, much-enduring british soldier of the peninsula. kincaid may be left to tell all this in his own words, though with generous condensation. chapter i a young soldier kincaid dismisses, as not worth remembering or recording, all the tame days of his life before he became a soldier on active service, and plunges abruptly into his tale:-- "i joined the nd battalion rifle brigade (then the th), at hythe barracks, in the spring of , and, in a month after, we proceeded to form a part of the expedition to holland, under the earl of chatham. "with the usual quixotic feelings of a youngster, i remember how desirous i was, on the march to deal, to impress the minds of the natives with a suitable notion of the magnitude of my importance, by carrying a donkey-load of pistols in my belt, and screwing my naturally placid countenance up to a pitch of ferocity beyond what it was calculated to bear. "we embarked in the downs, on board the _hussar_ frigate, and afterwards removed to the _namur_, a seventy-four, in which we were conveyed to our destination. we landed on the island of south beeveland, where we remained about three weeks, playing at soldiers, smoking mynheer's long clay pipes, and drinking his vrow's butter-milk, for which i paid liberally with my precious blood to their infernal mosquitoes; not to mention that i had all the extra valour shaken out of me by a horrible ague, which commenced a campaign on my carcass, and compelled me to retire upon scotland, for the aid of my native air, by virtue of which it was ultimately routed. "i shall not carry my first chapter beyond my first campaign, as i am anxious that my reader should not expend more than his first breath upon an event which cost too many their last. "i rejoined the battalion, at hythe, in the spring of , and, finding that the company to which i belonged had embarked to join the first battalion in the peninsula, and that they were waiting at spithead for a fair wind, i immediately applied, and obtained permission, to join them. we anchored in the tagus in september; no thanks to the ship, for she was a leaky one, and wishing foul winds to the skipper, for he was a bad one. "to look at lisbon from the tagus, there are few cities in the universe that can promise so much, and none, i hope, that can keep it so badly. i only got on shore one day for a few hours, and as i never again had an opportunity of correcting the impression, i have no objection to its being considered an uncharitable one; but i wandered for a time amid the abominations of its streets and squares, in the vain hope that i had got involved among a congregation of stables and out-houses; but i was at length compelled to admit it as the miserable apology for the fair city that i had seen from the harbour. "it pleased the great disposer of naval events to remove us to another and a better ship, and to send us off for figuera next day with a foul wind. sailing at the rate of one mile in two hours, we reached figuera's bay at the end of eight days, and were welcomed by about a hundred hideous-looking portuguese women, whose joy was so excessive that they waded up to their arm-pits through a heavy surf, and insisted on carrying us on shore on their backs! i never clearly ascertained whether they had been actuated by the purity of love or gold." kincaid joined wellington's forces at what might well have seemed a very gloomy juncture. the british army was in full retreat. the star of massena shone in the ascendant. talavera and busaco had been fought, and fought apparently in vain. spain was abandoned, portugal invaded. wellington seemed to be retreating to his ships. the secret of the great lines of torres vedras, which were to finally arrest massena's advance, and save not only portugal, but the peninsula--perhaps europe--had been so well kept that even wellington's own forces were in ignorance of their existence. yet kincaid shows an easy and careless unconsciousness of the disquieting aspect the campaign wore. it was enough for him that he marched and fought with his regiment, and shared all its fortunes. he scarcely looks beyond the files of his own company, and has no doubt whatever that the french will be satisfactorily thrashed in the end! "we proceeded next morning to join the army; and as our route lay through the city of coimbra we came to the magnanimous resolution of providing ourselves with all manner of comforts and equipments for the campaign on our arrival there; but when we entered it at the end of the second day, our disappointment was quite eclipsed by astonishment at finding ourselves the only living things in the city, which ought to have been furnished with twenty thousand souls. "lord wellington was then in the course of his retreat from the frontiers of spain to the lines of torres vedras, and had compelled the inhabitants on the line of march to abandon their homes, and to destroy or carry away everything that could be of service to the enemy. it was a measure that ultimately saved their country, though ruinous and distressing to those concerned, and on no class of individuals did it bear harder, for the moment, than our own little detachment, a company of rosy-cheeked, chubbed youths, who, after three months' feeding on ship's dumplings, were thus thrust, at a moment of extreme activity, in the face of an advancing foe, supported by a pound of raw beef, drawn every day fresh from the bullock, and a mouldy biscuit. "the difficulties we encountered were nothing out of the usual course of old campaigners; but, untrained and unprovided as i was, i still looked back upon the twelve or fourteen days following the battle of busaco as the most trying i have ever experienced, for we were on our legs from daylight until dark, in daily contact with the enemy; and, to satisfy the stomach of an ostrich, i had, as already stated, only a pound of beef, a pound of biscuit, and one glass of rum. a brother-officer was kind enough to strap my boat-cloak and portmanteau on the mule carrying his heavy baggage, which, on account of the proximity of the foe, was never permitted to be within a day's march of us, so that, in addition to my simple uniform, my only covering every night was the canopy of heaven, from whence the dews descended so refreshingly that i generally awoke, at the end of an hour, chilled, and wet to the skin; and i could only purchase an equal length of additional repose by jumping up and running about until i acquired a sleeping quantity of warmth. nothing in life can be more ridiculous than seeing a lean, lank fellow start from a profound sleep at midnight, and begin lashing away at the highland fling as if st. andrew himself had been playing the bagpipes; but it was a measure that i very often had recourse to, as the cleverest method of producing heat. in short, though the prudent general may preach the propriety of light baggage in the enemy's presence, i will ever maintain that there is marvellous small personal comfort in travelling so fast and so lightly as i did. "the portuguese farmers will tell you that the beauty of their climate consists in their crops receiving from the nightly dews the refreshing influence of a summer's shower, and that they ripen in the daily sun. but they are a sordid set of rascals! whereas i speak with the enlightened views of a man of war, and say, that it is poor consolation to me, after having been deprived of my needful repose, and kept all night in a fever, dancing wet and cold, to be told that i shall be warm enough in the morning? it is like frying a person after he has been boiled; and i insisted upon it, that if their sun had been milder and their dews lighter i should have found it much more pleasant. "having now brought myself regularly into the field, under the renowned wellington, should this narrative, by any accident, fall into the hands of others who served there, and who may be unreasonable enough to expect their names to be mentioned in it, let me tell them that they are most confoundedly mistaken! every man may write a book for himself, if he likes; but this is mine; and, as i borrow no man's story, neither will i give any man a particle of credit for his deed, as i have got so little for my own that i have none to spare. neither will i mention any regiment but my own, if i can possibly avoid it, for there is none other that i like so much, and none else so much deserves it; for we were the light regiment of the light division, and fired the first and last shot in almost every battle, siege, and skirmish in which the army was engaged during the war. "in stating the foregoing resolution, however, with regard to regiments, i beg to be understood as identifying our old and gallant associates, the rd and nd, as a part of ourselves, for they bore their share in everything, and i love them as i hope to do my better half (when i come to be divided); wherever we were, they were; and although the nature of our arm generally gave us more employment in the way of skirmishing, yet, whenever it came to a pinch, independent of a suitable mixture of them among us, we had only to look behind to see a line, in which we might place a degree of confidence, almost equal to our hopes in heaven; nor were we ever disappointed. there never was a corps of riflemen in the hands of such supporters!" on october , wellington entered the lines of torres vedras, and massena found his advance barred by frowning lines of trenched and gun-crowned hills, the screen behind which his great antagonist had vanished. during the last few days of the retreat and pursuit the pace of events quickened; the british rearguard was sharply pressed, and kincaid, for once grows consecutive and orderly in his narrative:-- "_october , ._--we stood to our arms at daylight this morning, on a hill in front of coimbra; and, as the enemy soon after came on in force, we retired before them through the city. the civil authorities, in making their own hurried escape, had totally forgotten that they had left a jail full of rogues unprovided for, and who, as we were passing near them, made the most hideous screaming for relief. our quarter-master-general very humanely took some men, who broke open the doors, and the whole of them were soon seen howling along the bridge into the wide world, in the most delightful delirium, with the french dragoons at their heels. "we retired the same night through condacia, where the commissariat were destroying quantities of stores that they were unable to carry off. they handed out shoes and shirts to any one that would take them, and the streets were literally running ankle deep with rum, in which the soldiers were dipping their cups and helping themselves as they marched along. the commissariat, some years afterwards, called for a return of the men who had received shirts and shoes on this occasion, with a view of making us pay for them, but we very briefly replied that the one-half were dead, and the other half would be d----d before they would pay anything. "we retired this day to leria, and, at the entrance of the city, saw an english and a portuguese soldier dangling by the bough of a tree--the first summary example i had ever seen of martial law. "we halted one night near the convent of batalha, one of the finest buildings in portugal. it has, i believe, been clearly established, that a living man in ever so bad health is better than two dead ones; but it appears that the latter will vary in value according to circumstances, for we found here, in very high preservation, the body of king john of portugal, who founded the edifice in commemoration of some victory, god knows how long ago; and though he would have been reckoned a highly valuable antique, within a glass case, in an apothecary's hall in england, yet he was held so cheap in his own house, that the very finger which most probably pointed the way to the victory alluded to, is now in the baggage of the rifle brigade. reader, point not thy finger at me, for i am not the man. "retired on the morning of a very wet, stormy day to allenquer, a small town on the top of a mountain, surrounded by still higher ones; and, as the enemy had not shown themselves the evening before, we took possession of the houses, with a tolerable prospect of being permitted the unusual treat of eating a dinner under cover. but by the time that the pound of beef was parboiled, and while an officer of dragoons was in the act of reporting that he had just patrolled six leagues to the front, without seeing any signs of an enemy, we saw the indefatigable rascals, on the mountains opposite our windows, just beginning to wind round us, with a mixture of cavalry and infantry; the wind blowing so strong that the long tail of each particular horse stuck as stiffly out in the face of the one behind, as if the whole had been strung upon a cable and dragged by the leaders. we turned out a few companies, and kept them in check while the division was getting under arms, spilt the soup as usual, and, transferring the smoking solids to the haversack, for future mastication, we continued our retreat. "our long retreat ended at midnight, on our arrival at the handsome little town of arruda, which was destined to be the piquet post of our division, in front of the fortified lines. the quartering of our division, whether by night or by day, was an affair of about five minutes. the quarter-master-general preceded the troops, accompanied by the brigade-majors and the quarter-masters of regiments; and after marking off certain houses for his general and staff, he split the remainder of the town between the majors of brigades; they, in their turn, provided for their generals and staff, and then made a wholesale division of streets among the quarter-masters of regiments, who, after providing for their commanding officers and staff, retailed the remaining houses, in equal proportions, among the companies; so that, by the time that the regiment arrived, there was nothing to be done beyond the quarter-master's simply telling each captain, 'here's a certain number of houses for you.' "like all other places on the line of march, we found arruda totally deserted; and its inhabitants had fled in such a hurry, that the keys of their house doors were the only things they carried away, so that when we got admission through our usual key--transmitting a rifle-ball through the keyhole: it opens every lock--we were not a little gratified to find that the houses were not only regularly furnished, but most of them had some food in the larder, and a plentiful supply of good wines in the cellar; and, in short, that they only required a few lodgers capable of appreciating the good things which the gods had provided; and the deuce is in it if we were not the very folks who could! "those who wish a description of the lines of torres vedras, must part. i know nothing, excepting that i was told that one end of them rested on the tagus, and the other somewhere on the sea; and i saw, with my own eyes, a variety of redoubts and fieldworks on the various hills which stand between. this, however, i do know, that we have since kicked the french out of more formidable-looking and stronger places; and, with all due deference be it spoken, i think that the prince of essling ought to have tried his luck against them, as he could only have been beaten by fighting, as he afterwards was without it! and if he thinks that he would have lost as many men by trying, as he did by not trying, he must allow me to differ in opinion with him. "in very warm or very wet weather it was customary to put us under cover in the town during the day, but we were always moved back to our bivouac on the heights during the night; and it was rather amusing to observe the different notions of individual comfort, in the selection of furniture, which officers transferred from their town house to their no house on the heights. a sofa, or a mattress, one would have thought most likely to be put in requisition; but it was not unusual to see a full-length looking-glass preferred to either. "we certainly lived in clover while we remained here; everything we saw was our own, seeing no one there who had a more legitimate claim; and every field was a vineyard. ultimately it was considered too much trouble to pluck the grapes, as there were a number of poor native thieves in the habit of coming from the rear every day to steal some, so that a soldier had nothing to do but to watch one until he was marching off with his basket full, when he would very deliberately place his back against that of the portuguese, and relieve him of his load, without wasting any words about the bargain. the poor wretch would follow the soldier to the camp, in the hope of having his basket returned, as it generally was, when emptied." massena held on to his position in front of the great lines he dared not attack till november , then he fell back to santarem, whence he could still keep wellington blockaded. he held this position till march , nearly five months in all--months of cold, rain, and hunger--a miracle of stubborn and sullen endurance. kincaid, acting on his usual principle that all time not occupied in actively doing something is to be counted as non-existent, passes over the tale of these months in a dozen lines. his narrative only becomes full again when wellington sallies out of his hilly stronghold and presses in pursuit of massena. we then have graphic pictures of the hardships of a soldier's life:-- "massena, conceiving any attack upon our lines to be hopeless, as his troops were rapidly mouldering away with sickness and want, at length began to withdraw them nearer to the source of his supplies. he abandoned his position, opposite to us, on the night of november , leaving some stuffed-straw gentlemen occupying their usual posts. some of them were cavalry, some infantry, and they seemed such respectable representatives of their spectral predecessors, that, in the haze of the following morning, we thought that they had been joined by some well-fed ones from the rear; and it was late in the day before we discovered the mistake, and advanced in pursuit. "it was late ere we halted for the night, on the side of the road, near to allenquer, and i got under cover in a small house, which looked as if it had been honoured as the headquarters of the tailor-general of the french army, for the floor was strewed with variegated threads, various complexioned buttons, with particles and remnants of cabbage; and, if it could not boast of the flesh and fowl of noah's ark, there was an abundance of the creeping things which it were to be wished that that commander had not left behind. "on our arrival at valle, on november , we found the enemy behind the rio maior, occupying the heights of santarem, and exchanged some shots with their advanced posts. in the course of the night we experienced one of those tremendous thunderstorms which used to precede the wellington victories, and which induced us to expect a general action on the following day. i had disposed myself to sleep in a beautiful green hollow way, and, before i had time even to dream of the effects of their heavy rains, i found myself floating most majestically towards the river, in a fair way of becoming food for the fishes. i ever after gave those inviting-looking spots a wide berth, as i found that they were regular watercourses. "next morning our division crossed the river, and commenced a false attack on the enemy's left, with a view of making them show their force; and it was to have been turned into a real attack, if their position was found to be occupied by a rearguard only; but, after keeping up a smart skirmishing fire the great part of the day, lord wellington was satisfied that their whole army was present; we were consequently withdrawn. "this affair terminated the campaign of . our division took possession of the village of valle and its adjacents, and the rest of the army was placed in cantonments, under whatever cover the neighbouring country afforded." here are some of kincaid's pictures of a british army in winter quarters, with one fierce campaign behind it, and another, almost sterner still in character, before it:-- "our battalion was stationed in some empty farm-houses, near the end of the bridge of santarem, which was nearly half a mile long; and our sentries and those of the enemy were within pistol-shot of each other on the bridge. "i do not mean to insinuate that a country is never so much at peace as when at open war; but i do say that a soldier can nowhere sleep so soundly, nor is he anywhere so secure from surprise, as when within musket-shot of his enemy. "we lay four months in this situation, divided only by a rivulet, without once exchanging shots. every evening, at the hour 'when bucks to dinner go, and cits to sup,' it was our practice to dress for sleep: we saddled our horses, buckled on our armour, and lay down, with the bare floor for a bed, and a stone for a pillow, ready for anything, and reckless of everything but the honour of our corps and country; for i will say (to save the expense of a trumpeter) that a more devoted set of fellows were never associated. we stood to our arms every morning at an hour before daybreak, and remained there until a grey horse could be seen a mile off (which is the military criterion by which daylight is acknowledged, and the hour of surprise past), when we proceeded to unharness and to indulge in such luxuries as our toilet and our table afforded. "our piquet-post, at the bridge, became a regular lounge for the winter to all manner of folks. i used to be much amused at seeing our naval officers come up from lisbon riding on mules, with huge ships' spy-glasses, like six-pounders, strapped across the backs of their saddles. their first question invariably was, 'who is that fellow there' (pointing to the enemy's sentry close to us), and, on being told that he was a frenchman, 'then why the devil don't you shoot him!' "repeated acts of civility passed between the french and us during this tacit suspension of hostilities. the greyhounds of an officer followed a hare, on one occasion, into their lines, and they very politely returned them. i was one night on piquet at the end of the bridge when a ball came from the french sentry and struck the burning billet of wood round which we were sitting, and they sent in a flag of truce next morning to apologise for the accident, and to say that it had been done by a stupid fellow of a sentry, who imagined that people were advancing upon him. we admitted the apology, though we knew well enough that it had been done by a malicious rather than a stupid fellow from the situation we occupied. "general junot, one day reconnoitring, was severely wounded by a sentry, and lord wellington, knowing that they were at that time destitute of everything in the shape of comfort, sent to request his acceptance of anything that lisbon afforded that could be of any service to him; but the french general was too much of a politician to admit the want of anything." chapter ii retreats and pursuits the campaign of - is not the least memorable of the immortal campaigns in the peninsula. it saw fuentes, albuera, and salamanca fought; it includes the great sieges of ciudad rodrigo and of badajos; it witnessed the failure at burgos. we give kincaid's account of these great events in other chapters; in this we are simply grouping his pictures of soldiers on the march--in retreat or pursuit--with the hardships and combats which attend such movements. this campaign is specially rich in such pictures. it begins with the fierce marches in which wellington pursued massena beyond the portuguese frontier, and closes with the disastrous and memorable retreat from burgos:-- "the campaign of commenced on march , by the retreat of the enemy from santarem. "lord wellington seemed to be perfectly acquainted with their intentions, for he sent to apprise our piquets the evening before that they were going off, and to desire that they should feel for them occasionally during the night, and give the earliest information of their having started. it was not, however, until daylight that we were quite certain of their having gone, and our division was instantly put in motion after them, passing through the town of santarem, around which their camp fires were still burning. "santarem is finely situated, and probably had been a handsome town. i had never seen it in prosperity, and it now looked like a city of the plague, represented by empty dogs and empty houses; and, but for the tolling of a convent bell by some unseen hand, its appearance was altogether inhuman. we halted for the night near pyrnes. this little town, and the few wretched inhabitants who had been induced to remain in it, under the faithless promises of the french generals, showed fearful signs of a late visit from a barbarous and merciless foe. young women were lying in their houses brutally violated--the streets were strewn with broken furniture, intermixed with the putrid carcasses of murdered peasants, mules, and donkeys, and every description of filth, that filled the air with pestilential nausea. the few starved male inhabitants who were stalking amid the wreck of their friends and property, looked like so many skeletons who had been permitted to leave their graves for the purpose of taking vengeance on their oppressors, and the mangled body of every frenchman who was unfortunate or imprudent enough to stray from his column showed how religiously they performed their mission. "_march ._--we overtook their rearguard this evening, snugly put up for the night in a little village, the name of which i do not recollect, but a couple of six-pounders, supported by a few of our rifles, induced them to extend their walk. "_march ._--as it is possible that some of my readers might never have had the misfortune to experience the comforts of a bivouac, and as the one which i am now in contains but a small quantity of sleep, i shall devote a waking hour for their edification. "when a regiment arrives at its ground for the night it is formed in columns of companies at full, half, or quarter distance, according to the space which circumstances will permit it to occupy. the officer commanding each company then receives his orders; and, after communicating whatever may be necessary to the men, he desires them to 'pile arms, and make themselves comfortable for the night.' now, i pray thee, most sanguine reader, suffer not thy fervid imagination to transport thee into elysian fields at the pleasing exhortation conveyed in the concluding part of the captain's address, but rest thee contentedly in the one where it is made, which in all probability is a ploughed one, and that, too, in a state of preparation to take a model of thy very beautiful person, under the melting influence of a shower of rain. the soldiers of each company have a hereditary claim to the ground next to their arms, as have their officers to a wider range on the same line, limited to the end of a bugle sound, if not by a neighbouring corps, or one that is not neighbourly, for the nearer a man is to his enemy the nearer he likes to be to his friends. suffice it, that each individual knows his place as well as if he had been born on the estate, and takes immediate possession accordingly. in a ploughed or a stubble field there is scarcely a choice of quarters; but whenever there is a sprinkling of trees it is always an object to secure a good one, as it affords shelter from the sun by day and the dews by night, besides being a sort of home or signpost for a group of officers, as denoting the best place of entertainment; for they hang their spare clothing and accoutrements among the branches, barricade themselves on each side with their saddles, canteens, and portmanteaus, and, with a blazing fire in their front, they indulge, according to their various humours, in a complete state of gipsyfication. "there are several degrees of comfort to be reckoned in a bivouac, two of which will suffice. "the first, and worst, is to arrive at the end of a cold, wet day, too dark to see your ground, and too near the enemy to be permitted to unpack the knapsacks or to take off accoutrements; where, unencumbered with baggage or eatables of any kind, you have the consolation of knowing that things are now at their worst, and that any change must be for the better. you keep yourself alive for a while in collecting material to feed your fire with. you take a smell at your empty calabash, which recalls to your remembrance the delicious flavour of its last drop of wine. you curse your servant for not having contrived to send you something or other from the baggage (though you know that it was impossible). you then d---- the enemy for being so near you, though, probably, as in the present instance, it was you that came so near them. and, finally, you take a whiff at the end of a cigar, if you have one, and keep grumbling through the smoke, like distant thunder through a cloud, until you tumble into a most warlike sleep. "the next, and most common one, is when you are not required to look quite so sharp, and when the light baggage and provisions come in at the heel of the regiment. if it is early in the day, the first thing to be done is to make some tea, the most sovereign restorative for jaded spirits. we then proceed to our various duties. the officers of each company form a mess of themselves. one remains in camp to attend to the duties of the regiment; a second attends to the mess; he goes to the regimental butcher and bespeaks a portion of the only purchasable commodities--hearts, livers, and kidneys; and also to see whether he cannot do the commissary out of a few extra biscuits, or a canteen of brandy; and the remainder are gentlemen at large for the day. but while they go hunting among the neighbouring regiments for news, and the neighbouring houses for curiosity, they have always an eye to their mess, and omit no opportunity of adding to the general stock. "dinner-hour, for fear of accident, is always the hour when dinner can be got ready; and the th section of the articles of war is always most rigidly attended to by every good officer parading himself round the camp-kettle at the time fixed, with his haversack in his hand. a haversack on service is a sort of dumb waiter. the mess have a good many things in common, but the contents of the haversack are exclusively the property of its owner. "after doing justice to the dinner, if we feel in a humour for additional society, we transfer ourselves to some neighbouring mess, taking our cups and whatever we mean to drink along with us, for in those times there is nothing to be expected from our friends beyond the pleasure of their conversation; and, finally, we retire to rest. to avoid inconvenience by the tossing off of the bed-clothes, each officer has a blanket sewed up at the side, like a sack, into which he scrambles, and, with a green sod or a smooth stone for a pillow, composes himself to sleep, and, under such a glorious reflecting canopy as the heavens, it would be a subject of mortification to an astronomer to see the celerity with which he tumbles into it. habit gives endurance, and fatigue is the best nightcap; no matter that the veteran's countenance is alternately stormed with torrents of rain, heavy dews, and hoar-frosts; no matter that his ears are assailed by a million mouths of chattering locusts, and by some villainous donkey, who every half-hour pitches a bray note, which is instantly taken up by every mule and donkey in the army, and sent echoing from regiment to regiment, over hill and valley, until it dies away in the distance; no matter that the scorpion is lurking beneath his pillow, the snake winding is slimy way by his side, and the lizard galloping over his face, wiping his eyes with its long, cold tail. "all are unheeded, until the warning voice of the brazen instrument sounds to arms. strange it is that the ear which is impervious to what would disturb the rest of the world besides, should alone be alive to one, and that, too, a sound which is likely to soothe the sleep of the citizens, or at most to set them dreaming of their loves. but so it is. the first note of the melodious bugle places the soldier on his legs, like lightning; when, muttering a few curses at the unseasonableness of the hour, he plants himself on his alarm post, without knowing or caring about the cause. "such is a bivouac; and our sleep-breaker having just sounded, the reader will find what occurred by reading on. "_march ._--we stood to our arms before daylight. finding that the enemy had quitted the position in our front, we proceeded to follow them; and had not gone far before we heard the usual morning's salutation of a couple of shots between their rear and our advanced guard. on driving in their outposts, we found their whole army drawn out on the plain, near redinha, and instantly quarrelled with them on a large scale." here is a picture of one of the almost constant skirmishes which marked wellington's advance and massena's slow and stubborn retreat:-- "as everybody has read 'waverley' and the 'scottish chiefs,' and knows that one battle is just like another, inasmuch as they always conclude by one or both sides running away, and as it is nothing to me what this or t'other regiment did, nor do i care three buttons what this or t'other person thinks he did, i shall limit all my descriptions to such events as immediately concerned the important personage most interested in this history. "be it known, then, that i was one of a crowd of skirmishers who were enabling the french ones to carry the news of their own defeat through a thick wood at an infantry canter when i found myself all at once within a few yards of one of their regiments in line, which opened such a fire that had i not, rifleman-like, taken instant advantage of the cover of a good fir-tree, my name would have unquestionably been transmitted to posterity by that night's gazette. and however opposed it may be to the usual system of drill, i will maintain, from that day's experience, that the cleverest method of teaching a recruit to stand at attention is to place him behind a tree and fire balls at him; as had our late worthy disciplinarian, sir david dundas himself, been looking on, i think that even he must have admitted that he never saw any one stand so fiercely upright as i did behind mine, while the balls were rapping into it as fast as if a fellow had been hammering a nail on the opposite side, not to mention the numbers that were whistling past within the eighth of an inch of every part of my body, both before and behind, particularly in the vicinity of my nose, for which the upper part of the tree could barely afford protection. "this was a last and a desperate stand made by their rearguard, for their own safety, immediately above the town, as their sole chance of escape depended upon their being able to hold the post until the only bridge across the river was clear of the other fugitives. but they could not hold it long enough; for, while we were undergoing a temporary sort of purgatory in their front, our comrades went working round their flanks, which quickly sent them flying, with us intermixed, at full cry down the streets. "when we reached the bridge, the scene became exceedingly interesting, for it was choked up by the fugitives, who were, as usual, impeding each other's progress, and we did not find that the application of our swords to those nearest to us tended at all towards lessening their disorder, for it induced about a hundred of them to rush into an adjoining house for shelter, but that was getting regularly out of the frying-pan into the fire, for the house happened to be really in flames, and too hot to hold them, so that the same hundred were quickly seen unkennelling again, half-cooked, into the very jaws of their consumers. "john bull, however, is not a bloodthirsty person, so that those who could not better themselves, had only to submit to a simple transfer of personal property to ensure his protection. we, consequently, made many prisoners at the bridge, and followed their army about a league beyond it, keeping up a flying fight until dark. "_march ._--arrived on the hill above condacia in time to see that handsome little town in flames. every species of barbarity continued to mark the enemy's retreating steps. they burnt every town or village through which they passed, and if we entered a church which, by accident, had been spared, it was to see the murdered bodies of the peasantry on the altar. * * * * * "our post that night was one of terrific grandeur. the hills behind were in a blaze of light with the british camp-fires, as were those in our front with the french ones. both hills were abrupt and lofty, not above eight hundred yards asunder, and we were in the burning village in the valley beyond. the roofs of houses every instant falling in, and the sparks and flames ascending to the clouds. the streets were strewed with the dying and the dead,--some had been murdered and some killed in action, which, together with the half-famished wretches whom we had saved from burning, contributed in making it a scene which was well calculated to shake a stout heart, as was proved in the instance of one of our sentries, a well-known 'devil-may-care' sort of fellow. i know not what appearances the burning rafters might have reflected on the neighbouring trees at the time, but he had not been long on his post before he came running into the piquet, and swore, by all the saints in the calendar, that he saw six dead frenchmen advancing upon him with hatchets over their shoulders! "we found by the buttons on the coats of some of the fallen foe, that we had this day been opposed to the french th regiment (the same number as we were then), and i cut off several of them, which i preserved as trophies." here is another picture of a brilliant skirmish at the passage of the ceira. in this combat wellington showed himself keener in vision and swifter in stroke than ney, and inflicted on that general both disgrace and loss. ney was, as a result, relieved of his command of the french rearguard, and sent to france under something like a cloud. here he joined napoleon, and took part in the perils and horrors of the russian campaign--once more, there, commanding a french rearguard in retreat:-- "_march ._--we overtook the enemy a little before dark this afternoon. they were drawn up behind the ceira, at fez d'aronce, with their rearguard, under marshal ney, imprudently posted on our side of the river, a circumstance which lord wellington took immediate advantage of; and, by a furious attack, dislodged them in such confusion that they blew up the bridge before half of their own people had time to get over. those who were thereby left behind, not choosing to put themselves to the pain of being shot, took to the river, which received them so hospitably that few of them ever quitted it. "about the middle of the action, i observed some inexperienced light troops rushing up a deep roadway to certain destruction, and ran to warn them out of it, but i only arrived in time to partake the reward of their indiscretion, for i was instantly struck with a musket-ball above the left ear, which deposited me at full length in the mud. "i know not how long i lay insensible, but, on recovering, my first feeling was for my head, to ascertain if any part of it was still standing, for it appeared to me as if nothing remained above the mouth; but, after repeated applications of all my fingers and thumbs to the doubtful parts, i at length proved to myself satisfactorily, that it had rather increased than diminished by the concussion; and jumping on my legs, and hearing, by the whistling of the balls from both sides, that the rascals who had got me into the scrape had been driven back and left me there, i snatched my cap, which had saved my life, and which had been spun off my head to the distance of ten or twelve yards, and joined them a short distance in the rear, when one of them, a soldier of the th, came and told me that an officer of ours had been killed a short time before, pointing to the spot where i myself had fallen, and that he had tried to take his jacket off, but that the advance of the enemy had prevented him. i told him that i was the one that had been killed, and that i was deucedly obliged to him for his kind intentions, while i felt still more so to the enemy for their timely advance, otherwise, i have no doubt, but my friend would have taken a fancy to my trousers also, for i found that he had absolutely unbuttoned my jacket. "there is nothing so gratifying to frail mortality as a good dinner when most wanted and least expected. it was perfectly dark before the action finished, but, on going to take advantage of the fires which the enemy had evacuated, we found their soup kettles in full operation, and every man's mess of biscuit lying beside them, in stockings, as was the french mode of carrying them; and it is needless to say how unceremoniously we proceeded to do the honours of the feast. it ever after became a saying among the soldiers, whenever they were on short allowance, 'well d-- my eyes, we must either fall in with the french or the commissary to-day, i don't care which.' "_march ._--we, this day, captured the aide-de-camp of general loison, together with his wife, who was dressed in a splendid hussar uniform. he was a portuguese, and a traitor, and looked very like a man who would be hanged. she was a spaniard, and very handsome, and looked very like a woman who would get married again. "_march ._--we had now been three days without anything in the shape of bread, and meat without it after a time becomes almost loathsome. hearing that we were not likely to march quite so early as usual this morning, i started before daylight to a village about two miles off, in the face of the sierra d'estrella, in the hopes of being able to purchase something, as it lay out of the hostile line of movements. on my arrival there, i found some nuns who had fled from a neighbouring convent, waiting outside the building of the village oven for some indian-corn leaven, which they had carried there to be baked, and, when i explained my pressing wants, two of them, very kindly, transferred me their shares, for which i gave each a kiss and a dollar between. they took the former as an unusual favour; but looked at the latter, as much as to say, 'our poverty, and not our will, consents.' i ran off with my half-baked dough, and joined my comrades, just as they were getting under arms. "_march ._--at daylight, this morning, we moved to our right, along the ridge of mountains, to guarda; on our arrival there, we saw the imposing spectacle of the whole of the french army winding through the valley below, just out of gunshot. on taking possession of one of the villages which they had just evacuated, we found the body of a well-dressed female, whom they had murdered by a horrible refinement in cruelty. she had been placed upon her back, alive, in the middle of the street, with the fragment of a rock upon her breast, which it required four of our men to remove. "_april ._--we overtook the enemy this afternoon in position behind coa, at sabugal, with their advanced posts on our side of the river. i was sent on piquet for the night, and had my sentries within half musket-shot of theirs; it was wet, dark, and stormy when i went, about midnight, to visit them, and i was not a little annoyed to find one missing. recollecting who he was, a steady old soldier, and the last man in the world to desert his post, i called his name aloud, when his answering voice, followed by the discharge of a musket, reached me nearly at the same time, from the direction of one of the french sentries; and, after some inquiry, i found that, in walking his lonely round, in a brown study, no doubt, he had each turn taken ten or twelve paces to his front, and only half that number to the rear, until he had gradually worked himself up to within a few yards of his adversary; and it would be difficult to say which of the two was most astonished--the one at hearing a voice, or the other a shot so near, but all my rhetoric, aided by the testimony of the sergeant and the other sentries, could not convince the fellow that he was not on the identical spot on which i had posted him." on april , , was fought the battle of sabugal, which is told elsewhere. we take up kincaid's sketches of a soldier's bivouac and marching experiences after fuentes, during the pause while ciudad rodrigo was being blockaded:-- "our battalion occupied atalya, a little village at the foot of the sierra de gata, and in front of the river vadilla. on taking possession of my quarter, the people showed me an outhouse, which, they said, i might use as a stable, and i took my horse into it, but, seeing the floor strewed with what appeared to be a small brown seed, heaps of which lay in each corner, as if shovelled together in readiness to take to market, i took up a handful, out of curiosity, and truly, they were a curiosity, for i found that they were all regular fleas, and that they were proceeding to eat both me and my horse, without the smallest ceremony. i rushed out of the place, and knocked them down by fistfuls, and never yet could comprehend the cause of their congregating together in such a place." marmont, who now commanded the french army, charged with the defence of ciudad rodrigo, advanced, towards the end of september, for its relief, and wellington at once fell back. kincaid's cheerful spirits can extract fun out of even a night march and a retreat! "about the middle of the night we received an order to stand to our arms with as little noise as possible, and to commence retiring, the rest of the army having been already withdrawn, unknown to us; an instance of the rapidity and uncertainty of our movements which proved fatal to the liberty of several amateurs and followers of the army, who, seeing an army of sixty thousand men lying asleep around their camp-fires, at ten o'clock at night, naturally concluded that they might safely indulge in a bed in the village behind until daylight, without the risk of being caught napping; but, long ere that time they found themselves on the high-road to ciudad rodrigo, in the rude grasp of an enemy. amongst others, was the chaplain of our division, whose outward man conveyed no very exalted notion of the respectability of his profession, and who was treated with greater indignity than usually fell to the lot of prisoners, for, after keeping him a couple of days, and finding that, however gifted he might have been in spiritual lore, he was as ignorant as dominie sampson on military matters; and, conceiving good provisions to be thrown away upon him, they stripped him nearly naked and dismissed him, like the barber in 'gil blas,' with a kick in the breech, and sent him into us in a woeful state. "in every interval between our active services we indulged in all manner of childish trick and amusement with an avidity and delight of which it is impossible to convey an adequate idea. we lived united, as men always are who are daily staring death in the face on the same side, and who, caring little about it, look upon each new day added to their lives as one more to rejoice in. "we invited the villagers every evening to a dance at our quarters alternately. a spanish peasant girl has an address about her which i have never met with in the same class of any other country; and she at once enters into society with the ease and confidence of one who had been accustomed to it all her life. we used to flourish away at the bolero, fandango, and waltz, and wound up early in the evening with a supper of roasted chestnuts. "our village belles, as already stated, made themselves perfectly at home in our society, and we, too, should have enjoyed theirs for a season; but when month after month and year after year continued to roll along, without producing any change, we found that the cherry cheek and sparkling eye of rustic beauty furnished but a very poor apology for the illuminated portion of nature's fairest works, and ardently longed for an opportunity of once more feasting our eyes on a lady." after the glory of salamanca came, by way of anti-climax, the inglorious failure at burgos. kincaid's battalion took part in the toils and suffering of the retreat from burgos. there is no note of grumbling in his tale. yet seldom has an army suffered more than during those bitter november days, when wellington's soldiers, with the discouraging memory of the failure at burgos chilling their imaginations, toiled in retreat along muddy roads, across swollen rivers, through blinding and incessant rain, almost without food; while fiercely on their rear hung the pursuing french cavalry. wellington made a brief halt on november at salamanca, and we take up kincaid's story at this point:-- "_november ._--halted this night at alba de tormes, and next day marched into quarters in salamanca, where we rejoined lord wellington with the army from burgos. "on the th the british army concentrated on the field of their former glory, in consequence of a part of the french army having effected the passage of the river above alba de tormes. on the th the whole of the enemy's force having passed the river a cannonade commenced early in the day; and it was the general belief that, ere night, a second battle of salamanca would be recorded. but as all the french armies in spain were now united in our front, and outnumbered us so far, lord wellington, seeing no decided advantage to be gained by risking a battle, at length ordered a retreat, which we commenced about three in the afternoon. our division halted for the night at the entrance of a forest about four miles from salamanca. "the heavy rains which usually precede the spanish winter had set in the day before; and as the roads in that part of the country cease to be roads for the remainder of the season, we were now walking nearly knee-deep in a stiff mud, into which no man could thrust his foot with the certainty of having a shoe at the end of it when he pulled it out again; and that we might not be miserable by halves, we had this evening to regale our chops with the last morsel of biscuit that they were destined to grind during the retreat. "we cut some boughs of trees to keep us out of the mud, and lay down to sleep on them, wet to the skin; but the cannonade of the afternoon had been succeeded after dark by a continued firing of musketry, which led us to believe that our piquets were attacked, and, in momentary expectation of an order to stand to our arms, we kept ourselves awake the whole night, and were not a little provoked when we found next morning that it had been occasioned by numerous stragglers from the different regiments shooting at the pigs belonging to the peasantry, which were grazing in the wood. "_november ._--retiring from daylight until dark through the same description of roads. the french dragoons kept close behind, but did not attempt to molest us. it still continued to rain hard, and we again passed the night in a wood. i was very industriously employed during the early part of it feeling, in the dark, for acorns as a substitute for bread. "_november ._--we were much surprised in the course of the forenoon to hear a sharp firing commence behind us on the very road by which we were retiring; and it was not until we reached the spot that we learnt that the troops, who were retreating by a road parallel to ours, had left it too soon, and enabled some french dragoons, under cover of the forest, to advance unperceived to the flank of our line of march, who, seeing an interval between two divisions of infantry, which was filled with light baggage and some passing officers, dashed at it and made some prisoners in the scramble of the moment, amongst whom was lieutenant-general sir edward paget. "our division formed on the heights above samunoz to cover the passage of the rivulet, which was so swollen with the heavy rains, as only to be passable at particular fords. while we waited there for the passage of the rest of the army, the enemy, under cover of the forest, was, at the same time, assembling in force close around us; and the moment that we began to descend the hill, towards the rivulet, we were assailed by a heavy fire of cannon and musketry, while their powerful cavalry were in readiness to take advantage of any confusion which might have occurred. we effected the passage, however, in excellent order, and formed on the opposite bank of the stream, where we continued under a cannonade and engaged in a sharp skirmish until dark. "when the firing ceased, we received the usual order 'to make ourselves comfortable for the night,' and i never remember an instance in which we had so much difficulty in obeying it; for the ground we occupied was a perfect flat, which was flooded more than ankle-deep with water, excepting here and there, where the higher ground around the roots of trees presented circles of a few feet of visible earth, upon which we grouped ourselves. some few fires were kindled, at which we roasted some bits of raw beef on the points of our swords, and ate them by way of a dinner. there was plenty of water to apologise for the want of better fluids, but bread sent no apology at all. "it made my very heart rejoice to see my brigadier's servant commence boiling some chocolate and frying a beef-steak. i watched its progress with a keenness which intense hunger alone could inspire, and was on the very point of having my desires consummated, when the general, getting uneasy at not having received any communication relative to the movements of the morning, and, without considering how feelingly my stomach yearned for a better acquaintance with the contents of his frying-pan, desired me to ride to general alten for orders. i found the general at a neighbouring tree; but he cut off all hopes of my timely return, by desiring me to remain with him until he received the report of an officer whom he had sent to ascertain the progress of the other divisions. "while i was toasting myself at his fire, so sharply set that i could have eaten one of my boots, i observed his german orderly dragoon at an adjoining fire stirring up the contents of a camp-kettle, that once more revived my departing hopes, and i presently had the satisfaction of seeing him dipping in some basins, presenting one to the general, one to the aide-de-camp, and a third to myself. the mess which it contained i found, after swallowing the whole at a draught, was neither more nor less than the produce of a piece of beef boiled in plain water; and though it would have been enough to have physicked a dromedary at any other time, yet, as i could then have made a good hole in the dromedary himself, it sufficiently satisfied my cravings to make me equal to anything for the remainder of the day. "on november we arrived at the convent of caridad, near ciudad rodrigo, and once more experienced the comforts of our baggage and provisions. my boots had not been off since the th, and i found it necessary to cut them to pieces to get my swollen feet out of them. "up to this period lord wellington had been adored by the army, in consideration of his brilliant achievements, and for his noble and manly bearing in all things; but, in consequence of some disgraceful irregularities which took place during the retreat, he immediately after issued an order conveying a sweeping censure on the whole army. his general conduct was too upright for even the finger of malice itself to point at; but as his censure on this occasion was not strictly confined to the guilty, it afforded a handle to disappointed persons, and excited a feeling against him on the part of individuals which has probably never since been obliterated. "it began by telling us that we had suffered no privations; and, though this was hard to be digested on an empty stomach, yet, taking it in its more liberal meaning, that our privations were not of an extent to justify any irregularities, which i readily admit; still, as many regiments were not guilty of any irregularities, it is not to be wondered if such should have felt at first a little sulky to find, in the general reproof, that no loop-hole whatever had been left for them to creep through; for, i believe i am justified in saying that neither our own, nor the two gallant corps associated with us, had a single man absent that we could not satisfactorily account for. but it touched us still more tenderly in not excepting us from his general charge of inexpertness in camp arrangements; for it was our belief, and in which we were in some measure borne out by circumstances, that had he placed us at the same moment in the same field with an equal number of the best troops in france, that he would not only have seen our fires as quickly lit, but every frenchman roasting on them to the bargain, if they waited long enough to be dressed, for there perhaps never was, nor ever again will be, such a war-brigade as that which was composed of the rd, nd, and the rifles." found the rifles once more taking part in marches which taxed the endurance of the soldiers to the uttermost; but this time the temper of the troops was gay and exultant in the highest degree. they were taking part in the great movement which thrust the french back to vittoria. the elation of coming and assured victory was in the soldiers' blood. the rifles, after days of toilsome marches through wild and mountainous country, at last reached the fruitful valley of the ebro. here is a pleasant campaign scene:-- "we started at daylight on june , through a dreary region of solid rock, bearing an abundant crop of loose stones, without a particle of soil or vegetation visible to the naked eye in any direction. after leaving nearly twenty miles of this horrible wilderness behind us, our weary minds clogged with an imaginary view of nearly as much more of it in our front, we found ourselves all at once looking down upon the valley of the ebro, near the village of arenas, one of the richest, loveliest, and most romantic spots that i ever beheld. the influence of such a scene on the mind can scarcely be believed. five minutes before we were all as lively as stones. in a moment we were all fruits and flowers; and many a pair of legs, that one would have thought had not a kick left in them, were, in five minutes after, seen dancing across the bridge to the tune of 'the downfall of paris,' which struck up from the bands of the different regiments. "i lay down that night in a cottage garden, with my head on a melon, and my eye on a cherry-tree, and resigned myself to a repose which did not require a long courtship. "we resumed our march at daybreak on the th. the road, in the first instance, wound through orchards and luxurious gardens, and then closed in to the edge of the river, through a difficult and formidable pass, where the rocks on each side, arising to a prodigious height, hung over each other in fearful grandeur, and in many places nearly met together over our heads. "after following the course of the river for nearly two miles, the rocks on each side gradually expanded into another valley, lovely as the one we had left, and where we found the fifth division of our army lying encamped. they were still asleep; and the rising sun, and a beautiful morning, gave additional sublimity to the scene; for there was nothing but the tops of the white tents peeping above the fruit trees; and an occasional sentinel pacing his post, that gave any indication of what a nest of hornets the blast of a bugle could bring out of that apparently peaceful solitude. "we were welcomed into every town or village through which we passed by the peasant girls, who were in the habit of meeting us with garlands of flowers, and dancing before us in a peculiar style of their own; and it not unfrequently happened, that while they were so employed with one regiment, the preceding one was diligently engaged in pulling down some of their houses for firewood, a measure which we were sometimes obliged to have recourse to, where no other fuel could be had, and for which they were ultimately paid by the british government; but it was a measure that was more likely to have set the poor souls dancing mad than for joy, had they foreseen the consequences of our visit." at this stage the march brought the british into actual contact with the enemy, and there ensued much brisk skirmishing, in which the rifles found huge enjoyment:-- "on the morning of the th, we were ordered to march to san milan, a small town, about two leagues off; and where, on our arrival on the hill above it, we found a division of french infantry, as strong as ourselves, in the act of crossing our path. the surprise, i believe, was mutual, though i doubt whether the pleasure was equally so; for we were red-hot for an opportunity of retaliating for the salamanca retreat; and, as the old saying goes, 'there is no opportunity like the present.' their leading brigade had nearly passed before we came up, but not a moment was lost after we did. our battalion dispersing among the brushwood, went down the hill upon them; and, with a destructive fire, broke through their line of march, supported by the rest of the brigade. those that had passed made no attempt at a stand, but continued their flight, keeping up as good a fire as their circumstances would permit; while we kept hanging on their flank and rear, through a good rifle country, which enabled us to make considerable havoc among them. their general's aide-de-camp, amongst others, was mortally wounded; and a lady, on a white horse, who probably was his wife, remained beside him, until we came very near. she appeared to be in great distress; but, though we called to her to remain, and not to be alarmed, yet she galloped off as soon as a decided step became necessary. the object of her solicitude did not survive many minutes after we reached him." chapter iii some famous battles kincaid shared in all the bloody fights of the peninsula, from sabugal to toulouse. his descriptions of these fights are hasty and planless; they give no hint of the strategy behind them or of the results which followed them. but they are always vivid, racy, and rich in personal incident, and we give in this chapter some transcripts from them. sabugal was the last combat fought on portuguese soil in massena's sullen retreat from the lines of torres vedras. massena was never so dangerous as in retreat, and ney, with all his fiery valour, commanded his rearguard. the french, too, were in a mood of almost reckless savagery, and they greatly exceeded in numbers the force pursuing them. it may be imagined, then, what an incessant splutter of fierce and angry skirmishes raged betwixt wellington's advance-guard and the french rear. yet the veterans on both sides maintained a singularly cool and business-like attitude towards each other, an attitude not unflavoured with gleams of unprofessional friendliness. thus as the french were falling back after the disastrous fight at redinha, night fell while the skirmishers of the rifles were still eagerly pressing on the tired french rearguard. the officer commanding the french suddenly held up his sword in the grey dusk with a white handkerchief tied to it. an officer of the rifles went forward to parley, when the frenchman explained that he thought both sides needed a rest after a hard day's work. to this the officers of the rifles cheerfully agreed, and politely invited the frenchman and his subalterns to share their rations. this proposal was accepted; the french and english officers sat merrily round a common fire, and shared a common meal; then parted, and before daybreak became pursuers and pursued again! sabugal was described by wellington himself as "one of the most glorious actions british troops ever engaged in"; but it was little better than a gallant blunder. the day was one of drifting fog and blinding rain. wellington's plan was with three divisions--a force , strong--to envelop and crush massena's left wing, commanded by regnier, but erskine, who commanded the light division, failed to understand his orders, wandered off with his cavalry in the fog, and left beckwith with four companies of the rifles and the rd lying sheltered near the ford across the coa. when wellington's general attack was developed, beckwith was to cross the river and attack. a staff officer stumbled upon him early in the day, before the other troops had moved, and demanded, with a note of anger in his voice, why he did not attack? beckwith instantly led his men across the stream, and with one bayonet battalion and four companies of rifles, proceeded to attack , french infantry supported by cavalry and guns! and in a combat so strange, against chances so apparently hopeless, the handful of british won! here is kincaid's story:-- "_april , ._--early this morning our division moved still farther to its right, and our brigade led the way across a ford, which took us up to the middle; while the balls from the enemy's advanced posts were hissing in the water around us, we drove in their light troops and commenced a furious assault upon their main body. thus far all was right; but a thick, drizzling rain now came on, in consequence of which the third division, which was to have made a simultaneous attack to our left, missed their way, and a brigade of dragoons, under sir william erskine, who were to have covered our right, went the lord knows where, but certainly not into the fight, although they started at the same time that we did, and had the 'music' of our rifles to guide them; and even the second brigade of our division could not afford us any support for nearly an hour, so that we were thus unconsciously left with about fifteen hundred men, in the very impertinent attempt to carry a formidable position on which stood as many thousands. "the weather, which had deprived us of the aid of our friends, favoured us so far as to prevent the enemy from seeing the amount of our paltry force; and the conduct of our gallant fellows, led on by sir sidney beckwith, was so truly heroic, that, incredible as it may seem, we had the best of the fight throughout. our first attack was met by such overwhelming numbers, that we were forced back and followed by three heavy columns, before which we retired slowly, and keeping up a destructive fire, to the nearest rising ground, where we re-formed and instantly charged their advancing masses, sending them flying at the point of the bayonet, and entering their position along with them, where we were assailed by fresh forces. three times did the very same thing occur. in our third attempt we got possession of one of their howitzers, for which a desperate struggle was making, when we were at the same moment charged by infantry in front and cavalry on the right, and again compelled to fall back; but, fortunately at this moment we were reinforced by the arrival of the second brigade, and with their aid we once more stormed their position and secured the well-earned howitzer, while the third division came at the same time upon their flank, and they were driven from the field in the greatest disorder. "lord wellington's despatch on this occasion did ample justice to sir sidney beckwith and his brave brigade. never were troops more judiciously or more gallantly led. never was a leader more devotedly followed. "in the course of the action a man of the name of knight fell dead at my feet, and though i heard a musket ball strike him, i could neither find blood nor wound. there was a little spaniel belonging to one of our officers running about the whole time, barking at the balls, and i saw him once smelling at a live shell, which exploded in his face without hurting him." it may be added that, when the fight was over, round that fiercely disputed howitzer dead bodies were found piled! an amusing instance of the cool and business-like temper with which the veterans of the rifles fought occurred in this combat. a rifleman named flinn had covered a frenchman, and was in the act of drawing the trigger, when a hare leaped out of the fern in front of him. flinn found this game more tempting; he took quick aim at it, and shot it. his officer rebuked him when the fight was over for that wasted shot. "sure, your honour," was his reply, "we can kill a frenchman any day, but it isn't always i can bag a hare for your supper." on may , , began the confused manoeuvring and fierce combats, stretching through two days, known as the battle of fuentes d'onore. in the middle of the fight wellington had to change his front, swing his right wing back across the open plain--then in possession of the triumphant french cavalry--to a ridge at right angles to his former front. the light division formed part of the force executing this movement. it was formed in three squares, flanking each other. masses of french cavalry eddied furiously round them as they marched. but the stern and disciplined ranks of the light division never wavered. they moved, says napier, "in the most majestic manner"; and, he adds, that "all the cavalry that ever charged under tamerlane or genghis khan would have failed to break their lines." kincaid's account is graphic, and betrays no consciousness of the exceptional nature of the deed performed by his division:-- "_may , ._--the day began to dawn, this fine may morning, with a rattling fire of musketry on the extreme right of our position, which the enemy had attacked, and to which point our division was rapidly moved. "our battalion was thrown into a wood, a little to the left and front of the division engaged, and was instantly warmly opposed to the french skirmishers; in the course of which i was struck with a musket ball on the left breast, which made me stagger a yard or two backward, and, as i felt no pain, i concluded that i was dangerously wounded; but it turned out to be owing to my not being hurt. while our operations here were confined to a tame skirmish, and our view to the oaks with which we were mingled, we found, by the evidence of our ears, that the division which we had come to support was involved in a more serious onset, for there was a successive rattle of artillery, the wild hurrah of charging squadrons, and the repulsing volley of musketry; until lord wellington, finding his right too much extended, directed that division to fall back behind the small river touronne, and ours to join the main body of the army. the execution of our movement presented a magnificent military spectacle, as the plain between us and the right of the army, was by this time in possession of the french cavalry, and, while we were retiring through it with the order and precision of a common field-day, they kept dancing around us, and every instant threatening a charge, without daring to execute it. "we took up our new position at a right angle with the then right of the british line, on which our left rested, and with our right on the touronne. the enemy followed our movement with a heavy column of infantry; but, when they came near enough to exchange shots, they did not seem to like our looks, as we occupied a low ridge of broken rocks, against which even a rat could scarcely have hoped to advance alive; and they again fell back, and opened a tremendous fire of artillery, which was returned by a battery of our guns. "the battle continued to rage with fury in and about the village, while we were lying by our arms under a burning hot sun, some stray cannon-shot passing over and about us, whose progress we watched for want of other employment. one of them bounded along in the direction of an 'amateur,' whom we had for some time been observing, securely placed, as he imagined, behind a piece of rock, which stood about five feet above the ground, and over which nothing but his head was shown, sheltered from the sun by an umbrella. the shot in question touched the ground three or four times between us and him; he saw it coming--lowered his umbrella, and withdrew his head. its expiring bound carried it into the very spot where he had that instant disappeared. i hope he was not hurt; but the thing looked so ridiculous that it excited a shout of laughter, and we saw no more of him. "a little before dusk, in the evening, our battalion was ordered forward to relieve the troops engaged in the village, part of which still remained in possession of the enemy, and i saw, by the mixed nature of the dead, in every part of the streets, that it had been successively in possession of both sides. the firing ceased with the daylight, and i was sent, with a section of men, in charge of one of the streets for the night. there was a wounded sergeant of highlanders lying on my post. a ball had passed through the back part of his head, from which the brain was oozing, and his only sign of life was a convulsive hiccough every two or three seconds. i sent for a medical friend to look at him, who told me that he could not survive; i then got a mattress from the nearest house, placed the poor fellow on it, and made use of one corner as a pillow for myself, on which, after the fatigues of the day, and though called occasionally to visit my sentries, i slept most soundly. the highlander died in the course of the night. "when we stood to our arms at daybreak next morning, we found the enemy busy throwing up a six-gun battery immediately in front of our company's post, and we immediately set to work, with our whole hearts and souls, and placed a wall, about twelve feet thick, between us, which, no doubt, still remains there in the same garden, as a monument of what can be effected in a few minutes by a hundred modern men, when their personal safety is concerned, not but that the proprietor, in the midst of his admiration, would rather see a good bed of garlic on the spot manured with the bodies of the architects. "when the sun began to shine on the pacific disposition of the enemy, we proceeded to consign the dead to their last earthly mansions, giving every englishman a grave to himself, and putting as many frenchmen into one as it could conveniently accommodate. whilst in the superintendence of this melancholy duty, and ruminating on the words of the poet:-- 'there's not a form of all that lie thus ghastly, wild and bare, tost, bleeding, in the stormy sky, black in the burning air, but to his knee some infant clung, but on his heart some fond heart hung!' "i was grieved to think that the souls of deceased warriors should be so selfish as to take to flight in their regimentals, for i never saw the body of one with a rag on after battle. "the day after one of those negative sort of victories is always one of intense interest. the movements on each side are most jealously watched, and each side is diligently occupied in strengthening such points as the fight of the preceding day had proved to be the most vulnerable. they had made a few prisoners, chiefly guardsmen and highlanders, whom they marched past the front of our position, in the most ostentatious way, on the forenoon of the th; and, the day following, a number of their regiments were paraded in the most imposing manner for review. they looked uncommonly well, and we were proud to think that we had beaten such fine-looking fellows so lately!" in the tangled and hurried marches which preceded the battle of salamanca, the rifles took, of course, an active part. they were probably the quickest-footed and most hardy regiment under wellington's command. but in the great battle itself kincaid's battalion played a small part, being held in reserve. kincaid's account is both amusing and interesting:-- "hitherto we had been fighting the description of battle in which john bull glories so much--gaining a brilliant and useless victory against great odds. but we were now about to contend for fame on equal terms; and, having tried both, i will say, without partiality, that i would rather fight one man than two any day; for i have never been quite satisfied that the additional quantum of glory altogether compensated for the proportionate loss of substance; a victory of that kind being a doubtful and most unsatisfactory one to the performers, with each occupying the same ground after that they did before; and the whole merit resting with the side which did not happen to begin it. "marmont came down upon us the first night with a thundering cannonade, and placed his army _en masse_ on the plain before us, almost within gunshot. i was told that, while lord wellington was riding along the line, under a fire of artillery, and accompanied by a numerous staff, a brace of greyhounds in pursuit of a hare passed close to him. he was at the moment in earnest conversation with general castanos; but the instant he observed them he gave the view hallo and went after them at full speed, to the utter astonishment of his foreign accompaniments. nor did he stop until he saw the hare killed; when he returned and resumed the commander-in-chief as if nothing had occurred. "i was sent on piquet on the evening of the th, to watch a portion of the plain before us; and, soon after sunrise on the following morning, a cannonade commenced behind a hill to my right; and though the combatants were not visible, it was evident that they were not dealing in blank-cartridge, as mine happened to be the pitching-post of all the enemy's round shot. while i was attentively watching its progress, there arose all at once, behind the rising ground to my left, a yell of the most terrific import; and, convinced that it would give instantaneous birth to as hideous a body, it made me look with an eye of lightning at the ground around me; and, seeing a broad deep ditch within a hundred yards, i lost not a moment in placing it between my piquet and the extraordinary sound. i had scarcely effected the movement when lord wellington, with his staff, and a cloud of french and english dragoons and horse artillery intermixed, came over the hill at full cry, and all hammering at each other's heads, in one confused mass over the very ground i had that instant quitted. it appeared that his lordship had gone there to reconnoitre, covered by two guns and two squadrons of cavalry, who by some accident were surprised and charged by a superior body of the enemy, and sent tumbling in upon us in the manner described. "a piquet of the rd had formed on our right, and we were obliged to remain passive spectators of such an extraordinary scene going on within a few yards of us, as we could not fire without an equal chance of shooting some of our own side. lord wellington and his staff, with the two guns, took shelter for a moment behind us, while the cavalry went sweeping along our front, where, i suppose, they picked up some reinforcement, for they returned almost instantly in the same confused mass; but the french were now the fliers; and, i must do them the justice to say, that they got off in a manner highly creditable to themselves. i saw one, in particular, defending himself against two of ours; and he would have made his escape from both, but an officer of our dragoons came down the hill, and took him in the flank at full speed, sending man and horse rolling headlong on the plain. "i was highly interested all this time in observing the distinguished characters which this unlooked-for turn-up had assembled around us. marshal beresford and the greater part of the staff remained with their swords drawn, and the duke himself did not look more than half-pleased, while he silently despatched some of them with orders. general alten and his huge german orderly dragoon, with their swords drawn, cursed the whole time to a very large amount; but, as it was in german, i had not the full benefit of it. he had an opposition swearer in captain jenkinson of the artillery, who commanded the two guns, and whose oaths were chiefly aimed at himself for his folly, as far as i could understand, in putting so much confidence in his covering party, that he had not thought it necessary to unfix the catch which horse-artillerymen, i believe, had to prevent their swords quitting the scabbards when they are not wanted, and which on this occasion prevented their jumping forth when they were so unexpectedly called for. "the straggling enemy had scarcely cleared away from our front when lord combermere came from the right with a reinforcement of cavalry; and our piquet was at the same moment ordered to join the battalion. "the movements which followed presented the most beautiful military spectacle imaginable. the enemy were endeavouring to turn our left; and, in making a counteracting movement, the two armies were marching in parallel lines close to each other on a perfect plain, each ready to take advantage of any opening of the other, and exchanging round shot as they moved along. our division brought up the rear of the infantry, marching with the order and precision of a field-day, in open column of companies, and in perfect readiness to receive the enemy in any shape, who, on their part, had a huge cavalry force close at hand and equally ready to pounce upon us. "_july ._--a sharp fire of musketry commenced at daylight in the morning; but as it did not immediately concern us and was nothing unusual we took no notice of it, but busied ourselves in getting our arms and our bodies disengaged from the rust and the wet engendered by the storm of the past night. about ten o'clock our division was ordered to stand to their arms. the enemy were to be seen in motion on the opposite ridges, and a straggling fire of musketry, with an occasional gun, acted as a sort of prelude to the approaching conflict. we heard, about this time, that marmont had just sent to his _ci-devant_ landlord in salamanca to desire that he would have the usual dinner ready for himself and staff at six o'clock; and so satisfied was 'mine host' of the infallibility of the french marshal, that he absolutely set about making the necessary preparations. "there assuredly never was an army so anxious as ours was to be brought into action on this occasion. they were a magnificent body of well-tried soldiers, highly equipped, and in the highest health and spirits, with the most devoted confidence in their leader, and an invincible confidence in themselves. the retreat of the four preceding days had annoyed us beyond measure, for we believed that we were nearly equal to the enemy in point of numbers, and the idea of our retiring before an equal number of any troops in the world was not to be endured with common patience. "we were kept the whole of the forenoon in the most torturing state of suspense through contradictory reports. one passing officer telling us that he had just heard the order given to attack, and the next asserting with equal confidence that he had just heard the order to retreat; and it was not until about two o'clock in the afternoon that affairs began to wear a more decided aspect; and when our own eyes and ears at length conveyed the wished-for tidings that a battle was inevitable, for we saw the enemy beginning to close upon our right, and the cannonade had become general along the whole line. lord wellington about the same time ordered the movement which decided the fate of the day--that of bringing the third division from beyond the river on our left rapidly to our extreme right, turning the enemy in their attempt to turn us, and commencing the offensive with the whole of his right wing. "the effect was instantaneous and decisive, for although some obstinate and desperate fighting took place in the centre, with various success, yet the victory was never for a moment in doubt, and the enemy were soon in full retreat, leaving seven thousand prisoners, two eagles, and eleven pieces of artillery in our hands. had we been favoured with two hours' more daylight, their loss would have been incalculable, for they committed a blunder at starting which they never got time to retrieve, and their retreat was therefore commenced in such disorder, and with a river in their rear, that nothing but darkness could have saved them. "the third division, under sir edward pakenham, the artillery, and some regiments of dragoons, particularly distinguished themselves. but our division, very much to our annoyance, came in for a very slender portion of this day's glory. we were exposed to a cannonade the whole of the afternoon, but, as we were not permitted to advance until very late, we had only an opportunity of throwing a few straggling shot at the fugitives before we lost sight of them in the dark, and then bivouacked for the night near the village of huerta (i think it was called). "we started after them at daylight next morning, and crossing at a ford of the tormes we found their rearguard, consisting of three regiments of infantry, with some cavalry and artillery, posted on a formidable height above the village of serna. general bock, with his brigade of heavy german dragoons, immediately went at them, and putting their cavalry to flight, he broke through their infantry, and took or destroyed the whole of them. this was one of the most gallant charges recorded in history. i saw many of these fine fellows lying dead along with their horses, on which they were still astride, with the sword