Part 46 (1/2)

'He laid his hand on my shoulder. ”Pye,” says he, ”there's worse men than you in loftier places. They shall 'ave it. None the less,” he remarks, ”the ice is undeniably packing.”

'I may 'ave omitted to point out that at this juncture two large armies, both deprived of their night's sleep, was awake, as you might say, and hurryin' into each other's arms. Here endeth the second chapter.'

He filled his pipe slowly. The uncle had fallen asleep. Leggatt lit another cigarette.

'We then proceeded _ong automobile_ along the ridge in a westerly direction towards the miniature fort which had been so kindly revealed by the searchlight, but which on inspection (your Mr. Leggatt b.u.mped into an outlyin' reef of it) proved to be a wurzel-clump; _c'est-a-dire_, a parallelogrammatic pile of about three million mangold-wurzels, brought up there for the sheep, I suppose. On all sides, excep' the one we'd come by, the ground fell away moderately quick, and down at the bottom there was a large camp lit up an' full of harsh words of command.

'”I said it was the key to the position,” Lootenant Morshed remarks.

”Trot out Persimmon!” which we rightly took to read, ”Un-wrap the rocking-horse.”

'”Houp la!” says Jules in a insubordinate tone, an' slaps Persimmon on the flank.

'”Silence!” says the Lootenant. ”This is the Royal Navy, not Newmarket”; and we carried Persimmon to the top of the mangel-wurzel clump as directed.

'Owing to the inequalities of the terrain (I _do_ think your Mr. Leggatt might have had a spirit-level in his kit) he wouldn't rock free on the bed-plate, and while adjustin' him, his detachable tail fetched adrift.

Our Lootenant was quick to seize the advantage.

'”Remove that transformation,” he says. ”Subst.i.tute one Roman candle.

Gas-power is superior to manual propulsion.”

'So we subst.i.tuted. He arranged the _piece de resistarnce_ in the shape of large drums--not saucers, mark you--drums of coloured fire, with printed instructions, at proper distances round Persimmon. There was a brief interregnum while we dug ourselves in among the wurzels by hand.

Then he touched off the fires, _not_ omitting the Roman candle, and, you may take it from me, all was visible. Persimmon shone out in his naked splendour, red to port, green to starboard, and one white light at his bows, as per Board o' Trade regulations. Only he didn't so much rock, you might say, as shrug himself, in a manner of speaking, every time the candle went off. One can't have everything. But the rest surpa.s.sed our highest expectations. I think Persimmon was n.o.blest on the starboard or green side--more like when a man thinks he's seeing mackerel in h.e.l.l, don't you know? And yet I'd be the last to deprecate the effect of the port light on his teeth, or that blood-shot look in his left eye. He knew there was something going on he didn't approve of. He looked worried.'

'Did you laugh?' I said.

'I'm not much of a wag myself; nor it wasn't as if we 'ad time to allow the spectacle to sink in. The coloured fires was supposed to burn ten minutes, whereas it was obvious to the meanest capacity that the Junior Service would arrive by forced marches in about two and a half. They grarsped our topical allusion as soon as it was across the foot-lights, so to speak. They were quite chafed at it. Of course, 'ad we reflected, we might have known that exposin' illuminated rockin'-horses to an army that was learnin' to ride on 'em partook of the nature of a _double entender_, as the French say--same as waggling the tiller lines at a man who's had a hanging in the family. I knew the c.o.x of the _Archimandrite's_ galley 'arf killed for a similar _plaisan-teree._ But we never antic.i.p.ated lobsters being so sensitive. That was why we s.h.i.+fted. We could 'ardly tear our commandin' officer away. He put his head on one side, and kept cooin'. The only thing he 'ad neglected to provide was a line of retreat; but your Mr. Leggatt--an 'eroic soul in the last stage of wet prostration--here took command of the van, or, rather, the rear-guard. We walked downhill beside him, holding on to the superstructure to prevent her capsizing. These technical details, 'owever, are beyond me.' He waved his pipe towards Leggatt.

'I saw there was two deepish ruts leadin' down 'ill somewhere,' said Leggatt. 'That was when the soldiers stopped laughin', and begun to run uphill.'

'Stroll, lovey, stroll!' Pyecroft corrected. 'The Dervish rush took place later.'

'So I laid her in these ruts. That was where she must 'ave sc.r.a.ped her silencer a bit. Then they turned sharp right--the ruts did--and then she stopped bonnet-high in a manure-heap, sir; but I'll swear it was all of a one in three gradient. I think it was a barnyard. We waited there,'

said Leggatt.

