Part 14 (2/2)

”For settling the terms of peace with the beaten enemy--”

”We'll beat them,” said several people in the crowd.

”I should call upon my good friend Lord Kilmore.”

This gave me a severe shock. For a moment I thought of standing up and refusing to act as military amba.s.sador of the Ulster army. Then I recollected that if Moyne managed the transport and Babberly planned the campaign it was exceedingly unlikely that there would be any beaten enemy. I kept my seat and watched Babberly whispering earnestly to Lady Moyne.

Malcolmson followed the Dean. Moyne leaned over to me and expressed a hope that Malcolmson was not going to commit us to anything outrageous. From the look of Malcolmson's eye as he rose I judged that Moyne's hope was a vain one.

”The Dean,” said Malcolmson, ”has spoken to you about the campaign. I ask you, are you prepared to undertake one?”

”Good Heavens!” said Moyne.

Babberly squeezed his way past Lady Moyne.

”This won't do,” he said to Moyne, ”Malcolmson mustn't go too far.”

”The Dean,” said Malcolmson, ”has told us where to find our commanders. Looking round upon this vast a.s.sembly of determined men I can tell the Dean where to look for the rank and file of the army.”

”You'll have to stop him,” said Babberly.

I dare say the thought of the impeachment which was hanging over his head made him nervous.

”I can't,” said Lord Moyne.

”I ask those present here,” said Malcolmson, ”who, when the supreme moment comes are prepared to step forward into the ranks, to hold up their hands and swear.”

Malcolmson did not make it quite clear what oaths we were to employ.

But his audience appeared to understand him. Thousands of hands were held up and there was a kind of loud, fierce growl, which I took to be the swearing. Lord Moyne turned to me.

”What am I to do, Kilmore?”

”I don't know,” I said.

Malcolmson and the ten or twelve thousand men in front of him were still growling like a very angry thunderstorm at a distance. The thing was exceedingly impressive. Then some one started the hymn again. I never heard a hymn sung in such a way before. If the explosions of large guns could be tuned to the notes of an octave the effect of firing them off, fully loaded with cannon b.a.l.l.s, would be very much the same. Malcolmson, beating time very slowly with his hand from the front of the platform, controlled this human artillery. Lady Moyne came to me and shouted in my ear. It was necessary to shout on account of the terrific noise made by Malcolmson's hymn.

”As soon as he sits down you'll have to get up and say something.”

”I can't,” I yelled. ”I'm no good at all as a public speaker.”

The beginning of Lady Moyne's next shout I could not hear at all. Only the last words reached me.

”--on account of your being a Liberal, you know.”

For the first time since I have known her I refused to do what Lady Moyne asked me. Very likely I should have given in at last and made an indescribable fool of myself; but before she succeeded in persuading me, Malcolmson's hymn stopped. Malcolmson himself, apparently satisfied with his performance, sat down.

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