firmly grasped in the hand, as they had fought the instant before, and several of them still wearing a look of fierce defiance, which death itself had been unable to quench." in the mountain march which turned the french right, and drove joseph's whole army, burdened with the plunder of a kingdom, back into the fatal valley of vittoria, the rifles had a full share. in the actual fighting of june , , their part was brilliant. they fired the first shot in the fight; they were first across the river; they were first up the central hill of arinez, where the fury of the great battle culminated; and they captured the first gun taken. barnard's daring advance with his riflemen really enabled the third and seventh divisions to carry the bridge of mendoza. barnard opened so cruel a flank fire on the french guns and infantry guarding the bridge that they fell back in confusion, and the british crossed practically without confusion. it is needless to add that the hardy and active rifles led in the pursuit of the defeated french far into the night after the battle, and early on the succeeding day:-- "_june , ._--our division got under arms this morning before daylight, passed the base of the mountain by its left, through the camp of the fourth division, who were still asleep in their tents, to the banks of the river zadora, at the village of tres puentes. the opposite side of the river was occupied by the enemy's advanced posts, and we saw their army on the hills beyond, while the spires of vittoria were visible in the distance. we felt as if there was likely to be a battle; but as that was an event we were never sure of until we found ourselves actually in it, we lay for some time just out of musket-shot, uncertain what was likely to turn up, and waiting for orders. at length a sharp fire of musketry was heard to our right, and on looking in that direction we saw the head of sir rowland hill's corps, together with some spanish troops, attempting to force the mountain which marked the enemy's left. the three battalions of our regiment were, at the same moment, ordered forward to feel the enemy, who lined the opposite banks of the river, with whom we were quickly engaged in a warm skirmish. the affair with sir rowland hill became gradually warmer, but ours had apparently no other object than to amuse those who were opposite to us for the moment, so that for about two hours longer it seemed as if there would be nothing but an affair of outposts. "about twelve o'clock, however, we were moved rapidly to our left, followed by the rest of the division, till we came to an abrupt turn of the river, where we found a bridge, unoccupied by the enemy, which we immediately crossed and took possession of what appeared to me to be an old field-work on the other side. we had not been many seconds there before we observed the bayonets of the third and seventh divisions glittering above the standing corn, and advancing upon another bridge which stood about a quarter of a mile farther to our left, and where, on their arrival, they were warmly opposed by the enemy's light troops, who lined the bank of the river (which we ourselves were now on), in great force, for the defence of the bridge. as soon as this was observed by our division, colonel barnard advanced with our battalion, and took them in flank with such a furious fire as quickly dislodged them, and thereby opened a passage for these two divisions free of expense, which must otherwise have cost them dearly. what with the rapidity of our movement, the colour of our dress, and our close contact with the enemy before they would abandon their post, we had the misfortune to be identified with them for some time by a battery of our own guns, who, not observing the movement, continued to serve it out indiscriminately, and all the while admiring their practice upon us; nor was it until the red coats of the third division joined us that they discovered their mistake. "on the mountain to our extreme right the action continued to be general and obstinate, though we observed that the enemy were giving ground slowly to sir rowland hill. the passage of the river by our division had turned the enemy's outpost at the bridge on our right, where we had been engaged in the morning, and they were now retreating, followed by the fourth division. the plain between them and sir rowland hill was occupied by the british cavalry, who were now seen filing out of a wood, squadron after squadron, galloping into form as they gradually cleared it. the hills behind were covered with spectators, and the third and the light divisions, covered by our battalion, advanced rapidly upon a formidable hill in front of the enemy's centre, which they had neglected to occupy in sufficient force. "in the course of our progress our men kept picking off the french vedettes, who were imprudent enough to hover too near us; and many a horse, bounding along the plain, dragging his late rider by the stirrup-irons, contributed in making it a scene of extraordinary and exhilarating interest. "old picton rode at the head of the third division, dressed in a blue coat and a round hat, and swore as roundly all the way as if he had been wearing two cocked ones. our battalion soon cleared the hill in question of the enemy's light troops; but we were pulled up on the opposite side of it by one of their lines, which occupied a wall at the entrance of a village immediately under us. "during the few minutes that we stopped there, while a brigade of the third division was deploying into line, two of our companies lost two officers and thirty men, chiefly from the fire of artillery bearing on the spot from the french position. one of their shells burst immediately under my nose, part of it struck my boot and stirrup-iron, and the rest of it kicked up such a dust about me that my charger refused to obey orders; and while i was spurring and he capering i heard a voice behind me, which i knew to be lord wellington's, calling out, in a tone of reproof, 'look to keeping your men together, sir;' and though, god knows, i had not the remotest idea that he was within a mile of me at the time, yet so sensible was i that circumstances warranted his supposing that i was a young officer cutting a caper, by way of bravado, before him, that worlds would not have tempted me to look round at the moment. the french fled from the wall as soon as they received a volley from part of the third division, and we instantly dashed down the hill and charged them through the village, capturing three of their guns; the first, i believe, that were taken that day. they received a reinforcement, and drove us back before our supports could come to our assistance; but, in the scramble of the moment, our men were knowing enough to cut the traces and carry off the horses, so that when we retook the village immediately after the guns still remained in our possession. "the battle now became general along the whole line, and the cannonade was tremendous. at one period we held on one side of a wall, near the village, while the french were on the other, so that any person who chose to put his head over from either side was sure of getting a sword or a bayonet up his nostrils. this situation was, of course, too good to be of long endurance. the victory, i believe, was never for a moment doubtful. the enemy were so completely out-generalled, and the superiority of our troops was such, that to carry their positions required little more than the time necessary to march to them. after forcing their centre the fourth division and our own got on the flank and rather in rear of the enemy's left wing, who were retreating before sir rowland hill, and who, to effect their escape, were now obliged to fly in one confused mass. had a single regiment of our dragoons been at hand, or even a squadron, to have forced them into shape for a few minutes, we must have taken from ten to twenty thousand prisoners. after marching alongside of them for nearly two miles, and as a disorderly body will always move faster than an orderly one, we had the mortification to see them gradually heading us, until they finally made their escape. "our elevated situation at this time afforded a good view of the field of battle to our left, and i could not help being struck with an unusual appearance of unsteadiness and want of confidence among the french troops. i saw a dense mass of many thousands occupying a good defensible post, who gave way in the greatest confusion before a single line of the third division, almost without feeling them. if there was nothing in any other part of the position to justify the movement, and i do not think there was, they ought to have been flogged, every man, from the general downwards. "the ground was particularly favourable to the retreating foe, as every half mile afforded a fresh and formidable position, so that from the commencement of the action to the city of vittoria, a distance of six or eight miles, we were involved in one continued hard skirmish. on passing vittoria, however, the scene became quite new and infinitely more amusing, as the french had made no provision for a retreat; and sir thomas graham having seized upon the great road to france, the only one left open was that leading by pampeluna; and it was not open long, for their fugitive army and their myriads of followers, with baggage, guns, carriages, &c., being all precipitated upon it at the same moment, it got choked up about a mile beyond the town, in the most glorious state of confusion; and the drivers, finding that one pair of legs was worth two pair of wheels, abandoned it all to the victors. "it is much to be lamented, on those occasions, that the people who contribute most to the victory should profit the least by it; not that i am an advocate for plunder--on the contrary, i would much rather that all our fighting was for pure love; but as everything of value falls into the hands of the followers and scoundrels who skulk from the ranks for the double purpose of plundering and saving their dastardly carcasses, what i regret is that the man who deserts his post should thereby have an opportunity of enriching himself with impunity, while the true man gets nothing; but the evil, i believe, is irremediable. sir james kempt, who commanded our brigade, in passing one of the captured waggons in the evening, saw a soldier loading himself with money, and was about to have him conveyed to the camp as a prisoner, when the fellow begged hard to be released, and to be allowed to retain what he had got, telling the general that all the boxes in the waggon were filled with gold. sir james, with his usual liberality, immediately adopted the idea of securing it as a reward to his brigade for their gallantry; and, getting a fatigue party, he caused the boxes to be removed to his tent, and ordered an officer and some men from each regiment to parade there next morning to receive their proportions of it; but when they opened the boxes they found them filled with 'hammers, nails, and horse-shoes!' "as not only the body, but the mind, had been in constant occupation since three o'clock in the morning, circumstances no sooner permitted--about ten at night--than i threw myself on the ground, and fell into a profound sleep, from which i did not awake until broad daylight, when i found a french soldier squatted near me, intensely watching for the opening of my 'shutters.' he had contrived to conceal himself there during the night; and when he saw that i was awake, he immediately jumped on his legs, and very obsequiously presented me with a map of france, telling me that as there was now a probability of our visiting his native country, he could make himself very useful, and would be glad if i would accept of his services. i thought it unfair, however, to deprive him of the present opportunity of seeing a little more of the world himself; and therefore sent him to join the rest of the prisoners, which would insure him a trip to england, free of expense." on the rough and shaggy field of the pyrenees, with its deep and tangled valleys and wind-scourged summits, where soult was maintaining a gallant and obstinate fight against wellington, the british endured and achieved much. kincaid's account of the carrying of the great rhune, of the passage of the bidassoa and of the nivelle, and of all the fighting which led up to toulouse, is worth giving:-- "_november , ._--petite la rhune was allotted to our division as their first point of attack; and, accordingly, on the th being the day fixed, we moved to our ground at midnight on the th. the abrupt ridges in the neighbourhood enabled us to lodge ourselves, unperceived, within half musket-shot of their piquets; and we had left every description of animal behind us in camp, in order that neither the barking of dogs nor the neighing of steeds should give indication of our intentions. our signal of attack was to be a gun from sir john hope, who had now succeeded sir thomas graham in the command of the left wing of the army. "we stood to our arms at dawn of day, which was soon followed by the signal gun; and each commanding officer, according to previous instructions, led gallantly off to his point of attack. the french must have been, no doubt, astonished to see such an armed force spring out of the ground almost under their noses, but they were nevertheless prepared behind their entrenchments, and caused us some loss in passing the short space between us; but the whole place was carried within the time required to walk over it, and in less than half-an-hour from the commencement of the attack it was in our possession, with all their tents left standing. "petite la rhune was more of an outpost than a part of their position, the latter being a chain of stupendous mountains in its rear; so that, while our battalion followed their skirmishers into the valley between, the remainder of our division were forming for the attack on the main position and waiting for the co-operation of the other divisions, the thunder of whose artillery, echoing along the valleys, proclaimed that they were engaged far and wide on both sides of us. about mid-day our division advanced to the grand attack on the most formidable-looking part of the whole of the enemy's position, and, much to our surprise, we carried it with more ease and less loss than the outpost in the morning, a circumstance which we could only account for by supposing that it had been defended by the same troops, and that they did not choose to sustain two hard beatings on the same day. the attack succeeded at every point, and in the evening we had the satisfaction of seeing the left wing of the army marching into st. jean de luz." barnard, the gallant leader of the rifles, was shot through the breast when pressing in pursuit of the broken french, who had been driven from the little rhune. he fell from his horse, and it was evident that the lung was pierced, for blood and air issued from the wound, while blood ran from the fallen man's mouth. "do you think i am dying?" asked barnard coolly of an officer bending over him. "did you ever see a man so wounded recover?" he was told there were cases of recovery from such a wound. "then," said barnard, "if any man can recover, i know that i shall." and he did, his resolve not to die materially helping him to survive. for so much does a cool and strong will count! kincaid's account of toulouse is singularly brief. the rifles were placed so as to connect picton's left with the spaniards under freire, who were to attack the shoulder of mont rave. thus kincaid was able to watch, and afterwards describe, the memorable rout of the spaniards, which forms the most picturesque feature of the battle. the rifles themselves were engaged in a sharp musketry fire with the convent, and as they advanced a great open sewer had to be crossed and held. the rifles, according to the regimental record, suffered more from the odours of the sewer than from the bullets of the french:-- "we crossed the river, and advanced sufficiently near to the enemy's position to be just out of reach of their fire, where we waited until dispositions were made for the attack. "on our side of the river the spanish army, which had never hitherto taken an active part in any of our general actions, now claimed the post of honour, and advanced to storm the strongest part of the heights. our division was ordered to support them in the low grounds, and at the same time to threaten a point of the canal; and picton, who was on our right, was ordered to make a false attack on the canal. these were all that were visible to us. the remaining divisions of the army were in continuation to the left. "the spaniards, anxious to monopolise all the glory, i rather think, moved on to the attack a little too soon, and before the british divisions on their left were in readiness to co-operate. however, be that as it may, they were soon in a blaze of fire, and began walking through it at first with a great show of gallantry and determination; but their courage was not altogether screwed up to the sticking-point, and the nearer they came to the critical pass the less prepared they seemed to meet it, until they all finally faced to the right-about, and came back upon us as fast as their heels could carry them, pursued by the enemy. "we instantly advanced to their relief, and concluded that they would have rallied behind us, but they had no idea of doing anything of the kind, for when with cuesta and some of the other spanish generals they had been accustomed, under such circumstances, to run a hundred miles at a time; so that, passing through the intervals of our division, they went clear off to the rear, and we never saw them more. the moment the french found us interpose between them and the spaniards they retired within their works. "the only remark that lord wellington was said to have made on their conduct, after waiting to see whether they would stand after they got out of the reach of the enemy's shot, was, 'well, d---- me, if ever i saw ten thousand men run a race before!' however, notwithstanding their disaster, many of their officers certainly evinced great bravery, and on their account it is to be regretted that the attack was made so soon, for they would otherwise have carried their point with little loss, either of life or credit, as the british divisions on the left soon after stormed and carried all the other works, and obliged those who had been opposed to the spaniards to evacuate theirs without firing another shot. "when the enemy were driven from the heights, they retired within the town, and the canal then became their line of defence, which they maintained the whole of the next day; but in the course of the following night they left the town altogether, and we took possession of it on the morning of the th. "the inhabitants of toulouse hoisted the white flag, and declared for the bourbons the moment that the french army had left it; and, in the course of the same day, colonel cooke arrived from paris with the extraordinary news of napoleon's abdication. soult has been accused of having been in possession of that fact prior to the battle of toulouse; but, to disprove such an assertion, it can only be necessary to think, for a moment, whether he would not have made it public the day after the battle, while he yet held possession of the town, as it would not only have enabled him to keep it, but, to those who knew no better, it might have given him a shadow of claim to the victory, if he chose to avail himself of it--and i have known a victory claimed by a french marshal on more slender grounds. in place of knowing it then, he did not even believe it now; and we were absolutely obliged to follow him a day's march beyond toulouse before he agreed to an armistice." chapter iv the imminent deadly breach of the three great and memorable sieges of the peninsula--ciudad rodrigo, badajos, and san sebastian--kincaid took part in the first two, and has left a curiously interesting account of his experiences in them. wellington's capture of ciudad rodrigo was a very swift and dazzling stroke of war. the place was a great frontier fortress; it held vast magazines of warlike material. while in french hands it barred wellington's advance into spain. if captured, it would furnish a secure base for such an advance. marmont and soult, each in command of an army stronger than that under wellington, kept watch over the great fortress. to pluck it from their very hands would have been judged beforehand an impossible thing. yet wellington did it! he achieved the feat by a combination of secrecy, audacity, and speed rarely excelled in war. he hid his preparations beneath a veil of profoundest silence and mystery. then, when his foes had been thrown completely off their guard, he leaped on the doomed fortress; and almost before the thunder of his guns had reached the ears of soult and of marmont the fortress was lost! wellington had everything against him. his supplies were scanty, his siege train miserable. the weather was bitter, and rains incessant, the ground rocky. yet the siege never faltered nor paused. wellington broke ground on january ; he stormed the city on january . never was a great warlike operation conceived more subtly, or executed with greater fire and swiftness. kincaid has a special right to tell the tale of this siege. he shared in the hardships of the trenches, and led the storming party at one of the breaches. "_january , ._--the campaign of commenced with the siege of ciudad rodrigo, which was invested by our division on the th of january. "there was a smartish frost, with some snow on the ground, and, when we arrived opposite the fortress, about mid-day, the garrison did not appear to think that we were in earnest, for a number of their officers came out, under the shelter of a stone wall, within half musket-shot, and amused themselves in saluting and bowing to us in ridicule; but, ere the day was done, some of them had occasion to wear the laugh on the opposite side of the countenance. "we lay by our arms until dark, when a party, consisting of a hundred volunteers from each regiment, under colonel colborne of the nd, stormed and carried the fort of st. francisco, after a short, sharp action, in which the whole of its garrison were taken or destroyed. the officer who commanded it was a chattering little fellow, and acknowledged himself to have been one of our saluting friends of the morning. he kept incessantly repeating a few words of english which he had picked up during the assault, and the only ones, i fancy, that were spoken, viz., 'dem eyes, b--t eyes!' and, in demanding the meaning of them, he required that we should also explain why we stormed a place without first besieging it; for, he said, that another officer would have relieved him of his charge at daylight, had we not relieved him of it sooner. "the enemy had calculated that this outwork would have kept us at bay for a fortnight or three weeks; whereas its capture the first night enabled us to break ground at once, within breaching distance of the walls of the town. they kept up a very heavy fire the whole night on the working parties; but, as they aimed at random, we did not suffer much, and made such good use of our time that, when daylight enabled them to see what we were doing, we had dug ourselves under tolerable cover. "in addition to ours, the first, third, and fourth divisions were employed in the siege. each took the duties for twenty-four hours alternately, and returned to their cantonments during the interval. we were relieved by the first division, under sir thomas graham, on the morning of the th, and marched to our quarters. "_january ._--at ten o'clock this morning we resumed the duties of the siege. it still continued to be dry, frosty weather; and, as we were obliged to ford the agueda, up to the middle, every man carried a pair of iced breeches into the trenches with him. "my turn of duty did not arrive until eight in the morning, when i was ordered to take thirty men with shovels to dig holes for ourselves, as near as possible to the walls, for the delectable amusement of firing at the embrasures for the remainder of the night. the enemy threw frequent fire-balls among us, to see where we were; but, as we always lay snug until their blaze was extinguished, they were not much the wiser, except by finding, from having some one popped off from their guns every instant, that they had got some neighbours whom they would have been glad to get rid of. we were relieved as usual at ten next morning, and returned to our cantonments. "_january ._--entered on our third day's duty, and found the breaching batteries in full operation, and our approaches close to the walls on every side. when we arrived on the ground i was sent to take command of the highland company which we had at that time in the regiment, and which was with the left wing, under colonel cameron. i found them on piquet, between the right of the trenches and the river, half of them posted at a mud cottage and the other half in a ruined convent close under the walls. it was a very tolerable post when at it; but it is no joke travelling by daylight up to within a stone's throw of a wall on which there is a parcel of fellows who have no other amusement but to fire at everybody they see. "we could not show our noses at any point without being fired at; but, as we were merely posted there to protect the right flank of the trenches from any sortie, we did not fire at them, and kept as quiet as could be, considering the deadly blast that was blowing around us. there are few situations in life where something cannot be learnt, and i myself stand indebted to my twenty-four hours' residence there for a more correct knowledge of martial sounds than in the study of my whole life-time besides. they must be an unmusical pair of ears that cannot inform the wearer whether a cannon or a musket played last, but the various notes, emanating from their respective mouths, admit of nice distinctions. my party was too small and too well sheltered to repay the enemy for the expense of shells and round shot; but the quantity of grape and musketry aimed at our particular heads made a good concert of first and second whistles, while the more sonorous voice of the round shot, travelling to our friends on the left, acted as a thorough bass; and there was not a shell, that passed over us to the trenches, that did not send back a fragment among us as soon as it burst, as if to gratify a curiosity that i was far from expressing. "everything is by comparison in this world, and it is curious to observe how men's feelings change with circumstances. in cool blood a man would rather go a little out of his way than expose himself to unnecessary danger; but we found, this morning, that by crossing the river where we then were and running the gantlet for a mile exposed to the fire of two pieces of artillery, that we should be saved the distance of two or three miles in returning to our quarters. after coming out of such a furnace as we had been frying in, the other fire was not considered a fire at all, and passed without a moment's hesitation. "_january , ._--we moved to the scene of operations about two o'clock this afternoon; and, as it was a day before our regular turn, we concluded that we were called there to lend a hand in finishing the job we had begun so well. nor were we disappointed, for we found that two practicable breaches had been effected, and that the place was to be stormed in the evening by the third and light divisions, the former by the right breach, and the latter by the left, while some portuguese troops were to attempt an escalade on the opposite sides of the town. "about eight o'clock in the evening our division was accordingly formed for the assault, behind a convent, near the left breach. "at a given signal the different columns advanced to the assault; the night was tolerably clear, and the enemy evidently expected us, for as soon as we turned the corner of the convent wall, the space between us and the breach became one blaze of light with their fire-balls, which, while they lighted us on to glory, lightened not a few of their lives and limbs; for the whole glacis was in consequence swept by a well-directed fire of grape and musketry, and they are the devil's own brooms; but our gallant fellows walked through it to the point of attack, with the most determined steadiness, excepting the portuguese sack-bearers, most of whom lay down behind their bags, to wait the result, while the few that were thrown into the ditch looked so like dead bodies, that, when i leapt into it, i tried to avoid them. "the advantage of being on a storming party is considered as giving the prior claim to be 'put out of pain,' for they receive the first fire, which is generally the best, not to mention that they are also expected to receive the earliest salutations from the beams of timber, hand-grenades, and other missiles which the garrison are generally prepared to transfer from the top of the wall, to the tops of the heads of their foremost visitors. but i cannot say that i myself experienced any such preference, for every ball has a considerable distance to travel, and i have generally found them equally ready to pick up their man at the end as at the beginning of their flight. "we had some difficulty at first in finding the breach, as we had entered the ditch opposite to a ravelin, which we mistook for a bastion. i tried first one side of it and then the other, and seeing one corner of it a good deal battered, with a ladder placed against it, i concluded that it must be the breach, and calling to the soldiers near me to follow, i mounted with the most ferocious intent, carrying a sword in one hand and a pistol in the other; but, when i got up, i found nobody to fight with, except two of our own men, who were already laid dead across the top of the ladder. i saw in a moment that i had got into the wrong box, and was about to descend again, when i heard a shout from the opposite side that the breach was there; and, moving in that direction, i dropped myself from the ravelin, and landed in the ditch, opposite to the foot of the breach, where i found the head of the storming party just beginning to fight their way into it. the combat was of short duration, and, in less than half-an-hour from the commencement of the attack, the place was in our possession. "after carrying the breach, we met with no further opposition, and moved round the ramparts to see that they were perfectly clear of the enemy, previous to entering the town. i was fortunate enough to take the left-hand circuit, by accident, and thereby escape the fate which befel a great portion of those who went to the right, and who were blown up, along with some of the third division, by the accidental explosion of a magazine. "i was highly amused, in moving round the ramparts, to find some of the portuguese troops just commencing their escalade, on the opposite side near the bridge, in ignorance of the place having already fallen. gallantly headed by their officers, they had got some ladders placed against the wall, while about two thousand voices from the rear were cheering with all their might for mutual encouragement; and, like most other troops under similar circumstances, it appeared to me that their feet and their tongues went at a more equal pace after we gave them the hint. on going a little farther we came opposite to the ravelin which had been my chief annoyance during my last day's piquet. it was still crowded by the enemy, who had now thrown down their arms and endeavoured to excite our pity by virtue of their being 'pauvres italianos'; but our men had somehow imbibed a horrible antipathy to the italians, and every appeal they made in that name was invariably answered with: 'you're italians, are you? then d--n you, here's a shot for you'; and the action instantly followed the word. "we continued our course round the ramparts until we met the head of the column which had gone by the right, and then descended into the town. at the entrance of the first street, a french officer came out of a door and claimed my protection, giving me his sword. he told me that there was another officer in the same house who was afraid to venture out, and entreated that i would go in for him. i, accordingly, followed him up to the landing-place of a dark stair, and, while he was calling to his friend, by name to come down 'as there was an english officer present who would protect him,' a violent screaming broke through a door at my elbow. i pushed it open, and found the landlady struggling with an english soldier, whom i immediately transferred to the bottom of the stair head foremost. the french officer had followed me in at the door, and was so astonished at all he saw, that he held up his hands, turned up the whites of his eyes, and resolved himself into a state of most eloquent silence. "as the other officer could not be found, i descended into the street again with my prisoner; and, finding the current of soldiers setting towards the centre of the town, i followed the stream, which conducted me into the great square, on one side of which the late garrison were drawn up as prisoners, and the rest of it was filled with british and portuguese intermixed without any order or regularity. i had been there but a very short time, when they all commenced firing, without any ostensible cause; some fired in at the doors and windows, some at the roofs of houses, and others at the clouds; and at last some heads began to be blown from their shoulders in the general hurricane, when the voice of sir thomas picton, with the power of twenty trumpets, began to proclaim damnation to everybody, while colonel barnard, colonel cameron, and some other active officers, were carrying it into effect with a strong hand; for seizing the broken barrels of muskets which were lying about in great abundance, they belaboured every fellow most unmercifully about the head who attempted either to load or fire, and finally succeeded in reducing them to order. in the midst of the scuffle, however, three of the houses in the square were set on fire; and the confusion was such that nothing could be done to save them; but, by the extraordinary exertions of colonel barnard during the whole of the night, the flames were prevented from communicating to the adjoining buildings. "we succeeded in getting a great portion of our battalion together by one o'clock in the morning, and withdrew with them to the ramparts, where we lay by our arms until daylight. "there is nothing in this life half so enviable as the feelings of a soldier after a victory. previous to a battle there is a certain sort of something that pervades the mind which is not easily defined; it is neither akin to joy or fear, and, probably, anxiety may be nearer to it than any other word in the dictionary; but, when the battle is over, and crowned with victory, he finds himself elevated for a while into the regions of absolute bliss! it had ever been the summit of my ambition to attain a post at the head of a storming party--my wish had now been accomplished and gloriously ended; and i do think that, after all was over, and our men laid asleep on the ramparts, that i strutted about as important a personage, in my own opinion, as ever trod the face of the earth; and, had the ghost of the renowned jack-the-giant-killer itself passed that way at the time, i venture to say that i would have given it a kick in the breech without the smallest ceremony. but, as the sun began to rise, i began to fall from the heroics; and, when he showed his face, i took a look at my own and found that i was too unclean a spirit to worship, for i was covered with mud and dirt, with the greater part of my dress torn to rags. "the fifth division, which had not been employed in the siege, marched in and took charge of the town on the morning of the th, and we prepared to return to our cantonments. lord wellington happened to be riding in at the gate at the time that we were marching out, and had the curiosity to ask the officer of the leading company what regiment it was; for there was scarcely a vestige of uniform among the men, some of whom were dressed in frenchmen's coats, some in white breeches and huge jack-boots, some with cocked hats and queues; most of their swords were fixed on the rifles, and stuck full of hams, tongues, and loaves of bread, and not a few were carrying bird-cages! there never was a better masked corps! "among other things carried from ciudad rodrigo, one of our men had the misfortune to carry his death in his hands, under the mistaken shape of amusement. he thought that it was a cannon-ball, and took it for the purpose of playing at the game of nine-holes, but it happened to be a live shell. in rolling it along it went over a bed of burning ashes, and ignited without his observing it. just as he had got it between his legs, and was in the act of discharging it a second time, it exploded, and nearly blew him to pieces." the story of the siege of badajos is darker and more tragical than that of the capture of ciudad rodrigo. the defences of badajos were much more formidable than those of the sister fortress, the garrison was more numerous, the defence more stubborn and skilful. phillipon, the commander of the assailed city, has, indeed, won enduring fame by the skill and valour of his defence. yet the siege only lasted twenty days. it was begun on march ; on april the city was stormed. it was carried by a night assault; but the breaches were imperfect, and the art of phillipon had made the great breach practically impregnable. but the fierce and unquailing valour with which the british stormers flung themselves on the breaches, and died on their rough and blood-splashed slopes, makes one of the most thrilling stories in the history of war. all the attacks on the breeches failed; but picton carried the castle by escalcade, and leith forced his way over the bastion of st. vincent, where no breach existed, and where the scarp was thirty feet high; and so the town was carried. it was one of the rifles of whom napier tells the story, that in his resolution to win, he thrust himself beneath the chained sword-blades at the summit of the great breach, and there suffered the enemy to dash his head to pieces with the ends of their muskets. of major o'hare, who led the stormers of the rifles, a grim story is told. as his men were moving off in the darkness he shook hands with a brother officer, and said: 'a lieutenant-colonel or cold meat in a few hours.' he fell, shot dead on the breach itself ten minutes afterwards. as kincaid led one of the storming parties at ciudad rodrigo, a lighter part was assigned to him at badajos. he commanded a strong party whose business it was to line the glacis and keep down the fire from the ramparts. he tells the tale briefly:-- "on the th of march , the third, fourth, and light divisions encamped around badajos, embracing the whole of the inland side of the town on the left bank of the guadiana, and commenced breaking ground before it immediately after dark the same night. "the elements on this occasion adopted the cause of the besieged, for we had scarcely taken up our ground when a heavy rain commenced, and continued, almost without intermission, for a fortnight; in consequence thereof the pontoon bridge, connecting us with our supplies from elvas, was carried away by the rapid increase of the river, and the duties of the trenches were otherwise rendered extremely harassing. we had a smaller force employed than at rodrigo, and the scale of operations was so much greater that it required every man to be actually in the trenches six hours every day, and the same length of time every night, which, with the time required to march to and from them, through fields more than ankle-deep in a stiff mud, left us never more than eight hours out of the twenty-four in camp, and we never were dry the whole time. "one day's trench work is as like another as the days themselves, and like nothing better than serving an apprenticeship to the double calling of gravedigger and gamekeeper, for we found ample employment both for the spade and the rifle. "the portuguese artillery, under british officers, was uncommonly good. i used to be much amused in looking at a twelve-gun breaching-battery of theirs. they knew the position of all the enemy's guns which could bear upon them, and had one man posted to watch them, to give notice of what was coming, whether a shot or a shell, who accordingly kept calling out, 'bomba, balla, balla, bomba,' and they ducked their heads until the missile passed; but sometimes he would see a general discharge from all arms, when he threw himself down, screaming out, 'jesus, todos, todos!' meaning 'everything.' "an officer of ours was sent one morning before daylight with ten men to dig holes for themselves opposite to one of the enemy's guns which had been doing a great deal of mischief the day before, and he had soon the satisfaction of knowing the effect of his practice by seeing them stopping up the embrasure with sand-bags. after waiting a little he saw them beginning to remove the bags, when he made his men open upon it again, and they were instantly replaced without the guns being fired. presently he saw the huge cocked hat of a french officer make its appearance on the rampart near the embrasure, but knowing by experience that the head was somewhere in the neighbourhood, he watched until the flash of a musket through the long grass showed the position of the owner, and calling one of his best shots, he desired him to take deliberate aim at the spot, and lent his shoulder as a rest to give it more elevation. bang went the shot, and it was the finishing flash for the frenchman, for they saw no more of him, although his cocked hat maintained its post until dark. "in proportion as the grand crisis approached, the anxiety of the soldiers increased, not on account of any doubt or dread as to the result, but for fear that the place should be surrendered without standing an assault; for, singular as it may appear, although there was a certainty of about one man out of every three being knocked down, there were, perhaps, not three men in the three divisions who would not rather have braved all the chances than receive it tamely from the hands of the enemy. so great was the rage for passports into eternity in our battalion on that occasion that even the officers' servants insisted on taking their places in the ranks, and i was obliged to leave my baggage in charge of a man who had been wounded some days before. "on the th of april three practicable breaches had been effected, and arrangements were made for assaulting the town that night: the third division by escalade at the castle, a brigade of the fifth division by escalade at the opposite side of the town, while the fourth and light divisions were to storm the breaches. the whole were ordered to be formed for the attack at eight o'clock. "_april , ._--our division formed for the attack of the left breach in the same order as at ciudad rodrigo. the command of it had now devolved upon our commandant, colonel barnard. i was then the acting adjutant of four companies, under colonel cameron, who were to line the crest of the glacis, and to fire at the ramparts and the top of the left breach. "the enemy seemed aware of our intentions. the fire of artillery and musketry, which for three weeks before had been incessant, both from the town and trenches, had now entirely ceased as if by mutual consent, and a death-like silence of nearly an hour preceded the awful scene of carnage. "the signal to advance was made about nine o'clock, and our four companies led the way. colonel cameron and myself had reconnoitred the ground so accurately by daylight that we succeeded in bringing the head of our column to the very spot agreed on, opposite to the left breach, and then formed line to the left without a word being spoken, each man lying down as he got into line, with the muzzle of his rifle over the edge of the ditch, between the palisades, all ready to open. it was tolerably clear above, and we distinctly saw their heads lining the ramparts, but there was a sort of haze on the ground which, with the colour of our dress, prevented them from seeing us, although only a few yards asunder. one of their sentries, however, challenged us twice, "qui vive," and, receiving no reply, he fired off his musket, which was followed by their drums beating to arms; but we still remained perfectly quiet, and all was silence again for the space of five or ten minutes, when the head of the forlorn hope at length came up, and we took advantage of the first fire while the enemy's heads were yet visible. "the scene that ensued furnished as respectable a representation of hell itself as fire and sword and human sacrifices could make it, for in one instant every engine of destruction was in full operation. it is in vain to attempt a description of it. we were entirely excluded from the right breach by an inundation which the heavy rains had enabled the enemy to form, and the two others were rendered totally impracticable by their interior defences. "the five succeeding hours were therefore passed in the most gallant and hopeless attempts on the part of individual officers, forming up fifty or a hundred men at a time at the foot of the breach, and endeavouring to carry it by desperate bravery; and, fatal as it proved to each gallant band in succession, yet, fast as one dissolved, another was formed. we were informed about twelve at night that the third division had established themselves in the castle; but as its situation and construction did not permit them to extend their operations beyond it at the moment, it did not in the least affect our opponents at the breach, whose defence continued as obstinate as ever. "i was near colonel barnard after midnight, when he received repeated messages from lord wellington to withdraw from the breach and to form the division for a renewal of the attack at daylight; but as fresh attempts continued to be made, and the troops were still pressing forward into the ditch, it went against his gallant soul to order a retreat while yet a chance remained; but after heading repeated attempts himself, he saw that it was hopeless, and the order was reluctantly given about two o'clock in the morning. we fell back about three hundred yards, and re-formed all that remained to us. "our regiment alone had to lament the loss of twenty-two officers killed and wounded, ten of whom were killed, or afterwards died of their wounds. we had scarcely got our men together when we were informed of the success of the fifth division in their escalade, and that the enemy were, in consequence, abandoning the breaches, and we were immediately ordered forward to take possession of them. on our arrival we found them entirely evacuated, and had not occasion to fire another shot; but we found the utmost difficulty and even danger in getting in in the dark, even without opposition. as soon as we succeeded in establishing our battalion inside, we sent piquets into the different streets and lanes leading from the breach, and kept the remainder in hand until day should throw some light on our situation. "when i was in the act of posting one of the piquets a man of ours brought me a prisoner, telling me that he was the governor; but the other immediately said that he had only called himself so the better to ensure his protection, and then added that he was the colonel of one of the french regiments, and that all his surviving officers were assembled at his quarters, in a street close by, and would surrender themselves to any officer who would go with him for that purpose. i accordingly took two or three men with me, and, accompanying him there, found fifteen or sixteen of them assembled, and all seeming very much surprised at the unexpected termination of the siege. they could not comprehend under what circumstances the town had been lost, and repeatedly asked me how i had got in; but i did not choose to explain further than simply telling them that i had entered at the breach, coupling the information with a look which was calculated to convey somewhat more than i knew myself; for, in truth, when i began to recollect that a few minutes before had seen me retiring from the breach under a fanciful overload of degradation, i thought that i had now as good a right as any man to be astonished at finding myself lording it over the officers of a french battalion; nor was i much wiser than they were as to the manner of its accomplishment. "they were all very much dejected, excepting their major, who was a big, jolly-looking dutchman, with medals enough on his left breast to have furnished the window of a tolerable toy-shop. his accomplishments were after the manner of captain dugald dalgetty; and while he cracked his joke he was not inattentive to the cracking of the corks from the many wine bottles which his colonel placed on the table successively, along with some cold meat, for general refreshment, prior to marching into captivity, and which i, though a free man, was not too proud to join them in. "when i had allowed their chief a reasonable time to secure what valuables he wished about his person, he told me that he had two horses in the stable, which, as he would no longer be permitted to keep, he recommended me to take; and as a horse is the only thing on such occasions that an officer can permit himself to consider a legal prize, i caused one of them to be saddled, and his handsome black mare thereby became my charger during the remainder of the war. "in proceeding with my prisoners towards the breach i took, by mistake, a different road to that i came; and as numbers of frenchmen were lurking about for a safe opportunity of surrendering themselves, about a hundred additional ones added themselves to my column as we moved along, jabbering their native dialect so loudly as nearly to occasion a dire catastrophe, as it prevented me from hearing some one challenge in my front; but, fortunately, it was repeated and i instantly answered; for colonel barnard and sir colin campbell had a piquet of our men drawn across the street on the point of sending a volley into us, thinking that we were a rallied body of the enemy. "the whole of the garrison were marched off as prisoners to elvas, about ten o'clock in the morning, and our men were then permitted to fall out to enjoy themselves for the remainder of the day, as a reward for having kept together so long as they were wanted. the whole of the three divisions were by this time loose in the town, and the usual frightful scene of plunder commenced, which the officers thought it necessary to avoid for the moment by retiring to the camp. "we went into the town on the morning of the th to endeavour to collect our men, but only succeeded in part, as the same extraordinary scene of plunder and rioting still continued. wherever there was anything to eat or drink, the only saleable commodities, the soldiers had turned the shopkeepers out of doors and placed themselves regularly behind the counter, selling off the contents of the shop. by-and-by another and a stronger party would kick those out in their turn, and there was no end to the succession of self-elected shopkeepers, until lord wellington found that to restore order severe measures must be resorted to. on the third day he caused a portuguese brigade to be marched in and kept standing to their arms in the great square, where the provost-marshal erected a gallows and proceeded to suspend a few of the delinquents, which very quickly cleared the town of the remainder, and enabled us to give a more satisfactory account of our battalion than we had hitherto been able to do. "the third day after the fall of the town, i rode, with colonel cameron, to take a bathe in the guadiana, and, in passing the verge of the camp of the fifth division, we saw two soldiers standing at the door of a small shed, or outhouse, shouting, waving their caps, and making signs that they wanted to speak to us. we rode up to see what they wanted, and found that the poor fellows had each lost a leg. they told us that a surgeon had dressed their wounds on the night of the assault, but that they had ever since been without food or assistance of any kind, although they, each day, had opportunities of soliciting the aid of many of their comrades, from whom they could obtain nothing but promises. in short, surrounded by thousands of their countrymen within call, and not more than three hundred yards from their own regiment, they were unable to interest any one in their behalf, and they were literally starving. it is unnecessary to say that we instantly galloped back to camp and had them removed to the hospital. "on the morning of the th, when some of our officers were performing the last duties to their fallen comrades, one of them had collected the bodies of four young officers who had been slain. he was in the act of digging a grave for them, when an officer of the guards arrived on the spot, from a distant division of the army, and demanded tidings of his brother, who was at that moment lying a naked lifeless corpse under his very eyes. the officer had the presence of mind to see that the corpse was not recognised, and, wishing to spare the others feelings, told him that his brother was dangerously wounded, but he would hear more of him by going out to the camp; and thither the other immediately bent his steps, with a seeming presentiment of the sad intelligence that awaited him." one curious incident in the siege of badajos may be related. the day after the assault two spanish ladies, the younger a beautiful girl of fourteen, appealed for help to two officers of the rifles, who were passing through one of the streets of the town. their dress was torn, their ears, from which rings had been roughly snatched, were bleeding, and to escape outrage or death they cast themselves on the protection of the first british officers they met. one of the officers was captain harry smith of the rifles. two years later he married the girl he had saved in a scene so wild. captain harry smith, in after years, served at the cape as sir harry, and this spanish girl, as lady smith, gave her name to the historic town which sir george white defended with such stubborn valour. the two great sieges of badajos and of ladysmith are separated from each other by nearly a century; but there exists this interesting human link betwixt them. chapter v in the pyrenees the great battles and sieges, of course, arrest the attention of the historian, and their tale has been told over and over again. but what may be called the unrecorded marches and skirmishes of the campaign have genuine interest; and kincaid, as we have seen, describes these with great vividness. another set of such pictures is supplied by the campaign in the pyrenees, where the soldiers marched and fought in wild and sunless ravines, on the wild-blown crests of mighty hills, or in deep and roadless valleys. here are some of kincaid's pyrenean reminiscences. the month is july . wellington is pushing the broken french back through the hill passes towards the french frontiers:-- "we advanced along the banks of the bidassoa, through a succession of beautiful little fertile valleys, thickly studded with clean, respectable-looking farm-houses and little villages, and bounded by stupendous, picturesque, and well-wooded mountains, until we came to the hill next to the village of bera, which we found occupied by a small force of the enemy, who, after receiving a few shots from our people, retired through the village into their position behind it. our line of demarcation was then clearly seen. the mountain which the french army occupied was the last ridge of the pyrenees; and their sentries stood on the face of it, within pistol-shot of the village of bera, which now became the advanced post of our division. the left wing of the army, under sir thomas graham, now commenced the siege of st. sebastian; and as lord wellington had, at the same time, to cover both that and the blockade of pampeluna, our army occupied an extended position of many miles. "marshal soult having succeeded to the command of the french army, and finding, towards the end of july, that st. sebastian was about to be stormed, and that the garrison of pampeluna were beginning to get on short allowance, he determined on making a bold push for the relief of both places; and, assembling the whole of his army, he forced the pass of maya, and advanced rapidly upon pampeluna. lord wellington was never to be caught napping. his army occupied too extended a position to offer effectual resistance at any of their advanced posts; but, by the time that marshal soult had worked his way to the last ridge of the pyrenees, and within sight of 'the haven of his wishes,' he found his lordship waiting for him, with four divisions of the army, who treated him to one of the most signal and sanguinary defeats that he ever experienced. "our division during the important movements on our right was employed in keeping up the communication between the troops under the immediate command of lord wellington and those under sir thomas graham, at st. sebastian. we retired, the first day, to the mountains behind le secca; and, just as we were about to lie down for the night, we were again ordered under arms, and continued our retreat in utter darkness, through a mountain path, where, in many places, a false step might have rolled a fellow as far as the other world. the consequence was, that, although we were kept on our legs during the whole of the night, we found, when daylight broke, that the tail of the column had not got a quarter of a mile from their starting-post. on a good broad road it is all very well, but on a narrow, bad road a night march is like a nightmare, harassing a man to no purpose. "on the th, we occupied a ridge of mountain near enough to hear the battle, though not in a situation to see it; and remained the whole of the day in the greatest torture for want of news. about midnight we heard the joyful tidings of the enemy's defeat, with the loss of four thousand prisoners. our division proceeded in pursuit at daylight on the following morning. we moved rapidly by the same road on which we had retired; and, after a forced march, found ourselves, when near sunset, on the flank of their retiring column on the bidassoa, near the bridge of janca, and immediately proceeded to business. "the sight of a frenchman always acted like a cordial on the spirits of a rifleman; and the fatigues of the day were forgotten, as our three battalions extended among the brushwood, and went down to 'knock the dust out of their hairy knapsacks,'[ ] as our men were in the habit of expressing themselves; but, in place of knocking the dust out of them, i believe that most of their knapsacks were knocked in the dust; for the greater part of those who were not floored along with their knapsacks, shook them off, by way of enabling the owner to make a smarter scramble across that portion of the road on which our leaden shower was pouring; and, foes as they were, it was impossible not to feel a degree of pity for their situation; pressed by an enemy in the rear, an inaccessible mountain on their right, and a river on their left, lined by an invisible foe, from whom there was no escape but the desperate one of running the gantlet. "we advanced next morning, and occupied our former post at bera. the enemy still continued to hold the mountain of echelar, which, as it rose out of the right end of our ridge, was, properly speaking, a part of our property, and we concluded that a sense of justice would have induced them to leave it of their own accord in the course of the day; but, when towards the afternoon, they showed no symptoms of quitting, our division, leaving their kettles on the fire, proceeded to eject them. as we approached the mountain, the peak of it caught a passing cloud, that gradually descended in a thick fog and excluded them from our view. our three battalions, however, having been let loose, under colonel barnard, we soon made ourselves 'children of the mist'; and, guided to our opponents by the whistling of their balls, made them descend from their 'high estate'; and, handing them across the valley into their own position, we then retired to ours, where we found our tables ready spread, and a comfortable dinner waiting for us. "this was one of the most gentleman-like day's fighting that i ever experienced, although we had to lament the vacant seats of one or two of our messmates. "_august ._--i narrowly escaped being taken prisoner this morning, very foolishly. a division of spaniards occupied the ground to our left, beyond the bidassoa; and having mounted my horse to take a look at their post, i passed through a small village, and then got on a rugged path winding along the edge of the river, where i expected to find their outposts. the river at that place was not above knee-deep, and about ten or twelve yards across; and though i saw a number of soldiers gathering chestnuts from a row of trees which lined the opposite bank, i concluded that they were spaniards, and kept moving onwards; but, observing at last, that i was an object of greater curiosity than i ought to be to people who had been in the daily habit of seeing the uniform, it induced me to take a more particular look at my neighbours, when, to my consternation, i saw the french eagle ornamenting the front of every cap. i instantly wheeled my horse to the right about; and seeing that i had a full quarter of a mile to traverse at a walk, before i could get clear of them, i began to whistle, with as much unconcern as i could muster, while my eye was searching like lightning for the means of escape in the event of their trying to cut me off. i had soon the satisfaction of observing that none of them had firelocks, which reduced my capture to the chances of a race! for, though the hill on my right was inaccessible to a horseman, it was not so to a dismounted scotchman; and i therefore determined, in case of necessity, to abandon my horse, and show them what i could do on my own bottom at a pinch. fortunately they did not attempt it; and i could scarcely credit my good luck when i found myself once more in my own tent." no fighting in the whole peninsular campaign was more stubborn than that which took place in the pyrenees towards the close of . soult showed great skill and audacity as a general. he was fighting to keep the invader's foot from profaning the "sacred" soil of france, and his genius shines at its brightest in the combats fought in the wild country betwixt san sebastian and bayonne. but wellington's troops were veterans, flushed with victory and full of pride in themselves and confidence in their leader; and they were irresistible. one or two of kincaid's sketches of fighting in the pyrenees may be given:-- "the ensuing month passed by without producing the slightest novelty, and we began to get heartily tired of our situation. our souls, in fact, were strung for war, and peace afforded no enjoyment, unless the place did, and there was none to be found in a valley of the pyrenees, which the ravages of contending armies had reduced to a desert. the labours of the french on the opposite mountain had, in the first instance, been confined to fortification; but, as the season advanced, they seemed to think that the branch of a tree, or a sheet of canvas, was too slender a barrier between them and a frosty night, and their fortified camp was gradually becoming a fortified town of regular brick and mortar. though we were living under the influence of the same sky, we did not think it necessary to give ourselves the same trouble, but reasoned on their proceedings like philosophers, and calculated, from the aspect of the times, that there was a probability of a speedy transfer of property, and that it might still be reserved for us to give their town a name; nor were we disappointed. late on the night of the th of october, colonel barnard arrived from headquarters with the intelligence that the next was to be the day of trial. accordingly, on the morning of the th, the fourth division came up to support us, and we immediately marched down to the foot of the enemy's position, shook off our knapsacks before their faces, and went at them. "the action commenced by five companies of our third battalion advancing, under colonel ross, to dislodge the enemy from a hill which they occupied in front of their entrenchments; and there never was a movement more beautifully executed, for they walked quietly and steadily up, and swept them regularly off without firing a single shot until the enemy had turned their backs, when they then served them out with a most destructive discharge. the movement excited the admiration of all who witnessed it, and added another laurel to the already crowded wreath which adorned the name of that distinguished officer. "at the first look of the enemy's position it appeared as if our brigade had got the most difficult task to perform; but as the capture of this hill showed us a way round the flank of their entrenchments, we carried one after the other until we finally gained the summit, with very little loss. our second brigade, however, were obliged to take 'the bull by the horns' on their side, and suffered more severely; but they rushed at everything with a determination that defied resistance, carrying redoubt after redoubt at the point of the bayonet, until they finally joined us on the summit of the mountain, with three hundred prisoners in their possession. "we now found ourselves firmly established within the french territory, with a prospect before us that was truly refreshing, considering that we had not seen the sea for three years, and that our views for months had been confined to fogs and the peaks of mountains. on our left the bay of biscay lay extended as far as the horizon, while several of our ships of war were seen sporting upon her bosom. beneath us lay the pretty little town of st. jean de luz, which looked as if it had just been framed out of the liliputian scenery of a toy-shop. the town of bayonne, too, was visible in the distance, and the view to the right embraced a beautiful, well-wooded country, thickly studded with towns and villages, as far as the eye could reach. "on the morning of the th we turned out as usual an hour before daylight. the sound of musketry to our right in our own hemisphere announced that the french and spaniards had resumed their unfinished argument of last night relative to the occupation of la rhune; while at the same time 'from our throne of clouds' we had an opportunity of contemplating, with some astonishment, the proceedings of the nether world. a french ship of war, considering st. jean de luz no longer a free port, had endeavoured, under cover of the night, to steal alongshore to bayonne, and when daylight broke they had an opportunity of seeing that they were not only within sight of their port, but within sight of a british gun-brig, and if they entertained any doubts as to which of the two was nearest, their minds were quickly relieved on that point by finding that they were not within reach of their port, and strictly within reach of the guns of the brig, while two british frigates were bearing down with a press of canvas. the frenchman returned a few broadsides. he was double the size of the one opposed to him, but, conceiving his case to be hopeless, he at length set fire to the ship and took to his boats. we watched the progress of the flames, until she finally blew up and disappeared in a column of smoke. the boats of our gun-brig were afterwards seen employed in picking up the odds and ends. "the french, after leaving la rhune, established their advanced post on petite la rhune, a mountain that stood as high as most of its neighbours; but, as its name betokens, it was but a child to its gigantic namesake, of which it seemed as if it had at a former period formed a part; but having been shaken off like a useless galoche, it now stood gaping, open-mouthed, at the place it had left (and which had now become our advanced post), while the enemy proceeded to furnish its jaws with a set of teeth, or, in other words, to face it with breastworks, &c., a measure which they invariably had recourse to in every new position. "encamped on the face of la rhune, we remained a whole month idle spectators of their preparations, and dearly longing for the day that should afford us an opportunity of penetrating into the more hospitable-looking low country beyond them; for the weather had become excessively cold, and our camp stood exposed to the utmost fury of the almost nightly tempest. oft have i in the middle of the night awoke from a sound sleep and found my tent on the point of disappearing in the air like a balloon, and, leaving my warm blankets, been obliged to snatch the mallet and rush out in the midst of a hailstorm to peg it down. i think that i now see myself looking like one of those gay creatures of the elements who dwelt, as shakespeare has it, among the rainbows! "by way of contributing to the warmth of my tent, i dug a hole inside, which i arranged as a fireplace, carrying the smoke underneath the walls, and building a turf-chimney outside. i was not long in proving the experiment, and, finding that it went exceedingly well, i was not a little vain of the invention. however, it came on to rain very hard while i was dining at a neighbouring tent, and on my return to my own i found the fire not only extinguished, but a fountain playing from the same place up to the roof, watering my bed and baggage, and all sides of it, most refreshingly. "it is very singular that, notwithstanding our exposure to all the severities of the worst of weather, we had not a single sick man in the battalion while we remained there." to this period belongs the stern fighting near bayonne betwixt december and , . "we turned out at daylight on the th, but as there was a thick drizzling rain which prevented us from seeing anything, we soon turned in again. my servant soon after came to tell me that sir lowry cole and some of his staff had just ascended to the top of the château, a piece of information which did not quite please me, for i fancied that the general had just discovered our quarter to be better than his own, and had come for the purpose of taking possession of it. however, in less than five minutes we received an order for our battalion to move up instantly to the support of the piquets; and on my descending to the door to mount my horse, i found sir lowry standing there, who asked if we had received any orders, and on my telling him that we had been ordered up to support the piquets, he immediately desired a staff-officer to order up one of his brigades to the rear of the château. this was one of the numerous instances in which we had occasion to admire the prudence and forethought of the great wellington! he had foreseen the attack that would take place, and had his different divisions disposed to meet it. "the enemy came up to the opposite ridge in formidable numbers, and began blazing at our windows and loopholes and showing some disposition to attempt it by storm; but they thought better of it, and withdrew their columns a short distance to the rear, leaving the nearest hedge lined with their skirmishers. an officer of ours, mr. hopewood, and one of our sergeants, had been killed in the field opposite, within twenty yards of where the enemy's skirmishers now were. we were very anxious to get possession of their bodies, but had not force enough to effect it. several french soldiers came through the hedge at different times with the intention, as we thought, of plundering, but our men shot every one who attempted to go near them, until towards evening, when a french officer approached, waving a white handkerchief and pointing to some of his men who were following him with shovels. seeing that his intention was to bury them we instantly ceased firing, nor did we renew it again that night. "the rd, from their post at the church, kept up an incessant shower of musketry the whole of the day, at what was conceived at the time to be a very long range; but from the quantity of balls which were afterwards found sticking in every tree where the enemy stood, it was evident that their berth must have been rather uncomfortable. one of our officers, in the course of the day, had been passing through a deep roadway between two banks with hedgerows, when, to his astonishment, a dragoon and his horse tumbled heels over head into the road, as if they had been fired out of a cloud. neither of them were the least hurt; but it must have been no joke that tempted him to take such a flight. general alten and sir james kempt took up their quarters with us in the château; our sentries and those of the enemy stood within pistol-shot of each other in the ravine below. "on the th there was heavy firing and hard fighting all day to our left, but we remained perfectly quiet. towards the afternoon sir james kempt formed our brigade for the purpose of expelling the enemy from the hill next to the château, to which he thought them rather too near; but, just as we reached our different points for commencing the attack, we were recalled, and nothing further occurred. "i went about one o'clock in the morning to visit our different piquets, and seeing an unusual number of fires in the enemy's lines, i concluded that they had lit them to mask some movement; and, taking a patrol with me, i stole cautiously forward and found that they had left the ground altogether. i immediately returned and reported the circumstance to general alten, who sent off a despatch to apprise lord wellington. "as soon as day began to dawn on the morning of the th, a tremendous fire of artillery and musketry was heard to our right. soult had withdrawn everything from our front in the course of the night, and had now attacked sir rowland hill with his whole force. lord wellington, in expectation of this attack, had last night reinforced sir rowland hill with the sixth division; which enabled him to occupy his contracted position so strongly that soult, unable to bring more than his own front to bear upon him, sustained a signal and sanguinary defeat. "lord wellington galloped into the yard of our château soon after the attack had commenced, and demanded, with his usual quickness, what was to be seen? sir james kempt, who was spying at the action from an upper window, told him; and, after desiring sir james to order sir lowry cole to follow him with the fourth division, he galloped off to the scene of action. in the afternoon, when all was over, he called in again on his return to headquarters, and told us, 'that it was the most glorious affair that he had ever seen; and that the enemy had absolutely left upwards of five thousand men killed and wounded on the ground.'" footnotes: [footnote : the french knapsack is made of unshorn goatskin.] chapter vi quatre bras napoleon escaped from elba on january , ; on march he reached fontainebleau, and louis xviii. fled from paris. instantly the flames of war were rekindled throughout europe. england hurried her best troops into the netherlands, where a great army under wellington was assembling. amongst the first of the regiments to embark were naturally the famous rifles. kincaid had persuaded himself that his fighting days were ended, and he was peacefully shooting woodcocks in scotland when summoned to join his regiment at speed. his battalion had sailed, and he caught the first boat leaving leith for rotterdam. it took ten days to reach the coast of holland, and then went helplessly ashore. kincaid got safely to land, and pushed on to brussels, when he found his battalion forming part of the fifth division under picton. a fortnight's pause followed, while the prussian and english armies watched and listened for the first sign or sound which would show where napoleon's blow was about to fall. it was the fate of the rifles to take a gallant part in the stern fight at quatre bras, and kincaid tells the story very graphically:-- "as our division was composed of crack regiments under crack commanders, and headed by fire-eating generals, we had little to do the first fortnight after my arrival beyond indulging in all the amusements of our delightful quarter; but, as the middle of june approached, we began to get a little more on the _qui vive_, for we were aware that napoleon was about to make a dash at some particular point; and, as he was not the sort of general to give his opponent an idea of the when and the where, the greater part of our army was necessarily disposed along the frontier, to meet him at his own place. they were, of course, too much extended to offer effectual resistance in their advanced position; but as our division and the duke of brunswick's corps were held in reserve at brussels, in readiness to be thrust at whatever point might be attacked, they were a sufficient additional force to check the enemy for the time required to concentrate the army. "we were, the whole of june th, on the most anxious lookout for news from the front; but no report had been received prior to the hour of dinner. i went, about seven in the evening, to take a stroll in the park, and meeting one of the duke's staff he asked me, _en passant_, whether my pack-saddles were all ready? i told him that they were nearly so, and added, 'i suppose they won't be wanted, at all events, before to-morrow?' to which he replied, in the act of leaving me, 'if you have any preparation to make, i would recommend you not to delay so long.' i took the hint, and, returning to quarters, remained in momentary expectation of an order to move. the bugles sounded to arms about two hours after. "to the credit of our battalion, be it recorded that, although the greater part were in bed when the assembly sounded, and billeted over the most distant parts of that extensive city, every man was on his alarm-post before eleven o'clock in a complete state of marching order; whereas it was nearly two o'clock in the morning before we were joined by the others. "as a grand ball was to take place the same night at the duchess of richmond's, the order for the assembling of the troops was accompanied by permission for any officer who chose, to remain for the ball, provided that he joined his regiment early in the morning. several of ours took advantage of it. "waiting for the arrival of the other regiments, we endeavoured to snatch an hour's repose on the pavement; but we were every instant disturbed, by ladies as well as gentlemen, some stumbling over us in the dark--some shaking us out of our sleep to be told the news--and not a few conceiving their immediate safety depending upon our standing in place of lying. all those who applied for the benefit of my advice, i recommended to go home to bed, to keep themselves perfectly cool, and to rest assured that, if their departure from the city became necessary (which i very much doubted), they would have at least one whole day to prepare for it, as we were leaving some beef and potatoes behind us, for which, i was sure, we would fight rather than abandon! "the whole of the division having at length assembled, we were put in motion about three o'clock on the morning of the th, and advanced to the village of waterloo, where, forming in a field adjoining the road, our men were allowed to prepare their breakfasts. i succeeded in getting mine in a small inn on the left-hand side of the village. lord wellington joined us about nine o'clock; and from his very particular orders to see that the roads were kept clear of baggage, and everything likely to impede the movements of the troops, i have since been convinced that his lordship had thought it probable that the position of waterloo might, even that day, have become the scene of action; for it was a good broad road, on which there were neither the quantity of baggage nor of troops moving at the time to excite the slightest apprehension of confusion. leaving us halted, he galloped on to the front, followed by his staff; and we were soon after joined by the duke of brunswick, with his corps of the army. "his highness dismounted near the place where i was standing, and seated himself on the roadside, along with his adjutant-general. he soon after despatched his companion on some duty; and i was much amused to see the vacated place immediately filled by an old beggar-man, who, seeing nothing in the black hussar uniform beside him denoting the high rank of the wearer, began to grunt and scratch himself most luxuriously! the duke showed a degree of courage which few would under such circumstances; for he maintained his post until the return of his officer, when he very jocularly said, 'well, o----n, you see that your place was not long unoccupied!' how little idea had i, at the time, that the life of the illustrious speaker was limited to three short hours! "about twelve o'clock an order arrived for the troops to advance, leaving their baggage behind; and though it sounded warlike, yet we did not expect to come in contact with the enemy, at all events, on that day. but, as we moved forward, the symptoms of their immediate presence kept gradually increasing; for we presently met a cartload of wounded belgians; and, after passing through genappe, the distant sound of a solitary gun struck on the listening ear. but all doubt on the subject was quickly removed; for, on ascending the rising ground where stands the village of quatre bras, we saw a considerable plain in our front, flanked on each side by a wood, and on another acclivity beyond, we could perceive the enemy descending towards us in most imposing numbers. "quatre bras, at that time, consisted of only three or four houses; and, as its name betokens, i believe, stood at the junction of four roads, on one of which we were moving; a second inclined to the right; a third, in the same degree, to the left; and the fourth, i conclude, must have gone backwards; but, as i had not an eye in that direction, i did not see it. the village was occupied by some belgians, under the prince of orange, who had an advanced post in a large farmhouse at the foot of the road, which inclined to the right; and a part of his division also occupied the wood on the same side. "lord wellington, i believe, after leaving us at waterloo, galloped on to the prussian position at ligny, where he had an interview with blucher, in which they concerted measures for their mutual co-operation. when we arrived at quatre bras, however, we found him in a field near the belgian outpost; and the enemy's guns were just beginning to play upon the spot where he stood, surrounded by a numerous staff. "we halted for a moment on the brow of the hill; and as sir andrew barnard galloped forward to the headquarter group, i followed, to be in readiness to convey any orders to the battalion. the moment we approached, lord fitzroy somerset, separating himself from the duke, said, 'barnard, you are wanted instantly; take your battalion and endeavour to get possession of that village,' pointing to one on the face of the rising ground, down which the enemy were moving; 'but if you cannot do that, secure that wood on the left, and keep the road open for communication with the prussians.' we instantly moved in the given direction; but, ere we had got half-way to the village, we had the mortification to see the enemy throw such a force into it as rendered any attempt to retake it, with our numbers, utterly hopeless; and as another strong body of them were hastening towards the wood, which was the second object pointed out to us, we immediately brought them to action, and secured it. in moving to that point, one of our men went raving mad, from excessive heat. the poor fellow cut a few extraordinary capers, and died in the course of a few minutes. "while our battalion reserve occupied the front of the wood, our skirmishers lined the side of the road, which was the prussian line of communication. the road itself, however, was crossed by such a shower of balls, that none but a desperate traveller would have undertaken a journey on it. we were presently reinforced by a small battalion of foreign light troops, with whose assistance we were in hopes to have driven the enemy a little farther from it; but they were a raw body of men, who had never before been under fire, and, as they could not be prevailed upon to join our skirmishers, we could make no use of them whatever. sir andrew barnard repeatedly pointed out to them which was the french, and which was our side; and, after explaining that they were not to fire a shot until they joined our skirmishers, the word 'march!' was given; but march to them was always the signal to fire, for they stood fast, and began blazing away, chiefly at our skirmishers too, the officers commanding whom were every time sending back to say that we were shooting them: until we were at last obliged to be satisfied with whatever advantages their appearance could give, as even that was of some consequence where troops were so scarce. "bonaparte's