Part 39 (1/2)
CHAPTER x.x.xVII
THE TUG OF WAR
One evening, after they had been several days at sea, as Sophy and Shafto were gazing down at the steerage pa.s.sengers, she said:
”I have noticed such an odd person watching you--he looks as if he knew you!”
”Knew me!” repeated Shafto. ”What is he like?”
”A tall, broad-shouldered, lanky man--there he is, leaning over the side, wearing a blue serge suit and a soft felt hat.”
Shafto stared for a moment, then he said:
”By George! I _do_ know him--though I can hardly believe my eyes.
I'll go and speak to him and find out what this means,” and he hurried away below.
”Hullo, Mung Baw!” he exclaimed. ”Say, this is something like a surprise! What are you doing here?”
”Much the same as yourself, sir. The Tug of War is drawing us all home. I have left Mung Baw and the yellow robe behind me, and I'm now Corporal Michael Ryan. I'm going into the Army again. Why, I'm only thirty-four when all's said and done. Of course, the shaven head ages a fellow, but I'll grow me hair on me pa.s.sage home and, maybe, a moustache as well; someone told me that kerosene oil is a grand thing.
And you are going to join up too, sir?”
”I hope so; I put in two terms at Sandhurst, so I shall have a try. I should like to get into the Flying Corps.”
”And what will herself say,” with a glance towards Sophy on the main deck, ”to all this fighting and flying?”
”Oh, Miss Leigh won't stand in my way--she intends to look for a job, too. Tell me, Michael, do you really believe they will take you back into the Service after your adventure in Upper Burma--and seven years'
absence without leave?”
”Well, since ye ask me, sir, in my opinion they might do worse; annyhow, I'll have a good try. I might get a sort of doctor's certificate--_mental_ you know. I'm a first-cla.s.s shot, though naturally a bit out of practice; and very hefty with the bayonet. I'd like well to stir them Germans up, ever since one great ugly brute went out of his way to give me a kick. I was black and blue for weeks. Did you hear them the day before they were took off--just screeching mad, shoutin' and drinkin', as if the world was their own. Well, annyhow, I can enlist as full private; I'm sound in wind and limb and, I tell ye, we want all the men we can get, for I heard them Germans talkin' very big in Rangoon, saying they'd eat us all up within the next three months--body, sleeves and tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs!”
”Easier said than done,” rejoined Shafto; ”although they have a splendid army--and thousands of big guns.”
”I'd like well to have a hand in real fighting--none of your autumn manoeuvres, but the proper thing; and after I put the war over, I'll go and see Ireland. It's strange, although I'm Irish, I've never put a toe in the country, and never been nearer it than a black native. My father's people were reared in the Galtees; it's my Irish blood that's uppermost now and driving me home. I've often heard the boys talkin'
of the grand purple mountains, the wonderful greenery everywhere, and the lovely soft, moist air.”
”Well, Michael, I hope you may see it all some day. What put it into your head to throw off the yellow robe and take this sudden start?”
”It was the barrack talk, sir; I heard them chaps cursin' and groanin'
that they were stuck fast in Rangoon and had no chance of gettin' a look in, and says I to myself, what's to hinder _you_ from goin'?”
”But how about the pa.s.sage money?” inquired Shafto. ”I thought you were vowed to poverty and had nothing in your wooden bowl?”
”I had the ruby that you gave back to me. I believe it was a rare fine stone. I had it in me mind to offer it to the PaG.o.da; it was well I waited, as things turned out; a friend sold it for me in the bazaar--he got four hundred pounds of English money. He says it was worth some thousands; it was bought for a PaG.o.da, annyhow, and I have a nice big sum lodged in a London bank, and when the war is over, please G.o.d, it will help to settle me in a small place in Ireland. I took me pa.s.sage and bought some kit, and I have a few pounds in hand--so that I won't be stranded. At first I felt the clothes terrible awkward, especially the trousers, after living in a petticoat so long; and I did not know what to be doin' with a knife and fork--and leadin' such a quiet, cramped sort of life I lost the use of meself; but I tramped up and down the decks for a couple of hours of a morning, and a nice young fellow in the pantry has lent me a pair of dumb-bells. By the time I get to England I'll be well set up with a black moustache--and mabbe, ye'll hardly know me!”
”How did you get rid of the yellow robe?”
”Oh, easy enough, and without any ceremony of disgrace whatever.
Shure, half the Burmans you meet have worn it for, p'r'aps, a year or two--but it's not everyone who has the vocation.”
”I can't understand your ever taking to it.”