'But not for long,' said Pyecroft. 'The lights were towering out of the drums on the position we 'ad so valiantly abandoned; and the Junior Service was escaladin' it _en ma.s.se_. When numerous bodies of 'ighly trained men arrive simultaneous in the same lat.i.tude from opposite directions, each remarking briskly, ”What the 'ell did you do _that_ for?” detonation, as you might say, is practically a.s.sured. They didn't ask for extraneous aids. If we'd come out with sworn affidavits of what we'd done they wouldn't 'ave believed us. They wanted each other's company exclusive. Such was the effect of Persimmon on their clarss feelings. Idol'try, _I_ call it! Events transpired with the utmost velocity and rapidly increasing pressures. There was a few remarks about d.i.c.ky Bridoon and mechanical horses, and then some one was smacked--hard by the sound--in the middle of a remark.'

'That was the man who kept calling for the Forty-fifth Dragoons,' said Leggatt. 'He got as far as Drag ...'

'Was it?' said Pyecroft dreamily. 'Well, he couldn't say they didn't come. They all came, and they all fell to arguin' whether the Infantry should 'ave Persimmon for a regimental pet or the Cavalry should keep him for stud purposes. Hence the issue was soon clouded with mangold-wurzels. Our commander said we 'ad sowed the good seed, and it was bearing abundant fruit. (They weigh between four and seven pounds apiece.) Seein' the children 'ad got over their shyness, and 'ad really begun to play games, we backed out o' the pit and went down, by steps, to the camp below, no man, as you might say, making us afraid. Here we enjoyed a front view of the battle, which rolled with renewed impetus, owing to both sides receiving strong reinforcements every minute. All arms were freely represented; Cavalry, on this occasion only, acting in concert with Artillery. They argued the relative merits of horses _versus_ feet, so to say, but they didn't neglect Persimmon. The wounded rolling downhill with the wurzels informed us that he had long ago been socialised, and the smallest souvenirs were worth a man's life. Speaking broadly, the Junior Service appeared to be a shade out of 'and, if I may venture so far. They did _not_ pay prompt and unhesitating obedience to the ”Retires” or the ”Cease Fires” or the ”For 'Eaven's sake come to bed, ducky” of their officers, who, I regret to say, were 'otly embroiled at the heads of their respective units.'

'How did you find that out?' I asked.

'On account of Lootenant Morshed going to the Mess tent to call on his uncle and raise a drink; but all hands had gone to the front. We thought we 'eard somebody bathing behind the tent, and we found an oldish gentleman tryin' to drown a boy in knickerbockers in a horse-trough. He kept him under with a bicycle, so to speak. He 'ad nearly accomplished his fell design, when we frustrated him. He was in a highly malleable condition and full o' _juice de spree_. ”Arsk not what I am,” he says.

”My wife 'll tell me that quite soon enough. Arsk rather what I've been,” he says. ”I've been dinin' here,” he says. ”I commanded 'em in the Eighties,” he says, ”and, Gawd forgive me,” he says, sobbin'

'eavily, ”I've spent this holy evening telling their Colonel they was a set of educated inefficients. Hark to 'em!” We could, without strainin'

ourselves; but how _he_ picked up the gentle murmur of his own corps in that on-the-knee party up the hill I don't know. ”They've marched and fought thirty mile to-day,” he shouts, ”and now they're tearin' the _intestines_ out of the Cavalry up yonder! They won't stop this side the gates o' Delhi,” he says. ”I commanded their ancestors. There's nothing wrong with the Service,” he says, wringing out his trousers on his lap.

”'Eaven pardon me for doubtin' 'em! Same old game--same young beggars.”

'The boy in the knickerbockers, languis.h.i.+ng on a chair, puts in a claim for one drink. ”Let him go dry,” says our friend in s.h.i.+rt-tails. ”He's a reporter. He run into me on his filthy bicycle and he asked me if I could furnish 'im with particulars about the mutiny in the Army. You false-'earted proletarian publicist,” he says, shakin' his finger at 'im--for he was reelly annoyed--”I'll teach you to defile what you can't comprebend! When my regiment's in a state o' mutiny, I'll do myself the honour of informing you personally. You particularly ignorant and very narsty little man,” he says, ”you're no better than a dhobi's donkey! If there wasn't dirty linen to wash, you'd starve,” he says, ”and why I haven't drowned you will be the lastin' regret of my life.”