attack on the prussians had already commenced, and the fire of artillery and musketry in that direction was tremendous; but the intervening higher ground prevented us from seeing any part of it. "the plain to our right which we had just quitted had likewise become the scene of a sanguinary and unequal contest. our division after we left it deployed into line, and, in advancing, met and routed the french infantry; but in following up their advantage they encountered a furious charge of cavalry, and were obliged to throw themselves into squares to receive it. with the exception of one regiment, however, which had two companies cut to pieces, they were not only successful in resisting the attack, but made awful havoc in the enemy's ranks, who, nevertheless, continued their forward career, and went sweeping past them like a whirlwind up to the village of quatre bras, to the confusion and consternation of the numerous useless appendages of our army who wore there assembled waiting the result of the battle. "the forward movement of the enemy's cavalry gave their infantry time to rally; and strongly reinforced with fresh troops, they again advanced to the attack. this was a crisis in which, according to bonaparte's theory, the victory was theirs by all the rules of war, for they held superior numbers both before and behind us; but the gallant old picton, who had been trained in a different school, did not choose to confine himself to rules in those matters. despising the force in his rear, he advanced, charged, and routed those in his front, which created such a panic among the others that they galloped back through the intervals in his division with no other object in view but their own safety. after this desperate conflict the firing on both sides lulled almost to a calm for nearly an hour, while each was busy in renewing their order of battle. "the battle, on the side of the prussians, still continued to rage in an unceasing roar of artillery. about four in the afternoon a troop of their dragoons came, as a patrol, to inquire how it fared with us, and told us in passing that they still maintained their position. their day, however, was still to be decided, and, indeed, for that matter, so was our own; for, although the firing for the moment had nearly ceased, i had not yet clearly made up my mind which side had been the offensive, which the defensive, or which the winning. i had merely the satisfaction of knowing that we had not lost it; for we had met fairly in the middle of a field (or, rather unfairly, considering that they had two to one), and, after the scramble was over, our division still held the ground they fought on. all doubts on the subject, however, began to be removed about five o'clock. the enemy's artillery once more opened, and on running to the brow of the hill to ascertain the cause, we perceived our old light-division general, count alten, at the head of a fresh british division, moving gallantly down the road towards us. it was, indeed, a joyful sight; for, as already mentioned, our division had suffered so severely that we could not help looking forward to a renewal of the action, with such a disparity of force, with considerable anxiety. but this reinforcement gave us new life, and, as soon as they came near enough to afford support, we commenced the offensive, and driving in the skirmishers opposed to us, succeeded in gaining a considerable portion of the position originally occupied by the enemy, when darkness obliged us to desist. in justice to the foreign battalion which had been all day attached to us, i must say that, in this last movement, they joined us cordially and behaved exceedingly well. they had a very gallant young fellow at their head; and their conduct in the earlier part of the day can therefore only be ascribed to its being their first appearance on such a stage. "leaving general alten in possession of the ground which we had assisted in winning, we returned in search of our division, and reached them about eleven at night, lying asleep in their glory on the field where they had fought, which contained many a bloody trace of the day's work. the firing, on the side of the prussians, had altogether ceased before dark, but recommenced with redoubled fury about an hour after; and it was then, as we afterwards learnt, that they lost the battle. "we lay down by our arms near the farmhouse already mentioned, in front of quatre bras; and the deuce is in it if we were not in good trim for sleeping, seeing that we had been either marching or fighting for twenty-six successive hours." in the retreat from quatre bras to waterloo, made necessary by the defeat of blucher at ligny, the rifles formed part of the rearguard. says kincaid:-- "_june ._--as last night's fighting only ceased with the daylight, the scene this morning presented a savage, unsettled appearance; the fields were strewed with the bodies of men, horses, torn clothing, and shattered cuirasses; and, though no movements appeared to be going on on either side, yet, as occasional shots continued to be exchanged at different points, it kept every one wide awake. we had the satisfaction of knowing that the whole of our army had assembled on the hill behind in the course of the night. "about nine o'clock we received the news of blucher's defeat, and of his retreat to wavre. lord wellington, therefore, immediately began to withdraw his army to the position of waterloo. sir andrew barnard was ordered to remain as long as possible with our battalion, to mask the retreat of the others; and was told, if we were attacked, that the whole of the british cavalry were in readiness to advance to our relief. i had an idea, however, that a single rifle battalion in the midst of ten thousand dragoons, would come but indifferently off in the event of a general crash, and was by no means sorry when, between eleven and twelve o'clock, every regiment had got clear off, and we followed before the enemy had put anything in motion against us. "after leaving the village of quatre bras, and passing through our cavalry who were formed on each side of the road, we drew up at the entrance of genappe. the rain at that moment began to descend in torrents, and our men were allowed to shelter themselves in the nearest houses; but we were obliged to turn out again in the midst of it in less than five minutes, as we found the french cavalry and ours already exchanging shots, and the latter were falling back to the more favourable ground behind genappe; we therefore retired with them _en masse_ through the village, and formed again on the rising ground beyond. "while we remained there we had an opportunity of seeing the different affairs of cavalry; and it did one's heart good to see how cordially the life guards went at their work. they had no idea of anything but straight-forward fighting, and sent their opponents flying in all directions. the only young thing they showed was in every one who got a roll in the mud (and, owing to the slipperiness of the ground, there were many) going off to the rear, according to their hyde park custom, as being no longer fit to appear on parade! i thought at first that they had been all wounded, but, on finding how the case stood, i could not help telling them that theirs was now the situation to verify the old proverb, 'the uglier the better soldier!' "the roads as well as the fields had now become so heavy that our progress to the rear was very slow; and it was six in the evening before we drew into the position of waterloo. our battalion took post in the second line that night, with its right resting on the namur road, behind la haye sainte, near a small mud cottage, which sir andrew barnard occupied as a quarter. the enemy arrived in front in considerable force about an hour after us, and a cannonade took place in different parts of the line, which ended at dark, and we lay down by our arms. it rained excessively hard the greater part of the night, nevertheless, having succeeded in getting a bundle of hay for my horse, and one of straw for myself, i secured the horse to his bundle, by tying him to one of the men's swords stuck in the ground, and, placing mine under his nose, i laid myself down upon it, and never opened my eyes again until daylight." chapter vii the rifles at waterloo nothing in kincaid's "adventures" is finer than his account of waterloo. he tells, it is true, only that which took place about himself, and, as the grey and strangling battle-smoke lay for hours on the ridge where kincaid stood, he could see only a very tiny patch of the great landscape of the battle. waterloo, for him, might be described as a ring of imprisoning smoke, over which bellowed and echoed constantly the roar of a hundred guns, and out of which, at irregular intervals, broke lines of french infantry--sometimes as a spray of skirmishers, sometimes as massed battalions. sometimes, by way of change, a column of horsemen--helmeted dragoons, cuirassiers in glittering breastplates, red lancers of the guard--broke through the fog, rode at the stubborn line of the rifles, and reeled off into the fog again, pursued by darting musketry volleys. to endure and to repel incessant attacks, hour after hour, was the business of the dwindling companies of the rifles. the third battalion, to which kincaid belonged, formed part of adams's brigade. it stood a hundred yards to the rear of la haye sainte, a little to the left of wellington's centre. the famous sandpit was in the immediate front of the battalion, and was held by three companies of rifles. on this point in the british line the utmost strength of the french attack--horse, foot, and artillery--was expended, and no men that day saw fiercer fighting than did kincaid and his fellow-riflemen. kincaid, therefore, has this right to tell the story of waterloo: he fought through the whole of that fateful day in the very heart of the great struggle:-- "when i awoke this morning at daylight, i found myself drenched with rain. i had slept so long and so soundly that i had, at first, but a very confused notion of my situation; but having a bright idea that my horse had been my companion when i went to sleep, i was rather startled at finding that i was now alone, nor could i rub my eyes clear enough to procure a sight of him, which was vexatious enough; for, independent of his value as a horse, his services were indispensable, and an adjutant might as well think of going into action without his arms as without such a supporter. but whatever my feelings might have been towards him, it was evident that he had none for me, from having drawn his sword and marched off. the chances of finding him again, amid ten thousand others, were about equal to the odds against the needle in a bundle of hay; but for once the single chance was gained, as, after a diligent search of an hour, he was discovered between two artillery horses, about half a mile from where he broke loose. "the weather cleared up as the morning advanced; and, though everything remained quiet at the moment, we were confident that the day would not pass off without an engagement, and, therefore, proceeded to put our arms in order, as, also, to get ourselves dried and made as comfortable as circumstances would permit. "we made a fire against the wall of sir andrew barnard's cottage, and boiled a huge camp-kettle full of tea, mixed up with a suitable quantity of milk and sugar, for breakfast; and, as it stood on the edge of the high-road, where all the big-wigs of the army had occasion to pass, in the early part of the morning, i believe almost every one of them, from the duke downwards, claimed a cupful. about ten o'clock an unusual bustle was observable among the staff-officers, and we soon after received an order to stand to our arms. the troops who had been stationed in our front during the night were then moved off to the right, and our division took up its fighting position. "our battalion stood on what was considered the left centre of the position. we had our right resting on the brussels road, about a hundred yards in the rear of the farmhouse of la haye sainte, and our left extending behind a broken hedge, which ran along the ridge to the left. immediately in our front, and divided from la haye sainte only by the great road, stood a small knoll, with a sand-hole in its farthest side, which we occupied, as an advanced post, with three companies. the remainder of the division was formed in two lines; the first, consisting chiefly of light troops, behind the hedge, in continuation from the left of our battalion reserve, and the second, about a hundred yards in its rear. the guns were placed in the intervals between the brigades, two pieces were in the roadway on our right, and a rocket brigade in the centre. "the road had been cut through the rising ground, and was about twenty or thirty feet deep where our right rested, and which, in a manner, separated us from all the troops beyond. the division, i believe, under general alten occupied the ground next to us, on the right. "shortly after we had taken up our ground, some columns, from the enemy's left, were seen in motion towards hougoumont, and were soon warmly engaged with the right of our army. a cannon ball, too, came from the lord knows where, for it was not fired at us and took the head off our right-hand man. that part of their position, in our own immediate front, next claimed our undivided attention. it had hitherto been looking suspiciously innocent, with scarcely a human being upon it; but innumerable black specks were now seen taking post at regular distances in its front, and recognising them as so many pieces of artillery, i knew, from experience, although nothing else was yet visible, that they were unerring symptoms of our not being destined to be idle spectators. "from the moment we took possession of the knoll we had busied ourselves in collecting branches of trees and other things, for the purpose of making an abatis to block up the road between that and the farmhouse, and soon completed one, which we thought looked sufficiently formidable to keep out the whole of the french cavalry; but it was put to the proof sooner than we expected, by a troop of our own light dragoons, who, having occasion to gallop through, astonished us not a little by clearing away every stick of it. we had just time to replace the scattered branches, when the whole of the enemy's artillery opened, and their countless columns began to advance under cover of it." the attack on hougoumont, it will be remembered, was intended by napoleon to be a mere feint, serving to draw off wellington's attention from the real attack, the onfall of d'erlon's huge columns on the left centre of the british position, which napoleon hoped to pierce and destroy. napoleon's tactics broke down first at hougoumont, for the feigned attack grew persistent and obstinate, and drew into its madness more than twelve thousand good infantry, and after all failed. d'erlon's great infantry attack was defeated by the stubbornness of picton's slender lines, and by the sudden and overwhelming onfall of the life guards, inniskillings, and greys. kincaid tells how he watched the french columns taking position for their attack:-- "the scene at that moment was grand and imposing, and we had a few minutes to spare for observation. the column destined as 'our' particular 'friends,' first attracted our notice, and seemed to consist of about ten thousand infantry. a smaller body of infantry and one of cavalry moved on their right; and, on their left, another huge column of infantry, and a formidable body of cuirassiers, while beyond them it seemed one moving mass. "we saw bonaparte himself take post on the side of the road immediately in our front, surrounded by a numerous staff; and each regiment, as they passed him, rent the air with shouts of 'vive l'empereur,' nor did they cease after they had passed, but, backed by the thunder of their artillery, and carrying with them the rub-a-dub of drums and the tantarara of trumpets, in addition to their increasing shouts, it looked at first as if they had some hopes of scaring us off the ground, for it was a singular contrast to the stern silence reigning on our side, where nothing as yet but the voices of our great guns told that we had mouths to open when we chose to use them. our rifles were, however, in a very few seconds required to play their parts, and opened such a fire on the advancing skirmishers as quickly brought them to a standstill; but their columns advanced steadily through them, although our incessant tiralade was telling in their centre with fearful exactness, and our post was quickly turned in both flanks, which compelled us to fall back and join our comrades behind the hedge, though not before some of our officers and theirs had been engaged in personal combat. "when the heads of their columns showed over the knoll which we had just quitted, they received such a fire from our first line that they wavered and hung behind it a little; but, cheered and encouraged by the gallantry of their officers, who were dancing and flourishing their swords in front, they at last boldly advanced to the opposite side of our hedge and began to deploy. our first line, in the meantime, was getting so thinned that picton found it necessary to bring up his second, but fell in the act of doing it. the command of the division at that critical moment devolved upon sir james kempt, who was galloping along the line, animating the men to steadiness. he called to me by name, where i happened to be standing on the right of our battalion, and desired 'that i would never quit that spot.' i told him that 'he might depend upon it;' and in another instant i found myself in a fair way of keeping my promise more religiously than i intended; for, glancing my eye to the right, i saw the next field covered with the cuirassiers, some of whom were making directly for the gap in the hedge where i was standing. "i had not hitherto drawn my sword, as it was generally to be had at a moment's warning; but from its having been exposed to the last night's rain, it had now got rusted in the scabbard and refused to come forth! i was in a precious scrape. mounted on my strong flanders mare, and with my good old sword in my hand, i would have braved all the chances without a moment's hesitation; but i confess that i felt considerable doubts as to the propriety of standing there to be sacrificed without the means of making a scramble for it. my mind, however, was happily relieved from such an embarrassing consideration before my decision was required; for the next moment the cuirassiers were charged by our household brigade, and the infantry in our front, giving way at the same time under our terrific shower of musketry, the flying cuirassiers tumbled in among the routed infantry, followed by the life guards, who were cutting away in all directions. hundreds of the infantry threw themselves down and pretended to be dead, while the cavalry galloped over them, and then got up and ran away. i never saw such a scene in all my life. "lord wellington had given orders that the troops were on no account to leave the position to follow up any temporary advantage; so that we now resumed our post, as we stood at the commencement of the battle, and with three companies again advanced on the knoll. i was told it was very ridiculous at that moment to see the number of vacant spots that were left nearly along the whole of the line, where a great part of the dark-dressed foreign troops had stood, intermixed with the british, when the action began. "our division got considerably reduced in numbers during the last attack; but lord wellington's fostering hand sent sir john lambert to our support with the sixth division, and we now stood prepared for another and a more desperate struggle. our battalion had already lost three officers killed and six or seven wounded; among the latter were sir andrew barnard and colonel cameron. "some one asking me what had become of my horse's ear was the first intimation i had of his being wounded; and i now found that, independent of one ear having been shaved close to his head (i suppose by a cannon-shot), a musket-ball had grazed across his forehead and another gone through one of his legs, but he did not seem much the worse for either of them. "between two and three o'clock we were tolerably quiet, except from a thundering cannonade; and the enemy had by that time got the range of our position so accurately that every shot brought a ticket for somebody's head. an occasional gun beyond the plain, far to our left, marked the approach of the prussians; but their progress was too slow to afford a hope of their arriving in time to take any share in the battle. on our right the roar of cannon and musketry had been incessant from the time of its commencement; but the higher ground near us prevented our seeing anything of what was going on." the anguish of the fight, as far as the rifles were concerned, came when la haye sainte was carried by the french. this gave them cover at half-musket range, whence they could waste the british front with their fire. their elation at having carried the farmhouse, it may be added, gave them new fire and audacity. they believed they had broken the british centre, that the day was won, that the stubborn british line was about to crumble and flee! and french soldiers are never so dangerous as when the rapture of real or imagined victory is kindling their blood. the pressure on the sadly-thinned lines of the rifles was cruel, but it was borne with cool and stubborn valour:-- "between three and four o'clock the storm gathered again in our front. our three companies on the knoll were soon involved in a furious fire. the germans occupying la haye sainte expended all their ammunition and fled from the post. the french took possession of it; and as it flanked our knoll we were obliged to abandon it also and fall back again behind the hedge. "the loss of la haye sainte was of the most serious consequence as it afforded the enemy an establishment within our position. they immediately brought up two guns on our side of it, and began serving out some grape to us; but they were so very near that we destroyed their artillerymen before they could give us a second round. "the silencing of these guns was succeeded by a very extraordinary scene on the same spot. a strong regiment of hanoverians advanced in line to charge the enemy out of la haye sainte; but they were themselves charged by a brigade of cuirassiers, and, excepting one officer, on a little black horse, who went off to the rear like a shot out of a shovel, i do believe that every man of them was put to death in about five seconds. a brigade of british light dragoons advanced to their relief, and a few on each side began exchanging thrusts; but it seemed likely to be a drawn battle between them, without much harm being done, when our men brought it to a crisis sooner than either side anticipated, for they previously had their rifles eagerly pointed at the cuirassiers, with a view of saving the perishing hanoverians; but the fear of killing their friends withheld them, until the others were utterly overwhelmed, when they instantly opened a terrific fire on the whole concern, sending both sides to flight; so that, on the small space of ground, within a hundred yards of us, where five thousand men had been fighting the instant before, there was not now a living soul to be seen. "it made me mad to see the cuirassiers in their retreat stooping and stabbing at our wounded men as they lay on the ground. how i wished that i had been blessed with omnipotent power for a moment, that i might have blighted them! "the same field continued to be a wild one the whole of the afternoon. it was a sort of duelling-post between the two armies, every half-hour showing a meeting of some kind upon it; but they never exceeded a short scramble, for men's lives were held very cheap there. "for the two or three succeeding hours there was no variety with us, but one continued blaze of musketry. the smoke hung so thick about, that, although not more than eighty yards asunder, we could only distinguish each other by the flashes of the pieces. "i shall never forget the scene which the field of battle presented about seven in the evening. i felt weary and worn out, less from fatigue than anxiety. our division, which had stood upwards of five thousand men at the commencement of the battle, had gradually dwindled down into a solitary line of skirmishers. the th regiment were lying literally dead, in square, a few yards behind us. my horse had received another shot through the leg, and one through the flap of the saddle, which lodged in his body, sending him a step beyond the pension-list. the smoke still hung so thick about us that we could see nothing. i walked a little way to each flank, to endeavour to get a glimpse of what was going on; but nothing met my eye except the mangled remains of men and horses, and i was obliged to return to my post as wise as i went. "i had never yet heard of a battle in which everybody was killed; but this seemed likely to be an exception, as all were going by turns. we got excessively impatient under the tame similitude of the latter part of the process, and burned with desire to have a last thrust at our respective _vis-a-vis_; for, however desperate our affairs were, we had still the satisfaction of seeing that theirs were worse. sir john lambert continued to stand as our support at the head of three good old regiments, one dead (the th) and two living ones, and we took the liberty of soliciting him to aid our views; but the duke's orders on that head were so very particular that the gallant general had no choice. "presently a cheer, which we knew to be british, commenced far to the right, and made every one prick up his ears--it was lord wellington's long-wished-for orders to advance; it gradually approached, growing louder as it drew near--we took it up by instinct, charged through the hedge down upon the old knoll, sending our adversaries flying at the point of the bayonet. lord wellington galloped up to us at the instant, and our men began to cheer him; but he called out, 'no cheering, my lads, but forward, and complete your victory!' "this movement had carried us clear of the smoke; and, to people who had been for so many hours enveloped in darkness, in the midst of destruction, and naturally anxious about the result of the day, the scene which now met the eye conveyed a feeling of more exquisite gratification than can be conceived. it was a fine summer's evening, just before sunset. the french were flying in one confused mass. british lines were seen in close pursuit, and in admirable order, as far as the eye could reach to the right, while the plain to the left was filled with prussians. the enemy made one last attempt at a stand on the rising ground to our right of la belle alliance; but a charge from general adams's brigade again threw them into a state of confusion, which was now inextricable, and their ruin was complete. artillery, baggage, and everything belonging to them fell into our hands. after pursuing them until dark, we halted about two miles beyond the field of battle, leaving the prussians to follow up the victory. "this was the last, the greatest, and the most uncomfortable heap of glory that i ever had a hand in, and may the deuce take me if i think that everybody waited there to see the end of it, otherwise it never could have been so troublesome to those who did. we were, take us all in all, a very bad army. our foreign auxiliaries, who constituted more than half of our numerical strength, with some exceptions, were little better than a raw militia--a body without a soul, or like an inflated pillow, that gives to the touch and resumes its shape again when the pressure ceases--not to mention the many who went clear out of the field, and were only seen while plundering our baggage in their retreat. "our heavy cavalry made some brilliant charges in the early part of the day; but they never knew when to stop, their ardour in following their advantages carrying them headlong on, until many of them 'burnt their fingers,' and got dispersed or destroyed. of that gallant corps, the royal artillery, it is enough to say that they maintained their former reputation--the first in the world--and it was a serious loss to us in the latter part of the day to be deprived of this more powerful co-operation, from the causes already mentioned. "if lord wellington had been at the head of his old peninsula army, i am confident that he would have swept his opponents off the face of the earth immediately after their first attack; but, with such a heterogeneous mixture under his command, he was obliged to submit to a longer day. "the field of battle next morning presented a frightful scene of carnage; it seemed as if the world had tumbled to pieces and three-fourths of everything destroyed in the wreck. the ground running parallel to the front of where we had stood was so thickly strewed with fallen men and horses, that it was difficult to step clear of their bodies; many of the former still alive, and imploring assistance, which it was not in our power to bestow. the usual salutation on meeting an acquaintance of another regiment after an action was to ask who had been hit? but on this occasion it was, 'who's alive?' meeting one next morning, a very little fellow, i asked what had happened to them yesterday? 'i'll be hanged,' says he, 'if i know anything at all about the matter, for i was all day trodden in the mud and galloped over by every scoundrel who had a horse; and, in short, that i only owe my existence to my insignificance.' "two of our men, on the morning of the th, lost their lives by a very melancholy accident. they were cutting up a captured ammunition waggon for firewood, when one of their swords, striking against a nail, sent a spark among the powder. when i looked in the direction of the explosion, i saw the two poor fellows about twenty or thirty feet up in the air. on falling to the ground, though lying on their backs and bellies, some extraordinary effort of nature, caused by the agony of the moment, made them spring from that position five or six times, to the height of eight or ten feet, just as a fish does when thrown on the ground after being newly caught. it was so unlike a scene in real life that it was impossible to witness it without forgetting, for a moment, the horror of their situation. "i ran to the spot along with others, and found that every stitch of clothes had been burnt off, and they were black as ink all over. they were still alive, and told us their names, otherwise we could not have recognised them; and, singular enough, they were able to walk off the ground with a little support, but died shortly after. "about twelve o'clock on the day after the battle we commenced our march for paris. i shall, therefore, leave my readers at waterloo, in the hope that, among the many stories of romance to which that and the other celebrated fields gave birth, the foregoing unsophisticated one of an eye-witness may not have been found altogether uninteresting." ii one of craufurd's veterans ii.--one of craufurd's veterans "rifleman" harris, an innocent-looking sheep-boy, his face brown with the winds and rains of the dorsetshire downs, drifted, so to speak, into a soldier's life pretty much as a floating leaf, blown from some rustic valley and fallen into a rustic stream, might drift into a great historic river, furrowed by a thousand keels, and be swept away to unknown seas. his autobiography is curious alike in what it omits and in what it tells. it is so barren of one class of personal details that we are left in ignorance of when the writer was born. he leaves himself in his own volume without a christian name. we are not told why he enlisted, nor where. unlike most people undertaking an autobiography, rifleman harris appears to have had no interest whatever in himself, and he was incapable of imagining that anybody else would be interested. but he was keenly concerned in all the personal incidents of a soldier's life, and he describes them with a simplicity and a directness, an economy of adjectives, and a felicity of substantives, which makes his "recollections" one of the freshest and most interesting soldier autobiographies ever written. he had some good luck as a soldier. he belonged to a famous regiment; he served under some famous commanders; he heard the first shots fired by british muskets in the peninsula. but he had also much ill-luck. he tramped, perspired, and probably swore, under south american suns in that most ignominious of all expeditions, under the most contemptible leader that ever wore a cocked hat--whitelocke's fiasco at buenos ayres. he next served in portugal, and took part in the fighting at roliça and vimiero. under sir john moore he shared in the heroism and the horrors of the dreadful retreat to corunna, or rather to vigo. that harris survived snow and rain and hunger, the inexpressible toils of the long marches, the biting cold of the black unsheltered nights, as well as the sabres of the pursuing french horsemen and the bullets of the french skirmishers, is little less than marvellous. but he did, and landed at spithead, ragged, bare-footed, unshaven, with rusty musket, hollow cheeks, and eyes that had almost gone sightless with mere fatigue--about as stiff and hardy and unconquerable a bit of soldierly flesh and blood as the world of that day could produce. a british private who had known the shame of whitelocke's south american expedition and the distress of moore's immortal retreat might well think he had exhausted all the evil possibilities of a soldier's life. but the unfortunate harris had one more evil experience. he found a place in the unhappy walcheren expedition, and crept out of it with wrecked constitution and ague-poisoned blood. he served after this in a veteran battalion; tried hard for service in the peninsula, but, to his unspeakable disgust, was disqualified by a doctor with an unsympathetic temper and an inelastic conscience, and while still only thirty-two was discharged on a pension of sixpence a day. "for the first time," he says, "since i had been a shepherd-lad on the blandford downs i found myself in plain clothes and with liberty to go and come where i liked." but harris never received a sixpence of his hard-earned pension, bought with blood and sweat. before the first payment became due napoleon had escaped from elba; the veterans were called back to the ranks. harris, wasted with fever and shaken with ague--legacies from walcheren swamps--was unable to join, and forfeited his pension. he had to spend the rest of his days making shoes and writing his "recollections of a rifleman." in view of this record, perhaps, the most striking thing in harris' "recollections" is their unconquerable good humour. the writer never grumbles. no faintest accent of discontent ever steals into his voice. his cheerfulness is invincible. he is proud of his officers; in the best of temper with his comrades; takes mud, rain, toil, empty stomach, and too heavy knapsack, a couch on the wet grass and under weeping skies, the pain of wounds, and the peril of death, all as part of the day's work, about which nobody has any right to grumble. a soldier's life, he plainly holds, is the pleasantest in the world. no one is better qualified than rifleman harris to tell to a modern and ease-loving generation how the men of the peninsula marched, suffered, fought, and conquered. chapter i the king's shilling harris's "recollections" begin with the simplicity and directness of one of de foe's tales:-- "my father was a shepherd, and i was a sheep-boy from my earliest youth. indeed, as soon almost as i could run i began helping my father to look after the sheep on the downs of blandford, in dorsetshire, where i was born. whilst i continued to tend the flocks and herds under my charge, and occasionally in the long winter nights to learn the art of making shoes, i grew a hardy little chap, and was one fine day, in the year , drawn as a soldier for the army of reserve. thus, without troubling myself much about the change which was to take place in the hitherto quiet routine of my days, i was drafted into the th regiment of foot, bade good-bye to my shepherd companions, and was obliged to leave my father without an assistant to collect his flocks, just as he was beginning more than ever to require one; nay, indeed, i may say to want tending and looking after himself, for old age and infirmity were coming on him, his hair was growing as white as the sleet of our downs, and his countenance becoming as furrowed as the ploughed fields around. however, as i had no choice in the matter, it was quite as well that i did not grieve over my fate. "my father tried hard to buy me off, and would have persuaded the sergeant of the th that i was of no use as a soldier from having maimed my right hand (by breaking the forefinger when a child). the sergeant, however, said i was just the sort of little chap he wanted, and off he went, carrying me (amongst a batch of recruits he had collected) away with him." harris's earliest experiences as a soldier naturally made the deepest impressions upon him. he found himself in a new world, with new comrades, and under strange new laws--laws with sanctions, swift, inevitable, and terrible--behind them. here is one of his earlier stories:-- "whilst lying at winchester (where we remained three months), young as i was in the profession, i was picked out amongst others to perform a piece of duty that for many years afterwards remained deeply impressed upon my mind, and gave me the first impression of the stern duties of a soldier's life. a private of the th regiment had deserted from that corps, and afterwards enlisted into several other regiments, indeed i was told at the time (though i cannot answer for so great a number) that sixteen different times he had received the bounty and then stolen off. being, however, caught at last, he was brought to trial at portsmouth, and sentenced by general court-martial to be shot. "the th received a route to portsmouth to be present on the occasion, and as the execution would be a good hint to us young 'uns, there were four lads picked out of our corps to assist in this piece of duty, myself being one of the number chosen. "besides these men, four soldiers from three other regiments were ordered on the firing-party, making sixteen in all. the place of execution was portsdown hill, near hilsea barracks, and the different regiments assembled must have composed a force of about fifteen thousand men, having been assembled from the isle of wight, from chichester, gosport, and other places. the sight was very imposing, and appeared to make a deep impression on all there. as for myself, i felt that i would have given a good round sum (had i possessed it) to have been in any situation rather than the one in which i now found myself; and when i looked into the faces of my companions, i saw, by the pallor and anxiety depicted in each countenance, the reflection of my own feelings. when all was ready, we were moved to the front, and the culprit was brought out. he made a short speech to the parade, acknowledging the justice of his sentence, and that drinking and evil company had brought the punishment upon him. "he behaved himself firmly and well, and did not seem at all to flinch. after being blindfolded, he was desired to kneel down behind a coffin which was placed on the ground, and the drum-major of the hilsea depôt, giving us an expressive glance, we immediately commenced loading. "this was done in the deepest silence, and the next moment we were primed and ready. there was then a dreadful pause for a few moments, and the drum-major, again looking towards us, gave the signal before agreed upon (a flourish of his cane) and we levelled and fired. we had been previously strictly enjoined to be steady and take good aim, and the poor fellow, pierced by several balls, fell heavily upon his back; and as he lay, with his arms pinioned to his sides, i observed that his hands waved for a few moments, like the fins of a fish, when in the agonies of death. the drum-major also observed the movement, and, making another signal, four of our party immediately stepped up to the prostrate body, and placing the muzzles of their pieces to the head, fired, and put him out of his misery. the different regiments then fell back by companies, and the word being given to march past in slow time, when each company came in line with the body the word was given to 'mark time,' and then 'eyes left,' in order that we might all observe the terrible example. we then moved onwards, and marched from the ground to our different quarters. "the th stopped that night about three miles from portsdown hill, and in the morning we returned to winchester. the officer in command that day, i remember, was general whitelocke, who was afterwards brought to court-martial himself. this was the first time of our seeing that officer. the next meeting was at buenos ayres, and during the confusion of that day one of us received an order from the fiery craufurd to shoot the traitor dead if he could see him in the battle, many others of the rifles receiving the same order from that fine and chivalrous officer. "the unfortunate issue of the buenos ayres affair is matter of history, and i have nothing to say about it, but i well remember the impression it made upon us all at the time, and that sir john moore was present at whitelocke's court-martial; general craufurd, and i think general auchmuty, captain eleder of the rifles, captain dickson, and one of our privates being witnesses. "so enraged was craufurd against him, that i heard say he strove hard to have him shot. whitelocke's father i also heard was at his son's trial, and cried like an infant during the proceedings. whitelocke's sword was broken over his head, i was told, and for months afterwards, when our men took their glass, they used to give as a toast, 'success to "grey hairs," but bad luck to "white-locks."' indeed, that toast was drunk in all the public-houses around for many a day." the th was shortly afterwards sent to ireland; and harris, who had shown himself smart and intelligent, was put into the light company of his regiment. while in dublin he saw some companies of the famous th rifles marching. they bore the signature of sir john moore's soldierly hand on them; and harris records that "i fell so in love with their smart, dashing, and devil-may-care appearance that nothing would serve me till i was a rifleman myself," and meeting a recruiting party of the regiment, he volunteered into the second battalion. he gives a strangely interesting account of the recruits which formed the raw material out of which wellington evolved the magnificent soldiers of the peninsula--men with whom, to use wellington's own words, he "could go anywhere, and do anything." rougher, wilder material--half savage and half child-like--than these recruits can hardly be imagined. certainly no such strange human material finds its way into british barracks to-day:-- "this recruiting-party were all irishmen, and had been sent over from england to collect (amongst others) men from the irish militia, and were just about to return to england. i think they were as reckless and devil-may-care a set of men as ever i beheld, either before or since. "being joined by a sergeant of the nd highlanders, and a highland piper of the same regiment (also a pair of real rollicking blades), i thought we should all have gone mad together. we started on our journey, one beautiful morning, in tip-top spirits, from the royal oak, at cashel; the whole lot of us (early as it was) being three sheets in the wind. when we paraded before the door of the royal oak, the landlord and landlady of the inn, who were quite as lively, came reeling forth, with two decanters of whisky, which they thrust into the fists of the sergeants, making them a present of decanters and all, to carry along with them, and refresh themselves on the march. the piper then struck up, the sergeants flourished their decanters, and the whole rout commenced a terrific yell. we then all began to dance, and danced through the town, every now and then stopping for another pull at the whisky decanters. thus we kept it up till we had danced, drank, shouted, and piped thirteen irish miles, from cashel to clonmel. such a day, i think, i never spent, as i enjoyed with these fellows; and on arriving at clonmel, we were as 'glorious' as any soldiers in all christendom need wish to be. "in about ten days after this, our sergeants had collected together a good batch of recruits, and we started for england. some few days before we embarked (as if we had not been bothered enough already with the unruly paddies), we were nearly pestered to death with a detachment of old irishwomen, who came from different parts (on hearing of their sons having enlisted), in order to endeavour to get them away from us. following us down to the water's edge, they hung to their offspring and, dragging them away, sent forth such dismal howls and moans that it was quite distracting to hear them. the lieutenant commanding the party, ordered me (being the only englishman present) to endeavour to keep them back. it was, however, as much as i could do to preserve myself being torn to pieces by them, and i was glad to escape out of their hands. "at length we got our lads safe on board, and set sail for england. no sooner were we out at sea, however, than our troubles began afresh with these hot-headed paddies; for, having now nothing else to do, they got up a dreadful quarrel amongst themselves, and a religious row immediately took place, the catholics reviling the protestants to such a degree that a general fight ensued. the poor protestants (being few in number) soon got the worst of it, and as fast as we made matters up among them, they broke out afresh and began the riot again. "from bath we marched to andover, and when we came upon salisbury plain, our irish friends got up a fresh row. at first they appeared uncommonly pleased with the scene, and, dispersing over the soft carpet of the downs, commenced a series of irish jigs till at length as one of the catholics was setting to his partner (a protestant), he gave a whoop and a leap into the air, and at the same time (as if he couldn't bear the partnership of a heretic any longer), dealt him a tremendous blow with his shillelagh, and stretched him upon the sod. this was quite enough, and the bludgeons immediately began playing away at a tremendous rate. "the poor protestants were again quickly disposed of, and then arose a cry of 'huzza for the wicklow boys,' 'huzza for the connaught boys,' 'huzza for munster,' and 'huzza for ulster!' they then recommenced the fight as if they were determined to make an end of their soldiering altogether upon salisbury plains. we had, i remember, four officers with us, and they did their best to pacify their pugnacious recruits. one thrust himself amongst them, but was instantly knocked down for his pains, so that he was glad enough to escape. after they had completely tired themselves, they began to slacken in their endeavours, and apparently to feel the effect of the blows they dealt each other, and at length suffering themselves to be pacified, the officers got them into andover. "scarcely had we been a couple of hours there, and obtained some refreshment, ere these incorrigible blackguards again commenced quarrelling, and collecting together in the streets, created so serious a disturbance that the officers, getting together a body of constables, seized some of the most violent and succeeded in thrusting them into the town jail; upon this their companions again collected, and endeavoured to break open the prison gates. "baffled in this attempt, they rushed through the streets knocking down everybody they met. the drums now commenced beating up for a volunteer corps of the town, which, quickly mustering, drew up in the street before the jail, and immediately were ordered to load with ball. this somewhat pacified the rioters, and our officers persuading them to listen to a promise of pardon for the past, peace was at length restored amongst them." harris's first experience of active service was in that obscure and more than half-forgotten expedition to copenhagen in . harris found that coming under fire was, on the whole, an exhilarating experience. certainly the manner in which he bore himself when first he heard the whistle of hostile bullets showed he had the makings of a good soldier. "the expedition consisted of about , men, and at the moment of our getting on shore, the whole force set up one simultaneous and tremendous cheer, a sound i cannot describe, it seemed so inspiring. this, indeed, was the first time of my hearing the style in which our men give tongue when they get near the enemy, though afterwards my ears became pretty well accustomed to such sounds. "as soon as we got on shore the rifles were pushed forward as the advance, in chain order, through some thick woods of fir, and when we had cleared these woods and approached copenhagen, sentries were posted on the roads and openings leading towards the town, in order to intercept all comers and prevent all supplies. such posts we occupied for about three days and nights, whilst the town was being fired on by our shipping. i rather think this was the first time of congreve rockets being brought into play, and as they rushed through the air in the dark, they appeared like so many fiery serpents, creating, i should think, terrible dismay amongst the besieged. "as the main army came up, we advanced and got as near under the walls of the place as we could without being endangered by the fire from our own shipping. we now received orders ourselves to commence firing, and the rattling of the guns i shall not easily forget. "i felt so much exhilarated that i could hardly keep back, and was checked by the commander of the company (captain leech), who called to me by name to keep my place. about this time, my front-rank man, a tall fellow named jack johnson, showed a disposition as though the firing had on him an effect the reverse of what it had on many others of the company, for he seemed inclined to hang back, and once or twice turned round in my face. i was a rear-rank man, and porting my piece, in the excitement of the moment i swore that if he did not keep his ground, i would shoot him dead on the spot, so that he found it would be quite as dangerous for him to return as to go on. "i feel sorry to record the want of courage of this man, but i do so with the less pain as it gives me the opportunity of saying that during many years' arduous service, it is the only instance i remember of a british soldier endeavouring to hold back when his comrades were going forward. indeed, johnson was never again held in estimation amongst the rifle corps; for the story got wind that i had threatened to shoot him for cowardice in the field, and lieutenant cox mentioned to the colonel that he had overheard my doing so; and such was the contempt the man was held in by the rifles, that he was soon afterwards removed from amongst us to a veteran battalion." chapter ii in the peninsula harris's peninsular experiences began in . the rifles formed part of a modest force of less than , men about to sail for a raid on the spanish colonies in south america. but napoleon had just effected the highly ingenious but quite felonious transfer of the spanish crown to the head of his brother joseph. as a result all spain rose in revolt against french arms; and what yesterday had been for england an enemy to be plundered, became to-day an ally to be helped. the expedition which was intended to destroy spanish colonies was, therefore, despatched to assist in the deliverance of spain itself. an even larger share than usual of the national gift for blundering at the beginning of a campaign was shown at the start of the great operations in the peninsula. the force despatched was utterly inadequate. it was , men against , . but even this little force was broken into fragments and despatched on totally unrelated adventures. spencer was sent with , men to cadiz; another body of , was despatched to the tagus. by a happy chance--perhaps it would be fair to say by a happy flash of insight--wellesley was given command of this latter expedition; but sir harry burrard was promptly despatched to supersede wellesley, and sir hew dalrymple to supersede sir harry burrard! under this delightful arrangement the astonished british army had three distinct commanders within the space of twenty-four hours. harris describes the long and loitering pause at cork, where the ships lay for six weeks, without disembarking the unfortunate soldiers. at last, on july , , the expedition sailed. the landing-place chosen was the mouth of the mondego. the rifles, harris records with delight, "were the first out of the ships. we were, indeed, always in the front in an advance and in the rear in a retreat." the heats of a spanish summer lay on the plains and the hills; the roads were mere ribbons of sand, the watercourses were parched; and harris's first experience of marching under service conditions, and on sandy spanish roads, was very trying. he says:-- "the weight i myself toiled under was tremendous, and i often wonder at the strength i possessed at this period, which enabled me to endure it; for, indeed, i am convinced that many of our infantry sank and died under the weight of their knapsacks alone. for my own part, being a handicraft, i marched under a weight sufficient to impede the free motions of a donkey! for besides my well-filled kit, there was the greatcoat rolled on its top, my blanket and camp kettle, my haversack, stuffed full of leather for repairing the men's shoes, together with a hammer and other tools (the lap-stone i took the liberty of flinging to the devil), ship-biscuit and beef for three days. i also carried my canteen filled with water, my hatchet and rifle, and eighty rounds of ball cartridge in my pouch; this last, except the beef and biscuit, being the best thing i owned, and which i always gave the enemy the benefit of when opportunity offered. "altogether the quantity of things i had on my shoulders was enough and more than enough for my wants, sufficient, indeed, to sink a little fellow of five feet seven inches into the earth. nay, so awkwardly was the load our men bore in those days placed upon their backs, that the free motion of the body was impeded, the head held down from the pile at the back of the neck, and the soldier half beaten before he came to the scratch." a pleasanter description is given of the march on the following day. he says:-- "the next day we again advanced, and being in a state of the utmost anxiety to come up with the french, neither the heat of the burning sun, long miles, nor heavy knapsacks were able to diminish our ardour. indeed, i often look back with wonder at the light-hearted style, the jollity, and reckless indifference with which men who were destined in so short a time to fall, hurried onwards to the field of strife; seemingly without a thought of anything but the sheer love of meeting the foe and the excitement of the battle." harris's "recollections" have absolutely no chronology, or chronology only of the most distracted and planless character. a clear thread of narrative is to be obtained only by the process of re-arranging all his incidents. the opening skirmish--the first splutter of british muskets in the long peninsular campaigns--took place on august , and naturally the th, which formed the british outposts, were the actors in the combat. they erred by over-vehemence. they fell on so eagerly, and pursued so fast and so far, that they presently found themselves charging the entire french army, and were drawn off with some loss. harris's description is brief:-- "it was on the th of august when we first came up with the french, and their skirmishers immediately commenced operations by raining a shower of balls upon us as we advanced, which we returned without delay. "the first man that was hit was lieutenant bunbury; he fell pierced through the head with a musket-ball, and died almost immediately. i thought i never heard such a tremendous noise as the firing made on this occasion, and the men on both sides of me, i could occasionally observe, were falling fast. being over-matched, we retired to a rising ground, or hillock, in our rear, and formed there all round its summit, standing three deep, the front rank kneeling. in this position we remained all night, expecting the whole host upon us every moment. at daybreak, however, we received instructions to fall back as quickly as possible upon the main body. having done so, we now lay down for a few hours' rest, and then again advanced to feel for the enemy." wellington described the affair as "unpleasant" from the general's point of view; but apparently the rifles found it very enjoyable. on august roliça was fought. the british again erred by over-eagerness, the th in particular suffering heavy losses owing to the fact that the regiment went straight at the enemy's front instead of turning its flank. the battle, however, was on the british side a bit of characteristic, dogged, and straight-forward fighting. the french flank was turned, their front driven in, and they were compelled to fall back from one position to another till they finally abandoned the fight. here is harris's account, collated from the different parts of his volume:-- "on the th, being still in front, we again came up with the french, and i remember observing the pleasing effect afforded by the sun's rays glancing upon their arms as they formed in order of battle to receive us. moving on in extended order under whatever cover the nature of the ground afforded, together with some companies of the th, we began a sharp fire upon them, and thus commenced the battle of roliça. "i do not pretend to give a description of this or any other battle i have been present at. all i can do is to tell the things which happened immediately around me, and that, i think, is as much as a private soldier can be expected to do. "soon afterwards the firing commenced, and we had advanced pretty close upon the enemy. taking advantage of whatever cover i could find i threw myself down behind a small bank, where i lay so secure, that although the frenchmen's bullets fell pretty thickly around, i was enabled to knock several over without being dislodged, in fact, i fired away every round i had in my pouch whilst lying on this spot. at length after a sharp contest we forced them to give ground, and following them up, drove them from their position in the heights, and hung upon their skirts till they made another stand, and then the game began again. "the th regiment received so terrible a fire that i saw the right wing almost annihilated, and the colonel (i think his name was lennox[ ]) lay sprawling amongst the rest. we had ourselves caught it pretty handsomely, for there was no cover for us, and we were rather too near. the living skirmishers were lying beside heaps of their own dead, but still we had held our own till the battalion regiments came up. 'fire and retire'[ ] is a very good sound, but the rifles were not over fond of such notes. we never performed that manoeuvre except when it was made pretty plain to us that it was quite necessary; the th, however, had got their faring here at this time, and the shock of that fire seemed to stagger the whole line and make them recoil. at the moment a little confusion appeared in the ranks, i thought. lord hill was near at hand and saw it, and i observed him come galloping up. he put himself at the head of the regiment and restored them to order in a moment. pouring a regular and sharp fire upon the enemy he galled them in return; and, remaining with the th till he brought them to the charge, quickly sent the foe to the right-about. it seemed to me that few men could have conducted the business with more coolness and quietude of manner under such a storm of balls as he was exposed to. indeed i have never forgotten him from that day. "at the time i was remarking these matters (loading and firing as i lay), another circumstance divided my attention for a while, and made me forget even the gallant conduct of general hill. a man near me uttered a scream of agony, and looking from the th, who were on my right, to the left, whence the screech had come, i saw one of our sergeants, named fraser, sitting in a doubled-up position, and swaying backwards and forwards as though he had got a terrible pain in his bowels. he continued to make so much complaint that i arose and went to him, for he was rather a crony of mine. "'oh, harris,' said he, as i took him in my arms, 'i shall die! i shall die! the agony is so great that i cannot bear it.' "it was, indeed, dreadful to look upon him; the froth came from his mouth, and the perspiration poured from his face. thank heaven! he was soon out of pain, and, laying him down, i returned to my place. poor fellow! he suffered more for the short time that he was dying than any man i think i ever saw in the same circumstances. i had the curiosity to return and look at him after the battle. a musket-ball, i found, had taken him sideways and gone through both groins. "within about half-an-hour after this i left sergeant fraser, and, indeed, for the time had as completely forgotten him as if he had died a hundred years back. the sight of so much bloodshed around will not suffer the mind to dwell long on any particular casualty, even though it happen to one's dearest friend. there was no time either to think, for all was action with us rifles just at this moment, and the barrel of my piece was so hot from continual firing that i could hardly bear to touch it, and was obliged to grasp the stock beneath the iron, as i continued to blaze away. "james ponton was another crony of mine (a gallant fellow!); he had pushed himself in front of me, and was checked by one of our officers for his rashness. 'keep back, you ponton!' the lieutenant said to him more than once. but ponton was not to be restrained by anything but a bullet when in action. this time he got one which, striking him in the thigh, i suppose cut an artery, for he died quickly. the frenchmen's balls were flying very wickedly at that moment; and i crept up to ponton, and took shelter by lying behind, and making a rest for my rifle of his dead body. it strikes me that i revenged his death by the assistance of his carcass. at any rate i tried my best to hit his enemies hard. "there were two small buildings in our front, and the french, having managed to get into them, annoyed us much from that quarter. a small rise in the ground close before these houses also favoured them; and our men were being handled very severely in consequence. they became angry, and wouldn't stand it any longer. one of the skirmishers jumping up, rushed forward, crying, 'over boys!--over! over!' when instantly the whole line responded to the cry, 'over! over! over!' they ran along the grass like wildfire, and dashed at the rise, fixing their sword-bayonets as they ran. the french light bobs could not stand the sight, but turned about and fled, and, getting possession of their ground, we were soon inside the buildings. "after the battle was over i stepped across to the other house i have mentioned, in order to see what was going on there, for the one i remained in was now pretty well filled with the wounded (both french and english) who had managed to get there for a little shelter. two or three surgeons also had arrived at this house, and were busily engaged in giving their assistance to the wounded, now also here lying as thickly as in the building which i had left; but what struck me most forcibly was, that from the circumstance of some wine-butts having been left in the apartment, and their having in the engagement been perforated by bullets, and otherwise broken, the red wine had escaped most plentifully, and ran down upon the earthen floor where the wounded were lying, so that many of them were soaked in the wine with which their blood was mingled. "the rifles fought well this day, and we lost many men. they seemed in high spirits, and delighted at having driven the enemy before them. joseph cochan was by my side loading and firing very industriously about this period of the day. thirsting with heat and action he lifted his canteen to his mouth, 'here's to you, old boy,' he said, as he took a pull at its contents. as he did so a bullet went through the canteen, and, perforating his brain, killed him in a moment. another man fell close to him almost immediately, struck by a ball in the thigh. indeed, we caught it severely just here, and the old iron was also playing its part amongst our poor fellows very merrily. when the roll was called after the battle, the females who missed their husbands came along the front of the line to inquire of the survivors whether they knew anything about them. amongst other names i heard that of cochan called in a female voice, without being replied to. "the name struck me, and i observed the poor woman who had called it, as she stood sobbing before us, and apparently afraid to make further inquiries about her husband. no man had answered to his name, or had any account to give of his fate. i myself had observed him fall, as related before, whilst drinking from his canteen; but as i looked at the poor sobbing creature before me, i felt unable to tell her of his death. at length captain leech observed her, and called out to the company-- "'does any man here know what has happened to cochan? if so, let him speak out at once.' "upon this order i immediately related what i had seen, and told the manner of his death. after a while mrs. cochan appeared anxious to seek the spot where her husband fell, and, in the hope of still finding him alive, asked me to accompany her over the field. she trusted, notwithstanding what i had told her, to find him yet alive. "'do you think you could find it?' said captain leech, upon being referred to. "i told him i was sure i could, as i had remarked many objects whilst looking for cover during the skirmishing. "'go then,' said the captain, 'and show the poor woman the spot, as she seems so desirous of finding the body.' "i accordingly took my way over the ground we had fought upon, she following and sobbing after me, and, quickly reaching the spot where her husband's body lay, pointed it out to her. "she now soon discovered all her hopes were in vain; she embraced a stiffened corpse, and after rising and contemplating his disfigured face for some minutes, with hands clasped and tears streaming down her cheeks, she took a prayer-book from her pocket, and, kneeling down, repeated the service for the dead over the body. when she had finished she appeared a good deal comforted, and i took the opportunity of beckoning to a pioneer i saw near with some other men, and together we dug a hole and quickly buried the body. mrs. cochan then returned with me to the company to which her husband had been attached, and laid herself down upon the heath near us. she lay amongst some other females who were in the same distressing circumstances with herself, with the sky for her canopy and a turf for her pillow, for we had no tents with us. poor woman! i pitied her much; but there was no remedy. if she had been a duchess she must have fared the same. she was a handsome woman, i remember, and the circumstance of my having seen her husband fall, and accompanied her to find his body, begot a sort of intimacy between us. what little attention i could pay her during the hardships of the march i did, and i also offered on the first opportunity to marry her. 'she had, however, received too great a shock on the occasion of her husband's death ever to think of another soldier,' she said; she therefore thanked me for my good feeling towards her, but declined my offer, and left us soon afterwards for england. "after i had left the house i have alluded to in the account of the battle of roliça, i walked a few paces onwards, when i saw some of the rifles lying about and resting. i laid myself down amongst them, for i felt fatigued. a great many of the french skirmishers were lying dead just about this spot. i recollect that they had long white frock-coats on, with the eagle in front of their caps. this was one of the places from which they had greatly annoyed us; and, to judge from the appearance of the dead and wounded strewed around, we had returned the compliment pretty handsomely. i lay upon my back, and, resting upon my knapsack, examined the enemy in the distance. whilst i lay watching them, i observed a dead man directly opposite to me whose singular appearance had not at first caught my eye. he was lying on his side amongst some burnt-up bushes, and whether the heat of the firing here had set these bushes on fire, or from whatever cause they had been ignited, i cannot take upon me to say; but certain it is (for several of my companions saw it as well as myself, and cracked many a joke upon the poor fellow's appearance), that this man, whom we guessed to have been french, was as completely roasted as if he had been spitted before a good kitchen-fire. he was burnt quite brown, every stitch of clothes was singed off, and he was drawn all up like a dried frog. i called the attention of one or two men near me, and we examined him, turning him about with our rifles with no little curiosity. i remember now, with some surprise, that the miserable fate of this poor fellow called forth from us very little sympathy, but seemed only to be a subject of mirth." vimiero followed hard on roliça, being fought only four days afterwards. in this battle the french attacked, and their onfall was marked by high daring and tactical skill. but the british out-fought as their general out-manoeuvred the french, and junot was only saved from complete destruction by the circumstance that sir harry burrard, at the very moment of victory, displaced wellesley in command, and ordered the pursuit to cease. the rifles were in the skirmishing line, and were naturally driven back when the french advanced in mass. the steadfast british line, however, took very badly the retreat of the skirmishers, as harris, in amusing fashion, records. harris's account is interesting as a picture of what may be called the domestic details of the fighting, the preparations for it, the rough jesting of the fighting line, the fashion in which individual soldiers fought and died. there is, indeed, an almost homeric touch in harris's picture of individual combats. here is his story of how the rifles fought at vimiero:-- "it was on the st of august that we commenced fighting the battle of vimiero. "the french came down upon us in a column, and the riflemen immediately commenced a sharp fire upon them from whatever cover they could get a shelter behind, whilst our cannon played upon them from our rear. i saw regular lanes torn through their ranks as they advanced, which were immediately closed up again as they marched steadily on. whenever we saw a round shot thus go through the mass we raised a shout of delight. "one of our corporals, named murphy, was the first man in the rifles who was hit that morning, and i remember more particularly remarking the circumstance from his apparently having a presentiment of his fate before the battle began. he was usually an active fellow, and up to this time had shown himself a good and brave soldier, but on this morning he seemed unequal to his duty. general fane and major travers were standing together on an early part of this day. the general had a spy-glass in his hand, and for some time looked anxiously at the enemy. suddenly he gave the word to fall in, and immediately all was bustle amongst us. the honourable captain pakenham spoke very sharply to murphy, who appeared quite dejected and out of spirits, i observed. he had a presentiment of death, which is by no means an uncommon circumstance, and i have observed it once or twice since this battle. "others beside myself noticed murphy on this morning, and as we had reason to know he was not ordinarily deficient in courage, the circumstance was talked of after the battle was over. he was the first man shot that day. "just before the battle commenced in earnest, and whilst the officers were busily engaged with their companies, shouting the word of command, and arranging matters of moment, captain leech ordered a section of our men to move off, at double quick, and take possession of a windmill, which was on our left. i was amongst this section, and set off full cry towards the mill, when captain leech espied and roared out to me by name to return--'hello there! you harris!' he called, 'fall out of that section directly. we want you here, my man.' i, therefore, wheeled out of the rank, and returned to him. 'you fall in amongst the men here, harris,' he said, 'i shall not send you to that post. the cannon will play upon the mill in a few moments like hail; and what shall we do,' he continued laughing, 'without our head shoemaker to repair our shoes?' "it is long since these transactions took place. but i remember the words of the captain as if they had been uttered but yesterday; for that which was spoken in former years in the field has made a singular impression on my mind. as i looked about me, whilst standing enranked, and just before the commencement of the battle, i thought it the most imposing sight the world could produce. our lines glittering with bright arms; the stern features of the men, as they stood with their eyes fixed unalterably upon the enemy; the proud colours of england floating over the heads of the different battalions; and the dark cannon on the rising ground, and all in readiness to commence the awful work of death, with a noise that would deafen the whole multitude. altogether, the sight had a singular and terrible effect upon the feelings of a youth, who, a few short months before, had been a solitary shepherd upon the downs of dorsetshire, and had never contemplated any other sort of life than the peaceful occupation of watching the innocent sheep as they fed upon the grassy turf. "the first cannon shot i saw fired, i remember, was a miss. the artilleryman made a sad bungle, and the ball went wide of the mark. we were all looking anxiously to see the effect of this shot; and another of the gunners (a red-haired man) rushed at the fellow who had fired, and in the excitement of the moment, knocked him head over heels with his fists. 'd-- you for a fool,' he said; 'what sort of a shot do you call that? let me take the gun.' he accordingly fired the next shot himself, as soon as the gun was loaded, and so truly did he point it at the french column on the hillside, that we saw the fatal effect of the destructive missile by the lane it made and the confusion it caused. "our riflemen (who at the moment were amongst the guns) upon seeing this, set up a tremendous shout of delight, and the battle commencing immediately, we were all soon hard at work. "i myself was very soon so hotly engaged, loading and firing away, enveloped in the smoke i created, and the cloud which hung about me from the continued fire of my comrades, that i could see nothing for a few minutes but the red flash of my own piece amongst the white vapour clinging to my very clothes. this has often seemed to me the greatest drawback upon our present system of fighting; for whilst in such state, on a calm day, until some friendly breeze of wind clears the space around, a soldier knows no more of his position and what is about to happen in his front, or what has happened (even amongst his own companions) than the very dead lying around. "such is my remembrance of the commencement of the battle of vimiero. the battle began on a fine bright day, and the sun played on the arms of the enemy's battalions, as they came on, as if they had been tipped with gold. the battle soon became general; the smoke thickened around, and often i was obliged to stop firing and dash it aside from my face, and try in vain to get sight of what was going on, whilst groans and shouts and a noise of cannon and musketry appeared almost to shake the very ground. it seemed hell upon earth, i thought. "a man named john low stood before me at this moment, and he turned round during a pause in our exertions, and addressed me: 'harris, you humbug,' he said, 'you have plenty of money about you, i know, for you are always staying about and picking up what you can find on the field. but i think this will be your last field-day, old boy. a good many of us will catch it, i suspect, to-day,' 'you are right, low,' i said, 'i have got nine guineas in my pack, and if i get shot to-day, and you yourself escape, it's quite at your service. in the meantime, however, if you see any symptoms of my wishing to flinch in this business, i hope you will shoot me with your own hand.' "low as well as myself survived this battle, and after it was over, whilst we sat down with our comrades and rested, amongst other matters talked over, low told them of our conversation during the heat of the day, and the money i had collected, and the rifles from that time had a great respect for me. it is, indeed, singular how a man loses or gains caste with his comrades from his behaviour, and how closely he is observed in the field. the officers, too, are commented upon and closely observed. the men are very proud of those who are brave in the field, and kind and considerate to the soldiers under them. an act of kindness done by an officer has often during the battle been the cause of his life being saved. nay, whatever folks may say upon the matter, i know from experience that in our army the men like best to be officered by gentlemen, men whose education has rendered them more kind in manners than your coarse officer, sprung from obscure origin, and whose style is brutal and overbearing. "during the battle i remarked the gallant style in which the th, major napier's regiment, came to the charge. they dashed upon the enemy like a torrent breaking bounds, and the french, unable even to bear the sight of them, turned and fled. methinks at this moment i can hear the cheer of the british soldiers in the charge, and the clatter of the frenchmen's accoutrements, as they turned in an instant, and went off as hard as they could run for it. i remember, too, our feelings towards the enemy on that occasion was the north side of friendly, for they had been firing upon us rifles very sharply, greatly outnumbering our skirmishers, and appearing inclined to drive us off the face of the earth. their lights, and grenadiers, i, for the first time, particularly remarked on that day. the grenadiers (the th, i think), our men seemed to know well. they were all fine-looking young men, wearing red shoulder-knots and tremendous-looking moustaches. as they came swarming upon us, they rained a perfect shower of balls, which we returned quite as sharply. whenever one of them was knocked over our men called out, 'there goes another of boney's invincibles.' "in the main body immediately in our rear, were the second battalion nd, the th, the second battalion rd, and a german corps, whose number i do not remember, besides several other regiments. the whole line seemed annoyed and angered at seeing the rifles outnumbered by the invincibles, and as we fell back, 'firing and retiring,' galling them handsomely as we did so, the men cried out (as it were with one voice) to charge. 'd--n them!' they roared, 'charge! charge!' general fane, however, restrained their impetuosity. he desired them to stand fast and keep their ground. "'don't be too eager, men,' he said, as coolly as if we were on drill-parade in old england; 'i don't want you to advance just yet. well done, th!' he called out, as he galloped up and down the line; 'well done, rd, nd, and well done all. i'll not forget, if i live, to report your conduct to-day. they shall hear of it in england, my lads!' "a man named brotherwood, of the th, at this moment rushed up to the general, and presented him with a green feather, which he had torn out of the cap of a french light-infantry soldier he had killed. 'god bless you, general!' he said; 'wear this for the sake of the th.' i saw the general take the feather and stick it in his cocked hat. the next minute he gave the word to charge, and down came the whole line, through a tremendous fire of cannon and musketry--and dreadful was the slaughter as they rushed onwards. as they came up with us, we sprang to our feet, gave one hearty cheer, and charged along with them, treading over our own dead and wounded, who lay in the front. the th were next us as we went, and i recollect, as i said, the firmness of that regiment in the charge. they appeared like a wall of iron. the enemy turned and fled, the cavalry dashing upon them as they went off. "it was just at the close of the battle of vimiero; the dreadful turmoil and noise of the engagement had hardly subsided, and i began to look into the faces of the men close around me, to see who had escaped the dangers of the hour. four or five days back i had done the same thing at roliça. one feels, indeed, a sort of curiosity to know, after such a scene, who is remaining alive amongst the companions endeared by good conduct, or disliked for bad character, during the hardships of the campaign. i saw that the ranks of the riflemen looked very thin; it seemed to me one-half had gone down. we had four companies of the th, and were commanded that day by major travers. he was a tight hand, but a soldier likes that better than a slovenly officer; and indeed, he was deservedly beloved by all who knew him. "i had observed him more than once during this day, spurring here and there, keeping the men well up, and apparently in the highest spirits. he could not have enjoyed himself more, i am sure, if he had been at a horse-race, or following a good pack of hounds. the battle was just over; a flag of truce had come over from the french; general kellerman, i think, brought it. we threw ourselves down where we were standing when the fire ceased. a frenchman lay close beside me; he was dying, and called to me for water, which i understood him to require more from his manner than his words (he pointed to his mouth). i need not say that i got up and gave it him. whilst i did so, down galloped the major in front, just in the same good spirits he had been all day; plunging along, avoiding, with some little difficulty, the dead and dying which were strewed about. he was never a very good-looking man, being hard-featured and thin--a hatchet-faced man, as we used to say. but he was a regular good 'un--a real english soldier, and that's better than if he had been the handsomest ladies' man in the army. "the major just now disclosed what none of us, i believe, knew before, namely, that his head was bald as a coot's, and that he covered the nakedness of his nob, up to the present time, by a flowing caxon, which, during the heat of the action, had somehow been dislodged, and was lost; yet was the major riding hither and thither, digging the spurs into his horse's flanks, and just as busy as before the firing had ceased. 'a guinea,' he kept crying as he rode, 'to any man who will find my wig!' the men, i remember, notwithstanding the sight of the wounded and dead around them, burst into shouts of laughter at him as he went; and, 'a guinea to any man who will find my wig,' was the saying amongst us long after that affair." footnotes: [footnote : it was colonel lake.] [footnote : "fire and retire"--one of the bugle sounds to the skirmishers when hard pressed.] chapter iii when the fight is over harris sees with characteristic clearness of vision, and describes, with almost appalling _vraisemblance_, the grim scenes of the battle-field after the fiery tide of battle has ebbed from it. he says:-- "after the day's work was over, whilst strolling about the field, just upon the spot where this charge had taken place, i remarked a soldier of the rd and a french grenadier both dead, and lying close together. they had apparently killed each other at the same moment, for both weapons remained in the bodies of the slain. brotherwood was lying next me during a part of this day; he was a leicestershire man, and was killed afterwards by a cannon ball at vittoria. i remember his death more particularly from the circumstance of that very ball killing three of the company at the same moment, viz., lieutenant hopwood, patrick mahone, and himself. brotherwood was amongst the skirmishers with me on this day. he was always a lively fellow, but rather irritable in disposition. just as the french went to the right-about, i remember he d--d them furiously, and all his bullets being gone, he grabbed a razor from his haversack, rammed it down, and fired it after them. "during this day i myself narrowly escaped being killed by our own dragoons, for somehow or other in the confusion i fell whilst they were charging, and the whole squadron thundering past just missed me as i lay amongst the dead and wounded. tired and over-weighted with my knapsack and all my shoemaking implements, i lay where i had fallen for a short time and watched the cavalry as they gained the enemy. i observed a fine gallant-looking officer leading them on in that charge. he was a brave fellow, and bore himself like a hero; with his sword waving in the air he cheered the men on, as he went dashing upon the enemy and hewing and slashing at them in tremendous style. i watched for him as the dragoons came off after that charge, but saw him no more; he had fallen. fine fellow! his conduct indeed made an impression upon me that i shall never forget, and i was told afterwards that he was a brother of sir john eustace. "a french soldier was lying beside me at this time; he was badly wounded, and hearing him moan as he lay, after i had done looking at the cavalry i turned my attention to him, and getting up lifted his head and poured some water into his mouth. he was dying fast; but he thanked me in a foreign language, which, although i did not exactly understand, i could easily make out by the look he gave me. mullins, of the rifles, who stepped up whilst i supported his head, d--d me for a fool for my pains. 