Part 46 (2/2)

'Well, we sat with 'em and 'ad drinks for about half-an-hour in front of the Mess tent. He'd ha' killed the reporter if there hadn't been witnesses, and the reporter might have taken notes of the battle; so we acted as two-way buffers, in a sense. I don't hold with the Press mingling up with Service matters. They draw false conclusions. Now, mark you, at a moderate estimate, there were seven thousand men in the fighting line, half of 'em hurt in their professional feelings, an' the other half rubbin' in the liniment, as you might say. All due to Persimmon! If you 'adn't seen it you wouldn't 'ave believed it. And yet, mark you, not one single unit of 'em even resorted to his belt. They confined themselves to natural producks--hands and the wurzels. I thought Jules was havin' fits, till it trarnspired the same thought had impressed him in the French language. He called it _incroyable_, I believe. Seven thousand men, with seven thousand rifles, belts, and bayonets, in a violently agitated condition, and not a ungenteel blow struck from first to last. The old gentleman drew our attention to it as well. It was quite noticeable.

'Lack of ammunition was the primerry cause of the battle ceasin'. A Brigade-Major came in, wipin' his nose on both cuffs, and sayin' he 'ad 'ad snuff. The brigadier-uncle followed. He was, so to speak, sneezin'.

We thought it best to s.h.i.+ft our moorings without attractin' attention; so we s.h.i.+fted. They 'ad called the cows 'ome by then. The Junior Service was going to bye-bye all round us, as happy as the s.h.i.+p's monkey when he's been playin' with the paints, and Lootenant Morshed and Jules kept bowin' to port and starboard of the superstructure, acknowledgin' the unstinted applause which the mult.i.tude would 'ave given 'em if they'd known the facts. On the other 'and, as your Mr. Leggatt observed, they might 'ave killed us.

'That would have been about five bells in the middle watch, say half-past two. A well-spent evening. There was but little to be gained by entering Portsmouth at that hour, so we turned off on the gra.s.s (this was after we had found a road under us), and we cast anchors out at the stern and prayed for the day.

'But your Mr. Leggatt he had to make and mend tyres all our watch below.

It trarnspired she had been running on the rim o' two or three wheels, which, very properly, he hadn't reported till the close of the action.

And that's the reason of your four new tyres. Mr. Morshed was of opinion you'd earned 'em. Do you dissent?'

I stretched out my hand, which Pyecroft crushed to pulp. 'No, Pye,' I said, deeply moved, 'I agree entirely. But what happened to Jules?'

'We returned him to his own Navy after breakfast. He wouldn't have kept much longer without some one in his own language to tell it to. I don't know any man I ever took more compa.s.sion on than Jules. 'Is sufferings swelled him up centimetres, and all he could do on the Hard was to kiss Lootenant Morshed and me, _and_ your Mr. Leggatt. He deserved that much.

A cordial beggar.'

Pyecroft looked at the washed cups on the table, and the low suns.h.i.+ne on my car's back in the yard.

'Too early to drink to him,' he said. 'But I feel it just the same.'

The uncle, sunk in his chair, snored a little; the canary answered with a shrill lullaby. Pyecroft picked up the duster, threw it over the cage, put his finger to his lips, and we tiptoed out into the shop, while Leggatt brought the car round.

'I'll look out for the news in the papers,' I said, as I got in.

'Oh, we short-circuited that! Nothing trarnspired excep' a statement to the effect that some Territorial battalions had played about with turnips at the conclusion of the manoeuvres The taxpayer don't know all he gets for his money. Farewell!'

We moved off just in time to be blocked by a regiment coming towards the station to entrain for London.

'Beg your pardon, sir,' said a sergeant in charge of the baggage, 'but would you mind backin' a bit till we get the waggons past?'

'Certainly,' I said. 'You don't happen to have a rocking-horse among your kit, do you?'

The rattle of our reverse drowned his answer, but I saw his eyes. One of them was blackish-green, about four days old.

THE LEGEND OF MIRTH

The Four Archangels, so the legends tell, Raphael, Gabriel, Michael, Azrael, Being first of those to whom the Power was shown, Stood first of all the Host before The Throne, And when the Charges were allotted burst Tumultuous-winged from out the a.s.sembly first.

Zeal was their spur that bade them strictly heed Their own high judgment on their lightest deed.

Zeal was their spur that, when relief was given, Urged them unwearied to fresh toil in Heaven; For Honour's sake perfecting every task Beyond what e'en Perfection's self could ask....

And Allah, Who created Zeal and Pride, Knows how the twain are perilous-near allied.

It chanced on one of Heaven's long-lighted days, The Four and all the Host having gone their ways Each to his Charge, the s.h.i.+ning Courts were void Save for one Seraph whom no charge employed, With folden wings and slumber-threatened brow.

To whom The Word: 'Beloved, what dost thou?'

'By the Permission,' came the answer soft, 'Little I do nor do that little oft.

As is The Will in Heaven so on Earth Where by The Will I strive to make men mirth.'

He ceased and sped, hearing The Word once more: 'Beloved, go thy way and greet the Four.'

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