'better knock out his brains, harris,' said he, 'he has done us mischief enough, i'll be bound for it, to-day.'" harris, it will be noticed, has no reserves. he relates incidents which can hardly be regarded as creditable to the character of the british private, and does it with an amusing unconsciousness as to the impression his stories will produce on readers of a more sensitive age. the british soldier of that day had a rough chivalry of his own. he faced his foe gallantly on the battle-field. he would maintain a friendly barter of spirits and rations with him when night had fallen on contiguous bivouacs. but when his enemy was dead, and no more fighting remained to be done, and no exchange of clandestine brandy was possible, then the british private would empty his foeman's pockets or take a pair of serviceable boots from his feet with the easiest nonchalance. the transaction, he considered, did not injure the dead, and it contributed to the comfort of the living. so harris's tale of the plundering and the night scenes of a battle-field resemble those to be found in smollett's "count fathom"--with this superiority on the side of harris, that his tales are transcripts of actual facts:-- "after the battle i strolled about the field, in order to see if there was anything to be found worth picking up amongst the dead. the first thing i saw was a three-pronged silver fork, which, as it lay by itself, had most likely been dropped by some person who had been on the lookout before me. a little farther on i saw a french soldier sitting against a small rise in the ground or bank. he was wounded in the throat and appeared very faint, the bosom of his coat being saturated with the blood which had flowed down. by his side lay his cap, and close to that was a bundle containing a quantity of gold and silver crosses, which i concluded he had plundered from some convent or church. he looked the picture of a sacrilegious thief, dying hopelessly, and overtaken by divine wrath. i kicked over his cap, which was also full of plunder, but i declined taking anything from him. i felt fearful of incurring the wrath of heaven for the like offence, so i left him, and passed on. "a little farther off lay an officer of the th regiment. i knew him by sight, and recognised him as he lay. he was quite dead, and lying on his back. he had been plundered, and his clothes were torn open. three bullet-holes were close together in the pit of his stomach. beside him lay an empty pocket-book, and his epaulette had been pulled from his shoulder. "i had moved on but a few paces, when i recollected that perhaps the officer's shoes might serve me, my own being considerably the worse for wear, so i returned again, went back, pulled one of his shoes off, and knelt down on one knee to try it on. it was not much better than my own; however, i determined on the exchange, and proceeded to take off its fellow. as i did so i was startled by the sharp report of a firelock, and at the same moment a bullet whistled close by my head. instantly starting up i turned and looked in the direction whence the shot had come. there was no person near me in this part of the field. the dead and the dying lay thickly all around, but nothing else could i see. i looked to the priming of my rifle, and again turned to the dead officer of the th. it was evident that some plundering scoundrel had taken a shot at me, and the fact of his doing so proclaimed him one of the enemy. to distinguish him amongst the bodies strewn about was impossible; perhaps he might himself be one of the wounded. hardly had i effected the exchange, put on the dead officer's shoes, and resumed my rifle, when another shot took place, and a second ball whistled past me. this time i was ready, and turning quickly i saw my man; he was just about to squat down behind a small mound about twenty paces from me. i took a haphazard shot at him, and instantly knocked him over. i immediately ran up to him; he had fallen on his face, and i heaved him over on his back, bestrode his body, and drew my sword-bayonet. there was, however, no occasion for the precaution, as he was even then in the agonies of death. "it was a relief to me to find i had not been mistaken. he was a french light infantry man, and i therefore took it quite in the way of business--he had attempted my life, and lost his own. it was the fortune of war; so stooping down with my sword i cut the green string that sustained his calabash, and took a hearty pull to quench my thirst. "after i had shot the french light infantry man, and quenched my thirst from his calabash, finding he was quite dead, i proceeded to search him. whilst i turned him about in the endeavour at finding the booty i felt pretty certain he had gathered from the slain, an officer of the th approached and accosted me. "'what, looking for money, my lad,' said he, 'eh?' "'i am, sir,' i answered; 'but i cannot discover where this fellow has hid his hoard.' "'you knocked him over, my man,' he said, 'in good style, and deserve something for the shot. here,' he continued, stooping down, and feeling in the lining of the frenchman's coat, 'this is the place where these rascals generally carry their coin. rip up the lining of his coat, and then search in his stock. i know them better than you seem to do.' "thanking the officer for his courtesy, i proceeded to cut open the lining of his jacket with my sword-bayonet, and was quickly rewarded for my labour by finding a yellow silk purse, wrapped up in an old black silk handkerchief. the purse contained several doubloons, three or four napoleons, and a few dollars. whilst i was counting the money, the value of which, except the dollars, i did not then know, i heard the bugle of the rifles sound out the assembly, so i touched my cap to the officer and returned towards them. "the men were standing at ease, with the officers in front. as i approached them, major travers, who was in command of the four companies, called me to him. "'what have you got there, sir?' he said. 'show me.' "i handed him the purse, expecting a reprimand for my pains. he, however, only laughed as he examined it, and turning showed it to his brother officers. "'you did that well, harris,' he said, 'and i am sorry the purse is not better filled. fall in.' in saying this, he handed me back the purse, and i joined my company. soon afterwards, the roll being called, we were all ordered to lie down and gain a little rest after our day's work. "we lay as we had stood enranked upon the field, and in a few minutes, i dare say, one-half of that green line, over-wearied with their exertions, were asleep upon the ground they had so short a time before been fighting on. after we had lain for some little time i saw several men strolling about the fields, so i again quietly rose, with one or two others of the rifles, and once more looked about me to see what i could pick up amongst the slain. "i had rambled some distance when i saw a french officer running towards me with all his might, pursued by at least half-a-dozen horsemen. the frenchman was a tall, handsome-looking man, dressed in a blue uniform; he ran as swiftly as a wild indian, turning and doubling like a hare. i held up my hand, and called to his pursuers not to hurt him. one of the horsemen, however, cut him down with a desperate blow when close beside me, and the next, wheeling round as he leaned from his saddle, passed his sword through the body. "i am sorry to say there was an english dragoon amongst these scoundrels; the rest, by their dress, i judged to be portuguese cavalry. whether the frenchman thus slaughtered was a prisoner trying to escape, or what was the cause of this cold-blooded piece of cruelty, i know not, as the horsemen immediately galloped off without a word of explanation; and, feeling quite disgusted with the scene i had witnessed, i returned to my comrades, and again throwing myself down, was soon as fast asleep as any there." the plundering exploits of the british private were not always confined to his foes, living or dead. his own officers sometimes suffered. says harris:-- "i remember there was an officer, named, i think, cardo, with the rifles. he was a great beau; but although rather effeminate and ladylike in manners, so much so as to be remarked by the whole regiment at that time, yet he was found to be a most gallant officer when we were engaged with the enemy in the field. he was killed whilst fighting bravely in the pyrenees; and amongst other jewellery he wore, he had a ring on his finger worth guineas. "as he lay dead on the field, one of our riflemen, named orr, observed the sparkling gem, and immediately resolved to make prize of it. the ring, however, was so firmly fixed that orr could not draw it from the finger, and, whipping out his knife, cut the finger off by the joint. after the battle orr offered the ring for sale amongst the officers, and on inquiry the manner in which he had obtained it transpired. orr was in consequence tried by court-martial, and sentenced to receive five hundred lashes, which sentence was carried into execution." chapter iv a memorable retreat harris found a new commander-in-chief in sir john moore, and it was his fortune to share in the sufferings and glory of the immortal retreat to corunna. moore has never yet come to his true inheritance of fame as a commander. the great figure of wellington hides him almost from human memory. yet no british general, perhaps, ever conceived and executed a more audacious stroke of soldiership than did moore when he made his famous stroke at napoleon's communication, and spoiled the whole plans of that master-spirit in war for the conquest of southern spain, and brought him and his far-scattered columns hurrying up to the north-west angle of the peninsula. napoleon had assumed in person the command of the french armies in spain, and had , veterans under his eagles. he had shattered the spanish armies, was in possession of the spanish capital, and was on the point of marching to overwhelm the rich provinces as yet unravaged by war to the south. moore, with , men under his command, resolved to strike boldly at napoleon's communications, and so arrest the southward march of all the french columns. when, in this manner, he had paralysed the strategy of the french, moore calculated he could outmarch all the converging columns rushing to destroy him, and escape. but he was accepting a terrific risk. moore's generalship, though it was followed by the tragedy of the retreat to corunna, and his own death in the battle at that place, was perfectly successful. he wrecked napoleon's strategy, and yet escaped his counter-stroke. he secured a breathing-space for the spanish nation. he arrested and brought to a close napoleon's personal career in that country. he made possible wellington's great peninsular campaigns. it is one of the examples of the irony of history that to moore, one of the greatest soldiers england has produced, success brought no adequate fame, and it cost him his own life. the second battalion of the rifles, to which harris belonged, joined moore's forces at sahagun, and the great retreat began almost immediately afterwards. on december moore turned his columns westward for their march to his sea-base at corunna. it was a march of some miles, through rugged mountainous country, with the french hanging on his rear or pushing past his flank, while the bitter tempests of the winter in northern spain blackened the skies above the toiling troops, and scourged them almost incessantly with snow and sleet and rain. at astorga, moore divided his army, and part, under craufurd, took the road to vigo. the rifles formed part of craufurd's force, and harris's account thus sheds light on what is the least known branch of the famous retreat. the retreat lasted in all eighteen days, and some men fell from the ranks, slain by mere hardship and exposure, during that comparatively brief period; yet the retreating british did not lose a flag or a gun in the retreat, and when they turned to bay at corunna they proved that neither their discipline nor their fighting power had been in the least impaired by their sufferings. harris's account is really a bit of very fine descriptive writing, though its charm lies in its simplicity and its unconscious realism. it must be remembered that when the second battalion of the rifles joined moore's forces at sahagun they were worn out with long marches, and the fame of roliça and vimiero lay upon them. moore's forces had up to that time seen no fighting, and still carried in face and uniform something of the freshness of barrack life:-- "at sahagun we fell in with the army under command of sir john moore. i forget how many thousand men there were; but they were lying in and around the town when we arrived. the rifles marched to an old convent, some two miles from sahagun, where we were quartered, together with a part of the th hussars, some of the welsh fusiliers, and straggling bodies of men belonging to various other regiments, all seeming on the _qui vive_, and expecting the french to fall in with them every hour. as our small and wayworn party came to a halt before the walls of the convent, the men from these different regiments came swarming out to greet us, loudly cheering us as they rushed up and seized our hands. the difference in appearance between ourselves and these new-comers was indeed (just then) very great. they looked fresh from good quarters and good rations. their clothes and accoutrements were comparatively new and clean, and their cheeks ruddy with the glow of health and strength; whilst our men, on the contrary, were gaunt-looking, wayworn, and ragged; our faces burnt almost to the hue of an asiatic's by the sun, our accoutrements rent and torn, and many without even shoes to their feet. however, we had some work in us yet, and perhaps were in better condition for it than our more fresh-looking comrades." harris describes how, just before the retreat began, he was summoned at midnight to undertake, on somewhat alarming conditions, a very practical bit of preparation for the march:-- "in the middle of the night i remember, as well as if the sounds were at this moment in my ear, that my name was called out many times without my being completely awakened by the summons. from weariness and the weight of my knapsack and the quantity of implements i carried, i was at first quite unable to gain my legs; but when i did so i found that quarter-master surtees was the person who was thus disturbing my rest. "'come, be quick there, harris!' he said, as i picked my way by the light of the candle he held in his hand; 'look amongst the men, and rouse up all the shoemakers you have in the four companies. i have a job for them which must be done instantly.' "with some little trouble, and not a few curses from them as i stirred them up with the butt of my rifle, i succeeded in waking several of our snoring handicrafts; and the quarter-master bidding us instantly follow him, led the way to the very top of the convent stairs. passing then into a ruinous-looking apartment, along which we walked upon the rafters, there being no flooring, he stopped when he arrived at its farther extremity. here he proceeded to call our attention to a quantity of barrels of gunpowder lying beside a large heap of raw bullocks' hides. 'now, harris,' said he, 'keep your eyes open, and mind what you are about here. general craufurd orders you instantly to set to work and sew up every one of these barrels in the hides lying before you. you are to sew the skins with the hair outwards, and be quick about it, for the general swears that if the job is not finished in half-an-hour he will hang you.' "the latter part of this order was anything but pleasant, and whether the general ever really gave it i never had an opportunity of ascertaining. well knowing the stuff craufurd was made of, i received the candle from the hands of surtees, and bidding the men get needles and waxed thread from their knapsacks, as the quarter-master withdrew, i instantly prepared to set about the job. "i often think of that night's work as i sit strapping away in my little shop in richmond street, soho. it was a curious scene to look at, and the task neither very easy nor safe. the riflemen were wearied, unwilling, and out of temper; and it was as much as i could do to get them to assist me. moreover, they were so reckless that they seemed rather to wish to blow the convent into the air than to get on with their work. one moment the candle was dropped and nearly extinguished; the next they lost their implements between the rafters of the floor, flaring the light about amongst the barrels, and wishing, as i remonstrated with them, that the powder might ignite and blow me, themselves, and the general to ----. such were the riflemen of the peninsular war--daring, gallant, reckless fellows. i had a hard task to get the work safely finished; but at length between coaxing and bullying these dare-devils i managed to do so, and together we returned down the convent stairs; and, finding surtees awaiting us in the passage below, he reported to general craufurd that his order had been obeyed. after which we were permitted again to lie down and sleep till the bugle awoke us next morning." the exact moment when the advance for the purpose of falling on soult was exchanged for retreat at speed before napoleon's fiercely converging columns to the sea-coast is dramatically marked in harris's "recollections." from the first, it will be noted, the retreat was pushed with the utmost sternness and energy, and at the cost of great suffering to the men. moore had daringly advanced till his scanty columns were almost caught by the overwhelming forces of the french closing upon him; and to escape destruction the british had to tax their own strength and energy to the utmost:-- "general craufurd was in command of the brigade, and riding in front, when i observed a dragoon come spurring furiously along the road to meet us. he delivered a letter to the general, who turned round in his saddle the moment he had read a few lines, and thundered out the word 'to halt!' a few minutes more and we were all turned to the right-about, and retracing our steps of the night before--the contents of that epistle serving to furnish our men with many a surmise during the retrograde movement. when we again neared sahagun, i remember seeing the wives and children of the men come rushing into the ranks, and embracing the husbands and fathers they expected never to see again. "the entire rifle corps entered the same convent we had before been quartered in; but this time we remained enranked in its apartments and passages, no man being allowed to quit his arms or lie down. we stood leaning upon the muzzles of our rifles, and dozed as we stood. after remaining thus for about an hour, we were then ordered out of the convent, and the word was again given to march. there was a sort of thaw on this day, and the rain fell fast. as we passed the walls of the convent, i observed our general (craufurd) as he sat upon his horse, looking at us on the march, and remarked the peculiar sternness of his features; he did not like to see us going rearwards at all, and many of us judged there must be something wrong, by his severe look and scowling eye. "'keep your ranks there, men!' he said, spurring his horse towards some riflemen who were avoiding a small rivulet. 'keep your ranks and move on--no straggling from the main body.' "we pushed on all that day without halting; and i recollect the first thing that struck us as somewhat odd was our passing one of the commissariat waggons, overturned and stuck fast in the mud, and which was abandoned without an effort to save any of its contents. a sergeant of the nd highlanders, just about this time, fell dead with fatigue, and no one stopped as we passed to offer him any assistance. night came down upon us, without our having tasted food or halted--i speak for myself and those around me--and all night long we continued this dreadful march. men began to look into each other's faces, and ask the question, 'are we ever to be halted again?' and many of the weaker sort were now seen to stagger, make a few desperate efforts, and then fall, perhaps to rise no more. most of us had devoured all we carried in our haversacks, and endeavoured to catch up anything we could snatch from hut or cottage in our route. many, even at this period, would have straggled from the ranks and perished had not craufurd held them together with a firm rein. one such bold and stern commander in the east, during a memorable disaster, and that devoted army had reached its refuge unbroken! thus we staggered on night and day for about four days, before we discovered the reason of this continued forced march. the discovery was made to our company by a good-tempered, jolly fellow, named patrick mclauchlan. he inquired of an officer marching directly in his front, the destination intended. "'by j--s! musther hills,' i heard him say, 'where the d--l is this you're taking us to?' "'to england, mclauchlan,' returned the officer, with a melancholy smile upon his face as he gave the answer--'if we can get there.'" the rifles formed part of the rearguard, and to the hardships and sufferings common to the whole retreating force was added, in their case, the strain of constant engagement with the enemy. as a matter of fact, this served as a tonic to the men. it preserved their discipline. it gave them what they felt to be a delightful distraction from the monotony of splashing wet, hungry and faint, along muddy roads. they forgot the blinding rain, the eddying snowflakes, the pinch of hunger, as they turned a score of times in the day at bay and drove back with the roll of their volleys the pursuing french cavalry. here are some pictures of how a british rearguard bears itself in adverse circumstances:-- "the information mclauchlan obtained from lieutenant hill quickly spread amongst us, and we now began to see more clearly the horrors of our situation, and the men to murmur at not being permitted to turn and stand at bay, cursing the french, and swearing they would rather die ten thousand deaths, with their rifles in their hands in opposition, than endure the present toil. we were in the rear at this time, and following that part of the army which made for vigo, whilst the other portion of the british, being on the main road to corunna, were at this moment closely pursued and harassed by the enemy, as i should judge from the continued thunder of their cannon and rattle of their musketry. craufurd seemed to sniff the sound of battle from afar with peculiar feelings. he halted us for a few minutes occasionally, when the distant clamour became more distinct, and his face turned towards the sound, and seemed to light up and become less stern. it was then, indeed, that every poor fellow clutched his weapon more firmly and wished for a sight of the enemy. "before long they had their wish: the enemy's cavalry were on our skirts that night; and as we rushed out of a small village, the name of which i cannot now recollect, we turned to bay. behind broken-down carts and tumbrils, huge trunks of trees, and everything we could scrape together, the rifles lay and blazed away at the advancing cavalry. "we passed the night thus engaged, holding our own as well as we could. towards morning we moved down towards a small bridge, still followed by the enemy, whom, however, we had sharply galled, and obliged to be more wary in their efforts. the rain was pouring down in torrents on this morning, i recollect, and we remained many hours with our arms ported, standing in this manner, and staring the french cavalry in the face, the water actually running out of the muzzles of our rifles. i do not recollect seeing a single regiment of infantry amongst the french force on this day; it seemed to me a tremendous body of cavalry--some said nine or ten thousand strong--commanded, as i heard, by general lefebvre. "whilst we stood thus, face to face, i remember the horsemen of the enemy sat watching us very intently, as if waiting for a favourable moment to dash upon us like beasts of prey; and every now and then their trumpets would ring out a lively strain of music as if to encourage them. as the night drew on, our cavalry moved a little to the front, together with several field-pieces, and succeeded in crossing the bridge; after which we also advanced and threw ourselves into some hilly ground on either side the road; whilst the rd and nd lay behind some carts, trunks of trees, and other materials with which they had formed a barrier. "general craufurd was standing behind this barricade, when he ordered the rifles to push still farther in front, and conceal themselves amongst the hills on either side. a man named higgins was my front-rank man at this moment. 'harris,' he said, 'let you and i gain the very top of the mountain, and look out what those french thieves are at on the other side.' "my feet were sore and bleeding, and the sinews of my legs ached as if they would burst, but i resolved to accompany him. in our wearied state the task was not easy, but, by the aid of higgins, a tall and powerful fellow, i managed to reach the top of the mountain, where we placed ourselves in a sort of gully or ditch, and looked over to the enemy's side, concealing ourselves by lying flat in the ditch as we did so. thus, in favourable situations, like cats watching for their prey, were the rest of the rifles lying perdu upon the hills that night. the mountain we found was neither so steep nor so precipitous on the enemy's side. the ascent, on the contrary, was so easy that one or two of the videttes of the french cavalry were prowling about very near where we lay. as we had received orders not to make more noise than we could help, not even to speak to each other, except in whispers, although one of these horsemen approached close to where i lay, i forbore to fire upon him. "at length he stopped so near me that i saw it was almost impossible he could avoid discovering that the rifles were in such close proximity to his person. he gazed cautiously along the ridge, took off his helmet, and wiped his face, as he appeared to meditate upon the propriety of crossing the ditch in which we lay, when suddenly our eyes met, and in an instant he plucked a pistol from his holster, fired it in my face, and, wheeling his horse, plunged down the hillside. for the moment i thought i was hit, as the ball grazed my neck, and stuck fast in my knapsack, where i found it, when, many days afterwards, i unpacked my kit on shipboard. about a quarter of an hour after this, as we still lay in the gully, i heard some person clambering up behind us, and, upon turning quickly round, i found it was general craufurd. the general was wrapped in his greatcoat, and, like ourselves, had been for many hours drenched to the skin, for the rain was coming down furiously. he carried in his hand a canteen full of rum and a small cup, with which he was occasionally endeavouring to refresh some of the men. he offered me a drink as he passed, and then proceeded onwards along the ridge. after he had emptied his canteen, he came past us again, and himself gave us instructions as to our future proceedings. "'when all is ready, riflemen,' said he, 'you will immediately get the word, and pass over the bridge. be careful, and mind what you are about.' "accordingly, a short time after he had left us, we were ordered to descend the mountain side in single file, and having gained the road, were quickly upon the bridge. meanwhile the staff corps had been hard at work mining the very centre of the structure, which was filled with gunpowder, a narrow plank being all the aid we had by which to pass over. for my own part, i was now so utterly helpless that i felt as if all was nearly up with me, and that, if i could steady myself so as to reach the farther end of the plank, it would be all i should be able to accomplish. however, we managed all of us to reach the other side in safety, when, almost immediately afterwards, the bridge blew up with a tremendous report, and a house at its extremity burst into flames. what with the concussion of the explosion and the tremulous state of my limbs, i was thrown to the ground, and lay flat upon my face for some time, almost in a state of insensibility. after a while i somewhat recovered; but it was not without extreme difficulty, and many times falling again, that i succeeded in regaining the column. "soon after i had done so, we reached benevento, and immediately took refuge in a convent. already three parts of it were filled with other troops, among which were mingled the th hussars, the german legion, and the th dragoons; the horses of these regiments standing as close as they could stand, with the men dismounted between each horse, the animals' heads to the walls of the building, and all in readiness to turn out on the instant. liquor was handed to us by the dragoons, but having had nothing for some time to eat, many of our men became sick instead of receiving any benefit from it. "before we had been in the convent as long a time as i have been describing our arrival, every man of us was down on the floor, and well nigh asleep; and before we had slept half-an-hour, we were again aroused from our slumbers by the clatter of the horses, the clash of the men's sabres, and their shouts for us to clear the way. "'the enemy! the enemy!' i heard shouted out. "'clear the way, rifles! up, boys, and clear the way!' "in short, the dragoons hardly gave us time to rise before they were leading their horses amongst us, and getting out of the convent as fast as they could scamper, whilst we ourselves were not long in following their example. as we did so, we discovered that the french cavalry, having found the bridge blown up, had dashed into the stream and succeeded in crossing. our cavalry, however, quickly formed, and charged them in gallant style. "the shock of that encounter was tremendous to look upon, and we stood for some time enranked watching the combatants. the horsemen had it all to themselves; our dragoons fought like tigers, and, although greatly over-matched, drove the enemy back like a torrent, and forced them again into the river. a private of the th hussars--his name, i think, was franklin--dashed into the stream after their general (lefebvre), assailed him, sword in hand, in the water, captured, and brought him a prisoner on shore again. if i remember rightly, franklin, or whatever else was his name, was made a sergeant on the spot. the french general was delivered into our custody on that occasion, and we cheered the men heartily as we received him. "after the enemy had received this check from our cavalry, and which considerably damped their ardour, making them a trifle more shy of us for a while, we pushed onwards on our painful march. i remember marching close beside the french general during some part of this day, and observing his chapfallen and dejected look as he rode along in the midst of the green jackets." in spite of all his own sufferings, harris was still able to note, with an unconsciously artistic eye, the scenes--wild, tragic, and picturesque--which the retreat afforded:-- "being constantly in rear of the main body, the scenes of distress and misery i witnessed were dreadful to contemplate, particularly amongst the women and children, who were lagging and falling behind, their husbands and fathers being in the main body in our front. we came to the edge of a deep ravine, the descent so steep and precipitous, that it was impossible to keep our feet in getting down, and we were sometimes obliged to sit and slide along on our backs; whilst before us rose a ridge of mountains quite as steep and difficult of ascent. there was, however, no pause in our exertion, but, slinging our rifles round our necks, down the hill we went; whilst mules with the baggage on their backs, wearied and urged beyond their strength, were seen rolling from top to bottom, many of them breaking their necks with the fall, and the baggage crushed, smashed, and abandoned. "i remember as i descended this hill remarking the extraordinary sight afforded by the thousands of our redcoats, who were creeping like snails, and toiling up the ascent before us, their muskets slung round their necks, and clambering with both hands as they hauled themselves up. as soon as we ourselves had gained the ascent we were halted for a few minutes, in order to give us breath for another effort, and then onwards we moved again. "it is impossible for me to keep any account of time in this description, as i never exactly knew how many days and nights we marched; but i well know we kept on for many successive days and nights without rest, or much in the way of food. the long day found us still pushing on, and the night caused us no halt. "we pushed on still cursing the enemy for not again showing themselves, that we might revenge some of our present miseries upon their heads. "'why don't they come on like men,' they cried, 'whilst we've strength left in us to fight them?' "we were now upon the mountains; the night was bitter cold, and the snow falling fast. as day broke, i remember hearing lieutenant hill say to another officer (who, by the way, afterwards sank down and died), 'this is new year's day; and i think if we live to see another we shall not easily forget it.' "the mountains were now becoming more wild-looking and steep as we proceeded, whilst those few huts we occasionally passed seemed so utterly forlorn and wretched-looking, it appeared quite a wonder how human beings could live in so desolate a home. after the snow commenced the hills became so slippery (being in many parts covered with ice), that several of our men frequently slipped and fell, and being unable to rise, gave themselves up to despair and died. there was now no endeavour to assist one another after a fall; it was every one for himself, and god for us all! "the enemy, i should think, were at this time frequently close upon our trail; and i thought at times i heard their trumpets come down the wind as we marched. towards the dusk of the evening of this day i remember passing a man and woman lying clasped in each other's arms, and dying in the snow. i knew them both, but it was impossible to help them. they belonged to the rifles and were man and wife. the man's name was joseph sitdown. during this retreat, as he had not been in good health previously, himself and wife had been allowed to get on in the best way they could in the front. they had, however, now given in, and the last we ever saw of poor sitdown and his wife was on that night lying perishing in each other's arms in the snow. "many trivial things which happened during the retreat to corunna, and which on any other occasion might have entirely passed from my memory, have been, as it were, branded into my remembrance, and i recollect the most trifling incidents which occurred from day to day during that march. i remember, amongst other matters, that we were joined, if i may so term it, by a young recruit, when such an addition was anything but wished for during the disasters of the hour. one of the men's wives (who was struggling forward in the ranks with us, presenting a ghastly picture of illness, misery, and fatigue), being very large in the family-way, towards evening stepped from amongst the crowd and laid herself down amidst the snow, a little out of the main road. her husband remained with her; and i heard one or two hasty observations amongst our men that they had taken possession of their last resting-place. the enemy were, indeed, not far behind at this time, the night was coming down, and their chance seemed in truth but a bad one. "to remain behind the column of march in such weather was to perish, and we accordingly soon forgot all about them. to my surprise, however, i some little time afterwards (being myself then in the rear of our party) again saw the woman. she was hurrying with her husband after us, and in her arms she carried the babe she had just given birth to. her husband and herself between them managed to carry that infant to the end of the retreat, where we embarked. god tempers the wind, it is said, to the shorn lamb, and many years afterwards i saw that boy a strong and healthy lad. the woman's name was m'guire, a sturdy and hardy irishwoman; and lucky was it for herself and babe that she was so, as that night of cold and sleet was in itself sufficient to try the constitution of most females. i lost sight of her, i recollect, on this night when the darkness came upon us, but with the dawn, to my surprise she was still amongst us." chapter v stern scenes the sufferings of the retreat steadily increased. the weather grew more bitter, the country more difficult, the supply of food scantier. under the strain of incessant marching, the strength of the men gave way. all were ragged and hungry; many were bare-footed; many were sick, racked with coughs, shaken with ague, or burning with fever. their discipline seemed to go to pieces. nothing survived but a spirit of dogged, sullen courage that seized, with a thrill of something like fierce delight, every opportunity of turning on their relentless pursuers:-- "the shoes and boots of our party were now mostly either destroyed or useless to us, from foul roads and long miles, and many of the men were entirely bare-footed, with knapsacks and accoutrements altogether in a dilapidated state. the officers were also, for the most part, in as miserable a plight. they were pallid, wayworn, their feet bleeding, and their faces overgrown with beards of many days' growth. what a contrast did our corps display, even at this period of the retreat, to my remembrance of them on the morning their dashing appearance captivated my fancy in ireland! many of the poor fellows, now near sinking with fatigue, reeled as if in a state of drunkenness, and altogether i thought we looked the ghosts of our former selves; still we held on resolutely. our officers behaved nobly, and craufurd was not to be daunted by long miles, fatigue, or foul weather. many a man in that retreat caught courage from his stern eye and gallant bearing. indeed, i do not think the world ever saw a more perfect soldier than general craufurd. "as the day began to dawn, we passed through another village--a long, straggling place. the houses were all closed at this early hour, and the inhabitants mostly buried in sleep, and, i dare say, unconscious of the armed thousands who were pouring through their silent streets. when about a couple of miles from this village, craufurd again halted us for about a quarter of an hour. it appeared to me that, with returning daylight, he wished to have a good look at us this morning, for he mingled amongst the men as we stood leaning upon our rifles, gazing earnestly in our faces as he passed, in order to judge of our plight by our countenances. he himself appeared anxious, but full of fire and spirit, occasionally giving directions to the different officers, and then speaking words of encouragement to the men. it is my pride now to remember that general craufurd seldom omitted a word in passing to myself. on this occasion, he stopped in the midst and addressed a few words to me, and, glancing down at my feet, observed-- "'what! no shoes, harris, i see, eh?' "'none, sir,' i replied; 'they have been gone many days back.' he smiled, and passing on spoke to another man, and so on through the whole body. "craufurd was, i remember, terribly severe during this retreat, if he caught anything like pilfering amongst the men. as we stood, however, during this short halt, a very tempting turnip field was close on the side of us, and several of the men were so ravenous, that although he was in our very ranks, they stepped into the field and helped themselves to the turnips, devouring them like famishing wolves. he either did not or would not observe the delinquency this time, and soon afterwards gave the word and we moved on once more. "about this period i remember another sight, which i shall not to my dying day forget; and it causes me a sore heart even now as i remember it. soon after our halt beside the turnip field the screams of a child near me caught my ear, and drew my attention to one of our women, who was endeavouring to drag along a little boy of about seven or eight years of age. the poor child was apparently completely exhausted, and his legs falling under him. the mother had occasionally, up to this time, been assisted by some of the men, taking it in turn to help the little fellow on; but now all further appeal was in vain. no man had more strength than was necessary for the support of his own carcass, and the mother could no longer raise the child in her arms, as her reeling pace too plainly showed. still, however, she continued to drag the child along with her. it was a pitiable sight, and wonderful to behold the efforts the poor woman made to keep the boy amongst us. at last the little fellow had not even strength to cry, but, with mouth wide open, stumbled onwards, until both sank down to rise no more. the poor woman herself had, for some time, looked a moving corpse, and when the shades of evening came down, they were far behind amongst the dead or dying in the road." hunger and desperation sometimes tempted even the veterans of the rifles to leave the ranks in the hope of discovering, in some fold of the lonely asturian hills, a shepherd's hut, or a little farmhouse, where food might be got at and an hour's shelter enjoyed. harris describes one such adventure undertaken by himself:-- "towards evening we came to a part of the country of a yet wilder and more desolate appearance even than that we had already traversed; a dreary wilderness it appeared at this inclement season, and our men, spite of the vigilance of the general, seemed many of them resolved to stray into the open country rather than traverse the road before them. the coming night favoured their designs, and many were before morning lost to us through their own wilfulness. amongst others i found myself completely bewildered and lost upon the heath, and should doubtless have perished had i not fallen in with another of our corps in the same situation. as soon as we recognised each other i found my companion in adversity was a strapping resolute fellow named james brooks, a north of ireland man. he was afterwards killed at toulouse. he was delighted at having met with me, and we resolved not to desert each other during the night. brooks, as i have said, was a strong, active, and resolute fellow, as indeed i had on more occasions than one witnessed in portugal. at the present time his strength was useful to both of us. "'catch hold of my jacket, harris,' said he; 'the ground here is soft, and we must help each other to-night or we shall be lost in the bogs.' "before long that which brooks feared happened, and he found himself stuck so fast in the morass that although i used my best efforts to draw him out i only shared in the same disaster, so that, leaving him, i turned and endeavoured to save my own life if possible, calling to him to follow before he sank over head and ears. this was an unlucky chance in our wearied state, as the more we floundered in the dark, not knowing which way to gain a firmer foundation, the faster we fixed ourselves. poor brooks was so disheartened that he actually blubbered like a child. at length, during a pause in our exertions, i thought i heard something like the bark of a dog come down the wind. i bade brooks listen, and we both distinctly heard it--the sound gave us new hope just as we were about to abandon ourselves to our fate. i advised brooks to lay himself as flat as he could and drag himself out of the slough, as i had found some hard tufts of grass in the direction i tried; and so, by degrees, we gained a firmer footing, and eventually succeeded in extricating ourselves, though in such an exhausted state that for some time we lay helplessly upon the ground unable to proceed. "at length, with great caution, we ventured to move forwards in the direction of the sounds we had just heard. we found, however, that our situation was still very perilous, for in the darkness we hardly dared to move a step in any direction without probing the ground with our rifles, lest we should again sink and be eventually smothered in the morasses we had strayed amongst. on a sudden, however, as we carefully felt our way, we heard voices shouting in the distance, and calling out 'men lost! men lost!' which we immediately concluded were the cries of some of our own people who were situated like ourselves. "after a while i thought i saw, far away, something like a dancing light, which seemed to flicker about, vanish, and reappear, similar to a jack-o'-lantern. i pointed it out to brooks, and we agreed to alter our course and move towards it. as we did so the light seemed to approach us and grow larger. presently another and another appeared, like small twinkling stars, till they looked something like the lamps upon one of our london bridges as seen from afar. the sight revived our spirits, more especially as we could now distinctly hear the shouts of people who appeared in search of the stragglers, and as they approached us we perceived that such was indeed the case. the lights, we now discovered, were furnished by bundles of straw and dried twigs tied on the ends of long poles and dipped in tar. they were borne in the hands of several spanish peasants, from a village near at hand, whom craufurd had thus sent to our rescue. "to return to my own adventures on this night. when brooks and myself reached the village i have mentioned we found it filled with soldiers, standing and lying huddled together like cattle in a fair. a most extraordinary sight it appeared as the torches of the peasants flashed upon the wayworn and gaunt figures of our army. the rain was coming down, too, on this night, i remember; and soon after i reached our corps i fell helplessly to the ground in a miserable plight. brooks was himself greatly exhausted, but he behaved nobly, and remained beside me, trying to persuade some of our men to assist him in lifting me up, and gaining shelter in one of the houses at hand. 'may i be ----!' i heard him say, 'if i leave harris to be butchered in the streets by the cowardly spaniards the moment our division leaves the town.' "at length brooks succeeded in getting a man to help him, and together they supported me into the passage of a house, where i lay upon the floor for some time. after a while, by the help of some wine they procured, i rallied and sat up, till eventually i got once more upon my legs, and, arm in arm, we proceeded again into the streets and joined our corps. poor brooks certainly saved my life that night. he was one of the many good fellows whom i have seen out, and i often think of him with feelings of gratitude as i sit at my work in richmond street, soho." there were certainly not many men, even in craufurd's rearguard, stronger in body or hardier in temper than harris, yet at last even his iron strength and dauntless energy failed him. he began to lag behind, making occasional and desperate rallies to keep up with his battalion. he says:-- "i remember sir dudley hill passing me on a mule this day. he wore a spanish straw hat and had his cloak on. he looked back when he had passed, and addressed me: 'harris,' said he, 'i see you cannot keep up.' he appeared sorry for me, for he knew me well. 'you must do your best,' he said, 'my man, and keep with us, or you will fall into the hands of the enemy.' as the day wore on i grew weaker and weaker, and at last, in spite of all my efforts, i saw the main body leave me hopelessly in the lurch. brooks himself was getting weaker too; he saw it was of little use to urge me on, and at length, assenting to my repeated request to be left behind, he hurried on as well as he was able without a word of farewell. i now soon sank down in the road and lay beside another man who had also fallen and was apparently dead, and whom i recognised as one of our sergeants. "whilst we lay exhausted in the road the rearguard, which was now endeavouring to drive on the stragglers, approached, and a sergeant of the rifles came up and stopped to look at us. he addressed himself to me, and ordered me to rise; but i told him it was useless for him to trouble himself about me as i was unable to move a step farther. whilst he was urging me to endeavour to rise up, the officer in command of the rearguard also stepped up. the name of this officer was lieutenant cox; he was a brave and good man, and observing that the sergeant was rough in his language and manner towards me, he silenced him and bade the guard proceed and leave me. 'let him die quietly, hicks,' he said to the sergeant. 'i know him well; he's not the man to lie here if he could get on. i am sorry, harris,' he said, 'to see you reduced to this, for i fear there is no help to be had now.' he then moved on after his men, and left me to my fate. "after lying still for a while, i felt somewhat restored and sat up to look about me. the sight was by no means cheering. on the road behind me i saw men, women, mules, and horses lying at intervals, both dead and dying; whilst far away in front i could just discern the enfeebled army crawling out of sight, the women[ ] huddled together in its rear, trying their best to get forward amongst those of the sick soldiery, who were now unable to keep up with the main body. after a while i found that my companion, the sergeant, who lay beside me, had also recovered a little, and i tried to cheer him up. i told him that opposite to where we were lying there was a lane, down which we might possibly find some place of shelter if we could muster strength to explore it. the sergeant consented to make the effort, but after two or three attempts to rise, gave it up. i myself was more fortunate; with the aid of my rifle i got upon my legs, and seeing death in my companion's face, i resolved to try and save myself, since it was quite evident to me that i could render him no assistance. "after hobbling some distance down the lane, to my great joy i espied a small hut or cabin with a little garden in its front; i therefore opened the small door of the hovel, and was about to enter when i considered that most likely i should be immediately knocked on the head by the inmates if i did so. the rain, i remember, was coming down in torrents at this time, and, reflecting that to remain outside was but to die, i resolved at all events to try my luck within. i had not much strength left, but i resolved to sell myself as dearly as i could. i therefore brought up my rifle and stepped across the threshold. as soon as i had done so i observed an old woman seated beside a small fire upon the hearth. she turned her head as i entered, and immediately upon seeing a strange soldier, she arose and filled the hovel with her screams. as i drew back within the doorway an elderly man, followed by two, who were apparently his sons, rushed from a room in the interior. they immediately approached me; but i brought up my rifle again and cocked it, bidding them keep their distance. "after i had thus brought them to a parley i got together what little spanish i was master of, and begged for shelter for the night and a morsel of food, at the same time lifting my feet and displaying them a mass of bleeding sores. it was not, however, till they had held a tolerably long conversation among themselves that they consented to afford me shelter, and then only upon the condition that i left by daylight on the following morning. i accepted the conditions with joy. had they refused me i should indeed not have been here to tell the tale. knowing the treachery of the spanish character, i however refused to relinquish possession of my rifle, and my right hand was ready in an instant to unsheath my bayonet, as they sat and stared at me whilst i devoured the food they offered. "all they gave me was some coarse black bread, and a pitcher of sour wine. it was, however, acceptable to a half-famished man; and i felt greatly revived by it. whilst i supped, the old hag, who sat close beside the hearth, stirred up the embers, that they might have a better view of their guest, and the party meanwhile overwhelmed me with questions, which i could neither comprehend nor had strength to answer. i soon made signs to them that i was unable to maintain the conversation, and begged of them, as well as i could, to show me some place where i might lay my wearied limbs till dawn. "notwithstanding the weariness which pervaded my whole body, i was unable for some time to sleep except by fitful snatches, such was the fear i entertained of having my throat cut by the savage-looking wretches still seated before the fire. besides which, the place they had permitted me to crawl into was more like an oven than anything else, and being merely a sort of berth scooped out of the wall, was so filled with fleas and other vermin, that i was stung and tormented most miserably all night long. "bad as they had been, however, i felt somewhat restored by my lodging and supper, and with the dawn i crawled out of my lair, left the hut; retraced my steps along the lane, and once more emerged upon the high-road, where i found my companion, the sergeant, dead, and lying where i had left him the night before. "i now made the best of my way along the road in the direction in which i had last seen our army retreating the night before. a solitary individual, i seemed left behind amongst those who had perished. it was still raining, i remember, on this morning, and the very dead looked comfortless in their last sleep as i passed them occasionally lying on the line of march. it had pleased heaven to give me an iron constitution, or i must have failed, i think, on this day, for the solitary journey and the miserable spectacles i beheld rather damped my spirits. "after progressing some miles, i came up with a cluster of poor devils who were still alive, but apparently, both men and women, unable to proceed. they were sitting huddled together in the road, their heads drooping forward, and apparently patiently awaiting their end. "soon after passing these unfortunates, i overtook a party who were being urged forward under charge of an officer of the nd highlanders. he was pushing them along pretty much as a drover would keep together a tired flock of sheep. they presented a curious example of a retreating force. many of them had thrown away their weapons, and were linked together arm-in-arm, in order to support each other, like a party of drunkards. they were, i saw, composed of various regiments; many were bareheaded and without shoes, and some with their heads tied up in old rags and fragments of handkerchiefs. i marched in company with this party for some time, but as i felt after my night's lodging and refreshment in better condition, i ventured to push forward, in the hope of rejoining the main body, and which i once more came up with in the street of a village. "on falling in with the rifles, i again found brooks, who was surprised at seeing me still alive, and we both entered a house, and begged for something to drink. i remember that i had a shirt upon my back at this time, which i had purchased of a drummer of the th regiment before the commencement of the retreat. it was the only good one i had. i stripped, with the assistance of brooks, and took it off, and exchanged it with a spanish woman for a loaf of bread, which brooks, myself, and two other men, shared amongst us. "i remember to have again remarked craufurd at this period of the retreat. he was in no whit altered in his desire to keep the force together, i thought; but, still active and vigilant as ever, he seemed to keep his eye upon those who were now most likely to hold out. i myself marched during many hours close beside him this day. he looked stern and pale, but the very picture of a warrior. i shall never forget craufurd if i live to a hundred years, i think. he was in everything a soldier. "slowly and dejectedly crawled our army along. their spirit of endurance was now considerably worn out, and, judging from my own sensations, i felt confident that, if the sea was much farther from us, we must be content to come to a halt at last without gaining it. i felt something like the approach of death as i proceeded--a sort of horror, mixed up with my sense of illness; a reeling i have never experienced before or since. still i held on; but with all my efforts, the main body again left me behind. had the enemy's cavalry come up at this time i think they would have had little else to do but ride us down without striking a blow." at last the great retreat, with its horrors and sufferings, drew to a close. the sea was reached, and not even xenophon's ten thousand, as they caught from some hill summit the purple gleam of the far-off sea, knew a keener delight than did craufurd's bare-footed, famine-wasted veterans. says harris:-- "it is astonishing how man clings to life. i am certain that had i lain down at this period, i should have found my last billet on the spot i sank upon. suddenly i heard a shout in front, which was prolonged in a sort of hubbub. even the stragglers whom i saw dotting the road in front of me seemed to have caught at something like hope; and as the poor fellows now reached the top of a hill we were ascending, i heard an occasional exclamation of joy--the first note of the sort i had heard for many days. when i reached the top of the hill the thing spoke for itself. there, far away in our front, the english shipping lay in sight. "its view had indeed acted like a restorative to our force, and the men, at the prospect of a termination to the march, had plucked up spirit for a last effort. fellows who, like myself, seemed to have hardly strength in their legs to creep up the ascent, seemed now to have picked up a fresh pair to get down with. such is hope to us poor mortals! "as we proceeded down the hill we now met with the first symptoms of the good feeling from the inhabitants it was our fortune to experience during our retreat. a number of old women stood on either side of the road, and occasionally handed us fragments of bread as we passed them. it was on this day, and whilst i looked anxiously upon the english shipping in the distance, that i first began to find my eyesight failing, and it appeared to me that i was fast growing blind. the thought was alarming, and i made desperate efforts to get on. bell, however, won the race this time. he was a very athletic and strong-built fellow, and left me far behind, so that i believe at that time i was the very last of the retreating force that reached the beach, though, doubtless, many stragglers came dropping up after the ships had sailed, and were left behind. "as it was, when i did manage to gain the seashore, it was only by the aid of my rifle that i could stand, and my eyes were now so dim and heavy that with difficulty i made out a boat, which seemed the last that had put off. "fearful of being left half blind in the lurch, i took off my cap, and placed it on the muzzle of my rifle as a signal, for i was totally unable to call out. luckily, lieutenant cox, who was aboard the boat, saw me and ordered the men to return, and making one more effort i walked into the water, and a sailor, stretching his body over the gunwale, seized me as if i had been an infant and hauled me on board. his words were characteristic of the english sailor, i thought. "'hullo, there, you lazy lubber!' he said, as he grasped hold of me, 'who the ---- do you think is to stay hum-bugging all day for such a fellow as you?'" here is harris's description of how, after a stormy passage, the transports reached the english coast, and the wrecks of moore's gallant battalions were allowed to land:-- "after remaining off spithead for about five or six days, one fine morning we received orders to disembark, and our poor bare feet once more touched english ground. the inhabitants flocked down to the beach to see us as we did so, and they must have been a good deal surprised at the spectacle we presented. our beards were long and ragged; almost all were without shoes and stockings; many had their clothes and accoutrements in fragments, with their heads swathed in old rags, and our weapons were covered with rust; whilst not a few had now from toil and fatigue become quite blind. "let not the reader, however, think that even now we were to be despised as soldiers. long marches, inclement weather, and want of food had done their work upon us; but we were perhaps better than we appeared, as the sequel showed. under the gallant craufurd we had made some tremendous marches, and even galled our enemies severely, making good our retreat by the way of vigo. but our comrades in adversity, and who had retired by the other road to corunna, under general moore, turned to bay there, and showed the enemy that the english soldier is not to be beaten even under the most adverse circumstances. "the field of death and slaughter, the march, the bivouac, and the retreat, are no bad places in which to judge of men. i have had some opportunities of judging them in all these situations, and i should say that the british are amongst the most splendid soldiers in the world. give them fair-play, and they are unconquerable. for my own part, i can only say that i enjoyed life more whilst on active service than i have ever done since; and as i sit at my work in my shop in richmond street, soho, i look back upon that portion of my time spent in the fields of the peninsula as the only part worthy of remembrance. it is at such times that scenes long past come back upon my mind as if they had taken place but yesterday. i remember even the very appearance of some of the regiments engaged; and comrades, long mouldered to dust, i see again performing the acts of heroes." harris gives a bit of dreadful arithmetic, which shows the losses sustained in the retreat:-- "after the disastrous retreat to corunna, the rifles were reduced to a sickly skeleton, if i may so term it. out of perhaps nine hundred of as active and fine fellows as ever held a weapon in the field of an enemy's country, we paraded some three hundred weak and crestfallen invalids. "i myself stood the third man in my own company, which was reduced from near a hundred men to but three. indeed, i think we had scarce a company on parade stronger than ten or twelve men at the first parade. after a few parades, however, our companies gradually were augmented by those of the sick who recovered, but many of those who did not sink in hospital were never more of much service as soldiers." footnotes: [footnote : some of these poor wretches cut a ludicrous figure, having the men's greatcoats buttoned over their heads, whilst their clothing, being extremely ragged and scanty, their naked legs were very conspicuous. they looked a tribe of travelling beggars.] chapter vi some famous soldiers harris's "recollections" abound in what may be called thumb-nail sketches of his comrades and his officers. he had a quick eye for character as well as for incident; and his descriptions are always interesting and often very amusing. harris was naturally more interested, perhaps, in his comrades than in his officers and his generals. he was closer to them and understood them better. yet he gives some sharply-drawn pictures of famous british battle-leaders as they were seen by the eyes of the men whom they led. here, for example, is a picture of general--afterwards lord--hill, just before the battle of roliça. "farmer" hill was his sobriquet amongst the men, and he owed that title as much to his homely and kindly spirit as to his red, broad, and farmer-like face. says harris:-- "we were pelting along through the streets of a village, the name of which i do not think i ever knew, so i cannot name it. i was in the front and had just cleared the village when i recollect observing general hill (afterwards lord hill) and another officer ride up to a house, and give their horses to some of the soldiery to hold. our bugles at that moment sounded the halt, and i stood leaning upon my rifle near the door of the mansion which general hill had entered; there was a little garden before the house, and i stood by the gate. whilst i remained there the officer who had entered with general hill came to the door and called to me. 'rifleman,' said he, 'come here.' i entered the gate and approached him. 'go,' he continued, handing me a dollar, 'and try if you can get some wine! for we are devilish thirsty here.' taking the dollar i made my way back to the village. at a wine-house, where the men were crowding around the door, and clamouring for drink (for the day was intensely hot), i succeeded, after some little difficulty, in getting a small pipkin full of wine, but the crowd was so great that i found as much trouble in paying for it as in getting it; so i returned back as fast as i was able, fearing that the general would be impatient, and move off before i reached him. "i remember lord hill was loosening his sword-belt as i handed him the wine. 'drink first, rifleman,' said he, and i took a good pull at the pipkin and held it to him again. he looked at it as i did so, and told me i might drink it all up, for it appeared greasy; so i swallowed the remainder, and handed him back the dollar which i had received from the officer. 'keep the money,' he said, 'my man. go back to the village once more and try if you cannot get me another draught.' saying this, he handed me a second dollar, and told me to be quick. i made my way back to the village, got another pipkin full, and returned as fast as i could. the general was pleased with my promptness, and drank with great satisfaction, handing the remainder to the officer who attended him; and i dare say, if he ever recollected the circumstance afterwards, that was as sweet a draught, after the toil of the morning march, as he has drunk at many a nobleman's board in old england since." of beresford, again--who, if he was not a great general, was at least a terrible fighter--harris gives an amusing sketch:-- "i remember a great many of the leaders and heroes of the wars of my own time. alas! they have been cleared off of late pretty handsomely! a few years more and the world will be without another living remembrancer of either them or their deeds. the ranks are getting thin, too, amongst those who, like myself, were the tools with which the great men of former days won their renown. i don't know a single living man now who was a comrade during the time i served. very nearly fifteen years back, i remember, however, meeting with robert liston, and that meeting brings marshal beresford to my mind. "robert liston was a corporal in the second battalion of the rifles, when we lay for a few days in the passages of a convent in portugal. we were then making for the frontiers of spain, when we were swept into that disastrous retreat to corunna. there was a punishment parade in the square of this convent. a soldier of the nd or th was the culprit, and the kilts were formed to witness the performance. some of the rifles were looking from the windows of the convent at the punishment of the highlander, when a brickbat was hurled from one of the casements and fell at the very toe of the lieutenant-colonel, who was standing in the midst, and in command of the regiment. the lieutenant-colonel (whose name i never knew) was, of course, indignant at such an act; he gazed up at the window from which the brick had been thrown, and caused an inquiry instantly to be made. it was between the lights when this happened, and it was impossible to discover who had done it; however, two or three men of the rifles were confined on suspicion. a man named baker flatly accused corporal liston of the act; upon which liston was marched a prisoner to salamanca (a distance, i should think, of some hundred miles); and often did he complain of his hard fate in being a prisoner so long. when we got to salamanca we halted there for eight days; and liston, being tried by general court-martial, was sentenced to receive eight hundred lashes. the whole brigade turned out on the occasion, and i remember that the drummers of the th regiment were the inflicters of the lash. liston received the whole sentence without a murmur. he had, indeed, been a good soldier, and we were all truly sorry for him; in fact, he always declared solemnly that he had no more to do with the brickbat than marshal beresford who commanded the brigade. whoever committed the act, in my opinion, well deserved what liston got. "marshal beresford was in command of the brigade at this time; and i well remember what a fine-looking soldier he was. he was equal to his business, too, i should say; and he, amongst others of our generals, often made me think that the french army had nothing to show in the shape of officers who could at all compare with ours. there was a noble bearing in our leaders, which they on the french side (as far as i was capable of observing) had not; and i am convinced that the english soldier is even better pleased to be commanded by some men of rank in his own country than by one who has risen from his own station. "they are a strange set, the english! and so determined and unconquerable, that they will have their way if they can. indeed, it requires one who has authority in his face, as well as at his back, to make them respect and obey him. "i never saw liston after that punishment whilst in spain; and i suppose he remained behind, and got on in the best manner he was able in the rear; but, about ten years afterwards, as i was passing down sloane street, chelsea, i observed a watchman calling the hour. it struck me that i knew his face, and, turning back, i stopped him, asking if he was not robert liston, formerly a corporal in the th rifles? after answering in the affirmative, the first words he spoke were, 'oh, harris! do you remember what happened to me at salamanca?' "'i do well,' i said. "'i was never guilty,' he continued. 'there is no occasion for me to deny it now; but i tell you that i was never guilty of the crime for which i suffered. baker was a villain, and i believe that he was himself the culprit.' "i recollect marshal beresford making a speech on the subject of the buttons of our greatcoats; and, however such a subject may appear trifling for a general officer to speak on, i can tell you it was a discourse which our men (some of them) much needed; for they had been in the habit of tearing off the buttons from their coats, and after hammering them flat, passing them as english coin, in exchange for the good wines of spain. so that, at last, the spaniards, finding they got nothing by the exchange but trumpery bits of battered lead, and the children in that country not being in the habit of playing at dumps as ours are, they made complaints to the marshal. halting the brigade, therefore, one day, he gave them a speech upon this fraud, and ended by promising a handsome flogging to the first man he found thereafter whose greatcoat would not keep buttoned in windy weather." of another yet more famous soldier, napier, we get an interesting glimpse in harris's pages:-- "i remember meeting with general napier before the battle of vimiero. he was then, i think, a major; and the meeting made so great an impression on me that i have never forgotten him. i was posted in a wood the night before the battle, in front of our army, where two roads crossed each other. the night was gloomy, and i was the very out-sentry of the british army. as i stood on my post, peering into the thick wood around me, i was aware of footsteps approaching, and challenged in a low voice. receiving no answer, i brought my rifle to the port, and bade the strangers come forward. they were major napier (then of the th foot, i think), and an officer of the rifles. the major advanced close up to me, and looked hard in my face. "'be alert here, sentry,' said he, 'for i expect the enemy upon us to-night, and i know not how soon.' "i was a young soldier then, and the lonely situation i was in, together with the impressive manner in which major napier delivered his caution, made a great impression on me, and from that hour i have never forgotten him. indeed, i kept careful watch all night, listening to the slightest breeze amongst the foliage, in expectation of the sudden approach of the french." of wellington himself--then sir arthur wellesley--we have a brief sketch at vimiero:-- "i remember seeing the duke of wellington during the battle of vimiero; and in these days, when so much anxiety is displayed to catch even a glance of that great man's figure as he gallops along the streets of london, it seems gratifying to me to recollect seeing him in his proper element, 'the raging and bloody field,' and i have frequently taxed my mind to remember each action and look i caught of him at that time. "i remember seeing the great duke take his hat off in the field of vimiero, and methinks it is something to have seen that wonderful man even do so commonplace a thing as lift his hat to another officer in the battle-field. we were generally enveloped in smoke and fire, and sometimes unable to distinguish or make remarks upon what was going on around, whilst we blazed away at our opponents; but occasionally we found time to make our comments upon the game we were playing. two or three fellows near me were observing what was going on just in the rear, and i heard one man remark, 'here comes sir arthur and his staff'; upon which i also looked back, and caught sight of him just meeting two other officers of high rank. they all uncovered as they met, and i saw the duke, as i said (then sir arthur wellesley), take off his hat and bow to the other two. the names of the new-comers, however they were learnt, whether from some of the men who had before seen them, or picked up on the instant from an officer, seemed to be well known, as well as the business they were engaged in talking of; for it ran along the line from one to the other that sir hew dalrymple and sir harry burrard were about to take the command, instead of sir arthur wellesley, a circumstance which, of course, could only be a random guess amongst these fellows at the moment." the real hero of harris's pages, however, is craufurd, the stern and even rashly heroic leader of the light division, who ended his career on the great breach at badajos. harris came into close contact with craufurd, studied him with a curious vividness of insight, and felt for him an admiring loyalty almost too great for words. his account of craufurd gives us what is very rare in literature--a description of a great commander by one of the privates who trudged in the battalions he commanded. harris, in the retreat to vigo, saw craufurd under conditions which might well tax to the uttermost the resources and temper of a general. "i do not think i ever admired any man who wore the british uniform more than i did general craufurd. i could fill a book with descriptions of him, for i frequently had my eye upon him in the hurry of action. it was gratifying to me, too, to think he did not altogether think ill of me, since he has often addressed me kindly when, from adverse circumstances, you might have thought that he had scarcely spirits to cheer up the men under him. the rifles liked him, but they also feared him, for he could be terrible when insubordination showed itself in the ranks. 'you think, because you are riflemen, you may do whatever you think proper,' said he one day to the miserable and savage-looking crew around him in the retreat to corunna; 'but i'll teach you the difference before i have done with you.' i remember one evening during the retreat he detected two men straying away from the main body; it was in the early stage of that disastrous flight, and craufurd knew well that he must do his utmost to keep the division together. he halted the brigade with a voice of thunder, ordered a drum-head court-martial on the instant, and they were sentenced to a hundred apiece. whilst this hasty trial was taking place, craufurd dismounting from his horse stood in the midst, looking stern and angry as a worried bulldog. he did not like retreating at all, that man. "the three men nearest him as he stood, were jagger, dan howans, and myself. all were worn, dejected, and savage, though nothing to what we were after a few days more of the retreat. the whole brigade were in a grumbling and discontented mood, and craufurd, doubtless, felt ill-pleased with the aspect of affairs altogether. "'d--n his eyes!' muttered howans, 'he had much better try to get us something to eat and drink than harass us in this way.' "no sooner had howans disburdened his conscience of this growl than craufurd, who had overheard it, turning sharply round, seized the rifle out of jagger's hand, and felled him to the earth with the butt-end. "'it was not i who spoke,' said jagger, getting up and shaking his head. 'you shouldn't knock me about.' "'i heard you, sir,' said craufurd, 'and i will bring you also to a court-martial.' "'i am the man who spoke,' said howans. 'ben jagger never said a word.' "'very well,' returned craufurd, 'then i'll try you, sir.' "and, accordingly, when the other affair was disposed of, howans's case came on. by the time the three men were tried it was too dark to inflict the punishment. howans, however, had got the complement of three hundred promised to him; so crauford gave the word to the brigade to move on. he marched all that night on foot, and when the morning dawned i remember that, like the rest of us, his hair, beard, and eyebrows were covered with the frost, as if he had grown white with age. we were, indeed, all of us in the same condition. scarcely had i time to notice the appearance of morning before the general once more called a halt--we were then on the hills. ordering a square to be formed, he spoke to the brigade, as well as i can remember, in these words, after having ordered the three before-named men of the th to be brought into the square:-- "'although,' said he, 'i should obtain the goodwill neither of the officers nor the men of the brigade here by so doing, i am resolved to punish these three men according to the sentence awarded, even though the french are at our heels. begin with daniel howans.' "this was indeed no time to be lax in discipline, and the general knew it. the men, as i said, were some of them becoming careless and ruffianly in their demeanour, whilst others again i saw with the tears falling down their cheeks from the agony of their bleeding feet, and many were ill with dysentery from the effects of the bad food they had got hold of and devoured on the road. our knapsacks, too, were a bitter enemy on this prolonged march. many a man died, i am convinced, who would have borne up well to the end of the retreat, but for the infernal load we carried on our backs. my own knapsack was my bitterest enemy; i felt it press me to the earth almost at times, and more than once felt as if i should die under its deadly embrace. the knapsacks, in my opinion, should have been abandoned at the very commencement of the retrograde movement, as it would have been better to have lost them altogether, if, by such loss, we could have saved the poor fellows who, as it was, died strapped to them on the road. "there was some difficulty in finding a place to tie howans up, as the light brigade carried no halberts. however, they led him to a slender ash tree which grew near at hand. "'don't trouble yourself about tying me up,' said howans, folding his arms, 'i'll take my punishment like a man!' "he did so without a murmur, receiving the whole three hundred. his wife, who was present with us, i remember, was a strong, hardy irishwoman. when it was over, she stepped up and covered howans with his grey greatcoat. the general then gave the word to move on. i rather think he knew the enemy was too near to punish the other two delinquents just then; so we proceeded out of the corn-field in which we had been halted, and toiled away upon the hills once more, howans's wife carrying the jacket, knapsack, and pouch, which the lacerated state of the man's back would not permit him to bear. "it could not have been, i should think, more than an hour after the punishment had been inflicted upon howans, when the general again gave the word for the brigade to halt, and once more formed them into a square. we had begun to suppose that he intended to allow the other two delinquents to escape, under the present difficulties and hardships of the retreat. he was not, however, one of the forgetful sort, when the discipline of the army under him made severity necessary. "'bring out the other two men of the th,' said he, 'who were tried last night.' "the men were brought forth accordingly, and their lieutenant-colonel, hamilton wade, at the same time stepped forth. he walked up to the general, and lowering his sword, requested that he would forgive these men, as they were both of them good soldiers, and had fought in all the battles of portugal. "'i order you, sir,' said the general, 'to do your duty. these men shall be punished.' "the lieutenant-colonel, therefore, recovering his sword, turned about, and fell back to the front of the rifles. one of the men, upon this (i think it was armstrong), immediately began to unstrap his knapsack, and prepare for the lash. craufurd had turned about meanwhile, and walked up to one side of the square. apparently he suddenly relented a little, and, again turning sharply around, returned towards the two prisoners. 'stop,' said he. 'in consequence of the intercession of your lieutenant-colonel, i will allow you thus much: you shall draw lots and the winner shall escape; but one of the two i am determined to make an example of.' "the square was formed in a stubble-field, and the sergeant-major of the rifles, immediately stooping down, plucked up two straws, and the men coming forward, drew. i cannot be quite certain, but i think it was armstrong who drew the longest straw, and won the safety of his hide; and his fellow-gamester was in quick time tied to a tree, and the punishment commenced. a hundred was the sentence; but when the bugler had counted seventy-five, the general granted him a further indulgence, and ordered him to be taken down and to join his company. the general calling for his horse, now mounted for the first time for many hours; for he had not ridden all night, not indeed since the drum-head court-martial had taken place. before he put the brigade in motion again, he gave us another short specimen of his eloquence, pretty much, i remember, after this style:-- "'i give you all notice,' said he, 'that i will halt the brigade again the very first moment i perceive any man disobeying my orders, and try him by court-martial on the spot.' he then gave us the word, and we resumed our march. "many who read this, especially in these peaceful times, may suppose this was a cruel and unnecessary severity under the dreadful and harassing circumstances of that retreat; but i, who was there, and was, besides, a common soldier of the very regiment to which these men belonged, say it was quite necessary. no man but one formed of stuff like general craufurd could have saved the brigade from perishing altogether; and if he flogged two, he saved hundreds from death by his management. "it was perhaps a couple of days after this had taken place that we came to a river. it was tolerably wide, but not very deep, which was just as well for us; for, had it been deep as the dark regions, we must have somehow or other got through. the avenger was behind us, and craufurd was along with us, and the two together kept us moving, whatever was in the road. accordingly, into the stream went the light brigade, and craufurd, as busy as a shepherd with his flock, riding in and out of the water, to keep his wearied band from being drowned as they crossed over. presently he spied an officer who, to save himself from being wet through, i suppose, and wearing a damp pair of breeches for the remainder of the day, had mounted on the back of one of his men. the sight of such a piece of effeminacy was enough to raise the choler of the general, and in a very short time he was plunging and splashing through the water after them both. "'put him down, sir! put him down! i desire you to put that officer down instantly!' and the soldier, in an instant, i dare say nothing loath, dropping his burden like a hot potato into the stream, continued his progress through. 'return back, sir,' said crauford to the officer, 'and go through the water like the others. i will not allow my officers to ride upon the men's backs through the rivers; all must take their share alike here.' "wearied as we were, this affair caused all who saw it to shout almost with laughter, and was never forgotten by those who survived the retreat. "general craufurd was indeed one of the few men who was apparently created for command during such dreadful scenes as we were familiar with in this retreat. he seemed an iron man; nothing daunted him--nothing turned him from his purpose. war was his very element, and toil and danger seemed to call forth only an increasing determination to surmount them. i was sometimes amused with his appearance, and that of the men around us; for, the rifles being always at his heels, he seemed to think them his familiars. if he stopped his horse, and halted to deliver one of his stern reprimands, you would see half-a-dozen lean, unshaven, shoeless, and savage riflemen, standing for the moment leaning upon their weapons, and scowling up in his face as he scolded; and when he dashed the spurs into his reeking horse, they would throw up their rifles upon their shoulders and hobble after him again. he was sometimes to be seen in the front, then in the rear, and then you would fall in with him again in the midst, dismounted, and marching on foot, that the men might see he took an equal share in the toils which they were enduring. he had a mortal dislike, i remember, to a commissary. many a time have i heard him storming at the neglect of those gentry; when the men were starving for rations, and nothing but excuses forthcoming. "twice i remember he was in command of the light brigade. the second time he joined them he made, i heard, something like these remarks, after they had been some little time in spain:-- "'when i commanded you before,' he said, 'i know full well that you disliked me, for you thought me severe. this time i am glad to find there is a change in yourselves.'" chapter vii the "tommy atkins" of a century ago. harris's descriptions of his comrades are always kindly, but they are keen. there is a touch of barrack freedom about them, and they have a dutch realism which sometimes makes them unquotable. they give an excellent idea of the british soldier of a bygone generation, the men who constituted the rank and file of the most famous army that ever marched beneath the british flag--the men of the peninsula. perhaps nowhere else in literature can be found descriptions so homely and real of the soldier as seen--on the march, in the firing line, and by the camp-fire--by his own comrade. harris's attention is naturally most arrested by the human oddities amongst his comrades, or by such of them as had in their appearance, or in their fate, a gleam of the picturesque. here are some of the portraits in his picture gallery:-- "a youth joined the rifles soon after i myself put on the green jacket, whose name was medley. he was but a small chap, being under the standard one inch[ ]; but our officers thought he promised fair to become a tall fellow, and he was, accordingly, not rejected. medley did not deceive them, for, on the day he first joined the rifles, he was five feet one inch in height, and on the day he was killed, at barossa, he was exactly six feet one. he was celebrated for being the greatest grumbler, the greatest eater, and the most quarrelsome fellow in the whole corps. i remember he cut a most desperate figure in the retreat to corunna; for there he had enough to bear both of fatigue and hunger; and a very little of either of these disagreeables would make him extremely bad company at any time. it was dangerous, too, to bid him hold his tongue sometimes; for he had picked up so amongst us since he was only five feet one, and grown so bony as well as tall, that he would challenge and thrash any man in the corps. corunna, however, though it could not stop his growling, took the desire of boxing quite out of him, and he sprawled, scrambled, and swore, till he somehow got through that business. if general craufurd could have heard but the twentieth part of what i heard him utter about him on that retreat, i think he would have cut medley in half. he was, as i said, a capital feeder, and his own allowance was not half enough to satisfy his cravings, so that he often got some of his comrades to help him out with a portion of theirs. he was killed at barossa, as i said, and he carried his ill-humour with him to the very last hour of his life; for, being knocked over by a musket-ball in the thigh, he was spoken to as he lay by some of his comrades, who, asking if they should assist him, and carry him to the rear, he told them to 'go and be d--d!' and bidding them mind their own business, abused them till they passed on and left him. i was told this last anecdote of him by the very men who had spoken to him and got his blessing as he lay. * * * * * "we had another tall fellow in the four companies of rifles who were in that retreat. his name was thomas higgins; he was six feet one and a half, and quite as lank and bony as medley. he also was an ill-tempered fellow, but nothing to compare with him either in eating or grumbling. the tall men, i have often observed, bore fatigue much worse than the short ones; and higgins amongst others of the big 'uns was dreadfully put to it to keep on. we lost him entirely when about half through this business, i remember; for, during a short halt of about ten minutes, he was reprimanded by one of our officers for the slovenly state of his clothing and accoutrements; his dress almost dropping from his lower limbs, and his knapsack hanging by a strap or two down about his waist. higgins did not take it at all kind being quarrelled with at such a time, and, uttering sundry impertinences, desired to know if they were ever to be allowed to halt any more, adding that he did not see very well how he was to be very smart after what he had already gone through. the officer spoke to one of the sergeants upon this, and bid him remember, if they got to their journey's end, to give higgins an extra guard for his behaviour. 'oh! then, d--n me,' says higgins, 'if ever i take it!' and turning about, as we all moved on at the word to march, he marched off in the contrary direction, and we never either saw or heard of him from that hour; and it was supposed afterwards, amongst us, that he had either perished alone in the night, or joined the french, who were at our heels. these were the two tallest men in the four companies of rifles; and both were in the company i belonged to. higgins was the right-hand, and medley the left-hand man. * * * * * "thomas mayberry was a man well known at that time in the rifles. he was a sergeant in my day, and was much thought of by our officers as a very active and useful non-commissioned officer, being considered, up to the time of his committing the slight mistake i shall have to tell of, one of the most honest men in the army. with the men he was not altogether so well liked, as he was considered rather too blusterous and tyrannical. whilst in the town of hythe, he got the fingering of about two hundred pounds for the purpose of paying for necessaries purchased for the men of his company, and which two hundred pounds he had, in a very short space of time, managed to make away with, and lose in the society of a party of gamblers, who at that time infested the town of hythe. he was brought to court-martial, together with two other men, whom he had seduced to become partners in his gambling transactions; and, on the inquiry, it was further discovered that he had been in the habit of cheating the men of his company out of a farthing a week each for the last ten months. that was, perhaps, the worst thing against him. he was sentenced to receive seven hundred lashes. "when mayberry was tied up, he was offered, as was then customary, the option of banishment; but he refused it, notwithstanding considerable entreaty was made to him by his two comrades to accept it, as, by so doing, they thought they all would escape the lash. however, mayberry decided to take the seven hundred, and bore the sentence without a murmur. not so the two others; morrisson screamed and struggled so much, that he capsized the triangle, and all came sprawling together, so that he was obliged to be held by a man at each side. devine came last. he was rather an effeminate-looking man, and the colonel rode round and told him he lamented being obliged to break so fair a skin, but he must do his duty. however, as he had borne a good character, and was not so much to blame as the other two, he let him down after five-and-twenty. "mayberry after this was much scouted by his fellow-soldiers, and also ill-thought-of by the officers; and, on a detachment being sent to portugal, he volunteered for the expedition. captain hart, however, would fain have declined taking him, as he had so bad an opinion of him after this affair; but mayberry showed himself so desirous of going, that at last he consented, and took him. at the siege of badajos, mayberry wiped off, in a measure, all his former ill-conduct. he was seen by captain hart to behave so bravely in the breach, that he commended him on the spot. "'well done, mayberry!' said he; 'you have this day done enough to obliterate your disgrace; and, if we live, i will endeavour to restore you to your former rank. go now to the rear; you have done enough for one day.' mayberry, however, refused to retire, although covered with wounds; for he was known to have killed seven with his own hand, with his rifle sword-bayonet. "'no going to the rear for me,' he said. 'i'll restore myself to my comrades' opinion, or make a finish of myself altogether.' "he accordingly continued in the front of all, till at last he was seen to be cut down, in the clear light of the fire-balls, by a tremendous sword-cut, which cleft his skull almost in twain. morrisson, i heard, also died at that siege. devine returned safe home, and died of fatigue at fermoy. * * * * * "the intelligence of these men was indeed very great, and i could relate instances of their recklessness and management which would amuse the reader much. i remember a fellow, named jackman, getting close up to the walls at flushing, and working a hole in the earth with his sword, into which he laid himself, and remained there alone, in spite of all the efforts of the enemy and their various missiles to dislodge him. he was known, thus earthed, to have killed, with the utmost coolness and deliberation, eleven of the french artillerymen as they worked at their guns. as fast as they relieved each fallen comrade did jackman pick them off; after which he took to his heels, and got safe back to his comrades. * * * * * "there were three brothers in the rifles named hart--john, mike, and peter--and three more perfectly reckless fellows, perhaps, never existed. nothing ever escaped their notice; and they would create the greatest fun and laughter, even when advancing under the hottest fire of the enemy, and their comrades being shot down beside them. i remember lieutenant molly, who was himself 'as fine a soldier as ever stepped, and as full of life in the midst of death' as these harts, being obliged to check them at vimiero. 'd--n you!' he said to them, 'keep back, and get under cover. do you think you are fighting here with your fists that you are running into the teeth of the french?' "i never saw those three men, to appearance, in the least degree worse for hard work during the time we remained in portugal. they could run like deer, and were, indeed, formed by nature and disposition for the hardships, difficulties, and privations of the sort of life we then led. they were, however, all three pretty well done up during the retreat to corunna; though, even in that dreadful business, their lightheartedness and attempts at fun served to keep up the spirits of many a man who would else have been broken-hearted before the english shipping appeared in sight. they even carried their pleasantry on that occasion so far as to make a jest of their own appearance, and the miserable plight of the whole turn-out, as we disembarked upon the beach at portsmouth. one of them even went so far as to observe, 'that we looked more like the rakings of h-- than the fragments of an army!' "nothing, indeed, but that grave of battalions, that unwholesome fen, flushing, could have broken the spirits of three such soldiers as john, mike, and peter hart. a few weeks, however, of that country sufficed to quiet them for evermore. one, i remember, died; and the other two, although they lived to return, were never worth a rush afterwards, but, like myself, remained living examples of what climate can bring even a constitution and body framed as if of iron to. "nothing i suppose could exceed the dreadful appearance we cut on the occasion of the disembarkation from corunna; and the inhabitants of portsmouth, who had assembled in some numbers to see us land, were horror-stricken with the sight of their countrymen and relatives returning to england in such a ghastly state; whilst the three harts, with feet swathed in bloody rags, clothing that hardly covered their nakedness, accoutrements in shreds, beards covering their faces, eyes dimmed with toil (for some were even blind), arms nearly useless to those who had them left, the rifles being encrusted with rust, and the swords glued to the scabbard--these three brothers, i say (for i heard them myself), as they hobbled up the beach, were making all sorts of remarks, and cracking their jokes upon the misery of our situation and the appearance they themselves cut. * * * * * "whilst we lay near cork we were joined by one richard pullen, amongst others; he had exchanged from the english militia into the irish, and volunteered to us rifles from the north mayo. he brought with him little else to boast of but his wife and his two children, charles and susan. charles was a mischievous boy of about twelve, and susan was a pretty little lass of about fourteen years of age. i remember they all went with us to copenhagen, and got through that expedition pretty well. that affair suited a man of pullen's description, for he didn't like too much service; and we soon found he was rather a shy cock. i remember remarking that pullen (even on the first day of the retreat to corunna) looked very chapfallen and seedy; and he was beginning even then to complain that he could not stand much more. the wife and children, too, were dropping behind. they all thought, poor souls! that when night came on they were, of course, to be billeted; but the open world was now their only refuge, and no allowance to stop or lie down, even on the bare heath, at that time. i saw pullen again on the third or fourth day; neither the wife nor children were then with him, nor could he tell where they were; he could only answer for himself, and expected to drop dead, he said, every step. that's all i saw of pullen and his wife and children on the retreat, or even thought of them; for i had enough to do to keep my own strength up. when we landed at portsmouth, both myself and others (to our no small surprise) saw pullen once more; and much we wondered at the sight of him, when so many better and stronger soldiers had died before half of that retreat was accomplished. we found that he had left behind him, and knew nothing of the fate of either his wife or his children, charles and susan. as the men continued to disembark, however, there was pullen inquiring anxiously of every one for some tidings of them. none, however, could he get. at last he saw his wife coming up the beach, and hobbled off to meet her, each at the same moment inquiring for the children, charles and susan. he trusted they were with the wife; and she hoped they were with the husband; and both sat down upon the beach and cried in concert. "all our men thought it useless of them to continue their inquiries; but they never failed to ask after their offspring of every fresh face they fell in with who had been in that retreat. in about a fortnight's time, not satisfied, they advertised charles and susan in the public newspapers; and we all laughed at the very idea of their ever finding them again, and told them they might have spared the money. to our no small surprise, however, the artillery at plymouth answered their advertisement, stating that a little girl had been heard screaming upon the mountains in spain by them in the night, and that they had taken care of her as well as they could, and had her then with them. the description answering, the girl was forwarded to hythe; and pullen and his wife once more embraced their daughter susan. * * * * * "there was, i recollect, a man of the name of bell, of the rifles, who had been during this day holding a sort of creeping race with me--we had passed and repassed each other as our strength served. bell was rather a discontented fellow at the best of times; but during this retreat he had given full scope to his ill-temper, cursing the hour he was born, and wishing his mother had strangled him when he came into the world, in order to have saved him from his present toil. he had not now spoken for some time, and the sight of the english shipping had apparently a very beneficial effect upon him. he burst into tears as he stood and looked at it. "'harris,' he said, 'if it pleases god to let me reach those ships, i swear never to utter a bad or discontented word again.' * * * * * "the history of sergeant-major adams is somewhat singular. i was his great friend at this time, and he confided some part of it to me. he had been a croppy (a rebel) and had fought at vinegar hill. when the rebels were defeated he escaped, and lived some time in the wilds of connemara. he afterwards thought it best to enlist in the donegal militia, and then volunteered to the rifles. here he soon rose (whilst in spain) to the rank of sergeant. during the retreat to corunna, sergeant-major crosby failed, and craufurd promoted adams in his place. at st. sebastian he was noticed by general graham for his bravery with the forlorn hope; a commission was given him, and he afterwards joined a regiment in gibraltar, where he was made adjutant. he then went to america, where he served with credit till he died. i believe i was the only man in the regiment who knew of his having been a rebel, and i kept the secret faithfully till his death. * * * * * "the story of demon, whom i myself enlisted from the leicester militia, is not a little curious. demon was a smart and very active man, and serving as corporal in the light company of the leicestershire, when i persuaded him to join our corps, where he was immediately made a sergeant in the third battalion then just forming, and from which he eventually rose to be a commissioned officer in one of our line regiments. the cause which led to demon's merits being first noticed was not a little curious, being neither more nor less than a race. "it happened that at shoreham cliff, soon after he joined, a race was got up among some kentish men who were noted for their swiftness, and one of them, who had beaten his companions, challenged any soldier in the rifles to run against him for two hundred pounds. the sum was large, and the runner was of so much celebrity that, although we had some active young fellows amongst us, no one seemed inclined to take the chance, either officers or men, till at length demon stepped forth and said he would run against this kentish boaster or any man on the face of the earth, and fight him afterwards into the bargain, if any one could be found to make up the money. upon this an officer subscribed the money, and the race was arranged. "the affair made quite a sensation, and the inhabitants of the different villages from miles around flocked to see the sport; besides which the men from different regiments in the neighbourhood, infantry, cavalry, and artillery, also were much interested, and managed to be present, which caused the scene to be a very gay one. in short the race commenced, and the odds were much against the soldier at starting, as he was a much less man than the other, and did not at all look like the winner. he, however, kept well up with his antagonist, and the affair seemed likely to end in a dead heat, which would undoubtedly have been the case, but demon, when close upon the winning-post, gave one tremendous spring forward, and won it by his body's length. "this race, in short, led on to notice and promotion. general mackenzie was in command of the garrison at hythe. he was present, and was highly delighted at the rifleman beating the bumpkin, and saw that the winner was the very cut of a soldier, and, in short, that demon was a very smart fellow, so that eventually the news of the race reached the first battalion then fighting in spain. sir andrew barnard at the time was then in command of the rifles in spain; upon being told of the circumstance, remarked that, as demon was such a smart runner in england, there was very good ground for a rifleman to use his legs in spain. he was accordingly ordered out with the next draft to that country, where he so much distinguished himself that he obtained his commission, as already mentioned." one gleam of the more tender sentiments which shines in harris's "recollections"--almost the solitary love affair he records--was of a very amusing kind. he was the shoemaker of the company, and when in lisbon he was detailed, with three other men, to discover a shoemaker's shop, where all the worn-out shoes of the battalion might be mended. says harris:-- "we carried with us three small sacks filled with old boots and shoes, and entering lisbon went into the first shoemaker's shop we saw. here i endeavoured in vain to make myself understood for some time. there was a master shoemaker at work and three men. they did not seem to like our intrusion, and looked very sulky, asking us various questions which i could not understand, the only words i could at all comprehend being, 'bonos irelandos, brutu englisa.' i thought, considering we had come so far to fight their battles for them, that this was the north side of civil; so i signed to the men, and, by way of explanation of our wishes, and in order to cut the matter short, they emptied the three sackful of boots and shoes upon the floor. we now explained what we would be at; the boots and shoes of the rifles spoke for themselves, and, seating ourselves, we commenced work forthwith. in this way we continued employed whilst the army lay near lisbon, every morning coming in to work and returning to the camp every night to sleep. "after we had been there several days, our landlord's family had the curiosity to come occasionally and take a peep at us. my companions were noisy, good-tempered, jolly fellows, and usually sang all the time they hammered and strapped. the mistress of the house, seeing i was the head-man, occasionally came and sat down beside me as i worked, bringing her daughter, a very handsome dark-eyed spanish girl, and as a matter of course i fell in love. "we soon became better acquainted, and the mother one evening, after having sat and chatted to me, serving me with wine and other good things, on my rising to leave the shop, made a signal for me to follow her. she had managed to pick up a little english, and i knew a few words of the spanish language, so that we could pretty well comprehend each other's meaning; and after leading me into their sitting-room, she brought her handsome daughter, and, without more circumstance, offered her to me for a wife. the offer was a tempting one, but the conditions of the marriage made it impossible for me to comply, since i was to change my religion and desert my colours. the old dame proposed to conceal me effectually when the army marched, after which i was to live like a gentleman, with the handsome maria for a wife. "it was hard to refuse so tempting an offer, with the pretty maria endeavouring to back her mother's proposal. i, however, made them understand that nothing would tempt me to desert, and, promising to try and get my discharge when i returned to england, protested i would then return and marry maria. "soon after this the army marched for spain; the rifles paraded in the very street where the shop i had so long worked at was situated, and i saw maria at the window. as our bugles struck up she waved her handkerchief; i returned the salute, and in half-an-hour had forgotten all about her. so much for a soldier's love!" footnotes: [footnote : the standard at that time, when men were quickly used up, was five feet two with us.] iii a royal highlander iii.--a royal highlander james anton, who rose to be quarter-master-sergeant of the nd, or royal highlanders, and wrote a "retrospect of military life," published in , was a typical scottish soldier of the ranks. his memoir gives, quite unconsciously, an amusing picture of the writer. he was but an infant when his father died. his mother, a scottish peasant woman, hardy and frugal like all her class, reared her child with an even greater economy of oatmeal and a more plentiful allowance of the shorter catechism than is common in the poorest scottish homes. anton is fond of describing his experiences in large literary terms. of his mother he says, "sparta never had her equal in respect to what may be called self-denial. she ceased not by precept, as well as example, to impress on me the same contempt for ease and luxury she herself entertained." probably anton's mother had the vaguest notion of what such words as "ease and luxury" meant. she worked like a slave, fared like a trappist monk, and trained her child to thin diet, long lessons, and hard work from his tenderest years. like most scottish mothers, she was a god-fearing woman, rich in the homely wisdom of peasant life. a love of education burns in scottish blood of all ranks, and young anton was drilled in grammar and the multiplication table, plentifully flavoured with the shorter catechism, the proverbs of solomon, the psalms of david, and scripture history generally. he emerged from the process lean and stunted physically--he was rejected at first for the militia as being under the standard, and only succeeded in striking the gauge on a second test by standing on half tip-toe. but he had some of the qualities which go to make a good soldier. he was cool, shrewd, tough, rich, after the fashion of scottish youth, in hard-headed common-sense, with a stomach that could extract nutriment from the sternest diet, and a frugality which could accumulate savings from the very scantiest pay. he records with true scottish complacency that when he entered the militia he had saved the magnificent sum of £ ; and before he left that corps for the line this had grown to £ . that was a very remarkable record for a private soldier; and, characteristically enough, he adds that during this whole process he sent a £ note at regular intervals to his mother--a form of domestic piety in which a scottish lad, peasant or soldier, does not often fail. it may be asked what impulse sent a youth of this type--under-sized, lean, frugal, canny--to a soldier's life? but a fighting impulse is native to scottish blood, whether lowland or highland; and anton, in addition, had wit enough to see that a soldier's career for the sober, frugal, order-obeying, pence-accumulating scottish peasant had many advantages. certainly, anton himself did not do badly as a private of the nd. anton joined the militia in . while serving in aberdeen the militiamen were allowed to sell their labour, when drill was over, to the contractors then occupied in building a bridge over the denburn; and anton, of course, worked hard and long, and so the pence in his pouch grew fast. he records, quaintly, his joy in the very frugality of the rations served out to him and his fellow-militiamen. they received half a pound of beef or mutton per man daily; and this was a quarter of a pound less than the orthodox allowance. but, anton argues, "if we did not get it, we did not pay for it. indeed, small allowances of provisions are always best. why force upon us," he asks indignantly, "more than is barely necessary for subsistence, when--when, in brief, more meal in the platter means fewer pence in the pocket?" it was not for nothing that anton had been brought up with something more than spartan rigour! anton entered the army just in time to see one ridiculous custom disappear. the long, elaborate, flour-besprinkled and grease-besmeared queue of marlborough's days still dangled down the unfortunate soldier's back. anton records the deliverance of the army from this barbaric ornament with a touch of unusual feeling:-- "during the time that the regiment was quartered in musselburgh, a general order was issued for the army to discontinue the tying of the hair, and to have it cropped. never was an order received with more heartfelt satisfaction than this, or obeyed with more alacrity, notwithstanding the foolish predictions of some old superannuated gentlemen that it would cause a mutiny in the army. the tying was a daily penance, and a severe one, to which every man had to submit; and there is little doubt but this practice had been introduced by some foreign fops, and enforced by antiquated prigs as necessary to the cleanly appearance of the soldier. it had been very injurious in its effects on the general comforts of those who were obliged to submit to it, and the soldier looks back to the task with the painful remembrance of the punishment he suffered every morning, daubing the side of his head with dirty grease, soap, and flour, until every hair stood like the burr of a thistle, and the back was padded and pulled so that every hair had to keep its due place; if one less subordinate than the rest chanced to start up in spite of grease, soap-lather, and flour, the poor man had to sit down and submit his head to another dressing, and afterwards parade for inspection among the defaulters of the regiment. "a certain latitude and longitude was assigned for the breadth and length of the queue, to which a gauge was frequently applied, in the same manner as some modern sticklers for uniformity at this day use a measure to ascertain the dimensions of the soldiers' folded greatcoats at guard mounting; but with this difference, the coat receives no bad impression from the stickler's gauge, whereas the greased and powdered hair retained the mark, and the poor fellow who had the misfortune to have the powder brushed aside by his awkward inspector, stood a chance of being turned off parade to have his hair dressed afresh, just as if the unlucky mark rendered him unfit for any military movement, or divested him of all the requisites of a soldier. indeed, it was no uncommon circumstance for us, when on the guard-bench and asleep, to have the rats and mice scrambling about our heads, eating the filthy stuff with which our hair was bedaubed." in anton joined the nd, and his professional life as a soldier began. chapter i about soldiers' wives anton's officers were quick to discover his steadiness, his frugality, his methodical loyalty to every duty of a soldier. he was first put on recruiting service, and then had his reward in the form which most delighted him. he was allowed to marry. only to a certain proportion of soldiers in each regiment was granted this privilege; and anton, who was an odd combination of soft domestic instincts and hard soldierly pluck, welcomed with a joy which he takes no pains to conceal the permission to impose on the object of his affections the hardships and the perils which must befall the wife of a soldier who accompanies her husband on active service. anton plainly showed all his usual scottish sense in his choice of a helpmate. she was a hardy peasant girl, plain-featured and strong-bodied, as frugal, as uncomplaining, and as canny as anton himself; and one chief merit of anton's memoirs is the picture it offers of a woman's experiences, caught in the rush and whirl of the great history-making campaigns of the peninsula. anton was still happier when, on his regiment being ordered on active service, he was allowed to take his wife with him. this was a very rare privilege indeed. only four women were permitted to follow each company of the regiment; and anton tells how, when the regiment had reached ostend, at the beginning of the waterloo campaign, even this privilege was suddenly narrowed, and instructions were received that only two women could be allowed to go with each company. half the women of the regiment were thus left stranded, penniless and friendless, in a foreign port, and saw their red-coated husbands march off into space with many a backward look at their weeping wives. but the hardy women of the barracks are not easily defeated. "we had been only two days in ghent," says anton, "when the women left at ostend found their way to the regiment." they had marched on their own account in the regiment's track, and presented themselves bedraggled and footsore at its quarters in ghent. the authorities were inexorable, and the weeping women were again conveyed back to the same place from which they escaped, and there closely watched. but woman's wit and wiles proved too much for the sentinels. in a week or two the forsaken but enterprising wives eluded the vigilance of the sentries, and joined their husbands once more; and as no official reports were made to their prejudice, they were allowed to follow the fortunes of their husbands during the campaign. anton, somewhat ungratefully--considering the devotion and sufferings of his own wife--says that, in his judgment, women ought not to be allowed to accompany the soldiers through a campaign. he writes:-- "on all occasions of troops being despatched to the scene of expected hostilities women should not be permitted to accompany them. if any exception is made in one single instance it only gives room for pressing and almost irresistible applications from others, and throws the performance of a very painful duty, namely, refusing permission, on the officers commanding companies. every private soldier conceives that he has as good a right to this indulgence for his wife as the first non-commissioned officer in the regiment, and certainly he is right; she will prove much more useful than one who, instead of being serviceable, considers herself entitled to be served, assumes the consequence of a lady without any of the good qualifications or accomplishments of one, and helps to embitter the domestic enjoyments of others by exciting petty jealousies that otherwise would never exist." anton gives very sensibly, and from the private soldier's point of view, his opinion of how the soldier's wife should be treated:-- "it is generally the case in selecting women to follow the army to a foreign station, that choice is made of those without children, as they are considered more capable of performing the services that may be required of them than those encumbered with a family. this, though just as regards our wants, is not so with respect to many a well-deserving woman, who is thus cast on the public or left to her own exertions, which too often fail her in the endeavour to support herself and children, while the childless woman is selected to profit from that circumstance. "a woman who is permitted to accompany her husband receives a half ration free; a child above seven years, one-third; and one under seven years, a quarter of a ration; and although this is but a very trifling allowance, would it not do much better to give it to those of good character who are not permitted to accompany their husbands? i must also remark that, on foreign stations where this allowance is made to the women and children, it will be found that the least necessitous are the first to apply and the first to be placed on this benevolent list. i have seen privates' wives, with three or more children, without rations; while the wives and children of sergeant-majors and quartermaster-sergeants were getting them." anton gives--quite incidentally, and without betraying any consciousness that he is adding a very exceptional chapter to military records--an account of his own experiences as a married soldier, which is very amusing and sometimes very touching. here is his story of an early spanish bivouac, and one cannot but pity the feelings of a modest scottish girl in such an environment:-- "after having seen the provisions distributed i set about looking out for some accommodation for my wife, for we had not as yet been accustomed to lie on the open field, as in bivouac, nor even seen the like, and the tent was far from comfortable for a poor, wearied, young woman; i shall not mention delicacy, for that would be out of place--we must submit to circumstances. the names of seventeen men were on the roll of the tent besides myself, so it may be easily guessed how crowded it must have been had the whole been off duty, but this was seldom the case. however, as no other shelter was to be had we took a berth under it. "eleven soldiers lay in it that night along with us, all stretched with their feet to the centre and their heads to the curtain of the tent, every man's knapsack below his head, and his clothes and accoutrements on his body; the one-half of the blankets under, and the other spread over the whole, so that we all lay in one bed. often did my poor wife look up to the thin canvas that screened her face from the night-dew and wish for the approaching morn. it was announced at last, before daybreak, by an exclamation of 'rouse!' which passed from tent to tent along the lines, when every man started up, folded his blanket, and strapped it on the back of his knapsack, ready for a march, and soon afterwards the sound of bugle and drum echoed from hill to hill; meanwhile, the army stood to arms, each regiment at its alarm post, until about sunrise." the regiment was in camp here for a short time, and anton resolved on securing better accommodation for his wife. he says:-- "i now set about erecting a hut for myself and wife, resolving, if possible, not to mix blankets with so many bedfellows again. this i was the more anxious to do, because at that time the whole of the men were affected with an eruption on their skin similar to the itch, and their clothing was in a very filthy state, owing to its being seldom shifted, and always kept on during the night. "with the assistance of a few willing hands i finished the hut in the course of the day, so that it served for a temporary shelter, and prevented myself and wife from depriving the men of their very limited accommodation in the tent. when i stretched myself down at night in my new habitation, my head rested against the one end, while my feet touched the other, at which was the entrance; my wife's apron being hung up as a substitute for a door, a couple of pins on each side served for lock and hinges, and feeble as that barrier was, none of the men entered when that was suspended, and we might have left it to its own keeping from morning till night without an article being abstracted. thieving, indeed, was unknown in the regiment; but, in fact, there was little of worth to steal amongst us." later--in october, when the bitter winds were beginning to awake on the cold summits of the pyrenees--the division encamped on the heights above urdach. anton then tried his fortunes once more with a hut. but disaster followed. he writes:-- "here i erected a hut, larger than my former one and more substantial. having occupied that which i had left nearly four weeks, i considered that, if i were to occupy this the half of that time, i should be satisfied in bestowing more labour on it, and making my accommodation more complete; but rain continued to fall for two days in succession, and placed us in a very unpleasant situation. i had cut a trench round the outside of my hut so as to carry off the torrents which rushed against it from the declivities above, and my poor wife was no less busily employed in securing the few articles within. "when the weather cleared i set about re-thatching my new habitation, but the first night after i had finished my work a violent gale struck every tent in the camp, and swept my little hut completely off. i had thrown my blanket over it and fixed it down with cords and pegs, on purpose to secure the thatch; having thus secured the roof, or i may rather say my hut, for it was all roof and ends, we stretched ourselves down, and the roaring of the wind in a few minutes lulled us to sleep, for we felt confident of having made all secure. "our repose, however, was short; we were awakened by the feeble branches which composed the rafters falling on our heads, and, on looking up, no roof sheltered us from the blast. the stars shone brightly between the flying clouds, and the busy hum of a thousand voices rose on the wind as the men strove to re-pitch the fallen tents. we started to secure the few loose articles around us; we looked for our blanket, but it was gone with the thatch and several minor articles that were no more to be seen. the men lay close under the fallen, fluttering tents, whilst i and my trembling companion found shelter in the lee of a rock, until morning roused every soldier to arms. "my wife in the meantime nastily collected a few of the scattered branches of the hut, and huddled them together, so as to cover an umbrella, which served as a ceiling to the thatchless roof, until i should return from duty and construct a more substantial dwelling. our loss, trifling as it may seem, was the more severely felt as there was no opportunity of replacing it by any fair means of purchase. our day's provisions were among the articles missing, and this was far from being a comfortable lookout for the day, as i had to mount the advance picket that morning: however, we had a little money, and, scarce as bread was, it was to be had for a good price. "the advance picket was more than two miles from the camp, and as i had not taken any provisions with me for the day, my wife bought a small loaf and a little wine; this last she mulled and mixed with some of the bread, and was bringing it to me, but in her too great anxiety to reach me soon, by short roads, she slipped on one of the steep banks and rolled down a considerable declivity. fortunately, she was not hurt, but heartily vexed at her own mishap, returned to the camp, made a fresh purchase, and again hastened to me. the tear was in her eye as she related the misfortunes of the day, but she returned to camp gratified at having provided me with an unexpected and comfortable refreshment. "i speak not of these casualties as sufferings on my part, for there were many worse off than i; but i point them out as some of the privations to which the poor women following the army had to submit, and which many of them were ill able to endure, and received but little sympathy from their husbands while patiently bearing them." perseverance is a scottish virtue, and anton, with the industry of a robinson crusoe in kilts, set to work to invent a third hut. it represented a gallant but melancholy attempt to secure the comforts of domestic life amid the severities of war:-- "i set about constructing a hut that should be proof against wind and rain. one of my officers (lieutenant d. farquharson) very kindly made an offer of any pecuniary assistance i might require, and gave me a blanket to replace that which was lost. the latter i accepted gratefully, it was more than money could purchase; the former i declined, as i was far from being in want. "i now became a complete robinson crusoe in my daily labour, when regimental duties permitted; and much i owe in gratitude to the memory of those who then superintended those duties for the indulgent manner in which i was treated, and not being troubled with vexatious interruptions to draw me off from my domestic avocations. they are now no more; they have fallen on the battle-field of a foreign land. a few men willingly afforded me every assistance; their only recompense being a small drop of spirits, which my wife had carefully reserved from my daily allowance. the wood was at no great distance, and the face of the hills was covered with broad ferns, which served for thatch. "i now laboured hard for three days, and every spare hour, when off duty, was dedicated to the rendering of my hut proof against the weather. my friend fraser gave me the use of the intrenching tools, and i dug an ample space within, three feet deep, and a trench around the outside, four feet deep; this was to carry off the water from the roof, and the latter i secured more substantially than many of our highland bothies are in the north of scotland, or than the cabins in the remote districts of ireland. we were enjoying the comfort of its nightly shelter, and i was adding something daily towards its stability for upwards of two weeks; at last i constructed a fireplace under the roof, and one of the men had brought a bundle of sticks for fuel, and the fire was lighted for the first time. "i was sitting on my knapsack taking a late dinner, quite at home, with the dish on my knee, for i had no table, when the drum beat 'orders.' i set down my dish (a wooden canteen, the one end of which was taken out) unfinished, attended the call, and with no small regret heard that the camp was to be struck, and everything ready to be moved off that night (november , ). i cannot express how vexed i was to leave my little habitation, my sole property, which i held by military right; but i was bound to follow my feudal superior. i had reared it at the expense of a blister on every finger, and i exulted as much over it, in secret, as the rich man in the gospel did over his extensive possessions and his plentiful stores. on leaving the camp that night, many of the married people set fire to their huts, but i left mine with too much regret to become its incendiary; and my poor mary shed tears as she looked back upon it, as a bower of happiness which she was leaving behind." what the poor soldier's wife felt as she hung in the rear of the fighting line and watched the drifting smoke, pierced with gleams of red flame, where her husband stood to shoot and to be shot at; or with what emotion she scrutinised the figure of each wounded soldier limping, or being carried, to the rear cannot be guessed; and anton does not stop to tell. perhaps he had not imagination enough to understand any such emotions in his wife's bosom. nothing, indeed, is more wonderful than the unconquerable cheerfulness anton shows, as a husband, under all conditions; and if his wife ever grumbled, anton does not allow her complaints to become audible to us. after the passage of the nivelle the regiment encamped on the actual scene of the fighting. says anton:-- "we bivouacked on the field until morning, and fortunately for us the night was fair, though cold and frosty. this was the first night on which my wife and i had to lie down with no other covering than a blanket between us and the sky, but we had many worse nights than this afterwards, and worse fields before us; however, on looking around, we generally saw many worse off than ourselves; and, doubtless, were we always to look into others' misfortunes or sufferings, when we suffer ourselves, we would find some cause for self-congratulation amidst the most distressing hardships." it would be interesting to know whether mrs. anton shared her husband's stubborn scottish philosophy. but she is the inarticulate figure of the two. her notes on her husband's memoirs would be very interesting; but, unfortunately, they are not handed down to us. occasional glimpses are afforded us of the experience of other wives whose husbands probably had less of resource and address than anton. here is another picture of a woman's experiences in a campaign:-- "in the neighbourhood of our bivouac were a few straggling houses, in which some staff officers took up their quarters, and our guard was posted under the leafless branches of a chestnut tree in the close vicinity. the sergeant of our guard, being a married man, considered himself very fortunate in having secured a small pig-sty near his post for his wife's accommodation, and the poor woman felt happy in the possession, small as it was; for its roof was a shelter from the wintry blasts, and its contiguity to the guard left no room to fear danger, were she permitted to keep possession; however, this was not to be the case. "our adjutant's clerk, who had never occasion to approach the field in time of danger, had taken up his quarters in one of the adjoining houses, after the action ceased, but, being dispossessed by some superiors, and every other place preoccupied by soldiers who would not suffer his intrusion, he meanly invaded the miserable shelter selected for the poor woman. in vain she remonstrated with him, in vain she requested him with tears to allow her the sole possession of a place so unfit for his accommodation, and which she had laboured hard to clean out for her own; but to no purpose, she might remain if she pleased, but he should not depart. it is doubtful whether we had a woman in the regiment so regardless of her character as to have taken a night's shelter, in the absence of her husband, otherwise than with the crowd, where no advantage could be taken of her situation or weakness; but every man acted towards a modest woman with that kindness which he would towards a sister. indeed, we had women in the regiment that, if they had been in possession, would have kept him out and put him at defiance to enter, but this one was not possessed of that masculine boldness; she therefore bundled up her few articles, and, hastening across the road, the only distance by which she had been separated from her husband, threw herself in his arms and burst into tears. "three months only had elapsed since this couple joined the regiment. she was a comely, modest, interesting young woman, and always unassumingly but cleanly and decently dressed. but allowing that she had had but few or no accomplishments or amiable qualifications to recommend her to sympathy, it is but natural to think that whatever distressed her affected the husband. they had as yet seen or experienced but little of the petulant intrusions or consequential presumptuous ill-manners to which soldiers and their wives are sometimes obliged to submit without remonstrance. 'what is the matter with you, dear?' the sergeant asked, somewhat astonished at her unexpected appearance. 'oh!' she exclaimed, 'i've been turned out o' yon bit placey that i was in, an' i'm come to stop wi' you a' night.' 'who turned you out?' the sergeant hastily inquired. 'oh, say naething about it, i'll be as well here wi' you as i would ha'e been yonder by mysel'; let us mak' no disagreement about the matter wi' them that we canna shake oursel's free o'; let the proud little creature keep it to himsel' in quietness; we are strangers as yet, so dinna let angry words be heard.' 'but what creature turned you out? surely it was not a man.' 'ay, he thinks himsel' ane;' she whispered, 'it was g--t.' 'is it possible,' said the sergeant, 'that a married man can be possessed of so little feeling as to turn you out to the inclemency of the night, and neither his wife nor child accompanying him to plead for the accommodation?' 'i am happier with you,' she replied, 'than if i had lain all night in yon hole; but, dear, oh, dear, how hard it rains; the fire will be drowned out, an' we'll be starved to death before mornin'.' "'poor body!' the sergeant ejaculated, as he wrapped the blanket round her shoulders, 'i'll soon make a good fire; sit you under that branch of the tree, the reek will annoy you less, and the drops will not fall so thick nor so heavy.' 'i'm well enough,' she returned, 'and i care na' for the reek or the rain when wi' you; but dinna min' the fire till this heavy dag's o'er, ye'll get yoursel' a' wet.' the sergeant threw a faggot of wood on the fire, and in a short time nothing was heard but the rattling of rain and hailstones, the braying of mules, and the tinkling of their bells. "this was a severe night, the rain poured down in torrents until midnight, when it was succeeded by snow, which covered the face of the country before daybreak." it may be suspected that anton, who is much given to literary excursions and alarums, has infused a little of what he regarded as appropriate pathos into this scene. nevertheless, it is a picture with real human interest. here are some additional examples of what the soldiers' wives in wellington's campaign suffered. the troops had to ford the adour, whose ice-fed and ice-cold waters were swollen with winter rains. says anton:-- "in passing through, the men supported each other as well as they could, so as to prevent them falling, for the stones in the bottom were very slippery. the wife of a sergeant of one of the regiments attempted to pass on a donkey with a child in her arms, and owing to some sudden stumble or slip of the animal, the child gave a start and dropped into the stream; the distracted mother gave a shriek, leaped after the infant, and both were swept off by the rapid current in the presence of the husband, who plunged into the water in hopes to recover them, but they were gone for ever, and he himself was with difficulty rescued. after this accident, the women who were following the army remained until the bridge was so far repaired as to enable them to pass over." anton's own wife had an unfortunate experience on the adour:-- "after having crossed the river, we marched a few miles up the right bank, or contiguous thereto, on the main road, and took up our camp-ground for the night in a newly-ploughed field, rendered a complete mire by the rain and hail which fell upon us with dreadful fury as we were piling our arms on the broken ridges. yet, notwithstanding the severity of this headlong torrent, a hundred fires were blazing in a few minutes along the side of the fences that bordered the fields. fortunately for us, general pack had taken up his quarters in the farmhouse adjoining, and allowed straw, of which there was abundance, to be taken for the bottom of the tents; this was an unexpected indulgence, even although the straw was rather wet. "i was general pack's orderly this night, and had a good roof over my head, and the dry floor of a cartshed, with plenty of dry straw for a bed; but my poor wife was absent, for the first time since we left home. she was detained, along with several other women, on the right bank of the adour, until the bridge was repaired. while this was doing, one of the women belonging to the regiment begged her to take charge of a little ass-colt with a couple of bundles, until she should go back to st. severe to make some purchases; she complied, and before the other returned, the bridge was repaired. one regiment had passed, and she followed, driving the colt before her; but before she got to the farther end, the stubborn animal stood still and would not move a foot. another regiment was advancing, the passage was impeded, and what to do she knew not. "she was in the act of removing the woman's bundles from the beast's back, and struggling to get out of the way, determined to leave the animal, when a grenadier of the advancing regiment, casting his eye on a finely-polished horn with the masonic arms cut on it, and slung over her shoulder, stepped aside, saying, 'poor creature, i shall not see you left struggling there, for the sake of what is slung by your side.' at the same time, handing his musket to one of his comrades, he lifted the colt in his arms and carried it to the end of the bridge. my poor wife thanked him with the tear in her eye, the only acknowledgment she could make for his kindness." in the fighting at toulouse, one of the married men in the regiment was killed, and anton gives a somewhat laboured, but touching, account of the grief of the soldier's widow:-- * * * * * "here fell cunningham, a corporal in the grenadier company, a man much esteemed in the regiment; he was a married man, but young, and was interred before his wife entered the dear-bought field; but she had heard of his fate, and flew, in spite of every opposition, to the field; she looked around among the yet unburied soldiers to find her own, but she found him not. she flew to the place where the wreck of the regiment lay on the field. 'tell me,' she asked, 'where cunningham is laid, that i may see him and lay him in the grave with my own hand!' a tear rose in the soldier's eye as he pointed towards the place, and twenty men started up to accompany her to the spot, for they respected the man and esteemed the woman. "they lifted the corpse; the wounds were in his breast; she washed them, and pressing his cold lips to hers, wept over him, wrapped the body in a blanket, and the soldiers consigned it to the grave. mournful she stood over the spot where her husband was laid, the earth was again closed over him, and she now stood a lonely, unprotected being, far from her country or the home of her childhood. i should not, perhaps, say unprotected, for, however callous our feelings may occasionally be, amidst a thousand distressing objects that surround us, any one of which, if individually presented to our consideration at any other time or place than the battle-field, would excite our sympathy, yet amidst all these neither the widow nor the orphan is left unregarded, or in some measure unprovided for. in this instance, the officer who commanded the company to which cunningham belonged, having been severely wounded, sent for the widow; she became his sick-nurse, and under his protection was restored in decent respectability to her home. "the only protection a poor soldier can offer to a woman, suddenly bereft of her husband, far from her kinsfolk, and without a residence or home, would, under more favourable circumstances, be considered as an insult, and perhaps under these, from the pressure of grief that actually weighs her down, be extremely indelicate. "i make free to offer this remark, in justification of many a good woman, who, in a few months, perhaps weeks, after her sudden bereavement, becomes the wife of a second husband; and, although slightingly spoken of by some of little feeling, in and out of the army, yet this is, perhaps, the only alternative to save a lone, innocent woman's reputation; and the soldier who offers himself may be as little inclined to the connection through any selfish motive as the woman may be from any desire of his love, but the peculiar situation in which she is placed renders it necessary, without consulting false feelings, or regarding the idle remarks that may be made, to feel grateful for a protector, and in a soldier, the most binding is the surest." chapter ii fighting in the pyrenees anton's own adventures in the peninsula were brief, but of a stern and exciting quality. his regiment embarked on august , , and thus reached spain when the war had come to its latest stage--on the rough and hilly floor of the pyrenees. the nd landed at passages on september . the first sound of war which reached its ears was the sullen and distant boom of the guns thundering on san sebastian. anton had an eye for the picturesque, and he gives some interesting pictures of the scenery of the pyrenees. here is his description of a scene which met his eyes one daybreak shortly after landing:-- "the view from the summits of these mountains at that early hour, when the sun began to gild their tops, and to throw his cheering rays on the white canvas which speckled their sides, was grand beyond description. the valleys below were hidden under an ocean of white, wreathing mist, over which the hills, like a thousand islands, raised their rocky summits amidst the pure serenity of a cloudless atmosphere; the white tents of a british army spotted their sides, while ten thousand bayonets glittered around. the drums, fifes, bugles, and wild, warlike strains of the highland bag-pipe, drowned the notes of a hundred useless instruments that offered their softer sounds to the soldiers' ears. flocks of vultures hovered around to feed on the bodies of men who had fallen in sequestered spots by the hostile bullet, and were left to wolves and birds of prey, along with the carcasses of the exhausted animals that had failed in bearing their oppressive burdens to the expectant camp. "as the sun rose over the mountains, the misty vapours rolled away, and all the vales, woods, streams, and distant cottages appeared to view. what a lovely prospect this must have been to the once happy native of the soil!" on october the nd had its first near glimpse of mountain fighting, though the regiment took no actual part in the combat:-- "on october we advanced towards the heights of urdach, and descended a few paces on the brow of that part of the mountain which overlooks the valley of that name and the distant course of the nivelle. a thick cloud hovered beneath us, and hid the country from our view. the loud report of guns in the valley shook the hills and echoed throughout the dark woody ravines below, while the quick rounds of musketry prepared us to expect an order to descend to the scene of action. the division stood in columns of brigade, or in lines along the mountain paths, as the position could be taken up. "we remained upwards of two hours enveloped in the misty clouds, every man full of anxiety to view the contest below. at last our wishes were gratified; the curtain arose, and the interesting scene burst all at once on our view. a far-discerning eye might see the skirmishers of both armies approaching close to each other, each man with well-directed aim looking along the deadly tube that sent the intended messenger of death to the opposing adversary. vineyards, orchards, straggling bushy fences, and streamlets with steep banks intersected the country, and afforded occasional cover to both sides, as well as a rest to the marksman's musket in taking a deliberate aim. the ascent of the cloud, which had hovered beneath us and over the combatants, afforded them a view of our columns and lines ready to descend, a prospect no less discouraging to the enemy than animating to our friends." anton's first personal experience in the stirring business of war was at the passage of the nivelle. the river, it will be remembered, was approached by a night march. anton's account is interesting, though marred by a laborious attempt at fine writing:-- "the moon shone in the cloudless vault of heaven as we descended the narrow paths of the mountains; behind us were our camp-fires and blazing huts, while the ill-clothed and worse-disciplined troops of spain were hurrying up the mountain path to occupy the ground we had left. to our right appeared the enemy's watch-fires, blazing brightly on the distant brow of one of the diverging ridges that jut out from the main body of the pyrenees, their pickets little dreaming that we were worming our way through the intricate windings so near their posts, in order to rouse them to work in the morning. on our left a deep, woody ravine, with its roaring stream, skirted our path; before us the narrow ridge jutted out between two of those ravines, in a peninsula form, until its extremity overlooked the valley where we had witnessed the contest on october . the path led us down by many a circuitous and steep descent to the vale of urdach, which we reached by daybreak. "we were now approaching the nivelle, and all its woody margins were lined with light troops, our battalions forming in columns about two furlongs from the bank of the river: not a musket was yet fired. the guns were already posted on all the commanding eminences on the left of the river. the generals had given their orders regarding the attack about to be made, the movements likely to follow, and their aides-de-camp were flying from corps to corps with the preparatory directions. no voice was heard, save that of command, until the foot of the advanced skirmisher was dipped in the stream; the bullet arrests him in his advance, and, as if at the command of some necromancer, thick and obscuring clouds rise from bank to bank, from eminence to eminence, as the loud thunder of war bursts from ten thousand muskets. "the river is passed, and the soldiers of france retire or fall before their stern invaders. we pass through a wood and come to the bottom of a steep hill (the heights of ainhoe), the face of which presents long ridges of formidable breastworks, behind which the enemy keeps up a heavy fire of musketry, and fears no danger in the security of his cover. on the summit overlooking these works is a battery which commands that part of the river within its range. "the th regiment was now ordered to ascend and storm those breastworks, and never did a regiment perform a task so dangerous, so obstructed, and apparently impracticable, with better success or in better order. its line was preserved without a break, not only in climbing the hill but in springing over the breastworks, bayoneting those that waited its approach, even until it cleared the battery on the western summit, where, justly proud of its conquest, it made the hills echo to its loud huzzahs. "meantime our regiment advanced more to the right, where, on a gentle slope of the hill, stood the huts (the recent camp or quarters) of the enemy. some of those huts caught fire, and, owing to the combustible material of which they were constructed, the whole were nearly enveloped in one blaze. the position which the enemy had occupied in the morning was now in our possession, and the sixth division crowned the heights of ainhoe. "the regiment's loss this day did not exceed twenty-seven killed and wounded; among the latter were captain mungo m'pherson and lieutenant kenneth m'dougall. "this was the first engagement i was in, and i considered myself no longer a recruit. i had now smelled the enemy's powder, as the old soldiers boastingly exclaimed; i had heard his bullets whistling past my ears, seen them dropping harmless at my feet, and burrowing in the ground. i had observed, during this contest, the men whom i knew to be the greatest boasters in the company, men who never ceased enlarging on the exploits they had accomplished, the actions they had witnessed, or the hardships they had endured, when they had such a one as myself to listen to their stories; i observed some of those boasters very closely, and i could not help remarking that the men who spoke less acted better. "it is, perhaps, needless to observe that it is scarcely in the power of an individual foot-soldier to perform any enterprising feat in the field of action, unless he be on some detached duty in front, such as is frequently the case with the skirmishers. if he is with the battalion he must keep in his ranks; it is on the united movement of the whole body that general success depends; and he that rushes forward is equally blamable with him who lags behind, though certainly the former may do so with less chance of censure, and no dread of shame. a man may drop behind in the field but this is a dreadful risk to his reputation, and even attended with immediate personal danger, while within the range of shot and shells; and woe to the man that does it, whether through fatigue, sudden sickness, or fear--let him seek death, and welcome it from the hand of a foe, rather than give room for any surmise respecting his courage; for when others are boasting of what they have seen, suffered, or performed, he must remain in silent mortification. "i have seen it frequently remarked, in the periodicals of the time, that the loss in killed and wounded was greater than was actually acknowledged on our side; that we overrated the enemy's loss, and underrated our own; but this is not the case. the loss of the enemy, of course, is a guess rather than a certainty, until we become possessed of their official returns; but that of our own is never underrated. indeed, a soldier feels a greater pride in boasting of his wounds than in trying to conceal them; mere scratches are often magnified into wounds, and stated as such in the returns. "i never yet, among the many i have seen wounded, knew but one individual who kept his wound from being placed on the list; his name was stewart. we were evacuating a redoubt on the heights of toulouse, when a bullet struck him behind, pierced through his cartridge-box, cut his clothes, and hit him smartly on the breech. 'i shall give that to the rascal again,' he said, as he recovered himself and picked up the bullet. 'i shall be ashamed,' he added, 'to let it be known that i was struck behind.' had this bullet struck him on the breast or limbs, there would have been one more on our list of that day's casualties." late in november the army went into cantonments; but on the night of december , the troops were in motion again. says anton:-- "on the night of december , our division was under arms in columns of brigades until nearly daybreak, the artificers being employed in placing a bridge of pontoons over the river, below the town. as soon as this was finished, the troops began to pass along, while the drummers, left behind, beat the reveille at the usual places. this circumstance induced the enemy to conclude that we still occupied our quarters, although we were forming our columns silently in their neighbourhood, concealed amidst a dense mist. as soon as objects were discernible, a signal gun announced our time of advance. a wooden bridge still remained over the river at ustritz, but so far broken down by the enemy as to be impassable; the discharge of this gun, however, so alarmed the french conscript sentries posted at the end of the bridge, on the right bank, that they retired in great haste towards the picket to which they belonged, and our artificers lost no time in making the necessary repairs for the passage of the troops and stores. "the greater part of this day's action consisted in skirmishing, in which the light infantry companies sustained the principal brunt. towards the close of the day, the enemy retired upon a farmhouse situated on a commanding eminence, having some of the adjoining fields enclosed by low dry-stone walls and quickset hedges, behind which they appeared in considerable force, supported by some artillery. in dislodging these troops, captain george stewart and lieutenant james stewart, both of the light company, were killed on the spot, and lieutenant brander was severely wounded." a sudden burst of tempestuous weather arrested the movements of the troops, and the men returned to their camps. directly the rains ceased, however, soult was once more in movement. swiftly marching to his right, he threw the whole strength of his army on the british left, holding the jean de luz road. failing here, he faced about, pushed on at speed to his left, and leaped on the british right. in the toilsome marches and bloody combats of these operations, the nd had a full share. here is a picture by anton of the fighting near bayonne:-- "on the sixth division's attaining the heights overlooking bayonne, its movements were immediately directed to its right, so as to support more effectually the left of the second; and sir denis pack ordered the nd to advance to the main road, by which a brigade of the enemy was retiring. our colonel was as anxious to execute the order as the men were proud to have been selected to perform it, but he led us into such a brake of furze, thorns, and brambles that it would have been impossible to have taken our bare-thighed regiment through its impenetrable meshes. the general, observing our painful but ineffectual struggling, withdrew us from that spot, and pointed to another place by which we should have advanced, and which would have been practicable; but by this time the enemy had passed our mark, and were descending towards the valley of the adour, where, joined by another brigade, they made a determined stand against the nd highlanders, that were coming round on the other flank. "the ground at that place was intersected with deep drains, loose stone walls, and thorn bushes. here a contest ensued, which cannot be described with justice to both parties; perhaps the like seldom or never occurred during the war. the enemy, although on their retreat, were within a short distance of their own fortified position of bayonne, and in view of their own army and people, from whom praise or censure was to be expected; they were also in the animating discharge of an urgent duty, namely, that of opposing the invaders of their beloved country. yet, notwithstanding all these stimulants, the gallant nd bore down every opposition. the guns ceased to play upon this spot, so closely were both parties intermixed. muskets were broken, bayonets bent, and stones were thrown with deadly vengeance. victory crowned our native band, but it was dearly bought. fourteen officers, eight sergeants, and rank and file lay killed and wounded on the spot, and thrice that number of the enemy were scattered in heaps around them. "the sun sank over the blue waves of the bay of biscay, and darkness rested on the fields, before the fire of the skirmishers ceased. both armies, wearied of the struggle, rested on the ground during the night, the pickets occupying the dilapidated remains of the houses in front; to these the wounded men crawled for shelter, or were carried thither if near the spot. "the unfortunate men who had fallen in remote places were suffered to remain under the inclement sky, until morning brought them relief, or death ended their sufferings. the rain poured down heavily during the night, and those who had crawled for shelter to the dry ditches along the roads or fields breathed their last beneath the gathering floods." the bitter, incessant rain now drove the army into permanent winter quarters, and the british troops shivered in their bleak camps from december , , to february , . on the latter date camps were broken up, and the campaign of began. anton's account of the first great fight of that campaign--orthez--is naturally concerned only in the doings of his own regiment:-- "on the afternoon of the th we were ordered to halt, just as we were about to ford the gave, below a large farmhouse, where the river is fordable, but was said to have been set with spikes, so as to form an obstruction to our passage. perhaps there was no truth in this report; however, we suddenly retrograded and passed on pontoons, not far from a small village, in which we were quartered for the night. on the following day we approached the neighbourhood of orthez, where we pitched camp on the south side of the gently rising heights, the north side of which forms the left bank of the pau and overlooks the handsome town beyond. "an explosion, occasioned by the blowing up of a bridge, excited the curiosity of a few to steal up the height, notwithstanding that we had been charged against discovering ourselves to the enemy. others followed the example, and as no measures were taken, or perhaps were necessary, to prevent it, the men indulged themselves with a view of orthez, the beautiful valley, with the pau stealing softly along its south side, while the long range of mountain heights bounding it on the north rose abruptly over the road leading from bayonne and peyrehorade. many a man gazed on that mountain range who little thought that before to-morrow's sun should go down, he would be stretched upon it a lifeless corpse." orthez was, in many respects, a memorable fight. soult was superior in numbers, held an almost impregnable position, fought with great skill, and for one delusive golden moment believed he had beaten wellington! as he saw the british columns which had attacked both his right and left flanks reeling back, broken and disordered, it is said that he smote his thigh and exclaimed with excitement, "at last i have them!" the battle was won by the obstinate valour of the british soldiers, especially of the immortal light division and the swiftness of wellington's counter-stroke at soult's centre. soult's left was covered by the pau, and his centre by what seemed to be an impassable marsh. two diverging and hilly ridges, thrust out like the horns of a bull, constituted his right and left flanks. beresford's attack on the french right, though urged five times over, failed. picton's assault on the horn which formed soult's left, urged with equal fire, also failed. wellington won by sending the light division across the marsh and breaking soult's centre. the nd formed part of picton's attacking force, and the onfall of such troops under such a leader is not easily arrested; but the position held by the french was practically impregnable. in a private letter picton wrote: "we were for nearly two hours exposed to the most continued and severe cannonade i ever witnessed. one of our -pounders had every man killed by round shot." in anton's account the fire of this fierce fight is somehow chilled:-- "early on the morning of sunday, the th, we marched down the left bank of the pau, passed over on a pontoon bridge, and directed our course upon the main road up the valley towards orthez. two divisions of the army were already on the road before us. the heights on our left appeared to be in the possession of the enemy, and as our movements were plainly to attack his centre or his left, which was posted in and above the town, corresponding movements became necessary on his part, and his ranks were seen advancing along the ridge parallel with ours. as the mountain approaches that place where the road to st. severe passes over it from orthez, there is a downward bend of about a mile; it rises, however, to a considerable height on the east side of that road, and commands the town and its approaches. "on our coming near this bending, our brigade was ordered to move to its left; several enclosures were in our way, but this was no time to respect them, as the enemy was welcoming us with round shot and shell. the gardens and nurseries were trodden down in an instant, and a forest of bayonets glittered round a small farmhouse that overlooked a wooded ravine on the north side. "the light companies which had preceded the brigade were keeping up a sharp fire upon the enemy's skirmishers, and our grenadier company was ordered to take post along the bank overlooking the ravine, and commanding a narrow road below. no place seemed less practicable for cavalry to act, but the enemy were determined to make every effort to re-establish their lines on the heights from which they had been driven by the light troops, and some of their squadrons were seen approaching to drive back our advance, which by this time was reinforced by the grenadiers, but the more effectually to repel an attack, two additional companies were despatched to reinforce those already sent, and these had scarcely been formed when the charge of cavalry was announced; it was met and repulsed; men and horses were tumbled over the steep bank on the narrow road below, skirting the ravine. "the gallant young officer who led that charge, passed through the ranks like a lion pouncing on his prey, and was made prisoner by m'namara of the grenadier company. this man, if my memory serve me well, gave the horse and sword to one of our captains, who was afterwards appointed brevet-major; but poor m'namara, who was more of a soldier than a courtier, rose not to corporal. after this repulse of the cavalry, we passed through the ravine, and moved towards the road that passes over the bending of the hill. the light infantry companies of the brigade, under the command of major cowel, were skirmishing in front. the major was severely wounded, and carried to the rear. "the hill rises rather abruptly on the east side of the road, and slopes gradually towards the north side, to which our advance was directed, in order to turn the enemy's right, which had fallen back as we advanced. there is a small village consisting of one street on that brow of the hill towards the north, upon which the enemy was driven back, and from this kept up a destructive fire of musketry from garden walls, windows, and loopholes. our regiment was ordered to drive him from that annoying post, which i may say had now become the right of his position. the bearer of this order was lieutenant innes, who was then acting brigade-major to sir d. pack; he preceded the regiment, and may be said to have led it on. the word of command to advance at the charge was received with loud animating cheers. "no movement in the field is made with greater confidence of success than that of the charge; it affords little time for thinking, while it creates a fearless excitement, and tends to give a fresh impulse to the blood of the advancing soldier, rouses his courage, strengthens every nerve, and drowns every fear of danger or of death; thus emboldened, amidst the deafening shouts that anticipate victory, he rushes on and mingles with the flying foe. "in an instant the village was in our possession, and the fugitives were partly intercepted by the advance of the second division of the army, under lord hill, which had passed the pau above orthez, and was now approaching round the east end of the heights. "the enemy, thus dispossessed of his last position of any importance, commenced a hasty retreat through some enclosed fields and young plantations, through which his columns directed their course, until impeded by intersecting ditches which induced them to take the main road; there the ranks were broken, confusion ensued, and a complete rout was the consequence. "fortunately for them the sun was nearly set, and although the pursuit continued for several miles, they succeeded in keeping the lead, and having reassembled during the night, continued their retreat towards the adour. "the loss of the regiment in this battle was four officers, six sergeants, and eighty-eight rank and file. we left behind us our dead, our dying, and our wounded; the former careless who shut those eyes that looked up to heaven from their gory bed, or who should consign their naked limbs to a grave in the field of a strange land. night suspended hostilities, and the army bivouacked in columns on the fields bordering the road leading to st. severe. "night after a battle is always glorious to the undisputed victors; they draw close to one another to hear and tell of the hazards of the day, while some show the petty prizes snatched off the field, and curse some inter-meddling satrap that would not let them linger behind to get a better. the batmen and baggage-guard join the jocund circles round the camp-fires, and exhibit some full canteens of wine, the hastily snatched spoil of the day, or the plunder of some poultry-house, baker's oven, or farmer's pantry, no less acceptable to men long used to mouldy ship biscuit and scanty fare than silver or gold would have been to those who experienced no want. "midnight shuts our eyes in welcome slumber, and nought is heard to break the awful stillness that prevails, save the tinkling of the mule-bells and the tread of a silent soldier round the expiring embers of a camp-fire." the pursuit of the enemy after orthez witnessed some wild and some amusing scenes:-- "on the th we advanced on the road leading to st. severe, our cavalry in front pursuing and harassing the enemy's rear, and making a number of his stragglers prisoners. many of these were deeply gashed by sabre wounds, and, being unable to get on so fast as the escorts urged, they fell down by the roadside faint from loss of blood, or panting with thirst, frequently soliciting a little water to cool their parched tongues. it is but justice to say that the british soldier attended to their appeals and relieved them when in his power so to do, and sympathised as much for them as if they had never fired a shot at him. "we halted this day about three leagues from st. severe, where the road is crossed by a considerable stream. a considerable quantity of vine-supporters lay scattered in bundles contiguous to our regiment's camp ground, and dry wood being always a desirable article for those who had the culinary duties to perform, a general charge was made in order to secure a quantity before the other regiments came to the knowledge of it. "our colonel had just dismounted, and was about to proceed to a farmhouse adjoining to stable his horse, when the sudden rush of the men, after having piled their arms and thrown down their knapsacks, attracted his attention. he gazed upon them with astonishment, hesitated a moment, and asked one of the guard the cause of so sudden a movement. this soon discovered itself, for the men were loaded with armsful of sticks, and rejoicing over their booty and good luck, anticipating the comfortable warmth it would afford during the drizzly night. sir denis pack had taken up his quarters in the farmhouse, or was supposed to have done so, and nothing was more likely than that he would take an interest in protecting the owner's property. the colonel, whether in dread of the general, or a mistaken sense of justice, called out to the marauders, as he was pleased to call them, to carry back their burdens. some obeyed, others dropped them at their feet, and a few less obedient persisted in bringing them along; but the whole seemed rather unwilling to comply. the colonel, dissatisfied at the apathy displayed in obeying his orders, darted among the offenders and personally chastised those who seemed the most reluctant to obey. "among the most refractory of those wood foragers were two men of singular dispositions; their names were henderson and doury. the former was a contradictory, obstinate, careless, awkward fellow. his visage was long, his lips thick, his mouth always open, and, to use a scotch term, slavering. his feet were flat-soled, without any spring, and he marched like a wearied pedlar under a pack, jolting along the road. he had not seen much service, but, like many old soldiers, he had much to say--he was nicknamed 'the gomeral.' doury was a silly, good-natured simpleton, the butt of every man's jest, yet no jester himself; for, when excited, his utterance failed so far that it was little else than a breathless gibbering of inarticulate sounds. such another couple was not in the regiment, or perhaps in the brigade, and would not be accepted of for the service in time of peace. those two were bringing in their burdens notwithstanding the interdiction, and had entered the field on which the colonel was standing. the colonel, observing that henderson led the other on, strode hastily forward to enforce obedience. doury was the first to observe him, fled past his companion, dropped the sticks at his feet, and escaped. not so henderson: he fell over the bundle dropped at his feet, with his face pressed against the soft, miry field; the colonel overtook him as he recovered, seized him by the kilt, the pins of which yielded to the tug, and left his naked flesh to some merited chastisement. this excited bursts of laughter from all the men, and the poor fellow afterwards declared that he was more vexed at the laughter than hurt by the punishment." war is a rough school, and under its hard experiences all the finery of an army quickly vanishes. colours fade, feathers moult, bright metals turn rusty, uniforms grow ragged, and the once "smart" army becomes, from the tailor's point of view, a thing to weep over or to shudder at. here is a picture of a gallant army in rags and sandals:-- "at this time the clothing of the army at large, but the highland brigade in particular, was in a very tattered state. the clothing of the st regiment had been two years in wear; the men were thus under the necessity of repairing their old garments in the best manner they could: some had the elbows of their coats mended with grey cloth, others had the one-half of the sleeve of a different colour from the body; and their trousers were in equally as bad a condition as their coats. "the nd, which was the only corps in the brigade that wore the kilt, was beginning to lose it by degrees; men falling sick and left in the rear frequently got the kilt made into trousers, and on joining the regiment again no plaid could be furnished to supply the loss. thus a great want of uniformity prevailed; but this was of minor importance when compared to the want of shoes. as our march continued daily, no time was to be found to repair them until completely worn out; this left a number to march with bare feet or, as we termed it, to pad the hoof. these men being occasionally permitted to straggle out of the ranks to select the soft part of the roads or fields adjoining, others who had not the same reason to offer for this indulgence followed the example, until each regiment marched regardless of keeping in rank, and sometimes mixed with other corps in front and rear. to put a stop to this irregularity, the men without shoes were formed by themselves and marched, under the command of officers and non-commissioned officers, in rear of the brigade. "it is impossible to describe the painful state that some of those shoeless men were in, crippling along the way, their feet cut or torn by sharp stones or brambles. to remedy the want of shoes, the raw hides of the newly-slaughtered bullocks were given to cut up, on purpose to form a sort of buskins for the bare-footed soldiers. this served as a substitute for shoes, and enabled the wearers to march in the ranks of their respective companies. "our knapsacks were also by this time beginning to display, from their torn ends, their worthless contents; and as our line of march was in an opposite direction from our expected supplies, our exterior appearance was daily getting worse; but the real spirit of the soldier was improving, and i make little doubt but we would have followed our leaders to the extremity of europe without grumbling. we were getting hardier and stronger every day in person; the more we suffered, the more confidence we felt in our strength; all in health, and no sickness. the man in patched clothes and a piece of untanned hide about his feet, when he looked around him, saw others in some respects as ill appointed as himself; and he almost felt a pride in despising any new-comer with dangling plumes, plaited or crimped frills, white gloves, and handsome shoes--all good-for-nothing frippery to the hardy, toil-worn soldier, the man of flint, powder, and steel, as he thought himself. his was the gloveless hand and the shoeless foot that braved alike the cold and the heat, the toil of the field and the fatigue of the march; nothing came wrong to him; he started in the morning from his hard pillow and harder bed, required no time to blacken his shoes, but braced up his knapsack, regardless of the state of the roads or weather, and was ready to march off. "i have already mentioned that there was some skirmishing with the enemy this day, as we advanced. here we had three men killed and several wounded. one of those who were killed had been doing the duty of pioneer previous to this day; doubtless he had considered this a degrading duty, and had pressingly requested to be permitted to join the ranks. his request was granted; this was his first entry on the field since he obtained that indulgence, and here he fell. he lay on the field adjoining the road; some one had rifled his knapsack, but had thrown the blanket over him. having the general's baggage in charge i was following the brigade with the guard and the mules when i observed some soldiers examining to what regiment the killed belonged; one bore off the knapsack, but left the blanket carelessly cast on the corpse, a batman was making a prize of the blanket, and a portuguese muleteer was about to take off the kilt. "i could be at no loss to know to what regiment he belonged, as the nd was the only corps in the division that had that dress, and i desired one of the guard to recover the blanket, and to spread it over the body, for we had no time to inter it. he sprang on the spoilers in an instant, snatched the blanket from the batman, and seizing the muleteer rather roughly, tumbled him into the ditch that lined the road; then, spreading the blanket over the corpse, left it; but doubtless to be soon stripped again. thus falls the poor soldier." chapter iii the hillside at toulouse anton attempts a more ambitious account of the battle of toulouse than of any other fight in which he was engaged; and there is some reason for this. it was a cluster of scottish regiments--the nd conspicuous amongst them--which, by mere invincible and all-enduring valour, saved wellington from failure in that great fight. soult, it will be remembered, knew toulouse almost with the familiarity of a native. a strong place by nature, he had made it almost impregnable by the energy and skill with which he had multiplied its defences during the long pause before the british advanced. wellington delivered his attack at three points. hill assailed the west front of the city; picton the north; beresford the east. the first two attacks were, perhaps, not seriously meant, and certainly failed. freire, with his spaniards, whose task it was to carry the northern shoulder of mont rave, fell on gallantly, but was smitten into utter rout, extorting from wellington the grim comment, "well, ---- me, if ever i saw ten thousand men run a race before!" beresford's task was perilous in the highest degree; to any other troops than those he led, it might well have proved impossible. he had to toil for two miles along a road which was little better than a strip of marsh, past the flank of mont rave, strongly held by the french. on his left was the river ers. the road was so difficult that the guns were left behind. there was deadly peril at every step that the french might overwhelm the toiling column with a flank attack; or break through betwixt it and the main body of the british army. but beresford--who had fought albuera--was exactly the man for a task which required blind and desperate valour. his men splashed doggedly on their way; on their right the foe, tormenting their flank with his fire; the fordless river to their left; their guns left behind them. when they had reached the southern extremity of the ridge, the regiments brought up their left shoulder, and proceeded to carry the hill. it was seamed with trenches, and bristled with guns. soult, who saw that this was the one point of peril to his battle-line, had brought up two divisions to the threatened point, and the french, gallantly led, and confident in their numbers, in their advantage of position, and in their success at the other attacked points, came boldly down the hill to crush beresford's slender and extended line. nothing, however--not the slippery hill-slope, the cruel fire of the french guns, nor the onfall of the solid french battalions--could stay beresford's men. soult's columns were smashed with rolling musketry volleys. the batteries were carried with the bayonet, and the hill was won. the nd played a most gallant part in this great fight, and endured dreadful losses. anton came through it all untouched, and tells the whole story in a spirited fashion. he sees nothing, however, and describes nothing, but what takes place immediately about himself:-- "we broke up camp a little after midnight, on the morning of easter sunday, april , and marched towards toulouse. the moon shone bright in the unclouded heavens, and reflected a stream of light from the muskets of our advanced columns, for our arms had not then received the brown varnish that now 'dims their shine.' "general pack's brigade was formed in contiguous columns of regiments to the left of the road leading to toulouse. at this time the spaniards, who were in advance and ascending the heights, were attacked with such fury that they gave way in all directions. it was apprehended that the enemy would have borne down upon us in the impetuosity of the movement, and we deployed into lines. the th regiment was at this time in front of the nd, and general pack, anticipating a charge from the enemy's victorious and elated infantry, after thus scattering the spaniards, gave orders to the th to receive them with a volley, immediately form four deep, face about, and pass through the ranks of the nd. the latter received orders to form four deep, as soon as the former had given its fire; let the line pass through, then form up, give a volley, and charge. this was providing against what might have taken place, but did not, for the enemy was recalled, and the spaniards were afterwards rallied. "we now moved off to our left, along a green embankment, a small lake or large pond [really a flooded river] on our left, and a wet ditch and marshy meadow on the right. the shot and shell were flying over our heads into the lake, but the range was too elevated to hurt us, and we ran along the bank until we came to a place where we could leap the ditch and form on the swampy ground beyond it. we had scarcely formed, when a strong column of the enemy, with drums beating a march, descended the hill in our front, and thinking from the nature of the ground that we should be neither able to advance nor retreat, rushed down confident of success. for us to retire would have been scarcely practicable; the bank from which we had leaped down and over the ditch was too high in several places for us to leap back from such uncertain footing, for we were sinking to the ankles, and sometimes deeper at every step; to advance was the only alternative, and it was taken. "the light companies of the division were by this time in our front, and without any hesitation dashed forward; we followed fast, and the opposing column reascended the hill, and left us the undisputed masters of the valley. we now ascended at double quick time, and the whole of the division crowned the eastern summit of the heights. here we were exposed to a destructive fire of round shot, shell, grape, and musketry, while we had not as yet got up one gun, owing to the numerous obstructions that lay in the way. the ground we occupied sloped towards one of the main roads that run over the hill to the city, and the fields on the opposite side of the road were in possession of the enemy, and extremely broken and intersected by deep cross-roads, breastworks, and redoubts, but could, from our present position, have been commanded by artillery, had it been practicable to bring a few guns forward; but this required some time, and indefatigable labour. "the light companies of the division advanced beyond the road, and maintained a very unequal skirmish with the enemy, who lay securely posted behind their breastworks and batteries, and in their redoubts, from all of which they took the most deadly aim. the st regiment was ordered forward to support the skirmishers, and became the marked object of the enemy's batteries, from which incessant showers of grape cut down that corps by sections, while soult was, perhaps, not losing a man, being so safely sheltered from our musketry; it was, therefore, seen necessary to withdraw the skeleton of that regiment to the road, on which we had taken post after its advance. it was now warmly welcomed back, for its retreat was no defeat, and its loss was scarcely equalled by any corps in the field. not a subaltern left the field without a wound, and the honour of the colours was assigned to sergeants. "the enemy, emboldened by this momentary success, on his part, began to advance towards the road, and our regiment was ordered to advance by wings and storm one of the redoubts. "our colonel was a brave man, but there are moments when a well-timed manoeuvre is of more advantage than courage. the regiment stood on the road with its front exactly to the enemy, and if the left wing had been ordered forward, it could have sprung up the bank in line and dashed forward on the enemy at once. instead of this, the colonel faced the right wing to its right, countermarched in rear of the left, and when the leading rank cleared the left flank it was made to file up the bank, and as soon as it made its appearance the shot, shell, and musketry poured in with deadly destruction; and in this exposed position we had to make a second countermarch, on purpose to bring our front to the enemy. these movements consumed much time, and by this unnecessary exposure exasperated the men to madness. "the word 'forward--double quick!' dispelled the gloom, and forward we drove, in the face of apparent destruction. the field had been lately rough ploughed or under fallow, and when a man fell he tripped the one behind, thus the ranks were opening as we approached the point whence all this hostile vengeance proceeded; but the rush forward had received an impulse from desperation, 'the spring of the men's patience had been strained until ready to snap, and when left to the freedom of its own extension, ceased not to act until the point to which it was directed was attained.' in a minute every obstacle was surmounted; the enemy fled as we leaped over the trenches and mounds like a pack of noisy hounds in pursuit, frightening them more by our wild hurrahs than actually hurting them by ball or bayonet. "the redoubt thus obtained consisted of an old country farm cottage, the lower part of its walls stone, the upper part mud or clay. it stood in the corner of what had been a garden, having one door to a road or broad lane, and another to the garden; the whole forming a square which had been lately fortified on three sides by a deep but dry trench, from which the earth had been cast inwards, and formed a considerable bank, sloping inwards, but presenting a perpendicular face of layers of green turf outwards. the cottage served as a temporary magazine, and the mound or embankment as a cover to the enemy from the fire of our troops; and from this place our men had been dreadfully cut down. "it cannot be for an instant supposed that all this could have been effected without very much deranging our ranks, and as the enemy had still a powerful force, and other works commanding this, time would not permit of particularity, and a brisk independent fire was kept up with more noise than good effect by our small groups upon our not yet defeated enemy. our muskets were getting useless by the frequent discharges, and several of the men were having recourse to the french pieces that lay scattered about, but they had been as freely used as our own, and were equally unserviceable. our number of effective hands was also decreasing, and that of the again approaching foe seemed irresistible. "two officers (captain campbell and lieutenant young) and about sixty of inferior rank were all that now remained without a wound of the right wing of the regiment that entered the field in the morning. the flag was hanging in tatters, and stained with the blood of those who had fallen over it. the standard cut in two, had been successively placed in the hands of three officers, who fell as we advanced; it was now borne by a sergeant, while the few remaining soldiers who rallied around it, defiled with mire, sweat, smoke, and blood, stood ready to oppose with the bayonet the advancing column, the front files of which were pouring in destructive showers of musketry among our confused ranks. to have disputed the post with such overwhelming numbers, would have been the hazarding the loss of our colours, and could serve no general interest to our army, as we stood between the front of our advancing support and the enemy; we were therefore ordered to retire. the greater number passed through the cottage, now filled with wounded and dying, and leaped from the door that was over the road into the trench of the redoubt, among the killed and wounded. "we were now between two fires of musketry, the enemy to our left and rear, the th and left wing of our own regiment in our front. fortunately, the intermediate space did not exceed a hundred paces, and our safe retreat depended upon the speed with which we could perform it. we rushed along like a crowd of boys pursuing the bounding ball to its distant limit, and in an instant plunged into a trench that had been cut across the road; the balls were whistling amongst us and over us; while those in front were struggling to get out, those behind were holding them fast for assistance, and we became firmly wedged together, until a horse without a rider came plunging down on the heads and bayonets of those in his way; they on whom he fell were drowned or smothered, and the gap thus made gave way for the rest to get out. "the right wing of the regiment, thus broken down and in disorder, was rallied by captain campbell (afterwards brevet lieutenant-colonel) and the adjutant (lieutenant young) on a narrow road, the steep banks of which served as a cover from the showers of grape that swept over our heads. "in this contest, besides our colonel, who was wounded as he gave the word of command, 'forward,' the regiment lost, in killed and wounded, twenty officers, one sergeant-major, and four hundred and thirty-six of inferior rank. "meantime the portuguese brigade was ordered to take possession of the evacuated redoubt, which was accomplished with little loss, for the enemy had been backward of entering, lest we might have been drawing them into an ambush, or had an intention of blowing up the cottage, in which a considerable quantity of loose cartridges had been left near a large fire by themselves when they were driven out, and most likely intended for that purpose against us, but we had removed the whole to a place of less danger. "thus far the left flank of our army was secured; the spaniards, farther to the right, were making good their advances, our artillery was about getting posted on commanding eminences, while only one battery remained on the western summit in the enemy's possession, and before sunset it was stormed also, and all the heights overlooking toulouse remained in our possession." as soon as the fight is over anton proceeds to mount the pulpit and deliver himself of a homily on the night-scene after a battle, which may be usefully abridged:-- "night after battle is always glorious to the undisputed victors, and whatever the loss may have been, the idea of it seems to be banished from our thoughtless minds. here, however, by the first early dawning of the morning, let us more seriously cast our eye over this scene of slaughter, where the blood of the commander and the commanded mix indiscriminately together over the field. "here lies many a gallant soldier, whose name or fame will never pass to another generation; yet the annals of our country will do justice to the general merit of the whole; from my feeble pen no lasting fame can be expected; time blots it out as i write; and even were i to attempt to pass an eulogy it might be considered contemptible from so humble an individual, by those who survive and witnessed the action. "i trust i shall not be considered egotistical in saying that i had some narrow escapes this day; but what soldier entered the field and came safe out of it had not narrow escapes? a musket-ball struck my halberd in line with my cheek, another passed between my arm and my side, and lodged in my knapsack, another struck the handle of my sword, and a fourth passed through my bonnet and knocked it off my head; had the ball been two inches lower, or i that much higher, the reader would have been saved the trouble of perusing this narrative. the company in which i was doing duty lost four officers, three sergeants, and forty-seven rank and file, in killed and wounded. the officers were:--lieutenant d. m'kenzie severely wounded, lieutenants farquharson and watson mortally wounded, and ensign latta killed. "there was one officer of the regiment taken prisoner this day: he had lately joined us from the st royals, in which he had been cadet, and had not the uniform of the regiment; but his deficiency of the uniform betrayed no lack of personal courage; the charm of the bonnet and plume, though wanting, did not make him less the soldier; he fell, wounded, near to lieutenant farquharson, at the side of the redoubt, as we entered it, and when we fell back he was made prisoner. "i have already mentioned that before the regiment advanced to storm the redoubt, we were posted on the main road that passes over the heights. during the short time we were in that position we had orders not to raise our heads above the bank, nor let the enemy see where we were posted. notwithstanding this prohibition, our sergeant-major, as brave a man as ever entered a field, was despatched from the right flank to warn those on the left to comply with this order, for several were rising up occasionally and sending a bullet at the enemy, and thus, perhaps, defeating the intention of the order. he went, but though cautioned to stoop as he proceeded, he considered this unmanly, and never did he walk with a more upright dauntless carriage of the body or a firmer step: it was his last march; a bullet pierced his brain and stretched him lifeless, without a sigh. "there was a man of the name of wighton in the regiment, a grumbling, discontented, disaffected sort of a character. he was one of the men attached to the tent placed under my charge on joining the regiment. some men take all for the best; not so with wighton, he took everything for the worst; indeed, his very countenance indicated something malignant, misanthropical, and even sottish in his disposition. he was a low, thick, squat fellow, with a dark yellowish swarthy complexion, and his broad face bore a strong resemblance to that of a calmuc tartar. as he rushed along the field his front-rank man exclaimed, 'god almighty preserve us, this is dreadful!' 'you be d--d,' wighton replied, 'you have been importuning god almighty this half-dozen of years, and it would be no wonder although he were to knock you down at last for troubling him so often; as for myself, i do not believe there is one; if there were, he would never have brought us here!' the last word hung unfinished on his tongue; the messenger of death sealed his lips in everlasting silence. "the contest that raged upwards of an hour around the redoubt, of which we had gained possession, was maintained without much regard to order or strict discipline; in short, it was rather tumultuary. every man was sensible of the necessity of having order restored, but thought himself the only orderly man of all the rest, and his voice was heard over that of his commander calling out 'form up.' in the meantime, his own attention was more engaged in keeping in the crowd, to load his piece, and afterwards pushing forward, to send a bullet to the enemy as often as he possibly could load and discharge, than attending to formation. "a grenadier of the th regiment, for both regiments (the nd and th) were somewhat intermixed, rushed forward, discharged his piece with effect, and suddenly turning the musket so as to grasp the muzzle, dealt deadly blows around him; he fell, grasping one of the enemy in one hand, and the broken firelock in the other. another sprung up on the top of the bank, called on his comrades to follow, and with a loud cheer, in which many joined that did not follow, he rushed forward in the same manner as his brave companion had done, and like him shared a similar fate. "it is only in this disorganised kind of conflict that individual courage may best act and best be seen. in united, orderly movements, the whole acquires the praise; and in this each individual is comprised, and proud of contributing his part to the honour of his corps, does his duty without attempting those feats of romantic daring which ancient historians record, but which modern tactics render nugatory or almost useless. individual daring is lost in orderly movements." chapter iv the nd at quatre bras the return of napoleon from elba found the nd on duty in ireland. but when great britain was pouring her choicest troops into the netherlands, in readiness for the last great struggle, so famous a regiment as the nd could not be left behind. the regiment embarked at cork on may , , for ostend, and thence marched in leisurely fashion to brussels. anton discovers quite a new justification for the duchess of richmond's famous ball, which will live in history longer than any other ball at which men and maidens ever danced. he says:-- "on the night of june , we were roused from our peaceful slumbers by the sounding of bugles, the rolling of drums, and the loud notes of our highland bagpipes, which threw their wild, warlike strains on the midnight breeze, to awaken the plaided sons of caledonia to arms. until daybreak of the th we stood to our arms on the streets of brussels, and here we were served out with four days' provisions for each man. the grand ball was broken up, and our highland dancers, who had been invited to display their active movements before the assembled lords, ladies, and military chieftains, were sent to their respective regiments to prepare for other sport--that of glorious battle. "i have heard some passing animadversions upon our great commander, for thus passing away time upon the eve of so momentous an affair as that about to take place. i think, as a soldier, and one who was on the spot, i have as good a right to give my opinion concerning it as any of those croaking politicians who were hundreds of miles from the scene of operations; and in giving my opinion, i give it as that of every soldier who was in brussels at the time, and i believe we are not the worst judges of what is most likely to forward a ready assembling, or a speedy concentration of the troops, in order to attain the end in view. "owing to this general assembly of all our principal officers, the duke had not only all his personal staff about him, but that of the generals under his command. they, again, had around them all the commanding officers of corps, to whom they could personally communicate their orders. the unusually late hour at which the despatches from the scene of hostilities had arrived, and the information respecting the intended movements of our allies, in consequence of their having unexpectedly had to retreat from the bravely contested field, might have changed all our commander's plans. if this should have been the case, he had all those about him to whom he could communicate his designs, without passing hours at the desk, and sending orderlies off to the quarters of officers in a city, the language of whose inhabitants was foreign to us. all this trouble, happily for us and for britain, was saved by this fortunate ball." quatre bras was not the least perilous of wellington's battles. ney's onfall took the iron duke by surprise, and that quatre bras was not a british defeat was due as much to ney's blunders in attack as to wellington's fine skill in defence, and to the magnificent courage of his troops. ney could, with ease, have thrown , men into the fight. wellington, at the beginning of the battle, had in hand only dutch-belgian troops, with seventeen guns. picton's division only reached the field in the afternoon, having started on their long march from brussels at five o'clock in the morning. later, reinforcements came trickling in, till, just as night was darkening, the guards reached the scene of action. but the british came up in fragments, and at remote intervals of time. wellington had very inefficient artillery, and no horsemen; and a fight under such conditions might well have gone wrong. fortunately, ney left half his forces out of the fight, and attacked with , instead of overwhelming the british with , . the highland regiments formed pack's brigade. they came up almost exhausted with their long march, and were flung hurriedly into the strife. the nd, in particular, fared very badly. in the whirl and passion of the fight it changed commanders no less than four times in little more than as many minutes. but disaster itself could hardly shake the ranks of the veterans of the peninsula. here is anton's description of quatre bras. it gives a most spirited account of the struggle betwixt horsemen and infantry:-- "on the morning of june , before the sun rose over the dark forest of soignes, our brigade, consisting of the st, th, and nd regiments, stood in column, sir denis pack at its head, waiting impatiently for the nd, the commanding officer of which was chidden severely by sir denis for being so dilatory. we took our place in the column, and the whole marched off to the strains of martial music, and amidst the shouts of the surrounding multitude. we passed through the ancient gate of the city, and hundreds left it in health and high spirits who before night were lifeless corpses on the field to which they were hastening. "as we entered the forest of soignes, our stream of ranks following ranks, in successive sections, moved on in silent but speedy course, like some river confined between two equal banks. the forest is of immense extent, and we continued to move on under its welcome shade until we came to a small hamlet, or auberge, embosomed in the wood to the right of the road. here we turned to our left, halted, and were in the act of lighting fires on purpose to set about cooking. we were flattering ourselves that we were to rest there until next day; for whatever reports had reached the ears of our commanders, no alarm had yet rung on ours. some were stretched under the shade to rest; others sat in groups draining the cup, and we always loved a large one, and it was now almost emptied of three days' allowance of spirits, a greater quantity than was usually served out at once to us on a campaign; others were busily occupied in bringing water and preparing the camp-kettles, for we were of the opinion, as i have already said, that we were to halt there for the day. "but, 'hark! a gun!' one exclaims; every ear is set to catch the sound, and every mouth seems half opened, as if to supersede the faithless ear that doubts of hearing. again another and another feebly floats through the forest. every ear now catches the sound, and every man grasps his musket. the distant report of the guns becomes more loud, and our march is urged on with greater speed. quatre bras appears in view; the frightened peasantry come running breathless and panting along the way. we move on to the left of the road, behind a gently rising eminence, form column of companies, regardless of the growing crop, and ascend the rising ground; a beautiful plain appears in view, surrounded with belts of wood, and the main road from brussels runs through it. "we now descended to the plain by an echelon movement towards our right, halted on the road (from which we had lately diverged to the left), formed in line, fronting a bank on the right side, whilst the other regiments took up their position to right and left, as directed by our general. a luxuriant crop of grain hid from our view the contending skirmishers beyond, and presented a considerable obstacle to our advance. we were in the act of lying down by the side of the road, in our usual careless manner, as we were wont when enjoying a rest on the line of march, some throwing back their heads on their knapsacks, intending to take a sleep, when general pack came galloping up, and chid the colonel for not having the bayonets fixed. this roused our attention, and the bayonets were instantly on the pieces. "there is something animating to a soldier in the clash of the fixing bayonet; more particularly so when it is thought that the scabbard is not to receive it until it drinks the blood of its foe. "our pieces were loaded, and perhaps never did a regiment in the field seem so short taken. we were all ready and in line--'forward!' was the word of command, and forward we hastened, though we saw no enemy in front. the stalks of the rye, like the reeds that grow on the margin of some swamp, opposed our advance; the tops were up to our bonnets, and we strode and groped our way through as fast as we could. by the time we reached a field of clover on the other side we were very much straggled; however, we united in line as fast as time and our speedy advance would permit. the belgic skirmishers retired through our ranks, and in an instant we were on their victorious pursuers. "our sudden appearance seemed to paralyse their advance. the singular appearance of our dress, combined, no doubt, with our sudden début, tended to stagger their resolution: we were on them, our pieces were loaded, and our bayonets glittered, impatient to drink their blood. those who had so proudly driven the belgians before them, turned now to fly, whilst our loud cheers made the fields echo to our wild hurrahs. "we drove on so fast that we almost appeared like a mob following the rout of some defeated faction. marshal ney, who commanded the enemy, observed our wild unguarded zeal, and ordered a regiment of lancers to bear down upon us. we saw their approach at a distance, as they issued from a wood, and took them for brunswickers coming to cut up the flying infantry; and as cavalry on all occasions have the advantage of retreating foot, on a fair field, we were halted in order to let them take their way; they were approaching our right flank, from which our skirmishers were extended, and we were far from being in a formation fit to repel an attack, if intended, or to afford regular support to our friends if requiring our aid. i think we stood with too much confidence, gazing towards them as if they had been our friends, anticipating the gallant charge they would make on the flying foe, and we were making no preparative movement to receive them as enemies, further than the reloading of the muskets, until a german orderly dragoon galloped up, exclaiming, 'franchee! franchee!' and, wheeling about, galloped off. "we instantly formed a rallying square; no time for particularity; every man's piece was loaded, and our enemies approached at full charge; the feet of their horses seemed to tear up the ground. our skirmishers having been impressed with the same opinion that these were brunswick cavalry, fell beneath their lances, and few escaped death or wounds; our brave colonel fell at this time, pierced through the chin until the point of the lance reached the brain. captain (now major) menzies fell, covered with wounds, and a momentary conflict took place over him; he was a powerful man, and, hand to hand, more than a match for six ordinary men. the grenadiers, whom he commanded, pressed round to save or avenge him, but fell beneath the enemies' lances. "of all descriptions of cavalry, certainly the lancers seem the most formidable to infantry, as the lance can be projected with considerable precision, and with deadly effect, without bringing the horse to the point of the bayonet; and it was only by the rapid and well-directed fire of musketry that these formidable assailants were repulsed. "colonel dick [who afterwards fell at sobraon] assumed the command on the fall of sir robert macara, and was severely wounded. brevet-major davidson succeeded, and was mortally wounded; to him succeeded brevet-major campbell (now lieutenant-colonel on the unattached list). thus, in a few minutes, we had been placed under four different commanding officers. "an attempt was now made to form us in line; for we stood mixed in one irregular mass--grenadier, light, and battalion companies--a noisy group; such is the inevitable consequence of a rapid succession of commanders. our covering sergeants were called out on purpose that each company might form on the right of its sergeant; an excellent plan had it been adopted, but a cry arose that another charge of cavalry was approaching, and this plan was abandoned. we now formed a line on the left of the grenadiers, while the cavalry that had been announced were cutting through the ranks of the th regiment. meantime the other regiments to our right and left, suffered no less than we; the superiority of the enemy in cavalry afforded him a decided advantage on the open plain, for our british cavalry and artillery had not yet reached the field. "we were at this time about two furlongs past the farm of quatre bras, as i suppose, and a line of french infantry was about the same distance from us in front, and we had commenced firing at that line, when we were ordered to form square to oppose cavalry. general pack was at our head, and major campbell commanded the regiment. we formed square in an instant; in the centre were several wounded french soldiers witnessing our formation round them; they doubtless considered themselves devoted to certain death among us seeming barbarians, but they had no occasion to speak ill of us afterwards; for as they were already incapable of injuring us, we moved about them regardful of their wounds and suffering. "our last file had got into square, and into its proper place, so far as unequalised companies could form a square, when the cuirassiers dashed full on two of its faces; their heavy horses and steel armour seemed sufficient to bury us under them, had they been pushed forward on our bayonets. "a moment's pause ensued; it was the pause of death. general pack was on the right angle of the front face of the square, and he lifted his hat towards the french officer, as he was wont to do when returning a salute. i suppose our assailants construed our forbearance as an indication of surrendering; a false idea; not a blow had been struck nor a musket levelled, but when the general raised his hat, it served as a signal, though not a preconcerted one, but entirely accidental; for we were doubtful whether our officer commanding was protracting the order, waiting for the general's command, as he was present. be this as it may, a most destructive fire was opened; riders cased in heavy armour, fell tumbling from their horses; the horses reared, plunged, and fell on the dismounted riders; steel helmets and cuirasses rang against unsheathed sabres as they fell to the ground; shrieks and groans of men, the neighing of horses, and the discharge of musketry, rent the air, as men and horses mixed together in one heap of indiscriminate slaughter. those who were able to fly, fled towards a wood on our right, whence they had issued to the attack, and which seemed to afford an extensive cover to an immense reserve not yet brought into action. "once more clear of these formidable and daring assailants we formed line, examined our ammunition boxes, and found them getting empty. our officer commanding pointed towards the pouches of our dead and dying comrades, and from them a sufficient supply was obtained. we lay down behind the gentle rise of a trodden-down field of grain, and enjoyed a few minutes' rest to our wearied limbs; but not in safety from the flying messengers of death, the whistling music of which was far from lulling us to sleep. "afternoon was now far spent, and we were resting in line, without having equalised the companies, for this would have been extremely dangerous in so exposed a position, for the field afforded no cover, and we were in advance of the other regiments. the enemy were at no great distance, and, i may add, firing very actively upon us. we had wasted a deal of ammunition this day, and surely to very little effect, otherwise every one of our adversaries must have bled before this time. our commanding officer cautioned us against this useless expenditure, and we became a little more economical. "our position being, as i have already observed, without any cover from the fire of the enemy, we were commanded to retire to the rear of the farm, where we took up our bivouac on the field for the night. the day's contest at a close, our attention was directed to the casualties which had occurred in our ranks. we had lost, in killed, one colonel, one lieutenant, one ensign, one sergeant-major, two sergeants, and forty-eight rank and file. one brevet lieutenant-colonel, five captains, five lieutenants, two ensigns, fourteen sergeants, one drummer, and two hundred and fourteen rank and file composed our list of wounded. six privates fell into the enemy's hands; among these was a little lad (smith fyfe) about five feet high. the french general, on seeing this diminutive-looking lad, is said to have lifted him up by the collar or breech and exclaimed to the soldiers who were near him, 'behold the sample of the men of whom you seem afraid!' this lad returned a few days afterwards, dressed in the clothing of a french grenadier, and was saluted by the name of napoleon, which he retained until he was discharged. "the night passed off in silence: no fires were lit, every man lay down in rear of his arms, and silence was enjoined for the night. round us lay the dying and the dead, the latter not yet interred, and many of the former, wishing to breathe their last where they fell, slept to death with their heads on the same pillow on which those who had to toil through the future fortunes of the field reposed." chapter v the highlanders at waterloo anton's account of the retreat from quatre bras to waterloo, of the camp on the historic ridge through the falling rains and blackness of the night before the great battle, and of the tumult and passion, the perils and the triumph, of the memorable day, has many merits. but it is marred by a perfect paroxysm of apostrophes to posterity, to the spirits of the fallen, to freedom, to all sorts of more or less heroic and non-existent abstractions. in describing the struggle in which he was a microscopic and almost nameless actor, anton feels it necessary to mount on the tallest literary stilts available, and walking on stilts is not usually a very graceful performance. anton's account of the battle, in a word, recalls the famous description of a scotch haggis. it contains much good substance, but in a very confused and planless state. his story, indeed, only becomes intelligible by virtue of generous omissions. here is anton's tale of the march from quatre bras:-- "on the morning of the th the unclouded heavens began to present the approach of day, our usual signal to rise from our sky-canopied bed. we started to arms and took up a new line on the field, facing our yet silent foe. here, after arranging our ranks and equalising the companies, we piled our arms, and commenced to prepare our yesterday's dinner, which served us for an excellent breakfast. "the men not thus engaged were now busily employed in burying the dead, and those who had been attending the wounded in the adjoining houses had not neglected the interest of their respective messes. besides our own allowances of meat which we had brought from brussels, there was not a mess without a turkey, goose, duck, or fowl floating in the seething kettle; and an abundance of vegetables from the neighbouring gardens helped to add to the richness of the soup which was preparing, and which we got good time to take, and for this we were truly thankful, for we were very hungry. "a passing fog hung over the plain a short time, but soon disappeared, and left us with a cloudless sky. a general retrograde movement now took place, and we retired on the main road by which we had advanced from brussels. "it was with regret that many of us left that field, on which some of our men lay breathing their last. among this number was a young man whose wound was in his forehead, from which the brain protruded. in this state he had lain on the field during the night; his eyes were open, with a death film over them; two of his comrades were watching the last throb of his expiring breath before they would consign his body to the grave, already opened to receive it, when the call to arms made us leave him on the field to the hands of strangers. "the sun shone brightly on our arms as we left the fields of quatre bras, and passed the farms round which the remains of some thousands of brave men, british, brunswick, belgic, and french, were interred; and many yet lay scattered over the fields, and may have remained hidden amidst the grain which still continued standing, until the sickle or the scythe laid the fields bare. "the enemy did not as yet seem to notice our movement, and we continued our march until we had passed the village, half-way to waterloo. here we turned off the road to our right, formed in columns, and halted; and, short as that halt was, it afforded time for one of our regiments to hold a drum-head court-martial and carry the sentence into effect on the spot. examples of this kind are absolutely necessary, whatever philanthropists may say to the contrary. they tend to preserve regularity, order, and discipline; and although an individual may suffer a punishment which is debasing and cruel, yet it is better that this should be awarded and inflicted than to see hundreds fall victims to the rapacity that might ensue from not timely visiting the aggressor with punishment. "we had now attained the undulating height of mont st. jean, and wellington said, 'we shall retire no farther.' the thunder ceased to roll its awful peals through the heavens, the thick embodied clouds deployed, spread wide, and half dissolved in drizzly mist, but, as if doubtful of man's resolves, resumed again their threatening aspect, as if to secure our halt." at waterloo sir denis pack's brigade--the st, nd, th, and nd--formed part of picton's division, and held the line immediately to the left of the great brussels road. it was on this part of wellington's battle-front that napoleon launched his first great infantry attack--d'erlon's corps, four close-massed columns--over , bayonets in all--with the fire of seventy-four guns sweeping the path in their front as with a besom of flame. the story of how picton's slender lines met this mighty onfall, shook the french columns into retreat with actual bayonet push, and how the life guards, inniskillings, and greys swept down the slope and utterly wrecked d'erlon's swaying battalions is one of the most dramatic passages in the story of the famous day. anton's account of the night before waterloo is graphic:-- "our lines now formed behind the long-extended ridge of mont st. jean, having the village of waterloo a mile or two in our rear, and at no less a distance the dark forest of soignes, which extends to brussels. the right of our front british line extended beyond hougoumont as far as merke braine; the left is said to have extended to wavre! sir t. picton's division consisted of the th, nd, th, and the th (rifle corps), under the command of sir james kempt; and the st, nd, th, and nd regiments, under the command of sir denis pack, extended from the left of the brussels road to a copse on a rising ground which probably overlooked the whole field. the extensive farm-houses and offices of la haye sainte were to the right of the division, but in front and on the right side of the road. "before us was a line of belgic and dutch troops; a narrow road, lined with stunted quickset hedges, runs between this line of foreigners (or i may, with more justice, say natives) and us. this road commands a view of the enemy's position, and the side next to us is the artillery's post; the hedges in front form a feeble cover from the enemy's view, but no defence against his shot, shell, or musketry. "our line, being on the slope next to waterloo, was hidden from the enemy, who took up his position on the heights of la belle alliance, parallel to those of st. jean: a valley corresponding to those wavy heights on either side divides the two armies, a distance of about half a musket-shot intervening between the adverse fronts. "we piled our arms, kindled fires, and stood round the welcome blaze to warm ourselves and dry our dripping clothes. midnight approached, and all the fields towards the artillery's post were hid in darkness, save what the fitful gleams of our fires cast over them. silence prevailed, and wet although we were, we were falling asleep sitting round the fires or stretched on scattered branches brought for fuel. at this time a very heavy shower poured down upon us, and occasioned some movement or noisy murmur in the french army or line of belgians. this induced our sentries to give an alarm. in an instant each man of the brigade stood by his musket; the bayonets were already on the pieces, and these all loaded, notwithstanding the rain. we stood thus to our arms for nearly an hour, sinking to our ankles amongst the soft muddy soil of the field, when the alarm was found to be false, and we again sat or lay down to repose. "long-looked-for day at last began to break; we stood to our useless arms for a few minutes, and then began to examine their contents. the powder was moistened in the piece and completely washed out of the pan. the shots were drawn, muskets sponged out, locks oiled, and everything put to rights." anton's description of the actual on-coming of the french and of the charge of the greys is in his worst style; turgid, windy, unreal. yet it is the story of a man who actually plied 'brown bess' in the central passion of the fight, and ran in with levelled bayonet on d'erlon's grenadiers, and cheered the gallant greys as they rode past on their famous charge. had anton told his tale with the prosaic simplicity of de foe or the stern realism of swift, we might have had a battle picture memorable in literature. as it is, we must be thankful for small mercies. the present reader at least shall be spared anton's incessant apostrophes:-- "now, on our right, napoleon urged on his heavy columns, while a like movement was made against our left. the guns opened their war-breathing mouths in thundering peals, and all along the ridge of mont st. jean arose one dense cloud of smoke. "france now pushed forward on the line of our belgic allies, drove them from their post, and rolled them in one promiscuous mass of confusion through the ranks of our brigade, which instantly advanced to repel the pursuers, who came pushing on in broken disorder, in the eagerness of pursuit, till obstructed by the hedge and narrow road, while a like obstruction presented itself to us on the other side. we might have forced ourselves through as the belgians had done, but our bare thighs had no protection from the piercing thorns; and doubtless those runaways had more wisdom in shunning death, though at the hazard of laceration, than we would have shown in rushing forward upon it in disorder, with self-inflicted torture. the foe beheld our front and paused; a sudden terror seized his flushed ranks. we were in the act of breaking through the hedge, when our general gave orders to open our ranks. in an instant our cavalry passed through, leaped both hedges, and plunged on the panic-stricken foe. 'scotland for ever!' burst from the mouth of each highlander as the scots greys pass through our ranks. "what pen can describe the scene? horses' hoofs sinking in men's breasts. riders' swords streaming in blood, waving over their heads, and descending in deadly vengeance. stroke follows stroke, like the turning of a flail in the hand of a dexterous thresher; the living stream gushes red from the ghastly wound. there the piercing shrieks and dying groans; here the loud cheering of an exulting army, animating the slayers to deeds of signal vengeance upon a daring foe. it was a scene of vehement destruction, yells and shrieks, wounds and death; and the bodies of the dead served as pillows for the dying. "a thousand prisoners are driven in before our cavalry as they return over the corpse-strewn field, and the loud shouts of ten thousand soldiers welcome the victors back. but long and loud are the enthusiastic cheerings of the proud highlanders as they greet the gallant greys' approach. 'glory of scotland!' bursts spontaneously from the mouth of each highlander, while rending shouts of 'england!' or 'ireland!' welcome the st and inniskilling dragoons, and echo along the lines. this dreadful charge made by our cavalry in our immediate front gave an impulse bordering on enthusiasm to our spirits that nothing could depress. but the enemy, as if dreading more than common opposition at this spot, forbore to press upon it during the remaining part of the day. "the right and left both sustained the impetuous onset of napoleon's cavalry, and these on each occasion met with powerful opposition, and were driven back in wild confusion. but on the right and centre he seems to urge his greatest force throughout the whole day. la haye sainte is one pool of blood; against it napoleon's artillery incessantly play, and columns of infantry are urged on to drive the brave defenders out. but these meet them with fire and steel, and repel them with determined resolution. here a never-ceasing combat rages throughout the day, and forms an interesting object in the general picture of the field. hougoumont is no less a scene of slaughter; there, every effort is made to obtain possession and to break in upon our right wing. sometimes in the heat of a charge they rush past its bounds, but meet with wounds or death as they fly back; for it is only when the enemy occasionally pursues his apparently victorious course beyond his lines and past our guns that he gets a view of our columns or lines of infantry, which immediately take advantage of his disordered front, and drive him back, with immense loss, beyond our guns and down the descent; they then retire to their well-chosen ground and send out a company or two of skirmishers from each regiment to keep up a never-ceasing fire, save when driven back on their respective columns in those repeated charges. "the sun, as he hastens down, bursts through the hazy clouds and gleams in brightness over the long-contested field. it is the setting sun of napoleon's greatness. "the loss of the regiment this day was trifling, if compared with that which it sustained on the th at quatre bras: we had only six men killed; one captain, three lieutenants, and thirty-three rank and file wounded. brussels, which had been kept in a state of excitement since the night of the th, heard the glad tidings of the result of the battle, and the doors were opened wide for the reception of the bleeding soldiers, who had been conveyed thither on waggons or had dragged their maimed limbs along the way without assistance. the poor women, who had been forced back to the rear of the army when the battle commenced, were hurried amidst the mingled mass of fugitives, panic-struck batmen, mules, horses, and cattle, back to the gates of brussels; but on entering, found no friendly hand stretched out to take them off the streets. "night passes over the groaning field of waterloo, and morning gives its early light to the survivors of the battle to return to the heights of st. jean, on purpose to succour the wounded or bury the dead. here may be seen the dismounted gun, the wheels of the carriage half sunk in the mire; the hand of the gunner rests on the nave, his body half-buried in a pool of blood, and his eyes open to heaven, whither his spirit has already fled. here are spread, promiscuously, heaps of mangled bodies--some without head, or arms, or legs: others lie stretched naked, their features betraying no mark of violent suffering. "the population of brussels, prompted by a justifiable curiosity, approach the field to see the remains of the strangers who fell to save their spoil-devoted city, and to pick up some fragment as a memorial of the battle, or as a relic for other days. of these the field affords an abundant harvest; cuirasses, helmets, medals, swords, pistols, and all the various weapons of destruction in military use, besides the balls and bullets, which may be ploughed up a thousand years hence. here also are hundreds of blankets, ripped-up knapsacks, torn shirts, stockings, and all the simple contents of the fallen soldiers' kits. letters and memoranda of the slain strew the field in every direction, which are picked up by the curious and carefully preserved." iv with the guns at waterloo iv.--with the guns at waterloo mercer, the author of the "journal of the waterloo campaign," came of a soldierly stock. his father belonged to the royal engineers, served on the staff of sir henry clinton in the american war of independence, and rose to the rank of general. cavalie mercer, with whose book we are concerned, was born in , passed through the military academy at woolwich, obtained a commission in the artillery at sixteen, and had not reached the retired list when he died at the age of eighty-five. but though his career as a soldier was long and honourable, it cannot--except for the three great days of quatre bras and waterloo--be called very inspiring. mercer's first military service was in ireland at the time of the rebellion. war is always hateful, but its blackest form is civil war. mercer was next unfortunate enough to take part in the most ignoble expedition known to british arms--whitelocke's shameful and unhappy performance at buenos ayres. this was the worst school imaginable for a young soldier, but mercer had fine military gifts, and though he was shut out from the peninsular campaigns, when he made his appearance on the field of waterloo he showed himself to be an artillery officer of very fine quality--cool, skilful, and gallant. he served after the peace in north america, and commanded the artillery in nova scotia in the troubled days of the maine boundary-line dispute, when it seemed likely that england and the united states would drift into war. mercer's long military career found its climax in the three memorable days of june - , ; and the splendours and terrors, the bloodshed and the triumph of those mighty battles are vividly reflected in his pages. chapter i waiting for the guns mercer held the rank of second captain only in troop g, but sir alexander dickson, whose troop it was, being employed on other duties, mercer was in actual command. it was a fine troop, perfect in drill, and splendidly horsed. it owed this latter circumstance, perhaps, to a characteristic bit of war office administration. the artillery was being reduced to the level of a peace establishment when napoleon broke loose from elba, and there came the sudden summons to war. a second troop of horse-artillery was at that moment in colchester barracks. it was broken up, and troop g took the picked horses of both batteries--"thus," says mercer proudly, "making it the finest troop in the service." one fine troop was in this way made out of two half-dismantled batteries. the troop was made up of eighty gunners and eighty-four drivers, with the usual proportion of officers and non-commissioned officers. the horses numbered no less than . there were six guns--five of them being nine-pounders, and one a heavy five-and-a-half inch howitzer. mercer has the wholesome pride of a good officer in his own men and guns. he tells with pardonable complacency the story of how his troop shone in a grand cavalry review held on may , near gramont:-- "about two o'clock the duke of wellington and prince blucher, followed by an immense cortège, in which were to be seen many of the most distinguished officers and almost every uniform in europe, arrived on the ground. need i say that the foreigners were loud in praise of the martial air, fine persons, and complete equipment of the men and horses, and of the strength and beauty of the latter? and my vanity on that occasion was most fully gratified, for on arriving where we stood, the duke not only called old blucher's attention to 'the beautiful battery,' but, instead of proceeding straight through the ranks, as they had done everywhere else, each sub-division--nay, each individual horse--was closely scrutinised, blucher repeating continually that he had never seen anything so superb in his life, and concluding by exclaiming, 'mein gott, dere is not von orse in dies batterie wich is not goot for veldt marshal': and wellington agreed with him. it certainly was a splendid collection of horses. however, except asking sir george wood whose troop it was, his grace never even bestowed a regard on me as i followed from sub-division to sub-division." the troop, as mercer's story shows, was literally smashed up at waterloo; but mercer, with great energy and skill, quickly built it up again, and at a great review in paris, where the allied sovereigns were present, the english guns were once more the admired of all observers. he writes:-- "it seems that we have been the _rara avis_ of the day ever since our review. the rapidity of our movements, close-wheeling, perfection of our equipment, &c., &c., excited universal astonishment and admiration. the consequence of this was an application to the duke for a closer inspection, which he most magnanimously granted, and ordered ross's troop out for that purpose. they paraded in the fields near clichy. the reviewers, i understand, were _marechaux de france_; but there was also a great concourse of officers of all nations. after the manoeuvres the troop was dismounted, and a most deliberate inspection of ammunition, and even of the men's kits, appointments, shoeing, construction of carriages, &c., &c., took place. i believe they were equally astonished and pleased with what they saw, and as there were several among them taking notes, have no doubt that we shall soon see improvements introduced into the continental artillery." mercer, curiously enough, declares that the british artilleryman of his day had no affection for his horse, and in this respect compares very ill with the german artilleryman; the same thing, he says, applies to british and german cavalry:-- "affection for, and care of, his horse is the trait _par excellence_ which distinguishes the german dragoon from the english. the former would sell everything to feed his horse; the latter would sell his horse itself for spirits, or the means of obtaining them. the one never thinks of himself until his horse is provided for; the other looks upon the animal as a curse and a source of perpetual drudgery to himself, and gives himself no concern about it when once away from under his officer's eye. the german accustoms his horse to partake of his own fare. i remember a beautiful mare, belonging to a sergeant of the rd hussars, k.g.l., which would even eat onions. she was one of the very few that escaped after the disastrous retreat of corunna, and had been saved and smuggled on board ship by the sergeant himself. in the peninsula the only means of enforcing some attention to their horses amongst our english regiments was to make every man walk and carry his saddle-bags whose horse died or was ill." all branches of the british army, it may be added, did not impress the allied sovereigns in the same favourable manner as the artillery. the british infantry seemed under-sized as compared with austrians, prussians, &c. mercer's account of the memorable review, held only five weeks after waterloo, is interesting:-- "at length the approach of the sovereigns was announced, and they came preceded and followed by a most numerous and brilliant cortège, in which figured, perhaps, some of almost every arm of every army in europe. it was a splendid and most interesting sight. first came the emperor alexander and the king of prussia, in their respective green and blue uniforms, riding together--the former, as usual, all smiles; the latter taciturn and melancholy. a little in their rear followed the austrian emperor, in a white uniform, turned up with red, but quite plain--a thin, dried-up, thread-paper of a man, not of the most distinguished bearing; his lean, brown visage, however, bore an expression of kindness and _bonhomie_, which folk say his true character in no way belies. they passed along, scanning our people with evident interest and curiosity; and in passing me (as they did to every commanding officer), pulled off their hats, and saluted me with most gracious smiles. i wonder if they do the same to their own. until yesterday i had not seen any british infantry under arms since the evening the troops from america arrived at garges, and, in the meantime, have constantly seen corps of foreign infantry. "these are all uncommonly well dressed in new clothes, smartly made, setting the men off to the greatest advantage--add to which their coiffure of high broad-topped shakos, or enormous caps of bearskin. our infantry--indeed our whole army--appeared at the review in the same clothes in which they had marched, slept, and fought for months. the colour had faded to a dusky brick-dust hue; their coats, originally not very smartly made, had acquired by constant wearing that loose, easy set so characteristic of old clothes, comfortable to the wearer, but not calculated to add grace to his appearance. _pour surcroît de laideur_, their cap is perhaps the meanest, ugliest thing ever invented. from all these causes it arose that our infantry appeared to the utmost disadvantage--dirty, shabby, mean, and very small. some such impression was, i fear, made on the sovereigns, for a report has reached us this morning that they remarked to the duke what very small men the english were. 'ay,' replied our noble chief, 'they are small; but your majesties will find none who fight so well.' i wonder if this is true. however small our men and mean their appearance, yet it was evident that they were objects of intense interest from the immense time and close scrutiny of the inspection." mercer, with his troop, embarked at harwich on april , and landed at ostend on the th. thence he marched, with frequent halts, to brussels. his account of the marches and experiences of his troop is very interesting, if only as showing that even under a great commander like wellington, amazing blunders and much distracted confusion were possible. nothing more absurd can well be imagined than the fashion in which mercer's fine troop was disembarked at ostend; and nothing could be more planless and belated than the marching--or rather the loitering--of troop g towards brussels. wellington used to complain afterwards that in the waterloo campaign he had the most villainous staff with which an unhappy general was ever afflicted; and the helpless quality of wellington's staff is reflected in mercer's account of the orders he received--or did not receive--directing his march to the front. here is mercer's account of how his troops started from their english barracks on the march which was to end on the smoky ridge at waterloo:-- "on the morning of the th, the troop paraded at half-past seven o'clock with as much regularity and as quietly as if only going to a field-day; not a man either absent or intoxicated, and every part of the guns and appointments in the most perfect order. at eight, the hour named in orders, we marched off the parade. the weather was fine, the scenery, as we skirted the beautiful banks of the stour, charming, and the occasion exhilarating. near manningtree we halted a short time to feed our horses, and then, pursuing our route, arrived at harwich about three o'clock in the afternoon. here we found the transports--the _adventure_, _philarea_, and _salus_, in which last i embarked. "about p.m. on the th, a light breeze from the n.w. induced our agent to get under way, and we repaired on board our respective ships with every prospect of a good and speedy passage. in this, however, we were disappointed, for the breeze dying away as the sun went down, we anchored, by signal, at the harbour's mouth, just as it got dark. "the evening was splendid. a clear sky studded with myriads of stars overhead, and below a calm unruffled sea, reflecting on its glassy surface the lights of the distant town, the low murmuring sounds from which, and the rippling of the water under the ships' bows, were the only interruptions to the solemn stillness that prevailed after the people had retired to their berths. in our more immediate neighbourhood stretched out the long, low, sandy tract, on the seaward extremity of which the dark masses and landguard fort could just be distinguished. "with daybreak on the morning of the th came a favourable wind, though light, and again we took up our anchors and proceeded to sea. for some distance after clearing the harbour our course lay along the suffolk coast, and so near in that objects on shore were plainly discernible. to us who had long been stationed at woodbridge, only a few miles inland, this was highly interesting. we knew every village, every copse, every knoll--nay, almost every tree. there were the houses in which we had so oft been hospitably entertained; there were the sheep-walks on which we had so often manoeuvred; and there in the distance, as we passed the mouth of the deben, our glasses showed us the very barrack on the hill, with its tiled roofs illumined by the noontide sun. about bawdsey we left the coast, and steered straight over with a light but favourable wind; the low, sandy shores of suffolk soon sank beneath the horizon. "during the night a light breeze right aft and smooth water enabled us to make good progress; but towards morning ( th) the wind had very considerably increased, and although the coast was not in sight, we were sensible of its neighbourhood from the number of curious heavy-looking boats plying round us in all directions, having the foremast with its huge lug-sail stuck right up in the bow or rather inclining over it. "nothing, certainly, could be more repulsive than the appearance of the coast--sandhills as far as the eye could reach, broken only by the grey and lugubrious works and buildings of ostend, and further west by the spires of mittelkerke and nieuport peering above the sandhills. the day, too, was one little calculated to enliven the scene. a fresh breeze and cloudy sky; the sea black, rough, and chilly; the land all under one uniform cold grey tint, presenting scarcely any relief of light and shadow, consequently no feature. upon reconnoitring it, however, closer, we found that this forbidding exterior was only an outer coating to a lovely gem. through the openings between the sandhills could be seen a rich level country of the liveliest verdure, studded with villages and farms interspersed amongst avenues of trees and small patches of wood. "a black-looking mass of timber rising from the waters off the entrance of the harbour, and which we understood to be a fort, now became the principal object of our attention. the harbour of ostend is an artificial one, formed by _jetées_ of piles projecting as far as low-water mark. the right on entering is merely a row of piles running along in front of the works of the town; but on the left is a long mole or _jetée_ on the extremity of which is a small fort. behind this mole to the north-east the shore curving inwards forms a bight, presenting an extent of flat sandy beach on which the water is never more than a few feet deep even at the highest tides. a tremendous surf breaks on this whenever it blows from the westward. "followed by a crowd of other craft of all sorts and sizes, we shot rapidly along towards that part of the harbour where a dense assemblage of shipping filled up its whole breadth and forbade further progress, so that one wondered what was to become of the numerous vessels in our wake. the mystery was soon explained, for each having attained the point, turning her prow to the town, ran bump on the sands and there stuck fast. those immediately above us had just arrived, and from them a regiment of light dragoons was in the act of disembarking, by throwing their horses overboard and then hauling them ashore by a long rope attached to their head-collars. what a scene! what hallooing, shouting, vociferating, and plunging! the poor horses did not appear much gratified by their sudden transition from the warm hold to a cold bath. "our keel had scarcely touched the sand ere we were abruptly boarded by a naval officer (captain hill) with a gang of sailors, who, _sans cérémonie_, instantly commenced hoisting our horses out, and throwing them, as well as our saddlery, &c., overboard, without ever giving time for making any disposition to receive or secure the one or the other. to my remonstrance his answer was, 'i can't help it, sir; the duke's orders are positive that no delay is to take place in landing the troops as they arrive, and the ships sent back again; so you must be out of her before dark.' it was then about p.m., and i thought this a most uncomfortable arrangement. "the scramble and confusion that ensued baffle all description. bundles of harness went over the side in rapid succession as well as horses. in vain we urged the loss and damage that must accrue from such a proceeding. 'can't help it--no business of mine--duke's orders are positive,' &c., &c., was our only answer. meantime the ebb had begun to diminish the depth of water alongside, and enabled us to send parties overboard and to the beach to collect and carry our things ashore, as well as to haul and secure the horses. the same operation commenced from the other vessels as they arrived, and the bustle and noise were inconceivable. the dragoons and our men (some nearly, others quite, naked) were dashing in and out of the water, struggling with the affrighted horses, or securing their wet accoutrements as best they could. some of the former were saddling their dripping horses, and others mounting and marching off in small parties. disconsolate-looking groups of women and children were to be seen here and there sitting on their poor duds, or roaming about in search of their husbands, or mayhap of a stray child, all clamouring, lamenting, and materially increasing the babel-like confusion. "it was not without difficulty that i succeeded at last in impressing upon captain hill the necessity of leaving our guns and ammunition-waggons, &c., on board for the night--otherwise his furious zeal would have turned all out to stand on the wet sand or be washed away. meantime, although we were on shore, we were without orders what to do next. not an officer, either of the staff, the garrison, or even of our own corps, came near us. night approached, and with it bad weather evidently. our poor shivering horses and heaps of wet harness could not remain on the sands much longer, when the flood began to make again; and it was necessary to look about and see what could be done. with this intent, therefore, leaving the officers to collect their divisions, i got one of my horses saddled and rode into the town. here was the same bustle (although not the same confusion) as on the sands. the streets were thronged with british officers, and the quays with guns, waggons, horses, baggage, &c. "one would hardly expect to meet with any delay in finding the commandant of a fortress, yet such was my case; and it was not until after long and repeated inquiry that i discovered lieut.-colonel gregory, th regiment, to be that personage, and found his residence. from him, however, i could obtain nothing. he seemed hardly to have expected the compliment of reporting our arrival, and stated that he had no other orders but that the troops of every arm should march for ghent the moment they landed, without halting a single day in ostend. "strange to say neither i nor the colonel recollected there was such a person in ostend as an assistant-quarter-master-general, who should be referred to on such an occasion. yet this was the case; and that officer, instead of attending to the debarkation of the troops, or making himself acquainted with the arrivals, kept out of sight altogether. baffled at all points, i was returning to the sands when i met major drummond on the quai impérial, and related my story. his advice was to march to ghystelle (a village about six miles from ostend), and after putting up there for the night, to return and disembark my guns, &c., in the morning. while speaking, however, some one (i forget who) came up with the agreeable information that ghystelle was already fully occupied by the th dragoons. he, however, gave me directions for some large sheds about a mile off, where his own horses had passed the preceding night. "this was some consolation: so riding off immediately to reconnoitre the place and the road to it, i returned to the beach just as it got dark; and a most miserable scene of confusion i there found. our saddles, harness, baggage, &c., were still strewed about the sand, and these the flood, which was now making, threatened soon to submerge. _pour surcroît de malheur_, the rain came down in torrents, and a storm, which had been brewing up the whole afternoon, now burst over us most furiously. the lightning was quite tremendous, whilst a hurricane, howling horribly through the rigging of the ships, was only exceeded in noise by the loud explosions and rattling of the incessant claps of thunder. "our people, meantime, blinded by the lightning, had borrowed some lanterns from the ship, and were busily employed searching for the numerous articles still missing. the obscurity, however, between the vivid flashes was such that we were only enabled to keep together by repeatedly calling to each other, and it was not without difficulty and great watchfulness that we escaped being caught by the tide, which flowed rapidly in over the flat sands. at length, having collected as many of our things as was possible, and saddled our horses (some two or three of which had escaped altogether), we began our march for the sheds a little after midnight, with a farrier and another dismounted man carrying lanterns at the head of our column. "the rain continued pouring, but flashes of lightning occurred now only at intervals, and the more subdued rolling of the thunder told us that it was passing away in the distance. our route lay through the town, to gain which we found some advanced ditch to be crossed by a very frail wooden bridge. half the column, perhaps, might have cleared this, when, 'crack,' down it went, precipitating all who were on it at the moment into the mud below, and completely cutting off those in the rear. here was a dilemma. ignorant of the localities, and without a guide, how was the rear of the column to join us, or how were the people in the ditch, with their horses, to be extricated? luckily none were hurt seriously, and the depth was not great--not more, perhaps, than six or eight feet; but that was enough to baffle all our attempts at extricating the horses. some belgic soldiers of a neighbouring guard, of which we were not aware, fortunately heard us, and came to our assistance; and one of them, crossing the ditch, undertook to guide the rear of our column and those below to another gate, whilst one accompanied us to the quai impérial, where, after waiting a while, we were at length assembled, drenched with rain and starving of cold and hunger. "the quai was silent and dark; the only light gleamed dimly through the wet from a miserable lamp over the door of a café, in which people were still moving; and the only sounds that broke the stillness of the quarter were the splashing of the rain and the clattering of our steel scabbards and horses' feet as we moved dejectedly on--winding our way through unknown avenues (for in the dark i found it impossible to recognise the narrow streets through which i had so hurriedly passed in the afternoon), occasionally illuminated by a solitary lamp, the feeble light of which, however, was somewhat increased by reflection on the wet pavement. after following for some time this devious course, i began to fear i had missed the road, when again we stumbled upon a belgic guard, by whose direction and guidance we at length reached the outer barrier. here we again came to a standstill, the officer in charge refusing to let us out. some altercation ensued; i forget the particulars, but it ended in his opening the gate. "once clear of the town, we hoped soon to reach our lodging; but had scarcely advanced a hundred yards ere we found that result was more distant than we had fancied, and that patience was still requisite. the rain had rendered the fat soil so slippery that our horses could scarcely keep their legs, and the road running along the narrow summit of a dyke, with ditches on each side, rendered precaution and slow movement imperative. every moment the fall of some horse impeded the column; our lanterns went out; and after wandering a considerable time, we at length ascertained, by knocking up the people at a house by the wayside, that we had overshot our mark, and it was not until two in the morning that we succeeded in finding the sheds. these were immensely long buildings attached to some saw-mills, for what use i know not, unless to store planks, &c., for they were now empty; but they were admirably adapted to our purpose, since we could range all our horses along one side, while the men occupied the other, in one of them. a quantity of hay, and some straw, left by our predecessors, was a valuable acquisition to man and beast under such circumstances. all our enjoyments are the effect of contrast. it would be considered miserable enough to be obliged to pass the night under such equivocal shelter as these sheds afforded, and that, too, in wet clothes; yet did we now, after twelve hours of harassing work and exposure to the weather, look upon them as palaces, and having cared for our poor beasts as far as circumstances would permit, proceeded to prepare for that repose so necessary and so longed for. "our road back to the town, now we had daylight, appeared very short, and having dried considerably, was not so slippery as last night. the gates were not yet opened when we arrived; a crowd of workmen of different kinds had already assembled and were waiting for admission, as were we, for a few minutes. at last they opened, and we proceeded to the harbour in search of our ship. the quais, beach, &c., were thronged as on the day before, and we added to the bustle in disembarking our guns and carriages, &c. this was completed by eleven o'clock, and we were ready to march forward; but the commissariat detained us waiting the issue of our rations until p.m.--four mortal hours, considering our eagerness to get on and explore this new country, and the bore of being confined to one spot, since it was impossible to wander about the town, seeing that we could not calculate the moment when these gentry might find it convenient to supply us. of our horses two were still missing, as were some saddle-bags and a number of smaller articles; and this is not to be wondered at when the scandalous manner in which they were thrown overboard, the badness of the weather, the darkness of the night, together with the ebbing and flowing of the tide, are taken into consideration. "the appearance, too, of the troop was vexatious in the extreme. our noble horses, yesterday morning so sleek and spirited, now stood with drooping heads and rough staring coats, plainly indicating the mischief they had sustained in being taken from a hot hold, plunged into cold water, and then exposed for more than seven hours on an open beach to such a tempest of wind and rain as that we experienced last night. here was a practical illustration of the folly of grooming and pampering military horses, destined as they are to such exposures and privations. as for our men, they looked jaded, their clothes all soiled with mud and wet, the sabres rusty, and the bearskins of their helmets flattened down by the rain. still, however, they displayed the same spirit and alacrity as that which has always been a characteristic of the horse-artillery, more particularly of g troop." the tedium of waiting for so many hours on ostend beach was relieved by a naval incident of an exciting quality:-- "a loud cry of dismay suddenly pervaded the crowd, and all simultaneously rushed to the ramparts. i followed this movement. the morning, though somewhat overcast, had been fine, and the wind moderate; but as the day advanced, and the flood-tide set in, the south-westerly breeze had gradually increased to a gale. on reaching the rampart, i immediately observed that the flat shore to the northward, as far as the eye could reach, was covered with a sheet of white foam from the tremendous surf breaking on it; whilst the spray, rising in clouds and borne along before the blast, involved the whole neighbourhood in a thick salt mist. nothing could be more savage and wild than the appearance of the coast. "in the offing, numerous vessels under small sail were running for the harbour. one small brig had missed, and before assistance could be given, had been whirled round the _jetée_, and cast broadside on amongst the breakers. her situation was truly awful. the surf broke over her in a frightful manner, sending its spray higher than her masts, and causing her to roll from side to side until her yards dipped in the water, and induced a belief every moment that she must roll over. every now and then a huge wave, larger than its predecessor, would raise her bodily, and then, rapidly receding, suddenly let her fall again on the ground with a concussion that made the masts bend and vibrate like fishing-rods, and seemed to threaten instant annihilation. of her sails, some were torn to rags, and others, flying loose, flapped and fluttered with a noise that was audible from the rampart, despite the roaring of the surf. the people on board appeared in great agitation, and kept shouting to those on shore for assistance, which they were unable to give. "intense anxiety pervaded the assembled multitude as the shattered vessel alternately rose to view or was buried in a sea of foam. numbers ran down to the sands opposite to her; and from them she could not have been twenty yards distant, yet could they not afford the despairing crew the slightest aid. whilst thus attending in breathless expectation the horrid catastrophe, the return of our quarter-master with the rations summoned us unwillingly from the rampart to commence our march. we afterwards learnt that a boat from the harbour had succeeded in saving the crew (she had no troops on board); but the unfortunate pilot who thus gallantly risked his own life for them was killed by the boat rising suddenly under the vessel's counter as he stood in the bow, which dashed his brains out." chapter ii on march to the field mercer's description of his march across the low countries is full of keen observation, and rich in pictures of peasant life. at ghent the troop halted for seven days. here the much-wandering louis xviii. held his court, and mercer gives an entertaining account of the scenes he witnessed:-- "during the seven days we remained in ghent our time was so occupied by duties that there was little leisure to look about us. amongst other duties, it fell to our lot to furnish a guard of honour to louis xviii., then residing in ghent, his own troops having been sent to alost to make room for the british, which were continually passing through. our subalterns were very well pleased with this arrangement, for the duty was nothing. they found an excellent table, and passed their time very agreeably with the young men of the _gardes du corps_, some of whom were always in attendance. many of these were mere boys, and the ante-room of his most christian majesty frequently exhibited bolstering matches and other amusements, savouring strongly of the boarding-school. however, they were good-natured, and always most attentive to the comforts of the officer on guard. the royal stud was in the barrack stables, and consisted principally of grey horses, eighteen or twenty of which had been purchased in england at a sale of 'cast horses' from the scots greys. "we frequently met french officers of all ranks, and formed acquaintance with many gentlemanly, well-informed men. at the lion d'or and hôtel de flandre we found there was a _table d'hôte_ every night at eight o'clock, and, by way of passing the evening, usually resorted to one or the other for supper. here we were sure of meeting many frenchmen, and as the same people were generally constant attendants, we became intimate, and discussed the merits of our national troops respectively over our wine or _ponche_. it was the first time most of them had had an opportunity of inspecting british troops closely, though many had often met them in the field; and they were very curious in their inquiries into the organisation, government, and equipment of our army. although allowing all due credit to the bravery displayed by our troops in the peninsula, and the talents of our general (the duke), yet were they unanimous in their belief that neither would avail in the approaching conflict, and that we must succumb before their idol and his grand army, for though these gentlemen had deserted napoleon to follow the fortunes of louis xviii., it was evident they still revered the former. "their admiration of our troops, particularly of the cavalry, was very great, but they expressed astonishment at seeing so few decorations. it was in vain we asserted that medals were rarely given in the british army, and then only to commanding officers, &c. they shook their heads, appeared incredulous, and asked, 'where are the troops that fought in spain?' there might have been something more than mere curiosity in all this; there might have been an anxiety to ascertain whether their countrymen were about to cope with veterans or young soldiers. it might have been thrown out as a lure to provoke information relative to the present employment of those veteran bands. moreover, i shrewdly suspected many of the gentlemen were actually spies. "amongst others who had followed louis xviii. was marmont. i think it was the day after our arrival, passing over the open space near the place d'armes by the river, i saw a french general officer exercising a horse in the _manège_, and learnt with astonishment that this was marmont; for the man in question had two good arms, whereas for years past i had, in common with most people in england, looked upon it as a fact that he had left one at salamanca. french deserters, both officers and privates, were daily coming in; it was said they deserted by hundreds." on april the troop received orders to resume its march, its next quarters being at thermonde, or, as it ought to have been spelt, dendermonde. from dendermonde, on may , the troop was ordered to march to strytem. mercer had neither map, nor directions, nor guides, and his account of the incidents of the march, and the fashion in which (as though he were exploring some absolutely unknown land) he had to "discover" strytem is amusing:-- "_may ._--i still slept, when at five o'clock in the morning our sergeant-major aroused me to read a note brought by an orderly hussar. it was most laconic--_la voici_: 'captain mercer's troop of horse artillery will march to strytem without delay. signed,' &c., &c. "where is strytem? and for what this sudden move? these were questions to which i could get no answer. the hussar knew nothing, and the people about me less. one thing was positive, and that was that we must be under weigh instanter, and pick out strytem as best we might. the sergeant-major, therefore, was despatched to give the alert; and having given the hussar a receipt in full for his important despatch, i proceeded to clothe my person for the journey, having hitherto been _en chemise_. as the trumpeter was lodged in a house close by with my own grooms, the 'boot and saddle' quickly reverberated through the village, and set its whole population in movement. "to my questions respecting strytem, monsieur could give no satisfactory answers. 'it lay in a very fine country somewhere in the neighbourhood of brussels, and we had better take the road to that city in the first instance, and trust for further information to the peasantry as we went along.' these people are singularly ignorant in this respect, having no knowledge, generally speaking, of any place more than two or three miles from home. monsieur, however, invited me to follow him to his study--a small room all in a litter--over the gateway, and there, after some hunting amongst books, old clothes, &c., &c., he rummaged out the mutilated fragment of an old but very excellent map, which he insisted on my putting into my sabre-tache, which i did, and still keep for his sake. "'prepare to mount!' 'mount!' the trumpets sound a march, and waving a last adieu to the group at the gate of my late home, i turn my back on it for ever perhaps. the men were in high spirits, and horses fat as pigs and sleek as moles--thanks to rest, good stabling, and abundance of _tref_. most of the peasants on whom many of our men had been billeted accompanied them to the parade, and it was interesting to witness the kindness with which they shook hands at parting, and the complacency with which, patting the horses on the neck, they scanned them all over, as if proud of their good condition. "passing through lebbeke, we found the three brigades of -pounders also getting on march, and the whole village astir. the officers told us their orders were to march direct to brussels, and they were fully persuaded the french army had advanced. "at assche we found a battery of belgian horse artillery in quarters. then men lounging about in undress, or without their jackets, without any appearance of a move, induced us to believe our own was, after all, only another change of quarters--and we were right. the people here knew strytem, which they said was only a few miles distant, to the southward of the road we were on. accordingly i despatched an officer to precede us, and make the necessary arrangements for our reception; at the same time, quitting the _chaussée_, we plunged into a villainous cross-road, all up and down, and every bottom occupied by a stream crossed by bridges of loose planks, which to us were rather annoying, from their apparent insecurity, as well as from the boggy state of the ground for some yards at either end of them. "the road became worse than ever--deep, tenacious mud, sadly broken up. after marching a short distance we passed a wheelwright's shop; then came to a broader space, where stood a small mean-looking church, a miserable cabaret, a forge, two very large farm establishments, with a few wretched-looking cottages--this our guide gave us to understand was strytem." at strytem, where the troop halted for some time, mercer had an opportunity of seeing something of the cavalry corps which the duc de berri was forming in the bourbon interest. the duc de berri, according to mercer, was a very ill-mannered brute. says mercer:-- "one day i had a good opportunity of seeing this curious corps and its savage leader. the former presented a most grotesque appearance--cuirassiers, hussars, grenadiers _à cheval_, and chasseurs, dragoons and lancers, officers and privates, with a few of the new _gardes du corps_, were indiscriminately mingled in the ranks. one file were colonels, the next privates, and so on, and all wearing their proper uniforms and mounted on their proper horses, so that these were of all sizes and colours. there might have been about two hundred men, divided into two or three squadrons, the commanders of which were generals. the prince, as i have said, was drill-master. a more intemperate, brutal, and (in his situation) impolitic one, can scarcely be conceived. the slightest fault (frequently occasioned by his own blunders) was visited by showers of low-life abuse--using on all occasions the most odious language. "one unfortunate squadron officer (a general!) offended him, and was immediately charged with such violence that i expected a catastrophe. reining up his horse, however, close to the unhappy man, his vociferation and villainous abuse were those of a perfect madman; shaking his sabre at him, and even at one time thrusting the pommel of it into his face, and, as far as i could see, pushing it against his nose! such a scene! yet all the others sat mute as mice, and witnessed all this humiliation of their comrade, and the degradation of him for whom they had forsaken napoleon. just at this moment one of our troop-dogs ran barking at the heels of the prince's horse. boiling with rage before, he now boiled over in earnest, and, stooping, made a furious cut at the dog, which, eluding the weapon, continued his annoyance. the duke, quitting the unfortunate _chef d'escadron_, now turned seriously at the dog, but he, accustomed to horses, kept circling about, yapping and snapping, and always out of reach; and it was not until he had tired himself with the fruitless pursuit that, foaming with rage, he returned to his doomed squadrons, who had sat quietly looking on at this exhibition." as the early days of june passed, and napoleon was preparing for his daring leap on the allied forces, the general strain grew more tense. french spies were busy all through the english and prussian posts. mercer describes a visit paid by a particularly daring spy to his own post:-- "it was on the evening of the th june, and about sunset or a little later, that an officer of hussars rode into the village of yseringen, leathes being at the time at dinner with me at our château. he was dressed as our hussars usually were when riding about the country--blue frock, scarlet waistcoat laced with gold, pantaloons, and forage-cap of the th hussars. he was mounted on a smart pony, with plain saddle and bridle; was without a sword or sash, and carried a small whip--in short, his costume and _monture_ were correct in every particular. moreover, he aped to the very life that 'devil-may-care' nonchalant air so frequently characterising our young men of fashion. seeing some of our gunners standing at the door of a house, he desired them to go for their officer, as he wished to see him. they called the sergeant, who told him that the officer was not in the village. "in an authoritative tone he then demanded how many men and horses were quartered there, whose troop they belonged to, where the remainder of the troop was quartered, and of what it consisted? when all these questions were answered, he told the sergeant that he had been sent by lord uxbridge to order accommodation to be provided for two hundred horses, and that ours must consequently be put up as close as possible. the sergeant replied that there was not room in the village for a single additional horse. 'oh, we'll soon see that,' said he, pointing to one of the men who stood by, 'do you go and tell the maire to come instantly to me.' the maire came and confirmed the sergeant's statement, upon which our friend, flying into a passion, commenced in excellent french to abuse the poor functionary like a pickpocket, threatening to send a whole regiment into the village; and then, after a little further conversation with the sergeant, he mounted his pony and rode off just as leathes returned to the village. "upon reporting the circumstances to the officer, the sergeant stated that he thought this man had appeared anxious to avoid him, having ridden off rather in a hurry when he appeared, which together with a slight foreign accent, then for the first time excited a suspicion of his being a spy, which had not occurred to the sergeant before, as he knew there were several foreign officers in our hussars, and that the th was actually then commanded by one--colonel quentin. the suspicion was afterwards confirmed, for upon inquiry, i found that no officer had been sent by lord uxbridge on any such mission. our friend deserved to escape, for he was a bold and clever fellow." chapter iii quatre bras napoleon's plan for what was to prove the last campaign in his own wonderful career was daring and subtle. he had to face two armies, each almost equal in strength to his own; and though the forces of blucher and of wellington were scattered over a very wide front, yet their outposts touched each other where the great road from charleroi ran northwards to brussels. napoleon, with equal audacity and genius, resolved to smite at the point of junction betwixt the two armies, and overthrow each in turn. the risks of this strategy were immense, for if his enemies succeeded in concentrating and fighting in concert, he would be overwhelmed and destroyed--as actually happened at waterloo. napoleon, however, calculated to win by the swiftness and suddenness of his stroke, destroying blucher before wellington could concentrate for his help, and then, in turn, overwhelming wellington. by what a narrow interval that great plan failed of success is not always realised. both blucher and wellington were off their guard. on june , at the very moment when napoleon's columns were crossing the belgian frontier, wellington was writing a leisurely despatch to the czar explaining his intention to take the offensive at the end of the month. blucher, only a few days before, as houssaye records, had written to his wife, "we shall soon enter france. we might remain here another year, for bonaparte will never attack us." yet with miraculous energy and skill, napoleon, in ten days, had gathered a host of , men, over distances ranging from to miles, and held them, almost unsuspected, within cannon-shot of the allied outposts. on june , while the stars in the eastern summer sky were growing faint in the coming dawn, the french columns were crossing at three separate points the belgian frontier, and the great campaign had begun. its history is compressed into three furious days. on the th napoleon defeated blucher at ligny, while wellington, with obstinate courage and fine skill, aided by many blunders on his enemy's part, and much good luck on his own, succeeded in holding quatre bras against ney. on the th wellington fell back before the combined armies of napoleon and ney to waterloo. on the th the great battle, which sealed the fate of napoleon and gave a long peace to europe, was fought. napoleon's strategy had fatally broken down. he aimed to separate the english and the prussian armies while keeping his own concentrated. the exact opposite happened. blucher's bold westward march from wavre to waterloo united the allied forces, while napoleon's force was fatally divided--grouchy, with , troops, being left "in the air" far to the east. napoleon, in a word, suffered the exact strategic disaster he sought to inflict on his opponents. we take up the thread of the adventures of mercer and battery g as active operations begin. it offers a curious picture of the distraction and confusion of a great campaign:-- "_june ._--i was sound asleep when my servant, bustling into the room, awoke me _en sursaut_. he brought a note, which an orderly hussar had left and ridden off immediately. the note had nothing official in its appearance, and might have been an invitation to dinner; but the unceremonious manner in which the hussar had gone off without his receipt looked curious. my despatch was totally deficient in date, so that time and place were left to conjecture; its contents pithy--they were as follows, viz.:-- "'captain mercer's troop will proceed with the utmost diligence to enghien, where he will meet major m'donald, who will point out the ground on which it is to bivouac to-night. 'signed, ----, d.a.q.m.-gen.' that we were to move forward, then, was certain. it was rather sudden, to be sure, and all the whys and wherefores were left to conjecture; but the suddenness of it, and the importance of arriving quickly at the appointed place, rather alarmed me, for upon reflection i remembered that i had been guilty of two or three imprudences. "first, all my officers were absent; secondly, all my country waggons were absent; thirdly, a whole division (one-third of my troop) was absent at yseringen. 'send the sergeant-major here,' was the first order, as i drew on my stockings. 'send for mr. coates' (my commissariat officer), the second, as i got one leg into my overalls. 'william, make haste and get breakfast,' the third, as i buttoned them up. the sergeant-major soon came, and received his orders to turn out instanter, with the three days' provisions and forage in the haversacks and on the horses; also to send an express for the first division. he withdrew, and immediately the fine martial clang of 'boot and saddle' resounded through the village and courts of the château, making the woods ring again, and even the frogs stop to listen. "the commissary soon made his appearance. 'what! are we off, sir?' 'yes, without delay; and you must collect your waggons as quickly as possible.' 'i fear, captain mercer, that will take some time, for st. cyr's are gone to ninove.' my folly here stared me full in the face. mr. coates said he would do his utmost to collect them; and as he was a most active, intelligent, and indefatigable fellow, i communicated to him my orders and determination not to wait, desiring him to follow us as soon as he possibly could. my first enumerated care was speedily removed, for i learned that the officers had just arrived and were preparing for the march, having known of it at brussels ere we did. the two divisions in strytem were ready to turn out in a few minutes after the 'boot and saddle' had resounded, but, as i feared, the first kept us waiting until near seven o'clock before it made its appearance. at length the first division arrived, and the animating and soul-stirring notes of the 'turn-out' again awoke the echoes of the hills and woods. up jumped my old dog bal, and away to parade and increase the bustle by jumping at the horses' noses and barking, as parade formed. away went the officers to inspect their divisions, and milward is leading my impatient charger, cossac, up and down the court. "we had cleared the village and marched some miles well enough, being within the range of my daily rides; but, this limit passed, i was immediately sensible of another error--that of having started without a guide; for the roads became so numerous, intricate, and bad, often resembling only woodmen's tracks, that i was sorely puzzled, spite of the map i carried in my sabre-tache, to pick out my way. but a graver error still i had now to reproach myself with, and one that might have been attended with fatal consequences. eager to get on, and delayed by the badness of the roads, i left all my ammunition waggons behind, under charge of old hall, my quartermaster-sergeant, to follow us, and then pushed on with the guns alone, thus foolishly enough dividing my troop into three columns--viz., the guns, ammunition waggons, and the column of provision waggons under the commissary. for this piece of folly i paid dearly in the anxiety i suffered throughout this eventful day, which at times was excessive. "rid of all encumbrances, we trotted merrily on whenever the road permitted, and, arriving at castre (an old roman legionary station), found there the rd light dragoons just turning out, having also received orders to march upon enghien. a captain dance, with whom i rode a short distance, told me he had been at the ball at brussels last night, and that, when he left the room, the report was that blucher had been attacked in the morning, but that he had repulsed the enemy with great slaughter, was following up the blow, and that our advance was to support him. the road for the last few miles had been upon a more elevated country, not so wooded--a sort of plateau, consequently hard and dry; but immediately on passing castre, we came to a piece which appeared almost impassable for about a hundred yards--a perfect black bog, across which a corduroy road had been made, but not kept in repair, consequently the logs, having decayed, left immense gaps. "the rd floundered through this with difficulty, and left us behind. how we got through with our -pounders, the horses slipping up to the shoulders between the logs every minute, i know not; but through we did get, and without accident, but it took time to do so. about noon, after threading our way through more mud and many watery lanes, doubtful if we were in the right direction, we came out upon a more open and dry country, close to a park, which upon inquiry proved to be that of enghien. to the same point various columns of cavalry were converging, and under the park wall we found sir ormsby vandeleur's brigade of light dragoons dismounted, and feeding their horses. here we also dismounted to await the arrival of major m'donald; and as i looked upon the day's march as finished, deferred feeding until our bivouac should be established--another folly, for an officer in campaign should never lose an opportunity of feeding, watering, or resting his horses, &c. having waited a good half-hour, and no major m'donald appearing, i began to look about for some one who could give me information, but no staff-officer was to be seen, and no one else knew anything about the matter. corps after corps arrived and passed on, generally without even halting, yet all professing ignorance of their destination. pleasant situation this! "sir ormsby's dragoons were by this time bridling up their horses and rolling up their nosebags, evidently with the intention of moving off. seeing this, i sought out the general, whom i found seated against a bank that, instead of a hedge, bordered the road. whether naturally a savage, or that he feared committing himself, i know not, but sir ormsby cut my queries short with an asperity totally uncalled for. 'i know nothing about you, sir! i know nothing at all about you!' 'but you will perhaps have the goodness to tell me where you are going yourself?' 'i know nothing at all about it, sir! i told you already i know nothing at all about you!' and starting abruptly from his seat, my friend mounted his horse, and (i suppose by instinct) took the road towards steenkerke, followed by his brigade, leaving me and mine alone in the road, more disagreeably situated than ever. i now began to reflect very seriously on the 'to stay' or 'not to stay.' in the former case, i bade fair to have the ground all to myself, for although everybody i spoke to denied having any orders, yet all kept moving in one and the same direction. in the latter case, my orders in writing certainly were to stay; but circumstances might have occurred since to change this, and the new order might not have reached me. moreover, it was better to get into a scrape for fighting than keeping out of the way, so i made up my mind to move forward too. "accordingly i had already mounted my people when sir h. vivian's brigade of hussars, followed by major bull's troop of our horse artillery, passed. bull, i found, was, like myself, without orders, but he thought it best to stick close to the cavalry, and advised me to do the same, which i did, following him and them on the road to steenkerke. the country about this place appeared more bare and forbidding than any i had yet seen in the pays bas. just as we moved off, the column of household troops made its appearance, advancing from ninove, and taking the same direction. "it was now that the recollection of my absent waggons began to torment me, and i actually feared never to see them again. however, there was no help for it now, and i continued onward. a few miles farther we crossed the senne by an old stone bridge, and about four in the afternoon arrived at braine le comte, almost ravenous with hunger, and roasted alive by the burning sun, under which we had been marching all day. "we found several regiments drawn up in close columns, dismounted and feeding. it was somewhere between enghien and braine le comte that we met an aide-de-camp (i believe one of the duke's) posting away as fast as his poor tired beast could get along, and dressed in his embroidered suit, white pantaloons, &c., &c., having evidently mounted as he left the ballroom. this, i remember, struck us at the time as rather odd, but we had no idea of the real state of our affairs. "we had formed up, and were feeding also, but the nosebags were scarcely put on the poor horse's heads than the cavalry corps, mounting again, moved off, one after the other, and we were constrained to follow ere the animals had half finished. here, as before, i could obtain no intelligence respecting our march, the direction and meaning of which all i spoke to professed a profound ignorance. whilst halting, hitchins, slipping into the town, brought us out a couple of bottles of wine, the which we passed round from one to the other without any scruple about sucking it all out of one muzzle. "a little hamlet (long tour, i think) lay at the foot of the hills, the straggling street of which we found so crowded with baggage-waggons of some hanoverian or other foreign corps that for a long while we were unable to pass. the cavalry, therefore, left us behind, for they broke into the adjoining fields until they had cleared the impediment. although annoyed at being thus hindered, i could not but admire the lightness, and even elegance, of the little waggons, with their neat white tilts, and as neat and pretty _jungfrauen_ who were snugly seated under them. we found the ascent of the hills more difficult than we expected, the road, which went up in a zigzag (indeed, it could not have been otherwise), little better than a woodman's track, much cut up, and exceedingly steep--so much so, that we found it necessary to double-horse all our carriages by taking only half up at once." now, at last, the sullen guns from quatre bras began to make themselves audible. mercer's gunners were chiefly recruits; they had never yet heard the deep, vibrating sounds that tell of the shock of mighty hosts. that far-off call of angry guns stirred their blood and quickened their march; but the troop reached quatre bras only when the battle ended. mercer's narrative, however, gives a striking picture of how a great battle affects everything within sound of its guns:-- "at length the whole of our carriages were on the summit, but we were now quite alone, all the cavalry having gone on; and thus we continued our march on an elevated plateau, still covered with forest, thicker and more gloomy than ever. at length we had crossed the forest, and found ourselves on the verge of a declivity which stretched away less abruptly than the one we had ascended, consequently presenting a more extensive slope, down which our road continued. a most extensive view lay before us; and now, for the first time, as emerging from the woods, we became sensible of a dull, sullen sound that filled the air, somewhat resembling that of a distant water-mill, or still more distant thunder. on clearing the wood it became more distinct, and its character was no longer questionable--heavy firing of cannon and musketry, which could now be distinguished from each other plainly. we could also hear the musketry in volleys and independent firing. the extensive view below us was bounded towards the horizon by a dark line of wood, above which, in the direction of the cannonade, volumes of grey smoke arose, leaving no doubt of what was going on. the object of our march was now evident, and we commenced descending the long slope with an animation we had not felt before. "it was here that major m'donald overtook us, and without adverting to the bivouac at enghien, of which probably he had never heard, gave me orders to attach myself to the household brigade, under lord edward somerset, but no instructions where or when. i took care not to tell him they were in the rear, lest he might order us to halt for them, which would have been a sore punishment to people excited as we now were by the increasing roar of the battle evidently going on, and hoped that by marching faster they might soon overtake us. just at this moment a cabriolet, driving at a smart pace, passed us. in it was seated an officer of the guards, coat open and snuff-box in hand. i could not but admire the perfect nonchalance with which my man was thus hurrying forward to join in a bloody combat--much, perhaps, in the same manner, though certainly not in the same costume, as he might drive to epsom or ascot heath. the descent terminated in a picturesque hollow, with a broad pool, dark and calm, and beyond it an old mill, perfectly in keeping with the scene. the opportunity of watering our poor brutes was too good to be missed, and i accordingly ordered a halt for that purpose. whilst so employed, an aide-de-camp, descending from a singular knoll above us, on which i had noticed a group of officers looking out with their glasses in the direction of the battle, came to summon me to sir hussey vivian, who was one of them. "on ascending the knoll sir hussey called to me in a hurried manner to make haste. 'who do you belong to?' said he. i told him, as also that the brigade was yet in the rear. 'well,' he replied, 'never mind; there is something serious going on, to judge from that heavy firing, and artillery must be wanted; therefore bring up your guns as fast as you can, and join my hussars; can you keep up?' 'i hope so, sir.' 'well, come along without delay; we must move smartly.' in a few minutes our people, guns and all, were on the hill. the hussars, mounted, set off at a brisk trot, and we followed. alas! thought i, where are my ammunition waggons? the hussars, to lighten their horses, untied the nets containing their hay, and the mouths of their corn-bags, which, falling from them as they trotted on, the road was soon covered with hay and oats. we did not follow their example, and although dragging with us -pounders preserved our forage and also our place in the column. "by-and-by a large town appeared in front of us, and the increasing intensity of the cannonade and volumes of smoke about the trees led us to suppose the battle near at hand, and on the hill just beyond the town. this town was nivelle. "beyond the town the ground rose, also in shadowy obscurity, crowned with sombre woods, over which ascended the greyish-blue smoke of the battle, now apparently so near that we fancied we could hear the shouts of the combatants--a fancy strengthened by crowds of people on the heights, whom we mistook for troops--inhabitants of nivelle, as we soon discovered, seeking to get a sight of the fearful tragedy then enacting. before entering the town we halted for a moment, lighted our slow matches, put shot into our leathern cartouches, loaded the guns with powder, and stuck priming wires into the vents to prevent the cartridges slipping forward, and, thus prepared for immediate action, again moved on. "on entering the town what a scene presented itself! all was confusion, agitation, and movement. the danger was impending; explosion after explosion, startling from their vicinity, and clattering peals of musketry, like those lengthened thunder-claps which announce to us so awfully the immediate neighbourhood of the electric cloud. the whole population of nivelle was in the streets, doors and windows all wide open, whilst the inmates of the houses, male and female, stood huddled together in little groups like frightened sheep, or were hurrying along with the distracted air of people uncertain where they are going or what they are doing. in a sort of square which we traversed a few soldiers, with the air of citizens, probably a municipal guard, were drawn up in line, looking anxiously about them at the numerous bleeding figures which we now began to meet. "some were staggering along unaided, the blood falling from them in large drops as they went. one man we met was wounded in the head; pale and ghastly, with affrighted looks and uncertain step, he evidently knew little of where he was or what passed about him, though still he staggered forward, the blood streaming down his face on to the greatcoat which he wore rolled over his left shoulder. an anxious crowd was collecting round him as we passed on. then came others supported between two comrades, their faces deadly pale and knees yielding at every step. at every step, in short, we met numbers, more or less wounded, hurrying along in search of that assistance which many would never live to receive, and others receive too late. priests were running to and fro, hastening to assist at the last moments of a dying man; all were in haste--all wore that abstracted air so inseparable from those engaged in an absorbing pursuit. many would run up, and, patting our horses' necks, would call down benedictions on us, and bid us hasten to the fight ere it were yet too late, or uttering trembling and not loud shouts of 'vivent les anglais!' "a few there were who stood apart, with gloomy, discontented looks, eyeing their fellow-citizens with evident contempt and us with scowls, not unmixed with derision, as they marked our dusty and jaded appearance. through all this crowd we held our way, and soon began to ascend the hill beyond the town, where we entered a fine _chaussée_ bordered by elms, expecting every moment to enter on the field of action, the roar of which appeared quite close to us. it was, however, yet distant. "the road was covered with soldiers, many of them wounded, but also many apparently untouched. the numbers thus leaving the field appeared extraordinary. many of the wounded had six, eight, ten, and even more attendants. when questioned about the battle, and why they left it, the answer was invariable: 'monsieur, tout est perdu! les anglais sont abîmes, en déroute, abîmes, tous, tous, tous!' and then, nothing abashed, these fellows would resume their hurried route. my countrymen will rejoice to learn that amongst this dastardly crew not one briton appeared. whether they were of nassau or belgians i know not; they were one or the other--i think the latter. "one redcoat we did meet--not a fugitive though, for he was severely wounded. this man was a private of the nd (gordon highlanders), a short, rough, hardy-looking fellow, with the national high cheek-bones, and a complexion that spoke of many a bivouac. he came limping along, evidently with difficulty and suffering. i stopped him to ask news of the battle, telling him what i had heard from the others, 'na, na, sir, it's aw a damned lee; they war fechtin' yat an' i laft 'em; but it's a bludy business, and thar's na saying fat may be the end on't. oor ragiment was nigh clean swapt aff, and oor colonel kilt just as i cam' awa'. upon inquiring about his own wound, we found that a musket ball had lodged in his knee, or near it; accordingly hitchins, dismounting, seated him on the parapet of a little bridge we happened to be on, extracted the ball in a few minutes, and, binding up the wound, sent him hobbling along towards nivelle, not having extracted a single exclamation from the poor man, who gratefully thanked him as he resumed his way. "a little farther on, and as it began to grow dusk, we traversed the village of hautain le val, where a very different scene presented itself. here, in a large cabaret by the roadside, we saw through the open windows the rooms filled with soldiers, cavalry and infantry; some standing about in earnest conversation, others seated around tables, smoking, carousing, and thumping the board with clenched fists, as they related with loud voices--what?--most likely their own gallant exploits. about the door their poor horses, tied to a rail, showed by their drooping heads, shifting legs, and the sweat drying and fuming on their soiled coats, that their exertions at least had been of no trivial nature. "the firing began to grow slacker, and even intermitting, as we entered on the field of quatre bras--our horses stumbling from time to time over corpses of the slain, which they were too tired to step over. the shot and shell which flew over our line of march from time to time (some of the latter bursting beyond us) were sufficient to enable us to say we had been in the battle of quatre bras, for such was the name of the place where we now arrived, just too late to be useful. in all directions the busy hum of human voices was heard; the wood along the skirts of which we marched re-echoed clearly and loudly the tones of the bugle, which ever and anon were overpowered by the sullen roar of cannon, or the sharper rattle of musketry; dark crowds of men moved in the increasing obscurity of evening, and the whole scene seemed alive with them. what a moment of excitement and anxiety as we proceeded amongst all this tumult, and amidst the dead and dying, ignorant as yet how the affair had terminated! arrived at a mass of buildings, where four roads met (_les quatre bras_), major m'donald again came up with orders for us to bivouac on an adjoining field, where, accordingly, we established ourselves amongst the remains of a wheat crop. "_june ._--a popping fire of musketry, apparently close at hand, aroused me again to consciousness of my situation. at first i could not imagine where i was. i looked straight up, and the stars were twinkling over me in a clear sky. i put out a hand from beneath my cloak, and felt clods of damp earth and stalks of straw. the rattle of musketry increased, and then the consciousness of my situation came gradually over me. although somewhat chilly, i was still drowsy, and regardless of what might be going on, had turned on my side and began to doze again, when one of my neighbours started up with the exclamation, 'i wonder what all that firing means!' this in an instant dispelled all desire to sleep; and up i got too, mechanically repeating his words, and rubbing my eyes as i began to peer about. "one of the first, and certainly the most gratifying, sights that met my inquiring gaze, was quarter-master hall, who had arrived during the night with all his charge safe and sound. he had neither seen nor heard, however, of mr. coates and his train of country waggons, for whom i began now to entertain serious apprehensions. from whatever the musketry might proceed, we could see nothing--not even the flashes; but the increasing light allowed me to distinguish numberless dark forms on the ground all around me, people slumbering still, regardless of the firing that had aroused me. at a little distance numerous white discs, which were continually in motion, changing place and disappearing, to be succeeded by others, puzzled me exceedingly, and i could not even form a conjecture as to what they might be. watching them attentively, i was still more surprised when some of these white objects ascended from the ground and suddenly disappeared; but the mystery was soon explained by the increasing light, which gave to my view a corps of nassau troops lying on the ground, having white tops to their shakos. "daylight now gradually unfolded to us our situation. we were on a plateau which had been covered with corn, now almost everywhere trodden down. four roads, as already mentioned, met a little to the right of our front, and just at that point stood a farmhouse, which, with its outbuildings, yard, &c., was enclosed by a very high wall. this was the farm of quatre bras. beyond it, looking obliquely to the right, the wood (in which the battle still lingered when we arrived last night) stretched away some distance along the roads to nivelle and charleroi, which last we understood lay in front." chapter iv the retreat to waterloo. mercer's battery formed part of the british rearguard in the retreat from quatre bras to waterloo, and his gunners had some very breathless and exciting experiences on the road, with the thunder rolling over their heads and the french cavalry charging furiously on their rear. mercer tells the story with great vividness and spirit:-- "on the charleroi road and in the plain was a small village (frasnes), with its church, just beyond which the road ascended the heights, on the open part of which, between the road and the wood towards the left, was the bivouac of the french army opposed to us. its advanced posts were in the valley near frasnes, and ours opposite to them--our main body occupying the ground between quatre bras and the wood on the left. a smart skirmish was going on amongst the hedges, &c., already mentioned, and this was the firing we had heard all the morning. our infantry were lying about, cleaning their arms, cooking, or amusing themselves, totally regardless of the skirmish. this, however, from our position, was a very interesting sight to me, for the slope of the ground enabled me to see distinctly all the manoeuvres of both parties, as on a plan. after much firing from the edge of the wood, opposite which our riflemen occupied all the hedges, i saw the french chasseurs suddenly make a rush forward in all directions, whilst the fire of our people became thicker and faster than ever. many of the former scampered across the open fields until they reached the nearest hedges, whilst others ran crouching under cover of those perpendicular to their front, and the whole succeeded in establishing themselves--thus forcing back and gaining ground on our men. "the fire then again became sharper than ever--sometimes the french were driven back; and this alternation i watched with great interest until summoned to major m'donald, who brought us orders for the day. from him i first learned the result of the action of yesterday--the retreat of the prussians, and that we were to do so too. his directions to me were that i should follow some corps of infantry, or something of the sort; for what followed caused me to forget it all: 'major ramsay's troop,' he said, 'will remain in the rear with the cavalry to cover the retreat; but i will not conceal from you that it falls to your turn to do this, if you choose it.' the major looked rather conscience-stricken as he made this avowal, so, to relieve him, i begged he would give the devil his due and me mine. accordingly all the others marched off, and as nothing was likely to take place immediately, we amused ourselves by looking on at what was doing. "just at this moment an amazing outcry arose amongst the infantry at the farm, who were running towards us in a confused mass, shouting and bellowing, jostling and pushing each other. i made sure the enemy's cavalry had made a dash amongst them, especially as the fire of the skirmishers became thicker and apparently nearer, when the thing was explained by a large pig, squealing as if already stuck, bursting from the throng by which he was beset in all directions. some struck at him with axes, others with the butts of their muskets, others stabbed at him with bayonets. the chase would have been amusing had it not been so brutal; and i have seldom experienced greater horror than i did on this occasion, when the poor brute, staggering from the repeated blows he received, was at last brought to the ground by at least half-a-dozen bayonets plunged into him at once. "all this time our retreat was going on very quietly. the corps at quatre bras had retired early in the morning, and been replaced by others from the left, and this continued constantly--every corps halting for a time on the ground near quatre bras until another from the left arrived, these moving off on the great road to brussels, ceding the ground to the new-comers. "at first every one, exulting in the success of yesterday--they having repulsed the enemy with a handful of men, as it were, unsupported by cavalry and with very little artillery--anticipated, now our army was united nothing less than an immediate attack on the french position. we were sadly knocked down, then, when the certainty of our retreat became known. it was in vain we were told the retreat was only a manoeuvre of concentration; the most gloomy anticipations pervaded every breast. about this time sir alexander dickson paid me a visit, having just arrived from new orleans, where he commanded the artillery, to be our deputy-quartermaster-general. he only stayed a few minutes. "as the infantry corps on the plateau became fewer, the fire of the skirmishers amongst the hedges gradually relaxed, and at length ceased--the rifles, &c., being drawn, and following the line of retreat. at last, about noon, i found myself left with my troop, quite alone, on the brow of the position, just by the farm of quatre bras--the only troops in sight being a small picket of hussars, near the village of frasnes, in the plain below; a few more in our rear, but at some little distance, amongst the houses; and a brigade of hussars far away to the left (about two miles), close to the wood in that quarter. thus solitary, as it were, i had ample leisure to contemplate the scene of desolation around me, so strangely at variance with the otherwise smiling landscape. everywhere mementoes of yesterday's bloody struggle met the eye--the corn trampled down, and the ground, particularly in the plain, plentifully besprinkled with bodies of the slain. just in front of the farm of quatre bras there was a fearful scene of slaughter--highlanders and cuirassiers lying thickly strewn about; the latter appeared to have charged up the charleroi road, on which, and immediately bordering it, they lay most numerously. "in communicating to me the orders of our retreat, major m'donald had reiterated that to join lord edward somerset's brigade without delay, but still he could not tell me where this brigade was to be found. meantime sir ormsby vandeleur's brigade of light dragoons having formed up in front of the houses, and supposing from this that all the cavalry must be nigh, as one step towards finding lord edward i crossed the road to the right of these dragoons, and rode towards the part where, as before stated, the light was intercepted by trees and bushes. on passing through these i had an uninterrupted view of the country for miles, but not a soldier or living being was to be seen in that direction. as i pushed on through the thickets my horse, suddenly coming to a stand, began to snort, and showed unequivocal symptoms of fear. i drove him on, however, but started myself when i saw, lying under the bush, the body of a man stripped naked. this victim of war was a youth of fair form, skin delicately white, and face but little darker; an embryo moustache decorated the upper lip, and his countenance, even in death, was beautiful. that he was french i conjectured, but neither on himself nor his horse was there a particle of clothing that could indicate to what nation he belonged. if french, how came he here to die alone so far in the rear of our lines? "i know not why, but the _rencontre_ with this solitary corpse had a wonderful effect on my spirits--far different from what i felt when gazing on the heaps that encumbered the field beyond. seldom have i experienced such despondency--such heart-sinking--as when standing over this handsome form thus despoiled, neglected, and about to become a prey to wolves and carrion crows--the darling of some fond mother, the adored of some fair maid. his horse, stripped like himself, lay by--they had met their fate at once. returning to my troop, i found sir augustus frazer, who had come to order my ammunition waggons to the rear that the retreat might be as little encumbered as possible, and to tell me that what ammunition was used during the day would be supplied by my sending for it to langeveldt, on the road to brussels, where that to wavre branches from it. "thus divested of our ammunition, it was evident that our retreat must be a rapid one, since with only fifty rounds a gun (the number in the limbers), it could not be expected that we could occupy any position longer than a few minutes. in the end, this measure nearly led to very disagreeable results, as will be seen anon." lord uxbridge--afterwards the marquis of anglesey--was a very fine cavalry leader, a sort of english murat, with all the dash, activity, and resource of that famous soldier. but he had too much fire in his temper for cool generalship. the tumult and shock of battle had the effect of champagne upon him. it kindled in his brain a sort of intoxication. so he took risks a cooler-headed soldier would have avoided. uxbridge's fiery and audacious daring is vividly reflected in mercer's account of how he covered the retreat to waterloo:-- "it was now about one o'clock. my battery stood in position on the brow of the declivity, with its right near the wall of the farm, all alone, the only troops in sight being, as before mentioned, the picket and a few scattered hussars in the direction of frasnes, sir o. vandeleur's light dragoons two or three hundred yards in our rear, and sir h. vivian's hussars far away to the left. still the french army made no demonstration of an advance. this inactivity was unaccountable. lord uxbridge and an aide-de-camp came to the front of my battery, and dismounting, seated himself on the ground; so did i and the aide-de-camp. his lordship with his glass was watching the french position; and we were all three wondering at their want of observation and inactivity, which had not only permitted our infantry to retire unmolested, but also still retained them in their bivouac. 'it will not be long now before they are on us,' said the aide-de-camp, 'for they always dine before they move; and those smokes seem to indicate that they are cooking now.' "he was right; for not long afterwards another aide-de-camp, scouring along the valley, came to report that a heavy column of cavalry was advancing through the opening between the woods to the left from the direction of gembloux. at the same moment we saw them distinctly; and lord uxbridge having reconnoitred them a moment through his glass, started up, exclaiming, in a joyful tone, 'by the lord, they are prussians!' jumped on his horse, and, followed by the two aides, dashed off like a whirlwind to meet them. for a moment i stood looking after them as they swept down the slope, and could not help wondering how the prussians came there. i was, however, not left long in my perplexity, for, turning my eyes towards the french position, i saw their whole army descending from it in three or four dark masses, whilst their advanced cavalry picket was already skirmishing with and driving back our hussars. the truth instantly flashed on my mind, and i became exceedingly uneasy for the safety of lord uxbridge and his companions, now far advanced on their way down the valley, and likely to be irretrievably cut off. "my situation now appeared somewhat awkward; left without orders and entirely alone on the brow of our position--the hussar pickets galloping in and hurrying past as fast as they could--the whole french army advancing, and already at no great distance. in this dilemma, i determined to retire across the little dip that separated me from sir o. vandeleur, and take up a position in front of his squadrons, whence, after giving a round to the french advance as soon as they stood on our present ground, i thought i could retire in sufficient time through his intervals to leave the ground clear for him to charge. this movement was immediately executed; but the guns were scarcely unlimbered ere sir ormsby came furiously up, exclaiming, 'what are you doing here, sir? you encumber my front, and we shall not be able to charge. take your guns away, sir; instantly, i say--take them away!' it was in vain that i endeavoured to explain my intentions, and that our fire would allow his charge to be made with more effect. 'no, no; take them out of my way, sir!' was all the answer i could get; and accordingly, i was preparing to obey, when up came lord uxbridge, and the scene changed in a twinkling. 'captain mercer, are you loaded?' 'yes, my lord.' 'then give them a round as they rise the hill, and retire as quickly as possible.' 'light dragoons, threes right; at a trot, march!' and then some orders to sir ormsby, of whom i saw no more that day. 'they are just coming up the hill,' said lord uxbridge. 'let them get well up before you fire. do you think you can retire quick enough afterwards?' 'i am sure of it, my lord.' 'very well, then, keep a good lookout, and point your guns well.' "i had often longed to see napoleon, that mighty man of war--that astonishing genius who had filled the world with his renown. now i saw him, and there was a degree of sublimity in the interview rarely equalled. the sky had become overcast since the morning, and at this moment presented a most extraordinary appearance. large isolated masses of thunder-cloud, of the deepest, almost inky black, their lower edges hard and strongly defined, lagging down, as if momentarily about to burst, hung suspended over us, involving our position and everything on it in deep and gloomy obscurity; whilst the distant hill lately occupied by the french army still lay bathed in brilliant sunshine. lord uxbridge was yet speaking when a single horseman,[ ] immediately followed by several others, mounted the plateau i had left at a gallop, their dark figures thrown forward in strong relief from the illuminated distance, making them appear much nearer to us than they really were. "for an instant they pulled up and regarded us, when several squadrons coming rapidly on the plateau, lord uxbridge cried out, 'fire!--fire!' and, giving them a general discharge, we quickly limbered up to retire, as they dashed forward supported by some horse artillery guns, which opened upon us ere we could complete the manoeuvre, but without much effect, for the only one touched was the servant of major whinyates, who was wounded in the leg by the splinter of a howitzer shell. "it was now for the first time that i discovered the major and his rocket-troop, who, annoyed at my having the rear, had disobeyed the order to retreat, and remained somewhere in the neighbourhood until this moment, hoping to share whatever might be going on. the first gun that was fired seemed to burst the clouds overhead, for its report was instantly followed by an awful clap of thunder, and lightning that almost blinded us, whilst the rain came down as if a waterspout had broken over us. the sublimity of the scene was inconceivable. flash succeeded flash, and the peals of thunder were long and tremendous; whilst, as if in mockery of the elements, the french guns still sent forth their feebler glare and now scarcely audible reports--their cavalry dashing on at a headlong pace, adding their shouts to the uproar. we galloped for our lives through the storm, striving to gain the enclosures about the houses of the hamlets, lord uxbridge urging us on, crying, 'make haste!--make haste! for god's sake, gallop, or you will be taken!' we did make haste, and succeeded in getting amongst the houses and gardens, but with the french advance close on our heels. here, however, observing the _chaussée_ full of hussars, they pulled up. had they continued their charge we were gone, for these hussars were scattered about the road in the utmost confusion, some in little squads, others singly, and, moreover, so crowded together that we had no room whatever to act with any effect--either they or us. "meantime the enemy's detachments began to envelop the gardens, which lord uxbridge observing, called to me, 'here, follow me with two of your guns,' and immediately himself led the way into one of the narrow lanes between the gardens. what he intended doing, god knows, but i obeyed. the lane was very little broader than our carriages--there was not room for a horse to have passed them! the distance from the _chaussée_ to the end of the lane, where it debouched on the open fields, could scarcely have been above one or two hundred yards at most. his lordship and i were in front, the guns and mounted detachments following. what he meant to do i was at a loss to conceive; we could hardly come to action in the lane; to enter on the open was certain destruction. thus we had arrived at about fifty yards from its termination when a body of chasseurs or hussars appeared there as if waiting for us. these we might have seen from the first, for nothing but a few elder bushes intercepted the view from the _chaussée_. "the whole transaction appears to me so wild and confused that at times i can hardly believe it to have been more than a confused dream--yet true it was--the general-in-chief of the cavalry exposing himself amongst the skirmishers of his rearguard, and literally doing the duty of a cornet! 'by god! we are all prisoners' (or some such words), exclaimed lord uxbridge, dashing his horse at one of the garden-banks, which he cleared, and away he went, leaving us to get out of the scrape as best we could. there was no time for hesitation--one manoeuvre alone could extricate us if allowed time, and it i ordered. 'reverse by unlimbering' was the order. to do this the gun was to be unlimbered, then turned round, and one wheel run up the bank, which just left space for the limber to pass it. the gun is then limbered up again and ready to move to the rear. the execution, however, was not easy, for the very reversing of the limber itself in so narrow a lane, with a team of eight horses, was sufficiently difficult, and required first-rate driving. "nothing could exceed the coolness and activity of our men; the thing was done quickly and well, and we returned to the _chaussée_ without let or hindrance. how we were permitted to do so, i am at a loss to imagine; for although i gave the order to reverse, i certainly never expected to have seen it executed. meantime my own situation was anything but a pleasant one, as i sat with my back to the gentlemen at the end of the lane, whose interference i momentarily expected, casting an eye from time to time over my shoulder to ascertain whether they still kept their position. there they sat motionless, and although thankful for their inactivity, i could not but wonder at their stupidity. it seemed, however, all of a piece that day--all blunder and confusion; and this last i found pretty considerable on regaining the _chaussée_. his lordship we found collecting the scattered hussars together into a squadron for our rescue, for which purpose it was he had so unceremoniously left us. heavy as the rain was and thick the weather, yet the french could not but have seen the confusion we were in, as they had closed up to the entrance of the enclosure; and yet they did not at once take advantage of it. "things could not remain long in this state. a heavy column of cavalry approached us by the _chaussée_, whilst another skirting the enclosures, appeared pushing forward to cut us off. retreat now became imperative. the order was given, and away we went, helter-skelter--guns, gun-detachments, and hussars all mixed _pêle-mêle_, going like mad, and covering each other with mud, to be washed off by the rain, which, before sufficiently heavy, now came down again as it had done at first, in splashes instead of drops, soaking us anew to the skin, and, what was worse, extinguishing every slow match in the brigade. the obscurity caused by the splashing of the rain was such, that at one period i could not distinguish objects more than a few yards distant. of course we lost sight of our pursuers altogether, and the shouts and halloos, and even laughter, they had at first sent forth were either silenced or drowned in the uproar of the elements and the noise of our too rapid retreat; for in addition to everything else the crashing and rattling of the thunder were most awful, and the glare of the lightning blinding. in this state we gained the bridge of genappe at the moment when the thunder-cloud, having passed over, left us in comparative fine weather, although still raining heavily. "for the last mile or so we had neither seen nor heard anything of our lively french friends, and now silently wound our way up the deserted street, nothing disturbing its death-like stillness save the iron sound of horses' feet, the rumbling of the carriages, and the splashing of water as it fell from the eaves--all this was stillness compared with the hurly-burly and din from which we had just emerged. "on gaining the high ground beyond the town, we suddenly came in sight of the main body of our cavalry drawn up across the _chaussée_ in two lines, and extending away far to the right and left of it. it would have been an imposing spectacle at any time, but just now appeared to me magnificent, and i hailed it with complacency, for here i thought our fox-chase must end. 'those superb life guards and blues will soon teach our pursuers a little modesty.' such fellows!--surely nothing can withstand them. scarcely had these thoughts passed through my mind ere an order from his lordship recalled us to the rear. the enemy's horse artillery, having taken up a position in the meadows near the bridge, were annoying our dragoons as they debouched from the town. the ground was heavy from the rain, and very steep, so that it was only by great exertion that we succeeded at last in getting our guns into the adjoining field. "the moment we appeared the french battery bestowed on us its undivided attention, which we quickly acknowledged by an uncommonly well-directed fire of spherical case. whilst so employed, major m'donald came up and put me through a regular catechism as to length of fuse, whether out of bag a or b, &c., &c. although much vexed at such a schooling just now, yet the major appeared so seriously in earnest that i could not but be amused; however, to convince him that we knew what we were about, i directed his attention to our excellent practice, so superior to that of our antagonist, who was sending all his shot far over our heads. the french seemed pretty well convinced of this too, for after standing a few rounds they quitted the field, and left us again without occupation. the major vanishing at the same time, i sent my guns, &c., to the rear, and set off to join lord uxbridge, who was still fighting in the street. our ammunition was expended the waggons having been taken away by sir augustus frazer at quatre bras. "on regaining my troop i found major m'donald and the rockets with it. they were in position on a gentle elevation, on which likewise were formed the lines of cavalry stretching across the _chaussée_. immediately on our left, encased in the hollow road, the blues were formed in close column of half-squadrons, and it was not long ere lord uxbridge, with those he had retained at genappe, came sweeping over the hill and joined us. they were closely followed by the french light cavalry, who, descending into the hollow, commenced a sharp skirmish with our advance-posts. soon squadron after squadron appeared on the hill we had passed, and took up their positions, forming a long line parallel to ours, whilst a battery of horse artillery, forming across the _chaussée_, just on the brow of the declivity, opened its fire on us, though without much effect. to this we responded, though very slowly, having no more ammunition than what remained in our limbers. "in order to amuse the enemy and our own cavalry, as well as to prevent the former noticing the slackness of our fire, i proposed to major m'donald making use of the rockets, which had hitherto done nothing. there was a little hesitation about this, and one of the officers (strangways) whispered me, 'no, no--it's too far!' this i immediately told the major, proposing as a remedy that they should go closer. still there was demur; but at last my proposition was agreed to, and down they marched into the thick of the skirmishers in the bottom. of course, having proposed the measure myself, i could do no less than accompany them. "whilst they prepared their machinery, i had time to notice what was going on to the right and left of us. two double lines of skirmishers extended all along the bottom--the foremost of each line were within a few yards of each other--constantly in motion, riding backwards and forwards, firing their carbines or pistols, and then reloading, still on the move. this fire seemed to me more dangerous for those on the hills above than for us below; for all, both french and english, generally stuck out their carbines or pistols as they continued to move backwards and forwards, and discharged them without taking any particular aim, and mostly in the air. i did not see a man fall on either side. the thing appeared quite ridiculous, and but for hearing the bullets whizzing overhead, one might have fancied it no more than a sham-fight. "meanwhile the rocketeers had placed a little iron triangle in the road with a rocket lying on it. the order to fire is given, portfire applied; the fidgety missile begins to sputter out sparks and wriggle its tail for a second or so, and then darts forth straight up the _chaussée_. a gun stands right in its way, between the wheels of which the shell in the head of the rocket bursts; the gunners fall right and left; and those of the other guns, taking to their heels, the battery is deserted in an instant. strange; but so it was. i saw them run, and for some minutes afterwards i saw the guns standing mute and unmanned, whilst our rocketeers kept shooting off rockets, none of which ever followed the course of the first; most of them, on arriving about the middle of the ascent, took a vertical direction, whilst some actually turned back upon ourselves; and one of these, following me like a squib until its shell exploded, actually put me in more danger than all the fire of the enemy throughout the day. meanwhile the french artillerymen, seeing how the land lay, returned to their guns and opened a fire of case-shot on us, but without effect, for we retreated to our ridge without the loss of a man, or even any wounded, though the range could not have been above yards. "as we had overtaken the rear of our infantry, it became necessary to make a stand here to enable them to gain ground. major m'donald therefore sent me in pursuit of my ammunition waggons, since all in our limbers was expended. having before sent for these, we calculated that they could not now be very far off. in going to the rear, i passed along the top of the bank, under which, as i have said, the blues were encased in the hollow road. shot and shells were flying pretty thickly about just then, and sometimes striking the top of the bank would send down a shower of mud and clods upon them. "the ammunition waggons i found coming up, and was returning with them when i met my whole troop again retiring by the road, whilst the cavalry did so by alternate regiments across the fields. the ground offering no feature for another stand, we continued thus along the road. the infantry had made so little progress that we again overtook the rear of their column, composed of brunswickers--some of those same boys i used to see practising at schapdale in my rides to brussels. these poor lads were pushing on at a great rate. as soon as their rear divisions heard the sound of our horses' feet, without once looking behind them, they began to crowd and press on those in front, until at last, hearing us close up to them, and finding it impossible to push forward in the road, many of them broke off into the fields; and such was their panic that, in order to run lighter, away went arms and knapsacks in all directions, and a general race ensued, the whole corps being in the most horrid confusion. it was to no purpose that i exerted my little stock of german to make them understand we were their english friends. a frightened glance and away, was all the effect of my interference, which drove many of them off." the retreat came to an end here. the rearguard, without knowing it, had reached the low ridge running east and west across the brussels road, where wellington had resolved to make his final stand, and where the greatest battle in modern history was on the morrow to be fought:-- "we did not long remain idle, for the guns were scarcely loaded ere the rear of our cavalry came crowding upon the infantry corps we had passed, and which were then only crossing the valley, the french advance skirmishing with these, whilst their squadrons occupied the heights. we waited a little until some of their larger masses were assembled, and then opened our fire with a range across the valley of about yards. the echo of our first gun had not ceased when, to my astonishment, a heavy cannonade, commencing in a most startling manner from behind our hedge, rolled along the rising ground, on part of which we were posted. the truth now flashed on me; we had rejoined the army, and it is impossible to describe the pleasing sense of security i felt at having now the support of something more staunch than cavalry. "the french now brought up battery after battery, and a tremendous cannonading was kept up by both sides for some time. the effect was grand and exciting. our position was a happy one, for all their shot which grazed short came and struck in the perpendicular bank of our gravel-pit, and only one struck amongst us, breaking the traversing handspike at one of the guns, but injuring neither man nor horse. our fire was principally directed against their masses as we could see them, which was not always the case from the smoke that, for want of wind, hung over them; then against their smaller parties that had advanced into the valley to skirmish with the rearguard of our cavalry. "here, for the second and last time, i saw napoleon, though infinitely more distant than in the morning. some of my non-commissioned officers pointed their guns at the numerous cortège accompanying him as they stood near the road by belle alliance; and one, pointed by old quarter-master hall, fell in the midst of them. at the moment we saw some little confusion amongst the group, but it did not hinder them from continuing the reconnaissance. "whilst we were thus engaged, a man of no very prepossessing appearance came rambling amongst our guns, and entered into conversation with me on the occurrences of the day. he was dressed in a shabby old drab greatcoat and a rusty round hat. i took him at the time for some amateur from brussels (of whom we had heard there were several hovering about), and thinking many of his questions rather impertinent, was somewhat short in answering him, and he soon left us. how great was my astonishment on learning soon after that this was sir thomas picton! the enemy, finding us obstinate in maintaining our position, soon slackened, and then ceased firing altogether; and we were immediately ordered to do the same, and establish ourselves in bivouac for the night. "thoroughly wet--cloaks, blankets, and all--comfort was out of the question, so we prepared to make the best of it. our first care was, of course, the horses, and these we had ample means of providing for, since, in addition to what corn we had left, one of our men had picked up and brought forward on an ammunition waggon a large sackful, which he found in the road near genappe. thus they, at least, had plenty to eat, and having been so well drenched all day, were not much in need of water. for ourselves we had nothing!--absolutely nothing!--and looked forward to rest alone to restore our exhausted strength. rather a bore going supperless to bed after such a day, yet was there no help for it. "our gunners, &c., soon stowed themselves away beneath the carriages, using the painted covers as additional shelter against the rain, which now set in again as heavy as ever. we set up a small tent, into which (after vain attempts at procuring food or lodgings in the farm or its out buildings, all of which were crammed to suffocation with officers and soldiers of all arms and nations) we crept, and rolling ourselves in our wet blankets, huddled close together, in hope, wet as we were, and wet as the ground was, of keeping each other warm. i know not how my bedfellows got on, as we all lay for a long while perfectly still and silent--the old peninsular hands disdaining to complain before their johnny newcome comrades, and these fearing to do so lest they should provoke such remarks, as 'lord have mercy on your poor tender carcass! what would such as you have done in the pyrenees?' or 'oho, my boy! this is but child's play to what we saw in spain.' so all who did not sleep (i believe the majority) pretended to do so, and bore their suffering with admirable heroism. "for my part, i once or twice, from sheer fatigue, got into something like a doze; yet it would not do. there was no possibility of sleeping, for, besides being already so wet, the tent proved no shelter, the water pouring through the canvas in streams; so up i got, and to my infinite joy, found that some of the men had managed to make a couple of fires, round which they were sitting smoking their short pipes in something like comfort. the hint was a good one, and at that moment my second captain joining me, we borrowed from them a few sticks, and choosing the best spot under the hedge, proceeded to make a fire for ourselves. in a short time we succeeded in raising a cheerful blaze, which materially bettered our situation. my companion had an umbrella (which, by the way, had afforded some merriment to our people on the march); this we planted against the sloping bank of the hedge, and seating ourselves under it, he on one side of the stick, i on the other, we lighted cigars and became--comfortable. dear weed! what comfort, what consolation dost thou not impart to the wretched!--with thee a hovel becomes a palace. what a stock of patience is there not enveloped in one of thy brown leaves! "and thus we sat enjoying ourselves, puffing forth into the damp night air streams of fragrant smoke, being able now deliberately to converse on what had been and probably would be. all this time a most infernal clatter of musketry was going on, which, but for the many quiet dark figures seated round the innumerable fires all along the position, might have been construed into a night attack. but as these gentlemen were between us and the enemy we felt assured of timely warning, and ere long learned that all this proceeded as before from the infantry discharging and cleaning their pieces. "whilst so employed, a rustling in the hedge behind attracted our attention, and in a few minutes a poor fellow belonging to some hanoverian regiment, wet through like everybody else, and shivering with cold, made his appearance, and modestly begged permission to remain a short time and warm himself by our fire. he had somehow or other wandered from his colours, and had passed the greater part of the night searching for them, but in vain. at first he appeared quite exhausted, but the warmth reinvigorating him, he pulled out his pipe and began to smoke. having finished his modicum and carefully disposed of the ashes, he rose from his wet seat to renew his search, hoping to find his corps before daylight, he said, lest it should be engaged. many thanks he offered for our hospitality; but what was our surprise when, after fumbling in his haversack for some time, he pulled out a poor half-starved chicken, presented it to us, and marched off. this was a godsend, in good truth, to people famished as we were; so calling for a camp-kettle, our prize was on the fire in a twinkling. "our comrades in the tent did not sleep so soundly but that they heard what was going on, and the kettle was hardly on the fire ere my gentlemen were assembled round it, a wet and shivering group, but all eager to partake of our good fortune--and so eager that after various betrayals of impatience, the miserable chicken was at last snatched from the kettle ere it was half-boiled, pulled to pieces and speedily devoured. i got a leg for my share, but it was not one mouthful, and this was the only food i tasted since the night before." footnotes: [footnote : that this was napoleon we have the authority of general gourgaud, who states that, irritated at the delay of marshal ney, he put himself at the head of the chasseurs (i think), and dashed forward in the hope of yet being able to catch our rearguard.] chapter v waterloo mercer's account of waterloo has much less of literary art and skill in it than other parts of his book. he plunges the reader, without warning and without explanation, into the roar of the great fight. his description of the ground and of the position of the army is thrust, as a sort of parenthesis, into the middle of the story of the actual struggle. mercer's troop was stationed till long past noon in reserve on the british right. the battle to mercer was nothing but an incessant and deep-voiced roar of guns, a vision of drifting smoke, in which would appear at times dim figures of charging horsemen, or outlines of infantry squares, edged with steel and flame, and out of which flowed tiny processions of wounded, trickling backwards over the ridge in front. about three o'clock, however, the troop was suddenly brought up to the battle-line, at a point where it was in imminent peril of giving way. from that moment mercer was in the smoky, tormented, thunder-shaken vortex of the great fight, and his description of it is graphic and impressive in the highest degree. this is how the morning of waterloo dawned for mercer and his gunners:-- "_june ._--memorable day! some time before daybreak the bombardier who had been despatched to langeveldt returned with a supply of ammunition. "with the providence of an old soldier, he had picked up and brought on a considerable quantity of beef, biscuit, and oatmeal, of which there was abundance scattered about everywhere. casks of rum, &c., there were, and having broached one of these--he and his drivers--every one filled his canteen--a most considerate act, and one for which the whole troop was sincerely thankful. nor must i omit to remark that, amidst such temptations, his men had behaved with the most perfect regularity, and returned to us quite sober! the rum was divided on the spot; and surely if ardent spirits are ever beneficial, it must be to men situated as ours were; it therefore came most providentially. the oatmeal was converted speedily into stirabout, and afforded our people a hearty meal, after which all hands set to work to prepare the beef, make soup, &c. unfortunately, we preferred waiting for this, and passed the stirabout, by which piece of folly we were doomed to a very protracted fast, as will be seen. "whilst our soup was cooking, it being now broad daylight, i mounted my horse to reconnoitre our situation. during the night another troop (i think major ramsay's) had established itself in our orchard, and just outside the hedge i found major bean's, which had also arrived during the night, direct from england. ascending from the farm towards the ground we had left yesterday evening, the face of the slope, as far as i could see, to the right and left, was covered with troops _en bivouac_--here, i think, principally cavalry. of these some were cleaning their arms, some cooking, some sitting round fires smoking, and a few, generally officers, walking about or standing in groups conversing. many of the latter eagerly inquired where i was going, and appeared very anxious for intelligence, all expecting nothing less than to recommence our retreat. i continued on to the position we had occupied last, and thence clearly saw the french army on the opposite hill, where everything appeared perfectly quiet--people moving about individually, and no formation whatever. their advanced-posts and vedettes in the valley, just beyond la haye sainte, were also quiet. "having satisfied my curiosity i returned the way i came, communicating my observations to the many eager inquirers i met with. various were the speculations in consequence. some thought the french were afraid to attack us, others that they would do so soon, others that the duke would not wait for it, others that he would, as he certainly would not allow them to go to brussels; and so they went on speculating, whilst i returned to my people. here, finding the mess not yet ready, and nothing to be done, i strolled into the garden of the farm, where several life guardsmen were very busy digging potatoes--a fortunate discovery, which i determined to profit by. therefore, calling up some of my men, to work we went without loss of time." it is amusing to notice that mercer was so busy digging potatoes that he quite failed to observe that the battle had actually commenced! his senses were buried in the potato-hillocks! so the regiments fell into line, the batteries moved off to their assigned places, the french guns began to speak, and waterloo had begun; and though mercer stood on the very edge of the field, he took no notice of the rise of the curtain on the great tragedy. he says:-- "whilst thus employed i noticed a very heavy firing going on in front, but this did not make us quit our work. shortly after, to my great astonishment, i observed that all the bivouacs on the hillside were deserted, and that even ramsay's troop had left the orchard without my being aware of it, and my own was left quite alone, not a soul being visible from where i stood in any direction, the ground they had quitted presenting one unbroken muddy solitude. the firing became heavier and heavier. alarmed at being thus left alone, when it was evident something serious was going on, i hastened back and ordered the horses to be put to immediately. "away went our mess untasted. one of the servants was desired to hang the kettle with its contents under an ammunition waggon. the stupid fellow hung the kettle as desired, but first emptied it. without orders, and all alone, the battle (for now there was no mistaking it) going on at the other side of the hill, i remained for a few minutes undecided what to do. it appeared to me we had been forgotten. all, except only ourselves, were evidently engaged, and labouring under this delusion, i thought we had better get into the affair at once. as soon, therefore, as the troop was ready i led them up the hill on the high-road, hoping to meet some one who could give me directions what to do." the tragedy of the battle soon made itself visible, in very dramatic shape, to mercer:-- "we had not proceeded a hundred yards, when an artillery officer came furiously galloping down towards us. it was major m'lloyd, in a dreadful state of agitation--such, indeed, that he could hardly answer my questions. i learned, however, that the battle was very serious and bloody. their first attack had been on that part of our position where his battery stood; but now the principal efforts were making against our right. all this was told in so hurried and anxious a manner, that one could hardly understand him. 'but where are you going?' he added. i told him my plan. 'have you no orders?' 'none whatever; i have not seen a soul.' 'then, for god's sake, come and assist me, or i shall be ruined. my brigade is cut to pieces, ammunition expended, and, unless reinforced, we shall be destroyed.' he was dreadfully agitated, and when i took his hand and promised to be with him directly, seemed transported with joy; so, bidding me make haste, he darted up the hill again, and went to receive that death-stroke which, ere long, was to terminate his earthly career. i trust before that termination he heard the reason why i never fulfilled that promise; for weeks elapsed ere he died, no doubt--otherwise he must have set me down for a base poltroon. my destiny led me elsewhere. my tutelary spirit was at hand: the eternal major m'donald made his appearance, and, giving me a sharp reprimand for having quitted my bivouac, desired me instantly to return to the foot of the hill, and there wait for orders. "sulkily and slowly we descended, and forming in line on the ground opposite the farm of mont st. jean, with our left to the road, i dismounted the men that they might be a little less liable to be hit by shot and shells which, coming over the hill, were continually plunging into the muddy soil all around us. this was a peculiarly dismal situation--without honour or glory, to be knocked on the head in such a solitude, for not a living being was in sight. "it was while thus standing idle that a fine, tall, upright old gentleman, in plain clothes, followed by two young ones, came across our front at a gallop from the brussels road, and continued on towards where we supposed the right of our army to be. i certainly stared at seeing three unarmed civilians pressing forward into so hot a fight. these were the duke of richmond and his two sons. how long we had been in this position, i know not, when at length we were relieved from it by our adjutant (lieutenant bell), who brought orders for our removal to the right of the second line. moving, therefore, to our right, along the hollow, we soon began a very gentle ascent, and at the same time became aware of several corps of infantry, which had not been very far from us, but remained invisible, as they were all lying down. although in this move we may be said to have been always under a heavy fire, from the number of missiles flying over us, yet were we still so fortunate as to arrive in our new position without losing man or horse." now mercer at last got a glimpse of the whole landscape of the great fight. but even when looking at waterloo, and to an accompaniment of flying lead, mercer has an eye for the picturesque, not to say the pastoral:-- "in point of seeing, our situation was much improved; but for danger and inactivity, it was much worse, since we were now fired directly at, and positively ordered not to return the compliment--the object in bringing us here being to watch a most formidable-looking line of lancers drawn up opposite to us, and threatening the right flank of our army. "to the right we looked over a fine open country, covered with crops and interspersed with thickets or small woods. there all was peaceful and smiling, not a living soul being in sight. to our left, the main ridge terminated rather abruptly just over hougoumont, the back of it towards us being broken ground, with a few old trees on it just where the nivelle road descended between high banks into the ravine. thus we were formed _en potence_ with the first line, from which we (my battery) were separated by some hundred yards. in our rear the th regiment of infantry (in square, i think) lay on the ground. in our front were some light dragoons of the german legion, who from time to time detached small parties across the ravine. these pushed cautiously up the slope towards the line of lancers to reconnoitre. "the corn, down to the edge of the ravine nearer the nivelle road and beyond it, was full of french riflemen; and these were warmly attacked by others from our side of the ravine, whom we saw crossing and gradually working their way up through the high corn, the french as gradually retiring. on the right of the lancers, two or three batteries kept up a continued fire at our position; but their shot, which could have been only -pounders, fell short--many not even reaching across the ravine. some, however, did reach their destination; and we were particularly plagued by their howitzer shells with long fuses, which were continually falling about us, and lay spitting and spluttering several seconds before they exploded, to the no small annoyance of man and horse. still, however, nobody was hurt; but a round-shot, striking the ammunition boxes on the body of one of our waggons, penetrated through both and lodged in the back of the rear one, with nearly half its surface to be seen from without--a singular circumstance! in addition to this front fire, we were exposed to another on our left flank--the shot that passed over the main ridge terminating their career with us. "having little to occupy us here, we had ample leisure to observe what was passing there. we could see some corps at the end near us in squares--dark masses, having guns between them, relieved from a background of grey smoke, which seemed to fill the valley beyond, and rose high in the air above the hill. every now and then torrents of french cavalry of all arms came sweeping over the ridge, as if carrying all before them. but, after their passage, the squares were still to be seen in the same places; and these gentry, who we feared would next fall on us, would evaporate, nobody could well say how. the firing still increased in intensity, so that we were at a loss to conjecture what all this could mean. "about this time, being impatient of standing idle, and annoyed by the batteries on the nivelle road, i ventured to commit a folly, for which i should have paid dearly, had our duke chanced to be in our part of the field. i ventured to disobey orders, and open a slow deliberate fire at the battery, thinking with my -pounders soon to silence his -pounders. my astonishment was great, however, when our very first gun was responded to by at least half-a-dozen gentlemen of very superior calibre, whose presence i had not even suspected, and whose superiority we immediately recognised by their rushing noise and long reach, for they flew far beyond us. i instantly saw my folly, and ceased firing, and they did the same--the -pounders alone continuing the cannonade as before. but this was not all. the first man of my troop touched was by one of these confounded long shots. i shall never forget the scream the poor lad gave when struck. it was one of the last they fired, and shattered his left arm to pieces as he stood between the waggons. that scream went to my very soul, for i accused myself as having caused his misfortune. i was, however, obliged to conceal my emotion from the men, who had turned to look at him; so, bidding them 'stand to their front,' i continued my walk up and down, whilst hitchins ran to his assistance. "amidst such stirring scenes, emotions of this kind are but of short duration; what occurred immediately afterwards completely banished gunner hunt from my recollection. as a counterbalance to this tragical event, our firing produced one so comic as to excite all our risibility. two or three officers had lounged up to our guns to see the effect. one of them was a medico, and he (a shower having just come on) carried an umbrella overhead. no sooner did the heavy answers begin to arrive amongst us, than these gentlemen, fancying they should be safer with their own corps, although only a few yards in the rear, scampered off in double-quick, doctor and all, he still carrying his umbrella aloft. scarcely, however, had he made two paces, when a shot, as he thought, passing rather too close, down he dropped on his hands and knees--or, i should rather say, hand and knees, for the one was employed in holding the silken cover most pertinaciously over him--and away he scrambled like a great baboon, his head turned fearfully over his shoulder, as if watching the coming shot, whilst our fellows made the field resound with their shouts and laughter." at this point mercer indulges in some reflections which illustrate, in a striking fashion, the confusion of a great battle, and the difficulty with which even those who are actors in it can describe what took place. it is not merely that a battle-field, by its area, and the fashion in which the all-obscuring smoke drifts over it, evades clear vision and description. the actors in the fight are themselves in such a mood of excitement, and are so passionately preoccupied by their own part in the combat and the scenes immediately about them, that no brain remains sufficiently cool and detached to take in the battle-field as a whole:-- "i think i have already mentioned that it was not until some days afterwards that i was able to resume my regular journal, consequently that everything relative to these three days is written from memory. in trying to recollect scenes of this nature, some little confusion is inevitable; and here i confess myself somewhat puzzled to account for certain facts of which i am positive. for instance, i remember perfectly captain bolton's brigade of -pounders being stationed to the left of us, somewhat in advance, and facing as we did, consequently not far from the nivelle road. bolton came and conversed with me some time, and was called hastily away by his battery commencing a heavy fire. query--who, and what was he firing at? that he was himself under a heavy fire there is equally no doubt, for whilst we were not losing a man, we saw many, both of his men and horses, fall, and but a few minutes after leaving me, he was killed himself--this is a puzzle. i have no recollection of any troops attempting to cross the ravine, and yet his fire was in that direction, and i think must have been toward the nivelle road. "a distressing circumstance connected with this (shall i confess it?) made even more impression on my spirits than the misfortune of gunner hunt. bolton's people had not been long engaged when we saw the men of the gun next to us unharness one of the horses and chase it away, wounded, i supposed; yet the beast stood and moved with firmness, going from one carriage to the other, whence i noticed he was always eagerly driven away. at last two or three gunners drove him before them to a considerable distance, and then returned to their guns. i took little notice of this at the time and was surprised by an exclamation of horror from some of my people in the rear. a sickening sensation came over me, mixed with a deep feeling of pity, when within a few paces of me stood the poor horse in question, side by side with the leaders of one of our ammunition waggons, against which he pressed his panting sides, as though eager to identify himself as of their society--the driver, with horror depicted on every feature, endeavouring by words and gestures (for the kind-hearted lad could not strike) to drive from him so hideous a spectacle. "a cannon-shot had completely carried away the lower part of the animal's head, immediately below the eyes. still he lived, and seemed fully conscious of all around, whilst his full, clear eye seemed to implore us not to chase him from his companions. i ordered the farrier (price) to put him out of misery, which, in a few minutes he reported having accomplished, by running his sabre into the animal's heart. even he evinced feeling on this occasion. "meantime the roar of cannon and musketry in the main position never slackened; it was intense, as was the smoke arising from it. amidst this, from time to time, was to be seen still more dense columns of smoke rising straight into the air like a great pillar, then spreading out a mushroom head. these arose from the explosions of ammunition waggons, which were continually taking place, although the noise which filled the whole atmosphere was too overpowering to allow them to be heard." by this time the great french cavalry charges were in full course. some , of the finest cavalry in the world were being flung on the stubborn british squares, which, as the french horsemen swept round them, seemed swallowed up in a tossing sea of helmets and gleaming swords and heads of galloping horses. the spray, so to speak, of that fierce human sea, was flung on the spot where mercer and his gunners stood:-- "amongst the multitudes of french cavalry continually pouring over the front ridge, one corps came sweeping down the slope entire, and was directing its course straight for us, when suddenly a regiment of light dragoons (i believe of the german legion) came up from the ravine at a brisk trot on their flank. the french had barely time to wheel up to the left and push their horses into a gallop when the two bodies came into collision. they were at a very short distance from us, so that we saw the charge perfectly. there was no check, no hesitation on either side; both parties seemed to dash on in a most reckless manner, and we fully expected to have seen a horrid crash--no such thing! each, as if by mutual consent, opened their files on coming near, and passed rapidly through each other, cutting and pointing, much in the same manner one might pass the fingers of the right hand through those of the left. we saw but few fall. the two corps re-formed afterwards, and in a twinkling both disappeared, i know not how or where. "it might have been about two o'clock when colonel gould, r.a., came to me--perhaps a little later. be that as it may, we were conversing on the subject of our situation, which appeared to him rather desperate. he remarked that in the event of a retreat there was but one road, which no doubt would be instantly choked up, and asked my opinion. my answer was, 'it does indeed look very bad; but i trust in the duke, who, i am sure, will get us out of it somehow or other.' meantime gloomy reflections arose in my mind, for though i did not choose to betray myself (as we spoke before the men), yet i could not help thinking that our affairs were rather desperate, and that some unfortunate catastrophe was at hand. in this case i made up my mind to spike my guns and retreat over the fields, draught-horses and all, in the best manner i could, steering well from the high-road and general line of retreat. "we were still talking on this subject when suddenly a dark mass of cavalry appeared for an instant on the main ridge, and then came sweeping down the slope in swarms, reminding me of an enormous surf bursting over the prostrate hull of a stranded vessel, and then running, hissing and foaming up the beach. the hollow space became in a twinkling covered with horsemen, crossing, turning, and riding about in all directions, apparently without any object. sometimes they came pretty near us, then would retire a little. there were lancers amongst them, hussars, and dragoons--it was a complete _mêlée_. on the main ridge no squares were to be seen; the only objects were a few guns standing in a confused manner, with muzzles in the air, and not one artilleryman. after caracoling about for a few minutes, the crowd began to separate and draw together in small bodies, which continually increased; and now we really apprehended being overwhelmed, as the first line had apparently been. for a moment an awful silence pervaded that part of the position to which we anxiously turned our eyes. 'i fear all is over,' said colonel gould, who still remained with me. the thing seemed but too likely, and this time i could not withhold my assent to his remark, for it did indeed appear so. "meantime the th, springing from the earth, had formed their square, whilst we, throwing back the guns of our right and left divisions, stood waiting in momentary expectation of being enveloped and attacked. still they lingered in the hollow, when suddenly loud and repeated shouts (not english hurrahs) drew our attention to the other side. there we saw two dense columns of infantry pushing forward at a quick pace towards us, crossing the fields, as if they had come from merke braine. every one both of the th and ourselves pronounced them french, yet still we delayed opening fire on them. shouting, yelling, singing, on they came right for us; and being now not above or yards distant, it seemed folly allowing them to come nearer unmolested. the commanding officer of the th to end our doubts rode forwards and endeavoured to ascertain who they were, but soon returned assuring us they were french. the order was already given to fire, when luckily colonel gould recognised them as belgians. meantime, whilst my attention was occupied by these people, the cavalry had all vanished, nobody could say how or where. "we breathed again. such was the agitated state in which we were kept in our second position. a third act was about to commence of a much more stirring and active nature." now came, and in a dramatic fashion, the summons which brought troop g into the very front of the fight; and from this point mercer's story is clear, sustained, and vivid:-- "it might have been, as nearly as i can recollect, about p.m. when sir augustus frazer galloped up, crying out, 'left limber up, and as fast as you can.' the words were scarcely uttered when my gallant troop stood as desired in column of sub-divisions, left in front, pointing towards the main ridge. 'at a gallop, march!' and away we flew, as steadily and compactly as if at a review. "i rode with frazer, whose face was as black as a chimney-sweep's from the smoke, and the jacket-sleeve of his right arm torn open by a musket-ball or case-shot, which had merely grazed his flesh. as we went along he told me that the enemy had assembled an enormous mass of heavy cavalry in front of the point to which he was leading us (about one-third of the distance between hougoumont and the charleroi road), and that in all probability we should immediately be charged on gaining our position. 'the duke's orders, however, are positive,' he added, 'that in the event of their persevering and charging home, you do not expose your men, but retire with them into the adjacent squares of infantry.' as he spoke we were ascending the reverse slope of the main position. we breathed a new atmosphere--the air was suffocatingly hot, resembling that issuing from an oven. we were enveloped in thick smoke, and, _malgré_ the incessant roar of cannon and musketry, could distinctly hear around us a mysterious humming noise, like that which one hears of a summer's evening proceeding from myriads of black beetles; cannon-shot, too, ploughed the ground in all directions, and so thick was the hail of balls and bullets that it seemed dangerous to extend the arm lest it should be torn off. "in spite of the serious situation in which we were, i could not help being somewhat amused at the astonishment expressed by our kind-hearted surgeon (hitchins), who heard for the first time this sort of music. he was close to me as we ascended the slope, and hearing this infernal carillon about his ears, began staring round in the wildest and most comic manner imaginable, twisting himself from side to side, exclaiming, 'my god, mercer, what is that? what is all this noise? how curious!--how very curious!' and then when a cannon-shot rushed hissing past, 'there!--there! what is it all!' it was with great difficulty that i persuaded him to retire; for a time he insisted on remaining near me, and it was only by pointing out how important it was to us, in case of being wounded, that he should keep himself safe to be able to assist us, that i prevailed on him to withdraw. amidst this storm we gained the summit of the ridge, strange to say, without a casualty; and sir augustus, pointing out our position between two squares of brunswick infantry, left us with injunctions to remember the duke's order, and to economise our ammunition. "the brunswickers were falling fast--the shot every moment making great gaps in their squares, which the officers and sergeants were actively employed in filling up by pushing their men together, and sometimes thumping them ere they could make them move. these were the very boys whom i had but yesterday seen throwing away their arms, and fleeing, panic-stricken, from the very sound of our horses' feet. to-day they fled not bodily, to be sure, but spiritually, for their senses seemed to have left them. there they stood, with recovered arms, like so many logs, or rather like the very wooden figures which i had seen them practising at in their cantonments. every moment i feared they would again throw down their arms and flee; but their officers and sergeants behaved nobly, not only keeping them together, but managing to keep their squares close in spite of the carnage made amongst them. to have sought refuge amongst men in such a state were madness--the very moment our men ran from their guns, i was convinced, would be the signal for their disbanding. we had better, then, fall at our posts than in such a situation. "our coming up seemed to re-animate them, and all their eyes were directed to us--indeed, it was providential, for, had we not arrived as we did, i scarcely think there is a doubt of what would have been their fate. that the duke was ignorant of their danger i have from captain baynes, our brigade-major, who told me that after sir augustus frazer had been sent for us, his grace exhibited considerable anxiety for our coming up; and that when he saw us crossing the fields at a gallop, and in so compact a body, he actually cried out, 'ah! that's the way i like to see horse artillery move.'" then follows perhaps the most spirited description of a duel betwixt guns and horsemen--from the gunner's point of view--to be found in english literature:-- "our first gun had scarcely gained the interval between their squares, when i saw through the smoke the leading squadrons of the advancing column coming on at a brisk trot, and already not more than one hundred yards distant, if so much, for i don't think we could have seen so far. i immediately ordered the line to be formed for action--case-shot! and the leading gun was unlimbered and commenced firing almost as soon as the word was given; for activity and intelligence our men were unrivalled. "the very first round, i saw, brought down several men and horses. they continued, however, to advance. i glanced at the brunswickers, and that glance told me it would not do; they had opened a fire from their front faces, but both squares appeared too unsteady, and i resolved to say nothing about the duke's order, and take our chance--a resolve that was strengthened by the effect of the remaining guns as they rapidly succeeded in coming to action, making terrible slaughter, and in an instant covering the ground with men and horses. still they persevered in approaching us (the first round had brought them to a walk), though slowly, and it did seem they would ride over us. we were a little below the level of the ground on which they moved, having in front of us a bank of about a foot and a half or two feet high, along the top of which ran a narrow road--and this gave more effect to our case-shot, all of which almost must have taken effect, for the carnage was frightful. the following extract, from a related account of a conscript, translated from the french and published by murray, is so true and exact as to need no comment: 'through the smoke i saw the english gunners abandon their pieces, all but six guns stationed under the road, and almost immediately our cuirassiers were upon the squares, whose fire was drawn in zigzags. now, i thought, those gunners would be cut to pieces; but no, the devils kept firing with grape, which mowed them down like grass.' "i suppose this state of things occupied but a few seconds, when i observed symptoms of hesitation, and in a twinkling, at the instant i thought it was all over with us, they turned to either flank and filed away rapidly to the rear. retreat of the mass, however, was not so easy. many facing about and trying to force their way through the body of the column, that part next to us became a complete mob, into which we kept a steady fire of case-shot from our six pieces. the effect is hardly conceivable, and to paint this scene of slaughter and confusion impossible. every discharge was followed by the fall of numbers, whilst the survivors struggled with each other, and i actually saw them using the pommels of their swords to fight their way out of the _mêlée_. some, rendered desperate at finding themselves thus pent up at the muzzles of our guns, as it were, and others carried away by their horses, maddened with wounds, dashed through our intervals--few thinking of using their swords, but pushing furiously onward, intent only on saving themselves. at last the rear of the column, wheeling about, opened a passage, and the whole swept away at a much more rapid pace than they had advanced, nor stopped until the swell of the ground covered them from our fire. we then ceased firing; but as they were still not far off, for we saw the tops of their caps, having reloaded, we stood ready to receive them should they renew the attack. "one of, if not the first man who fell on our side was wounded by his own gun. gunner butterworth was one of the greatest pickles in the troop, but at the same time a most daring, active soldier; he was no. (the man who sponged, &c.) at his gun. he had just finished ramming down the shot, and was stepping back outside the wheel when his foot stuck in the miry soil, pulling him forward at the moment the gun was fired. as a man naturally does when falling, he threw out both his arms before him, and they were blown off at the elbows. he raised himself a little on his two stumps, and looked up most piteously in my face. to assist him was impossible--the safety of all, everything, depended upon not slackening our fire, and i was obliged to turn from him. the state of anxious activity in which we were kept all day, and the numbers who fell almost immediately afterwards, caused me to lose sight of poor butterworth; and i afterwards learned that he had succeeded in rising, and was gone to the rear; but on inquiring for him next day, some of my people who had been sent to waterloo told me that they saw his body lying by the roadside near the farm of mont st. jean--bled to death. the retreat of the cavalry was succeeded by a shower of shot and shells, which must have annihilated us had not the little bank covered and threw most of them over us. still some reached us and knocked down men and horses. "at the first charge the french column was composed of grenadiers _à cheval_[ ] and cuirassiers, the former in front. i forget whether they had or had not changed this disposition, but think, from the number of cuirasses we found afterwards, that the cuirassiers led the second attack. be this as it may, their column reassembled. they prepared for a second attempt, sending up a cloud of skirmishers, who galled us terribly by a fire of carbines and pistols at scarcely forty yards from our front." betwixt the cavalry rushes came little intervals of waiting, while the broken squadrons re-formed in the valley below, and the breathless gunners on the ridge renewed their ammunition. these pauses gave the french skirmishers--who had crept close up to the guns--their chance, and which were more trying to the british gunners than even the wild onfall of the horsemen:-- "we were obliged to stand with port-fires lighted, so that it was not without a little difficulty that i succeeded in restraining the people from firing, for they grew impatient under such fatal results. seeing some exertion beyond words necessary for this purpose, i leaped my horse up the little bank, and began a promenade (by no means agreeable) up and down our front, without even drawing my sword, though these fellows were within speaking distance of me. this quieted my men; but the tall blue gentlemen, seeing me thus dare them, immediately made a target of me, and commenced a very deliberate practice, to show us what very bad shots they were, and verify the old artillery proverb, 'the nearer the target, the safer you are.' one fellow certainly made me flinch, but it was a miss; so i shook my finger at him and called him _coquin_, &c. the rogue grinned as he reloaded, and again took aim. i certainly felt rather foolish at that moment, but was ashamed after such bravado to let him see it, and therefore continued my promenade. as if to prolong my torment, he was a terrible time about it. to me it seemed an age. whenever i turned, the muzzle of his infernal carbine still followed me. at length bang it went, and whiz came the ball close to the back of my neck, and at the same instant down dropped the leading driver of one of my guns (miller), into whose forehead the cursed missile had penetrated. "the column now once more mounted the plateau, and these popping gentry wheeled off right and left to clear the ground for their charge. the spectacle was imposing, and if ever the word sublime was appropriately applied, it might surely be to it. on they came in compact squadrons, one behind the other, so numerous that those of the rear were still below the brow when the head of the column was but at some sixty or seventy yards from our guns. their pace was a slow but steady trot. none of your furious galloping charges was this, but a deliberate advance at a deliberate pace, as of men resolved to carry their point. they moved in profound silence, and the only sound that could be heard from them amidst the incessant roar of battle was the low, thunder-like reverberation of the ground beneath the simultaneous tread of so many horses. "on our part was equal deliberation. every man stood steadily at his post, the guns ready, loaded with a round-shot first and a case over it; the tubes were in the vents; the port-fires glared and spluttered behind the wheels; and my word alone was wanting to hurl destruction on that goodly show of gallant men and noble horses. i delayed this, for experience had given me confidence. the brunswickers partook of this feeling, and with their squares--much reduced in point of size--well closed, stood firmly with arms at the recover, and eyes fixed on us, ready to commence their fire with our first discharge. it was indeed a grand and imposing spectacle. the column was led on this time by an officer in a rich uniform, his breast covered with decorations, whose earnest gesticulations were strangely contrasted with the solemn demeanour of those to whom they were addressed. i thus allowed them to advance unmolested until the head of the column might have been about fifty or sixty yards from us, and then gave the word 'fire!' the effect was terrible, nearly the whole leading rank fell at once; and the round-shot, penetrating the column, carried confusion throughout its extent. the ground, already encumbered with victims of the first struggle, became now almost impassable. still, however, these devoted warriors struggled on, intent only on reaching us. the thing was impossible. "our guns were served with astonishing activity, whilst the running fire of the two squares was maintained with spirit. those who pushed forward over the heap of carcasses of men and horses gained but a few paces in advance, there to fall in their turn and add to the difficulties of those succeeding them. the discharge of every gun was followed by a fall of men and horses like that of grass before the mower's scythe. when the horse alone was killed, we could see the cuirassiers divesting themselves of the encumbrance and making their escape on foot. still, for a moment the confused mass (for all order was at an end) stood before us, vainly trying to urge their horses over the obstacles presented by their fallen comrades, in obedience to the now loud and rapid vociferations of him who had led them on and remained unhurt. "as before, many cleared everything and rode through us; many came plunging forward only to fall, man and horse, close to the muzzles of our guns; but the majority again turned at the very moment when, from having less ground to go over, it was safer to advance than retire, and sought a passage to the rear. of course the same confusion, struggle amongst themselves, and slaughter prevailed as before, until gradually they disappeared over the brow of the hill. we ceased firing, glad to take breath. their retreat exposed us, as before, to a shower of shot and shells: these last, falling amongst us, with very long fuses, kept burning and hissing a long time before they burst, and were a considerable annoyance to man and horse. the bank in front, however, again stood our friend, and sent many over us innocuous." here is a picture of what may be called the human atmosphere of the battle in its later stages, the high-strung nerves, the weariness, the exhaustion of passion, the carelessness of close-pressing death, the fast-following alternation of deadly peril and of miraculous escape:-- "lieutenant breton, who had already lost two horses, and had mounted a troop-horse, was conversing with me during this our leisure moment. as his horse stood at right angles to mine, the poor jaded animal dozingly rested his muzzle on my thigh; whilst i, the better to hear amidst the infernal din, leant forward, resting my arm between his ears. in this attitude a cannon-shot smashed the horse's head to atoms. the headless trunk sank to the ground--breton looking pale as death, expecting, as he afterwards told me, that i was cut in two. what was passing to the right and left of us i know no more about than the man in the moon--not even what corps were beyond the brunswickers. the smoke confined our vision to a very small compass, so that my battle was restricted to the two squares and my own battery; and, as long as we maintained our ground, i thought it a matter of course that others did so too. "it was just after this accident that our worthy commanding officer of artillery, sir george adam wood, made his appearance through the smoke a little way from our left flank. as i said, we were doing nothing, for the cavalry were under the brow re-forming for a third attack, and we were being pelted by their artillery. 'd--n it, mercer,' said the old man, blinking as a man does when facing a gale of wind, 'you have hot work of it here,' 'yes, sir, pretty hot;' and i was proceeding with an account of the two charges we had already discomfited, and the prospect of a third, when, glancing that way, i perceived their leading squadron already on the plateau. 'there they are again,' i exclaimed; and, darting from sir george _sans cérémonie_, was just in time to meet them with the same destruction as before. this time, indeed, it was child's play. they could not even approach us in any decent order, and we fired most deliberately; it was folly having attempted the thing. "i was sitting on my horse near the right of my battery as they turned and began to retire once more. intoxicated with success, i was singing out, 'beautiful!--beautiful!' and my right arm was nourishing about, when some one from behind, seizing it, said quietly, 'take care, or you'll strike the duke;' and in effect our noble chief, with a serious air, and apparently much fatigued, passed close by me to the front, without seeming to take the slightest notice of the remnant of the french cavalry still lingering on the ground. this obliged us to cease firing; and at the same moment i--perceiving a line of infantry ascending from the rear, slowly, with ported arms, and uttering a sort of feeble, suppressed hurrah, ankle-deep in a thick, tenacious mud, and threading their way amongst or stepping over the numerous corpses covering the ground, out of breath from their exertions, and hardly preserving a line, broken everywhere into large gaps the breadth of several files--could not but meditate on the probable results of the last charge had i, in obedience to the duke's order, retired my men into the squares and allowed the daring and formidable squadrons a passage to our rear, where they must have gone thundering down on this disjointed line. the summit gained, the line was amended, files closed in, and the whole, including our brunswickers, advanced down the slope towards the plain. "although the infantry lost several men as they passed us, yet on the whole the cannonade began to slacken on both sides (why, i know not), and, the smoke clearing away a little, i had now, for the first time, a good view of the field. on the ridge opposite to us dark masses of troops were stationary, or moving down into the intervening plain. our own advancing infantry were hid from view by the ground. we therefore recommenced firing at the enemy's masses, and the cannonade, spreading, soon became general again along the line." mercer, so far, had been fighting sabres with -pounders, and all the advantage had been on his side. he had inflicted enormous damage on the enemy, and suffered little himself. but now the enemy's guns began to speak, and mercer's battery was smitten by a cruel and continuous flank fire, which practically destroyed it:-- "whilst thus occupied with our front, we suddenly became sensible of a most destructive flanking fire from a battery which had come, the lord knows how, and established itself on a knoll somewhat higher than the ground we stood on, and only about or yards a little in advance of our left flank. the rapidity and precision of this fire were quite appalling. every shot almost took effect, and i certainly expected we should all be annihilated. our horses and limbers being a little retired down the slope, had hitherto been somewhat under cover from the direct fire in front; but this plunged right amongst them, knocking them down by pairs, and creating horrible confusion. the drivers could hardly extricate themselves from one dead horse ere another fell, or perhaps themselves. the saddle-bags, in many instances, were torn from the horses' backs, and their contents scattered over the field. one shell i saw explode under the two finest wheel-horses in the troop--down they dropped. in some instances the horses of a gun or ammunition waggon remained, and all their drivers were killed.[ ] "the whole livelong day had cost us nothing like this. our gunners, too--the few left fit for duty of them--were so exhausted that they were unable to run the guns up after firing, consequently at every round they retreated nearer to the limbers; and as we had pointed our two left guns towards the people who were annoying us so terribly, they soon came altogether in a confused heap, the trails crossing each other, and the whole dangerously near the limbers and ammunition waggons, some of which were totally unhorsed, and others in sad confusion from the loss of their drivers and horses, many of them lying dead in their harness attached to their carriages. i sighed for my poor troop--it was already but a wreck. "i had dismounted, and was assisting at one of the guns to encourage my poor exhausted men, when through the smoke a black speck caught my eye, and i instantly knew what it was. the conviction that one never sees a shot coming towards you unless directly in its line flashed across my mind, together with the certainty that my doom was sealed. i had barely time to exclaim 'here it is, then!'--much in that gasping sort of way one does when going into very cold water, takes away the breath--'whush' it went past my face, striking the point of my pelisse collar, which was lying open, and smash into a horse close behind me. i breathed freely again. "under such a fire, one may be said to have had a thousand narrow escapes; and, in good truth, i frequently experienced that displacement of air against my face, caused by the passing of shot close to me; but the two above recorded, and a third, which i shall mention, were remarkable ones, and made me feel in full force the goodness of him who protected me among so many dangers. whilst in position on the right of the second line, i had reproved some of my men for lying down when shells fell near them until they burst. now my turn came. a shell, with a long fuse, came slop into the mud at my feet, and there lay fizzing and flaring to my infinite discomfiture. after what i had said on the subject, i felt that i must act up to my own words, and, accordingly, there i stood, endeavouring to look quite composed until the cursed thing burst--and, strange to say, without injuring me, though so near. the effect on my men was good." but was it really a french battery which was wrecking mercer's guns? or, in the mad inevitable distraction of a great battle were the allied gunners destroying each other? mercer's story leaves this point in a state of very disquieting doubt:-- "we had scarcely fired many rounds at the enfilading battery, when a tall man in the black brunswick uniform came galloping up to me from the rear, exclaiming, 'ah! mine gott!--mine gott! vat is it you doos, sare? dat is your friends de proosiens; an you kills dem! ah! mine gott!--mine gott; vil you no stop, sare?--vil you no stop? ah! mine gott!--mine gott! vat for is dis? de inglish kills dere friends de proosiens! vere is de dook von vellington? vere is de dook von vellington? ah! mine gott!--mine gott!' &c., &c., and so he went on raving like one demented. i observed that if these were our friends the prussians, they were treating us very uncivilly; and that it was not without sufficient provocation we had turned our guns on them, pointing out to him at the same time the bloody proofs of my assertion. "apparently not noticing what i said, he continued his lamentations, and, 'vil you no stop, sare, i say?' wherefore, thinking he might be right, to pacify him i ordered the whole to cease firing, desiring him to remark the consequences. psieu, psieu, psieu, came our 'friends'' shots, one after another; and our friend himself had a narrow escape from one of them. 'now, sir,' i said, 'you will be convinced; and we will continue our firing, whilst you can ride round the way you came, and tell them they kill their friends the english; the moment their fire ceases, so shall mine,' still he lingered, exclaiming, 'oh, dis is terreeble to see de proosien and de inglish kill von anoder!' "at last, darting off, i saw no more of him. the fire continued on both sides, mine becoming slacker and slacker, for we were reduced to the last extremity, and must have been annihilated but for the opportune arrival of a battery of belgic artillery a little on our left, which, taking the others in flank nearly at point blank, soon silenced and drove them off. we were so reduced that all our strength was barely sufficient to load and fire three guns out of our six. "these belgians were all beastly drunk, and, when they first came up, not at all particular as to which way they fired; and it was only by keeping an eye on them that they were prevented treating us, and even one another. the wretches had probably already done mischief elsewhere--who knows?" footnotes: [footnote : these grenadiers _à cheval_ were very fine troops, clothed in blue uniforms without facings, cuffs, or collars. broad--very broad--buff belts, and huge muff caps, made them appear gigantic fellows.] [footnote : "the field was so much covered with blood, that it appeared as if it had been flooded with it," &c.--simpson's "paris after waterloo," &c., p. .] chapter vi after the fight mercer could hardly tell when and how waterloo began, and he can almost as little tell when and how it ended! so wild is the confusion, so overwhelming the excitement of a great battle for the actors in it:-- "my recollections of the later part of this day are rather confused; i was fatigued and almost deaf. i recollect clearly, however, that we had ceased firing, the plain below being covered with masses of troops, which we could not distinguish from each other. captain walcot of the horse artillery, had come to us, and we were all looking out anxiously at the movements below and on the opposite ridge, when he suddenly shouted out, 'victory!--victory! they fly!--they fly!' and sure enough we saw some of the masses dissolving, as it were, and those composing them streaming away in confused crowds over the field, whilst the already desultory fire of their artillery ceased altogether. "i shall never forget this joyful moment!--this moment of exultation! on looking round, i found we were left almost alone. cavalry and infantry had all moved forward, and only a few guns here and there were to be seen on the position. a little to our right were the remains of major m'donald's troop under lieutenant sandilands, which had suffered much, but nothing like us. we were congratulating ourselves on the happy results of the day when an aide-de-camp rode up, crying, 'forward, sir! forward! it is of the utmost importance that this movement should be supported by artillery!' at the same time waving his hat much in the manner of a huntsman laying on his dogs. i smiled at his energy, and, pointing to the remains of my poor troop, quietly asked, 'how, sir?' a glance was sufficient to show him the impossibility, and away he went. "our situation was indeed terrible. of fine horses with which we had entered the battle, upwards of lay dead, dying, or severely wounded. of the men, scarcely two-thirds of those necessary for four guns remained, and these so completely exhausted as to be totally incapable of further exertion. lieutenant breton had three horses killed under him; lieutenant hincks was wounded in the breast by a spent ball; lieutenant leathes on the hip by a splinter; and although untouched myself, my horse had no less than eight wounds, one of which, a graze on the fetlock joint, lamed him for ever. our guns and carriages were, as before mentioned, altogether in a confused heap, intermingled with dead and wounded horses, which it had not been possible to disengage from them. "my poor men, such at least as were untouched, fairly worn out, their clothes, faces, &c., blackened by the smoke and spattered over with mud and blood, had seated themselves on the trails of the carriages, or had thrown themselves on the wet and polluted soil, too fatigued to think of anything but gaining a little rest. such was our situation when called upon to advance. it was impossible, and we remained where we were. for myself, i was also excessively tired, hoarse to making speech painful, and deaf from the infernal uproar of the last eleven hours. moreover, i was devoured by a burning thirst, not a drop of liquid having passed my lips since the evening of the th; but although, with the exception of the chicken's leg last night, i may be said to have eaten nothing for two whole days, yet did i not feel the least desire for food." when the battle was over, mercer's artistic sensibilities--his eye for landscape, his sense of sky-effects and of natural beauty--awoke. he was perhaps the only man in wellington's army who could study cloud-effects in the night-sky, which looked down on the slain of waterloo, or contemplate, with botanical discrimination and approval, the plants in the garden at hougoumont the next morning:-- "the evening had become fine, and but for an occasional groan or lament from some poor sufferer, and the repeated piteous neighing of wounded horses, tranquility might be said to reign over the field. as it got dusk, a large body of prussian artillery arrived, and formed their bivouac near us. there was not light to see more of them than that their brass guns were kept bright, and that their carriages were encumbered with baggage, and, besides, appeared but clumsy machines when compared with ours. all wore their greatcoats, which apparently they had marched in. as they looked at us rather scowlingly, and did not seem inclined to hold any communication with us, i soon returned to my own people, whom i found preparing to go supperless to bed--the two remaining officers, the non-commissioned officers, and men having all got together in a heap, with some painted covers spread under, and others drawn over them--at a distance from our guns, &c., the neighbourhood of which they said, was too horrible to think of sleeping there. "for my part, after standing all day amongst all these horrors, i felt no squeamishness about sleeping amongst them; so pulling down the painted cover of a limber over the footboard in the manner of a tent roof, i crept under it and endeavoured to sleep. the cramped situation in which i lay, and the feverish excitement of my mind, forbade, however, my obtaining that sound and refreshing sleep so much needed; i only dozed. from one of these dozes i awoke about midnight, chilled and cramped to death from the awkward doubled-up position imposed upon me by my short and narrow bed. so up i got to look around and contemplate a battle-field by the pale moonlight. "the night was serene and pretty clear; a few light clouds occasionally passing across the moon's disc, and throwing objects into transient obscurity, added considerably to the solemnity of the scene. oh, it was a thrilling sensation thus to stand in the silent hour of the night and contemplate that field--all day long the theatre of noise and strife, now so calm and still--the actors prostrate on the bloody soil, their pale wan faces upturned to the moon's cold beams, which caps and breastplates, and a thousand other things, reflected back in brilliant pencils of light from as many different points! here and there some poor wretch, sitting up amidst the countless dead, busied himself in endeavours to stanch the flowing stream with which his life was fast ebbing away. many whom i saw so employed that night were, when morning dawned, lying stiff and tranquil as those who had departed earlier. from time to time a figure would half raise itself from the ground, and then, with a despairing groan, fall back again. others, slowly and painfully rising, stronger, or having less deadly hurt, would stagger away with uncertain steps across the field in search of succour. "many of these i followed with my gaze until lost in the obscurity of distance; but many, alas! after staggering a few paces, would sink again on the ground with their entrails hanging out--and yet i gazed! horses, too, there were to claim our pity--mild, patient, enduring. some lay on the ground with their entrails hanging out, and yet they lived. these would occasionally attempt to rise, but like their human bedfellows, quickly falling back again, would lift their poor heads, and, turning a wistful gaze at their side, lie quietly down again, to repeat the same until strength no longer remained, and then, their eyes gently closing, one short convulsive struggle closed their sufferings. one poor animal excited painful interest--he had lost, i believe, both his hind-legs; and there he sat the long night through on his tail, looking about, as if in expectation of coming aid, sending forth, from time to time, long and protracted melancholy neighing. although i knew that killing him at once would be mercy, i could not muster courage even to give the order. blood enough i had seen shed during the last six-and-thirty hours, and sickened at the thought of shedding more. there, then, he still sat when we left the ground, neighing after us, as if reproaching our desertion of him in the hour of need." after the storm of a great battle has rolled away it leaves behind a wreckage--human and animal--of a very amazing sort; and of the wreckage of waterloo mercer gives a grimly vivid description. the effect is that of one of vereschagin's pictures translated into literary terms:-- "_june ._--the cool air of the morning lasted not long; the rising sun soon burst in all his glory over our bloody bivouac, and all nature arose into renewed life, except the victims of ambition which lay unconscious of his presence. i had not been up many minutes when one of my sergeants came to ask if they might bury driver crammond. 'and why particularly driver crammond?' 'because he looks frightful, sir; many of us have not had a wink of sleep for him.' curious! i walked to the spot where he lay, and certainly a more hideous sight cannot be imagined. a cannon-shot had carried away the whole head except barely the visage, which still remained attached to the torn and bloody neck. the men said they had been prevented sleeping by seeing his eyes fixed on them all night; and thus this one dreadful object had superseded all the other horrors by which they were surrounded. he was of course immediately buried, and as immediately forgotten. "our first care after this was to muster the remaining force, to disentangle our carriages from each other, and from the dead and dying animals with which they were encumbered. many sound or only slightly wounded horses, belonging to different corps of both armies, were wandering about the field. of these we caught several in the course of the morning, and thus collected, with what remained of our own fit for work, sufficient to horse four guns, three ammunition waggons, and the forge. of men we had nearly enough for these at reduced numbers, so we set to work equipping ourselves without delay. although supplies of ammunition had been sent to us during the action, yet little remained. the expenditure had been enormous. a return had been called for yesterday evening just as we were lying down to rest, but, fatigued as we all were it was impossible to give this correctly. as near as i could ascertain, we must have fired nearly rounds per gun. our harness, &c., was so cut to pieces, that but for the vast magazines around us from which we could pick and choose we should never have got off the field. "soon after daybreak an officer came from headquarters to desire me to send all my superfluous carriages to lillois, where a park was forming, and to inform me that a supply of ammunition would be found in the village of waterloo. accordingly the carriages were sent without delay; but this requiring all the horses, they were obliged to make a second trip for the ammunition. whilst this was doing i had leisure to examine the ground in our immediate vicinity. books and papers, &c., covered it in all directions. the books at first surprised me, but upon examination the thing was explained. each french soldier, it appeared, carried a little accompt-book of his pay, clothing, &c., &c. the scene was now far from solitary; for numerous groups of peasants were moving about busily employed stripping the dead, and perhaps finishing those not quite so. some of these men i met fairly staggered under the enormous load of clothes, &c., they had collected. some had firearms, swords, &c., and many had large bunches of crosses and decorations; all seemed in high glee, and professed unbounded hatred of the french. "i had fancied we were almost alone on the field, seeing only the remains of major bull's troop of horse artillery not far from us (the prussians had gone forward about or a little before daybreak); but in wandering towards the charleroi road i stumbled on a whole regiment of british infantry fast asleep, in columns of divisions, wrapped in their blankets, with their knapsacks for pillows. not a man was awake. there they lay in regular ranks, with the officers and sergeants in their places, just as they would stand when awake. not far from these, in a little hollow beneath a white thorn, lay two irish light-infantry men sending forth such howlings and wailings and oaths and execrations as were shocking to hear. one of them had his leg shot off, the other a thigh smashed by a cannon-shot. they were certainly pitiable objects, but their vehement exclamations, &c., were so strongly contrasted with the quiet, resolute bearing of hundreds both french and english around them, that it blunted one's feelings considerably. "i tried in vain to pacify them; so walked away amidst a volley of abuse as a hard-hearted wretch who could thus leave two poor fellows to die like dogs. what could i do? all, however, though in more modest terms, craved assistance; and every poor wretch begged most earnestly for water. some of my men had discovered a good well of uncontaminated water at hougoumont and filled their canteens, so i made several of them accompany me and administer to the most craving in our immediate vicinity. nothing could exceed their gratitude, or the fervent blessings they implored on us for this momentary relief. the french were in general particularly grateful; and those who were strong enough entered into conversation with us on the events of yesterday, and the probable fate awaiting themselves. all the non-commissioned officers and privates agreed in asserting that they had been deceived by their officers and betrayed; and, to my surprise, almost all of them reviled bonaparte as the cause of their misery. "many begged me to kill them at once, since they would a thousand times rather die by the hand of a soldier than be left at the mercy of those villainous belgic peasants. whilst we stood by them several would appear consoled and become tranquil; but the moment we attempted to leave, they invariably renewed the cry, 'ah, monsieur, tuez moi donc! tuez moi, pour l'amour de dieu!' &c., &c. it was in vain i assured them carts would be sent to pick them all up. nothing could reconcile them to the idea of being left. they looked on us as brother soldiers, and knew we were too honourable to harm them: 'but the moment you go, those vile peasants will first insult and then cruelly murder us.' this, alas! i knew, was but too true. "one frenchman i found in a far different humour--an officer of lancers, and desperately wounded; a strong, square-built man, with reddish hair and speckled complexion. when i approached him he appeared suffering horribly--rolling on his back, uttering loud groans. my first impulse was to raise and place him in a sitting posture; but, the moment he was touched, opening his eyes and seeing me, he became perfectly furious. supposing he mistook my intention, i addressed him in a soothing tone, begging he would allow me to render him what little assistance was in my power. this only seemed to irritate him the more; and on my presenting him the canteen with water, he dashed it from him with such a passionate gesture and emphatic 'non!' that i saw there was no use in teasing, and therefore reluctantly left him. "returning towards our position, i was forcibly struck by the immense heap of bodies of men and horses which distinguished it even at a distance; indeed, sir augustus frazer told me the other day, at nivelles, that in riding over the field, 'he could plainly distinguish the position of g troop from the opposite height by the dark mass which, even from that distance, formed a remarkable feature in the field.' these were his very words. one interesting sufferer i had nearly forgotten. he was a fine young man of the grenadiers _à cheval_, who had lain groaning near us all night--indeed, scarcely five paces from my bed; therefore was the first person i visited as soon as daylight came. he was a most interesting person--tall, handsome, and a perfect gentleman in manners and speech; yet his costume was that of a private soldier. we conversed with him some time, and were exceedingly pleased with his mild and amiable address. amongst other things he told us that marshal ney had led the charges against us. "i now began to feel somewhat the effects of my long fast in a most unpleasant sense of weakness and an inordinate craving for food, which there was no means of satisfying. my joy, then, may be imagined when, returning to our bivouac, i found our people returned from lillois, and, better still, that they had brought with them a quarter of veal, which they had found in a muddy ditch, of course in appearance then filthy enough. what was this to a parcel of men who had scarcely eaten a morsel for three days? in a trice it was cut up, the mud having been scraped off with a sabre, a fire kindled and fed with lance-shafts and musket-stocks; and old quarter-master hall, undertaking the cooking, proceeded to fry the dirty lumps in the lid of a camp-kettle. how we enjoyed the savoury smell! and, having made ourselves seats of cuirasses[ ] piled upon each other, we soon had that most agreeable of animal gratifications--the filling our empty stomachs. never was a meal more perfectly military, nor more perfectly enjoyed." by this time the artillery officer in mercer was exhausted, the botanist and artist began to emerge, and he strolls off to visit, as a sort of country gentleman at leisure, the garden at hougoumont! he says:-- "having despatched our meal and then the ammunition waggons to waterloo, and leaving the people employed equipping as best they could, i set off to visit the château likewise; for the struggle that had taken place there yesterday rendered it an object of interest. the same scene of carnage as elsewhere characterised that part of the field over which i now bent my steps. the immediate neighbourhood of hougoumont was more thickly strewn with corpses than most other parts of the field--the very ditches were full of them. the trees all about were most woefully cut and splintered both by cannon shot and musketry. the courts of the château presented a spectacle more terrible even than any i had yet seen. a large barn had been set on fire, and the conflagration had spread to the offices and even to the main building. here numbers, both of french and english, had perished in the flames, and their blackened swollen remains lay scattered about in all directions. amongst this heap of ruins and misery many poor devils yet remained alive, and were sitting up endeavouring to bandage their wounds. such a scene of horror, and one so sickening, was surely never witnessed. "two or three german dragoons were wandering among the ruins, and many peasants. one of the former was speaking to me when two of the latter, after rifling the pockets, &c., of a dead frenchman, seized the body by the shoulders, and raising it from the ground, dashed it down again with all their force, uttering the grossest abuse, and kicking it about the head and face--revolting spectacle!--doing this, no doubt, to court favour with us. it had a contrary effect, which they soon learned. i had scarcely uttered an exclamation of disgust, when the dragoon's sabre was flashing over the miscreants' heads, and in a moment descended on their backs and shoulders with such vigour that they roared again, and were but too happy to make their escape. i turned from such scenes and entered the garden. how shall i describe the delicious sensation i experienced! "the garden was an ordinary one, but pretty--long straight walks of turf overshadowed by fruit-trees, and between these beds of vegetables, the whole enclosed by a tolerably high brick wall. is it necessary to define my sensations? is it possible that i am not understood at once? listen, then. for the last three days i have been in a constant state of excitement--in a perfect fever. my eyes have beheld nought but war in all its horrors--my ears have been assailed by a continued roar of cannon and cracking of musketry, the shouts of multitudes and the lamentations of war's victims. suddenly and unexpectedly i find myself in solitude, pacing a green avenue, my eyes refreshed by the cool verdure of trees and shrubs; my ears soothed by the melody of feathered songsters--yea, of sweet philomel herself--and the pleasing hum of insects sporting in the genial sunshine. is there nothing in this to excite emotion? nature in repose is always lovely: here, and under such circumstances, she was delicious. long i rambled in this garden, up one walk, down another, and thought i could dwell here contented for ever. "nothing recalled the presence of war except the loop-holed wall and two or three dead guardsmen[ ]; but the first caused no interruption, and these last lay so concealed amongst the exuberant vegetation of turnips and cabbages, &c., that, after coming from the field of death without, their pale and silent forms but little deteriorated my enjoyment. the leaves were green, roses and other flowers bloomed forth in all their sweetness, and the very turf when crushed by my feet smelt fresh and pleasant. there was but little of disorder visible to tell of what had been enacted here. i imagine it must have been assailed by infantry alone; and the havoc amongst the trees without made by our artillery posted on the hill above to cover the approach to it--principally, perhaps, by bull's howitzer battery. "i had satisfied my curiosity at hougoumont, and was retracing my steps up the hill when my attention was called to a group of wounded frenchmen by the calm, dignified, and soldier-like oration addressed by one of them to the rest. i cannot, like livy, compose a fine harangue for my hero, and, of course, i could not retain the precise words, but the import of them was to exhort them to bear their sufferings with fortitude; not to repine, like women or children, at what every soldier should have made up his mind to suffer as the fortune of war, but above all, to remember that they were surrounded by englishmen, before whom they ought to be doubly careful not to disgrace themselves by displaying such an unsoldier-like want of fortitude. "the speaker was sitting on the ground, with his lance stuck upright beside him--an old veteran, with a thick, bushy, grizzly beard, countenance like a lion--a lancer of the old guard, and no doubt had fought in many a field. one hand was flourished in the air as he spoke, the other, severed at the wrist, lay on the earth beside him; one ball (case-shot, probably) had entered his body, another had broken his leg. his suffering, after a night of exposure so mangled, must have been great; yet he betrayed it not. his bearing was that of a roman, or perhaps of an indian warrior, and i could fancy him concluding appropriately his speech in the words of the mexican king, 'and i too; am i on a bed of roses?' "in passing bull's bivouac it was my fate to witness another very interesting scene. a wounded hussar had somehow or other found his way there from another part of the field, and exhausted by the exertion, had just fainted. some of those collected round him cried out for water, and a young driver, who, being outside the throng, had not yet seen the sufferer, seized a canteen and ran away to fill it. whilst he was absent the hussar so far recovered as to be able to sit up. the driver returned at this moment, and pushing aside his comrades, knelt down to enable the hussar to drink, holding the canteen to his lips, and in so doing recognised a brother whom he not seen for years. his emotion was extreme, as may be supposed." from the narrative of the march to paris which followed waterloo, we take only one incident. mercer is at nivelles, watching the crowds and the excitement in the streets:-- "suddenly a loud shout announces something extraordinary even on this day of excitement. every one hurries to the spot, pushing each other, jumping, shouting. 'what can it mean?' i inquired. 'monsieur l'officier, c'est un convoi des prisonniers que vient d'arriver,' replied my man, doffing at the same time his _bonnet de nuit_ and making a most respectful salaam. i stopped to see the convoy pass. the prisoners, dressed in grey _capotes_ and _bonnets de fourrage_, marched steadily on. some _vieux moustaches_ look very grave, and cast about furious glances at the noisy crowd which follows them with the perseverance of a swarm of mosquitoes, _sacré_-ing and venting all kind of illiberal abuse on them and the b-- of an emperor. many, however, younger men, laugh, joke, and return their abuse with interest, whilst the soldiers of the escort (english) march doggedly along, pushing aside the more forward of the throng, and apparently as if only marching round a relief. "at noon arrived in the neighbourhood of mons, where we overtook the greys, inniskillings, ross's troop of horse artillery, and several other corps, both of cavalry and infantry. we had, in short, now rejoined the army. the greys and the inniskillings were mere wrecks--the former, i think, did not muster men, and the latter, with no greater strength, presented a sad spectacle of disorganisation and bad discipline; they had lost more than half their appointments. some had helmets, some had none; many had the skull-cap, but with the crest cut or broken off; some were on their own large horses, others on little ones they had picked up; belts there were on some; many were without, not only belts, but also canteens and haversacks. the enemy surely had not effected in a single day so complete a disorganisation, and i shrewdly suspect these rollicking paddies of having mainly spoilt themselves. the other corps all looked remarkably well, although they, too, had partaken in the fight. "we crossed after the greys, and came with them on the main road to maubeuge at the moment a highland regiment (perhaps the nd), which had come through mons, was passing. the moment the highlanders saw the greys an electrifying cheer burst spontaneously from the column, which was answered as heartily; and on reaching the road the two columns became blended for a few minutes--the highlanders running to shake hands with their brave associates in the late battle. this little burst of feeling was delightful--everybody felt it; and although two or three general officers were present, none interfered to prevent or to censure this breach of discipline." footnotes: [footnote : "here were more cuirasses than men, for the wounded (who could move), divesting themselves of its encumbrance, had made their escape, leaving their armour on the ground where they had fallen."] [footnote : in some accounts of the battle and visits to the field, &c., it has been stated that this garden was a scene of slaughter. totally untrue! as i have stated in the text, i did not see above two or three altogether. there certainly might have been more concealed amongst the vegetation, but they could not have been many.] index adams, general, , ---- sergeant-major, adour, river, , ---- valley of the, , _adventure_, transport, agueda, river, ainhoe, the heights of, , alba de tormes, albuera, battle of, ; beresford at, alexander, emperor, allenquer, town, , alost, alton, general count, , , ; at salamanca, ; at quatre bras, , ; at waterloo, andover, , anglesey, marquis of, _see_ under uxbridge, lord arenas, arinez, armstrong, ----, arruda, ascot heath, assche, astorga, atalya, auchmuty, general, austrian emperor, badajos, , , , , ; the great breach at, , , ; the siege of, _sqq._ baker, ----, , barnard, sir andrew, at quatre bras, , , ; at waterloo, , , ; in spain, ---- colonel, ; at vittoria, , ; at ciudad rodrigo, ; at badajos, , , ; in the pyrenees, , barnes, sir edward, barossa, battle of, bath, bathala, convent of, bawdsey, bay of biscay, , baynes, captain, bayonne, , , ; the fighting before, , , bean, major, beckwith, sir sidney at sabugal, , , belgian skirmishers, ; allies, , , , ; horse artillery, bell, ----, ---- lieutenant, benevento, bengal horse artillery, bera, village of, , , beresford, marshal, at salamanca, ; sketch of, - ; at orthez, ; at toulouse, _sqq._ berri, duc de, bidassoa, river, ; passage of the, , , blandford downs, , blucher, prince, interviewed by wellington at ligny, ; his defeat at ligny, , ; retreats to wavre, ; at waterloo, ; at quatre bras, _sqq._ bock, general, boer and highlander in south africa, bolton, captain, , "boney's invincibles," braine le comte, brander, lieutenant, breton, lieutenant, , brooks, james, _sqq._ brotherwood, ----, , brunswick, duke of, , brunswick allies at quatre bras, ; at waterloo, , _sqq._ brussels, , , _sqq._, , , , , , , ; duchess of richmond's ball at, , buenos ayres, the fiasco at, , , bull, major, , bunbury, lieutenant, burgos, the retreat from, , , , burrard, sir harry, supersedes sir arthur wellesley, , , ; at vimiero, busaco, battle of, butterworth, gunner, cadiz, cameron, colonel, at ciudad rodrigo, , , ; at badajos, ; at waterloo, campbell, sir colin, ---- captain, at toulouse, , ; at quatre bras (brevet-major), , cardo, ----, caridad, convent of, cashel, , castanos, general, castre, ceira, passage of the, charleroi road, , , , , chatham, earl of, chelsea, chichester, , ciudad rodrigo, , , , , , ; leader of the forlorn hope at, , ; marmont marches to the relief of, ; the storming of, _sqq._ clichy, clinton, sir henry, clonmel, coa, ; river, coates, ----, , , cochan, mrs., , coimbra, , colborne, colonel, colchester barracks, cole, sir lowry, , combermere, lord, condacia, , cooke, colonel, copenhagen, expedition to, , cork, , , corunna, moore's retreat to, , , _sqq._, , , , ; sufferings of the retreat, _sqq._ cowel, major, cox, lieutenant, , , crammond, driver, craufurd, general, _sqq._; in buenos ayres, ; in the retreat to corunna, _sqq._, ; described by a private who served under him, _sqq._ crosby, sergeant-major, cuesta, general, cunningham, corporal, , czar, wellington's despatch to the, dalheath, near falkirk, dalrymple, sir hew, , dance, captain, davidson, brevet-major, deben, river, demon, ----, _sqq._ denburn, river, dendermonde, d'erlon, general, at waterloo, , , devine, ----, , dick, colonel, dickson, captain, ---- sir alexander, doury, -----, , downs, the, drummond, major, dundas, sir david, dutch troops at waterloo, ebro, valley of the, echelar, mountain, elba, , , eleder, captain, elvas, , enghien, , , , epsom, ers, river, erskine, sir william, , essling, prince of, fane, general, , farquharson, lieut. d., , fermoy, fez d'aronce, figuera, bay of, flinn, rifleman, flushing, , fontainebleau, franklin, ----, , fraser, sergeant, , fraser, ----, frasnes, village of, , frazer, sir augustus, , , , ; at waterloo, , , , freire, general, , fuentes d'onore, battle of, , , , fyfe, smith, garges, gave, river, gembloux, genappe, , , , , german legion, ; at waterloo, , ghent, , , ghystelle, gibraltar, gosport, gould, colonel, , gourgaud, general (quoted), graham, sir thomas, at vittoria, , ; at ciudad rodrigo, ; at san sebastian, , gramont, great rhune, gregory, lieut.-colonel, grouchy, general, guarda, guardiana, river, , guards at quatre bras, _sqq._ hall, quarter-master, , , hart, captain, , hart, the brothers john, mike, and peter, , , harwich, , hautain le val, henderson, ----, , higgins, thomas, , , hill, sir dudley, ---- sir rowland, - , ---- general (afterwards lord hill), at roliça, ; "farmer" hill described, , ; at orthez, ; at toulouse, ---- lieutenant, , , ---- captain, , hilsea barracks, , hincks, lieutenant, hitchins, surgeon, , , , holland, expedition to, hope, sir john, hopewood, ----, hopwood, lieutenant, hougoumont, , _sqq._, , , ; the garden of, , , , ; the attack on, houssaye (quoted), , howans, dan, _sqq._ huerta, hunt, gunner, , _hussar_, frigate, hythe, , , , , ---- barracks, innes, lieutenant, inniskilling dragoons at waterloo, , _sqq._, isle of wight, jackman, ----, jagger, ben, janca, jenkinson, captain, junot, general, , kellerman, general, kempt, sir james, , , ; at waterloo, , knight, ----, la belle alliance, , , , la haye sainte, , , , _sqq._, la rhune, , ladysmith, lake, colonel, lambert, sir john, , landguard fort, langeveldt, , latta, ensign, le secca, leathes, lieutenant, , lebbeke, leech, captain, , , , lefebvre, general, , leith, , leria, life guards at quatre bras, ; at waterloo, , , , , , light division, the (craufurd's), , , , ; the light regiment of the, ; at sabugal, ; at fuentes d'onore, ; at orthez, ligny, ; the battle of, , lillois, , lisbon, , , , , liston, corporal robert, , little rhune, livy, loison, general, louis xviii., flees from paris, ; holds court at ghent, , low, john, macara, sir robert, m'donald, major, at quatre bras, _sqq._; in the retreat to waterloo, _sqq._; at waterloo, _sqq._, m'dougall, lieut. kenneth, m'guire, mrs., m'kenzie, lieutenant, mackenzie, general, mclauchlan, patrick, , m'lloyd, major, m'namara, ----, m'pherson, captain mungo, mahone, patrick, maine, boundary line dispute, manningtree, marmont, general, , , ; at salamanca, , massena, marshal, , , , ; before torres vedras, ; pursued by wellington, ; retreats from torres vedras, maubeuge, maya, pass of, mayberry, sergeant thomas, , , medley, ----, , , mendoza, bridge of, menzies, major, merke braine, , militia, north york, miller, driver, milward, ----, mittelkerke, molly, lieutenant, mondego, mons, mont rave, , , mont st. jean, the heights of, , , , , moore, sir john, , , ; at corunna, _sqq._ morrisson, ----, , mullins, ----, musselburgh, namur, napier, sir william, (quoted), ---- major, , , napoleon, allusions, , , , , , , ; his abdication, ; escapes from elba, , , ; at quatre bras, , , , _sqq._; at waterloo, , , _sqq._; transfers the spanish crown to his brother joseph, ; overtakes the rearguard in the retreat to waterloo, , , nassau troops, new orleans, ney, marshal, defeated by wellington at the passage of the ceira, ; in the retreat from torres vedras, ; at quatre bras, , , _sqq._; leads the cavalry charges at waterloo, nieuport, ninove, , nivelle, river, , ; passage of the, , , ; town, , , , , , ; road, _sqq._ nova scotia, o'hara, major, old guard, the, , orange, prince of, orr, ----, orthez, battle of, _sqq._ ostend, , , , , ; harbour, pack, general sir denis, , , , ; at toulouse, ; his brigade at quatre bras, _sqq._; at waterloo, _sqq._ paget, lieut.-gen. sir edward, pakenham, sir edward, ---- captain, pampeluna, , paris, , , ; grand review after waterloo, passages, pau, river, , , , peninsula, , ; british soldier of the, , ; the rifles in the, , ; campaign of - , ; fights of the, ; sieges of the, ; experiences in the, petite la rhune, , peyrehorade, _philarea_, transport, phillipon, general, picton, sir thomas, , , ; at toulouse, , ; at ciudad rodrigo, ; at badajos, ; at quatre bras, , ; at waterloo, , , , ; at orthez, _sqq._ plymouth, ponton, james, portsdown hill, ; execution at, portsmouth, portugal, , , ---- king john of, price, farrier, prussia, king of, prussian troops, , ; at quatre bras, ; at waterloo, , , pullen, richard, _sqq._ pyrenees, , ; marches and fights in the, _sqq._, , pyrnes, quatre bras, , , ; the battle of, _sqq._, _sqq._, _sqq._; the village of, ; the prussians at, ; the retreat to waterloo from, _sqq._ quentin, colonel, ramsay, major, , , rave, mont, , , redinha, the fight at, , regnier, general, richmond, duchess of, the ball given at brussels by the, , ---- duke of, "rifles," the th, opposed to the th (french regiment), ; at vittoria, , ; at ciudad rodrigo, ; at badajos, , ; at quatre bras, , ; at waterloo, _sqq._; in buenos ayres, ; at copenhagen, ; at vimiero, roberts, field-marshal lord (quoted), roliça, allusions to the battle of, , , , , , , ross, colonel, ross's troop of horse artillery, , rotterdam, royal artillery, at waterloo, ---- g battery, , , , ; at waterloo, ; at quatre bras, royal highlanders ( nd), , , , ; at the modder, ; in the pyrenees, _sqq._, , ; at toulouse, _sqq. _; at quatre bras, _sqq._ sabugal, battle of, , , ; wellington's description of the battle, sahagun, , , st. cyr, marshal, st. francisco, fort, st. jean, the heights of mont, , , , , st. jean de luz, , ; road, st. severe, , ; road, , salamanca, , , , , , ; wellington halts at, , ; battle of, _sqq._ salisbury plain, , _salus_, transport, . samunoz, san milan, san sebastian, , , , ; siege of, _sqq._ sandilands, lieutenant, santarem, , , ; heights of, schapdale, scots greys at waterloo, , _sqq._, scovell, colonel, senne, river, serna, shoreham cliff, sierra de gata, ---- d'estrella, sitdown, joseph, smith, sir harry, and lady, smollett's "count fathom," sobraon, battle of, soho, , , soignes, forest of, , , somerset, lord edward, , ---- lord fitzroy, soult, marshal, , , , , , , ; advances to the relief of san sebastian, ; at orthez, _sqq._; at toulouse, _sqq._ south africa, south beeveland, island of, spencer, general, spithead, , , steenkerke, stewart, ----, ---- captain george, ---- lieutenant james, stour, river, strangways, ----, strytem, , , , surtees, quarter-master, , tagus, river, , , talavera, battle of, toulouse, , , , ; battle of, _sqq._, _sqq._; heights of, touronne, river, tormes, torres vedras, ; the great hill defences of, ; the lines of, ; wellington enters the lines of, ; massena's retreat from, travers, major, , , tres puentes, village of, tweed, river, urdach, , ; heights of, ustritz, uxbridge, lord, , ; in the retreat to waterloo, _sqq._ vadilla, river, valle, vandeleur, sir ormsby, , , , vigo, , , , , vimiero, , , ; wellington at, ; battle of, _sqq._, vinegar hill, vittoria, , ; the "rifles" at, , ; battle of, _sqq._ vivian, sir hussey, , , wade, lieut.-col. hamilton, walcheren expedition, , , walcot, captain, war office administration, waterloo, allusions, , , , , , , , ; g battery at, ; village of, , _sqq._, ; retreat from quatre bras to, , , , ; battle of, _sqq._, _sqq._; highlanders at, _sqq._; charge of the scots greys at, _sqq._; with the guns at, _sqq._; the ridge at, ; after the battle, watson, lieutenant, wavre, , , , wellesley, sir arthur (_see_ wellington) wellington, duke of, allusions, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ; at vimiero, , ; severity of, , ; irritability of, ; satire of, ; retreat to the lines of torres vedras, , ; pursues massena, , ; reconnaissance by, ; courtesy of, ; defeats ney at the passage of the ceira, ; indiscriminate censure by, ; at sabugal, ; at fuentes d'onore, , ; at salamanca, , , ; at vittoria, ; at toulouse, , _sqq._; at ciudad rodrigo, , ; at badajos, , ; in the pyrenees, ; forethought of, ; in the netherlands, ; at quatre bras, , _sqq._, _sqq._; withdraws to waterloo, ; at waterloo, , , _sqq._, _sqq._; at orthez, _sqq._; at brussels, ; complains of his staff, ; resolves to stand at waterloo, whinyates, major, white, sir george, whitelocke, general, in buenos ayres, , ; court-martialled, wighton, ----, winchester, wood, sir george adam, , , , woodbridge, woolwich military academy, yeomen of the guard, young, lieutenant, , young guard, the, yseringen, , zadora, river, the end printed by ballantyne, hanson & co. edinburgh and london october, . bell's indian & colonial library. _issued for circulation in india and the colonies only._ may be had in cloth, gilt, or in paper wrappers. _additional volumes are issued at regular intervals._ aide (hamilton). elizabeth's pretenders ( ). alexander (mrs.). a choice of evils ( ). a ward in chancery ( ). a fight with fate ( ). mrs. crichton's creditor ( ). barbara ( ). the cost of her pride ( ). the stepmother ( ). allen (grant). a splendid sin ( ). an african millionaire. illustrated ( ). the incidental bishop ( ). anstey (f.). under the rose. illus. 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